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

Grumpy Beginnings

quick warning before we get started:

this story will contain some pretty gruesome descriptions. be warned.

A major part of explaining where you lived was how you described it, and this problem hit you before you had even moved in.

More often than not, you said that you lived in a cottage in the forest—people were usually more interested in hearing about the house itself if you called it a cottage. If you called it a cabin in the woods, however, some people (not all) were a little more wary, as if they expected someone to die.

The place you lived in, whether you wanted to call it a cottage or a cabin, was older then most might think. The estate agent that had showed you around told you it was easily over two hundred years old, despite the modern features that had been added. You had laughed, reassuring her that you didn't mind dealing with any quirks the house's age brought.

It was a small farmhouse, with a living room that combined with the kitchen, a bathroom upstairs next to your bedroom, an office, and another bedroom downstairs. The sparse pieces of furniture you had purchased (with help from your parents) were from various sales, and the only piece of furniture you had brought with you resided in your bedroom: your bed, wardrobe, drawer unit, and bookshelves. (And everything in them, of course.)

The move had been somewhat sudden and erratic. After graduating university with a history degree, you found a job and moved to a completely new area, hoping to start fresh. It was something you had read about in books, and once you had an opportunity to do the same, you felt no regrets.

In your opinion, you thought you'd done rather well when your budget was considered. The house was a lot cheaper than expected, yet, despite the eyebrows it raised, you didn't question it. Why would you?

'I remember my nan bought a house like yours a few years ago,' said your closest friend, Socks. 'It was like, a quarter of a million, I think. Not a few grand.'

'I'm not complaining,' you replied with a shrug. 'Gotta take what you can get these days.'

'Well, yeah, not wrong. There's something dodgy about the house, though.'

'True. It does have a bit of a, uh, weird vibe.'

'That's one way of putting it. I don't know what it is exactly, but something about the place makes me nervous for you.'

You silently agreed. As lovely as it was, certain rooms made you feel ever so slightly uncomfortable—mainly the rooms on the ground floor. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was. Was the fact that you had the entire house to yourself? Or was the house's age subconsciously making you imagine things that weren't there?'
Either way, the house was yours, so you were stuck in it. If you wanted to move, you'd need cash, which was something you didn't have a lot of.

As if they sensed your thoughts, Socks asked, 'When does work start? Is it next week?'

'I think so, yeah.'

'Good luck with that.'

'Hah, thanks. My boss is pretty nice, so I'm hoping everyone else is.'

'Kinda jealous of you. You get to work at home! I would kill for the chance to do that, but I guess I can't really take giant servers home...'

As Socks rambled on, your mind drifted towards the dream job that had kept you going throughout your school life, essentially keeping you on the straight and narrow. You were a digital historical researcher, which meant your job was research specified events throughout history at the request of your employer, the curator of the local museum, or whoever had hired the museum's help for resources and information.