Jeff X Slenderman Novels & Stories

She could only tug on his suit, for he was not in the mood to listen to anyone. The man called Jeff was already weak, and his vision became blurry. He could no longer hear anything but the pain from every corner of his porky skin. The other board members joined Val but Xander was too powerful, by one push all of them fell to the ground. Val fell and bruised her elbow on the table, and it began to bleed. " Ouch" she cried out, blowing air into the purple-looking bruise on her elbow. It was these moans of Val that made the beast in him calm down. He dropped Jeff on the floor and turned to look after Val.

Conglomerate. Jeffery stood across the room at the bar, pouring us both a drink. His shoulders were broad and tight beneath the white dress shirt he hadn't bothered to remove after we got in. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the defined muscle cords in his forearms, veins threading beneath bronzed skin. He looked like a man still fighting a war. Controlled. Coiled. "You're quiet," he said, voice low and gravel-smooth. "I'm thinking," I replied.

There was a smile on the man's voice, "I don't see you, you're so tiny." Deen looked up, and gaped. The man looked very much like Jeff like a betel nut cut in half, but even so Deen knew that this man was not Jeff, their appearance was definitely very different, the man in front of her had half-long hair that brushed his collar. While Jeff was neatly cut. His style of dress was very different, Deen remembers when she met Jeff at night at that time, he wore formal pants and a long sweater that wrapped his body like an elegant model, while the man in front of her was wearing jeans that were very faded to almost white and loose t-shirts that are slightly wrinkled.

Undead had terrible naming sense. It seems that it wasn’t just their lives that had been lost when they died. Just like Muscles was a direct expression of his name, Slender was also an exact definition of his name. His prominent clavicular and rib bones as well as his overtly expressed zygomatic bone and temporalis muscle were enough to show that he was wasted. While he was tall, he was as slim as a broom and would have been mistaken for a terminally ill man if he wasn’t already dead. Standing with Muscles, they drew such a stark contrast between themselves that it was almost comical; however, the Undead with them didn’t think so.

Jeff probably won't hear it. I was not too fond of Jeff. He was a slender man with blonde hair that glistened when exposed to the sun. His face was oval with round eyes, and he was one year younger than my dad, I think. His eyes were sliced ​​gold, and he always looked at me with a troubling gaze. It was as if he was stripping my body with those eyes.

, I told him while handing him the money. He was about to open his mouth, but I quickly told him to keep the change. He just shook his head before handing out snacks; opening the bag full of snowflakes, which is milk chocolate covered in powdered sugar. His last name indeed states he is a slenderman which means his eight feet without a face; as we leave, the person behind us exclaims. “Why did you serve them? One of them is a human.” “And?”, he answers.

Perhaps this was the state when the love could not be salvaged. It was even a burden to live, so live like the walking dead. Jepherson asked, "Is my daughter pretty?" Jolted back to his senses, Xanthus said in amusement, "You should ask the woman who will birth your child. You're asking the wrong person." Jepherson was still dressed like Callis, but he had peeled off the synthetic skin and trimmed his hair. The Jepherson at present looked no different from Callis. But once he restored his original appearance, everything was different, even the atmosphere.

Jeffrey, watching my body buzz around the lobby like a headless chicken, couldn't help but curve his lips into a sharp smirk. “What the fuck is so funny to your eyes?” “My face smiles because my lips want to,” Jeffrey says, spreading his hands wide as he arches a brow playfully. But the movement inadvertently pulls at the stitched wound on his skull, which immediately stiffens his grin into a painful grimace. I point my finger straight at the thick bandage on his head. “Laughing too hard can bite your own flesh back, buddy! Did Brooke’s claws give your skull that nasty wound before you fled?”

“Well yeah,if you put it that way” “Speak of the devil”.Jeffery walked in with a bag in his hands and I saw a pizza pack in his other hand.He was old and had grey hairs,he was a little bit fat and he wore a butler suit.Aiden took it from his hands and came back to me.Jeffery left. “So you’re like Batman or something?” He chuckled “I am Batman”.We both laughed and started eating and talking. After a while,we were both filled up so we rested.

All I had was the truth, and the tiny, breathing reality in my arms. The light from the Reaper intensified, then collapsed inward with a sound like a universe sighing. Where the massive construct had been, a single figure now stood, knee-deep in the dust. Jeff. He looked exactly as he had in the penthouse. The same face, the same eyes. He was dressed in simple, dark clothes, but they looked out of place, a costume. He was a creature of pure energy wearing the skin of a man. He took a step forward, then another, his movement unnervingly smooth. He didn't seem to walk so much as translate across the space between us. In moments, he was standing before me, close enough to touch.