Five Ticks 'Til I'm Yours (Dark Ticci Toby x Reader)

16

You were never one for floral dresses, there wasn't anything wrong with them of course but they simply weren't practical in the city. However, you weren't in the city anymore. You weren't even sure where you were. What you did know was that this floral dress fitted you perfectly, suited you very nicely too, and once belonged to a dead woman. One that was alive only days ago, one that lived in the middle of freezing Canada yet only had floral dresses in her wardrobe. She must have been very fun at parties. But now she was probably buried in the backyard somewhere, in a floral dress under layers of snow.

The very thought made you shiver.

The woman had a completely color coordinated kitchen, the bowls were all orange, the plates white with yellow flowers, the glasses thankfully were simply glass. Even her fridge seemed extremely colorful, all the green vegetables in one section, the white bottles in another, anything red on the top shelf. Thankfully that made it quite easy to locate a red bottle of pasta sauce, barely used but used nonetheless.

It felt kind of odd, cooking in another woman's kitchen, even worse considering that woman was now dead. But there was no point in you starving over it, even if it made you feel sick to your stomach, you'd power through. And so, with that mentality you added a few spoonful's of the pasta sauce onto the pan, stirring the macaroni you had boiled moments ago. There was a time when you enjoyed cooking, when you would seek out recipes for the sheer pleasure of creating and eating them. Then school came along and killed every hobby you ever had. There was no time to enjoy life when you were far too busy with academics. 

So, if there was a silver lining to your kidnapping ordeal, it was that at least you got to indulge in your hobbies.

With the painkillers providing you support, you found it much easier to walk on your ankle. In fact, you barely felt any pain as you sampled the pasta. It tasted bland and doughy. Perhaps you needed to work a little harder on your hobby. Now where had you gone wrong? You had followed the instructions to the letter. Just in case, you picked up the pasta box and re-read the back of it. Yep, you had done precisely as asked, yet here you were with raw, tasteless pasta. Should have known better than trying something so fancy. Well, boxed pasta really isn't that fancy.

Oh well.

You turned off the stove, deciding you really weren't chef material as you opened a pantry and found the peanut butter you had remembered seeing there. Apparently, you'd have to settle for the classics, and so you took out a knife and began smoothing the butter over some bread. Every time you held a knife, you'd briefly consider all the things you could do with it. Then you'd remember how pointless all of them would be. Sighing, you bit into the sandwich. Even it seemed to taste bland and somehow raw. You were pretty sure that was impossible though.

Deciding to blame it all on your psyche, you forced the sandwich down your throat, standing in the kitchen with the plate in hand as you glanced over. The kitchen had no door, instead there was a very large opening in the wall that connected it with the living room. This gave you a perfect view of a dozing Toby, the TV was running, Winter Olympics by the looks of it. Apparently, the figure skaters had put him to sleep.

After some quick debating you decided to go join him on the couch, maybe a little TV would help you find your groove. With sandwich in hand, you turned off the kitchen lights before quietly tiptoeing over to the couch. He was a light sleeper from what you gathered, and so you were pretty sure he noticed you but chose not to do or say anything as you lifted his legs onto your lap so you could sit. You continued to eat the sandwich, watching the figure skaters as you internally wondered how you could be so terrified yet comfortable in the presence of a killer. Maybe it was because you knew you were safe for the time being. Still, you should hate him. You do hate him, right?