Into The Woods (Yandere Masky x Male Reader)

Ch 2

School never seemed to end quickly enough, but by the time the bell rang to notify the end of the day, you were already hightailing it home. Stumbling up to the steps of the house your grandparents left you when they passed, you noticed a small brown box. Picking it up, you bring it inside and toss it onto your table before running up the stairs and into your room to get dressed. You quickly strip, pulling out a suit and blazer, putting it on, making sure to tame your hair to some small extent before rushing out the door again. You walk for about two hours to a bar just outside of town.

This bar has been open for as long as you can remember, and the old man who runs it calls it his pride and joy. Walking up to the doors, you attempt to go in only to be stopped by a big, burly man in a fancy black suit. "Kid, I need ya ID." He holds out his hand, to which you place your license. It takes the man less than a minute to scan over the card then toss it back at you.

"Ya have ta be 21 or older, kid. Get lost."

"I'm VIP, check the list." You smirk.

"Ya right, ya ain't foolin' me."

"I'm not trying to. With all respect, if you won't even check the list, then you aren't doing a very good job." You shrug, still watching the new doorman. What'd he take you for, another eager teen trying to sneak in?

"Ya right kid, tha second I look away, ya jus' gonna run in." Turns out, that's exactly what he took you for.

"Sir, I am an honest man, and I give you my word that I will not run in there like some uncultured child who can not take no for an answer. Check your list I should be on the VIP as (Y/N) (L/N)." With a grunt, the man looks down at his clipboard, glancing back up at you now and then as he scans the pages. He nearly chokes on his spit as he stares at the paper with wide eyes. He frantically opens the door for you, scrambling to apologize. "I-I'm sorry sir, I hadn't known, please sir-" You laugh at this.

"It's alright, I understand you were only doing your job. No need to apologize." You walk in, going to the back of the bar where the old man sits, a table full of men eager to gamble away the night. As you sit down and crack your knuckles, the five men at the seven-seat table share glances and scoff. "This brat your gamblin man? Thought the (H/C) Devil was s'posed ta be your gambler."

The men all laugh, but the old man just scoffs, nods his head, and shuffles the deck. You sit straight and confident as you pick up your hand. Looking it over, you give the men a smirk, one that says you've got this game in the bag. Looking over the men, you see them pick up their hands and some give a nervous look. First-round, three of the men trade out cards, two of the men toss in their whole wallet, seemingly overly confident, as it goes around again, the other three toss in a couple hundred, and by the third time around, one of them folds.

'Then there were five.' Another chickens out and folds. You couldn't lose, the price of loss was this bar, so you continued going, still giving off a confident pose. The old man, however, looked nervous as hell. By the time someone had called, they'd already bet all their valuables.

The first man had a straight. Ouch. The second man had a full house. The third guy had a straight flush. That's why he was so overly confident. You raise an eyebrow at the men. The guy chuckles.

"Well boys, looks like we won, betta hand ova the title to this bar-"

"Not so fast. I haven't shown you my cards yet." You smirk.

"Kid, you 'on't even have a chance, you couldn'ta gotten somn betta-"

"How about you see for yourself?" You place your cards. "Royal flush. I win." You gather your wins and stick them in a bag as the men leave in shame. This goes on for another good seven hours or so before closing time. Multiple times you've won through bluff, but on the off chance that you weren't bluffing and the men were too confident, you still won.

The bar was getting ready to close and you were about ready to leave. You'd already stood up and grabbed your blazer off the back of your chair when a man looking to be in his early twenties approached the table. "Ey, mind if I play a round?"

"Sorry boy, we ain't doin any more tonight." The raspy voice of the old man pipes up. As you look over this plaid-clad man, however, something about him intrigued you.

"C'mon, just one round."

"I said-" "Alright, I'll play a round with you, but in exchange, I want your name." You tossed your blazer over the back of your chair once again as you sat back down. The man sits across from you. "Tim." He offers his hand out for you to shake.

"(Y/N), pleasure to meet you, Tim." You shake his hand.

"Ya sure you can do this, kid? Las time you bet this late, ya nearly lost ya whole bar." The old man says with worry.

"What have I told you about talking like that?"

"Sorry, di'n know you were a sore loser-"

"It's not my bar, it's our bar, and I won't lose." You say, smirking at the brown-haired man across from you. The old man shuffles the deck, passes you both five cards, and the game begins. "As always, this bar is the price of my loss."

Tim chuckles. "Alright," he tosses up four hundred dollar bills, "Then this is what I bet." You smirk. He trades out two cards, you trade three, he calls, you win, he calls round two. The old man leaves, stating he has to go home. Tim bets another four hundred and lays down one, you lay down two, he calls, you win with a straight flush.

"You sure you aren't cheating?" Tim asks with a smirk.

"I am an honest man, Tim, I don't cheat."

"Alright, well, I don't got anything left to bet." He goes to stand.

"How about some good old fashioned strip poker?" You ask. This catches Tims's attention and he sits back down.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" You shuffle, hand out the cards, and the game begins. You bet one item of clothing, Tim raises, you lose and take off your vest and dress shirt. The second round, you bet one, Tim doesn't bet, you win, he loses his flannel, exposing his toned chest. Before you two can go another round, the bartender, Jerahmia tells you it's already past midnight and you two should leave.

Agreeing, you grab your stuff and ask Jerahmia if he could take care of that day's wins, which he does. As you're buttoning your suit back up, a thought crosses your mind. "So Tim, would you like me to walk you home?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? What are you, like, 17?"

"19, actually, and my house is on the other side of town, so it wouldn't hurt to walk you home, plus, the company would be nice. So what do you say?" You smirk as you toss your blazer over your shoulder.

"Sure, why not?" You and Tim walk out of the bar and down the street in silence. It only takes about thirty minutes before you reach a footpath at the edge of the woods. "Alright, well I guess this is where we part," Tim says.

"Yeah. Hey, I'll be seeing you around, right?"

"Definitely."

"Then, see ya, Tim."

"Yeah, it was nice gettin to know you, see ya around, kid!" And with that, Tim walked into the woods. You headed home and made yourself some tea. Before you could sit down, however, you caught sight of the box you'd tossed onto your kitchen table earlier.

"Huh, I totally forgot about you. Guess I should open you up. Funny, I don't remember buying anything as of recently." You take a knife, cutting the tape, and opening the box. Inside was a deck of cards, and a paper. Unfolding the paper, you find that it's a note.

"'I've seen you gambling at the bar. I figured I'd give you a little gift. I thought maybe you'd like some cards. I can't wait to meet you face to face tonight, see you soon.' Huh, so what, I have a stalker now? Jeez, that's creepy. It's probably just Felix messing with me, I'll ask him about it tomorrow."

You take a sip of your tea only to scrunch your face up. "Damn it, how's my tea cold already?!"

Cold tea sucks. What's your opinion on tea? 1512 words. Stay safe and creepy. Kai, out.