capricorn-writes2

[capricorn-writes2]

Hey! I would like to request again with Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz and Reaper to help S/O who cannot sleep. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, Reaper Sans and Ganz with Insomniac S/O

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A/N: Hello, Anon! Thank you so much for requesting this headcanon, and I tried my best to give the best portrayal for these guys. I hope you like the final result, and I'm sorry if there might be some OOC characters. I am really sorry, but I have to close the asks because my asks are overflowing, especially in the other account.

Warning: Mention of Insomnia, tiny description of violence. Gender: Neutral

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Horror Sans: Horrortale

Horror Sans keeps a stash of hot cocoa (extra thick) for your worst nights, even if it's hard to find in the Underground, where food is quite scarce in here. He lets it simmer until it’s just right, then shoves it in your hands.

He doesn’t sleep much himself, so when you’re tossing and turning at 3AM, he’s already up, carving wood or sharpening his cleaver. When he hears your sighs, he puts his tools down without a word and climbs into bed. One giant arm wrapped around you.

Sometimes, when you can't sleep at all, he takes you on silent walks through the underground ruins. The broken halls and empty echoes oddly soothe your racing mind.

He carves little trinkets for you when he knows you’ve had several bad nights in a row. A tiny bone charm, a wooden heart, even a keychain shaped like a sleeping skull. They’re crude, but strangely they ease your mind because it feels like he was there for you.

When you cry out in your sleep, Horror jolts awake instantly, eyes glowing red. He doesn’t shake you to wake you up. Horror Sans just murmurs your name, rubbing circles on your back until you stir or cuddle you.

Sometimes, he tells you stories, gruesome, broken fairy tales from the Underground. He softens the gore just for you, weaving his trauma into tales that somehow feel familiar.

He once let you draw on his bones during a particularly sleepless night. You doodled stars and hearts across his ribs, giggling when he flinched at ticklish spots. Now he keeps a marker nearby, just in case.

He doesn’t understand everything about insomnia, but he understands pain, loneliness, and silence. That’s why he stays, through every sleepless night and morning. He never asks you to be okay. He just stays next to you in the darkness.

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The clock blinked 2:57 AM, its red digits glowing like tiny, merciless eyes in the corner of the room. You stared at the ceiling, wide awake, your limbs heavy with exhaustion but your mind spinning like it was being chased. The silence was loud. Too loud. Every creak of the floor, every distant hum from outside, seemed like something waiting, lurking.

You turned over for the twelfth time, pulling the blanket tighter around you, but it wasn’t warmth you needed. You needed something to calm your racing thoughts. The door creaked open softly, and the familiar silhouette filled the doorway. Broad shoulders, a glowing crimson eye, and a jagged grin that somehow never looked threatening when it was turned toward you.

Horror Sans didn’t speak at first; he just stepped into the room, the floorboards groaning under his weight like they knew he was someone to be respected, even by the house itself. In his hands: a chipped mug of cocoa and a small carved bone charm tied to a string. “Could smell your thoughts from downstairs,” he rasped, his voice like gravel soaked in black coffee. “Kept me from my nap. Rude, ain’tcha?” But his grin softened.

Horror Sans walked over as his footsteps made a creaking sound from the wooden floor, placing the mug on the nightstand and the charm gently into your palm. You clutched it tightly, its surface warm from his hand. The room felt a little safer already. He sat beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his massive frame. “Wanna talk?” He asked, his tone surprisingly gentle for someone who once tore a monster in half for looking at him wrong.

You shook your head, and instead of prying, he leaned back against the headboard and opened one arm, wordlessly inviting you closer. You curled into his side, head resting on his chest, feeling the faint thrum of magic through his bones. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta sleep. Just rest. I’ll stay.” His fingers were cold but firm.

His fingers moved in slow circles along your shoulder. In the darkness, his presence filled every corner like a ward against whatever shadows haunted you. You thought you’d feel small next to him. After a while, he started humming. Low and slow, like a lullaby carved out of broken memories. There were no words, just sound and vibration and something old behind it, something kind.

You breathed in deeply, his scent all smoke, ash, and something earthy, like he’d fought monsters in the forest and never truly left. His thumb brushed your cheek once as he was careful that the sharp part of his claws didn't touch you, just enough to ground you. “Night ain’t got nothin’ on you,” he whispered.

Your body sank deeper into him, muscles slowly relaxing one by one. You weren't asleep yet, but your mind wasn’t racing anymore. Not with his humming, not with that charm still clenched in your hand, and not with his arm across you like a blanket. He wasn’t perfect, but he was yours and somehow, in his arms, even the monsters under your bed seemed to keep their distance.

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Killer Sans: Something New

Killer doesn’t sleep much either, so when you’re awake at 4AM staring at the ceiling, chances are he’s hanging upside-down from your doorframe. “Can’t sleep, babe? Good. Let’s go commit insomnia crimes together.” He means playing card games, not actual crime… this time.

When your insomnia hits hard, Killer builds a blanket fort around you using stolen bedsheets, pillows, and questionable tape wrapped around the fort to make it steady. Inside, it’s cozy and lit by tiny fairy lights he definitely didn’t steal.

He doodles on your arms with a red pen when you’re too restless to stay still. He draws little skulls, sleepy eyes, and hearts with knives in them. Sometimes he kisses your hand afterward like you’re royalty.

He sneaks out to get your favorite snacks and drinks when you're having a hard night. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1 AM or 5 in the morning. He’s got sticky fingers and zero morals. Shows up with a bag of Cheetos and cans of Coca-Cola or Dr. Pepper.

On the worst nights, he lets you lie on top of him while he traces shapes on your back. His gloves are rough, but his touch is so careful you could cry. He tells you stories of twisted fairy tales where the villain always wins.

Or sometimes Killer keeps your favorite movie downloaded and ready when it was your worst night. You don’t even watch it sometimes; you just let it play in the background as the sound soothes you.

If you ever fall asleep in a weird position, he doesn’t move you. Instead, he moves himself around you like a puzzle piece. Once you woke up with him curled around your legs like a cat.

When you can’t stop pacing, he mirrors you, walking in circles dramatically. “New sport: Midnight Marathon. The first one to fall asleep wins.” You roll your eyes, but it makes you smile when he jokes.

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You weren’t sure what time it was, but the glow from your phone screen said it was way too late to still be awake and way too early to give up trying. The ceiling had become your favorite thing to stare at lately, not because it was interesting, but because at least it didn’t talk back. Your thoughts, though? Loud. Spinning. Buzzing like a glitch.

Even blinking felt exhausting now. You buried your face in your pillow with a sigh, half-hoping the universe would knock you out just to shut you up. The window creaked open with a familiar, unnecessary flair. Of course, he never used the door. “Knock knock, insomnia!” Killer’s voice rang out, too energetic for someone who probably hadn’t slept in a week either.

You sat up just enough to see him climbing through the frame like a smug cat burglar. “Guess who brought your favorite bag of salty death chips and tons of Dr.Peppers and Cola cans?" He grinned, eyes glowing in the dark, and a snicker escaped from him.

Then he tossed it onto the bed, kicked his boots off, and flopped beside you like gravity meant nothing. He smelled faintly of rust and trouble, chaotic comfort wrapped in a hoodie too big for someone who didn’t have skin. You didn’t have to say anything. He just knew. With a dramatic sigh

Killer Sans rolled over onto his side and propped his head up with his hand, the other one reaching out to poke your cheek. “You’ve been overthinking again, haven’t you? Tsk. Told you not to go in that haunted house you call a brain without me.” The jab was playful, but the concern in his voice was real. You didn’t answer, but you turned your face toward him, your silence enough of an answer. He suddenly reached into his hoodie and pulled out a red marker. “Alright. New plan.”

You didn’t even question it. Killer grabbed your arm gently and began drawing some little skulls with hearts for eyes, crooked stars, and cartoon knives with blood. His focus was intense, tongue poking out like a kid with crayons. “Therapy. Killer-style. If I can’t make you sleep, I’ll make your arm a distraction masterpiece.” You watched him, heart slow and quiet for the first time tonight. “Y’know,” he said softly after a while, “you don’t gotta force yourself. To sleep. To be okay. Just… be.”

The words were casual, tossed out like candy, but they stuck to your ribs like poetry. You looked at your arm that are now covered in doodles and realized you felt warmer than you had in hours. Killer dropped the pen and stretched out beside you, then pulled you gently to his chest. His bones were hard, sure, but his magic buzzed low and calm, like a lullaby under your skin.

He didn't say anything else. Just wrapped his hoodie around your body like a blanket that protects your from the cold. You closed your eyes, not to sleep, but to listen. You matched your breathing with his, letting the strange rhythm of him settle your nerves. And for once, your thoughts weren’t screaming. Just whispering. Slowing. Resting.

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Dust Sans: Dusttale

Dust isn’t the touchy-feely type, but the moment he finds out you haven’t been sleeping, he starts sticking around at night more often. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans in the doorway and watches you, like a guardian.

He hates the silence as much as you do. So when the room gets too quiet, he flicks his fingers and make a soft, low hum of magic to fill the space. It’s subtle, almost like static or wind, just enough to keep your thoughts from spiraling.

Dust has insomnia too, sometimes. So he doesn't judge when you’re wide awake at 3 a.m, just staring into nothing. Instead, he pulls out one of his old journals and starts writing, letting you listen to the scratch of pen on paper.

He has a stash of old books in his room, dusty and broken-spined. On the worst nights, he reads to you in his low, tired voice. Sometimes it’s horror. Sometimes it’s lore, or sometimes it’s his own writing.

Sometimes, He learns to sketch just to keep your mind busy. He hands you broken pencils and torn notebooks at 2 a.m., challenging you to draw a monster uglier than him. You always lose.

When you’re shaking from exhaustion, Dust lets you rest your head in his lap. He doesn’t move, even when his legs go numb or the world outside gets too loud. One hand rests on your head, thumb brushing your temple in slow, repetitive motions.

Dust memorizes your bedtime routine. Even if it’s dumb, even if it doesn’t work, he does it with you. Brushes his teeth at the same time, turns off lights together. It becomes something sacred between you two.

He once built you a dreamcatcher out of bone and thread. It’s crooked, a little creepy, and probably cursed. But you hung it above the bed anyway. And somehow, since then, the dreams haven’t been so scary.

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You didn’t know what time it was. The world outside your window had melted into that liminal kind of dark, where even the moon looked half-asleep and the street lamps buzzed like distant insects. Your eyes were heavy, but your mind was wide awake with thoughts jumping between regrets, missed texts, and unspoken worries. You hated this feeling: trapped between the want to rest and the inability to shut your brain up.

The door creaked open without a knock, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. His footsteps were too quiet, calculated. Dust never walked like a normal person, he moved like someone who expected a fight, even in your bedroom. “Still awake,” he muttered, not a question. You hummed in response, watching as he sank into the chair beside your bed.

His hoodie half-falling off his shoulder, sockets dim with exhaustion he’d never admit to. He didn’t ask what was wrong. Dust never wasted words like that nor the type to ask many questions. Instead, he reached into his hoodie and pulled out a cracked thermos filled with tea, handing it to you. “It’s bitter,” he warned.

You took it anyway, the metal still warm from wherever he’d gone to get it. The first sip made you wince, it tasted like old herbs, medicine and despair. “You’ll live,” he grunted, clearly amused by your face. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It never was with him. You listened to the quiet hum of his magic, that low, pulsing thrum like a heartbeat beneath your own.

It made the air feel heavier, safer somehow like if any nightmare tried to crawl out from under your bed, it would disintegrate before touching you. Dust rested his head back against the wall, one glowing eye flickering toward you now and then. “You’re thinking too loud,” he said. You sighed, curling your fingers around the thermos. “I know.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and held out his hand. You hesitated, then gave him yours. His grip was rough but careful enough not to accidentally prick you, his fingers cold, but he traced small circles into your palm like he’d been doing it his whole life. “You don’t gotta fix it all tonight. Just… stay. Breathe....” he murmured, voice lower now.

He pulled something from his jacket pocket, a stubby pencil and a wrinkled notebook. “Let’s draw ugly things,” he suggested, like it was the most natural response to insomnia. You blinked. “What kind of ugly things?” “Like that thought that told you you’re not good enough. Let’s make it fat and give it six arms.” You laughed, just a little. He smirked, and the sound made his soul flare gently in his chest.

You lost track of time. The notebook filled with sketches and doodles, half-formed monsters and imaginary fears with googly eyes and terrible fashion sense. Somewhere between a grumpy scribble of your anxiety and his horribly disproportionate sketch of your math teacher, your breathing evened out. You leaned your head against his shoulder without thinking. He didn’t move away. Just rested his skull against yours and let the silence settle in again.

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Reaper Sans: Reapertale

Reaper doesn’t sleep either, at least not like mortals do. But the moment he learns you suffer from insomnia, he begins appearing at your bedside more often. Not to judge, not to fix, just to be there for you.

He calls you “beloved” in the softest way possible. Like the word itself might shatter if spoken too loud. When you’re curled in bed, tense and wired, he’ll whisper it near your ear. And it makes the monsters in your head pause.

He will whisper your name like a prayer. When you’re shaking, when your thoughts won’t shut up, when you feel alone like there was no one was there for you. He speaks it softly, over and over, anchoring you to the present.

Reaper reads ancient texts in a deep, rhythmic voice. Not all of it makes sense, some in dead languages, others in stories forgotten by time. But the sound of his voice lulls you into calmness.

He conjures a thin veil of shadow over the windows. Not just to block the light, but to mute the world, silencing the honks, the wind, even the ticking clock. To him, sleep is sacred; not even Death should disturb it.

Reaper’s cloak becomes your second blanket. Heavy, slightly cold, smelling like magic and grave lilies. When you curl up in it, it feels like being wrapped in the night sky itself.

He draws sigils in the air, casting soft charms for peace and silence. They hang invisible around your bed to wards of calm, of rest, of dreamless slumber. “Nothing dark may trespass here,” he says solemnly.

He has a near-perfect memory. So he repeats the things that helped before: the right words, the exact position that made you sigh, a cold comfortable pillows, a warm water for your throat, sleep masks, the lullaby from week two. He tailors his care like a ritual.

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The ceiling above your bed stared back at you, painted with shadows and the slow crawl of hours you couldn’t name. You’d counted the cracks in the paint, memorized the rustle of the curtain, even listened to the hum of your heart like it might lull you to sleep. But nothing worked. Sleep had abandoned you again.

A cold breeze stirred the air, though no windows were open. You didn’t flinch. You knew that sensation by now, the quiet arrival of something otherworldly, dark yet comforting, and the hush that followed. When you blinked, Reaper Sans stood by the foot of your bed, framed by nothing but the dark. His cloak moved like smoke in water, face half-lit by the soft blue glow of his soul. “Still awake, beloved?”

You didn’t answer. Just nodded, too tired to pretend it was fine. He said nothing more, simply walked across the room and sat beside you. His scythe always with him, always gleaming with ghost-light, hovered in the corner, like a silent sentinel. You could smell the magic clinging to him: lavender, ash, and something like ancient ink. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was…comforting.

Without asking, he extended his arm, and you curled instinctively into his side. His robes were cold, but his magic hummed with a warmth you didn’t understand. Death shouldn’t be comforting, but he was. “I cast a ward earlier. It should help with the voices tonight," he said quietly.

You hadn’t told him about the voices, those fleeting thoughts that liked to whisper lies in the silence. But of course he knew. His hand rose slowly, carefully brushing your hair away from your face, as though you were made of silk or something long buried. “Your soul is loud when it suffers, I hear it calling me, even in the realm between," he added.

You felt your throat tighten at that. No one had ever said your pain was heard. Not like this. Not like it mattered. You wanted to tell him everything. How afraid you were of your own thoughts. How the night made everything worse. But you didn’t have to because he pulled his cloak around both of you, sheltering you in that strange, sacred space where sleep wasn’t forced, but invited. “Let me share the night with you,” he whispered.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time melted beside Reaper, soft and slow. The flicker of his magic reflected on the wall in constellations that weren’t real but made you feel small in a comforting way. You focused on the rhythm of his soul’s pulse, a deep, slow echo beneath his ribs. And the protective way he curled his arm around your side like a shield from unseen things.

When sleep finally began to creep in, you felt him shift slightly. Not to move, not to leave, but just to settle in more deeply beside you. His voice came one last time, a whisper that reached into the growing stillness of your thoughts. “Sleep now. I’ll keep the world away.”And for once, you believed him.

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Ganz : GZTale

Image Source: SkyDixie

Ganz isn’t the type to say much, but he notices everything. When you’re tossing and turning, he doesn’t question it. Instead, he lies beside you, skull tilted your way, watching with a soft glowing eye.

He starts keeping track of your insomnia patterns. Not in a notebook, but mentally, like he’s preparing for battle. If he senses the signs from twitchy fingers and far-off stare. He’s already planning how to help.

Ganz will light up the room with little flickers of magic. Not too bright, just enough to distract your mind from racing thoughts. Sometimes they form shapes such as foxes, ghosts, symbols from his world.

Sometimes, he tells you stories from his world. They’re weird, a little violent, and full of sarcastic commentary. But they make you focus, it give you something real and chaotic to focus on.

He learns what helps you calm down such as music, humming, fidgeting. Then he offers them without being asked. You want music? He’s already queuing your playlist in the spotify or from the youtube.

On the worst nights, he doesn’t say a word. He just pulls you into his chest, holds you tightly, and doesn’t let go. His magic flares up just enough to warm your back and his silence are comforting.

He sometimes takes you to the underground ruins via portal. Not to scare you, just to walk so your mind can be distracted by the view. The ancient silence calms your nerves, and the glowstones help your eyes rest.

When you do finally fall asleep, he doesn’t move. Not even to check his phone. He just watches over you, bones still, magic soft. And if a nightmare flickers in your expression, he’s ready to fight it.

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It was 2:47 a.m. when your brain decided sleep was off the table. Again. You’d been staring at the ceiling so long, the texture had turned into mountains, and your thoughts had gone from overthinking what you said at dinner to imagining alien civilizations made of cheese. Everything was quiet, too quiet for your likiking.

And then, the air shifted. A chill, a disturbance in the space between the seconds. A presence you couldn’t mistake. Ganz stood at the edge of your bed, his glowing eye cutting through the darkness like a lighthouse in a storm. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you with that poker face, arms crossed. “Tough night?” he asked in his usual gravelly tone, though his gaze softened.

You couldn’t manage words, just a half-hearted nod as you buried your face into your pillow. It was too much tonight—too many thoughts, too many anxieties that kept you up, relentless in their pursuit. He seemed to read it in the way your shoulders slumped, the way your breath hitched.

Ganz didn’t offer a magical fix or an empty platitude. Instead, he sat down beside you, his presence solid and grounding, like the only thing that was real in a sea of chaos. Without a word, he reached out, his skeletal fingers brushing your hand, offering warmth that didn’t quite belong to him. “C’mon, let's get some fresh air. The night’s too big to let it eat you alive," he muttered.

And with that, he tugged you up, guiding you outside with a force that was oddly gentle for a being like him. The cool night air hit your face, sharp and fresh. Ganz pulled you onto the rooftop, where the city sprawled beneath you, the lights a distant constellation of dreams. "Isn't this better?" he asked, settling beside you as the wind tousled his jacket.

You nodded, your heartbeat slowing, just a little. The vastness of the night was no longer suffocating, but freeing. His voice broke the silence again, not forceful, but comforting. “Sometimes you gotta step out of your head, y’know? The stars don’t care about your worries.” His hand casually brushed against yours, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for a moment, it was.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, letting the quiet of the world mix with the strange warmth of his magic. When the weight of exhaustion finally began to pull at your eyelids, Ganz made no move to rush you back inside. Instead, he hummed a low, comforting sound, the kind that only someone like him could produce. “You gonna make it through the night?” he asked, not teasing. It was an offer that he would be willing to stay awake as long as you need him to be. “I can stay up as long as you need. I’m used to it.” He finally says.

Eventually, you found your way back to your bed, though now, it didn’t feel so oppressive. Ganz didn’t leave. Instead, he laid beside you, his cool body curving protectively around you. His arm draped over you, not too tight, just enough to feel his presence. “The world’s still out there, waiting for you to wake up. But for now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper “just sleep, for once," and with that, the tension in your body eased.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Ganz Sans, Reaper Sans, Error Sans and Toxic Sans Helping S/O with Their Homework

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Hey Lil's! Long time not chatting, and I'm happy that I finally can talk to you again after everything, and thank you so much for being a great friend and a great reader! I'm so happy that you read my book ^.^

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities

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Ganz - GZTale

Ganz doesn’t talk much, but his presence speaks volumes. He pulls up a chair beside you, arms crossed, eyes scanning the page like a detective at a crime scene. “That’s wrong,” he mutters, pointing silently to your third mistake.

If you're stressed, he gets uncharacteristically gentle. His gloved hand rests lightly over yours, grounding you when your brain starts spiraling.

Ganz makes sure you're taking care of yourself too. “Get up. Drink water. Stretch,” he commands like a mob boss giving orders. You grumble, but he already brought you your favorite snack without asking.

He sits through your long study rants with surprising patience. You’re rambling about the mitochondria or Shakespeare or whatever’s on the test. Ganz just nods occasionally, eyes narrowed with pretend interest.

He hates messy notes, so he rewrites yours when you’re not looking. He would be handing back your cleaned-up notebook. Every word is written in blocky and clean lettering.

Ganz never mocks you for asking questions. You used to be afraid of sounding dumb until you saw the way he looked at you. Like you were smart just for trying.

He secretly keeps a copy of your schedule so you will not forget to work on your homework or study. He also uses it to bring you snacks or send a quick message when he knows you’re stressed.

You once caught him reading your textbook when he thought you were asleep. He tried to play it off like he was bored, flipping through pages casually. But you noticed he was on the same chapter you were struggling with earlier.

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The room was quiet except for the ticking clock and the soft scratch of pencil against paper. You sat hunched over your desk, lips pressed tight in frustration as your latest homework sheet glared up at you like it had a personal vendetta. Formulas danced across the page like nonsense poetry, and the longer you stared, the more it felt like they were mocking you.

With a sigh, you let your head drop onto the desk. “I’m gonna lose it,” you mumbled. A gentle knock tapped once at your door—rhythmic, even. You already knew who it was. “Come in,” you muttered, not even lifting your head. The door creaked open, and in stepped Ganz, eyes dim but alert, expression unreadable as always.

He didn’t speak right away. He just took a long look at the scattered notes, the tensed curve of your shoulders, and the textbook thrown to the side like a battlefield casualty. “You’re overthinking it again,” he said quietly. It carried that calm weight, like it didn’t matter how chaotic the world was, he wasn’t moving.

He stepped closer, pulling out your second chair and sitting beside you. His bones creaked softly as he leaned forward, resting one hand on the desk while the other tapped near your worksheet. “Show me where you’re stuck.” You hesitated. Ganz wasn’t exactly a tutor type. He was more the quiet protector, the silent observer. But he always seemed to know when to show up and when to stay.

You slid the paper toward him and pointed at the question that had been giving you grief for the past twenty minutes. He stared at it for a long second, sockets narrowing. “You forgot to flip the sign when you moved that variable; start there," he said, tapping gently on the part you scribbled repeatedly with his finger.

As you erased and rewrote, Ganz didn’t hover. He stayed still beside you, his presence calm and steady like a mountain beside a storm. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was comforting. You risked a glance at him as you solved the next step correctly, and though his expression hadn’t changed, his gaze flicked to yours briefly. “There you go,” he said, his voice just slightly softer.

Time passed in steady breaths and pencil scratches. You’d stopped noticing how hard the homework was. Every time you paused, Ganz was there, pointing out a mistake, nodding when you got it right, and sliding your water bottle closer when your focus started to drift. He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. Just being there made the weight in your chest ease.

Eventually, you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head with a groan. “I actually finished it,” you said, half in disbelief. Ganz let out a short, low chuckle. "Told you. You get too cold when you focus. You forget stuff like that," he said, standing up and pulling your blanket from the bed. Without a word, he draped it over your shoulders.

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Reaper Sans - Reapertale

Reaper doesn’t knock when he comes in to help. He just silently appears in your room, shadows curling in the corners, and asks, “Need help?” in that soft, hollow voice. It still startles you every time, but he never means to scare you.

Reaper doesn’t fully sit down. He’ll float slightly above the chair, cloak curling under him, hands tucked in his sleeves until he needs to point something out.

He’s actually very methodical. Despite his chaotic world, Reaper’s mind is organized; he understands structure, sequences, and cause and effect well. That makes him great at breaking things down, especially in subjects like math or science.

He uses metaphors when teaching. Instead of saying, “Subtract this,” he might say, “Remove the weight from this side to balance the soul.” It’s dramatic, yes. But you kind of love it. Makes algebra feel like spellcasting.

Reaper is not great with technology. If your homework involves typing or online submissions, he’ll kind of… float behind you, squinting at the screen, muttering things like “Why does this rectangle glow and beep?”

Sometimes Reaper Sans reads your textbooks aloud in that soft, eerie tone. It somehow makes even boring history sound like ancient lore or when biology sounds like he's casting a spell.

If you stay up too late, he’ll phase through the wall holding tea. He’ll close your books with one hand and offer you the warm cup with the other. You’ve learned not to argue; he’s always right about your limits.

He doesn’t smile often, but when you get something right on your own, he looks at you like you’re the only light in the Underverse. “You shine brighter than most souls I’ve collected,” he murmurs with a soft smile.

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The glow of your desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, the only source of light in the otherwise dim space. You stared at your homework sheet, your pencil hovering over the page, but your thoughts were scattered, too tired to focus. The numbers swam before your eyes, mocking you.

You’d been at it for hours, and it felt like you were getting nowhere. A frustrated sigh escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands. "I can't do this anymore," you wanted to cry and just dump it in the trash can. This subject isn't really your forte.

Suddenly, a soft, chilling air ran through the room, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Before you could look up, the shadows in the corner of your room shifted, and there he was, Reaper Sans, standing just beyond your desk, his glowing eyes fixed on you. You jumped, not expecting him to appear.

He simply tilted his head, as if he already knew exactly what was happening. “You’re stuck,” he said, his voice calm and detached but with an underlying thread of understanding. You looked up at him, momentarily taken aback by his presence.

His voice was calm and kinda echoey, like death itself but not scary. Well, not that scary anymore. “Gee, thanks for the observation, Mr. Grim Reaper,” you muttered, rolling your eyes and flopping back dramatically in your chair. He didn’t react. He never really did. But somehow, you could see the tiny smirk under that skeletal face.

Without saying another word, he floated closer, pulling up your chair with a flick of his hand like he wasn’t even touching it. He leaned over the page, scanning your messy numbers. “You forgot the negative here,” he said, pointing it out like it was obvious. You blinked. “Wait, that’s why it wasn’t working? Ughhhh.”

Reaper nodded like a tired tutor who’s been through this a thousand times. “Math is like balance. You tip it wrong, it crumbles.” You squinted at him. “That’s… morbidly poetic. Kinda cool, actually,” You always know how poetic he is. Little by little, he helped you walk through each step. He didn’t rush you. Didn’t sigh when you made mistakes. He j

He just calmly pointed at the page and gave short, super cryptic explanations like 'Restore the balance between life and death' or 'Shift the soul to the other side of the realm' kind of explanation. Was he still talking about math? Who knows? But weirdly, it helped making you understand the homework more.

You started figuring it out. Like, for real this time. The numbers weren’t swimming anymore, and your brain didn’t feel like it was on fire. At one point, you looked over and caught Reaper just… watching you. Quietly. His head tilted a bit like he was reading something deeper than your homework. “You’re catching on fast,” he said, barely above a whisper.

The last problem took some time, but when you finally solved it, you legit gasped. “I did it!” you said, turning to him with a big grin. Reaper didn’t smile, he never did but his eyes glowed a little warmer. “Told you,” he murmured. And for a second, you could see a very tiny smile on him.

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Error Sans

He pretends to hate homework and grumbles about how it’s a waste of time, but when he sees you stressed out, he glitches next to you with a sigh and helping you.

His glitching increases when he’s concentrating, especially when the question is really tricky. He pauses mid-answer to reboot his thoughts, and you have to wait while he growls.

He helps in his own weird way, like rewriting practice problems but turning them into monster battles or weird AU-themed questions. “If a Glitchtale dragon eats four timelines, how many universes are left?” It’s ridiculous, but it makes you smile.

If you’re tired, he wraps a blue string around your wrist and tugs gently. “Break time. I don’t care what page you’re on.” You resist at first, but he scoops you up and plops you in a glitchy beanbag he made from nowhere.

He sometimes glitches your calculator and “improves” it by making it shout your answers out loud. It’s weird, chaotic, and almost gave you a heart attack. “2x2 is FOUR! YOU’RE WELCOME!” The calculator schout as he cackles. You threaten to ban him from electronics for a week.

He creates a mini glitched clone of himself as your tutor. It zips around yelling answers and giving sass, and you can’t tell if it helps or distracts you. “My glitch gremlin is smarter than your entire class,” Error says proudly. You’ve named it “Error's Gremlin”

If you fall asleep mid-assignment, Error doesn't wake you right away. He wraps you in his string and quietly finishes the rest of the page for you. Your handwriting is suspiciously neater. He pretends it wasn’t him, but you find a little glitchy heart drawn in the corner.

He won’t say the words “I’m proud of you,” but every time you complete something, he spawns confetti or hands you a pixel heart. It’s his way of saying he’s proud, because emotions are hard, okay?

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It started with your head slumped over the desk, pencil halfway falling out of your fingers, and your textbook looking like it had just declared war on your brain. The numbers weren't math anymore. They were alien code from some forgotten dimension. "I’m gonna dropkick this homework out the window.” You groan, mumbling the math homework is too difficult.

And that’s when he showed up with a half-glitch, half-snort from across the room. Error appeared behind your chair with a loud buzzing sounds and a whole lot of judgment in his eyes. “Y’know, for a human with a brain, you sure act like you ain’t got one sometimes,” he teased, leaning on the back of your chair.

You didn’t even flinch anymore. You just sighed, nudging the worksheet toward him. “This stuff’s melting my soul," You wave the paper in front of his face. “Oh boo hoo, tragic,” he said with a lazy grin, eye flickering. “Move over, nerd. I’m not lettin’ my favorite disaster flop today," he stood next to you.

When he floated closer, leaning over your shoulder to get a look at the chaos you’d created. He tapped the paper with one long finger, his eye glowing as he scanned the problem. “Look,” he said, “this part's easy.” You blinked, trying to follow the logic he was laying out. “What… do you mean easy? This looks like alien code,” you roll your eyes. Error let out a tiny, annoyed chuckle. “Not even close. Let me break it down," His voice was smoother now, less sarcastic, as he started explaining things step-by-step.

You hadn’t realized how much you were actually starting to understand until the tension in your chest began to ease. “Okay,” you muttered, frowning at the problem again. “But, like, how is this supposed to make sense? Why do I need to know this? I don’t even like math!” You shouted. Error snorted, shaking his head. “I dunno, kid. Maybe the multiverse wants you to suffer, or maybe it's just a useless system that's been coded into your brain.” His voice turned teasing, but there was an underlying sense of care that you couldn’t quite place.

You followed his instructions as best you could, your confidence slowly building as his explanations made more sense. When you finally solved the problem, you let out a triumphant laugh. “I did it! I actually did it!” Error’s eye glinted in a way that almost looked like pride. “Huh. Looks like you’re not totally hopeless after all," he chuckles without any malice in it.

Of course, your celebration was short-lived. “Now, next question,” Error said, moving on without a second glance at your victory dance. “You’re not getting out of this that easy.” You groaned, but his low chuckle made you smile. Despite his gruffness, there was something oddly comforting about him being there, guiding you through your work. Even if he was a giant glitchy mess.

By the time the homework was done, the clock on your desk had long since ticked past midnight. You slumped back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. "I think I’m gonna need a nap after that," you muttered. Error stood beside you, tapping his foot as if waiting for something. "Tch. You should be thanking me for saving your sorry self from total academic destruction."

He was right, though. Without him, you probably would’ve been stuck in a mental loop for hours. “Thanks, Error,” you said quietly, smiling at him as he floated there, looking like he was about to vanish into the shadows. His eye flickered for a second, a softer tone slipping through. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just-don’t make a habit of needing me for everything, alright?”

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Toxic Sans - Pollutiontale

Image Source: MidNightblogger (Deviantart)

Toxic Sans initially acts like he couldn’t care less about your homework, lounging with his feet up. “Ugh, homework? Can’t you just, like, pollute your brain with Netflix instead?” But the second you struggle, he shrugs and drags himself over, rolling his eyes.

Toxic leans over your shoulder, muttering, “You really let this junk pile up, huh?” He taps the paper with a bony finger, leaving a faint green glow around the margins. He acts like it’s a burden, but the little smirk betrays his interest in being close to you.

When you’re stuck on a math problem, he drifts over, his neon glow flickering with concentration. With a rough tap on the paper, he reorders your equations.

Toxic has a habit of drawing little toxic slime doodles on your worksheets. Sometimes they "talk" to each other in speech bubbles. You scold him playfully, but honestly, they make the homework more fun.

If you're too anxious to start, he doesn’t pressure you. He just sits quietly beside you, oozing chill energy. Eventually, the silence feels safe enough that you begin.

When he notices you're too tense, he forms a small toxic slime blob that are actually harmless to your skin. It wiggles on your desk and tries to high-five you or tries to hug your arms.

Toxic isn’t great with words, but when it comes to explaining a hard concept, he’ll break it down in the simplest way. It’s not the cleanest metaphor, but it clicks in your head. You nod in understanding.

After all the work is done, Toxic will act like he didn’t help you at all. “Pfft. You’d have done it without me. Don’t get all sappy now.” But the small, proud smile he gives you when he thinks you’re not looking says it all.

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It was the kind of rainy afternoon that made your brain feel soggy, too. You had a mountain of homework spread across your desk, and your brain felt like it had turned to literal mush. Math problems were swimming in your head, and your fingers hovered over your pencil, frozen. You groaned and smushed your cheek against the desk. “This is hopeless.”

From the window, a dark glitch flickered in and out of sight before finally materializing in the corner of your room. “Homework? Ew,” said Toxic Sans, dragging his words out like they tasted bitter. His skull glowed faintly green under your desk lamp. He leaned lazily against your bookshelf, like just being near your homework might kill him. You peeked up at him with a whimper. “Please help. I swear this worksheet is evil.”

Toxic sighed dramatically, plopping into your bean bag chair like a pile of toxic sludge. “Alright, but only because I’d rather not listen to you whine for the next hour.” He kicked his feet up, snapped his fingers, and summoned a floating calculator from the air. “Let’s melt some numbers, babe.”

His way of explaining math was… unconventional. “Imagine this number’s a gas leak, and this other one’s a match. What happens when they meet? Boom. You got a disaster. Which, apparently, is also the answer.” You roll your eyes at his ridiculous explanation despite yourself. It was weird, but it worked as the clogs in your brain finally move.

Slowly, the fog in your brain started to clear. When you got stuck on a science question, he glitch-warped right behind you and pointed over your shoulder. “You keep reading it like it’s complicated. It’s literally asking how pollution happens. Just write ‘humans exist’ and boom—accurate.” Well, he was right, shitty people cause the pollution since many people throw many dangerous waste to ocean.

You rolled your eyes, but somehow, his ridiculous suggestions gave you an idea. As much as it was a joke, you spun his words into an angle that worked for your paper. “I can’t believe I’m actually using your weird advice,” you muttered, smiling despite yourself. Toxic gave a lazy shrug. “Hey, you’re welcome. Don’t forget to cite me as your ‘genius’ source.”

By the time you finished, it was late. The clock blinked 1 AM, and you leaned back in your chair, exhausted but relieved. “I actually did it. I’m done,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. Toxic stood up and stretched, giving you one last glance. “Tch. You’re welcome, I guess. Don’t forget who saved your homework.” You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth in your chest. “Thanks, Toxic,” you said, your voice quieter. He smirked again. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get used to it, kid.”

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[capricorn-writes2]

Hello author, it's me Lilith again. Can I request Dust, Horror, and Killer (Part 1)? Ganz, Reaper, Error, and Toxic (Part 2) Helping Readers with Their Homework?

Dust Sans, Horror Sans and Killer Sans Helping S/O with Their Homework

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Hey Lil's! Long time no chatting, and I'm happy that I finally can talk to you again after everything, and thank you so much for being a great friend and a great reader! I'm so happy that you read my book ^.^

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities

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Dust Sans

He appears silently when you struggle, like a shadow with a heart. You don’t even hear him approach, but suddenly he's there, sitting beside you. "Need help?” he asks.

He may not talk much, but he’s incredibly observant. He notices the way your pen shakes when you’re overwhelmed. Slowly, he slides your drink closer and nudges a snack your way.

He reads over the instructions aloud in a calm, hollow tone. “Define the main theme of the passage,” he says, resting his chin on his hand. He helps you break it down into pieces, never rushing.

He protects your focus like it’s sacred. If someone tries to bother you, he appears beside you like a warning. One look at his dull red eye is usually enough to make the person that was bothering you leave.

He’ll read things for you when your eyes are tired. His voice is low and gravelly, but surprisingly gentle as he reads the textbook.

He always knows when to stop and give you space. His hand gently closes your notebook and pushes it aside. And he’ll stay close until your head clears.

If you cry from stress, he doesn’t panic; he just holds you. No lectures, no rushed comfort. Just silence and his arms around you. His thumb strokes your back as you sob into his hoodie.

He tracks your progress like it’s his mission. He remembers your exam dates better than you do. Sometimes he even leaves sticky notes with reminders. “Good luck. I believe in you,” one says in tiny handwriting.

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The room was quiet, save for the scratching of your pen and the occasional frustrated sigh that slipped past your lips. You sat hunched over your desk, elbows digging into the wood, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook began to lose all meaning.

It felt like your brain was made of static; each line you read melted into the next, nothing sticking. Your chest tightened, and for a second, you considered giving up. But then the shadows shifted—and you weren’t alone anymore. You didn’t hear him come in. Dust never made a sound unless he wanted to

Nevertheless, you felt him like the ghost of a chill brushing against your spine. His tall figure leaned against the doorframe, one eye glowing dim red in the low light of your desk lamp. He didn’t speak right away. He just watched, like he was trying to decide if now was a good time.

Eventually, his raspy voice broke through the silence. “Homework again?” He asked, like it wasn’t obvious, like he didn’t already know. You nodded, not trusting yourself to say much without snapping. Your fingers curled around your pen tighter. “It’s not working,” you mumbled. “I’ve been trying for hours, and none of it’s sticking," your voice grew tense.

That glow in his eye flickered just slightly. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled out the chair beside you, the wood creaking under his weight. The scent of dust and worn fabric clung to him, along with something faintly metallic. Still, his presence steadied you. “Let me see.” He said it so quietly, almost like he was afraid to be too close.

His hand brushed over your paper, claws careful not to tear it, as he scanned the assignment. He didn’t frown; he never did, but you could feel him thinking, his mind sharp despite everything it had been through. “Alright,” he said eventually. “This part’s trickin’ you. You’re tryin’ to memorize it like a script. Don’t. It’s a puzzle, not a punishment.” You blinked at him, surprised, but felt at least it helped.

The next hour passed in small breaths and softly spoken guidance. He never raised his voice. Never got impatient. He sat close enough for you to feel the warmth that lingered in his magic, guiding you with rough fingers that hovered but never rushed.

When you got something right, his eye would flicker with something close to pride. Not loud. Not bright. Just real. "Knew you had it in you,” he muttered once, under his breath, like it scared him to say more. When your hands finally dropped, limp and sore from writing, you realized how tired you were. Dust noticed before you could speak.

His scarf brushed your shoulder as he leaned forward, closing your notebook with quiet finality. “You’ve done enough,” he murmured, then added, “C’mere.” He pulled you gently to his side, your head resting against the soft, worn hoodie he always wore. His hand lingered on your arm like a silent promise that he got you.

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Horror Sans

He grumbles at first but always sits beside you anyway. Despite the groaning, he pulls a chair beside you and plops down with a thud. His massive claw rests on your back.

Horror never finished school because we know he literally lives in a place where everyone is so starving that murder is normal, but he’ll furrow his brow and do his best. “I dunno what a mitochondria is, but if it messes with ya, I’ll bite it.”

He always brings food, even if it looks… suspicious. Like that day he made sandwiches that looked like they had blood as a jam, but he would jokingly say, "Relax. Just strawberry...probably.”

He treats every correct answer like a major victory. He would cackle, slapping the table hard enough to rattle your pen. You flinch and laugh, blushing as he throws an arm around you.

He forces you to rest when you overwork yourself. The moment your eyes droop, he yanks your chair back. Scooping you into his lap like you weigh nothing and then cuddling you, forcing you to take a rest.

He stays up with you through all-nighters without complaint. He’s seen darker nights than this. What’s one more beside you? He would brush his claws against your hand and hum a low and soft tune while you work.

He tries to learn with you, even if it’s awkward. He’ll read over your shoulder and whisper, “What’s a… parallelogram?” When you explain, he nods solemnly like he’s just learned a sacred secret.

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You stared at your homework like it had personally offended you. Equations danced across the page, blurry and mean-spirited, mocking you for trying to understand them. The overhead light buzzed faintly, and your pencil lay still in your hand, threatening to snap under the weight of your frustration.

Just as you were about to throw the whole notebook across the room, the door creaked open with a low groan and he stepped in. “Homework again, huh?” Horror’s gravelly voice echoed in the quiet room. His tall frame filled the doorway, eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light.

He scratched at the back of his skull, already grumbling as he lumbered in. “You really like punishin’ yourself, don’tcha?” he muttered. But before you could respond, he dragged a chair beside you with an awful screech and sat down, his clawed hand landing gently between your shoulder blades. “A’ight. Let’s see what’s killin’ your mood tonight.”

You hesitated, watching him lean in, his face inches from the page. Despite his monstrous appearance—bloodstained teeth, shredded hoodie, and that ever-present aura of death—he squinted at the math problems with a furrowed brow like a concerned dad trying to help with fractions. “Okay,” he muttered. “So we’re dealin’ with demon numbers. Got it.” His finger tapping against the table. “Let’s hunt ‘em down.” He softly nods to himself.

The next half-hour passed in a strange blend of horror and hilarity. Horror Sans made up terrifying metaphors to help you remember concepts, calling exponents “tiny monsters that multiply behind your back” and telling you to imagine mitochondria as gremlins powering up haunted castles.

You couldn’t stop laughing, even when your stomach hurt and your cheeks ached. He’d flash a crooked grin whenever you answered something right, eyes gleaming with a pride that made your chest warm. “Knew you had it in ya,” he’d whisper, ruffling your hair.

But when your brain finally hit a wall, your hand falling limp over your notebook, he didn’t get annoyed, he got worried. “Hey, hey,” he rumbled, pushing the chair back and standing with a creak of bones. “Break time. C’mere.” Before you could argue, he scooped you into his arms and sat back down, pulling you into his lap like you were a pillow he refused to part with.

His arms, massive and warm despite the stains on his hoodie, wrapped securely around your waist. “You ain’t gotta do it all in one go,” he muttered, his voice low and scratchy against your ear. His thumb brushed your wrist, careful not to graze with his claws. The silence was soft between you safe. Somehow, even with the monsters hiding in his voice.

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Killer Sans

He doesn’t do it by the book because “the book’s boring, babe.” Killer leans over your desk upside-down, red eye glinting in mischief. “Lemme help, but Killer style,” he smirks, scribbling over your worksheet with doodles of knives and hearts.

He turns everything into a game to keep your brain awake. “Every time you get a question right, I owe you a kiss. Deal?” You roll your eyes, but he’s already grinning like an idiot.

He gets way too into helping with presentations. He insists on adding sound effects and creepy fonts to your PowerPoint. It’s chaotic, but somehow still works despite your presentation looking like a living horror show.

He snacks obnoxiously loud while you study but always shares. Killer crunches chips next to you like it’s a performance art. He always saves your favorite bits for last, sliding them to you.

He trash-talks your homework like it’s a living enemy. He roasts every subject like it personally insulted him, just to make you laugh. “Biology? More like bye-ology. Get rekt.”

When you get overwhelmed, he instantly drops the act. One look at your tired eyes, and the teasing fades from his tone. “Hey, hey, breathe. You’re not gonna explode. That’s my job,” he says, gently tugs you into his side and letting you rest against his hoodie.

He starts humming when you focus, just to stay close. His tune is strange, off-key, but somehow soothing. It fills the room without needing words, matching your scribbling pace.

He forces you to celebrate small wins. Killer would throws imaginary confetti and tries to get you to dance, acting as if he was your personal chaotic cheerleader.

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It started with you throwing your pencil across the room. The poor thing bounced pathetically off the wall before hitting the floor, joining the graveyard of erasers, crumpled papers, and your will to survive pre-calculus. You slumped forward on your desk, face buried in the notebook that still mocked you with unbalanced equations. If numbers had a face, you’d punch them.

Then came the sound in a light, fast footsteps that always seemed to flicker into existence. “Whoa, okay, who died?” Killer Sans leaned in through your open door, hoodie falling slightly off one shoulder, signature grin stretched across his face like a weapon.

His left eye glitched with a low red pulse. “Tell me I get to punch your homework. Please. I’m so bored.” “You can’t punch math,” you groaned without looking up. “Believe me, I tried.” “In your heart,” he said dramatically, sliding into the room, “you just need to believe harder.”

He landed in your desk chair like a falling ragdoll, legs sprawled out, skull tilted back lazily. “Now. Let’s make a deal. You do three problems. I get to doodle on your notes. Fair trade.” You rolled your eyes but sat up, scooting the chair over to share space with him.

He leaned in immediately, chin almost resting on your shoulder, humming some off-key tune while you scribbled through the next question. After a second of silence, he interrupted with, “Pfft. You’re holding the pencil like it owes you money.” “Because it does. It owes me my life back," You muttered. "Okay, drama queen,” Killer Sans snorted. “But hey, look at you. You actually solved it," he poked your cheeks. You blinked, and sure enough, the answer was right.

He continued to sit beside you, half helping, half distracting, his red-tinted eye light flickering whenever you smiled or cursed under your breath. Every time you got an answer right, he’d offer a dramatic gasp, a made-up trophy speech, or on particularly good ones a kiss to your temple. It made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Homework still sucked, but somehow, it sucked less when he was here. By the end of the night, your desk and the homework from the workbook was covered in doodles of bloody hearts, little knives, your initials mashed with his along with the workbook you once hated was filled out, problem after problem.

Killer leaned back in the chair, arms behind his head, watching you with a lazy kind of pride. “Told ya,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re smarter than you think.” And in the low light of your room, with his lopsided smile and glitching eye reflecting soft red on your cheek, you realized something: he may not have understood your math… but he always understood you.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Hey Erina, it's me again. Can I request Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz and Reaper with Headcanons of S/O Pretending to be Happy but Depressed inside?

- Lilith

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, and Ganz Having S/O Who Acts Happy but Depressed Inside

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Hey Lil's! Long time not chatting, and I'm happy that I finally can talk to you again after everything, and thank you so much for being a great friend and a great reader! I'm so happy that you read my book ^.^

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities, depression, mental illness, profanity, and violence.

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Horror Sans

Horror Sans is not an idiot—far from it. People assume he’s slow because of his rough speech and lazy posture, but he’s smarter than he lets on. Years of trauma, survival, and bloodshed have made him hypersensitive to the emotions of those around him.

So when you plaster on a bright, cheerful smile, cracking jokes and laughing like everything is fine… He notices. And he hates it.

His way of showing care is simple: food. He’s not going to sit you down for a deep talk about your emotions, but he will shove a plate of food at you and grunt, “Eat.” It’s rough; it’s gruff, but the concern in his glowing eyelight is obvious. If you refuse? He won’t let it slide.

Horror isn’t the type to ask, “What’s wrong?” every five seconds. But when you’re having a bad day, he just sticks around. No words, no questions. Just… there. Sometimes sitting across the room, sharpening his axe.

If you joke about being worthless, his grin immediately drops. No more smirks. No more playfulness. Just a cold stare as he growls, “Don’t say that shit.”

If you can’t sleep, he grumbles and opens his arms. You don’t even have to ask. Just crawl in. He’ll hold you. And surprisingly, he is actually very warm despite being made out of bones.

He knows the signs. If he ever catches you hurting yourself, his entire body stiffens—not with anger, but with something deeper. Something haunted. And in a low, gravelly voice, he mutters: “yer better than this. ya hear me?”

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The laughter in the room was loud—too loud. It echoed unnaturally, like a performance where everyone was playing their part, including you. You grinned, cracked another joke, and watched as the people around you laughed. That was good. As long as they were entertained, as long as they were looking at the version of you they expected, no one would notice how hollow it all felt.

But one person wasn’t laughing. Horror Sans stood near the doorway, arms crossed, a red glow flickering in his single eyelight. He was watching you—not in his usual lazy, half-distracted way, but watching you. Like a hunter waiting for its prey to drop its act.

The second the crowd thinned, leaving you alone, his heavy footsteps approached. You barely had time to turn before his deep, gravelly voice cut through the space between you. “Cut the crap.” The words weren’t harsh, but they landed like a punch to the gut. “What are you talking about? I’m just having fun.” You hesitated, then forced a laugh.

A long sigh escaped him, and for a moment, he just stared, as if weighing his next words carefully. Then, his voice lower but unwavering, he muttered, “You’re tired.” Not a question—just a fact. Your stomach twisted. You tried to deny it, shake your head, and push the moment away like you always did.

But then Horror did something unexpected. His large, rough hand rested lightly on your head—not in an overbearing way, but carefully, like he was afraid you’d break if he held on too tight. The warmth of the touch, the quiet patience behind it, made something inside you crack. "Ya don’t have ta' pretend with me." The words were soft—softer than you’d ever heard from him.

It was as if he knew pushing wouldn’t work, so instead, he just let the truth settle between you. And for the first time in a long while, you felt seen. Not the smiling, joking, happy version of you, but you—the exhausted, aching, worn-down version you tried to hide. Your throat tightened, and no matter how hard you tried to hold it in, your vision blurred.

Before you could break apart completely, Horror pulled you into his chest. His embrace wasn’t overly tight or suffocating, but firm—grounding. Like he was holding you together when you couldn’t do it yourself. His jacket smelled like leather and metal, and his chest rumbled faintly as he hummed a deep, steady sound. It wasn’t a song, not exactly, but it was enough. Enough to make you let go, burying your face in the warmth of his hoodie as the first quiet sob escaped.

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Killer Sans

Killer may act carefree, but he’s scary good at reading people—especially when it comes to fake smiles. At first, he plays along, watching you laugh and joke around, but deep down, he knows something’s off.

He doesn’t call you out immediately. He waits, observing how long you can keep up the act, how often your “happy” mask slips when no one’s looking. He enjoys games, but this one? This one pisses him off.

He pushes boundaries, just to see how you react. Killer will casually say something like, "Y'know, ya don’t always gotta act like a sunshine factory." He watches your reaction closely—do you laugh it off, ignore it, or tense up? No matter what, he stores the information for later.

Killer isn’t the type to drown you in soft, fluffy words, but he’s an expert at turning pain into humor. He’ll joke about kidnapping your problems, threatening to “knife-fight” your sadness, or just saying, "If ya cry too much, ya might flood the underground. Bad idea."

If you break down, he doesn’t panic or try to fix it. Instead, he sits beside you, silent at first, then mutters, “Y’know… I like ya, even when ya look like a mess.” He stays close, letting you fall apart without fear of judgment.

He’s bony and rough around the edges, but when he pulls you in, his arms feel secure, like he’s holding you together. He rests his chin on your head, whispering dumb things like, "Aww, my poor little disaster human." It’s ridiculous, but comforting.

If he notices you isolating yourself, skipping meals, or falling into bad habits, he’ll step in, no questions asked. He doesn’t care if you’re mad—he cares that you stay alive. And if that means forcing you to eat while he tells terrible jokes, so be it.

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"Wow, what a day, huh?" You laughed, stretching your arms as you flopped onto the couch. The words came out effortlessly, smooth as always, polished by years of practice. Your grin was bright—too bright—like the sun trying to pierce through a storm that never really left. You expected Killer to scoff, maybe chuckle darkly and throw a snarky comment your way. That was how this worked.

You played the cheerful fool, and he played the reckless, bloodstained trickster. But this time, he didn’t play along. Killer sat on the table across from you, spine hunched, elbows resting on his knees. His red eyelight flickered dangerously, not out of rage but something else—something unreadable.

He wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t cracking jokes. He was just watching you, head slightly tilted, his gaze sharp as a knife pressing against your skin. The air between you felt heavier than usual, thick with something unspoken. "W-What?" You chuckled, nervous with the way he looks at you "C’mon, don’t look at me like that. You’re creeping me out, babe-"he cuts you off.

"Drop the act."

Your breath hitched. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t a tease. It was a statement, cutting through the room like a scalpel to an open wound. You blinked, your throat tightening, your fingers curling against the fabric of your sleeves. He couldn’t—he wasn’t supposed to—he wasn’t supposed to see through you. That wasn’t part of the game.

You were supposed to smile, laugh, keep moving forward, pretend you weren’t crumbling under the weight of yourself. "I don’t know what you’re talking about—" You tried to reason. "Liar." His voice went sharper. That single word sent a shiver down your spine.

He said it so easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he had known from the very beginning. His head tilted slightly, that flickering eyelight locked onto you like a predator watching its prey. But there was no malice in his gaze—just understanding. Quiet, unsettling understanding.

A silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, could feel the pressure in your chest threatening to crush you from the inside out. Then, before you could even think of another excuse, Killer moved. One second, he was across from you.

The next thing, he was right there, gripping your wrist, pulling you forward until your forehead bumped against his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, firm, unwavering. He was holding you. Not out of pity. Not because he wanted something. Just… holding you. "Tired, huh?" His voice was barely above a whisper. Something inside you broke. The tightness in your chest snapped like a thread pulled too far, and before you could stop it, the first tear slipped down your cheek.

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Dust Sans

He saw through you from the start. No matter how bright your smile was or how cheerful your voice sounded, he could see the exhaustion hidden behind your eyes. He knew that look—he had worn it himself once.

He’s not one for physical comfort, but he’ll try. He’s not the best at hugs or sweet gestures, but when you’re at your lowest, he’ll pull you into his jacket. It’s stiff and awkward, but warm—and you know it’s the most honest thing he can offer.

He recognizes the exhaustion in your voice. When you tell him, “I’m fine,” with that tired little laugh, his grip on his knife tightens. Not out of anger at you, but at the world that made you feel like you had to lie.

He’s overprotective in a quiet way. He won’t always voice his worries, but he watches your every move. If he notices you skipping meals or isolating yourself, expect food on your desk and a presence at your side, whether you asked for it or not.

If anyone dares to hurt you, they won’t get a second chance. He doesn’t care who they are—if someone pushes you deeper into the darkness, they’ll answer to him. And no one survives the wrath of Dust Sans.

He will fight for you, even when you won’t fight for yourself. If you ever start to give up, if you ever reach that point where you feel like there’s nothing left—he’ll remind you that you’re wrong. Because you have him.

He never tells you to “cheer up” or “stay positive.” He knows it’s not that simple, so instead, he just says, “One day at a time.” It’s not poetic, it’s not profound, but coming from him, it means everything.

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"You’re so quiet today, Dust! C’mon, lighten up!" You laughed, nudging his shoulder playfully. Your voice was bright—too bright—like a firework desperately trying to light up a pitch-black sky. He just stared at you, eyelights dim, expression unreadable. It was a look you’d grown used to, but today, something about it felt different. Sharper. Heavier.

"Tch. You’re one to talk." His voice was low, quiet, but not unkind. You blinked, caught off guard by the response. Normally, he’d just grunt or brush you off, but now, he was watching you—really watching you. His sockets darkened slightly, his bony fingers tapping against his sleeve. “You’re pushin’ it too hard.”

You swallowed. "Pushing what?" You feigned confusion, tilting your head with that same easy-going smile. The one you always wore, the one that kept people from asking too many questions. But Dust? Dust was different. He saw through every carefully placed mask, every joke, every laugh that never quite reached your eyes.

"Don’t do that." His voice dropped to a murmur. It wasn’t a demand, but something about it made your stomach twist. You opened your mouth—instinctively ready to brush it off—but the words died on your tongue when you saw the way his eyelights flickered. That wasn’t annoyance. That wasn’t cold indifference. That was concern. And somehow, that was even worse.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, just as you were about to force out another excuse, he moved. One moment, he was sitting across from you. The next, he was right there, fingers curling around your wrist, his touch oddly warm despite the chilling aura that always clung to him.

He didn’t pull, didn’t force you to speak. He just held on—light enough for you to pull away, but firm enough to let you know he wasn’t letting go unless you made him. "You don’t have to pretend." His voice was barely above a whisper. His thumb traced small, absent-minded circles against your skin, grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. “Not with me.” That was all he said, but it was enough.

Because in those three words, he wasn’t just telling you to drop the act. He was promising that he’d be there, no matter what was underneath it. Your chest tightened. The weight you had been carrying the one you thought you could handle alone suddenly felt unbearable. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as your shoulders trembled. You didn’t want to cry, but when you felt his other hand hesitantly settle against your back.

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Ganz

He’s not easily fooled by your mask. GANZ’s sharp senses catch the smallest signs: the way your shoulders tense when no one’s looking, or how your voice shakes when you try to force a cheerful tone. He may not call you out on it, but he always knows.

He won't offer false reassurances. GANZ knows you don’t need empty words like “everything will be okay.” Instead, he’ll quietly sit beside you, offering his own version of comfort—by simply being there when the world feels too heavy.

If he sees you overworking yourself or isolating, he’ll gently remind you that you’re allowed to rest. His way of caring is often understated, but you’ll feel it in the small gestures, the soft touches, and the quiet observations.

When you’re at your lowest, he won’t let you push him away. GANZ is stubborn in his own way. If you try to distance yourself, he’ll quietly follow, always a few steps behind, ready to offer help whether you want it or not.

He’ll take on your burdens when you can’t. If your emotional load gets too heavy, GANZ won’t hesitate to help you shoulder it. He’s not a talker, but he’ll carry your pain in his own quiet way, always making sure you don’t bear it alone.

GANZ will protect your peace. If he sees you getting overwhelmed or pulled into drama, he won’t hesitate to shield you from it. His protective instincts run deep, and he’ll do anything to keep the world from crushing your fragile peace.

GANZ doesn’t always know what to say, but he knows how to create space for you to heal. Whether it’s a quiet walk, sitting together in silence, or just offering a soft, reassuring smile—he knows how to make you feel seen.

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The soft sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, and GANZ glanced over his shoulder, his sharp, glowing eyes narrowing. You were walking ahead of him, smiling and chatting with the others, but something in your smile looked off. It was too bright, as though you were trying to force it into existence.

He had seen it before—the mask you wore to hide what really churned inside. He didn’t approach you immediately, letting you keep up the act for a while longer. Letting you be happy. But he knew—he always knew.

GANZ had spent too long pretending himself not to recognize the signs: the small, forced laughs, the way your shoulders slumped when you thought no one was looking, how your eyes darkened even when your words remained light. He wasn’t fooled.

The moment you were alone, he followed. No words, just the silent steps of someone who was tired of watching you pretend. GANZ didn’t need to ask if you were okay—he already knew the answer. But he couldn’t let it go on, not for much longer. As you reached the door to your room, he stepped in front of you, blocking your path with a stillness that made your heart skip a beat. "You don't have to pretend, you know." His voice was quiet but his eyes focus on you.

You froze, caught off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you gave him a shaky smile, trying to brush it off, but he saw through it instantly. He always did. His gaze softened just a little, and his hand reached out, placing it lightly on your shoulder. There was no force behind it, only the quiet reassurance that he was there for you—whether you wanted it or no

GANZ wasn’t the kind of person to demand answers or fix things in an instant, but when it came to you, he wouldn’t let you slip through the cracks. He wouldn’t let you face this alone. "Stop hiding," he murmured, and though the words weren’t loud, they felt like a weight lifting off your chest.

You wanted to push him away, to retreat into the fake version of yourself that you’d perfected for so long. But his presence anchored you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you didn’t have to be strong. Tears welled in your eyes, and for a moment, you let them fall, not bothering to hide them. GANZ didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He just stood there, his hand still on your shoulder, offering silent comfort.

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[capricorn-writes2]

I have a quick question, do you know scp foundation?

Answer: Well, hello, @sophiemusicmaster7. Yes, I do know SCP, and I'm in that fandom too. Unfortunately, I don't really have much knowledge to make some HCS of the characters in there, and basically I just know the basic characters like Cain, Able, the statue, the doctor plague, and others. Although, if you wanted me to make HCS of SCP then you can message me directly

[capricorn-writes2]

Hey Author, can I request Horror, Killer, Dust, Ganz with Headcanons of S/O Running Away from Abusive home? Thank you

- Lilith

Horror Sans, Killer Sans, Dust Sans, and Ganz Helping S/O Running Away from Abusive Home

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Hello, there Lilith. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Warning: Angst, Gore, Violence, Profanity, Mention of Abuse, and Mention of Illness, and Mention of Self-harm.

Gender: None

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Horror Sans

Horror Sans doesn't hesitate when you ask for help. The moment he realizes how bad your situation is, he’s already making plans to get you out. "Ain’t no way I’m leavin’ ya there. We’re gettin’ out. Tonight."

He doesn’t care about the consequences. Laws? Authorities? None of it matters to him. All he knows is that you’re suffering, and he won’t let it continue.

He’s surprisingly good at sneaking around. Despite his large frame and heavy steps, he knows how to move quietly when the situation demands it. Your abuser never hears him coming.

If things get dangerous, he won’t hold back. He won’t start a fight unless absolutely necessary, but if your abuser tries to stop you from leaving… well, let’s just say they won’t be standing for long.

He already has a safe place in mind. Whether it’s a rundown cabin, an underground hideout, or just somewhere far away from your past, he makes sure there’s a place you can rest without fear.

You will never go hungry around him. Horror knows what it’s like to starve, and he refuses to let you feel that kind of pain. No matter where you are, he makes sure there’s food on the table.

He keeps weapons nearby—just in case. Even if you’re safe, he doesn’t trust the world to stay safe. If anyone dares come looking for you, he’s ready as he already sharpen his axe.

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(Y/N) flinched as the glass slammed onto the table, the sharp sound cutting through the suffocating silence of the dimly lit dining room. Your father loomed over them, his face twisted with fury, his hands gripping the crumpled report card like it was a personal insult. “A D?” he spat, his voice a venomous whisper before it erupted into a full-blown roar. “You got a damn D in math? After all I’ve done for you?!” His hand clenched, and for a terrifying moment, you braced yourselves for what might come next.

Before he could step any closer, a sudden crack echoed through the room. A presence that is dark and imposing loomed behind you. Horror Sans stood behind you, his massive form filling the small space of your living room, single glowing eye locked onto the man who had been tormenting you. His grin stretched wide, jagged and unsettling, but there was no amusement in it. Only warning. "Havin’ fun screamin’, old man?" Horror’s voice was low and gravelly.

The old man spun around, his rage momentarily replaced with shock at the sight. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped, but there was a waver in his voice. He wasn’t used to being challenged, much less by something like this. Horror took a single step forward, his heavy boots making the floor creak. "We’re leavin’," he stated simply, his voice calm, too calm for his liking. "Sit. Down." Your father snarled, pointing a trembling finger at you.

It was his final command, the last attempt to control you. But before you could even flinch, Horror took another step, his full height casting a shadow over the man. The room felt smaller, suffocating. Your father wasn't used to being the one afraid, but the sheer size of Horror, the raw, inhuman presence of him, made him hesitate. Horror tilted his head, eye socket narrowing as he let out a low chuckle. "Didn’t hear me the first time, huh? I said, We're leavin' this place."His grip on the axe tightened.

Your father’s hands curled into fists, his face twisting with rage, but Horror didn’t wait. The moment the old man lunged, Horror’s axe was in his hands, the dull side of the blade resting just beneath his chin in a silent warning. "Try me," Horror murmured, his glowing eye flaring. "Please. I-i'm sorry" Your father’s breath hitched, his bravado crumbling as he took a step back.

And then, in an instant, the world around you vanished. The living room, the screaming, the suffocating weight of expectations—gone. When you opened your eyes again, you were somewhere else entirely. The air was damp, cold, the scent of old metal and dust filling your lungs. You were in an abandoned warehouse, far from home. Far from him.

Horror turned to you, his expression unreadable, though his grin had less malice now. "Yer safe," he muttered, kneeling beside you. "Ain’t nobody gonna hurt ya no more." His massive hands, so used to violence, moved carefully as he scanned you for injuries. A bruise on your wrist. A faint red mark on your cheek. His fingers ghosted over them, his grip tightening in quiet fury. "Bastard's lucky I didn’t do worse," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I-it's okay, Horror. Thank you so much for saving me," you smile at him.

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Killer Sans

Killer had always been sharp, noticing the smallest details. When he saw your bruises and the way you flinched at sudden movements, he knew something was wrong.

Even before you told him anything, he started keeping an eye on your house. If he noticed the lights still on late at night, heard yelling when he passed by, or saw you flinch when your phone rang.

Killer didn’t just want to rescue you. He wanted to make sure your abuser regretted ever laying a hand on you. He’d steal their keys, rearrange furniture just to mess with them, leave unsettling notes on mirrors like, You’re being watched. He wanted them paranoid.

Killer didn’t do sappy, but he did do distractions. He dragged you on random outings in the middle of the night like rooftops, empty amusement parks, abandoned diners. "We’re making up for lost time, babe. C’mon, let’s go cause some mayhem."

Killer had ways of erasing monsters and people—at least from records. He hacked into systems, messed with addresses, and ensured there was no trace of you left behind. If your abuser tried to find you, they’d be met with nothing but dead ends.

He never said it out loud, but he didn’t need to. The way he stayed close, the way he glared at anyone who got too near, the way he always had one hand near his weapon. It was all a silent promise to keep you saved.

If someone even slightly raised their voice at you, Killer was in their face before they could finish their sentence. "Try that again," he’d say, tilting his head with an unsettling grin.

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The air was thick with tension, the kind that suffocated and lingered long after the shouting stopped. Killer had been lounging on your bed, arms folded behind his skull, lazily flipping a knife between his fingers. It was supposed to be just another night of hanging out, just the two of you. But then—CRASH. A scream tore through the silence, followed by the sharp sound of something shattering. His grip on the knife tightened.

Your mother’s voice rang through the house, dripping with venom. "You ruined everything!" she shrieked. Another crash. Another pained cry. Killer’s easygoing smirk faded instantly. He teleported out of your room in an instant, appearing at the top of the stairs just in time to see you crumpled on the floor, clutching your side, gasping in pain.

His sockets darkened, his grin sharpening into something dangerous. Without hesitation, he pulled back his arm and flung his knife. The blade zipped through the air, slicing just past her cheek and embedding itself into the wall with a deadly thunk. She froze, eyes wide with terror. Before she could even process what had happened, Killer tilted his head, a smirk curling at his lips. "Try that again," he purred, his voice smooth yet laced with menace. "I dare you."

Your mother let out a strangled scream, stumbling backward, hands shaking. "M-Monster!" she shrieked before turning and bolting toward her room, slamming the door behind her. Killer rolled his eyes. "Pfft. Unoriginal," he muttered before turning his attention to you. He crouched down, carefully reaching out. "C’mon, doll. We’re getting you outta here." Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his arms around you and teleported in a flash of light.

The old warehouse was dark, abandoned, and silent except for the distant dripping of water from a leaking pipe. It wasn’t much, but it was safe. Killer lowered you onto a makeshift seat, his grin softening slightly. "Stay here. I’ll be right back. Don’t move, got it?" You barely had time to nod before he was gone.

Back at the house, the chaos began. Killer materialized in your mother’s bedroom, eyes gleaming with mischief. With quick, efficient movements, he stole her keys, tossing them into some impossible-to-reach corner. He grabbed a can of red paint he found in the storage room and smeared it across her mirror, leaving behind streaks that resembled dripping blood. He grinned. "Ooh, creepy."

Then, just for fun, he rearranged the furniture, flipping chairs upside down, shifting the bed slightly to make it feel off, and setting the TV volume to max before unplugging it. For the finishing touch, he grabbed a notepad from the counter and scribbled a little message in sharp, jagged handwriting. We know what you did. He stuck it to the fridge, right on top of one of the pictures where she still pretended to be a good parent.

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Dust Sans

Dust Sans isn't stupid. He notices the way your body tenses when certain topics come up, the way your eyes dart around like you’re waiting for something or someone to strike. It’s subtle, but to someone like him, who has lived in fear before, it’s obvious.

He doesn’t ask right away, though. He just observes, lets his suspicions build until the truth is right in front of him. You try to hide the bruises under long sleeves, the cuts that are a little too precise to be accidents, but he sees them.

The night he acts, he waits for the perfect moment. The second your abuser turns their back, Dust teleports straight into your room and grabs your wrist. "We’re leaving. Now." His voice is calm, but his grip is firm.

If your abuser tries to stop him, he gives them a very clear warning. The glint of his knife, the way he tilts his head, the eerie way his grin slowly returns. It’s all a promise. A deadly one.

He takes you somewhere isolated, a place no one can find. An abandoned warehouse, a run-down cabin, maybe even the edges of the Underground where no one dares to go.

Dust doesn’t know how to comfort people. He’s used to violence, to survival. But for you? He tries. He watches, making sure you’re eating, making sure you’re sleeping.

He doesn’t believe in words. He believes in actions, fixing things for you, making sure your space is warm enough, bringing you food even if he just tosses it onto your lap with a muttered, “Eat.”

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The night was heavy with anger and exhaustion. You stood in the middle of the dimly lit living room, your parents' voices ringing in your ears like thunder. "Selfish!" "Ungrateful!" "Stingy little brat!" Their accusations hit like sharp knives, cutting deeper than any physical wound. All because you had worked hard, earned your own money—yet instead of handing it over to them, you had dared to spend it on yourself. A simple meal.

A dull, chilling voice cut through the noise. "Tch. What’s going on this time?" Dust had been upstairs, listening. He never liked your parents, never trusted them, but now, hearing the raw hatred in their voices, he felt something snap. He teleported downstairs in an instant, appearing beside you with his usual blank stare, his hands twitching, magic sparking faintly. Your parents barely acknowledged his presence, still too focused on tearing you down. "Ungrateful. Useless. Stingy." Your father spat the words, sneering.

Dust just stared, unmoving, unblinking. Then, finally, he stepped forward, placing himself between you and them. "We’re leaving." His voice was quiet, eerily calm. That was the only warning he gave. But instead of fear, your father laughed. A cruel, mocking laugh that sent something dangerous crawling up Dust’s spine. "You think you can take care of (Y/N)?! You?!" He scoffed, waving him off. "Fine! Leave! You’re both worthless anyway!"

Dust’s grin stretched too wide, dark and twisted. "Gladly." And then everything levitated. Chairs, dishes, picture frames, all of it ripped from the ground in a silent storm of fury. Your parents barely had time to scream before the objects crashed into the walls, shattering into pieces. Dust didn’t touch them, but his message was clear. He grabbed your wrist, teleporting away before they could react, leaving behind the house.

You landed in darkness, surrounded by towering trees and the whisper of the wind. An old, abandoned cabin stood in the distance, broken but still standing much like him. "This place ain't much, but… it’s better than that hellhole," he muttered, leading you inside. It was small, dusty, but safe. He flicked his wrist, summoning a dim glow of magic to light the space.

Then, without a word, he rummaged through his pockets before tossing something in your direction. "Eat." A small, slightly stale piece of bread landed in your lap. You looked up at him, surprised. Dust rarely showed care through words, but his actions spoke louder. He slumped down beside you, his grin gone, replaced by something quieter. "You’re safe now." His voice was low, steady, final. "And I’ll keep it that way. I won’t let those bastards touch you again."

The weight of the night settled in. Everything had changed in an instant. The fear, the anger, the uncertainty. It was all still there, but so was he. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone. And somehow, despite the eerie silence of the cabin, despite the worn-out wood and the chilling wind outside, you felt warmer than you ever had before.

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Ganz

Ganz had always noticed the signs. The way you flinched at sudden sounds, how you hesitated before speaking, and the way your eyes held exhaustion far beyond your years.

You had tried to hide it under long sleeves, but when he caught a glimpse of the marks on your wrist, something inside him snapped. He wasn’t the type to get openly angry, but his grip on his scarf tightened.

The moment they tried to strike you, he stepped in. He didn’t have to lift a finger, he air around him became suffocating, filled with magic so thick that even your abuser took a step back. He didn’t need violence. His presence alone was enough to make them freeze in place.

Ganz never rushed you to talk. If you wanted to tell him what happened, he’d listen. If you didn’t, that was fine too. He wasn’t going to pry into your pain—he just wanted you to heal at your own pace.

If nightmares came, he was there. He never judged you for waking up in a panic, nor did he question it when you curled into yourself, trembling. He simply sat nearby, a quiet, steady presence to remind you that you weren’t alone

If you ever doubted your worth, he shut it down immediately. "You deserved better than that place." His voice was firm, almost stubborn.

Ganz had a way of making you feel safe without words. Sometimes, all it took was a hand on your shoulder, a quiet hum as he fiddled with his scarf, letting you know he wasn’t leaving.

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The soft glow of the moon barely reached your room, its silver light casting faint patterns against the walls. You lay curled up on the bed, muffling your sobs into the pillow, trying not to let the weight of your parents' words crush you completely. They didn’t even look at me. They didn’t even care. The echo of their dismissive laughter when you mentioned your competition still rang in your ears. "Why bother going? You’ll lose anyway." Instead, they had left, their attention solely on your sister’s ballet rehearsal, as if you didn’t exist at all.

A familiar distortion in the air made you lift your head slightly. A soft hum of teleportation magic crackled for a moment before a figure appeared at the foot of your bed. Ganz. His usual sharp gaze softened the moment he saw your tear-streaked face, his scarf shifting slightly as he let out a slow breath. Without a word, he sat beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. He didn’t ask what happened, he didn’t need to. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes that held a silent question: Do you want to leave?

You hesitated, but only for a moment. The answer had always been inside you, buried under years of neglect, waiting for someone—anyone to remind you that you had a choice. Your lips trembled as you whispered, "Take me with you." Ganz nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile touching his expression before vanishing just as quickly. He didn’t say Are you sure? He didn’t ask What about your family? Because he knew. He knew they weren’t your family. Not really.

Packing didn’t take long. You barely owned anything that felt worth taking. A few clothes, a notebook, a small trinket from someone who once cared. Ganz stood by the window, arms crossed, watching with a quiet patience that spoke louder than words. When you were finally ready, he reached out. His fingers were cool against yours as the familiar pull of teleportation magic wrapped around you, and in an instant, the room, the house, the pain was gone.

The sanctuary was quiet, hidden deep underground where no one could find it. A small fire flickered in the corner, casting soft orange glows against the stone walls. The scent of cinnamon filled the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, your lungs didn’t feel heavy. But as you settled in, Ganz's sharp eyes caught what you had tried to hide the bruises on your arms, the faint outlines of past injuries you never spoke about. He stared for a moment, his fingers tightening around the edge of his scarf, but he didn’t press.

Instead, he stood, walked over to a small table, and returned with something warm wrapped in cloth. "You’re safe now. That’s what matters," he murmured, handing you a cinnamon bun. The warmth seeped into your fingers, grounding you, anchoring you to the present. He sat beside you once more, the silence between you no longer heavy, but comforting.

He finally spoke again, voice low but steady. "You deserved better than that place." There was no hesitation in his words, no doubt, just truth. A truth you had been too afraid to believe until now. As you took a small bite, the sweetness melting on your tongue, something inside you cracked. Not from the pain, but relief. For the first time in years, you weren’t alone.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Aftertale Sans, Ink Sans and Error Sans Dating S/O who is a God/Goddess of Nature

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Hello, there @cloudyuphere I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality, and I would like to apologize for replying to the question late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as therapy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6-month internship before leaving to find a new job.

Gender: Neutral Warning: None

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Geno Sans

Geno finds comfort in your calming aura, the scent of fresh flowers easing his weary soul. Your presence alone soothes the echoes of resets that haunt him. He often rests against you, allowing vines to curl around his fingers as he listens to your heartbeat.

You love placing flower crowns on his head, watching how the petals contrast against his dusty scarf. At first, he finds it silly, but he never takes them off.

When he wakes up from nightmares, you summon glowing fireflies to light the room. The soft golden glows reflect in his dull eye sockets, and he watches them in silence. He never says it, but those tiny lights bring warmth to the void inside him.

Geno flinches the first time you touch his hand, as if afraid he'll ruin something so pure. But your hands are steady, wrapping his trembling fingers with warmth. Over time, he learns that even he, a glitch in the universe, deserves to be held.

Even if time resets again, you vow to find him in every timeline. He scoffs at the idea, but deep down, the thought warms him. If there’s anyone who can defy fate, it’s you, the very embodiment of life itself.

Geno is not one for words, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll leave small, pressed flowers in your books, lingering just a little longer when you hold his hand.

He enjoys walking with you under the moonlight, where the world feels quieter. You guide him through forests untouched by resets, where fireflies dance among ancient trees.

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The moon hung high above the quiet world, casting silver light upon the untouched forest. Crickets chirped in a slow, rhythmic hum, blending with the rustle of leaves as the wind whispered through the trees. Geno walked beside you, his tattered scarf fluttering slightly with each step, the exhaustion in his sockets momentarily forgotten under the peace of the night. Here, in a place where time did not reset, where nothing crumbled into dust, he felt... lighter.

(Y/N) guided him through the woods, your presence steady and warm. The trees stood tall, untouched by resets, and wildflowers bloomed freely around you. As you walked, Geno ran his fingers over the petals, feeling their softness against his bones. "Tonight...it's really beautiful," he murmured. "I know, right? Especially when I can see stars and moon," you agreed, with a smile on your face.

An idea popped into his mind—something small but meaningful. He carefully picked a few flowers, planning to press them between the pages of your book. It was a quiet way to make you happy, and that was enough for him.

On the ground, eye caught a cluster of white and pink camellias blooming gently under the moonlight. Their soft petals stood out against the dark green leaves, untouched and perfect, just like how he saw you. Without a word, he knelt down and carefully plucked a few, tucking them away to press later in your book.

White camellias—longing. Pink camellias—adoration. It was a silent way of telling you what he couldn’t put into words, a quiet confession hidden in delicate petals. As he glanced at you, watching the way the moonlight danced across your face, he thought to himself—yeah, you were just as beautiful.

The deeper the two of you went, the more magic filled the air as the stars danced in the dark sky. With a soft smile, you lifted your hands, vines wrapping around your fingers as you wove something new. In an instant, glowing skeletal butterflies appeared, their delicate wings shimmering in the moonlight.

They fluttered upward, dancing through the air like tiny spirits. Geno’s eyes widened slightly as he watched, amazed by the beauty you had created. He sat down beside you, still staring at the glowing butterflies as they floated higher into the night sky. Even after everything—the resets, the pain, the corruption—you still found ways to bring life and beauty into the world.

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Ink Sans

Ink is endlessly fascinated by your abilities, constantly watching as you weave life into the world with a mix of magic and nature. He’ll excitedly sketch out everything you create, from blooming flowers to towering trees. "WOAH! Do that again—I gotta capture this masterpiece!"

He brings you colorful paints because he sees your power as an art form, and what’s better than adding more color? You might wake up to find random paint splatters on your plants, trying to experiment. “Oops! Uh… think of it as an artistic touch?”

Ink gets super jealous when animals like you more than him, dramatically pouting when a deer or bird comes to you but ignores him. He’ll sit there holding out a hand, waiting for some kind of attention.

He hoards pressed flowers you give him, keeping them tucked inside his sketchbooks like precious treasures. Sometimes, when he’s alone, he’ll pull them out just to admire them.

If you ever get sad, Ink will literally paint the sky for you, adding colorful streaks to the clouds or making the stars twinkle brighter. He may not always know what to say, but he wants to make the world brighter for you.

He makes up weird plant names just to mess with you, calling daisies “sun splats” or mushrooms “tiny umbrellas” like it’s completely normal. You correct him, but he never stops doing it. "Nope! ‘Leaf Noodles’ is a way better name for vines!"

He loves cuddling under a tree with you, laying on the grass while watching the clouds take strange shapes. His fingers lazily trace patterns on your hand, completely content.

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Ink’s hand gripped yours tightly as he dragged you through the forest, his excitement practically radiating off him. “Come on, come on! We gotta hurry before the light changes!” He chirped, his voice bubbling with energy. "Inky! Slow down!" You laughed at his enthusiasm. You didn't realize that with every step, he was secretly leaving behind little doodles and messages on the tree trunks—tiny stick figures of you and him, hearts, and playful sketches of the two of you laughing together.

The air smelled fresh, crisp with the scent of leaves and wildflowers, and soon, the distant sound of rushing water met your ears. As you broke through the trees, a breathtaking sight stretched before you—a waterfall cascading down into a sparkling pool, the mist catching the light in a dreamy glow. Ink whistled, clearly impressed. “Ohoho, now that is some top-tier nature design. Almost as good as my art!” he teased, plopping down on a rock.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his canvas and paintbrush, his eye lights flickering with creative energy. His brush moved in quick, confident strokes, capturing the way the water tumbled over the rocks, how the light danced on the surface, and even the way you sat beside him, watching peacefully. You stayed quiet, letting him work, completely unaware of the little grin on his face as he sketched you into the scene.

It did not take a long time. Just as he was about to add the finishing touches, he heard a soft rustling behind him. Turning his head, he saw a small deer nuzzling against your palm, eyes half-lidded in contentment. "Oh my god! So cute!" He squeals. "Haha, it seems the deer likes me." You petted the deer's head.

A bird had perched on your shoulder, chirping happily as if it had found a new home. The bunnies hop closer to you, the bright red eyes looking at you as if they are asking for a carrot, with one of the bunnies hopping into your lap. “Wait. Hold up. Why do they like you more than me?” Ink’s grin faltered. His eye twitched.

You tried not to laugh as Ink dramatically extended a hand toward the deer, wiggling his fingers as if to summon it over. “C’mon, buddy. Look at me—I’m fun! I’m cool! I—HEY, DON’T IGNORE ME!” The deer blinked at him once before turning back to you, completely unbothered.

Even the bird fluffed up its feathers and chirped louder, as if agreeing with the deer’s silent judgment. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by woodland creatures. This is officially the worst day ever.” Ink groaned, flopping onto his back. Still giggling, you nudged him gently before sitting beside him, pulling out some paper and a pencil. “How about we draw together? Would that make you feel better?”

His eye light flickered toward you, the dramatic sulk slowly fading. He huffed, but a smile tugged at his mouth as he scooted closer, watching as you sketched beside him. “Hmph. Fine. But only because you’re cute when you try to cheer me up.”

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Error Sans

Error pretends he doesn’t care about your nature powers, but deep down, he’s fascinated. He watches from the corner of his eye as you make flowers bloom effortlessly.

He constantly calls your plants “weeds” just to mess with you. Every time you grow something, he dramatically scoffs and waves his hand like he’s offended. "Ugh, more green stuff? What’s next, a whole jungle?"

He secretly saves flowers you grow around him, hiding them in his hoodie. You once caught him pulling out a slightly crushed blossom while mumbling under his breath. "T-This? No, I wasn’t keeping it! It just… got stuck there, okay?!"

Error likes breaking things, but he hesitates when it comes to your creations. He might delete some flowers when he’s upset, but later, you’ll notice new ones in their place.

He gets especially jealous when animals like you more than him, standing off to the side like a sulking cat. He even glares at them as if he can delete their affection for you.

Error doesn’t understand why you like him, especially when you could literally create something perfect. He worries he’ll glitch too much, break too much.

If he ever loses control and deletes part of a forest, he panics, waiting for you to hate him. But when you simply regrow it with a smile, his soul aches in ways he can’t explain. “…You’re not mad?”

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The forest was quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves beneath your feet and the distant chirping of birds. Error walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, pretending not to care as you absentmindedly made flowers bloom along the path.

What you didn’t notice—at least, not at first—was the way he kept subtly plucking a few of them, stuffing them into his hoodie when he thought you weren’t looking. It wasn’t until you glanced over and saw petals sticking out from his pocket that you caught him. "Error, are you… saving those?" you asked, stopping in your tracks with a knowing smile. He immediately stiffened, his glitches sparking for a brief moment before he stammered, "T-This? No, I wasn’t keeping it! It just… got stuck there, okay?!"

His fingers curled around the flowers as if to shield them from your view, his blue eye-lights flickering in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, shaking your head as you decided to let him be. He was cute when he got flustered. Without another word, you continued walking, and after a moment, he followed, still grumbling under his breath.

Soon, the trees thinned out, revealing a meadow bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. Error stood still as he watched you kneel beside a wilted flower, your fingers gently brushing against its fragile petals. With a soft glow of magic, the decay reversed itself, and the flower bloomed once more, vibrant and full of life.

His sockets widened slightly, his glitching pausing for just a second. No matter how many times he saw you do that, it never failed to mesmerize him. Before he could say anything, small thumps in the grass caught his attention. Several bunnies had appeared out of nowhere, bounding toward you with uncontained excitement. They hopped onto your lap, nuzzling into you, their little noses twitching as they silently begged for attention.

You laughed softly, running your fingers through their soft fur. Meanwhile, Error stood to the side, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable—until he scoffed under his breath. "Stupid b-bunny," he muttered. "This is why I hate nature." Hearing him, you turned, amused by the slight pout on his face. "Are you jealous?" you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He immediately rolled his eyes, turning away with a huff. "Shut up," he mumbled, but the tips of his cheekbones were darkening ever so slightly. You only giggled again, but then your eyes caught something—a dried, crumpled flower peeking out from his pocket.

Gently, you reached for it, plucking it from its hiding place before he could stop you. With the same magic as before, you brought it back to life, its petals soft and new once again. Turning to him, you placed it in his hand with a warm smile. "Use the flower for the pressed flowers and keep it in your book," you told him softly.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Dream Sans, Nightmare Sans and Reaper Sans Dating S/O who is a Goddess/God of Nature

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Hello, there @cloudyuphere.

I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities and a little bit of violence

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Dream Sans

Dream feels naturally drawn to your calming and nurturing aura, like their energies are intertwined, as if your soul with him are intertwined. Being near you fills him with a warmth that feels like sunlight filtering through leaves.

The two of you often walk hand in hand through ancient forests or rest together in vibrant flower fields, where you tell stories of each plant's origins. Dream listens in awe, feeling like he’s witnessing nature's secrets through your words.

Dream weaves delicate dreamcatchers from fallen twigs and enchanted threads, gifting them to you. He tells you these charms will guard your dream just as you protect the natural world.

Together, you and him stand as protectors: Dream guarding the purity of dreams, and (Y/N) safeguarding the balance of nature. The two of you are an unstoppable team, shielding the world from corruption and pollution.

Dream loves when you weaves flower crowns for him, placing them gently on his head. He wears them with pride, even during his duties, believing they symbolize his connection to your love and the earth.

Dream is constantly amazed by how animals are drawn to you, as if they sense the pure magic radiating from (Y/N). Birds perch on (Y/N)'s shoulder, deer approach with calm eyes, and rabbits rest at your feet. Dream jokes by calling the animals “royal court of nature”

When (Y/N) emotions cause a small earthquake becoming bigger, Dream gently holds you, whispering words of comfort and love. He’ll stay by your side, calming the shaking ground until the earthquake stops.

He often tells you that your love is like nature—endless, patient, and deeply rooted. He promises that just as rivers carve stone and forests endure for centuries, his love for you will remain unshaken, timeless, and eternal.

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The golden afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the great oak tree, casting dappled patterns of light onto the grass where Dream and (Y/N) sat together. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers, their colors vibrant against the lush green earth. It was a perfect day for a garden date, peaceful and filled with the quiet comfort that always surrounded them.

Dream leaned back slightly, his golden eyelights shimmering as he glanced at (Y/N) with a playful curiosity.

"You know," you said with a mischievous glint in your eyes, "I bet I can make a better flower crown than you."

Dream’s head tilted slightly, intrigued by the challenge. "Oh?" His voice was light, laced with humor. "Is that a wager I hear?"

You nodded, your smile widening. "Whoever loses has to plan the next date."

"You're on," he said, reaching for a nearby cluster of roses

(Y/N) grinned, already reaching for delicate stems and blossoms, hands working with the grace of someone familiar with nature’s gentle touch. As the two of you worked, the only sounds were the rustling leaves and the occasional giggle when a petal brushed against your skin. The warmth in the air seemed to wrap around you, encouraging the quiet laughter that filled the space beneath the oak's towering shadow.

Dream worked carefully, stripping the thorns from the roses he chose—reds for love, whites for purity, and pinks for admiration. His hands were steady, thoughtful, ensuring not a single thorn remained to mar your skin. He wove the crown with patience, the colors blending in a simple yet elegant ring of soft beauty. You watched his concentration, charmed by the way he wanted every detail to be perfect for you.

While Dream worked with precision, you worked with intention. Baby's breath for everlasting love, white carnations for pure affection, and pink carnations for gratitude, your hands wove not just flowers, but a quiet message meant only for you to know. It is a hidden message for him.

When the final stems were tucked into place, you both sat back, admiring your creations. Dream’s gaze lingered on his crown, satisfied but curious as his eyes drifted to yours. You held up your masterpiece with a proud smile, and though Dream admired the elegance of it, there was no mistaking it, you had won whereas he had to cut the thorns after wards carefully so it would not prick your head once it is placed.

He let out a dramatic sigh, a playful pout forming on his skeletal face.

"And here I thought I stood a chance" he mutters to himself.

"Looks like you'll be planning our next date," you teased, leaning closer. A giggle escaped from your lips.

Dream chuckled, though there was no bitterness in his tone, only affection. "If losing means I get to plan something special for you… then maybe I don't mind losing after all."

His fingers brushed over the crown you made, lingering as if he could sense the meaning woven into every bloom. Then, with a tender smile, he reached out and placed his own crown gently upon your head, careful as always. The roses sat softly against your hair, warm and fragrant.

"But you wear victory beautifully," he whispered.

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Nightmare Sans

Nightmare is both fascinated and frustrated by how (Y/N)'s energy contrasts with his own. Your power is vibrant and life-giving, while his is dark and corruptive. Yet, he finds himself craving your warmth, like a shadow longing for sunlight.

There’s an almost forbidden allure to their relationship. Nightmare sometimes wonders if he's corrupting you by being close, but you reassures him that even the darkest soil can nurture new life. Your and his love is proof of balance.

(Y/N) is the only one who can calm Nightmare when his corruption surges. A simple touch, a soft word, or the scent of flowers is enough to keep his darkness from consuming him entirely.

Nightmare crafts dark, thorny roses for you, a symbol of his love—dangerous but beautiful. You accept them despite even getting pricked sometimes, knowing that even thorns hold meaning, and she/he/they plant the roses where they bloom in the darkness.

There are times when Nightmare worries his power will poison their bond. But (Y/N) proves him wrong by growing plants even in the darkest parts of his realm, showing him that beauty can bloom even from corruption.

When Nightmare is consumed by negative emotions, storms often gather. (Y/N) uses their/her/his powers to calm the winds and soothe the skies, reminding him that even his storms can be tamed.

Nightmare respects your strength. Nature may seem gentle, but it is ancient and unforgiving. Their ability to control life and death fascinates him—how one moment they are soft and nurturing, and the next, fierce as a storm.

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The garden behind Nightmare's castle was a place of shadows and silence, where the moonlight struggled to pierce through the dark haze lingering over the earth. Among the twisted, thorn-laden stems stood his black roses, their velvety petals rich with a darkness that shimmered beneath the pale glow of the sky. Each bloom was dangerous, their thorns sharper than any blade, but beautiful—like obsidian carved into delicate shapes by the hands of fate.

Nightmare stood there, still and thoughtful, his glowing eyes lingering on the flowers. He wondered if they were too cruel a gift, too dangerous to be given to one as radiant as you. But there was beauty in them, a dark kind of elegance that reminded him of the strange balance between his shadows and your light. With careful hands, he reached for the stems. The thorns were merciless, biting into his skeletal fingers as he worked, but Nightmare didn’t flinch. Pain was a small price to pay for perfection.

He stripped away the sharpest edges, weaving the stems into a small bouquet. Shadows coiled around his hands, holding the roses together as if the darkness itself wished to be a part of this offering. He tied them with a single, dark ribbon and looked down at his creation—dangerous, yet softened for you. It felt fitting, this fragile, fierce beauty. Something only you could truly understand.

Satisfied, Nightmare opened a portal with a simple twist of his wrist. The dark energy hummed, pulling open the veil between his realm and yours. Stepping through, he was greeted by the quiet calm of the night. The park was cloaked in silver moonlight, the air cool and still. And there you were—waiting for him. You sat beneath a tree, eyes turned toward the star-strewn sky, your silhouette glowing softly in the night.

There was a quiet grace in you, as though the universe itself paused to admire your beauty. For a moment, Nightmare stood still, observing you with an intensity that he rarely allowed himself. You, who greeted him without fear, who accepted him even when shadows clung to his very soul. His steps were silent as he approached, the darkness curling around him like a second skin. When he stood close enough, he let his presence be known, his voice low and smooth.

" Why hello there, darling," he said, a slow grin pulling at his skeletal features.

The bouquet of black roses appeared in his hand like magic, held out for you.

"I have a little gift for you before we go," his tone was playful, but beneath it.

There was a quiet vulnerability—an unspoken hope that you would accept this shadow-touched offering.

You turned, surprise lighting up your features before your expression softened. There was no fear in your eyes, only warmth. Your fingers reached out, brushing over the dark petals with care, as though you understood the sharp beauty within them.

"Thank you," you said gently, your smile delicate but real. Carefully, you took the bouquet, cradling it like it was something precious, not dangerous.

And in that moment, Nightmare knew the truth. You were the only one who could see past the darkness, who could hold something sharp and love it regardless. His heart, hidden beneath layers of shadow and corruption, ached in the softest way.

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Reaper Sans

Their love is a delicate balance, Reaper represents death, and (Y/N) represents life. Yet, neither sees the other as an enemy. Instead, they understand that life and death are two sides of the same coin, forever entwined.

Despite their divine responsibilities, they respect each other’s roles. Reaper gently reaps the souls of withering plants and animals, while his S/O nurtures new life from the remnants, creating a cycle that neither can break nor escape.

You often visits the graveyards Reaper tends to, planting flowers and vines over the resting places of souls. It’s (Y/N) and his way of honoring life even in death, and Reaper secretly cherishes the beauty you bring to his otherwise somber realm.

(Y/N) finds comfort in the rustling of leaves, saying it's the voice of those who have passed, whispering to them. Reaper listens too, finding peace in knowing that death isn't the end, just a change.

Whenever Reaper feels overwhelmed, (Y/N) gives him seeds to plant. "So you can remember that even after endings, beginnings are waiting," she/he/they say, reminding him that his role holds hope, not just finality.

The two of you often take slow walks through graveyards, Reaper sharing stories of souls long passed, while you ensures every grave is adorned with a bloom. Together, the two of you honor the dead in both your own quiet, respectful way.

You often leave him little flower arrangements, each with a secret meaning. Reaper learns their language, recognizing when a sprig of rosemary means remembrance, or lavender means peace.

Reaper built a small sanctuary in his realm, a garden where (Y/N) could visit, untouched by decay. It became both of your secret haven, a place where love and life could thrive in his world of endings.

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The sanctuary stood quiet, bathed in the soft golden light of the afternoon. Reaper paused at its entrance, his dark cloak brushing against the delicate grass beneath his feet. It was a small haven he had crafted, a place untouched by the weight of his duties. Yet, even in his absence, the space had changed. Flowers now bloomed along the edges, their vibrant colors breaking through the shadows. His gaze lingered on one in particular—honeysuckle.

The meaning was not lost on him. Bonds of love, it whispered, as though nature itself acknowledged the connection between them. A small, solemn smile tugged at his lips. Despite the divide between life and death, their love had rooted itself, blooming quietly like the flowers that surrounded him.

And there you were, seated at the simple wooden table beneath the outstretched branches of a tree he had planted. The sunlight caught in your hair, a soft glow surrounding you like a halo. In the center of the table sat a small box of teas and a pair of insulated bottles, steam curling lazily from the spouts. The scent of herbs drifted in the air, mingling with the sweetness of the nearby blossoms. You looked up, eyes lighting up as Reaper approached. There was no fear in your gaze, only warmth.

Reaper's steps were soundless as he crossed the threshold, dark robes trailing behind him like the whispers of forgotten souls. He lowered his hood, letting the sunlight touch the pale bone of his skull, and offered you a soft smile.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice low but warm.

"I brought something for you." His eyes, dark as obsidian, glimmered with a rare tenderness.

You tilted your head, curiosity brightening your features.

"What is it, Reaper?" you asked, your tone as light and sweet as the honeysuckle that framed the sanctuary.

Your hands were already reaching, ready to accept whatever gift he offered, no matter how strange or shadowed it might be.

From beneath his cloak, Reaper withdrew a small, delicate tree. Its leaves shimmered like silver in the soft light, and its branches cradled fruits unlike any other—apples split down the middle, one side black as night, the other pale as moonlight.

It was simple, yet ancient, holding a quiet power that hummed in the air. He placed it on the table between you, his fingers lingering for a moment on the fragile trunk.

"A Tree of Life," he said softly, as though speaking the words too loudly would break the moment.

"When I'm busy, when I cannot be here… let this remind you that I will never truly leave you." His eyes lifted to meet yours, and there was something raw in them—something soft, and painfully human.

You reached out, your fingers brushing the smooth bark with a reverent touch.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, voice laced with emotion.

Your gaze lingered on the black and white fruit, a symbol of balance, of life and death entwined in harmony.

"And so are you, Reaper," your words were simple, but they struck deeper than any blade.

And though Reaper had known centuries of silence, centuries of endings, it was this, your soundless-veil love.

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[capricorn-writes2]

BDJDBDJDBDDJB!!!! AUTHOR! I HAVE AN IDEA!!!

Error Sans, Ink Sans, Underfell and Undertale Sans with their s/o. How protective those four can be amd what would make them overprotective?

Error Sans, Ink Sans, Underfell Sans and Undertale Sans Protecting Their S/O

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Hello, there Anon. I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I was focused on TOEFL as well as my Thesis.

Gender: Neutral Warning: Profanity and Lime

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ERROR SANS

The second most protective as a skeleton with you as his S/O but luckily he's not possessive. Mostly protects you from other skeletons that could endanger you (like Insanity Sans).

Not the loud type of protecting and usually protects you from far away so you cannot see where he is but he is indeed watching you from far away and capturing anyone who tries to harm you with his strings.

If you get along with Ink. He would definitely be getting really protective to the point he feels jealous and threatened by Ink because he thinks you are going to like Ink more than him.

Actually, he can be loud but this is only necessary because he mostly just uses his strings to throw the person who is bothering you away with his strings.

Doesn't get jealous easily because he knows that you love him and him only. But what bothers him is if the guy cannot take no for an answer, even if you told the guy you are already dating.

Would start to glitch if the guy started to touch you before every electronic in the room also started to make static sounds or error sounds to show how angry he is.

The guy who also bothers you would also get sent into the void of darkness forever, and the guy cannot go back because the only way the guy can get out if Error lets him out.

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There was a mixture of interest and anxiety in (Y/N) when Error Sans carried you away to the void, a place of empty white and limitless possibilities. Within the void, time and space danced in a captivating waltz, providing a haven from the silence of the universe. Error Sans glance at you "I'LL be BAcK In A feW MiNutES," he spoke in a glitched voice.

Error Sans vanished into the whirling depths of the portal, leaving (Y/N) surrounded by the eerie silence. In this barren land, silence was the only sound and light ruled the place, appearing to make time stand still. Feeling alone and lost in her thoughts, (Y/N) sensed a tinge of discomfort, a doubt whispering in the silence.

The puppet gracefully lowered itself into her hands before she could properly process the strange illusion in front of her. (Y/N) gasped as he glanced up and saw Error Sans staring at you with an inscrutable expression. "I MaDe That FoR yOu," he said in his glitch voice. The words resonated in the emptiness like a melancholic tune. He disappeared back into the portal leaving (Y/N) along with the present in her/his/their hands.

As (Y/N) continued to play with the puppet, a sudden disturbance in the void caught your attention. A new portal appears, revealing a skeleton unlike any she/he/they had encountered before. Adorned with a giant brush on his back and an ink mark on his face, the newcomer exuded an air of whimsy and creativity that stood in stark contrast to the emptiness of the void. "Oh, human! Hello there, what are you doing in a void?" the skeleton asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. " Oh, I'm just waiting for someone. He said I need to wait for him," (Y/N) explained, her/his/their voice tinged with uncertainty.

The discussion was cut off before it could go any farther when another portal appeared. To (Y/N)'s astonishment, it was the same doorway from which Error Sans had disappeared. Error's generally unstable voice took on a hint of shock and dread upon seeing his opponent in the emptiness as he came from the portal. "GeT AwaY FrOm (Y/N)!!!" Error Sans's voice echoed across the emptiness, his words tinged with anger and rush. The formerly peaceful emptiness of the void went dreary due to the unexpected tension between the two skeletons, which hung heavily in the air. "Uh-oh, wait. YOU'RE HIS GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND?!" Ink Asks you in surprise. "Uhhh, yes. I'm his Girlfriend/Boyfriend...." You admitted.

Despite having no skin, the skeleton got paler before he created the portal to get away quickly from you and Error who are ready to shoot the strings from his finger and trap ink with it. "And Don"T EvEr cOmE bAcK! Or TaLk tO (Y/N)!" Error shouted before taking a deep breath and massaging the back of his skull.

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INK SANS

Protective but the second least who are protective of you. That doesn't mean he doesn't protect you at all but he just knows which AU is the safest for you and places you there, this is only when he uses it when he has to fight someone dangerous and tries to harm you.

Ink Sans may seem chaotic and scattered, but when it comes to his S/O’s safety, his focus sharpens. His unpredictability becomes his greatest strength, no one can predict his next move, which makes him a terrifying protector when danger looms.

Like most Sanses, Ink can teleport, and he’ll use it instantly to whisk his S/O away from harm. Sometimes, it’s playful by sweeping you off their feet with a grin and a twirl but when it’s serious, there’s no hesitation.

Ink’s protectiveness often comes with a grin and a joke. If someone’s bothering his S/O, Ink will lean in close with a mischievous smile and say something like, “You really wanna poke the artist? Careful, I’m not great at drawing mercy.

Ink’s not often angry, but if someone truly threatens his S/O, his demeanor changes. His bright colors dim, his smiles fade, and his voice lowers. The cheerful chaos disappears, leaving only a quiet, controlled fury. That’s when he’s at his most dangerous.

Ink’s protectiveness can feel chaotic but sweet. He might randomly appear, dropping in from a portal just to check you if you are okay. “Hey! Just making sure you’re still in one piece!”

After a scare, Ink will bring color and art into your world to comfort you. He’ll paint little stars in the sky, sketch flowers along the path, or doodle on your arms to bring back a sense of calm.

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The first thing (Y/N) noticed when they/she/her woke up was the cold. Not the kind that prickled the skin, but the kind that seeped into the bones, a void of emptiness that made the air feel wrong. (Y/N)'s wrist and ankles were bound by glitching strings, anchoring you to the darkness.

The world around them, her, him was broken with a floating pieces of data, fractured platforms drifting aimlessly in the abyss. And standing in front of them, eyes hollow and flickering with static, was Error himself. "YoU rEaLLy sHoUlD’vE sTaYeD HiDDeN," Error muttered, voice crackling like a corrupted file. "I NeVeR uNdErsTooD WhY SqUiD kEpT yOu sO ClOsE. He DoEsN’t fEEl, aFTer All. BuT nOw… I gEt iT. YoU ArE hIs WeAkNess," A slow grin stretched across his face.

(Y/N) glared at him, struggling against the strings. "Ink will come for me," You said, your voice was voice steady despite the fear curling in your chest. You knew he would come to save you. Ink was unpredictable, chaotic, always dancing between apathy and amusement, but this? This was different. The moment Error had taken you, he had declared war. Error chuckled darkly. "Oh, I’m counting on it." His fingers twitched again, and suddenly, the void around them twisted before a portal open.

Gone was the usual mischievous glint in his eyes. His smile, normally so teasing and playful, was nowhere to be found. Ink Sans grip on his paintbrush was tight, the golden liquid at its tip swirling with a bold color. Ink stepped forward, movements slow, calculated, predatory. His starry rainbow eyes had turned into sharp red. "Let. (Y/N). Go." Ink's voice was steady, but beneath there was something simmering.

Error recovered quickly, his static-filled laugh slicing through the tension. "Or wHaT? YOu GoNNA ErAsE mE, INk? YOU dOn't kiLL, rEmEMbEr?" He yanked the strings, forcing (Y/N) forward as a shield. "YOu fIgHt lIkE A pAiNter, nOt A wArrIOr. YoU cReAtE, yoU DoN't dEStROy. AnD tHaT's wHy YoU aLwAyS LoSe," His grin widened.

Something Snapped

In an instant, Ink moved. One fluid stroke of his brush sent a wave of gold slashing through the void, severing the glitching threads like they were nothing. (Y/N) barely had time to react before you were pulled into his arms, his grip firm yet trembling with restrained fury. He didn’t let go. He didn’t even look at you as his pinprick focus on Error. "You took something I love the most....and that was your mistake," Ink’s voice was different than his bright and cheery voice.

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UNDERTALE SANS

He is the least protective because he doesn't even think you will leave him for another guy. He trusts you that you are not a cheater so if another man or woman is flirting with you, he won't be pissed because you will reject them.

Sans is the type to be protective in quiet, almost unnoticed ways. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but he’s always aware of your surrounding. If he senses anything off, his stance shifts slightly, ready to act. He’s casual about it, but behind that lazy grin, he’s prepared to defend you if necessary.

Mostly protects you from yourself and monsters usually leave you alone if they know you are sans boyfriend/girlfriend and most of the monsters in his universe are actually happy for the two of you.

But he will protect you from the dangerous alternate version of him, such as Killer, Dust, Horror or the skeletons from the bad Sanses. He would try his best to protect you from them

If a situation gets tense, Sans uses humor to defuse it, but also to protect. He’ll crack a joke to shift the attention or make the threat seem smaller than it is. But if humor doesn’t work, the smile fades fast, and Sans becomes a shield, placing himself between you and the danger.

When his S/O is anxious, Sans doesn’t overwhelm them with words. Instead, he’ll sit close, shoulder to shoulder, offering his silent support. He’ll hum a quiet tune, or toss out a light pun just to make you smile.

Sans doesn’t sleep well, especially when he worries about you. Sometimes he’ll stay up, watching over you just to make sure you're okay. He’ll tell himself it’s just for a few minutes, but it always ends up being longer.

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The alley was darker than it had any right to be, the kind of blackness that felt like a living thing, curling and twisting at the edges of the lamplight. The apartment where (Y/N) had shared with Sans are getting closer. But on the way, (Y/N) was stopped and she/he/they didn’t know what was worse, the eerie presence of the monster looming over you or the way it kept grinning, its many eyes gleaming with unsettling amusement.

The creature was tall, its bloody-red form shifting like liquid shadow, tendrils curling and uncurling as it leaned closer. “Well, aren’t you a delicate thing. Lost in the dark, all alone… You look like you could use some company.” it purred, its voice a sickly-sweet murmur.

Before (Y/N) could even take a step back, a familiar voice cut through the thick tension. "Hey, buddy. Hate to break it to ya, but they’re not interested.” The air grew lighter as Sans stepped forward, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, his usual lazy grin plastered on his face. His pupils were sharp, calculating, and despite his relaxed posture, there was a warning hidden beneath his words. "Besides, I gotta say—flirting? Not your strong suit. You’re oozing desperation, pal. Literally." Oh...he actually went there with no second thought, telling the weird snake octopus monster that he's desperate for a boyfriend/girlfriend. “Oh? And who might you be? A tiny skeleton thinking he can play hero?” It slithered closer, its many eyes narrowing.

Sans exhaled, as if he were already bored. “Nah. I just don’t like when monster like you don’t take a hint, it gives bad names to monster like us. And right now? I’d say you’re about three seconds away from regretting your life choices.” He let his grin widen just slightly, his sharp grip could even cut the thickest wire.

For a moment, the creature seemed amused, but then its eyes flickered to the faint blue glow now emanating from Sans’ left eye socket. The tendrils that had been inching toward (Y/N) hesitated. The creature gave a low hiss, its form wavering. “Tch. Not worth the trouble,” it muttered, before melting back into the shadows. The air grew still again, the alley now empty, save for the dim glow of streetlights overhead.

(Y/N) let out a breath they didn’t realize she/he/they were holding, their/her/his hands still slightly trembling. Sans turned to you, his usual smug expression softening just a bit. “You good, kid? C'mon Let’s take a breather," he didn't wait for your answer.

The nearest park was quiet, bathed in the golden glow of the old lampposts. Sans plopped down onto a bench with a sigh, patting the spot beside him. When (Y/N) sat down, he leaned back, gazing at the stars as if nothing had happened. In a quiet voice, he began humming in a low, soothing, and a familiar tune. It wasn’t much, but in the calm of the night, with the distant hum from his voice, (Y/N) felt save.

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UNDERFELL SANS

Bless your soul and I hope God bless you with an infinity of patience because JESUS! THIS GUY IS THE MOST PROTECTIVE FROM ALL OF THE THREE GUYS I MENTIONED EARLIER.

My guy, he takes zero bullshit from your own stupidity and from other monsters that tries to harm you or ask you out. You walk into the glass? He will pull you away and call you an idiot. A guy harassing you? He would repeatedly shoot the guy with his Gaster blaster.

If someone dares to flirt with or threaten you. Red's grin tightens into something sharp, and his glowing eye flares ominously. His voice lowers into a dangerous rumble, an unspoken warning that says, “Back off before you regret it.”

Red has perfected the art of the death glare. If someone is pushing boundaries, being too rude, or just generally a threat, Red will lock eyes with them, his grin still sharp, but his expression dark. It's a look that says, "Try me, and see what happens." You don't always notice these moments, but it's his silent way of ensuring no one messes with you.

When it's cold, Red notices immediately if you are shivering. Without a word, he'll pull off his jacket and drape it over your shoulders, acting like it's no big deal. He’ll brush off your thanks with a gruff, "Don’t mention it," but secretly, he finds comfort in knowing you're warm.

Underfell Sans doesn't like the idea of you having zero or no ability to defend yourself from creeps or bad guys, so he insists on teaching you basic self-defense. He’ll act like it’s a casual suggestion, hiding how deeply it bothers him to think of you getting hurt.

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(Y/N) took a step back, heart hammering as the stranger loomed over you. he man was massive, at least six feet tall, broad-shouldered, with a grin that stretched too wide, his breath reeking of stale cigarettes. "What’s a little thing like you doin’ out here alone?" the man murmured, voice thick with something sickly sweet. His hand twitched at his side, fingers flexing, as if already imagining how easy it would be to grab you.

A slow, deliberate footstep echoed behind (Y/N). Then another. The air shifted, charged with something electric, something dangerous. "Yeah? And what’s a big guy like you doin’ makin’ such a dumbass mistake?" A rough, gravelly voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Back off before you regret it," Underfell Sans cracked his knuckles, his voice dipping into a low, guttural growl.

The man barely had time to react before the temperature around them dropped. Fell’s grin tightened, losing its usual lazy amusement and sharpening into something predatory. His glowing red eye flared ominously, bathing the alley in an eerie crimson light. The man hesitated, as if weighing his odds. Afterall, Red is much more shorter than him so he thinks it would be much easier to take down the monster.

A deep, mechanical hum filled the air as a Gaster Blaster materialized behind Fell, its skeletal maw splitting open, dripping with crimson energy. It was big, bigger than usual, and its hollow sockets locked onto the man with an eerie, unblinking stare. "Don't make me say it twice," Fell muttered, voice almost bored.

The man bolted. Not a second of hesitation. He turned on his heel and ran, his footsteps echoing into the night until they disappeared completely. The Gaster Blaster vanished with a flick of Fell’s wrist, leaving behind only silence. It was only then that he turned, his sharp expression softening ever so slightly as he took in (Y/N)’s shivering form. Without a word, he pulled off his worn, red-lined jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The fabric was warm, heavy with his mustard and axe spray scent. "Ya' okay?" he asked, voice quieter now, though his pinpricks flickering in irritation.

(Y/N) nodded, still gripping the edges of the jacket. Fell scoffed, rolling his shoulders. "Idiot," he muttered. "What were ya thinkin’, runnin’ off this late without tellin’ me? You know there are creeps out here," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before shaking his head. "Next time, ya wake me up, got it? Groceries ain’t worth gettin’ yourself killed over. Sides… it ain't like I’d mind," His voice lost its edge for just a moment, barely above a whisper at the last word.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Heeey~ can I have a request of Homidicial Liu, Jeff The Killer, Jane the Killer and Clockwork with S/O who are Mysyerious? kind of like Raven from teen Titans. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

HOMIDICIAL LIU, JEFF THE KILLER, JANE THE KILLER and CLOCKWORK with MYSTERIOUS S/O

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A/N: Hello there Anon!!!! I hope you like the final result of these character headcanons and I would like to apologize if there are any OOC Characters inside of this Headcannon. I am trying my best to put the Reader as the portrayal from Raven Teen Titans.

Warning: Cursing from Jane the Killer and Jeff the Killer

Gender: Neutral

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HOMIDICIAL LIU

Liu finds that you are a bit too cold and a bit distant because you don't like to interact with the other proxies. Instead, you often shut them off and distract yourself with other things.

But Sully finds you interesting, he also finds you to be not annoying. He doesn't really like loud people and push-over people as he finds that the two of you have a bit of similarity (You two prefer to be alone).

And as someone who is introverted and loves peace, it was no surprise you prefer Liu over Sully more. Sully can be really an asshole sometimes and when he screams, it is REALLY LOUD. Of course, Liu is going to apologize to you on Sully's behalf for pissing you off.

Liu would most likely leave you alone as he respects your personal space. However, it would be not the same case as Sully who would sometimes bother you just for shit and giggles.

I can see Liu as someone who enjoys music and reading books so he sometimes hangs out with you together in peace by reading and listening to music together.

But Sully finds your hobby of reading, listening to music, or other calming hobbies boring so he would just watch you from afar with a bored face and then decide if he should leave you alone or just throw the book or earphone away to distract you.

Actually, the two of them surprisingly prefer an introvert and calm S/O instead of an extrovert/overly friendly one. Sully finds them really annoying but Liu just prefers doing things together with you in the house instead of going out.

Liu is disappointed when you are sassy/snarky/sarcastic with other proxies and roasted the fuck out of them but Sully finds them to be hilarious and gives a score to all of your roasts from one (boring) to ten (Funny as fuck and very destructive).

Sully finds it adorable underneath that mean and cold facade, you're not as asshole as how people portray you to be. Sometimes even teasing you about how 'cute' you are.

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As (Y/N) sat in the pleasant nook of the kitchen, stools standing behind the countertops, the world around them/her/his seemed to disappear into a peaceful haze. With each sip, the lovely scent of the tea swirled surrounding (Y/N), mixing with the subtle murmur of conversations and the soft hum of the espresso machine.

Suddenly, a loud splitting sound broke the silence, jolting you out of your peaceful tranquillity. Startled, (Y/N) gazed up, their/her/his eyes meeting Jeff the Killer's terrifying gaze, known for his demonic grin and creepy presence. His sneer twisted with excitement as he leaned in, his words piercing the air like a cold blade. "Hey nerd," he commented, his words tinged with mockery. "What book is that?" His presence cast a shadow over the peace you had been enjoying.

With a measured glance, (Y/N) broke the silence by saying, "It's a classic, but I doubt your brain could even understand what this is about." The words hung in the air, a challenge filled with intellect that sliced through the suffocating atmosphere. The unexpected answer caused a collective gasp and shush from the other proxies, and even Jeff's sneer faltered for a moment.

The room fell silent, the everyday noises of the kitchen and living room receding into the distance as all eyes focused on the unexpected debate. Even Jeff, known for his unsettling demeanour, looked surprised by the unexpected response. The air crackled with tension as the challenge hung between (Y/N) and Jeff the Killer, sending a wave through the previously quiet surroundings.

From a distance, a guy stood watching the drama develop, his piercing red eyes blazing with unamusement as his younger brother, Jeff, approached (Y/N) with his typical challenging attitude as he tried to scare his partner. However, when (Y/N) replied with unexpected wit, a grin pulled at Sully's lips, a subtle acknowledgement of respect for the unexpected change of events and (Y/N)'s retort. 

As Jeff's brother watched the conversation with satisfaction and glee, he let out a quiet guffaw causing an angry glare from Liu, who stood close. Despite Liu's disapproving expression, the alter ego couldn't help but find humour in the situation, his laughter bubbling just beyond the surface. He rolled his eyes and remained composed, hiding the delight with a more neutral face.

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JEFF THE KILLER

As someone who always goes out to kill people and hardly goes back. Jeff the killer and you could be a great match since you have the personality of water whereas he's like a fire.

He is secretly thankful but not admitting that he has a S/O who could stop him from doing reckless shits and stopping him from his own shenanigans so he would not get into deeper trouble since you have a cool head.

But also finds you a bit too stuck up since we are talking about you as "Mysterious". He wants to know about you more but he finds it frustrating that you don't let him find out about you (The hypocrisy amazes me).

Also, he could be as asshole as Sully. He finds it hilarious to annoy the fuck out of you when you want to be alone. So, there would be a time he would just be touchy when you don't want to.

Also finds your calming hobbies like reading books are boring so he would just grab it out of nowhere and throw it somewhere else when he wants your attention.

He finds it funny when you are being nonchalant and roasts the hell out of anyone who pisses you off in a calm manner. Especially if you did it to Jane or to Ben.

He doesn't like it though when you roast him and would throws a temper tantrum or gives you the silent treatment. He does not care even if he's in the wrong one. So, you have to be the emotionally mature one.

But there are also some times when he is not butt-hurt. He actually throws a playful banter with you as he tries to make you laugh. And when he sees you laugh, not only does he think your laughter is cute but he will fist-bump

As an introvert, he actually prefers to spend his time with you and if you are a serial killer. He does not want to be paired up with anyone except you since no one can control him.

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Today is Saturday, a day of quiet for all the proxies in the abandoned residence. Taking advantage of the tranquillity, (Y/N) chooses to remain in their chamber. They/she/he sits within the chalk-drawn pentagram, focusing on clearing their minds and relaxing. Yesterday had been very frantic since Slenderman had given multiple jobs. Today, however, gives an excellent chance for meditation.

A massive book sat open in front of (Y/N) as they/she/he began reciting ancient runic words, the meaning of which Slenderman alone knew. The air appeared to resonate with the weight of these mysterious incantations, giving the place an unearthly feel. With each statement, (Y/N) sensed a link to something beyond cognition, as if they were entering a realm beyond mortal comprehension.

As (Y/N) continued to meditate, a sense of calm flooded over her/him/them, illuminating their being with a peaceful glow. Their bodies began to glow softly in the darkness, throwing ghostly shadows on the walls. It was as if the very core of their existence was combining with the universe's cosmic forces, transcending worldly concerns and soaring to a state of complete peace. In the middle of this celestial embrace, (Y/N) felt weightless, as if hanging in a timeless abyss, surrounded by uncountable stars. As the door blasted open, (Y/N)'s idyllic meditation turned into chaos. Jeff the killer, her/his/their serial murderer boyfriend, stood at the doorway, putting the room with unpleasant energy as he yelled, "I'm back!" (Y/N)'s gaze hardened with rage as you stared at him, your peace broken by his unexpected presence.

The white hooded killer ignored your glare and proceeded to speak, his tone nonchalant despite the tension in the air. "(Y/N), come with me. I'm bored out of my mind, and I want you to go out with me," he said with a huff escape from his mouth. "No, I'm busy meditating and I need to focus. I want you to get out," The girl continued to glare at him. "But I dont's have anyone to killing spree with me and the only one who doesn't fuck up is only you," Jeff began to whine at you.

Fueled by anger and annoyance, (Y/N) determined to take action. She began chanting a strong spell, her words echoing with old magic. Jeff was pulled off the ground with a burst of energy, his objections drowned out by the spell's power. (Y/N) led him to the doorway, her eyes burning with resolve as she levitated him out of the room. Jeff's whining grew louder as he was propelled out, his voice echoing through the corridor. "Hey! Let me in! Why are you kicking me out?! I just want to hang out with you!" he cried, his words falling on deaf ears as (Y/N) remained steadfast in her decision.

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JANE THE KILLER

Jane is obviously less of an asshole than Jeff. She is much more understanding than you think. She doesn't tease you or think your hobby is boring.

Actually, she is more sweet than Jeff or Liu. She thinks your hobby of reading, writing, drawing, or other calming activities is fun, so she would sometimes join you.

Because she is also an introvert, just like you. She actually enjoys spending time with you when the two of you do these activities together and would rather anyone not bother you.

Also, enjoy it when you are being sarcastic with someone, especially Jeff. You don't hear her snickers of anything, but underneath her mask, she is grinning at your retort.

Since you are her soft spot, she does not mind you roasting her. She does enjoy a little banter with you, as she knows that you are just joking around. She understands that's just how you play around, despite seeming as if you are being rude.

Respect your space; she will leave you alone when you need to be alone or are in a bad mood. Secretly leaves sweets or tea to cool down your head when you are in a bad mood.

Although she finds it a bit difficult when she has to communicate with you because you are too close and you don't often open up about how you feel, she does find it a little bit annoying, but she is not going to force you to talk.

Sometimes this could lead you two into an argument or a fight, but unlike Jeff, She is not going to just throw a knife at you unless you go too far. It was mostly just an argument, and you two stayed out until the two of you cooled down.

Overall, she is just a sweetheart around you and more respectful than other proxies. But sometimes, getting into an argument with her is sucky because she could give you a silent treatment for an entire day, and you had to be the one who apologised.

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In the dimly lighted room, (Y/N) sat in the corner, perched on the bed, a book laid open in front of them. The sole light came from a lantern, which created faint shadows over the walls. Despite the lack of air conditioning, a cold persisted in the air, adding to the spooky atmosphere.

With a flick of their/her/his hand, (Y/N) flipped the page of the dark fantasy novel they were reading, the plot unfolding before their eyes. The story spoke of an evil dragon who chased humans behind the walls of a city consumed by terror and gloom. Each word seemed to pull them more into the story, bringing them vivid visions of hazardous encounters and epic fights between forces of light and shadow. Lost in the world of the book, (Y/N) sought peace in the frigid seclusion of the room, relying on the tale for escape.

As a faint tap echoed through the room, (Y/N) removed their gaze from the pages of their book and shouted out, "Come in," enabling whoever standing outside to enter. The door creaked open, showing Jane, (Y/N)'s girlfriend and the one person they/she/he had a soft place for. Jane's presence added warmth to the space, contrasting with its coldness. "Are you busy?" Jane asked her voice calm, as she moved farther into the room. "No, but I am reading a book right now. Would you want to read with me? (Y/N) replied with a tinge of happiness in your voice.

Jane nodded as she scanned the titles on (Y/N)'s bookcase, her eyes eventually settling on a book with a striking red cover. It was a novel about an evil hero and a kind villain, a story that intrigued her. Holding the book in her hands, she turned to (Y/N) and asked, "Can I read this book?" (Y/N) looked up from their own book and nodded with a smile. "Yeah, you can read Vicious. It's one of my favourite books," they said, their voice filled with warmth and fondness for the story.

As the girl nodded in agreement, a smile graced her lips. Remembering she had prepared some tea earlier, she spoke up, "Wait, I made tea for us. I hope you don't mind Earl Grey." With a gentle kiss on (Y/N)'s cheek, she then made her way to retrieve the tea kettle. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at the gesture, feeling a slight blush creeping onto their cheeks from the sweet kiss. Setting aside their book, they eagerly anticipated sharing a quiet moment over tea with Jane, grateful for her thoughtful gesture and the warmth of her affection.

When Jane returned, the room was filled with the soothing scent of Earl Grey tea. She gently poured the hot liquid into two glasses, placing one in front of (Y/N) and took her seat next to them. As they sipped their tea, the warmth of the beverage matching the warmth of their bonding, they fell into a comfortable stillness.

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CLOCKWORK

She is in between understanding but also as a menace as Jeff the Killer. As an extrovert, she sometimes would not leave you alone when she is bored and doesn't have anything to do that day.

Well at least she will not be throwing your books away when you are busy or repeatedly calling your names when you are meditating but she definitely going to stare at you all day which can be bothering you sometimes.

Despite not being noisy, the sound of the ticking clock in her eyes can be a little bit loud. She would also sometimes go around your room and just skim a few books and if there were no pictures, she's just gonna put it away instead of putting it back which is why this can be annoying.

To be honest, she finds your hobbies to be boring and she really just wants to drag you out so the two of you could go on a killing spree together or just hang around the forest. But she doesn't want to bother you so she just waits for you to be done.

The reason she can be understanding is because she would also give you some space if you need to be alone. She understands that you hate getting distracted or bothered, especially when you are in a bad mood.

As a result, she would also probably not let any proxies interact with you and ask you if you are fine. Just like Jane, she can be protective so she won't let anyone bother you at all and she will scare anyone who tries to mess with you.

Also a bit annoyed that sometimes you shun yourself and you are too close to yourself and not interacting with her at all even though the two of you are dating. She wants to communicate with you, ya know?

Enjoys bantering with you and has a tough shell so you can roast her and she will not be easily offended by your roast. Instead, she just will sass you back and snickers, and would be laughing if you cannot retort back.

Also would enjoy seeing you roast someone else, calling out other killers or people's stupidity. To the point, she will clutch her stomach and she is crouching down while letting out a tea kettle-like laughter.

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As (Y/N) climbed the stairs to prepare her breakfast, she noticed an interesting sight. Nurse Ann and Clockwork stood facing one other, arms crossed in a protective position and staring furiously. The tension in the air was apparent, and (Y/N) felt a sense of unease. Clockwork, your girlfriend, was not known for getting into fights with others.

(Y/N) listened intently as Nurse Ann and Clockwork's argument escalated, each accusation escalating the tension in the room. "Because of your dumbass ticks, the victim escaped and probably going to tell the police," Nurse Ann accused, jabbing her finger in Clockwork's direction. "Me!? You're the literally slow one! I told you to bring something smaller but no! You bring your chainsaw! You know those are heavy!" Clockwork retorted, her voice tinged with frustration. "But they are portable! Besides, you have an axe and those are heavy!" Nurse Ann countered, her tone defensive. "These are machetes!" Clockwork defended herself, her words dripping with exasperation.

Now, you are not the type to start an argument but this Clockwork is your girlfriend and no one can harass her. Deciding to step up, you came from the shadow and stood in front of clockwork while facing the red-headed nurse. "(Y/N)? What are you doing? You don't need to do this" Clockwork said.

The nurse wasn't even fazed that you were there. Instead, the nurses think it's ridiculous that you are trying to intervene between the two of them. "Aww, is someone who cannot protect herself and needs their baby? Fucking grow up, Clockie," Nurse Ann rolls her red eyes at the two of you. "So what, at least she is not miserable. No one even wanted to kiss you, heck. Even take doesn't want you to be his," (Y/N) leaned to the counter. "W-what?" The nurse's eyes widened in surprise.

Clockwork who heard that immediately tried not to laugh but failed, even you could hear her snickering in the background. Those words escape like a river, you do not even control them, they just flow out. "Just try to ask other proxies if they want to date you. They probably going to say no to your face. Do I have to say more?" (Y/N) continued to roast the hell out of Nurse Ann.

The nurse could not help but bite her own lips, her eyes glaring into your eyes that were staring at her with boredom. She pointed her finger at you but no words coming out from her lips and she glared at your girlfriend since she was speechless. "You two will regret it, both of you. I promise that" she storms off, knowing she could not even give any comeback to you.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Could I ask for either a poly or love triangle with the DreamTale twins? They’re my comfort characters and I’m not doing too well emotionally recently. Love what I’ve read of your work! Have a good day! <3

Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans Love Triangle Headcanons, Ink and Error Love Triangle, Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans Love Triangle

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A/N: Hello there @artsyfangirl! I hope you do not mind that I am adding Fell and Blueberry as well as Ink and Error. Just take it as a bonus for you since you don't really have a good day!

Warning: Cursing from Fell

Gender: Neutral

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Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans

Almost impossible because the two of them are different and we cannot forget that Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans would always fight with each other as Nightmare is the leader of Bad Sanses and Dream Sans is the leader of Star Sanses.

It is like a war because the two of them are going to end up fighting with each other despite the war between the Bad Sanses and the Star Sanses ended many years ago but it's not as aggressive between Ink and Error Sans

Dream Sans going to steal your attention by trying to make you laugh with his silly antics or his stupid but funny jokes as he would talk with you.

He would also try to steal your attention by giving small but meaningful gifts, something like little trinkets, keychains, or maybe a hand-made sweet ( I headcanon that Dream can bake).

And he would also always listen to you talking about anything even though he does not understand. He would try to understand them and give the response that you want but sometimes....it fails.

Unlike Dream, Nightmare is much less obvious when he tries to steal your attention away from Dream Sans. He would secretly tell you about all the bad things Dream did.

When Dream is not around, he keeps you in his room and not letting you go out but keeps you around as his tentacles would hold you. Sometimes, his words could make you turn red because he would whisper those 'You look dazzling my dear in this outfit but you look even more amazing if you don't wear them.' (AYO- WHAT THE FUCK)

Trying to impress you by showing you what Dream might not have but he has it (For example, if you love the library. He would allow you to read the books in there and he would be your tutor).

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The stars sparkle under the darkness of the sky and two creatures stand together to see all of the stars since the stars shine the brightest at twelve at midnight. A skeleton with a golden cape and light blue jacket standing close next to his crush. They/he/she has (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length with a pair of mesmerizing (E/C) eye colours and (S/C) skin colour.

Using his powers and the staff he always brought around, he created a portal into the Outertale Universe, a place where the stars were brighter than ever, and dreams seemed to come to life. (Y/N) was completely captivated by the mesmerizing beauty of the Outertale Universe. The stars twinkled with an enchanting light, and the whole place exuded a sense of peace.

On the other realm were a pair of cyan eyes seeing the sight from the crystal ball. A skeleton with tentacles and goopy slime all over him watched his brother being romantic to (Y/N) from the shadows, jealousy brewing within him as he saw Dream Sans and (Y/N) together in the Outertale Universe.

It did not take much time for a dark and swirling portal to appear far away from where Dream Sans and (Y/N) stood together to enjoy the sight of the stars, and ominous black tentacles emerged. They snaked towards you, reaching out like a rubber band and wrapping around (Y/N).

The cold sensation around the waist made (Y/N) (L/N) gasps in aghast, horror, and surprise. It was tight enough so you could not escape from the grip but it was not hard enough to hurt you in any way since he did not want you to get hurt. Nightmare Sans, who had been lurking in the shadows, had seized this opportunity to snatch you away from Dream Sans

Dream Sans was taken aback, a mixture of shock and horror painted across his usually cheerful face. In the blink of an eye, the person with (H/C) hair colour and (S/C) skin colour was taken away from Dream Sans and Outertale, leaving him in a stupor. "Oh no! I should go to Nightmare's castle!" He pulled out the staff from his belt.

On the other side of the world, (Y/N) crosses her/his/their arms together and stares at the goopy skeleton with a black stare. You are clearly not amused by his little stunt. "What are you looking at, don't give me that look," Nightmare Sans rolls his pinpricks. "Really? Suddenly kidnapping me out of nowhere when I was hangout with Dream?" (Y/N) squints her/his/their eyes. "Ughh, what so great about Outertale? I can bring you there every day if you want. I could even bring you to a better place," Nightmare scoffs.

The battle between the two brothers raged on, neither willing to back down as they wanted your attention and no one else could have it. . As this pattern continued, (Y/N) grew increasingly not amused with Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans constantly kidnapping her/him/them out of nowhere.

The constant fighting between the two skeleton brothers had become more of a burden than a romantic pursuit, and they/she/he wished for a way to break free from this never-ending cycle. "You two really acting like five years old. I'm even more impressed nowadays kids seem to be more mature than you two," (Y/N) mutters.

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Ink Sans and Error Sans

If the love triangle between Nightmare and Dream Sans is already bad. Ink Sans and Error Sand would be much worse than those two because they would constantly FIGHT for your attention.

It is so bad that sometimes it feels like you could just take a chair and popcorn just to watch the drama between these two because they would fight for anything, not just your attention.

Ink Sans when trying to get your attention is by bringing you to the portal and showing you all of the beautiful Alternate Universes to impress you since he is the protector of Aus.

He would also just steal you away when you have free time to draw together with him. Sometimes, he would throw bits of compliments on your drawing, even if it was bad. He just likes your creativity.

He would also try to create something out of his paintbrush, small gifts maybe something adorable such as plushies and giving it to you to make you happy.

Error Sans is not as romantic as Ink Sans sadly so he had difficulty stealing your attention but I can see that he would bring you to some beautiful AUS despite him being an AU's destroyer, to watch the star.

Protects you from the other skeletons surprisingly and not letting anyone touch you, especially Ink Sans as he glares at the protector of AU's since he knows Ink also has a crush on you.

Also, he's a bit of a bully. To get your attention, he would make fun of you and give you tons or ridiculous nicknames just to piss you off and he's always amused each time you react to him.

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On the small beanbag inside of the living room, a person with (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length and a pair of (E/C) eye colour as well as (S/C) skin colour sitting on it with books sprawled around the small chair. (Y/N) had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, nestled comfortably in the bean bag. Their/her/his eyes scan every word of the book.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the perfect ambience for your novel. You had just begun to immerse yourself in the world of words when, out of nowhere, a mysterious portal appeared in the corner of the room. The portal was glowing with the colour of the rainbow decorating it.

Startled by the sudden appearance of the portal, (Y/N) dropped their book, their heart racing. From the portal emerged the skeleton with a spot of ink on his cheek, a giant paintbrush on his back and a giant brown cape draped on his back. The protector of the multiverse as he would protect the universes from certain skeletons.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Ink said cheerfully, a wide smile on his face. "What are you doing?" "I was just reading, Ink. What's going on?" Still, a bit bewildered by the unexpected visit, (Y/N) stammered to Ink Sans. "Well, I had this idea for some collaborative drawing, and I thought, who better to join me than you? We could create something amazing together!" Ink's pinpricks twinkled in excitement.

(Y/N) was initially hesitant because the books that you had been reading had not finished and it was in the chapter where the main character faced their rival. But the idea of spending time drawing and the thought about the possibility of creating art together with Ink sounded fun too. "Sure, why not? Let's go," (Y/N) agreed with a smile.

With a bright smile, Ink Sans gestured for (Y/N) to follow him back through the portal and leave behind the book that (Y/N) still had not finished. But all of that excitement was gone as (Y/N) and Ink went inside the portal. Unsurprisingly, there is another guest who was not invited by Ink. "Oh no....you gotta be kidding me," Ink sighs.

The skeleton stepped off from the strings once he saw Ink and (Y/N) on the ground. The familiar black skeleton with a black coat, blue hood and black slippers strutted up to both Ink Sans and (Y/N). "iT HaS BeEn SuCh a LonG Time Isn'T it? bUddY?" A smug smile spread across his face. "Error, Leave us alone. You had already spent time with (Y/N) yesterday. Today is my turn," Ink Sans rolls his pinpricks. "NaAh. I Don't ThiNK sO," Another portal appears behind him.

Ink Sans quickly took the giant paintbrush from his back so he could create a shield for you but he was too late because the strings were wrapped on every one of your limbs. Error Sans created another portal of his own and, with (Y/N) wrapped on his strings, stepped into it, disappearing from Ink's realm.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration. Turning to Error Sans, he was smirking and holding you as if you were his captive. "Error, you know we spent time together yesterday. You could have given Ink a chance. This isn't fair to him," you scold him,your irritation was evident in your tone.

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Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans

A love triangle between Underfell Sans, You, and Underswap Sans might be a little ridiculous because it feels like you are taking care of a skeleton that acts like a golden retriever and also some kind of skeleton that acts like an emo with anger issues.

The other one is going to bully you just to get your attention and just to see your reaction and the other one is trying to hog all of your attention and will follow you everywhere.

Underswap Sans can be a little bit of an attention seeker because he would try to make tacos ( and end up burning all of them or using the wrong condiment and creating something inedible).

If you are busy, would give you that sad look on you before begging you to hang out with him and when Underfell was too late to ask you, he would secretly smirk.

He actually knows that he does look innocent and cute despite he hate of getting called cute but when Fell was angry at him and you saw him. He will use his cuteness to get you on his side.

Underfell Sans can be a bully just like Error Sans but a little bit worse because he won't just be calling you ridiculous names. He would make you dress up for a deal, make you watch a scary movie, and be a menace.

Not surprisingly he would bring you to Grillby's bar to hang out with you and surprisingly he asked Grilly to help him out. Even though, he would end up having more tabs. He would pay for your meals and drinks as he wants you to taste the monster food too.

Underfell Sans also steals your attention by playing games together with you. I believe he knows many great games and he always invites you to play a multiplayer game with him.

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The temperature of the kitchen is rising as the sun goes up in the middle of the day, a person with luscious (H/C) hair and striking (E/C) eyes sat in the kitchen, typing away on your computer. The soft glow of her screencast a warm, amber hue across your face, illuminating the (E/C) eye colours.

It had been a long day, and they/she/he was racing against the clock to finish the mountain of files that had been assigned to her/him/them by the old-bladed head manager. But it won't stop nature from doing its job as (Y/N)'s stomach chooses this inopportune moment to growl with hunger.

You could not help but let out a quiet sigh, torn between your desire for food or the commitment to completing the tasks that had piled up. (Y/N) knew that they/she/he couldn't afford to lose any more time, but the rumbling stomach seemed to have other plans. With a heavy heart, (Y/N) decided to take a brief break.

She/he/they stood up from the chair and stretched their/her/his tired limbs and (Y/N) knew a hungry tummy would only distract the process of working and finishing the papers. In the fridge, you found some leftover chicken and colourful bell peppers. It was the perfect opportunity to whip up something quick and satisfying.

Before (Y/N) could make something, you could hear someone scream, "Mwehehehee! The magnificent blue is here!" Startled, (Y/N) turns around to see Underswap Sans. "Oh, hey Blue. Do you need anything?" (Y/N) tilts their/her/his head a little bit in curiosity. "Human! I heard your stomach grumbling! It was quite loud, human! how 'bout I whip up some tasty tacos for you??" The skeleton asks.

(Y/N) couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling, remembering that the Jolly Skeleton wasn't the best cook. His previous attempt at making tacos had been a disaster, he managed to burn them, and then, in a whimsical attempt to salvage the situation, he had sprinkled glitter on the charred mess. (Y/N) had tried to be polite and take a bite, but it had been quite a horrible mistake.

As (Y/N) hesitated, contemplating whether to accept his offer or not, the door to the kitchen from the living room was suddenly slammed open, causing both Underswap Sans and (Y/N) to jump in surprise. Standing in the doorway was Underfell Sans. "Oi, loser, You said you're hungry? Why don't we get some grillby on the corner? The dumb baby tacos aren't edible for your intestine," Underfell Sans grumbled as he glanced at Underswap Sans.

(Y/N) felt relieved as Underfell Sans gave a solution or an easy way out of the situation. You didn't want to hurt Underswap Sans's feelings, but you also didn't want to endure another round of eating burnt glittery tacos. (Y/N) turned to Underswap Sans and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for the offer, Sans, but I think I'll go with Underfell Sans this time. I'm craving for French fries," You told him. "B-but those are unhealthy! They have so much grease!" Underswap Sans said.

Underswap Sans couldn't hide the disappointment that washed over him when (Y/N) rejected his offer. He let out a resigned sigh and watched as Underfell Sans escorted (Y/N) out of the kitchen. There was a pang of sadness in his eye sockets before his eyes shifted to Underfell Sans who silently glared at him, puffing his cheeks altogether.

He turned to look at Underfell, who was secretly smirking at him. Underfell was well aware that he had managed to steal (Y/N)'s attention away, and the competitive edge between the two skeletons continued to burn.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Cursed Wings (Female Reader X SCP-Monsters) (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/326562469-cursed-wings-female-reader-x-scp-monsters?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=Erinadahara&wp_originator=1jt1DAxjeC5pksAC9jX2myZuBwbbJ5IJ50A%2F0ELQ861Dsyi3tT5%2F3255nBBvI1egJCaCvIujtkzmhCan1vx6yBec0dZsXo62%2B7jn1HOZ9h0yLgsiOQ9Wyj1ajb5m5BZ%2B (Y/N) (L/N), is just a normal research work that was accepted by one of the biggest companies Secure, Contain, and Protects. A site where it holds many unknown objects and creatures so they would not escape and harm society. Despite her working only doing tests and some papers, she was dragged into many troubles and found out her secret as the Fallen Angel. What will happen if everyone knows? Is she going to be saved? Or is she going to have the same treatment as the rest of the monsters. Picture is not mine and this is the rewritten version of the book.

[capricorn-writes2]

Hello! Would it be possible to get head canons of Jeff with an S/O who is touch starved? Also I love your work sm❤️

Jeff the Killer, Homidicial Liu and Jane Killer with a S/O Who is Touch Starved

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A/N: I hope you don't mind Anon that I add Homidicial Liu and Jane the Killer. Also, warning that this chapter might contain some violence and profanities. Anyway, thank you for giving me this request Anon.

Warning: Light NSFW

Gender: Neutral

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Jeff The Killer

Since he is tall and a little bit sturdy. Jeff The Killer would give a warm cuddle for you if you are touch starved and wants him to hug you.

Sometimes, he would also kiss your head when you ask him or not even ask him. He is surprising can be a bit touch starved too despite being a killer.

He would also gently stroke your hair and live some butterfly kisses on your nose if he is in his teasing mode and wanted to see you giggle.

He can be a little bit perverted though because he would also smack your ass when he is a bit horny. Or lightly pinch your butt without hurting you. He does this if he is bored and there is nothing to do.

If you want him to hold you and kiss you. He would hug and kiss you but you had to ask him directly because he won't understand shit if you just give him codes. He's insensitive.

He does get annoyed that you want his hugs and kisses but you were not telling him directly because he prefers you telling him directly or he would keep saying "Oi! I don't even understand what the heck you just said!" His brain is lagging.

Sometimes, it was not only you who is touch starved, to be honest, but he would also demand cuddles from you out of nowhere. Just go straight pulling you to the bed or to the couch to hug you.

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Drops of crimson liquid dripped from the blade, forming a macabre dance of red onto the metallic sink. Jeff's face remained impassive as he scrubbed away the evidence of his latest gruesome encounter. Drops of water splattered onto the tiled surface as he rinsed the blade. The air was thick with a mix of clean water along with droplets of blood.

(Y/N) leaned against the doorway, a slight sigh escaping your lips as you watched Jeff the Killer engrossed in his task. (Y/N) found their mind wandering, yearning for something more engaging as you keep watching the white hooded killer to be done with cleaning his weapon after the mission that was given by the faceless man.

Lately, it seemed like his attention had been increasingly consumed by his missions and tasks, leaving little room for the simple moments they cherished. The thought of cuddling up with him, sharing quiet moments away from the shadows of his eerie life, tugged at (Y/N)'s heart.

With a final satisfied wipe of the cloth, Jeff the Killer set aside his gleaming knife, his scarred features shifting into an expression of casual nonchalance. Jeff the Killer's scarred hands moved as he prepared the mac and cheese. He poured the pasta into the boiling water, the sound of bubbling filling the air as he stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon.

His gaze remained focused on the pot, his mind seemingly absorbed in the task at hand. As the pasta cooked to perfection, he reached for the powdered cheese packet, tearing it open and pouring its contents into a waiting bowl. The next thing he did is drain the cooked pasta and added it to the bowl along with the cheese.

Carrying the steaming bowl of mac and cheese, the white hooded killer entered the living room with a spoon inside of the bowl. As he set the bowl down on the table, he noticed (Y/N) standing there, your gaze fixed on him with longing and boredom. "What the hell are you staring at?" he asked in a low, husky tone as he tilts his head to the side a little bit.

(Y/N)'s eyes softened as she/he/they watched Jeff staring at you from far away with eyebrows raised in confusion. With a small smile playing on your lips, (Y/N) opened their/her/his arms in a clear invitation, a silent request for a comforting hug. "Hey, come here," you murmured gently, your voice carrying a mix of affection and longing.

However, Jeff's scarred brow furrowed slightly, his scarlet-ringed eyes narrowing as he struggled to grasp the context of the situation. Growing increasingly impatient, (Y/N)'s smile faded into a faint frown as they observed Jeff the Killer's continued confusion. With an exasperated sigh, (Y/N) crossed their arms, your annoyance evident in the furrow of your brows. "Jeff, seriously?" (Y/N) huffed, your tone tinged with a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I just want to cuddle, okay?" you finally admitted.

A flash of understanding finally crossed Jeff's scarred features, his lips curling into an amused grin as he rolled his eyes playfully. "Well, you could've just said so," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of mock exasperation. With a step closer, he finally wrapped his arms around (Y/N), pulling her/him/them into a warm embrace as they settled onto the couch.

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Homidicial Liu

Even though he's not as big as Jeff, he is surprisingly can be warm so don't worry about feeling uncomfortable. With his iconic scarf, you could cuddle together.

Liu does like the hug that he has gotten from you but sadly Sully is not as welcoming as him so it is pretty tricky if you are touch-starved and wants him to hug you.

Sully rarely likes hugs unless he is in his emotional wreck and needs some comfort. If you try to hug him. Not only he would shove you away but he would give you the closest glare and scoff at you before telling you, he does not want a hug

As a result. He does not always hug you because he knows Sully is going to be pissed off and he might accidentally hurt you as Sully going to be straight pushing you away from him.

If you are touch-starved. he is going to make sure the other side of him still has not woken up so he could hug you when Sully is still asleep and sneak some little nose kisses.

Also, he would also put his scarf on you as the two of you cuddle together when you need some hugs from him and surprisingly he would prepare some hot chocolate for the two of you.

Don't even think of touching the scars on his face. That is actually one of the triggers that would awake Sully. You might don't know but Sully is very protective of Liu.

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In the tranquil embrace of the night, (Y/N) reclined on the bed, the soft glow of their bedside lamp casting a warm halo around you. Laying there, lost in the melodies that you are currently hearing through your headphones. The music served as a gentle companion as they awaited the arrival of certain someone with scars on his face.

Steeping through the Front door. A male with a scarf on his neck finally returned to your house with a sigh of relief escaping his after a gruelling mission by the faceless man. The dim light of the hallway illuminated the exhaustion in his eyes, his dishevelled hair is the proof he is done with the mission he had given as he made his way into the living room.

A faint sound caught Homicidal Liu's attention as he stood in the living room, the weariness from his mission still lingering. His scarlet-ringed eyes flickered towards the staircase, his senses heightened as he registered the soft, rhythmic footsteps echoing from above. With a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, he turned his gaze upwards, his brows furrowing slightly in wonder.

Homicidal Liu's weary expression lit up with a genuine smile as he watched (Y/N) descend the staircase, each step bringing them/him/her closer to him. The weight of his mission seemed to momentarily fade into the background, replaced by the sheer happiness that their presence brought him. His scarred features softened as he took in the sight of you.

(Y/N) approached Homicidal Liu with a gentle smile, your (e/c) eyes carrying a hint of shyness and affection. As you reached his side, your fingers played with the hem of his shirt before you timidly opened your arms, a silent invitation for him to embrace you. "I miss you so much, Liu. I was really lonely," (Y/N) mumbles but loud enough for him to hear their/her/his every word.

With a warm yet tender smile, he willingly enveloped them in his arms, drawing them close in a comforting embrace. "I miss you too, (Y/N). The mission was really hard, those hunters almost caught us when we were going out," Liu mutters, keep holding (Y/N) close to his arms.

Hidden inside Liu's body, Sully observed the scene before him with a barely concealed eye-roll. As he watched Liu and (Y/N) hugging each other, a mixture of annoyance and anger flickered across his features. He had seen this display of affection countless times, and though he understood their connection, he couldn't help but find it dramatic like those scenes from the movie.

Feeling a slight shift in the atmosphere, Homicidal Liu gradually pulled away from the embrace with (Y/N), his scarlet-ringed eyes catching a glimpse of Sully's nonchalant demeanour. A faint furrow formed between Liu's brows as he registered Sully's subtle reaction. Sensing a hint of discomfort, he turned his attention back to (Y/N), a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Sorry," he murmured softly, his tone laced with sincerity as he glanced at you.

The gree eye killer eyes held a warmth as he spoke softly to (Y/N), his fingertips lightly brushing against theirs. "How about we cuddle later?" he suggested, his voice carrying a soothing tone. "Let me clean up a bit first and wait until Sully is calm." (Y/N)'s eyes softened as she/he/they nodded in understanding, your smile reflecting your affection for your green eye killer boyfriend. "Of course," you replied, (Y/N) voice gentle as they/she/he squeezed his hand briefly.

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(Picture is not mine. Credit to the owner. I got this GIF from Tenor).

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Jane the Killer

Jane might not be as muscular and sturdy as Jeff The killer as she is slightly smaller than him but that does not mean you cannot ask her for a hug.

Actually, she might be a better person for cuddling if you are her GIrlfriend and you are touch-starved. She could sense you want her hug even if you did not ask her directly.

And she is more cuddly as well as more sensitive than Jeff so even just a little code of a little body movement that signalling you want some cuddles. She would be there to hug you.

The only difference is that she does not like PDA whereas Jeff is much more shameless when it comes to PDA so don't ask her for a cuddle when there are tons of people. She won't do it. Jane loves cuddling with you but SHE IS SHY when it comes to PDA.

Instead, ask her at the appropriate time when the two of you are alone in the bedroom and want some cuddles. She would immediately hug you.

She would even give a nose kiss and a forehead kiss when the two of you two are cuddling together. Nose Kisses mostly when she is in her playful mode whereas her forehead kisses when she is also as touch-starved as you.

Also, Jane luckily is not as Perverted as Jeff the Killer so she is not going to touch you everywhere and would only just touch the part of you body that you allow her to touch. her hands not gonna wonders around.

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The air was charged with a mix of frustration and disbelief as (Y/N) stood before Jeff the Killer, (Y/N)'s arms crossed and their expression a mixture of irritation and incredulity. "Jeff, seriously? You stole my apple pie?" you exclaimed. Her/his/their voice is a blend of annoyance and disbelief. Jeff's nonchalant demeanour did little to quell (Y/N) anger, and you could feel your temper rising. "I didn't steal anything," he replied with a casual shrug, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

(Y/N)'s annoyance reached its peak, his/her/their patience wearing thin as Jeff the Killer continued to deny his involvement in the missing apple pie. Your (e/c) eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Jeff, if you don't admit it right now and give my pie back, I swear I'll take that knife of yours away," (Y/N) warned, your voice edged with a seriousness that cut through the room.

Jeff's grin faltered for a split second, his blue eyes narrowing as he sensed the intensity behind (Y/N)'s threat. The atmosphere shifted immediately from peaceful turn tense in one second. His fingers clenched into fists, the tension radiating from his entire form. "You really want to play that game?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

As the argument between Jeff the Killer and (Y/N) escalated, the air crackled with tension, and Jeff's anger reached a boiling point. His blue eyes. Blazed with a furious intensity as he reached into his pocket and swiftly withdrew his gleaming knife. The metal glinted in the dim light, a stark reminder of the danger that lingered beneath his seemingly carefree exterior.

Sensing the escalating tension and the glint of the blade in Jeff's hand, (Y/N)'s (e/c) eyes widened with a mixture of fear and anger. (Y/N)'s heart raced, and instinctively, you took a step back, taking your own knife and sliding it into your hand from your pocket. Your breathing quickened as you mirrored his defensive stance

Jane the Killer's keen instincts picked up on the brewing storm between (Y/N) and Jeff the Killer, her black eyes narrowing as she sensed the impending clash. In a swift motion, she positioned herself between the two as she was running from the couch and going into the kitchen.

Her face held a stern expression as she fixed Jeff with an unwavering glare, her stance radiating a readiness to intervene. Turning her gaze to (Y/N), her demeanour softened slightly, a silent gesture that conveyed both understanding and the urge to de-escalate the situation. She extended a hand towards you. "Let's go to my room," she whispers.

Jane the Killer maintained her firm grip on (Y/N)'s arm as she led them away from the tense confrontation, guiding (Y/N) to her room. Her gaze is gentle as she noticed (Y/N)'s downcast expression. The silence between them spoke volumes, and without a word, Jane stepped closer to (Y/N), her arms enveloping them in a comforting hug. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here, Jeff is not going to hurt you when I'm in here," she whispers soothingly.

(Y/N)'s shoulders relaxed as Jane's arms encircled around her/him/them. Slowly, (Y/N) returned the hug, their arms wrapping around Jane as they sought refuge in the comfort of the moment. The weight of the earlier confrontation seemed to lift as they clung to each other.

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(Picture is not mine, credit to the author by Asyaejderha)

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[capricorn-writes2]

How would starscream,knockout, and sounwave dealing with a yandere female decepticon follow them around and stalking them

~☠ Starscream, Knockout, and Soundwave with a Yandere S/O Who Likes To Stalking and Following Them Around ☠~

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A/N: Hello there Anon! Thank you for the request, gosh. This one is quite difficult but I will try my best to write it down please don't be a Yandere in a real life because it's very harmful to your S/O, friends, family, or your partner. Also, I want to make this post gender friendly to every gender people out there so I hope you do not mind if I don't write just female S/O.

Warning: Yandere Tendencies, profanities and violence.

Gender: Neutral

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Starscream - Decepticon

I'm very sorry to sound a bit Ironic but Starscream find it a little bit creepy that you are following him around and looking up his biography despite he does stalk Autobots when he got kicked out by Megatron.

He does find it hot if you had to kill someone to protect him or when you are getting jealous. Especially if you get all Yandere on Airachnid because he despise that spider girl a lot.

Sometimes would ask you to stop being creepy like "Ughhh, could you just stop following me around or stalking me? I'm busy," while working on his data.

Starscreams does know that you are willing to do anything so he would use your killing service so if someone are on your way. He would sweetly say "My dear (Y/N). Would you be kind enough to kill someone for me?" with a golden plate smile.

Starscream also adores that you would be willing enough to be sweet and caring to him. He would also use that side of you if he's injured as he told you who hurt him.

As you kill those who hurt him. He would just gonna watch you from far with a smirk on his face as if he just watch an action or thriller movie.

He does get annoyed that you had just stand there shyly instead of trying to talk to him. He does genuinely wants to talk with you so you don't need to follow him around because he's genuinely an EXTROVERT.

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Behind the automatic door, a certain bots with (Paint job Colour/Skin Colour) standing there and watching her/his/their crush. (Y/N) pulse quickens with every glance she/he/they steal, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. And you can't help but imagine what it would be like to step out from your hiding spot and finally engage in a conversation with Starscream.

The decepticon indeed hear the sound of small clicks that (Y/N) made but not stepping inside of the hallway. The poor bot just standing there behind the door, staring at him from far away instead of trying to talk to him. Even he realizes that (Y/N) would follow him secretly from far. Afterall, he's not deaf, he has a great hearings.

A flicker of impatience dancing across his features. He's well aware of (Y/N)'s presence, the way (Y/N) always seem to be around when he's nearby. While Starscream finds it intriguing that (Y/N) is interested in him, he's growing frustrated by their shyness that renders them utterly speechless in his presence. He wants to engage in a conversation, to hear their/her/his voice, to understand what's behind those bashful optics.

Starscream mutters under his breath, a mix of exasperation and determination in his tone. "If only (Y/N) could muster the courage to speak to me," he grumbles quietly to himself. He paces a few steps, optics narrowing in thought. Then, a spark of inspiration lights up his scheming mind. An almost mischievous grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he hatches a plan. Starscream's crimson gaze fixates on (Y/N)'s hiding spot behind the automatic door.

Starscream's voice takes on a dramatic tone, laden with a hint of desperation. "Oh, if only there were someone out there who had the intellect and willingness to assist me with this data. It need to be given by Lord Megatron today," he sighs. Little does he know, you had been listening all along.

With a quiet exhale, you step out from your hiding spot as you feel your body shakin. Not hearing Starscream whispers to himself 'works like a charm'. (Y/N)'s shy demeanor still evident, yet there's some determination in her/his/their voice. "I... I might be able to help you with that data," they/she/he venture, voice timid but earnest.

Starscream's optics narrow, studying them for a moment before a smug smile tugs at his lips. It seems his subtle ploy has worked, coaxing (Y/N) out of hiding. Starscream's commanding presence asserts itself as he raises a hand, gesturing for (Y/N) to come closer. His optics lock onto theirs, a mix of authority and curiosity in his gaze. "Come here, my dear. Would you be willing to lend your expertise and take the reins on this data?"

(Y/N) was a little bit hesitant but nod in response to his question. "Yes, Starscream, I can certainly give it a try," you agreed. You can't help but feel a secret thrill at the endearment he uses, the word "dear" echoing in your mind, even if it was just a casual part of his speech.

A subtle smirk curls at the corner of Starscream's lips as he observes Y/N's response. While his outer demeanor remains composed, inwardly he's pleased to see them stepping up to the task. While he appreciates Y/N's assistance, a darker thought forms within him. He ponders whether they might be willing to go even further to ensure his success by killing Airachnid.

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Knockout - Decepticon

Another Ironic character who is low-key scared of Yandere S/O which is Knokout but also low-key finds it hot that you are willing to kill anyone who tries to steal him away from you.

He is also kind of scared that if you are willing to hurt him just because he made you upset so he would try to give you many energon cubes to calm you down if he ever made you upset with his words.

Just like a star scream. He does use your killing service if someone or the Autobot made him upset by scratching his paint job. Or those insecticons scratch his paint job.

He does like it when you are being attentive and sweet around him because he knows that you are willing to help him fix his paint job or help him around with his labs.

Unlike Starscream, he does not mind when you are being shy around him but he just that you just don't hide and follow him even though he's aware you are there. he prefers if you are there and watch him instead of hiding because he does feel it's a bit creepy.

Just like Starscream, he wishes that at least instead of hiding and following you anywhere. You had the guts to talk to him but he won't force you like Starscream does so he would wait for you.

Sometimes would tease you when he is aware that you are following as he pretends that he doesn't notice you "Why, my dear. Why does it feel like the temperature of the room getting hotter? Is there someone in here~" as he knows you are there.

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Knockout usually a pristine finish had been his pride and joy, a reflection of his meticulous self-care. But today after what happened to him when there were the Autobots. There were many Scratches on his paint job. His vents puff with annoyance as he was sitting in his clinical room and buffing his paint job. "Those damn Autobots, they are ruining my perfect paint job."

"Primus-darned scraplets, can't trust anyone around here," he grumbles, his voice dripping with exasperation. His vents hiss angrily. He could still remember when he saw his reflection in the train's mirror. Scratches were everywhere as he screams in misery. Realizing he looks horrible.

What Knockout did not realize that someone has been listening to him ranting about the Autobots had ruined his looks. Hidden behind the automatic door, (Y/N) listens with a mixture of surprise and amusement as Knockout's colourful curses fill the air. You can't help but stifle a small chuckle at his reaction.

(Y/N) curiosity piqued, she/he/they peer through a small gap, watching as Knockout meticulously buffs his paint job. "Perhaps it's time I have a proper conversation with Arcee and Bumblebee," (Y/N) muses quietly to themselves. They take a step back, leaving their hiding spot behind the automatic door and considering how to approach the situation.

As (Y/N) strutted along the hallway and travelled into the main hall of the Nemesis. (Y/N) cross the threshold, feeling the familiar sensation of being pulled through space and time. The world shifts around them, and suddenly, they find themselves standing in the vast expanse of the Nevada desert. The sun casts a warm golden glow over the arid landscape.

(Y/N) seamlessly shifts into their alternate form, a sleek and powerful Jet. Her/his/their mechanical whirring and shifting of parts blend harmoniously as they complete their transformation. The wind rushes past them as they soar over dunes and navigate rocky outcrops, their sensors scanning for any signs of the Autobots, especially Bumblebee or Arcee.

(Y/N) internal systems emit a soft beeping sound. Their onboard GPS system flashes to two familiar signals, projecting a holographic interface in front of her/him/them. A bright red dot blinks on the display, indicating the location of Arcee and Bumblebee. The signal is strong and clear, guiding them towards their destination.

(Y/N) accelerates even further, the engines humming with a loud roar as you have gotten faster than before. The red dot on the display draws closer with each passing moment, fueling their anticipation to finally meet those two Autobots that made Knockout whine for the whole day after his mission.

Arcee's sleek motorcycle form and Bumblebee's compact car form come into view. With a rush of emotions, (Y/N) readies themselves/herself/himself for the moment by shifting their/her/his jet form into your real form. Seeing you, Arcee and BUmblebee were quite surprised as they immediately transform to face you. "Good job you two, for causing Knockout to whine the whole day. And here's the prize for you~" (Y/N) chirps as their/her/his servo shifted into her gun.

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Soundwave - Decepticon

Unlike Starscream and Knockout. He is not as manipulative and toxic as them when he uses their Yandere S/O. He does not like using other bots service and he is independent.

He doesn't really find it creepy either when he found out that you follow him secretly. After all, he could see everything through the security camera of the Nemesis.

Soundwave do find it a bit confusing when he found out about it. He did not say it out loud or show it through his visor. But he could sense that you are there and staring at him while he is working.

Don't touch him though because if you catch the scene of him versus Airachnid. We know he always has his guards one hundred per cent up

He does find it cute each time he goes into his berth room. He found an energon cube that you brought for him as if you remind him to rest and eat well.

Also finds it cute that you are shy around him although he does not admit it since we know he cannot talk and has a visor on his face. Although it is going to be awkward if you try to talk to him because we know he does not speak and only speaks using voice recording.

Unlike Starscream and Knockout again. If you try to kill anyone except Autobot. He would stop you and reprimand you with the voice recording as he held you with his tendrils

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In the dimly lit nemesis main hallway of the ship, the soft glow of holographic displays illuminates his form. His tall and stoic frame engrossed in his work. His mechanical digits dance deftly over the keypad, producing a rhythmic symphony of clicks and soft hums as he types down lines of code and inputs data with precision.

The monitors display intricate diagrams, encrypted transmissions, and complex algorithms. Soundwave-hidden optics underneath his visor remains focused on the screen, his expressions hidden behind his emotionless visage. The complex symphony of keystrokes under Soundwave's adept fingers is in service of a directive issued by none other than Lord Megatron himself.

The data itself was about the whereabouts of Energon on the earth and picking on the signals through the screen. Not wanting to anger the lord of the Decepticon, he had to be focused on every signal and careful with picking them or Megatron is going to be really angry. At least, among Decepticons that he is the only one who is capable of everything.

In the shadows, (Y/N) remains concealed in the darkness through her/his/their hiding spot. A pang of sympathy and concern tugs at your core. The relentless rhythm of his work is evident, and it's clear that he has been engrossed in his duties for an extended period without any break.

As the silence lingers, (Y/N)'s thoughts turn to whether there might be a way to help Soundwave to ease his burden. (Y/N)'s mind begins to formulate a plan. They realize that even the most dedicated Decepticon needs moments of rest. You decided by showing him support in a small but meaningful way.

The (Paint job colour) Decepticons slip away from the hall of the Nemesis ship. Strutting along the hallway and going down with the lift, going down into the energon storage room where there are millions of them. It cannot be wrong if you just take one of them, no one is going to notice, right? Taking one of them in your room, you began to leave the storage room and came back to the second floor of the Nemesis ship.

(Y/N) slips away and makes their way to his quarters. The cube in their servo, they enter the room with a quiet reverence, not wanting to disturb the vehicons or anyone. (Y/N) also did not want to alarm Soundwave either. Placing the Energon cube on a nearby surface, (Y/N) leaves it as a silent reminder, an unspoken encouragement for Soundwave to take a moment and replenish his energy.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Despite standing tall and his chest still puffs up while coming back to his berthroom. His frame exudes a quiet weariness, a testament to the hours he has spent immersed in his duties. The dim lighting casts elongated shadows as Soundwave rises from his workstation, coming back to his room after a long time of working to fix some errors in the computer room.

The door opens and closes with a faint hiss, shutting Soundwave away from the outside world once he enters his room. He turns his head slightly. A momentary pause occurs as he spots something out of place, an energon cube resting on the table nearby. The sight tugs at a corner of his processor, a subtle shift in his usually impassive expression.

Soundwave's sensors analyze the cube for a fraction of a second, his optic lingering on it before he moves to retrieve it. He doesn't show any overt signs of emotion, yet his internal circuits hum with a sense of gratitude. His fingers wrap around the cube, his servos almost reverent as he lifts it. With precision, Soundwave uncaps the cube and takes a sip, the Energon replenishing his systems.

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[capricorn-writes2]

OK OK

SLENDER MAN BEING A BOTTOM JUST HEAR ME OUT BRO HE'D BE JUST AHHHH PERFECT I LOVE STRONG PEOPLE HAVING SWEET GENTLE SPOTS AWWW

(This can be a request if you want it to be btw not smut just teasing kinda thing)

Slenderman, Laughing Jack, and Zalgo Being a Bottom

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A/N: NIDSHDSJFIPDJ BRO!!! I hope you don't mind I am adding these tall MF's but I also imagine them being bottom, especially Zalgo being Bottom Brat- Anyway, I hope you like it.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Slight NSFW

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Slenderman

I know in almost all of my headcanons and scenarios. I always picture him as someone who is dominant but let's see what he looks like if he is submissive because, among the proxies, he can be seen as a sub too.

It is amazing that you could turn this tree-looking man into a submissive and you know what? He would be a messy sub like those tsundere girls' trope from anime.

Slenderman would try to deny that you made him flustered as he glared at you. "Nonsense! I am not flustered!" But the red on his face tells otherwise.

Also would try to hide his face if he is blushing by looking away so you would not catch him blushing over your teasing. Sometimes pushes your face away so you could not see.

Slenderman also has another funny reaction. The other one is that is by sighing as his cheeks turn red and shakes his head, doesn't know if he should be flustered but is also disappointed that you are like this.

Yes, he does have a gentle spot for you but not for others so he could maintain his cold emotionless facade when there are tons of proxies around.

However, if there are no proxies in the mansion at all. All of those cold masks are torn down as his face turns red or pink and trying to shut you up by placing his tentacle on your mouth.

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It was around late in the afternoon and most of the proxies were either going out to do their killing job under Slenderman's order or just staying inside of their room, doing their own thing and including your faceless boyfriend who is currently sitting next to the fireplace on top of the armed chair made by leather.

He was reading a book with thick pages and (Y/N) did not see what was inside of the book but from seeing the title of the book, You knew you would not understand every word because the words were written in a symbolic way. The only thing you knew is that the book was written in the eye and ear symbols.

His attention was on the book before he could feel your eyes still looking at him. Slenderman slowly put down the book with his nonexistent eyebrows raised in confusion. "Is there something on my face, my dear?" Slenderman asks, curious why you keep staring at him.

(Y/N) was silent for a moment, not answering his question at all but the next thing you did almost made Slenderman drop his book. Trodding slowly like a cat coming up to its owner, (Y/N) places herself/himself/themselves on top of his crotch, lifting both of her/his/their legs and placing it across of his lap.

Slenderman's face quickly turns red, not expecting you to do things to him as he is relaxing. "(Y/N)! W-what are you doing?! I'm reading my book! This is inappropriate!" He keeps stuttering in some of his words. His face slowly got red, starting from his cheeks before it is getting larger until the red hue covered his whole face.

This is unexpected, usually, it is Slenderman who tried to make you speechless or stuttering as you are getting red with the way he spoke to you his words laced with devilish words such as 'Hello there, darling. I see you waking up from your slumber, was it comfortable when you slept in my arms.'

However, things start to turn over and you could not help but admit it does look adorable on your boyfriend when Slenderman is getting flustered by slithering your arms around his neck, slowly. "Well, I am bored, Master. I am sure you must be bored too, how about I will entertain you," (Y/N) whispered, not wanting to anyone to hear you out.

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Zalgo

Now it's kind of hard thinking of him as a sub unlike Slenderman because everyone portrays him as the evilest and heartless king in the underground but I take this as a challenge.

Unlike Slenderman, he is not in the trope of the tsundere trope when he is submissive to his darling when you tease him. Nope, nu-uh. He is different.

Instead, he would be the bratty type of submissive. He is going to try to challenge you back when you are teasing him and he is not going to blush, at all.

He is the type of submissive who acts like a cat sometimes. You're working? Well, expect him to come up to you and distract you just for giggle and shit.

You have to punish him for every shit he has done to you but it would excite him too. Also, he would also beg for you to even punish him more.

But he is going to be disappointed if the punishment is like a silent treatment. And because he is disappointed, he would give the silent treatment just like you did to him...which means you two gonna be petty.

And he is expecting you to say sorry first instead of him. He is not going to admit he is in the wrong one even though it is actually his fault.

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The Edge Lord from the demon realm currently reading a book as he was sitting together with his precious S/O (Y/N) who is bored out of their/her/his mind. Not really giving any attention to you at all. His uncounted eyes were focusing on the book, including on the one on his body too.

Zalgo is a busy demon, always preparing and giving his minions a strategy to fight back those trying to take over his realm so it was not only Slenderman who he fought, there are other demons that he actually fought. But because of this, he often doesn't give you any attention.

As his partner, you knew you had to support his every decision but seeing him only focusing on the book that he was currently reading even though the war was already over for a long time ago. This infuriates you a little bit, you wanted his attention but you did not have the gut to bother him while he is focused like that. Who knows what his reaction would look like? His temper is just as thin as a tissue.

But this did not stop you to get the idea to get his attention and you are the only person who knows how to break his attention without angering the lord demon. Pushing yourself from the couch, Zalgo did not hear the sound of your footsteps leaving the library to do something.

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His eyes did not leave the book but his earrings were sharp enough to hear you coming inside the library. Since he is a demon, he has more enhanced hearing and he knows that it is you who are getting closer and closer. His bored eyes glance up at the door but his expression changes in one second. If his jaws could be detached, that would be his reaction right now.

With your black dress/ black suit and red tie on the collar strutting up to him with a sly look in your eyes and walking closer to him, slowly walking in such a teasing manner like a cat. Zalgo was blinking repeatedly, he could not believe what he is seeing right in front of him. "Oh my, darling. What's the occasion you are dressing like this?" His unexistent eyebrows cocked in amusement. "Hmm, what do you mean by that?" you ask innocently.

His amusement was immediately replaced with a pout. His unexistent eyebrows furrowed together. Zalgo was cleary annoyed by your antics as he was getting closer to (Y/N). However, your hand gently pushes him on the chest and makes him seat on the sofa before you were straddling on your lap. "Oh no no no. You did not give me any attention at all, and this is a punishment for you~" You whispered.

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Laughing Jack

Another proxy that is pretty hard to be seen as a sub because of most of the ships that I saw. He is the one who is the top obviously and his partner is the sub one but I accept this challenge again.

He is like another zalgo, a bratty submissive that does not like to listen and keeps teasing you back. Bantering with you until you give up teasing him

There is a time he would be blushing because of your teasing but it would be rare because he could cover it with his smirk as a facade as well as his teasing look.

Also, Laughing Jack would also be the type that would distract you from your job by standing in front of you and not letting you do anything since he is so tall.

He is much more pestering than Zalgo because he would also not going to leave you alone if you are giving him a silent treatment. He would go as far as shoving candy into your mouth.

Also, I can see that he loves it when you are teasing him because it feels challenging to him. Tries to make you laugh too if you give him a silent treatment.

In conclusion, he is the annoying type of sub but you cannot really get mad at him because he would keep try to get your attention and makes you laugh.

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Laughing Jack, despite he is the clown and would throw pranks at every proxy inside of the mansion just for shit and giggles and you were one of his victims despite you being his S/O. Today, it was surprisingly not you who are giving him the silent treatment for his ridiculous stunt.

It was actually the clown himself who are sitting on the couch with arms crossed together, cheeks puffed up and ignoring you. "Oh, c'mon Jackie. You know it was an accident, I did not mean it at all," (Y/N) tried to calm the clown down. "But that's my favourite candy! I told you don't eat the liquorice ones!" He points out.

It was in fact that the two of you had a little argument because you accidentally ate one of his favourite hard candies. Surprising? it is very surprising. Luckily, there were no other proxies in the living room because what would they say if they see the gigantic clown getting pouty at you just because you accidentally ate his favourite?

You did not want him to keep getting angry just for a small matter because (Y/N) does, in fact, (Y/N) love him and tried her/his/their best to apologize after saying sorry repeatedly. It does looks ridiculous but it's better to apologize because Laughing Jack is the that has a temper as thin as a tissue and he would do something much worse for the revenge.

(Y/N) was going to give up and just let him sulk in there until he calms down on his own but you remember you still had the leftover liquorice twist candies that you stole from the supermarket, planning to give them on the Valentine's Day to Laughing Jack. This bright idea gives you a boost to yourself to go back to your room and take it before going back to the living room.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

Laughing Jack still looks at the static of the TV screen, not hearing the sound of your footsteps getting closer and the clown almost jumped in fright when you suddenly popped out of nowhere, glaring at you as the pupil of his eyes began swirling. Nevertheless, it did not last long he saw the red liquorice candy twist in front of him. "H-huh?" He cocked his head to the side as he looks up to you.

With a little smirk, you carefully place the end of the candy inside of your mouth and lean close so he could bite the end of it. His mouth slowly opens up, going to bite the other side of the candy as the punishment. (Y/N) quickly pulls away. "Oh, forgive me first and you could get the candy~" you teases your giant clown boyfriend.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Hello, could we have headcanons for Knockout with a human s/o? ❤️+🔪

Knockout, Breakdown, Airachnid with Human Assassin S/O

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A/N: Hello there Anon, I hope you do not mind that I am adding Airachnid and Breakdown for the headcanon. Also, I hope you don't mind with some gore, violence, and profanities because let's face it. Almost all of the Decepticons are violent and they are not human-friendly like Autobot.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities, Gore and Violence.

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Knockout

Because Knockout is a Decepticon and if you have seen the clip he was going to mutilate Smokescreen, you know Knockout is a huge sadist and not like other medics.

Knockout will love learning about human anatomy and if he's a human. He would definitely kidnap tons of people just for his science project.

I can see he finds your job interesting, especially since you are an assassin. He also thinks you're kind of job is hot, he often watches those action movies where Assassin do many tricks.

He does think you are badass like those assassins in the movies. Knockout also gonna ask you about your job like what kind of weapon you use to kill people. How did you not get caught by the police yet?

Literally thinks if you are an assassin, you are wearing revealing clothing from the movie WHICH IS NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL. He would ask you if you wear those kinds of clothes and you had to explain not all assassins wear revealing clothes.

In his human form, sometimes would help you make those dangerous chemical liquids or poisons for you to use in case you need a weapon that cannot be discovered by the police.

Also sometimes helping you clean your choice of weapons and sanitise them from any fingerprints in case you forgot to wear your gloves after murdering someone.

Knockout might be a deception but he is definitely your biggest supporter if he knows that you are an assassin. Especially if you are an assassin that can hack into a system, definitely simping you like there is no tomorrow.

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The sounds of the siren blaring in the night as there are tapes surrounding the room from the small apartment. Inside the room, there are two bodies laying on the floor one of them has foam coming out from the guy's mouth. The first victim is an old man with thick, light grey coloured hair that is styled back and a pair of thick eyebrows. 

The second victim was covered with her own blood with a bullet piercing through her abdomen and her chest. The girl has straight, mid-back-length black hair with long bangs as well as a pair of lilac eyes that are wide open. No one knows who was the murderer behind the grandpa and the granddaughter.

But what the police were not aware of is a pair of (E/C) eye colours that are watching from far away with a pair of binoculars as the police still investigating the murder scene. (Y/N) (L/N) could not help but scoff in amusement seeing the polices still searching for her/him/them.

(Y/N)'s phone suddenly rings out of nowhere and they/her/she immediately picks it up, presses the green button and places the screen of the phone near (Y/N)'s mouth to speak to the caller behind it.

"Sweetspark, is your mission going well?" A sound of a certain red Decepticons purrs from the phone.

"Yeah, the poison that you made for me works really fast. That old man immediately went to hell," you said.

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It was silent for a moment but soon there were sounds of deep rumbling laughter from behind the phone. Knockout was amused with your answer, proud that you hadn't been caught by the police that you just murdered two people in one night.

"Good job, sweetspark. Do you need anything once you go back?

"I forgot to wear my gloves. Could you sanitize my weapon and make me a new chemical stuff again for me to kill other people?" You ask.

"Right away, princess/prince/sweetspark~" and the call ended there.

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Breakdown

Breakdown is a lowkey sadist and not as sadist as Knockout. I know you would say I'm wrong because he likes to swing his hammer around and he likes to destroy stuff.

I'm saying this if he only gets the satisfaction of killing when using his hammer or with the action but operating humans and squashing them with his feet or mutilating them? He is disgusted.

He does think your job is cool too, like Knockout but he only gets interested in the action, like 'So...how do you kill your target? Do you use a knife or....use a gun?'

In his holoform (In the human version), definitely have a grabby hand and would try all of your weapons, even the smallest one and ask you how to use them.

Let him use the weapon but guide him. If you don't let him, definitely going to be super annoyed at you and then give you the silent treatment like a kid.

I can see he does watch those action movies where there is a cool assassin together with Knockout when he had his free time in there but unlike knockout. He's just interested in the method of the killer on how killing their target

Breakdown also would love to help you but instead in the background like Knockout. He would help you in action to kill another human.

Also helping you as he uses a disguise to lure the target with his holoform before so you had more time or a chance to kill the target and help you hide inside of him when he is in his alt form.

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The stars decorate the sky as well as the moon and the lights that decorate the city. Even though it was midnight, the city is as still as lively with many people going home from their working place or going to the bar to enjoy the blaring sound and move their bodies around to the beat of the song.

A young teenager with messy, almost spiky black hair that appears to grow backwards and flow upward could be seen walking in the alleyway and a cigarette in his mouth. His dull green eyes did not see another person standing close to him with a pair of (E/C) eye colours as well as Yellow eye colour from far away.

The male quickly throws the cigarette away as he feels the smoke from the cigs stuck inside of his throat and expectorates the remains, feeling bitter because of the small object. A pair of large hands is placed on top of the man's shoulder, making the young teenager looks up to see Breakdown's holoform.

"Hey ya, buddy. You should be careful in here," Breakdown's gruff voice could be heard.

"Piss off. What the fuck do you need," the young boy glares at Breakdown.

"Hey, no need to be rude. I'm just doing a favour for you because if you turn around. There is someone dangerous.." Breakdown points with his index finger.

Once the young teenager turns around, the last thing he sees was a pair of (E/C) eyes and a wicked smile across his face. Since the two of them are deep in the alleyway, no one heard the sound of a bat hitting the person's head as blood began spewing out from the person's head and lay on the cold concrete floor.

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(Y/N) looks up at Breakdown's holoform before they/her/she places their/her/his arm around him and pulls Breakdown closer into your embrace.

"Thanks, for helping me kill him, sweet spark. I will tell my boss that I did the job."

"It was no problem, I'm just glad I can see you in action~" The corner of Breakdown's lips tugged upwards as he tightened his arms around you.

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Airachnid

Hooo boy, good luck with having a bigger sadist as your romantic partner. Airachnid is much worse than Knockout and Breakdown so you had to be on your feet every second.

Airachnid definitely thinks your job is not only fascinating but also very useful for her cause. Especially if you are an assassin that can hack into any computer system.

Would often ask you for your help to hack into the Nemesis system when you had some free time or watch you stabbing your target with such fascination.

In her holoform or in her human form, she would definitely ask you if she can borrow the corpse that you just stab with like it was nothing before bringing the corpse into her lab.

Airachnid definitely going to run several tests and mutilate the corpse like it was nothing, she's not disturbed at all. Nope, it's actually you who got disturbed by her weird fetish with a dead body.

Well dating her as an assassin has also had its own perks despite it being really disturbing. She would definitely help you kill your target because of how silent she is as the target would get tortured in the most gruesome way in the action as she hides in the shadows as the target are unaware she is near.

Definitely lets you borrow her weapon when you need to kill someone and thinks it was hot as she watches you kill somebody else without mercy.

She definitely helps in the back and also in the action whenever you two need to kill a certain target. Tho, you cannot always trust her because she only helps you if you do what she wants in exchange.

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It was peaceful in the forest and the only sounds inside of the wilderness are the sound of the frogs as well as the crickets. However, that peace and silence did not last long enough until there was the sound of a footstep running with a raging breath coming out from the scared old woman.

The woman has wavy chest-length ash-blonde hair that is tied in braided into a ponytail and a pair of hazel eyes. It was hard for her to keep running away from the certain person with (E/C) eye colour and (H/C) Hair colour who would always be hidden among the darkness and the shadows.

"HELP!!! ANYONE, PLEASE HELP ME!" The woman squeaks in fear and continues running away.

The old woman did not have enough strength and not seeing the small rock in front of her, causing the woman to trip and fall over. It was so painful that the old woman screams in pain, holding her twisted and bleeding ankles. Her eyes would look around, trying to find anything that can help her to get away from a certain killer.

The ground suddenly shook plus with a booming sound next to the old woman. This causes the woman to look up immediately to see a giant robot that has an appearance like a giant spider as well as a pair of lavender eyes with magenta armour. On her servo, there are certain people with (E/C) eye colour and (H/C) hair colour grinning at their/her/his next victim.

"Found you..." you said.

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The forest was immediately surrounded by the sound of anguish from the certain old blonde woman and the ground was surrounded by the blood of the dying woman. One of Airachnid's small legs was coated with blood as Airachnid looked at you with a smug smile.

"I killed her first, you're too late using your gun," she makes fun of you.

"Yeah whatever congrats," you roll your eyes at your cybertronian girlfriend.

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[capricorn-writes2]

Hello, I came because I was looking for things about creepypasta, it's been so long that I really think it's already a little dead- and I saw your writing about them so I came to ask something about that if you still write for them well am I lucky? Anyway, here I go…

slenderman with someone who hangs on him like a koala-

you can include his reaction when it first happened if you want

Slenderman, Jason The Toy Maker, Laughing Jack and Splendorman with S/O who Hangs On Them Like a Koala

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A/N: Thank you Anon for requesting this HCS! I'm sorry for the long update, it has been such a hectic day because of college and research. I hope you understand! Also, this is one of the funniest requests I have received and this makes my day. Thank you for requesting.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: None except profanities

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Slenderman

It is canon that Slenderman is very tall, above than ten feet tall so it was no wonder many people are scared of this faceless creature and no one has a gut to mess with him.

So it is no surprise that you are imagining yourself hanging onto your romantic partner like a monkey that is hanging onto a tree, it is quite an amusing sight.

Because of these thoughts, you finally have the courage to do it just to see your boyfriend's reaction if you are hanging onto him and latching him like a koala would.

Slenderman's first-time reaction when you hung onto his arm like a koala, he was not only surprised but he was also quite confused about why are you hanging onto his arms.

"Darling, why are you hanging into my arms like this. Do you realize that...I am not a tree?" He raised his unexistent eyebrows in confusion.

The second time you are latching up to him and hanging onto his arms like a koala. He is not as much as surprised as before but he was still confused like the first time you were hanging onto his arm before.

"Why do you hang onto his arms like that? Is there any purpose? Or are you just bored and want to entertain yourself by clinging to my arm?" That is mostly what would Slenderman ask himself when looking at you while you are still hanging onto him.

As time goes by and you're always latching up to his arms like a koala would, he would just gonna let you be even though it would annoy him sometimes when he is busy.

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Having Slenderman as your romantic partner has its own perks, especially if you are a book and literature lover because your boyfriend does collect some fiction books with great plot stories and characters. You have free access to your boyfriend's private library and his office room without getting killed in the place.

However, that does not mean you can be fully entertained even if you have this access and you need more than just Reading books to make yourself not get bored. The poor (Y/N) NEED more, it could be going outside and wandering around in the forest, interacting with the other proxies, or anything that just can kill your boredom.

The grandpa clock on the wall still ticking painfully and Slenderman is busy reading the books that he got from stealing other creatures' libraries, for what? Who knows, you never understand your boyfriend's mindset and goal.

Not wanting to die out of boredom, an idea popped and crossed into your mind and the corner of your lips tugged upwards but it was stopped immediately by Slenderman's words."(Y/N) darling, please don't even think like that. I am busy reading this book and don't bother me." But that did not stop the (Y/N) (L/N). Walking very slowly towards your tall faceless boyfriend, there was a buzzing noise in (Y/N)'s head but she/he/they decide to ignore the sound as it gets louder and louder whereas you were getting closer to the faceless giant in front of you. Without any second thought, you leapt into the air as the calves of your legs used as a spring.

"(Y/N)-!" Slenderman accidentally threw his book away seeing you suddenly tackling him. Both of your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso as well as both of your legs. An innocent smile adorned across of your face with a twinkle in both of your eyes that shows 'mischief." He was standing there, frozen in surprise seeing you acting like this but it did not last long before Slenderman takes a deep breath.

"Fine....just don't bother me while I'm reading," Slenderman mutters.

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Splendorman

Now Splendorman may be as tall as his older but he was a little bit shorter than his faceless stuck-up brother so it also means you can hang onto your boyfriend, Splendorman.

Unlike his brother, Splendorman has also more patience than his brother so it was no surprise that you didn't get unpunished by his reaction when you were hanging onto his arms.

There would be even a time he is encouraging you to climb him and then hanging onto his arms like a koala, then. He would laugh because he thinks it was rather funny.

The first time this happens, Splendorman was very surprised by you climbing and hanging onto his arms like a koala. He did not expect it but he did not mind it instead, he find this sight amusing.

He could not help but let out some small giggles here and there while watching you do that. he thinks you look adorable like this and even sometimes even offers you some candy while you are climbing his arms.

Not only he does gives candy to you to make you happy but he also swings his arms gently to rock you if you are getting bored and need some kind of challenge, he wong swings too hard to make you fall off.

He won't get annoyed like Slenderman does if you keep swinging or climbing him like a Koala every day, he just genuinely thinks you are bored and need entertainment or be affectionate.

Thus, if you want to cling to someone like a koala? It is better having him as the 'tree'. He genuinely thinks you look cute doing this to him.

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Lights are everywhere inside the carnival as well as sounds of people chattering around despite the sound was not from a real human. Those loud and lingering sounds actually came from the radio and the speaker just to make the carnival less lonely. A certain peculiar person with (H/C) hair colour and (E/C) eye colour had a date with a certain smiling man.

The two of you hold hands together with a blush adorning both of your cheeks, smiling happily and walking with the certain giant with a polka dot suit. He has been spoiling you since Valentine's day and today he brought you to his personal carnival which is less creepy than Laughing Jack's carnival.

"(Y/N) Sweetiepie. I have a surprise for you but you need to close your eyes and follow me," Splendorman's grin widened.

"What kind of surprise?" You ask him.

"Oh honey, it's a surprise. If I tell you, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore," he puffs both of his cheeks playfully, making himself look like a squirrel.

"Alright, fine. Just don't give me a poisonous candy like that jerk, Laughing Jack," you told him

"I promise I won't," he gently put the blindfold over of your eyes before tying the end of the cloth.

His large and cold hands gently held both of your smaller hands before gently pulling you, "Follow me..." he whispers. Believing your boyfriend, you began stepping forward and following his voice as well as his lead, wondering what kind of surprise he is going to give you.

‿︵‿︵＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／︵‿︵‿Timeskip

It was quite a long walk and (Y/N) could feel both of their/her/his feet began aching in pain after a long stroll together with Splendorman. His voice reaches out to your ears once the two of you stop together, "Now, you can open the blindfold." Your heart began beating like crazy as if it was just gonna pop out of nowhere but you knew Splendorman will never endanger you in any way.

Lowering the blindfold carefully, both of your eyes widen in surprise to see several boxes laid on top of the tables with a pair of chairs facing each other. Of course near the table, there is an enormous teddy bear holding a red heart with a written 'I love you.'

(Y/N) could not help but the smile across your face brightens seeing all of the surprises that Splendorman gave you before you jump up to your boyfriend, squealing in happiness and wrapping your arms around his torso, nuzzling your head on the crook of his neck and hugging him as if he was a soft teddy bear.

The smiling man could not help but he was utterly surprised seeing your reaction but it did not last long as a chuckle escapes from his throat, wrapping his tendrils and arms around you and hugging you closer before his lips placed on top of the crown of your head, "I'm glad you like it, (Y/N)."

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Laughing Jack

Laughing Jack might be one of the tallest proxies in the mansion among the killers after Splendorman and Slenderman but he's also a little bit shorter than them.

Thus, he is also can be climbed like a tree and hugging him like a koala when you are getting bored. Unlike Slenderman, he did not find this strange.

He also did not find it annoying either. Just like Splendorman, he thinks this sight might be really amusing because he did not think you are going to pull this kind of stunt.

However, he is not as nice as Splendorman who he just gonna let you be hanging onto him like a koala peacefully. Nope, Laughing Jack can be a little bit of an ass.

The reason I am saying this is because he will in fact gonna swing your pretty hard just to scare you off and pretend he will gonna drop you just for shit giggles.

Oh, you are still not getting scared by that prank that he just pull out on you? he will do so much worse than just swinging you hard. Laughing Jack would even try to tickle you out of nowhere until you laugh your ass off and let him go.

He's not going to be ass forever though so don't worry about him keep being an annoying piece of shit. WHen he was nice, he would offer you a candy that is not poisonous and save for you to eat.

Sometimes would let you hang onto him while he is watching his favorite shows and would be sweet enough for cuddling you closer to his arms

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it was never a boring day having Laughing Jack as your boyfriend, he always had a bright idea to make the day more fun and enjoyable despite it can be sometimes really chaotic and could make Slenderman angry because of the mess. But it did not last long until recently.

Today there's supposed to be a mission given by the faceless man to you and your boyfriend by killing people who found out about their secret but those people already got handled by Jeff and Eyeless Jack on the day beforehand so the two of you had a free time after all of those dramas.

(Y/N) and Laughing Jack currently sitting on the couch together with the middle of the sofa are a bowl of wrapped hard candies that Laughing Jack had made for you and himself while watching whatever in front of the TV.

Both of the lids of (Y/N) eyes were getting heavy and heavier with each second, the boredom slowly going to kill them/her/him and going to make (Y/N) fall asleep at any second whereas the certain clown enjoys the horror show about a clown dismembering children. It's not really a TV show, it was a recorded video of him torturing children.

But it did not last long as your eyes opened once again and both of (E/C) eye colours landed on the monochrome clown who keeps giggling like a madman and an idea popped across your mind. The clown did not notice that you were moving very slowly, getting closer to him with each second.

BAM!

Laughing Jack yelped and then his eyes shited at the certain (H/C) hair-coloured killer who already tackling him down. Both of her/his/their arms wrapped around the monochrome clown torso and a smile danced across of (Y/N)'s face. Instead of getting angry, Laughing Jack laughed out loud, seeing what (Y/N)'s just did was hella hilarious.

"HAHAHAHAHA! YOU LOOK LIKE A KOALA!" He pointed out.

"I'm aware of that," you retaliate, popping the tongue out from your mouth.

"Hehehe, were you bored? I'm sorry my little kitten getting bored," he said before one of his fingers took one of the candies and put the sweet inside of your mouth. Accepting his gesture, your lips parted away and let the sweet glide inside of your mouth with a lemon-like flavour covered your whole mouth.

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Jason the Toymaker

Just like Laughing Jack, Jason the Toymaker might be a little bit calmer than Laughing Jack but that doesn't mean he hates physical touch, especially by you.

He might be not as tall as Slenderman and Splendorman but his height is almost the same as Laughing Jack (Which means, he is quite really tall).

So seeing you hanging onto him and cuddling him like a a koala latching on the tree makes his cold heart box melt seeing you like this.

Although he does finds it a little bit weird you're doing this because just like 'Am I really climbable? Why is (Y/N) clinging to my arms like a koala?'

Cuz he never sees adults doing this, he only sees kids doing this and his ex-friend too but that girl was when she was still a kid too although he did not mind it in the end.

He's less of a jerk like Laughing Jack because he's not going to scare you off on purpose just for shit and giggles but he does find it annoying if you do this when he is trying to make a doll.

Just don't hang onto him like a koala when he's working or he will give the scariest glare at you before he kicks you out of his room for distracting him from his job.

Overall, just like a Splendorman and Laughing Jack but much calmer than the two of them. Loves you when you're clingy like this, especially when the two of you hanging out together.

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Tonight was the day after all of the children he had brought turned into a doll and the certain doll maker finally had free time to hang out together with his S/O. Sweats have been trickling down from the scalp of his forehead and those dolls got sent away. Jason the Toymaker is definitely tired after all of the missions that Slenderman has given to him.

He could not wait to just hang out with you and spend the rest of the time together doing something relaxing or maybe going out to ease his upcoming headache. The certain red-haired killer trudges slowly from the abandoned hallway and leaves the dark hallway before he went to the closest room which is the living room.

Inside the living room, he can see the certain killer with (H/C) hair colour with a (H/L) Hair length, the particular person also has a pair of (E/C) eye colours as well as (S/C) skin colour on the screen in front of them/her/him. (Y/N) could not help but yawn as their/her/his finger keeps pressing on the button of the remote TV, keep changing the channels to find an interesting show but none of them made you get excited enough.

Jason could not help but silently chuckles as he sees your condition, he found it was a little bit funny but also a little bit sad that you're bored out of your mind. Even the news that shows the recent kill that proxies had done did not make (Y/N) giddy at all. Instead, it makes (Y/N) yawn harder than before.

Jason slowly approaches you as your ears pick up the sound of his footsteps getting closer to you and your eyes shifted to the certain toymaker. Despite he was grinning creepily, it was just his happy smile as he sees you, "Are you bored, darling?" Jason the Toymaker asks.

You did not say anything to him but to answer his question, you gave him a brief nod before you shifted your butt away from the couch, letting your boyfriend sit next to you. But your next action made the poor red-haired killer startled a little bit. Both of your arms wrapped around his shoulder with legs also wrapped around his waist, gently placing your head on his cold shoulder and nuzzling your head on the crook of his neck.

"Uhh..darling? What are you doing??" he asks, raising his eyebrows a little bit but also smiling a little bit, finding this scene to be amusing.

"Hanging to you like a koala...now shut up," you mumble.

Hearing your answer, Jason could not help but rolls his green eyes playfully at you before he places his long slender fingers on top of your hand, gently giving a soothing rub on the back of your head. He's glad that you're acting a little bit clingy today despite you look like a koala hanging onto him.

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