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BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader. Chapter Five. TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD! MINORS DNI 18+ [Y/N] -> Your Name. [Y/B] -> Your Birthdate. Word count : 5543. MASTERLIST !! - “And do you ever feel like these feelings control you? Like you have no sense of yourself?” You sighed, you had been fiddling with your fingers for as long as you had been in this room now. A stray strand of your hair fell, causing you to focus on it momentarily before focusing on the blur behind the strand. It was Lisa, one of her legs were crossed over one another, her short blonde hair hung loosely just below her ears and her face was wrinkled with age. There was silence, you were unsure on how to answer her questions.

“[Y/N]?” Lisa spoke, shuffling closer onto her seat and leaning in close to encourage you. You cleared your throat and sat up a little, crossing your arms over your chest now in a way to almost protect yourself from her piercing gaze. “Sometimes.” “Like they define you?” Lisa asked, she looked at you like she could read you, like you were some kind of open book and that made you feel uncomfortable.

“I guess.” You mumbled the reply, you felt so exposed. “And when you feel suicidal, how do you distract yourself?” You scoffed softly and Lisa was intrigued by your response. “I don’t, that’s why I’m here, right? To not end it all?” Your response was snarky but Lisa just smiled, like she had dealt with all kinds of people like you before. It was true, she was a therapist, there were tons of fucking mentally ill people she had spoken to. “You tell me, you got up this morning and now you’re sitting in my chair, in my office. Don’t you think that’s a step in the right direction?” You narrowed your eyes, hating to admit that maybe she was right so you shuffled in your chair and averted your gaze away from her own. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 10 AM. Your appointment would be over soon, you sighed and adjusted yourself once again on the chair. Her office wasn’t exactly welcoming but at least the chairs were comfortable, that’s all that mattered. The walls were gray, she had a bookshelf in the far right corner by the door and her diplomas hung on the wall. They were for sure collecting dust at this point, maybe if you looked hard enough you could see the small collections. You sighed, another fifteen minutes of this fucking interrogation. “When you sit here in my office, do you ever think about suicide? Like here, right now?” Lika was assessing you, there was a notepad on her knee and a pen between her fingers like a cigarette. She wore smart clothing, almost like a suit but with a bit more style. She had money, that was for fucking sure, especially with the amount your parents were throwing at her. “Not particularly,” you mumbled. “Only when I’m alone.” “You’re in medical school, aren’t you?” You rolled your eyes, your parents' most proudest achievement was sitting here. “Yeah.” “That’s a big responsibility.” “Yeah, no fucking shit, Lisa,” you snapped back, you didn’t mean to but you didn’t come here to talk about school. You came here for a fic, a cure maybe, you didn’t fucking know but you wanted to feel better and that was a good thing, right? Why couldn’t Lisa actually say something that made you not want to slit your wrists? Your gaze flickered to the clock and without much warning, you stood and picked up your backpack. It was a little heavy, full of books that made your back ache for fucking weeks on end. Lisa sighed and removed the glasses that perched on the end of her nose, like a proper fucking shrink and set them down on the coffee table, along with her pen and notebook. She stood, pressing the crease out of her so expensive pants before giving you a concerned look, her brows knitting together and expressing her wrinkles even more.

“You can’t let time heal you,” she called out. “It’s on you. Being angry at the world and the people trying to help you will not solve your problems. I know you’re angry, I know, but find some peace within yourself.” You waved a hand dismissively over your shoulder as you tugged your backpack on. “See you next time, Lisa.” You could hear her sigh but before she could open her mouth, you were out her door and out into the sunshine. — It had been awhile since you last saw Lisa and the guilt was eating away at you knowing that the only reason you were truly going to see her was to send her to her demise. You were selfish, you had admitted that now and whatever happens to Lisa wasn’t going to sit on your shoulders your whole life. Shit happens. It was late, the sound of traffic heard outside your window as the soft light of the tv hit your face. You were watching tv but now you were snoring softly on the couch, a blanket draped over your frame. It wasn’t every night you found yourself dozing on the couch, but the past couple of days and the lack of sleep, you needed to rest your eyes. Your head fell, jerking you awake a little but soon you felt the lull of sleep wash over you like a soothing wave. Two weeks, two weeks. Maybe you should just sleep with that guy for some extra time? No, what were you, a slut? Your eyebrows crinkled, couldn’t your thoughts just shut up while you tried to rest?

There was a loud bang at your door, it was short and abrupt but woke you up within seconds. You blinked, unsure whether it was a knock at your door or just the neighbor next door accidentally bumping the wall but then it happened again. You raised a hand to rub your eyes before pushing the blanket off your frame and approached the door. Maybe it was Mom? It would make sense, you’d practically gone missing on her again and Lisa probably told her you’d reached out for a session. Turning the handle, you swung the door open, sleep stricken across your face. The light was bright outside the hall of your apartment but whoever was previously knocking at your door came in like a blur, pushing past you which caused you to bump into the wall. A little starstruck, you blinked and focused on the figure that was now making himself comfortable on your couch. In a flurry of anger and confusion, you quickly stepped back into the living room, leaving the door open just a fraction. “What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself. It was Toby and he was sitting on your couch with his feet up on your coffee table?! This wasn’t like him at all. “L-L-Love this f-film!” he exclaimed with a smile. The gauze that used to be on his cheek was gone, exposing a scar that started at the corner of his lips. It looked gnarly but it was healed. It exposed all his back teeth, making you furrow your brows. Who and what the fuck could’ve caused that?

“Hey, do you mind?!” you approached with a hand on your hip and he glanced at you before glancing at the bandages around your arm. “Y-Y-You tried to k-kill yourself?” Now you were very taken aback and a little embarrassed admittedly, causing you to push the bandaged arm behind your back. “W–What?” Now you were stuttering, maybe you were even becoming a little flustered. He smirked. “No? What? This?” you motioned to your arm. “I got attacked.” He didn’t even seem surprised, he just shrugged his shoulders and shot his gaze back to the tv on the opposite side of the room. “I-I know,” he spoke as casual as casual could get. “What?” Your heart fluttered. “Y-Y-eah, I-I-I- I attacked y-you,” he spoke nonchalantly and you were frozen in shock. Toby? Toby killed Anne? Toby attacked you?! Kidnapped you?! You wanted to punch him, your fists curled. He wasn’t wearing the mask but the brown tufts of hair were the same messy kind, he wore more casual clothing and you felt your face contort in disgust. It made sense, sure, and that’s what pissed you off the most. You scoffed, tempting fate itself as you eyed him up. How would someone even react to this? He was your neighbor and now he was sitting on your couch, just openly admitting that he kidnapped you and did all kinds of other things which could land his ass in prison. You were rubbing your forehead, it had grown stuffy in the room and you exhaled a breath of air to try and ease the tension which was growing. You were afraid, fearful even.

Toby stood at six feet almost, far taller than you and despite his skinny frame, you could see just about the outline of some muscles from underneath his shirt. It was a gray shirt, with Spider-Man on it. Something you would’ve never expected this guy to wear and you purse your lips as the only sound from the tv could be heard from within the room. “T-T-Times t-t-t-ticking..” he said in a tone that made you shiver, a tone that mocked your very existence. You shuffled from one hip to another, placing your hand upon it. Toby’s eyes were hooked on the tv but as you adjusted for a mere moment, his brown eyes flickered over to your frame. It was evident enough that he was looking you up and down, his eyes lingered for a little more on your refined hips more than anything, slowly trailing up to glance at the outline of your breasts before moving his gaze up, finally giving you eye contact. You shivered, feeling uncomfortable as all hell and you shuffled again, pulling at your shirt in an attempt to make yourself feel decent. He was checking you out, that was for sure and you could tell by the look on his face that he was practically undressing you. His eyes were hungry, longing and you felt your heartbeat quicken in.. excitement? No, you didn’t want to feel this way toward him, him of all people and yet now you were. Like you were tempting danger itself and it was the sexiest thing ever.

Were you finding him.. Attractive? Was he here to see if you would take up on that offer to sleep with him? The gaze between you two had finally dismissed when Toby looked away and you could feel your face burning up, clearing your throat momentarily to consider your options. Fuck it. You hadn’t been fucked in awhile, maybe this little fling would be good for you? Fuck, maybe he might even spare your life. “A-A-Am I turning you o-on?” Toby asked, there was a huskiness to his voice as he kept his eyes glued to the screen in front of him. There was some cheesy horror film playing now, an old one that just screamed retro. This all felt a little too familiar. His words burnt at your face as you tried to find some sort of explanation or even something to change the subject at hand, but you were too flustered to even consider your options. A part of you felt disgusted that you were even feeling these kinds of ways for a fucking killer but on another part, you seriously hadn’t been fucked in sooo long.. Shaking your head, you scoffed softly.

“You need to leave, you can’t just walk in here-” You were unable to finish your sentence until Toby jumped up from the couch and approached you at a speed that made you unable to focus on him momentarily and before you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your throat. He wasn’t choking you out, not yet at least as he pushed you back so now you were pinned against the cold wall behind you. You gasped, whimpered, choked for some kind of air however his grip wasn’t tight enough to outright kill you, not just yet anyway. A squeeze, something to remind you of who he was and what you were messing with. A threat. “W-Who are you t-talking to?” Toby asked and there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, which actually made you feel a little repulsed. He was right, who were you talking to? This guy could squeeze the life out of you and you thought you were in control of this situation just because it was your apartment? He lurched forward, causing you to grimace and look away however you could feel his nose just brushing up against your cheek. His breath hit your skin, causing it to ripple in response.

“I’m sorry–!” you choked out but the apology did not seem to satisfy him enough to let go of your neck. He chuckled, causing you to shiver once again. With a shake of his head, he finally released your neck and stepped back. You were hesitant to move, in case that would be the wrong move around someone so unstable.

“So,” he hesitated as he returned back to the couch, sitting back to stretch an arm across the cushions behind him. You were still against the wall, your bottom lip wobbled but you wouldn’t dare cry. Even that felt like a death sentence. Your head hurt, it was pounding and you finally moved after a beat of silence to rub your face. Why was this all happening to you? You? Of all people, you were nothing! Couldn’t he just let you suffer in peace rather than adding to it? “W-Whose on t-the hit list..?” he asked, half eyeing up the tv and then burning back to you occasionally, he seemed bored but you weren’t willing to try and entertain him. Fucking pervert would ask for something else and you knew that. He was right though, you had to get someone killed or pass this curse onto someone else. Toby would argue, for him this was all some kind of fucked up game that he enjoyed greatly. “I have some people in mind..” you mumbled, almost ashamed. “Oh?!” Toby leant forward in interest, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his chin rest on the palm of his hand. You flinched at his sudden interest and you glanced down at the floor, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “W-Well..?! No! D-Don’t t-tell me. I-I’m cheating h-h-here,” he gave a hoarse chuckle. Was he a friend or foe? You were uncertain at this point.

As you glanced up to narrow your eyes at him, there was a shit eating grin across his features. Admittedly, it looked manic, like he was about to pull out a knife and stab you right there and then. You remained with your back against the wall, uncertain what to even say. Was he just conversing with himself or those damned voices in his head? He had to have some for sure. You purse your lips and Toby sat back again, a soft smile across his features that for once made him look approachable.

“W-What am I d-d-doing?” he mumbled softly to himself. “I shouldn’t b-be h-h-here..” he sighed softly and for once, you actually agreed with what came out his fucking mouth. In a swift motion, he jumped up from the couch and approached you to press his fingertips against your chin. “I-I-I’m waiting,” he sent you a wink before withdrawing his hand and stepping over to the door. You had left it open ajar, so his fingers slipped around the frame of the door to peel it open before slipping out the apartment himself. You were in shock and so you remained close to the wall, almost hoping it would outstretch some kind of arms and pull you deep within the foundations of this building. You wanted to hide, to run, to go missing and never come back again but even that seemed pointless. Toby would find you, he was a hunter, a tracker, he wasn’t fucking stupid and you knew that, he knew you knew that and that was what made it worse. Running a trembled hand through your hair, you sighed.

This was a fucking nightmare, a nightmare you so desperately wanted to wake up from. If it brought any confidence, you knew that your appointment with Lisa was tomorrow and despite feeling sick to your bone at the fact that you knew you’d be plaguing her with the worst thing that could possibly happen, it was a relief off your shoulders.

—

Soon enough morning rolled around but you were still not at any kind of ease. The night was the worst in regards to sleep, you barely caught a wink and you spent most the night feeling for the handle of the knife that you kept tucked away between the bedframe and mattress in case someone made the choice to come breaking into your apartment again during the night. Butterflies attacked the lining of your stomach and you’d spent a good fifteen minutes with your head stuck down the toilet, throwing up all your nerves for the upcoming appointment. No amount of words could reassure you, how the fuck was today going to line itself up for you? This wasn’t going to be an easy task and you knew that, you fucking knew that. Not only that, but what fucking envelope were you supposed to give her? Toby was pretty damn vague and you were not about to go knocking on his door to ask.

The very thought did leave you in a trance of pondering the situation as a whole. Firstly, how the hell did he even end up in the same apartment complex as you? Surely his fingertips were all over that damned crime scene that involved beloved Anne. He was right under the cops’ noses! Was he paying rent? And if so, fucking how? Had he done this before, murder someone and how was he not behind bars? It made you feel uneasy, as if the whole thing didn’t already but what made it worse was that it really showed how fucking poor cops are at doing their damned job! Or that Toby was too damned smart, something you very bitterly admitted. Secondly, why did he pick you? You were sure that question would haunt you for the rest of your life, if you actually survived this whole ordeal. What made you special? You narrowed your eyes. The wall was staring back at you as you blinked a couple times to rearrange your thoughts. Were you daydreaming? Shit, what was the time? Leaning over to reach for your phone which was just laying atop the small bedside tabletop, you tapped the screen which caused it to illuminate. 8:30 AM. Getting to Lisa’s office was really not that long of a drive but wasting more time made it feel as if you were asking to be killed at this point. Of course, maybe you should really let it happen, it was only a couple of months ago you were speaking to Lisa about wanting to end your life and now you were fighting so hard for it? Toby would be on the floor, rolling around and laughing if he knew that. Your brows furrowed in disgust. He probably already fucking knew that. Within seconds you were slipping on some clothes, a long sleeved, fluffy hoodie would suffice. It would look so fucking shit with your bandaged arm out on display, not only would Lisa suspect you actually tried to kill yourself, she’d get your parents involved and right now, you were on the breaking point and having to face them would fucking send you.

Gathering your keys, your bag with what little money you had left scattered in the lining, you pulled on some socks and then your shoes. Maybe actually leaving your apartment would do good for you, to get some fresh air. As you exhaled a shaky breath, you furrowed your brows and approached the front door. Just as you reached out for the handle, you stepped on something below which gave a small crunching sound and immediately you backed away from the door to glance down below. And of course, there it was. That brown envelope, staring into your soul and making you freeze. You didn’t have to tell Toby anything, he knew, it was like he had ears in the wall, like he tapped himself into your phone or put some kind of tracking device on you. As anger lashed out within you, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of.. relief. You were going to Lisa empty handed and that was not part of the game so despite your anger, frustration and nausea that was suddenly slapping itself at your face, you were somewhat thankful. Thankful that Toby had considered making that part of your life easier. Bending down just for a moment to pick it up, the paper was smooth against your fingertips and just before you went to tug it under your arm, it rattled, like something was inside it. A small object that clearly didn’t fit the size of the envelope itself and now curiosity was eating away at you. Were there rules to this game? You had no idea, Toby had been so damned vague about it all and even when you did ask, he wouldn't answer, he would avoid the questions because it was funny to leave you trembling at the thought of whether you were doing something right or wrong. Slowly, your fingertips grazed against the opening of the envelope, the urge to push your index finger under the small gap and rip it open was consuming you, but you would resist. If opening a letter that was meant for his next victim got you killed, then he’d be pissing all over your grave for as long as he lived, if you could even consider his life and lifestyle as living. As you stepped outside the complex, you felt the occasional raindrop fall down and beat you softly on the forehead and face, making haste in dampening your hair. It was typical weather for this dysfunctional city, the rain cloud loomed and never felt the urge to leave, leaving everyone who lived here a depressed feeling that ate away at their very being. And despite it all, you didn’t mind. When your life was on the line, each day being a constant reminder of what lingered in your future, you began to appreciate the small little things. Like fucking rain. The car journey to Lisa’s didn’t take long but then again, you didn’t expect it to either. As you pulled into the car park, it was relatively full. It was like the more you looked, the more you could pickout the difference between the shrinks and patients. Well, flashy cars and run down, rusted metal on wheels. It was obvious who was earning a good amount of money and who was wasting it on.. Well, whatever you considered this shit as. You lingered behind the wheel, the hum of the engine no longer providing you much company as you watched each raindrop fall onto your windshield and trickle down, a race with many other raindrops that did that same thing.

Your mind lingered as the silence consumed you, what were you going to do? What did Toby put in this envelope? How were you going to give this to Lisa and what if she opened it and there was some kind of threat inside? What the hell would you do? She’d send you off to the nearest mental ward and right now, you were so desperately trying to convince yourself that you were okay. Of course, you needed to convince Lisa too but it wasn’t your top priority as she’d end up.. No. You furrowed your brows, just stop thinking and ride out whatever shit storm was coming to you. Stepping out and locking the car securely behind you, you headed toward the building. It, surprisingly, was a pretty small building. With doors that opened automatically once triggered by motion, some windows just besides the doors and another three windows above the door. The building wasn’t painted any particular color, due to the fact that it had its original brick out on display. It was a building you were all too familiar with considering the amount of times you walked up to its doors and glanced untoward each time.

You wondered, did Lisa do the same? Upon entering, you glanced around at the familiarity of it all. Has it really been that long since you last came here? The place actually looked happy, like they made a shitty attempt at putting up motivational posters about how amazing life is and was that a fucking rainbow painted on the wall? You blinked, this was the same building or had this suddenly turned into a children's hospice? To your left was the reception, it was covered by glass, almost like they were trying to protect the person who sat behind it. It wasn’t the same person you recognised so now you were really starting to doubt yourself, had you driven to the wrong place? In front of you was a long corridor with a collection of doors on each side, to your right was the usual waiting area. The uncomfortable ass chairs, the old magazines that had probably been there since 2010. With a soft sigh, you had spun on your heel to turn toward the small receptionist who was tucked away behind the glass panel. Behind her was a white wall along with a white door, it oddly enough gave you some insane asylum vibes. “Uhm, hey,” you started, clearing your throat and forcing a somewhat pained smile. “I’m-” “I know who you are, you fucking murderer. How could you, your own therapist? You know Lisa has cancer right, she has cancer and she’s going to fucking die.” You blinked, mouth hanging open agape in complete and utter shock. It felt as if you were going to drop dead on the spot, feeling all the blood in your body rush down and away from your face. Blinking again, the woman behind the counter gave you a friendly smile.

“Your name and age? I’ll need your birthdate too, sweetie.” You were dumbfounded, motionless in shock. Did she actually say that or were you making it up? Did she really know you were plotting and planning to kill Lisa? You anxiously wiped away some sweat from your upper brow. “Um..” The woman in front of you was middle aged and plump, wrinkles adorning her face but she cherished a welcoming smile. Her cheeks were red and rosy. It reminded you a little bit like a gnome. Her hair was still stuck in that 80s styled bob, swept in different ways but it suited her. “You okay, darling? You look so pale,” she noted. You let out a soft, whimpered laugh before shaking your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Uh, my name is [Y/N] and my birthday is [Y/B].” The woman let out a content hum in approval to this information, clicking away at the mouse and staring intently at the computer screen in front of her. You shuffled, avoiding staring at her too much in case she somehow caught onto your plan. Every now and again your gaze would flicker to her and you caught sight of her name badge that hung proudly just above her right breast. It was white with a little blue outline. It read ‘Mary.’ Cute. Maybe you should just pass the envelope to her and be on your merry way. “Lisa is just down the hall, the door with number seven on it.” You already knew that but smiled at the information and gave her a soft nod of appreciation before turning and making your way to the door. It seemed that each step you took, the corridor would become longer and longer. Were you sweating? Because you felt sticky and hot, even your vision became a blur around you. As your gaze brushed up on each number on each door you walked past, you finally found yourself stopping at number seven. You felt dizzy, you wanted so desperately to turn around and run out those doors. Those fancy, fucking white doors. Before you could compose yourself and reach for the handle, Lisa opened the door with a warm smile. It had been a couple of months since you last saw her. She looked frail, weak, older and yet she still dressed in her fancy attire for work. Her smile was warm, inviting and yet it flooded your very being with guilt. Your mouth began to water. Don’t throw up, don’t fucking throw up.. Were the only words repeating in your head. “[Y/N]!” She exclaimed, outstretching her arms to wrap them around you into a soft embrace. There, as you invited the hug, you could feel each bone protruding out from under her clothing. Was she actually sick? Or had it been that long? “Lisa,” you croaked out as you began to wiggle out of her grip, forcing an uncertain smile across your face. However, Lisa did not return the smile, she had a glazed look of worry plastered across her face. You were confused.

“Now, I know you didn’t agree to doing this today and I would’ve told you over the phone but I feel this would be really good for you to reach out to people.” Her words were not comforting ones as you turned your head slightly and gave her a worried look. She rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to them.” With that, she stepped aside and pulled the door open wider for you to peer in. It was her usual room, that was for sure, however now there was an array of chairs spaced out to form a circle. Roughly seven chairs in total, all having someone sat in each one apart from two of which you only assumed was for yourself and Lisa. Was this a fucking group session? No, no, this couldn’t be happening.

You wanted to turn and dart but you felt stuck, unable to move as you assessed in person in each chair. You started with the chair closest to you, a young woman who was so painfully skinny that each bone protruded out from under her skin, she barely looked alive. Then next to her, a rather large man who was bald and had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face cold as you glanced over at him, he looked middle aged. To your right, another guy who looked mid-thirties, his eyes heavy as he avoided your gaze and then next to him, another guy, he looked terminally ill. What the fuck have you walked into? Of course, the chair next to the guy who looked terminally ill was free for you, another chair in the middle for Lisa and then you turned to the other chair and your heart fell. You nearly began stumbling back and away from the room altogether. There he sat, reserved, with his arms close to his body and his chin tucked close to his chest. That familiar brown hair, the messy kind that struck out to you the most. He was pale, his cheeks a little sunken and next to his mouth was a gauze. You began to shake your head, wanting to fight, scream and yell but instead left standing there, unable to even utter a whisper. Toby looked up toward the door and his eyes met yours and there it was, that smirk that made you feel sick. Your chest ached, the urge to throw up and heave becoming more and more apparent. He was mocking you and you just knew, you knew by the look in his eyes that he was laughing deep down. “Everyone,” Lisa began, catching their attention and causing now all eyes to be on you. “This is [Y/N]. Could you all please introduce yourselves?” “I fucking have to?! What’s the point,” the bald man spat, causing you to recoil further away from the entrance of the room. Lisa shot him a disapproving but gentle look, the smile still etched in her features. “The point is so we can all help each other.” The man's face was red with rage and he huffed, not wanting to start an argument in front of everyone. After a beat of silence, he spoke up again, his voice gruff. “Andrew.” You crept forward, forcing such a crooked smile you were thankful Andrew wasn’t looking otherwise he probably would’ve punched you. The woman next to him gave you a soft look, a sympathetic one and smiled. “Lily.” She spoke in almost a whisper. You turned your head to the other guys. “Dave.” The guy in his mid thirties spoke. “I’m Erin.” Spoke the guy that looked so fucking sick. You nodded and then everyone shifted their gaze over to the figure sitting in the back. “I’m Toby, n-n-nice to me-.. Meet you, [Y/N].”

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers #fanfic #xreader #ticci toby x reader

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blvvdylcve · 1 month

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pov ur toby's dad

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blvvdylcve · 1 month

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alright wheres the overwatch creepypasta people at

#creepypasta #slenderman #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers

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blvvdylcve · 9 months

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some ppl on tumblr have the most nasty attitude. if you’re gonna come onto my blog and be a dick, don’t waste your time. just block me. 💀 or better yet, learn some manners.

to my followers that have been reading BloodLust and showing me unconditional love, thanks all 🫶🏻

#touch some grass #ya’ll need help #what did i do to ya’ll #what hurt you guys #kids these days

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blvvdylcve · 9 months

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stop fucking tagging your ticci toby x reader fics as marble hornets. it has nothing to do with marble hornets, it clogs up the tag, and its really frustrating to scroll past

you could’ve been so nice about this so no, i’m gonna keep doing it. thanks!! 🫶🏻

#marble hornets #screw you #learn some manners #there all connected

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blvvdylcve · 9 months

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MasterList.

BloodLust.

There are heavy scenes within this that may be triggering for some. If you or someone you know is struggling, help is available. https://www.helpguide.org/find-help.htm

Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6 -> PENDING

#creepypasta #slenderman #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanons #fanfic #ticci toby #toby rogers #xreader #eyeless jack #marble hornets

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blvvdylcve · 9 months

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BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader.

Chapter Four.

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD!

MINORS DNI 18+

[Y/N] -> Your Name.

Word count : 5983.

MASTERLIST !!

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There was a soft hum. It sounded like a car engine, a soft mumble that could be heard from underneath you. Your arm throbbed in pain and so did your head as you let out a soft groan. The seat underneath you felt soft, yet there was an occasional itch on your face which you could only assume came from an article of clothing beneath you? A cloth maybe?

That was beside the point, you were not in your motel room anymore and that was more than apparent. You felt sick, you smelt and could taste the remains of vomit in your mouth. Your eyes finally fluttered open, it was dark in the car, so dark even that a part of you almost thought that you were blindfolded. You moved your arm, letting out a hiss. Your wrists were tied, your ankles too? Before you could glance up at the driver, a glint just below you caught your eye. It was a blade, that same axe that had hatched your arm away. You blinked desperately, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness that swallowed you up whole.

You hadn’t realised but your body was trembling. Was it fear? The lack of sleep that was beginning to catch up to you? Maybe you had finally lost it, a nightmare perhaps? You’d passed out on the couch and when you awoke from this fucking nightmare, the first thing you’ll do is speed dial your therapist and mom. God, Mom. You wanted her so badly right now. Your gaze slowly flickered to the person in the front seat, he was focused on the road, his index finger tapping against the wheel. You say he. You had no fucking idea. Was it the same guy from the motel room who hacked at your arm? Fuck, you hoped you weren’t going to lose your arm. You didn’t want to die. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, you were not going to die and you were adamant on that. You had to at least give some kind of justice to Anne right? Like, maybe, if you miraculously survived, this would be a big, ‘hey, Anne! We did it!’ Did Anne experience this too? Your heart ached.

With a soft struggle, you clenched your teeth together to hold back each whimper and groan of pain as you let your ass brush up against the back seat. Your pockets were empty. No phone or wallet on you. Well, the other plan caused you to gaze up at the handle of the door to your nearest left. Almost thankfully enough, your hands were tied up close to your chest. With some wiggling here and there, you could reach for the handle of the door and just try to slip out at that next traffic light. Then again, that was the next worry that plagued you. There hadn’t been any traffic lights for awhile, where the fuck were you? You could feel the familiar pit of anxiety brewing in your stomach, you wanted to heave again but pushed the saliva to the back of your throat and pursed your lips.

Let’s be real, if you survived this shit and wrote a novel, it’d be the next best seller and you’d never have to worry about paying your bills on time again. Right now though, your main priority was just surviving this fucking mess. Sucking in a calm and steady breath, you began to wiggle up the seats. You used your legs and hips to help thrust you up inch by inch. It would’ve been quicker if you had used your chest but causing more pain onto that huge fucking wound would make you yell out bloody murder. You were almost certain that your bone was showing, peaking out amongst the blood and muscle of your arm. Your mind went hazy as the urge to heave again swelled up in your throat. With determination to survive coursing through your bloodstream, you continued to shuffle up further the seat until you deemed yourself close enough to the handle.

This was the part that would fucking hurt, outstretching your arm to reach for the handle. It would be worth it, a small surge of pain in exchange to live the rest of your life. Fuck, grow old, do dumb shit like getting nailed between aisles of a library for the thrill of it. Fuck the best seller book, imagine being that kick-ass mom that survived this bullshit. You could feel the smugness stretching across your face. With a steady breath, you sent a cautious gaze over to the driver. He was focused on the road, he looked as if he was lost in his thoughts. There was a hood draped over his head, so you could barely make out any facial features or what colour his hair was. This would be crucial when you finally called this bastard in to the cops.

Slowly, you outstretched your arm and let your hand reach its way to the handle of the door. The pain stung, causing you to quickly bite down on your tongue. There was a taste of blood that begin to taint your tastebuds, but the sweet smell of freedom was enough to continue to push further. You stretched, stretched, your fingers reaching out and barely grazing the handle. It was like the handle glinted in the moonlight, mocking you for your sheer desperation to live.

That was right, you wanted to live. The glare of the moonlight took you back to the night you tried to take your life and now you thought about it, how fucking stupid was that shit. You were here, just about and you were not giving to give in to death so easily EVER again.

Your fingertips hooked around the handle and your heart burst in excitement. You gasped, shooting your gaze up quickly as you pulled back with what strength you could muster up. CLICK.

You went to push the door open but nothing happened and you froze, feeling as if everything around you had stopped. It was locked, the door wasn’t budging and now you felt like you were being mocked. No. No, life, success, a meaning to life was RIGHT there. Your breath hitched as your eyelid twitched, your hand dropping down helplessly. There was a lump forming in your throat, vomit? No, you were crying. It started with a single tear rolling down your cheek, down your nose and dripping onto the fabrics of your shirt and then there was a soft whimper that escaped from your throat involuntarily. You could taste it, freedom, you could’ve, should’ve, you had a fucking right and now this guy was going to kill you like you were nothing but a sack of fucking meat. All your worries vanished. Who gives a fuck what your nose looked like, how much you weighed, your teeth or even the blemishes upon your cheeks. You were going to die. You were uncontrollably sobbing now, unable to stifle any noise that escaped from you. It was pointless, this was all for nothing.

“Fuck….! Fuck!! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” you were screaming, your throat so hoarse that occasionally it would break from the outpour of tears.

The drivers posture changed, he sat up a little and then suddenly leant over the steering wheel. His body contorted for a moment, jumping up and down until it hit you that he was laughing. He was practically slapping his knee, holding his stomach and gasping for air as he tried to control his laughter. Your cries and sobs ceased to be but your bottom lip trembled, the sheer embarrassment of this guy laughing in your face made you wish that maybe your death would come quicker than you had previously hoped. He leant back, caught his breath and suddenly started laughing again to begin round two. This time, he was punching the steering wheel and occasionally the car would blare out a small honk here and there.

“You are f-f—“ he laughed more. “Fucking funny!” he exclaimed, happily before now leaning back in his seat again. It seemed he had calmed from his laughing fit. You glanced at his figure before at the rear view mirror. His eyes were on you, wide and hungry. You could just about make out the brown. “You h-have fuckin’ sp— spirit- feistyy.” That word rolled on his tongue and it caused you to shiver in disgust. This was hilarious to him. “I-I-I-I- FUCK!” he punched the wheel, leaning back, sucked in a breath, twitched his neck and returned the gaze in the rear view mirror. “I like t-the—them when they f-fi-fight back. Sooooo f-f-fun!” This guy was fucking crazy and unpredictable. Your gut was yelling at you to move, to fight back, to literally do anything but you remained still, like a part of you wanted to hear what he was to say to you.

God, the way he fucking talked. It was jarring. It reminded you so much of that creepy fucking neighbour. What was his name? Tony? Toby? That’s it, Toby. Yeah, he was weird, but he would’ve never acted like this? Right? You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him with hatred. He was smirking, it was evident with the crinkle around his eyes. He was enjoying himself more than you wanted to even admit, to consider. You pursed your lips, your eyes stung and you could feel a couple of stray tears trickle down your cheeks.

His eyes wandered, you couldn’t tell whether he was looking at your arm or your body but it sent a shiver of disgust that made your shoulders shudder.

“R—R-Real fighter, t-that arm, h-h-hurt?” You narrowed your eyes, the stuttering felt so familiar, almost as if you were talking to Toby. You finally let your gaze wonder to your arm or what you could see of it. The pain had ceased, it was numb and it seemed that it had finally stopped bleeding. You’d lost too much blood though, that was for sure. Pursing your lips, you were silent for a moment, you didn’t want to talk.

“Speak.”

“Yes—“ you mumbled, answering his question from before. His face were stern for a moment before he was smiling again.

“Y-Your own f-fault..” he shrugged and sighed. You took that time to sit up a little and peek up and over, gazing out the window. You weren’t moving, had you been moving at all? You were at a stand still, somewhere remote which would explain why it was so dark within the car. “I’ll f-f-fix you u-up, okaay?” He spoke in a tone that made your face contort into disgust, like he was just constantly mocking you or having fun.

“Where are you taking me?” you croaked out and now he was taking in more excitement to know that you were finally engaging a little more, it seemed apparent that it was boring when he did all the talking.

“J-J-Just somewhere.. m-me.. you, a-alone, t—t-together. T-Then we c-can really play,” he moved his hand which caused you to flinch in fear. His hand slid down from the wheel and moved to the key in the ignition. He turned it and the car rippled to life.

You had no idea what he meant by ‘play’ but the idea alone didn’t sound great, you pursed your lips. If your wrists weren’t tied and your arm weren’t on the verge of falling off, you’d get the damned rope and strangle him from behind.

The car began to move, causing you to fall back a little against the chair. It was scary how casual he seemed when he drove a car, like he wasn’t an insane, mentally fucked individual. Nobody in their right mind would even assume that he had someone tied up in the back of his car, falling in and out of consciousness. There was the soft hum of the radio, a news station and despite trying your best to listen in, it was pointless.

“Y-You were m-more of a fighter than A-Anne,” he broke the silence. It was him, he killed Anne. You felt your emotions contort, rage and sadness mixing in beautifully within your very person.

“You fucking monster,” you spat, lurching forward a little. He laughed, shaking his head in response.

“P-Play the game, w-win stupid prizes, r-r-right? W—Well… N-Not so much for A-Anne..” he snickered, you felt even more repulsed. What kind of fucking game? How could this even be a game if the person had no idea they were playing?

“You’re a sick fuck.”

“A-And you a-accepted the i-invite!” he shrugged, keeping his gaze on the road momentarily before flicking you a look in the rear view mirror. You were struck with confusion.

“How?!” you voiced your concerns. He leant over for a moment, picking up something from the passenger seat before waving it up. It was a brown envelope.

“T-This look f-f-familiar, b-babe?” Your bottom lip wobbled, you were so fucking torn in anger you wanted to lash out more than anything and he knew this, he loved and thrived off the idea of getting under your skin. It was too easy, you were a fucking brat.

“It was you,” your voice was gravelly and coarse but your anger was clear to see and it fuelled Toby more. How he was making you sick was unexplainable but it was more than evident that he killed Anne, if you were to escape this fucking nightmare, you had to do justice and go to the cops. A part of you bit back the guilt that snapped you in the ass purely for not doing it any sooner.

“Y-You’re slow,” he replied, a little sing song chime to his voice. What the fuck was this? A Saw movie in the making that almost everyone in your life just forgot to inform you on?

“What are you going to do to me?” There was a wobble in your voice, a wobble of uncertainty to whether you wanted to know the answer to your question or not. Maybe living in the unknown would be the better outcome.

You wished you could speak to mom, to dad. To say you’re sorry for being the literal worst child in the world, to say goodbye and thank them for everything despite the fact that they were somewhat useless in their own aspect. You wanted to go back, back to the time where the only monster you had to worry about was the one under your bed. Where your dad would scare it away with his footsteps and then lull you to sleep with the trace of his fingertips against your forehead. This was nothing compared to the monster under your bed and now you wanted to reach out and cuddle that inner child of yours, to hold her hand and never let go. Life was so unfair, this was all so unfair.

“W-W-Well, your arm is b-b-bleeding out,” he paused momentarily to look left and then right of any incoming traffic before stepping on the gas. The car hurled itself, like it was on the verge of dying itself. “P-Patch you up..” his voice trailed, leaving you in another state of confusion. Patch you up? Could he not make up his mind on whether to kill you or care for you? Had his mom never taught him to not play with his food? This was cruel. “G-Get you on your p-p-pretty knees and s-s-suck my cock, hm?” You felt repulsed, mostly because his words were so intoxicatingly inviting. He shifted in this seat, like he was getting a hard on just thinking about it.

“I f-f-feel like this w-was too fun, s-s-s-so, l-l-let’s make a deal?” He glanced at you but you were still unable to make out any facial features. “I’ll g-g-give you t-t-two weeks,” he held up two fingers. “F-F-Find me a-a-another victim, p-pass this on and I’ll l-l-let you live.”

Two weeks? Your mind was being flooded with questions, so much so that your head began to hurt and throb even more. You had two weeks until you were dead? Your breath was caught in your throat. Not many people would know when they would die, unless they were terminally ill, right? Everyday, we all cross the day we die and now you knew.

“What..” was all you could bring yourself to say, your voice a whisper.

“T-T-Three weeks if you spread your l-l-legs.” This guy was so fucking smug, you could hear it dripping off his voice. You felt disgusted and you scoffed. “B-But I’ll give you o-one more c-chance.” This would be easy, even though you would be sending someone else to their death, a part of you felt selfish for even thinking this. “B-But I’ll be h-h-hunting you.” You pursed your lips, you felt conflicted, almost like a part of you should just play along and another part of you should run to the cops to get this fucking freak busted. Your gut twisted, like running to the cops would be the worst outcome amongst all of this. You didn’t even want to consider it, but you knew that this guy was skilled, like he had done all this messed up shit before. You were silent as he continued to drive, you had no idea where he was taking you but there was something telling you that you weren’t going to die just yet.

————————————————————————-

The drive was quiet, excruciating too as your arm continued to throb in pain. You felt nauseous and this guy wasn’t necessarily a good driver, which quite frankly didn’t surprise you either. You could only assume the roads were quiet considering the speed he was going at, which gave you another good indicator that it was late. No, not late, it had to be early morning. You had no idea but you were desperately trying to cling onto consciousness.

Another half hour passed and the car came to an abrupt stop, jolting you awake. You must’ve dozed off, your eyes feeling heavier than anything and suddenly you became far more alert and awake when he got out the drivers seat and slammed the door shut. You wouldn’t like to say you had become frightened, but you knew that had arrived at some sort of destination and the surge of questions that plagued your mind were becoming a hefty reminder that you were not safe.

The passenger door swung open where your feet promptly laid closer to, causing you to slowly urge your head up. He was stood on the other end, it was still dark and you couldn’t make out any fucking facial features which only irritated you some more.

“C-Come on then..!” there was a hint of excitement in his tone as he reached out for your legs but abruptly stopped, giving himself a small smack on his forehead. “O-O-Oh, right… Heh, how could I-I-I-I forget?” With a small chuckle, he pushed a hand into his trouser pocket. He was wearing cargo pants, that was for sure considering he had large pockets on the sides of his legs. Out he pulled a large piece of fabric, a black one and now he had began crawling towards you. In all honesty, you prepared for the worst. You’d had the occasional night flings, sure, so you weren’t a virgin but the idea of being fucked by this complete psycho made you prepare yourself to muster up courage to fight back. You were expecting his hands to move to your pants but they didn’t, instead he crawled over you so he was practically above you on his hand and knees.

There you could get a better look at his face. His hood was up and over his head and it seemed there were stray locks of brown that escaped from under his hood, flicking in different ways. His eyes were brown, with dark circles around his eyes and as you quickly flickered your eyes to take in every feature of his face, the black fabric he held within his hands suddenly was wrapped around your head. Your vision was blocked, your breathing making it hot under this fabric and your body prickled in anticipation for what the fuck was about to happen to you. You could hear him breathing above you still, like he was enjoying the sight of you being tied up, bleeding with a black sack over your head. His breathing was shaky, trembling almost as you tried to stifle your own breathing to hear what was going on outside of the black sack.

Then there was motion, his hand moved again and it sounded like he placed one just beside your head, the other moving to gently caress your cheek. Your body tensed up, the soft touch least expected in this situation especially by him. You could hear your own heartbeat and despite trying to calm your breathing, it was becoming deafening. You could’ve sworn that he could’ve heard it too, your heart thumping away helplessly under your rib cage. The hand that was caressing your cheek moved, slowly and now his thumb was gently pressing on the outline of your bottom lip. He couldn’t see your mouth or facial features but it was like he was working on muscle memory alone, like maybe he had already done this to you before. Almost instinctively, you opened your mouth and his thumb hooked in toward your bottom teeth, using them to help force your mouth open more. With the fabric in the way, it wouldn’t stop him and now he was leaning in to press his lips against your own. You couldn’t feel his lips, just the roughness of the fabric but you knew he was kissing you.

Before you could even process what had happened, he was pushing himself off your frame and stepping out the car. His hands that had once shown you softness were now rough against your ankles as he pulled you out the car, sliding you across the seats and using his strength to pull you up and over his shoulder. The motion of it, along with not being able to see what was going on make you feel motion sick and you pushed back the urge to heave. Nothing would be worse than throwing up with a fucking black sack on your head and having to practically lie in your own vomit.

You could feel his footsteps beneath you as he walked and it felt he hadn’t walked far until you heard the turn of a handle which squeaked and a door being pulled open. As he stepped inside with you over his shoulder, you could hear the change in his stepping. It sounded like dirt before but now it was like wooden flooring. There was a shuffle before he pulled you off his shoulder and sat you down on what you could only guess was a hard, wooden chair which honestly, hurt your ass so you shuffled for a moment. The door closed, trapping you here with him and then suddenly the black sack was ripped off your head. This allowed you to take a look around at your new surroundings.

It seemed like a wooden cabin, it didn’t look homey at all, it was cold, some beams of wood broken like it had been hatched away at and there was a sleeping back on the floor which looked like was around a makeshift fire. The fire was out, what only remained was the ashes of one before this. It looked like it had previous residents but not from this person alone, like multiple. There were cigarette butts on the floor, some razor blades for reasons unknown and it seemed there were empty cans of.. deodorant? It was an odd little place, abandoned for sure and a part of you could only assume that maybe it was a hunting lodge? That could only mean you were in the woods but you were filled with uncertainty, after all, he did put a black bag over your head so you were just reaching out for any theories here. The cabin was dark however lit by a couple of stray candles that simply didn’t provide enough light, your eyes straining in hopes to try and figure out who this person was.

The guy in front of you was pacing a little, a finger tapping against his chin like he was deep in thought. You could only assume he was coming up with ways on how to murder you, the thought alone made you quickly advert your gaze away from him. He paused and knelt down by the ash of what used to be a campfire, beside it was a black backpack, it seemed filled with all kinds of things but it was hard to make out what. Out he pulled a pocket knife and first aid kit before approaching you. He paused in front of your figure, like he was assessing you over.

“If.. I-I-I cut those ropes around your w-w-wrist, you won’t l-l-lash out at me, will you?” his voice was stern, hoarse and for once, serious. You pursed your lips, how the hell could you trust him after what he had done in the first place? Reluctantly, you shook your head and you could’ve sworn he grinned beneath his mask. “G-Good.” He then knelt down, raising the pocket knife to cut you free. You wanted to rub your raw wrists but the fear of moving your arm and having that strike of pain ripple throughout you made you freeze. You weren’t going to risk it.

“N-Now, I’m n-n-no doctor, so.. y-y-eah,” he was awkward as he pulled out a wrap of bandages and began to slowly unravel them, letting them press against your arm and wrap around. You hissed out and for once, he froze, like the idea of hurting you actually seemed to cross his mind and made him reluctant to continue. Had he actually had feelings? No, surely not. “I-If Jack was here, he’d do a b-b-better job than me,” he chuckled a dry chuckle. “A-A-Although, he’d p-p-probably eat y-you.” Jack? This guy actually had friends and they were just as scary as he was? What? Was this guy some kind of fucking cannibal? Or was he talking about an animal? Or even better yet, some kind of actual fucking monster?

He could sense your fear, it excited him and yet he continued his work on your arm. It hurt like hell without any kind of numbing miracle, but it was whatever.

“S-S-So… T-Two weeks, y-you mess up, y-y-you’re dead,” he grinned, his hands were trembling and occasionally his head would twitch. Your mind was rattling, questions flooding your system and quickly, you cleared your throat to speak.

“I just give someone an envelope right?”

“A-A brown o-one,” he corrected with a soft shake of his head.

“Right, a brown one.. And then.. what they die?” He chuckled, not answering your question but it almost seemed that the chuckle was enough.

“And you’re gonna try and stop me.”

“S-S-Sounds fun, right!” You clenched your jaw, this guy was so fucking unhinged.

“But what about Anne, she gave me the envelope and she still died..!” you protested a little.

“S-She ran out of t-t-t-t—“ he paused, sucked in a breath. “Time.”

“So, this is my.. second chance?”

“Mmmh-hmm!”

“And they die? Like, I’m sending them to their death? What if the cops find out?”

“I l-love g-games.”

Asking him questions were taking you nowhere, he was refusing to answer them and he was taking enjoyment out of your frustrations with him beating around the fucking bush.

Finally, he finished wrapping your arm up and stood, there was a click in his knees as he did so and carelessly, he threw the knife and first aid kit down to the floor. It tumbled and clattered against the wood, causing you to flinch a little in response. You shot a glance at your arm, it was a shitty job and you cringed a little at the idea of getting a possible infection over it.

“So, what now? Can I go home?” There was a tremble in your voice, like the true extent of your fear was showing. He shrugged.

“Awh, but t-the company is s-s-so nice,” there was a soft whine in his voice and you shifted uncomfortably.

“You know where I live, right?” He scoffed, what you had said was clearly the most stupidest thing he had ever heard.

“R-Right..” his voice trailed off and then he turned, pushing a hand into his hoodie pocket to retrieve the black sack that was on you previously. “Y-Y-You don’t m-mind?” Why was he asking you? You didn’t fucking care, as long as you actually got out of this shit alive, it would be a miracle. You nodded, a bit too eagerly for your liking and he approached to slide the hood over your head.

It was black again, you held your breath as he picked you up and you returned to the car. This time, he left the sack on your head and you could make out the engine roaring to life and the motion of moving. You felt pretty nauseous but the idea of actually returning home made you feel a purge of excitement flush through your body. It felt like the first time in forever since you felt excited in general. You held your breath and let the car ride roll out.

————————————————————————-

You must’ve fallen asleep because when you awoke, you were no longer in the back of the car. You were in your apartment room, the smell of it simply bringing tears to your eyes. You were home. Home, it hadn’t felt like home in such a long time. Slowly, you moved your hand to caresses the sheet underneath you, you were on your bed. You were alive, you held your breath, half expecting that any minute something bad was about to happen. But a beat passed and nothing happened, you were still on your bed trying to steady your breathing. As you took your bedroom in, the messy pile on clothes shoved in the corner of your room, your bedside table full of bottles of all kinds of medication you had to take and then your teddy bears, staring at you on the other side of the room on the dresser. As you let your gaze settle on the soft bears, something else caught your eye. It was a letter, this time no brown envelope and slowly, you pushed yourself forward to reach out for it. There was no doubt that your arm hurt, it hurt like hell itself but you pushed through. The amount of bloodless wouldn’t be good for you, but you seemed okay right now and the only thing you could simply be thankful for was the idea that you were actually alive.

Opening up the envelope, you read the writing. It was messy, as per usual.

‘i did a shit job on ur arm. go to a hospital!!! :D ps. times ticking. dnt forget’

You held your breath, it was better than a death threat or another photo of Anne. This fucking guy. You crumpled it up, tossing it back onto the dresser before standing. Your head throbbed, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to actually get your arm patched up by someone more professional. What was written was right however, you were on a ticking time bomb right now and you had to pick a person. Bella? No, you couldn’t, she was young and had her whole life ahead of her, sure you did too, but she was kind and caring. Lisa, your therapist? She was old, maybe her time was due? You shuddered, you’d be sending people to their death and now this was some kind of game? Lisa was always a fucking backstabber, you were her patient and what you told her was supposed to be confidential but she would always run her mouth to your parents. Sure, they paid for the sessions but that didn’t mean your business was suddenly theirs? You felt a tinge of anger and then your mind wandered to Anne.

She caused this, she did this to you. The days you spent swallowing yourself up with guilt, it felt like nothing. She passed this curse onto you, this problem and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that she was dead.

———————-

A couple stitches here and there and you were back from the hospital. You were glad you didn’t have to deal with any cop interrogations, you pulled some weakness excuse out your ass saying you simply hurt yourself while doing some D.I.Y it wouldn’t explain it, sure, but you were patched up and they were off your back so it was a win, win either way.

You had been sat on your couch for an hour now, you would’ve been pacing back and forth but your head was hurting and the nurses and doctors advised you to relax. You simply couldn’t, you had to pass an envelope to someone and someone soon. You should’ve asked this guy more questions, how would you get the envelope to begin with? Like, what, pass them an empty one or did you have to write some creepy fucking message? You bit your lip, pulling the skin off and swallowing it which made your lips raw. You did this a lot with your anxiety, you also bit the inside of your cheek a lot. God, you had issues and now doing something like this only made you feel more like an asshole to begin with.

Your phone was on the coffee table in front of you, the screen black as you exchanged a couple of glances toward it. You were tapping your thumb against your leg anxiously, feeling too scared to move a muscle and reach out for it.

Was Lisa your final option? Does she deserve this? Make an appointment and just give it to her, easy, right? Just say its like a ‘thank you’ letter, she wouldn’t ask any questions, she’d be delighted to receive it? How would you get the brown envelope, just wait for it in your letterbox? Under the door? You sucked a breath, slowly reaching out toward your phone. It was your life or hers and she was old, like it fucking mattered. You sounded like a selfish asshole, you were going to rot in hell but it wasn’t like you had a fucking choice!

Your hands trembled as you punched the pin code into your phone and opened up your contacts.

Lisa.

You pressed dial, pressed the phone to your ear and waited. It rung and rung and rung. Each time, your heart beating faster and faster. Then there was silence.

“Hello? [Y/N]?” You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out, you cleared your throat and forced a smile, like she could see you. Your voice trembled.

“Hey, Lisa.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #slenderman #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby #xreader #fanfic #eyeless jack #marble hornets #toby rogers

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

Note

please learn how to use the readmore function on tumblr.

its ":readmore:" on mobile where you want to add it and on browser when you press enter there should appear symbols including a gray one with two straight lines and a wiggly one in the middle

thanks so much for this!

i’m still trying to work out how to use tumblr.

i did it.

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

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BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader.

Chapter Three.

MINORS DNI 18+

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD!

[Y/N] -> Your Name. | Word count : 5067.

MASTERLIST!!

—————————————————————————————————————————

That beat of silence lasted longer than a second. The silence that almost swallowed you up whole and made you feel as if you were going crazy and now you stood there, frozen in time, considering your options. Could this all be linked? A dream maybe, a never ending nightmare that felt as if it had just begun?

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Knock, knock. Silence.

You were trembling, your knees shook and as you found yourself approaching the door and extending a hand out toward the handle, your hands were trembling too. How you ended back up at your apartment was unexplainable, a mystery, however something in the back of your mind was telling you that whatever and whoever was knocking at your door had an answer to all of these questions and now, you were opening the door.

Opening it a crack so only you could peek out, you blinked in the features of the person at your door.

“[Y/N]?” It was Bella. Cautiously, you glanced over her shoulder and then poked your head out a fraction to peer down the corridor before settling your gaze back onto Bella. She had a brow raised, curious as to why you were so cautious of your surroundings. How did Bella know where you lived? Had you told her? Come up in the interview? Maybe it was Anne’s murder? Were you on TV? Questions flooded your mind, so much that your bottom lip began to tremble at the overwhelming feeling. Without even thinking, you went to shut the door in a flurry of emotions but it faltered, with Bella’s hand pressed firmly against it. “Are you okay? Where have you been?” You blinked once and then again.

“I’m sorry-“ you mumbled, unable to even process a good enough excuse to hand her with. It was embarrassing, shocking, confusing and you were unsure on where to even start? Was there a start? Now you were second guessing yourself.

“I’ve been really worried about you,” Bella urged, her face laced with her concern as her lips pursed. You felt a little guilty admittedly, but there was something telling you that Bella was in on all of this shit and your trust toward her was little to naught right now.

“I’m having some issues, gonna get back to therapy and stuff. You’re not gonna fire me, right? I can come back and finish my shift-“ you blurted, flustered and ashamed. Acting like this wasn’t you at all, you felt like a puppet. Bella’s face scrunched up a little in confusion.

“Finish your shift? Have you hit your head?” Bella glanced to her left and right before looking back at you. You narrowed your eyes, confused, waiting for an answer to help ease your mind. “I haven’t seen you in two weeks. Where have you been? Did you quit? Your mom came in, she was looking for you too.”

Weeks? Two weeks? No, you had just walked out the coffee shop, you just woke up. It was the afternoon, it was a Monday. More so, it was Monday the 14th.

“What..?” you whispered, feeling the colour drain from your face. “No, no, I just woke up, I.. My shift was a couple hours ago..?” Bella didn’t seem convinced, she looked as if she was gonna call you an ambulance any second now. You were pale, your eyes were a little bloodshot and despite the fact that she couldn’t see your body from you peeking around the door, had you lost weight? Your cheeks had become more sunken and without thinking, you closed the door on Bella now her hand had removed. Her distant knocking could be heard, too frantic for your liking but now you were strolling over to your room.

It was Monday. You felt sick, dizzy, you woke up here. Reaching for your phone, you tapped the screen.

Thirteen missed messages from MOM.

Thirty-six missed calls from MOM.

Twelve missed calls from DAD.

Five missed messages from DAD.

Ten missed messages from LISA.

Two missed calls from LISA.

You glanced at the date. Monday the 28th. How were you not dead? You hadn’t eaten, you hadn’t drank anything? Your mom must’ve thought you were dead, Lisa, your therapist, was trying to get back in contact.

Your legs gave way and you collapsed on the bed, phone in hand as you trembled. What happened? There was more knocking until it seemed Bella gave up. It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense. Anne died and now whatever was haunting her, was beginning to torment you too. Pursing your lips, you pulled your knees up close to your chest as your body slowly began to rock back and forth. Were you going crazy? Maybe everything that Bella had said was nothing but a prank, something that now she was laughing to herself about as she walked out the apartment complex. You wanted to call mom back but the very thought made you dread the idea of talking to her, especially knowing that now your therapist, Lisa was involved and trying to get back into your life.

No, you didn’t need a therapist. You were okay. Your last breakdown was almost a year ago, right? You were okay. You were okay. The phone started to ring which caused you to jump, snapping you out of your thoughts and suddenly, you reached for the phone. MOM. With a slight tremble, you cleared your throat and answered the phone.

“Oh my god, oh my god, you answered. YOU’RE ALIVE!” Mom was sputtering, it sounded like she was crying and then it hit you. You are alive but how? Nobody had access to your apartment, especially if you were asleep for two weeks.

“Yeah..” you spoke, barely able to even understand your mom anymore. Her voice felt as if it was fading away, like you were beginning to fall into a daydream and slip away, lost in never ending thoughts. “Mom, I have to go.”

“What? No, no you don’t! You owe me an explanation! Lisa is trying to get back in contact to you!” You pulled your phone away momentarily and began to cough. It started with a tickle in your throat, hoping that a simple little cough to help clear it would make the tickle subside but it didn’t. Now you were doubling over, hand clasped over your mouth as you tried to catch your breath in between each cough. You could hear your mom frantically calling your name and without even thinking, you just hung up on her. Then you collapsed onto your knees, trying to gasp for breath. It felt like your throat itself was closing up, like you were desperately searching for any oxygen to fill your lungs.

Then it stopped. You were on your hands and knees, a hand on your chest as you heaved thick and heavy breaths of air. Sweet air, letting your red cheeks calm and the tears in your eyes trickle down your cheeks. This wasn’t right, you were not right. Maybe you were just sick, not ‘I need a therapist’ sick, like you were coming down with some kind of illness that made you pass out, bleed from the nose and forget simple things like how the hell you got home.

———————————

The past couple of weeks had been rough. You finally managed to get a doctors appointment, discreetly of course and you hadn’t been turning up for your shifts. Simply put, you were starting to not trust anyone and the comfort of the four walls within your apartment were making you stay in more than you anticipated. You spent days convincing yourself that you were okay, that you were safe, that going outside just wasn’t an option right now and if that meant you got fired, you got fired. Shit happens and you were simply just going to accept it. Ever since you took in the comfort of your home and kept the door locked at all times, you hadn’t received a brown envelope in almost a month and you had begun to convince yourself that this plan of yours was working. What was the point in leaving? You had a bed, a shower, you could get food delivered right outside your door!

Of course, this didn’t settle well with mom and now Lisa was desperately trying to get more and more in contact with you with each passing day.

2 PM. Your appointment was soon with the doctor and that anxiety within you began to brew inside the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t been keeping track on how long you had been inside your home but there was one thing you knew, you didn’t want to leave. You’d just finished the first Lord of the Rings movie from the trilogy and now you were sat on the edge of your couch in hysterics, trying to calm your never ending panic attack that was growing more and more on you with each thought, the idea of even unlocking your door and letting a foot step out had made you thrown up more times this morning than you could’ve counted. Your hands trembled, your stomach growled as you ran a hand through your hair and let your thoughts gather. You couldn’t cancel this appointment, this was the only one they had and taking it over the phone was too late to change.

With a shaky breath you stood to shower yourself off, maybe that would make you feel better and give you an ounce of courage. But it felt as if it had done the opposite, that you lingered under the warmth of the water for too long towards the point that you were about to be late for this appointment. After you hurriedly dressed and slipped on your shoes, with your keys confidently in hand, you remained stood still at the foot of your door.

‘I can do this. It’s for the better. I’m sick.’ Those words were a repeat, they circled round your head as you pressed a hand against the knob of the door and twisted it open. There was a beat, hesitation, that if you opened the door all the way, you’d find yourself disfigured and dead like Anne was.

‘I can do this. It’s for the better. I’m sick.’ Again. You stepped out into the corridor, looking left and then right before left again. Then you found your very being outside, the ache to turn back around and run inside was a hard urge that you had to push away.

‘I can do this. It’s for the better. I’m sick.’ You were at the stairs now, stepping down. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve-

“W— What— are you d-doing?” A voice broke out from behind you and you nearly jumped five feet up in the air. You could’ve sworn you yelled, screamed, made some kind of noise because the person who was stood behind you on the stairs seemed a little startled. It was Toby, his brown hair disheveled, the bags under his eyes only expressed the lack of sleep he seemed to miss out on only more. He wore baggy clothes, that was something you only just caught onto now he was a step higher than you, causing you to look up at him which made you feel smaller than you normally were.

“Fucking hell-.. you scared me-..” you breathed out, having to outstretch a hand onto the banister of the stairs to help soothe your frantic heart rate.

“Y-You were-…” he hesitated, like the word was on the tip of his tongue before he threw his head to the side, his body taking more control over him than he wanted. “You be-… being s-s-… slow.” Toby, this guy was so fucking weird.

“Right,” you muttered. Maybe you were. “I’m sorry, just.. feeling a little unwell, guess I should’ve stayed at home.” Toby narrowed his eyes before adverting his gaze, like he was a little too awkward to even hold the eye contact you guys had momentarily.

“S-S-Sick?” he questioned with a hint of curiosity, which felt weird for his character considering how little you knew him. You didn’t want to be rude but you felt as if your patience was running a little thin with this guy. He was such a creep, your gut was yelling at you, like this guy was a huge red flag. “I-I.. haven’t seen you a-about..” You were a little shocked by that, like he noticed your presence had disappeared almost. If Anne were still alive, she would’ve been knocking at your door demanding it to be open just so you were alright.

Anne. That name alone made your heart throb. The night she did pound on your door, the night which ultimately saved your life and got you into therapy to begin with. You’d necked a bottle of pills, what pills they were you honestly couldn’t remember but Anne knew you were ill. She knew the extent of your mental health and her checking in on you so conveniently that night, it was like she was your guardian angel. How the tables turned, her fate so awful that the thought of her bloated, stinking body rotting in her living room made you feel sick. She didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve that and the nights you spent dwelling on her death shrivelled and plagued you with guilt. You should’ve been a better friend, a better neighbour and for weeks she lain there, rotting. She saved your life and you couldn’t even return the favour for her.

You forced a smile, your mind drifted for a moment and by Toby’s expression, he caught onto that.

“Uh, yeah. Just been busy.” You lied through your teeth and for a minute, it was like Toby’s eye twitched. Like he saw through your lie and it made you feel exposed. Like he was reading you, an open book. Toby took in your features and left you in a moments silence before speaking.

“You l-l-.. look sick,” he answered and you pursed your lips in response. Was it that obvious? Maybe your anxiety was just leaking out onto him. Clearing your throat, you tucked some hair behind your ear and give a helpless shrug.

“I do?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. Toby gave a nod and you found yourself lowering your gaze down to your shoes.

“P-P-Pale..” he replied, his voice a grumble at this point and you sucked in a heavy breath.

“I should head back.” It was all you could say really, this interaction was awkward and you could’ve sworn you heard someone begin to step up the stairs from the main lobby. You guys were practically blocking the stairs and you didn’t want to be more of a pain than you already were.

“S-See you.” Was the last thing you heard Toby say before you began back up the stairs, awkwardly shuffling past him and heading back toward your apartment door.

You could arrange another appointment and truth be told, Toby was right. You were starting to feel a little warm and sweaty and the idea of stepping out today just didn’t seem like a good one. You can get another appointment for next week, that wouldn’t be an issue. Sure, you were running low on your meds but you could get mom to drop them round. She would be more than happy to see you despite the fact you’d simply be using her to do your dirty work.

As you stepped back toward the door, you pushed the key into the lock and stepped inside. As you took a step, there was a crumple underneath your boot and you glanced down.

A brown envelope. It looks like it had been shoved from under your door. It used to be flat, pristine but now you stood on it, it had crumpled and you felt nauseous. It daunted on you that maybe you should’ve never stepped outside your apartment, that now those safe, four walls were contaminated and that there were cameras in your apartment, like someone was watching you. You felt uneasy at the simple idea of even stepping inside and you hesitated, slowly kneeling down to pick up the envelope. It must’ve appeared in such a short manner of time, you had only been gone for what you could only assume was a minute or so. Maybe you took longer because you were counting each step, maybe it was already there when you left and you hadn’t even noticed as you stepped out? No, someone had just placed it here and now you were half in-half out from your door trying to work up some small amount of courage to even open it up.

Your finger slipped under the seal and before you could pull out the contents, you quickly eased back into your apartment and closed the door securely behind you. You were careful to not lock the door, not yet at least, what if there was danger lingering behind each corner of the wall? Or perhaps even, behind a door. You pursed your lips, trying to form an excuse to not open peek inside the envelope but your anxiety and curiosity was an awful mix now that you were playing this dangerous game.

Pushing your hand inside, you pulled out three polaroids and a letter. You glanced at the photos and your heart nearly fell out of your ass. The first photo was of you in a back of a car. The backseats of the car was grubby and you could just about tell that the flooring was filled with trash. You were laying atop the backseats, unconscious, with a gag in your mouth and your wrists tied. Articles of clothing were scattered upon the seats and you could tell that the clothing had been tainted with red stains. Then there was the second photo, you were in your bedroom now. You could tell because the bedsheets were so familiar underneath you. You were still gagged, wrists tied and you still looked unconscious. Then there was the last, the last photo which made you immediately want to drop to your knees.

It was Anne. Her wrists were tied too, her mouth gagged too except she wasn’t unconscious like you were, no, she was awake and alive. Just barely. Her face screamed of terror in the photo, like she was staring into your soul and begging whoever was behind the camera for them to spare her life but you could tell it was a lost cause. Not because she was already dead but because in the photo, there was a deep gash in the side of her neck. Copious amounts of blood drenched her chest, shoulder and her carpet and by the paleness in her skin, she was on the brink of losing her life too. But you knew that this must’ve been before her face became disfigured, unrecognisable. This photo was taken in her apartment, a wall next to yours and suddenly you dropped the contents of what was inside the envelope and collapsed.

Vomit spewed from your mouth as you desperately tried to contain it, your hand clasped over your mouth as the warm vomit began to wiggle itself between your fingers and drip down your wrist. The taste, the way it burned your throat and finally Anne’s expression, the way it was engraved in your memory which caused you to heave again. As you spat out the remains of the taste away from your mouth, you removed your trembling hand. Your nostrils burned at the smell of your own vomit and you were sobbing. Anne. Poor Anne. Whatever killed her was going to kill you and you were certain of it. You sat back against the wall, trying to compose yourself. This apartment wasn’t safe, you were not safe. You were going to die here, like Anne and you knew that you had to flee this city desperately. Maybe you could become a farmer? A small, remote little town that held its own mystery’s. Maybe you could live in the forest, growing strawberries by the side of your wooden house.

Your eyes slowly fell upon the letter, which was laying on the floor beside the polaroids and all courage you previously had to open it had fled. With your hand that wasn’t covered in sick, you reached out and opened the letter. You were cautious to not pick it up, not wanting any more bad omens that this fucking thing carried. It took a moment to tear open the letter, like its pages had been stuck together by some kind of substance.

‘you look so beautiful when ur asleep [Y/N] pooooooooor fucking anne though right? bitch got what she deserved i would never hurt you not yet not ever your skin is so soft and you smell so fucking good it took everything in my fucking body to not take advantage of you.’

You cringed. You coughed, the urge to throw up lingered in the back of your throat. Whoever this guy was, he killed Anne and you were next on his hit list. He had been inside your home, he had watched you sleep. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You had a stalker, that was more than apparent.

The letter was creased, like whoever wrote this crumbled it up and decided to write against it. The writing was awful too but nothing you were unfamiliar with. You glanced down at the puddle of vomit which was now soaking into your carpet. There were hints of blood within the clumpy substance, your hand was a little tainted with the red stuff too. If you wanted to live, you had to start packing your shit up now and go.

It took you a moment to stand to your feet but you did so with no hesitation and began to prepare yourself. First a shower, to clear the vomit and your head. Then you cleaned the floor, it was a shitty attempt because now the carpet was a tinge darker than the other surrounding space but that didn’t matter. Then you took the photos, the letter and stuffed them into a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. Next was packing some clothes, a motel would do for the night, anything. Just not here, not in this complex. If that letter was a clearer sign than anything, you were going to take the chance. With bags stuffed to the brim with clothing, you then flipped over your mattress. You always kept a roll of bills in your mattress, a little hole that you had cut open for safe keeping. Let’s be real, you weren’t gonna put this cash in your bank account and the bills were for an emergency, you needed to reach it fast and now seemed like more of a good of time than any. With a bag in one hand, the roll of bills in your pocket along with your ID, your keys in the other hand, you stepped out the door and locked it behind you.

Now you were actually going out, into this real world, where you could collapse or be stalked and there was nothing you could do about it. You sucked in a breath. Staying here in this complex will be your funeral and you knew that, fuck, that letter was a clear enough fucking sign. So, as you stepped out and put your belongings into your shitty car, you took one last look around to make sure you weren’t being followed and headed out to find a motel. Ideally, you were heading out to the nearest city but with a motel along the way, you considered yourself far enough from that death trap of your apartment complex to feel safe.

————————————-

The drive was long, your ass felt numb and the urge to sleep was creeping over your being as you pulled into a parking of a motel. It was a shitty motel but it was probably nothing compared to your apartment complex. The sign flickered above you, there were sex workers that lingered outside some doors and occasionally, you could hear arguing coming from one of the rooms. It sounded stupid, but this felt far safer than your own home and right now, you could take anything you could get. As long as the bed was comfortable and the door lock was nice and tight, you weren’t going to complain.

As you got the check in process over, your room keys in one hand and a less heavier pocket of bills, you grabbed your bag of clothing and headed up the stairs to your room. It felt like each light you walked under would flicker, which triggered a small part of your anxiety but as soon as you stepped inside the room and locked the door securely behind you, you felt better. The room wasn’t perfect. It smelt damp, the carpet looked as if it hadn’t been changed from the 80s and now your own light was flickering, but it was better than sleeping in your car. Slumping your bag down onto the small desk which was opposite your bed, you sat yourself down onto the mattress and took in a deep breath.

This is what you needed. Just get away from everything. Switch your phone off and just relax. You didn’t want to say it, in fear that you would jinx yourself, but this was the most relaxed and safest you felt in weeks. Your stomach had settled and as a treat, you pigged out on some takeout along your route and now the only thing your body longed for was some sleep. The door was locked tight, the curtains were drawn. You were safe. As you reached over for the remote of the tv, which sat just in the middle of the bed, you pressed the on button and switched it on. Maybe just some background noise, to help soften the noise of your downstairs neighbours arguing. However, the tv just gave static and despite the fact that no channel was working, you gave a content smile. This was the life you wanted. The life where the only worry you had was that your tv had no damned signal. You chuckled, for once, feeling positive about the aspect of your life and switched the thing back off again. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You knew it, you were certain of it.

Who the fuck was breathing on you? Your eyes opened and before you could even process what was happening, a figure grabbed you by your neck and pulled you up from the bed, promptly throwing you to the ground. You landed, gasping for air, trying to look at who the fuck it was but it was so dark you could only make out the outline. The back of your head throbbed, it connected with the corner of the bathroom’s doorway. Fight or flight kicked in, you felt frozen but your body began to move.

Straight to the door, you threw your hand out to the handle but fingers grabbed a fistful of your hair, throwing you back down to the carpet beneath you. It knocked the air out your lungs as you laid there helplessly. No, you were not going to die. The figure was breathing more, like he was chuckling under his breath as he now stood over you. What the fuck was the time? How did this person get in your motel room? You were going to die. You were going to die. The attacker dropped to his knees, his body trembling almost in delight, like he could smell the fear dripping off your very being. You were sweating, your head throbbed in pain and you felt paralysed. A gloved hand reached out, caressing your cheek as tears began to blur your vision. His thumb wiped away one tear, his gloves were leather? Fuck, you didn’t know, you were going to die and now you were hyperventilating, having a panic attack as this person above you let out a soft groan of approval. Like the idea of taking your life was arousing for him.

Then almost within a blink of an eye, he raised his other arm and above his head you just caught the glint of a blade. Its handle was long, he was going to split your head in two with an axe. You wanted to scream but nothing was coming out. Now he was laughing, his body would twitch as he let the axe come crashing down. No, you were not going to die. With what courage and strength you had left, you threw your arms up hoping to block the blade but its razor sharp teeth sunk into your arm. It hit bone, your blood spewed out and scattered out over your face and now you were screaming. It was a pain you never felt before, a pain that made you want to throw up. With your other hand, you grabbed the handle of the axe and pushed it back with all your strength. You were weak, he knew that and he pushed back against you. The blade would grind against your bone and now you were choking on your own saliva as you tried to scream out for help. Knowing that he was overpowering you, you released the handle and began to throw punches at his face. He didn’t seem phased, his head would throw back a little but it was like your eagerness to live that only fuelled him more.

“WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!” Was all you could choke out amongst your groans. This had to be a nightmare, this wasn’t real. He chuckled, let out a weary sigh and withdrew the axe from your arm. The pain had gotten so much now that it was becoming numb, probably because of the blood loss too. You vision was getting hazy and as you lay on the carpet of the hotel, you could feel your very being drifting from this world. The figure leaned forward, his breath so close you could feel it but it was muffled, like he was wearing a mask of some kind.

“Ssh..”

#creepypasta #slenderman #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby #fanfic #xreader #toby rogers #marble hornets #eyeless jack #Spotify

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

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Hey all! The love for BloodLust has been insane and first off I wanna say thanks.

I don’t use Tumblr often and I’m a huge noob so if you want to reach out to me and get more updates regarding BloodLust, follow my Tiktok @ moriitis. Like I said, I don’t use Tumblr but I think my ask box should be open? I take request for writings, headcanons, etc!

Chapter 3 of BloodLust is in the making and will be out in roughly one-two days. It’s taking me a little longer as I had to travel for a wedding. Thank you for your patience! 🖤

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #slenderman #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby #fanfic #xreader #toby rogers #marble hornets #eyeless jack

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

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BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader

Chapter Two.

MINORS DNI 18+

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD!

[Y/N] -> Your Name. | Word count : 4872

MASTERLIST !!

—————————————————————————————————

"And how close would you say you were to Anne?"

You shuffled in your seat, clenching your jaw and feeling uncomfortable altogether as whole. Not only had you witnessed Anne's dead body, you were now a prime suspect in this investigation and there was nothing worse than being blamed for something you hadn't done. You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair and giving a soft shrug. The chair beneath you was cold and hard, the table in front of you was the same. You weren't handcuffed, which was something you was seriously thankful for, but the light within this room seemed brighter than necessary. The investigator in front of you was in his mid fifties, white hair and a wrinkled forehead. He wore a suit, real professional looking.

"You aren't in trouble, kid," it was weird that he addressed you like that, like he felt guilty that you were part of this mess. He sighed and rubbed his temple. "You're just a witness, alright? Anything you might know will help us in this investigation." You pursed your lips. That's right, there was something you knew and yet there was an urge that you shouldn't even whisper it. The envelope, what she said to you. Shaking your head, you gave another shrug.

"We weren't that close. She was nice, friendly, I think she helped me moved some stuff in when I first came this way. Anne had arguments a lot, with someone or herself, I don't know. You could hear it late at night and sometimes it became unbearable, but the next morning when you saw her, she was fine with smiles and such." You looked down, it hit you that she was dead. She died alone, disfigured and suddenly you clasped a hand over your mouth and felt soft tears flow down your cheeks. "Oh, god.." you mumbled, feeling uneasy knowing that you had been smelling her for months. "I didn't know what a body smelt like, I thought maybe it was her fridge, you know?" The investigator sighed and pulled out a packet of tissues from his breast pocket before pulling one out and handing it to you. "Here," he said with a soft smile, welcoming and warm, kinda like a grandpa. He sure looked like one. Giving him a soft smile, you didn't decline before taking the tissue and wiping your eyes. "Does her family know?" you asked finally after a couple beats of silence. The investigator didn't seem to bare good news, that was evident by the expression across his face. He wasn't going to give away such information like that, this was an active investigation and he didn't want you to run off to the press to talk about the case. His face gave you enough information and slowly, you gave a nod.

Anne always seemed alone but she seemed happy, the night you saw her was genuinely the first time she seemed frightened and now you were contemplating whether or not to feel frightened too. The investigator sat back and that disturbed you from your thoughts as you looked up at him. "Your mom is outside," he said in a gentle voice and immediately, you wished he hadn't spoke at all. It made sense as to why she was here at the station, but you needed to gather your thoughts and having her here right now wasn't going to help you much. With a heavy sigh, you nodded.

The interview felt as if it only lasted an hour and as the chair scraped back and you stood from the table, you shot another look at the investigator. Should you mention the envelope now? Or what Anne had said to you. "Do I get to know a funeral date?" you asked, which now seemed like a stupid question. The investigator gave a weary smile, he didn't have the answer and it was obvious by the look in his eyes. You nodded, his eyes said enough and you returned a warm smile. As you approached the door, his voice broke the silence.

"Be safe, alright? Maybe stay at your moms." You took in his words but you wouldn't comply to them, staying back at your moms house felt like hell itself and you really didn't want to deal with her more than you had to when you left the room. "Thanks," you replied before opening the door.

The hall to the station was long and occasionally a cop here and there would pass. You glanced down the corridor to see the entrance before turning to walk down it. They awoke you pretty early morning for questioning and upon entering, they took all your belongings so your empty pockets felt a little alien right now. As you got your wallet and phone back, you could already see your mom in reception and you mentally prepared yourself to speak to her. Stepping out, your mom raised her head at the sound of the door opening and jumped to her feet. Your dad was there too, sat beside her reading a newspaper that looked as if it was dated for yesterday. That didn't bother him, it looked like he didn't want to be here in the first place and a part of you didn't blame him.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, are you alright?" your mom already began with questions as she clasped her hands against your cheeks. You pulled away, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, just tired. It's been a weird night." Your mom pursed her lips, her face was laced with worry and she turned to her husband to motion for him to get up and comfort you in one way or another. He glanced up from the newspaper and set it down before standing, giving you an awkward nod. "You should be careful." Was all he said, it was better than nothing but your mom didn't seem so pleased. She shot him a glare before turning back to you again. "We'll drive you back to ours, stay with us, until this all blows over." Blows over, she says that as if a person, your neighbour hadn't just died and you shook your head in disappointment. You had no choice but be in the same car with them, the cops did escort you here to begin with and unless you wanted to blow out more dollars on a cab, it just wasn't worth it. "Can you just drive me back to mine, I'll be fine, I just wanna get some sleep," you admitted, your mom went to argue but she opened her mouth and just closed it. She could tell by your weary look that you weren't in the mood for an argument but her stubbornness got the better of her. "No, no, no, no, you are coming back with us." You sighed, you really were not in the mood for an argument. "I'm actually looking after someone's dog right now, I gotta get back to make sure it's okay." You lied through your teeth but it was anything to avoid just staying at your moms. Her brows twisted, like she was conflicted between believing you or pushing your excuse under the rug but she soon enough gave in with a frustrated sigh. She turned to your dad and gave him a nod and that was a clear enough sign.

The drive back was quiet, how you preferred it really and it seemed the neither of them didn't have any questions. Maybe it was too fresh you just assumed, they'll bombard you with questions when she was buried and the investigation was called off. As they pulled up outside your apartment complex, you glanced out the window and noticed crowds. "Oh great, the press, really, you should just come back with us," your mom broke the silence in a desperate urge, a plea to try and convince you but you were already one foot out the car. "Thanks for the ride, see you guys." You called out and as you closed the door, you could see your mom already ranting to your dad who followed you with a worried expression. You were in your twenties now, it wasn't like you were a kid and he couldn't control you anymore. As you stepped across the road and approached the entrance of the apartment, you avoided the gaze of the press. A part of you thought you actually managed to get past peacefully until you heard something just behind you and suddenly there was a tug against your elbow.

"Hey! Excuse me, excuse me! Do you live here? Do you have any information on the young woman's death?" Before you knew it and practically within a blink of an eye, you were surrounded. Camera shutters were clicking and blinding you, microphones thrusted up by your mouth and a swarm of people bombarding you with questions with little notepads in their hands. You reached out for the handle of the door, your fingertips just brushing up against it until you were shoved. There were some cops guarding the entrance and they came quickly to help escort you in, but even then it seemed like too much for them. "Leave me alone!" you yelled out helplessly. "Don't you have any respect!" you attempted to cover your face from the cameras but you could already sense that the attempt felt useless. Then there was another tug, a strong one and it had pulled you from the crowd to within the reception of your apartment complex. You were trying to gather your breath, vision a little hazy from all the shutters and flashes of the cameras and as you rubbed your eyes, you glanced over to your saviour.

It was Toby, the same guy you spoke to the night before and after touching you, he was using that same hand to wipe it against his trouser awkwardly. You straightened, clearing your throat before going to speak. "Thanks," you mumbled, only assuming it was him that had saved you from that mess you wound yourself up in. Toby didn't say anything, his back was now turned toward the mailbox and you felt your lips purse. Maybe now was a good time more than anything to get to know something about him, he was so mysterious that it almost lulled you in more. "Are you new here? It's just.. I haven't seen you around." Toby turned to glance at you from over his shoulder before his neck twitched and clicked, causing you to feel a little nauseous at the sound alone. "I've lived h-h-here for awhile n—now," he stuttered, almost looking at you like you were crazy before turning back to the mailboxes and shuffling through a box which had his name on it. Now you did feel crazy, he had lived here for awhile and you just somehow never noticed? You felt your palms grow a little sweaty, something about this guy was giving you the creeps. Forcing a smile despite the fact that his back was turned to you, you turned on your heel and began for the stairs. "See you around," was all you could muster up saying before disappearing back off into your room.

Your mind wandered as you walked down the corridor. Toby must've suffered with ticks or something, or maybe a stammer? God, you kinda felt bad for him. Growing up with that shit wasn't easy, especially with the kind of people who walked this face on earth. What was with gauze too? Had he hurt himself or recently come out of a hospital? Maybe that was why you hadn't seen him about? Whatever it was, it wasn't the right time to get your head wound up in it all as you approached your door. There was a beat as you glanced at Anne's apartment door, usually if she heard you, she'd come out to say hello by now and that silence was really hard to come to terms with. There was police tape over her door, they were still investigating by the looks of it and with a sigh, you pushed your key into the lock and walked back into the comfort of your home. The smell of Anne's body stuck to everything. You had to wash all your bedding and clothing because all you could smell was her rotting corpse.

As you stepped inside and peeled off your jacket and shoes, your eyes glazed over the floor momentarily before you felt your body freeze.

A brown envelope. Not creased, in perfect condition, laying on your wooden flooring like it had been pushed under your door. You wanted to throw up, no, this couldn't be happening. First your neighbour dies after she hands you something like this and now you received another one months later? The thought of bending down to even pick it up was making you tremble, like the very touch of it would kill you right there and then. As you picked it up, you could see that the front was blank and upon flipping it over, hesitating, your finger slid under the seal and tore it off. Inside was another white letter, the same usual sharpie which bled through and soon enough, you opened it up to read what was inside.

'Poor Anne. It's a shame it had to end that way for her. The fun was about to start but don't worry, yours is just about to begin.'

Frozen, you read the words over and over again. Someone murdered Anne, that was obvious enough. It had to be someone living in this apartment complex, unless there was some crazy murderer out on the streets? But why were they targeting this block to begin with? You threw the letter and envelope to the floor and felt the shake in your knees as you backed up against the wood of the door. What the fuck was going on? You frantically reached for your phone and immediately began to dial 911. This had to be a good enough evidence to help support Anne's case and not only that, but protect you too! As you pressed your phone to your ear, hands shaking slightly, it dialled until a sharp, sudden static noise was heard. You yelped out in pain, throwing the phone to your floor but the noise wasn't coming from your phone. It was like the static noise was inside your apartment, no, in your fucking head. You grabbed your ears and felt yourself collapse, desperately trying to shut out the noise. A yell could be heard from you, wanting this all to be over until there was nothing, silence. Just the sound of you whimpering and trying to catch your breath. Your ears were ringing, which only told you that what just happened was more than true. Pulling your hands away from your ears, you sat back so your back was pressed to your door again and tried to focus on what was going on. It didn't seem like you were in immediate danger, but whatever and whoever was sending you these letters had bad intentions.

Anne passed something onto you, something you couldn't begin to describe and before you could reach out for your phone again, there was a warm, soft trickle that ran down your nose and upper lip. Then one singular droplet of blood fell and landed upon your wooden flooring, until more and more began to fall and now you were clasping a hand over your nose in an attempt to stop it. Why the sudden nosebleeds? Maybe it was just stress from the envelopes, the letters and a sudden death of what you called a friend? But there was a feeling that lingered, a feeling that made you feel unsteady. That feeling that you knew someone was watching you and it made you feel sick to your core. Cautiously, you stood to your feet and approached the kitchen sink to let your head hang over it and the blood trickle into the sink, tinting it into a red colour. Here's what you had to get straight, Anne died, no, she was murdered and now you were receiving creepy messages. If you don't find out what the fuck was going on, you could be next and that was something you did not want to ponder on for too long.

Leaning over to grab some kitchen roll, you ripped a little portion off and stuffed your nose with the tissue before letting out a weary sigh. It was a troubled sigh, you felt like this was the start to a shitty week and now you were gonna be plagued with bad luck. It wasn't just the nosebleeds that were confusing you, it was that static like noise that left your ears ringing. Whatever was going on, you seriously hoped it ended soon.

—————————————

A couple of days had passed since the finding of Anne's body and as much as you didn't want to jinx it, things were going okay. After dropping out of school, you were hunting for a job that could scrape you together some money and after a successful interview, you landed at a job of a small cafe. The money wasn't great, but a good atmosphere of a small cafe would be good to clear your head. As you awoke and dressed yourself, you were off to start for the day. Admittedly, the shifts were.. okay but long and thankfully, you managed to make a pretty good friend to work closely alongside with. Pushing the door open with your foot, a familiar ding from the bell above run out throughout the small cafe which alerted your colleague of your entrance. Her head peeked up from behind the counter, she was crouched down, almost as if she was looking for something.

"Hey, you!" a friendly voice came from her. Her name was Bella, she was lightly tanned and had beautiful long hair. "Hey," you chimed, a smile forming across your face as you stepped toward the counter and stepped behind. There was a small cupboard where you put your belongings in and soon enough, you were wrapping and typing an apron around your waist. "I feel like it's gonna be a busy day today," chimed Bella as she continued to shuffle through some packaging of coffee beans and syrups. "I just feel it." You shrugged, that didn't sound too bad and usually Bella had a good instinct to these things. You swore she was like spiritually talented or something. A long day meant it would go quicker after all. "Sounds good, you better be right about that," you said with a smile, leaning over the counter to grab a cup from atop the coffee machine and you began the process of making yourself a coffee to help wake yourself up. Bella could be heard scoffing and finally, she emerged back standing on her two feet. "I'm literally always right," she said matter of factly before giving a shrug. Despite the shop being open, it was quiet and there were few customers sat.

You had the regular in the far left corner, an elderly gentleman with a newspaper in his hand. Bella told you he lost his wife and ever since, that left hand corner was a distant memory of their laughter and chats. Then on the right were the group who studied, with laptops and textbooks out on the table. It made your mind drift a little, this is were you probably would've hung out too if you didn't drop out of school. Then there were a couple of regulars who came in to pick up stuff and leave. Moms after dropping their kids off to school, businessmen in their fancy suits. It was nice to have some familiarity. As the day ticked on slowly despite Bella's prediction, you served, cleaned and had small chit chat before the door let out a familiar ding of a bell. In walked in a man, with his hood up and over his face. It was a brown like hoodie, with stripes down the arms and he sat so his back was facing you. Mysterious. As you watched him, you felt that familiar trickle down your nose and you quickly slapped a hand up to stop it.

"Fuck," you mumbled, which caught Bella's attention. "Oh, a nosebleed? Here, go clean yourself up," Bella gently pat your shoulder and with a thankful nod, you quickly went to disappear out back to the storage room for a moment to wipe up the mess. Your eyes were focused on the guy with the brown hoodie and as you finally peeled your eyes away, you disappeared downstairs. These nosebleeds were becoming a regular occurrence and not an inviting one at that. There was a small chill in the basement and you felt a soft shiver as you pulled a tissue out from your apron pocket to wipe your nose. Then there was a soft chime that came from your pocket and you narrowed your eyes. It was rare for you to get text messages unless it was from mom, admittedly, you didn't have friends and usually you hated texting people because you were hopeless at even remembering to respond. Unlocking the phone, you glanced over the message carelessly until you felt a pang hit you in your chest. Like dread, fear.

'you look suuuper cute today. that apron does fucking things to me.'

It was an unknown number and you scrunched your brows up. As far as you could remember, you hadn't given your number out to anyone recently. With shaky hands, you stuffed the tissue back into your apron pocket now your nose had stopped bleeding and immediately began to text back. You had to, this had to be some kind of prank. Shit gets leaked and people get cocky, something like that, right?

'Who the fuck is this. How did you get this number?'

Your eyes glazed over the text as you impatiently waited for a reply. Whoever this person was, they knew where you were working, they had seen you today, surely and now you felt sick. There was no reply and the curiosity was biting you harder than anything. You opened up the contact and dialled the number, pressing the phone to your ear.

"The number you're calling is no longer in service."

You froze. A dead number? You glanced down at your phone as the call ended and you clenched your jaw. Was this some kind of sick, cruel joke? You stood in the basement for a second, desperately trying to connect puzzle pieces that were refusing to connect and now you felt like you were going crazy. Pushing your phone back into your pocket, you took some cautious deep breaths before stepping back up the stairs to the shop floor. Bella glanced at you from the corner of her eye, giving you a reassuring smile but your eyes immediately glanced over to the table where that guy in the brown hoodie was sitting. Was. He no longer sat there anymore, it looked like he left altogether. "You feeling okay?" Bella asked, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, yeah," you mumbled, pushing through your feelings and giving a smile. Should you even mention the text? The number? This was your business and you didn't want to get Bella involved. What if something happened to her like what happened to Anne? "Something came for you," Bella chimed before leaning under the counter to pull out a brown envelope. Your heart sank, you felt like you were going to heave and you forced a smile regardless. "Thanks.." you whispered as you reached toward the letter. It was unmarked. "How do you know it's for me?" You asked, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "Because I never get mail, duh," Bella said, almost as if you should've known that and now you felt a little stupid. Giving a brief nod, you took the envelope and cautiously glanced up at Bella. She was occupied serving a customer.

With a tremble in your hand, you opened up the envelope and instead of being greeted by a usual white letter, a small polaroid fell out and landed on the floor just by your feet. Before you could even bend down to pick it up, the photo landed right side up and you found yourself stiff. It was a photo of you, standing behind the counter with your apron on and chatting to Bella. You were smiling in the photo. It looked like whoever took this photo, took it outside across the street. Your breath had a tremble, your bottom lip wobbled and slowly you bent to pick up the photo. This was wrong, whoever the fuck was pranking you was taking it too far. You flipped over the polaroid, there was writing and it was the same, shitty handwriting as before except this time, it was written in a red like substance. You wanted to say ink but considering how fucking frightened you were, you thought the complete opposite.

'the things i would do to you. smile !!'

You caught your breath and pressed a hand against your mouth, feeling like you were about to heave. Bella noticed and tried to peek at what it was before she paused. "Holy shit, you're pale, you okay?" she asked, trying to catch your eyesight but you were so focused on the polaroid that your mind was a jumble. "What is-" "Who gave you this?" you asked sternly, looking up at her with a face of horror and Bella gave you a questioning look. "What?" she asked. "Who gave you this? This envelope?!" there was urgency in your voice and you gave her a look that was begging for an answer to your questions. Bella shook her head, rubbing her temple. "Just some guy, I dunno, I didn't take a name-" "What did he look like?! Please, Bella, please—" you were begging helplessly and Bella was growing worried. "You really don't look well-" "BELLA!" You pleaded desperately and quickly, you found yourself stuffing the polaroid back into the envelope. Your shouting now caught the attention from the other customers and Bella seemed a little flustered. As your fingers frantically began to pull at the strings of the apron, you ripped it off and placed it on the counter.

Your mind was a jumble. You were being watched and that was for sure. Whoever this was, they were watching you have a complete breakdown, probably laughing at the mess you were getting yourself worked up into. You turned, grabbing your jacket and bag before making your way to the door with envelope in hand. Bella was speechless, she didn't call out to you but from the way the colour drained from your face, she didn't protest either. As you stepped out onto the street, you felt yourself hyperventilating, your body was sweating and you swore any second you were about to pass out. What made it worse is that your head was throbbing, a migraine coming out from nowhere and hitting you harder than ever. With each step you took, you felt yourself growing dizzier and dizzier until you blacked out.

Fluttering your eyes open slowly, you tried to figure out what just happened. Your head hurt, that was for sure. You remember passing out but where were you? Slowly, you sat up and took in your surroundings. It was soft beneath you, which told you exactly what you needed to know and that was you were lying on a bed but the more you looked around, the more confused you felt. This was your bedroom. The same stuffed animals in the corner of your room, the laundry that scattered the flooring. You narrowed your eyes, was this a dream? You were out on the street? How did you end up here. Glancing down, you were still in the same clothes and cautiously, you shuffled to the end of the bed so your legs were dangling and soon enough they met the floor. As you got up, still trying to make works of what the fuck happened and how you ended up here, you opened up your bedroom door and peered out. This was your apartment, the same kitchen, smell, the same grubby couch with packets of chips on it. You narrowed your eyes, holding your head for a moment but as soon as you lifted your arm, something caught your attention just on your wrist and reluctantly, you pushed back your sleeve. There were bruises on your wrists, both actually and they were raw to touch, like they were new almost.

Your mind was a haze, you don't remember walking back to your apartment? Surely you did pass out but now you were beginning to doubt everything, whether this day actually existed or not or if it was some kind of messed up dream you had while you were napping. Before you could even step out into the hall of your apartment, there was a knock at your door. You narrowed your eyes, frozen in the spot.

It knocked once, then again and then there was a beat of silence.

#creepypasta #ticci toby #xreader #fanfiction #slenderman #fanfic #toby rogers #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby x reader

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blvvdylcve · 10 months

Text

BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem Reader.

Chapter One. MINORS DNI 18+

TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD! [Y/N] -> Your Name. | Word count : 5185

MASTERLIST !! ——————————————————————————————————————

You never really gave it much thought as to how you would die. You knew it would be one day. Old age perhaps, in a care home surrounded by the people that loved you, a family you had created, who sobbed and grieved the loss of such a woman as yourself. Nobody really thinks about the way they would die, life too wrapped up to even consider it. But as your head bled profoundly, making it harder and harder to even think, the warmth of the red liquid draining your very body, it was starting to become a reminder that maybe your death wouldn't be as peaceful as you had imagined, maybe then you wouldn't be laying on the floor thinking about the ultimate end in the first place. Who thinks about death last minute other than a dying person, right? Because this is what you had planned on what was such a peaceful Wednesday night.

It all started with headaches, nosebleeds, memory loss and soon enough, you could only put the blame on your crippling mental health. You went to countless doctor appointments, complaining about each symptom and their only response was to drug you up on whatever pill they had on hand. With the fear that maybe in reality, you were spiralling, you followed orders and downed a handful of each separate pill from each separate bottle until you found yourself most nights knocked out on the couch.

'I'm going to get better, this was just the start.' Is what you told yourself when you began to notice things in the corner of your eyes, when you felt an uneasy feeling of someone watching you and now you were arranging appointments for better security systems inside your home. But when was it going to get better, when the letters began appearing under your door? Love notes of someone confessing themselves to you or when they would send you pictures of you inside your own home, asleep or even getting dressed. You see, feeling better wasn't something that you could convince yourself so easily because the stress of it all snapped and got you. Losing weight was another step, then you could've sworn your hair was falling out and one night, you found yourself in the hall of your apartment complex, having no memory of it at all.

And now you were here, on your wooden floor, dying and desperately trying to fix your blurred vision in an attempt to call for some kind of help. You didn't fall, no, you couldn't have, because you felt the weight of something smack you around the head before you could even collapse.

———————————————-

"I'm dropping out of school." The table around you suddenly grew quiet, your father's lips were pursed like he wanted to say something but before he even could, your mom was already throwing her cutlery down onto her plate. "You're what?" She said and before she could even give you a chance to explain yourself, she was off. "What? What do you mean? You were doing better? Your therapist told us! Everything changed, what happened?! What do you mean dropping out?! You devoted your life to this." "My therapist told you..?" you mumbled softly, letting your gaze drop to your plate. The food was barely touched, the chicken had been picked at from the nerves of even letting this conversation arise and you'd drank at least three full glasses of water before you could bring up this very topic.

Admittedly, you knew medical school wasn't going to work out, it was too much stress load on your shoulders and you desperately needed a more stable job to push through actually paying your rent on time. Med school was unrealistic and simply put, you gave up.

"You can't drop out! You put so much of yourself out there for this, we were so proud of you-" "You were? So what, I drop out and now I'm nothing of a deadbeat daughter, right?" This happened way too regularly, you went round your parents house for dinner and one way or another, you'd wound up in an argument about some useless shit that more than likely would be forgotten about by tomorrow. "Now you know, that is not what I meant," your mom spoke in a stern voice and with your dad now awkwardly in the middle, he slowly poked his chicken breast with his fork as he listened in to what was unfolding around him. "I need some time to myself, I need to go back to therapy, ideally a therapist that doesn't hand out private information to their clients parents." With that, you took one mouthful of chicken and chewed momentarily before standing and grabbing your jacket that hung on the back of your chair. Your mom followed suit in standing, your dad just about but by the time he actually stood you were already by the door with your jacket slipped around one arm and moving to the next. Your mom grabbed your shoulder and pulled you, abruptly holding you hostage for a moment as you turned to face her. Her one soft features had wrinkled given time, her hair had a few strands of odd white ones that she desperately tried to hide with cheap hair dye but no matter what, you could always see it poking through. Seeing your mom growing old was that reminder that life wasn't going to stop and wait until you made up your mind about things, about how you wanted to live your life and leaving med school seemed like a better idea in your head when you thought about it for weeks on end.

"Your therapist spoke to us because you are our daughter, it is our duty as parents," there was a waver in her voice, like an array of emotions were showing through that you couldn't read off her face so well. Being her only daughter, you brought more stress upon this woman than you would've liked too but your relationship with your mom was always a pretty messy one. Hell, one time you refused to speak to each other for a month because of how stubborn you both were. "Bullshit," you spat, your lips wobbled into a frown as your head began to shake, you could hear the way each lie laced her very voice. "You palmed off some money to her, didn't you? I'm not an idiot." And there it was, your mothers silence which could only confirm your guilt. "I'm leaving, see you another time."

As you finished peeling your jacket on, you turned the handle to the door and stepped out into the cold air. Autumn, a couple months prior to your attack. Cold, wet, dreary, the best weather in your opinion. As you walked down the porch steps of your mom's house, the security light switched on as it alerted your presence and there, just out front you could see your car. It was a scrap of metal, nothing amazing, nothing expensive but it worked and really, that was all you needed. You could feel the eyes of your mom lingering on your very being as you got into the car and slammed the door shut. Truth be told, if she wasn't standing at the door watching you as intently as she was now, you would've probably been punching your steering wheel for even allowing yourself into this very position in the first place. Glancing over at your mom, your heart throbbed for a moment and you sucked in a steady breath before giving her a gentle wave, pushing the key into the ignition and letting your crappy car roar to life. That was something you never did, leave on bad terms. Fuck, mom could've dropped dead tomorrow and the last time you spoke to her was about some petty argument.

The drive back to your apartment was slow, you could've sworn luck was not on your side tonight because you were hitting every damned red light imaginable along the way. Just as your pulled up at the parking of your apartment block, a light drizzle of rain started and that was enough to tell you already that you should hit the hay and call it a day. Stepping up the stairs of the building block, you turned and headed toward the direction of your door. Considering you were short of money already, the apartment block wasn't a great one. The neighbours were loud, the carpet of the halls felt sticky every time you stepped on it and your mail would always end up disappearing or ending up in someone's else's mailbox. It was whatever though, right? You had an apartment, a tv, bed and the basic needs like a toilet and shower. What it was. If you could get some work, all you needed was to put some money aside in your savings to hopefully find somewhere better.

Fumbling with the keys in hand, you found the right one and lifted it to push it inside the lock of your door before the sound of anther door opening on your right caught your attention. Anne. She was probably the only neighbour you liked, she was kind and sweet, the occasional arguing you could hear in her apartment was questionable but really, you never found yourself asking her about it because it was her business what happened behind her apartment door. "Hey," she called out and immediately you turned to her, giving a soft brief smile. You were not in the mood for a chat and Anne didn't seem like she was in the best spot either. There were bags under her eyes and she seemed exhausted. "Hi," you replied, short and quick, hoping that maybe she'd get the hint you weren't in much of a talkative mood. "Got something for you." That raised enough interest from you and your head perked up a little, a brow raised in a questioning manner. Before you could give a soft hum, she disappear momentarily like she was fishing for something behind her door and soon she reappeared. It was an envelope, a brown one exact and it looked like your name was written pretty poorly on it, like a child had done it. "What's this?" you found yourself asking as you reached out to take it from her hand. Anne gave a shrug. "Dunno, was in your letter box. Thought I'd save you the effort of looking. Don't worry, I didn't open it, just wanted to hold onto it for you." A kind enough gesture, sure, but did she really have to go through your mail box? Seriously, your mail boxes need keys and locks or something to prevent this from happening. Maybe Anne was just trying to be neighbourly, sure. With a soft smile, you held it up and approached back to your door before pushing it open with your foot. "Thanks, Anne."

Flicking the lights on and pulling the keys out the lock of the door, you used your back to close it behind you and immediately your interest was diverted to that brown envelope. Who the fuck was sending you mail? With no return address either? Not only that, it looked like a kid had written your name on the front. There was slight hesitation as you flipped it around to open it, like a sort of feeling you get when there's paranoia of impending doom. Before you could let your mind ponder on it for any longer, you decided to rip it open and pull out the contents. It was a white letter, folded and as you began to pull it from the envelope itself, you could see what looked like sharpie marks that had bled through the white paper. Narrowing your eyes for a moment, your heart was thumping. Why? Why were you so scared?

'Don't be so angry at your mom.' The letter wrote, the same, sloppy handwriting that was written on the envelope to begin with and now your heart was really pounding. This was recent, too recent, like half an hour recent, surely? You just left your moms house, there was no way you saw anybody near your moms house and how did they know you were pissed at her? Questions flood your mind in a state of panic and now you felt your heart in your ass. Flipping the paper, frantically to look for more answers, you were left in the dark. Why were your hands trembling? Dropping the letter on the small table by the door, you swung it open and immediately began marching to Annes door. She had to have been connected to this, she took your mail to begin with. This all wasn't making sense as your fist began to pound frantically against the wood of her door. There was a beat of nothing, your foot tapping impatiently before you began to hound her door again. The fifth knock and suddenly the door swung open. Not all the way so you could look inside her apartment, just a fraction so her head and face were just about visible and squished between the door itself and the wall next to her.

"Holy, you okay? Knocking pretty-" You cut her off, there was no time for blatant chit chat. "That letter. Who gave it to you?" you were talking so fast that it felt like your words were slurring and your cheeks felt red, like the sheer panic was hitting you harder than you could've imagined. Was it really this big of a deal? Were you overreacting? Before your mind could blurt out more questions at Anne's face, your noticed her nose bleeding and suddenly you felt like an asshole for not noticing it sooner. "Holy shit, your nose, you're bleeding." Anne lifted a finger quickly to touch her upper lip before taking a glance at her finger, like she was suspicious to even believe you. "Yeah, it happens a lot." Anne forced a smile, a smile you could so plainly see through and before you could begin hounding her with questions again, her face disappeared and you found the door closing on you. Shoving a foot between the door, it stopped abruptly before Anne's face reappeared. She looked desperate, a look that almost screamed like she needed help and yet, you were so oblivious to notice. "Anne," you urged, the desperation laced your voice and she didn't hesitate to notice the state that you were in but it wasn't like she reacted in any way, that same, eery smile was plastered across her face. "That letter, where did it come from?" Anne's lip trembled, like she was about to burst into tears and she quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry," she spoke in a hushed whisper, like people were listening to her and she was frantically looking up and down the hall in a paranoid manner. "I had to, I had to, otherwise they wouldn't leave me alone, I had no choice, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Your face contorted into one of confusion, everything she was saying made no sense, neither her mannerisms and how she was reacting. Your eyes were searching for a hopeless answer and quickly, Anne used her own foot to push yours out from her door and there your answer remained, with the door slammed shut in your face, leaving you to stare at the designs of the wood, speechless and lost.

Raising a hand, you ran it through your hair and felt the tremble. You knew this place was weird, but what the fuck was that? You hesitated, almost wanting to knock again and demand answers but now your brain was running through the words she spoke, desperately searching for a clue, an answer. Little did you know, it had already ended for Anne. She was only passing this problem onto you and it all started with that brown envelope.

Weeks passed and then months, nobody had heard from Anne. The sound of her tv which was heard through your paper thin walls of the apartment was now silent, the soft arguing that sometimes broke out was now naught and you couldn't help but think back on that night where you hounded her for questions. The hopeless apologies she gave you, the desperation in her voice and the way her nose started to bleed almost out of nowhere. A part of you couldn't help but feel it was your fault, for almost harassing her over what seemed like nothing now. Sure, the letter was creepy but it actually didn't feel like that big of an issue in the long run. You hadn't received anymore letters and you had just about managed to convince yourself it was nothing but a prank.

Your worries for Anne only increased when each time you left your apartment, there was a smell that lingered and burned at your nostrils. It was foul. putrid, enough to make you want to heave and each time, you had to pull your shirt up and over your nose to try and block out the smell. Maybe it was a plumbing issue, which wouldn't be a surprise considering this place was a shit hole but the smell lasted for weeks, to the point where your concerns and worries for Anne only increased. It had been almost two months now and as you laid in bed, the smell was drifting almost under your door and hitting you in the face. It was a smell you couldn't even pinpoint, a smell that made you shiver. The only way you could really describe it was like rotting garbage except there was a hint of fruity, rotting undertones. Had the animals gotten at the garbage outside? No, that smell had to be lingering from Anne's apartment and another week of this shit, you were gonna call quits. Pushing the covers off your torso, you slid your feet off the bed and reached out for your phone. It was on the bedside cabinet and the bright light of the screen as you unlocked it hit your tired eyes harder than imagined. You opened up the dial pad and let your fingers hit 911. You hesitated, your gaze glossing over at the time at the top of your phone. It was late and if Anne was okay, this would be a pretty shitty wake up call for her. Your gut was telling you otherwise and soon enough, you found yourself on the phone reporting the crime.

Crime. Your mind was wandering now as they call responder was speaking but it was falling upon deaf ears. Was this a crime? You bit your lip and found yourself hanging up shortly after they confirmed that officers were on your way. Going back to sleep now would be a shitty thing to do and you were wide awake, so you picked up a crappy shirt that had holes and bleach marks scattered across it before slipping it on and over your frame. You took a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes before emerging from your room, taking in the surroundings of what your apartment looked like before heading to grab a glass of water. The water was short lived, you felt so sick at the smell that you could find yourself tasting it with each sip you took so decided to settle with leaving it on the kitchen counter. As you leant against the counter of the kitchen, something caught your attention. Right there, on the coffee table that sat in your living room was that brown envelope. You froze for a moment. You threw that shit out, you were certain of it and now it was sat in your living room? Cautiously, you flicked on the lights to illuminate the living area before stepping over to the coffee table. The brown wrapping of the envelope was pristine, like it had never been torn and you reached down to pick it up and flip it over. It had been torn and upon pulling out the contents, it was the same letter you have received the night you confronted Anne about it. Now you felt a little crazy, why was it here? You hadn't seen it in months and now it turns up again, a little reminder that it happened and that you shouldn't forget about it.

There was a soft knock on your door and you felt your frame jump at the noise, quickly and almost carelessly dropping the envelope down onto the counter before approaching the door to open it. Two officers stood, tall and a little damp from what you assumed was from the light rainfall that was pattering against your window. The first officer that was closest to the door had almost buzzcut hair, a light shade of brown and his partner behind him had more longer hair but tied into a bun. They already seemed repulsed by the smell and it was a relief almost that you weren't the only one who noticed it. "Evening, ma'am," the officer who stood closer to the door spoke and you gave a small nod to acknowledge them. "Next door, you smell it too, I can tell by your face. Look, I don't know, maybe a welfare check or something?" you felt a small urge like plea in your voice, like you actually cared about Anne despite your not so frequent interactions with one another. The officer gave a nod, turning to look at the direction of where Anne's door was. "Know much about her?" the officer with the man bun spoke now and you felt yourself awkwardly fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. "Her names Anne, she's probably like.. late twenties I think? We don't speak much," you paused, there was hesitation and the officers took note of that. The envelope, what she said to you, you pursed your lips and gave a shrug. "That's all I know." The first officer who knocked gave a nod and turned to his partner. "Let's give a knock, no answer and we'll break down the door. That smell.." his voice lingered and his partner spoke up. "Only smelt it once at a suicide." That stuck with you and your jaw clenched. Suicide? Was he saying this smell was.. a dead person?

Unsure on what to do, you watched and listened intently before the officer closest gave you a nod. "We'll take it from here," he said with a reassuring smile before stepping away. You hesitated, not closing the door as you heard them knocking and calling out for her name not far. You felt conflicted, would it be wrong to wait around and take a peek inside her apartment? Turning, you walked back to your room to slip on some shorts and make yourself at least half decent before sliding on some sliders and stepping out from your apartment. You left the door open for now, seeming as you were pretty close and let your arms wrap around your frame in an attempt for some warmth. The first cop withdrew his gun and giving a nod to his partner, his friend did the same and quickly they kicked the door down. The smell was like nothing now the door was open and you found yourself gagging, eyes watering and you had to step away, attempting to wave a hand in front of your face in a desperate attempt for some clean, fresh air. The officers were more than appalled too but they reacted better than you had and began to step inside. Curiosity nagged at you, harder than anything and you found yourself taking slow steps toward the door of her apartment to peek inside.

It was dark and as the first cop tried the light switch, it was evident her power was out. Had she packed up and left? Maybe the smell was just rotting food from her fridge she forgot to clean out? But then you glanced at the side, where the shoe rack was and there was an array of beautiful shoes. From red heels, to grubby sneakers and wedgies that had a little bow on top. A little snippet of Anne's life you never bothered to put interest into. As you edged closer, you could see that now the cops were using flashlights and that was when you saw it. No, not it, Anne. A bloated corpse, her red hair tangled, her arms above her head as she laid on the floor by her coach. It looked like she was leaking body fluids as there was a soft, brown line around her body and only now, it explained the smell more than anything. Throwing your hands up to your mouth, you just couldn't peel your eyes away. There was so much to look at. Maybe it was that she was actually missing facial features, maybe it was the endless and endless amounts of paper that were scattered across her floor, wall and table. Drawings of some kind, etchings, there were writings too but you couldn't make it out and it wasn't until you glanced at the counter in her kitchen, you noticed something too familiar.

A brown envelope, neatly tucked just above the endless amounts of paper and your heart was thumping. You could feel it in your chest, there was a lump in your throat and now suddenly, with the excess of saliva building up in your throat, you were running back to your apartment begging and hoping you would make the toilet in time to throw up. Your throat burned at the acid, your eyes watering as you tried to erase that imagine of Anne in your mind and now the guilt was eating away at you more than you could've imagine. You had to look again, you just had to and now you found yourself wiping your mouth clean and stepping back out your apartment to glance back in. There was no sign of struggle, but who the fuck bludgeoned her face beyond recognition? You peeled your eyes away, a hand pressed to your forehead in disbelief. The first smell you should've called in, you should've knocked and checked before this happened. Her words now were repeating in your mind.

'I had to, otherwise they wouldn't leave me alone. I'm sorry.'

Who was they? Was she murdered? Your forehead grew sweaty and as you found yourself gazing down the hall, your mind an array of questions and 'what ifs,' you saw a door open a couple doors down and it caught your attention. You wouldn't say you were well acquainted with all your neighbours, but you could always point out a new face when you saw one and that was just it. You've been in this apartment complex for at least nearly two years now and you hadn't once noticed this stranger who was emerging from an apartment down the hall. Had you completely missed that he had moved in? Narrowing your eyes, you noticed tuffs of messy brown hair and his same, almost piercing brown eyes glaring back at you. There was something about his eyes, or the way he was looking at you in general that made you feel a pang of anxiety deep in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed back the urge to heave again. "Hey..!" you called out, now wasn't the time for introductions, sure, but you had to at least confide in a neighbour, right? You found yourself approaching and now this guy was at least taller than you, which already made you regret your decision to approach in the first place. As you grew closer, you saw the door quickly coming to a close and you reached your hand out to stop it. "Hey-" you said again, a little softer and friendlier this time before a voice cut you off. "N—.. Not interested, lady-.." You narrowed your eyes, that was pretty rude so you pressed again, not letting that door get shut in your face. "You smelt it too, didn't you? It's not hard to miss-" before you could even finish your sentence, the door swung open and you nearly fell flat before catching yourself with your foot.

The guy inside emerged, tall, maybe just about pushing six foot even and he had brown, messy hair. There were visible bags under his eyes and he was so pale, like he never left his apartment. Your eyes immediately noticed the gauze on the side of his face, covering just the corner of his lip and cheek and you pulled your eyes away to not seem rude. He took a look at you, his jaw clenched and he peered back down the hall. The officers had emerged and it seemed they were calling for some more units on the scene. Your gaze followed momentarily but you quickly looked back at him, it was hard to even catch a peek of what was inside his apartment as everything was dark. Not much of a surprise considering it was late. "Sh— Shame.. isn't it?" he spoke, his voice was husky and you noticed the the way he stammered and occasionally almost ticked as he stood in his doorway. You narrowed your eyes questioningly. "Well, she obviously k-k.. killed herself." His words hurt harder than you imagined. "How do you know-" you were cut off again. "I j-j-just moved in," he seemed pretty bothered by something, you could maybe only assume it was his stammer. Then he clicked and his head twitched, you tried to ignore it. "Toby." There was no handshake and awkwardly, you shuffled in your spot. Pursing your lips, you forced a friendly smile. This was a weird night. "Y/N." Toby finally forced a smile but it didn't seem very inviting, it was the opposite and now you felt a little uneasy. "I should go sleep, work in the morning.." you mumbled. You were unemployed, that was just an excuse to get out of this guys weird fucking aura. "S-S-S-.." he clenched his jaw, clearing his throat. "Sure."

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned and walked back to your apartment. Who the fuck was that guy and why was he giving super weird, creepy vibes? Before you stepped inside your apartment, you glanced at Anne's door and your heart twinged a little. You felt so.. guilty and upset but you could only hope morning would give more answers to the endless questions you were going to plague yourself with. Shooting a glance back up at Toby, he quickly slammed his door shut and you felt that pang of uneasiness again. As you dragged your feet in and shut your own door behind you, taking note to lock it, your eyes slowly creeped back to that envelope. Before you could consider the endless possibilities of how this thing ended back up inside your apartment, you felt something drip down your upper lip and hit your shirt. It was warm and instinctively, you raised a finger to press against your lip.

It was blood.

#creepypasta #slenderman #ticci toby #fanficion #fanfic #toby rogers #xreader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby x reader

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