~Creepypasta x Reader (One shots)~ Completed

Jeff The Killer

You blink lethargically, the lingering draughts of sleep escaping as you break the cold waking world. Your body feels stiff and achy, every movement sending dull pain singing up your spine. Your head felt as if it were filled with cotton, leaving you woozy and disoriented. Perplexed, you frown and attempt to shake the cobwebs from your memory as you gingerly sit up to absorb your surroundings...

You were seated on a naked mattress that rested on an intricate iron frame in the middle of a room roughly the size of an average apartment. The floors were battered and scarred, the wood the hue of burnt chicory and covered with old t-shirts and crimson-stained rags. Eyeing the rags uncomfortably, you soaked in the peeling grey walls vacant of any adornments, the dusty window from which light spilled in and cast eerie shadows across the room and finally the ancient door looking like it was about to rust off its hinges. All in all it was like being stuck in a horror movie.

Where the heck am I?!

Sighing, you decide the first steps to any answers was through that door and carefully try to maneuver your sore body off the bed.

But you couldn't.

Flabbergasted, you glance down and your (e/c) eyes widen in disbelief. Heavy cast-iron manacles wrapped around your slender ankles, connected to rusty chains that shackled you to the bed post. Confusion and fear seized your gut as you clawed at your bonds, yanking and manically trying trying to sever your bonds. You couldn't feel the pain anymore, it was a murky mist in the distance as your heart pounded with the steam of adrenaline. You had to escape.

You needed to.

A cry of outrage escaped your lips when the rusty chains refused to yield, your hands already nicked and bleeding from your violent tugging on the abrasive metal. Breathing shallow, your eyes scavenge the room for something, anything you could use to break free.

Then your eyes landed on him.

There, leaning casually against the shabby wall, was a man.

Your heart bumped against your rib-cage unpleasantly, reacting to your rollercoaster of emotions.

He definitely was not there a few moments ago.

He was tall in stature, his body carrying a sort inborn grace even as he stood stock still. His limbs were lean and supple, rippling with strength that his baggy clothes could not disguise. He was clad in a white hoodie stained with scarlet patches, his hands tucked into the pockets of the worn clothing. Pitch black jeans adorned his long legs, his ankles crossed to showcase scarred combat boots decorated with a light film of dust -suggesting he had been outside recently. He exuded an aura of intimidation, dripping with malice that had your every instinct screaming at you to get the hell out.

Then he lifted his hood and you had to fight the scream that reared in your throat.

His skin was a waxy ivory, too pale to be natural, stretched over slashing cheekbones and sharply honed features that may have been handsome once but were drowned out by the impact of the rest of his appearance. His eyelids were burned to charred remnants, dark circles enhancing unblinking orbs that pierced right through you. His hair hung in raven curtains around his terrifying visage, shaggy and contrasting vividly against his sheet white complexion.

But what was worst, what was far worst than all of the above were his lips, scarred and chapped with the corners slicing up through the flesh of his cheek from ear to ear in an eternal Cheshire smile...

This guy had a seriously fucked up face and it scared the crap out of you.

Noting the unadulterated horror in your expression, the man chuckled - the deep sinful sound of nightmares.