Hello, all! Welcome to the Cottage, I hope you enjoy your stay!
General
Request Status: Open
Get to know me!
You can call me Renza. I am a legal adult. I am a pagan witch, as well as a writer and artist.
What is this blog?
This blog is mainly a spot for me to post my writing, though I also will reblog posts relating to whatever my interest at the time is, and occasionally posting about my struggles and/or experiences with mental health
Sideblog: @niophredil-14
Pop into my inbox for a chat! I don’t bite c:
Important Links
Rules
The Librarian (M.lists)
The Fortuneteller (Info on Tarot Readings)
Current Fandoms and Characters
(These are the fandoms that I currently accept requests for, however there are more fandoms that I am not currently writing for but have previously written for located on my masterlist.)
Jason The Toymaker | Jason Oliver Meyers/GN!Reader - Poppet
The rapt of his knuckles against the bedroom door yielded no response, and so after another attempt, the red-haired man called out.
"Are you in there, my treasure?" Silence again. A crease appeared between Jason's furrowed brows, he tried the door handle, and the hinges creaked as the wood gave way. The light was off, remedied quickly by Jason flicking the switch as he entered the room. The bedroom held the very essence of his beloved. From their scent to their aesthetic, and everything in between, all he saw as he gazed around their space was a reflection of them, all but one item. The small, poorly made doll sat upright against their pillows, and even though it was clear that its maker was no master of the craft, anyone with half a good eye could tell who it was meant to resemble. Jason made his way over to the bed, his original objeective forgotten as he reached for the doll.
Picking it up, he held it carefully in his hands, gentle as he turned it over, as though the slightest wrong tug would send it. His eyes were wide in awe, honor, and confusion. The long red hair was messily sewn in, and with no clear part to it, something Jason could tell even with the doll's hat still resting on its head. The button eyes, polished with what he could only imagine must have been a clear top coat of nail polish, shined almost as brightly as his. Jason held the doll in one hand, and with his touch as light as a feather, he dragged his index finger along the wonky, uneven pinstripes of the matching corset-vest and hat, a smile sneaking its way upon his face.
"Jason? What are you doing in here?" A voice called out, causing the tall man to slowly turn around, his honey eyes swimming with joy as his gaze met theirs.
"Oh, hello, dear." Jason grinned as he replied. "Me? Why I'm just admiring the craftsmanship." There was a slight teasing tone to his voice, but both parties knew that there was no real bite to it. His lover's face burned as bright as teh sun in embarrassment. "Did you make this?" Jason asked. Their eyes widened, they bit their bottom lip and turned away.
"Just," They began. "Just put him down please." They muttered. Jason's eyebrows shot sky high in entertainment.
"'His?'" Jason asked, which he quickly followed up with a guffaw. "Here you have the real deal, and you're more concerned about a miniature doll version of him!"
"Jason, please! I'm embarrassed enough as it is, just put it down!" They exclaimed, and the ususally cold-hearted devil softened, his eyelids falling lightly. He gently put the doll back in its place and made his way over to his lover, taking them in his arms, and holding them tight.
"I'm sorry to tease you, my treasure. I really like him."
"Don't patronize me, Jason." they said, the words dripping bitter from their tongue.
"My love, I am not patronizing you," Jason attempted to defend himself, only to be cut off.
"You are. You have to be. It's nowhere as good as any of yours, you can see I don't have any talent." They said, pressing their forehead against the redhead's chest. Jason brought a hand to the baxk of their head, petting lovingly.
"I love him because you made him. You made something of me. You must care for me greatly to go to such trouble." Jason said, his voice as smooth and warm as his irises. "But if you were so concerned about the skill or quality of doll-making, why not just ask me to make one for you? You know I'd be more than happy to."
They sighed at Jason's statement. It would be humiliating, but they would have to come clean.
"I know how important your work is to you, it's practically your whole life, and I would never want to take away from that. Your dedication is one of the things that I love most about you, but I get lonely sometimes. I miss you when you lock yourself away in your workshop for days on end, and wanted something of you to hold so that I could feel you near. I wanted to make it because you make toys, and I thought if I could see and understand your work, I might understand you better. i thought it might make me feel closer to you."
The lean man with the amber eyes could feel his heart almost shatter. His darling, his partner, his beloved, his whole world, had been put under the impression that they came in second place to any other part of his life, and that was not something that he could stand for.
"Oh, my dearest." He cooed, using his index and thumb to pull at their chin, forcing their eyes to meet his. "Interrupt me anytime. You are the light of my life, and there is nothing with which I would rather fill my time." He graced them with a large smile, one full of love, and continued. "In fact, why don't you come with me to my workshop tomorrow. I'll teach you, we can even make a miniature version of you so that my mini-self doesn't get lonely when I steal you away from him." Jason offered. "How about that, hm, treasure?"
The kiss they pulled him into was all the response he needed.
Does anyone have any good homicidal liu audios for tiktok? I made a liu woods scarf and now I wanna cosplay him. Or laughing jack, a striped scarf could probs be used for both
Would u do a enemies to lovers with toby? Pretty please?
Honestly I’m no good at enemies to lovers so the best I can give you is some headcanons of what’s more like rivals to enemies I am writing after some shots of vodka and some weed. Sorry it’s so half assed
Enemies(more like rivals) to lovers with Toby headcanons
- you’re probably a new proxy, one who was a little too good at their job and showing up Toby a bit more than he would have liked. He may screw up a lot but he’s still the golden boy and he’s not willing to lose that
- turns everything into a competition, who’s ready for a mission first, who got more kills, who had messier kills, and so on.
- you two would probably wind up having physical fights, even outside of sparring and training, which would eventually lead to some serious hatefucking.
- this hatefucking would probably lead to a relationship after Toby got a little too jealous of someone else and confronted you, telling you how his feelings developed after yall started fucking.
-happily ever after or some shit idk man this sucks but I don’t know how to drop grudges so I’m safe from this trope
Imagine sitting in his lap as he games, you crochet, passing the joint back and forth until your brain is all fuzzy and it feels like you’re in the matrix, and you’re all entranced in how quick his avatar is moving, until you need to recount the stitches in your row and frog the past four rows. Goddamnit BEN
Mmmm... creep finding their s/o's room of fish....
Like fish tanks. Beautiful plants and perfect water, full of beautiful variations of fish.
I specifically wish for BEN and Toby but you can add whoever.
Oooh fun! My uncle used to have an exotic fish tank and I would spend so much time just staring at them whenever I went to visit him between xmas and New Years!! Gods, I haven't thought about that in ages, thanks for the throwback!
Ticci Toby | Toby Rogers and B.E.N. Drowned Finding Their S/o's Aquarium room
Ticci Toby | Toby Rogers
Toby is a lover of all animals, exotic too. The man is in heaven, or as close to heaven as he'll get after what he's done. I see it as being highly likely that Toby would end up having your aquarium room turn into one of his very few safe spaces, and you are highly likely to find him crouching in a corner of the room just staring at one of the tanks and all the beautiful lights and decor in said tank. It's a very visually soothing thing for him.
If your fish don't already have names, they sure do now! And Toby probably spends so much time in your aquarium room that he can tell the difference between your identical pair of angel fish, "Angelina" and "Castiel" simply based off of their personalities.
(Come at me for that SPN reference, I dare you /lh /t /j)
These fish are his friends now, and I can easily see him trying to study the most he ever has in his life to learn all about fish and how to care for them. How much space they need, what kinds of fish should and shouldn't be placed near each other, specialty foods, all the works. Those are his babies now too.
And don't be too surprised if your school keeps growing, because if Toby is sent on a job, and sees that the victim has fish that won't be attended to after he's done? Nope. Not happening. He's already digging through their pantry, kitchen, and shed for something to bring the fish back with him, even if you don't have room for them.
B.E.N Drowned
(Full disclosure, I am just recently doing my research on the difference between B.E.N and Ben Drowned. i got the basics, but until I am more confident in my understanding and judgement, I will be molding them together, but BEN is an adult here, or as adult as a computer virus can get.)
BEN hates this room and finding it for the first time probably ruined his high and sent him into some kind of panic attack. If Jeff knows about this spot he will definitely bring BEN here while he's the glitch's trip-sitter.
BEN might be able to acclimate and lear to tolerate your aquarium room if you have mostly saltwater fish, but if he sees a single freshwater fish, especially any of the ones he saw during 'the incident,' that twinky little elf is BOLTING. Especially a bowfish or catfish.
BEN will do his best to avoid that room, but you will frequently see zelda (specifically zora) themed decor placed in your amazon cart, as well as a little extra money in your account.
He will also buy you your own zora themed gifts, knowing your love of fish.
If he's having a good high and you're there with him, holding him, and the lights are giving off a nice vibe with some chill music, it could be some great therapy for him, helping him overcome his aquaphobia. On the other hand, though, if he's having a bad trip, this could send him over the edge, and he would disappear into his monitors for a week, at least
> or, it seems some of the creeps have gotten a secret admirer…
> Warnings: Canon typical description of violence, suggestive (idk man everyone’s a little pervy)
> Including: Jeffrey Woods, Ben Drowned, Nina Hopkins, Brian Thomas x gn!stalker!reader
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
Jeffrey Woods
No matter how smart you started off, or how carefully you treaded, he caught onto you quick.
The thought of killing you did pass his mind, admittedly. Sure, at best you proved as free amusement, but at worst you could stand between him getting off scott free. You were risk. Chance thrown into a safe routine he’d slipped into, a challenge to mowing down body after body.
I’d be lying if I didn’t mention that was part of the appeal.
He ABSOLUTELY gets off on it.
That someone like you —otherwise normal, someone he’d usually label as a victim— was not just able, but willing to follow him down whatever fucked up path he was set on that evening. That someone so average was hiding such a perverse fascination with his craft.
The periods where he knows you’re there, just outside whatever house he’d broken into, he’s far more messy.
He puts on a show for his most adoring fan, as he sees it. Their faces left carved open, gore left splayed out and modelled, maybe even a message written on the walls if he felt so generous. The perfect scene left behind for your collection of polaroids.
It’s only after you go so far as to take a souvenir from him that he cuts the game of cat and mouse and confronts you. He’s not above showing off, but anyone who touches his shit usually leaves with one less finger. Or hand.
Of course, he made an exception for his favorite little fan.
Your first “date” as he calls it, is front row seats to his work. I said before he got off on the idea of someone so unassuming being so deranged when they thought no one noticed, but that was a half truth.
What he really got off on was the idea of you being led into becoming even worse. That you’d succumb to that fascination just like he did. That he could convince you, not just to trust in him, but towards corrupting yourself entirely. That you’d leave that normalcy behind for him.
You would, eventually. He’d lead you to your first kill, one he monologues over while you held the knife.
“It’s not just him you’re killing” He’d guide your hand lower, closer the man oblivious to you.
“That old self… that weak person you were, before me— of course” He would laugh, dry and unhinged in his euphoria.
“Before you committed yourself to becoming even better.”
And you would. You already dug the grave afterall, someone has to lay in it.
Ben Drowned
It was an entirely innocent mistake. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to him upon first impressions.
You weren’t skittish or paranoid. Not hollowed by sleep and already scared of what lurked beyond your knowledge. All things considered, he’d almost say you’d looked deeply pleased upon seeing the Majora’s Mask title screen.
How were you supposed to know the cartridge was haunted? That the prompts you were getting back weren’t normal? That there was someone, on the other side of the screen, watching you?
You were supposed to be a run-of-the-mill psychological torture for Ben, you were.
You weren’t supposed to take analogue notes of every time he fucked up your PC. To coo in response to his very genuine threats on your life. Or search about ways to piss him off more so that you were sure he’d come back.
To him, all mortals were weird. He’d been dead for so long he’d forgotten what fear was beyond his own death. But horror movie logic (or any logic, for that matter) skipped over any part where you’d respond how you did.
Egging him on, to fuck up your tech even more. Tempting him to get sloppy, to forget what affairs he can anticipate can’t interfere with. Talking to him, learning when he was there, worshipping his presence. Changing in front of your webcam, knowing it was on.
Things only got… weirder the further he looked back at your search history. Pages upon pages of research and questions and websites about him. Even with what little credible information there was, he could’ve sworn you scoured all of it. And now you’d finally caught his attention, and you were giddy.
For a while, a long while, he didn’t do much with your connection to him. He’d hit your line for company, taking amusement in how you’d immediately drop whatever you were doing for him. Revel in your obsession, in your dependence, for someone who was so unattached.
It gave him agency, control over something real. It got to his head. The amusement to your need for him became an equally strong possession to your attention.
He only stops being a voyeur because he gets tired of the screen between you. Images were all well and good, but you were infuriatingly no responsive. Pretending not to notice that little blinking red light, going about your days and nights pretending you didn’t have an observer. Teasing him, tempting him. Innocent mistakes one after another after another. Just goading him to do something to you.
And do something he did.
One by one your contacts stop working.
Your inboxes close and the contacts are deleted.
Your computer’s interface is replaced with one he coded just for you.
The webcams never turn off. Even if you do cover them, the cameras cover enough of your house he’s never without you.
And yes, the captures from his recordings do take up a folder in his own computer.
Nina Hopkins
Mutual stalking is SOO in for the summer, or for hers, at least.
The second she realizes she has a stalker (and a cute one at that) she is committed to out doing you.
Nina already lacks a clear understanding of what’s normal in a romantic relationship. Her entire new life came to be from the idol worship of someone who she hardly knew.
In fact, as far as she’s concerned, this is entirely normal! It is normal to leave gifts for your crush isn’t it? You must be a little shy. She’ll just have to help you.
You miss a mission of hers? No worries, a stack of photos are left on your night stand within the hour.
Trying to follow her? Of course she’ll start going down narrower roads to force you closer. No need to be shy.
You take her clothes? Awe, you should’ve told her you wanted to trade! She’ll just help herself to some of yours.
Oh what’s that? You want more photos? Things of hers? They’re left on top of your bed tied up in a bow.
You are the photo on her lock screen, in her phone case, and the poster on her wall. The trinkets she’s pocketed from her trips to your room occupy a small box she keeps in her nightstand. It’s all too valuable to throw away.
She pushes off missions and assignments in favor of taking a day to just… bask in you. She’s never far behind, just taking notes. Nothing harmful about that, right? She’s just trying to be a good girlfriend! There’s nothing odd in memorising your coffee order, or your usual paths around town, or the list of people you interact with.
She’s absolutely killed for you before. That touchy guy on the train? Oh don’t worry— It’s not like he’ll be sorely missed. Well, his hands will be sorely missed by him, but that’s his price to pay.
She’ll leave notes on the pictures you have of her, noting which ones she likes the most and adding ones of you. Her favorites include the ones where you’re behind her and can’t tell she’s taking a photo. Or when she finds you reading up about her.
It’ll eventually escalate to the point where you come home after work and she’s just taking a nap. Neither of you are surprised to see each other. She’s moved in within the week.
Brian Thomas
Well aren’t you just the cutest thing? Thinking you’re so smart following him, so sneaky breaking in and taking what you want.
He was stalking you long before you took note of him. “Chance” after “chance” encounter until you noticed him, until you latched onto him. He knew you well enough to know how to bait you into it, to get you comfortable making him uncomfortable.
For months leading up to the first time you even saw him he was obsessed in the details. How exactly you’d react, how guilty you’d look the first time you’d tail him, whether or not you’d leave half way though, that you’d still come back.
It’s damn near euphoric when you actually do. It’s payoff for so long of holding himself back, salvation for every sin it took to get there. He’s addicted, after the first time. Even though he had the whole thing planned, you’d still find some way to impress him.
Like how you managed to follow him the whole way home the first time you joined him. Or the first time you installed a camera without him noticing. And especially with how unbothered you were, like it were second nature to you.
He’ll play oblivious, for your sake. Leaving his truck unlocked, clothes easy to grab, gone for long periods of time. Enough for you to feel safe being bolder, but not too long to raise a question in that wonderful head of yours.
Oblivious, but not sloppy.
You’re too enraptured in your successes of following him and breaking into his car to notice the camera’s still recording. Or the tracker sewn into the clothes you stole.
He just can’t help himself. You’re too cute when you think you’ve one upped him. Thinking you’d got away with it.
The footage he collects of you is kept on a hard drive he keeps on him everywhere. He’s just as pleased as you were to break in while watching them back. He runs over every sigh and muttered word, finding a deep enjoyment putting pressure on his chest.
His sweet, sweet dolly finding the same enjoyment watching after him as he’s been doing for nearly a year. He’d known you’d have so much in common after meeting you that first time. You really were perfect for him.
Natalie who puts on a front of indifference, but is so soft when the two of you are alone.
Natalie who's favorite way to wind down after a rough mission is to pull you into the shower with her, drag you to bed, stick her head upnder your shirt and rest it right on your chest, so much so that it feels like her face is being held by your breasts.
Natalie who is jealous and overprotective to a fault. Her jealousy comes through more when she sees you talking to other women, especially mascs who seem to live normal, non-slasher lives. Her overprotectiveness mostly comes out with men that think its appropriate to stand a bit too close to you and openly flirt.
Natalie who shows her love for you more than she says it.
Natalie who welds you flowers and makes you jewelry, and who fixes things around your home before you even notice its broken.
Natalie who, even after everything that happened to her, still loves to draw, and has a small box under her bed filled with sketches of you.
Natalie who is a thigh woman, and would die happily between your legs. But not as happy as she would die from laying on her back and letting you grind on her face as she sucks on your clit.
Natalie who idolizes you. You're her Queen, and she lives to serve, even if her words don't always give off that energy.
I think we need to make eyeless Jack more feral.. more demon like in bed… he would NOT be doin missionary, he wants us in a mating press, doggy style, or even up against some wall guys…
I also think we should embrace eyeless Jack with multiple dihs…
I just began worshipping Lord Leviathan after a couple months of studying, and wanted to share (with his permission), the prayer I wrote for him. I’m new to this so please be nice 😅
Imagine not knowing that (Yandere!) Butters is Professor Chaos. The two of you get into a big fight and you break it off with him, only to be kidnapped by Professor Chaos days later. Chaos is cruel and neglectful. One small meal a day, limited light, classic tactics of breaking someone’s mind, only for (Yandere!) Butters to show up just after you start to become desperate, saving you and taking you home, apologizing for upsetting you and promising to protect you from any and all danger. And promising to himself that you’ll never need to know that he is, in fact, Professor Chaos
surprisingly not super angsty, in my opinion. but like, beware.
reader is implied to be transmasc(its sort of mentioned) reader is suicidal and talks about it. jeff kills them! you die in this!! please dont read if you dont like that!! its my coping and we arent on cinemasins yk.
tw for.. yk, all of that.
655 words, jeff the killer x reader
taglist: @lovergirlfinalboss
death itself isnt something to be dreaded.
the aftermath, thats the scary part.
will your mother blame something innocent? will your father cry? will someone say that if the delusions had been snuffed out before you had cut your hair and called yourself a diffferent name, that you would still be there?
a plauge of thoughts haunts the mind, if death is on it.
pain is scary too.
will you suffer when you die? if you take those pills will you feel yourself choke? if you reach that vein will you regret it only for the sting?
the psas dont work, that dude was just a puss who chose a bad way to die.
the best way to die is in your sleep, in the arms of a loved one, to be buried by hands that knew you, as you. not as some girl whos a bit too much like barbie.
"you're sure," jeff took your chin in his hand, making you keep eye contact with him. "like, really, really sure?"
"im sure," you leaned up to hug his neck.
jeff wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up to your feet and pulling you back towards a chair. his face in your neck, the scarring around his mouth dug into your skin abrasively, the scabs were sharp and painful.
"your cuts are sort of like a beard," you mumbled, "get sharp every little bit."
"i'll fix my face before i do anything," jeff said into your skin.
it was dull, an odd sensation, the drugs made everything mostly numb. but the pressure was there, the knife dragging and cutting over your shoulders and chest.
jeff looking over you on the floor, dragging a knife from shoulder to wrist.
"mh" jeff kissed over the bleeding gashes, his face was splattered with blood. "i love you."
you couldnt move, you couldnt feel any of your limbs. you couldnt speak or cry or think clearly at all.
jeff picked up the limp body before him, holding onto your bleeding form, wrapping you in a jacket to keep you somewhat warm, it was a nice sentiment, but he knew you couldnt feel it.
"dont cry," jeff pressed his nose into your hair, "its going away soon, you're going away."
your hands had gone fully cold when jeff stood up, carefully avoiding security cameras while he carried you out of your house and towards the woods. no one looked in the woods anymore.
"stay here baby," he mumbled, setting you down carefully on a blanket he'd laid out to mark the spot where he'd dig your grave.
it was a pretty place, wisteria grew around the trees, there was the sound of a creek and a small waterfall not to far away, and it was far enough from the asylum that you wouldnt get pulled up as a ghost.
once a hole was dug, jeff pulled himself up. "you're so pretty," he sighed, "prettiest corpse i've ever seen. and i killed that supermodel bitch in her prime."
he set you down in the hole carefully, covering you with the blanket, and putting your cd player down there on repeat with the cd you'd burned for the occation. it'd play till the cd player died.
listening to the music while he covered the body with dirt, he started thinking.
was there regret? was there fear? had the drugs wore off after he'd started and you couldnt speak? had you suffered more by his hand than gained?
the eye of god was all you wanted to mark your grave, wedged between a few rocks and the dirt, jeff looked at it. his work wasnt as good as you had ever done, blue twine around two uneven sticks didnt make a very pretty headstone. that was his fault though.
"sweet dreams, baby." jeff mumbled. pulling up his hood while he looked down at the freshly rowed soil. "did i do good?"
I saw you jad open requests! Good luck with the new meds btw,!
As for the request.. ...I really wanna steal Liu's scarf...
Think you could write a small scenario of reader just stealing his scarf and wearing it? Feminine or gender neutral reader works for me!
Homicidal Liu | Liu Woods/ GN!Reader - Scarf Search and Sunrise
Thanks for the good luck wishes! Here you go! I hope you like it!
WC: 757
It was rare for them to wake up before Liu, normally he was the early riser between the couple, which only proved their suspicion that he had been overworking himself, and so for several minutes they contented themself to simply lay there, their head propped up on their hand, and watch him. As sweet and gentle as Liu was, it was rare to see him look so peaceful, and they were intent on branding the image into their brain. However, despite their desire to spend the morning admiring their lover, restlessness overtook them, and the buzzing in their brain had forced their limbs to move, carrying them out of bed, careful not to wake the brunette. A critical mistake, they realized, as shivers shook their body, the chilly morning air seeping into their bones. They were quick to cover Liu with the blankets, shielding him from the cold air before they wrapped themself up in a bathrobe. It proved inefficient, however, causing them to glance around the room for a solution. Their eyes landed on Liu’s striped scarf, and an internal debate ensued. They knew how important it was to him, but would he really mind if they borrowed it just long enough to watch the sunrise and make some breakfast? Their gaze found their way back to Liu, still sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling slowly. They made up their mind, and with near silent movements, they made their way over to the chair on which the scarf rested, before wrapping it around their neck and heading downstairs.
It had taken Liu ages to feel comfortable enough around them to remove his high-riding scarf and reveal his face, and even after that point, rarely did he discard the cloth other than when he went to sleep, so to have his eyes flutter open only to find, not only his lover, but his scarf, missing? He was set on high alert. He always hated showing his face. He saw it as his failure as a brother. He was supposed to protect Jeff, to take care of him, and in Liu’s eyes, for him to have his younger brother carve him up like a frog in a biology class was him failing as a brother. Liu saw his face as an everlasting reminder that he failed his brother to the point of violence. Quickly, he rose from the mattress, and grabbed a spare mask he kept in the top nightstand drawer from the pandemic and looped it over his ears. Picking up his gun, fear fueling him, he made quick work of sweeping the second floor, then rushed down the stairs as quietly as possible, somehow missing the sweet aroma of coffee, bread, and raspberry emanating from the oven as he moved swiftly through the first floor. It was only when he looked through the front window and onto the porch that his shoulders slumped, anxiety flooding out of his body.
Tucking his gun away safely, he moved to the door, and pulled it open, softly stepping out, years of tracking making him naturally near-silent. He took a moment, just standing there, admiring the sight of his beloved. There they sat on one of the porch’s adirondack chairs, nursing a steaming mug full of his favorite coffee, not theirs, and his scarf wrapped around their neck, rising up to partially cover their chin. He was frozen in place, there was something about the sight that warmed his heart as much as it made him ache. It was all just so domestic, almost all he could ever want.
It was then that they felt his eyes on them, and turned their head, they warm gaze meeting his.
“Goodmorning, Liu.” Their voice was low and soft and full of adoration, as they patted the seat next to them. “Come sit with me, the sunrise is so beautiful today, and there’s still about ten minutes left on the muffins.” As if in a trance, Liu’s body moved on its own, following their directions. Just as he sat down, they passed the warm mug to him, urging him to drink, as they laid their head on his shoulder. He removed his mask, took a sip of the coffee, his blend, a detail of care he didn’t fail to notice and proceeded to place a kiss to their head.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” He spoke. They tilted their head up at him and smiled, the scarf ruffling with their movements. “You look good in my scarf, I might have to get you a matching one.”
May I pretty please have some ticci Toby & Jeff the killer …boyfriend imagines if this is a place for that? Maybe like how they’d help you after a hard day or if you were struggling with sh ? It’s a niche I rarely find- nice fluff doesn’t suit Jeff well…
Sure thing! Thanks for the request!
TW FOR SELF HARM
Ticci Toby | Toby Rogers
Toby doesn't remember much about his life before he was taken in by The Operator, however I do believe that he has vague memories of events and feelings before becoming a proxy. These are what Toby would rely on when attempting to comfort you. He remembers, although blurry and with mostly distorted sound, the feeling of soft, comforting hands and arms holding him as they bandaged his own self-inflicted wounds.
He would feel, upon seeing you hurt, immense pain, and though he would do his best to hide it, his stress would cause his tics to act up quite significantly, letting you know just how he feels as he grabs the first aid kit to begin cleaning and bandaging your wounds. Throughout the process, he would try to comfort you with words, letting you know how valued you are to him, and surely to the other people in your life, and although he knows that the both of you may find it to be cringy, after properly bandaging you, he would place a kiss upon the bandages, followed by a quiet statement asking you to please talk to him the next time you felt like harming yourself. After all, you are the only good part of his life, and even if for semi-selfish reasons, he wouldn't be able to carry on without you.
Jeff The Killer | Jeffrey Woods
TW: Jeff is not a healthy or helpful partner in this. Self harm is something he also struggles with, and in my HC, he doesn't see a problem with it. This section will consist of SH from both the reader's perspective, as well as Jeff's.
Despite your urge to fight it, the urge was too strong, and you ended up sitting on the edge of the bathtub, blade in hand and blood trickling from your skin. Jeff was supposed to be out later, or maybe you had just lost track of time, but regardless, the bathroom door slammed open, no decorum in sight, until Jeff paused. He stared at the blood making its way down your skin, and his eyebrow twitched, ever so slightly.
"Damn. At least wait for me next time." He said, his voice void of any emotion. There was no sympathy, no joy, nothing, as he maneuvered his way to the sink, standing in front of the mirror, clothes still covered in blood from his most recent 'outing.' He reached his hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and pulled out his knife. The burnt man rinsed it lightly under the stream of water from the sink before bringing it to his mouth and reopening his old Glasgow smile. Afterwards, his eyes caught yours in the mirror and his brows scrunched.
"What? You don't know how to clean your cuts or you just wanna match with mine?"
Jeff would love to carve a smile into you to match him, but if you declined, he wouldn't put up too much of a fight, most likely just wetting a washcloth and tossing it your way, followed by some advice to wrap your cuts with something, be it actual bandages, gauze, or just some toilet paper.
