Jeff the Killer Headcanons
Unfortunately, I can't format this the same way I did in Canva, where I have pictures and text, so I guess just use your imagination. Go to Pinterest; that's what I did.
WC: 2.8k
Warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, jail, scars + burns, disrespectful!Jeff, shameless!Jeff, gore, mentions of Mayhem, reckless driving, mentions of shotgunning.
...yeah, have fun.
Masterlist
There are some hot takes in here. Get ready.
Yeah, yeah. Jeff is a metalhead. Grew up an emo boy and blossomed into a moshing maniac. But what does he really listen to?Well, Slipknot. Duh. I mean, have you seen him? He likes Megadeth, maybe a little Anthrax, but heâs not much of a Slayer or Metallica guy. He respects Ozzy, but the music just isnât for him. Heâll laugh if you put Motley Crue on. On a rare occasion, you might catch some Mayhem or Type O Negative. Rammstein is a frequent flier in his headphones.
Maybe this is too niche, but I think heâd absolutely love Shockwire.
Sometimes, heâll go back to his roots. Falling in Reverse, Linkin Park, maybe even a little My Chemical Romance. Heâd never admit it, but The Sharpest Lives will always have a special place in his heart.
âYou ever heard of Linkin Park?â He asked, popping a bud out of ear and turning to Jane.
âNo. Is that where the Lincoln Monument is?â
Jeff laughed, then shook his head. âFigures. Of course youâd think thatâs what Linkin Park is. Youâre so cute.â
~~~~~~~~
Raise your hand if youâre surprised that Jeff loves horror movies? You? How?
Heâs not big into paranormal or psychological movies. But slashers? Heâs seen them all. He thinks Ghostface is pretty stupid (and, letâs face it, overdone), but Chucky? He loves that freak. Heâs funny, heâs crazy, plus his wifeâs pretty hot. The only bad part about Childâs Play to him is the fact that someday, Brad Dourif will die, and the series wonât be right without him.
His all-time favorites are whatever Rob Zombie gets up to. Theyâre filthy, theyâre bloody, and Sherri. God, he loves Sherri. Especially in the Firefly trilogy. Her laugh drives him up the wall, but everything else is just perfect.
âIsnât she great?â Jeff asked, resting his chin on his fist. âTotal babe.â
âWhat about the movie?â
âWhat about it? Sherriâs here. I donât care about whatever theyâre getting up to anymore.â
~~~~~~~~
Part of Jeffâs natural stink comes from the fact that heâs always got a carton of Marlboro Reds in his pocket. Heâs not a chain smoker, but he still knocks out a couple every day-- more than he knows he should.
His favorite thing about smoking is shotgunning. Itâs intimate, but still so hot to him. Just the idea of controlling how much he gets to share is enough to get him a little worked up. Unfortunately, shotgunning is a little hard, considering the gashes in his cheeks, but as long as theyâre covered up by someone elseâs hands, itâs his favorite part of a not-so-casual encounter.
âI donât get how you like those things,â Jane grumbled, snatching the stick from between Jeffâs lips and stamping it out on the porch. âAnd you wonder why weâre always complaining about how you smell.â
He blew the residual smoke out in her face, smiling. Not like he had a choice. âThe more I smoke, the less time I have to spend around you.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff was a boy scout. Thereâs simply no other option. Heâs a total outdoorsman. Heâs the guy at the bonfire with the big stick. But aside from the firepit, he can pitch tents, identify tracks, and navigate like itâs second nature.
His favorite thing about being outdoors? Trees. They supply the bonfire sticks, but theyâre also fun to climb. Heâs had his fair share of encouters where a seemingly-sturdy branch has given out under his weight, but that doesnât stop him. Nothing will get between an insomniac in the woods and seeing the sunrise from twenty feet off the ground.
âHow far up do you think I could get?â Jeff asked, pointing to a large spruce tree. âI reckon... all the way to the top.â
âI give you ten before you fall and break your ass,â Ben challeneged.
A boyish smirk crossed Jeffâs face. He was never one to back down from a challenge, especially not from the screenager.
âOh, yeah? Check this out, then.â
~~~~~~~~
OOOH the side eye this man gives. Anytime, anywhere, heâs casting the most bombastic looks your way. If you pull a prank and you get that look? Youâre cooked. Publicly roast his ass? Consider yourself spit-roasted.
He almost never acts right away. That side-eye is your warning. Heâll wait and let you stew on what he could do in return. Heâll strike when you least expect it, even if youâve gotten all worked up about what heâs capable of. When youâre brushing your hair. When youâre eating. When youâre simply sitting on the couch, watching TV. Heâll get you. This side-glance is only the beginning, but itâs nasty.
âReally? Really?â He scoffed, his permanent smile twisting into a sadistic smirk. âIâll get you for that one; just you wait.â
âWha-- oh, come on, man; I didnât--â
He clicked his tongue and shook his head in an almost demeaning manner. âNo, you made your bed. Now lie in it.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff LOVES his alternative jewelry. Ear piercings galore, a lip ring, vertical piercing on the outer edge of an eyebrow; my man is bejeweled. Airport security is a total pain in the ass-- and jail, too. But heâs almost always got a ring or three on, just to be fancy.
And I know heâs got a whole collection of studded belts, from diamonds to rings. Heâs the sort of guy to stand over his drawer and stroke his chin going, âHmm, what to wear...â And he always makes the right choice.
âAw, shit. Hey! Hey, can you help me?â He called.
When you glanced over, you noticed a man in a dire situation. One of his rings-- the one with the sterling antlers-- had gotten caught in his helix ring. If he hadnât looked like heâd kill you if you coughed next to him, you wouldâve laughed.
âAnytime now, would be great!â
âLet me take a picture first.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff and his tattoos... theyâre something. Thereâs almost nothing with real meaning, other than âI thought it looked cool.â Tattooing over his skin is a challenge, considering all the scars and the burns. Thatâs part of the reason why he takes such good care of them, even after theyâve healed. His skin is bad enough; he doesnât need his ink to look like shit, either.
Theyâre not always visible. Sometimes, the one on his neck peeks out from behind his hair. If he reaches for something up high, the intentionally illegible script on his ribs makes an appearance. His personal favorite are the ones on his collar bones. Barbed wire, twisting like vines until they taper off by his sternum.
âSee something you like?â He taunted, reaching his arms over his head to prolong the exposure. âYouâre sure giving my ribs an awful lot of attention for someone who claims to find me absolutely hideous, as you said.â
~~~~~~~~
Having a conversation with Jeff is damn near impossible, especially when heâs feeling playful. To him, flirting and messing around are the same thing, so heâll end up flirting with little regard for the recipient.
His body language is the big tell. Itâs closed off to the rest of the people around, but itâs locked in on his target. The remnants of his lips try to tug into a smirk, cracking at his scabbed-over scars. His eyes are always one of two ways, because he doesnât blink: theyâre either attentive and intrigued, or blank. Thatâs the only way to tell if heâs flirting. If he really wanted your attention, you could tell. Otherwise, theyâre as cold and blank as ever.
âIs that so?â He hummed, folding his arms and leaning against the back of his chair. âNever wouldâve taken you for someone like that.â
He tilted his head when you didnât immediately respond. It didnât take him long to figure out why. âOh, is somebody flustered? What did I do?â
âYou looked at me,â you muttered.
âWell, isnât that pathetic.â
~~~~~~~~
Letâs talk about post-shower Jeff. Heâs not that unhygienic. He stinks naturally, like everybody else, just a little more. Sure, thereâs cologne, and it does smell nice, but Jeff after a shower is something different. Thereâs something so docile about that usually feral man, and it canât be ignored.
He ties his hair back so it doesnât stick to his neck. He hates that feeling more than he can describe. Yeah, it shows the full extent of the damage he did to his face, but it also shows off his jaw. He knows he has a nice jawline. Heâs got nice features in general, aside from... well, the damage. For just a while, he doesnât stink, heâs not as uncontrolled. Heâs just Jeff. An older, more put together Jeff.
âI just think that maybe itâs a bad idea, leaving Sally alone for that long,â he opined, brushing the stray bangs behind his ears. When they didnât stay, he huffed, reaching for his hair tie. âWhat do you think, kid? You want to be alone for six hours?â
"No."
"Case closed."
~~~~~~~~
Maybe itâs the instinctive urge to protect the innocent after what happened to Liu. Actually, it probably wasnât that. More than likely, it was the fact that Jeff saw himself in the kids that didnât know how to fit in. How to be loved. But with some select kids, Jeff is the softest person on the planet.
Usually, heâll just spend time with Sally. Heâs not big into playing pretend, but if he gets an invitation to a royal tea party, heâll make an appearance. If she falls asleep on the couch and magically wakes up in her bed, itâs almost always Jeff that got her tucked in. You couldnât waterboard it out of him, but he really does love Sally.
âTake your pick,â Jeff said, settling his hands around Sallyâs ankles as they dangled off his shoulders. âTheyâve got Captain Crunch, Apple Jacks, Honeycombs--â
âI want Lucky Charms.â
âThen get Lucky Charms. If that big octopus says no, weâll just tell him theyâre for me. He doesnât need to know. Our little secret.â
Sally grinned, gripping the box like it was her most prized possession. âThanks, Jeff.â
âAnytime, kid.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff absolutely knows Jane is a lesbian. He doesnât have any interest in her whatsoever. But heâs an annoying jackass, so he still flirts with her. Itâs purely for his own amusement, and the reactions he gets certainly amuse him.
Jane, however, doesnât like.it. Sheâs definitely torn him a new one several times from his flirting alone. She doesnât care about the audience, and neither does he. Even if heâs not flirting, heâll do little things to piss her off-- snatch things from her hands, open cabinets in her face, change the channel she was so clearly watching. If it ruins Janeâs mood, heâs down. Anytime, anywhere.
âAww, you wanna kiss me so bad,â Jeff taunted, patting the top of Janeâs head in an obviously demeaning manner. âToo bad you like women. Iâm a total catch.â
âI do not want to kiss you! Not with that jacked-up mouth! And Iâd rather get dinner with Ben, because heâs at least funny!â
~~~~~~~~
The thing that irks him the most is that people assume heâs dumb, just because he ditched his education to pursue his passions. But heâs not. Jeff was a smart kid. Heâs a total history buff. Ask him anything about the Civil War, and heâll give you every single battle in chronological order.
As for math, thatâs a little harder. He made it through geometry, and he can do basic algebra, but he might explode if you showed him a unit circle.
âSo, what-- why are there two different formulas for the one thing? And why are they called âquadraticsâ if thereâs only three figures?â He asked in a huff, brushing his hair out of his face for probably the fifth time.
âBecause--â
âActually, I donât care.â He announced, rising to his feet. Get EJ to help you. Iâm useless here. Come back when weâre doing American history.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff knows how to drive. Sort of. He knows how to operate a vehicle, but not safely. Or legally. He never got his license, but that doesnât stop him.
Being in the car with him is genuinely terrifying. Youâre going thirty over the limit, blowing through stop signs, taking turns at a speed that isnât anywhere close to safe. The radio blares, and heâs just in his own world, jamming out and cutting through lanes. God forbid somebody else be a terrible driver, though. Heâll throw out insults like Clark Griswold and honk for about ten straight seconds. Youâre convinced the only reason law enforcement hasnât pulled him over is because theyâre scared of him.
âCome on... Youâre totally exhausted! Let me do you a favor, and you can just close your eyes. Please?â He reached for the keys on the table without waiting for permission.
âIâd rather drive tired than let you behind the wheel,â Masky snapped, slamming his hand down over the keys. âGet your ass in the trunk. I canât have you anywhere near me when I drive.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff gets people flustered with a technique that has never once failed him. If it can be done from behind, heâs doing it from behind. Need something from the top shelf? Youâre temporarily trapped between Jeff and the counter. In his way? Heâll move you by your hips, then slink past.
Heâs not a hugger, but he loves the affect it has on people when he comes up from behind. Nobody knows how to behave when the freaky-looking murderer is suddenly clasping his hands in front of their abdomen, his chin settled on their scalp. If he feels bold, maybe heâll tug the recipient right against him. Itâs truly his worst trait, and he relishes in it.
He hummed, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. His hands pressed against both iliac crests. âHi,â he muttered, hot breath brushing your neck.
~~~~~~~~
Jeff doesnât drink. Ever. If alcohol hadnât been a part of his accident, he definitely would. But he gets grumbly whenever anyone even has a beer around him. Heâll never admit how nervous liquor makes him.
The only time he got drunk was the first time he had hard lemonade. He didnât know what the âhardâ part of it was. He just thought it was just really good lemonade. Of course, he learned the difference when he woke up feeling like he got hit by a truck, but aside from that one incident, Jeff will remain sober for the rest of his life.
âA bar, huh?â He mused, eyeing the table. âKind of a lot for a birthday.â
âYouâre just jealous that those people know how to have fun,â Hoodie taunted, taking a sip of his own cocktail.
âYeah, right. Sure. Take a look at my back and tell me that alcoholâs fun.â
âThat wasnât just vodka. That was bleach and fire.â
âTwo things that we donât drink. Theyâre already unsafe. Alcohol is no different.â
~~~~~~~~
Jeff and Ben are too similar. Thatâs why they hate each other. They hold the same values, but are disgusted by the other. If Ben thinks that girl is pretty? Jeff thinks itâs a serious reflection of Benâs mommy issues. Jeff makes this joke? Ben thinks itâs lame and that he could have done much better with the concept and Jeffâs never funny.
The biggest point of tension between them is privacy. Ben is always in Jeffâs business. Heâll sit right next to him, read over his shoulder, poke at him. He knows it irritates Jeff, but itâs basically the same thing that he does to Jane.
âWhy are you always touching me?â Jeff groaned as Ben slid in right against his shoulder. âYou stink! I donât want to smell you all the damn time!â
âI think thatâs just your breath youâre smelling,â Ben replied casually, snatching the phone from Jeffâs hands. âWhat are we looking at? Tinder?â
âBen!â
âOoh! Whoâs this!â
âBen!â
~~~~~~~~
Weâve seen this guyâs outfit. We know heâs filthy. But his mouth? Hide the whole church. Heâs got the nastiest fucking mouth ever. He curses enough to put sailors to shame. No word, aside from slurs, are off limits. Suprisingly, thatâs where he draws the line. Any swear, any insult. At the end of the day, heâs said them all at least twice.
Language aside, heâs a freak. Heâs a flirt, but it goes way beyond that. He loves coming up behind people and whispering the most vulgar things before moving on casually, as if he didnât just say things you wouldnât dare repeat to your diary.
You dropped your glass as Jeffâs hot breath glazed over your ear. One hand braced himself against the countertop, the other finding its way to your hip. Your cheeks turned bright red as he briefly tugged the lobe between his teeth, then gave your hip a pat and reached over you.
âYou dropped that, by the way,â he announced, shutting the upper cabinet. âMight want to pick that up.â
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