deezee112

[deezee112]

Weapons I think the Monster Reversed!Cast would have. This is just for me to keep track + World building. I looove world building, guys! This all started because I was writing something else 😭. Edit: This was just supposed to be a list, Idk why I wrote so much.

Featuring: Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Trey, Leona, Jack, Ruggie, Azul, Floyd, Jade, Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Epel, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Silver, Sebek, Lilia, Reader, Rollo, Fellow, Skully, Neige, Chenya

CW: Monster!Reader has an interest in [character], hints of possession, slight fluff, violence, weapons, some parts have Reader eating a person/monster, Reader breaks into bedrooms, stitching (Neige), Reader isn't heavily hunted by MH!Cast/Neutral truce?, threats, biting, Reader doesn't speak in full sentences

MH!Riddle - Sword, one adorned with beautiful detailing, made of scarlet iron. It gives off some sort of righteous vibe, and he'd prefer it simply because swords were used by knights to uphold the law before monsters grew in population. You saw him taking out a couple of beasts while eating some poor sap. It was kind of mesmerizing watching him swing the thing with such practiced ease. You had to leave, but the sense of disappointment that you couldn't watch more lingered. You broke into his room and saw the sword by his side. A little obsessive, however, his work is so pretty, you don't mind. "Red hair... Fight... Really pretty..." He opens his eyes and stares at where you once were, his mouth agape, and he processes what you said. The trainings afterwards consist of him asking Jamil and Vil how to use his weapon in both elegance and functionality. Next time you see him fight, he makes sure to put his practice to good use. He also tries purposefully outshining everyone else. By the time anyone else tries talking to you, he's shooing you off before they get the chance, insisting he'll show you more if you ignore everyone else.

MH!Ace - Twin-Blade. I'd like to think that because he's so good with his hand, he can spin that thing like crazy. He most definitely tries flaunting his skills to everyone, even more so when you're around. The moment he senses you somewhere in the dark on a mission, the number of times he spins, swings, and hits the beast increases by three. He's using both sides of the blade with such practiced ease, the others on the hunt are wondering why he didn't join sooner (Deuce knows what he's doing, because he can smell you too.) By the time he's done, he's already looking into the shadows, hoping you'll be smiling with praise...! You're not there. He's deflating with disappointment and is ready to go back to the headquarters before someone screams. Honestly? He's kind of over it, but he readies his blade anyway. He's about to chuck his weapon and go home, before Deuce gasps. That's different. Even more so when he drops his gauntlets and takes a few steps forward, finally earning Ace's curiosity. He turns—You're inches from his face. "... Showoff... But... Fun."... Ace goes back with a pep in his step while everyone else broods. As long as your attention is on him, he doesn't mind at all.

MH!Deuce - Gauntlets. You’ve seen him wreck a couple of monsters real good with them. He swings so fast that a regular person could never predict where his next punch is coming from. People have tried, but they've never succeeded. He's so absorbed in his training that whenever you appear, he always seems to almost hit you. He'll redirect it last minute. The first time you suddenly showed up right in front of him, he couldn't move his fist in time. His mind is racing with panic at the prospect of hitting you. It's what he wished for in the beginning, but... Now? If he sees you in pain, he might as well be punching himself, too. No one or no thing has ever managed to dodge—Oh hey, you caught it!... You caught it?! Other than a slight wince in pain, you don't seem too bothered... Though to be fair, he didn't put his all into that, and you know that. You only feel a slight pain on your palm, yet Deuce is sitting you down and tending to it like you've been wounded. Any time any other hunter comes close, he warns them to stay away. A part of you thinks that's due to more than just your hand...

MH!Cater - A Mace. It's a good contrast. Mostly because monsters don't expect to see Cater with one due to his bubbly exterior. You surely didn't. He combats it with paint, making the handle a little prettier. You're not sure if it really works, considering it's still a spiky pall of metal he swings at beasts. You snuck in while he was sleeping, with a makeshift keychain, and stuck it on the handle. You're not sure if it suits his taste, but it doesn't matter. He's trying to kill you anyway (That's what you think), might as well have a pretty weapon do you in. When he wakes up, his room smells like you, and he knows exactly where that gift came from. The next time you witness him fighting, he's talking about just how adorable his mace is now! Everyone else isn't too surprised about his before... It's just a little unnerving to watch him do it while fighting some giant beast.

MH!Trey - a Shotgun. He wields it in such a way that it makes it seem like he doesn't wish to shoot it. He'll use the back of the gun to hit monsters before using the barrel on them like a guillotine. He only ever uses it when necessary. You're amazed it hasn't broken. But to be fair, that's due to your efforts. He doesn't know (He does. He just plays innocent) that you're the one fixing it up while he sleeps. Though... You're methods aren't exactly the correct way to fix a gun; he still uses it with pride. The only time he's broken the act of feigning slumber is when you tried eating a match to use your mouth as a blowtorch. There was a small crack you believed you could meld together. He was initially worried for your safety... His worry seems to have been misplaced when he sees you actually do it. "Huh... I didn't think that would work..." You blow a small puff of smoke his way, earning a heartfelt smile. He still pretends to sleep, but that's because every time he does, he can feel you blow fire at him. If he imagines hard enough, it's like a kiss to his forehead.

MH!Leona - A Battle Axe. It's not too heavy, but it packs enough damage for him to slice something down real quick. Not too heavy is an understatement, however, as it's not too heavy for him. Most of the other people who try can only lift it for a few seconds before dropping it. Luckily, you're not a part of the most. You were probably taking a bite of some low-ranking troll when he appeared out of nowhere. You throw the piece of meat away while you furrow your eyebrows at him. He's obviously annoyed with something; you can see it in the way he snarls. You can't ask what's wrong, though, because his head is on your lap before you can sound it out. The axe propped on the tree trunk next to you falls down, and he's about to lunge back up before it hits you (He's not ready for you to die), you've already caught it. Your hand bleeds from holding it by the blade. The rest of the day is him secretly admiring you while your hand plays with his hair. He'll never admit that, however.

Monster & MH!Jack - A War Hammer. He'd probably like the challenge of having to build up his muscles to hold and swing it around. When you first saw him wield it (MH), which was after a year of knowing him (He never told you what he wielded before), he felt pride swell at the way your mouth dropped in amazement at him holding such a giant thing. When you see him wield it as a monster, he definitely swung it at you, and only missed because you dodged it like nothing. Ever since you kept in mind not to let that thing hit you, because he cracked the boulder next to you, 6 times your size, with ease. After finally getting to know you, he sees the way your eyes linger on his hammer. He makes sure not to bring it whenever you two are together. In the cases where you appear during a mission, he'll drop the weapon and start fighting with his fists. He doesn't want to send his hammer your way.

MH!Ruggie - Throwing stars. He has a multitude of different kinds, with different shapes and sizes. Sometimes you can see him dip it in different substances. You can see him use a blow dart too sometimes. The sight of a different person's name on it, though, tells you it's not originally his. You confront him about it when he opens his bedroom door to see you hanging upside down from his window. The shock of your appearance has him dropping all the boxes he was previously holding, earning a curse under his breath. He watches you play with both the blow dart and his throwing stars before finally asking why you're here. Ruggie rushes towards the window, watching you drop from above. But you effortlessly land on the ledge, earning a relieved exhale from his lips. He was entirely ready to catch you. "Stolen...?" So that's what this is about. He tells you it's not stolen; he simply gave it a better home. The person who had it before seemed to not care for it much if they just left it there. He can tell you don't believe him by the way your brows furrow. His eyes widen when his own throwing stars rush by him, you being the perpetrator. He's about to ask what that was for, but you're leaning in, catching his words in his throat. "I'll get... Ruggie better one..."

MH!Azul - Trident. But he's fully capable of wielding heavy weapons like Jack and Leona's. He just... Can't hold them for very long. He gets tired too easily. His strength is amazing, you're just shocked at how lacking his stamina is. He's second only to Idia. On solo missions, you tag along, and he does everything in his power to avoid eye contact. Not because he wishes to not look at you, no, that's one of the few things he wishes to do. It's because... He's currently using his weapon as a cane to go up the mountain. He had no idea...! This ruins the atmosphere he wished to have with you on this job...! How is he supposed to play the part of a gentleman when he can barely make it up this mountain while you're walking along as if this isn't torture? He stiffens when he feels a presence next to him, ready to warn you to step away. By the time he looks though, it turns out to be you... His sense is so scrambled he can't make out what's a threat... "Carry... Azul?" He couldn't possibly. He has pride; he refuses. His posture straightens, and he acts as if he's regained all his energy. You don't believe him, but you watch him remove that trident from the floor and carry it like the true hunter he is. You can't help but tease him for the sudden shift. "... Azul is... Strong... Maybe... Can carry me too?"... He carries you bridal style all the way up the mountain, all of his fatigue seemingly gone. You have no idea how he did it...

MH!Floyd - A kusarigama. He might be one of the few hunters who actually scare you with the way he handles his weapon. Of course, they all have that smug look on their face when they take down a monster. Watching him swing the chain around and use the blade is entertaining, yes, but... he's just way too good at it. Sometimes he looks bored when he swings the chain around a beast's neck to pull them in and end the job; in fact, you prefer it that way. He gets scarier when he's in a giggling fit and takes down multiple at once. He'll come up to you afterward and ask if he can catch you like that. Before you know it, the chain is wrapped around you, and he's pulling you in as he whispers. You're about to bite him out of panic, only stopping when he shouts 'just kidding!' and hugs you closer. He laughs when you don't break out of the chains despite their weak grasp on you. His laughter dies down when your hands "reluctantly" wrap around him.

MH!Jade - Two Kukri Machetes. He almost looks more like a monster than you do when he wields them. There's a certain glint in his eyes when he successfully dispatches monsters. It's somehow even scarier than Floyd's. Whenever you attempt to hang out with him, he's always sharpening his blades with the most courteous of smiles. It's frightening, but that might be due to your nature as a monster. You're sitting in a forest, letting Jade feed you all the mystery forages from the wilderness. You think he might be testing which ones are poisonous on you. You won't die and you get free food, so it's a win o you. Though if you show any signs of distress or change, he'll gently open your mouth and have you spit it out. Not without a double-edged remark, however. "What a strong stomach. Perhaps I should let you eat it. I might find your weakness." He never does go through with his claim. You were too preoccupied with him to even notice you were being stalked, not seeing that he's thrown one of his Machetes at a monster, it's only when he says "Oh my, well that's no good..." and chucks his second one without even looking, do you notice. An extremely rare occurrence for you. Just how focused on eating did Jade have you? "Hm? Why, they were looking at you like a feast. It seems they had no idea who you were... Pity. Though it's no matter." You watch his hand reach for yours, placing a flower in your palm. "I wish to be the only one who truly knows you."

MH!Kalim - Bo Staff. It doesn't do harsh damage, but the speed he spins it at is dangerous, paired with fluidity similar to Jamil’s. Not enough to kill, but enough to incapacitate. Truth be told, Kalim’s never actually killed a monster. You’ve seen him knock them out, he's just... never gone for a finishing blow. It makes you wonder if he doesn’t know they’re not dead… There have been a couple of instances where he walks away, unassuming of the monstrosity that lunges at him. They only stop because you step between them, your eyes looking down on it. The amount of times you’ve had to step in and finish the job for him is too much, especially for someone meant to be killing monsters. Even Jamil steps in for him when you can’t. It should be a hint for him, yet he’ll simply hug you tight, joyous that you’re there. You wonder if it’s on purpose or not.

MH!Jamil - Chakrams. While several hunters have mesmerized you with the way they fight, you think Jamil has you watching him the most. He incorporates such a fluid movement when he throws his weapon, and even when he simply uses it in hand-to-hand combat, that you’ve sat for hours in the shadows watching him train. Weirdly enough, you want him to use them on you. You’re curious about being on the receiving end of such deadly blows. If you bring it up, he'll consider it simply because you want it. But his aim is so scarily accurate, he fears he might truly hit you if he tries. So instead, he teaches you how to use them. Which, he definitely shouldn't do, considering his occupation. He just can't help the way you seem to perk up with the monstrous charm when you actually do it. At this point, he might as well use his weapon for hypnotization so you'll never disappear for days on end again. He thinks he likes the way your eyes light up with genuine enjoyment when he's around, however, so he'd rather not.

MH!Vil - A Spear. It defeats some practicality, but he always makes sure to polish its barrel while adorning it in beauty. Yes, once it breaks, he'll get a new one; despite it, he'll always pay careful attention to it. You must say, he definitely has the prettiest weapon(s) among everyone in the foundation. He probably caught you staring at it one time when he returned to his room, the curtains shut, while you sat on his bed. Typically, he prefers for nobody to dirty his sheets, and he thinks you know that. He assumes so, considering his shower seems to be freshly used. Your nail taps the blade once, before moving to the engraving on its handle. Transparent fabrics wrap everything together neatly. You don't seem to notice him at all. A sure sign that you don't truly see him as a threat. "Haven't you been taught not to touch others property?" You perk up at the sound of his voice. A little too late, however, as once you turn, he's gone. You feel the spear being taken from your hand, and by the time you look, Vil is inches from your face. He turns the blade to point at you, and if you didn't know any better, he would plunge it into your chest at this moment. He uses the other end to open the curtains, allowing the moon to hit your features. "I shouldn't be very surprised, though." You remain silent when he places his hand next to where you sit. "You are a monster after all."

MH!Epel - He wanted to use gauntlets originally. After joining Vil... He was made to use a weaponized Shield. He's actually so disappointed in it. He could have at least gotten a cool blade, like literally everybody else. Why is he the only one without some offensive weapon!? You listen to him complain to himself about it as you sit in the dark. You don't think he realizes that he quite basically is using the shield as offense... He's charging full force into full brutes, knocking them back. By the time they're back up and ready to lunge at him, he's already turned it over and dropped the thing full force on their head. A brutal sight, yet he's still complaining how lame it is... He jumps when you appear by his side, your eyes looking him up and down. "You can't see..." Your clawed finger taps his bicep, "Strong now... Good at shield."... He learns to be more appreciative of it.

MH!Rook - Bow and Arrow (Are we surprised?). You've actually purposefully broken at least five of his bows to see if he has to buy a new one. He pulled one from under his pillow, and you have no idea why it was there. Easily the best marksman in the business. He's shot arrows near you multiple times, and each instance, you believe he's finally decided to really hunt you down, only to look at the multiple poems stuck on the shaft and see that wasn't his intent. You've taken your revenge by outlining his sleeping body with these same arrows. He woke up in the middle of the night, pleasantly surprised by your gift, serenading you about your generosity... The next day was spent trying to eat in peace while a poetic hunter lavishes you with admiration. You don't put up much resistance when he rests his head on your shoulder and leaves his hat on top of you.

MH!Idia - Scythe. Though not as proficient with it as Reaper!Idia, still decently skilled. You were there when he first chose the weapon, actually. Way before you had personally met any of the monster hunters. You were hanging from a tree while he was in his room, flipping through his choices. He chose the scythe because it looked the coolest and reminded him of a character from a story he liked. He had his doubts with how flashy a weapon it is. After you finally met, you asked him about it, and he turned pink at how embarrassing that was. You... You saw him fanboy over how cool a weapon is... You let him ramble about all the confidence points he lost with you as you pat his back. If you insist, the scythe is interesting, he'll go back to crazing over it. If you go even further and compliment him? He either goes into full-fledged self-assurance or a ball of fluster. You have to pat him on the back either way, though. When you're out of sight, he begins cursing out everyone else, because the idea of you doing that to anybody other than him...? Everyone awakens to an ominous letter detailing all of their suspicious purchases the next day.

MH!Malleus - The only one fully capable of fighting with his bare fists. Though if need be, he'll fight with weapons, which is most of the time, as he seems to cause more damage without them. He never has a set one, always changing. He's still proficient with all of them, however. His pure strength alone is a testament to his formidability to others. Some workers don't even wish to be in his proximity, fearing he might touch them; Except for you. Despite the bounty on your head and him supposedly being on the hunt for you, you let him touch you as much as he wishes. You should fear that one day he'll turn on you and claim his reward, yet here you are, allowing him to curiously touch every monstrous feature of yours without struggle. You've seen his deadly ability; it's just the tender feeling of his hands moving through your features that overpowers it. Fortunately for you, you're the only monster he'll ever touch like that, and he hopes he's the only hunter to touch you like this too.

MH!Silver - A Lance. A weapon that should typically be wielded on a horse, which he does do, yet he also handles it on the ground perfectly fine. It's even much larger on his person, only furthering the impressiveness. Despite the giant weapon, he still takes down monsters with a certain kindness, gently putting them down when they fall. When you ask him why, he glanced once at his weapon before softly telling you, "They didn't ask to be monsters." You're silent at his answer, glancing down when his hand takes yours, and once more in that sweet tone, "You didn't, right?" The silence in your reply fails to answer his question, leaving ambiguity in the truth of your existence. He doesn't voice any form of disappointment, however, instead, he hands you his large weapon, allowing your clawed fingers to grip its hilt. Anyone else would fear a monster to attack them when unarmed, yet he isn't, not at all. With the softest of smiles, he comforts you. "I think... You're the nicest of all."

MH!Sebek - A Rapier. He insists it shows off his skills better. It's not big and boorish like others; he could quite easily carry that, but neither is it small and evasive, though he could easily dispatch those as well. His specific sword makes each strike of his look like a sting. You think he enjoys how fast it makes him look. You probably grew curious about whether it was him or just the sword that made him look fast, though, and took hold of its hilt. He's quick to bust in and tell you not to dirty his weapon with your heinous touch. "You definitely ate something with those hands!"... And he's not necessarily wrong... But you don't give it back, you insist on examining it further, earning more of his temper. He's about to start yelling when he sees your claw scratch his blade. "How Dare—! Oh...?" When you give it back to him, his name is engraved on the steel, a (human) heart drawn next to it. "This is quite nice...! Why... is there a heart next to it....?!" His determination to not let anyone else touch his sword increases after that

MH!Lilia - Two Kama's. He uses them to tend a garden in Diasmonia's quarters. Yet, they also double as his signature weapon. You're sure that he's probably cut wheat right after a mission, earning the ire of other hunters at their crops being sullied with monster... It doesn't matter, though, as no one eats the food he makes with such ingredients. His cooking is bad, yes, but you think it only worsens in the eye of a human because he skillfully used those same tools to successfully dispatch twenty different beasts... But... You're the only one who can stomach his cooking. It's not the best thing you've ever eaten, yet it's also not the worst. Except, you actually do like his cooking. That alone has earned you the entire foundation, as well as regular civilians you're close with, to repeatedly ask you if you're okay and perform regular medical checkups on you to see if you're fine. When you say you are, they don't really believe you... Yet the way you return to the kitchen to dutifully help him cook his horrendous dishes has them second-guess... They all go on a mission to cook better (worse) than him.

MH!Reader - Dagger(s. They've got like 16 strapped on them, all with different designs and uses). It's what I usually picture them with, BUT I do think they would have experience with things such as swords and bows. But you can imagine them with anything, really.

Modern!Reader - Pepper spray and a Taser. Both are mostly ineffective against monsters 💀. In times of desperation, they flash their camera and start screaming really loudly.

Monster!Rollo - A Dagger. He's actually more efficient with any type of weapon, mostly the bow. If anything, it actually hinders him more, but he insists on it because he wants to use the same weapon as you, so he knows what to do if you need help with your daggers. He practices extra so you'll always come to him when you need help with training. As long as no one else teaches you, it'll be okay.

MH!Rollo - A Bow, as he no longer has a reason to practice with daggers. He's still proficient with all types, though. He has a penchant for dipping the tips of his arrows in holy water. He double dips when he knows he's going to see you. He triple dips when he sees you in person. And he sighs when he misses all his shots (Whether that's because you're too fast or if he unconsciously misses, however, is a mystery.)

Human Fellow - His Debt. The first time he met you, out of fear, he started throwing his bills and taxes at you. It worked. Not because you were hurt, but because you were asking why he was giving you his bills. "I... Can't... Pay..." ... He was genuinely amazed you focused on that and not him throwing papers at you.

Human Skully - His photos of you, or more specifically, his photo book. He's actually spiritually hurt whenever he does that to the pictures, apologizing as if they were actually you. Yet, he keeps doing it because in his mind, it means you'll always be there for him and vice versa. Imagine his shock when he's about to hit a monster he came across by chance with his photo book, only for you to take a bite out of it. You really are lovely, aren't you?

Human Neige - A Medkit. Not very proficient, and quite ironic that he uses something meant to heal as a weapon. Sometimes, monsters come through, and the real hunters miss them. You probably had a limb get cut off, and while it would probably come back, he was diligently stitching it back on you. You're about to have a snack of the measly goblin that walks over, but you don't even have the chance before he's closing his kit and smacking it over the head. You pronounce him dead on the scene, and he smiles at you as if he didn't do anything at all...

Human Chenya - His Jacket. He never wears it, save for wrapping it around his hips. So imagine your surprise when you're trying to sleep and you wake up to five other monsters lying on the ground five feet away, with Chenya resting his head on your lap.

Jamil's weapon had me going down a rabbit hole; it's so cool (..＞◡＜..) also, I love the thought of Monster!Reader breaking into bedrooms/watching the MH!Cast and not doing a single thing. Is it stalkerish? Yes. But it also reminds the cast you’re completely capable of taking them when they’re unprepared. You’ve had multiple chances to kill them, yet you haven’t. Really shows both Readers' threat, and their urge to know why you are the way you are.

Surprise, surprise, Jade's was the longest. I hate him so much, oh my goshhhhh (￢_￢)

[deezee112]

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!??????

thinking about turning yandere! nam-gyu into your house-husband ♡

warnings || yandere content, unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessive behavior, forced relationship, marriage, really controlling gyu :(

☆ he's genuinely the type of guy to fall hard for a sweet, docile thing, but... she needs to know how to put him in his place. you, his beloved wife, are a perfect mix of these two things. it's hard to earn his affections, though, so nam-gyu thinks you should count yourself as lucky!

even if he makes you absolutely miserable

☆ nam-gyu is a terror in the beginning stages of his obsession. always calling you the most vulgar names and pushing you around like some sort of middle school bully. he's terribly sexist, so you'll be exposed to his overly toxic behavior early on. nam-gyu is very guarded, so once he realizes he's developed feelings for you, he fully intends on making his mushy emotions your problem.

☆ he's so mean!

at first...

but then you tame him, and he literally just turns into a submissive man who craves your love!

☆ marriage isn't something nam-gyu had ever thought about, and once he realizes he wants you all to himself, he's deadset on making you marry him. nam-gyu is a sexist, possessive, obsessive asshole. there's no getting rid of him once he decides he wants you.

love him. love him. love him.

that's all he wants from you!

☆ honestly, such a terrible house husband, though!

he sucks at cleaning and cooking because he's never prioritized these things before getting married and settling down. once he's out of the club scene and down to only smoking weed, nam-gyu realizes that he doesn't really know how to live normally. the late nights of shooting up and fucking are hard to let go of, but you make it easy on him.

get him some cooking classes and you'll finally get only half-burned rice, it's a start!

☆ the terrible thing about nam-gyu staying home is that he has to stew in his insecurities until you come home to him. he hates thinking about who you might be hanging around whilst at work, even though he knows you're too shy and socially awkward to cheat on him :(

terrified of you leaving him, nam-gyu often falls back into toxic behavior.

he gets all pissy and ends up breaking your phone and forces you to call into work so you can comfort his fears. it's annoying, but nam-gyu can get scary during these riots.

☆ just dote on your husband, and you'll be fine <3

i've been super hyperfixated on squid game recently 😫

[deezee112]

The ending 7 : The Closet and the Cracks

Masterlist | Ending 6 | Ending 8

Yandere!Platonic!Ruggie Bucchi x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : I’m back! I might not be fully back to regular updates yet, but I’m here! Sorry for disappearing for so long. My university’s been holding a festival, and I signed up to help out. In two weeks, I’ll also be performing in a play, so I’ve been focusing on rehearsals.

Sorry for rambling on for so long now, let’s get back to reading!

Warning : dark psychological themes , including manipulation , emotional neglect , physical violence, blood, injury , and long-term disability.

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Ruggie. " he said with a wide, fanged smile. “ Nice to meet ya, y/n. From now on, you and me? We’re gonna be partners in crime, heh. ”

You remembered that moment so clearly. The day he stepped into your life he looked like the kind of person your mother warned you about not because he was obviously dangerous, but because he was too friendly. Too easy with words. Too casual with lies.

But you were small. You were lonely. You didn’t know better.

You laughed when he first said it. “ Partners in crime? ”

He smirked and leaned closer, his tan hand holding out a coin he’d clearly plucked from someone else’s pocket.

“ Stick with me, y/n. You’ll never go hungry! ”

And for a while…that seemed like a good thing.

Ruggie helped you with math. With history. Even carried your schoolbag sometimes when your arms were tired. He always knew where the good snacks were and where the best vending machines gave out extra.

He’d sneak into your room through the window and toss you a candy bar like it was a treasure.

“ Don’t tell your folks I came in. ” he’d wink, then sit beside your desk, solving your equations like it was a game. “ What would you do without me? ”

“ I’d probably flunk math. ”

He’d grin at that, all teeth and pride. “ You got that right. ”

But then he started…asking you to do things.

“ Hey, y/n. See your mom’s purse on the counter? Bet she won’t notice a few bills gone. Just twenty bucks. We’ll split it, kay? ”

You froze. “ But…but that’s stealing...? ”

“ Nahhh, it’s just borrowing. She won’t miss it. And c’mon, you owe me, right? After all that help I gave you? ”

You hesitated. You shouldn’t have. You knew that. But you didn’t want to lose him not this only friend who laughed with you, who taught you things no one else did. So you did it.

And he clapped for you.

“ That’s my girl. ”

After that, it became normal.

Stealing coins from your classmates. Taking extra food from the cafeteria. Even hiding snacks in your coat during store runs. Ruggie always had a plan. And when you were scared, he’d just ruffle your hair.

“ No one's gonna catch you if you’re careful. And you’re smart, y/n. That’s why I like you. ”

But it didn’t feel like liking.

Sometimes, when you lost something, you’d find it later in his pocket. When you confronted him, he just chuckled.

“ You were getting too careless. I had to teach you a lesson. ”

It wasn't cute. It wasn’t funny. But you still stayed.

You told yourself he cared. You told yourself he was all you had.

You didn’t know how long you’d been lying on the kitchen floor.

Everything had gone too fast.

First, there was the hunger in his eyes.

Then, the shouting.

The pain.

The impact.

And then…nothing.

Not real nothing. Not the peaceful kind. But the kind that tasted like metal and smelled like your mother’s cooking oil spilled across the tile.

You blinked, your vision swimming in red. Something inside your chest was screaming, but you couldn’t open your mouth. Your body had gone limp. Your limbs didn’t want to listen anymore. Not after what he did.

He bit you.

You didn’t even understand it at first.

You’d screamed something, maybe a plea. You didn’t even remember what.

And he’d snapped.

Like a wolf that hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Like a wild thing.

His teeth his teeth sank into your shoulder before you could push him away.

He wasn’t himself anymore.

He wasn’t Ruggie.

He wasn’t the boy who did your homework.

He wasn’t the one who snuck you ice cream at midnight.

He was a shadow. A starved, shaking shadow who was too far gone.

And when he realized what he’d done…

“ Oh no. No no no no— ” Blood dripped down his fingers. Your blood. He stared at it like it wasn’t real. Like it had been some dream he could wake up from.

“ y/n…I didn’t mean to—I didn’t mean to… ”

You tried to crawl.

He caught you.

You screamed.

“ I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I just—don’t scream, please don’t scream—! ”

Your fingers clawed at the floor. You were shaking. He was crying now muttering, whimpering.

And then, he dragged you to the hallway closet.

The world became dark. Cramped. Stuffy.

You were wedged between cleaning supplies, an old vacuum, and forgotten blankets.

You couldn’t move.

“ Shhh…shhh…just stay here, okay? Just for a little while.. ” he whispered.

His hands trembled as he tucked a blanket around your broken body. As if warmth would make up for what he’d done. As if you weren’t bleeding, as if your bones weren’t screaming, as if your mind wasn’t slipping into something numb and cold.

He closed the door.

You heard him breathing on the other side.

Then…footsteps.

Then…silence.

Your father found you hours later.

He had come home, calling your name, voice getting sharper with each unanswered shout.

Then…the blood.

Smears of it, leading from the kitchen.

To the hall.

To the closet.

The door creaked open. You blinked at the sudden light.

His scream echoed through the house. “ Y/N?! OH MY GOD—Y/N!! ”

He scooped you into his arms, shouting again, but this time for your mother, for the car, for anyone to help.

You only remember the sirens after that. The cold of the hospital and the white, white walls.

They told you later that your shoulder had been shattered, and your tendons damaged beyond repair. The bite wound had cut deep, and the impact from hitting the counter had fractured your skull.

But what really silenced you wasn’t the pain.

It was the realization.

He had locked you in a closet to hide you like a broken toy and you were supposed to be his partner in crime.

Weeks passed. You stayed in the hospital, wrapped in white sheets like a ghost. You couldn’t move your arms properly anymore. Could barely lift your head without assistance.

You could blink. You could cry.

But you couldn’t fight. Not anymore.

And then…he came.

“ y/n…? ”

He looked different. Not dirty or wild anymore. He’d scrubbed himself raw, as if trying to wash off what he did.

Still, his eyes were the same guilt. Desperation and something else. Possessiveness.

You blinked.

He took a step forward. “ Hey…it’s me. Ruggie. ”

Silence.

He knelt by your bed. You could feel the tremble in his hands as he reached out, but stopped short from touching you.

“ I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so…so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just— ”

Hungry?

Desperate?

Insane?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care anymore.

You wanted him to leave.

But your lips couldn’t move.

Your voice had been swallowed by the trauma.

He looked at your limp body, at the machines keeping track of your vitals. “ You’re gonna get better. Right? You have to… ”

You wanted to scream at him.

Better???????

You would never move the same way again. You would never trust the same way again.

“ I… I’ll never let that happen again. I swear it, y/n. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll— ” He choked. “ Please don’t look at me like that... ”

But you weren’t looking.

Your eyes just stared, wide, empty, unfocused.

He started crying. Quiet at first. Then louder. He clung to the bed, like a child begging for forgiveness.

“ I didn’t want this...I just wanted to stay with you. I just wanted us to be together.. ”

You locked me in a closet.

You wanted to say that.

But all that came was the beeping of the monitor. Ruggie leaned forward, tears dripping onto your blanket.

“ Please forgive me. Please don’t leave me… ” His voice cracked. “ I won’t ever hurt you again! ”

But it was too late.

He already had.

[deezee112]

See because when you start with the pervert Trey feeding kink I have to mention the fact that he’s a little weird about teeth and should most definitely have a thing for biting (receiving not giving) like tell me you don’t try to bite him and he makes a freaky little comment about your jaw and teeth strength

Ugh I didn’t want to go deep but you leave me no choice anon, it’s hard trying to suppress my natural instincts.

Dom!reader. It’s a first. I think… nsfw bellow

Trey has a motherly attitude at heart. When I see him I can’t help but think he’d be such a great caretaker.

You know he’s strict about your hygiene, oral and all, he’s happy to roll up his sleeves and keep your head in place with a firm grip to your chin. Careful to brush back and forth, sideways and alll the way back till the point of gagging. He’s sorry, very sorry, he’ll be more gentle next time. Don’t hit him, he said he was sorry!

Most of your meals are cooked by his truly. When he has time he likes to have a family dinner. Doesn’t matter if it’s just you and him. He can call it as it is, no big deal. Definitely not hinting. You catch him watching you eat, picking and moving around his own meal, better to ignore him. Usually he doesn’t have a high drive, but you look so happy and comfortable eating his meal that he cooked to your preferences. Whatever you felt or craved.

He’ll let out a small grunt when you eat messy. Grabbing the nearest napkin to gently wipe your face as he lightly teases you. The entire time his gaze is on your mouth.

“Don’t eat too fast, it isn’t going anywhere.”

You scowl, swatting his hand away. Trey hums at your small defiance. His grip more firm, one hand holding the back of your head as he pushes a thumb inside the side of your lips, showing off your teeth. He really hopes you make a fuss, bite down on his finger. He’s persistent even as you push at his chest, his wrist, strong and determined as his nail drag against your teeth. Trying to wiggle between them, to feel the small bumps of your bones crushing him.

When did you find out about this weird fetish of his? Trey never bites you. He likes to kiss you and suckle but that’s usually it. As if he’s afraid to bite down. The most common thing he enjoys is your resistance. Not in a way you’d expect. He wants you to want him. He won’t go any further unless you’ve given him the okay. He knows you get annoyed with his cuddles and bone crushing hugs, so when you bite down on his shoulder to release you— he’s tending up.

Shamelessly, he crushes you tighter against his chest, making you bite down even harder. His nose pressed to your cheek, away from his gaze, feeling his skin burning and his breath shallow as he grinds you down on him. His legs spread wide to purposefully widen your own against his muscular pelvis.

“More…just a bit…h-harder..”

He really likes biting. It’s even better if you’re bouncing on his cock as you restrain him like some rabid animal. He’d make a perfect porn star with how wantonly he’s moaning, praying he feels a slick of hot, blood oozing from the bites. More than one. His chest, collar, inner thighs, where ever you want. Is he pleasing you? Does it feel good knowing your kidnapper is debasing himself for you? Like a bitch in heat as he desperately thrusts up to meet your ass.

Shaken thighs grow weaker every minute, he wants to embrace you, touch your mouth and face, but he doesn’t deserve that. You’re already thinking on gagging him next time.

[deezee112]

I’ll be back to update my novel soon! I’ve been a little busy lately because I’m practicing for a festival.

[deezee112]

The ending 6 : Even Lions Weep

Masterlist | Ending 5 | Ending 7

Yandere!Platonic!Leona Kingscholar x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : Honestly, I just ran off to play games for a while been too lazy to work on my novel lately. Everyone needs a break sometimes Right?

Warning : Emotional Neglect , Manipulation , Violence , Injury , Death , Guilt , Child Endangerment , Blood , Mentions of Medical Trauma

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Leona. "

Leona was…complicated.

He didn’t fuss over rules. He didn’t mind if your room was a mess. He didn’t care if you hated your homework or forgot your chores. He just…let you be. He treated you like an equal, not a kid. At first, that felt like freedom. You felt like you could breathe around him.

He’d let you sleep in on weekends.

He never scolded you for forgetting things.

He always found ways to cheer you up without saying much by tossing you snacks from the kitchen, or draping a blanket over your shoulders when he thought you weren’t looking.

You started to like having him around.

You even started talking more. Opening up. It was slow, but natural. He didn’t push you.

And sometimes, damn it...he just loves to lie right on top of you. There was even that one time you passed out because he’s so damn heavy. he was snoring on your back like you were a body pillow.

“ Hey get off! ” you wheezed, squirming under the weight of someone twice your size.

“ …Huh? Just push me, runt. ” he muttered, voice muffled into your shoulder. “ I’m tired. ”

You did push him. And he rolled. Onto your ribs. With a loud crunch.

You remember the sound before the pain. Then everything blurred.

Next thing you knew, you were in a hospital bed, blinking up at the ceiling with bandages around your chest. You’d broken two ribs. Leona was standing off to the side with his arms crossed, looking more annoyed than guilty.

Your parents were there. And oh boy, were they livid!

" Leona, what the hell were you thinking?! "

“ She’s eight, not a mattress! ”

" I told you not to sleep in her room— "

“ Tch. I didn’t mean to! She’s the one who didn’t move. ”

You stared at him from the hospital bed like he’d grown a second tail. He blamed you?

Your parents glared at him. “ Apologize. ”

" ...Tch. Fine. "

He stepped up to your bed, gaze low, scratching his head with a sigh.

“ ...Sorry or whatever. ” he said, like it was a punishment.

You blinked at him. He scowled.

And that was the start of everything.

He wasn’t like the others.

Leona didn’t coddle you. He didn’t fuss over your grades. He didn’t care if you forgot your lunch or if your socks didn’t match. He called you “ brat. ” “ pipsqueak. ” “ ankle-biter. ” and occasionally “ y/n. ” when he wasn’t feeling too lazy.

He acted like you were annoying. But he never left.

He was the kind of older presence that hovered not exactly nurturing, but always there. In the background. Watching. Quietly.

You learned quickly that he hated noise, rules, and being told what to do.

He would sleep anywhere: your couch, your floor, your lap. Once, he fell asleep mid-argument with your teacher at a parent-teacher meeting and started snoring through the scolding.

Sometimes, he’d fall asleep right on you again.

You’d scream, “ Leona! I can’t breathe! ”

He’d grumble, “ Then stop being a pillow. ”

( That’s how you ended up back in the hospital with a bruised rib the second time. )

But underneath that lazy, sarcastic surface…there was something else.

Leona was possessive in quiet ways.

He didn’t like it when you played with other people too long. He didn’t like it when someone else praised you. He’d stare, ears twitching, and say nothing but when you got home, he’d find some small reason to blame you for something.

" Why didn’t you come home earlier? You’re a kid. You don’t know what kind of creeps are out there? "

" You always forget your umbrella. Do you want to catch a cold or are you just stupid? "

" You didn’t say thank you. Even a brat should have basic manners. ”

But you had said thank you.

You always did your best.

And yet…he always found something wrong. So, you did what felt natural: you apologized.

Every time.

Even when it wasn’t your fault.

Even when he ignored you for hours.

Even when his tail swished in anger and his claws tapped the floor.

Even when you were scared.

Especially then.

Because you knew something deep down Leona wasn’t like other adults. He wasn’t stable.

And he wasn’t always safe.

You were sixteen when it happened.

You were having a good day. You’d finally won first place in art class. You rushed home, clutching your award, cheeks red with pride.

You opened the door and found him pacing.

That was never good.

" ...Where were you? "

You blinked. " At school. I told you I had club today. "

" You didn’t answer your phone. "

" It was on silent— "

" I called you five times. "

The heat in his voice made you freeze. You held up your hands.

" I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— "

“ Why are you always like this? ” His claws clicked. “ You make me look like the bad guy every time. ”

“ What? I wasn’t— ”

“ You disappear. You lie. You play with people who don’t deserve you. You think I don’t see it? ”

He was rambling. Furious. Pacing. Mumbling. His ears were twitching violently now, and his claws had fully extended.

You backed up.

" Leona. Calm down— "

" No. You need to listen for once. "

“ I am listening—! ”

“ Then STOP TALKING! ”

And then it happened.

You don’t even know if he meant it.

You don’t think he knew either.

It was too fast.

The sound of tearing fabric.

Then pain.

Hot, sharp pain.

His claws had slashed across your stomach and chest deep, unforgiving, like a lion swiping prey. You stumbled back, crashing into the wall, your hand instantly soaked in red.

“ …Ah. ”

Your breath caught.

“ …Oh. ” you whispered, knees buckling.

“ y/n— ” Leona’s eyes widened.

“ I’m…sorry.. ” you said softly.

And then you collapsed.

The room went silent. Too silent.

Leona didn’t move.

Not for a long time.

He stared at your body like it wasn’t real. Like you were going to stand up and say it was a prank. Like you were going to call him stupid again and tell him to order takeout because you didn’t feel like cooking.

But you didn’t move.

You didn’t breathe.

You didn’t speak.

And when he stepped closer and saw your eyes still open, still shining with tears.

Still apologizing.

He fell to his knees.

“ …I didn’t mean to. ”

His voice cracked.

“ …I didn’t mean to— ”

He reached out and pulled you into his arms.

Blood soaked into his clothes.

“ I told you not to scare me like that…I told you I get angry. Why didn’t you listen? Why didn’t you stop me? ”

His voice broke.

You didn’t answer.

And maybe that was the first time he realized you never would again.

[deezee112]

I love your 5 final! Will u write something like that? It was so scary ..

Glad you liked it!! And of course, I might keep writing in this style—I've been really into horror movies lately. ( Sorry for scaring you, TT )

[deezee112]

The ending 5 : Sugar Without Sweetness

Masterlist | Ending 4 | Ending 6

Yandere!Platonic!Trey Clover x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : He's a character I really like, but I just couldn't figure out how to write him well. So, I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Warning : Emotional manipulation , Implied obsessive behavior , Non-consensual restraint ( tying someone to a chair ) , Force-feeding , Mild psychological horror , Mentions of loss of bodily autonomy

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Trey. " he said, gentle, his smile mild, practiced. “ And I’ll be taking care of you from now on, alright? ”

You were too young to understand how lonely you had become. All you saw was that the doll your mother gave you the one she chose instead of coming home looked so much like a real person it made your chest twist. He was tall. Neat. Calm.

His hand was warm when he reached out to you. Not like plastic. Not like a toy.

“ Would you like some cake? ” he asked with a pleasant voice.

You blinked up at him, too stunned to nod. But you didn’t run.

Not this time.

You were ten the first time he taught you how to roll dough. His hands hovered gently over yours as you pressed the rolling pin, flour smudging your cheeks and nose. He chuckled, brushing your bangs back with a tender thumb.

“ You’re really good at this. ” he praised, patting your head.

The sugar cookies came out soft and warm, vanilla-scented and perfect.

For a moment, the kitchen felt like a real home. Not empty. Not cold.

Later that night, your mom came home, saw the neatly arranged cookies in heart shapes, and smiled faintly.

“ These look expensive. ” she commented, tasting one. “ You bought them? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Trey stepped in first with a polite laugh. “ No, she made them herself. I just supervised. ”

“ Oh… ” your mom blinked. “ Good job, y/n. ”

That was the only praise you got.

But Trey’s smile didn’t waver. He handed you another cookie and whispered, “ I’m proud of you. ”

You smiled back at him. Just a little.

Trey didn’t get angry.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t lose control.

He corrected.

When you left your room messy, he didn’t raise his voice. He calmly cleaned it for you and said, “ It’s okay. I’ll help you next time. ”

When you forgot to eat, he placed your lunch in front of you and watched until every bite was gone.

When you tried to lock your door once just to be alone for a little while he stood outside it for three hours without moving.

“ Are you okay? ” he asked once you opened it.

You nodded, but your skin prickled.

His eyes were kind. Always kind. But too still. Too deep.

Like water with something sinking beneath.

“ You’re growing so fast. ” he murmured one day while brushing your hair. “ Soon, you’ll be taller than me. ”

You were twelve now. Older. Sharper.

Something in your chest was beginning to ache. You loved him you really did but it felt like loving a shadow that never let you breathe.

He made you bento lunches with your favorite foods. He left notes on your schoolbooks with puns and hearts. But he was always there.

Always.

One day, you forgot to take the lunch he made you and bought food from the school store instead.

That night, the dinner was cold.

He didn’t sit across from you like he usually did.

He just stood at the kitchen counter, silent, washing the dishes before they were even dirty.

You tried to speak.

“ Sorry. I didn’t mean to— ”

“ No, no. ” he interrupted with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “ It’s okay. I just…I guess I thought you liked my cooking. ”

Your throat tightened. “ I do… ”

He turned off the water and looked at you.

There was a pause.

A beat too long.

“ Next time. ” he said gently, “ just let me know if you don’t need me anymore. ”

The day had been silent from the start. No music in the kitchen. No quiet humming. No questions like “ Did you sleep well? ” or “ Want to help me bake today? ”

Only Trey’s slippers brushing over the wooden floor. The click of porcelain. The occasional whistle from the kettle. The house was clean, neat, as always but sterile. Cold.

You had just come back from school, late. Too late.

You’d stayed with a classmate. One of the only ones who smiled at you lately. You’d shared a sandwich and laughed.

When you opened the front door, you found him sitting at the table. Still. Hands clasped. Eyes calm.

“ Trey...? ” you said cautiously.

He looked up, smiling faintly.

“ You’re late. ”

There was no anger in his voice. Just something quieter. Something tight.

You tried to lighten the mood. “ Yeah…I stayed behind. Group project. Sorry I didn’t text. ”

He tilted his head. “ Ah. A group project. ”

“ Yeah.... ”

A long silence passed. The kind where even your breath felt too loud.

Then he said, “ I packed you lunch today. You didn’t eat it. ”

Your stomach twisted.

“ I forgot... ”

Another silence.

You moved to the kitchen, pretending not to notice how his eyes followed you. You were just going to get water. That’s all. But your fingers drifted to the drawer the one where the knives were to cut a pear.

Just a pear.

But then his hand was there. Already on yours.

Not harsh. But firm.

“ Trey—? ”

“ Careful. ” he murmured. “ That’s sharp. ”

“ I wasn’t gonna hurt myself. ”

“ I know. ” His voice was still sweet. “ But sometimes…people don’t know what they’re capable of until it’s too late. ”

You blinked up at him. His face was calm, but his eyes they were studying you. Watching. Too closely.

“ I just wanted fruit.. ”

A pause.

Then his voice, weak. Quiet. “ ...Were you with him? ”

You froze.

“ What? ”

“ The boy. The one who’s been giving you candy every day. ”

You pulled your hand back.

“ He’s just nice to me. Is that a crime? ”

“ No. ” Trey said quickly. “ No. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I thought you liked baking. I thought…we were fine. ”

You didn’t know what to say.

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, but it cracked halfway out. “ Stupid, right? Getting jealous over a kid. ”

“ Trey— ”

“ I didn’t mean to sound controlling. ” he interrupted, voice fragile. “ I know I mess up. But I…I didn’t think you’d pull away like this. ”

You stood there in silence. He looked so pitiful. But something in you couldn’t forget the way he grabbed your wrist. The way his voice got too soft when he was angry.

“ Maybe we need some space... ” you muttered.

He froze.

Then, softly broken “ ...Space? ”

You stepped back.

“ l-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way..! ”

He stared at you for a long, long moment.

And then he smiled.

But this smile was different.

Not kind.

Not sad.

Just…quiet.

It was two nights later.

You woke up dizzy. Head pounding. Ankles burning.

You were tied to a chair. Soft cloth bindings around your wrists and legs. Not rough but tight. Like someone trying to be gentle and controlling at the same time.

“ Trey...? ” you croaked.

He turned from the kitchen, apron tied around his waist, hands dusted with flour.

“ Good morning. ” he said cheerfully. “ You slept a little long, so I made breakfast. ”

Your eyes widened as he approached.

“ Wha—why am I—? ”

“ I panicked. ” he confessed, placing a tray in front of you. “ You said ‘space,’ and I didn’t know what that meant. I thought maybe I was losing you. ”

“ Trey, please untie me— ”

“ I made your favorites. ” he interrupted, forcing a smile. “ Except I changed the recipes. I thought you might like a new twist. Try it, okay? ”

He pressed a spoon to your lips.

You turned your head away.

But he gently held your chin.

“ Come on, y/n.. ” he whispered. “ I made this with love. ”

You took a bite.

And immediately gagged.

You couldn’t tell what it was. The sweetness was bitter. The bitterness was chemical. Like he’d mixed salt with syrup, or something worse.

“ Trey—this is—! ”

“ You used to love my sweets. ” he said quietly. “ You used to smile when I fed you. ”

“ That was before you tied me up! ”

His hand trembled.

But he smiled again.

“ You’re just upset. It’s okay. I’ll stay with you until you feel better. I’ll take care of everything. ”

He forced another spoonful into your mouth.

Then another.

You wanted to scream.

But your throat was full.

Every bite made your stomach churn. Your vision swam. The taste was so awful you wondered if it was even food anymore.

He kept feeding you.

Slowly.

Delicately.

Until your body couldn’t even twitch anymore.

“ I’m sorry.. ” he whispered, kissing your forehead as you slumped against the ropes. “ I’ll do better next time. I’ll make it perfect. Just…don’t ask me for space again, okay? ”

The tray clinked as he set it aside.

The lights dimmed.

He cleaned up the dishes with the same care he always did.

And in the quiet hum of the house, you sat tied in silence the taste of sugar still burning your tongue.

[deezee112]

The ending 4 : Sugar Coated Cage

Masterlist | Ending 3 | Ending 5

Yandere!Platonic!Cater Diamond x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : Some of the inspiration came from The Shining it might not be exactly the same, but I liked it Just kidding, honestly I feel pretty neutral about it haha.

Warning : psychological horror , yandere behavior , emotional manipulation , stalking , mild gore ( non-graphic injury ) , threats of violence , and confinement.

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

“ My name is Cater~! ” he had said brightly, with that casual tilt of his head and that camera-ready smile.

You blinked up at him, arms wrapped tightly around your knees. The gift from your mom sat beside you this lifelike adult-sized doll that could walk, talk, and even smile like a real human.

He looked too real.

And for a long moment, you were too scared to even breathe.

Still, he never pushed too hard. Cater was easy to like, and maybe that was the dangerous part.

He was warm, playful, always knowing just what to say to make you smile, even if you were crying or sulking or not in the mood to talk.

He knew how to coax a laugh out of you with silly jokes, with games, with late-night whispers like “ Don’t tell your mom we stayed up this late, mmkay? ”

But one day, it started to get worse...

" Say cheese~! "

The flash went off before you had time to react. You flinched slightly, blinking at the brightness as Cater held the phone up with his signature beaming smile.

You sat stiffly beside him on the couch, still in your pajamas. Hair messy. Sleep in your eyes. You hadn't even brushed your teeth.

“ …Cater ” you mumbled, voice flat. “ Did you have to take it now? ”

“ Of course! Morning selfies are so in right now, y/n~! ” he grinned. “ Besides, you’re cute even when you’re groggy. Natural beauty, I swear! ”

He tapped rapidly on his screen, and you didn’t even have to ask what he was doing. He’d already uploaded it.

With a cheesy caption like " #MorningMood with my favorite person~! #MatchingHearts #y/nAndCater4Ever "

It always made your chest feel weird.

Not exactly uncomfortable. But not exactly…warm either.

“ Do you have to post every photo? ” you asked quietly, hugging your knees up to your chest. “ Even the ones where I’m not ready? ”

He gave you that look again half offended, half confused, like you’d asked something cruel.

“ Hey, hey, hey, don’t say stuff like that. ” he said, nudging you with his shoulder. “ They love seeing you. You know how many likes you got on our last twinning post? It blew up! And look— ” he swiped his phone to show you— “ see this comment? ‘y/n looks so chill and soft! I want a bond like this with my bestie!’ Isn’t that sweet? ”

You forced a smile.

Yeah. Sweet.

But…

You glanced around the room.

Two mugs. Identical designs.

Two toothbrushes. Matching colors.

Two bathrobes. Same pattern.

Same pajamas.

Same glasses.

Same phone cases one that said “ Ca ” and the other “ y/n ” shaped like puzzle pieces.

He had even changed his wallpaper to a picture of you sleeping.

You didn’t even remember him taking it.

He noticed your silence and leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“ You’re thinking too much again. ” he murmured. “ You always get that little crinkle in your brow when you overthink. Relax, babe. This is just how close we are, right? ”

You looked down at your hands. Your new phone rested in your lap gifted to you just last week on your birthday. He had thrown you a small party. Just the two of you. Balloons in your favorite color. A cake with your face and his printed on top.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had privacy.

He always popped in with a camera. Always filming something. Always posting.

Your friends at school had even started calling you “ Cater’s Twin ” more than your own name.

You tried to pull away, but his hand gently wrapped around your wrist.

“ Hey. You okay? ” His voice was sweet, soft, low. “ You know I only do this because I love you, right? ”

You hesitated.

“ …Cater. Do I…do I get to have things of my own? ”

He tilted his head, confused. “ What do you mean? ”

“ Like…my own clothes. My own room. My own phone background. Stuff that doesn’t have you in it. ”

There was a long, long pause.

Then, with the smallest smile tight around the edges he said, “ But why would you want that, y/n? ”

You didn’t answer.

Not out loud.

But you looked out the window, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like a stranger in your own reflection....

One day, you decided to invite a friend over to your house. She was someone who was always full of energy maybe even a little loud at times. You didn’t tell Cater that you were having someone over, and you figured he wouldn’t really mind.

The two of you watched movies and even played games together until it got late. You had so much fun. You’d never really had a friend before Cater was your friend too, of course, but you saw him more like an older brother than just a friend. After a while, you waved her goodbye, then went to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.

You were brushing your teeth when the notification sound rang. You didn’t pay attention at first it was probably just another of Cater’s posts. Maybe a filtered picture of the strawberry milk you both drank this morning or that matching bucket hat he insisted on buying “ for the aesthetic. ”

You spat, rinsed, and glanced at your phone screen out of habit.

1 New Message – Cater~

Your fingers hesitated. Lately, something about him had started to feel...off. Not dangerous at least not at first. But strange. There were times he’d look at you and mumble things under his breath. You couldn't quite catch what he said, but it never felt like something meant for your ears.

You unlocked the phone.

The message read

“ hey y/n~ your friend smells different than you. like cheap shampoo. she sat on your bed. did you wash the sheets yet? ”

You froze.

Your throat tightened like you’d swallowed a stone. There was no emoji, no heart, no sparkle sticker. Just that one message, raw and quiet and wrong.

You hadn’t told him your friend was coming over.

The room spun slightly. You held your breath, rereading the text, trying to tell yourself it was just a joke. But something deep inside your stomach twisted with cold, slow dread.

Your hands trembled. You walked out of the bathroom and down the hall, back into your room, eyes flickering across every corner. Your gaze landed on your phone case. The one Cater gave you. Matching cases. He even called them “ couple cases. ” then laughed and said, “ Just kidding unless? ”

You swallowed hard.

“ Cater...? ” you called quietly, not expecting an answer, hoping not to get one.

There was no reply.

You glanced toward the guest room where your friend had left her bag earlier. You didn’t know if you wanted her to stay over anymore.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, your phone buzzed again. Another message.

“ do you like her more than me? why did you smile so much when she was here? :) ”

Your skin crawled.

It wasn’t just the words it was how closely he was watching. How well he could read you. You remembered earlier that day, when you smiled at your friend, laughing over some dumb meme.

And then something clicked.

He must’ve taken a photo of you both. The angle the bed his height it lined up.

A creeping sensation crawled up your spine like a spider’s leg. You turned slowly, eyes scanning the shelves, the dresser, the small gap under your desk.

How many pictures did he have?

The next afternoon, the air in the house was still. You tried to ignore the growing discomfort, telling yourself it was just a rough patch. Cater was weird sometimes intense, maybe but he’d always been sweet.

Always kind.

Until now.

You sat on the couch, the television playing something you weren’t paying attention to. Your phone lay on the cushion beside you, untouched, silent.

Then you heard it.

Footsteps.

Soft, deliberate, approaching the room.

He appeared in the doorway. That familiar boyish grin on his face. His hands were behind his back.

“ Heyyyy, y/n~ ” he sang softly. “ Whatcha doin’? You’re so quiet today… ”

You offered a stiff smile. “ Just watching something. ”

“ Without me? ” he pouted, stepping in. “ Rude~ ”

His voice tried to be playful, but there was an edge to it. His eyes sparkled, too focused. He sat beside you, a little too close.

“ Did you have fun with your friend earlier? ” he asked, head tilting to the side. “ She seemed…noisy. ”

You hesitated. “ Yeah, it was nice. ”

Cater’s smile didn’t falter. But it sharpened.

“ I saw you laughed a lot. ”

There was silence.

Then he leaned in, whispering, “ I like it more when you laugh with me, you know? ”

You shifted away slightly. “ I guess I laugh with everyone. ”

He chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “ No, y/n. Not everyone deserves your smile. ”

He stood suddenly.

And that’s when you saw it.

In his hand.

A pair of scissors.

You froze.

His tone dropped into a whisper. “ Let’s play hide and seek. ”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “ W-What? ”

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“ You run. I count. ”

“ Cater…I don’t want to play— ”

“ One. ” he said softly.

You stood up.

“ Two. ”

You ran.

Your bare feet hit the stairs hard. Behind you, you heard his voice echo softly.

“ Three… ”

You slipped once, scrambled up, and ducked into the nearest room the study. You shut the door quietly and locked it, your breath shallow, heart in your throat.

The room was dark.

You felt for the light switch.

The overhead bulb flickered on.

And that’s when you saw it.

Photos. All over the walls.

You.

Everywhere.

You brushing your teeth.

You sleeping.

You in class. How did he even get that?

And then your friend.

The exact moment she stepped into your room.

Your breath caught.

There was no camera in your room. Or so you thought.

When had he—?

A noise interrupted your thoughts.

Creaaak.

The sound of a door opening.

Then slow footsteps. Floorboards moaning under the weight.

You froze.

A knock.

“ y/n? ” came his voice. Soft. Gentle.

You didn’t answer.

Another knock.

“ y/n. ” he repeated, a little more serious now. “ Come on, open the door. ”

You covered your mouth, sinking to the floor.

Then his voice changed.

“ Open the door. NOW. ”

Your fingers dug into your arms. Still silent.

A pause.

Then calm again. “ Okay…If you want to stay in there, stay in there. ”

The footsteps faded.

You almost cried in relief.

Then CRACK.

The door shook violently.

You screamed.

“ Y/N! ”

He was hitting it with something heavy. A hammer? A chair?

You scrambled back, searching for anything anything.

A pen.

You grabbed it.

His hand reached through a splintered gap in the door—

You stabbed.

A scream.

The hand retreated.

And then silence.

A soft whimper from the other side.

“ y/n…why…? ” he sobbed. “ Why’d you do that? I love you…I’m just trying to keep you safe… ”

You didn’t answer.

Then, in the distance—

Sirens.

Police.

The neighbors must’ve heard.

You sat there, trembling, heart pounding in your chest, as the wail of sirens grew louder and louder, until the only sound left was Cater’s voice, broken, screaming your name.

[deezee112]

Oooo! Mira! Number 28 for skully? Or 45 for Riddle? It fits so well.🤭

AAAAA both are so perfect!!!! The urge to write more Skully is so strong, but that prompt for Riddle is too delicious to pass up!!! OTL

(cw: yandere, female reader, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, character death, decapitation, violence, descriptions of blood/gore, pastoral fantasy gone wrong,,, basically you and riddle are married and you live on a farm)

(monstrously yandere prompts)

He's yelling at you again.

It's about that uncouth butcher in town, the one your husband has told you to keep away from on countless occasions, lest he sneak you a cigarette and get you addicted to the sleazy sides of an impoverished life. He's the one who smokes recklessly and spends his days gutting pigs, cleaning cuts of meat, casing sausages...all without an education to his name, a most damning sin by all accounts. He's nothing but bad news, and Riddle is a firm believer that these types of people will cause irreparable ruin to one's social circle and reputation should they be let in.

He gets this narrow-minded view from his mother, though he's loath to admit it. According to the Rosehearts's, if you don't press your nose to a book and use your brain for something useful, what good are you in society?

When you were of age, your father was more than pleased to pair you with Riddle, who came from a respectable family. Mrs. Rosehearts wasn't very approving. Rather, she found someone like you—a farmer's daughter—wholly unacceptable for her son. "Those farmgirls can't be trusted," she would remark in a criticizing tone. "They're always rolling around with unsavory folks. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already loose."

If it was up to you, you'd have accepted the wilted wildflower from the butcher and allowed him to pin the bejeweled brooch (something that took him months to save up for) to your lapel. You would've wed him right there after he'd poked your cheek and said, "Ya don't gotta be the perfect, li'l wife everyone's expectin'. Just cuz someone says ya gotta do somethin', it doesn't mean ya gotta listen."

He was so sweet. Blood-speckled apron be damned. You couldn't care less about the stench of gore that seemed to stick to his person. You'd let him cradle your face with the same hands that rifled around in a pig's guts just moments prior.

Unfortunately, that was not the hand you'd been dealt. The farm was getting difficult to manage. Debtors were on your father like flies to a corpse. If you couldn't marry wealthy soon, you'd lose the farm.

So you brushed the whimsical butcher off and submitted to the role of Perfect, Submissive Wife. But not so much that you would outshine Mrs. Rosehearts's brilliant son. You just needed to be respectable enough so that you wouldn't tarnish his namesake and all he had accomplished.

Your life ended the moment he slid the wedding band on your finger, in that tiny church on a stifling summer's day, where the cicadas cried out in mourning for you and the husband you'd lost.

And now he's yelling at you, like he always does when you've deviated from his view of what a Perfect, Submissive Wife ought to be. Really, you just think he feels threatened by the butcher and his strange charms.

"I've told you time and time again—you mustn't socialize with that troublesome man!" he's saying, pacing in front of you. His face is so red it reminds you of a newborn piglet, a squealing thing so slick with blood and birth fluid it's rose-tinged. He's never raised a hand to you, but then that means nothing when his admonishments are like a verbal slap to the cheek each time. "And what do you do when you've a moment to yourself? You disobey, you ignore, you act as if this behavior perfectly acceptable! Have you no regard for the rules?!"

The rules. Oh, you're intimately acquainted with them. Every single rule tacked onto the portrait of a marriage so flimsy it's nearly in tatters. For every rule you've broken and been scolded for in turn, you learn three more that hadn't been there before.

With a huff, Riddle smooths his hair and tries to level his voice. He doesn't need to. You're on a farm; the lands sprawl endlessly onwards. No one is around to hear his maltreatment of you.

"I must keep better watch of you or—well, who knows?—you might find yourself in his bed next! I won't allow it."

"And what of it?" It slips out without your meaning to. "At least he'll provide me with the love and care you're so incapable of showing! Maybe I oughta make him my husband instead. You can go off and marry some obedient city girl and she'll make you and your mama proud because she won't be used goods!"

If Riddle had been running hot before, he was scalding-mad now.

You stand there and listen to the tirade and, at some point, the words aren't even registering. It's all noisy static, grinding your senses into a fine paste. You imagine your brain being squeezed into sausage links.

"To have raised such an insolent daughter! I pity your father."

You hear that. Loud and clear.

Your father, who only ever did his best in the wake of your mother's passing.

Your father, who just wanted to keep the farm.

Your father, who died grieving the circumstances that led him to force such an unhappy life onto you.

When you shut your eyes and open them, you can't see a thing.

But you feel the heavy, familiar weight in your hands. You feel your fingers curl into the wood handle. You feel your shoulders scream in exhilaration, in perfect harmony with your wild heart, as you life the axe above your head.

You feel hot, sticky blood splatter your face and clothes. You think you hear someone give a strangled, gurgled sort of shout, but they're all the way at the other end of a tunnel.

And then there's another scream. Shrill and animalistic, like the shriek of a sow giving birth.

You scream because finally it's over.

Because, finally, you're free.

When you come to, the hall is a mess and your father's prized axe has come off its mount on the wall. Thin slivers of skin stick to the sharpened blade, colored a gruesome carmine from where you hacked and hacked at the stump of a neck.

Your husband lies in a pile of ruin on the floor, his head separated from his shoulders, his spine in broken, porcelain pieces. Its rolled a ways off, lolled against the flower-printed wall, a thick trail of blood in its wake. You stare at the scene from a far-off vantage point. The pulp of sinew and flesh speckle the tiled floor and, strangely, you realize you've done the worst possible thing.

You've made a mess.

Gingerly, you rest the axe against the wall and step over the smattering of gore to stand over your husband.

"Riddle? I... I didn't mean to hurt you," you whisper, bending down to press your palm to his chest. His headless body gives a little twitch, fingers curling slightly, as if he's about to defend himself from the swift, merciless beheading. "I just wanted you to stop screaming at me..."

He's stiff like a stillborn piglet, but very faintly you feel the sluggish, dying beats of his heart.

Your lips part in silent amazement.

Headless, and yet his heart still beats. Whether it's for you, you can't say.

Swiping the blood from your cheek, you heft the axe up and bring it down on his chest. He spasms again and then he falls still, his heart never to beat again.

You don't want the rhythm to bleed into the floorboards.

That would just be plain irresponsible.

[deezee112]

Stupid meme @kimdourden and I thought of.

[deezee112]

The ending 3 : Fractured Reflections

Masterlist | Ending 2 | Ending 4

Yandere!Platonic!Deuce Spade x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : Hey, just wanted to say—whatever the ending is in the first part, that’s how it ends, whether it’s good or bad. Alright, time to get back to work.

Warning : emotional instability , toxic behavior , and accidental violence leading to severe injury.

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Deuce. " he said, his voice awkward but warm, a hint of nervousness lacing his words.

You stare at him, still hidden beneath the blanket, your small hands clutching the fabric. He looks no different from a tall man with dark blue hair and an air of unease. His eyes are gentle almost kind but there’s something feral beneath them. A quiet storm struggling to stay restrained.

“ D-Deuce…? ” you whispered, and the name felt strange but comforting on your tongue.

“ Yeah! That’s me! ” He smiled, a little too wide, trying to seem friendly but ending up looking even more nervous. “ Uh…want me to help you with anything? I’m…I’m actually pretty good at stuff! ”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded slowly.

And so it began. Deuce was like a clumsy but well-meaning big brother. He’d help you with your homework at least, he tried to. Most of the time, you ended up staring at the same math problem together, neither of you understanding it.

“ I-I think it’s, uh…seven? ” he’d say, scratching his head.

“ It’s multiplication, Deuce. Seven times four… ”

“ Oh, right! I knew that! It’s, um…twenty…twenty-eight? ” he’d finally get it, and you’d laugh, a small, shy giggle that always made his worried face light up.

He wasn’t perfect far from it. Sometimes he’d drop things, accidentally tearing your favorite book while trying to put it away. He’d promise to teach you how to draw, only to end up with messy scribbles that even he laughed at.

But he tried.

And whenever he messed up, he tried to make it right. When he broke your favorite glass in a fit of frustration, you stared, wide-eyed, as the pieces scattered across the floor.

“ Huh…? ” you mumbled, stunned.

Deuce’s face turned pale. “ I-I didn’t mean to! It just— I was just— ” His voice cracked, and he immediately grabbed a broom, his hands shaking as he swept up the broken glass. “ Don’t worry! I’ll—I’ll get you a new one! I promise! ”

The next day, he brought you a new glass. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t have the little stars etched on it like your old one. But he handed it to you, his eyes wide and pleading. “ I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to… ”

You wanted to be angry, but you saw how his hands trembled, how his gaze never left your face, searching for even the smallest sign of forgiveness.

And you smiled. “ It’s okay, Deuce. ”

His shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. “ Thanks, y/n! I promise, I won’t mess up again! ”

But he always did.

Deuce was good he really was. But only in his mind.

Sometimes he got mad. Mad at small things. Mad at you when you forgot something. Mad at himself when he couldn’t help you. His voice would rise, his fists clenching, his eyes burning with frustration.

But he always tried to apologize. He’d always come back, his head bowed, his voice trembling.

“ I didn’t mean it, y/n…I’m sorry… ”

And you always forgave him. Because that’s what friends did, right?

But then one rainy evening, everything changed.

The sky was dark, raindrops tapping against the windows like a thousand tiny fingers. You were in the living room, trying to finish your homework. The numbers swam before your eyes, a dull ache pounding in your head.

“ I don’t get it… ” you whispered, your pencil tapping nervously on the paper.

Deuce leaned over your shoulder, his brows furrowed. “ It’s…just addition, right? You just… you know, add them together! ”

“ But I keep messing up… ”

“ It’s not that hard! ” His voice was sharper than usual. “ I mean, come on, y/n! Even I can do this! ”

Your shoulders tensed. “ I’m trying, but I don’t understand! ”

“ Then try harder! ” he snapped, slamming his hand on the table.

The sound echoed in the room, louder than the rain outside.

Your chest tightened. “ Deuce, please… ”

“ Please, please, please! ” he mocked, his voice rising. “ You always say that! ‘Deuce, help me! Deuce, I can’t!’ Well, maybe I can’t help you either! Maybe I’m just— ”

“ Stop it! ” you shouted, tears welling in your eyes.

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t see the fear in your eyes. He didn’t hear the quiver in your voice. He just saw red.

“ Fine! ” he yelled, grabbing the workbook and hurling it across the room. “ Fine! Maybe you’re just too dumb to— ”

His words froze in his throat.

You were crying. Quiet, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, your hands trembling.

“ I hate this…I hate this… ” you whispered, backing away from him. “ Why are you always like this…? ”

His expression twisted—shock, regret, but also something darker. “ I-I didn’t mean—y/n, I— ”

But you were already running. Running to your room, slamming the door shut. Curling up on your bed, pulling the blanket over your head, trying to drown out the thunder of the rain and the sound of your own sobs.

Outside, you heard his footsteps, his panicked knocking.

“ y/n! Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please, let me in! ” His voice cracked, breaking. “ y/n… please… ”

But you didn’t answer.

The rain didn’t stop for days. Each drop was a steady, cold reminder of his voice, his anger.

You avoided him. Whenever he came into the room, you looked away. When he tried to speak, you stayed silent.

It was only a few days later that he finally broke.

“ y/n, please…I can’t take it…Please talk to me.. ” he whispered, kneeling by your bed. His eyes were red, dark shadows beneath them. “ Please… ”

And you looked at him, saw the guilt etched on his face, the way his hands shook. You didn’t feel angry anymore. Just…tired.

“ It’s okay, Deuce.. ” you whispered.

He smiled, but there was a hollowness in it. “ R-Really? You mean it? ”

You nodded.

But something was different. His smiles didn’t seem as bright. His jokes fell flat. Even when he messed up, you just stared, quiet, like you were waiting for something to break.

And then it did.

You were in the living room, trying to reach a book on the top shelf. The room was dim, the rainclouds outside casting gray shadows across the walls. Deuce was by the window, struggling with the old lamp that had been flickering for days.

“ Stupid thing…why won’t it just work? ” he muttered, jiggling the cord, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“ Deuce, maybe just leave it. We can get a new one.. ” you suggested, your voice soft, trying not to sound afraid.

“ No! I can fix it! I can do this! ” he snapped, tugging at the cord again.

“ Deuce, please, you’re going to— ”

“ I know what I’m doing! ”

The next second happened in a blur.

The cord snapped. The lamp, heavy and solid, slipped from his grip, crashing down. Instinctively, you stepped forward just as it swung, the base striking you hard across the side of your head.

A sharp, blinding pain exploded through your skull. Your vision went white, then dark. Your knees buckled, and the world spun.

“ y/n! ” Deuce’s voice was a distant echo, warped and panicked. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “ No, no, no—this can’t—y/n! Open your eyes! Please! ”

The pain was sharp, but then…a numb, cold feeling settled over you. Your body felt heavy, your thoughts sluggish. You wanted to say something, to tell him it hurt, to tell him you were scared…

But nothing came out.

“ y/n…y/n, please… ” His voice was cracking, his tears dripping onto your cheek. “ It’s not that bad, right? It’s not that bad…please…I can fix it…I’ll fix you, too…just—just wake up! ”

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Could only hear his desperate, trembling words, fading into a distant murmur.

Darkness crept in, a heavy, silent curtain, muffling everything.

And then…nothing.

Deuce sits beside your bed, his hands clutching a bloodstained towel.

“ Please…wake up…I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… ”

But you didn’t move.

No matter how many times he apologized, you didn’t answer.

No matter how much he begged, you never opened your eyes.

“ I killed you…again… ” he whispered, his voice hollow, his tears endless.

And the rain outside never stopped.

[deezee112]

Just wanted to let everyone know that from now on, I'll be changing my update schedule. I used to post every three days, but now it’ll be every four to five days instead.

Lately, life has been pretty hectic with things going on at home, university, and work. I want to focus on my real life first, and I’ll update whenever I get some free time. If things settle down, I might go back to updating every three days. But for now, it’s going to be every 4–5 days.

Thanks for understanding!

[deezee112]

The ending 2 : The Broken Jester

Masterlist | Ending 1 | Ending 3

Yandere!Platonic!Ace Trappola x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : I just wanted to say that the ending where no one dies isn't all that exciting, but from the looks of it, I might end up doing it soon anyway.

Warning : Emotional Manipulation , Obsessive Behavior , Panic Attack and Overreaction , Implied Childhood Neglect

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Ace. " he said, flashing a grin that seemed to light up the room.

You stared at him, still clutching the edge of your blanket, unsure whether to smile back or keep hiding.

He didn’t seem to mind your hesitation. In fact, he leaned a little closer, winking like he had just shared a secret.

“ You know, like an ace in a deck of cards? The best one. Or…the worst one, depending on how you use it. ” His laughter was light, carefree, and you felt a small, nervous smile tug at your lips.

“ Ace… ” you whispered, testing the name on your tongue.

“ Yep! So, little buddy, wanna know something fun? ” he asked, dropping to a crouch beside your bed. His expression was bright, mischievous. “ If you ever get bored, just say the word, and I’ll teach you the coolest card tricks. The ones that make all the losers go ‘Whoa, how did you do that?!’ ”

He seemed so different nothing like the other adults you knew. Loud, but not in a scary way. Pushy, but somehow…fun.

And so your life with Ace began. It was never boring. He was always there, always grinning, always full of ideas.

“ C’mon, y/n! Let’s have ice cream for breakfast! ”

“ Can’t do your math homework? Just skip it! Or better yet, let’s cheat— ”

“ Oh, you’re still stuck? Don’t worry, little genius, Ace will save you! ”

He taught you card tricks, jokes that made you giggle, silly pranks you tried ( and failed ) on your parents. He turned your quiet, lonely world into a whirlwind of noise and laughter.

But the laughter wasn’t always gentle.

“ Wow, y/n, you messed up again? You’re like a magnet for trouble, huh? ”

“ You really think you’ll be good at that? Oh, please! ”

“ Don’t be so boring, crybaby. Can’t take a joke? ”

Sometimes his words were too sharp, like the edge of a playing card slicing your fingers. You laughed at first, tried to play along. You told yourself it was just his way of being funny.

But over time, the laughs hurt a little more.

You tried telling him once. “ Ace, that’s mean… ”

“ Mean? C’mon, don’t be a baby, y/n. It’s just a joke! ” he chuckled, ruffling your hair.

But it didn’t feel like a joke.

Your parents didn’t help. When you told them, they brushed it off, smiling. “ It’s good you have someone who keeps you company. ” they said. “ You’re lucky. ”

Lucky?

Was this what being lucky felt like?

The only thing Ace ever took seriously was knives.

You didn’t understand it at first. Every time you reached for one, he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“ Whoa, whoa! What do you think you’re doing? ” He’d grab the knife from your hand, his grin fading for a second.

“ I was just trying to cut the apples— ”

“ Nope! No knives for you, little troublemaker. ” he’d say, trying to laugh it off. But his eyes stayed sharp, his hand gripping the knife a little too tight.

At first, you thought he was just playing, like everything else he did. But over time, you noticed how his smile wavered, how his fingers shook ever so slightly when he put the knife away.

“ You’re too clumsy for this stuff, y/n. Don’t even try. ” he’d insist, but his voice would be softer, almost pleading.

So you stopped trying. You let him handle the cooking, the cutting, the dangerous things.

But then, one day, it happened.

You were in the kitchen, trying to help prepare lunch. Ace wasn’t around probably off playing one of his silly games again. You grabbed a small paring knife, careful, just like you’d seen him do.

But it slipped.

The sharp edge caught your palm, a thin, stinging line of red blooming on your skin.

You hissed in pain, but it wasn’t terrible. You grabbed a tissue, pressing it against the wound. It was just a scratch. Nothing big. Nothing to panic over.

But then you heard the door open.

“ y/n, I got this super cool— ” Ace’s voice cut off.

He saw the knife on the floor, the red stain on the tissue in your hand.

For a moment, he didn’t breathe.

Then he was in front of you, gripping your shoulders, his face pale. “ What—what happened? Are you hurt? Did you—? Did it—? ”

“ It’s nothing.. ” you tried to say, but your voice was too soft. “ It’s just a scratch— ”

“ Scratch? ” His voice was loud, too loud. “ No, no, no! This is why I told you—this is why you never— ” His hands were shaking now, his eyes wide, frantic.

“ I’m fine, Ace! ” you insisted, but he wasn’t listening.

“ No!! you’re not—let me see, let me— ” He pulled the tissue away, staring at the thin line of blood like it was a fatal wound. His breathing grew faster, and his grip on your arm tightened.

“ It’s not bad— ” you tried to pull away, but his fingers only dug in harder.

“ Ace, you’re hurting me— ”

“ I’m not—! I just— ” His voice was breaking, panic and something else twisting his words. “ Why? Why didn’t you listen? Why didn’t you wait for me? ”

“ I’m not a baby! ” you cried, fear lacing your voice now. “ I can do things myself! ”

“ No, you can’t! ” he yelled, and suddenly, his voice broke completely. “ You can’t—because what if—what if I lose you—what if you— ”

Then the world spun.

You backed up, your heel catching the edge of the chair leg. You stumbled, fell backward, and the chair crashed down with you. Pain flared in your side, but you barely noticed.

Because Ace screamed.

“ No—No! y/n! ” He was kneeling beside you, his hands hovering over you like he didn’t know where to touch. “ Did it hurt? Is it broken? Your head—your— ”

“ Ace, stop! ” you shouted, trying to sit up. “ I’m fine! I’m fine! ”

But he wasn’t fine.

Tears were streaming down his face, his expression twisted in horror. “ I didn’t mean to—I never meant to—I can’t— ”

You tried to reach for him, but he grabbed your hand, clinging to it like a lifeline.

“ I’m sorry—I’m sorry—don’t leave—please don’t— ”

Your parents’ footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“ Ace, what on earth are you doing? ” your father’s voice snapped, annoyed.

“ She’s hurt—she’s hurt because of me—I’m so— ”

“ She’s fine. Get out of the way. ”

But Ace didn’t let go, crying harder, his grip hurting your hand.

“ Get out! ” your father snapped, grabbing Ace’s shoulder and dragging him out of the room.

Ace didn’t fight. He didn’t even look up. He just kept crying, his voice breaking, whispering the same words over and over.

“ I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m sorry… ”

And for the first time, you felt something heavy in your chest. Not fear, not pain but a cold, aching sadness.

Why did it feel like he was the one who was hurt?

[deezee112]

My state after posting a dark image and making readers guess whether it's a happy ending or a bad ending :

[deezee112]

The ending 1 : Crimson Threads of Care

Masterlist | Introduction | Ending 2

Yandere!Platonic!riddle rosehearts x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : Took me a while I’ve been pretty stressed lately, but I finally managed to get it done! Haha. Personally, I’ve been feeling kinda bored and uninspired, so it might not be my best work. Do you think this’ll turn out to be a happy ending or a bad ending? Hope you enjoy reading it!

Warning : Emotional Manipulation , Emotional Abuse , Physical Violence ( Accidental ) , Panic and Desperation , Blood and Injury , Deja vu

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

“ My name is Riddle. ”

His voice was steady, clear, and a little too formal for the quiet room. He spoke like someone used to giving instructions, his words carefully chosen. And when he smiled a small, polite smile it felt like a carefully wrapped gift.

You tilted your head slightly, still half-wrapped in your blanket.

“ Riddle…? ”

“ Yes. ” he nodded, his voice gentle.

You stared at him, your fear melting just a little at how calmly he spoke. You thought a name might make him less strange, but instead, it made him feel real. Like someone who existed beyond this room.

“ …Okay. ”

From that moment, he was everywhere in your life.

At first, it felt almost like having a much older brother one who never seemed to leave your side. He woke you up in the morning with a quiet knock on your door, gently reminding you to brush your teeth before breakfast. He watched you carefully as you held your spoon, correcting your posture with a light touch on your shoulder.

“ Straighten your back. Good. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Wonderful. ”

It was nice. Safe. Sometimes even fun.

He taught you things math problems you didn’t understand, words you stumbled over in your books, how to tie your shoelaces perfectly without them coming undone. He was a teacher and a friend, all at once.

But he had rules.

Always rules.

“ Don’t forget to greet your parents when they come home, even if they’re late. ”

“ Be polite to your classmates, even if they’re rude. ”

“ Clean up your room before you leave. ”

You didn’t mind at first. His rules made you feel like someone was paying attention. Like someone cared. You tried your best to follow them.

But sometimes you slipped.

You were a child, after all.

One night, you were too sleepy to remember putting your books away. You left them scattered across your desk, your pencils rolling off the edge. When Riddle saw them, his expression changed sharp, tense.

“ y/n ” he said, his voice tight, “ You didn’t clean up your desk. ”

“ I—I forgot… ” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“ Forgot? Again? ” He crossed his arms. “ This is the third time this week. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? ”

His tone was sharp, like a teacher’s scolding. It made your chest feel tight.

“ I’m sorry… ” you whispered, but he wasn’t done.

“ Sorry isn’t enough if you don’t learn. How can you expect to be a proper, responsible person if you can’t follow even the simplest of rules? ”

The words stung. You stared at your feet, eyes burning.

But then, as quickly as it came, his anger faded. His shoulders relaxed, and his frown softened.

“ I just…I don’t want you to grow up undisciplined. ” he murmured, reaching out to pat your head. “ You’re a smart child, y/n. I know you can do better. ”

You nodded, but something about his tone still lingered, like a cold breeze that wouldn’t quite go away.

Days turned to weeks, and you did your best to follow Riddle’s rules. You smiled when he praised you, read quietly when he asked you to, and ate neatly with your spoon, even when you didn’t feel like it.

But his scoldings came more often now.

Once, you spilled juice on the table by accident. His voice snapped like a whip.

“ Be careful! How many times do I have to tell you? Clean up after yourself! ”

You rushed to grab a cloth, your hands shaking slightly. He didn’t help he just watched, his arms crossed, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

But he was still kind in his own way. When you finished, he patted your head again, his fingers gentle.

“ Remember, I only want what’s best for you. ”

You nodded. You always nodded.

But part of you started to feel like you were walking on a tightrope always one mistake away from another scolding.

Then came the worst day.

It started like any other. Riddle was teaching you a new recipe simple cookies, nothing too difficult. You were excited, stirring the batter and watching as he carefully measured the flour.

“ Not too much. Remember, precision is key. ” he reminded you.

“ Yes, Riddle.. ” you said, smiling.

But something went wrong.

Maybe the oven was too hot. Maybe you measured the sugar wrong. The cookies came out dark and bitter.

Riddle’s face fell.

“ You…didn’t follow the instructions? ” he asked, his voice clipped.

“ I—I did…I thought I did… ”

“ No. If you did, this wouldn’t have happened. ” he insisted, his tone rising. “ y/n, I taught you better than this! Were you even listening? Or did you just ignore everything I said? ”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you didn’t want him to see. “ I’m sorry, Riddle— ”

“ Sorry? You’re always sorry! ” He slammed his hand against the counter, the sudden noise like thunder.

You flinched.

He didn’t notice. His anger was a storm, sweeping everything away. “ Every time I try to help you, you just—just— ”

His hand swung out, not even aimed at you, just an angry gesture but you were too close.

His knuckles grazed your shoulder, sending you stumbling back. You hit the edge of the kitchen counter with a sharp crack. Pain shot through your head. The world spun.

For a moment, everything went still.

Then you felt warmth running down your scalp, and you touched your head. Your fingers came away wet and red.

And that’s when you started crying.

“ y/n—! ” Riddle’s voice cracked, the anger draining from his face. “ No…No, no, no…This—this can’t— ”

His hands hovered over you, panicking, not sure what to do.

“ I’m sorry—no, please, I didn’t mean— ” His voice was breaking now, shaking. “ I won’t—this won’t happen again— ”

But you didn’t dare look at him. You pulled away, crawling toward the doorway.

“ y/n, please! ” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “ Don’t…don’t leave me…I’m so—so sorry— ”

His voice choked, and suddenly, he was crying.

Crying like a child, his hands covering his face. His sobs shook the room. “ Please…Please don’t go…I can’t…I didn’t mean— ”

Something twisted in your chest. Fear, pity, and something else you didn’t understand.

“ …Okay, okay, I won’t go! ” you blurted, desperate to make it stop.

Riddle’s tears didn’t stop immediately, but he reached for the first aid kit with shaking hands. He bandaged your head, whispering apologies between soft, choked sobs.

After a long silence, you whispered.

“ …Why did you say it can’t happen again? ”

Riddle froze. Then he looked away, his eyes hidden behind his hair.

“ It doesn’t matter.. ” he muttered, his voice tense. “ You should rest. You…You should rest. ”

But you saw the way his hands trembled. And you wondered if he was more afraid of himself than you were.

[deezee112]

Modern Monster!Twst : Savanaclaw

Warnings: Murder, Blood, Reader makes fun of Leona, They all carry you, attempted imprisonment, Obsession, They’re all really touchy

Your fingers silence your phone, the caller ID on top telling you that evil incarnate’s little workers are calling you. Despite doing that, your phone still lights every time they call. With a sigh, you put down the camera in need of repair, and face the other way, finally answering them.

The sound of Savanaclaw’s Savana serve as unnerving background noise. Occasionally, it sounds like there’s breathing. But that just can’t be.

“Would you all stop?!”

“Oh, so now they finally answer.” You can hear Ace and his attitude drip through the speaker, whispers in the background making it obvious he’s not alone. Better yet—

“I hear plastic wrapping— Are you all eating my food?!”

“Yeah we are.” Despite the quick chain of no’s and don’t do that, they continue. Obviously they’re not satisfied though, as you can hear Deuce in the background say he wants to be grateful, but it just doesn’t quite compare to regular… “anyway, Riddle wants to talk to you.”

“You all forget, I live on the salary of one person—! Hi Riddle.”

“I insist you get out of there as soon as you can.”

Silently, you look around. The tall grass sway back and forth, ever so whistling as it moves. It’s dark.

And you have no ride back home.

Your friend was also murdered by some mysterious entities, but that doesn’t matter because you have no ride!!

“Yeah, I don’t think I can do that…”

“Why?” Truth be told, that sounds more like a statement than a question, but you answer nonetheless.

“… Someone— Something, killed my ride back… And they’re the only one who knows how to get back to the car…” you can hear Riddle sigh on the other line, placing the phone down on a table.

“Stay there, I’m coming—“ oh he’s doing that. Occasionally, in your moment(s) of need, Riddle or Cater simply, jump out of your phone. Somehow, someway, they can do that. And he’s doing it to save you! How great—

Your phone dies before you can see his transparency come out of your screen.

“Ah—! No, no no…!” You ball a fist, hitting the screen as you desperately try to turn it back on. You’re about to bang it on the floor before you remember how much it costs to buy a new one. Reluctantly, you put it back in your pocket. You’re still squatting on the floor, drooping your head in defeat.

But the creatures of night here seem just as restless. And you have no idea if you’ll get as lucky as you did when you met the others.

Maybe, they’re the only monsters that exist! They must be lying about others on to scare you! Yeah! Yeah—!

“Shishishi, seems a stray came into his majesty’s kingdom!” The feeling of clawed hands pierce into your arms, the scent of blood seeping into your nostrils. You can feel it stab its claws into your skin, but you’re too scared to turn around and face it.

… Shishishi?

“You’re Ruggie…!” His laughing stops when you say his name. Before he can ask you how you could ever even know it, you finally turn around, facing the werehyena. His breath hitches in his throat when he sees your face in the moon light.

“It’s you.” Quickly, you throw your head back, flinging it full force back on him. You can hear a loud crack (though you’re not sure if it’s from him or you), pain stinging through both you and him. His claws release you, covering his forehead.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit why would you do that?! At this point you might as well have killed yourself instead…! Ahh—

You double over, clutching your head. Despite it, you stumble, running in whatever direction you can. Not very good, but you’re running nonetheless. But, you can’t hold on any longer. Your head feels light, and the sensation of feeling your limbs carry your weight disappears.

And before you know it, you’re on the floor.

Ruggie stands before you, a sigh leaving his throat before his ghastly features retreat into his skin. The blood on his hands and mouth remains. He’s about to pick you up before he stops, wiping his hands of crimson before allowing himself to touch you.

“Geez, just what have you gotten yourself into?” Your head is tucked into the crook of his neck, your hand weakly holding his bicep. The sight is cute, he thinks. Though, he can smell strawberry on you, and it’s enough of a hint to tell him how you know who he is.

He frees one hand, gently massaging the sore spot with his thumb.

…

Your senses are dull, you can barely feel the snakes the slowly wrap around your arms and legs. At least, you think they are. They certainly move like snakes.

A bandaged hand rubs your head. Your eyes are blurry so you can’t really tell, but you don’t think he has a face, at least not eyes. If he does, they’re covered, only emitting an emerald glow in its place. He smells… He smells. Yep, you’re not sure what kind but he certainly does.

“Oi.” He doesn’t give you the chance to speak, poking your forehead with his finger. “You’re awake already right?” His next target is your cheek. With each fail to reply, the snakes tighten even more and more— Ah, they’re bandages…

“Is this some sort of kink play for you? huh?” Your retort earns no reaction, as he instead sighs and pulls you up by the cloth, close enough to be chest to chest, and nose to nose.

“You’re brave. You already know, yet you don’t care.”

He’s stupid. Obviously, you care! You don’t wanna die if you’re not recording it! Maybe you can headbutt him too— Yeah, no don’t be stupid. Despite saying that in your mind, your body doesn’t seem to listen, already leaning back.

“Don’t try it.” The man seems to already know, placing his palm on your forehead to push you back onto the table. No, burial chamber inside the tomb. Tomb!?

“Isn’t this like disrespectful or something?! I can’t just lay on top of this thing get me off of here—!!” You’re quick to swing back up again, shuffling off the surface into the mysterious guys arms.

“What? It’s mine. I don’t care.”

“You might not care but the person inside probably—! Ohhhh.” You’re stupid for not catching on any sooner. “… Y- You can put me down now…” his wrapped arms are positioned under your legs, carrying you effortlessly in one arm. It’s not like you can push him away, though, your arms are still tied together. Even then, you can tell he didn’t plan on letting you go so easily, the smug laugh that leaves his throat is proof enough.

“Why? You’re the one who said it’s disrespectful.” If you had the energy to hit him you would. Instead, you opt for resting your head on his, not even caring about the ear on top of his head. It’s like all your exhaustion has hit you all at once. He’s silent when you essentially start sleeping on his head.

He powers off the phone with your face on its screen, tossing it aside… For someone who looks a little too human to be there.

“Make sure they can’t get out of the Savana once they wake up, Jack.” He stays silent, only nodding. Leona can tell though, his eyes are only trained on you.

…

You wake up to the feeling of tall grass tickling your face. The spot beside you is empty, but you swear you could remember a body next to you, warming you in the cold. You don’t have time to dwell on the details, seeing that the mummy that held you is gone and… It’s daytime.

“Oh my gosh they’re gonna kill me when I get home…!” You whine as you thrash on the floor, throwing rocks into the grass. You can see it now, those two zombies are practically gonna be glued to you by the hip! They already are but it’s gonna be twice as worse.

Trey and Cater are gonna leave the apartment with you all the time, even if it’s just to water plants! And Riddle… You don’t even want to imagine your neighbors having to deal with him. They just moved in after what he did to the last one’s!

“It’s okay, you’ll be able to go home.” A deep voice erupts from behind you, but it’s soft in tone. You’re swift to turn around, a jagged rock in hand. But… you’re met with a regular human.

“… Who are you?”

“That’s… not important. Just go before they know I’m letting you leave.” He’s already picking you up, carrying you in his arms as he walks with determination.

“Wha— I don’t even know if that’s the way to my car—!”

“It is. I know it is.”

You stare at him, you really shouldn’t trust his judgment, but for some reason you do. So, you let him run into the Savana, your arm wrapping around his neck as you hold on.

Before you know it, you’re already at the vehicle, entirely untouched. When he puts you down, he beckons you to the car, hurrying you to get inside.

“Go, go before they know—“ your hand grabs onto his wrist, pulling him inside.

“There’s… Things here. You have to get out before something happens. You’re human too right?”

He’s silent. It raises your suspicions, but there’s no way he would’ve led you here if he were with them. You don’t have the chance to say anything else, your hand is turning the car on.

It quickly dies when the sound of the hood being banged open erupts into the air. The both of you turn forward, greeted by the sight of a mummy and his werehyena.

“No one’s leaving.” If you could see his eyes, you’re sure they would be terrifying to gaze into. Though, as he says his next words, you can feel that he’s only looking at you, “You’ll be here until time turns to sand.” Sand seems to be the correct statement, as dust and debris begins to whirl around, eating your surroundings. The hyena only seems to laugh at the recent development, Leona slowly walking his way to your side of the car.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit—

You’re saved when the sight of a red leaves the car screen.

…

You're sandwiched between Ace and Deuce, yet the sight is one you didn’t think to ever be in. Your arms are wrapped around their necks as you pull them in, gushing about how you think they were legitimately going to kill you, it was so horrifying!

“Cay-Cay says you should get a career change! I don’t think you going monster hunting is gonna get any better—“

“No no no, I just gotta stop going to actual haunted places!” Well… seems their attempt at getting you to stay home with them fails once more. Maybe they should just start locking you in.

“It would be safer than actual places, but I’d still feel more assured if you just quit altogether.” Trey places a plate in front of you, ducking a little so his head doesn’t hit the ceiling. His fork stabs the food, cupping his hand underneath so nothing spills. You always tell him he doesn’t need to feed you, but after everything, you finally take him up on his offer.

Occasionally though, your eyes shift over to Riddle, who just stares at you. He stares as if it’s your last moment of being his.

…

“I’m okay now you know.” You stare up at Riddle from where you sit, everyone else already sleeping in their designated areas. The moon shines through him, making him brighter than he usually is.

“But what if you weren’t?” You can’t deny the possibility. You were so close to dying (you think they were trying to kill you at least). Nonetheless, you let your hand ghost over his. Not touching, never touching, but always feeling.

“Let’s not think about it.”

He doesn’t say anymore. He only continues to look at the smile on your lips, unknowing of the new additions in your house.

…

Your eyes slowly peak open. The left side of your bed is suspiciously empty, the side Deuce would typically occupy. Though… Ace feels different. He’s lacking the missing limbs and torn skin from under that blanket.

The familiar sound of snoring interrupts your train of thought. Those snores aren’t coming from the bed, but rather your floor… You lift the blanket swiftly, welcomed to the sight of a handsome mummy hugging your waist, his bandages slowly encasing your bare skin in him.

His head turns towards you, a smile filled with cockiness plaguing your view. You don’t even have the chance to yell for Riddle before Leona’s pulling you into him, his palm covering your mouth.

“Ah ah, we’re just poor party performers looking for refuge. You’re not gonna send your guard dogs to kill us are you?” … He’s right, Riddle and the rest of them would definitely jump at the chance to claw him down. Plus, he tried to kill you! Okay yeah no you’re screaming—

We?

Slowly, your hand sneaks onto his shoulder, using it as an anchor as you peek behind him. You grimace at the sight of the werehyena, the familiar lax grin etched on his lips. You wouldn’t mind if he got attacked, too. But, the human(?) next to him is an entirely different story. His head is dipped down, trying his hardest to avoid making eye contact with you.

… You can’t do that to him.

You wrap your fingers around his bandages, slowly taking his hand off your mouth, and he lets you. It takes a few moments, but the second you nod, the mummy is falling back into the bed. Soft snores leave his throat, and you already know he’s fallen asleep.

… You have no idea how to explain to Riddle and the others the 3 new roommates they’ll be having.

You just hope none of them see Leona in your bed, practically using you as a pillow—

“[Name]. What are they doing in here.”

The sight of Riddle in your doorway with roses immediately evokes guilt in your heart. Slowly, you sneak your blanket over Leona, hoping somehow, he’ll suffocate and die a second death underneath.