♡Fangirl♡ (Error x Reader)

Planning Murders

Considering the fact that he hadn't expected to wake up at all, you can imagine just how confused Error was when he woke up shirtless, bandaged and paint free.

Daring to sit up, he was surprised to find that most of the pain he had felt earlier had been reduced to a slight stinging sensation, nowhere near the pain that God awful paint had caused him.

Gingerly tracing the edges of the bandage on his left arm with his right hand, he noticed how fresh the bandages were. That was certainly a surprise, his other enemies would've used crusty, year-old bandages to cover his wounds, so itchy and painful he'd wish they never "helped" to begin with. That is, if they even tried to bandage him up in the first place.

Quite the contrary, the person who helped seemed to have been more than cautious as to how they bandaged him, almost caring, even. It actually seemed as if they cared about his wellbeing, despite how unlikely he thought of it.

Bunching a small portion of the bandage together, he couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for whoever had tended his wounds, they did save his life, after all. Probably some type of maid. Maybe, just maybe, he'd spare their life when all is said and done, possibly even help them escape this place with him.

Maybe...

But no matter. None of that would matter at the moment, so it seemed, for his lifelong plans would be of no use if he doesn't make it out of here in the first place.

Looking towards the small dresser, Error's gaze landed upon clothes, water, and some more chocolate, presumably from his mysterious caretaker.

After slipping the clothes on, he grabbed the bottle of water and took a quick swig, feeling the cool liquid flow down his throat at high speeds until no water remained.

Wait..

Realizing that he had unintentionally drank the entire bottle, he tossed the empty plastic aside, feeling reenergized. He snatched the box of chocolates and haphazardly stuffed it into one of the pants pockets before attempting to stand up.

An attempt that is easier said than done.

Error came to this realization as soon as he laid one foot on the ground, mostly because he fell down to said ground almost immediately. The pain he had felt was unbearable, almost drawing a scream from his mouth. Almost.

As he was supressing the urge to yell in pain and anger, a small plastic trashcan flew on top of his head, having seemingly been knocked into the air when he fell. Growling out of pure irritation, the skeleton threw the trashcan into the air, before punching it across the room and into the wall.

The trashcan hit the wall with a loud noise and made even more noise when the multiple pieces it had fractured into fell to the floor. Error began apologizing profusely, the words spilling out of his mouth. That is, until he heard what he was saying and promptly slapped himself in the face.

"UGhHhhhH, wHaT aM I dOiNG?! i'M wAsTiNg tImE! I nEeD tO gEt oUt oF hERe, tHat's tHe prIOrItY, nOt tAlkiNg tO tRaShcAns!!" Error muttered,using the side of the bed to help pull himself up. That made the surprisingly bad process of getting up much easier, taking most of the weight off his legs.

Tentatively, Error took a step forward, letting out a quiet sigh of relief when he didn't collapse. Walking steadily towards the door, he grinned, planning out his next move.

He knew exactly what he wanted to do, but he left out how he planned to do it. He would react better if he didn't make a plan, just incase things don't go as planned.

He hated when things didn't go as planned.

So instead of mentally sorting through all the many objects one would acquire for killing, Error smiled to himself and let his mind roam freely.