Synopsis: A camping trip gone wrong leaves your boyfriend splattered across a masked, dumb serial killer.
Warnings: Blood, gore, murder, stalking, serial killer
Masked! Serial Killer X Gender Neutral! Reader
The cabin had a rustic charm to it. Wooden bunk beds, old photos from whatever teen scout club used to use it for their home base, names scratched into the bottom bunk drawers.
The slight vintage dust and scent of pine needles had lost their personality after tonight, though.
They had been tainted with fresh blood, no longer than forty-five minutes old. Bodies laid in their respective bunks, heads and stomachs blown with large, irreparable wounds in them. Only one had managed to attempt an escape, his body half lying off the top bunk bed, blood dripping from his intact head. His back, not so much.
You prayed for your boyfriend, for his stupid, sweet-intentioned self to have booked it for help once he heard the screaming. He had gone outside to take a leak, intending on grabbing your bag of forgotten toiletries from the car trunk on the way.
It had been dark, and you, whining about mosquitoes and your bare feet, begged him to grab it for your shower.
The screaming left you hidden in the bathroom, peering from out a crack as the sight of your friends were brutally chopped down with an axe, a few choking on their own blood as a hunting knife swung for their necks.
The mask peered down at you as he did it, with what you for sure took as eye contact as he finished his work without a sound. The strapped face covering was expressionless, releasing only large heaves from the mouth hole as he swung down the axe in violent slashes. Despite the work it took, his bulging body showed he was no stranger to hauling the axe up and down, shoulders wider than the door frame and rock-stone biceps rolling down beads of dirty sweat and blood.
None of you stood a chance, even if they had been given the chance to awaken as he did it.
He cupped his ear dramatically as the last of your friends’ choking died into nothingness. The room was as still as it had been before he came in, only this time with the rancid smell of death and barbarity. Swiping at the forehead of the mask-- a dull-white, tarnished thing with two eye-holes and a crudely cut line for a mouth-- he readjusted it. Blood had smeared on the side, little devil horns on the mask protruding and slick with flecks of red.
Something about his demeanor looked untouched, unbothered by the recklessness and gore you were sobbing from. His chest rose and fell as he came down from the intense workout, brushing off his loose overalls.
You were surprised to hear the young, animated voice muffled from beneath the old mask.
“Just stay riiight there. Alright?”
His voice was tinted with playfulness, keeping his hand in a ‘stay’ position as if you were a dog. He stepped outside of the loose cabin door, hearing it slam shut as his bulky, barreling footsteps fell away.
He’d see you if you ran out, there’s no way you’d manage to outrun him. There were no adequate windows to climb out of, no back doors or attic latch. You were stuck in here, waiting for this man who must’ve crawled from out of the woods to kill you.
Shutting the bathroom door behind you, you tried to calm yourself, to stop from vomiting at the sight of the scrambled meat laid on each bed. Getting beneath one of the beds near the front door you ease yourself beneath it, squishing against the wooden frame.
It was harder to breathe under here, harder to hyperventilate. It made your chest hurt, feeling suffocated as the sound of something dropping hit the ground outside.
It took you a moment to realize it, wondering if this sick fuck was tampering with your car. But your thoughts were brought back to your boyfriend, how he wouldn’t have known a damn thing from outside. You clamber to try and get out from under the bed to save him, but a kick to the cabin door leaves you frozen.
“Wheeew!” A loud sigh comes. Heavy boots knock on the wood plank floors, a squelching following as another item thumps past the door frame. It slumps forward, unbalanced as the masked killer lets go.
The sound of dripping accompanies him as he leaves the cabin door wide open, unsuspecting fireflies hovering from outside.
“Didn’t think he’d be such a runner, aye?” The man talks to the empty air, but you know who his words are meant for. “I mean, he really tried to leave you here, thinking he’d stop me by jumping in your car.”
His heavy steps barrel towards the middle of the room, axe heavy in his palm as it’s gripped between his gloved fingers.
“Good thing I plan ahead.”
Your boyfriend’s truck keys are thrown to the middle of the room, sliding into a pool of blood right past your place under the bunk bed. They were so close, so unbelievably close-- but you couldn’t give away your spot. Not when he was sniffing you out like a dog, teasing each slow step with dramatic turns of his head.
Every single action egged you on to escape: leaving the door open, throwing the keys in your view, his body unguarded as his weapon hung low.
But it was all a ploy, one you were alert enough to see through.
Through the dark you couldn’t make out the heavy thing he had left beside the shadowed doorframe, your heart racing as you wondered where your boyfriend was, what this man did to him.
But by the intense, raw and wet look of the masked man, you knew it couldn’t be good. Head to toe he was splattered, as if he just danced in a thunderstorm of blood. Droplets fell down his exposed shoulders, covering the white wife beater he wore beneath loose overalls.
The white was nearly drenched in red, clawing down his chest in bright, uneven streaks. With every step his leaded boots took, a dirty one was left in his wake.
“Unlike him, I don’t plan on hurting you,” He laughs a little, swinging the axe as he struts. “Not unless you beg for it.”
You catch sight of one of your friend’s tennis shoes left beside the bed, a plan forming in your mind. It was stupid and risky, but what other choice did you have? Wait until he found you and left you in the same fate?
Grabbing the shoe, you launched it toward the open door, watching as it nearly collided with the black heap beside the wall. The sound thumped with an echo, the masked killer turning swiftly at the sound.
Springing out from under the bed you lurch your arm forward to grab the car keys, ignoring the foul replacement of woody must to sharp blood.
You manage to grab the keys, but not before slipping in the slick puddle, red coating your bare legs and up the side of your body. Your fingertips are drenched in it as they shake to pick up the keys, scrambling to move.
“You’re too slow.”
The axe slams into the wood beside your face, blasting into the floor. It splinters the planks, rushing air towards you as the scent of salted sweat fills your nostrils.
Cold blood seeps through the back of your shirt as you fall back, terror rendering your voice hoarse and breathless.
He’s absolutely covered in blood that’s not his own, more so than you realized. It was seeping through your own clothes as he hovered from above, the smell of grass and oil and metal clinging to him.
You do all you can think of, watching as his knees come down to trap your legs beneath his. Throwing the keys as hard as you can, you aim for his head, hitting right above the mask. It collides with the dark, wet tuft of curls on his head seen behind the mask.
It lands with a thunk, almost a hollow sound resounding after the heavy keys make contact.
The masked man goes frozen, axe in hand as your palms slip in the puddle.
He’s slow to react, sitting on your knees as you struggle to pull away. With the grace of a stunned deer, he reaches up to his head in pain.
“ow…”.
The distraction doesn’t keep him stalled for long, looking back up to see your terrified glare. The killer swiftly moves to grab your ankles as you slither from beneath, attempting to crawl away.
“Oh no you don’t! Not after that little stunt--”
You scream at the sudden feeling of warm, wet fingers gripping at you, pulling you under him.
“Scream all you want! But no one’s going to save you. Least of all him.”
You think to cry out for help, to beg him to stop, anything-- but the sight of the killer’s thumb jabbing backwards catches you off guard. You follow where he points, seeing the mass heap in the moonlight. Lines of light shine upon it, displaying what you couldn’t see from beneath the bed.
It’s the headless body of your boyfriend, entrails dragged behind him, strung out of the cabin door. He’s unrecognizable, only the broken watch and flannel shirt he wore left you to understand that it was him. Was.
“What a quick errand! I thought this would take all night. I’m a little disappointed, really.” The killer muffles from behind his mask. Its open eyesockets stare through the darkness, pitch black orbs in a continuous state of wide-eyed amazement at the sight of you. “Though I can’t be one to complain-- I got my prize, afterall.”
He strokes down the tight lines of your neck, taking in the splattered dots of blood, the little necklace that had scratched your skin all night.
The axe lies heavy beside your head, threatening to chop at your soft neck if you dare make one wrong move.
“In the end, I think this was perfect for us. A meet-cute, you could say.”
Mark went through so many rejections in his life to the point he became an extremely jealous . He envied all the happy couples around him and the small town he lived in was known as the love town where a lot of couples visit the Town for the romantic atmosphere. He started killing every couple in the town. Especially on valentine day.
To the point he is now being called vow valentine
That's all for now. Reblog and like are appreciated to help me post more ✨🙏❤️
Miller the Killer
Yan! Serial Killer x Popular in HS! Reader
Tw; Murder mentions, toxic behavior, stalking, delusional yandere, isolation mentions
Yan Serial Killer that happened to be at the same high school reunion party as you many years later.
Back for revenge on all of those who mistreated him in school, he sat at the end of the table at the random shitty restaurant that your old "friends" chose, with you across the table from him.
Yan Serial Killer that was always pushed and hit for being creepy, the odd fascination with dead things and gorey art he'd create brought into adulthood, leading to a decent paying job as a popular artist.
Yan Serial Killer that can't help but melt into his seat when you speak, your voice just as relaxing now as it was then.
And when you spoke directly to him, quick to recognize him and basically complimenting his very clear glow-up from when you were in school, he practically fell down on his knees and begged you to marry him.
Yan Serial Killer that sees how much you've matured since he last spoke to you.
You were always on the kinder end of the popularity chain, trying your best to be a good person but also remain in your friend group, which he was able to respect as you deserved to be treated with love and care.
Yan Serial Killer that gets ridiculed by one of your old friends, to which you quickly tell them off and proceed to lecture them on how you're all meant to be adults and respectful towards each other.
He's quick to make a mental note of whoever talks shit about you that night, listening to a few different old classmates comment on your appearance.
Yan Serial Killer that only speaks to you that night, forgetting why he had been there in the first place, the meat cleaver in his bag forgotten until he arrives back to his home and lays down to think about you.
He's quick to go through his social media, searching for your accounts and going through any pictures or videos he can find.
Yan Serial Killer that searches for anyone who had done you wrong, quick to hunt them down and murder them without a care.
He painted masterpieces with their blood, leaving their bodies for the authorities to find and quick to run back to check on you.
Yan Serial Killer that is overjoyed when you reach out, anxious as your friends are murdered one by one and nervous to be next, hoping to keep yourself and at least one of your classmates safe.
You don't realize that he's isolating you, his mere friendship making your friends turn away from you, especially when they suggest that he's the murderer and you shut down the idea quickly.
Yan Serial Killer that holds you when you come to him crying because your closes friend stopped responding and blocked you, so now you're afraid to find out if they're dead or just ignoring you.
Yan Serial Killer that believes that you want him as much as he wants you, why else are you ignoring all the clear signs?
He's leaving you alive and murdering all of the others that went to school with you, why are you pretending to not realize it's him?
Or are you truly this clueless?
Yan Serial Killer that is desperate to figure out if you'd run from him and get him locked up or accept his twisted way of declaring his love to you.
BTW I'm doing art fight this year, same username!!
I'm already mourning the OG look because I've had that one since I was 12 and this was my first ever time drastically changing any of my ocs. But this redesign was needed because I could definitely feel myself getting bored of her look and thought she needed more of a personality rather than a copy and paste of Jeff the killer essentially
A friend told me that my character (Liam) reminded them of the game “Killer Chat!” because its plot consists of its main character (who is a writer working on a crime story) ending up in a server full of actual serial killers after they were found asking suspicious questions through the dark web — and now they had to pretend to be a serial killer themself in order to safely gather realistic references for their serial killer protagonist (while also getting a love interest in the process — because this is a dating chatsim).
Meanwhile my character is an actual serial killer author who kills people to gather authentic references for his horror novels 💀
So yea, I made these because I was really curious as to what it'd be like if Liam were to be in this game lmao
Below are the basic character details and his """Bad""" Ending, """Good""" Ending, and Plot Hole Ending
⚠️Content warning for implied murder⚠️
Server's really just doomed the moment the MC locks into his route 😭
(Also Liam's whole “I'm a retired serial killer” thing was bullshit.
And fyi: he was called “The Ghostwriter” because of his lack of consistent methodology [and obviously because he's a writer]. The moniker was likely picked out for him [low-key unwillingly] by other killers in the server because “everybody else has a name.” But yea, he doesn't actually have a “serial killer name” outside the server — since the authorities never managed to actually connect his crimes to a single individual. Heck, some of them could've possibly even been mistakenly attributed to any of the other killers)
