Eyes of the Divine (Yandere!Eyeless Jack X GN!Reader)

Chapter One: Yes, I'm Re-Writing It All

After your epiphany the previous night, you did the normal thing and decided to ignore it until it became a huge problem. It usually worked—it got you through every other crush, after all. (Although, not all your crushes had been 'crushes', per se. Most of them had been platonic or aesthetic attraction; you just didn't understand the differences until years later.)

Your brain had created a fake scenario that it was convinced would happen if you admitted your feelings to anyone: you would end up in a life that resembled a weird fan-fiction that was a mash-up of Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey—the kind of fic where the readers brand the protagonist a 'monster fucker' and laugh during the smuts, making memes of the comical obliviousness of the characters.

If that happened, you decided, death would be much kinder.

Throwing yourself into your work was how you usually dealt with liking someone, but this time you decided to focus more on undoing the ritual. Maybe if you did that, and EJ became a human being instead of a demonic, eyeless serial killer, he would go back to uni, forget about you, and your feelings could fizzle out peacefully.

A little, nagging voice in the back of your head whispered, 'Really? You think you can just "let go" of feelings like that? You think he'll just leave after everything you've done for him? How disgustingly low. You should really start being nicer to him if you're oh so fond of the little bastard.'

You ignored it, and instead starting writing a list down in the notes of your phone while you waited for your slice of bread to pop out of the toaster. EJ was nowhere to be found, so you mumbled to yourself as you typed.

'Okay...tar...Chernabog...nighttime.' You frowned, flicking from the notes app to your messages.

you:

hey, greg, can you send me the notes you have so far about chernabog and the ritual? i have an idea.

His reply came through a few moments later as a PDF with no message attached. You saved it to your files, scrolling through it. You wandered around your kitchen, glued to your phone, buttering and cutting the toast with your spare hand.

Greg's notes were enough for you to formulate a plan properly. All you had to do was validate it and fill in any gaps with the help of someone you'd only spoken to once.

Shoving the last piece of toast into your mouth, you stuck your head through the slightly open backdoor and shouted: 'Kagekao! Get your arse over here!'

You had no idea how to summon the monochrome demon, so you figured that shouting once and looking like a total freak was better then hoping that fate would direct him over to your house in three to five business weeks.

Well. Guess that didn't work. Whatever.

Shrugging, you shut the door and turned back to your phone, jumping when you saw the girl sat on your worktop.

She was short, with long, thick, curly dark hair that was swept out of her face with a sky blue bandana. She wore a large grey hoodie and black ripped jeans, and a black face mask covered the lower half of her dark face. Her sharp lilac eyes were surveying you with curiosity.

She didn't glitch in the way you were used to. The way she glitched was like a broken TV screen; like she was glitching out of something more then just your sight.

'Hello,' she greeted in a soft, airy voice, 'you want help, right? Mr Kagekao isn't in the country at the moment, but I'm sure I can assist you in your mission.'

'Who are you?' you asked cautiously, taking a step back. 'You're...a Proxy. I've never seen you before.'

The girl looked slightly hurt at your retreat. 'That's the point. My existence is generally kept a secret—even from the others. I'm the Spectator, or Ophelia, if you prefer; I'm the one who makes records of the Proxies through careful observation. I think I have something that you might find interesting.'