THE MOURNING AFTER
A JEFF THE KILLER X JANE THE KILLER ONESHOT
Inspired by nekrott’s art
“—𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘶𝘱. 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵.”
It’s 4 nearly 5am. I’ve been procrastinating a uni assignment all day and was inspired by @nekrott on instagram’s art, so i decided to throw something together cause i haven’t wrote or felt inspired to write anything other than sappy poetry in a minute.
it might feel a bit incomplete (as all my works do) but this was just a bored little whip up lol, enjoyyyyyyy.
Tunes for you while you read 🎧🎶 - Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes: Kitty Sucker
The light of dawn trickled it's way into the lofty apartment.
Warming the greys of the cracks and ruins that accompanied the walls.
The soft sounds of skittering, movement, and traffic seemed to be at a standstill and for the first time in a while, I'd felt at peace.
A sensation that coddled me like a baby in a blanket, wrapped up with the smoothness of a Russian doll, unable to fidget myself out into a problem.
Uncoddled was the pounding feeling in my head, that made me want to fucking scream.
Grimacing, my hand securely caught the bobbling head of my skull as i sat myself up on the edge of the bed.
As I came to, i tugged on the strict leash, that bound the bundle of thoughts trying to evade me of the night before. Yanking them back into my conscious, and mulling over the series of ambiguities like an unamused television watcher.
The corners of my scarred lips shifted downwards as i recalled the cold, sappy feeling of my feet sinking calf length into the sludge of the forest floor, as I trudged along undesirably. My company miserably dragging themselves behind me.
At this part, I'd be expected to say that I was pleased with my 'company,' but by now I had contemplated multiple ways I could keep their pretty fucking mouth shut permanently.
Settling with binding her lips together with thread and the thickest needle i could find, just to stop her incessant whining.
The moody Ravenette had bitched when I'd told her she'd needed to cover up because we'd be walking through marsh.
Waving her stupid finger in my face for trying to tell her what she could and couldn't wear, like I gave a fuck, just to complain about her feet being cold after.
To shut her up I'd taken off my boots and thrown them at her, proceeding bare foot without a further word.
Another tug of the leash, and we were in this bed, the same bed that I was alone in now. My lips ghosting the warm flesh of her skin as she'd begged me to stop toying with her.
Her pretty defiant eyes glossed over with a yearning for contact that went beyond the sensation of cool metal tracing her skin as I'd sliced through the fabric of her black bra.
Her locks spiraling sultrily arounds the sharp contours of her face, tongue teasing over her lips as her expression furrowed into that desperate "Fuck me please..." one that drove me fucking crazy.
In moments like this I'd develop a new passion. More specifically for the colour black.
No one could make the colour look as appealing as she did right now. And as i forced her pretty black knee sock clad legs over my shoulders I succumbed to the darkness that enraptured me over, and over and over until I was here.
My lips curled up into a smile at the flood of memories.
Eyes now wired open, i scanned the room for the dark temptress that had seduced me the night before.
Finally coming to, and embracing my environment, I snatched up the bottle that had been digging me in the thigh for the past few minutes, as I'd come out of rem reflecting on the trials and tribulations - also known as Jane - of the day before.
My favourite lethal vixen.
Looking up my body tensed as I'd found the object of my thoughts.
The soft whoosh of a breeze, mingled it's way into the portrait of Aphro-fucking-dite sat in front of me.
My throat went dry, and my heart felt like it was about to pound it's way out of my chest. Eyes fixed to the only thing that could drag this reaction out of me.
My grip on the neck of the glass bottle tightened, as the saccharine bitter scent of tobacco invaded my nostrils, further hypnotising me.
I eyed the slow movement of her bra strap rolling off her shoulder as she gazed over the quietened city below.
Her body contorted into a position of comfort and allure on the deck chair, cigarette taut between her fingers flirting with the lips I'd teased the night before, as the soft locks of her hair swayed in time with the breeze.
My brain scrambled to find the words to describe the simple yet hypnotic piece of work that some unnatural force had decided to bless me with on this fine morning.
The man in me swatted it's way through boyish terms like sexy, hot, and more possessive jargon.
Settling on nothing other than fucking perfect.
"You gonna keep staring or are you gonna come outside and smoke with me." Her soft voice called over to me and in that moment I may as well have floated my way onto the balcony at the request of my perfect problem.