#helen otis x y/n

[bogusboxed]

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

[anxiou13sami]

♡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 ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ 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 🤭⁾

#fem reader #i am cringe but i am free #i love you #idk man #y/n art #delete later maybe #i draw shit #my art <3 #sillyposting #help 💀 #ticci toby #creepypasta #bloody painter #ticci toby x reader #bloody painter x reader #tobias erin rogers #helen otis #my art #🦈 anon #😭🔫 #idk how to tag this #jesus christ #jesus loves you #my draws #ibispaintx #x reader #y/n #i wish you all the best #i love it #i am so tired

[crxshed-skxlls]

Hello there, I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to do something with Bloody Painter for me.

Thank you in advance.

Oo I'll gladly be willing. No worries, your sins are my command 🙏

— ❝ 15 Bloody Painter x Gn!Reader headcanons

NSFW tags: Mention of mirror sex, Exhibitionism, breath play, Blood play, S&M elements, aftercare headcanons, breeding, mentions of "pussy/ass drunk"

Viewer discretion is advised, as always.

NSFW headcanons:

Bloody Painter (or Helen) is a switch. He isn't too use to the idea of sex, but he prefers to dominate in situations. Helen only bottoms maybe once or twice of you catch him off guard.

Speaking of bottoming -- you may have to show him how to properly be intimate with you your first couple tries. After he gets the hang of it, you two should be on your merry ways.

Helen totally has a blood kink. He would find it arousing to see you covered with dark crimson, whether it be from your own or from his blood paints.

Helen isn't really a noisy person when it comes to sex. He'll let out a couple now and then, but he usually let's out breathy sounds and grunts.

Helen likes to tease you sometimes with the areas he picks for sex. He loves to fuck you in front of a mirror just to mumble how pretty you look in the reflection. His blue eyes wandering the spectacle like a marvelous work of art.

Helen likes to be choked. Whether you top him or not, the buzzed feeling to his head always gives him pleasure. He doesn't mind giving it either, his strong grip to your throat as he watches you let out choked moans is pure pleasure.

Helen isnt much of a talker during sex. He'll give a couple bits and pieces of dialogue, but sometimes he's just too focused on giving you pleasure to think of words.

Compared to the other creeps, Helen is actually pretty vanilla amongst them. He doesn't exactly like bondage, and definitely not voyuerism -- but he can have his experimental moments.

Helen is a sadomasochist. You can't win when it comes to pain with this painter. He wouldn't mind inflicting pain on you anyways, listening to your beautiful voice.

Helen has a breeding kink. He loves to babble on as he thrusts into you about how beautiful your children would look, and you had to admit sometimes it makes you blush more than ever.

Because of how unused he is to sexual intimacy (hes often busy with his "work"), Helen is incredibly sensitive. Hell, if you put in enough work you could get Helen pussy/ass drunk. His blue eyes flickering as you ride his cock, his breathy moans leaving him shaky.

Aftercare Headcanons:

Helen is incredibly good at making you feel comfortable after sex. Whether it be just cuddling you or giving you a tender bath, he is just skilled at letting your body untense and wind down.

Helen loves setting up intimate bubble baths with you when he can. He definitely spoils you after such intimate moments.

Helen appreciates any praise or compliments after sex. He loves listening to you mumble praises as you both cuddle together.

When you end up drifting off to sleep after a long session, Helen loves to tuck you in and make sure your okay if he ever needs to leave. He usually presses soft kisses on your head, mumbling a goodbye as he reluctantly slips out of bed.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #not safe for minors #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #mdni #smut #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta headcanons #bloody painter #helen otis #x reader #gn reader #headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #headcanon #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #not proofread

[maiden-of-rats]

🅲🆁🅴🅴🅿🆈🅿🅰🆂🆃🅰 Head-cannons (Bloody Painter)

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  

Helen Otis/ Bloody Painter 

Goes by Otis 

Does not like being referred to as the Bloody Painter

He has very rich blue eyes 

5’7 (173cm)

He is trans 

He looks sickly and tired but in a beautiful way 

Short messy curly black hair

He is French and ¼ Japanese

He never fully smiles or smiles with his teeth

He is antisocial by choice  

 His favorite medium is watercolor/ Gouache because the similar texture to blood

He loves the woods despite living in the city for his childhood

He always carries a pocket sized sketchbook in a shoulder bag

He is slender built but has a slight hourglass shape to him

He enjoys very chill goth music with the occasional indie 

He is decent at singing 

He has definitely been to grippy sock vacation

His paintings give him comfort

He only targets people that bullied him in school or currently mistreat him 

His outfit is characterized by loose blue jeans, a jean jacket of the same color, a black t-shirt and a yellow smile button on his jacket

Other than that he is non violent but his personality is off

I can’t describe quite describe his voice other than shaky,quite and sounds like it should be higher than it is 

He also doesn’t like to be referred to as a killer, murder or serial killer because he is “simply an artist doing good” 

#slasher fucker #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #bloody painter #bloodypainter x reader #bloody painter x reader #helen otis #helen otis x reader #horror aesthetic

[littlespace-imagines]

Hello! Can i get bloody painter x little reader with separation anxiety? Even out of little space they need to at least be able to get to him (sorry if i did this wrong)

Bloody Painter x little!reader

**BP maybe be slightly OOC I haven’t written for him in a while**

Contains: short read, Littlespace, CG/l dynamic, honorific (daddy) used, established relationships, angst, and fluff

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

You looked up at the clock, your leg bouncing faster as you saw it had been nearly an hour and you still hadn’t heard from Helen. You took a deep breath and whispered to yourself

‘It’s okay, it’s fine, just because he hasn’t gotten back yet doesn’t mean something bad is happening.”

You repeated this statement a couple more times before you stood up and grabbed your favorite stuffed animal, you cuddled them close as you contemplated what to do next. You didn’t want to bother him, you didn’t want him to leave because you got too clingy.

You decided you’d just go check on him and opened the door and walked out of your room, one hand was dragging along the wall next you as the other clutched your favorite stuffed animal close to you as you approached Helen’s room.

You knocked, hoping he had come home and just forgot to greet you, when the answer you had hoped for never came you twisted the knob and walked into his room. You made a beeline for his bed and flipped onto it, taking in his scent and trying your best not to cry.

“Sweetie?” You felt yourself getting shaken

“Hey, little one, c’mon it’s time to get up.” You groaned in response before sitting up and rubbing your eyes, you looked for a bit before your eyes focused on the pale, dark haired man infront of you

“Oh, hi daddy.” You mumbled out, Helen smiled softly at the nickname

“Hey, Sweetie, why are you in daddy’s room?” He asked and you shrugged

“Got scared, I was alone.” He nodded and pulled you into a hug

“‘M sorry, sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you scared.” You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

He was home, you weren’t alone.

#littlespace fanfiction #x little!reader #xlittle!reader #little!reader #creepypasta x reader #bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #helen otis x reader #bloody painter headcanons #creepypasta x little!reader #creepypasta x y/n #Helen Otis headcannons

[introverted-scribblings]

Helllooooo ☺

May i send you another request???

Do you know 'cat' from victorious? Well if you've watched the series, you know that she's always positive, optimistic and happy.

So what if bloody painter's s/o was like that?

Anon-🎼

Hello, my sweet 🎼 anon!!

I'm so sorry this took so long... I hope you can forgive me T^T

I've literally only seen two episodes of Victorious ever. BUT I have a friend who loves the show and helped me out a little bit (along with clip compilations from YouTube). I don't feel like this is my best work, but I hope you enjoy this all the same!!

It’s my personal headcanon that Helen has bipolar disorder (most likely bipolar II). Meaning that he swings between hypomanic episodes and depressive episodes.

He’ll be hyper-focused on his work, he’ll feel more confident like he’s on top of the world, and then the next thing you know he falls into a state of deep depression.

Your bubbly personality is a stark contrast to his more gloomy attitude, but it’s not a contrast that he necessarily minds.

In fact, he finds it kinda endearing that your sunshiny aura only seems to brighten when he’s around.

It’s also nice getting such positive reactions from someone he cares about.

You shower him in praise and affection, smiling while you do it.

It’s how you show your love and appreciation!

While in a hypomanic episode, he can be more irritable at times. So your happy-go-lucky nature might rub him the wrong way.

If he ever does snap at you, he apologizes pretty quickly afterward.

However, when he’s not irritable, he can easily match your energy level.

He has a collection of artwork that’s entirely inspired by you. It uses a lot of bright colors and is more abstract than his usual pieces, but it makes him smile and reminds him of you when he looks at it.

His favorite thing is showing you his artwork and watching you light up at the sight of it.

You are his biggest (and loudest) supporter!

It’s when he’s in those depressive states that your optimistic nature is a refreshing change of pace for him!

Your talkativeness and the odd things you say every so often will make him crack a smile even on his worst days.

And of course, you’ll always do your best to make him smile~

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #bloody painter #creepypasta bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #cp bloody painter #helen otis #fluff #fluff headcanons

[girlnextmorgue]

Helen Otis x Reader: You would sleep with me (if you could do it comfortably)

Hiiii everyone it's me I'm back :P I'm finding that I don't really agree with my past characterizations of these characters but I'm gonna leave my old posts up anyway... anyways here's a Helen oneshot I wrote last night. It's sort of a continuation of the first one I wrote (read that here) but can be read as a standalone. It's crossposted on AO3 (here) and I love getting kudos so please gas it up there if you so choose :P Reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns) and (Y/N) is used.. It isn't smutty or anything (sorry) but it's kind of romantic. Around 1300ish words (a little less). I hope you enjoy!

edit: pspspsps heyy look theres a 3rd part HERE!!! if u enjoy this go read that ok bye...

-

The screen door swung shut with a sharp smack. The sound used to make Helen jump, but he’d grown used to it with all the time he’d spent out on the porch. It was early spring now, and sprigs of green were beginning to poke their way out of the ground in the midst of all the brown. A chilly breeze carried all the fresh smells of spring, along with… cigarette smoke?

“Hey, handsome.”

That made Helen jump. His head snapped to his right, and he was graced with the sight of a familiar face leaning against the railing, lit cigarette in hand. The corners of his lips twitched. He was fighting back a smile.

“You’re back.” He said matter-of-factly, trying to seem uncaring, and not as if he had been awaiting their return with bated breath (god, he couldn’t believe it, he was acting like a damsel.) “Where were you?”

“If I told you,” they paused to take a drag (and, Helen suspected, to add dramatic effect), turning to look at the trees as they exhaled, “I’d have to kill you.”

Although there was a playful grin on their face, Helen knew that they were only half joking. The Operator’s proxies were incredibly hush-hush about their missions, and (Y/N) was no exception. Usually, he didn’t mind too much, but Helen had found that he was much more curious than he wanted to be, at least when it came to (Y/N).

“So.” (Y/N) spun around so that their back was now facing the woods. They motioned to the sketchbook in Helen’s hands. “Draw any pretty pictures lately?” They grinned.

Right. Helen had come out here to draw. He unconsciously tightened his grip on the book, averting his eyes. Since that fateful winter afternoon, he had been inspired to draw things other than the trees… (Y/N) in particular had become his unknowing muse. 

No way in hell was he showing them that. They’d probably think he was a creepy freak and never speak to him again. As much as Helen hated to admit it to himself, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle that happening. 

So instead, he fumbled for words, trying to save himself. “Uh, you know… more of the same, nothing new.” Helen refused to meet (Y/N)’s eyes. He chewed on the inside of his mouth nervously, picking at the edge of his sketchbook. He felt as if he was a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

(Y/N) pursed their lips and then sighed, seeming to decide not to press his buttons about it. Over the course of their blossoming friendship, they’d learned that Helen could be quite protective over his artwork. It was best to leave it be.

So, (Y/N) changed the subject, knowing that Helen wouldn’t do it on his own. “Why don’t we sit, hmm? I’m tired of standing. I feel like I’ve been standing for like, like forever, man.”

“Okay.” Helen said, his shoulders sagging in relief. (Y/N) stubbed their cigarette out on the railing before they moved to plop down on the porch steps, their hiking boots clunking against the stairs as they got situated. Helen took his usual place next to them.

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, just staring out at the wilderness. Helen’s sketchbook lay on the stair, untouched. He couldn’t bring himself to open it in front of them just yet.

Instead, he looked over at (Y/N), trying to remain discreet. Early on in their friendship, Helen had decided that he liked their face (purely from an artistic standpoint, he was sure) and so he had taken it upon himself to memorize it (again, purely for artistic reasons). Not much had changed about them since he’d last seen them. There was a bandaid on their cheek, sure, but other than that they were still the same (Y/N). 

Except, they looked so tired. Deep, dark circles rimmed their eyes, and their eyes themselves were completely bloodshot. Helen was all too familiar with this kind of tired, something he experienced after many sleepless nights sitting at his easel. He was shocked that (Y/N) was managing to stay awake in their state.

“Haven’t I told you that it’s rude to stare?” (Y/N) asked suddenly, startling Helen. They turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. Despite how exhausted they seemed, they were still alert as ever. A proxy trait, no doubt. “Do I have something on my face, orrrrr…”

“No, no…” He shook his head, looking forward again. He really wasn’t appreciating what the teasing lilt in their voice was doing to his brain and heart, but his concern for them seemed to outweigh that. God, he hated that he was concerned. What was wrong with him?

“Then what? You like what you see or somethin’?” (Y/N) leaned in expectantly, smirking. What an asshole.

Despite how close (Y/N) had gotten, Helen managed to look them in the eye (though he was practically holding his breath). “You look… tired, (Y/N). Really tired.”

(Y/N)’s smile softened, the mischief in their eyes fading. They moved back slightly, looking back out at the forest. 

“Are you… alright?” Helen asked hesitantly, brows furrowed in concern.

(Y/N) sighed, taking a moment to answer. “...Yeah, I’m fine.” They brought a hand up to their face, rubbing one of their eyes absently. “‘S just… you’re right. I’m way tired.”

“...I know.” Helen mumbled, gaze never leaving their face. His hands twitched in his lap, wanting to do something to comfort his weary friend. Instead, he asked, “Rough mission?”

“So rough, ugh.” (Y/N) laughed quietly, as if they were reminiscing about a happy memory. “I got into a crazy fight with this guy – man, he almost killed me. You should’ve seen him though, I messed him up.” 

Helen frowned. He knew that they shouldn’t be telling him these things, and he was not a fan of the idea of (Y/N) putting themselves in danger. It was a part of their job, sure, but in his heart he wished it didn’t have to be. 

“(Y/N)...” They perked up when he spoke their name and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “I think you should go and get some rest.”

(Y/N) huffed, their expression going sour. “Yeah, but… I wanna-” they cut themselves off with a yawn before continuing, “I wanna spend time with you, y’know? It’s been a while. I missed you.” 

Helen felt like he was going to die at those words, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Oh, well, um…” I missed you too, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

“I have an idea.” (Y/N) said suddenly, scootching toward Helen until their legs were touching and their shoulders were touching and oh god-

And then (Y/N) leaned their head on Helen’s shoulder and all he could smell was lavender shampoo and cigarette smoke and he was going to faint (but he didn’t). Their hair tickled his neck and they were so warm and Helen wished he could wrap his arms around them and pull them closer. Instead, he sat stiff as a board, breath caught in his throat.

(Y/N) either was too tired to notice or didn’t care. “Wake me up if something interesting happens, okay?” Was all they said before knocking out, snoring lightly (oh my god they snore).

They were definitely going to kill him.

#bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #helen otis #helen otis x reader #the bloody painter #the bloody painter x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta oneshot #creepypasta x reader #helen otis oneshot #bloody painter oneshot

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

Of Love And War || B.P

Pairing : Bloody Painter// Helen Otis X Reader Genre : Angst, fluff, yandere (also x hogwarts) Summary : Helen had always been in love with yoou. What will he do when he has to choose between the dark arts and you? Wordcount:7k Triggers: uhh, people die, Helen’s obv crazy,, Harry Potter spoilers I think that’s it, oh also reader isn’t entirely sane either

[ A/N: It took a while, but it’s finally here. : ) ]

Hogwarts, 1st year

" Hi, I'm Y/N L/N. I see you haven't got a project partner yet. Wanna partner up? " 

Helen glanced up from his desk as he's approached. He's aware of who you are. You're nice, a stereotypical Hufflepuff. The only thing that sets you apart from your housemates is that you've actually got a bite to your bark when provoked. 

This makes you quite popular amongst your housemates. 

" Why? Did your friends ditch you? " Helen snaps back rudely. 

His housemate, Theodore Nott, snorts. Helen doesn't get why he's listening in, but as long as Nott won't bother him, he doesn't care. 

" They partnered up with each other. If you don't want to be partners, that's fine, I'll just find someone else. " You shrug, seemingly unbothered by his rude attitude. 

You turn around to walk off, but before you can take a step, Helen suddenly finds his own hand clasped loosely around your wrist. 

" No, I need a partner too anyway, when can we meet? "

-

" Hey Otis! " Draco Malfoy calls out into the commonroom as soon as Helen enters. 

Helen sighs, not in the mood for Malfoy's bullshit. 

" Yes? " 

" So, L/N, huh? I didn't estimate you to be that low. She's a muggle born, is she not? " He scoffs, a disgusted look on his face. 

Helen barely glances his way. 

" I'm surprised to know that you manage to find time to butt into my business, Malfoy. If I were you, I'd study more for Charms. Your last grades were rather, embarrassing... Were they not? " 

Draco's eyes widen. No one's ever spoken to him like that before, but then again, he's never bothered to cross paths with Helen before. 

-

Hogwarts, Year 2

" Y/N, what are you doing here? " Helen whispers harshly as he spots his best and only friend. 

" What? Oh, hi Helen. I was looking for a good book to read. Why, is something wrong? " You ask him. 

" There's a monster loose who's out for muggle borns and you're casually hanging out by yourself. Don't do that. " He crosses his arms as he stands beside you. 

" Don't worry. I'll be okay. Besides, it's broad daylight-"

" I doubt the monster would care. Do me a favor, just stick around me. "

Your big eyes look up at Helen's words, before your lips turn up into a teasing smirk. 

" Awe, do you actually care about me? " 

He raises a brow at you. 

" Of course I do. You're the only person who's... I don't know, durable, I guess. " He shrugs. 

" I find you durable too. "

-

Hogwarts, Year 3

" Helen? " 

Said male woke up at the sound of his name being called. 

" Huh, what is it Y/N? " He grumbles. 

All of the students have been gathered in the great hall, the reason for it being Sirius Black on the loose. 

" Can I sleep beside you? " You ask him, no further explanation said. 

He slightly opens his eyes, glancing at you. Once he realizes you're most probably scared, he nods. 

" Yeah, whatever. "

And so you take the sleepingbag beside him. He's surprised you don't immediately quack his head off like you usually do, instead, you get into a comfortable position, and close your eyes. 

Helen can't help himself. He keeps looking at you for a while. He never really realized, but you really are gorgeous. 

It doesn't take long before you've drifted off. 

Neither of you mention it when you wake up cuddled into each other. 

-

Hogwarts, Year 4

" Helen, look at how cute this creature is! " You yell as you thrust the book of magical creatures you're looking at in his face. 

Helen blinks, needing a few minutes to be able to read what's on the page. 

" Bowtruckles? Really? They're not cute, they're pests. " 

You blink. 

" You say that as if you've seen them before. " 

" Because I have. They live in the trees behind the mansion I live in. " Helen says unimpressed, pushing your book aside to go back to reading his homework. 

" Wait so you have?-"

" Yes I have, no I will not show you. Also stop blabbering, and focus on your homework for once. " He says, smiling wryly at the end. 

He takes your book gently, closing it and setting it aside. Once it's placed on the table, he places a hand behind your head, suddenly pulling you close. 

" Study. " He says, his voice giving you shivers before he pulls away again. 

You blush faintly as he pulls away. 

Had Helen always been that attractive? 

-

" I dare you to swap wands with Y/N for a whole day. " Lui grins evilly.

You cough, before choking and eventually breathing again.

" What? That's not fair. My wand is the biggest traitor in the world, it works for almost everyone. Helen's is more loyal than,, I don't even know. That's how loyal it is." You complain.

Helen grins, holding his wand out to you. You huff and roll your eyes, before holding in out your own as well.

" Please don't listen to him." You whisper to your wand as you hand it to him.

Helen snorts, taking yours as you take his.

About twenty minutes later, you're in your defense against th dark arts class, and you feel sweat break out as you're stood on a dueling table, a classmate of yours stood opposite you.

You swallow, glancing down at Helen's wand which you're holding.

Time to test his wands' loyalty.

Your classmate opens her mouth, ready to fire a spell at you, but although nervous, you don't back down.

" Expelliarmus!" You shout.

To your ( and your friends') surprise, your classmate's wand flies out of their fingers.

" Well done Y/N, well done!" Your substitute teacher calls out with a proud grin.

You and Helen blink owlishly at one another.

-

Hogwarts, Year 5

" I think I'm going to join the Inquisitorial Squad. " Helen suddenly says as the two of you are chilling near the Black Lake. 

" What? Why? " You ask him. 

He shrugs. 

" For the extra credit. "

" You don't even need that though, you're top of the class. " You point out as you lay down in the grass. 

Helen glances at you for a moment, before scooting closer to you, pulling you into his embrace. 

" Promise me you won't engage in any stupid activities. "

-

" Bombarda Maxima. " 

Draco seemed smug when he pulls Cho Chang in front of the broken down wall. 

Helen felt anything but as his eyes connected with yours. 

Why didn't you listen to him? 

-

Helen and you barely spoke after he caught you being part of Dumbledore's Army. That doesn't mean he actually let you out of his sight though. 

​​​​​" I caught these two trying to help the Weasley girl! " Draco exclaimed proudly as he walked into Umbridge's office, holding who he recognized to be Neville Longbottom and you. 

His cold eyes never left yours the moment you entered the room. 

He had originally been called to fetch veritaserum so Umbridge could question Harry Potter. 

" I'm afraid you used the last of it already, professor. " He tells Umbridge, though he keeps his eyes on you. 

Umbridge opens her mouth, ready to tell him to go fetch Snape, but he's already towering over Draco before a word can leave her mouth. 

" Hand her over to me. " 

Draco doesn't think twice before pushing you into Helen's arms. 

" I thought I told you to stay out of trouble. " He whispers harshly to you. 

" Yeah, well, that's pretty hard when she's headmaster. " You bite back. 

" Shut it, you'll only get into more trouble. " He hisses. 

​​​​​​Meanwhile, Snape has dropped by, Harry said something sketchy to him and now Hermoine's yelling something about a secret weapon. 

Moments later, the golden three are out of the room, along with Umbridge. 

" Well then-"

" Do with them whatever you like. I'll have a good talk with her. " Helen says before Draco can even finish his sentence. 

Next thing you know is that he's roughly pulling you out of the room and into the hallway. 

" Hey! No need to be so rough! -"

" If you don't want me to be so rough, fucking listen to me! " He yells suddenly, slamming you into the wall. 

You blink, fear slowly seeping into you. He's never been rough with you. Nor have you ever seen him mad before. 

When he finally catches up to your reaction, he slowly lets go of the shoulder he's had pressed against the wall. 

" Look, sorry, but-"

" I'm not someone you can boss around Helen, you should know that by now. " You tell him carefully. 

" Boss around?! The only reason I'm bossing you around is because you easily manage to get into trouble- Which I in turn hate, because Umbridge is a major bitch. " He bursts out suddenly, running a hand through his hair. 

He turns to look at you, his crystal blue eyes boring into yours with an unusual amount of emotion and affection. 

He carefully steps closer to you, and when you don't step away, he cups your face with both of his hands. 

" I'm in love with you, Y/N. " 

Your eyes widen at his confession. Yes, you most definitely have a crush on him too, but love? 

You carefully place your hands on his sides. 

" Helen, I like you too. " 

He doesn't need to hear anymore as he connects your lips together. He gives you a soft peck, never having kissed anyone before. 

He's your first kiss as well, but you're less shy. You move one of the hands on his sides to cup his face, pulling him back to you. 

You might not know what the future holds for you, but you believe you'll be okay in the battle against he-who-musn't-be-named with him by your side. 

-

Malfoy Manor, summer before 6th year

Helen's monotone expression remains the same as he comes face to face with the dark lord himself. 

" Ah, Helen it is? I believe you'll be a great addition to my army. I trust you accept? " The dark lord speaks to him. 

Helen doesn't need to look at his parents to know that this is what they want him to do. 

" Of course. " He answers, voice holding no tone of flattery. 

" Good, good, just the answer I hoped. You see, I've set a mission for your friend, Draco. I, however, believe it's best if you help. " The dark lord tells him. 

Helen nods, shortly glancing at Draco who's seemingly trying his best not to quiver. 

-

Your eyes widen as you look at the letter your friend Hermoine send you. 

Dear Y/N, 

Hi, Hermoine here. I was out with Ron and Harry the other day when I saw Malfoy and Otis acting suspicious by Borgin and Burks. I know we're not close, but I thought that Malfoy and Otis weren't either. Just giving you a heads up in case he's now on you-know-who's side. 

Can't wait to see you in school! 

Hermoine Granger

Did Helen really join him? 

-

Hogwarts, Year 6

So far, things have been relatively grim between you and Helen. The two of you talk, as you always do, but sometimes he randomly runs off with Malfoy, sometimes for hours on end, without any explanation. 

" What's going on with you and Malfoy? " 

Helen looks up as he hears you ask the question he dreads to answer. 

" Nothing. We don't talk all that often, why? " 

" 'You don't talk that often? ' He literally came to pick you up from our study date yesterday. " You raise a brow. 

He sighs, but doesn't say anything otherwise. 

" Look, I know you're hiding something. I also feel like it's got something to do with you-know-who being back. I need you to tell me Helen, are we together in the war that will no doubt be coming, or not? " 

He remains silent, confirming your fears. 

" Okay. I guess I'll see you arou-"

He's pulling you right back down beside him before you can finish your sentence and properly get up from the grass. 

" You're right. I'm afraid we won't be on the same team when it comes to the war Y/N." He sighs, his eyes turning sad. 

You haven't seen him so emotional since last year, when he confessed his feelings for you. Now, he's got a tight grip on your hand. He's avoiding eye contact, but his deep blue eyes look sad whilst he's looking out on the black lake. You know what it means; he's worried about something. 

" This summer wasn't like any other. Malfoy and I were approached by the Dark Lord to join his side. We know better than to say no. Now we've been charged a mission. I won't burden you with what.... " He explains. 

You look at your boyfriend, shocked by what he's telling you. 

" Just, please tell me, are you asked to kill someone? " You ask, taking the hand he's holding into both of your own. 

In return, he pulls you into his side, wrapping the arm you were holding around you as he replaces it with his free hand in your own. 

" Yes. "

-

" I once knew a boy, he was quite like you you see, he made all the wrong choices-"

" Get it over with Malfoy. " Helen hisses, stepping out from where he was hidden in the shadows. 

" Otis?-"

" I don't need a peptalk. I'm morally much worse than you know. " He says. 

Dumbledore could tell he was right. Helen's eyes were dark, filled with some kind of unexplained rage. Like he's been carrying around anger for a very long time. 

In a quick attempt to keep Helen from doing what Dumbledore has asked Severus to do, he tries to get through to him. 

" What would miss L/N think, Helen? "

" She'll never know. " He says, slipping his wand out of his pocket. 

Just as Dumbledore hoped, the sound of more people arriving catches their attention. 

" There's others? How? "

" The vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement. It has a twin. "

-

The Burrow, summer after 6th year

" What was the first thing I said to you when Helen became our housemate?! " Link yells as he points his wand at you and his own twin brother Ben. 

Ben is quick to react, pulling his own wand out and pointing it back at his twin while he pulls you protectively behind his form. 

" What the hell is this about Link-"

" Answer me! "

" That he looks like a damn angel and smells like flowers! " Ben yells frustrated. 

You pop your head out from behind his back. 

" I mean, I agree- but,, what? " 

Link grins, lowering his wand. 

" We have to check everyone this way, they knew we were coming. " Link says, stepping inside of the burrow, letting you and Ben in as well. 

Today, the trace has finally faded on Harry, and because of that, you, Ben, Link and Lui were helping with bringing him to the Burrow, the Weasleys' household. You had been paired up with Ben (with you morphing into Harry, thanks to the Polyjuice potion. Now, you're thankfully back in your own skin.) Everyone is also staying at least until the wedding of Ron's brother Billy and Fleur. 

" George! Are you okay? " You ask as you see him nearly passed out on the couch, his twin by his side as always. 

" Oh, yeah, feeling kinda holy, don't worry.-"

" Y/N! Thank Merlin you made it! " Hermoine calls suddenly, running to you to give you a big hug. 

" Hermoine! You too." You smile as you return the hug. 

It thankfully doesn't take long until the rest arrives. 

" Mad eye's dead. Mundunges fled as soon as he saw the first death eater appear. " Billy says, bringing an uncomfortable silence with him. 

-

You smile sadly at the couple who're dancing. You're happy for them, truly, but you're also sad, as they remind you of what (or rather who) you're missing. 

" Pitty party for one I see, mind if I join? " 

You look up from where you seated to see Link standing there. 

You snort. 

" Sure, sit down. "

" Kind of sad that they're having a wedding right now." You say as soon as he sat down. 

" You think so? " He asks in return. 

" Yeah, you don't? " 

" I think it's rather cute that they choose to die married, kind of. " 

" I mean, I guess you could see it like that too. Never expected you to be a 'till death do us part' kind of guy. " You tease. 

Understandably so too, Link had always been a player for as long as you knew him. 

" What can I say, I suppose I'm full of surprises. " 

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you after that for a moment, until he spoke the words you dreaded to hear. 

" You know, I saw him. " Link started carefully, looking at your face. 

" When we escorted Harry here. He didn't shoot a spell at me, but I can't read him. He didn't exactly seem to be there against his will either-"

" He was forced Link, just like everyone else in that wretched army. "

" I know, but still. You should be careful.... I think there's a chance- DUCK! " Link cut himself off as he threw himself on you, pulling the both of you down. 

Death eaters started breaking down the tent, shooting spells left and right. From the corner of your eye, you could see the golden trio apparate. 

" Wand out, Y/N." Link says as he gets up, throwing spells right back at them. 

You get up too, intending to do the same. However, before you've even properly drawn your wand out, someone knocks you out. 

-

When you wake up again, you're in some kind of underground cellar, Luna, and who you recognize to be the wandmaker Ollivander are with you. 

" Y/N was it right, are you okay? " Luna asks. 

You cough, carefully getting up. 

" Uhm, sort of I think? You're Luna right? Luna Lovegood? " 

" Yes, that's me. "

" Where are we? What happened? "

" We're in the basement of Malfoy Manor, I'm afraid we're taken. "

-

" We did not manage to catch him, my lord-"

" Fools! How is it, that even a simple task, you cannot manage! " He-who-musn't-be-named booms as he walks over to the poor man, who gulps in fear. 

" M-my lord, we did manage to take two girls. We believe they're relatively close to Potter. Mayhaps they could help? " Another, who had been part of the wedding crashing, asked carefully. 

The dark lord looked him cold in the eye, contemplating on whether he should kill him or not, but eventually waved him off. 

" Get them, perhaps we can get some information out of them. "

The man immediately scrambles off, doing as told. 

Draco turns to carefully look at Helen, who's sat beside him. The black haired male was much colder than he had anticipated, in fact, sometimes Helen seemed to enjoy torturing people, hurting them. 

He was unbreakable, nothing seemed to get to him. 

Until today that is. 

-

Helen's eyes widen as he recognized the pair of (E/C) eyes who seemed to stare right back at him. 

However, knowing better than to show emotion in this environment, he quickly wiped his emotions off his face. 

No one is to know you two were something. 

And so he watched. He watched as another death eater started using the cruciatus curse on Luna whilst questioning you. He watched as you didn't give in. He watched as they in turn used the curse on you. He watched with pain as Luna didn't give in. It went on like that for a while, until the dark lord grew impatient. 

You didn't look him in the eye once. 

" Enough. If they don't want to speak, that's fine. Kill them." He ordered. 

Helen felt his heart stop as you finally broke eye contact, hanging your head, ready to die. 

" Don't. " Helen says suddenly. 

He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't yell, doesn't show any emotion. 

The dark lord's cold eyes turn to him now, daring him to give an explanation. 

" They'll be no use to us dead. Lovegood's father will look for her. As will Drowned's for Y/N. " He says, not stuttering once. 

" Mayhaps, we should sent them a note. Lucius, I trust you own an owl? "

-

Eventually, hours turn into days, and days turn into weeks. 

Helen watches you suffer sometimes, not budging with interfering. 

Luna was at some point left alone, for she seemed to be more of use as long as she was alive. 

You on the other hand? You were close to breaking. The torturing truly got to you, and Helen watched painfully as you turn into the ghost of yourself. Your skin which once shined was now dull and dirty, your hair matted, and you've lost so much weight. Your eyes get to him the most. They don't look at him with the hope you once had for him anymore. 

One day, he finally has enough. 

" That's enough. She'll die. She'll be useless to us dead. " He stops Bellatrix from murdering you. 

" What, it sounds to me as if you have a soft spot for this one, Otis~" Bellatrix laughs cruelly. 

" Not at all, Lestrange. But I doubt the dark lord would be happy with her dead when he specifically told you to keep her alive. " Helen glares back, stepping closer. 

Due to his height, he towers over her. Her heels barely giving her enough height to make them face to face. 

She scoffs, obviously bummed he interrupted her fun. 

That night, Helen finally goes down to see you. 

" Y/N? " He asks carefully as he opens the door to the cellar. 

" H-Helen? " He hears you call back to him. 

The basement is dark, and he whispers a small spell to create light. 

" Y/N." Helen breaths out as he walks over to where you're cuddles up in a corner. 

" Leave her alone! " Luna suddenly jumps in his way, pushing him back. 

" Haven't you done enough damage to her?! " She yells, although she keeps her voice soft. 

Helen feels a new emotion dwell up in him. He doesn't like Luna. How dare she say that when she didn't budge to say anything when they tortured you? 

He can't seem to control himself as he pushes her aside roughly, her head hitting one of the columns.

He doesn't watch to see how she does, instead he stalks over to you. 

It scares you to the point where you try to press yourself further into the wall. But he's having none of that, instead taking you into his arms and taking you upto his room. 

Once you've arrived in a different room on the third floor, you look at him. 

" What are you doing? "

" Saving you. "

" Why? "

Helen glances at your face, but doesn't say anything else. 

" Do you need help getting yourself clean in the bathroom? " He asks instead pulling you up with one hand on your lower arm and one on your waist. 

He doesn't miss how your skin shivers at his touch. 

" No. " You say as you try to push him away. 

However, the moment you're on your feet by yourself, you nearly collapse, had it not been for Helen who caught you. 

" Seems you do though. "

-

A few weeks later, Malfoy Manor

So far, Helen has been keeping you in his room. 

You've been walking around in his clothes, sleeping beside him in his bed and did well by keeping quiet. 

He says he's planning an escape for the two of you, but you know better than to believe him. 

He's always been calculated and quick, if he had a plan, it would be put to action by now. 

Instead, you're left to wait for the right moment. 

He's made the stupid mistake of giving you your wand back, with the empty promise that you wouldn't use it. 

For now, you can't yet, considering it would most probably only bring you trouble, and impossibly more pain.

Currently, you're seated in the window sill. It's a relatively sunny day out, but of course, you're stuck inside.

The moment you hear footsteps in the hallway, you turn your head to face the door, your hand on your wand beside you.

The door opens, but like always, it's just Helen.

" Hey, how do you feel?" He asks, face void of a smile.

You miss his smile. You miss the Helen you used to know.

You don't respond, instead turning to face the window again.

You hear Helen sighs, before you hear him approach you.

" You wanted to see Bowtruckles sometime, right?" He asks suddenly, pulling out a chair to sit on from the desk beside the window.

You turn to look at him, but don't say anything, though the question is clear in your eyes.

He reaches into his hoodie's pocket, and pulls out a small green twig-leaf like creature.

Your eyes widen.

It's a Bowtruckle.

For the first time in a while, he actually smiles, and holds his hand out to you. And for the first time in a while, you take it.

The Bowtruckle seems to be scared of the both of you, but still jumps onto your hand.

The window sill is low, and as Helen scoots closer, into your personal space bubble.

You put your wand in the same hand which is holding the Bowtruckle, something the creature appreciates.

While you're busy fawning over the Bowtruckle (you even tell Helen you're naming it Twig), Helen has his eyes on you.

This is the happiest he's seen you in a while, and he can't help himself when he turns your face, kissing you full on the lips for the first time.

Your eyes widen, but you don't push him away, instead pulling him in closer with your free hand, you don't even realize when you start crying. He also pulls you in closer, holding the back of your neck.

When the two of you pull away from one another, he wipes your tears.

" I know I've made all the wrong choices, and that I don't deserve you- but please know, I really do love you, Y/N."

-

A few months later, Malfoy Manor

You've always been patient, something you're very grateful for right now.

Finally, today seems to be your lucky day. 

" Come. " Helen calls you over suddenly from the doorway of his room. 

You were on the other side of the room, looking through the window, aimless on what to do.

" Why? " You ask carefully. 

Helen rolls his eyes but walks over to you, taking you by your arm. 

" You're going to identify Harry Potter. Don't do anything stupid, I can't do much with the other death eaters around. "

And so, seconds later, you're sat down in front of a man who's most probably Harry Potter. 

" I-I don't know. " You stutter out. 

You're scared out of your wits, surrounded by some of the people who've tortured you the worst. 

" Think harder! " Bellatrix screams at you, making you flinch. 

" I really d-don't know. "

" Get Draco. " 

Draco, who was just as 'unsure' as you, didn't clear much up either. 

However, in a sudden turn of events, Bellatrix spots a sword, and Harry and Ron are ushered to the basement. Bellatrix makes a move to come for you too, but to everyone's surprise, Helen actually draws his wand out. 

He wraps a possessive arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close against his body, and raises his wand to her chin within a quick motion. 

" Touch her. " He hisses out. 

" I fucking dare you. "

Bellatrix glares back at him, hard enough to make you shake in fear. 

" You can't keep your pet forever. I'm going to kill her one day or another. " Bellatrix hisses before turning around to torture Hermoine. 

When Helen feels you start to shake even worse at Hermoine's screams, he turn you around, pushing your face into his shoulder, as if to offer comfort. The hand which is holding his wand wrapping around your waist. 

After a while, it thankfully stops.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Bellatrix' wand goes flying. 

Harry and Ron come up from the basement, and suddenly you feel something you haven't felt in a while, hope. 

However, Bellatrix isn't easily defeated, and brings a dagger up to Hermoine's throat, making Harry and Ron stop as they were fighting Draco and Narcissa. 

You're not sure what to expect from there, but then suddenly the chandelier squeaks, and eventually it falls down, as an unfamiliar house elf drops it. 

You take this as your moment to run, you elbow Helen hard in the stomach as you run over to Ron, Harry, Hermoine, a gringgotts creature and the house elf, picking up everyone's wands on the way there. 

" You stupid elf! You could've killed me! " Bellatrix screams. 

Helen just looks at you, emotionless, unreadable. 

You don't know what he's thinking. 

" Dobby never meant to kill. Dobby only meant to seriously injure. " The house elf, you guess Dobby, says. 

Narcissa raises her wand to do something about it, but with a click of the house elf's fingers, her wand flies into his hands. 

" How dare you take a witch's wand?! How dare you defy your masters?! " Bellatrix screams, outraged. 

Dobby stands up straight, the look on his face serious. 

" Dobby has no masters. Dobby is a free elf. And Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends. " He speaks bravely, before he nudges everyone to hold hands. 

The last thing you see is Bellatrix throwing a dagger at you before you disapparate. 

When you arrive at the new location, you feel sand. You're momentarily numb to your surroundings. You can't hear anyone, you only see. 

Freedom. 

Finally. 

After only being able to look into the sad yard of Malfoy Manor, you're finally outside. 

After a minute, you register the pained screams from Harry, and it takes a moment longer before you've registered that the dagger that Bellatrix had thrown had hit Dobby. And that he's passed now. 

Silent tears escape your eyes as you walk over to the group. 

" There, he looks more peaceful now. " Luna says as she closes his eyes. 

" I'm so sorry. " You whisper. 

Luna wraps a kind arm around you, as everyone else is too broken about what happened. 

-

" Y/N! " Link yells as he all but runs over to you, wrapping you up in a tight embrace. 

" I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have let go of you-"

" Hey, sush, you couldn't have done anything, Link. Nothing could've saved me. " You sniff as you hold him just as tight. 

" Still, I'm so sorry. "

" I was so scared." You cry.

Link rubs your back comfortingly, and after a while, you calm down a little.

" I was with him most of the time." You confess.

Link's eyes widen, pulling away from him slightly.

" You mean with Helen? What was he like?"

" I don't know. With me, he was sweet. But when there were other people around he just, seemed like an entire different person."

Link sighs. 

" I'm afraid we'll have to see what's become of him when it comes down to it."

-

" Hello, I'm sorry to bother. Can I ask you a few questions?" You ask as you step into Ollivander's room.

" Of course, come in. " He tells you kindly, straightening his posture in awareness.

" How are you?" You ask him as you sit down on stool opposite him.

" I'm alright. Healing I'd say. How are you?" 

" Quite the same. You see I have a Bowtruckle. I just.. don't know how to care for it." You say as you fish the creature out of the pocket of your hoodie.

Ollivander smiles, and you hold out Twig so he can hold it if he wants to. To your surprise, Twig actually moves onto his hand as soon as it's offered.

" Peculiar creatures, Bowtruckles. Much like the wood of their hometree, they rarely bond with more than one person. Did young Otis give you this?" He asks.

Your eyes widen, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.

" Don't worry. I don't judge you. I remember back when I was in school and in love. it seems so long ago." He says with a smile.

" I saw the way the Otis looked at you. I believe he might be mad, but there's a big chance he's also mad for you."

He doesn't look at you as he speaks, instead looking at the bowtruckle.

" They eat bugs. I'd recommend letting it go, but I have no idea where a tree with wood worthy of a wand is." He finally tells you, holding his hand out to yours, Twig jumping back onto your hand without second thought.

" Uhm, thank you." You eventually say, not knowing how to react.

How did Ollivander know?

-

The Burrow, A few weeks later

" Harry got into Hogwarts. " Kingsley says. 

" This is it. " Tonks says as she takes her lover's hand. 

" The last battle. " Lupin sighs. 

" We better go. " Fred says, and one by one everyone starts disapparating. 

" Link, disapparate me with you, I can't do it by myself yet. "

" No, stay here-"

" I'm going to fight, Link. I have a right to make them pay after what they did to me. " You say, although you don't fully mean it. 

But you can't let your friends fight alone. 

" If you panic or can't handle it anymore, you run and hide, deal? "

" But-"

" Deal or no deal? Otherwise you're not coming. " He says. 

" Fine, deal. "

-

The preparations for the battle scare you. You're stood with Link, Ben and Lui. The friends you've made this year. 

All of you are just watching as the shield is drawn up around you, eventually connecting. 

" This is it guys. " Ben says softly. 

" Never figured we'd make it this far. " Lui says. 

Link scoffs, giving him a look. 

" What's that even supposed to mean? " 

" You slept through all your classes. Ben was busy drawing random doodles instead of actually taking notes and Y/N was usually busy bullying Helen- speaking of him, what will you do if you come face to face with him? " Lui asks, turning to face you. 

You shrug, you hadn't thought of that. 

" I don't know, I guess I'll just actively avoid him. " You say, not entirely sure on what to do either. 

" I don't think you can, Y/N. From what happened at Malfoy Manor- I think he'll go looking for you first thing. " Link points out. 

You hum, thinking for a moment. Truth to be told, you're scared. You don't know what'll be of Helen. You know he's definitely done some horrible stuff. And you could barely recognize him when you were locked up with him. 

" Just stay close to any of us. Well all be taking the back flank anyway, right? " Ben suggests. 

" Yeah-" Link starts, however, he's cut off as hundreds of spells hit the shield. 

-

" You'll go looking for L/N, won't you? " Draco asks Helen, who gave him a blank look, before throwing another spell on the shield. 

" Why do you need to know? " 

" I've got to go get something. From Potter. I could use some back up. " 

" Ask your aunt, she seems to quite enjoy herself. " He says, throwing a short glance at Lestrange, who was indeed, having 'fun'. 

The dark lord however, was not, it seemed to be taking too long, and so he finally drew his wand. 

And so, the field collapsed. 

" Look, I doubt Voldemort will win. I just want Y/N. I don't care about him or his fickle obsession with power and eternal life. " Helen spat, before apparating straight into the Great Hall, on his way to you.

-

You're running. Chaos is surrounding you from everywhere. As expected, You've lost Link. Instead you thankfully did find Jeff, Lui's brother. You have no idea who's side he's on if you're honest, but he seems to have your back. So you'll have his for now.

Unbeknownst to you, Helen is already out looking for you. From a distance, he looks untouchable. Like always, he remains unbothered and untouchable, making his way through the crowd without much trouble.

He doesn't look at who he fires a spell, he doesn't care who's friend he just killed, he has his mind set on only one thing. You.

He's done waiting.

He'll do whatever it takes to have you now.

Thankfully, it doesn't take him long to find you. He's less pleased to see you're not alone, instead back to back with Jeff.

He doesn't need to call you before your eyes connect.

You freeze. Jeff turns around to yell at you when he feels you freeze up, but when he turns to see Helen a short distance away, he too freezes.

No one says anything, everything around you happens in slowmotion.

Untill the building starts to rumble.

Jeff is the first to react, running off without second thought. Helen is next, pulling you into him before he leads the two of you away.

He covers you as the roof of the hallway you're stood in breaks, and when he trips over a fallen piece of brick, he makes sure you don't hit the ground.

He holds you close to his body, reveling in the feeling of having you close to him.

After a moment, you finally seem to come to your senses when you get up again. And after a moment of pondering about it, you hold out a hand to Helen.

He takes it without hesitation.

" Y/N I-"

He's interrupted with Voldemort's message. He's withdrawing his forces, calling out to Harry personally this time. By the time he's done, you swallow.

" Seems you have to go." You swallow.

Your grip on his hand loosens, , but his tightens.

" I'm not going anywhere, N/N." He says

You don't know how to reply. Your mind is overrun with opinions and thoughts of him.

Before, you seemed so sure he had gone bad, that he was a terrible person. But now? Everytime you look into his eyes, you feel yourself melt.

Will it be so bad to be a little more selfish and choose for yourself this once? Will it be that bad if you choose for him?

Before you can make a choice, Lui comes running in your direction.

He doesn't seem to care when he spots Helen, and that immediately makes you concerned.

" Y-Y/N, It's Link."

Moments later, you're stood in the make shift infirmary which used to be the Great Hall. There's tears streaming down your face, and you're holding Ben close as the both of you sob together.

Link is laid on a makeshift bed, his eyes closed. He doesn't look peaceful, he looks like he's in pain, something that makes you sob louder.

Helen's watching the scene with sad eyes. Although things between him and his old friends had been tense the past year, he still holds dear memories with Link.

About twenty minutes later, you and Helen are sat on a curb outside. The weather seems to have cleared up the slightest bit and you're tucked into his side, your eyes closed in exhaustion, though you're very much awake.

" Let's run away."

You open your eyes at his words, a few tears escaping as you're stuck in grief.

" W-what? But what about Ben, and Lui, and-"

He wipes your tears as he cuts you off.

" I've told you I would help you escape. I didn't back than. Now is our moment, let's leave the war, N/N. Let's create our own paradise."

You want to say yes. You really, really want to.

But what about your friends?

He kisses the top of your head, before letting go of you and getting up.

" This isn't our fight. It never was. Let's go."

You look at him, studying him for a few minutes.

Will you take it?

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #yandere creepypasta #creepypasta fanfiction #creepypasta angst #bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #creepypasta one shot #helen otis #helen otis x reader #dark link #Homicidal Liu #x reader #yandere x reader

[nursegracecreates]

𝔜𝔬𝔲 ℭ𝔞𝔫'𝔱 𝔖𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭- 𝔗𝔬𝔟𝔶, 𝔍𝔢𝔣𝔣, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔫 ℌ𝔠'𝔰

"꓄꒐ꉔꉔ꒐" ꓄ꄲꃳꌦ ꋬ꒯ꋬꂵꇙ

Oh, you can't sleep either?

Toby has pretty horrendous insomnia

It's a side effect of his schizophrenia, and Toby is prone to night terrors and sleep paralysis

So most nights, Toby fights sleep as long as possible

As cheesy as this sounds

Toby actually has a better sleep schedule because of you

Cuddling up with you, listening to your breaths slowing as you drift off to sleep

So Toby hopes he helps you like that when you're having sleep trouble

If you absolutely cannot sleep, Toby will put on some mindless cartoon like South Park or King of the Hill

And then he'll offer to smoke with you

Insomnia is one of the qualifying conditions Toby has for medicinal cannabis

He won't pressure you if you don't want to though

He just knows it helps him

Regardless, you and Toby will end up cuddled deep into each other's arms, your legs tangled with his

And Toby encourages you to close your eyes as he runs scarred fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp

Hums tunelessly (Toby's a little flat) as you drift off to his touch

After Toby's sure you're actually asleep for the night

He turns off the show that was playing and curls up with you, letting sleep take him too

𝕵𝖊𝖋𝖋 "𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕶𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗" 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓

Jeff has a pretty set sleep schedule

He used to let insomnia run him

And he found himself relying on all sorts of things in order to achieve sleep

And then one day, Jeff just said enough

He went through the process of learning how to sleep on his own again

And if you're having issues sleeping

Jeff will teach you his technique for sleeping

This entails a good amount of sleep hygiene

He won't eat after 7pm

And he exercises at 7:30 every night

After his workout, Jeff does a 15 minute yoga relaxation stretch,

Followed by a warm shower

An hour before Jeff sleeps, he turns off all screens, and he either reads a book (his current favorite is Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits by Jason Pagrin), or he talks about light hearted stuff with you

Totally drops off in the middle of sentences

Jeff will help you relearn to sleep

It's gonna be a rough road

But he'll get you through it

𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓷 "𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻" 𝓞𝓽𝓲𝓼

Helen takes a completely different approach helping you get to sleep

When you're having trouble sleeping

Helen uses a technique he learned during his stay in psychiatric care

It's called yoga nidra

But it's not movement based like regular yoga

Helen guides you through this meditation process

In which he calls out a body part for the two of you to focus on, mentally

Right pinkie finger, 30 second pause, Right ring finger, 30 second pause, so on and so forth

Helen creates a very relaxing environment

He turns out the lights, screens, etc, and crawls in bed with you

He lays next to you on his back

And then he holds your hand between your bodies as he leads you in the guided meditation

It's a rare occurrence, since Helen will lead the meditation throughout the entire body, but if you're still awake

Helen will take you and run a hot bath for both of you to get in

He lights candles along the tub rim and sink cabinet

And once you're all soaped up, Helen gives you a full body massage, holding you above the waters surface as you relax

Once finished, Helen will rinse the soap from you, move you from the tub to the bed, dry you off, and wrap you up in blankets

Once you're situated, Helen will curl up with you in the blankets, your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #ticci toby #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby x you #jeff the killer #jeff the killer headcanons #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #helen otis #helen otis headcanons #helen otis x reader #helen otis x y/n #helen otis x you #🧡 #❤️ #🩸🖌️

[somewhat-crazy]

EJ: I'll be there quickly. Try to apply pressure to the wounds and don’t move too much

Helen: It’s ok

Helen: The weight of the rubble crushing my body is pressing down on my wounds and preventing me from moving

EJ: We need to work on your definition of ok

#creepypasta #creepypasta incorrect quotes #incorrect creepypasta quotes #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack creepypasta #creepypasta eyeless jack #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x y/n #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #helen otis x reader #helen otis #helen otis headcanon #helen otis hc #bloody painter x reader #bloody painter headcanon #the bloody painter #bloody painter #creepypasta hc

[bogusboxed]

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.

-

#flufftober2022 #fictober22 #day26 #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #bloody painter x you #bloody painter x y/n #bloody painter x reader #bloody painter headcanons #helen otis x reader #helen otis x you #helen otis x y/n #helen otis headcanons #nurse ann x reader #nurse ann x you #nurse ann x y/n #nurse ann headcanons #the puppeteer x reader #puppeteer x reader #the puppeteer x you #the puppeteer x y/n #jonathan blake x reader #jonathan blake x you #jonathan blake x y/n #x virus x reader #x virus x you #x virus x y/n #x virus headcanons

[splitt]

Hay there (• ◡•)ﾉ

may i have some sfw relationship headconens with bloody painter if you write him tho

Anon-🎼

Bloody painter x Reader Headcanons Sfw

A/N: Of course dear! I hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

If he gets up before you he will draw you as as you sleep softly.

He will give you hugs from behind and he really loves kissing your hands.

When you try do draw by yourself he will compliment you and if you let him, will sit behind you and hold your hand as he guides it.

You can hear Helen’s whimpers some nights. He doesn’t likes to show his tears, as he thinks, you can’t do anything about it anyways. But he likes your comfort.

If he is in good mood he will open loud music and dance with you all night long.

If he is in bad mood, oh you better stay away from him.

Of course like everyone else Helen has a dark side. He would use your blood on his paintings whenever you have a wound and, well if he is too mad he might even take your blood forcefully.

He will call you by his surname instead of using yours, he also loves to call you with pet names.

If you are sick or just not feeling good, Helen will cook for you and do nothing but make sure that you are better. He wouldn’t even draw when he is taking care of you.

He is not much of a jealous guy, he knows exactly how much you love him and you will return to him no matter what. Because you can’t find the same comfort with others.

Well he is not much of jealous but he can be overprotective a little too much sometimes.

Arguments with Helen can end up with two different ways: He will come and apologized to you or he will disappear for some time to think to himself and come apologize to you.

He usually thinks that you are the right one during arguments. Helen doesn’t really believes his sweetheart would do anything wrong, no, it must be him.

He likes to call you his crayon.

#creepypasta #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #helen otis #helen otis x reader

[b1llyl3nz]

update!!

i now write for creepypastas!

- tim wright

- masky

- brian thomas

- hoodie

- toby rogers

- eyeless jack

- jeff woods

- BEN DROWNED

- jane richardson

- helen otis

- dr smiley

- laughing jack

lmao please tell me if i got any of their names wrong i looked on the wiki dfrtgdnhyyujio

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #masky #tim wright #hoodie #brian thomas #ticci toby #toby rogers #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #jeff woods #ben drowned #jane the killer #jane richardson #bloody painter #helen otis #dr smiley #laughing jack #update

[princesimp]

Yan!Helen Otis/Bloody Painter x Reader

I used a prompt by @bowtied-pasta for this one! It's my first writing piece in YEARS so I'm a little rusty, but I hope you guys enjoy! Any constructive criticism or comments are welcome!

Light yandere obsessive type, I wanted to give my boy Helen a little attention cause I think he's underrated and pretty swag so here ya go, if anyone wants this one to continue I might make a pt 2 ☺️

Prompt; You didn’t think leaving your window open would be a bad idea last night. The air was cool and the sounds of your neighborhood were familiar to you, so you knew you would be able to fall asleep. You didn’t think anyone would be in your room when you woke up, but the figure in the corner proved otherwise.

You stayed silent for a while. You knew you’d had a… ‘secret admirer’, let's say, for the past few months. They left a few notes, a gift or two, ordered you a damn doordash meal one time with a note saying to “look after your delicate health”, but for some reason you hadn’t expected them to be in your fucking room. You couldn’t make out their form; they had thick layers of clothing on, and the shadows warped around them to hide most of their face. Could that be a mask? Fuck if you were gonna keep looking to find out, you had a will to live. How could they even stand wearing so much anyways? It was cool at night, sure, but it was still summer, and a heat wave was still going through. You were surprised they weren’t passed on your floor.

You went over the options you had in your head. You didn’t know what the person in your room wanted; if they were angry and out for blood, if they were just a little too infatuated with you and just wanted to see you, if they just wanted a quick fuck, you knew nothing. You didn’t know how much stronger than you they were either, though you could take an educated guess as to how they’d square up against you based on the fact they were ballsy enough to be in your house.. You really didn’t wanna piss them off, they were obviously dangerous, or at least unhinged, but they were In. Your. God. Damn. Bedroom.

Rage was slowly bleeding into terror, now. There was a pocket knife on your dresser. You thought about grabbing it. That’d be a shitty fucking decision though, you had it for opening shit and to intimidate anyone from bothering you, that didn’t mean you knew how to wield a knife in a fight. Maybe you could pretend to fall back asleep and see if they left in the morning? You were shaking like a fucking leaf, they’d call your bluff. On the verge of tears, trembling like a leaf under the covers. They definitely knew you were up, and they knew you were scared, oh god what if that's what they wanted? That’s why they’re here, to scare you, so you wouldn't find help, and they were going to kill you, weren’t they, and, and-

Stop. Now isn’t the time to panic. You did your best to slow your breathing. To not whimper. Not sniffle. To not make a single noise. You heard shifting, and a light thump against your doorframe. A light huff followed soon after, but it didn't sound annoyed; Amused, maybe? No, that wasn't right either- you didn't dwell on it for too long. Their eyes pierced into your soul, you didn’t need to dwell on that to feel it clearly. This went on for a while; you almost work yourself into a panic, manage to calm yourself, they give a (maybe it’s relieved? No, that's not right either, it sounded too relaxed, too content-) huff, rinse repeat. You slowly felt your courage come back to you when you saw it was almost dawn. Your neighbor worked early, you could scream for help if something went wrong. Why haven’t they said anything? It felt like it'd been at least an hour now. You’d think an intruder that knew you were awake would say something, anything.

“Are you the one that’s been leaving me notes..?” you asked, barely above a whisper, bracing yourself and tensing up to prepare for a violent response that never came.

“I am.”

Their voice was a bit deep, a little raspy, and you almost didn’t know what you should’ve expected. They were quite straightforward. You turned your head to face them, waiting to see if they continued.

“And the gifts?”

“The small stuffed bear and the cloud necklace, yes.”

“And that doordash order?”

“You were so stressed that week. I felt you needed a little something nicer to eat.”

You sniffled a bit. They turned their face to you. You were able to get a good look at them now. They did, in fact, have a mask on, white with black eyes and a red smile painted on. They looked... Sophisticated. Terrifying, still, they were so calm and collected, like they'd done this hundreds of times before. Like this was routine.

He tilted his head. You were terrified. He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he didn’t know why, but he could still hope to calm you down. “My name is Helen.”

It was a nice name. A name put you at ease. Someone planning something more dangerous wouldn’t give their name out like that, would they? “Please don't hurt me, Helen.”

“I won’t, If I’m given no reason to.” Reasonable. In your head, you correctly translated that to “Do as I ask and don't scream”. That will to live firmly intact, you slowly nodded and sat up, pulling the blankets up with you both for some sense of security and because you felt like you were freezing because of the anxiety and adrenaline running through you. “What do you want?”

He dropped a bag that was on his back that you hadn’t noticed in your panic before, before he started walking towards you. He was slow, like he was approaching a hurt animal, like he didn't want to scare you, like you were a delicate prize. You scooted all the way back, your back squishing your pillows against the headboard as you flattened yourself against it. He paused, until your expression softened a little, from exhaustion or from you calming down he wasn't sure, before he approached again, sitting on the edge of the bed near you.

“You’re so delicate. Beautiful. A lovely muse. I’d just like to observe you. Create beautiful art pieces in your image, maybe show you a few works I’ve completed. Make you the perfect subject, the perfect muse.” He reached out to run his fingers through your hair, not hesitating even as you flinched.

You were confused. That didn’t sound right, there had to be a sinister meaning behind those words, and yet he said them so innocently, so politely, sugar lacing his words, like all he truly wanted was an art subject. “Is.. is that all you want?”

“For now.” He huffed again (Admiration? Is that it?) before pulling his hand away, trailing his fingertips, gloved in black leather, across your jawline, gently tipping your head up. “I can be gentle, kind, even, with you. If you do not force my hand.” You couldn’t even attempt to force yourself to pull away from him. His presence and actions had become alluring; Terrifying still, yes, but you felt yourself entranced by his calmness and by how politely he spoke to you.

He suddenly stood, retrieving his bag and starting to leave quickly through the still open window. He paused for a moment, looking back at you.

“I truly don’t wish to hurt you, Y/N. Try your best to calm yourself.”

He ducked out the window, and in the three seconds it took for you to gather your wits about you and dash to the window to see where he went, he was out of view. You closed your window and sat down right there on the floor, going over what in the everloving fuck had just gone down in your head. Jesus, that… that was a fucking rollercoaster. You brought your hand up to your jaw, tracing where he’d traced, and sighed out a shaky breath. You got up and got back into your bed, attempting to sleep to try and collect yourself.

Fuck it. You’d call out of work for the day later and say you were sick or something.

#helen otis #bloody painter #creepypasta #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x reader #bloody painter x reader #helen otis x reader #creepypasta writing

[introverted-scribblings]

I saw your requests are open and i thought to my self.......

Why not 🙃

Soooo may i have a s/o who is kinda obsessed with music/songs/instruments and know how to play most of the instruments(such as flute violin guitar harp ect.)?

Characters: bloody painter, jane, kate the chaser(ifyouwriteher)

Also remember to drink water and stay healthy 😊

Hello, Anon!!

I don't think I wrote this request "correctly" 😅 But I'm pretty happy with how things turned out! I decided to focus on one instrument for each character, picking the ones that just seemed to click. And I don't know much about Kate's personality so I did my best! I hope that you enjoy what I came up with!

Bloody Painter:

Violin

Artistic couple goals tbh

Helen simply adores your musical talent. He is so impressed.

He doesn’t say it out loud very often, but you have caught him staring at you as you practice more than once. He always ends up looking away with a burning blush.

He finds the violin to be such an elegant instrument. And when he sees you play, he’s mesmerized.

You just look so beautiful and focused, he can’t help but stare.

He actually has an in-progress painting of you playing the violin.

He plans on showing it to you once it’s finished but he’s been working on it for almost a year now…

He loves listening to you talk about music too!

He loves seeing your eyes light up when thinking about your favorite pieces, the way you start grinning when listening to the music you love.

The two of you have a little game that you like to play (it was your idea):

When he paints something, you’ll compose a short song to go along with it and play it for him.

It goes the other way around too!

When you’re composing music and practicing, Helen will sit nearby and listen. He’ll either sketch or paint whatever comes to his mind through the music.

He’s not the best at making sure you take breaks from practicing…

That’s mainly because he doesn’t really take breaks either.

The two of you need to keep track of each other and make sure you’re both resting!

Overall, he’s kinda reserved about telling you about his admiration, but he supports you through his actions 100%!

Jane the Killer:

Piano

Another person who adores your musical talent!

She loves listening to you play the piano, it’s one of her favorite things to do tbh.

Whenever you sit down to play, you can bet that she’ll find a place nearby to listen.

She tries not to be super obvious about it, but she genuinely gets excited about your playing. It’s hard for her to hide that from you.

Especially because she loves you so much~

I imagine that Jane knows a little about playing the piano. She seems like the type who had lessons when she was younger.

But after everything, she didn’t keep up with practicing for obvious reasons.

All that to say, you should try playing with her! Or giving her lessons!

She would love to play with you, just a cute little duet!

If you want to see her just melt? Compose something for her!

She. would. MELT!

Knowing that you love her enough to create a piece just for her almost brings her to tears.

They’re happy tears though, don’t worry.

She makes sure you take breaks from practicing, especially if you’re getting frustrated.

She’ll take your hands off the keys and press little kisses to your fingers~

“Darling, I think you need to rest for a bit. The piano isn’t going anywhere. Come sit with me.”

Supportive gf! 10/10!

Kate the Chaser:

Guitar

The life of a proxy is hard, we all know this.

So the chance to relax to the sweet sound of your guitar is something that Kate thrives on.

She’s always deathly quiet when you play, but when you look over at her, you’ll see one of two things;

Either her eyes are shut and she’s swaying slightly to the music.

Or she’s watching your hands with a glazed look in her eyes.

Your playing puts her into a trance ngl, she just finds such a sense of peace when listening to you play!

You’ll catch her humming pieces that she’s heard you play when she’s doing her day-to-day tasks.

It warms your heart~

If you ever wrote a piece for her, she’d definitely cry.

She just feels so loved that it overflows!

When you aren’t playing, she likes to hold your hands and rub her thumbs over the calluses on your fingers.

If you ask her why, she couldn’t explain it. She’ll get very flustered and mumble out something about your hands being magic.

You can’t get any more than that.

She would love to learn how to play, so you should give her some lessons!

But she definitely loves listening to you more~

She treasures the moments where the two of you are just sitting on the floor listening to you play.

So make sure you play for her often!

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #helen otis #cp bloody painter #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader #creepypasta jane #kate the chaser #kate the chaser x reader #creepypasta kate #fluff #fluff headcanons

[girlnextmorgue]

Helen Otis x Reader: All Good Things To Those Who Wait

Guess who's back with another Helen fic ... Hi. Sorry I couldn't help myself and had to write another one sooo thar she blows. This is part 3 of a series that I may or may not continue ... you can find the previous parts here (1 and 2) and you can find the postings I have on AO3 here!! That's all enjoy ok

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It was late, one o’clock, maybe one thirty in the morning. The vast majority of those that had been occupying the living room had long since retired to their rooms, choosing the comfort of their own beds over restless sleep and neck pain in the morning. The real movie night was long over, but two remained, nestled in opposite corners of the loveseat. 

The movie of choice was The Silence of the Lambs, per (Y/N)’s request. It’d been fourth on the roster (watch order warfare was not something that (Y/N) was going to willingly involve themselves with) and they were determined to see it through. 

Helen was half asleep on his side of the couch. He’d meant to stay awake for the whole movie, he really had, but spending time in a roomful of idiots had sapped all of his energy. So he dozed off, his elbow propped on the armrest to keep his head from dropping. 

(Y/N), however, was awake and alert as Buffalo Bill shouted down at his captive, though they were not paying much attention to the screen at all. How could they, with Helen next to them? They’d already seen the movie anyhow, and despite it being one of their favorites it’d really just become more of an excuse to spend some time with him. 

But now he was basically asleep, which would not do at all. 

“Helen.” (Y/N) called quietly, a halfhearted attempt at rousing him. He didn’t stir. They tried again.

“Helen.” Still nothing.

They gave up on trying for a bit, opting to just stare at him before trying to wake him up again. Helen was one of the most gorgeous people (Y/N) had ever laid eyes on; this was something they had been sure of since the day they’d met him. But he looked a little different when he was asleep. When he was awake, his eyebrows were usually furrowed in anger or annoyance (or sometimes concern) and his mouth was usually turned downwards in a pout. Now, he looked relaxed and at peace, a blanket tossed over his shoulders to keep him warm. (Y/N) wondered what he might be dreaming about.

Suddenly, they had an idea. A devious grin spread across (Y/N)’s face as they scooted as close to Helen as possible without disturbing him. They leaned over him carefully, trying not to get distracted by just how close their face was to his face. Placing their lips near his ear, (Y/N) blew.

Helen jolted up in surprise, the side of his head smacking (Y/N) square in the nose. They fell onto their back dramatically, laughing as they held their nose with one hand. 

“Sorry! Sorry… Are you okay?” They asked from where they lay, still in a fit of giggles. 

Helen glared daggers at them, blue eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a taught frown. If only he knew the things that look did to (Y/N)... 

“What the hell did you do that for?” He spat, rubbing the side of his head as he kept eye contact with them. 

(Y/N)’s grin turned from cheeky to sheepish. They felt small under his gaze, but not really in a bad way. Something in their chest fluttered. “You fell asleep…”

“And you couldn’t have woken me up in a normal way?”

“I tried…!” They said defensively, still avoiding eye contact and mumbling the next part so that they wouldn’t be heard, “You just look really hot when you’re all mad at me…”

Helen’s angry expression morphed into a confused one. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” (Y/N) sat upright, scrambling to change the subject. “Your head. Does it still hurt? Let me see.” They shifted closer to him again, gently grabbing his wrist so they could move it from where he still held his head. 

“It’s-” Helen was about to protest (he had no idea what they’d be able to do about a bruise on his head) until he felt (Y/N)’s fingers in his hair, lightly touching the spot where he’d hit their nose. His breath hitched.

“Does that hurt?” They asked quietly, looking him in the eye. 

Helen struggled to find words for a moment. When he finally did, his voice cracked. “N-no.” 

“M’kay…” (Y/N) hummed, their eyes flitting back to where their hand sat in his hair. They ran their fingers through his hair for real, and he had to restrain himself from leaning into their touch.

“You have really nice hair, y’know. It’s soft.” They complimented, retracting their hand and looking at him again. Their faces were close, and Helen swallowed thickly at the proximity. “Real pretty, too.”

“You think my hair’s… pretty?” Helen asked, his face burning. He silently thanked whatever god there was that the only light in the room came from the long forgotten TV. The last thing he wanted was for (Y/N) to see the kind of effect they were having on him. 

“I think you’re pretty, dumbass.” (Y/N) responded matter-of-factly. 

Helen let out a choked noise, taken aback by the sudden confession. “What.”

(Y/N) furrowed their eyebrows, seemingly unphased by their own admission. “Dude. Do you not see yourself?”

“You…? You think I’m pretty?” Helen was dumbfounded. It felt like all of his wildest dreams were coming true and that he was going to die at the same time. He’d never been called pretty before; maybe only as an insult from an old school bully or even Jeff, but the way (Y/N) said it made his heart flutter and his head feel light.

“Um, yes?” (Y/N) answered like it was obvious. “I mean, come on, you’ve got this gorgeous hair, the loveliest eyes I’ve ever looked into, and uh, your lips, well, uh…” (Y/N) trailed off, eyes trained on Helen’s lips. They reached up to graze his jaw with their fingers lightly, looking into his eyes again. There was no going back now. “Uh, this is stupid, probably, but, can I?”

Helen sucked in a shaky breath, something that was not lost on (Y/N). “Look, we don’t have to, if-”

“I want you to.” He cut them off hastily, a hint of desperation in his voice. (Y/N) would have kissed him stupid right then if they hadn’t felt the need to tease him about it. They smiled mischievously. “Want me to what?”

“(Y/N)-”

“I won’t do it unless you say what you want.”

And Helen really must’ve been desperate, because he conceded almost immediately. “Kiss me. Please.” 

“Fuck. I guess I will, then.” (Y/N) mumbled, leaning in carefully. Their lips brushed his for a moment before they kissed him for real, one hand cupping his face and the other moving to rest at his waist. 

Helen’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt their lips on his, hands hovering nervously at their hips. (Y/N)’s lips were slightly chapped (probably because they chewed at them all the time). Helen didn’t mind. The kiss was a chaste one, but to him it was magical, and before he knew it (Y/N) was pulling away, beaming at him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” They breathed, their thumb rubbing circles into his jaw. 

“How long?” Helen asked dumbly, brain preoccupied with they’re touching me and oh my god we just kissed and holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. 

(Y/N) looked bashful. “Um, since I first saw you, I guess. You looked at me like you wanted to kill me and I think that was what did me in.” They laughed, the hand that was resting on Helen’s cheek moving to scratch the back of their neck. 

“Oh.” Helen breathed. So they had liked him all this time and he hadn’t noticed? At all? Maybe he was just really bad at differentiating platonic affection from romantic interest… man, he needed to make more friends. Helen brushed off those thoughts before they could get overwhelming.

 “So, what, you like it when I’m mad at you? You’re weird.” He said instead, a small smile betraying his teasing. 

“Oh, shaddap.” (Y/N) rolled their eyes, the TV screen catching their attention as they averted their gaze. “Shit. This is where it starts to get good.” 

Helen followed their eyes back to the screen. Hannibal Lecter was strapped into something that looked like a cross between a stretcher and a hand truck. He was talking to an important looking woman that Helen didn’t know the name of. This is what he got for falling asleep during the movie. 

He was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was happening when (Y/N) tugged him into their side, a surprised “oof!” leaving him at the contact. Their arm snaked around his waist and even though they had just kissed Helen could still feel his heart going into overdrive. He looked up at them, eyes wide. 

“What?” (Y/N) questioned, cocking an eyebrow at him. “If you’re gonna fall asleep again, you’ll be a little bit more comfortable, at least.”

Helen couldn’t (or didn’t want to) argue with that, so he let his head loll onto their shoulder as he dozed, the smell of lavender lulling him back to sleep.

#helen otis #bloody painter #the bloody painter #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #the bloody painter x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #helen otis oneshot #bloody painter oneshot #creepypasta oneshot