He's A Monster
Jim Walters x GN!Reader
TW: Suggestive, creepy Jim, yandere, paranoia, mentions of blood, swearing
You swear there's nothing wrong with you. You're not going crazy, no, you're perfectly sane. You just keep having nightmares where something lurks in the void, wanting you as it's sacrifice. You tell Jim, you're not safe. Something's not right. He needs to listen at the warning, he said it himself beforehand "Sometimes though...I think dreams are doors" "You oughta be careful...what you invite in". So why doesn't he just agree and do the same as before, does he enjoy this? Your panic-stricken expression as you try and convince him that you're not safe. There's something out to get you, you even feel it on your skin at night as if you're not only being watched but devoured. You reassure him, you're not crazy. In hindsight you seem as anything but. "But dreams can just be dreams. Not real. You're safe here. It's safe here. He replies back, the southern drawl in his voice stretching, brow arched in frustration at your constant rebuttal. He sighs before bringing you breakfast, body leaning down behind you - caging you in. The scent of pinewood and musk engulfing you whole. Just as quickly the scent of iron hits your nose as you spot the blackberry preserve on your plate. It's completely normal, nothing wrong with it. But why does it taste metallic in your mouth then? The red seeping through the black hues of the jam. It's almost crimson and thick, as if...no. No that would be sick.
It's odd how he never takes any, heaping more onto your plate - feeling your pulse right after. There's something so wrong and you can feel it in the way he stares at you. Icy eyes stripping you down to nothing but the shell of yourself - predator and prey, like a game of cat and mouse. Biting his lips when he gets anxious, scared that he's going to get caught staring. He always does. At least, that's what you think - that you'll catch him in time. The sticky sweet stays on your plate making you rethink but you eat it anyways. The fork in your hand gently scooping up the portions one by one and into your mouth, on your tongue. He stares at it, not so subtly. Never subtly. His face heats up and his knee bounces up and down, up and down, again and again. His hand, now off your pulse, moving upwards to hold your hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. He shifts closer too, his eyes settled on you as if daring you to move, convinced you wouldn't anymore. And move you do. His mood visibly sours after that, brows furrowing as he looks at you like a kicked puppy. Fucking manipulator, making you feel so bad for being mean. Making feel so horrible for just wanting your space, to not be looked at like a piece of meat. He gets up after a while, taking away your dishes to the sink, eyes still on the fork that was just in your mouth as he grins softly. Repulsive.
"Here...hope you like it." He brings you a warm beverage afterwords, pushing it towards you gently as if ushering you to drink. His own mug sitting in front of him untouched. You don't wanna drink what he's put in front of you, the steaming beverage making you nauseous. You swear theres something in the drink, there can't not be. It's either here or in the food. Last time you complained he'd angrily gulped the contents down, proving you wrong and shutting you up. Seeing your discomfort he takes a sip of his own drink, his eyes shifting down as if to ease you. It works. You slowly pick the mug up before sipping the drink; the heat burning your tongue as you yelp. "Too hot?" He asks with a gentle smile before you nod as he looks away into the distance. And he suddenly seems so beautiful, a blush betraying you as you continue to look at him. Fuck. Blonde hair pooling around him in silky strands and tired eyes that droop downwards in a beautiful shade of blue. Pale skin too, that stands out against his rosy cheeks and his lips chapped yet so inviting. They must be warm too. Why do you feel this way for someone so vile. Yeah, you're delusional, he wouldn't mix something in your drink. Why would he? The pounding in your head must be a coincidence. And then you're second guessing yourself again and again. Is he really that bad? When he's been nothing but sweet to you? When he's done nothing wrong and for all you know, everything is just your overactive imagination. But the fear within you only grows, the distrust visible in your eyes.
The worst part is that you can't even accuse him of anything. He's been all gracious and welcoming after all, albeit in his own awkward manner. Letting you stay in his home, eating his food, sleeping in his extra room, warming up next to his fireplace. His. You're indebted to him and yet you still don't trust him. He who's protecting you from what's out there; the snow of course.
The weather so terrifying that could drive you off-course and injure you so badly that you'll bleed to death in the numbing cold. The freezing temperature, something your fragile body isn't accustomed to. Still it's hard to trust him, especially when his gaze lingers in places you know he shouldn't be staring at. When his hands brush yours just a little too long and when his breath hits the back of your nape as you shudder at the looming stranger behind you. But then again, you're judging him based off how he comes off - how shallow of you. It's not his fault that he isn't used to social cues and that he's a little shy. No, you're just being unappreciative. Maybe he doesn't know what he's doing. But he does, he a grown fucking man.
And if you dislike it so much then you should just leave. Why haven't you? You tried, really you did. Run away and discard yourself off this place and go as far as you could.
The first day he came in, knocking on hsi own door and dressed in black. The snow gear that obscured your vision alongside the way his eyes kept you in place. You didn't know him and nor did you want to. Not wanting to be indebt to him, and you should have done so in the beginning, you were about to leave. Stupid of you to come back inside on the first day, listening to his ragged words that persuaded you to come back into the warmth of his home when you got inside your car. "It's dangerous...you won't survive a minute" You stepped back inside, shivering. Easy. You shouldn't have. You should've drove off in your car, no matter the weather, when you had the chance. Now you can't even do that. The snow's piled up so high that you can't even see your car and you're damn sure the battery life had deteriorated by a mile. You're stuck with him, right where he wants you.
It's silly how he doesn't even have to actively entrap you, no, the climate does it for him. Not that he's completely clean, he'd do exactly that if he had to. Thankfully for him, the weather itself It cages you with him, trapping you like he does those rabbits in spring. Though he really doesn't want to scare you, unfortunately he doesn't know how to act. Not when you sit there so pretty and quiet, saccharine and sweet, skittish and scampering. He can't help but fumble his words then come off as deadpan to shut off any thoughts you may have about him as a creep. No, he doesn't care at all, let's keep you thinking that.
And then there you are, only seeing him as a threat when his mask slips, not even in the manner you should. The worst you think he'll do is poison you like some crazy lunatic or kill you, no he'd never. Not when he's so entranced with you. Not when the worse he can do is so much more revolting. Disgusting.
The necklace a reminder that you're in his domain. It's a beautiful delicate thing. Carved thinly with would that would splinter at the slightest pressure. A small rabbit tied to a leather chain. But then again, it's more similar to a leash than a necklace. It's a collar really. Makes you feel domesticated. It feels wrong. Yet the shy smile he had as he tied it to your neck, the blush on his cheeks. He was just so lovable and the gift around your neck so thoughtful. You should just stop being so pessimistic.
.
.
. You're going crazy aren't you? First the beast in your dreams, calling out to you and demanding you present yourself on an altar, and now icy eyes? No, he's a good person, Jim is the host who kindly took you in. He could've kicked you out - for all he knew, you were the threat as you showed up in his home with who knows what in mind. Or he could've been pure evil, letting you freeze to death. Yet he didn't. He gave you a warm bed and food too and everything else, merely asking for a little company in return.
Then why does it make you so uneasy? The fear that he's the one peeking through that door at night, heavy breathing as he watches you toss and turn in bed. No, you're going crazy. Insane. You must've left the door ajar, and those eyes must be a trick of the light. Then what about the hot breath on your collar? It's those dreams. The beast appearing again and again, making you believe that there's someone in your bed. Someone on top of you, pinning you down like a butterfly as they take you in with their eyes. If only you knew that the beast wasn't an illusion but the reality of Jim.
He's a monster, a motherfucking monster.
Note: I just had to write more about this GORGEOUS AMAZING BEAUTIFUL MAN RAHHHH. Ugh he's been on my mind 24/7 and I'm literally working on like 3 more fics about him. He deserves so much love and I love the complexity he has ughghghghgh. Again THANK YOU to the WONDERFUL author/creator @hereisremina of this game for giving us THIS MASTERPIECE to leech off (I'M SORRY I'M WRITING SO MUCH ABOUT HIM I JUST HAVE TOOOOOOOOO).
Note 2: So like I said before, I definitely am moving on from my usual content into more darker(?) content. And even if it's not "darker" it's certainly has heavy implications and is much different to what I usually write.
Note 3: Inspo from the song "Monster" by Dev.
Note 4: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!
