#homichiper x reader

[deepobservationninja]

HOMICIPHER | well reader here has two babies (twins)and kinda of found herself in the ghost Appartaments randomly when she was returning home after buying groceries.

After finding herself in these ghost Appartaments she witnessed MC (a family adashino-killer-) murder one of her victims..

warnings idk I am not a fan fictioner.

*:..｡o○○o｡..:*⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ✾✿❖※※✥★

The air was thick and cold, heavy with the scent of decay. The dimly lit hallway stretched endlessly before her, the peeling wallpaper and creaking floorboards a grim reminder that this place was far from normal. She hadn’t meant to stumble into the Ghost Apartments. One wrong turn, one misplaced step, and suddenly she was here—with her two newborns strapped tightly to her chest in a baby carrier, their soft breathing a stark contrast to the eerie silence surrounding them.

She clutched the straps of the carrier as if her life depended on it, which, in a way, it did. The bags of food she had brought with her were slung over her shoulder, weighing her down. She hadn't even realized she’d entered a place this cursed until she saw the first ghost. Mr. Crawling. He’d slithered across the ceiling like a spider, his elongated limbs clicking against the wood. Her heart froze in terror, but her instincts kicked in—she ran, keeping her babies as still as possible, muffling her own ragged breathing.

Now she stood in the hallway, listening to the silence that wasn’t really silent. Something was always moving in the background. She just didn’t know where. She turned a corner, praying she’d find an exit, but her prayers were answered with horror instead.

The sound of a blade slicing through flesh tore through the quiet. Blood splattered against the wall in thick, crimson streaks. Standing over a lifeless body was her—a woman, clad in a tattered hoodie, her eyes cold and calculating. The Killer. The one everyone feared. The MC of this twisted game.

Reader froze, her breath hitching as the Killer’s head snapped toward her. Those eyes locked onto hers, narrowing as if deciding whether she was next. The babies squirmed in their carrier, sensing her fear, and she knew she had to move. But her feet were rooted to the spot, her body paralyzed by terror.

“Run,” the Killer said softly, almost mockingly, as she tilted her head. “I like it when they run.”

Reader didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and bolted, her legs carrying her down the hall as fast as they could. Behind her, she could hear the steady, deliberate footsteps of the Killer. Not rushing. Never rushing. She didn’t need to.

But it wasn’t just the Killer. The ghosts were here too, drawn to her as if sensing fresh prey. Mr. Stitched loomed at the end of the hall, his sewn-together form blocking her path. She swerved into a room, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hands trembled as she held the doorknob, praying they wouldn’t come in.

The room was dark, but she wasn’t alone. A shape moved in the corner—a hulking figure with a butcher’s apron stained in blood. Mr. Butcher. His cleaver glinted in the faint light as he turned toward her, his movements slow but deliberate.

She backed away, clutching her babies tightly. "Please," she whispered, knowing it was useless. But just as the Butcher raised his cleaver, the door burst open, and the Killer stepped inside, her knife gleaming.

“What are you doing here?” the Killer snarled, her voice sharp and venomous. Her gaze darted to the babies, then back to Reader. “You don’t belong here.”

Neither did she, but that wasn’t the time to argue. “I didn’t mean to come here!” Reader said desperately, her voice trembling. “I’m just trying to get out!”

The Butcher swung his cleaver, and the Killer moved fast, her knife meeting the blow. Sparks flew as metal clashed against metal. The two figures fought, and Reader took the chance to run again, her legs carrying her blindly through the maze of rooms and hallways.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but eventually, her luck ran out. Another ghost—Mr. Scarlatella—appeared in her path. His scarlet eyes burned with malice as he slashed at her with sharp, skeletal fingers. She dodged, but the Killer wasn’t so lucky. The ghost’s claws raked across her arm, blood splattering the floor.

Reader should have kept running. She should have left the Killer to her fate. But something inside her wouldn’t let her. The Killer fell to her knees, clutching her wound, and for a moment, she didn’t look like a murderer. She looked… human. Vulnerable.

Reader hesitated, then knelt beside her. The Killer’s eyes widened in confusion as Reader placed a hand on her arm. Warmth spread from Reader’s palm, the wound closing as golden light enveloped them.

“What… what are you doing?” the Killer whispered, her voice cracking.

“Healing you,” Reader said simply, though her hands shook.

The Killer stared at her, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. When the light faded, her arm was whole again. She flexed her fingers, testing it, before standing up.

“Why?” the Killer asked, her tone softer now, almost unsure.

“Because… no one deserves to bleed like that,” Reader said.

The Killer’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “You’re a fool,” she muttered. “Healing me won’t save you.”

“Maybe not,” Reader said, cradling her babies closer. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

The Killer turned away, muttering something under her breath. “Follow me,” she said, her tone brusque.

“What?”

“I said follow me. You’ll die here if you don’t.”

Reader hesitated but had no other choice. Together, they navigated the cursed apartments, the Killer cutting down anything that got too close. Reader didn’t know if she could trust her, but for now, she had hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could survive this nightmare.

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Skibidi I didn't kind of write this I just told my thoughts and told chat gpt to write this fan fiction that's it.

[cheriihoney]

We’re doing mr. Scarletella now

[seeliemansi]

HEAR ME OUT! Mc (reader) performs "Earned it" by The Weeknd (yes the tiktok dance) meanwhile Mr. Crawling 👁️👄👁️

It's your choice whether u make it sfw/nsfw I WANNA KNOW HIS REACTION-

I will be honest with you nonnie. I think Mr. Crawling is too innocent to have the reaction you want him to have.

The moment you called for Mr. Crawling, you can hear how fast he zoomed towards the room where you at. His hands were happily tapping on the floor, his smile is wide, as he chirped, "Me here! You call?"

It was as if just by calling his name, you made his day.

At first, you feel a bit ashamed as he innocently titled his head to the side, waiting for you to speak or do whatever the reason you called for him. He looks too pure for the dance you plan to perform. But, you have to do this. This is his reward for being so good to you since he came home with you.

Anyway, might as well start.

With a deep breath, you readied yourself, played the music and do the choreography as you practiced.

You never took your eyes off him, especially when you got down, opened your legs and flip your hair. You watched as his smile went to an "O" and how he gasped when you suddenly move down, surprising him.

After you ended your performance, the room was quiet, too quiet to your liking. When you raised your head, he was just staring at you, at least that's how you felt as his smile was down and he was just sitting there, unmoving.

Embarassed, you felt your face heat up, and immediately sat properly, crossing your legs shame finally catching up to you.

You were about to say something and cut the awkwardness when he suddenly grinned and clapped his hands. His giggles are loud as he howled and cheered for you.

"Wow! Cute! Good! Good! Pretty! Pretty!"

You let out a yelped when he suddenly hug you, snaking his arms around your neck. His cheeks glued on you as he continue his praises, and squeezes you with affection.

"Kiss! Kiss!" He suddenly scooped your face and give you smooches all over your face.

You were too dumfounded to do anything so all you did was blinked, until he used his hands to pat your head, and you giggled, ticklish.

"Love you! You love me?"

a/n: but i don't want to end this here and i thought might as well write for the other guys 😆

The other Homicipher boys under the cut

Mr. Hood just stood there after you performed. He didn't say anything but he kept you sat on his lap the whole day.

Mr. Chopped is not innocent as you think. If he has a body, you'll see the sign of his boner on his pants. Let's just say Mr. Chopped was too clingy after that invigorating performance.

Mr. Silvair was grinning the whole time until it ended, just like his reaction every time. It made you nervous, and you gulped not knowing what to do. Suddenly, he grabbed a pen and a paper, and wrote the exact words, "you only show that to me. yes?"

Mr. Machete never let you finish. He thought whatever you were doing is a challenge and he almost chase you out. It took a while but you convinced him after that you were just dancing. The mood was already ruined so you didn't pursue doing it again.

Mr. Gap watched your performance intently, too intent to your liking. He was grinning from start to finish. He was giggling when you were done when suddenly he vanished out of your sight. It made you nervous and scared. Knowing him, he will probably do something unpredictable. And you were right. He suddenly appeared on the shadow that was on your wall. Touched your nape with his cold hand. You felt something sticky and wet had touched your skin. The suddenness making you yelped and shudder in surprise. He giggled and vanished for the entirety of the day. (What an asshole)

Mr. Scarletella was smiling at first when you started your perfomance. But it was you who decided to stop it when he suddenly turned his head in a 360' angle and never let his eyes out of you. It was so creepy that your want to perform was replaced by fear. He stood by you the whole day. Way too close to your liking, that you can feel his jacket brushing on your skin.

[rosehyde505]

I love this

[deepobservationninja]

another homicipher random thoughts that I told chat gpt to write into a fan fiction, the problem is that the characters could be toooo ooooc,.. Omg I should start writing myself fr

*:..｡o○　○o｡..:*⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ✾✿❖※※✥★

The rain was relentless as you hurried down the dimly lit streets of Tokyo, clutching your umbrella tightly against the cold wind. The sound of your footsteps echoed on the slick pavement, drowned by the distant hum of city life. Your heart raced—not from exertion, but from the gnawing anxiety that followed you wherever you went.

You didn’t mean to get lost. The streets had twisted and turned in ways the map on your phone couldn’t decipher. Foreign characters blurred before your eyes. The unfamiliar symbols of the Japanese language only made your panic worse.

Finally, you saw a building with faint lights glowing through its windows. Homicipher Apartments. The sign hung crookedly, its letters worn and faded, but it promised shelter from the storm.

Stepping inside, the air was heavy, oppressive. The faint scent of something metallic—coppery—lingered, making your stomach churn. You had hoped for a friendly landlord or even just a warm place to wait until you could figure out your next move.

But instead, you heard it. The sound of something… wet. A squelch, followed by a low, gurgling moan. Your breathing hitched as you froze in the darkened hallway. Peeking around the corner, you saw her.

A woman stood in the center of the room, her face obscured by the hood of her white raincoat. Her long, damp white hair spilled from beneath it, clinging to her shoulders. Pale skin glowed ghostlike in the dim light, and her crimson eyes burned like embers in the darkness. In her hands, she gripped a long crowbar, the curved end dripping with crimson. The body on the floor—a woman, lifeless and pale—lay in a pool of blood, her vacant eyes staring at the ceiling.

You clasped your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream. But you weren’t fast enough.

The woman—(Adami Adashino)—turned. Her gaze pierced through the dim light, locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. For a moment, she tilted her head, her hood shifting slightly, revealing just enough of her chillingly beautiful face to make your heart stop. Her lips curled into a smile that sent icy shivers down your spine.

You didn’t think. You ran.

Your feet slammed against the floor as you bolted down the hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind you, you heard the crowbar scrape against the ground and (Adami’s) footsteps following at a measured pace. She didn’t need to run. She knew the apartment far better than you did.

Doors in the hallway creaked open as you ran, revealing grotesque figures peeking out from the shadows.

A figure with a dark hood loomed in a doorway, watching your frantic escape. His face was obscured, and there were no glowing eyes to give him away. Yet his presence sent chills down your spine, a feeling of dread that grew heavier with each step.

Another door slammed open, and a massive, hulking figure stepped out, dragging a bloody cleaver along the floor. His lips curled into a sneer, but he didn’t give chase—yet.

The figure of a man with jagged, mismatched scars stepped into your path. His movements were jerky, uncertain, as if he didn’t know whether to stop you or let you pass. You screamed, ducking around him before he could decide.

Finally, you saw the exit. A faint glow of streetlights shone through the glass doors, and you threw yourself toward them with all the strength you had left.

Just as you pushed through the doors, you heard her voice behind you. It wasn’t the mocking call of a predator, but something almost sweet. Foreign words in a language you didn’t understand, spoken as if to soothe a frightened child. The crowbar dragged along the floor behind her, the sound lingering in your ears even as you stumbled into the street.

You didn’t look back. You ran into the rain, tears mixing with the downpour as your breath came in ragged sobs. The cold air bit into your skin, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Hours later, you found yourself in a small diner, huddled in a corner booth. The waitress spoke broken English as she brought you a cup of coffee, her kind smile doing little to soothe your frayed nerves.

But even as you sat there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. The shadows outside seemed darker than they should have been.

You thought you were safe. But deep down, you knew the nightmare wasn’t over.

Somewhere out there, (Adami) was searching for you.

And she wasn’t the only one.

[rosehyde505]

I still haven't played, but he's my pookie. It's foretold

love a man who can do both