Can you do Trey,Deuce,Ace and cater with reader who has same personality as sonic the hedgehog?
Not the kind that causes actual harm but the whirlwind kind, the type that kicks open the doors of Heartslabyul with wind in your hair and a cheeky grin on your face. Always late, but always with a reason. Always loud, but never with malice.
Trey swore he could hear you coming before he even saw you. Your steps were light but fast, and there was always that telltale whoosh of wind as you zipped past unsuspecting students.
“Yo, Treyyyy!” you called out one morning, sliding into the kitchen like you owned the place. “Tell me there’s still cake left!”
Trey, already holding a plate of it, sighed but couldn’t help smiling. “You could’ve knocked first.”
“C’mon, you like the drama,” you teased, poking his cheek.
You were everything he wasn’t, fast-talking, fast-walking, fast-everything. A free spirit, allergic to plans, always chasing the next thrill. You didn’t walk places. You ran. You didn’t ease into conversations,you dove. And yet, somehow, you were never rude. Just… honest. Energetic. Blunt in a way that made people blink, then laugh, then secretly admire you.
You challenged everyone around you,including him.
“You can’t just eat sweets for lunch,” he said one day as you tried to sneak a second slice of strawberry tart off the cooling rack.
You raised an eyebrow. “Watch me.”
“I’m serious, you’ll crash.”
He rolled his eyes. “You need real food.”
“You’re real food,” you said with a wink. “Wait. That came out weird.”
Trey flushed slightly and looked away, chuckling. You were exhausting abut he was never bored.
And somehow, even with all your speed, you always slowed down for him.
When he was tired, you walked at his pace. When he was stressed, you listened,really listened, even if your leg bounced under the table the whole time. You gave him nicknames like “Specs” and “Baker Boy,” and though he pretended to groan, he was secretly fond of them.
You reminded him that life wasn’t all about rules and routines.
He reminded you that it was okay to stop running sometimes.
“Don’t you ever rest?” he asked one lazy afternoon as you leaned over the balcony with your arms out like airplane wings.
You smirked. “Not unless I’m with you.”
“I know,” you grinned. “Taught myself that one just now.”
He reached over and ruffled your hair, fondly exasperated. “Try not to get banned from Heartslabyul again this week, alright?”
“No promises,” you said, laughing. “But I’ll bring you something cool if I do.”
And he didn’t doubt it for a second.
Ace Trappola considered himself pretty quick,quick with his words, quick with his wit, and definitely quick when it came to escaping Riddle’s wrath. But then you entered his life like a blue blur, all energy and grins, and suddenly Ace wasn’t the fastest kid on the block anymore.
You were a comet streaking through campus: a daredevil with wind-tossed hair, a tongue sharper than a blade, and a grin that made people wonder whether you were about to save the day or cause a scene. (The answer was usually both.) You had this ridiculous habit of doing wild stunts just for the thrill,climbing to the highest point of the mirror tower just to “see the view,” racing Deuce between class periods with no regard for rules or fences, and pulling Ace into all of it without a second thought.
“...Why do you sound like you’re about to get me expelled?”
“No reason. Just meet me behind the library in five minutes and don’t ask questions.”
He always followed, of course. Complained the whole way, but followed.
At first, he thought you were just another troublemaker like him,maybe even more impulsive. A little competition, a lot of chaos. Someone he could banter with and maybe one-up for fun. But then you did something he didn’t expect.
Like, actually helped him. Without needing anything back.
When he was drowning under guilt after flunking a test or getting chewed out by Riddle, you didn’t mock him (well, not too much). You’d flash that cocky grin and say something like, “C’mon, I’ve seen snails move faster than your pity party. Let’s fix this.”
And then you did. Stayed up with him to study. Quizzed him with rapid-fire questions. Brought snacks and energy drinks and got genuinely mad when he doubted himself.
Ace didn’t know what to do with that kind of loyalty. Not from someone like you,someone he assumed never slowed down long enough to care.
But you did care. Fiercely.
“Don’t go acting like I’m some hero,” you shrugged once when he tried to thank you. “I just don’t like seeing my favorite idiot all mopey. Doesn’t suit you.”
His heart did that weird twist thing. (It happened a lot around you.)
You made everything feel like a race, a game, a spark that could turn into a wildfire. And when he pushed back with sass and attitude, you never backed down,you thrived on it. The two of you were constantly exchanging quips, racing to outsmart or out-prank each other. But underneath all the banter was something warmer. Real.
And when you finally opened up,about how you never stayed still because stillness
meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering you caught Ace off guard.
You didn’t cry. You didn’t break down. You just looked at him one night on the school rooftop, stars above and a bag of stolen donuts between you, and said, “I keep moving because if I stop, it all catches up.”
Ace was quiet for once. Then, gently, “...Then I’ll keep moving with you.”
You blinked, surprised. “That’s… kinda cheesy.”
“Yeah,” he laughed, “but you love it.”
You did. More than you could admit.
So now, when people see the two of you causing mischief, they think it's just chaos. But really? It's love at light speed.
And Ace? He never minded not being the fastest.
Not when he had you running ahead, always looking back to make sure he was keeping up.
You were chaos wrapped in a grin. Always darting down the halls like the world was a race and you had to win it. You challenged rules just to see if you could bend them, and laughed every time you left Ace and Deuce in the dust after another one of your impulsive “adventures.”
At first, Deuce didn’t know what to make of you. You were loud. Bold. Shamelessly confident. Always doing something risky, reckless, or technically against the school handbook. He tried to stop you once, right after Professor Trein warned the class to avoid the upper tower while it was under repairs.
You had your hand on the window frame, about to scale it.
“Y/N, stop! That’s—That’s not safe!”
You turned with a cocky grin. “Relax, Spade. I’ve got great balance.”
“You’re gonna get expelled!”
“Nah. You’ll cover for me if it comes to that, right?”
And with a wink, you were gone,climbing up the tower like gravity didn’t apply to you.
Deuce was horrified. And impressed. Horripressed maybe. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that when you finally made it back down, dusty and grinning, he didn’t scold you again. He just handed you his water bottle and muttered, “Next time, tell me first. I’ll… hold the ladder or something."
Something about you made his straight-laced sense of justice buckle a little.
Because even if you broke rules, you never broke trust.
You were always the first one to defend the little guy. You’d stick your neck out for anyone, challenge bullies twice your size, and when Deuce got into trouble for defending someone else, you were the first to stand beside him,arms crossed, smirk in place, like you dared anyone to punish him.
“Don’t yell at him,” you told Riddle once, arms protectively spread in front of Deuce. “If you’re gonna behead someone, make it me.”
You weren’t just fast. You were fearless.
He needed real. Fierce. Loyal.
It took him a while to admit it,longer than it took you to notice, certainly. You teased him endlessly, calling him your “knight in slightly tarnished armor.” He’d blush every time, mutter something about being an honor student, but he never pulled away.
Then one day, you got hurt. Really hurt. One of your impulsive stunts went wrong,landing off a ledge, ankle twisted, blood on your palms. You still tried to laugh it off, but Deuce’s face said it all.
“No more pretending,” he snapped, kneeling beside you, voice shaking. “You don’t have to be tough all the time. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
You blinked. “I’m fine, Deuce. Just a scratch—”
“You could’ve fallen Y/N!”
“I care about you,” he said, softer this time. “Even when you drive me crazy. Even when you break every rule in the book. I care. And it scares me.”
You looked at him,eyes honest, no walls up for once and smiled.
“That’s why I let you catch up, y’know.”
“I’ve always run ahead. But I waited. For you.”
It hit him like thunder, warm and electric.
And from then on, you didn’t run alone. You had Deuce right beside you. Maybe still a step behind, maybe still gasping for breath half the time but always chasing after you, always trying to match your fire with his own kind of fierce.
Because even lightning needs its storm.
Cater’s phone buzzed. Again.
[17 new messages from Y/N]
He didn’t even need to check them to know what they said. Probably something like “race you to the Mystery Shop!!” or “I found this abandoned cart and now I’m riding it down a hill,come stop me maybe?”
He sighed fondly and slipped his phone into his pocket, already heading in the direction he knew you’d be. You were faster than any broom, had more energy than a party of first-years on sugar, and just enough chaos to leave trails of confusion and awe behind you.
Even if you made his heart race in the bad and good ways.
When he finally caught up with you, you were halfway up the side of a tower, climbing as if gravity was a light suggestion. “Y/N! Babe! You’re gonna give me gray hairs,get down here before the Headmage bans me from dating you!”
You leaned over the edge, grinning wide and smug. “Then come up and get me, slowpoke!”
Cater groaned. “Why are you like this?”
You shrugged, hanging upside-down like it was nothing. “I don’t do boring. And you like me this way.”
Cater knew it was true. There was something magnetic about your constant motion. While he thrived on attention, you thrived on momentum. You ran on instinct and courage, sometimes recklessness, but never cruelty. Even when you crashed (which was often), you always got back up with a cocky grin and a new plan.
And yet, despite everything, you made time for him. You dragged him into spontaneous adventures, held his hand as you sprinted through flower fields or chased fireworks, challenged him to keep up not just physically, but emotionally.
And somehow, even when your world moved at the speed of sound, you noticed him.
When he was tired, you’d slow down. When he was overwhelmed, you’d sit still for five minutes beside him, fingers drumming impatiently against your thigh, but there. With him. Grounding and impossible all at once.
Sometimes, Cater wondered how he even ended up with someone like you.
You, who called boredom the worst kind of death, who chased dreams like wild animals and fought off fear with stubborn confidence and grit.
And then you'd stop everything just to grin at him and go, “You’re fun, Cay~ I like when your eyes sparkle like that.”
When you finally jumped down from the tower, he caught you (barely), stumbling back with a laugh.
“Next time, warn me first, speedster.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you teased, poking his cheek.
He shook his head with a grin, still catching his breath. “One day, you’re gonna get us both in so much trouble.”
You smirked, leaning in close. “Then it’ll be fun trouble. And I know you’re into that.”
Cater sighed again, exaggerated, dramatic, adoring.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
“Fastest love story in Twisted Wonderland history,” you winked. “Try and keep up.”
English is not my first language !
