chezzywezzy

[chezzywezzy]

Love you stories. They are amazing. I am a horror enthusiast and not many write for the characters I wish for but you do. Yay. May you have a wonderful recovery from surgery.

Thank u! I deeply appreciate it :) I just like writing for who I’m inspired about at the time. You’re so sweet! 💖💖💖

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Michael Myers (2/?)

WC: 4.0k

R had grown surprisingly comfortable in her new position. August had passed by with ease, and at the end of the month, she took a few days off to move into an actual home. Rented, of course, but it was undoubtedly a step up in life. She’d never known a world of living in a house; she experienced nothing but apartments and dorms.

She understood that a part of Michael Myers, her main patient, had some unwarranted feelings toward her (R assumed it could stem from amusement or how she offered him a livable situation). But she tried her best to ignore it. Having a patient who didn’t ask for even the bare minimum made her job easier, too; it was often a much-needed break to move from therapy sessions with a talkative pedophile or a manic sexual assaulter to a man who did nothing but follow her around.

R knew that Michael was terrifying, but because he did not open his mouth, because he did not explain the ‘whys and ‘hows of his psyche, she could simply ignore it. She didn’t have to pretend to sympathize or even acknowledge his wrongdoings. Michael was more phantom than man. She understood what Dr. Loomis meant when he called Michael ‘the devil reincarnate.’ But to R, that was far better than being a ‘man’ in the sanatorium.

She had known enough about ‘men’ to know that there were far worse things that men could do to her than kill her.

She shook the thought away as she unlocked his room door. Michael’s head turned away from his desk expectantly. R smiled, glad that the installation of a desk as well as arts and crafts for him had done wonders for the hostility rates. He felt more human. 

R walked up to the desk, feeling comfortable enough that the man wouldn’t strangle her by doing so. Her hands were clasped at her stomach tightly, feeling the stress from her previous session wash away as she observed the man’s simple drawings and masks. There were some restrictions, such as tape dispensers and scissors, but R made sure the tape was the type one could rip with one’s hands, and the paper was malleable to a fold-and-tear.  In the matter of a month, Michael’s cell became a room; although it was somewhat creepy, there were pictures taped to the walls and masks piled on the floor. 

He had a paper box of assumed ‘secret’ drawings and masks; R didn’t dare intrude, knowing the man’s impeccable senses.

“Hello, Michael,” R greeted, the man’s eyes glued to her hands. She glanced, noticing a nasty cut on her finger. 

His eyes were asking her. 

“Ah, this was a kitchen accident,” she sighed. “I’m clumsy, which, um, you’ve probably noticed. I actually wanted to cook for once, and it led to this, so… being healthy doesn’t feel important enough, haha.”

Michael blinked.

The silence had grown from being terrifying, to awkward, to natural. R pulled a seat up next to the desk, not daring to come in proximity of the wood. Michael did not seem to mind her presence - as much as that terrified her - but she wasn’t one to test the limits. 

R tilted her head in confusion when Michael pushed some paper over to her. 

“Oh, you’re inviting me to… join?”

He nodded curtly.

She couldn’t deny that arrogant glee. “Thanks, Michael. I’m not the best artist, so beware. Um… maybe I’ll take some inspiration from you.”

Her eyes scanned the walls. R tried to ignore the ones that were drawings of gore and murder; she noticed one of a… family, house, and cat. It was Michael, and what was a woman that…

She tore her eyes away, trying to ignore the obvious. In one aspect, she needed the paycheck that Michael gave her. But it felt unprofessional, no matter how much her strange boss insisted that any progress was good progress. R could tell that, despite its faux employee morale, there was something about Michael Myers that Dr. Loomis prioritized more than her.

R gulped at the thought that she could be seated next to the man who would kill her. But she scribbled on the paper, humming to herself from her humorous idea. She noticed that Michael was not paying attention to his crafting; instead, he watched her hands.

A few minutes later, she felt proud enough of her piece. She raised it proudly to display small doodles of Michael dunking basketballs and demolishing men on a football field. R felt herself grin.

“Um… I drew you as an athlete, I guess. I thought about what I told you once about having the build of a quarterback when we first met, so… I figured I’d humor myself,” she rambled. “D - do… you like it? Maybe you think it’s stupid —“

R had to hold in a shriek of fright when Michael tore the paper from her grasp, holding it closer to his face. His eyes darted around to observe what few details it held. She swore she’d never seen such… emotion in his eyes. They crinkled and turned upwards, twinkling with what R could only assume was humor or amusement.

She gulped. Michael suddenly fiddled with the paper box he made, lifting the lid to tuck it inside. R felt as though she had just solidified her fate. Michael would hopefully not kill her or seek her out when he inevitably went insane and went on a murder spree. She had once expressed that R was worried about this possibility, but Dr. Loomis dismissed it immediately.

“Do not worry, Ms. R - that is why he is being moved to a higher security establishment in October.”

R could not wait until October. A raise was not something that could be revoked, right?

Dr. Loomis always acted like she was a prodigy, after all. In reality, she felt like nothing but a fraud in her field.

“I’m glad you liked it, Michael,” R stated, smiling nervously. “I’m glad to have made a difference, I guess. Truthfully, um, you’re actually the easiest patient I work with sometimes, haha. Some of the other guys in here are, well, you know. Maybe it’s wrong to assume on my part, but you seem a lot more chipper with the setup, yeah? And your skin looks a lot healthier.”

Michael tilted his head in acknowledgement. His beautiful blue eyes blinked slowly.

R’s blood ran cold involuntarily. She had mentioned her cat, and once taught him that in cat language, a slow blink meant trust and love.

Everything with Michael was intentional.

She wished she had a boss who would care enough about her safety. But Dr. Loomis would have a field day more than worry for her.

Dr. Loomis had recently installed a camera in Michael’s room. The man had to have noticed. R was sure the camera wouldn’t be there the moment Michael cared enough.

“So… you must be hungry, Michael. I know I am, if that’s okay. Don’t tell my boss, haha, but it’s gotten rather obnoxious that he stopped scheduling lunch breaks, you know? Um… would you like to go to the cafeteria with the others? O - or, if preferred, I’m sure the outside is pretty vacant right now. Or here. Um…”

R’s mouth dried at the thought of having attention on her and the patient in a crowded cafeteria. It was a new idea - Michael had always been confined during meals and only recently was able to go outside for half an hour with R. Perhaps it was the perfectionist in her, but she wanted Michael to be an equal to the other patients.

Michael tilted his ever so slightly toward the window. His long, blonde hair cascaded across his features momentarily. But at least due to R’s demands, Michael was showering a proper amount. 

She pursed her lips. Perhaps a haircut was due, if the man would allow it. But… that also meant scissors in the proximity of a murderer.

“Right. Sounds good, Michael. You won’t mind a brief stop at the lounge for me to grab my lunchbox?”

He didn’t. Ten minutes later, R had cleared it with the guards who trailed faithfully behind them. With a tray in hand and plastic silverware in his hands, they sat at a picnic table near the playground. It was vacant primarily because it was the lunch period, minus some free wanderers.

R couldn’t help the chilliness of the air through her sweater. A vitamin deficiency was never pleasant. But Michael had far thinner layers, yet emitted like a furnace across the table.

“Gosh, I’m the one with a choice in what I eat, but somehow my lunch looks way more pathetic,” R chuckled lightly. “I mean, what adult still consumes Lunchables this frequently? Have… have you ever had a Lunchable, Michael?”

Michael blinked. Of course, his tray was untouched, even with fists clenched around the fork and knife. R recognized that he probably felt uncomfortable; she’d never seen him without his mask on, so her existence made eating difficult.

“Oh, sorry. You wanted to eat out here, but there are some people around, right? And, of course, there’s me staring right at you. Um, I guess I didn’t think this through very effectively - sorry…”

R gulped, watching as the steam from the food slowly evaporated. Her eyes nearly bulged when Michael slowly lifted his mask, only revealing his lips. It felt so unbelievable. And then, his fingers pinched at his eyes, tearing the paper so he could see. 

Was she hallucinating?

She heard some shocked choking from the distant guards, which confirmed that Michael was real. R couldn’t help but stare at the new appearance; his lips were round, red, and slightly chapped. He had stubble, but somehow, he was keeping up with shaving, despite being banned from razors. And even his face did not appear gaunt.

“Gosh, you must have blessed genes,” R joked. “I don’t know how you’re so healthy under these conditions.”

Her shoulders tensed when Michael sent her an unreadable stare, pausing mid-scoop. But that moment passed quickly as the man was pulled into his own world as he ate. R ate quietly, watching the birds on the fence. However, she felt a silent vibration in her pocket, despite being on DND. It continued to bother her until she couldn’t help but withdraw her phone.

She’d always been diligent like that. But only emergencies could exceed the text announcement…

Nevermind.

R scowled intensely, an audibly scoff escaping her lips. 

‘Trucker #2 (Mike(?)): Yo

Hey cutie

U at work?

Taking the long way to Michigan ;)

Super secretly btw

Passing thru

Like tonight

Want to chill tonight?’

“Fucker,” R muttered. She typed a quick ‘fuck off’ which she changed to ‘asshole.’ Something vaguer, something that alluded to potential forgiveness. Less hostile. 

R was never one to focus on men. Trucker #2 was a one-night stand, so the entitlement to actively ignore the DND… Maybe she would invite him over, if only to tamper with the truck enough that he’d have to report a delay to his boss, and thus, his location…

Either way, another boring fuck was worth some petty revenge.

R shook herself free of her irritation by shoving her phone back in her pocket. She was met with Michael’s dark, icy stare. Her body could not stop the sudden trembling.

“A - ah, sorry, that was a… a personal issue. I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

But there was a confused furrow on his features. R did not want to know what he was thinking about.

~~~

Another month had flown by. Professionally and emotionally, R was satisfied. And although nearly non-existent, her social life was alright. In mere weeks, the danger that weighed on her mind - Michael - would be sent away, and R will have achieved a brag-worthy resume. R would have options.

After locating her schedule and understanding that R would start her day off with Michael, she headed to the familiar room. 

R was suddenly caught off guard, having walked right by his door from what the scene lacked. No guards were standing outside. The door was slightly ajar.

The woman, wrought with fear, froze. She grasped at the pager in her pocket, pressing for an S.O.S. R anticipated the lockdown would happen any minute. But… was Michael already out?

A part of her hoped so.

Because that meant he wouldn’t return to the scene of the crime.

R couldn’t help but reach her trembling fingers to the door. Slowly, she pushed the metal frame open with a quiet squeak.

She almost fainted.

R followed the story of the bloodstreaks painted. From the chair’s scrapes on the floor, Michael had been at his desk. Stuck in one of the guard’s eyes was a yellow crayon with a blade inside. Following suit, the other must have reached for his gun or baton. Then Michael must have hit him with a chair. One of them appeared to have been wrangled by his restraints, while the other’s head was… twisted. Michael snapped a man’s neck with his bare hands.

There were pools of blood crawling through the cracks of the floor. The room was a mess. And worst of all, Michael’s chains had not been unlocked - the chains had been broken in half.

His strength was nothing short of inhuman.

R’s eyes darted to the small camera in the dark corner. It had been cracked in half, most likely before the incident.

A terrifying curiosity hit her the moment her eyes fell on the untouched paper box. Unlike everything else, it was intentionally ignored. R gulped, the blaring of alarms falling on deaf ears. She was so scared of what she would find, but the idea of peeping captivated her. Michael would not be back. He was out. And if Michael was the only monster around…

Who cared about protocol?

R advanced toward the desk. She had never been bold: always paranoid and cautious. And in her case, bold also meant reckless. What prevented her from waiting?

She released a shaky sigh, fingers plucking at the top. R had to tear off a recently-placed tape. R could feel the sweat dripping down her forehead; she could feel her body fighting the exhaustion of pulsing adrenaline. 

The first image was the one drawing she made for him. Underneath was her one attempt at making a mask.

Her mouth became dry, yet she desired to retch. 

The one beneath was a mask, clearly meant to look like her face. Other than the eyeholes, somehow shaped like her very own, it was an artistic piece that took hours of effort, hours of memorizing her. The next drawing was a shabby wedding chapel with two stick figures.  The following was a drawing of her hands during a recent nail appointment that she adored. And intentionally on the bottom was a disgustingly suggestive stick figure drawing in a bedroom.

Tears threatened to fall, and sobs threatened to escape. R dropped the pile on the desk. She felt betrayed by her boss, who had surely spied on the drawings or assumed what Michael’s behavior meant. All this time, it wasn’t amusement or willing indifference with the patient, as R had tried to rationalize. No, it was a deep obsession of some sort.

Why her? What precisely had she said or done in that first meeting that captivated the man?

R hoped Michael wouldn’t escape. Or did she? If Michael escaped, would he leave her be, or would he find her?

She took a few steps back, a blurriness hitting her vision from panic. Her chest heaved, the hyperventilating echoing in the small room. It felt like the room was growing smaller and smaller, and the shadow swallowing her further and further —

A scream escaped her mouth, causing her ears to ring. She stumbled forward and turned, hands grasping at the desk behind her. Her fingers scrambled wildly for anything - a fistful of crayons - that was fine —

The towering man took slow steps forward. He held nothing but a baton dripping with blood. Several bullet holes tore through his flexed arms, and one was directly at the collarbone. But the man was standing with a menacing, cunning glare as though entirely unharmed. Michael’s chest heaved. His mask was an untouched piece of paper with two holes. Yet blood soaked through the white paper, dripping and wilting at various angles. 

Michael’s eyes were clouded with darkness. They crinkled at the edges, and his blonde hair was dripping. The baton fell to the floor in one quick motion. The distance was closed. His veins were sharp, the blue contrasting against his splattered skin. 

R recognized in that moment that Michael’s hands were the size of her head. They lifted slowly before pressing around her neck. All five fingers connected around her skin, trapping her like a collar. One slunk around the back of her head, grasping at the roots of her hair. Like a punishment, her head was tilted to meet his intense gaze, unable to look away.

Tears pricked quietly as she grit her teeth.  R could feel her head dizzy from panic. The grip around her throat felt secure, yet gentle. The gentleness scared her more than it would if he squeezed just a little tighter.

R fingers squished tightly around the crayons, and she relished the sensation with tightly shut eyes. She was choking, but the man wasn’t even strangling her. His breath fanned across her face louder than the blaring alarms. Her other hand trembled down the side of her desk, reaching for her pocket.

Her pager. She needed her pager —

R released a gasping breath when Michael’s hand caught her pocket, crushing the pager with the force of two fingertips. It remained there, grasping her hand like a warning.

“P - please, Michael, I’m sorry,” she whispered, words slickened with fear.

Michael’s blue eyes scanned her expression, fingers massaging her scalp methodically. He dipped lower. His shadow was swallowing her whole, yet his body emitted the heat of the sun. A squeak escaped her lungs when his head lowered beside hers, a quiet breath hitting the nape of her neck. His blonde hair tickled her skin. His shoulders tensed toward her, trapping her even further.

“Michael, let me g - go —“

A sudden gunshot rang. And then another. Darts stuck into Michael’s flesh, protruding from his neck. Michael seemed unaffected as darts continued to prick at his skin, and even a few legitimate bullet holes riddled through his legs. His eyes flickered with an anticipation. The man twisted quickly, plucking at some of the needles in his neck.

He took a few steps forward, but even as bullets hit his limbs, they left hardly any wounds. R recognized in that moment what Dr. Loomis meant about Michael being a devil - what human evolution could create a man immune to bullets? Michael halted after two slow steps. 

R’s ears rang with the blaring alarm and deafening gunshots. The men were shouting, panicked. And with an ever-so-slight head tilt, Michael allowed himself to collapse onto the mattress next to him. The fall was far too graceful. Perhaps the drugs and bullets were of some assistance, but Michael seemed fueled by a determination so fierce it defied a human’s bodily makeup.

R could feel how clammy her body was. Her hair was wet at its roots, frizzy. Sweat threatened to sneak into her eyes in giant droplets. She couldn’t help but remain tense and frozen in place, even with guards surrounding and tugging her. 

Her head twisted back once more to peer at Michael on the bed.

His eyes were peeking in the tiniest of slivers.

~~~

“Fuck - fuck, fine. Ms. R, you’ve made me out to be some villain. Do you genuinely believe that devil plans to hurt you?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. You give me my paycheck in advance, a job recommendation, and an under-the-table reparation fee of 500,000 dollars, or I’m taking this to court. As if the cover-ups for the violence, the patient neglect, the ignorance toward PHEEA protocol… as if all th - that wasn’t enough - it was obvious workplace abuse of power toward me. I’m fucking quitting, and if you don’t do what I’m telling you, I’m taking you the fuck to court, and that place is being shut down.”

“Jesus… Are you certain? In exchange you must sign —“

“I don’t care. Just give me the money.”

“…Alright. Can you wait two weeks?”

R was unsure why she hadn't pressed for an alternative location to pick up the money. However, she had kept a close eye on the news and not just the lies Dr. Loomis could spill. Michael was set to move locations that afternoon, and afterward, R would come to pick up the money with Dr. Loomis in his office. Simple.

After two weeks of staying in Haddonfield exclusively, she forgot how aggravating it was to go out to the sanatorium, which was a 45-minute drive. Perhaps she’d pester him to cover the gas cost, too.

Ever since Michael had… attacked her… she’d had vicious nightmares. R couldn’t even think about going Halloween shopping, even if she had previously planned to go as a beloved childhood character. The idea of browsing a store filled with masks and towering animatronics was overwhelming. Everything was too much. If she was anxious and unwell before, it was tenfold worse now. 

And worst of all, Dr. Loomis was just as much in the wrong. He was a liar, a boss who abused his position of power in the sanatorium. But he’d gone far enough with his ignorance and obsession that R finally had a leg up.

The news never reported the incident with too much intensity, despite at least two deaths. In fact, the news seemed to care - or know - more about the transferring of local legend, Michael Myers.

His name haunted everywhere she went because of it.

R was never nearly as frightened of Michael as other patients, who made their ulterior motives far more apparent and uncomfortable. But something about the moment she found those drawings… it felt worse to have the illusion of helping someone. Every second, the devil had been plotting. Michael easily could have escaped, but he planned that to torment her, and something else.

Michael’s release had been pushed back to after Halloween. After the attack, it had been pushed forward.

Perhaps he was fine with the mundane life a sanatorium offered, but wanted the new scenery. Or maybe he wanted to plot his official escape.

To R, there were far scarier things than dying. There was the fear of being catcalled in the middle of the night, of being followed home, of being trapped with a man alone, of a man not accepting a ‘no.’ It was the illusion of R having any semblance of control over her wellbeing when a man could disrupt all.

And R was sure that if there was any man who could dictate control over her, it would be Michael Myers, whose physical strength and health had no limitations.

R pulled into the visitor parking lot, eyes sternly glued to the steering wheel as her hands became strained and clammy. A quiet breath escaped her lips. Shadows danced against the windshield, and the sanatorium felt oddly tranquil. R pulled out the key from the ignition, looking up.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Michael Myers (1/?)

WC: 4k

AN: this is a revamp of the series to restart it. Currently still recovering from surgery, working, taking a full online semester, and moving. been busy :)

R grasped at her sanitarium outfit. Only months ago, she had first started her job at Smith’s Grove Asylum fresh out of college and having used her institution’s career connections to wind up there. But fall was beginning, and her manager, Dr. Loomis, had taken special interest in her and her potential.

Starting that Monday, she was no longer working with the low-harm patients. She would be assigned to those with more… particular issues. Of course, this came with a desirable pay raise.

“R, are you feeling well?” Dr. Loomis suddenly spoke, patting the woman’s shoulder. “I know this must be daunting - but you have a certain charm with the patients. Perhaps it’s your youthful perspective. You… studied up on the patients you’ll be tending to this week, right?”

“Yes, Dr. Loomis! You can leave it up to me!” R suddenly exclaimed, stepping into the new wing. 

The man furrowed his brows. A quick tour happened, but the moment the clock struck eight, he left her at the new therapy room. 

The woman was far more nervous than she let on. This wing held genuine criminals, some of whom had grown up. Most anxiety-inducing was a patient named Michael Myers; the crime was quite old, and he’d been locked up for twenty years already. But some violent outbursts had occurred, and most horrifying of all… he was seven feet tall and buff.

And he was her first patient of the morning.

She stared at the door beyond the desk, trying to maintain the professional posture she’d adopted from her work experience. It was starting today that she was proving herself useful in the workforce, though, and indeed, this would boost her resume. 

Someday, it would not be a rural asylum she worked at: it would be her dream clinic.

The door of the office opened. The small office suddenly felt so much smaller - the silhouette had to lean down underneath the doorframe, and his vast shadow cast across the room. R blinked and took in her patient’s appearance, which was far more intimidating than it was on paper.

The man had a red papier-mache mask on, but striking blue eyes. His brown hair was shoulder-length and ratty. His uniform seemed almost unwillingly tattered, as though nurses tried their best to avoid updating his wardrobe. His hands were cuffed together by a chain held by guards that held underneath the shut door. But his hands were so rough and large that it felt like the metal was flimsier. The man’s posture was slumped, but that did not diminish his sheer intimidation: the man was rippling in scrapes, healing scars, and rippling muscles.

For a moment, R could only stare. He stared back, hands clenched together in fists and blue eyes staring her down.

“Ah, em, you must be Michael,” R stuttered, motioning to the seat in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you. You can sit down if you’d like.”

The man remained still for a moment before reluctantly sitting. He hardly fit on the chair, which made R’s fright momentarily turn to embarrassment as her eyes flitted around the barren office. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. When her attention was brought back to the still, towering man, she was startled by his unblinking gaze.

“Sorry, you must think I’m rather awkward,” she mumbled, cheeks growing red. “I feel a little embarrassed about how unprepared I am, haha. I should have brought a beanie bag, or a couch, or… um, well, my name is R. I started here a few months ago, right out of college. Looking at your profile, it’s a little strange to be counseling someone a little older than me.”

R let her rambling teeter off, feeling wildly insecure from the silence that filled the room. She had read that Michael chose an oath of silence - he knew how to speak and seemed to have even learned how to read from somewhere, despite being six upon admittance. But now that R was meeting the man in person, it was so much more terrifying.

She never liked judging a book by its cover, but if even her boss had described Michael Myers as ‘pure evil,’ there had to be some truth behind it. Her fingers fiddled with one another underneath the desk, and her posture grew flimsy and meek, but she didn’t dare break eye contact.

“This… isn’t the sort of thing you enjoy, is it?” R asked unsurely. “I heard that you mostly tend to yourself and make masks on your own. Just say the word, and I can walk with you to your room instead. My job is to be helpful to you, Michael; however, you may interpret it. I could give you a haircut, or snag you a new uniform, or get you some craft materials…?”

The silence continued to ring. It was as though the man in front of her hadn’t listened to a word she spoke. Not even a muscle flexed or a tendon tensed. R could not deny how utterly eerie the man was - but something within that mustered a sense of motivation.

“Or, well, if you have nothing to say, would it be obnoxious to tell you a little more about myself? I’m sure this place must be pretty stuffy and dull for you, so I don’t blame the distrust. I bet a whole lot of people like me have talked to you before, so I’m sure you must be thinking, ‘why try’ or ‘why should I care’?”

It was small, but R noticed it. Michael blinked, and his hands twitched. She fought a nervous smile, tending to her air of confidence.

“I won’t pretend that it would be natural for someone like me to have authority over you. Hell, if you, um… weren’t here, you’d probably have a career waiting as an S-tier athlete or something. You know the works of this place better, too. I mean, I have a hard time believing that you couldn’t break through those handcuffs if you cared enough, ha! But… wouldn’t you like to get out of here eventually? Wouldn’t it be nice to pretend that these counseling sessions meant something to you? You have no reason to tell me, but… don’t you have dreams or aspirations, too?”

That time, when R stopped talking, she heard a huff. She blinked, unsure if that was a warning or agreement. The woman bit her lip and leaned against the desk, hands clasped together. The man’s beautiful blue eyes never left R, but the intimidating clenching of his fists seemed to dissipate. His eyes almost felt more human.

R released a shaky, silent breath, feeling how her hands felt against one another, slickened with sweat. She wished she hadn’t taken off her lab coat - her arms would remain glued to her side for the rest of the session, if only to avoid showing off the armpit stains through her sleek white dress shirt.

“Perhaps it is naive of me, or I simply don’t know you very well, but I find it silly that a child is detained at the age of 6 and then punished for his peculiarities, rather than trying to rehabilitate,” she sighed. “Certainly, it’s probably too late to undo the damage this institution has inflicted on your psyche, and I know that you have sworn yourself to silence, but other than the rare violent outburst that - well, seems to have been rather provoked by the staff based on the report - you did… you have presented yourself as h - harmless…?”

Michael’s shoulder rolled back suddenly, a silent move that displayed sudden attentiveness to her words. R got the sense that the towering man was laughing at her deductions; she couldn’t help but sense something off about him, more than the usual “offness” of someone neurodivergent (or in her experience, someone neurotypical). In reality, R understood that there was a quiet, manipulative madness - one that pointed to an ulterior motive or scheme. And above all, R was not interested in being involved. 

She wanted to harbor sympathy so that whatever this man had planned would not involve her. The last thing she wanted was for her present to become a haunted past. R was frightened of Michael, and the last thing she wanted was to become someone he resented due to her position.

“What I mean with all of this, I suppose, is that my job is to help you achieve a comfortable rehabilitation, or whatever that will mean for you, Michael,” R sighed. “So… what I believe I can provide in the meanwhile - or request - is a clean, new, and well-fitted uniform, perhaps a revamped living space, more access to hobby spaces… Would you like that, Michael?”

R was sure that from her life experience, she had learned to tell when someone was on the verge of snapping, or already had. From working at the asylum long enough, she gathered that most of the people here were plagued by some mental ailment that was mostly harmful toward oneself or a denomination (it wasn't easy when the answer to that was women or people of color, but oh well). Michael was neither. He had no motive, but nothing to lose.

The man’s blue eyes were glued to every blink, every twitch of her smiling lips. R knew he was analyzing her as she did him; there was a sudden twinkle in his eyes that made her tense up. His pupils had dilated, and the edges of his eyes crinkled behind the mask ever so slightly.

~~~

“I could not be more impressed with your meeting with Michael the other morning,” Dr. Loomis spoke from behind the woman.

R jumped before turning around. “A - ah, Dr. Loomis! Apologies, um… why were you impressed?”

The staff lounge was relatively empty in the early morning. R’s first appointment had been canceled due to a sudden family visit, and so she had lingered. Her social battery hadn’t refilled after a poor night of sleep. 

Meeting Michael had frightened her so much, and the moment she had forgotten about it, her boss approached.

“You don’t need to be so humble,” he answered. “I knew that you noticed the odd behavior as well. I swear, in my twenty years of knowing him, he has never reacted to a psychologist. Whenever he had… had an outburst, it was sudden, clearly calculated. To have pulled from him the acknowledgement - it makes me wonder what could have sparked it.

“I must admit that I’ve had a lifelong curiosity about Michael Myers. If ever there was a human with the soul of the devil, a truly psychotic entity, it would be him. And so, I offer this option to you, if only to indulge in my fascination…”

~~~

“…Would you like to receive a substantial raise in exchange for giving Myers more specified assistance?”

Of course, she accepted. Another raise in such a short time… a true resume builder. Even better, the number on the paycheck kept getting bigger and bigger, and a growing urge to move out of the cheapest apartment in town seemed more achievable than ever.

And so, with even an earlier shift, R stood next to two guards while fiddling with her upgraded key ring. She had noticed that the high-security hallway felt far more dismal; the lights were a much grosser shade of yellow, and the hallways were less tidy. 

R opened the door, taken aback by the messiness of Michael’s room. Was this patient feared to the extent of active neglect? It was expected that rooms in a sanatorium would take care of every safety measure. Still, the urinal in the corner had a putrid smell, the sheets, mattresses, and pillows had yellowed, and the window didn’t even fight entirely against the early autumn wind. Pair all of this with the man’s shackled wrists and ankles…

She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Dr. Loomis' unethical favoritism. 

Michael was sitting on his bed with his elbows on his knees. His head had twitched in the direction of the door, a singular blue eye glowering in her direction. But R was so upset by the conditions of the room that she hardly felt the acknowledgement.

Instead, she began to scribble on a notepad before passing it to one of the guards.

“Please, one of you, can you fetch these materials for me immediately, somehow? I - I can’t allow a room to be in this state.”

The guards exchanged unsure glances. “Sorry, miss, but we’re on strict orders to have two guards with Myers at all times. We can only break the rotation for an emergency.”

R scowled, brows furrowing. “This is an emergency! God, one man with a gun isn’t enough? I’m a psychologist aiming for the betterment of my patient. Just do it, please!”

“J - just go do it real quick, I’ll just stay in the room,” one of them muttered.

With a brief whispered argument, R had won, and a guard scampered away. The other couldn’t even believe it as R gently pushed him out of the door, a newfound confidence instilled that surprised even her. 

After a momentary argument, R held her hands against the door, panting lightly. Her fingers trembled, wondering if such an act of camaraderie would amuse her patient - make her seem different.

Or maybe he assumed this was all some trick, and that agitated him.

R’s eyes suddenly bulged at the recognition of a looming shadow that stretched across the door. Her back stiffened, and her throat squeaked ever so quietly. She turned immediately, her back pushing against the door as if to shrink. 

Michael was standing a few feet away, brilliant blue eyes watching her every tick. R had never known that the color blue could emit such danger. The air felt thick, suffocating. A man of this height and strength was surely still locked up by choice, and that scared her.

“H - hello, Michael,” R greeted, bowing at the hip. “Um, so Dr. Loomis wanted more specialized care for you. Seeing the state of your room, I understand why. Um, yes, I apologize if I disrupted your peaceful morning. Being in a sanatorium is uncomfortable enough, yes? So, really, don’t mind me. I just want to make your life more comfortable and pleasant.”

As to be expected, nothing but silence rang throughout the room. It was a staredown between the two. R observed that Michael’s breathing had quickened, his large chest heaving with a breathing pattern that could only portray panic, exhaustion, anger, or excitement.

She highly doubted it was the former two.

“Ah…! Um, I just realized,” R stuttered,” if it’s not inconvenient for you, they’ll be switching out furniture and cleaning up and such. In the meantime, I was wondering if you might be interested in some… fresh air. I brought you a new uniform, as well.”

R dug through her satchel, withdrawing the new gown. Every nerve in her body was on a frightful overdrive, trembling as she extended the clothing. With a swift motion, Michael reached out and took it from her. She almost jolted when their fingertips brushed together. But it was as though the fear in that moment made her silent and frozen in place.

None too grateful to be able to turn around, she heard Michael maneuvering around the restrictions of his shackles. The old uniform was being ripped at the seams, and then she listened to the unfolding of the other. After that, it was so silent that the only thing she heard was her breathing.

How had Michael mastered stealth so effectively?

R had spotted that the shadow was still once more, and she turned, her deep rosy blush escaping, even from underneath her makeup. She had worked several jobs in nursing homes and with the elderly. She was well-adjusted to the responsibilities that came with her degree and career; however, something about being stared down by a seven-foot-tall, dangerous man from behind felt particularly embarrassing.

She coughed into her fist and cleared her throat. At that moment, the other guard had arrived with a few maids and a cart with furniture. R opened the door, nodding politely. 

“Um, thank you for your assistance,” she muttered. “Um, would it be possible for me to escort Michael around the… grounds while you all fix the room up?”

After brief arguments, the maids finally won out due to the discomfort of having Michael in the room, and R walked beside him like a dog on a leash. Both guards had their hands on their batons as they trailed behind. Chains no longer bound Michael, but he still wore handcuffs. 

R could sense the hostility and fright of passing staff, worried that if Michael’s eyes ever found them, they’d be as good as dead.

Even if the man’s eyes were only on R.

As R opened the door, allowing Michael to exit onto the mostly vacant courtyard, she couldn’t help but reflect. It was daunting having the mammoth of a man hang onto her every word so easily. Perhaps Loomis was onto something, but what could have possibly been so different about her that fascinated the man so much?

It almost felt like a power trip, albeit a dangerous one. Michael’s unfaltering gaze was no longer as scary as it was a few days ago: perhaps from the twinkle that his beautiful eyes lacked when they first met.

R blinked, recognizing that Michael had turned to wait for her, as though he hardly had a clue in what he was expected to do once outside for the first time in… well, R was too worried once she realized outside time hadn’t been a part of his reports in months.

“Ah, em, usually everyone else doesn’t end up outside until closer to lunchtime, but you can do whatever you like, Michael,” R stammered with a general motion to the area. “I don’t believe you’re getting enough vitamin D, so I might request an additional vitamin supplement to help.”

Michael blinked, but remained in place. R closed the distance ever so slightly by once again standing next to him. She felt another set of eyes, undoubtedly from her boss, in some dark corner or window. If there were ever a time to make a public statement that would impress Dr. Loomis, it would be now.

R had read the reports of his violent attacks. Often, it was from nurses or guards agitating him, whether it be from crossing his silent boundaries or being arrogant or rude. One of the nurses’ necks had been snapped in half for touching his hair and mask. Another had tried to seduce him (disgusting and so against PHEEA). A guard had taunted him. All pointed to prominent agitators.

With every injustice toward Michael, the disrespect to the institution began to trump her fear of Michael. She understood how a man under his circumstances would come about this way.

Of course, she had no clue about why he first murdered his sister, but…

“Would you like to sit on the grass?” R suddenly offered. “Um, you don’t have a grass allergy, right? I have met some people who are. The sky looks lovely, and the breeze is nice. Oh, and the leaves will start changing color soon, too. Wonderful, right…?”

R almost rubbed her eyes in shock when Michael’s chin dipped into a curt nod. It was quick and deliberate. She couldn’t help but grin, overcome with a sense of adrenaline-filled joy. 

It reminded her of the rushes she used to get from receiving the bare minimum from a man during college. That made her feel somewhat embarrassed.

Michael matched her pace as they went over to the grass. The wind was somewhat obnoxious, but once under a tree and sitting on the ground, R shivered it all away. She considered that something about Michael was almost childlike; she knew there was something off about him, as though his development had been stunted. But R also knew better than to psychoanalyze a man who was doing the same to her. 

Hell, he didn’t even speak or move without a sense of intent. Michael was somehow intentional with everything he did, which was often the opposite with patients in a sanatorium. 

R’s hands dug into the soft grass, and her head tilted to the sky. The guards were at a surprising distance, holding their guns instead. Michael was silent. The world felt still as her eyes fluttered shut, and she felt present.

It was such a meditative state; when was the last time she sat on grass and thought about nothing in particular?

She felt sudden warmth on her right side and felt a dark disruption in her blissful state. R blinked and glanced beside her. Michael had scooted closer. She hadn’t heard it at all. And the distance was hardly noticeable. But R had the feeling he had. And, as always, Michael was not looking anywhere but her.

Oh.

R had a sense that something was off about this man. She almost wished there were more hostility in his gaze. Or, at least, something that pointed more to intrigue or amusement. But his eyes spoke of a personal interest.

Her mouth became dry, and she mustered a small smile, body tensing at how predatory it all felt. It dawned on her once more that, even with lackluster care, Michael Myers was still here for a reason.

And that was because something was fundamentally wrong about him.

R felt her pager buzz in her skirt pocket. She jolted and grabbed it. But when she glanced around, she realized it was more to acknowledge her boss, who was rapidly approaching them.

She immediately got onto her feet, wiping the back of her clothes. Her cheeks flushed with sudden anxiety, she didn’t even have to turn around to know that Michael had silently mimicked her. But a rush of cold hit her when Michael grew closer to her side. 

R glanced at his eyes. They were unfathomably cold when landing on Dr. Loomis.

“H - hello, Dr. Loomis!” R squeaked, bowing slightly as her palmy hands clasped together. “What brings you out here?”

Dr. Loomis’s crinkled eyes observed the two before patting her shoulder. “I was making my rounds when I caught wind of this - I had to see for myself. I’m sure it must look like we take terrible care of him, Ms. R, but that is primarily due to his… outbursts. To see him willingly outside and subdued is… strange.”

R bit her lip. 

Yes, everything surrounding Michael felt strange. She did not feel like placing blame on either side, not sure who would be scarier as the reason for the blame.

“Well, um, if I may say something, Doctor… I do not see any attempts at legitimate rehabilitation, and the reported outbursts seemed provoked…”

Dr. Loomis interupted with a dry chuckle, meeting Michael’s cold gaze with an even colder one. R suddenly felt like she was the odd one out of the dynamic, not understanding what their eyes spoke.

“That is because the worst details were covered up to maintain reputation. We are currently in the process of moving him to a different institution in a few months. And as for your concern..” Loomis’s eyes flickered to her with a dark sense of concern. “…how would you propose someone rehabilitate a devil?”

R could only blink as the doctor nodded and left, leaving the woman with shivers rolling down her spine. Dr. Loomis was a kind doctor and employer, yet something about Michael Myers drove him mad. Perhaps it was his understanding of him that she would never achieve, or maybe it was the opposite.

His words wound through her head, not fully digesting until her eyes glanced at Michael’s hands, clenched into veiny, furious fists. 

Michael must despise Dr. Loomis.

[chezzywezzy]

SCIFI HORROR SHORT STORY

AN: Edited ig. Concept came in an inebriated dream.

Many people had drowned in their own homes, but I was outside from the beginning. I clung to a wooden work crate outside a Walmart and used it as a raft. Eventually, the world realized the flood was continuing at an unstoppable rate, and those who were tired or too far away from a raft would drown. The water was all salt, but occasional dead fish or animal corpses would float to the surface. The water was rising at an infinite rate - surely those who remained in their houses by now were goners after nearly a week. Whether from slow, intense rising of water through cracks in the walls, or the oxygen growing stale, or from windows cracking from the weight of water pressure, everyone who stayed at the bottom had surely drowned by now - even the rich with their fancy bunkers. And by the time they realized their doom, the infinitely rising water source was surely too high to swim to the surface.

Sure, the rising water levels became increasingly slow as the surface area grew, but the water was still rising. Perhaps the water was refracting against itself. Nobody was certain about it back when it was just being noticed. I mean, how could water multiply on its own? A certain amount has always seemed to exist, regardless of its form. Surely it could shift back and forth between densities and quantities, but the water remained within the same radius. So how did it start multiplying?

Space would not be far ahead. There were no more clouds, for they had drowned, too. The sunlight burned my skin without ceasing. The water was insufferably warm, warmer than my sweat. The space was bright, or it became convoluted. Occasionally, the moon interfered or the other stars shone brighter. The world was tight; breathing was hard. But it was as if my body had adapted to the slow pace of altitude changes.

Would I meet space in time before I ran out of oxygen?

That seemed unlikely.

It was as if my body was already seizing. But if I could, I wanted to experience what it felt like to drown in nothing more than to drown in water. Would I float or would I feel frozen? Would I freeze as much and as quickly as they do - did - in the movies?

I worked at a Walmart, for Christ's sake. I was never that smart. I didn't even have a GED. I didn’t know how space worked. But I didn’t think it would have mattered, since this rising water seemed impossible on all fronts. It was too sudden and too impossible for people to understand what was happening with the water.

Yet even as my brain was dying, I felt like this was the most alive, present, and smart my brain had ever been. I wondered if anyone else was out there, clinging to a rapidly deteriorating crate top. Perhaps some people were on ships, partying their way to the top. That seemed likely. But whatever surface area the Earth had before, it had probably quadrupled.

I was going to die alone.

No one would find me.

Were there people in the space station watching from above, with a recognition that surely felt more like a slow cancer, realizing there was no Earth to return to? They were coming to terms with their own dying body, knowing. The breathing vessel they lived in was a body of its own, and with their diminishing resources, a malignant, stale virus took its place. They could calculate when the water would stop, and everyone who possibly could have lived would be dead. But they could not so easily do the same for themselves.

They were gods in the stars, but the universe ruled them. They did not know the intimate workings of the ship that would be their coffin - what if there was a tear in the walls one day, or the oxygen froze over? What then, when they ate all their food and could no longer siphon their own pee into drinkable water? When their bodies sank inwards, becoming a wrinkled shell from dehydration, would they die then? Or would some kill themselves - play with their only remaining controlled option left?

When would the water stop rising? Would it spread into space at an infinite rate? When I die, will the water spread to the deepest corner where god sets us free and kill me again? Or is this all intentionally random, unintentionally controlled - what version of the world was real, and what version was through my eyes?

My eyes were dry from dehydration, and with more ocean water comes more salt. Was this water poison? I remembered from high school how one was forced to understand that water created life. Now, it was what ended it.

Were the corpses of my species disintegrated into coral? What happened to the ocean species - did they drown in their own environment, or did they stick to what they knew? And what of those like whales, who required oxygen? What about when the oxygen ran out? Are they big enough to fight against the heights and depths of these waters, both breathing from the surface but consuming the fish of the bottom? What of the very pits of the ocean, 8,000 meters beneath what was once the standard water level? Has their darkness expanded?

Has everything but those creatures become crushed from the pressure, perhaps even themselves?

I thought so much. My body twitched once, several minutes ago… hours… I laid thinking. The sky was red, yet it felt black. I wasn't even sure what that itself meant. Has anything ever been certain? Has science ever been fact?

When life itself had become impossible, it opened so many more possibilities. I did not fear what would come next - if it was darkness, none of this pain would matter or be remembered. If it was an afterlife, surely this pain would be insignificant - I would be something more than this simulation.

I clung to life. The world felt so bright. My skin was burnt to a crisp. I felt every nerve, and every nerve felt me. My body was screaming so much that I became numb - perhaps I could be a detached head, my senses dulled into oblivion as my skull performed its protective duties. If only my brain remained, would I be upset? Was it possible to be upset, with such uncertainty stemming from the logic my brain craved?

So many questions. No answers. I wished to quiet my head until... or if... it woke up.

I wondered what the water interrupted. Active crime scenes? A mother giving birth? A funeral? A scientific discovery? A college lecture? A proposal?

All I remembered was that it interrupted my shift. The water had disrupted the nothing I was.

[chezzywezzy]

dude I love ur fics so much!!!!!!! I occasionally check on your blog and I didn’t know you were back?!!!! and writing for sum of my fave guys?!!!! Ily so much girl! 😘😘😘

Thank u!! Rn I’m recovering from a surgery so I’m always high as balls off of pain killers and can’t really do anything lol. Mostly recovered but a few more days til normalcy…

[chezzywezzy]

I’d kill for you🫰🏿

Thank u anon ❣️ hope you’re having a lovely evening!

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Sauron (4/?)

WC: 4.2k

“R, I wish to enter,” Mairon spoke, words echoing through the crack in the door into the bedchamber that R had slept and pondered in for many days.

“You may,” she answered, allowing her clean, silken robes to flow around her as she sat up in the bed.

R was uncertain and felt distrustful of the current situation. Mairon had not come to see her since their arrival, so she had no idea what the man was thinking. Had he been convinced by the concept of unfathomable power and splendor? Did R’s feelings mean nothing in the matter, hence his avoidance, or was it because they mattered that he did so?

She had tried to peek into the dark realm when asleep, but it was as if a barrier of darkness made it impossible to spy. R wished to know what was happening, what Mairon was thinking, and whether he was genuinely convinced of Morgoth’s evil plan. But it had become dauntingly apparent that she would have to ask the man himself.

Mairon entered. R was taken aback by his appearance; he had not stripped off his armor in quite some time, and she was reminded of how handsome he was underneath it all - how defined muscles and accentuated features glistened from the aid of his gold robe.

He then smiled at her. That did not make R feel good, as the man had only smiled a few times during their journey. What had occurred to please him so dearly now?

Mairon was not sure if she was unsettled by the gesture made to reassure her, so it dropped immediately as he merely cleared his throat and stepped further into the room. His heart ached from the knowledge that R would never accept the truth of the matter - that neither of them was willing to change their views on the world until it was proven with absolute certainty. But he knew the reality of this world and had learned of the great power Morgoth held - order could be restored, even at the expense of R’s selfless world view.

R’s hair was brushed from her face as Mairon kneeled in front of her. His fingers had never seen so worn, so rough. She didn’t dare ask why.

“I made this world for them to be free, Mairon,” R began, her voice trembling. “Controlling them, no matter when their instincts go awry, will ever be right. What parent would lock up or harm their children the moment they matured into their own beings?”

“…I know. But neither Morgoth nor I are the parents. Not even you are in some aspects. Have you not always wished for peace and happiness? That is what would remain after Middle Earth is judged.”

“What would remain is nothing but fear and misery,” R continued,m her voice beginning to raise and croak from how infrequent such anger was. “Do you care so little for me, Mairon? I told you that I loved you, and yet that means so little? Or is it that I am but a child in your eyes, naive and undeserving of respect? You spend years with me unchanged, yet mere days with Morgoth is enough to turn you from me? Yes, you or Morgoth may know more of the details in this world, but I built the whole of it. I planted the seeds, nurtured their roots. This world is good to its very core, even if some of the leaves turn to darkness. If you destroy my baby, my eons of tenderness of care, what is left of me other than nothingness —“

“Do you truly think so little of me, to claim that I am so ingenuine?” Mairon boomed, frustration evident as his fingers clutched at her cheeks and wiped at her furious tears clumsily. “I understand I am a gruff and arrogant being, unyielding to becoming as gentle as you. I have had to reflect for myself what it is I must do - and it is this. I no longer believe order to be the priority - no, it is you. It has been you since we danced and drank at that Hobbiton festival, since children weaved flowers into your hair, since I braided your hair til the sun rose.

“It is that which I now wish to create. And I understand through Morgoth’s power that this is the way to achieve a world where mortal men do not wound you with their shallow intentions or elves try to persuade you to aid only them. I want to take the foundation of this beautiful realm that you’ve created and shape it to your perfect likeness, where hate does not blossom between species, where hardship is avoided if only they seek you out. I love you with every fibre of my being, R, and I have for much longer than I had ever imagined. Yield to me, R, and trust that I know what I’m doing. I understand it hurts now, but imagine a world bountiful with harvests, festivals, and love that you can craft so personally for the decades to come after this —“

“You are not worthy of the title of a Maia,” R suddenly spat, pushing Mairon’s touch away. “I shall hereby sever your connection to Vala. A Maia is meant to be benevolent, charitable, kind, and selfless. You were never all of those things, but now you are none. What love could you possibly speak of if you twist it to mean your own selfish dreams are fulfilled? Become swallowed in this supposed great darkness, Sauron - god with a complexion so abhorred and evil.”

Mairon’s eyes widened, and he clutched at his chest with both heartbreak and sudden agony, feeling his already diminishing abilities of light leave his bones. He was left nothing with his immortality and the gifts bestowed by Morgoth, a profound weakness in comparison.

R watched with painstaked eyes as the gentle gleam of his red locks turned darker and shadows intertwined with his hair, as though a permanent dirt weaved into the roots. His eyes grew into darkness, and it was as though his bones ached with a litheness that no longer remained. It was as though the same dark power that had consumed Morgoth had flooded through his veins, and a great unhappiness had set upon him. For the first time, Mairon wept into his hands, body curling onto the ground while his hands grasped at R’s feet.

But even then, she felt pity - pity that Vala had left him go unguided for so long. And so, R wept, too, her tears causing vines to writhe through the cracks in the stone floors, and embraced Sauron in a warm embrace.

“What is it I must do to prove my unshattered loyalty, dear R?” Sauron begged, hands grasping at R’s feet painfully so. “I care not for being a Maia, but it is your care and adoration I refuse to lose. It is not the Vala I live for, but you and this dream of mine wound into my very flesh. Tell me what to do and I shall do it, if only for you to be mine as you have before.”

R regaiuned her composition and bowed her head. “Prove it by killing it, that horrible beast you call a teacher. Poison him with my light so profoundly that he keels over dead at my very feet. That abhorred beast is no child of mine - his very core is rotten and sickening. Only then will I might forgive you for this evil betrayal.”

Sauron’s eyes widened with regret at her harsh words before bowing his head once more. “I… shall bid you goodbye for now, my sweet, benevolent Yavanna. Sleep for but a week longer, and you shall see the confirmation of my undying worship of you.”

He rose, wiping at his golden robe that had become sunken, dirty, and stained with black. R could not trust what his words claimed; And so, rather than settling once more into the extravagant bed, she sat at a wall and pressed her hands to it, exploring the land around her.

As time passed, it only confirmed that she was right; that even if this foul darkness swept across the surface for a distance, the roots and dirt underneath it all were firm and full of life. Yes, at the very core, her earth was beautiful and good. 

During that week of slumber, she drew strength from within, communed with Ents, and devised an intentional escape plan that would drain her strength in an instant by consuming this darkness as she left, yet would allow this evil to dissipate. She no longer honestly believed that Sauron would be hers as he once was, and that he had always believed in her idea rather than respected who she would always be.

And surely, she could swallow this place whole with the strength of Vala in her bones, even if the land was sullied with such a vile stench.

When R opened her door, pretty and clean, she was met with Sauron’s neutral expression, betraying his concern only from his intensely furrowed brows. She was unsure whether he would truly poison Morgoth, even as he took a small knife to her fingertip and drew blood. It seemed to pain him to do so.

R felt her strength leave her as they approached a more populated area of Morgoth’s fortress that further approached the exit into his barren landscape. But what frightened her more was the foul beasts, sticky and with rolls of fat across their bare bodies. Sauron muttered to her that they were ‘orcs,’ and that they were created from mud and stone in Morgoth’s image to build up an army of darkness.

They entered a grand dining room. R could identify that the craftsmanship was Sauron’s, and that he perhaps aided in the cooking as well. Morgoth sat at the head of the table as orcs wheeled in trays of delicious food and wines. The man watched her every move, and R watched his. And despite R’s frank hostility, Morgoth appeared arrogant and haughty.

“Welcome, Yavanna,” Morgoth greeted. “Before you wait in suspense, know that Annatar quickly informed me of your wishes for me to die. Do not expect such treachery at this table. Sit.”

R gulped and sat, Sauron on the other side. The man cast his glance away from her glare, but there was still uncertainty in his posture. R clenched her fists beneath the table, staring at the platters about her and the glass filled with wine. 

“What is it you wish from me, then?” R snapped.

Morgoth chuckled grimly. “Only to keep you here. It would be… such a shame if you returned to Vala. It would put an uncomparable halt to our plans, after all.” 

With every cruel answer, R bit her lip further, enough to draw blood into her mouth. 

“But please. Eat and drink. I still mean no hostility to you, dear queen.”

“How do I know it is not poisoned?”

Annatar stood abruptly and left, but Morgoth seemed to motion after the man.

“You shall see. Are you a gambling woman, Yavanna? We both have such… differing expectations of Annatar. As we speak, he is gathering wine for us to try. Tell me, R, are you willing to trust your companion to kill me out of love for you, or rather, do you believe his goals hold priority? You act as though you have turned against him, but I know very well that your heart holds confusion. When he returns, he will ask you to trust him once more. I look forward to seeing if you do so. I shall only drink if you do, after all. And know that the wine will not go untainted.”

R gasped quietly, fiddling with her fingers, as a deep anxiety welled in her bosom. She did not dignify the man with a response. But… would she trust Annatar and stay true to herself, even at such a risk, or would she choose safety for the sake of a swift victory?

She was not sure when things had escalated to be so dramatic - so quick and tense. 

Sauron entered the room once more, holding two glasses and a murky black bottle of wine. R gulped at the sight, the air tense and frightening as he silently poured the glasses. Morgoth looked so sure of Sauron’s loyalty, yet R could not claim the same. He appeared shameful, swarming with regret. But even so, R wanted to believe the man who claimed to love her would never kill her.

Morgoth clasped his hands together as Sauron returned to his seat, eyes staring at R with a deep intensity. That intensity did not betray either comfort or disdain, though, which only made a knot form in her stomach. Her eyes ogled at the glass.

“What is it you choose, dear Yavanna? Shall we drink?” Morgoth hummed intently, swirling the glass between his fingers.

R thought for but a moment, sending a gentle, defeated glare to Morgoth. “You may align with my companion in terms of goals, Morgoth, but Mairon and I align in terms of the heart. I am angry at his betrayal, yes, but that does not mean I would ever believe in a world in which he aimed to harm me - nor would I wish to live in one. Yes, let us drink, vile creature. Let me prove once more that love and goodness wins all.”

R raised her glass and allowed them to clink together. Morgoth stared intensely with such assurity that it would never be him that Sauron would betray - that his lessons, his generosity in sharing power, their goals and gifts, would make all the difference - for surely, love was fictitious and power was genuine.

The deity trembled as the liquid spilled into her mouth. Her heart beat fast, and a few tears escaped her eyes. She didn’t dare look at Sauron, for if she were to die, she would hope it to be a little less painful if she did not gaze upon him. And surely, her brothers and sisters from above would sense her death and avenge her, no longer ignoring the plundering of her earth.

The wine tasted feathery, light, and delicious. It slid down her lungs with ease. Relief washed over her as the tears flowed down her cheeks with pure joy, and she set the glass down, observing Morgoth.

The man had tasted the same drink as her, but his face grew sour. The glass dropped from his fingers to the ground. He appeared to be angry, spewing it from his lips like a coward. R gasped quietly as Mairon stood and withdrew his elven dagger, pointing at the beast with only a slight ache in his expression.

“You traitor,” Morgoth croaked. “Do you truly think one sip could defeat me? I shall kill you now where you stand, for if I shall be poisoned, as shall you —!” 

His bellowing voice was cut off as the dazed man’s head was sliced off in an instant. Nothing but terror was in the evil being’s eyes as the head rolled and the body collapsed. Blood spewed before evaporating into a dark dust.

R could only watch with a guilty satisfaction as Morgoth’s body writhed and withered away. Mairon’s hands trembled, and the sword fell, fury evaporating from his expression. It was in those moments that the dust of Morgth’s corpse suddenly swept to his feet, wrapping around his ankles and up his body. The woman was terrified, jumping from her seat and stumbling toward the man. She was certain in that moment that Mairon might die as she clasped onto his robed chest in horror.

“Mairon, my sweet…! What is happening to you? Why —?”

“It is okay, kind R,” he croaked, allowing the dust to sink into his skin. His hair darkened to a deep brown, and his flesh cast more shadows than ever before, but his body had only grown in muscle and definition, a newfound strength merging with his own. “Morgoth is dead. It is merely his powers seeking me out as a new host.”

“Allow me to expel them, dear —“

“No,” Mairon suddenly boomed, taking a step away as he hunched over and clenched at his chest. “You asked for me to kill him, and I have done so. So please, at least allow me to have this. A great power as this should surely never go to waste. I did not need Morgoth, but this power of his… it can help protect and reshape Middle Earth. It is that which I need and intend to keep…”

“B - but,” R choked, pawing at the man,” your light, your beauty… Do you not wish to become a Maia once more? To maintain such great power, to live with me in Vala? A darkness like this could never enter…”

Morgoth let out one last shallow gasp before standing straight again, wiping the dust that stained his golden robe a deep grey. His eyes were no longer their beautiful bright color, but a dirty brown swirling with an unnatural darkness and a tint of red in the flickering candle. His kin lacked the same softness from before, tense and sullied.

Sauron released a sigh and limply allowed his fingers to drift across R’s jawline. A fddondness remained, even R flinched in fright. She was certain his love could evaporate in an instant and that she, too, could be hurt. But she maintained her trust, though, not shying away from his scathing, evil fingertips as her lips trembled and tears stopped falling.

Morgoth was no more, but what of Mairon? Such evil capabilities… was it possible to tame its instincts?

R leaned into his hand, which cupped her cheek. “What now? Shall you fix this barren land and be rid of those wretched beasts that have been made? What does your ingenious, strong mind anticipate?”

Mairon chuckled. “I have yet to know. But without orders from their master, they shall lay at rest if only for a while. Do not fret, beautiful Queen. Please, if only to reward me for my decision, may I rest with you for a time? I apologize wholeheartedly for my betrayal, yet with prying ears, I could never have told you of what my plan was. Surely, you shall share a cup of wine with me as I allow this darkness to settle in my bones?”

R nodded. “Yes, Mairon, my sweet Annatar. I apologize for my cruelty. I cannot believe that I was concerned that you had lied to me. You are no Sauron.”

He smiled fondly before taking a hand that R offered up. His fingers tingled with pleasure, her soft skin shrinking the discomfort of his now rougher flesh. They abandoned the dining hall, and the man weaved her gently around until they had returned to R’s sanctuary of strength. She could only reflect on how time quickly passed here on earth - how dramatic life could be when one was a part of her creation rather than observing from above. 

To fear death, hurt, and change - perhaps during her journey, she had come to be more like her children. She was all the more melancholy for it. Never had R appreciated the strength and life of her sons and daughters.

On the bedside table were two more cups and a bottle of wine. They sat next to each other on the bed, and R felt nothing but peace and sincere adoration toward the cleverness her partner had.

Mairon’s nimble fingers poured the wine as she rolled her fingers down his back. She laid her worries for his health to rest, all trust restored. Morgoth was gone, and that meant they could restore Middle Earth to its state of peace and happiness her way.

“Mairon, my sweet,” R hummed,” I cherish you so dearly.”

“I worship you, my Queen,” he answered. “Is there a destiny in which we could live here forever? Watch the world grow on its own under your commanding and gracious hands, molded into a world you see fit? It must be selfish of me to ask, but… I wish never to lose you to the Vala. I wish not to return myself, as I have always cared not for their arrogant and ignorant ways. Oh, lovely Yavanna, is there a path to be taken in which we could roam this earth for our eternities?”

His voice was gentle, urgent, and pleading. R’s heart melted from the sound, for their concluded journey to Morgoth had brought out his deep kindness. Yes, R thought, surely Mairon was the sweetest of all creatures and gods.

“But what of my many sisters and brothers?” She answered thoughtfully. “Although I do not miss home now, one day I might. What then? Would you accompany me back to meet with your own family as well? Surely, your heart longs for some others from whence we came.”

R accepted the glass, taking a small sip. The wine was far more bitter than before, and she even felt a vague ache in her heart. She set it beside her, convinced it was nothing but an adjustment to one not filled with her pure and light blood. 

Mairon took a sip of his own before wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. R leaned into his touch, her head resting in the crook of his neck as a pillow. Her hair draped over him, and his fingers tumbled through her effervescent locks graciously. 

“No. I have never known love before you,” he admitted fully, voice rumbling into her ear. “I wish for you to join me in my conquest for all eternity, to build a world so perfect that you never want to escape. Surely you love me the same?”

R shook her head. “It is because of my deep appreciation for everything around me that I have grown to appreciate you the most, dear Annatar. Without them, I am nothing but a shell. Please, let us not think of the future right now. You scheme far too often when you must rest.”

Mairon hummed, grabbing her cup and assisting R with another sour gulp. She felt a weakness in her flesh from the drink, a sense of tiredness and disconnect washing over her. She furrowed her brows in confusion, observing as Mairon pulled the bottle and glasses away.

“You must rest, kind R,” he muttered, pulling her down to lay with him. His arms were tightly woven around her body, which gave her such a foreign warmth. However, she felt as though the strings of Vala had been severed, an uncertainty reaching her.

“Mairon, my sweet… What is that fine wine of yours? I had not even intended to feel drunk, and yet that made me ill. Is it not elven?”

He sighed, pulling a soft blanket atop her before lying on his side to hold her close. There was a strange possessiveness to it, as though foul trickery had been played with his hands.

“Worry not, R. The spell shall pass like nothing but a brief dream,” he replied cautiously. “It is simply a… detoxification. I wish for you not to be weak to these barren lands, nor do I wish the Vala to be on your mind any longer. Your part will play when it is needed.”

R furrowed her brows, pawing lightly at the man’s chest. 

“What… what does that mean, Mairon? Have you… done something to me? Have you poisoned me? Tell me what you have put in my body, I implore of you.”

Mairon shook his head into the pillow, not allowing the woman to gain distance from his sweet embrace. “You trust me once more, yes? Please understand and trust that I have done what is right for you. No longer must you carry all of your harsh burdens, or return to that foul land of the Vala. You will never find joy there, only here, with me. My blood is now your blood.”

“I… but you did not ask,” she mumbled in fright, even as a spell of sleep washed over her. “Mairon, you have poisoned me? What is the make of this poison? Am I going to die? Shall I ever see my family above… again?”

“Just rest. Think not of it so profoundly. Trust and love me for all of eternity, and think not of anything else but me. Sleep. I shall be by your side until you have awoken.”

His words carried a weight to them that frightened her to her core. So many thoughts were slowly being silenced by whatever darkness he had pushed into her lungs to weaken her. Yet she could not fight the shutting of her eyes and the sinking of her body into his as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Sauron (3/?)

WC: 4.1k

R sent Mairon a glance before assessing by his unchanging posture he would not speak. “He is my dearest friend. We are questing south to meet with Morgoth and put a stop to his evil reign in hopes of accomplishing harmony once more.”

A hush seemed to fall over the court and King Anardil seemed taken aback. “Does… your companion have a name?” He stuttered, attempting to clear the name of evil from his thoughts.

The woman stared at Mairon briefly, knowing of his mysterious nature. “…Annatar. You may call him Annatar, Lord of Gifts. Perhaps this terrain may not be suitable for my assistance, but he has many capabilities and is the finest craftsman in all the land.”

Mairon could not control his urge to bow to R, even if the angle made it aimed toward the King. R was taken back by his sudden politeness and smiled. Yet Mairon was but blessed with such a kind name from his partner; he thought back to that babe in the Shire, now sharing such favor with it.

“I see,” he perked up. “Might I convince you both to remain for a while, if only to grace us with your effervescence? It seems you may have some gripes with our defenses. Might we kindly negotiate, even if your power surely knows no bound and you could swallow us into the earth where we stand?”

The woman blushed at such thought. “No, brave King. We have but an evening to pass through, as we may not rest in one place for too long. If I may, this world I have lended my hand to has become divided and afraid. I plead that you halt your troops and focus on the building of your societies rather than the conquering of others.”

“We want not for much,” King Anardil huffed. “We wish only for safety, which it seems you cannot offer.” Quiet gasps rang through the hall and his expression sullied. Mairon was quick to glance about, hand gripping the hilt of his sword as the other prepared rains of fire to release if there was further hostility. “Surely, you have much on your plate that you could not understand my people’s predicament. But… if you bring an end to Morgoth and his uprising of darkness, we will stop the moment evil clears the heavens.”

R tensed and sighed. “…Very well. I suppose my dear Annatar was right. I shall agree. Now, we shall be on our way.”

Others seemed panicked as the woman turned and left, with Mairon quick to follow. He lingered behind, awaiting the King’s command for capture. But rather, the King seemed crestfallen and regretful, if not fearful himself. 

A bitter taste was left in her mouth. Mairon may have thought her to be stubborn and naive to a fault, but even R recognized that mankind outdid her in that regard. Their lifespans were so fragile and delicate that they turned to any offense if only to expand it. Admirable to some degree, yet irritating currently. 

Mairon was caught off guard by the woman's hasty decision. He swore he’s never see a day where R heeded his advice, despite him having bent to her will for the entirety of the journey, even when R did not recognize it. He endured a cold anger in his heart from how foolish that King had been - turning away free aid in exchange for obedience was a wonderful and generous offer. He assumed that, if the deal was won and Morgoth was destroyed, that King would still not agree.

For that, he wished to slaughter that fool.

R hung her head and she left through the back entrance of Minas Anor. Mairon was silent until they had made enough distance from that cursed land. He halted, and R heard, turning to him. Tears shimmered in her eyes and it made the deity’s heart ache. 

“Why does it wound you so? They have been crafted to be prideful and stubborn,” he spoke with an unwilling sharpness.

The woman smiled sadly before her eyes peered beyond him to the towering kingdom. “Am I… really so useless of a Valar? Is my only ability to grow and create the world? Does my aid end there?”

“Do not allow that man’s foolishness to deter you,” Mairon snapped. “He was arrogant for declining. You could have built them defensive hills or burrows for storage. I am certain he wished only for your return in a sly fashion - to draw you back when we inevitably halt evil.”

“As if I could ever be tied down to such - no, I shall stop my whining here. Thank you, Mairon. I hope the name I gave you does not insult you.”

The man quirked a brow before bowing politely. “Annatar is a blessed name to receive. It is an honor to have your ardent respect. Now, I believe Angband awaits.”

“Will we truly be alright with just the two of us? Such a villainous creature… Do you think Morgoth would allow us to speak with him? You are strong, Mairon, the strongest of the Maia, but what if Morgoth is stronger than us combined?”

Mairon sighed as they continued their strides. “Surely you jest, sweet R. You could swallow him into the ground whole if you pleased. Although I admire your belief that all can be resolved through mere chatter, I suppose I wish to understand how this Morgoth grew to power and what he plans to do with it…”

“Indeed. And where has this great evil come from? Perhaps it was manmade, but how could such evil have gone unnoticed?”

“It has not gone unnoticed, R, simply ignored,” Mairon sighed. “You forgot that we are the outliers amongst our kind, not them.”

They continued walking. R did not turn back to look from whence they had come, but even as insecurity had its shackles on her heart, she reached her trembling fingers to grasp at his armored elbow.

Mairon flinched and R’s eyes widened, but as she went to pull her hand away once more, he was quick to pull it back with the other, squeezing cautiously. It was rare for Mairon to be so gentle, and R relished the kind act. Her heart was warmed, despite fingers wrapping loosely around cold elven armor.

Their travels were long and arduous. The land became progressively more barren, and R attempted to restore it as they walked, but even that did not seem to combat the spreading death as quickly as she hoped. All the longer, she clung to Mairon in discontempt, and a growing weakness spread through her veins as they traversed further and further to Morgoth’s station.

R felt a growing pain in her chest from the darkness. She could surely fight against it all if she so cared to, but the pain was foreign. Never had she met such a dark force in her eons of existence, one that left her agonized. Mairon took note of this, often requesting they turn back, if only to find her a shelter.

“Your good constitution is far too delicate for the wrath that lies ahead, beautiful R,” he had often pleaded when they sat to rest. “It is not right to wound yourself so close at hand when you could surely aid from a distance.”

She had fought against his words, insisting that this pain was temporary. R was impenetrable when it came to physical harm, and this was but emotional. She had always held sensitivity when it came to the dying of her creations, as though they had been born from her very bosom. 

But as R acknowledged one final steep mountainscape, it was excruciating. It took all of her strength to peer toward the goal, and it was when she took that step that a sudden jolt washed over her body and R clutched at her chest, keeling over. Tears spewed to the ground, but even that left only dark, angry dirt rather than sprouting blossoms.

“R…!” Mairon bellowed sharply, grasping at her silk robes and allowing her support as he lowered her to her knees. 

The robes were sullied with darkness, but the dirt here was not kind; the jagged, stony terrain did not please the cuts and bruises on her feet. 

Mairon removed his gloves to hold back her hair from her face, and the man swore he had never held such anger and fury toward a creature. This growing evil would surely bring nothing but disorder across Middle-earth, and yet, he would rather that than to see his precious Queen of Vala put through hardship.

And yet, R was stubborn, far more than he.

“Mairon, my dear, I shall try to replenish…”

“No. Not yet, and not from here. We do not understand the nature of this great evil - perhaps it is a power that can rival even a goddess herself. Allow me to take you further —“

“No, Mairon,” R gasped. “If I am not to cleanse it here and now, I must go further —“

“R,” the deity snapped, his grip on her strained and tighter, leaning lower so that the woman was fully draped against him,” I cannot allow it. You may not be dying in the flesh, but I cannot allow you to suffer for naught. Please, I shall face him alone. You can still play your part.”

R’s eyes raised to meet his, and despite her twitching, hurt, there was relentless determination that made even Mairon rethink his words. “Mairon, I know I have been nothing but a distraction and a weight on your back, but I must do this. I do not wish for you to go alone, for I could not imagine a more greater suffering than that of losing you.”

Mairon’s heart ached from R’s sudden words, and his fingers nimbly withdrew his helmet. Somehow, as a Maia, he had been so impentriable to the pulsing darkness in the air. And despite the dismal dark fog, his red locks seemed to gleam in the harsh breeze with a force of grace and goodness.

R could not help but gaze in wonder, the smallest smile meeting her chapped lips. Despite her trembling, her constitution held strong under the weight of a thousand evils. And so had Mairon’s, appearing to be more godly than even her.

“I shall not be lost to anything, sweet R. I am a Maia, if not one of the greatest. And you are the most benevolent of Queens that I could forever carry your blessing to the darkest of pits and remain light. You have never been a burden.”

“Then carry me with you, Mairon,” R pleaded. “I have great power, if only to be brought to where I must use it. I beg of you to endure me for but a little longer.”

His eyes softened, fingers loosely trailing to pull strands of silky hair behind her ear and caress the softness of her cheek. R’s fragile hands pulsed with goodness against his armor, attempting to sit up further. One of her silk robe straps dangled off of her shoulder, Mairon’s eyes tracing it with a care so deep he was uncertain from whence it had sprouted and for how long such roots had taken claim over his very being.

“If that is what you wish, then I shall carry you with me,” Mairon muttered. “If only to behold your grace for my own selfish wants. For it has never been your capabilities or powers that have given me strength, but your very essence and being. You are the most fine creature that shall ever walk Middle Earth or Vala, and yet you choose me as a companion.”

R’s lips parted softly in a quiet gasp, eyelids fluttering with reciprocation. Mairon’s brows furrowed as he shut his eyes and tilted his head to hers. R had anticipated his intense lips meeting her own, and a warmth spread throughout her chest. Her fingers tangled into his hair with nothing but desire, and Mairon craved with every inch of his being to hold her close - to have his body entwined with her ethereal beauty. A quiet groan escaped his lungs as years of yearning released into their kiss.

It was only when R was left gasping for breath, reminded of her sharp heart, that Mairon pulled away, cheeks flushed. She was frazzled only from the infectious darkness, something he often expected. But for a selfish moment, he allowed himself to remember her soft lips, one of the first memories in his life he had wanted to cherish so deeply.

“I love you, cheritable Mairon,” R stated breathlessly. “But please - we have but a fortnight of travel remaining. Allow me to cling to you for dear life as my hurt succumbs to great darkness.”

 Mairon nodded, her words echoing in his mind. He mounted her on his back after regaining composure and donning his helmet and gloves. Her encumbered breath felt flush against his neck as he marched up the mountain. 

He was distracted during the ascent. ‘Love’ had always been a word R flung about so often when it came to the world she created, and the creatures that roamed it did the same, assuming any ounce of positive feeling must lead to love for another. Mairton was uncertain how he ended up so jaded during his existence; he had often scorned the idea of love, that there was no such thing as caring for another being unconditionally. Even in Vala, ‘love’ was nothing more than an exchange of vows and promises, a trade of one another’s most desired capabilities.

And yet, R had broken through his walls during their travels, showing him that love was genuine and possible, if only from her. R had never asked for anything in return from the creatures she had enslaved herself to, and now, that love had so generously been extended to him, even as a being that had no hand in his making.

Yes,  love was rare. But if there were ever one whom he loved and could love for all of eternity, it would be R - for Mairon had high standards of perfection, and she had fought to reshape them in her own likeness.

Mairon stood atop the mountain. Below was a trail that carved into the earth, as well as an army of foul beasts shaped from the darkened earth and reanimated. Those ugly creatures saw  them and seemed to writhe with unbridled desire for chaos and violence. And yet, a black mist rose from the hole that led underneath the mountains. He watched as that mist took the form of a man, even though the pit of R’s discomfort seemed to stem from him. 

Yet R slept soundly, and despite the tense atmosphere around the valley, the evil named Morgoth had carved a path for them to descend, as though having anticipated their arrival.

“Welcome,” a deep, hissing voice boomed across the land to Mairon. The man flinched with discomfort. “I have long awaited you, Mairon, as well as Yavanna herself. Please, allow me to offer a warm and comfortable residence while we discuss.”

Mairon desired nothing more than to stab his sword into the man, whose sharp features only accentuated a canniving darkness. His long black hair dragged across the ground, blending in with his thick fur robes darker than an abyss. His appearance was almost unnatural, as though the beast did not often take the appearance of a mortal. But his creatures bowed in fear, making way for a clear path.

The deity repositioned R with a tremble to his touch, instead carrying her as though she were a bride. Such positioning would allow him to strike with a sword much faster if need be, and despite the growing resentment he had toward Morgoth, he oozed of a power so foreign it left Mairon uncertain of how to attack if he had to.

Morgoth bowed politely, walking beside Mairon with a surprising amount of charm. He inquired about the pleasantness of their travels and even apologized for how his darkness had unintentionally weakened R’s light. Mairon’s brief replies bit back fury, knowing that once he woke R, she would surely do much better at communicating.

Beneath the earth, Morgoth had carved a stone palace that seemingly was vacant of his evil, and R began to twitch and stir in his arms. Mairon had wished along their journey to spare her the hardships of their quest, yet he could not have been more grateful as Morgoth invited him to set her on a couch in a small alcove, surrounded by chairs and shelves of books. It reminded the man of any manmade or hobbit-crafted room. 

Mairon wove his fingers through R’s hair as her eyes strained to open, and it was as though she was tranquil. R was confused, having spent her dreams roaming the beautiful swamps and marshes of Middle-earth in the meantime.

“Allow me to offer even the greatest of comforts as guests,” Morgoth spoke eagerly. “I understand the journey was long and arduous, even for powerful beings such as yourself.”

Morgoth sat across in a chair, hands clasped gracefully on his lap. Mairon removed his helmet and set it on the table beside him, the candle beside it flickering against its metal frame. His body was tense, and he sat with unrivaled animosity toward Morgoth.

R was slow to sit up, yet had an ethereal complexion, light returning to her eyes. Yet, R was not as quick to return to the surprising level of warmth Moergoth greeted her with. She was quick to cast uncertain glances at Mairon, who held her steady with his unwavering fingers holding hers.

“Welcome, Yavanna,” Morgoth stated with a slight nod. “I must say, I have great admiration for both yours and Mairon’s determination. Two souls so different brought together on a mission of bringing compassion back to Middle Earth.”

“Yes, hello,” R replied, meeting his level of politeness. “You are Morgoth, yes? Or… do you prefer another name?”

“Morgoth is quite fine, kind Queen. Would you prefer R or Yavanna? And would you prefer Mairon or Annatar?”

“You know a lot about us for a creature condemned to your location,” R stated curiously. “You may call me as you wish.”

“Annatar,” Mairon replied with an unbridled snap in his voice.

Morgoth only chuckled at the man’s remark. “My apologies, Annatar. And yes, R, I know a lot of this land. I hope you do not take my work as a threat, although I'm sure you must think it is quite ugly. In fact… I wish for us three to be good friends, as I am certain we share the same goals.”

The companions were taken aback by his strange revelation. Mairon was cautiously quiet, so R croaked,” What do you mean? I do not wish to disrespect you, but…this land sickens me. I hope you forgive that I could never allow my world to be consumed by such ugly darkness, yes? What is your goal, if we are so similar?”

Morgoth hummed. “Yes, I do recognize how tormenting it must seem. But understand, that is why I wish to work with both of you so personally to restore Middle Earth to be that of obedience and peace. I do not enjoy such barren lands either, yet it is the only way to restore Middle Earth to its pristine shape. I hope you would aid in the restoration of the health of the soul, R, and for you to aid with the crafting of powerful objects, Annatar, if only to restore balance. I have observed the earth long enough to recognize that darkness must be fought with darkness.”

R was taken aback, and her knuckles paled at how hard she gripped her robes. Mairon was still suspicious of such claims, but leaned forward to engage regardless. 

“From whence did you come, Morgoth? How do we know that you speak the truth? We are of the Vala, so surely you spin words of falsehood to save your own skin,” Mairon rivalled with a glare, hand haunting the location of his sword.

Morgoth did not seem put off by Mairon’s harsh, distrusting words. Instead, he released a deep sigh. “I was summoned from the darkest hearts of darkened elves initially, fueled by their hatred and anger. I wiped out their small tribe immediately before gliding across Middle Earth as mere mist. I came to observe and understand this realm, recognizing quickly how it was fueled by selfishness and chaos.

“However, I grew to love what you had created, R - the trees, the vines, the landscapes, and the goodness that some creatures held. It is truly a shame as to what happened here. So after centuries, I grew in power and understanding, unlocking something foreign that even the Valas did not know of as beings of light. I crafted armies that I call Orks, and I wish to cleanse Middle Earth to what it should be. I wish nothing but to restore order so that beauty can be all that flourishes, but as someone who has seen the world so closely, it is not gift-giving and charity that shall solve this, but violence and domination. 

“Surely, R, you have recognized that your kindness has caused further competition, jealousy, and resentment. You created these beasts in the likeness of the Vala, having taken your time, yet they have gone rogue. Abandoned the idea that a higher power exists and that they are something to be ruled rather than to rule.”

R choked back tears at the thought of her creations being brought to nothing but tatters. She clutched at her chest, which pained Mairon to no end as he rubbed her back softly. And yet, Morgoth’s words resonated with him. Ever since he had come to earth… he had come to learn the same as him.

It felt wrong to believe that suddenly there could be something more to gain from this journey than the elimination of an army.

“No,” R cried. “No, that is wrong, Morgoth. I understand your words, but I do not empathize. Without darkness, there is no light. I wish to bring balance and equality, not control. What they have become is exactly what I had hoped - I wanted for my children to spread their wings as civilizations, if only to battle their desire for separation from the other species.”

“Can we not have both?” Mairon suddenly spoke to R.

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise as a sense of betrayal, even if she had known all along of his desires, slipped in. 

“Not… not this way, surely…”

“I wish to learn further of your plans and this power you have found,” Mairon inquired. “I do not wish to join forces for the sake of my dear companion’s temperament, but perhaps we can come to understand one another and find middle ground, yes?”

An unnatural smile spread across Morgoth’s lips. “…Yes. Allow us to do so. But R, allow me to host you in my finest room so that you may calm yourself and rest. I’m sure my words must hurt you, but please think for yourself as well. As I said earlier, I wish for us to be friends, not enemies.”

R felt far too ill to turn down the beast’s offer. But she flinched even from Mairon’s assistance in standing, still weak from the invaded darkness in her lungs. Mairon was hurt at her sudden distrust and worry when they had been companions for so long. But Morgoth’s words had piqued his interest in a way no creature ever had. Perhaps… discussion, as R pleaded, was the way for order to be reestablished. 

She was indeed brought to a very fine room, discovering that tranquility pumped through her bones at the feeling of untouched stones and unsullied soil. She didn't take in the details much and was quick to shut Mairon out to fix her wounded heart.

Mairon was her companion. Surely, despite somewhat conflicting visions… he had a sense of loyalty, yes?

For the first time, she almost regretted desiring to debate and understand Morgoth rather than for Mairon to smite him in the very ground he had conquered.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Sauron (2/?)

WC: 4.2k

R arose exactly when she intended to in three days time. The woman bathed and washed her robe, now a light yellow with the occasional stitching from green leaves to fix the tears. The woman placed on her head one of the many wreaths the young Hobbits made for her and feasted on a delicious pastry. She reveled in the imperfections.

It was then that there was a knock at her door. R opened, only to find Mairon, as stoic as ever - except with his red hair pulled from his face - standing, offering a respectful hand. He did not smile - in fact, R could not recall a time that he had in her company. But he wore a dark pair of pants and a shirt, the first time he had not adorned his silk, gold robe or his elven cloak.

R accepted his hand pleasantly and they exited the abode. It was then that cheers and hollers echoed in the Shire. Genevin stood there in a simple tunic and robe, motioning to the pathway  with cheering civilians. 

The woman kept her grip on Mairon tight much to his chagrin as he was forced to feel the grateful pats of the Hobbits or the gentle shoves of children running past. The sun had just set and R made sure to clear the skies for them, revealing millions of stars that shone bright.

There were pillars with ribbons and when the path led to an open valley with tables of food and games, R clapped. A young child pulled her to a large circle of dancing Hobbits as the music sang to her.

Mairon was left to observe from the sidelines. Many gave him nods of respect, having learned that he was not as fond of their company as R was. He watched as R allowed her body to sweat and her robes become filthy. She only smiled further as her bones ached from the excitement and hands led her about the festival. She enjoyed the bounty of fish, fruits, and vegetables and the conversation.

It was in that moment that he almost understood what she found so beautiful about the creatures. The ugliness that touched her only seemed to make the Queen shine further.

It was then as the children were started to be put to bed that the filthier fun began. The pints emerged and the music became rowdier. But as a mother approached R, who was slowly migrating back to Mairon’s side, she was stopped.

The mother held a newborn boy in her arms and was flushed with awe. “Yavanna, I ask thee to bless and name my child. I wish him to become as kind-hearted and brave as you.”

R giggled and brushed a finger across the babe’s forehead. The child laughed cutely and she flushed with happiness. “Thank you for this, good mother. I must say, though, it is my gruff and stoic companion who is far braver than I.”

The man turned away in an instant, suddenly feeling a sense of heat rush to his cheeks. He could not help but think that her positivity knew no bounds, as he had only ever been cruel and pointed with his words.

R sent a smile his way before gazing at the child. “…Bilbo. I wish to bless your child with a name that shall make him as sharp and clever as a rapier and as benevolent and brave as a creature who would have such a weapon.”

The woman smiled and bowed. R was thanked once more before she rushed to put the child to sleep. R hummed and eventually stood in front of Mairon, who sent a far gentler glare than usual.

“Mairon, drink the wines and dance with me, I plead,” R insisted, placing a welcoming hand on his shoulder. “This festival is for you as well, after all. If it is not their company you enjoy, surely mine is not as deplorable?”

The man sighed. “You are a blessed Queen, Yavanna, who raises the sun for each passing day. Who am I to deny you?”

“Oh, you have tried to deny me plenty, Mairon,” R giggled. “It is simply that my stubbornness exceeds yours.”

The pair walked to the array of alcohols. They did not even need to pour their own cups as cheerful men and women thrust them into their hands. Mairon almost flinched from their casualness, but the alcohol had given the Hobbits boldness.

R clinked their mugs together in a toast, joined by the community. Cheers and hollers echoed across the happy hillsides as the woman chugged it in its entirety. There was a bitter fruitiness to it that made her scrunch her nose. Mairon let out a quiet chuckle, having downed his with no difficulty.

“I do not believe I’ve ever heard you laugh, Mairon. It holds such beauty.”

Mairon was taken aback by her compliment. He was not sure if it was earthly alcohol taking affect or his own feelings that led to his pale cheeks blushing as R pinched them.

Several cups later, R had had her fill. She swayed in the wind, staring up at the heavens. Mairon put a concerned hand on her shoulder.

“Have you overdone it, R? Does mortal creations affect you so?”

“Only as I have let it, Mairon. Let loose, why don’t you? Let us dance.”

“I would prefer not to.”

“I care not for your preferences right now, my friend. Would you rather I make a fool of myself?”

The man clicked his tongue, allowing the woman to grab his arm and pull him away from the tables and out to the boisterous field to dance. The moonlight followed and R began swaying and spinning and jumping to the energetic tunes.

The night was at its peak half an hour later. Mairon would never admit that he had allowed himself a pleasant tipsiness, enough so that he did not notice his lips spreading into a small smile. The deity was sweating silver and flowers sprouted from her feet much to the enjoyment of others. 

As the Hobbits began to settle into a reverent state, the music lulled. R slowed her own tempo, meeting Mairon’s gaze momentarily. Her mouth released a quiet gasp and it was then that Mairon blinked away the smile.

“Such a beautiful smile underneath all of that seriousness,” she muttered fondly. 

Mairon shook his head, grabbing at one hand while his other arm wrapped underneath her arm. He lead a soft, graceful dance, leading R in the occasional spin. He saw how the moonlight illuminated her beauty and admired how soft and delicate her hand was compared to intentionally rougher flesh. 

In that moment, he acknowledged that she was the epitome of goodness and beauty, regardless of any other Queen of Valar; Mairon could not be more of an opposite and had sought so long to demean her feminine, delicate kindness. But as he saw how she smiled so purely, how her body moved with such willing imperfection, he saw something too blessed for both Middle Earth or Vala.

 He refused to show how much that image meant to him as the music came to a slow and his arms fell back to his side, aching for it to have lasted longer.

“You are smiling again, dear friend. Do you appreciate now how lovely our children are?”

Her voice dripped like honey as she curtsied briefly. Mairon sighed in a soft irritation and his fingers drifted to a lock of her hair, allowing it to glide up until he gently pressed his lips to it. R was suddenly struck sober in surprise as she regained her posture and he released the hair.

Mairon chuckled again.

“Only from how they pale in comparison to your loveliness.”

R flushed and fluttered her eyes away. “You truly give me too much credit, Mairon.”

Mairon hummed before peering to the more deserted hillsides on the horizon. “Yavanna, you ought to rest for when morning comes. If nothing else, allow me to brush and braid your hair for our travels.”

She nodded as Mairon took her hand with a newfound gentleness. R sat on the hilltop and gazed as Mairon extended his hand and sent out illusions of amusement for her to gaze upon, bursting with color in the night sky. The deity laid on the grass, allowing her companion to spread it like elven threads. R molded the hill to her comfort and allowed a peaceful sleep with bountiful dreams to meet her, the warmth of Mairon’s weaving hands to soothe her.

The man had felt conflicted throughout their travels, certain that even if R had lived a longer millennium, that she lacked the experience or foresight to understand their duty as Valar. Although he would never admit it and R would never ask him to, he had felt the encroachment of pleasure and relaxation from the festival. And the man would never admit, either, how much enjoyment he reaped from seeing R in awe of her own creations.

Indeed, kindness was its own unfathomable strength, as Mairon had spent eons hardening his exterior and assuming the worst from others.

When the morning came, she felt the final pins in her braid. Mairon had crafted an additional stitch in his waistband for his crafted brush that was most suitable for her hair type, having returned to his robed and cloaked state, as well as his sturdy elven-sewn shoes. R accepted his hand as she stood, allowing the ground to rebuild its shape. On the distant horizon was the dense forestry and they walked toward it. 

“Would you be opposed to my summoning a Great Eagle to help us cross over the denser forest, as not to undue you’re hard work?” Mairon implored.

R sent an amused smile.”Not at all. I wish not to withhold us from our quest.”

“Have you… bid your farewells?” Mairon inquired carefully, raising his hands to the sky and fluttering his eyes shut.

“Such pleasantries are unneeded, dear friend. I was but an aid.”

Mairon bit back stubborn words of demanding respect from such lowly creatures, and he instead allowed a Great Eagle to find his song. The wind blistered over the hillsides and R’s braid whipped in the fierce wind. Distant shouts of confusion and awe swept the valley, carried by the breeze. 

Mere minutes later, the distant shriek of an eagle carried across. By then, Hobbits had taken notice and crowded at a distance as the bird began to descend, sending powerful wind across the hillside. It was then that Mairon lowered his arms and maintained a steady eye contact with the beast as it bowed its head.

Time froze momentarily as the world grew still. Mairon offered his earnest respect to the creature before lifting his body onto its back. He lowered an arm for R, aiding in hoisting her onto its back. She sat in front, her robe draped across the right side. Her left leg fell exposed on the other, her golden jewelry glinting in the sunlight. Her fingers gently pet the bird’s head, and it released a gentle coo.

Mairon wasted no minute before his hands dug into the thick feathers around R and the Great Eagle soared into the heavens. R released gleeful cheers as the clouds brushed against her skin and she could not help but hug the beast for balance, feeling Mairon close to distance as well. They were high above the world and the trees blurred and merged intently. The eagle followed the Brandywine river, if only briefly, before the Old Forest was abandoned behind them to the North and endless flatlands of grass surrounded them.

Mairon harked to the beast and it was a slow descent. R allowed her eyes to roll over the horizon as the sun slowly peaked. Both companions battled with their robes until the Great Eagle met the ground once more.

He was quit to slide off of its back before he raised his hands for R. The woman was quick to twist her body over, allowing her full weight to fall into him. Her fingers dwindled in the midst of his silky red locks and she allowed her hands to slide down his neck and collarbone before she broke away for distance.

Mairon had almost cherished her gentle wisps, and a part of him denied the idea that he would ever feel such a way without residual alcohol from yestereve. 

“Isn’t the dimensions this world has so wonderful?” R exclaimed, head turning away from the departing bird and peering southeast where Morgoth’s lair did lay. “I believe there is a road over there. Might we take it?”

“You know my opinions on the matter,” Mairon retorted. “But yes. That would be most convenient, although I’m sure you dream of passerby’s.”

“How have you grown to know me so well, dear friend? I thought you only care for your quest and the conquering of evil,” she joked.

They began to walk and follow the dirt road. R enjoyed the pleasant warmth that emitted to her feet and the breeze that cooled her. Indeed, the woman felt weaker and less powerful than ever when restrained in mortal ways, but the sensations were so foreign and filled her with glee.

“It is not out of lacking fondness that I remain so firm,” he admitted with irritation. “In fact, it is the opposite. Would a world of nothing but pleasantness not please you, blessed Queen? You enjoy these earthly passions that surely you wish to preserve them.”

“You jest, sweet Mairon. Without unpleasantness, where would such gratuity for simple life come from?”

The man steeled his gaze toward the road ahead. His words were genuine, and yet R had not taken them to heart as he had hoped. It was rare the deity was so adamant; so strained with loyalty for another living creature. This fueled a deep discontent within Mairon, as he both admired and abhorred his companion’s unconditional love for all that crept across the earth. It left him wondering if the foolish Queen had none such preference toward him.

This discontentment only grew and festered with furthered frustration as they travelled onward for several more months. Word of Yavanna’s presence had crossed to many realms as adventurers, villages, and fleets sold stories across the lands of her kindness and grace - and, of course, of the skillfulness of her dark, nameless companion.

Through the soft, simple village of Tharbad, the hardened landscape of Helm’s Deep with the dwarves, and the lush location of Edoras, they had wandered. And while evil cared only to leave destruction in its wake, R grew sprouts from the palm of her hand and flowers chased the soles of her feet.

Many men wished to woo her and leaders wished to bargain with her for the sake of greed and eternal protection. Bounties were offered and the promise of erected temples spoken, but R did not heed such arrogance.

The companions stood still in the vast field guarded by distant mountains and the silver stone walls of Minas Anor stood on the horizon, blocking their path. The wind batted at R’s robe and Mairon’s cloak. During their quest, compromises had been met. R allowed Mairon to craft her clean robes, and Mairon slunk into the depths of mystery by crafting himself armor that hid most of his features. Often it was the case that he served as the silent, faceless guardian of the woman who was well-known across Middle Earth.

“Dare I call a Great Eagle, R? Humans are more vile creatures than most. There is no saying how a leader of Gondor would feel in the midst of you,” the man scoffed.

R frowned, something that was unfamiliar to her lips. While Mairon had not smiled since the eve of the Hobbiton festival, having grown in negative judgement toward R’s children, it as not without its effects. R had grown weary of both her dear friend’s overprotectiveness and the foul, cruel behavior of her children.

“What of their arrows, Mairon? Might they shoot us down? I wish to leave none such violence in our wake. Who is their King?”

“I understand your concerns, but surely the Eagle may fly high enough. I do not trust King Anardil, as he has caused great havoc throughout Middle Earth.”

“But who knows of the loot they have pillaged?” R argued intently, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “I simply wish to bring sanctity. Surely, it would be wise to join their midst, if only to have as allies when meeting Morgoth. If mankind so easily turns to evil for their benefit, would they not turn to good just as easily when the opportunity presents itself?”

Mairon sighed, lifting his head to peer at the peak of the civilization, the palace of their leader. “What have we to bargain, R? Truly, men only seek the trophy that is your heart or the replenishing of their crops.”

R suddenly stepped in front of the man and sighed deeply. Mairon’s eyebrows scrunched in concern as the woman fiddled lightly with his helmet before removing it. The deity’s chiseled features cast shadows upon her. He leaned into her hands that cupped his firm, stoic cheeks, thumb rubbing gently. 

“They care for sustainability and honor - the promise of a future. Trust my foolish whims once more, Mairon,” she pleaded passionately. “After all, where I lack the conviction of self-preservation, you soar. It is why we are the perfect set of companions. Your strength and resolve lays in areas mine does not.”

“What is it you mean to say, R?”

R pulled her hands away sharply and bowed slightly, her hands clasped at her chest. “It is that I… trust you will have no issue doing what you must for my safety when met with the stubbornness and entitlement of mankind. You are my dearest friend, Mairon, throughout the entirety of my eons. I know you think of me naive, but it is only from my deep trust in you that it has not changed. Perhaps you often wish you had traveled alone, rather than stopping to greet me, for I surely rely on you more than you ever have on me.”

Mairon had never cherished the feeling of his mortal, beating heart in his chest more. His ears rang from her wonderful song and he felt lost for a reply. The resentment he had harbored from lacking acknowledgement of his superiority took on a new shape - that of reciprocated, pooling adoration. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped deeply, watch when R cast her gaze away with seeming insecurity.

“I…” R’s golden doe eyes flitted to the man, who fought strongly to find the proper words. His armor suddenly felt slick and heavy. “I hold for you the same dedication a knight would for his blessed Queen. At first, I admit I wanted to act selfishly. But without the words and motivation from a kind, benevolent queen, what reason has a knight for charging into battle?”

The queen let out a quiet, joyed gasp before firmly smiling. Mairon felt his flesh dare to melt, as though taking another form would save him from the vulnerability he had spilled for R. His heart ached at the sight with a feeling that had encroached upon hi with time. A tear slid down her cheek and his hand flinched, craving to absorb it. Instead, he cautiously lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it sweetly.

R smiled and whispered,” Sometimes, I wonder how Eru crafted a creature so charitable and lovely.”

Mairon had hoped for that blissful sentence to linger and for time to take a breath, but R spun and began trotting toward Minas Anor. Mairon replaced his helm and marched to meet her side, hands itching with paranoia. The man had felt a growing sense of dread throughout their journey; R seemed to feel fine with the lack of control they had on who they met, but many had been foul without her realizing it. Harmless, to be sure, but he had felt an encroaching fear that bloodshed would be inevitable - and in some cases, preferred.

The pair was halted near the border and his hand went his recently crafted dwarves sword when R had gone to bathe and rest. It glinted menacingly, reflecting the several humans that had arrows pointed from atop the wall.

“Halt! Speak your business, strange travelers,” a guard called, his sword already drawn. “Why have you approached our great kingdom?”

R did not reciprocate Mairon’s anxiety, curtsying politely. The man towered behind, ready to torment mankind with awful, crippling visions and reanimate their buried dead for his bidding. 

“Greetings. I am Yavanna, a Queen of Vala, and this is my dearest companion,” she spoke, ensuring the wind carried her softspoken tongue. 

“Ya - Yavanna," the guard stuttered. “Forgive us, as we have gone through harsh wintertimes and violent wars. We were certain you would never pass through our brilliant lands and meet the elves to the west. Please, we welcome you into our borders.”

Mairon dropped his arm and allowed the cloak to fall back into place, dragging across the ground. His body was tense and his lungs choking with nausea as the guard ordered the gates open and allowed them entry. Many good people peered out of their windows or stalls from the commotion, but the guard paid them no heed.

“Please allow us to privately escort you to meet King Anardil. I am certain he shall be pleased with your presence and… your companion’s, as well, if he speaks.”

Mairon hardened his intimidating stare, fiery eyes piercing through the slots in his helmet. It seemed that his  uncertain existence was what caused the people to be on edge, with archers still watching from a distance and mothers holding their children close when he passed. It amused him so that mankind was so quick to turn to fear and obedience from his mere air.

“He does not speak often,” R chuckled. “But he is the wisest, bravest, and most loyal in all of Middle Earth.  How does mankind fare here?”

The guard seemed taken aback by her earnest question. “We withstand harsh winters and the rivers freeze over. However, that also means our many enemies do not dare to attack us here. We ensure that the women tend to the homestead, as many of their husbands are at war in the north. Our people are very strong and resilient.”

She hummed, enamored by the bulging muscles of working women and the clever play between the young. Mairon could only be baffled at R’s wonder, as he knew of how weak and arrogant humans were, above all other beasts. Unlike the smaller villages of Hobbit folk and Orges or the well-maintained trading posts, there was filth coating the walls and there was a mist of independent thought that made it clear to Mairon how the tethers that upheld this society was fueled by greed and self-perseverance.

The palace was a grand sight at the top of the fjord. The amount of guards seemed to dwindle, as though the great sky would never pose a threat. Even R thought it foolish to not fortify the palace more.

Word was quick to spread of the deity’s arrival, and the King was already sat in his thrown at the end of the court, sweating bullets. He had greasy black hair that went past his shoulders and strong, defined features. A large nose and sharp jawline revealed the man’s clenched expression. He adorned an emerald green cloak above his chainmail armor robe and had sturdy boots. Leaning against the stone seat was a long, dense sword. And despite his timid, shrunken figure, he still seemed to tower in stature and muscle.

“Oh, great Yavanna, I have caught word of your appearance. It truly is a blessing to have you visit our establishment,” the king spoke intently, adjusting to stand and meet her where she stood a few yards away. “Need you any rest for your undoubtedly weary bones? Food to curb hunger?”

“No, thank you. We merely wish to aid, if only briefly, and ask for your armies to settle themselves. It wounds me deeply to cross the paths of the dead innocents,” R answered, curtsying once more. “But… we are simply passing through at the end of the day.”

Mairon watched as the man’s expression twitched with discontentment. His sharp eyes were glued to the King, who halted in front of R and bowed.

“I was unaware that the goddess wasted such little time on flattery,” King Anardil answered with a low chuckle. “Might we discuss that over some wine? And who is this companion of your’s?”

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Sauron (1/?)

WC: 3.9k

AN: had to learn a lot of Middle Earth lore, but be aware that essentially Mairon is who Sauron originally was before going all Sith-like :)

BTW even if you don't really know lotr or anything trust pls read this it's so good I promise I'm so happy w it no previous lotr knowledge is needed I swear

R felt mortal coils wrap around her as she emerged through the gate of her temple. While most of her sisters, brothers, and friends would find the weakness that crept into her limbs to be foul and excruciatingly horrifying, the woman could only gasp in wonder. Her lacking strength was motivating in that instant.

For the Valar, the mortal realm was often something to be squandered, ignored, or observed with amusement. Manwe and Varda had not done so much as even sweat a brow during the creation of her many children, grandchildren, and worlds. However, after creation, the life of deities was that of plentiful spoils and games. Despite R’s pleas, who was most prominently named Yavanna to her children of Middle Earth, Middle Earth became neglected by the Valar. And with that neglect came chaos and division. A rough and dark history was upon the realm, one that never ceased to agonize the woman. And after learning that Mairon, a distant yet far more powerful King of Valar, had descended into the flesh and bones of Middle Earth to bring conformity himself, she became inspired.

In truth, the Valar had the capability to create and destroy everything. And yet, R had grown tired of the fun and games while restlessly beholding wars between the various species. To her, although she was the Queen of the Earth who offered fruits from the trees, salts to the sea, and grass to the hillsides, she felt sadness for the living beasts Manwe had scorned for centuries.

R saw the beauty of the elves, despite having since become arrogant from their immortality. She loved the dwarves, who harvested from the lands she built. She admired the humans, who were so determined to fulfill all of their short lifespans. The hobbits, Ents, Trolls, Giants, Maiar, Dragons, Ogres… all contributed balance to Middle Earth. But the lands had been tarnished from anger and hate. Once the Valars had been lost, the species did the same, forgetting harmony.

And so, R sought two aid by her own hands, following in the steps of Mairon.

The woman was dripping in silk robes and she admired how the dirtied, eroded stones of the temple once gilded in gold and pleasantries wiped against her garments. Where her family scoffed at such filth, R admired it. After all, even in such dilapidated ruins, vines wrapped around poles and flowers sprouted from the cracks. Yavanna breathed in the ancient ruins.

R stepped down onto the earth. Her bare toes, each with a ring of gold, sunk into the dampened grass. She looked up at the pink dawn. She could recall the beauty that had been before; how at her ruins once was a gorgeous town etched with every species. A world where all was equal and all celebrated the beauty of life and what R’s powers had bestowed. But as she gazed into the tree-line and crouched, pressing her hand to the earth, feeling it’s beating heart as her own, she sighed happily.

There may not be harmony anymore, but that only amplified the grace that remained.

The woman removed her gilded gold headband and allowed the earth to swallow it hole. Her often stoic, long locks blew in the early morning breeze and R had never felt so at peace. Parth Salem was once full of the larger creatures, but had become teamed with birds, squirrels, and insects.

“I caught word that another cared to play a hand in the restoration of Middle Earth.”

R peeked up, a quiet gasp escaping. Her gold bangles, rings, and anklets clanked together quietly as she rose to greet the man. He had glistening red locks that went just past his shoulders and his eyes were a fiery orange. His skin was pale and toned and he adorned gold silk robes that dipped into a deep v at his chest. The sleeves were long and dragged to R’s earth. Atop of it he wore a dark elven cloak, having removed the hood. Although to the eyes of any creature other than elves and the Maia the man would be partially invisible, the cloak was of exquisite craftsmanship. At the hip he had a pack and a slot for a dagger, as though the Valar would ever require such a tool against mortal creatures.

The woman curtsied briefly before meeting the man’s eyes with a quiet confidence. “Greetings, Mairon. After many eons, I believe this is the first time we have met so personably. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“Your’s as well, R. What is it you hope to achieve by making such a journey?” Mairon inquired politely, his eyes batting respectfully as he approached closer from the wilderness.

“I hope to restore harmony for Middle Earth, the same as you,” she explained, offering an etherial smile. “I have lacked the conviction and courage for an eternity to step in as I should. It pains me to see all of the blood-spill, greed, and hatred that has plagued these lands.”

Mairon hummed and his eyes curled with respect, although his lips remained stoic. “If it is you that lacks conviction and courage, that I dare not speak a word as to what the other Valar have become.”

R released a gentle chuckle. “I have never met a deity with such spirit, but also with such judgement to others. I have heard that you harbor ill will with our family because of their negligence, but you must understand the circumstances which has brought a plague of laziness.”

“And what might those circumstances be, when the Valor are but perched in their heavenly spoils?”

R hummed in thought as the man stopped in front of her and curtsied, taking hold of the woman’s hand and placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “It is not my place to know. But even Manwe is not a perfect being, despite bringing about creation.”

“Yes, but it is our duty to repair order to our creations,” Mairon argued lightly. “The beings that roam this earth are far less perfect than we. They cannot be left uncontrolled. Through the disruption of order came independence and the individual thought between species, realms, and villages. It is a foul sight. Look at what the beasts have left of your temple.”

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “What they have left behind is beautiful. I breathe through those pillars like never before. What news have you of current affairs, Mairon?”

The man bowed once more with a reverence that had been lacking until now. “I understand now of your gentleness and kindness. As I have explored Middle Earth during the passing years, I have found strict devisions between the species. Several have been endangered from the superiority of others. The elves have kept to themselves with their arrogance and the dwarves have taken to the mountains and mines. Mankind conquer the earth like meddlesome ants and build their anthills, caring only for power. Darkness has spoken a cruel tongue to fuel this, but the Valor care not. The darkness is named Morgoth and I wish to investigate it personally. What say you, Yavanna?”

“I say that I shall accompany you if you shall agree to some of my whims as well,” R agreed with excitement. “I came not only to approach the evil and disruption of harmony head on, but to restore respect and peace for all species. As arrogant is it may be, I wish to behold Middle Earth as my children might rather than from the heavens above. I have not beheld such splendor and beauty from even this spot as I have in many centuries. Where has Morgoth claimed as his own?”

Mairon spun his head to the sky before beckoning to the South. “Morgoth has taken Angband, beneath the Thangorodrim mountains in the north of Beleriand. It will taken only five and three quarters years to reach from this direction on foot, so I will agree to your childish whims as well.”

“You believe it to be childish, Mairon?” R scoffed with no malice in her tone. “I understand that you believe violence may be the best option, but I believe kindness in small doses is. I have in mind to visit the Hobbits first, as I feel the aching of the shackles men thrust at them in my blood. Hobbits are resiliently peaceful, after all. I wish to build them a land of plenty first, if you shall not scorn me.”

The man bowed his head, frowning minutely. “I apologize for my arrogance, R. I simply am of the belief that for violent creatures, violence is the only option.”

“Then let us compete to change one another’s minds, Mairon,” the woman giggled, cupping one of the man’s sculpted, strong cheeks. “I believe that the Valar are not such higher beings, after all. We are meant to serve as aids who offer up the tools for restoration, not to lead with iron fists. I believe independence is a beautiful thing. After all, without it, the development of society would not have come about.”

“Very well, blessed Yavanna, Queen of the many Earths. It is an honor to meet someone of such radiant, caring stubbornness. Shall we head East to the Shire?”

“Yes. I wish to make the acquaintance of a great many beasts. Thank you for your kindness, great Mairon. It must take much of it to be steered from your path of ambition.”

The pair began to walk east. Mairon had become far more earthly during his time here, scorning his family above. And yet, there was so many that he was amazed that he had never met R after such a long time. They became further acquainted with one another’s ways as they headed east. 

Mairon oft offered rest or to venture to villages to find R suitable footwear or cloaks. Often, he pressed to summon a Great Eagle to spare her the hardship of walking by foot. But through the Midgewater Marshes, R cared to sink her torso and wade through its deepest ends or feel the sharp scrapes of the rocky Barrow Downs. With the nature of Middle Earth, her once white robe became weathered and brown and her feet hardened to the rougher terrains. 

R enjoyed the process, while Mairon only grew further in concern as the woman became “more earthly and coated in filth.” He spoke often of the importance of appearance - often pleading with the woman to make use of her powers to save her the expense of dirtying her body and clothing.

“Higher beings such as us have no reason to suffer willingly,” Mairon claimed as the pair approached a budding civilization that called itself Hobbiton. It was shrouded by the Hills of Evendim and the Old Forest.

“Have you no sense of fun, Mairon?” R chuckled, having yet to grow weary of the man’s sharp tongue. “This is how our children roam and conquer. I have only grown further to respect the fruits of my labor. My body has never experienced such hardships, and yet I would never give up these last month’s travels. Although I understand you may see it differently, I swear I have never truly lived until now.”

“But even mortal creatures use their capabilities to their advantage. They sculpt boats to wade through deep waters, boots to protect their feet from cutting stones. I would not have even minded a detour to stop at that budding civilization called Bree if it meant garnering protection.”

“But where is the pleasantries of that? I wanted to stop by Bree, you know, but you were not interested in my reasoning.”

“I have no need to dwell in the midst of such flawed, weak beings,” the deity argued fiercely. 

“I harbor only admiration for such resilient creatures. I wish —“

“To become like them? How foolish of a Queen are you?”

“You speak such unwise words, Mairon,” R chided, although her tone lacked the sternness of her tongue. “How could you know how to handle our children if you do not know the hardships of being them?”

The pair halted at the edge of the Old Forest, having followed the Brandywine stream north. R’s heart ached as rotting corpses of Hobbits and the occasional man littered near the water. As they emerged from the tree line, R and Mairon spotted several hillsides of carnage on the horizon. 

The woman gasped as tears of silver syrup slid down her cheeks. Death was a natural part of life, yet these deaths were hardly natural. The men had returned two their civilizations to the west, leaving far and few Hobbits. R clutched at her chest and knelt to the earth, restoring the burnt grass and allowed hillsides to grow where the dead had been piled.

It was then as the earth trembled in its wake, that R turned her attention to a camp several miles north.

“Survivors,” Mairon stated with the click of his tongue. “Have you no desire to raise the dead, Yavanna? Why bury when I could offer rebirth?”

“Out of honor,” R insisted with self-assurance. “What say you, Mairon? May you indulge in greeting these children?”

“If only to appease you, R, as much as your choices baffle me. Shall I mask us?”

R simply shook her head. “You know how dearly I wish to connect with such beautiful lifeforms. I admire their individual thought.”

Mairon scoffed as they approached a camp sight. Upon growing near, it was far vaster than anticipated. There were at least fifty men, women, and children who sat near fire pits, many sullen and tired. The far and few Hobbits with courage to retaliate were angry and dwelt in tents. But there was a common fear spread throughout the hillsides, and it was then that the leader stood strong amongst those that fled to their tents, fearful of them.

“Fear not, Hobbits,” R called before kneeling to the short creatures. “We have come only to assist and aid.”

Her companion seemed horrified when R had knelt, her long hair tangling with the grass. Her head bowed and Mairon sent a sharp, cold glare toward her. The leader then approached, gruff and tattered. He had a full beard and stood the tallest at four feet and one inch tall and he was one of the few with armor made of bark. His eyes were hardened with the grief of his people. 

“Speak who you are, travelers. Wizards, warlocks, elves? Were you them that restored our land and buried our dead?”

“Indeed,” Mairon spoke, offering a hand to R as she returned to her feet. “But we are neither of those. We are deities of Valar. I am Mairon, creator of the Maia, and this is Queen of the earths, Yavanna. She is who has given fruits to the trees and salts to the seas.”

Slowly, other Hobbits had emerged, as reverent and curious as the leader was.

The leader seemed taken aback before getting on one knee and bowing his head. “I have not heard such names in a century. I thought all faith was lost. I am Genevin, the leader of our land that we call Hobbiton. This is our people, or those who remain of us.”

R’s silky tears began to fall once more and flowers sprouted where they met. “There is no need to bow, Genevin, for it is the gods who have squandered you all. Tell of me what can be done to restore your lands.”

Genevin, taken aback, rose to his feet and cleared his throat. Many women and children watched in awe, having more interest in approaching them. While Mairon maintained an air of hostility and arrogance, R smiled. A few young Hobbit boys and girls stomp to where the flowers now bloomed from R’s mourning, plucking. The woman smiled with such joy.

“We ask not much of you, Yavanna,” Genevin answered humbly. “We ask only for protection from mankind. They have taken from us and are bound to return with more troops. It is against our nature to fight battles and spill blood, so only a few of us have turned to it. But if more men come, I fear there were be none of us left.”

The woman nodded. “I understand. Mairon, dare you entertain them with your stories as I work? Offer them dancing visions of your journeys?”

The man had to resist a scoff. “Must I not assist and give you strength, blessed Yavanna?”

“If you must, the only assistance I desire is that to comfort the grieving and your exquisite craftsmanship shall they need it.”

Mairon sighed as he reluctantly entered the campgrounds. Many small children grabbed at his elven cape before the man dropped it to the ground, leaving it to the children to awe in its powers. The women blushed from the man’s handsomeness and the men were curious of the stories he had to tell. They were still in such awe from the miracles being given to them and were unsure of how to approach as he sat at the campfire and showed beautiful visions in the night sky of their journey to reach it. Many gasped and danced at the sight.

The crowds were in awe of both etherial beings as some gazed upon the woman as she pressed her hands top the earth, while others revealed in the magic pressing into the sky. 

R felt the beating heart of the Shire, how it cried for its dead. She continued to weep as power surged from her delicate fingertips and dug into the dirt. She sprouted trees with delicious fruits, flat plots for gardening, several streams through its heart, and carved dirt paths. She deepened the forest so no man could easily weave through its brambles except for one main path that could lead to Bree and out of Hobbiton. She created even vaster hillsides before carving them inwards to create burrows for the Hobbits.

While Mairon grew tired after only a night, R lay frozen, allowing her mind’s eyes to craft a beautiful landscape for her children. It took many days and many nights and she could only smile as her children reveled in all of its humble glory. Amidst her powers, Mairon assisted in the crafting of strong doors and a gate only Hobbits could venture through. He offered recipes of pleasant furniture and toys, feeling R’s watchful gaze. The man was already weary of society and often pleaded to R when he was alone that she had done enough.

The dawn of a new day in a new month began and it was then that R felt satisfied with her work. She saw nothing but smiles on the faces of her children and the boisterous talk with men and their wives.

Her eyes opened and immediately a laugh bubbled in her throat. At the top of the hill stood Mairon who hardly seemed pleased by R’s generosity. However, she was joyous from the bouquets and baskets around her, left from grateful Hobbits. Not too far away, awed children cheered and clapped before running to her, hugging the woman.

R reciprocated the hugs fully, placing kisses at each of their foreheads. It was only after distant parents called them to second breakfast the woman rose. Her body felt weak and tired. She had forgotten what it was like to create.

But Mairon was there in an instant, offering a stabilizing hand to her. His eyebrows were furrowed as he instantly stated,” You have done too much. What if they forget the nature of their beings and turn to greed?”

R chuckled, placing a hand on his cheek. “Impossible. These are some of the purest of my children. They asked for nothing so I gave them everything. You have done well, Mairon, for humoring me so.”

“They wish to hold a festival to honor you and the rebuilding of Hobbiton. Must I humor you further, though?”

“If you are capable, Mairon. And then we may journey to where evil lurks. I promise to follow your lead onwards. But must you be so brazen? Have you yet to see the beauty in all of this?”

“I only see beauty in what you created, R. It is the Hobbits’ weakness in stature that has led to obedience and nothing more.”

“Do not confuse weakness with kindness,” she chided once more. “Should we not enjoy a festival? I have yet to truly enjoy the pleasantries of their lifestyles.”

The pair was interrupted by the approach of Genevin, who’s physique was now clean and kempt, except for the beard that had grown further. He held nothing but gratuity in his bright blue eyes as he bowed briefly. 

“I heard from the children of your awakening. Your gift is far greater than we could have ever imagined. We will forever be indebted. Although we could never repay your kindness, please allow us to offer a festival to celebrate and a warm chamber for you to rest, Yavanna.”

“Thank you, kind leader. Come, Mairon. I am eager to observe what you have aided in crafting.”

The deity nodded curtly while offering her an arm. The woman was slow, enjoying the cool grass underneath her feet. She gasped at the wonder all around her, and Mairon sighed contently after observing the Queen’s ecstasy. He still thought of it all to be quite foolish, but he did not vocalize it.

R was frequently stopped by others who offered up thanks. Small children gifted her wreaths of flowers and women offered their finely baked goods. She accepted all of it, even when her hands could no longer hold them and Mairon stepped in to assist. An hour later, in the heart of Hobbiton, she was beckoned into the grandest hillside.

It was clear by room next to her own who owned it, as it was filled with grander objects and various crafting schemes. Genevin left them there and R was in awe of the magical simplicity. It seemed that Mairon had taken a page out of her book and had created pillars of vines for the bed, weaved and intertwined into comfortable cushioning. There was a bath in the corner etched into the ground as water filtered through a hole. 

R laughed happily. “You have outdone yourself as well, Mairon. And to think that I was positive you thought me to be foolish and irritating.”

“You are both, R. But above all, you are kind and revered, even to someone like me who you must find quite arrogant. Must you rest now until the festival, R?”

“Yes, Mairon. Thank you for indulging with me. You are not such of a harsh man in action as you are in tongue.”

“If you say so. I shall take my leave.”

“So cold, Mairon,” the woman joked. “Farewell for now.”

It was then that the woman laid her head to rest on the woven mattress. R dreamt of ideas to come, having found such splendor in the wants of her creations. In Vala, she never had motivation to smile so widely. And yet here, living in the slowest, most detailed of moments, R found a tranquility she wished to have explored sooner.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Joshua Washington (7/7)

WC: 4.7k

“…R. Wake up. I hear something.”

The woman’s eyes shot open and her head almost collided with the counter above her. Although she had only slipped into unconsciousness for mere minutes, her body had fought off exhaustion for so long that sleep had won her over the moment her head hit Matt’s shoulder.

But despite the impending danger, her mind was not alert. Her body was, yet her brain wanted to sink further into her drowsiness and ignore the heavy footsteps that sounded on the wooden porch outside.

“R. Why’d you fortitude the shit outta this place, huh? It’s just you and me now. God, how’d your frail little bones even move the damn shelf?” Josh called, his voice hoarse and tired. 

His voice struck enough of a chord that R blinked. Matt’s grip on her shoulder suddenly tightened. She glanced at him tiredly, noticing that the man was gripping his mouth with fear and his eyes were glossy. His entire body was trembling. And so, R gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before moving out from underneath.

It was crucial that Matt was kept hidden. After all, R had no idea what Josh’s plans were for her. Matt would more than likely be the only one who could provide evidence, or it would be her against Josh and his parents’ money bags.

Matt watched cautiously as R scooted from underneath. Her body was sluggish; it could hardly move. She wondered what drugs or beverages Josh must have consumed to still be so alert after chasing and torturing his friends all evening. The man under the counter pulled the machete closer, as well as the other resources that he’d brought with him.

R should have felt fear as Josh’s wide, manic eyes stared at her from the other side of the window. A lazy grin spread across his face and he pressed his palm to the window. But the woman did not have the strength to frown nor smile. Her arms were limp against her side and she had to lean against the counter for support as she swayed. Even standing, her body was tempted to fall back into slumber.

Josh’s eyes twinkled with worry and the man suddenly raised his axe to the window. Alarmed, R stumbled back and collapsed on the ground. Glass came crashing as the window broke and the man carefully climbed through. His heavy boots grew puddles under his feet as he crouched in front of the woman, tilting his head. 

His eyes were bloodshot and his breathing shallow. He set the axe on the ground beside him and extended his uninjured hand. R flinched as his bare, chilled fingers ghosted across her cheeks, prodding at a cut that the woman had sustained somewhere along the line. His eyes flashed with hurt before his face morphed into a deeper grief. He fell forward on his knees and his arms trembled as he balanced above her. His hair cast shadows across his eyes as tears flooded down his cheeks.

“…R. Please don’t hate me. I did all of this… for you. For us. Fuck, man, I know all of this is fucked. You must think I’ve gone insane -! But I just… I wanted to make you feel better so you’d come back to me…”

The man muttered incoherently as his words turned to nonsense. He blinked away tears in an instant. His sadness had seemingly disappeared at a moment’s notice, and his eyes were warm. R knew she had her moment and so did Matt. But neither of them seemed to have any guts to retaliate. It made R feel horrible because with every passing moment, it meant only further unsafely and risk for both people.

“I love you, babe. I always will, okay? All of this anguish can be buried now, so…”

R bit her lip as her elbows gave out and the woman let herself sink against the wooden planks. The dawn flickered into the ski lift and she winced.

“What about… Matt? He… never deserved any of this. Please, Josh… Please set him free,” R sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Josh suddenly let out a girlish giggle, adjusting to sit criss-cross-applesauce. His hand fell softly on her knee and his propped his chin on it, gazing fondly at the woman. “You’re so kind, R. So forgiving of everyone but yourself. Surely you understand that that bumbling coward is a loose end, right?”

R’s breathe became shallow, feeling Josh’s fingers tremble as they drifted across her hips, waist, and chest with feverish intent. His shoulders slumped as though the burden of the night had suddenly slid down his back.

“I… I’m a loose end too, Joshie. What exactly do you think will happen after this?”

Josh seemed instantly offended and his hand suddenly clamped tightly at her clothes. “You think anyone’s gonna believe you, R? You… you think you could get away from me, or the cops’ll believe your story…? You’ve been through a lot of trauma, R. I mean, seriously… a boyfriend suddenly skipping town, an unfortunate vandalism of the main house, and an avalanche nearing an anniversary? Hell, Matt’s probably burning alive down there in that dark ass basement as we speak, heh… Speaking of which, the moment the power turns back on, we’ve gotta scram. Bomb’s’ll detonate in half an hour.”

R’s eyes widened, causing the man to chortle as though he was clever. “Remember that I’ve got a damn degree in science and shit. Money’ll buy all the right ingredients without people giving a shit in this world.”

“Joshie… do you really not feel any remorse? You’re a murderer. You could be happy and successful right now instead of doing this.”

“I do feel pretty fucking happy and successful, R.”

The man shrugged as he rose to his feet. He offered a hand, but when R did not take it, he exhaled sharply and hoisted her by the armpits, having hooked himself underneath.The woman glanced back at the counter women warily, eyes wide. Matt had tightened his grip on the machete, as though steeling himself for the right moment. Car keys dangled from Josh’s pants pocket as if to assure R that he had taken all the precautions.

This seemed to be when Matt came to terms with the fact that Josh had to die for them to live.

The floorboard creaked as he launched himself from underneath the counter. Josh seemed bewildered as he swung around, leaving R to balance herself and fish through her pockets.

Somehow, Josh had anticipated it, stopping the blade mere inches from his face by grabbing at the hilt. The men grunted as a fight for strength begun, but was quickly ended as Matt stumbled back. He went to slash again, but Josh ducked to the side and tripped over the axe, grabbing it on his way to the ground. Matt swung the machete again, cursing loudly when Josh extended the distance. That was when Matt instead prioritized sticking closer to R. His breathing was labored and terrified.

R was caught off guard, but fished through her pockets to pull out a pocket knife and a scalpel, far inferior to the men’s weapons. Josh turned to anger instantly, and that anger was cold and hateful. At that moment, the shack began to rattle as the generator booted up again and the control panel glinted with the temptation of escape.

“H - hey, man, you’re outnumbered here,” Matt stated. “Just… give us the car keys and we’ll be out of your hair. And - and your right! I bet you could buy the cops, s - so just let us go, okay?”

Josh scoffed, almost arrogantly. “Another fucking charity case, R? Seriously? Fucking Jesus. I guess it couldn’t hurt to chop up one more sicko. Get out of the way, R.”

The woman stood her ground and took a step in front of Matt. “No, Joshua —“

“Joshua? I guess you’re still not feeling too hot.”

The man surged forward, trying to maneuver around the woman. Logistically, Josh did not stand a chance. Not only was he one man, but he was down a hand. And so, R trembled as she gripped the weapons threateningly. Josh blinked and twisted the hilt, swinging the wooden handle at her. She screeched and blocked it with her arm. Matt swung the machete, but Josh maneuvered the handle to block that.

R crushed and leapt at the man. He stumbled, pain surging through his legs as a pocket knife was lodged in his ankle. His cheeks reddened with fury as he shook his leg. His foot ended up swinging into her jaw and R suddenly heard a crack, rolling to the side. The gusts of wind of the endless ledge taunted her, but she grabbed Josh’s foot before R got too close.

Matt took advantage of Josh’s lack of balance, slashing at Josh’s head. The man ducked and used the same maneuver R had, the woman releasing a sharp gargle of pain as her wrist snapped from the sudden movement. R curled her knees to her chest and writhed, feeling how her boats cracked out of place more than they usually did/. The scalpel had fallen through a crack near the ledge at some point.

Matt let out a yelp as Josh wrapped an arm around Matt’s legs and the other man’s head suddenly collided with the counter. The machete tumbled to the floor as black dots clouded Matt’s vision, his body twitching as he slumped. However, that didn’t mean that Josh had settled. His other arm swung the axe with what little strength he could muster, allowing the axe to submerge in the man’s chest.

Even when fighting unconsciousness, the man spewed blood from his lips, releasing a few blinks. Josh swung onto his knees, hissing from the pocket knife still lodged in him. 

R watched in agony, grasping at her jaw. Feeling her bones crack uncomfortably was not foreign from her cursed body. But she was somehow more impressed that she wasn’t dead yet. Tears slid down her cheeks as she stared lazily as Josh took a few swings with the machete, fully beheading Matt. He slowly rose to his feet again, grasping at the head’s hair before slumping to face R. His eyes glinted with fury, but remorse almost loomed on his expression.

“Fucking… hell, R. Jesus fucking christ, babe. I can’t believe you’d hurt me, even if it was pretty goddamn pathetic.”

He pulled a syringe from his pocket before pulling up his torn and blooded sleeves. With a grunt, he stabbed it into his arm and it was as though the pain and sleepiness rolled off his back.  He rolled his shoulders in a stretch and, with ease, removed the small pocket knife in his leg. R released a weak whimper, squeezing her eyes shut fearfully.

Josh fell silent as he pressed some of the operative buttons on the ski lift and buzzing began to emit. R released ragged breaths as her body went limp. She had to fight for her life not to barf at the sight of the man she’d fought so long and hard to keep alive.. But at least it was quick and - mostly - painless, at least considering how Josh’s other friends went. 

The man grunted as his arms looped beneath R. She kept crying quietly, her uninjured hand grasping at the winter coat. Her body was so overstimulated from all her bodily needs being neglected at once. Josh sighed deeply, his muscles flexing from strain. He grabbed onto the ski carriage before stepping inside.

The moment he sat down, R felt his leg bouncing anxiously. R watched lazily as her head fell back into the crook of his blood-coated neck. He stank to high heavens of the carnage he created, even with early morning winter winds blistering through the cracks of the carriage.

Josh finally let go of his boiling anger as he tilted his head just enough to glance over R. He felt a little bad, but the woman had it coming after acting like he was trying to kill her all night. He couldn’t fathom a world where R had actually intended to stab or  wound him, but clearly she’d felt threatened enough.

He’d pumped himself full of various drugs the whole night, but now, his body ached to some degree. Regardless, he let out a heavy sigh of relief and his eyes crinkled with joy. Somehow, his one healthy arm was intact enough as his fingers traced across R’s jawline. He huffed in concern when he felt just how labored and poorly aligned she was. 

His fingers trailed down to her collar bone, rubbing back and forth comfortingly. The woman’s wet, sloppy tears seared against his neck and a blush rose to his cheeks., He squeezed her closer before reaching his hand into her hair and helping prop herself up more comfortably.

“Look, babe. The sun’s up. Doesn’t it look nice?” Josh mumbled gently, excitedly observe ing as her eyes roamed the mountain landscape. The pink sky was almost pretty, if not for how it made her think about all the blood and anguish a mere twelve hours had held.

“Hey, I’ll help you rest, okay? God, I really didn’t want to overdo it on you, but… When you wake up, I promise it’ll hurt a little less, okay?”

R could hardly feel as a needle bore into her neck once more and she allowed her body to fully slump against his warm body. Josh muttered a few more comforting words. The drug activated almost instal, unlike previously, but R could not be happier to be stolen from reality once more.

~~~

The pink Hawaiian sunset peeked below the saline as R leaned against the rail of Josh’s parent’s hut, buried on a private island they’d somehow manage to acquire. The ‘small/‘ boat floated at the edge of the beach, a couple hundred yards below. The hut was sat on a small slope. The blistering heat had finally settled and a firm breeze caused R to shrink against Josh, who was beside her.

The man seemed to be at peace. He often was, but the gentleness in his dark eyes was almost unfathomable. There was always a tenseness when he was in society, a wall he put between himself and others. But here they were. And R could not be more grateful for the opportunity to get the ability to travel just because of the exquisite man she’d fallen for.

R never imaged being there in that moment, beside the man she loved and who was somehow perfect. He was funny and charming when he first asked her out in a shared freshman class. And although R had always had an innate distrust in men, she fell hard and fast. It took everything within her not to drunkenly spill out an “I love you” even a month in. Yet, somehow, Josh had beat her to every single landmark. 

He was the first man to buy her flowers consistently, to prod and investigate her tastes and hobbies, to humor her when she was angry or hold her when she was sad. He was the first to love her so unconditionally, to never ask for anything in return but her company. He made loving him easy.

She recalled how her snoopy friends who she put up with said she was being stupid for trusting him so easily and moving so fast. But she couldn’t have cared less. R had bagged the perfect man - smart, funny, handsome, rich.

And so, there they were, leaning against the railway of a private island off the coast Hawaii. It made her wonder what she’d ever done to receive such a blessing.

“Joshie,” R muttered fondly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

The man hummed contently before wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her against him. They were both slightly damp from an early evening swim, and Josh was already sporting a sunburn on his nose and shoulders, despite how thorough R had been. But like always, Josh was quick to one-up her and turn the spraying of sunscreen into that of a massage - of course, with some perish intent.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you, Joshie.”

“I love you too, babe. You’re everything to me.”

“No, really, Josh…” R muttered. “You know the kind of upbringing I have. My parents love me, my family loves me, but… America has never been the most forgiving to immigrant families from (a country). They always pressured and motivated me, but their love always felt conditional - like if I suddenly stopped getting good grades or stopped expanding my talents, I’d ben putting all of their hard work of giving me a better life to shame. I know it’s not true, but… that’s how I think everyone’s always treated me, even if they don’t mean to. But you, like… you’re not like that. Hell, I never thought I’d date a frat boy since I always thought they were scummy and I’d feel fucking insecure dating one, but… I’ve never met someone who makes me feel so safe and secure. Thanks, Joshie.”

R sunk against him further, feeling how he smiled into her neck blissfully. “Aw, come on, babe. You’re the most lovable person out there. You could sit on your ass and do nothing for the rest of your life and I couldn’t care less as long as you were mine.”

The man romantically peppered kisses leading up to her ear before nibbling slightly. The woman giggled before pulling her arms up and turning. The couple was quick to kiss passionately. Even when kissing, there man had maneuvered a hand to her lower back before pressing her against the harsh wooden rail, fingers tickling her kindly.

R felt so happy she could cry. Josh pulled away before looping his athletic arms underneath her and pulling her off the ground with ease. The woman squealed into the kiss while wrapping her legs around his torso and the beating sun became distant as Josh somehow maneuvered into the small hut that had but three or four rooms. 

The woman was gently placed on the couch and R’s arms unravelled as Josh pulled away slightly. His cheeks flushed and his typically goofy grin became a loving smile. He gave the woman’s ass one last squeeze before pulling away and crouching in front of her, hands grasping at her sun-kissed legs.

He shut his eyes gently as he pressed his cheek to her lap like a pillow and R weaved her fingers through his freshly cut black hair. The man hummed into the touch before his eyes squinted and some wetness escaped, even as a smile stretched so much it hurt.

R mumbled sweet, concerned nothings as Josh wrapped his arms around her torso, fingers pulling tightly against her skin. 

“Joshie, what’s wrong?” she prodded.

“Nothing, babe… I just… God you’re perfect. I just want fucking college to over. I swear to god, everyone sucks there. I just want to live life with you already,” he chuckled. “God, I just want to spoil you…”

“But you’re crying, Joshie,” the woman greeted, thumb swiping gently underneath his eyes. “You know it worries me.”

“I’ve always been emotional, babe. I just never showed it until you. You’ve made me the man I am in every capacity. God, I know I act like a fucking doofus half the time, but… you mean everything to me.”

R leaned against the couch as Josh quietly clambered, laying atop the woman without suffocating her with his larger body. His head rested on her chest, staring at her. R suddenly felt her body tense with irrevocable fear as it was like the world around her melted away. Josh no longer looked so sweet; he had under-bags, cuts, and bruises littered across his body and his eyes dulled to an unkind anger. His  grip became harsh and his weight suffocating and R’s head tossed every which way.

It was no longer an island hut, but a dilapidated shed that was coated with blood and mounted with the heads of his friends.

“You mean fucking everything, R. You Don’t have a choice. You’re never getting away. Never, never, never —“

R’s eyes shot open before immediately wincing as a stream of sunlight peaked through dark curtains directly into her eyes. A groan immediately escaped her lips and her body was wracked with a numbing pain from her jaw. Her body no longer felt cursed with aches or itches or cold or hunger or thirst, but as her eyes trailed across the room, it became very obvious as to why.

She was in a plush queen bed with several of her stuffed animals. She had a small cast on one arm and the other was linked to two separate catheters. She immediately felt how badly her bladder screamed at her. She hissed at the sudden dilapidation of her muscles the moment she dared to flex.

But the woman slowly eased up nonetheless. 

The location was strange and foreign. When the woman had finally stood, she took in the environment. It was humble, but beyond the window was a vast backyard before a mellow countryside. There weren’t any noticeable landmarks of other human life, and the road with a faded truck even seemed to be gravel. Despite the old country house style, it did not seem old. It screamed of southern wealth of some sort. 

The woman left the large bedroom, the two catheters trailing behind. She was baffled. It did not seem like Washington state, or even a northern location. She had no concept or time except for how angry her bladder was.

The house let out small croaks with each step until she found a bathroom. R peered at her reflection and couldn’t help the dosage of serotonin. It was decked out in niche decorations that she could only dream of and the walls were fashionably styled in her favorite colors. The tiles hit her cold feet.

She was in a bathrobe and a t-shirt that smelled of her ex boyfriend. The woman looked rough, some faded bruises littered across her body. Her muscles groaning from every movement. It felt like she was on death’s doorstep, even if she felt refreshed and alerted. R splashed water on her face and tended to the dehydration in her mouth.

Despite it all, she felt clean and well-tended to. R was glad, trying to push memories of Josh’s carnage from her mind. Although her mind blocked it out, her body remembered.

“Hey, you okay in there, babe?”

R blinked, Josh’s casual yet concerned tone sounding from the other side of the thick wooden door. It opened slowly as the woman stumbled against the sink. Adrenaline coursed through her veins in an instant, fear rushing back to her. A quiet whimper escaped, eyes glued to the man.

Somehow, he seemed to be in a worse shape. He sustained a limp and had even more bruises, as well as a hand cast. However, the bags under his eyes were mostly gone and he hardly acknowledged the hardship from his movements.

He sent a lazy grin before entering, grabbing her hand. R was quick to flinch, and his delusional calm broke in an instant.

“Jesus, R. I really spooked ya that much?”

R gulped. “J - Josh, where are we? What hap - hap - why am I - please don’t hurt me —“

Josh’s lips upturned into an offended snarl, his hand gripping her shoulder tightly. His eyes swirled with dismay as he towered over the shrinking woman. 

“Calm the fuck down, babe, seriously. You’re acting like I’m a fucking psycho. Come on, come lay down. Your safe, I promise. I just wanted to make sure you were holding up okay. I guess you’re a bit of a softie, but… Come on, you shouldn’t be stressing out so bad. Let’s go lay down, ‘kay?”

R bit her lip as tears escaped, but the man carefully ushered her back to the bedroom. R sat on the bed, bunching the blanket in her fingers. Her eyes flittered around the room with panic as Josh kneeled on the ground carefully, laying his head on her lap. His free hand rubbed circles on her thigh.

“You… you killed people, Josh…” R mumbled. “You killed my boyfriend, your friends… How are you just acting like everything’s okay now?”

Josh shrugged. “You’re acting like they didn’t fucking deserve it, babe. I mean, you’re the one who encouraged me to get closure. And now I have. And hopefully you have, too. I couldn’t be any happier. So much has happened the last few weeks —“

“Weeks?” The woman shrieked in horror. “What about my family and friends and the police —“

“I took care of everything, sweetie. Don’t freak out. As far as society knows, there was just an avalanche that we barely escaped from. Your folks visited for a while. I picked up an online job, therapist, delivery services, the whole shabam. You don’t gotta worry anymore. You can look forward to a life of stability and luxury, just like I always promised.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the man muttered bashfully,” but I always told ya how much I wanted a ranch out in the Colorado countryside. My parents helped signed a lease for one with some investment money from my portfolio and such. Once you’r cup to it, though, we can find a place you’d like. Even abroad would be okay.”

R shook her head. “Josh, no. None of this… This isn’t okay. This can’t just be okay. You act like that night was just some bad night on the town. You tortured people, Josh —“

“I’d hardly have called those assholes people, R. Just chill out. Stop making this harder than it needs to be —“

“Just get the fuck away from me! Don’t touch me! Let me go! I don’t want to be here!”

The woman began thrashing, even kicking Josh’s bad side. The man flinched away, obsessive irritation clouding his vision. The man pulled open the bedside table as the woman scrambled to the other side of the bed. The catheters swung every which way, knocking into Josh’s head as the man scrambled through the drawer and pulled out a needle.

R clawed at the covered and almost collapsed onto the floor, but a hand harshly yanked on her ankle. She screamed and shrieked as the rug on the floor came with her, but the familiar stinging sensation stabbed into her wrist as she was yanked further onto bed.

Josh suddenly stopped away, hissing in pain as he rubbed his hip, watching gas the woman blinked into tranquility. The rug slid off the bed once more as R’s body twitched. She fought the neutrality that washed over her. She was still angry and afraid as Josh maneuvered her body into a more comfortable position before sitting beside her.

He shushed her pleasantly, all irritation having vanished. His fingers traced across her body as he laid beside her and held her closely and contently.

“Babe, you’ve got a lot of trauma to work through. I get it. But you’re misinterpreting it all. You’ve just gotta chill out. Life won’t be so hard anymore. I promise. I’ll take care of you. You’ve always worked so hard and been so nice and… god you’re just perfect. I love you, babe. You’re everything to me. I promise.”

[chezzywezzy]

I remember when I read your Yan Ghostface for the first time and I was like "wow! I love this" then like years later I deleted and remade my account and I was looking for Josh and YOU SHOW UP? it's fate

I love your writing you're awesome! ❤️❤️❤️

Haha thank u!! My dedication to scream was absurd… like over 100k in various drabbles for “one shots”…

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Joshua Washington (6/7)

WC: 3.5k

“So what now?” Matt muttered, switching his grip back and forth on the machete anxiously. “Hell, we don’t even know if Sam’s alive. How are we supposed to find her?”

R sighed, looking ahead toward the hallway. “…I don’t know. But I’m thirsty. And hungry. And cold. I bet you are too, so… And chances are, we’ll have to go outside to get to the ski lift. That just means we’ll also need a flashlight and a change of clothes and maybe a cell phone for the moment we find a signal. There’s really only two locations that Sam would go, which is here or the lift…”

Matt nodded and they maneuvered back upstairs. It felt like a moment of peace as they loitered quietly in the kitchen, making sure to sit on the floor behind the island to avoid being spotted from the windows or doors. They had both grabbed some monsters from the fridge as well as copies amounts of water and food. They took a few seconds prior to empty their bowels, so now the pair was left with the sensation of their other bodily needs fighting for control.

R gulped down the last of her monster. It wasn’t immediate that strength found her, but even as much as her body ached and she felt like she was on fire, sweating heavily from her fever, she felt a little better. Her stomach was no longer growling from the granola bars, her throat no longer felt dry, and she did not feel as tired. It was a brief moment bliss in spite of it all.

She was suddenly so grateful for how much her body did for her, despite her chronic illnesses or conditions. Somehow, that common cold that knocked her out for a week or the commonality of a twisted ankle seemed like nothing compared to how destroyed her body was from fighting for her life.

Matt’s shoulders brushed against hers and she turned to stare at him. The man bit his lip as he slumped, handling the can limply in one hand. He glanced at R and sighed. “I know this isn’t the time, but… I’m sorry.”

“For… what? You’ve never done anything.”

He shrugged. “That’s exactly it. I’ve never done anything. All I do is act like a bystander. When Emily played that prank, I didn’t help set it up, but I also didn’t stop it. Maybe if I had grown a pair, I could have. Instead, here we are. My whole fucking life, I… I always worried about how others would think about me. So even when I saw my friends get bullied in grade school, or I saw a manager harass my coworkers, I never did shit. I thought that made me a good person as long as I wasn’t the one actually doing the horrible thing. But I guess that isn’t true. I’ve always been a fucking coward. I had my entire life to just do anything, but I… I guess I never did. Not like you.”

R tilted her head before raising a strained arm and wrapping it around the man’s shoulders. He tensed, quick to wipe the few tears that escaped his eyes. 

“You’re only human,” she muttered. “All of us are. None of you could have ever known what would happen. If you did, I doubt that you guys would’ve pulled that prank. Josh… he’s the only real murderer here.” She bit her lip so firmly that it reopened some lip scarring from earlier. “Hell, if I’d stuck around with Josh way back then, if I really found out the problem was - I don’t know. But I guess that’s the point. Give yourself some grace, Matt. If it’s any consolation, know that I regret everything that led up to this, too.”

Matt scoffed. “You? Come on. Out of all the people here… You’re the only good person, honestly. Emily was a cruel, manipulative psycho. Mike was arrogant and dismissive. Jessica… was Jessica. Sam pretends to be nice, and that’s honestly worse. And Josh… Well, what I mean to say is, you have that quiet confidence about you - you don’t care about how you’ll be perceived. You always do the right thing. You always jump into action. It doesn’t matter if you couldn’t save them - you were the only one who cared or tried. And now… hell, I know if I was in your position, I would’ve ran and left everyone, or I would’ve sat happily as a victim knowing that at least I would be okay.”

R felt a small smile appear as a few tears slid down. She nodded in appreciation. “Thanks, Matt. I’m glad you think so.”

Science fell over the pair as they stared at the floorboards as moonlight spilled through the window. The woman was about to propose that they get a move on, but before the words could find her, the front door slammed open. 

Sam had stumbled in. Her arm was bleeding profusely, and having sustained a limp, was not moving very fast. R and Matt tensed instantly. The man peered around the ledge before pulled back, fear washing over him.

Josh was not far behind her, his wet winter boots thudding into the home. Ordinarily, he would have easily caught up, but he was enjoying the chase and with how much his gear weighed, he was somewhat inhibited.

In that moment, Sam must have thought that the best move was to go upstairs for whatever reason. 

R gulped. “Matt, go to the ski lift and try to fix it. At least fortify it.”

Matt stared at her, wide-eyed, and nodded. He crawled the opposite direction as R rose to her feet. She grabbed the ornate knife that was larger than the rest from beside her. It was almost immediate that Josh turned his head toward her, sending a sleazy grin. He paused momentarily, a haze consuming his eyes as R ran at him. It was only moments later, as she drew nearer, that he noticed the knife in her hands.

His gleeful expression immediately dropped. R halted in front of the staircase, waving the knife at him threateningly. Sam had collapsed at the top, extraordinarily relieved to see R. She called out her name.

Josh’s cold glare was so strictly glued to R that he didn’t notice as Matt slipped out the other door and disappeared into the cold.

“Seriously, R? God, you should be fucking resting right now. Like, look at the state of you,” the man snarled in irritation. “You’re wasting your fucking breath trying to save her. It’s getting fucking annoying having you get in the way of me.”

“Joshie, this isn’t you,” R insisted, trying to stabilize her voice as she took careful steps. “Please, stop this. You’ve done enough.”

The man suddenly adjusted his grip on the sharp, red axe in his hands. R eyeballed it, wondering if she’d finally be on the chopping block. There was already some blood at the clean, metal tips, probably from where Sam had gotten her arm scraped, or the snow pants had been torn. There was something impressive at the woman’s ability to live after being chased down by a murderer.

“Considering that fucking bitch is still alive, it really isn’t,” he sighed, glare extending behind her to where the woman crawled into the entrance of R’s bedroom. “I mean, I don’t want to go to jail anytime soon, so…”

“Your parents,” R breathed. “They - they covered for you last time —“

“Yeah, because there were no fucking witnesses. Now get the fuck out of the way. I’ve got an axe and you have a pretty little knife. Who do you think is gonna win in this situation?”

R gulped as the man began striding up the stairs, not a glint of uncertainty in his gaze. In that moment, she felt weak. Josh was right, after all. So she turned and clambered up the steps. Sam squealed and entered the bedroom. Josh was hot on R’s tail. He’d lowered the axe and began reaching out with the other. 

She made a sharp turn into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. In that instant, his hand lashed out. R screamed as Josh let out an angry groan of pain, fingers wriggling in the doorway. 

“Fuck! R, open the fucking door before I kill you!”

Sam suddenly ran at the door and slammed her entire body weight into it. Several cracks resounded as Josh wriggled his suddenly gloveless and heavily torn and broke fingers from the doorway. Surely, all of his fingers had to have broken in that moment and the skin intensely torn. It was a wonder that his fingers did not fall clean off.

The hallway croaked and groaned as Josh stumbled about in pain from behind the door. He kept cursing and crying. R flicked the lock and her eyes fell in the dresser.

“Sam, we have to move it. Come on! He’s got a fucking axe, and we have to buy time.”

The women, as weak as they were, pushed the large wooden dresser in front of the door. And then, they began to pile the suitcase, a chair, and the bedside table on top. The women huffed momentarily. The hallway outside have fallen quiet, but R was certain that wouldn’t last for long.

“The sheets,” R motioned. “We have to…”

Sam got to work as R threw open the window. The building was rather tall, but a few blankets and sheets tied together could work. After all, there were only two exits - and one would be cornered by Josh.

As the pair tied together a rope as quickly together, Josh returned.

“R, open the fucking door. I won’t ask again. Hell, I don’t even need to!”

He cut himself off as the axe began slamming into the door. It only took a couple of hits before the wood splintered and cut in half. In that moment, Josh’s crazed, bloodshot eyes peered through the crack.

“Fucking awesome,” he scoffed. “You think you can just keep running, Sam? You’ll be dead by fucking dawn.”

As Josh gave one last swing at the door, R sent Sam down the rope. R was quick to follow, having heard Josh’s thudding footsteps disappear from the door. Sam helped R to her feet. They did not need an incentive to take off speeding down the nearest path.

Despite R’s attempts for careful preparation, she had left the flashlight with Matt and Sam was empty handed. She was slow, too, considering she did not have shoes after several hours of trudging in the snow or being locked up in a shed. It was a wonder that the woman had yet to freeze her feet off entirely at this point. R would gladly give up her boots, if not for the fact that there was a time crunch on escaping a murderer’s grasp.

By now, the night sky was beginning to lighten. And as the trees began to extend out, the sun was on the horizon. And somehow, R and Sam had trudged down the same path where Hannah and Beth had fallen to their death.

The women turned and skidded to a halt. A sob choked in R’s throat and Sam took a few steps back. R had been so focused on checking behind her as a silhouette jogged behind that they’d ended up at the burial site.

As the sun spilled over distant mountain, R recognized that not much had been changed about the landscape; there was the ghost of fixing the precarious ledge, with a pile of rope tied to one of the reinforced wooden fences. In fact, it almost seemed intentional that there was a gap in the fencing. 

The snow glistened against the ground. R was suddenly alerted by Sam’s shriek. The woman had tried to retrace her steps limply while the woman was in a daze. She turned and observed in horror that Josh, a surprisingly pleasant smile stretched across his face, had cornered them. 

There was the wilderness, yes; but it was so dense that there was no chance of avoiding his grasp. The man had a puffy black winter coat and his jeans had sustained several tears. His boots were somewhat worn down and were darker than usual from blood-spill. And the fingers, of which had been almost entirely dislodged, had been wrapped in thick bandages that bled through. And yet, he showed no discomfort on his face - only pleasure.

Sam stumbled back and suddenly grabbed R’s shoulders. R gasped at the sudden sensation of being pushed forward. She tripped, and the knife she had held went sinking into the snow a couple feet away. Bewildered, R reached and grasped in the snow, hands numb and wet. Tears fogged up her vision.

Josh sent a scowl toward Sam. “Jesus Christ. You’re being a total bitch, Sam. I mean, R’s the reason you aren’t chained in a fucking shed, huh? What, you think I’m gonna kill her or something?”

Sam had backed up while remaining cautious of the ledge. Her eyes darted around the landscape, but with a sudden sense of dread, the adrenaline came to a halt and her feet suddenly gave out. It was then that she realized her body had grown weary; if a limb wasn’t numb and pulsing, it was burning and agonizing. The woman released a wallowing shriek as she pawed at the snow.

“R, please! I can’t die! Not like this!”

R scooted back slightly, wanting to avoid the crushing weight of Josh’s boots as he stomped away the knife. She sat in the snow, pleading eyes meeting his. She hated how human, how cognizant he seemed. His eyes were soft as he stared at her. His grin stretched and stretched, making way for madness to spill from his lips.

“Was this your plan the whole time, R? I can’t believe I didn’t think about this. Dangling freedom in front of everyone would’ve been far more entertaining. I also got all my steps in, heh.”

R gulped, suddenly excruciatingly aware of the small scalpels and pocket knives stowed in her pockets. She clenched her fists and tried to steady her voice. “No, Josh. Just… stop this. What happened to Hannah and Beth… nobody could’ve known —“

“Doesn’t fucking matter, R, because it happened anyways,” Josh scoffed, his stare hardening and flitting back to the other woman. “Pathetic. You thought that you could just rely on R to get out of here, huh? I told you you weren’t gonna live past dawn. Hell, you almost made it, but the sun ain’t up yet.”

Josh stepped around R and closed the distance between him and Sam. The axe glinted in the sprouting daylight, and his fingers flexed comfortably around the handle. R reached toward his pant leg. But in that moment, she felt frozen in time; just as she had two years ago.

R had to do something; anything. And yet, her body trembled from just the idea of retaliating.

“Now, Sam,” he muttered,” would you rather get hacked into pieces or get sent flying off the fucking ledge you and those fucking murderers pushed my sisters off? I’m being generous here, you know.”

He leered over the woman. She tried to crick and tried to scream. When Josh nimbly swung his axe upon her, right into her shoulder blade, Sam released a yowl of agony. R’s fingers reached. She had all the tools to win against him, she recognized. But her body had seized and she swore ghosts were holding her back.

“Please, R, do something,” Sam begged. “He’s going to —“

Josh suddenly brought his foot down onto her stomach and sent the axe swinging at her shoulder again. This time, a resounding crack echoed the scene and blood pooled across Sam’s frozen body. Her arm had been cut clean off. And before neither woman could react, the other one went, too.

In that moment, as Sam cried and screamed, Josh sent his boot into the woman’s legs and sent her progressively closer to the ledge with every kick. And it was then that R’s senses returned. The woman realized she had her chance to act, but it was long gone. Sam would bleed out in mere minutes. That left… Matt.

R analyzed her options as she shakily stood. Josh was there at the edge, too. All it would take is one push and he’d go flying. But… that felt too heavy. R was afraid, even if it was deserved. So, as Sam’s body slid off the ledge, R turned and ran in the direction of the ski lift.

“R!” Josh called after her. “Where are you going? The jig is up now!”

His cackling, gleeful laughter echoed behind her.

R could hardly run any further; her heart felt like it was about to give out and her limbs ached from every angle. Bruises and cuts littered her body, burning from the nipping winter air. And then, the ski lodge came into view. Matt peered out from a window, seeming to be relieved. He groaned and pulled a tall metal cabinet as R’s body collapsed against the doorway and Matt was quick to scoop her inside.

She fell on the ground, squeezing her eyes tight. Quiet sobs echoed in the ski lift as the small breeze washed across her face, wiping at her tears. Matt seemed to panic, and R didn’t even have to ask why the power wasn’t functioning.

“Fuck, R… He didn’t actually fry the box. He put some fucking tiny alarm switch - god, and we only have seven minutes before the power comes on. Isn’t that… fuck.”

Matt sat down before pulling R underneath a counter with him. R allowed herself to be pushed and fretted over pitifully. Her head hung low as she muttered,” I could’ve saved her. Sam. And I could’ve killed Josh. But I just…”

Matt pulled her head to his chest and hushed her. Despite his trembling voice, he attempted to calm her. “No, R. You’ve been through enough. There’s no rhyme or reason for any of this… And Sam was a goner in so many ways. Her body wouldn’t ever have been the same - she had to have hypothermia based on the length of time she was out there.”

“But she would’ve been alive…” R choked. “God, seven minutes and a different path taken and…”

“R, then I would’ve been on the chopping block. I’m not saying that as if I’m somehow worth more,” he insisted shrilly. “I mean… you would’ve felt worse if Josh followed and ended up killing all of us.”

“He’s not going to kill me, though. I wish he fucking would. I’ve made all the wrong choices…”

Matt hushed and pet her shoulders in a circular motion as silence fell between the two. Josh would not be long. But R was worn out; and she figured the only option was to hope that Josh still assumed Matt was elsewhere and that he could get a jump on Josh as R distracted him.

But her brain was tired and her body even more so.

[chezzywezzy]

Omg I luv your writing!!’ XD

<3 thank u!

[chezzywezzy]

Bestie! Josh Washington??? It's like you opened my skullcap and looked at my brain! SuperMassive Games are like my crack! Gonna be enjoying this. Love you! <3

hehehe i'm so happy to hear that! I've been in love with rami Malek ever since the game came out <3 and also the dark anthologies is my shit. idc if some of the games aren't that good to me they're epic

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Joshua Washington (5/7)

WC: 4.5k

Josh was not pleased with how things unraveled. He was pretty pissed at how it took one look for Emily to connect dots. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that things would go to shit if R found out. 

He carried the limp woman while covering her in his winter coat. It was frigid outside, and even if the future was suddenly uncertain - his mascaraed as a victim dissolved, which would have been his out to the police - he knew that warming them both up was the immediate priority.

Josh almost felt bad. R did not seem to take it as well as she should have that she’d chosen to save him - hell, would it have been better to admit it wasn’t a choice? That either way, the blades would have spun in Ben’s direction? Maybe it was jealousy, but Josh would have been damned if he actually died for that piece of shit. And he thought R would be as happy as he was to see Emily dissolve into slush like he was and find the remains of Mike and Jessica, who he had a personal hand in. 

He almost drooled at the thought of how easy it was to peel off the protective layers of flesh on woman himself. Everything would have gone how he wanted, if only he hadn’t fucking smiled one time. But then he would have had to set Matt free, and… well, each outcome had it’s drawbacks. It was only that with his reveal, Sam had to go and R would have to hide away from the police to avoid spilling the beans. Josh was typically impartial to his parents, but when it came to their wealth and influence, he was glad. Even if the police had suspicions, a bit of money would get rid of those easily enough.

He let out a sigh of relief when they stepped into the main lodge once more. It was still dutifully heated, even if the heat had faded over time. The man kicked off his boots before setting R on the steps gently and doing the same. Josh couldn’t help but pity her - the trauma had grown so deep that she refused to let anyone die, even when they deserved it. They both really did grieve differently, didn’t they?

Even with the drug, she still managed to shiver in her sleep. Josh wrapped his arms underneath after shedding a few wet layers and headed up the stairs. After that, he laid her on the bed in her room. Josh scoffed at some of the belongings peeking out ofd her suitcase that had been Ben’s.

How distasteful. But as he proceeded to tuck R in, bunching the blanket around her tightly, he almost felt bad. Here he was, a changed man, but still he had done something she didn’t prefer. R was just too kind. 

Even in her sleep, R had an expression of horror, albeit more relaxed horror. Josh chuckled sadly as his ungloved hands dragged along her cheeks. There was still faded traces of blood. It felt strange to be jealous of that damned man’s blood, but even now, a part of him was attached to R. Just like when he was alive, he wouldn’t give her a single damn moment to breathe without him.

Right?

Josh sighed and pulled away. He clenched his fists as he thought back to Sam. He would have to be vigilant; and with R knocked out for the foreseeable hour… it wouldn’t hurt to go looking - hell, what would R even be capable of doing when she woke up?

~~~

R came to with sweat dripping down her skin. She was burning up like a furnace. A fever, perhaps? But as her eyes slowly opened, she realized she’d been covered in thick layers of additional blankets, so much so that it was numbing to wake up her body. Once again, R had a pounding headache - and from how scratchy her lungs were and how stuffed her nose was, along with how battered and bruised she already was… the woman was not feeling well. However, she could not have been knocked out for long - the darkness still loomed beyond the window. And Josh was nowhere in sight. It was relieving yet anxiety-building at the same time.

She felt safe, but R could not say the same for Sam or Matt.

R pulled out her arms and sat up on her elbows. Her movements were slow and weak. It was then that she noticed on the bedside table a glass of water, a bottle of Advil, a lantern, and that same journal from earlier. 

Sometimes, she couldn’t fathom that the man was drastically mentally ill. Somehow, he still had forethought and intellect and the ability to anticipate one’s every move. It was as though he had settled into into the madness and made it his home.

She stretched out her limbs. The electricity had not returned, and thus, without he overwhelming blankets, a chilliness returned to her. It almost pinched or burned, but at least she felt alive again. R felt ill from being drugged twice in the same four hour time span, or so she assumed.

R reached the notebook after readjusting and drinking the water and medication - although not without close inspection to the bottle and pills. The woman almost hesitated to read, knowing that she would only wallow in her reality. But perhaps there was some way to assist the two living victims that didn’t have the assumed immunity she did.

The very first entry was from over a year ago, and R flipped from page to page to connect the full story.

Dear diary,

Here I am, I fucking guess. That damned psychiatrist recommended this as some shitty outlet for my feelings - as if I’d even need that. I already know what I’m feeling. Isn’t that the problem in the first place? That I feel too much all the time?

I started dreaming recently. It’s the same fucking nightmare. Not even a dream, honestly. That same memory of R walking out on me and then immediately, like, dying or something. The first time, it was just getting hit by a car immediately. The next was Chris killing her when she came back to fix things.

I mean, that one in particular kinda drove a wedge between me and Chris. Like, I swear I was totally asleep when I woke up to him shaking me asking why I was screaming at him. Even after I woke up, I just fucking decked him in the face. I don’t honestly know why I did that. But it felt nice, I guess, even if he never really did anything wrong.

The doc says I’ve got PTSD and am bipolar or some shit and says that R leaving was just me deflecting the root of the problem. That I’m grieving and all that and I’m not in a good state right now cuz of Beth and Hannah’s death. He even implied that a part of me blamed her.

I almost attacked him for that, haha. But the guys with guns by the door always scare me, so… 

I mean, how the hell did he get his degree? How is he even remotely qualified and somehow doesn’t understand that the only medicine I need is my damned girlfriend?

What, he flaps fucking weird blotch images at me, or makes me talk about what I fear, and then he assigns me some new drug to try - as if that ever worked. Hell, I’m a duckling biochem major and somehow I can assess that those fucking drugs don’t do jackshit for my head or whatever. Like, the couple of days I was on house arrest and took them, I just felt so numb that I’d stare at a wall for hours and think about R.

At first, I thought about hurting myself a lot. But ever since I attacked Chris, I don’t know. Maybe I am going kinda crazy, but all I think about is how nice it would be to bash his skull, the doc’s skull, everyone who hurt me… I’ve been thinking about murder. I’ve been thinking about how nice it would be to see Emily and Mike’s heads on a platter for what they did to turn my whole life upside down.

Dear diary,

Chris told me the other night that he was leaving cuz he was scared of me. He told me I’ve gone crazy. Crazy in love, if you ask me, but I digress. Thank god that damned voodoo doctor doesn’t read this shit. He always spews nonsense about how important becoming my own independent person is - says that I never had the chance to be on my own. But why would I need that? Hell, I grew up with a big, happy family and then went to college and met the love of my life. If anything, I’m not supposed to be without them.

Unlike the last time, I wasn’t even groggy and I didn’t feel bad. Even if Chris is a childhood friend, he’s been seeing a girl lately after finally growing a fucking spine. And now this? The doc says it’s important to learn to identify emotions so I can assess the root of it all or something. So I guess this is exactly that. I was fucking jealous that Chris got to cuddle up to someone when all I do is imagine her beside me every second. And to think he called himself a friend but then backed out the minute things got hard.

Well, I fucking hit him again and it felt good. And then I kept fucking doing it. I don’t even remember when he stopped moving and breathing. I still feel like shit. I killed my fucking best friend when I guess he technically didn’t deserve it. They did. That fucking doctor, those fucking assholes that killed my sisters. 

Thank god for parents, ya know? I always knew they knew a lot of people, but damn. They swiped that man off the face of the planet for me.

Sorry, Chris.

Dear diary, 

I kinda hate how my parents are. They wanted to pull me out of school, but at least they stopped taking me to the shrink cuz they were worried I’d confess to murder. I’m not that far gone, you know? Even dad seems scared of me. But why would they be if they hadn’t done anything wrong? I guess that got me thinking that if they give such a shit about the one kid of their’s that’s still alive, maybe I could make a way to finally forgive the people who ruined my life and hopefully win R back in one fell swoop. 

She started seeing this guy. I know that our relationship is on a break, but it feels like cheating. She hangs out with him way more than me. I guess he isn’t a mean guy, but I hate his fucking guts. I keep dreaming about what he’d look if I chopped him up and his guts spilled all over the ground. Sometimes, I still feel bad about my violent thoughts. But if it’s so easy to get away with it, what’s stopping me?

Maybe I wouldn’t be so angry if I got to talk to her more than a few hours a week, or if I got to hold her hand from time to time. I’m a little angry at her, too, but I know it’s not her fault that she’s been gaslit against me. I hate having to put up a wall with her.

Maybe it’s stupid, but I can’t fathom a world that I could live in where she didn’t need me anymore. I wish she’d at least dote or pity me, honestly. I’m sure there’s a way to hit two birds with one stone, right?

Rs heart continued too all with each entry. But none of this felt helpful beyond reading into exactly what the man’s thought process was. It felt strange that this rampage had started long ago - R could even remember the text exchange between her and Josh the day he killed Chris. He had asked her if she wanted to come over and drink with him jokingly, and that he was thinking about throwing a party.

As her fingers flipped through the pages, she suddenly found a brief brainstorm on which glass type to use to contain Emily and Matt. 

So the glass is incredibly strong and fire-resistant, but the downfall is enough attempts with a sledgehammer, huh?

She thought back to the torture chamber he set up for Mike and Jessica. Maybe something from that would help. R was not very strong, but perhaps with perseverance, she could free him.

R’s fingers trembled at the thought of Josh catching her a second time. But the woman was helpless on her own.

The woman slipped out of the bed. At first, it took adjusting. Her legs felt more like jelly than they did the last time. But with enough adrenaline, the woman managed to stumble to the doorway. It was tightly shut, and she cringed as the hinges squealed upon pulling it open. But R was only met with silence. It was haunting how quiet it all was.

R did not waste any time descending back into the cold basement. It took several attempts to find her way back. Initially, she'd been so fueled by fear that R didn’t even notice the route she took to escape the basement. 

Her eyes widened as she rounded into the room with Matt huddled in a corner, grasping at his knees. His body sustained many burn wounds and his fingers tips and knuckles bled with bruising from trying to escape. His dark hair shone with grease and his skin glistened with sweat. The man hadn’t even acknowledged R’s presence until a quiet gasp escaped her.

“R…!” He gasped desperately, pawing at the glass. “Fuck, are you okay? How are you even alive right now?”

The woman gulped and placed her palm where his was as if to comfort him. “He… I don’t think he wants to kill me. But I have to get you out of here. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner —“

“Is everyone else…? Fuck, man, I killed my girlfriend —“

“Matt, no… you’re just human. Don’t think about that right now - I just… I need to find a sledgehammer. Or anything, really. I mean, how did you guys even get trapped in there?”

“Fucking hell - I’m pretty sure he just dropped us in. There’s no way he set it up while we were passed out right…?” Matt gulped and cast his gaze away. “I’m… sorry. Fuck, have I always been this useless?”

R’s jaw tightened and she eyed the ceiling above them. The ceiling was surprisingly high and there was no way they’d reach something like that if there was a trap door. But at least the woman was left with two options. She turned.

“I’ll be… back. I don’t really know the place too well, so… but I promise I’ll help get you out, okay?”

Matt nodded and slumped against the glass, eyes glued to R in fear as she left. R made a right and continued down the hallway. Her body trembled with the realization that to get a sledgehammer, her best bet was robbing it from Mike and Jessica’s torture chamber. She halted moments before entering, sucking air into her lungs.

And then she entered.

Now that she had to take in the details to find what she wanted, bile rose in her lungs and tears sprouted from her eyes.  Mike looked like he had taken the brunt of it, but they were beaten and carved to a pulp that if not for their expressions twisted into agony and fear, frozen in time, they might not have been recognizable. 

Jessica was strapped to it but was missing her entire bottom half. It was as though Josh had taken his time in slicing her legs as though she were meat at a deli. And her finger nails lay in a small plastic cup on the tray beside her. It was a waterfall of hardened blood, pooling on the floor and clogging the tilted drain below. 

Mike had been butchered far more methodically, as though Josh had taken additional care to keep him alive longer. His slab had even been tilted so he could watch the life drain out of Jessica. Similarly, his fingernails had been pulled off one by one, as well as his toenails. He’d been stripped naked, and R couldn’t help but squirm at the lack of genitalia the man now lacked. Josh must have taken a knife to carve into his abdomen where his muscled body had contorted and squirmed. And then, his jawline had been dismembered with a small scalpel, pulling the flesh off his face. The man’s eyes were closed, but he had cried blood right before he had died.

R could not have ever fathomed that this was how angry and vengeful Joshua was. Even at his worst, he had seemed harmful to only himself. It made her stomach churn. But as her eyes glazed over the room, she noticed a very small movement.

Even if his head, held up only from the strap at his forehead, showed no life, his chest heaved momentarily. Beside him was a sledgehammer, and she noticed that at the knees - the most mild part about the torture chamber - were seemingly crushed. But Mike… how would he still be alive?

“Holy shit…” R breathed, a cry gulp sliding down her lungs. 

The man twitched in fear and even if his exposed layers of flesh sunk and twisted painfully, his eyes fluttered open. His dark blue eyes swirled with pain and sadness. It seemed agonizing to speak, even as his lips trembled. All that came out was a quiet croak.

“Oh my god - you’re alive? How are you alive, Mike? Holy fuck, what do I do - ?Oh my god —“

It took every ounce of her willpower to remain present and not crumble into a ball. All of this responsibility suddenly pushed onto her - just like back then. But now, it wasn’t two people who fell off a cliff by chance. It was a sadistic murderer takin g down his entire friend group. As if the ticking time bomb of Josh, who was surely looking for Sam, and then Matt suffocating and trembling in a cage weren’t enough… Somehow, the corpse in front of her was breathing and cognizant. And with every part of his body destroyed, it seemed impossible that R could do anything on her own.

“Fuck - Mike, I’ll… I’ll be back. But I have to - Matt, he’s stuck - I can’t help you on my own… I have to take this - what the fuck…”

The crushing weight and responsibility of three separate human lives was upon her. Although R wasn’t certain if Mike could be classified as ‘living.’

“N - no…”

She peered up after having secured her grip on the incredibly heavy sledgehammer. It took every ounce in her body not to drop it, as it was nothing but pure heft, especially on her quickly weakening limbs.

R blinked at him, tears causing her vision to blur. “Wh - what?”

“I can’t… live like…” 

With every word that Mike forced, his expression morphed further into agony. His bloodshot eyes fluttered briefly toward the direction of the tool tray. R gulped at what he was saying. She tensed her body and shook her head.

“No…! I - I’ll be back in a minute. I can’t… I won’t…”

Knowing she’d break down any moment if she stayed, R heaved the tool out of the room. R wasn’t even certain if this was the right approach - the sledgehammer took all of her effort just to move on its own. But she’d found Mike, somehow alive. And his state was incredibly dire. Suddenly, the time bomb Sam had set had started moving even faster.

She heaved into the room, and without wasting a breathe to allow her body to collapse, took everything in her to swing at the wall. Matt slid back and fling he’d at how the glass bent and wobbled, but did not crack. He stood up and held his hands to his chest. All he could do was mutter gracious words as the woman whammed into the wall a few more times. Cracks developed, and as R felt her bones cracking out of place, she gave it one last try.

The glass shattered enough to create a small entrance. R dropped the sledgehammer and her body was in the midst of falling over, but Matt reached out and grabbed her wrist. Neither of them were in very good states, but Matt used what grander amount of strength he had to stabilize her. He pulled her to lean against a wall while his hands grabbed at her shoulders and he put a knee between her legs to keep her upright.

“Fuck - thank you so much, R - I thought I was as good as dead. But how the fuck do we —“

“Mike…” R muttered, trying to fight the exhaustion that weighed on her body. “We have to help him.”

“I thought everyone else…”

“Sam is… somewhere. And Mike is somehow alive. Please, Matt. We have to…”

Matt gulped, clearly prioritizing finding help over anything else. “But we can find help instead. We can get off the mountain —“

“No. They’ll be dead by then…” R grumbled, sending a glare. “And we’ll die, too. He cut the, uh, power. The ski lift doesn’t work. There’s strength in n - numbers…”

The man gulped, blinking away tears that threatened. Somehow, out of the entire group, Matt had survived minimal damage. Sure, he was missing a toe and his elbow sustained a burn, as well as various bruises and exhaustion, but at least he was alive, fully clothed, and had avoided permanent damage to his body. R had gone through worse, even with Josh having avoided hurting her entirely. Her body was deeply bruised, her blood ran with intense drugs, her skin was red, and she had a fever. 

“Y - yeah, okay… Do you know where Joshua is? And Matt?”

“Josh, no… I think he’s trying to find Sam. Or me… But Matt… Come on.”

R tried to stabilize herself, but ended up relying on Matt. The man swung an arm around her for support. They limped along as quickly as possible. Matt didn’t even bat an eye until they entered the torture chamber ands body became overwhelmed with fear. He snapped his hands to his mouth before keeling over and vomiting. R caught herself in time, leaning against the doorway. Somehow, she’d become desensitized enough to the gore it did not hit her as hard the third time around. She tried to avoid eye contact with Jessica’s dull, lifeless eyes.

“What the fuck - Jesus…”

Mike’s eyes opened slowly, blinking. His mouth was open and he had a small string of blood drooling from his lips. His fingers twitched by reflex, as though to reach toward them.

“Matt, please,” R whispered. “I don’t know what to do, but we can’t just leave him here… I can’t help him on my own.”

Matt motioned after wiping his lips, tears sliding down his cheeks. “How are we supposed to help him? He can’t walk, he can’t move, he can’t eat, drink, or piss… How the fuck are we supposed to help him?”

R gulped and bowed her head, grasping at her face. “I don’t - I don’t know, but —“

“Kill me…” Mike rasped, a few more red tears sliding down his red, flayed cheeks. “P - please…”

Matt gulped and took a step back. “Fuck. Actually? God, he’s right - there’s no way from coming back from this damage, but…. I - I… R, you —“

“No, Matt. I can’t. Mike’s right, but I can’t. I don’t think I could live with myself…!”

Matt gulped and squeezed his fists together. “I… yeah. I guess that means I have to, right?” His voice cracked with fear and regret. He could feel R’s pleading yet guilty gaze, but he didn’t make eye contact. “It’s only right. Fuck. I’ve always been a coward. I’ve always just been a bystander who lets himself get bossed around. It’s only right that I do something helpful for once in my life, you know? God, you could’ve just been relaxing this whole time as a victim, but you saved me and you’re trying to save Sam, too, so…”

R reached toward him, but Matt seemed to have solidified his resolve. He walked toward him,  not daring to look. His body trembled when he stood beside Mike’s slab. The man seemed relieved that Matt had gained the conviction to put him out of his misery. R could only stand in the doorway, hugging herself tightly, and watch as Matt grabbed a random tool from the wall and hovered it over Matt’s chest. A moment later, he plunged it into the man.

Mike didn’t even cry or yelp. The life drained out of him in that moment, and even without flesh on his face, his expression seemed to hav e relaxed and his eyes froze shut.

Matt let go of the tool instantly, stumbling back. He shuddered and panted wildly, grasping at his head. 

“Fuck… I just killed my girlfriend and now the guy she was sleeping with…” he bit his lips and tried to steel himself, wobbling back over to R.

R, with a trembling hand, patted Matt’s shoulder. “…No. You did the right thing, Matt. Nobody can fault you for trying to live… We should grab some stuff. Weapons and shit. Everything else was hidden, so…”

Matt gulped and nodded. Somehow, R was still awake and functioning, and so was Matt. And somehow, the horror of the situation had become numbing. Their minds were clear and concise. And so, they picked up some of the weapons displayed on the wall. 

R made sure to hide some in her pockets.

[chezzywezzy]

i used to read your stuff a few years ago and check your profile every now and then. my eyes popped out once i realized you are back ! hope life is going great though. can’t wait to read your stuff again

Thank you! I already return to the craft. I yearn for the fanfiction concoction. I hope you enjoy!!! And I hope your life is going great too :)