"feeling good? feeling sassy?"

he/they

[behold-fishboy]

Intro!!

Hello! This is a sideblog for writing, and as such I don't follow from here unfortunately.

I write for creepypasta, marble hornets, and everyman hybrid.

Requests are open, as are DMs if you wanna chat for whatever reason!

What I Will Write

Platonic

Romantic

Suggestive

Angst and hurt/comfort (or hurt no comfort)

Fluff

Yandere

Tag System!!

#new messages - smaus

#just imagine - drabbles/fics

#yapping - original posts from yours truly

#screams from the void - responding to asks

[behold-fishboy]

Can I request a small HABIT x reader drabble or headcanons where reader is so incredibly unserious about HABITs little.... habits. (Murder)

And they just have no sympathy for HABITs victims, might even start laughing if they ask them for help.

And they just walk in on HABIT messing with one of his victims and their immediate reaction is "Sucks to be you" before turning their attention to HABTIT and bothering him with whatever they needed to bother him with <3

ofc!! I love this idea sm actually

As I Was Saying...

Habit x GN reader

Summary: You really don't mind your boyfriend's hobbies. You do, however, mind when he ignores you because of them.

ANs: I know this was super fast I had nothing else to do so I started as soon as I saw the request lmao

  The first thing you learned about Habit was that he appreciated a good sense of humour. Hell, the only reason you didn’t get eaten is because you made him laugh when you met at first. Not on purpose, and definitely not knowing he was Habit instead of Evan. Still. He found you amusing enough to keep you around, and that had slowly evolved into something else. 

  The second thing you learned about Habit, after a while, was that he had absolutely no regard for keeping “home life” and “work life” separate. Which is to say, he would make zero effort to keep you separate from his… proclivities. You’d arrive back from a shopping trip to a house covered in blood and your boyfriend stood over a corpse, grinning like a maniac. Habit would just kiss your forehead and promise to clean up the blood before the end of the night. 

  Both of these facts in mind, Habit’s favourite thing in the world was when you were somehow involved with his hobbies. You didn’t have to participate in the killing, per se, but having you there was enough. Sometimes he’d set up scenarios, instructing you where to go, how to act, and what to say when the victim came running to you for help. You indulged him most days. He’d spend the whole evening with his head on your lap if you participated well enough, sometimes even letting you pick a movie to watch, and even, on rare occasions, letting you pet his hair. It was a side of him you rarely saw, and one that he refused to acknowledge existed, saying it was only ever to indulge you.

  Tonight, you decided he deserved to be spoiled a little. He’d been working so hard lately, running around after his “friends”, so you thought you’d treat him. A nice dinner, movie night, and slightly fancier alcohol all sounded like the perfect idea, so you’d gone out (telling him it was just for milk, to surprise him), and tasked yourself with making the perfect date night for him. 

  Stood by the alcohol, you found yourself completely frozen by decision fatigue. There were just so many, and you didn’t even have the first idea what Habit’s drink of choice was, as he’d often just opt for the beers Evan kept in the back of the fridge. Pulling your phone out, you decided to call him. Better safe than sorry, and you didn’t have to spoil the whole surprise, right? You’d keep it brief and vague. You could do that.

  Unbeknownst to you, Habit’s phone rang just as he buried a screwdriver in his victim’s thigh. Still, he picked it up, shushing the man and stuffing his mouth with a shirtsleeve meant to cover an arm no longer there, before answering his phone.

  “Hey baby! So I know I was just here to pick up milk, I was thinking we could get something nice to drink for tonight if you wanted?” Your voice came through the phone, completely oblivious to the happenings on his end.

  “Yeah? Whatcha thinkin’, bunny?” 

  “Well uh, that’s the thing. There’s just so many options and I don’t know what you like and I don’t mind spending a bit more than usual but I don’t wanna get something you don’t want, and-” 

  Habit snickered a bit, readjusting so the phone speaker was away from the man’s mouth, who was now trying furiously to spit the sleeve back out to beg for help. 

  “Bunny. Are you calling me… because you can’t make a decision about a fucking bottle of wine?”

  “I, uh, kinda-” you started.

  “Get whatever. I honestly don’t care. If you’ll drink it, I’ll drink it.”

  “Okay! Love you!”

  “Yeah yeah, you too bun.”

  Getting back with your bag as full as it was in the middle of the night was a nightmare. You’d gotten red and white wine, just in case, all the ingredients for a steak dinner, and everything you’d need to make tiramisu later. 

  Still, you got home, got in, and headed for the kitchen. Cooking time.

  Tiramisu finished and in the fridge, table laid, and just about to begin on the steak, you decided to take a wine break. You poured yourself and Habit a glass of red each, and set about finding your lover. Upstairs you went, all the way to the attic. At this time of night, he would likely be in there, his favourite haunt. You knocked and gently pushed open the door.

  Habit stood there, over (presumably) a corpse. He turned, and his manic grin widened. Before saying anything, though, the apparently-not-a-corpse at his feet moved. His one remaining arm reached for your ankle, weakly trying to grasp it. His mouth moved slowly, rasping out sounds that were definitely not anything resembling words. 

  “You’re getting blood on my socks.” You said, stepping back away from his filthy hand. When you were safely out of reach, you looked back up at your boyfriend. 

  “Did you need something, bun?” Habit asked, kicking the figure aside. 

  “Oh! Yeah, I have wine! For you! I made dinner too, it’s nearly ready, and there’s tiramisu in the fridge for after. I was thinking surprise movie and date night?” You said. The sudden change in tone had the man on the ground moving and whimpering again, and whether it was in pain or shock from your familiarity with his torturer you couldn’t say. Either way, Habit was clearly fed up with his shit, and he crouched down next to him.

  “Trying to have a conversation with someone here, asshole. Nobody ever teach you that interrupting people is rude?” 

  The man didn’t get a chance to respond, just whimpering pathetically as Habit revved up the chainsaw he had sat beside him. You stepped further back, knowing how messy your boyfriend could get with it when he was in the moment. 

  It barely took a minute, Habit not wanting to have you waiting for too long. As soon as he was done, you handed him his wine and kissed the less bloody half of his face. 

  “Sorry about that, bunny. Lemme make it up to you after dinner?” He raised a suggestive eyebrow and laughed at your scandalised expression.

  “Maybe after you’re not completely caked in blood, yeah?”

  “Hold ya to it, bun.”