𝐀𝐦𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐚 (Ticci Toby x FEM reader)

ᴄᴏɴsɪɢɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴏʙʟɪᴠɪᴏɴ

A decade later

A girl stood in front of Toby; he couldn't hear any of her words, as if they were muffled. It was almost like a memory that was too long ago to remember fully. He felt a sense of familiarity in her presence, so Toby reached out to try and touch her, but the closer he got, the farther she seemed. The girl's face seemed to blend together, not letting him see any recognizable features.

It was like she was calling for help. He started to run towards her, only for her to disappear entirely.

Toby's eyes fluttered open to see the sterile ceiling. He brought his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

Toby quickly pulled a small sketchbook from his side table and scribbled a sketch of the girl as quickly as he could. Half way through the drawing, the memory turned to mush, and the dream seemed to blank from his mind.

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, flipping through the pages of previous drawings. They all seemed to be the same person, but each was missing the key features of a face. The person's features seemed so familiar yet so distant in his memory, and the name was on the tip of his tongue.

Toby carelessly tossed the sketchbook onto his nightstand. The small room in his cabin was decorated decently. A few pictures of the forest or wild animals littered the walls. He had a dresser, a bed, and a desk, which was full of random papers and things he collected over the years.

Toby yawned and stretched as he waltzed over to the bathroom. He cupped some of the water in his hands, splashing it over his face, which did little to wake him up. He patted his face dry, looking in the mirror.

Dark circles sunk in his eyes, and the scar on his left cheek wasn't getting any better, but that wasn't what he cared about.

"I think I need to shave..." Toby mumbled, rubbing the scratchy stubble along his jaw. He sighed and set the towel on the side of the sink. I'll do that later. He thought to himself.

A navy blue hoodie sat on the top of his dresser, and he gladly pulled it over this scrawny frame. He took a thick, olive-colored coat and pulled it over his shoulders, zipping only about half way before buttoning up his dirty, blue jeans. He took the mouth guard from his pocket, putting it over his mouth to hide away the demeaning scar.

He pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen of the phone was nearly shattered from how many times he had dropped it in the past. The time was around 5 in the evening.

"That was a good nap," Toby sighed, tucking his phone in his back pocket. He grabbed his two trusty hatchets from the corner of the room. One was severely old and had a lot of splinters in it, and it's the reason why he wears gloves so often. The other is a little newer and has a metal handle rather than wood.

Toby slipped the hatchets into his belt loops and walked to the front of the cabin. There was a small wood burner, a sofa, a kitchenette, and a TV stand. (TV not included)

He grabbed a hunting knife from the kitchen counter and put it in his pocket. With one last look around, to make sure he didn't forget anything important, he went outside.

Tall pines surrounded the cabin, leaving little space for a front yard. The day had only a few wisps of clouds that the sun hid behind. Toby didn't notice that the weather was nice outside due to his inability to feel the temperature.

He pulled the nicer hatchet from his belt loop, tossing it in the air and inspecting it. It probably needed to be cleaned and sharpened. He started to whistle a tune, which didn't turn out great because of the scar that ran across his cheek.