deezee112

[deezee112]

The ending 9 : The Weight of Glass

Masterlist | Ending 8 | Ending 10

Yandere!Platonic!Azul Ashengrotto x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : I just realized that I usually update every month this is crazy

Warning : Emotional manipulation , Gaslighting , Infantilization ( Azul acting like a child ) , Threats of self-harm , Knife violence , Character death , Psychological horror / disturbing behavior

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The room fell silent once more, that stillness wrapping around the walls like humid air. You were curled up on the edge of the bed, the blanket snugly drawn around your shoulders. The evening light faded, casting long shadows across the carpet, and for a fleeting moment, you questioned whether it had all been a figment of your imagination if there had truly been no sound, no figure watching you with that calm, steady presence.

Then, softly, he spoke.

" My name is Azul. "

His words floated into the air with a calmness that suggested he’d been waiting for this moment for ages. His voice was smooth, steady, and overly polite as if he was making a real effort to ensure you felt at ease. You blinked in his direction, your lips parted, but no sound came out. He didn’t move closer. There was no demand from him. He simply placed a hand over his heart and tilted his head slightly, as if offering a formal introduction at a dinner party.

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to respond or if you even could.

He glanced up again, and in that dim light, you caught a hint of a smile gentle, measured, intentional. " It’s alright if you’re unsure what to say. You don’t have to talk. I’ll handle everything. "

His words twisted something inside you. There was a natural confidence behind them, as if he were stating the simplest truth in the world. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t challenge him. As he carefully stepped onto the edge of the carpet and sat down cross-legged, you surprised yourself by not flinching. He remained still, as if he had been practicing this moment all along.

What exactly was he? A brother? A guardian? A friend?

" I’ll raise you well. " Azul murmured, almost to himself. " You’ll be clever cleverer than anyone else. People will admire you. And you’ll never be left behind. "

You tightened your grip on the blanket. His words sent a shiver down your spine, as if this was less about you and more about his vision for you. Still, his unwavering certainty was strangely comforting. Without meaning to, you whispered, " Raise me? "

" Yes. " he replied without hesitation, as if that word had been waiting to be spoken. " I’ll teach you what you need to know. Books. Manners. Logic. Numbers. The things that make people listen. I’ll ensure you’re never called foolish. You’ll never be looked down on. " His voice softened like a soothing lullaby. " You’ll always be safe with me. "

For that moment, it felt sufficient.

He entered your life like a shadow stretching with the afternoon sun quiet, natural, inevitable. It began with small gestures: sitting beside you while doing homework, correcting your mistakes with almost overwhelming patience, praising you when you got it right. He brought you books, explained unfamiliar words, and taught you how to underline, highlight, and memorize facts until they stuck in your mind like glue.

You felt an immediate desire to make him proud. Every time his eyes lit up at a right answer, warmth spread through your chest, a feeling that almost scared you. You weren’t accustomed to someone looking at you as if your very existence mattered.

" Very good. " he said, lightly tapping the table. " See? You’re learning already. "

You’d smile, a little shyly, and mumble, " Thank... "

He was dedicated too often disappearing into his private study with the door locked, the faint sounds of papers rustling and pens scratching filling the hallway.

He claimed he had to, that he was supporting the family, that your parents relied on him for serious matters.

You didn’t quite grasp what he did in there, only that when he emerged, his posture was stiffer, and his smile seemed a bit tighter.

Still, he always made time for you. No matter how exhausted he appeared, he’d put his papers aside, sit across from you, and inquire about what you learned that day. Sometimes he pushed you until your head throbbed, but the pride on his face when you succeeded kept you silent. You wanted to be seen as capable. You wanted that smile to remain.

But there were fleeting moments when his calmness slipped like the day you mentioned feeling tired and needed to rest. His smile vanished, and a cloud of something unnameable shadowed his eyes. He stared at the table, his lips forming a thin line.

" Don’t say that.. " he whispered. " Don’t. Don’t leave me like that. "

" I’m not going.. " you quickly reassured him, startled. " I just—I’m tired. "

Then he laughed, but it wasn’t the soft, composed laugh you knew. It was jagged, shaky, almost desperate.

" Ah. Of course. Of course. You’re right. I’m being foolish. " He rubbed a hand over his face, then turned back to you, forcing a smile that felt too wide, too strained. " Forget what I said. I just...don’t like it when you say things like that.. "

You didn’t fully understand, but nodded all the same.

That night, you awoke to muffled sobs from the other side of the wall. You pulled the blanket tightly around you, pretending not to hear.

Azul tried so hard to be perfect for you. It showed in everything his neat clothes, controlled speech, the way he embodied the role of an ideal older brother. He reminded you to brush your teeth, sit up straight, read before bed. He made lists of books for you to tackle and quietly applauded your correct answers.

When you stumbled, he’d gently encourage you to try again, saying, " I know you can do it. "

But the cracks were there. Small at first. The way his eyes flickered when you took too long to respond. The way his fingers tapped the table faster when you hesitated.

At times, he looked at you not as a brother, not as a guardian, but like someone terrified you might slip away.

You wanted to believe he was good, just like he’d promised. You didn’t yet know how easily promises could shatter.

Time went on, and Azul’s presence in your life was a mix of comfort and suffocation.

Initially, he treated you like something precious. He sat with you, patiently correcting your mistakes, praising your achievements, even reminding you to hydrate when you forgot. He played the role of the gentle, polite older brother your parents trusted, becoming the focus of the household smiling, composed, endlessly capable.

He was the one bringing money in. The one they relied on. And because of that, their attention shifted away from you to him.

But when the door shut, and it was just the two of you, things felt different.

" y/n " he’d whisper, resting his chin on your shoulder as you struggled through a tough passage. " You’ll get it this time. You have to. Right? You wouldn’t want to let me down. "

At times, his words were warm other times, they weighed on you like an anchor you couldn’t shake.

You put in your best effort. Studying late into the night, rewriting notes until your hands ached, eyes burning from the lamplight.

Each time you faltered, Azul’s polite smile would fade his lips twitching, fingers tightening.

Once, you thought he might cry.

And then he did.

The first time startled you. Azul covered his face with his hands, sobbing like a small child abandoned. When you reached out, he clung to you, as if you were his only lifeline.

" Don’t go! " he pleaded. " Don’t leave me, y/n! If you walk away—if you hate me—I’ll shatter. I can’t exist without you!!! "

At first, you thought it was just stress, perhaps exhaustion from bearing the weight of everyone’s expectations.

But it kept happening every time you left the room without telling him, every time you hesitated before answering a question, every time you mumbled something about needing space he would break.

Then one fateful night, it escalated.

You had merely said, " I just need to be alone for a bit.. "

That was it. Simple. Honest.

Yet Azul stiffened as if struck. His eyes widened, glossed with panic. He stumbled back from you as though your words were poison.

His hand found the desk drawer, yanking it open with shaking fingers.

" Alone..? " he echoed, voice unraveling. " You’re leaving me, aren’t you? You’ll vanish, just like before. Don’t lie to me! I know you’re planning it! "

Your pulse raced as you caught a glint of steel in his grip.

A knife.

He held it awkwardly, like a child with a toy that was far too sharp. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pressed the blade against his wrist.

" If you go, I’ll do this! " he cried. " I’ll end it right here. y/n, you’ll never see me again. I’d rather perish than watch you leave me! "

" Azul stop! " You lunged forward without thinking, focused solely on the knife, the way it wavered in his grasp, clenched too tightly for any skin to withstand. You seized his wrist, desperate to prevent him from harming himself

And then chaos.

His hand jerked. Yours tightened. In the struggle, the blade flashed.

Suddenly, warmth spread across your stomach.

You couldn’t breathe. Glancing down, you saw red.

Azul’s face went pale. The knife dropped to the floor.

" y/n...no, no, no—!! " His voice cracked as he caught you, your knees giving way. He pressed his hands against the wound, tears falling onto your skin. " I didn’t mean to...you weren’t supposed to—please, don’t close your eyes—! "

But your body grew heavy in his hold. The world blurred around the edges. The light from the lamp dimmed. His voice echoed, distant and panicked nothing like the composed person he’d been before. Just the cries of a terrified child.

You wanted to tell him it was alright. That you hadn’t intended to leave him.

But your lips wouldn’t move.

The last thing you saw was Azul’s tear-streaked face above you, his mouth moving in a scream you could barely register.

Then...Darkness.

[deezee112]

Mental Breakdowns Are The Solution To Everyone’s Problems!

MASTERLIST / INTERIM CHAPTER MASTERLIST

The Platonic Yanderes arrive~

Author’s Note - Even after finishing this after dealing with months of writer’s block, I’m not super proud of this. I hope you enjoy it regardless.

It’d be a few days since you killed two people- had your world view shattered, you were… not okay… 

Whatever the concoction Chen’ya fed you was, it made the concussion you had was gone like it was never there. That wasn’t to say that it was a painless recovery. The pounding sensation was gone, but a different crippling phantom pain remained. One that hurts more mentally than physically. 

You weren’t used to being in a situation like this. 

No matter what you experienced in your past, you had known the world wasn’t full of people that believed something as outlandish as killing two people brutally over an injury that caused someone else no trauma or everlasting harm.  Sure, there was insanity, but not everyone was completely crazy, there were more normal people. People you didn’t have to spend every waking second with a pit of anxiety in your gut.

Because your ‘friends’ weren’t that anymore. Walking around with Ace on your left and Deuce on your right didn’t have that same feeling of calm friendly chaos it once did. No, you could hear the anxious roar of your blood in your ears over the sound of their combined voices, when you were joined by Trey, Cater and Riddle at lunch, between classes and after, you felt weak with how violent your heart raced. With the cold-hearted and merciless looks they’d given your their poor victims before their lives ended, flashing in your mind every half-second you looked at their faces. 

It’s been four days now, and you've managed to pull yourself together to act like you hadn’t been out in the garden that night, but internally you feel like a bundle of nerves with one strand, just one, trying to keep you from falling apart. To add to your fraying nerves, you’d barely slept. Thanks to you being haunted by nightmares that were slowly driving you crazy whenever you close your eyes too long, your head was of worry and pain caused from that worry. Strengthened by the migraines caused by sleep deprivation, your head pounded like a drum beaten too hard, being strained and threatening to tear like your last strand of emotional control. And since it was being topped with-

“Grim, stop it! I don’t care how much YOU don’t want to go to class! We’re going to be late!!” You yell as you yank on Grim by his tail to get him to finally let go of your shared bed. You ’re already too tired for this, too many nights fueled by way too little sleep and many… many horrible nightmares sliced in the few hours you managed to slip into sweet unconsciousness are truly a lovely combination. And now, you’re trying to get Grim to leave the sweet alluring comfort of your bed to go to class, and he’s not even the one with the worst problem!

“NO! You can’t make me, henchman!!” Grim’s claws were sunk into bed so deep, you almost hoped they ripped straight through to get him to finally let go as you tried to pull him loose. Your head was already swimming from too little sleep and too many horrible thoughts coming back to cut your soul any deeper, and Grim decided that this morning was the morning to not want to go to class. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

“Grim, I swear to the-” You hesitate on the ‘great seven’ part, recalling Winston’s mind collapsing into mania with the resulting unease leaving a heavy rock in your gut before you shake it off, “I will haul you out with the bed so help me!” He wasn’t even in the one dreading sitting between Ace and Deuce in class today, having to sit between them and seeing Trey, Cater and Riddle at lunch and in the halls, and dealing with the residual awful fear that nearly resulted in you snapping when you and Grim were alone at night, fearing the return of Chenya making do on his warning once the sun went down. You had to learn to swallow that bitter taste of raw, fresh fear and discomfort. 

Frustrated, you finally put your frustration to good use, yanking him free of the sheets to which he hits the ground with a pained yelp as you both collide with the ground. You feel a stab of guilt, at the pained noise, the same noise reminding you of the- You quickly stamp that thought out before it builds once more. Shoving it down isn’t smart, but the option of choice you have is limited. 

Grim looks incredibly offended at having his plan to skip class foiled, and pouts, “The heck, Henchman?! C’mon do you wanna stay in bed and skip Trein’s boring ole lectures?” 

You hate that you’re tempted, “NO. We’re going and that’s final.” You swear internally as you unblock your doorway, feeling your patience for the day leech out of you. Dealing with Grim can be annoying, but with so little sleep and even more tension boiling in your veins you can’t help but feel just that more infuriated. 

“Myah…” You hear Grim grumble, “Why have ya been in such a bad mood, didn’t Riddle tell ya those two jerks were dealt with. You’ve been super upset lately! What’s your deal, henchman?!”

“I’m fine,” you grind out. Dreading the next nine hours to be spent in the company of the people you’ve been dreading. Seriously, can’t you be given the slightest-

“No, henchman! You’ve been all grumbly and jumpy.” Grim doesn’t give you the slightest bit of a break, “Don’t lie to me! You’re not fine!”

At that you hesitate, turning back and actually seeing his frustration. You have to admit he’s right, you’re very much not okay. In your turmoil, you’d sort of forgotten that he’d been forced to see your breakdowns in private, to say nothing whenever you’d squeezed him too tight for comfort. He’d seen it so how else would he not pick up your clear sense of distress. Frustrated and irritated in the morning, frightful and tense in by noon, and utterly exhausted and afraid by nightfall, no matter how well, or poorly given the situation, you managed to hide your distress, Grim was there to see what happened when the mask came off.

You open and close your mouth repeatedly hoping to come up with an excuse that would convince him so you could go back to mentally preparing for another tough day, but you blank and sigh in heavy acceptance. “Y’know what? You’re right. I’m not fine. I haven’t been close to fine for almost a week.” You slid down to his level, feeling the pinprick sensation of tears paining your eyes. 

“Myah! I knew it!” Despite his bluntness and occasional lack of situational awareness, at least he’s confused about your recent behavior, even if you haven’t known him long he knew something was wrong these past few days. “So what’s the deal, why’re ya acting so weird?”

“I..I don’t want to talk about it…” You mumble, before quickly amending “At least not right now! We can talk about it later after school’s out, I promise, just wait till later.Please.” 

“Myah? Why?”

Because if you were to talk about it right now, you wouldn’t be able to hold your emotions and sanity in check long enough to get through the day and that is nine whole hours of fear, panic and distress you have to weather without you seeming ‘normal’, “Just trust me on this, okay. If you wait, I’ll give you some of the premium tuna?”

Thankfully, your bribe seems to convince him to be patient, “Fine but ya aren’t gettin’ outta this, henchman!”

It’s a small relief but a welcome one, maybe you’ll feel a little better if you do talk about it later, that won’t be too-

“Oi, _______! Grim! C’mon if we’re late, Prof Crewel will give us detention for the rest of the night!” A loud barrage knock accompanies Ace’s announcing yell. 

“Don’t yell at the Prefect, Ace.” Deuce’s attempt at chastising dissolves into the loud enough arguing you’ve grown to expect. 

Well, there blows that. 

A wave of exhaustion settles over you and you groan. This is going to be a very, very long day. But like all days you’d get through it and just deal with it again tomorrow with no change. Easy.

Nope. No. Not easy. You were a fool for even hoping for it.

Maybe it was your brain unswelling and your concussion healing, but you already feel jittery and on edge being within a foot of the two you’d once called ‘potential friends’. You could already feel the gooseflesh pricking on your arms, and it was still homeroom. 

Want an idea why? 

Much to your displeasure, you’d realized you….don’t like red. 

You get why a deep crimson red is the colour for Heartslabyul’s dorm, the red roses, the colour of hearts, bloodshot eyes, the shade of blood coming out of a freshly cut neck- but the sight of it chills you to your core once more. Maybe it was the remnants of your concussion making things harder for your brain to process, but something felt way too difficult seeing it now, like whenever you blinked you could see that dark, damp, cell full of decomposition showing the consequences of your good-natured but poorly-executed attempts of helping someone. You’d bitten your tongue bloody and raw as you struggled to hold back the waves of nausea pooling in the back of your throat and it wasn’t even noon yet.

So if you can’t tell, seeing Ace and Deuce today hasn’t been going well….

You would love to just zone out and pretend that you’re not in the same room as them, and were back home where the feeling of constant fear and dread wasn’t perpetual, but presenting somewhat normal meant you had to smile and laugh like normal, which is a lot harder when you don’t have a natural deposition for acting and your heart is beating a mile a minute. 

You unconsciously squeeze Grim tighter to your body, in response he squirms but possibly remembering your earlier behavior and promise, he stays put, granting you one mercy as you try to smother the chill of raw anxiety pooling in your gut. Sitting between Ace and Deuce and trying to have a conversation to portray the all normal persona, is a struggle especially when-

“Hey,________?” You jolt in your seat at Ace’s voice, realizing that he in fact was talking with you. 

You swallow the blood on your tongue before “Y-Yeah?” You mentally berate yourself for stuttering, hoping and praying the increasingly rapid beat of your heart wasn’t causing any visible expressions of panic and discomfort on your face. “What’s up?”

“Geez, It’s like you spaced or something.” No matter how innocent that sentence was you have to fight a tremble looking at Ace.” Despite the playful smile, and his teasing nature you feel at war with your body to not freak out. “I was asking you about what clubs you were hoping to join?”

You’re not admitting that you’d completely tuned all conversations that didn’t involve the danger duo you were sat between out loud, but you can bluff your way out of this maybe. “Oh, yeah, that. I was just going to do what Grim does.” 

Deuce looks at you in confusion, “Why? Don’t you want to do something apart from Grim.” Is that an attempt at getting you and Grim apart, you hope not. You’d been too busy fighting a mental breakdown, Deuce.

 “I just haven’t had time to think about it that much. Besides, I don't mind.”

Grim takes the time to jump in and reinforce your point, much to your gratitude. “Henchman can’t join a different club from me! 

“You sure, Grim? You both could join the basketball club with me?” You hear the sound of cracking knuckles from Deuce, but say nothing.

“And I’m joining the track club, are you sure you don’t want to join m-” Ace gives Deuce the kind of glare that makes you think of the face he made after his first, fresh kill. Deuce sends Ace a glare back, but falters and changes his words, “-one of us?”

“Myah… that suns boring.” Grim says, first again wonderful for your cause. Thank goodness. 

“Uh, not really. I don’t think it’s my thing.” Regardless of your opinions of track and field and basketball, you aren’t joining. Just no. Especially since they aren’t going to be in the same club. If one gets more time with you the more jealous the other, and the others, will get. You make a mental note to not join any club the people you know from Heartslabyul were in, just in case. 

“It’s alright, Prefect.” Deuce beams with a warm smile that sends a chill down your spine as you’re reminded of the deathly cold fury he had only a few days before. His gloved hand takes  yours in his and you’re reminded of the healing skin on his knuckles beneath the gloves, sending another icy chill down your skin to follow the first as you quickly jerk your hand away from his “We could do it together.” 

Pigs from your world would learn to fly before you accepted that offer, you think as you gently pry your hand free from his . “I-I don’t know, I’d probably be out of my league being on the same team as you guys. I’d get my butt kicked,” You lie smoothly. You’d reasoned to yourself earlier that you weren’t joining any club Ace or Deuce was on no matter how much you liked it or found it interesting. Same applied to Trey, Cater or Riddle. But you weren’t saying that quiet part out loud.

“Who says you gotta play,_______? You could be m-” You catch that correction no matter how subtle Ace tries to make it. “the team’s cheerleader~”

You feel your cheeks flush, not out of bashfulness but surprise. “No!” you attempt to get him to take his mind out of whatever direction it’s steadily heading to goes horribly wrong when your shaky, panicky voice says that a couple too many decibels too loud. Much to your horror, it’s not just Ace and Deuce looking at you funny for the outburst but the rest of your classmates…and Professor Crewel. Great, just fantastic. You send a silent prayer to whatever deity in this world to kill you know.

“Ms.______!” Crewel’s domineering, strict ‘you screwed up’ voice makes you wish you took a page out of Grim’s book and stayed in bed today. Just wonderful, you’re in trouble and it’s not even completely your fault. Stupid Ace and his stupid flirting. “Care to explain your outburst?”

Your cheeks feel warm from embarrassment rather than surprise and indignation, “N-no, sir.” You murmur meekly, this is just embarrassing. You’d hope you could manage to pull yourself together but at this rate you were batting zero. Yay….

Professor Crewel’s eyes squint in clear suspicion and you cuss yourself out for acting this way at all, so jumpy and panicked. You don’t like feeling this way at all, and it seems to just be getting worse the longer this goes on. One comment of you maybe being a cheerleader for whichever club Ace or Deuce was on, which still made you cringe when you thought about it, drove you to bring all that unnecessary attention to yourself. 

You sag into your seat, and shift uncomfortably, occasionally catching Professor Crewel’s from time to time, and then feeling that same tense feeling again makes you just feel sick. Like all this dread and discomfort is piling on more and more, higher and higher. Sitting through the short, even though it felt hours long, homeroom period felt tortuous sitting in your own stewing discomfort. 

The ringing of the bell is a welcome relief. You’re gathering Grim and your things, prepared to run out when-

“Heel, _______.” You freeze like a literal dog at Crewel’s command, “Stay. I need a word with you.”

- You sag, feeling distraught. This day seems to just drag on and on, and it’s barely started. “Yes, Professor…Damnit” you mumble.Why now, why ever?!

Ace puts a hand on your shoulder, you want to brush off as soon as you get the opportunity to do it subtly. “It’s alright, ________. We’ll wait for-”

“You will do no such thing, mutts.” Crewel interrupts, hearing Ace and cutting whatever plan he had in half like an owner reprimanding a dog for humping another. “Go to Class. NOW.”

“Shit, like I’m in for it.” You mutter under your breath, as if you’re not grateful to not have to go from bad experience today to another for the rest of it. On the downside, you’re probably going to get scolded into next week. “I’ll meet you after, I promise. You should go with ‘em, Grim.”

“Naw, I don’t wanna listen to Trein talk about all that boring stuff, I’ll stay with _______!” Grim perches himself on your shoulder, giving you at least some back up for the berating you’re probably about to get. 

Ace and Deuce, as well as the rest of the classroom finally clears out, and now you’re alone with your Professor. He doesn’t look angry, more stern. You brace for the incoming lecture and scolding. “You caused a disturbance today, pup. Is there anything you want to say for yourself?”

“Right, right… I’m sorry…” Great of all things to deal with, causing an outburst in class and getting punished for it was not on your list. At least you were missing bumping into Trey, Cater or Riddle in the hallways. “It won’t happen again, I’ve just been tired recently-”

“Is that all you have to say, pup? Because you have earned a variety of complaints against you in the last few days.”

“W-What?” Who was complaining about you and why? You haven’t  done anything wrong other than being a jumpy mess? Was this some weird thing you hadn’t thought about or behavior that you maybe missed? “But I haven’t done anything?!”

“Not anything damaging, thankfully, but Trein’s informed me of your tendency to drift off during his lessons. While students frequently drift off during his lectures on a good day, you are a unique case, because none of your peers ever let out screeches of terror that requires him to wake you up to keep you from disrupting classes further.” You curse mentally, it wasn’t your fault for having horrible nightmares, but with your disrupted sleep schedule you haven’t slept at all and listening to Trein’s long, boring lectures turned out to be as good as a sleeping agent as sleeping pills.

“I-I, I just haven’t been sleeping, but-”

“Honestly, do you expect me to believe that, pup? I can see how disturbed you are.”

You’d forgotten for a moment that Crewel was the one who told Crowley about your ‘darling-like’ behavior. Of course, he would be observing you and with how on edge you’ve been no wonder he noticed.

“I’ve watched you during your lessons, you flinch, jump and yelp at the sound of your name, or whenever you feel someone looks at you too long or touches you too suddenly, especially if it was one of those two mutts that chase after you.” Shit. You’d hoped no one, besides Grim at least, would notice your discomfort and now someone you’d spent the least time with picked up on it, did all your problems friends already notice and just said nothing about it. Or maybe they hadn’t noticed. You hoped you hadn’t noticed. 

 “I-It’s not that, I just wasn’t feeling well. I’m fine, I swear.” 

You try to lie away but Crewel’s skepticism doesn’t let up. “Pup, I believe if I didn’t call you out today, you would probably be crying in your sleep during Trein’s class as you’ve been doing the last three days whenever you are the slightest bit frightened.” Crewel sighs in what has to be annoyance, which has to be one of the most upsetting things to you right now. “I’m aware of how fragile your position is. But you are not excused from failing to meet your educational and behavioural expectations because you want to hide with your tail between your legs, ________.”

You can feel the pin-prick burn of tears in your eyes. “I-I-It’s not that, i-it’s just-”

Grim seems as concerned as he was earlier, looking at you like you were quite literally on the verge of falling apart at the seems. 

No matter how fast you try to come up with a reply, he comes up with something that just makes your heart lurch with anguish. Your ‘poor behavior’ wasn’t the fault of your misdeeds, it was the terror you were suffering in silence. It was rough, and you could feel the pain and sadness weigh on you more and more, pulling that last strand of self-control you held onto. 

“P-Professor, I’m sorry, I just… just…” In your growing level of emotional distress your words leave you, becoming stones in your throat. In your silence, Crewel keeps talking. 

“In essence ________, while I understand the gravity of your situation, you are not exempt from the same standards of my other students, so I expect you to not act erratic, no matter what you are dealing with it cannot possibly be that bad-”

That last statement is what does it for you. And finally, that straining, trembling strand holding you together… snaps.

And you sob. 

It’s guttural, absolutely painful as your lungs and throat burn, and it doesn’t make you feel better as you struggle to hold yourself together. It’s like it was building, slowly falling brick by heavy brick onto your back until you just couldn’t take it anymore. The tears flow like waterfalls no matter how fast you try to wipe them away, your cries of desolation won't be silenced no matter how hard you try to get them to be quiet. 

Because everything was that bad. ALL OF IT WAS THAT BAD.

Back home, you never thought you’d witness a murder. Back home, you never thought you would be the cause and motive and a murder. Hell, you never thought that you would ever find yourself in another universe; ANOTHER UNIVERSE THAT ALLOWS THE MURDER YOU WITNESSED AND EXCUSES IT. 

And worst of all, one day you could find you would never return home. Because one of your ‘friends’ decided that they want you as their wife so badly, they’re prepared to completely disregard your feelings, desires and, worst of all and most importantly, your consent. What would be done to you if you stayed, and one of them decided to take the love they wanted from you by force. It’s horrifying.

And now as you’re confronting all these horrible emotions, you can’t put the cap on it. 

Crewel looks completely bewildered and unsure of what to do as you bawl your eyes out, “P…Pup.”

Grim can’t even stand on your shoulder from how much it heaves with every sob. Hee’s equally as confused and uncertain on how to help. “H-Henchman?!”

You ignore them in favor of sobbing your eyes out. You crumple to the ground, hands fisted in your eyes, as you struggle to keep your bearings in. Now, just enough to speak again. “I-I’m sorry! I just- I don’t know how to live like this!” You cry, “ I spend every night, praying that no one comes into my room to do anything to me! And when I sleep, I dream of dead people and all the people that died because of me!” 

With Professor Crewel and Grim both look a mix of dumbfounded and incredibly concerned as you continue on your tear-driven spiel, “And it’s not even just here either, I accidentally killed a CHILD because I didn’t know what I was doing and now poor Alice is dead, a king lost his mind and I’m gonna lose if this goes on!!!”

You can hear Grim murmur, “Who?”, sounding completely lost but can’t even hear him as you keep going.

“And it’s that bad, because been in this world two weeks and I already have six fucking people starting to be obsessed with me, five people who killed two innocent fucking people because they were being assholes, but they still didn’t deserve to die and it’s all my fault!!! I JUST WANNA GO HOME!!” You go back to sobbing into your hands, quietly repeating “I just wanna go home…” over and over again, as you weep and shake.

You hiccup and sob softly and weakly, feeling completely helpless as you weep like a crazy person on the floor of your classroom. All it took was a few weeks and you were falling apart like you were a mere four days ago. This is just plain awful.

You hear a sigh of reluctant acceptance and  feel a warm and, much to your surprise, welcome sensation of something soft and comfortably heavy being set on your shoulders, something ‘W-What are you-?” You ask in a rough voice as he stoops down to your level and wraps you in a tender embrace.

It’s a hug, a comforting one like the one a father would give his crying child. You feel hesitant, but after all the distress, fear and dread, you can’t help but miss the feeling of normal platonic, fear-free touches. The comfort of the soft fake fur and the tender hold of another’s soothing touch. As trying to chase away the mental breakdown you had, Grim jumps onto your lap and *lets* you hug him, which you enjoy feeling safer than you’ve felt in a very long time. 

Crewel pets your head half-heartedly in an attempt to comfort you, “Hush, pup.” You sniffle in response, possibly leaving snot somewhere on his waistcoat from your ugly crying as he holds you as you finish sobbing, his tone alien in comparison to the strict teacher voice he was using earlier, instead gentle like trying to calm a distressed puppy. “It’ll be alright.”

“Will it?” You confess, doubtful. “It really hasn’t felt that way.”

“And this is exactly why Crowley should have sent you somewhere else, pup. There is a reason your kind, darlings, aren’t allowed to attend schools like Night Raven. Just a little too much curiosity or concern and you’re running scared.” 

You can’t feel it within yourself to be offended, you’re more in agreement. You wish Crowley just sent you anywhere else, and you hadn’t gone to Heartslabyul that night out of sheer curiosity. “I wish he did but he said he wouldn’t.”

Crewel’s face tightens in agitation, and that warm comforting hug ends as he sharply pulls away. You feel a little panicked at the sudden drop from the comforting mood. “Is something-”

Crewel suddenly lets you go, leaving his jacket hanging on your shoulders behind as he walks with purpose in clear rage. “Pup, we are going to have a word with your Headmaster. Bring your direbeast.”

Grim’s fur puffs up at the ‘direbeast’ comment, but doesn’t voice whatever he feels as if reading our distress. 

You’re not even sure if you even want to take part in this, “B-But Grim and I have-”

“I’ll excuse you both from classes for the day, right I need you to come with me so I can speak with Crowley about your situation.” The tone of well-restrained fury does not sit well with you, so even if you didn’t have a choice you quickly hug Crewel’s jacket around yourself.

“O-Okay!” You needlessly reply as you hurry behind him, now deeply curious how this will end. 

And that’s how you’re here in Crowley’s office watching the tennis game that is Crewel trying to chew Crowley out for his incompetence… and Crowley attempting to dodge all responsibility.

“Crowley, the second I realized what she was I made it abundantly clear that you had to transfer her anywhere else! Why else do you think that nearly every other reputable school in the world refuses to allow darlings to intermix with people like us! Now the poor thing’s witnessed a murder!”

You’re just glad to not be the only one who looks down on this insanity, even if you’re not completely sure if Grim understands or not, at the very least Professor Crewel has shown some genuine concern. Unfortunately, you’re sat front row to a show that you are praying doesn’t become a trend. 

Specifically, Crowley trying to negate any and all responsibility for something he let happen. 

“Divus, I thought it was alright, how was I supposed to know she’d attract six within a month, the chance was so low you can’t blame me for playing the odds.”

“Dire, with all due disrespect, the poor pup's shaking like a leaf, and had an emotional crisis in my classroom. You can’t possibly think keeping her here is a good idea!!” 

“Well, it’s not like we can do anything about it now! Think of the headlines, ‘Night Raven College abuses lost darling’ , yes, I *may* be responsible for this but all the staff will get the blame if someone finds out. And then Ambrose and RSA will be able to hold another thing over us, trying to say that they’re better and kinder to darlings than we are!”

Crewel facepalms for what has to be the fifth time since you got here. “When will you realize that your incompetence harms the rest of us…”

Crowley spits out another spiel of how he’s *technically* not responsible for this and you find that it’s a little awkward standing there just watching Professor Crewel just drilling Crowley on his terrible administrator choices, still hugging Crewel’s jacket like a security blanket.  Good to know dealing with Crowley is like debating a rock, that might be difficult to deal with in future but at least you know….

Despite the attempt to ground yourself, you still feel downright foul.  Your eyes burn but you still want to keep crying. This day is still going down south and you’d only just scraped yourself out of rock bottom. Having someone in your corner doesn’t really help when you’re already vastly outnumbered.

With your voice hoarse from crying, you finally open your mouth, “Headmaster? Have you found anything to help me get home? Anything at all?”

Crowley looks momentarily relieved that you spoke up, until you ask about him getting you back home. “Unfortunately not, _______. With how busy I’ve been preparing for upcoming school events, especially the Inter-dorm Spelldrive Tournament which I haven’t forgotten about Divus, I haven't had the time.”

You have a sinking suspicion that that’s just an excuse. “But before that you were doing research, right? Even if it leads nowhere, a single lead is still a lead! There has to be something you found!” You can taste desperation on your tongue as you ask that, but given your circumstance you can’t exactly ignore it. 

“Now, now _______, as I am gracious I’m sure I’ll find a way to get you home… eventually.” You’re starting to realise that that is starting to mean that Crowley’s going to do not a damn thing. 

“Are you kidding me?” To your not-so-much surprise, Crewel looks pissed at that bandage explanation, maybe more than you right now. 

“What? It’s the truth-”

“Pup, take your beast and go wait outside.” 

You’re momentarily taken by surprise by that, “What?”

“Just do it.”

You’re ushered out before you can agree, and as soon as that door shuts you can hear the deceivingly calm voice of Crewel turn to anger with an understandable splash of swearing. You sink in on yourself once you’re out of the office, just in time to hear the start of Crewel tearing Crowley a new one part-two, this time with cursing. It’s like whenever there’s a smidgen of hope, it’s snuffed out just as quickly. It all feels so worthless, trying like this to have even a solitary break. It would have been nice to know that you should have gotten a second opinion from someone other than Crowley upon your arrival here. Maybe you could have started your path to deep anxiety and dread about a week too early, but at least you’d have known that you had to rely on a not-Crowley to get you home. 

Your eyes burn once more and you fight a sniffle before sighing in annoyance, of all things to still be doing right now you can still feel the bubble of stress reinflate in your mind like the world’s most depressed balloon. “Well, this is still going as shitty as it could be.”

“Language, Ms.________.”

You jump from the new voice. “Professor Trein?”

The mature, stone-faced professor stands over you, Lucius surprisingly absent. You assume that he’d left the cat to oversee the class, but despite that you can’t help but be befuddled at his presence. 

“W-What are you doing here?!” You wipe the budding tears away from your eyes, shoving down the feelings to try and be coherent. Dark thought snakes into your brain. “H-How did you find out about my-”

“A hastily written text message from Crewel told me of your plight, Ms._______.” You have to breathe a sigh of relief that whatever was happening to you wasn’t being flooded around the school as petty gossip. “He thought I would be the best to discuss with you about your situation. Shall we-”

You can hear the whatever going on in Crowley’s office right now reach a crescendo in both volume and in vulgarity, loud enough to interrupt whatever Trein was going to say. You breathe a law at the sound, not bothering to pity Crowley as he gets the verbal lashing he’s more than likely earned. Trein does not share your sentiment, which might be because of exasperation from having to deal with this time and time again. He sighs, in indignation. “Perhaps we should take a walk, Crewel will be done within the hour… I hope.” 

“A-Alright.” You say sniffling. “C’mon, Grim...”

The halls are occupied with the noise of classroom chatter and other assorted noise for the first few moments after you leave the berating session that Crewel’s giving.

“You may have to fill in the gaps, 

“I’m surprised he’s so angry, you all didn’t really do anything back when this all started for me.”

“Call it deluded hope, Ms. _______. We’ve all been long disillusioned of Crowley’s incompetence, we occasionally have hope he’ll handle a troubling situation the right way. It is as the saying goes ‘fool me twice, shame on us’. I did not think he would willingly commit a crime, but it seems like I was once again a fool.”

“Oh, a-about that..if it’s against the law for me to be exposed to stuff like this, why the hell would Crowley think it’s a good idea for him to just let me stay.”

“Paperwork.”

“What.”

“He did not want to do the paperwork to get you transferred. There is a mountain of it involved, especially considering you did not exist in this world till earlier this month. He likely wagered that having you stay was worth not having to do his job.”

“Are you kidding me!?” Your swollen cheeks flood with warmth from anger. You’re prepared to curse Crowley to his ancestors, before Trein placates you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Do you understand now?” 

You give a hard, angry nod in understanding. “Unfortunately.” Stupid Crowley being lazy, and he’s the guy you’re going to rely on to bring you back home. Whatever powers that be rule the universe here or back home, you want to punch them in the nose for putting your ability to return home in the hands of Dire Crowley. 

“Since I’ve answered a question of your own

“Didn’t you say that Professor Crewel told you?”

“In his haste, the latter half descended into gibberish.”

“Oh, well-” You explain, slightly tentative as you recall your equivalent of a train crash in slow motion, feeling the leftover internal angst build again once as you narrate and relieve it. You don’t nix any details either, the fear, the dread, and just the complete exhaustion. “-and that’s what happened. Um…”

The initial response your retelling earn is 

“And how do you feel now? Are you alright?” The change in his facial expression and the tone shift is jarring, from the firm, a little too strict teacher to what feels like parental concern. 

“U-Uh… I’m not sure,”  You’re not too sure how to feel about this. “I’m just scared and anxious. But I’m sorry for asking but why are you so concerned?”

“What, pray tell, do you mean?”

Lukewarm dread pools in your stomach but you stomach it, “I’m j-just a little surprised you’re this concerned. I mean seeing or hearing people like me cry my eyes out is supposed to be normal around here, right?” You can’t help but think that it wasn’t too far off to see ‘darlings’ on the edge of a mental breakdown.

But much to your surprise, Professor Trein visibly recoils, “What are you-?!” He pauses to compose himself, taking a deep breath and muttering, “I swear every day with that man in charge of this school, the closer I come to losing my sanity.”

You can’t fathom his confusion, to you that’s what you’d grown to expect so it being the ‘hopefully’ opposite is equally confusing to you. “Uh-”

Trein regains his composure long enough to provide you an explanation, “My apologies, it would seem that Crowley has allowed you to gain the wrong opinion on how this world operates.”

“I beg to differ-” You cut yourself off, no matter what you could have said or done if you column’t convince Ace and Deuce to realise the er of their ways there was a snowflake’s chance in hell that you could do that with someone that’s had the chance to grow old under that same cursed system. You sigh, “Nevermind. It just seems like people like me are just doomed to suffer.”

“I see… As difficult as this may be for someone in your shoes to believe, I sympathize with your plight, while I’ve never experienced what you have from your perspective…” He trails off. “Perhaps it’s just easier to show you. Here.” Professor Trein withdraws a pocket book from his coat, showing you a well loved picture of him and two young women. 

Realisation hits you too harshly and too swiftly, “You’re a dad?!” You say a bit too incredulously. 

Trein raises an eyebrow, “You say that as if it’s impossible to believe.”

“Well, you’re not exactly upfront about your personal life.” Or outwardly very fatherly for that matter. 

He makes a small sound that sounds like the closest he’ll get to a laugh, “You are both observant and correct. But I am willing to make an exception given your circumstances.” He withdraws a pocketbook from his coat, revealing a picture of two adult women about a handful of years older than you. 

You smile softly at the pictures of Trein’s daughters, “They're beautiful.” you murmur.

“Thank you. Those two mean the world to me.”

“W-Why are you showing me them?”

“Because they, like you, are both darlings,” You noticeably balk, prompting an explanation from Trein. “Some have found that worrisome. But I know them to be two very tenacious young women, who managed to find peace and security in their lives despite the situation. They are only slightly older than you, and I distinctly remember the stress they were under thanks to their position, but they managed to adapt. And that is primarily because there is no law that I would hesitate to break if it guaranteed their safety and peace of mind.” 

You’re taken aback that the school’s extremely strict, no-nonsense teacher literally admits to you that he can, probably has, and would again if it meant that his children were safe and sound. You suppose that the same people that live in this crazy world still love their children enough to care enough to try and shield them from the danger.

“You broke the law for them?!” You end up sounding more surprised than you wanted to, but in your confusion it is justified. It seems completely counterintuitive, shielding your own children from the same action you perpetuate to the people that will one day be their worst nightmare. Wouldn’t it just be so much easier for them to just leave them unprotected, despite all the bad stuff that would mean for you if that were the case, to the predators ready to snap them up in their jaws. 

Professor Trein however, says something that you can’t debate.“What man could stand to call himself a loving father if he was not willing to do anything to protect his children?”

You can’t object to that. For good reason too. Society outside isn’t burning to the ground thanks to the way it has run for years upon years. Even if you may not understand how it could exist and still run like normal, there were still going to be people that were ‘normalish’ from your perspective. Loving parents trying to protect their kids from the madness of the world that was made to be insane from before they came to be were universal, or rather multi-dimensional.

Trein seems to love his daughters dearly. And if you guessed if romantic love was twisted to the point where parents had to worry about their kids just going missing, why wouldn’t any of them, even the most traditional and faithful to the way things are, try to prepare their kids to go into a world that constantly endangered them. “Your daughters must be lucky to have you looking out for them.” 

“They are quite vocal about that.” There’s a small quirk on his lips that make you think that he’s, a rarity truly, in fact smiling. “But there is a reason I wished to share this with you-”

“That… it is possible to maneuver all this?” You interrupt, because you don’t want to raise your hopes too high and have them be swept away in the wind if he was offering what you think he was.

“Yes, but easier and less mentally taxing as when you aren’t the only one trying to keep you safe.”

“Wait, are you… are you offering me help?” You don’t feel relief hearing that though, as suspicion floods your mind. “Why?”

“ ‘Offering’ is the wrong word. We are giving you the help you need, Ms. ______.”  

“Yeah, no offense, but I’ve come to realise that trust isn’t something I can give freely.” You argue, you weren’t going to be naive like before, no matter how comforting or sappy hearing a father talk about his kids was. “There are SO many layers to this, but to start I barely know you.”

“If it calms you, this conversation wasn’t prompted by your mental breakdown today. You forget that teachers do talk. My concern rose these past few days watching you deteriorate in class. Crewel, Vargas, even Sam; noticed your slow collapse. Your ‘confrontation’ with Crewel has been in the works since yesterday. And we’ve all agreed to this.” 

“O-Ok… but..” Remaining doubtful, you keep asking questions. “Even so, I’m not your kid. You have no real obligation to help me. You or Crewel. And wouldn’t it make more sense for you to help all your students instead? I mean, if I’m the thing that makes them all finally feel fulfilled, wouldn’t helping them be the right thing to do?”

“Once again, Crowley has let your opinion of all of this become muddled. The reason we teach on how to capture and subdue you is so that you and many like you undergo the least mental stress.” You sincerely doubt that there wouldn’t be some severe anguish caused by the capture part but you decide it’s better not to bring it up. “Many cannot stomach the sight of a darling breaking down like you were made to. To us, it’s unnecessary, abject cruelty.” 

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying that the whole ‘completely disregard consent’ part was the part where you drew the line of unnecessary cruelty but that was not going to change anything. Instead you say, “So, essentially, you’re agreeing to help me out of pity.” If pity was the reason they were even considering helping you, you resolve to milk that cow for all it’s worth until you literally can’t. As long as it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass later. 

“Not how I would have described it, but in a word, yes.”

At this point, you think you’re willing to take any form of help from anyone. You’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and your situation is too dire to be picky. “Regardless, thank you.” You finally feel a genuine smile cross your face for the first time all day. It’s small but it’s still there. “I… I want to feel safe again. Thank you for helping me.”

“Truly, it is no trouble, it’s a shame that Crowley has muddled your opinion on everyone in this world.” Trein notices something  “And speaking of which here we are.”

You tune back into your environment and realise that you all but walked in a complete circle talking all the way back to Crowley’s office. You can hear Crewel still chewing out Crowley through the door. “Huh.. we are.” To think a conversation distracted you so much. “Is it safe to assume this happens often?”

“I would not lie to you, Ms.______,” Trein ruffles your hair with fatherly affection. “Now then, let go stop Crewel before he loses his voice yelling at Crowley… again.” You laugh, an action you’ve come to miss in the past few days.

The second the doors open back up and before you can even walk back into the room,  it’s like you even never left, which makes you chuckle a little bit. 

“Oh, finally!” Crowley notices your return before Crewel does, scooting to practically hide behind you to shield himself from Crewel’s wrath. “At least, don’t yell while poor sweet ______ is in the room.”

“Don’t you start this again…” Crewel’s face is noticeably flushed from his anger, and his voice just slightly hoarse from his tirade. 

Trein manages to stop this before it spirals into something worse. “Take a breath and compose yourself, Divus. _______ is in the room and we have . Dire, don’t drag _______ into this, she’s merely a drop in the ocean when it comes to you.”

Crowley gasps dramatically, as you shrug him off. “Yeah, leave me out of this.”

Crowley recoils with “To think you turned her against me that fast.”

“Everyday, I come into work and wonder how this school hasn’t burned to the ground.” The wrinkles on Trein’s face seem to age that much faster as he mutters that under his breath. the longer he “As for us, we will go see Ashton and Sam, you’ll need more than our help in handling your situation. Come, Ms.______.” You nod enthusiastically, following the two out of Crowley’s office 

“Yes, yes go do that.” Crowley waves you all off sheepishly,  “Yeesh, normally I don’t get yelled at like this till the mid-term.”

Crewel hears that and looks like he’s about to snap at Crowley again, only for Trein to stop him. “Spare yourself the useless lecture, Divus. You’ll just say it all again.”

The implication of that aside, you chuckle. Because you have some people backing you up now. You still have reason to be suspicious about this whole arrangement in its entirety, but right now you’d let yourself be relieved until you can’t anymore. 

“So how exactly is this going to work?” Now outside the classroom area with the sun burning your dry eyes as you walk through the empty courtyard, you finally take the chance to figure out how this new situation will work, “ I know that you covered the bulk of it, Professor Trein, but what are you going to really do?” 

Crewel pauses in his stride to answer, “Don’t hold your breath, pup. We won’t be standing guard outside of Ramshackle as you sleep.” Well, you weren’t really expecting that even if you would’ve loved that. 

Trein gives you more of an explanation, “In essence, we will be providing you tutoring outside of lessons to your benefit. How to protect yourself from potions and drugging attempts with Crewel, and  as well as animal language with me.”

You can feel the newly returned energy rapidly deflate like a popped balloon “So… you’re protecting me by giving you more work?” You already have to rebuild Ramshackle, babysit Grim and attend classes, regardless of circumstances, you already felt drained hearing it be described. 

“If you are not prepared to put in the work, aren’t you prepared to fail?”

“Yes but-” You can’t deny that Trein’s right. You don’t want to go to bed one more night feeling dreadfully unprepared. 

“If it makes you feel better, we’ll also keep those desperate mutts chasing your tail at bay when you’re in class.” Crewel reassures, “While we won’t be able to keep watch of them outside of classes, your dreaded loss of free time will also keep them far from you.”

Well, THAT is a price you would pay for being away from your two shadows, short period or not. “Well, sign me up! What’s first?”

The Flying Field is full of students being made to run lap after lap, and you said forced because about a third of them look like they’re halfway to dying as they can barely keep up the pace. You understand it completely, the past few days of too little sleep and too much on your brain basically made you dead weight when you had Phys Ed. 

And as usual being his big, great self making sure that the poor struggling students keep pace against their will is your own past torturer/P.E teacher, Coach Vargas. He takes notice of your sudden arrival without confusion, he must have been expecting your arrival. Why did he know when today was the day you snapped? Don’t ask you. 

“Ah, if it isn’t, _______?”  You cringe a little because just any eavesdropping students are running a decent ways away, Vargas is loud enough that some may have heard something you’re still desperate to keep quiet.

“Hey, Coach Vargas..” You greet somewhat sheepishly in comparison to vargas’ intensity. “I guess you heard today’s… news?”

“Yes, I did! Fear not, your favourite coach will handle everything!” He takes notice of your discomfort and his high, vigorous spirits dampen a bit to talk a bit more seriously and sincerely, “Don’t worry, _________, you’re in good hands. I’ll have you kicking ass and taking names before the semester’s over.”

Not… bad, you suppose. You already had to run excess laps whenever everyone else was flying, because you and Grim on a broom was almost a sure fire recipe for a broken neck, so that would just be an extension of your class time just with you probably being infinitely more tired and sore afterward. “That doesn’t sound too hard.”

“Won’t be hard? You can’t even make five laps round the field, little ______.  ” Okay, a little harsh. While Vargas says it jokingly, there is some scathing truth to that from class the other day… and most of the other classes before then. You admittedly could stand to stay in the best shape possible. Whether you were already in shape, or were as fit as a fiddle, it didn’t matter in the end. “Maybe you don’t have what it takes.”

You can tell he’s saying that way to rile you up and push you forward and you’re not going to back down just because he pointed out something like that. In your defense, you were stupidly tired and stressed when you went to Phys Ed. Once things were a little better that was bound to change. Maybe. You puff up your confidence like a rooster would their chest, feeling energized, you exclaim,  “I’m prepared to do anything. Anything!” Whether it was running, climbing or falling as you struggled to figure out a broom, you were literally prepared to do any- 

“Then we’ll start at first light tomorrow. By the time I’m done working you over, no one will be able to catch you.” Your sleep deprived brain slows to a stop once you hear that part, equal parts shocked and outraged. 

“W-Wha- Tomorrow!?” You can’t even voice the ‘ah, that’s going to suck’ or subtly request it to not be at the ass crack of dawn part because before you can even get out your feelings of disbelief about the sudden start time, Coach Vargas takes the opportunity to use his arm to trap you in a very enthusiastic and very tight hold, before giving you a painful, but bearable noogie.

“What’s wrong little egghead, we gotta whip you into shape! The sooner, the better!” Coach Vargas laughs boisterously as if he was an uncle holding his unfortunate nibling. “Be glad I don't have you eating raw eggs!”

“Ow! Okay! Okay!” As thankful as you are to get to help you wish it came without the violent, stupidly strong noogie. Not the worst part of your day though. 

Sam’s shop turns out to be the next stop on your list to gathering support. Thankfully, not overwhelmingly busy during school hours unlike when you just met with Vargas, but the few times that you’d visited the Sam’s shop to resupply in the dead of night, gee, thanks for that one, Past Grim it’s not like you have a fear of leaving Ramshackle; the store freaked you out for a completely different reason. 

Maybe it was the fact that Sam always gave you an off-feeling. Maybe it was all the unique stuff in his store, something told you that not all of this stuff was used in good faith. You’re just being frank, if murder was on one student’s mind, why wouldn’t they pop on down to Sam’s to get a rare poison or a weapon that will kill without a trace or something completely normal that could be used in a murder- You need to stop spiralling again, maybe Sam has some relaxation stuff for sale.

And to add to that, his ‘friends on the other side’ seem to help him notice you, before you notice him. Because-

“Welcome, little imp!”

“GAH!” 

…Because Sam scared you the second that you came in. If you weren’t having a better day today, you would be breaking down all over again.

“Heyyy. Don’t scare me like that, Sam.” You weakly try to reprimand. You’d jumped about eight inches into the air, and now your over-stressed heart was racing like an overworked race horse. Maybe a stress-induced heart failure will be your escape from this world. 

“My apologies, little scamp.” Sam’s smile is both parts mysterious but welcoming, and his apology feels sincere. You mentally kick yourself for being so suspicious, you’re starting to hate feeling like this and Sam is being genuine. You think. “Didn’t mean to scare you out of your skin. Thought we’d get things started before the student’s come rushing in for lunch.”

“O-Oh, yeah, about that..” This is something smaller that was bugging you since leaving Crowley’s office the second time. “Why would you specifically want to help me out? Like I get why Crewel, Trein and Vargas would want to help me out because they’re teachers. But from what I’m getting from this whole thing, is that you’re offering me a job and that means you’ll have to pay me. So why are you doing this?”

Sam actually seems surprised by your suspicion. “Can’t I want to help protect a lost little imp?”

“Is it pity?” You ask bluntly. “So far it feels like pity.”

“Yes and no, I’ve seen you come in blurry eyed and july like you’re possessed in the late hours the past three times you’d shopped here, some kind of malignant spirit in me can’t stand the sight of it.” 

“Wait, hang on. I’ve come here a grand total of three times since my nightmare epiphany, how did you even notice that I was losing my mind.”

Sam smirks at you in a way that makes you feel that same chill you felt seeing the ghosts the first time. “My friends on the other side see all, little imp.”

Well, that’s totally not ominous and even more freaky. “You know what, on second thought, I don’t want to know and I would like to never know.”

And it is pity and that’s the second time you got that today. You might need to take an acting class. “As for the no, because if I have students working for me, Crowley has to pay their wages to avoid breaking labor laws. So we both get to get back at Crowley. A win win.” 

“Oh!” A fire for vengeance sparks beneath your skin and you feel like being the little imp Sam has been calling you this whole time. “Well then, count me in! Where do we start?”

“Of course we have to handle the schematics but we can handle those later, right now I think you might want to exploit the employee discount early?”

“Wait, really!? Could you get me a proper door and lock for my room?”

“Little imp, I can get you anything.” 

“Can it be unfairly expensive?”

“As long as it makes Crowley cry when he finds it on his bank statements, nothing is off-limits.”

The dopamine rushing to your brain after the last four days of it being pumped full of cortisol is such a pleasant high that things feel so much better and so much easier. With happy tears pricking in your eyes, you smile, “I think I'm going to like working here.”

“Finally, done!” You exclaim as you finish tightening the last screw. Replacing the door, frame, and lock of your bedroom is an arduous task on limited sleep but you finally feel like your room is, finally, a small safe space that you can trust not to crumble into splinters. Sure, it’s not  a permanent solution since you’ll have to take the boards off the broken windows eventually and locks can always be picked, but you can now feel just the slightest bit safe as you sleep tonight. 

“Who knew that crying can solve a lot of your problems?” You say with a self-deprecating laugh. It’s amazing how just doing that led to something that just took some of the crushing weight you’d been forced to bear off your shoulders. While you might be stuck in your terrifying horror movie that is your life, but even a little weight off your shoulders is a relief to make the rest of it just a little easier to manage. 

You’re still not a hundred percent hopeful though. You’ve realised that it’s smart to just hold your breath when it comes to stuff like this. 

Because at the end of the day, when you come home you’re alone with Grim in a house with too many broken locks, doors made of rotting wood, and windows only held closed by wooden boards. Relief was temporary, as you’d come to realise. 

If you had your way, you would have blue-balled Crowley into getting you someplace to live off-campus for the pain and suffering he’d caused you, where you could live with Grim and sleep without insomnia from thinking that your jamming of loose wood into your doorframe to block was bound to fail or nightmares from what you’d seen and dreamt. 

Sure, the staff  were going to make you feel infinitely safer and infinitely easier than it had been this morning, but honestly you still felt the cold hand of dread creeping up your back. If it wasn’t for Grim, you’d have been drenched with cold sweat right now. At the very least you weren’t alone. 

You flop back on your bed, ready to sink into slumber when you hear Grim ask, “Hey ________?” 

You shake off your increasing depressive thoughts and tune back in, “Yeah, Grim?” You can’t help but feel in the whirlwind that came about you’d unintentionally neglected him a bit. 

“What’s makin’ ya so upset?” He’s less annoyingly blunt, it’s like Grim genuinely cares. Today i

“Well, I did say that we were going to talk about it later. But I don’t think I have to explain now. I kind of screamed it earlier.” You shudder from the cringey reminder. It may have been nice to get it out, but it still was a little pathetic crying like that. “I’m sorry I kept it from you, I just am… new to living like this.”

You’d maybe forgotten Grim is still from this world and his madness anyway but you’d been comforted by the fact he wasn’t weird around or went it related to you, something you prayed didn’t change. “You’re actin’ weird because everyone’s bein’ weird?”

“I-It’s more than that, I’m worried that something might happen to me at any moment. You were kind of busy being drugged and I almost was when they were killing those guys, literally anything could be happening in the shadows, and I could be in danger just from drinking from a bottle of water. It’s a new kind of fear, and I haven’t been able to handle it yet.” It’s the truth, and horrifying one, whatever protective skills you’d cultivated back home are sort of flipped on its head here. Especially with Sage Island allowing students to kill others if they want to, it’s all so foreign and strange. Anyone could be sneaking through Ramshackle right now, and your freedom could be gone by morning. 

You don’t want to let that destroy the tiny sensation of peace that you’d managed to hold to, squashing the thought and flopping back on the mattress with a sigh. “I’m just… doing my best.”

“Oh…” There’s a beat of silence as what you say settles in. “That’s kinda sad, henchman.” Grim smirks at that last part, which is the complete opposite of what your roommate should be saying in a moment like this!

“ Hey!?” Bewildered, you recoil. Why would he say that after seeing your mental breakdown?! Now, very angry you n“I literally just bawled my eye out in front of you and THAT’S what you have to say-”

You’re about ready to wring his throat, when Grim rightfully notices your imminent rage. “EEp! I meant that you’ve got the Great Grim as your boss to protect ya, and you’re not begging him to use his great power to protect ya.”

Oh. “Oh.” 

“Geez, henchman don’t take it out on me, I know you’re mad but c’mon.”

“Sorry.” Maybe you aren’t feeling that much better after all, whether that improves in the coming days here is anybody’s guess. “You shouldn’t have said it like that though, you freaked me out. And what’s the catch, you never listen to me when I tell you to do something unless I twist your arm.”

Grim takes offense to you calling out his greed and laziness, “HEY!”

“But if you’re serious. I happily accept the Great Grim’s generosity.” There was no way that you’d refuse him, especially since Grim’s kindness without a selfish demand was a rarity you’d learnt the past few days. And if it was a way to grow closer to your roomie, just to feel normal again in the slightest sense, you’d be a fool to refuse. “But on one condition, you can’t try to skip class all the time, got it?”

“Yeah! Wait-” Grim goes from excited at your acceptance to completely betrayed, it’s almost funny really. “Henchman! I don’t wanna go to class all the time!”

“Can’t protect me if you don’t learn new spells,” You point out. 

Grim can’t deny that you’re a little right, so he grumbles, “Myah… fine…. But you gotta give me extra tuna when I go!”

“One extra can, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

It’s nice to feel at peace again. 

[deezee112]

The ending 8 : Close to Perfect

Masterlist | Ending 7 | Ending 9

Yandere!Platonic!Jack Howl x GN!kid!Reader

A/N : Good news, everyone! I'm officially back for good! Right now, I'm working on some parts of the twins, so I might disappear for a little while but I promise to post Azul's part within the next two weeks!

Warning : emotional manipulation , self-harm , psychological pressure , death

Tags :

@sherryclover @creativecupcake @hsjdhehsjssj @neufora

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

" My name is Jack. "

The words came out softly, almost rehearsed, like he’d just been waiting for you to ask.

He sat up, his hands on his knees, back straight.

His chin tilted back slightly with a proud gesture, as if the name was important on its own as if it should mean something.

“ And you, I was ordered to look after you. ” he added.

He had a steady voice, almost too steady, the way someone sounds when he believes in his lines. “ And I did. I always did. Since the beginning. ”

He turned his head slightly, observing the path the lamplight took against the edge of your blanket.

You hadn’t responded.

You stared, guarded, blinked slowly.

You didn’t know what to say so you nodded. Then looked away.

He didn’t smile but he didn’t appear to be annoyed either.

You could tell he was trying.

That meant something.

The first week, he packed your lunches.

Your relationship to lunc her is someone who packed everything just as it should be trimming crust from sandwiches, peeling oranges, knowing your favorite juices.

He didn’t ask what you liked. He just…guessed.

And he got it right.

It spooked you a bit, he knew whatever he knew.

“ Finish everything. ” he would say every morning “ I calculated the calories. ” he added.

You blinked up at him, startled. “ Calories..? ”

“ I want you to grow strong. ” he said, as if that explained everything.

And you…wanted that. You did.

You wanted to be strong.

You wanted to be someone he valued.

He assisted with your homework, too.

Or assisted in the way that a tiger might assist a rabbit trying to cross a river.

You would show him your test, and he would audit it like it was a battlefield report.

Red pen in hand. Eyebrows furrowed.

“ You missed this one. ”

“ The logic here is weak. ”

“ Step it up. ”

And when you got it right when you achieved it perfectly his voice would soften slightly “ Good. ”

Just one word, but it made your stomach flutter like a butterfly trapped in a cage.

You didn’t want to disappoint him.

You never wanted to disappoint him.

The first time he took your hand, you remember.

He took your hand the first time when you scraped your knee on the track.

You didn’t know you were sobbing until he knelt beside you.

“ Why’d you fall? ” he asked, not in an unkind manner. “ Weren’t you paying attention? ”

“ I—I was— ” said you, sniffling, clearly embarrassed.

He frowned. “ You didn’t warm up enough. ”

Then he extended his hand to you. “ Come on. We’ll try again. You’ll get it right this time. ”

You took it.

You took it because you wanted to try again.

Because next time mattered.

Because if Jack believed in you, then maybe you weren’t so useless after all.

For a while he made you feel seen.

Important.

He noticed things no one else did.

That you were biting your nails again, and that your hands shook when you poured milk.

That you didn’t finish your dinner if the carrots touched the rice.

He’d fix it without you having to ask. He didn’t say it, but…it felt like love.

The kind that truly pays attention.

The kind you never knew how to ask for. It began simple Jack started off being gentle. A bit stiff and strange, but you appreciated that.

Unlike most people, he was not full of forced, cheerful phrases.

Jack did not fake anything.

He was honest.

If you made mistakes, he pointed them out.

If you did something right, he acknowledged it quietly.

His version of commendation was, ‘Not Bad, definitely not a good job,’ but back then, that meant everything.

The first time he picked you up after school, you distinctly remember how he was standing at the gate, arms crossed, looking decisively down at your scraped knees.

He did not comment on the bruise on your cheek nor the bandages covering your injuries.

He simply pulled your bag far above his shoulder, and as it was nothing, walked you home.

“ You need to stop falling.” he said.

“ Im trying… ” you whispered back.

Definitely fight harder.

And that is what you did FOR him.

Jack prepared special protein shakes for you.

He organized your mornings and scheduled runs at dawn.

It was exciting at first.

The fact Jack believed in you made a difference.

He envisioned something in you that he could mold, shape, and refine, and that meant the world.

That was the first of many moments that shaped yo existence.

When you first returned home after emerging as the first runner up in the school event, you was clearly ecstatic.

And as you walked toward him, you felt like he had to feel at least a little proud of you though maybe that was just what you wanted to believe.

But you expectations of him remained unrealized.

“ Second? ” was the only phrase he muttered.

He certainly did not look happy, so that raised the expectations.

There was not a hint of bitterness in his voice. It was not a smile too.

That was the response you got for being the first runner up.

Looking down made you realize that the vexation

you had a glimpse of was totally misplaced.

Throttled was a much better description of the feeling you was going through.

For quite sometime, you decided to devote not only your time, but you life too to this issue.

You was so determined to give it you everything, you ended up skipping a couple meals.

There were days when you used to feel blank in the head.

Suffering endlessly through the pain all through my chest, hands, and being hopeless qualified as defiance to the feel like surrender.

Putting a hand on your chest worked as a teleport to another dimension where everything was pain free.

Endless attempts taught you that hand in hand with having expectations also needs to be the acceptance of the other contingents.

You surrender did not guarantee you anything.

You started hiding the blood on your socks, along with the fevers and the shaking.

He never asked, and you never told.

Sometimes he’d hand you a cold drink or a towel, and for a split second, you'd wonder if maybe he noticed.

Maybe he actually cared.

But then he’d say, “ You can’t improve if you keep slacking. ”

Slackers, they don’t throw up behind school buildings just to keep up.

Slackers don’t black out on the track.

Slackers don’t wake up in ambulances.

Still, you kept pushing through.

One night, you found yourself staring in the mirror.

Your reflection showed a pale face and narrow shoulders.

You’d lost way too much weight, the outline of your ribs showing under your shirt.

Yet your eyes were blazing with determination.

'Almost there' you told yourself.

Just one more medal.

One more performance.

One more victory.

Maybe this time, he’d finally say it this time, Jack would actually say he was proud.

Then came the day of the championship.

You didn’t mention how much your body hurt.

You didn’t mention that you hadn’t slept in three days.

You didn’t mention that your vision got blurry every time you blinked.

You stepped into that arena like a soldier.

You gave it your all.

And then everything just went blank.

You collapsed before they even announced the winner.

When they covered you up, your fingers were still curled, as if reaching for something just out of grasp.

Like if you could stretch just a bit further, you'd hear him say it.

He would say, " You did well. "

But you never got to hear those words.

You died chasing after his love.

And Jack?

He stood by your hospital bed, fists tight and jaw clenched, whispering, " You should've tried harder.... "

[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?