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bogusboxed · 7 months

Text

Boxtobier ⊗ Day 2

"The Big Picture.”

Pairing: Helen Otis X GN!Reader

Theme: “Forbidden Love." & "Family, Friends, Love Ones."

Rating: (PG-15+)

Words: 6k

Trigger Warning(s): Brief Vulgar Language, Minor Mentions Of Criminal Deviance, Depictions Of Gore, and Psychological Disturbance.

This is recommended for ages fifteen and up; reader discretion is advised. The rights to this character, "Bloody Painter," fully belong to DeluCat.

This is a fictional, harmless piece of writing; do not incorporate it into your daily life.

Tom E. Stevens is not a real person, he's fully fictional and only serves as a reference from Bloody Painter’s original story. Any correlation to real victims is NOT intentional.

The breeze was glacial against your warm-blooded skin; it bit your nose with a numbing sharpness. You should’ve worn more layers in this type of climate, but you were in a hurry, which led to skipping a few steps in your typical routine.

Your brass keys jingled around like golden bells attached to a decorative holiday ribbon. They created an off-putting metronome sound when they clattered viciously against the steel buckle.

Your mind adapted to the noise, senselessly focusing on the sparkly ring. But, still, you pulled yourself from it, fighting it.

You tried your best to keep your head straight by prioritizing the need to reach the building because only the vultures knew how dangerous this line of work could be.

You couldn't help but question your choices from months ago because if you knew what you know now, you wouldn’t have signed up for that internship.

Working tirelessly alongside the forensic department had taken a toll on your health unlike anything else. Currently, your body felt like shit, as if every limb had been yanked from its socket, resembling the way taffy is stretched beyond recognition.

You stiffly shifted your back, feeling the aches rise and fall in an agonizing unorganized harmony. You let out a bottomless exhale, the puff of warmth diffusing in the tempered winds.

You hated clocking in earlier than what was ordered, but you also knew the piles of work they had planned out for you. So it’d just be better to get it over with at dawn and have plenty of "free time" during the day.

However, yesterday, you hadn’t been as clever and had to fight the collisions of cars. What was even worse than that was the fact you came in late, barely having the proper time to study the files.

But what was weirder was the number of cases.

Over the months, winter had finally broken out, and when it did, so did the bodies. They practically doubled in the short time frame, heightening, unlike any other season.

But it wasn’t anything you could control; you could only try to prevent it.

It was bleak; your fingers felt lifeless, suffering from the hazardously low temperatures. Your lungs were repressed, taking subtle amounts of polar oxygen inward.

Breathing seemed to only bring a sub-zero chill, dulling your system in a torturous manner.

Your watery eyes caught a detailed glimpse of the illuminated station a few meters away from you. Uniform glass windows lined the front. Icy white spiderwebs seemed to dust the rims, only having the middle of each glass plane defrosted.

The light beige building was around two stories high and was more expansive than a typical station due to housing an accompanying forensic department.

You tilted your head at the closer police cars, which were lined right at the front. The vehicles were predominantly white, marked with bold and contrasting black and blue stripes running along their sides.

A tinge of envy surged through your veins, with the wish you didn’t have an entire marathon to walk each time you went to work. Passing the oversized rides, you followed the guiding light closer to the department.

Powdery snow crunched under your soles, compacting with each movement. Every step sounded high-pitched, squeaking like a dog toy. The wintery molecules had recently fallen, barely printed on by animals or other people.

Unfortunately, though, you were leaving tracks with the way you moved your figure.

You didn’t feel secure being this out in the open, especially with the surrounding area’s reputation. A warm light glowed from the windows, refracting onto the concrete sidewalk you walked on.

Safety was near.

You should’ve been more attentive to your surroundings instead of beelining it straight to base. But you’d rather speed up than patiently get hypothermia from the Alaskan air.

Moving your weight at a timely pace, you soon made quick work of the built-in parking lot. But it wasn’t just the Fahrenheit that made you move this way; it was the added pressure of the latest murders.

The fresh kills from the man on the loose—his existence was blowing up on the internet. Hundreds were prying at the case, no matter how much your local department tried to keep it under wraps.

Of course, it wasn’t uncommon for some thirsty news articles to try to dig too deep. But this instance was different because the officials knew he stayed in one spot, and they didn't need the public to scare him off to another city.

However, in your personal opinion, he’d gotten worse. Not in the way he became clumsier, but in the way he’d gotten smarter. Because now he was starting to grasp the concept of covering up his tracks.

For the past three months, you've seen multiple carcasses.

It wasn’t anything new to see animalistic amounts of chewed-out corpses daily. But these recently submitted physiques always had one horrifying thing in common with one another.

An extended incision two inches right below the jaw.

The likeness of each mark always left an abyssal pang in the roots of your abdomen. Forcing you to churn and gush profusely, like all your acids had come together to form a nauseating butter.

Though it wasn’t like you weren’t prepared for this, you’d trained for months in college, studying what you could. Because essentially, you had sold your soul to the corporations. So in your mind, it was for the best to just stay reticent about your discomfort.

But, still. The imagery of the wounds was haunting. You were sure that if you were asked to recall how the incision appeared, you’d have no trouble.

Because the cut was always the same.

Why did it have to be the same every fucking time, and why couldn’t you get used to it? It was just a slice above the collarbone and below the human mandible.

It wasn’t like their head had been blown to bits.

The repetition, however, was appalling. You couldn’t accept that someone out there liked the fluency and the never-ending pattern left. Did they know how it kept you up at night? Could they ever reflect on how personal each cut felt?

Did they even have the capacity to comprehend the hole they left in the lives of those they harmed? Or maybe this is what they wanted. To make others feel like shit?

You just wished the mercy of the world could spare you and take away this aching remorse. You exhaled, the weight of your thoughts having the same drag of an anchor.

It was difficult to be at ease, though the closure you brought to families seemed to help.

Your dense shoes felt like they were grating against the battered concrete. Every simple scrape seemed ten times more deafening than it was. To say you were on edge would’ve been a heinous understatement.

You kept your digits stuffed in your layered pockets, no longer wanting to contend with the arctic currents. You felt your body at work, trying its best to keep you thawed and snugly toasted.

With preferable timing, you had finally completed your route.

You could feel a different torridity, leaving the parking lot unscathed. Swiftly, you began your brief climb up the compressed staircase.

You swore you didn’t need the handrails, forcing your figure to prance up the case without the added support. In the back of your mind, you knew that if you clutched onto them, you’d only get frostbite or an open, rusty lesion on your palm.

Following the gleaming lights, you hunted down the entrance of the building.

Pastry beige walls and reflective, frosted-tipped windows made most of your peripherals. Your eyes devoured the sight with the knowledge that you wanted nothing else but to be inside.

Silently, you merged, heading to the entrance of the department.

Your plush, silky lanyard bounced with each quick action, and in no time, you found yourself standing in front of the lackluster glass door. Your heated breath fogged up the float glass while you humanly debated whether or not to doodle shapes on the surface.

But you unwillingly compelled yourself to move on to more pressing matters. After a few seconds of inner turmoil, you begrudgingly retracted your hands from your fleece cavities. With your balmy clutches, you invaded the sleek metal door handle.

With an unenthusiastic heave, you hauled open the burdensome door.

A flushed breeze tenderly nuzzled your visage, completely changing your groggy attitude that’d grown from the bitterness of the cold. Taking a few unnoticeable steps inward, you let go of the door.

The heft of the gate automatically sealed the space back up, enclosing the heat from the ruthless outside.

You had no more icy waves to come crashing down on you. So, you felt the lack of need to shield your skin; taking a brief gluttonous puff of well-tempered air, you could faintly taste the macchiato that was lingering.

The smell felt almost stereotypical in the way it reverberated off each wall. You hated to admit just how many of those movies were right about the police.

Getting back on target, you looked around the foyer, and as always, it wasn’t anything special. The room was semi-upper-class, having fancy connecting hallways, an undersized reception desk, and a cramped, cheap waiting room.

Along the barren, pale walls lay a handful of plastic chairs, a box for dropping off prescription drugs, and overly artificial plants. The department strived to make the place look as welcoming as possible, but it mostly came off as out of touch and condescending.

Turning your attention to the cut-off front desk, you saw a distant coworker. Her face was slim, enhanced with sculpture-like features. A rich mixed skin tone painted her and only brightened her overall beautiful complexion.

However, what stood out most was her blinding, superstitious golden badge titling her "Lt Sara."

She currently seemed to be diligently managing inquiries and various calls. Though you’d heard various rumors of what she did before, she joined the department. (Something along the lines of British special forces?)

A dense panel of plexiglass seemed to cage the mid-toned operator inside. She didn’t pay you much mind, keeping to herself; her rich, murky eyes seemed to be glued to her rather expensive work-issued laptop.

You decided not to put your nose where it didn’t belong, ignoring your deepening innocence to ask what she was typing.

Taking a few fleeting steps toward your branch, pitter-patter-like footsteps began to tap throughout the once-muted room. Humbly walking, you were perceptive to the irritating buzzing of the incandescent lightbulb above.

Management should’ve changed it out weeks ago upon regulation, but who could arrest literal law enforcement?

Step by step, the stillness of the fruitless office was betrayed by the sound of parroting taps. The department seemed desolate and liminal in the sense that you were the only one creating any commotion.

It was almost uncanny how much the towering walls were devoid of life.

You kept your posture professional, keeping an unrushed pace down the enclosed hallway. Neutral-colored file cabinets were mindlessly lined, seeming to camouflage with the chipped beige wall. You took your regulated turns, passing by the same identifiable tables, worn-out navy chairs, and other miscellaneous decor.

You could feel a slight burning sensation in your nose, probably caused by the over-the-top cleaning supplies the facility always used.

You wordlessly questioned the janitors on why they put their entire heart into their job, but you only found yourself wishing you could have the same enthusiasm as them.

Your shoes clicked on the polished, stony-colored tiles as your eyes traced down the doors carved on either side. You glazed over multiple shiny labels, all too familiar to you at this point.

You couldn’t count on one hand the number of times you’d seen these signs. The time you spent here seemed to blur together at this point.

Who knew an internship could be this catastrophic?

The walls only seemed to bring you closer and closer to your destination, with every ridge of the painted-over brick wall now recognizable. Pursuing your common area, the doors began to seem to become more robust and excessive compared to the previous.

However, it wasn’t anything too shocking given that all the information locked inside those rooms was highly sought after. However, what was surprising was that interns (college kids) had access to some pretty sensitive records.

Speaking of your rookie classmates, they unfortunately recruited yet another intern, and worse, they were assigned to sit right next to you. Funnily enough, that was one of the reasons you got here so early.

As of right now, your desk looked like the result of a hurricane, and it didn’t help that you used the once-vacant desk next to you for storage. You internally cringed, caught up in the swirly emotion that’d be their initial impression of you.

You let out a swallow exhale upon recollection. Hopefully, they weren’t going to be the verbal bane of your existence, pestering you with lackluster questions all year.

Focusing once more, you reached for your silky, smooth lanyard. Fingers fumbled looking for your QR code identification card, given with the lowest human access possible.

You slouched downward, folding yourself. You took the sturdy card and pressed it against the laser sensor. Having pressed the densely laminated plastic against the puny square-shaped metal box, the door made a short beep.

Your hands briskly moved to the glistening door handle, now heaving it down with no resistance. A click came from the frame, letting you know the hardened lock had finally released its restless hold.

Soon, you wedged yourself inside the room, shutting the high-tech door behind you with a thunderous thump. Luminous fluorescent lighting helped to display the expansive classroom.

The space featured a variety of lengthy, soulless desks, placed as close as they could be to one another. While accompanying cheap plastic chairs were uniformly paired underneath each table. Files seemed to be anchored in stacks close to the windows, which were curtained by opaque sheets.

It was almost childish the amount of priceless work just lazily left out. Your eyes scanned the trivial room again, passing various foreign areas until you shadowed your own.

You paused.

Nothing was missing, and that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the man nonchalantly working between the brochures you left on your previous shift, and if things couldn’t get worse, you recognized him.

This wasn’t just any typical guy, however. This was the college’s award-winning artist, Helen Otis. (Someone whom you found yourself admiring a little too much.)

You’d seen his works plenty of times, each one better than the last. You didn’t know how many art competition trophies he had tucked under his belt, and you didn't know how he had so much room for them.

Sweat was building under your metaphoric shirt collar, leaving you wanting to pull it like a cartoon character. Out of everybody, why'd it have to be him? However, even with the distaste bubbling in your mouth, you could still sense a puppy-like heart race thumping in your chest.

During the years you’d been in school with him, he’d always been a recluse. He had never been the type to do a vast presentation or be among big social groups. But he had been the art kid, inaudibly crafting away in a scenic spot where no one would bother him.

Though it was still surprising, you’d never thought he would be the one to take up this line of work. You always thought he’d do something more along the lines of comical animation or abstract commissions.

But here he was at your doorstep, doing the same thing he always did: wordlessly painting strokes on a page.

Even though he wasn’t paying you any mind, you felt yourself appreciating his personal portrait. You knew neither of you had spoken to the other throughout your college years, but still, some idiotic part of you found his mysterious aura appealing.

From his murky ink tuft of hair to his cerulean stone-shaded eyes, all his facial features seem to drag you further like a fish to a hook, line, and sinker.

If your heart hadn’t been auctioned away for his looks already, his personality had to be the nail in the coffin. He was hushed and polite, always mindful of those around him with a tranquil gaze plastered on his face.

All these things combined made it unfathomable to wonder why he was in such a gruesome line of work. He never did seem capable of harm; at least that’s what you thought.

At the moment, you found yourself fixating on him more than you should’ve, promptly getting lured in by the bait of his serene features. But you hastily shut that down, making it imperative to keep it strictly professional.

All he was was your co-worker who incidentally resided right next to your seat, and it was no big deal; he was just a fresh hire, and that’s all these feelings were. (Keep telling yourself that.)

You shuffled yourself further in. Each step felt like a chain and cannonball attached to your ankle, dragging you down from getting any further. You took an unnoticeable puff before giving in to your sullen movements.

Your shoes barely squeaked on the flat, tiled flooring, efficiently making it to your spot. You did everything in your power to ignore him, which proved difficult when he was now in front of you. Though, thankfully, he didn’t seem to peer up from his current task.

You subtly began taking the diverse portfolios you abandoned the night before and neatly placing them in a lanky stack on your side. Cautiously, you continued to take back your leftovers, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions about your actions.

Luckily for you, each rustling you made was always covered by either a light tap or an oppressive rub back and forth. Pages of newer and older cases grazed your plushy palms as you needily grabbed them covertly.

The scent of vanilla seemed to leak out of the paper each time you ruffled it onto the stack. Your eyes tracked your borrowed files as you mindlessly counted their shared total.

Once you finally piled all of your belongings onto the corner of your desk, you seized a few files from the top, taking out an oh-so-familiar beige folder. Even with how flimsy the printer paper was, it still managed to send a falling sensation deep into your intestines.

Because the case inside had to be one of the most extreme and unsettling you'd seen in a while.

Taking a hasty breath outward, you knew you had a job to do, and you knew that involved making a move. Your emotions were all wack, both agitated by the folder and anxious by Helen.

But restlessly, you still made a move against the odds.

The chair creaked naturally under the sudden weight, adding even more layers to the need to die. You hate this feeling. You hated that the one person you found interest in was sitting this close to you.

You didn’t know why every breath you took felt like an arrow spearing your heart—was it him? Was it the case? Or was it a mix of both?

Being immobilized by gushy chords, the graphite scratching next to you came to a momentary halt before swiftly returning to its ordinary irregular pattern. The pause left a prickly ache and an immeasurable abyss in your soppy organs.

Snapping out of the abnormal haze, you made it mandatory to remember that, at the end of the day, this was an internship. A job that both of you didn't want, and if you did, neither of you intended to be sociable (specifically him).

You got back on track; your hands glided more rigorously on your pivotal file; delicately, you unfolded the restricted document. The folder had a presentation page, making it seem more personalized and human than it was.

In a blueish-black color, a jagged handwritten name embellished the originally empty soulless template.

“Tom E. (Enzo) Stevens.”

You found yourself drowning in thought on the marked page. He was relatively close in age to you, lived in the same area, and for an unbeknownst reason to you, that title rang a bell. You could’ve sworn you’d heard it before, but yet again, that name wasn’t all that unique.

In regards to his death, it was virtually the same as the rest of the victims. He had the staple of the slit two inches below his jaw, but instead of his corpse being on display for the world to see, he’d been shoved off the sixth floor of an apartment complex (that wasn’t too far from your college).

Tom’s death was rushed in comparison and was not nearly as time-intensive as the others. The report drew it down to the realization of eyewitnesses, and if he had taken any longer, the law would've caught up to him.

Interestingly enough, a few regular drunks had seen the man’s figure on the building minutes before the murder, and due to this, it caused his biggest slip-up yet.

Unfortunately, they all made a few vastly different statements, going from brown to blue hair, then to pale to dark skin.

But there happened to be one consistent variable: they said without a doubt he’d worn a paper-mache mask that'd been laced with a crimson grin.

Flipping the page, you are greeted with degraded photos of distinct items. Each object picture had mini-notes stapled underneath it, indicating what evidence was linked to it.

You examined each sunburnt print systematically, trying to find any correlation between them, but to no avail. You leafed pages. You spent more time thoroughly inspecting each discolored paragraph. Your glistening eyes traced each victim and the corresponding articles that died along with them.

You could feel the air trapped in your throat as you swallowed faintly. The similarities, the rate, and the age ran shivers up your spine.

You were more than a perfect candidate.

You were shaken up by the realization. Your breath was off its typical route; you prevailed and kept a stone-cold demeanor. The chances of you being caught and killed by the murderer were low, (but never zero).

You just had to be strong; you had to be for this field of work. No matter how your hands twitched, you needed to find that strength for the people who couldn’t.

Browsing through the thin pages, you could sense something was off. You were missing something from the case. You skimmed through the entire folder once more before you put your finger on it.

You were missing the composite drawings.

Your mind readily changed from the haunting cases to the fellow peer next to you. Inches away, and you’d get your answer, but you weren’t sure how to ask, considering he shouldn’t have been messing with that folder in the first place.

Your curiosity brushed itself against you like a cat; you needed to know if he had it before, you started to panic. It wasn’t like you were asking for a pencil you’d never return; you were asking for the missing drawings on a report.

This was serious, and you had to take it that way, no matter how accusing it felt. You turned from your desk to his. He smelled of graphite; its earthy and metallic aroma clouded up his station.

He seemed to be completely immersed in his work like he was in an altered reality of his own. The more seconds that flew by, the more you realized how lost in his artistry he was. You considered speaking up, not realizing he’d already noticed you in his peripherals.

As you began to open your mouth, he exhaled, stopping his precise charcoal brushing.

“Yes?”

He kept his voice conservative, not raising his tone above a whisper.

His digits remained intertwined with the slender soot utensils. He began to subtly tap at his wooden desk with the edge point like he was counting the seconds between each of your shared words.

Though he kept his face sharp and still, like an unmarked canvas.

“Do you know where the Bloody Painter composite drawings are? My folder seems to be missing them." You exhaled your words, trying to be as cushy as possible and not seem interrogative.

His melodic clicks ceased, and his clench on the pencil faltered. His pallid features stayed remote, trying to ignore the swift glint that glowed in his somber eyes.

“I took them from your file earlier this morning for reference. I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were confidential.” Tragically enough, you were unperceptive to the inflection in his voice.

He soon turned his wooden pencil horizontally, gently caressing the wood. He dotted his sea creature's eyes with yours. He seemed to search for yours like a pirate on a treasure-ridden island.

“You’re with forensic arts, right?” The second you began to speak, he retracted his vision back down to the smooth, polished floor.

He allowed the conversation to grow dry, mindlessly making his leg bounce his weight. “Mhm.”

You felt your chest being squeezed. You didn’t mean to mess up his art session, but you needed the composite drawings back before you could return the folder to the officials.

Your eyes traveled down from the side of his head, down to his triangular jaw, and then to the papers scattered on his side of the table. A certain sketch, however, stuck out to you; it varied in hues of charcoal and was dented with professional marks.

He looked around his late twenties, having semi-long strands of dark pecan hair framing his face. His eyes were dull, unlit with a murky, mud-like shade.

“Are those the composite drawings?”

An acute exhale came from his side as he now entirely rotated himself from his work to you. He didn’t keep his eyes locked on you, but he seemed more engaged, having a light rose tinted at the height of his cheeks.

He allowed the words to sink in: “Not exactly. They’re only my interpretation.”

You briefly hummed while he spoke, continuing to stare at his overly perfect works of art. It was immaculate. Of course, it didn’t compare much to the other pieces that he had full liberty over, but still, it was unbeatable.

“They look so good, though; you’re extremely talented,” you complimented, not knowing how your eyes sparkled when appreciating the craftsmanship.

Your words were more than honest and the exact thing you were thinking, but you hadn’t taken into account how he’d react to something like that. You silently huffed; he’d probably heard it a million times before, but you couldn’t help it.

Unannounced to you, he’d been gazing at you directly (for once) with no sign of retreat. Helen was taking in your eyes, and the way they glistened was full of reverence. He found himself soaking in it. He’d heard plenty of praise for his arts before, but the way you looked set the sail.

He’d need to sketch that later for better practice. He made some effort to take a detailed mental photo of it.

Stupidly enough, he stayed idly facing you, studying your features. Time passed easily, and you glanced back instinctively. He smoothly flicked his sight right back to his personal (inaccurate) composite drawing.

Unknown to him, his posture recoiled and formed an unhealthy "C," which was odd compared to his typical ruler-straight stance.

“Thank you," he gritted his teeth; like he was offended, the words even dared to come out of his mouth.

A smile found its way to your face. He was grateful that he enjoyed your appreciation, even with how passive-aggressive it seemed. You could see yourself becoming friends (or more) with Helen if he went any further with forensics.

You pulled away from your unusual lovey-dovey behavior, getting back on topic. “You do have the originals, right?”

He seemed taken aback, his once pensive expression leaving you. He tampered with his pencil; he pressed his fingers on the wood. His eyes now seemed fixated on a distant point.

He reformed his gentlemanly persona, trying not to lose concentration on the purpose of this conversation. “I do.”

You didn’t know what to make of his current wreck of emotions, but you decided he was just having a rough morning. Though you didn’t like how his interest fled again, you didn’t mention it, but you just wished he hadn’t deserted the conversation.

Helen moved his figure, reaching toward the feeble stack of paper centimeters away from him. His delicate fingers began flipping through assorted works and notes, trying to track down the originals.

The light of the class-like room reflected on his furrowed expression, highlighting his brow bone. The sound of rustling and separation seemed to recite throughout the room as you patiently waited for results.

He gradually made his way to an inked-out document, his facial features wavering.

You could see a darkly printed facade of someone’s face. It must’ve been the original, going on the new assumption that the department didn’t trust college students to not fuck with the authentic piece. Maybe they were fearful that they’d spill something on it or try to steal it to sell on eBay.

He assertively separated any remaining sticking papers before hastily handing you the official print.

You respectfully put on an artificial professional smile, being polite to the artist. As for rule-breaking, his decision was for unintentionally stealing the reprint; you decided against reporting him to the higher-ups.

He was passionate, with an amiable soul and a gullible desire to redraw composite drawings. Sure, he was naive, putting his nose where it didn’t belong, but you couldn’t fault him.

He was just an overzealous painter, and that was all.

Your sight indeliberately flocked back to his side, mindlessly trying to ensure yourself that you hadn’t forgotten anything else. You glanced over a few pencils, pens, and squishy erasers before seeing a different, tougher sheet of paper featuring a distinctive man's physique.

It was a spot-on illustration of the lengthy description you had received of the Tom S. case. Just how much had he looked into your assigned folder? The peculiar portrait could’ve been compared to his actual face; it was uncanny how close he’d gotten your mental image of Tom on paper.

“That’s a drawing of Tom, right? From Tom Steven's murder?” You found yourself intrigued more and more by his virtuosity.

You speculated on the time Helen had lost to etching out victims from the infamous “Bloody Painter” case. You understood he was a part of the forensics art department, but how much graphic painting could one take? Plus, it seemed out of character for him to drain his morning by willingly outlining something that gruesome.

There was a wordless pause as your eyes watched one of his knees buck up and down at a similar, relentless pace. You could feel a pit of solicitude gush in your lower abdomen as if you had crossed a line. That case must’ve struck a nerve, and having to draw the victim probably made the distaste in his throat more drastic.

He had a short, delayed response to your words, losing his energy to keep this chatter going. “Yeah.”

You tilted your head while studying the image’s graphics further. There seemed to be a vital mistake, leaving the drawing inaccurate and fruitless. While most of it had been on point, even having an abbreviated listing of how he was killed, Helen still managed to miss one important factor.

The constant marking, the slit that was supposed to be under his jaw

You wanted to keep it to yourself; you really did, but something in your soul ticked. You thought it over a few times, but it was futile as your compulsive behaviors made the words leak from your mouth.

“You forgot something. Bloody Painter left a laceration two inches under his jaw before pushing him off."

Like a magnet to a refrigerator, he snapped his sights back to his drawing. His neverending cavern of navy blue eyes thoroughly inspected his graphite marks. His salmon lips parted, charcoal eyebrows pressing against one another.

You knew it could’ve come off tedious and knit-picky, but you couldn’t help that nagging feeling that he’d appreciate your insight.

As you closed the space between you both to provide further aid on the unnecessary addon, he brought his attention to you. His dangerous mako eyes locked onto yours, making you feel stuck in an inescapable trance.

This was the first time he’d made eye contact with you.

He hummed one unnoticeable syllable that resembled a “hm” as he leaned an inch closer with the intent to absorb every word that came out of you. A clear indication of how deeply engaged he was.

Now that the spotlight and praise were on you, you couldn’t seem to do anything like a person getting stage fright in front of an impressive crowd.

You felt your body linger on autopilot. No person could handle this stimulation; at least that's what it felt like due to the chemicals pumping through your body. There was no need to react like this, but here you were at the mercy of his prestigious eyes.

Harboring and pleading your jittery breath away, you failed to take note of his defined hand nonchalantly creeping up on your mandible.

“Something like this?”

His pointer and middle were soon firmly planted against your flesh-covered artery. You could feel the pressure build on your sensitive throat, leaving a valley caused by his callous fingers. By this point, you were sure he could feel the way your pulse battered out of your chest.

The only solution to this was that he must’ve been a visual learner. That was the only viable explanation, but still, you found yourself warm to the touch. The air shared felt solid, palpable, and able to be cut.

But being so intertwined with your own cords of emotions, your brain glossed over the fact that he was pressed precisely where the killer always cut.

“Yeah, something like that." Your words fumbled over one another, not being able to tell if he could sense the tension he inadvertently created.

A mischievous smile was firmly tucked into his features. But before you could even pry into his preceding actions, a heightened beep buzzed from his pocket. He instantly backed his hand away from your neck, letting it rest on his thigh.

His light appearance was brought down by a sudden weight as he withdrew a slick gray phone. You caught a glimpse of the vibrating screen as he haphazardly let it ring.

"Masky. (Ignore if possible.)”

He huffed as his skinny face expeditiously contorted into a solemn deadpan. His leg went right back to a musically animated bounce before leaving your proximity.

He dragged the cellular device to his ear; his sight darted down to you with a velvety expression and whispered, "Sorry– I’ll be back.”

You reverted to your senses, getting back into gear. You affirmed him instantaneously with a nod. His mood was upended by your assuring movement as he departed from your shared space, heading for somewhere more secluded.

Once his presence dissipated, you fully accepted the circumstances. Your breath was still uneven, and you even felt way too comfortable in your once-itchy chair. Your flushed state progressively cleared up; however, you were still bubbly from the previous altercation.

Without much thought, your perception picked up on the Tom Stevens illustration once more. You didn’t notice it previously, but there was a creative liberty added to his special composite.

A tattoo. You didn’t recall the description ever stating he had an emblem on his collarbone.

Especially one with an O and an X.

Written By: Verdana. (bogusbox)

Beta [Alpha] Reader: Sara. (tobyskitten342)

Mentions: @flufftober & @tobyskitten342

A/N: It's been proofread :D

#flufftober2022 #day2 #creepypasta #bloody painter x reader #bloody painter x y/n #bloody painter x you #bloody painter #helen otis x y/n #helen otis x reader #helen otis x you #helen otis #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #fanfiction #creepypasta oneshot #x reader

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r0s3m4ry-mp3 · 10 months

Text

HELP ME AND @vampghoul MADE LIKE CREEPYPASTA FAKE TWITTER POSTS AND IM LITERALLY CRYING RN

CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY OR WHATEVER

I stand by that some the older creepypastas probably barely know how to use twitter and cant change their pfp💔❗❗

#creepy pasta #creepypasta #crp #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x you #emh #everymanhybrid #jeff the killer #ticci toby #nina the killer #judge angels #bloody painter #ben drowned #sally williams #slender man #jane the killer

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incognitonoggin · 1 month

Note

Hi wondering if you could do them together? If not do separate and what you feel comfortable with 🙏🏼

Yan proxies with an s/o that tried escaping and failed-nsfw if you can-again only if ur comfortable

SJSHSJEHEH ANON I LOVE YOU TY FOR THE ASK!!

YANDERE PROXIES WITH A S/O THAT TRIED TO ESCAPE

NSFW . MINORS DNI

GN! READER

Includes: “Ticci” Toby, Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian

TOBY

• You seriously thought you’d get away? How cute.

• The second you had kicked ‘em off of you and began to run, he was quick to yank your arm back and have you shrinking under his gaze.

• You could immediately tell he was kind of pissed, but you’re his sweetheart! He has to be patient with you.

• … Doesn’t mean he’s going to be gentle though.

• Will drag that same arm to the nearest flat surface (be it a wall for Christ’s sake) and off to pound town you go!

• Sex will be full of.. I guess.. Claiming???

• He’ll go on and on about how you’re his and how your hole(s) belong to him and how you’ll never amount to anything without him and you’re better off stuck with him (in a positive way, I suppose…)

• You’ll be left with dozens of marks afterwards and he wont hesitate to be passive aggressive and rough😭

HOODIE

• Have fun with this man!

• He’ll pull you back tightly by the waist, and drag you on into his lap

• Will yank your pants off right then and there, just barely giving you the time to process everything.

• “You want to leave? Really? How about we change that.”

• As i said in a different fic, he will be silent but you can tell by his never ending glare that if you fuck up he will NOT hesitate to get violent.

• Very fast and roughly paced. Gonna have your eyes stinging and your lips moving in a repetitive motion as you mumble your pleas

MASKY

• Why would you run away from this man WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU /HJ

• He’s running up behind ya and covering your mouth with his hands like he’s got chloroform or something on them

• It’ll feel suffocating at first, but similarly to Brian, he will just throw you down and start fucking torturing you 😔

• It’s worse compared to the others, he’d be VERY cocky (ha, get it?) about it and mock you whilst you beg.

• Lord, the repeated slamming into your hole while he yanks your hair back (damn near breaking your neck) must be so violating 😟

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eldritch-nightmare · 5 months

Note

Can we have headcanons where the reader gets scared of the pastas and try to run away?

a/n: yes you can!! decided to just do 5 creepypastas here just to ease myself back into writing. this isn't proofread btw

includes: jeff the killer, the bloody painter, eyeless jack, homicidal liu, and zalgo.

warnings: unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, mentions of cults, overprotective behavior, kidnapping, swearing, does this qualify as yandere? i think it does so, that's basically the gist of it, yeah.

JEFF THE KILLER

Okay first of all, how fucking dare you? Second of all, how fucking dare you?

You should be scared, honestly.

I mean, honestly, what the hell were you thinking? You can't run away from him, you idiot. There's no escape. You're stuck with him! He thought you knew that already.

Apparently not, seeing as the lovely little cabin he was keeping you in was empty and the front door was wide open when he arrived.

You're not going to be able to calm him down when he eventually finds you. It doesn't matter how long it takes, or how far you've gotten. He will find you. You're his. You're not allowed to leave him, ever.

"Do you wanna fucking die?" Were the first words that came out of Jeff's mouth when he found you. You had been running through this damned forest for hours now, and it was when you finally decided to take a short break that he had caught up to you. It wasn't hard to find you, he knew these woods like the back of his hand.

The anger was heavy in his words and in his actions. His grip on you has always been tight, but this was worse. Your arm stung as his nails dug into your skin, dragging you closer to him. You tried to ignore the knife pressed against your side, but it was easier said than done.

You ran from him because you were scared of him. That was your excuse, as you struggled to get out of his grasp without getting yourself stabbed.

It definitely got a laugh out of him, one full of malice. Oh, you're scared? Big fucking deal, that doesn't mean you can up and leave him. And when he drags you all the way back to the cozy little cabin in the woods that he lovingly kept you locked away in, trust me, you'll regret ever trying to run away from him.

If you want him to leave you alone so badly, then so be it.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

He's a little annoyed, to be honest. He thought you loved him, so you running away from him certainly made him upset.

Helen didn't want you to be scared of him. He wanted you to love him, and he wanted to have a normal relationship with you.

But he supposes he isn't all that shocked. He's a serial killer, after all. It's not surprising that you wanted nothing to do with him.

The moment he realized you were gone, he was abandoning everything to hunt you down.

Even if you are scared of him, he can't let you leave him.

There was a look of heavy disappointment in Helen's expression when he found you. It's the most emotion you've seen on his face in the time that you've known him. He had you cornered, so you couldn't get away from that damned expression.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," He had said when you stumbled backward as he approached. Helen would never hurt you, so why are you so afraid of him? Can't you see that he loves you? Is it really that hard to trust him? He thought you loved him, so coming home to an empty house just... it hurt him a lot, can't you see?

He doesn't want to hurt you, he just wants you to take his hand so he can take you home.

But he won't hesitate to knock you out if you refuse to go willingly. He loves you so much, there's simply no way he can ever let you leave him. Besides, you know far too much. It would be risky if he let you go.

And when you wake up, you'll be confined to one room until he's certain you won't try and leave him again. He gets that you're scared, he truly does, but you need to behave.

EYELESS JACK

Feels genuinely guilty for maybe a solid 5 seconds before instincts take over.

Honestly, he's probably the only one here that will catch up to you immediately. He has a keen sense of smell, and you're his mate, so of course he's going to be able to find you with ease.

He doesn't like that you're scared of him. You were supposed to love him! You're mates! Why are you scared of him?

Like... actually genuinely confused as to why you ran away.

You could've just talked to him! Why'd you have to run?

Well, it's too late now. You chose to run, so he'll gladly chase you down to the ends of the earth if he must. He's not going to let you leave him, there's no chance.

The Jack you know is awkward, and stoic. But he's stressed to you many times that he loved you deeply. The Jack that crashed into you after spending hours hunting you down after you ran away was different.

Sometimes you forget that he was a little less than human because when he dragged you to the ground with him, his chest was heaving and he was barely able to contain the growl in his voice as he spoke, "I caught you."

His claws were digging into your skin, threatening to draw blood if you so much as squirmed underneath him. A subtle threat, one that you took very seriously.

It truly isn't his intention to scare you. He loves you more than you'll ever know. But you can't leave him. You can't. He needs you. The second he decided that you were the one for him, your fate was sealed. He refuses to let you leave him, no matter how scared of him you are. You'll learn to get over this fear, he's sure of it.

HOMICIDAL LIU

Oh. Yeah. Okay. Totally. That... that hurts, yeah. Don't get him wrong, he gets it. But ouch.

If he were in your position, he'd probably be scared as well. And for a brief moment, he considers letting you go but...

He can't. He just can't. He loves you too much to let you go, and it's just too dangerous for you to be out there in the world, where he can't protect you.

He's really good at tracking people down, it's basically his specialty, so you won't be able to get too far before he's behind you.

He knows you're scared. He gets it. He understands. But he's doing this for your own good. He hopes you'll come to understand that one day as well.

He had found you hours after you managed to sneak away from him, but he didn't make his presence immediately known. He was having an internal struggle, torn between letting you go and bringing you back into his arms. He didn't want you to hate him, but he couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt.

He made it quick, knocking you out before you had even realized he was there. And when you wake up, back in the safety of the little hideaway he keeps you in, you see Liu with an expression of pure and genuine guilt in his expression.

"I'm sorry." He had said, because he was.

Liu is doing this for your own good. He's just trying to keep you safe. If he had let you go, who knows what could've happened to you! You have a target painted on your back, and there's someone out there who wouldn't hesitate to kill you if it meant getting to Liu.

So, no. You can't leave him. He needs to keep you safe.

ZALGO

Yeah, good luck with that. The likelihood of you ever being able to leave Zalgo is damn near nonexistent. He has eyes everywhere, always watching you.

But let's say you do manage to run away without him noticing. Good job, by the way. That's not an easy thing to do. He'd be really pissed though.

He doesn't have attachments to people, seeing them as objects for him to toy around with until he grew bored. But you? You were special.

You were his favorite toy. He cherished you, kept you locked away so no one else could have you. Your fear was cute! He couldn't just let you go.

Rest assured, he will find you. He'll drag you back to your rightful spot.

Zalgo had been both impressed and enraged when he saw that you were gone. He had eyes everywhere, always watching you, alerting him if anything were to ever happen to you. For a moment, he had thought that someone had up and taken you. After all, why would you run away from him? You were smarter than that, surely. But he was wrong. You had left. Somehow managed to sneak out without him ever noticing.

Finding you wasn't going to be too much of an issue. His power was immeasurable, his influence vast. He had too many cults to keep track of, and they were all hunting for you. He was sure to greatly reward whichever cult found you first.

And once you were safely brought back to the cage he kept you in, he would linger around more than he normally does. Clearly, the pieces of him that he leaves behind to monitor you have been growing complacent, so he intends on sticking around until you learn your lesson, "Aw, does my presence make my little human scared?"

He thinks your fear is adorable, and he can't fault you for that. He's very angry that you ran away, however, and rest assured that he won't let that go unpunished. Clearly, you've gotten too comfortable here in this realm of mortals. Perhaps it would be best if he brought you to his domain... you would certainly have a much harder time escaping if he did that.

You'll only have yourself to blame if he chooses to go through with that train of thought.

#anon #jeff the killer x reader #the bloody painter x reader #eyeless jack x reader #homicidal liu x reader #zalgo x reader #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x you #the bloody painter x you #eyeless jack x you #homicidal liu x you #zalgo x you #creepypasta x you

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multi-fandomedfreak · 9 months

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Mayyy I order some more Creepypasta headcanons but with Slendy this time?? I don’t mind if u wanna add any more characters but I really want some slendy in there lol

Authors note: Sure thing! I love Slendy too and I was gonna write him in my last Creepypasta headcanons but it would’ve been too long. So this will be a continuation to the other kissing headcanons. (Also sorry this took so long)

Characters: Slendy, LJ, and Helen

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️: Uhh surprisingly non?? Unless sharp noses and sharp teeth should be a warning

🧍Slenderman 🧍

(as u may tell, I’m running out of ideas on the emojis)

-Does he have a mouth???

-Pretending that he does, I feel like he would love giving you head/forehead kisses

-He would prefer receiving kisses rather than giving them tho (definitely not because he canonically doesn't have a mouth)

-But it's kinda hard for him to show that

-Like imagine you trying to leave before kissing him goodbye, most likely cuz you forgot, and he just won't let you leave

-He won't tell you why tho, he'll just let you figure it out until you kiss him

-He's also BIG on giving you a good squeeze after a kiss

-Idk there's just something about him that screams "I will hug you."

-Definitely likes carrying you rather than him leaning down to kiss you

-hurts the poor old man's back

-Buuut if you find it attractive when someone taller than you leans down to listen to you better

-He will 100% know that

-And 10000% use that to his advantage to kiss you in any way

-He also doesn't care if you kiss him in front of other people or not

-He's Slenderman, like, no one would even think about teasing him about it

-Except Sally of course

-would probably love -if you wear makeup- for you to leave a kiss mark on the collar of his suits

🍬 Laughing Jack 🍬

-Just so you know, his pointy nose is DEFINITELY getting in the way sometimes

-Like that thing can poke your eye out

-That being said, he sometimes likes to poke you on the cheek with his nose

-Probably does it when asking for a kiss tbh

-Loves to bare his sharp teeth at you to try and get a reaction out of you when going in for a kiss

-But you kiss him anyway, bc, cmon. Those teeth are 😮‍💨

-ANYWAY, he gives me cuddle bug vibes

-Like if he really wants to, he’ll hold you as tight as he can without killing you and kiss you all over your face

-TALL BOI

-So he prob likes it when you have to get on your tip toes to kiss him

-will stand up completely straight just to see you struggle to reach him

-He also loves it when he rests his chin on your head after a kiss

-Doesn’t mind kissing in a public setting and doesn’t care about getting teased from the other pastas

-Soooo, if he’s sitting down, expect to be pulling onto his lap from time to time

-Only if ur ok with it tho

-He doesn’t like to see you uncomfortable in any way

-A sucker for giving you kisses on your neck

-He just gives that vibe that he’s into neck kisses yknow?

-keeps his claws sway from you as you two kiss (he doesn’t wanna hurt you on accident)

🎨 Bloody Painter 🖌️

-More likely than not, you’d have to be the one to initiate a kiss from him

-It’s very very very rare for him to be the one to kiss you first in a day

-Though when he does kiss you first, know it’s super meaningful

-He struggles to show affection due to his upbringing

-I also feel like his kisses would always be short but sweet

-But if your the one to initiate a kiss, he’ll definitely be very passionate about it

-Even if he doesn’t initiate kisses all that much

-He likes to just be leaning or be pressed up against you

-Like when watching a movie on a couch or something

-He’ll prob just use you as a back rest lol

-I also feel like he isn’t the biggest fan of neck kisses but also doesn’t mind them

-Although he’ll never admit it, he adoresss it when you kiss him on his forehead

-It’s just so domestic to him it feels great

-Especially when you rub his arms up and down as you do it

-He’ll quite literally melt but try his best to keep his composure

#creepy pasta #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #slenderman x reader #slenderman x you #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #laughing jack x you #bloody painter #helen otis #bloody painter x reader #helen otis x reader #creepy pasta x reader

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anxiou13sami · 2 months

Text

♡ᴹʸ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʰᵒᵒᵈ ᶜʳᵘˢʰᵉˢ...๋࣭ ⭑⚝

⁽ᶜʳᵉᵖᵖʸᵖᵃˢᵗᵃ⁾

ᴴᵉˡᵉⁿ ⁽ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈʸ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᵗᵉʳ⁾

ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ⁻😭 ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᶠᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴶᵉᶠᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴴᵉˡᵉⁿ ᵉˣⁱˢᵗˢ, ᴵ ⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱᶠⁱᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ⁽ᵉˣᶜᵉᵖᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵖᵃʳᵗ⁾, ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵒᵒ ˡᵃᶻʸ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳᵃʷ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵗʳᵘᵉ ᵃʳᵗ ˢᵗʸˡᵉ ˢᵒ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵏᵉᵗᶜʰᵉˢ...

ᵀᵒᵇⁱᵃˢ😻 ⁽ᵀⁱᶜᶜⁱ ᵀᵒᵇʸ⁾

ᴰᵒ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ? ᵀᵒᵇíᵃˢ ⁱˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ˡⁱᶠᵉ⁻👩‍🚒💖, ʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ, ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᴵ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵃʳⁱᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ⁻🤡💔, ᴵ ᵈʳᵉʷ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵃʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰˢ ᵃᵍᵒ, ᴵ ��ʰⁱⁿᵏ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ⁱⁿ ᴺᵒᵛᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ, ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᵗ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵏᵉᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ...

ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵈʳᵃʷ ᵐᵒʳᵉ, ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵐʸ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʰᵒᵒᵈ ᶜʳᵘˢʰᵉˢ, ⁽ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃʳᵉ 🤭⁾

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maiden-of-rats · 4 months

Text

🅲🆁🅴🅴🅿🆈🅿🅰🆂🆃🅰 Giving them your number/Asking for theirs ( Ticci Toby)

DISCLAIMERS!!!:

All head-canons well be represented in my writing (Unless paid to do otherwise)

I am very new to writing on tumblr

There will be generally dark themes in my work

I may be willing to do NSFW writing (Warning: I do not have any experience whatsoever) Before you ask, yes I am of age, I’m just a loser

I have not written anything like this in 2 years, please show me mercy

Ticci Toby

You meet him in a gas station on a heavily forested road trying to steal a ramen

A ring from a bell as you push through the doors of the rustic gas station. It was small and humble, most likely due to the secludedness of the place. When you walk in you are greeted by a friendly old man behind the counter. You wave to assure you're not rude and head towards the drink coolers in the back. As you make your way you notice an odd man hunched over, trying to sneak something into his pocket. You slowly approach him and reach out to grab something beside him, as a subtle way of confrontation.

He jumps at the sudden realization of your appearance. He whips his head around, seemingly looking for something. In this action two ramen cups fall from his jacket. He rushes down and frantically goes to pick them up, mumbling and shuddering. You stand there and watch him unravel at the slightest action. He stands up and looks at you covering part of his jaw as if he is injured.

He looked like a homeless man in his early twenties that was riddled with troubles. He wore smoke stained goggles, A jacket that was in ruins, pants that you would only see a mechanic wear, gloves so worn out that they were finger-less and what seemed to be a face covering around his neck. Despite his disheveledness he looked handsome and clean. He had the most ridiculously pretty eyes, like a sad bear. He had a story behind them that you had to know.

In your awe of the pitiful young man, you ask:

“Can I have your number?”

“What, wait… R-really?”

“Yeah”

“OH, of of-course”

His hand rushed to his pockets, padding himself down and pulling out a pen.

“Can I see your arm?”

You reluctantly pull your sleeve up and motion your arm towards him. He sloppily writes his name and number on your arm, licking at his finger and wiping your arm to fix any mistakes.

Either grossed out or flattered that he cares so much to write his name legible.

It reads:

TOBY 000-000-0000!

After writing this he smiles at you. Then frantically makes his way out without the old man noticing him.

You continue on your drink quest, pay and leave.

(NEXT UP BEN DROWNED AND THE BLOODY PAINTER)

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creepypasta65 · 10 months

Note

Ello! I wanna request E.J,Ben, Helen the bloody painter and liu with a S/O that's literally like a sloth, they sleep so much and basically almost the whole day, just like babies 😭❤️❤️

Also have a great day/night/weekend!!

Hi! Thanks for the request :)

EJ, Ben, Helen/Bloody Painter, and Liu with an s/o who is like a sloth:

EJ:

Jack finds you adorable.

He will feel bad for waking you up on accident. But he will make it up to you by cuddling.

He loves it if you cling to him like a sloth clinging to a tree.

Jack will also give you nicknames like sleepy pumpkin, sleepy angel, snooze bug, and more.

He makes sure that your bed or his bed is comfortable and has many blankets and pillows so you can sleep well.

Ben:

Ben finds it funny that you act like a sloth, sleeping all day.

He will also give you nicknames like sleepy head or sleepy sloth.

Ben likes to lay by you while he plays video games. He makes sure to have the volume of the game low, so he doesn't disturb your sleep. But if he wants to annoy you, he puts the volume up.

Ben sometimes throws a pillow at you to wake you up since you've been sleeping all day.

Bloody Painter:

Helen finds it adorable and loves calling you sleepy head. When you're sleeping, he will join you and falls asleep or sketch while you're asleep. Helen will sometimes draw you sleeping if he runs out of ideas. He will cover you with blankets, so you don't get cold.

Liu:

Liu loves you so much.

He finds it funny that you can sleep all day like a sloth.

He will fix your bed or his bed making it comfortable, adding blankets, pillows, and candles if you want.

Liu loves sleeping with you and cuddling with you. He will melt if you cling to him like a sloth.

Liu gives you nicknames like sleeping beauty and sleeping princess/prince.

Have a nice day or night (❁´◡`❁)!

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princesspastel8 · 1 month

Text

That smile....is hauntingly beautiful

Secret Desire

《A Jeff The Killer Fanfic》

°•~Collection of Chapters~•°

☆

▪︎ Synopsis

▪︎ Chapter One

▪︎ Chapter Two

▪︎ Chapter Three

▪︎ Chapter Four

▪︎ Chapter Five

▪︎ Chapter Six

▪︎ Chapter Seven

▪︎ Chapter Eight

▪︎ Chapter Nine

▪︎ Chapter Ten

▪︎ Chapter Eleven

▪︎ Chapter Twelve

▪︎ Chapter Thirteen

▪︎ Chapter Fourteen

▪︎ Chapter Fifteen

▪︎ Chapter Sixteen

▪︎ Chapter Seventeen

▪︎ Chapter Eighteen

▪︎ Chapter Nineteen

▪︎ Chapter Twenty

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-one

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-two

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-three

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-four

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-five

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-six

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-seven

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-eight

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-nine

▪︎ Chapter Thirty

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-one

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-two

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-three

☆

Story Playlist

Jeff Origin Story(David Near Version)

Jeff's Interviews(David Near)

《 This is a dark romance with heavy triggers for some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

《 This is an oc female(African American) love interest, but feel free to picture yourself as the character.

《 This is the fully edited version of my book. The completed unedited versions are on Wattpad & Ao3. Links will be below.

《 Wattpad

《 Ao3

Dividers credits are used throughout the story:

° @khaer

° @anitalenia

° @kimjiho1

° @somenteniki

° @bucciniexe

° @cafekitsune

° @k1ssyoursister

° @chaefilm

- If any of the art used within this story is yours, please let me know so credit can be given.

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 month

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Ej, Lj, Masky, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby and Bloody Painter x reader who draws them

Prize 5/5 for @reivelmin !! I hope you've enjoyed all of your prizes WOOHOO!! I had a blast writing them, hardly ever get the excuse to write for some of these characters EHEHEHEHE

EYELESS JACK

I've always headcanoned that Jack was always a bit of an artist himself, although the most he does it sketch every now and then to keep his kind busy. He points out some techniques he recognizes and asks you about it. It.. actually takes him a moment to realize that all of the drawings are him. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head before he tries to move on. This opens the window for the two of you to draw together every now and then.. though jack is always a little embarrassed.. flustered.. with the knowledge that you have so much of him in your book

LAUGHING JACK

Very loud when saying he loves it. Hes flipping through the pages before pausing, looking you dead in the eye. He makes a comment about how you must be soooooo obsessed with him. Hes teasing you, of course! He offers to draw you in return.. though dont expect anything crazy, Jack's not.. the best artist- and hes okay with that! Loves looking through your art whenever you offer it. Would kick his feet in the air while looking through the pages. Sometimes you give him sketches to color, to keep him busy while you have to go do something

MASKY

He already knew what you were drawing him before you ever have the chance to show him. The man is silent and is constantly keeping an eye on you.. he does NOT know how to be a normal roommate!! You probably dont get the chance to show him yourself, because he points at a stray pencil marking that you forgot to erase. Worst jumpscare of your life, if you werent already aware of his presence in the room... he.. actually gives a thumbs up. Which doesnt seem like much but considering that he doesnt really emote, that's a huge thing... now does he think it's a little odd that you have a bunch of sketches where hes the reference? A little, but he does offer some good poses and lighting due to him tending to lurk in the shadows

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but at least he pretends to not know. You walk up to him with your sketchbook and hes so obviously playing dumb but its.. sweet that hes pretending. He takes his time looking through all of the art, where some of the others get too excited and flip through it all. He doesnt talk, but he does communicate that he thinks it all looks great via sign.. oh he would definitely start leaving sticky notes with doodles around for you to find

TICCI TOBY

I think Toby would be a little overwhelmed, he didnt think anyone would be interested in him enough to want to fill an entire sketchbook with him. He tries to cover up his shock by lightly making fun of the situation. Though every tease he tries to draw out falls flat, as everytime he goes to poke fun of something about the art he trails off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to actually make fun of the stuff you make.. if it's a gift, you offer to take it back but he quickly shuts that down. Its like the Bob's burger friendship bracelet audio, "no fuck off its mine"

BLOODY PAINTER

As an artist himself, he asks you about what materials you used as well as the techniques you used! Unlike EJ, Helen is more thorough in his questioning and knows a lot more fancy terms.. he points out the good parts of your pieces, and catches himself before giving his criticisms.. he at least makes sure that the criticism is wanted before just unloading (and even then hes constructive! Hes well aware that just dunking on someone does nothing to help them grow). It actually strikes his ego a lot that you would dedicate so much time and material to just him, and it inspires him to make something for you in return. If he didnt know you were an artist prior to this, he offers to paint with you.. whether as a collab or just simply working parallel to one another! Just please pay no mind to him staring at you more intently while hes at his canvas...!

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bogusboxed · 2 years

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Boxtober - Day 26: “Headcanons For A Sick S/O”

Day 26: - [The Puppeteer, Bloody Painter, Nurse Ann & X Virus] X GN!Reader “Blankets” x “I’m doing it, shut up.”

-I do not own any of these characters and do not take credit for them.

The Puppeteer

---

-If he figures out you’re sick, prepare to be stuck in one place for a while.

-Typically, if he wanted to keep someone in place, he’d use his strings, but he understands it's not the most comfortable thing, so he opted for the next best thing. Which is to cover you in blankets and then proceed to string you up like a caterpillar in a cocoon. It's best not to struggle, or he might laugh at you.

-He might act bossy near the beginning when it comes to your sickness. He'll say things like "I’ve got a mission to attend to" and so on, but the second you cough, he’s right there holding you. This man is a liar about not wanting to help you and will fold when there is any form of pain coming from you.

-And if you dare try to get out of bed for anything, he will pick you up. He doesn’t care if you fight back. All that's going through his head is the fact your sick and need help.

-"I have to go get something!"

"I’m doing it. Shut up."

-He doesn’t mind losing a target or two if it means you're okay. He knows how it feels to be left alone in a time of need, so he will never do that to you.

-Though you should expect him, since he’s a poltergeist, to stay up all hours of the day watching you, if you feel too intimidated, just tell him to cuddle you or he's worsening your condition. And he'll do exactly what you ask, just wanting to make sure you're okay.

-One downside to all of this is that he can’t get you medicine or buy you food in person due to being a ghost. So, he bugs his friends to go and do it for him, which is most of the time, Helen. So, please thank Helen after you recover because he’s probably messed up like twelve paintings due to Jonathan scaring him.

Bloody Painter

---

-If you tell him you’re sick, he will instantly panic. He’ll probably find a reason to blame himself for not seeing the signs earlier as your dedicated partner.

-And if it's so bad you get bedridden, he won’t let you get up in the sweetest way possible. Either by kissing your forehead to dumbfound you or hugging you back down. He could never find it in himself to hurt you because he's a puppy when it comes to you.

If you tell him you’re getting bored, he’ll bring you some sketch paper to doodle on, and if you want, you can ask him to play Pictionary. Though he’ll beat you at it, if you get a little upset, he’ll let you win, even if he is a literal Picasso.

-A random, dumb idea to have him do is to have him paint the Mona Lisa next to you. I don’t know why I added this, but I think it’d be fun. I also think if you praised him hard enough, he’d say something like "It’s just a sketch" to further his ego.

-If you manage to sneak out, whether it was when he was asleep or when he left for a moment. He’ll usher you back to bed in the nicest way possible, almost like a human to an animal, to be honest. And if you suddenly become too sick to get back, he’ll cradle you in his arms and bring you back. Though he won’t mention your escape attempts, knowing it sucks to be sick.

-Though unlike The Puppeteer, he can go and buy you snacks. He can also get delivery plus medicine due to being human. Even if he doesn’t like to show his face in public, he wouldn’t mind doing it for you.

-But for some reason, when you’re sick, he tends to get more protective of you. It's most likely due to your vulnerable state and how much he’s worried the other creeps will take advantage of it. And if they dare to try anything with you. Well, let’s just say you won’t be the only one bedridden.

Nurse Ann

---

-Probably the worst in the best way possible to come up with this. If you’re with her, she’ll be able to predict when you're about to be sick and will have been preparing for this very moment. And you’ll notice she's becoming more present in your life as well as more possessive.

-The second you cough, she'll bring you to bed, because she already has a personal infirmary just for this. And if you stay put, you’ll recover from this quicker than you normally would with anyone else.

-And she’ll keep you there in the most doctor way, either by nodding her head in disappointment or by holding you down. She is more aggressive than others, which may be just due to having experience. She just doesn’t want it to evolve into something worse, and if that means a scratch or two, then it's worth it. She is a nurse, after all.

-Though even with all of this, she’ll bring you blankets and do things normal nurses wouldn’t do. She may even go as far as to cuddle with you, but expect her to pull away if she feels you're getting too hot.

-Behind all of her cold-hearted actions is just someone who is extremely worried about your health. She couldn’t stand losing you and sees you as her responsibility. Since she is a nurse.

-If you can manage to escape from your hospital bed, she will hunt you down. She would never hurt you to the point of worsening your condition, but she wouldn't mind scaring you back to your bed. But, if you ever show signs of surrendering mid-chase, she’ll soften up instantly and swing you over her shoulder back to bed.

X Virus

---

-Oh no. Unlike Nurse Ann, you’ll be in bed longer than you should be. He will go out of his way to extend your stay and may even cause you to get worse. But, he typically has the best intentions in mind, except when he doesn’t.

-He’ll probably be heavily interested in the worst way possible. He’ll make you think he’s trying to help you. But he may test something out on you. He won’t do anything viral that’ll kill you, but something more minor. But, the second he realizes that he’s making it worse, it tears him apart. He had bad intentions at first, but it quickly dissolves into guilt when he realizes what he did.

-He’ll panic at first, fighting his impulsive thoughts, and eventually run to EJ for any sort of help. He knows he doesn’t have the mental capacity to help you at first, so he gets EJ to help out first. And once he gets the basics, he turns into a sweetheart. However, expect EJ to also keep an eye on you. Which Cody and you are both fine with, seeing as Cody can't be trusted with his thoughts.

-Though he messes up at first, he realizes that you are not a test subject and that you are his partner. It stems from his struggle to sympathize with humanity, thinking that it was okay. But, when you aren’t okay with it, he changes it. So feel free to ask anything of him. He is willing to do anything to atone for his actions.

-And if you get up from bed with something contagious, he’ll ask you politely to get back in bed but won’t try and stop you. Even though he wants to, he can’t bring himself to stop. On the other hand, EJ will most likely stop you and get you back to bed knowing Cody won't help.

-If after all of that, you ask him to cuddle, he won’t hesitate to do so. He’ll drop everything, even if he was working on a virus for the operator. He doesn’t care, he just wants to help you out. Though he’ll bring way too many blankets.

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 2 months

Note

Can I please have scenarios for EJ, Toby, Julius, and bloody painter helping their nonbinary s/o through a panic attack and comforting them? Thank you and have a wonderful evening

𝔹𝕃𝕆𝕆𝔻𝕐 ℙ𝔸𝕀ℕ𝕋𝔼ℝ!!!! 𝕄𝕐 𝕊ℙ𝔼ℂ𝕀𝔸𝕃 𝔻𝕌𝔻𝔼!!!

ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕘𝕠 𝕥𝕠 @𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕤-𝕟-𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖!! 𝔾𝕠 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜!

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘!!

Eyeless Jack

Whenever Jack sees you in a state of panic, his brain immediately shifts to a more medical state

He isn't good with emotions, but facts he can work with

So he starts instructing you on what to do

He doesn't touch you, as he doesn't want to induce more panic

He instructs you to stand up and do jumping jacks, which you very much do not want to do

He insists you do it anyways, and while you are doing your jumping jacks he is off getting you a big cup of very cold water

When he comes back, he tells you to take at least 3 big gulps of the water

Once you've drank all the water you want, he tells you to lay on your back and breathe through your stomach (basically meaning your stomach rises instead of your chest)

You do this until you are calm, and while he waits, Jack records your heart's pace

Once you are calm, if you want anything like cuddles, you'll have to tell him

Because on his own, he saw this as purely medical and not a reason to be all lovey with each other

However, he is happy to oblige with your requests for a little bit before going back to whatever he was doing before

Sorry guys his ass does not understand emotional intimacy

Toby

When Toby sees you panicking, he starts to panic

What happened? How long have you been like this? How does he help?

He tries to not make that panic known though, because he knows that would likely stress you out and he doesn't want that

So he instead comes to where you are and sits in front of you, whispering to you how it's gonna be ok, and how he's gonna make it better

He cradles you in his arms and rocks you back and forth, rubbing your back and telling you to just breathe, don't even think about anything just breathe

And he will sit there just like that, for minutes, hours, days, however long you need to feel ok

He will wipe away your tears and kiss where they were

He will give you breathing exercises and try them with you

He will brush your hair (if you have any, if you don't he will give you some soothing hand lotion and tell you to just breathe in the calming scent)

He will literally do anything for you, and once you are calmed he will kiss you all over and take you out to celebrate overcoming such an obstacle

Julius The Dressmaker

He's typically a more goofy guy, so he gets kind of awkward in emotional situations

He will still care for you of course, but it will be slightly unconventional

"Hey dummy, there's nothing to panic about"

"Come on, take your meds and be done with it"

He'll likely end up taking you to one of the more mental health practiced doctors of the manor, so you won't get to see Jack, sorry pookies

You will however, get to see Dr. Smiley! (He isn't allowed to do any physical medical practices because he's stupid, so he's a psychologist now. Yes i did just make this up right now, why do you ask?)

Julius will kind of just...drop you off there and hope for the best

Surprisingly enough, Smiley is in fact qualified for his job and does help you out quite a lot!

You are still kind of upset, but it's definetly way better than before

Julius will comment about how much he "missed the happy you" before insisting that he cuddle with you for hours

Just to be sure you're 100% ok

Bloody Painter

Being a very quiet and observant person, Helen likely noticed something was wrong before you even did

So he was on top of it instantly, instructing you to drink water, breathe, and practice coping skills

He stays glued to you the entire time

While you pour yourself water from the pitcher, he is holding you from behind and pressing kisses to the crook of your neck

While you are breathing, he helps you count the seconds that pass

And to try to distract you from your oncoming panic, he will bring you to his studio and let you paint

And if you don't want to paint, he sets up some of his "failed projects" outside and let's you go ham on them

Awww your own personal rage room <333

Of course, it's nothing like a fancy tv, but you do get to stab some canvases and shatter some pottery so it's still fun

While you do this, he kind of just stands back, his hands on his hips with an observant expression on his face

When he is certain you are calm, he will gently take your hand and hold it high up while muttering how good you did and pressing a kiss to your head

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incognitonoggin · 1 month

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TW. THEMES OF CNC AHEAD

YANDERE! TOBY SHARING YOU WITH MASKY AND HOODIE

NSFW WARNING . MINORS DNI

GN! READER

Includes: “Ticci” Toby, Masky/Tim, Hoodie/Brian

TW: Sexual aggression, Themes of CNC, ETC

Just to mention, this fic isn’t solely sex based??? I don’t know how to describe it but it’s not meant to make your toes curl im just keeping it more realistic in this one !!

Honestly, coming from a man so hellbent on claiming you as his, he’s insane for doing this.

Their hands all over you, the words and names sputtering out of their mouths is just so, so overwhelming.

The fast paced thrusting you can feel twisting inside of your heat, the deadly tight grip on your hips, everything. All of it.

“Fuck, this slut is so good for me. You got an awful good one, Toby.” The one that’s taking you says. His name, you think is Tim? God, honestly you can’t remember anything anymore.

All you remember is being dragged to some abandoned shed and cornered by that creep,— Toby.

Then he brought these two along, and-

And this.

—————

The man before you has been rutting into your hole for quite some time now, and your hair is all messy with your limbs sore and worn out

You feel him pull away right as you felt your back begin to arch, and your hole(s) tense up, and the warmth of his presence is replaced with an unfamiliar one.

Brian? Is that the mans name?

Being so used and fucked for so long is bound to make you feel all murky in the stomach

Maybe it’s because of all of the cum literally lingering inside of you.

He nips and laps at the available spots of your neck, causing more sensation to trickle over your (already overstimulated and exhausted) body.

He enters your sopping wet hole, and doesn’t even hesitate to warm you up or anything,— just goes to the pace of his liking

Once you’re brought to another whiny and despaired orgasm, the man you know and hate love returns over to you.

Toby.

He greedily and hungry begins to ravish you, leaving sloppy and overdone kisses all over your sweaty and sticky face

You feel the hilt of his tip graze over your hole, preparing to take him in.

You sigh and shiver.

Tonight is going to be a long night.

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eldritch-nightmare · 7 months

Note

Had smth in mind based on those Jeff Headcannons you did,,,,,What about The Doll Maker or Bloody Painter(or both idk I’m indecisive) yandere Headcannons but with a willing reader,,,Thought abt that while listening to Ayesha Erotica, idk how

a/n: your wish is my command. going with the bloody painter since i haven't really written much for him here yet. this one got away from me a bit. sorry if it's messy, but i hope you find enjoyment from it nonetheless <3

yandere bloody painter with a willing s/o.

warnings: gn!reader, yandere content, puppeteer cameo bc why not, crush at first... smile?, reader goes to an art school, reader has some questionable morals, stalking, possessive behavior, murder, blood, breaking and entering, the public nor authorities doesn't know that helen is the bloody painter in this btw, morbid painting, a brief description of gore, idk art so sorry if i describe it incorrectly.

Oh, man. I can see him behaving in two different ways. One is the way he'd behave around you if you were there in his childhood and the other is if he met you after everything happened. For this, we'll focus on how he behaves after everything happened.

Helen is very emotionally reserved and pretty apathetic, to be honest with you. It's very difficult to get close to him. I like to think that you two met while he was getting some more art supplies.

He saw you struggling to pick between two paints and, being the artist that he is, he decided to do something a little nice for once and help you out.

And, a little bit to his surprise, that led to a rather lengthy conversation about art as you detailed to him the art project you were working on and how you really weren't sure what direction you wanted to take it because the prompt given to you didn't give you any ideas.

And as we all know, Helen is nothing if not an artist. So, obviously, he listens to every little detail you provide him and offers some advice that may help you out before you two go your separate ways.

And--

Huh. Why'd his chest suddenly feel all warm at the sight of your smile?

He finds himself drawing your smiling face later, thinking that maybe the warm feeling in his chest was just a random burst of inspiration. I mean, he is an artist after all. Inspiration tends to strike at the most random times.

His dear friend seems to think otherwise.

"Aw, does Helen have a little crush?" -> "If you don't have anything of value to say, then please keep your mouth shut."

He doesn't have a crush on you. Not that he knows what it's like to have a crush, I mean he's never been in love before, but he doesn't. No way.

Then he sees you again, and damn. I guess The Puppeteer was right. He does have a crush. Oh well. He accepts this revelation immediately and comes to terms with this newfound feeling rather quickly.

It's just a small crush, one that he's sure will go away soon. But he's never felt this way before, and the feeling leaves him curious, so he finds himself actively seeking you out.

He doesn't consider it to be stalking at first, just... studying. But then he follows you home one day, and he realizes that maybe these feelings of his aren't as small as he thought they were.

Does he feel bad for stalking you? I think, momentarily, he questions why he's doing this but... he's not a great guy in the first place. He does kill people and use their blood as paint, after all.

And you're aware that someone is watching you. You can feel eyes on you most nights. You should be scared, you know that, but... for some reason, you don't. If anything, you start leaving your blinds open more often.

Helen will sometimes even sketch you while he watches you. The way you hold yourself and the way you move around... it just makes him want to capture every moment he can in his sketchbook. He even briefly considers picking up photography as a hobby the longer he watches you, but he decides to just stick with his own form of art.

But he really likes it when he gets to see you make your own art.

And that's when he breaks into your home for the first time. You were out with some friends, and when you came home, you noticed your door was unlocked. At first, you didn't really think much of it, but when you went to your room, you couldn't help but feel as if something were off.

It took you a while, but you soon discovered that some of your drawings were missing. Thankfully, none of the ones you drew for class were missing.

You had no means of contacting your stalker, which you suppose is a good thing, so instead you just wrote on a piece of paper and taped it to your window.

'Glad you like my drawings.'

And the next day, taped on the outside of your window was a little doodle of a smiley face.

You didn't give this odd relationship much thought, to be honest. You thought it was kinda cute that this random stranger seemed to derive some type of joy from watching you. He hasn't done anything to hurt you, and his intentions don't seem malicious, so you honestly had no problem with it.

Of course, your friends definitely thought it was weird. They think that you need to report your stalker to the police, but you choose to ignore their concerns. You reassure them that if you ever feel as if you're life is in any danger, you'll inform the authorities about what's happening.

So, it goes on like this for a while. Helen would mostly stick to watching you from afar, but sometimes he'd break into your place while you're sleeping just to get a closer look at you. Sometimes, you'll wake up and there will be a drawing of you on your nightstand. You keep those drawings tucked away safely in one of the many empty sketchbooks you own.

Then a... domino effect of sorts took place.

You started going to a new café since it was closer to where you lived and closer to the school you attended. -> There's a cute barista there who always flirts with you whenever you buy a coffee or get yourself a treat. -> You humored their behavior because you thought it was cute, so you would flirt back sometimes. -> It became routine, and a couple weeks into the routine, the barista just up and vanished.

You thought they had quit, but you overheard some of the other employees at the café whispering about how they hadn't heard anything from them.

Something that should have been completely unrelated, you lose your red paint. You can't find it anywhere.

Continuing on with the domino effect, a day or two goes by and you hear on the news that the barista you had been flirting with was found dead in their home, drained dry of their blood. The police believe this to be another victim of The Bloody Painter.

You wouldn't have thought much of it, but then you notice a note taped to your window.

'There's a gift for you in your kitchen.'

And when you went to your kitchen, you saw a container resting on the counter. It wasn't translucent or see-through, so you couldn't see inside of it, but there was another note resting on top of it.

'I saw you were out of red paint, so I got you some more. We should meet up this week and paint together, don't you think? I'd love to see what you can create with this.'

And the note wasn't signed with a smiley face this time. It was signed with a name.

Helen Otis.

You set the note to the side and one quick look inside the container told you that he had given you blood to use as paint.

It didn't take you long to piece together what was going on here. The blood he had given you was no doubt the blood of the barista who had been murdered, which means... your stalker was that serial killer that's been all over the news these past few months.

The person who has been breaking into your home and leaving you those drawings was a serial killer. And he... he trusted you enough to tell you his name?

Holy shit, that's a lot to take in.

You should be panicking. Hell, you should be calling the police to let them know about all of this. You'd be doing the world some good if you did that, and it would save a lot of lives.

But your gaze drifts back to the note, and your mind wanders to all the drawings he's made of you, and... this was just so...

Cute. It felt romantic, even.

He killed a person you had been flirting with and gave you their blood as a gift. That has to be his way of letting you know that you were his.

You didn't even think about what you were going to do. You took the container of blood and you took it to your room. It didn't take you long to set up a tarp on the ground since it was no doubt going to drip onto your floor and you really didn't need blood stains in your carpet.

And you searched up a reference of what you wanted to paint, and you immediately got to work.

Later that night, while you were sleeping peacefully in your bed, Helen was breaking into your home for the nth time.

The reason why is because you had left a note for him to see on your window, one that had certainly caught his attention.

There's a gift for you in the kitchen.

You've never left him a gift before, so his curiosity was certainly piqued.

He made sure to be quiet as he made his way to your kitchen, not wanting to wake you up. He wasn't ready to meet you. Not yet.

When he gets to your kitchen, he certainly wasn't really expecting to see a canvas resting on the counter, a white sheet covering whatever was painted on it. A sticky note was placed on the sheet as well, and Helen stepped closer to it to read it.

This is what it looked like, right?

p.s. I'm willing to take you up on that offer.

And on the corner of the sticky note, there was a small smiley face doodle. How cute.

With the note read, Helen wasted no time carefully removing the sheet from the canvas, a subtle excitement coursing through his veins.

And... oh. Oh, you're as fucked up as him, aren't you?

What he sees is a downright devastatingly beautiful piece of work.

The painting was completely done with just the blood he had given you, with a few pencil marks for shading, and it depicted the murder he had committed just a few days prior.

He imagines that it was rather easy to find a photo of the crime scene online, but you were somehow able to capture the scene perfectly and you weren't ever there.

From the way the body was hanging upside down from the ceiling, a few buckets underneath it to collect the blood dripping from it. The way lifeless look in their eyes that you had done with a pencil... the gashes all over their body...

You had passed the test he had set up for you.

He took this as a sign of acceptance. A sign that you wanted to be his. You wouldn't keep the blood and make such a masterpiece with it if you didn't, right?

A slight smile formed on his face at the thought, and he stood there and admired the art you had made for him.

Hmm... maybe he'll stick around until you wake up...

#tanuukiiii #the bloody painter x reader #the bloody painter x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #yandere x reader #yandere bloody painter #yandere bloody painter x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader

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