jaxxypoojaxxypoo

[jaxxypoojaxxypoo]

I got keychains of my oc (my dumb bum changed his design after I bought them but there still awsome)

[jaxxypoojaxxypoo]

I CHANGED ITTTT. So here's my new version of my boys :3

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Your First Day of High School The door to Room 2-B sticks when you push it open. The handle is warm from the last student. The lights inside buzz low, flickering slightly in the corners like they’re trying to go unnoticed. You step in.

The room smells like paper and teenage boredom. Desks arranged in crooked rows, backpacks slouched on chairs, early morning yawns, and half-conversations.

Nobody looks at you for more than a second.

Except for two people.

The first sits at the back, half-folded into his chair like he was dropped there and never bothered to move again. Orion.

Tall, but thin in a way that doesn't look natural, like his body’s trying to disappear into itself. His light brown hair hangs unevenly over his face, messy and jagged like someone cut it with dull scissors. His clothes don’t match and don’t fit, sleeves too long, hoodie torn at the hem, everything faded and stretched. Like nothing about him was bought new. Like he wasn’t.

His eyes are the only part of him that holds still. Dark. Too still. Watching you like you’ve done something wrong just by walking in. Piercings catch the light, small glints of silver on a face that doesn’t blink. His knuckles are split.

There’s something hollow about him, and yet… you feel the weight of him watching.

Not curiosity. Not judgment.

Something else.

Something closer to hunger.

Then there’s the one in the doorway.

Leaning casually like he owns the wall. Like he owns the moment.

He’s tall, a full head above everyone else in the room. Silver hair falls into his eyes, with black roots creeping in like mold under paint. His clothes are layered, expensive, loose in that careless rich-boy way. Rings flash on his fingers when he shifts. Snakebite piercings curve against a mouth already shaped into a smirk.

He watches you enter. Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink.

And unlike the rest of the room, he seems amused. Like you’re part of something he’s already decided the ending to.

You don’t know either of them.

But the space between them feels like a wire stretched too tight.

The guy sitting stares from the back, unmoving.

The rich-looking guy, Leans from the front, still as stone.

They don’t look at each other. But the air between them is sharp, like heat before lightning.

“Let’s get through attendance,” your homeroom teacher mutters, flipping through a clipboard.

“Orion Miller?”

The kid at the back lifts his hand, and doesn’t speak. His eyes haven’t left you.

“Reid Stradler?”

The guy in the doorway’s voice is smooth and low, like he only speaks when he chooses to.

“Here.”

He’s still looking at you.

Then:

Your name is called.

You answer.

A simple word. Present.

But it lands like a trigger.

Both of their gazes lock onto you, no longer glancing, no longer idly curious.

Something shifts.

The tension between them doesn’t break.

It reroutes.

Focused now. On you.

And it’s not just interest. It’s intent.

As if, in that single breath, you stopped being someone passing through, and became something else.

Something they want.

Scene: Between Periods – Hallway

The bell rings too sharp, and the room explodes into motion. Desks scrape, chairs screech, voices rise. You barely have time to grab your bag before you’re swept into the current of bodies flowing into the hallway.

You try to stay focused on your next class.

Try to act normal.

But you feel them.

One shadow behind you.

One shadow ahead.

Orion Miller slips into the crowd like he’s always belonged to it, silent, unnoticed, but always nearby. You catch him out of the corner of your eye: just behind, just close enough. Not following. Not exactly. But tracking. His eyes never waver, even as people brush past him, like he doesn’t exist to anyone but you.

You turn a corner. And nearly walk into him.

Reid Stradler.

He’s leaned against your locker like it was made for this exact purpose. One foot braced on the tile, head tilted, arms crossed like he’s been waiting hours, not minutes.

His eyes sweep over you slowly. Leisurely.

That same smirk.

Like he knows something you don’t, and he’s not telling.

“You walk like you're not being watched,” he says. His voice is low, smooth, and a little amused. “That’s cute.”

He doesn't move out of your way. Just stays there, taking up space like he owns it — like you belong in it too, if he says so.

Behind you, you can still feel Orion. Not close. But present. Heavy.

You glance back.

He’s standing across the hall now, just far enough not to be obvious.

But you catch it, the twitch in his jaw. The tension in his hands.

Reid follows your glance. Sees him. Doesn’t flinch.

“Ignore him,” he says softly, voice dipped in velvet and venom. “He’s just trying to figure out how to say hello without coming apart.”

You blink. “Do you know him?”

Reid looks at you then. Really looks at you.

“No,” he says, too easily. “But I know what he wants.”

His gaze slides down, then back to your eyes.

“And I don’t share.”

Then, as if it’s nothing, he steps aside, a little bow of mock courtesy.

“See you around… whatever your name is.”

And he’s gone.

You’re left standing there. Heart too loud. Hands too cold.

And across the hall, Orion is still watching.

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I HOPE THIS WAS GOOD <3<3

[jaxxypoojaxxypoo]

Here's a little yandere OC story I have :3:3

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Tonight was the night. You finally landed a steady job. It was nothing glamorous, just a graveyard shift at a crumbling gas station on the outskirts of the same small town where everyone knew everyone else's business. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. The neon lights buzzed overhead as you finished stocking the last of the cheap snacks, rubbing the dust off your hands before heading back behind the counter.

The bell above the door chimed, cutting through the sleepy silence. You barely glanced up. Just another late-night wanderer, until you felt it. That thick, heavy stare that made the hairs on your arms stand up. A feeling that crawled up your spine and whispered: Danger.

You lifted your head slowly. He stood just inside the doorway, awkward and still, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to move. Shaggy brown hair curled around his face, messy and soft, at odds with the piercings glinting across his brows, nose, lips. Torn black jeans, layered jackets, and a look in his eyes that sent a shock of cold through your veins.

And then it clicked

Orion Miller.

The boy, no, the man, who had never stopped watching you. He had been a ghost in your life since high school, back when he was the school's favorite target. Back when Orion was the kid with big clothes, silent screams stitched into his skin, the one they tripped in hallways and laughed at when he bled. They called him freak, monster, trash, but he never fought back. He only endured, with that same hollow-eyed stare, until the day he saw you.

And from that moment on, you were the only thing he clung to.

Now, there he was again, standing just a few feet away, he smiled, small, broken, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years.

And deep down, you realized: maybe he had.

He shuffled closer, and the space around you seemed to tighten, the air growing heavier, colder, like the lights themselves dimmed with every step he took. The crumpled bill in his hand twisted under the pressure of his grip, forgotten. His eyes devoured you, tracing over every inch like he needed to drink you in, memorize you, own you, just like he had back in high school.

When he finally reached the counter, your breath caught. He had grown. He was tall before, but now he stretched over six feet, all gangly limbs and wiry muscle, like something half-starved but too stubborn to die. His frame leaned in slightly, looming, his presence so thick you swore you could feel it brushing against your skin.

Thank fuck for the counter between you

"My darling~" he rasped, voice rougher, darker than you remembered. He licked his lips, a sharp, nervous motion, and for a second, he hesitated, almost embarrassed, almost afraid of how you might recoil. But the madness bleeding from his eyes didn’t waver.

"I knew you would come back to me—" he whispered, voice breaking into a manic, feverish hum under his breath. His eyes, wide and starving, never once strayed from your face.

"—I knew it, my darling, finally back in my reach~"

His fingers twitched. You watched them, pale, scarred, ink-stained, hover just above the counter, like he was fighting the urge to reach across and wrap them around your wrist. Or maybe your throat.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then he did.

His hand darted forward, stopping just short of touching you. His fingertips barely brushed the cold surface of the counter, but his knuckles… they were too close. You could feel the heat radiating from him, taste the nicotine and something sweet on his breath as he leaned in, his face inches from yours.

“I missed you so much,” Orion breathed, voice trembling with something between obsession and rage. His eyes flicked down to your lips, your neck, the way your chest rose and fell too fast. He smiled then, a cracked, broken thing, like he enjoyed the way you flinched.

“You know… I thought about this moment every night. How I’d say all the right things. How I’d… make you understand.” His voice lowered to a whisper, dripping with something sharp and possessive. “But seeing you here… all alone…"

His fingers curled into a fist, knuckles whitening.

"...it’s so much better than I imagined.”

You tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go. He noticed. His smile twitched wider, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the chase.

"You’re not gonna run this time, are you?" he whispered, tilting his head. "Because if you do… I might have to stop being so nice."

And just like that, his other hand slid something across the counter. It was a small, silver object.

Your spare house key.

You hadn’t even noticed it was missing.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it was useless. Orion noticed, oh, he noticed. His expression twisted into something awful, pleasure, thick and raw, pulling at the corners of his mouth as he slid the crumpled dollar onto the counter... along with a few coins for a tip. His hand brushed the counter again, slower this time, savoring the last few seconds between you.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

The bell above the door jingled lazily as he disappeared into the night, but you stayed frozen behind the counter, too rattled to move. Through the smudged glass, you watched him climb into an old, beat-up car that looked just as battered and dangerous as he did. A rusted thing that coughed and sputtered as he turned the key. But Orion didn’t drive away immediately. No, he sat there, staring at you through the windshield, eyes hungry and glinting under the flickering parking lot lights.

Only when another car pulled in did he finally roll out, moving slowly, deliberately, his head swiveling to get every last look at you until he disappeared into the dark.

The rest of your shift dragged by in a haze. A few strangers wandered through, buying gas, cheap cigarettes, or sneaking beer under heavy coats. No one lingered. No one noticed how you jumped at every little sound. When your shift swap finally arrived at 2 AM, you barely mumbled a goodbye before slipping out the back door into the cool night air.

The streets were empty, save for the distant buzz of streetlights and the occasional bark of a stray dog. Your apartment building was only a fifteen minute walk to the not so familiar old, cracked brick with broken windows and a landlord who stopped caring years ago. The kind of place no one asked questions.

You clutched your jacket tighter around yourself and kept your head down. You told yourself you were imagining it, the feeling of eyes on your back, the soft hum of tires rolling too slowly behind you.

But when you rounded the last corner, your heart stopped.

There it was.

Parked half a block away, engine purring low.

Orion's car. So fresh in your mind it hurt.

You quickened your pace. Your building loomed ahead, dark and peeling, its porch light flickering uselessly. You didn't look back. You couldn't. Every step felt like it dragged through wet concrete. You shoved your key into the door, fumbling with trembling fingers, praying you could make it inside before—

A soft voice, just behind you.

"Darling~"

(hope it was good :3)