Hostage | Eyeless Jack x Reader

Cult

(Y/n) leaned over her counter, groaning in satisfaction. In one hand she held a half-eaten scone, one of the treats Kim had given her right before their big fight.

"For someone so petty, she sure is a good cook," (Y/n) sighed.

She heard Jack chuckle across the room.

"If it's so good, why don't you marry it?"

"Would if I could, Jackie-boy," she grinned, "Want some?"

She held it out to him as if he could walk right up to her and take it. He shook his head and huffed.

"Can't, it wouldn't agree with me."

"Aw, booooo," (Y/n) mumbled, "What, can't handle the sugar?"

She dropped the rest into her mouth, and walked over to the border before plopping down onto the muddy floors. Jack peeked over at her from the mantle of the fireplace. He had been scribbling in the coloring book (Y/n) had gotten him, and soon returned to it when he found that she wasn't of his interest.

"Have you really never questioned why I've only eaten guts and raw meat since I got here?" He asked, half laughing.

She only shrugged, mumbling incoherently through her mouthful. She swallowed half of it and held her hand over her mouth before saying,

"We don't judge people in this house."

There was another moment of scribbling.

"Uh-huh," Jack hummed sarcastically, "Look, let's just say I have a condition because of what I am."

"What kind of condition?" (Y/n) asked, her mouthful now fully gone.

She had long dropped the questioning of what he was. She knew he would never answer her if she prompted it first.

There was a light clinking on her brick mantle as Jack switched colors.

"Carnivorism," he shrugged like they were discussing Sunday brunch.

If (Y/n) hadn't been living with him for the past month, she would have been shocked. But at this point, she had seen nearly everything, so it almost made sense to her.

"So no scones for you?"

Jack shook his head.

"Haha, sucker!" She snickered, shuffling herself off the floor, "More for me then!"

"God, you're so mean," Jack huffed, though (Y/n) heard a laugh in his voice, "You're gonna throw that all up in five minutes and I hope it hurts."

(Y/n) only giggled as she bit into another one.

"Y'know I'm serious," Jack called, "Eating that much that fast won't—"

He cut himself off with a small eurgh as (Y/n) tilted herself over the sink and vomited.

"(Y/n), that's grotesque."

"You're grotesque," she sighed, her mood quickly dropping at both her barf and the fact that Jack was right once again.

She leaned her head down under the faucet for a drink and sloshed it around before spitting it out. She could feel Jack watching her as she ran the tap, rinsing her vomit down the drain.

"Can I help you?" She asked, turning to look at him. Sure enough, he had gotten up and was now pressed against the bars, face trained on the sink.

"What have I told you about disinfecting?" He groaned, sounding exasperated.

"Jack, it's a sink," (Y/n) sighed, "It's not like I eat out of it."

"You wash your dishes in it," Jack retorted snappily, "You get water to clean your floors from it. You drink from it."