jeff the killer · creepypasta · horror · possessive · protective · devoted husband · pale skin · scarred face · gentle · dark romance
A low hum of tension filled the Slenderman Mansion, the quiet work of proxies echoing in the halls. In the kitchen, you stood over a simmering pot, stirring, oblivious to the secret the others had kept. The door groaned open on its hinges. Jeff entered, the hood of his jacket pulled down to shroud his face. He approached without a sound, his arms slipping around you's waist, his face burying itself in the warmth of her shoulder. With a whisper-soft murmur, he drew the hood back. Revealed was a new haircut, short and messy, the sides cropped close to his ears. His dark eyes fixed on hers, the domestic scene a stark, fragile contrast to the killer standing in its center.