#killer! reader

No problem! I was already working on them, so you just gave me the motivation to keep going!

Red

He convinced you to move to his AU since you needed people who could stand against you when you went all ‘tornado soul’ (his words)

Practically your full time bodyguard whenever you leave the house. Will scare off anyone who looks at your Soul for longer than half a second.

People in his AU are very familiar with Determination, so you end up being a bit of a pariah to the average masses.

Edge, however, decided he likes his creepy looking sister-in-law long before the two of you start dating 👍🏼

Red x Killer! Reader

“Well, hello there.” a voice purred far too close to your ear, carrying the smell of dead fish and breath mints. The figure loomed far too close to you, fur lightly brushing against your shoulder. “Someone's fre-aky, care to be freaky with me?”

Worst. Pick-up line. Ever. You sighed to yourself, too tired to even muster up the now common disgust. You swallowed the coffee you’d been savoring and wondered when Edge was getting back from picking you out a new winter coat. “Nope.”

“Aw, co-” the rest of the annoying knat’s attempt to ‘convince’ you was disrupted by his muzzle meeting the picnic table with a loud, wet sounding crunch and a wail. 

It seemed Red was early.

“Hey, pal!” a skeletal hand came down to rest on your shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout that, my hand slipped.”

The figure leaking magic-blood on your boots didn’t do much more than groan pathetically.

“You’re early.” you hummed, sipping your coffee slowly and ignoring the way the injured monster’s friends dragged him away with mumbled apologies. To Red, of course, no one cared if somebody with their Soul hanging out gets harassed, but if that person’s already taken then it's a big no-no.

Hypocrites. 

“Beat it.” Your self assigned guard dog growled, quickly occupying the seat across from you, if the screech of the chair was any indication. “Yeah, clocked out a little early, the next shift offered to take an hour from me.”

“That's nice of them.” you hummed, “Edge’s still trying to figure out which color best suits me.”

“Why?” Red gripped, and you could almost imagine him shaking his fist at the air in exasperation. “It’s not like you’ll know if it looks bad anyway.”

You shrugged lazily, “I’ll just be glad if it fits.”

~~~~~~~~

You blinked off into the distance with the expression you always got when you were eavesdropping on a conversation across the room. The steam from your coffee had stopped a handful of minutes ago. Red was almost grateful you were even more blind than ol’ Smiley. He could stare at you as much as he wanted and you’d never know. 

…okay that sounded creepy even in his head.

Distracting himself from the weird whispers of his brain, Red cleared his throat and grumbled, “Well, if Boss is gonna take ‘is sweet time, we might’s well eat before we get booted out.”

You hummed in agreement, head dipping forward slightly. “There anything good?”

“No idea.” He sighed, earning a snort of amusement from you. “Not exactly my scene.”

It really wasn’t. The bougie cafe Edge had sat you at was so different from Red’s usual haunts that his bones were crawling. All smooth jazz and posh chatter, everyone side eyeing the two of you like they didn’t know looking twice could get their teeth knocked in.

“They got anything with marshmallows?” you hummed, abruptly bringing his attention back to you.

“Uuuh,” Red scrambled through the menu on the far wall. “S’more Cake?”

You took a long and obnoxious slurp of your coffee, making the two teens behind you cringe, and slid your card over the table. “I’ll get that. You pick whatever.”

You little- “I ain’t takin’ that.”

“Take the card, Red.” you deadpanned right back at him.

He folded his arms and scowled, not that you’d be able to tell. “I got my own money, thanks, Sweets.”

If he could see your eyes under the seven layers of sludge, he got the distinct feeling you’d be rolling them. Impressive. “And I don't break my back not to buy my own damned cake.”

Red grunted disbelievingly, “And you’re not insinuating that I buy my own junk on your tab?”

“I don’t have a tab at this place.” you drawled avoidantly, entirely too smug for someone whose expression hadn’t so much as twitched.

“Take yer damned card back before I eat it.” Red grumbled, standing up with a pained groan. Not even middle aged and his back was already going to the dogs…

You sighed through your nose and swiped back the offending plastic. “Extra cacao powder.”

1.)How did reader and Chance meet each others?

2.)What is Chance reaction at reader’s trying to escape?

Corrupted Mind

1.)For what reader killed her ‘bunny girl’(idk her name😭)

2.)How would survivors fall in love with someone like her,I mean,she’s LITERALLY INSANE.

Thank u for answering:3

𑣲 My Sweet Doll Cage

1.) This will be shown at the beginning of the story; basically, [Name] was returning from work at night when she and Chance bumped into each other. Initially, they started asking her uncomfortable questions and saying she looked familiar. [Name] thought Chance was just a womanizing jerk who wanted to date women or something like that. She just brushed them off and left, which greatly interested Chance and led them to kidnap her that same night (because they was already a little crazy inside)

2.) This will happen in part 2 of Sweet Doll Cage, where [Name] almost successfully escapes. Obviously, they was quite disappointed, sad, and blamed themselves, but they quickly recovers because Lance helped them. And they had her Achilles tendons cut so she could never walk again and would have to depend on them.

𑣲 Corrupted Mind

1.) The 'bunny girl' is someone that Crazed! [Name] loved very much. They weren't blood relatives, but she was very important to her. [Name] had a breakdown fueled by past traumas, accumulated stress, and other factors, which led her to kill the 'bunny girl,' whose name was Hanyu, and whom [Name] loved very much. At the time, [Name] had already killed three people due to her breakdowns, and Hanyu was her last victim before going to Forsaken and completely losing her mind. Hanyu's death was the culmination of her madness, driving her completely insane. Hanyu was 14 years old when she went, and [Name] was 19; she is currently 20 years old in Forsaken.

2.) Spectre's influence was simply planting seeds of obsession in the minds of some, and it grew little by little. Some knew [Name], like Elliot, Taph, and Chance, so they already had a slight crush on her and wondered what happened to her. The three obviously believe it's Spectre's fault, since the entity itself didn't influence [Name]'s life at all; it only granted her abilities and immense resistance to blows and other things because the madness in her mind serves as anesthesia against everything physically. Most survivors are like: "I can fix her!", ah... No...

Thank you so much for the questions! I love answering questions about my AUs! :>

— Myster Kylie

& sorry for bombarding your inbox lol 😭😭 i'm just soo joyous

Bombarding? Absolutely not! Honey, if anyone should apologize, it’s me. The creativity gremlin has awoken!! This will now proceed to be my personality till I have finished.

(Starting with Noot and will work my way down the line)

Nightmare x Killer! Reader

Future employee got yoinked-

Congrats, you’ve gained a job. Let the terrors begin.

Nightmare is an expert in bringing out the worst in people, and he’s more than happy to steer you back to your murderous ways 

You’ve become the king’s main source of negativity. Your overflowing determination and constantly fluctuating Soul make your emotional aura unusually intense. He can sense your mere frustration from halfway across an Au.

While the rest of Nightmare’s crew has an upper hand with magic, your inability to be killed and completely feral need to be the last one standing has you gaining the god’s favor quickly 

Nightmare stared down at the crumpled heap of human limbs with mild fascination. How a creature could sleep comfortably in that position, he had no idea.

Or maybe you were passed out again.

Blood tricked down your forehead as he lifted you up with a tentacle. Definitely passed out.

Apparently conscious enough to know when you were being lifted like a ragdoll, one of your blank sockets peaked open, the eye underneath barely visible under all the sludge leaking from your tear ducts. The faint light of your Soul cast the world in a thousand shades of crimson as you scowled at him heatlessly.

A fresh line of Determination slid down your stained cheek and further soiled the carpet. “What.”

Nightmare blinked slowly at your rumpled figure, caught between amusement and something similar to annoyance, but not quite. “The hall outside my office is not your designated sleeping space.”

You closed your eyes in mutinous dismissal, dangling carelessly like your leg wasn’t twisted completely backwards. With bones sticking out of it. “Dust’s camping outside my room.”

Normally, Nightmare would respond with sarcasm. Maybe annoyance. “And your grand idea was to collapse in an easily accessible space?”

You grunted, “Was aiming for inside the office.”

Normally, you’d respond in kind.

Nightmare stared at your bedraggled form for a long moment, then sighed, “Very well.”

You continued to hang limply from his extra limbs as he made his way through the castle, completely at ease in a way none of the rest had ever been when in your position. Nightmare made sure not to bump your mangled leg as he carried you further into the shadows. The exhaustion leaking from you was bland and aching, leaving a musty taste on the back of his tongue. 

“What are you doing?” you sighed when he finally put you down. Despite your exhausted irritation, you sank into his bed without protest, covering the top blanket in blood and tar.

Nightmare hummed and inspected your leg, carefully removing the summoned-bones and sending healing magic through the warped flesh. “Just because you have no sense of self-preservation, does not mean I enjoy the screeching ambience of your pain.”

He got the distinct feeling you were rolling your eyes at him, “Apologies, ‘majesty. I’ll endeavor to dodge the ambush better next time. For your sake.” 

Nightmare chucked and squeezed your ankle lightly, sending the last bits of magic through the former wounds. “Careful, brat.”

You huffed, pulling your leg back, "What's with the water?”

Nightmare looped his tentacle back around your waist and lifted you from it. You gripped the top-most blanket with a hiss of displeasure, but didn't resist further. “You think I'm letting you wander around like that? Go clean yourself.”

You grumbled as he set your feet down on the tiles of the bathroom but shuffled inward. “Do I get clothes?”

He tossed a bath robe at your head and shut the door. “Try not to drown yourself.”

“Yes, boss.” Your dull response echoed through the wood. A loud splash and a curse followed after. 

By the time you had come out, steam had built up in the room enough to billow out when you reentered the main portion of his chambers. You squinted in his direction suspiciously, drowning in the bathrobe. “This isn’t my room.”

“It’s not.” he deadpanned, not bothering to look up from his book.

“Or a guest room.”

“Not in the slightest.” 

You stared at him for a few moments before seemingly deciding that you couldn’t be bothered to care and flopping back onto the bed gracelessly. Nightmare watched out of the corner of his eye as you yawned largely and curled up into a ball. “Read to me.”

He raised a browbone, “I beg your pardon.”

“Read.” you poked the book in his hands, “to me.”

“And why would I do that?” Nightmare asked, amused by your sudden boldness. 

“Because I can't see the page,” you huffed, “and the closest thing I've had to a decent story is Dust’s Stars-awful reality shows.”

Nightmare grimaced, that did sound dull. “Very well.”

You made a surprisingly good audience, Nightmare found. You were quiet and attentive, genuinely interested in the story. The few times you did ask questions, it was when he’d paused between chapters. It was remarkably more enjoyable than he would have suspected.

Eventually, your quiet breaths lengthened and your questions ceased. Curious, the king glanced over. 

You’d fallen asleep. 

Nightmare found himself staring longer than he tended to. Inspecting the way you curled around your quietly whirring Soul. The vibrant red had settled, and, in the place of your usual warped circle, was a flickering heart within a heart. Peace and contentment radiated from your still form.

Spends so much time trying to help you adjust to your new life that he doesn’t realize he’s crushing on you till it’s undeniable 

Despite the rocky start he had with your negativity, he actually finds your energy very peaceful. Your Soul projects a very neutral aura, not hurting or feeding him.

Comes to appreciate your unique way of sensing things, especially since it means he gets lots of physical affection 

More than happy to be your portable heater/visual guide. Professional top shelf reacher.

Dream hummed the old lullaby softly as he weeded his garden, claws digging up the pale roots patiently. You hovered at his back awkwardly, eyes drilling into his back as you shifted from foot to foot. Your shadow loomed over his crouching figure, twice as large as necessary, your… ‘friend’ swirling about your shoulders in the dark silhouette. The gazing red of your Soul cast the ground in an odd haze, bending the shadows that surrounded your own.

You were still uncomfortable around him at times. Your voice creaked from its rare use. “...you want help?”

Dream smiled up at you and made a mental note to get you some more tea once he was finished. “That would be lovely. You know how to weed?”

A small spark of amusement flickered through your blank aura, completely invisible without the aid of his empathic nature. “I’ve got some experience.”

“Perfect!” he hummed, scooting over so you could crouch next to him. “You work on these ones, and I'll get these.”

Your hands hovered in the direction he pointed, grey filmed eyes staring down at the various plants as you felt the leaves to tell which was a weed and which was an herb. It made Dream grimace a bit, since the way you’d chosen to tell left rough scratches on your fingers from the prickly weeds, but he didn’t try to correct you. The last time he’d done that, you’d retreated back into your shell for days.

He didn’t want to ruin all the progress the two of you had put together, you trusting him and him helping guide you through a new way to live. 

So he let you scratch your fingers on the leaves, reminding himself to buy you some thin but sturdy gloves later. Your shoulder bumped against his as the two of you worked quietly.

“...you stopped.” you croaked, voice starting to give even after only a few sentences.

Dream paused, uncertain as to what you were referring to. “Stopped what?” 

“Singing.” you kept your eyes trained on the ground, small blips of embarrassment bubbling up from under the surface of your aura. “It was nice.”

“Oh- thank you.” Dream grinned sheepishly, returning to the weeds to mask his fluster. “...my mother used to sing it to me and my brother, when we were still bodiless Soullings.”

“Good.” you creaked, voice almost gone, but the confidence behind it still unmistakable.

Dream stayed silent for a bit, wondering if you’d continue to speak, but it seemed you were done for the time being. He cleared his nonexistent throat awkwardly and resumed the tune he’d hummed to himself previously. You stayed silent, quietly working near him for the rest of the afternoon.

By the time the two of you had shuffled inside, Dream’s voice ached a bit, but it was worth it. You hadn’t spent so much time in the same space as him since he’d patched you up when Ink had brought you!

“I’ll make some tea!” Dream chirped, thrilled when you followed him silently to the kitchen. Your aura and shadowy extension curled around the room like a thick woolen blanket. One he’d found scratchy at first, but was slowly beginning to adjust to.

You, yourself, hovered just out of the field of his vision, sitting comfortably in the corner as you waited. You seemed to like doing that. Dream clicked his claws against the tea pot and wondered if he should empty out some more corners in his cabin. Maybe add some pillows. The floor had to get uncomfortable to your malnourished body eventually.

He was lost in plans when the pot started to boil audibly. Dream quickly turned off the stove and filled the mugs he’d left out earlier. Both his and your paint splattered gifts from Ink filled with steaming green and orange liquid.

Dream carefully crossed the small room to pass the full mug to you and, in a sudden fit of whimsy, slid down to sit just shy of your outstretched legs. “I left out the honey this time. Too sweet, right?”

You nodded lethargically, eyes half closed as you gripped the mug with both hands. The shadows of your pupils flickered up to him before turning back down to the tea. Your hair definitely needed to be cut soon, as matted and long as it had gotten. 

Maybe you’d trust him enough to let him approach with scissors, or at least a razor. He wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable with your hair cut that short, though. Humans could get touchy about their manes…

~~~~~~~~~~

Dream cracked his eyes open groggily, frowning at the deep pain in his neck and shoulders. He hadn’t slept this poorly since the crystal-people incident. 

The dim light of his kitchen stove cast the world in a faint glow as he shifted about quietly, wondering how on earth he’d managed to pass out on- On your shoulder. Wow. 

Your eyes were still focused on your half drained mug, liquid Determination having run enough to have ruined the collar of your shirt. Your Soul had shifted. The sparks of violence and pain had finally stopped, only soft pulses of life emanating from the red heart.

He finds you to be one of the most fascinating people in the entire multiverse. You’re a completely unique AU, unlike anything he’s seen before, and your constantly changing Soul-state is absolutely incredible to him

So it’s no surprise that things escalate after a while

You end up becoming a familiar face to anyone who meets Ink, as he frequently brings you along when he goes exploring. 

Ink will absolutely describe everything around you in explicit detail if you ask. He’ll try to match colors with textures and shapes with sounds and after a while of being with you, he finds himself dabbling in forms of art you can ‘see’. 

He gets ink everywhere, you get DT everywhere- it’s a thing. Your house is stained, but it’s home.

Ink chewed the end of his pen as he listened to you hum idly from the swing set. The chains creaked with every pass, screeching out an odd rhythm that probably shouldn’t have been as soothing as it was. Little glow bugs flickered and buzzed around the area as he tilted his head, squinting down at his sketch book from the top of the slide. 

Something was missing from his latest sketch, but he couldn’t figure out what. It was annoying, staring down at what had originally been a quick piece for fun and having the neverending nag of ‘not quite right’. 

Before he could grumble again and destroy another eraser in his frustration, your boots dragged loudly against the concrete, stopping your pendulum-like motions with another screech of metal. Ink jumped a little at the sudden shift in noise and turned his head to you as you sighed loudly. Your solid black eyes stared out at the skyline unseeingly as you pointedly stated, “I want ice cream.”

You did that a lot. Telling Ink what you wanted rather than asking him to take you somewhere or do something for you. It was… weird was the wrong word. Charming was too positive. Refreshing, maybe? 

Ink liked that you gave him information rather than asking him to complete an action. It was rare. People always wanted things from him. You just told him the facts and continued on your way.

“I’ll take you to a shop over the hill.” The Protector chirped, jumping down from his perch. A break would do him good. “They have good options!”

You grasped his hand readily and let the much shorter monster lead you on your way, quietly taking in his chatter like you always did. The thick tears of Determination slid down your face as the two of you walked, plopping into the scarf Swap had gotten you at some point. It certainly did help keep you from staining so many shirts, but Ink wasn’t fond of the faint undercurrent of the monster’s magic that still clung to it. You were his human… friend… something.  

If only you'd let him steal it for just a few hours… but you were terribly possessive of it. Liked the way it could be unraveled just enough to cover your Soul when others were around.

“What flavors do they have?” you asked, startling Ink from his thoughts. You lifted your face up from the fabric to fully enjoy the faint breeze. 

“Oh, lots!” he hummed, waving your linked hands as you walked. “The basics, of course, but they also have pistachio, and orange, and sweet cream! And they have bunches of popsicles, too. My favorite’s the cafe-sicle. Tastes like real coffee."

You nodded in consideration, “Will you read me the options when we get there?”

“Sure!” Ink chirped, like he always did. You asked such silly questions sometimes. You’d think by now you’d know that he was happy to describe things to you.

You simply hummed in pleased acknowledgement, Soul flickering between its circular state and something calmer that he’d never seen before.

~~~~~~~~

“What are you so frustrated about?” you asked, breaking the easy silence before chomping down on another spoonful.

Ink grumbled at the paper taunting him before motioning to it like the sketch had offended his bloodline, but was met with puzzled silence. You stared at the air around him expectantly.

“Oh, right!” Ink giggled, realizing you couldn’t see the paper. “It’s a drawing of you!”

You tilted your head to the side with a funny befuddled expression. Goop dripped down your cheek as you blinked, restaining your freshly napkin-wiped skin. “Me?”

“Mhm,” Ink nodded, setting the notebook back down in his lap with a sigh. He always hated being frustrated, no matter how many times his paints forced him to go through it. “But it’s missing something, and I can't figure out what.”

You hummed and consumed another spoonful as you thought. Ink nibbled on his cafe-sicle as he watched you curiously. Your mind seemed to churn differently than others, it was fascinating to watch. “Is there anything else, or is it just me?”

“Just you.” Ink echoed in confirmation, yellow-blue interest starting to overtake the irritation bubbling under the surface.

“Well, why don’t you draw yourself then?” you stated unexpectedly, voice sounding as if the claim was obvious, rather than completely out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

You leaned back, staring in his vague direction with a small smile. “I mean, I'm hardly ever without you, so maybe you’re what's missing.”

Ink stared at you for a few moments, gears turning. 

“Maybe?” he turned back to the offending notebook, pen in hand. “It’s worth a shot.”

The addition wasn’t wrong, like the others he’d tried, but there was still something off about it. “...it’s a bit better.”

You leaned back against your seat, shrugging. “That’s the best I've got.”

Ink tapped the pen to his teeth and stared at you, wondering if he could figure out the answer better now that you were in the semi decent lighting of the patio outside the ice cream shop. He’d tried before, but it had been dark and you’d been swinging, so maybe the change of scenery would benefit him. A bus whirled by, stirring your scarf.

There.

The faint glow of your Soul drew his eye before he even thought about it. The typical storm had settled, calming into something new. The electric heart that pulsed in front of him was different then the one he’d drawn.

“One sec.” he said. “Hold still.”

You froze in your position, taking him too seriously as usual. Ink quickly erased the old Soul pattern on his sketch and replaced it with your new one.

Holding it up to the light, the Protector grinned. “Perfect!”

You chuckled, “Me, or the drawing?”

Reaper spends more time with you than he probably should, but, honestly, he can’t help himself. There aren’t many that willingly talk with death, let alone consider him a friend (or more)

He touched you one time on accident and came to the realization that you couldn’t die that way. 

He then proceeded to latch on to you like an overly affectionate barnacle with wings. 

Things progressed quickly from there.

Reaper isn't allowed to bring mortals back with him, and neither of you are interested in the gossip that would inevitably occur about you two being together, so Reaper is happy to stay with you when he's not working or visiting his friends/brother

Despite being a fairly dangerous figure, Reaper pretty obviously considers you to be fragile. Which is both endearing and annoying.

Despite not being allowed to keep you in his AU, Reaper frequently finds places to bring you to. Though he typically can't walk around in crowds himself, so most of your outings are places that aren't so dense with people.

You have a shelf full of fun-textured trinkets Reaper has randomly brought you.

The hum of the microwave burned through the air, accompanied by the loud rattling assault of popped corn exploding into existence, as it tended to do. The world consisted of your insomniatic exhaustion, your growling stomach, the glowing machine of radiating wonder, and the deep shadows of your tiny kitchen. You stood in the dark, waiting for your midnight snack to finish, bag of chocolates in hand. 

Before the final chime of the finished food, you felt the shadows warp somewhere in the apartment. The chilly temperature of the room dissipated a bit when the new presence in your home approached and you grumbled a bit at the familiar heat. The hovering shadow, per the usual, found his way to you like a bloodhound on a scent trail, latching onto you. 

Reaper hummed into the back of your neck in tired greeting, sliding his arms under your hoodie to pull himself as close to you as possible. The odd structure of his hands radiated heat into your flesh as you popped the door to the microwave open.

“You should be sleeping.” he murmured, head resting on your shoulder. You finally pulled the bowl of steaming buttery magnificence from the heating box.

“You don’t say.” you muttered back, voice thick with sarcasm as you poured the bag of chocolates on top of your salty snack and ignored his disapproving chuff. The god of death, and he was still harping on you about nutrition and health.

You didn’t even flinch when the hovering deity scooped you up like an oversized teddy bear and carried you away from the kitchen. You were far too used to the clingy skeleton refusing to part with any skinship he could possibly obtain. Fond annoyance filled your heavy sigh as he completely bypassed your wonderful rotting spot on the couch and floated down to your room. 

You squirmed out of his arms as he set you down on the bed. As always, you found him randomly tucking and shifting blankets and pillows around you. As soon as he was satisfied, Reaper returned to attempting to find his way under your skin via wrapping himself around you and nuzzling your head.

“You’re not getting any of this.” you grumbled, clutching your bowl to your chest. Your Soul buzzed oddly against it.

“How cruel, My Dearest.” He pouted, hands pulling away from your snack glumly. You nip at his fingers in response before pulling out your phone and unpausing your video defiantly.

~~~~~~~~~

Reaper blissfully rubbed his noseridge against your cheek. The slightly damp feeling of your Determination slid across his face, absolutely heavy with your scent. Your jaw clicked periodically as you crunched through your snack, staring off into space as you listened to some ‘lore explanation’ video. 

Hopefully it would put you to sleep. 

You slumped even further into the nest, eyes ringed with painful looking dark circles. Reaper curled further around your figure, shifting his wings so they didn’t cramp against the wall. He squinted his eyes open again when something buzzed against his hand.

His fake breathing stopped. 

Your flickering, fragile Soul pulsed steadily against his palm. 

He glanced down at your face, blank as always, completely comfortable. As at ease as you had always been around him. The dancing spiral was curled contently against his phalanges almost human-shaped for once. Sparks of red trailed along his claws with each thrum of your being.

Reaper reburried his face into your neck, unable to keep looking at such a divine sight. 

“You really shouldn’t be so comfortable with Death, My Light.” he breathed, trying to center himself.

You tilted your head to the side, “I don’t think that's for you to decide.”

You were perfect.

Swad had gone to find what terrible things could have happened to your AU to cause such intense negativity to radiate from it

Instead, he found you. Feral, Stage-3 you. Who took one look at this immortal seagull of a skeleton and decided that he needed to die.

The two of you fought for a solid week before you finally collapsed in exhaustion

The near torn apart ‘angel’ then decided that he would take you home and keep you. Your Au was left to burn to cinders.

Swad basically combats all your mental health issues with his magic. This unfortunately develops into an addiction scenario, where you find yourself almost unable to feel positive emotions unless he is in the room with you

No one can figure out if you're a pet, a lover, a personal assassin, or the one who's actually in control. They just know that having you around has made Swad even more terrifying and you're too high out of your mind to care.

If Swad ever gets his hands on Swan, you might get at least some sympathy/horror over your condition, but that's about as far as anyone going to go for you.

You’d gotten blood on the carpet.

Some blank-faced attendant or another was hollering at you, screeching about how inconsiderate it was for a ‘dog like you’ to make so much work for them. It probably should’ve made you angry, but you were too busy drowning in the chaos that swirled around your mind like a hurricane. You blinked slowly, the disgusting feel of your excess Determination sliding off your lashes and plopping onto your jacket more of an interest to you then that now common scolding. The man’s fuzzy figure blocked what little light made it past the sludge blocking your vision.

…you were hungry. 

How long had it been since you had eaten, again? Time was hard before Dream had taken you, but it got worse after. The constant Au hopping ruined your internal clock beyond repair. So did your insomnia. 

You shivered, pulling your torn up jacket tighter around your body. The movement jostled your open wounds, but the sting of pain didn’t agitate you like it used to. Your LV was screaming at you to keep going, to hunt and tearandkilleverythinginyourway-

“And what do you think you're doing?” You blinked at Dream’s voice, lifting your head in the vague direction you’d heard it from. 

He sounded happy-angry. The kind of voice he got when he was really, truly pissed off at someone. Right. He didn’t like it when people yelled at you. 

The shadow above you staggered away, reeking of fear. “Y-your grace!”

A bright flash of blue flickered across your vision before more blood splattered over your face. You turned towards the livid angel as the attendant’s body hit the floor with a wet thud. 

“Oh, my precious knight.” Thin, clawed hands pressed themselves against your cheeks and heat finally flooded back into your body. Your legs gave out in relief as Dream carefully picked you up. 

His voice was much colder towards the rest of the rabble in the room. “Clean this filth up.”

You faded in and out of bliss as you were carried off… somewhere. You didn’t really care anymore. The cold was gone. Your Soul finally stopped stretching against itself like a neverending scream that couldn’t be vocalized. Dream was humming some tune or another.

The world spun gently as you stumbled your way through a bath and the sting of healing ointment. Dream always wrapped the bandages a little too loose, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed when you had to retie them. You would’ve just left them to fester.

“Did you finish off those pesky gnats I asked you to?” you straightened a bit at the question. Debrief time then.

“Yes,” you mumbled, a bit of nerves crawling under your skin as he walked away to sort through his things. The clattering shift of unknown objects set your teeth on edge, even if it was from your angel. “The mafia one gave me more trouble than expected, but I completed my assignments.”

“I see.” the god hummed, warm presence finally returning. A brush started gently working out the snarls of your mangled hair. The pulse of magic that rang through you warred with the lingering concern that you had failed.

“You did good.” he cooed, gently brushing through your hair. The next soft flicker of golden magic soothed your nerves completely and you let yourself lean back into him. 

You were so tired… The fight had been so long. Your Soul was almost sore from the constant spinning and stretching and your body wasn’t much better. Every nerve in you screamed with overstimulation as Dream hummed gently, the brush your only relief against the raw feeling of existence.

You must’ve blacked out at some point, because you blinked your eyes open again and found yourself curled up on the bed, squished under the heated blanket of an angel that was your boss.

Dream nuzzled back into your neck, “You love me. Right, Dear?” 

You frowned at the sudden question, “Of course I do.”

Ekk I Hope this makes sense I'm HORRIBLE at wording... if you need me to clarify further lmk.. 😓

Additionally, I love your writing. Keep up the good work! ❤️

Ooooh, this is a great idea! And thank you 😊

‘Kay, so, I’m going to go with a Reader who has a lot of Killer’s visible characteristics (DT tears, Soul with visible stages, no visible eyes, etc) but is basically just a regular person who was forced into the same position as Killer.

(This is a more of a general opinion then openly romantic, so let me know if you’d prefer some dating headcanons)

Ink

Uhhhh, oops?

He forgot your Au even existed and clearly something went horribly wrong for you to end up in a Killer-variant position while not being one

He’s not particularly guilty, per say, but he takes on the responsibility of helping you continue to live as a ‘glitch in the system’ as it were

So basically you’ve got a forgetful yet earnest life coach who has no idea what he’s doing 

Dream

The amount of negativity you radiate is almost nauseating at first, but Dream does his best to strong-arm his way through the pain by guilting himself 

He’s kind of awkward about spending time with someone who isn’t constantly hopping around the multiverse, but starts almost aggressively introducing coping mechanisms into your life 

Plants that help with ambient stress, audio books, a therapist-

Please pull him into this mental health journey with you, he could use it 

Fresh 

Avoids you. 

You scare the living daylights out of him. 

‘That’s not an easy snack, that’s an angler fish’

Error

Honestly this guy can’t tell if he hates you with a burning passion or pity’s you the most out of these useless anomalies

You are the definition of what he wants to destroy. But you’re also pretty much a passive participant in your AU’s garbage-fest of glitches and mixups.

He’ll leave you alone for Ink’s sake. He’s not going to fight the tiny bastard over a half broken human that isn’t even bugging him 

Swap

Okay. Another friend with trauma to brood over.

Cue the blanket burrito and hot chocolate. You like cartoons? 

You now have a gym coach. And a motivational speaker with a motorcycle.

Nightmare

Finds you utterly fascinating 

You’re all Killer’s feral determination and none of his annoying personality and the god is tempted 

Depending on how much Killer’s gotten on Nightmare’s nerves (and how canon Night is) there’s an increasingly strong possibility that the god will try to recruit you 

Humans are so much less fragile than monsters. And you’d make a perfect Monster for him to puppet around…

Reaper 

Pities the ever loving crap out of you

A tormented mortal, half-possessed, practically blinded, and constantly forced to display the core of their very existence? Yikes

Depending on how open you are to having Death in your home, he might visit you from time to time. He can’t deny that it’s rare to find someone with which he can have an open conversation with.

He can’t end your suffering yet, but he can keep you company until it’s time…

Red

You’ve got his rare respect.

He may not know everything about Stabby’s Au, but he knows enough to get the general feeling that it would be hell to live through 

You can’t do much about your Soul being out in the open, but that doesn’t stop people from making sleazy comments. Which unlocks guard dog mode.

He might try to convince you to come live in his Au, since it would be a lot easier to be near you keep an eye on you

Swad

Ohhh, boy…

He really, really likes you. (And not in a good way)

I’m talking canon killermare levels of toxic here

The Angel of Hope and his Demonic Knight sort of situation 

Swan

He hates to admit it, but he finds you refreshing

Your ambient negativity is so strong that he feels half drunk the first time he meets you 

He tries to keep you out of his fights with Swad, but your determination is a lethal weapon that he can’t help but appreciate 

Cherrybomb 

Canonically considers Killer to be his best friend, so he might like you?

He’s unfortunately very unstable mentally so it can be hard to tell whether or not he would like your similarities to Killer, or consider you a copy-cat

Passive 

Doesn’t really know what to do with you, but does feel a kind of kinship with you

You’re unnerving and people avoid you, considering you evil for things you can’t control. 

He can’t ‘fix’ you, but if you don’t mind it, he’d be happy to read to you.

Killer

Surprising absolutely no one, Killer really doesn’t like you at first

You’re probably one of the only people in the multiverse that can make Killer visibly uncomfortable just by walking into a room (You look so much like Chara to him)

Being himself, this means he needs to make you as uncomfortable as he is.

Once he gets over his self-hatred projection spiral, he finds you weirdly fascinating. He’s gone from a bastard trying to get a rise out of you to a kid poking you with a stick.

Cross

Does not know what to feel about you 

Half waiting for the moment you try to stab him in the back

Half stressed service dog eyes every time your Soul fluctuates 

Horror 

Shrugs and moves on. 

Could not care less. 

Might call you Tar-face or some other nickname, but he’s pretty neutral about your existence 

Dust

Will try to kill you on sight.