#so much weight in these tiny bits of animation

[pianokantzart]

More than anything, I go absolutely nuts for little actions like this where Asterix and Obelix are subtly comforting each other and cheering each other up after something traumatic. It’s like crack to me.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. toji witnesses his son’s first steps and it nearly makes the grown man cry.

wc. 1k

tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama.’ life if gege just gave us what we wanted. ending is a bit rushed if you couldn't tell.

“gumi, look here,” you coo at your child who’s sitting in his playpen. you’re laying against some stuffed animals, too tired to move after doing all kinds of chores. the baby looks up at you with curious eyes and you take your chance to make a silly face.

megumi giggles and responds by throwing a small toy your way. it accidentally hits your head, though luckily it isn’t anything too heavy.

toji, who laid lazily on the opposite side of the playpen, watches the scene unfold. he grins once he sees you rub the spot on your forehead, “oi, megumi, careful with y’r mama.”

you chuckle, dropping your dramatic act. you ruffle megumi’s hair a bit before standing up. a yawn escapes your lips and you stretch your arms above your head—clearly in need of a break.

“i’m gonna take a quick nap, honey,” your eyes meet toji’s. your husband nods and sits up with a groan. he’s also sleepy, but he knows that you did most of the work today. he’ll gladly watch over megumi while you rest and regain your energy.

megumi starts to fuss the moment you step out of the playpen. his tiny hands reach out to you—the little boy clearly too attached to his mother. toji shakes his head and effortlessly picks his son up and puts him on his lap, “naw, y’re stuck with me buddy. mama’s gotta rest.”

megumi squirms around and whimpers. he’s clearly not interested in his dad at the moment. toji sighs and tries his best to keep the baby still, but to no avail.

“mama! mama!” the baby’s cries for you breaks your heart. you stop a a couple steps away and turn around with a pout. you notice how megumi is kicking his legs, thrashing around in toji’s arms in attempt to free himself.

you sigh and crouch down, “gumi, mama’s sleepy. . papa’s gonna play with you, okay?”

megumi, of course, does not understand what you mean. he thinks you’re leaving him alone and it causes him to wail loudly. you’re about to console your son, but backtrack when you notice how megumi’s starting to stand up on his own.

his chubby legs are barely holding his body weight up. the balance is hard to find for the baby, yet he still does his utmost best. he nearly trips from just standing.

even toji looks on with wide eyes and a hint of a prideful grin on his lips. he’s silently encouraging his son in his head.

“ma..ma,” megumi babbles. he almost topples over, but toji’s quick reflexes come in handy. a big hand keeps the baby standing straight. the dark-haired man carefully lets go again, however keeps his hand near his son’s body. just in case.

neither toji nor you could believe what was happening. you both watch in awe as megumi’s left foot moves forward—the right one copying that same movement.

your precious boy, taking his first steps right in front of you both to witness. it’s a heartwarming sight. you hold your breath and toji’s lips part slightly. your husband has yet to grasp why this scene in front of him makes him feel so. . . giddy on the inside.

“c’mon! come to mama!” you squeal excitedly and open your arms, encouraging megumi to your best ability. the tiny boy giggles and moves his limbs as fast as they could go. his chubby hands flail around as he quickly walks over to you.

toji stares at his family and that’s when it hits him; how much he loves this peaceful life. his son just achieved another great milestone that he had the honour of witnessing firsthand. it made him happy that he chose this path instead of the more ‘darker’ one.

it also nearly causes your husband to shed some tears from pure joy. but, toji didn’t want to seem too ‘soft’. even if he secretly is for his wife and child.

toji coughs subtly. totally not to get rid of the irritating lump in his throat. a ghost of a smile appears on his face while he got up, immediately moving towards megumi and you.

“good job, kiddo,” toji says as he puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he stares down at megumi in your arms—the little boy getting drowned in kisses and compliments.

your ears twitch. there’s no denying it; the faint crack in toji’s voice. you give your kid a break from your overwhelming affection and tilt your head back. your eyes meet your husband’s.

you grin when you see how he quickly avoids your gaze. something he never does unless he’s. . . “gonna cry?”

toji rolls his eyes at your question. he ignores your teasing by trying to change the subject. he focuses on megumi who’s still going absolutely wild in your embrace—cutely demanding more praise and kisses.

“daddy can also give ya some kisses, y’know,” toji pokes megumi’s cheek, fascinated by the plush fat. the baby stops babbling the moment his dad talks to him. he looks up at toji and then back at the finger still prodding at his cheek.

megumi opens his mouth and doesn’t waste a single second. he goes for a playful bite, though his little baby teeth do no real damage, “yumm.”

you giggle at the way megumi frowns at toji, his teeth holding tightly onto toji’s fingertip. it’s time for your husband to take over the dramatics now.

“hey, that ain’t so nice now,” toji hisses and leans forward until his face is right in front of megumi—a similar frown on both the dad and son’s faces. they really do look alike now that you see them both from up close again.

megumi only bites down more on the finger in his mouth and toji reacts to that by feigning his anger. it’s amusing to see how neither of them gives up first.

but, it’s also rather cute to see how the father-son dynamic plays out in cozy family moments like these.

your eyes focus back on toji’s face and you can’t help but smile to yourself. he’s a good husband and father; always there for the both of you. his own way of showing support for megumi’s first steps is rather heartwarming. plus, the playful banter between the two never fails to make any moment all the more precious.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3

the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.

but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.

“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.

“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.

“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.

“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.

“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.

“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.

you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.

“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.

“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.

“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.

“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.

“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.

“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”

his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.

gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.

the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.

“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.

you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”

gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.

“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[meadowfics]

postpartum

husband!babyfather!kang dae-ho x f!wife!mom!reader

in a world where you did get to have your family, unlike what happened here

warnings: mentions of normal post-pregnancy stuff like breastmilk pumping. postpartum depression. dae-ho being ALIVE in this one and being the best husband to you and father to your babies <3

heavily requested in my inbox after what I posted yesterday LMAO

the weight of it all is suffocating.

you sit on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions as exhaustion drapes over you like a heavy, unshakable blanket. 

in your arms, tiny and delicate, byeol drinks from her bottle, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest, her slow, steady suckling the only sound anchoring you in the moment.

the babies tiny body is warm against you, her breaths soft, her features too much like dae-ho’s that it makes your heart ache.

normally, you would be lost in adoration, in awe of this little life you brought into the world. you would trace her perfect cheeks with your fingers, marvel at the way her lashes flutter as she drinks, kiss the soft long hair she inherited from her father. 

today, you are simply trying to hold yourself together.

your body is sore, aching from the endless cycle of feeding, pumping, and barely sleeping. your mind feels foggy, tangled with thoughts you don’t want to have, emotions you don’t want to feel. 

you love your daughters, you love dae-ho, you love your family. you would never trade this for anything. 

however, the love isn’t enough to make the heaviness go away.

across the room, seo-ah plays on the floor, a bright burst of energy that fills every corner of the house. she chatters to her stuffed animals, her high-pitched giggles filling the space, making everything feel alive in a way that you cannot.

“appa! look! teddy is dancing!” 

she exclaims, lifting her stuffed bear into the air, twirling it in circles.

dae-ho, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, gasps in exaggerated excitement. 

“wahhh! so cool, teddy is so talented!”

seo-ah beams at the praise, her eyes crinkling as she twirls again, her joy infectious, her laughter like sunshine.

normally, that sound would lift you. 

normally, watching dae-ho be the incredible father that he is would warm your heart, remind you that you are not alone in this, that you have him.

today, it only makes the exhaustion worse.

dae-ho’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and observant, even as he stays engaged with seo-ah’s game. 

he doesn’t miss the tension in your shoulders, the blankness in your eyes, the way your responses are slower, quieter than usual.

he gets up, making his way to you, crouching in front of the couch so that he’s level with you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft, careful. 

“are you okay?”

you manage a small smile. 

“yeah, just tired.”

the marine’s warm, calloused hands settle on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles. 

“do you want me to take byeol for a bit? you’ve been holding her all day.”

you shake your head, your arms instinctively tightening around byeol’s small frame. 

“no, i got it.”

dae-ho doesn’t push. he never does. 

he simply nods, but the concern lingers in his eyes.

after twenty minutes, when byeol finishes her bottle, you sigh, shifting in your seat. 

“love, can you do their bedtime routine tonight? i feel… gross. i just wanna shower.”

dae-ho’s expression softens instantly, and without hesitation, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before carefully lifting mini byeol from your arms. 

“of course, baby. take your time, okay?”

he doesn’t say it to make you feel better. he means it. 

every time, every single time, he is happy to take care of his girls. 

he never complains, never hesitates. 

he loves them, loves you.

as he walks away, bouncing byeol gently in his arms, calling for seo-ah in that affectionate tone he always uses, you make your way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

unfortunately, the moment you step into the shower, the relief you so desperately crave does not come.

the warm water cascades down your skin, but it does nothing to ease the exhaustion weighing down on you. 

the pressure is strong, firm against your sore muscles, but you still feel tense, wound so tightly that no amount of heat can unravel you.

you let your head drop forward, resting your forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall. your arms hang limply at your sides, the steam rising around you in thick waves. 

for a moment, you try to breathe…slow, deep, steady. but it doesn’t help. nothing does.

your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

your breasts ache, swollen and sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. your stomach, still soft and a little stretched from carrying byeol, stirs something sharp and cruel inside you, something that whispers that you’ll never look or feel the same again. 

honestly, you cannot recall if you felt like this after having seo-ah.

you press your palm against yourself, fingers tracing over the faint marks left behind from your pregnancy, and you don’t know whether you love them or hate them.

a lump forms in your throat as your gaze flickers downward. 

your thighs, your waist, the curve of your hips—none of it looks the way it used to. 

you know, logically, that your body is healing, that you just brought a life into this world. 

sometimes logic doesn’t quiet the thoughts that get at you, that tell you you are different now in a way that you can’t come back from.

you reach for your vanilla body wash, desperate for something familiar, something comforting.

the moment your fingers curl around the bottle, you realize it’s empty.

your breath catches.

it’s stupid. 

it’s just body wash. you can use dae-ho’s. 

it doesn’t matter.

it does.

your hand trembles slightly as you pick up his bottle instead, the scent of cedarwood and musk filling the space. it smells like him, like the warmth of his embrace, like the shirts you steal from his side of the closet. 

you squeeze the soap into your net sponge, rubbing it over your arms, your shoulders, your chest. the wrongness lingers, settling into the hollow of your ribs like an ache that won’t fade.

when will this get easier?

the thought slams into you like a wave, sudden and suffocating.

your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, tears spill over your cheeks, mixing with the water streaming down your face.

you bite down on your lip, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it’s useless. the emotions hit all at once, hard and overwhelming, crushing under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in.

your shoulders shake as the sobs build, as the exhaustion and frustration and sadness pour out of you in waves you can’t control. 

you press a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, trying not to let it get too loud and scare seo-ah from her bedroom.

no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you tell yourself to just get over it, to just be strong…you can’t stop.

the walls feel too close. the steam is suffocating. the sound of the water is deafening.

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto the tile as you try to catch your breath, try to pull yourself together, try to remind yourself that you are okay.

you don’t feel okay.

you don’t know when you will again.

your body still aches. your breasts are sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. 

the final straw.

and then—

the door creaks open.

you don’t hear footsteps, don’t hear anything other than your own quiet cries. 

then the shower door slides open, and suddenly, there he is.

dae-ho.

your husband.

your breath catches as he takes you in….your trembling frame, the water streaming down your face, the way you try so desperately to wipe away the evidence of your breakdown.

he’s not having any of it.

without a word, he steps forward, his black shirt and joggers instantly soaked as he pulls you into his arms.

“baby,” he breathes against your wet hair, his voice thick with emotion. 

“don’t do that. don’t hide from me.”

you break.

your hands clutch at his shirt, your sobs shaking your whole body as he holds you. his large hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your soaked hair as he rocks you gently.

“i know it’s hard,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“but i’m right here. i’ll always be right here.”

and you believe him.

he stays with you until the tears slow, until your breathing steadies. 

then, gently, he helps you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you before drying you off with so much tenderness it nearly makes you cry all over again.

you don’t lift a finger.

he stands behind you, brushing through your damp hair before braiding it, his fingers moving with practiced ease thanks to his older sisters. 

he massages your vanilla body butter into your skin, his touch warm, comforting. when he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers linger at your waist, his gaze full of something so raw, so real, that it makes your breath hitch.

in bed, he helps you pump, his hands resting on your thighs, his presence a grounding force.

finally, when you’re settled against him, you whisper, 

“did they go to sleep easily?”

dae-ho hums. 

“byeol was easy, but seo-ah went on a five-minute rant about oreo ice cream before tiring herself out.”

you giggle softly, your heart swelling. 

“she really loves that ice cream.”

you don’t speak again until the question that has been weighing on you slips past your lips.

“dae…will i feel beautiful again?”

dae-ho’s response is immediate.

he pulls you close, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

“you are beautiful now,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“you’ve always been beautiful. you gave us the most perfect babies. and i promise, baby, you’ll feel normal again. until then, i’ll be here. every step of the way.”

and in his arms, in his warmth, you believe him.

you will be okay, even if postpartum depression keeps trying to consume you.

masterlist

[cs-fox]

Hybrid AU TF141 - a request from a poll I did a while back ❤️

- if hybrids are allowed in the military, I’d assume they were picked because of their superior combat ability. These are not animals, these are soldiers, chosen for their heightened senses and special abilities that give them an edge over normal humans.

- and I bet they’d be so surprised when a normal human joins their taskforce. What was this all about? Surely this human couldn’t have skills equal to theirs?

- after a long time of avoiding this new recruit and her strange smell, slightly friendlier and more curious avian Kyle decides to engage.

- you’re actually quite nice, at least at the surface, and strangely not bothered by the hybrids too much. There’s a couple of scars on your form that makes Kyle wonder but he knows better than to ask.

- the big werewolf, Soap, is next. He sniffs you, actually sniffs you - big, bristly snout nuzzling into your armpit exactly like a real dog. You think it’s pretty adorable till he shifts back, when you realise there’s suddenly a bulky Scotsman with his arm around you - and a wolfish grin on his face.

- then there’s Price, an aging sheepdog, with a beard akin to his animal counterpart. His dark, beady eyes are kind, but seem to hold a lot of knowledge, and unnerve you every time they fall on your form.

- finally, Ghost. He’s a kind of shapeshifter, for use of a more mundane term, because of his parentage. There’s wolfish ears atop his thatched blonde head but shadows leak from his imposing form like dry ice.

- he almost doesn’t say a word when he approaches, simply observing, as you rock on the balls of your feet awkwardly.

- ‘Um - hi. I’m - ’ ‘Y/N.’ he says, with an unreadable look. ‘I’m Ghost.’

- ‘Well, it’s an honour,’ you tried, attempting reverence, but you didn’t see any change in his demeanour.

‘Mhm.’

His eyes were so powerful, you swore they were boring holes in you, trying to suck your soul out through your mouth.

‘I mean - being able to work with this team. It really is.’

The man didn’t even move, until you made some lame excuse and all but ran off down the corridor back to your quarters, where you stayed for the next hour, a little thrown off by the huge skull-masked man.

You only opened the door when you heard scratching - a small noise, like a tiny animal was begging to be let in.

Because Ghost, despite his stony exterior, had taken to you straight away. You were a kind of light to him - friendly, kind, and a little bit oblivious… even so, he couldn’t resist trying to get a peek inside your quarters - after all, being a shapeshifter had it’s uses.

When the door cracked open, there was a slim tortoiseshell cat, with beautiful dark eyes. You gazed at it in wonder - how did a cat get into the barracks?

It mewled softly, and you scooped it up, grunting slightly at its unusual weight.

‘C’mon baby. I’ll see if I have any food for you.’

Having to gulp down warm milk was all worth it in the end for Ghost, after all, it wasn’t such a torture if it meant he got to spend the night in your bed.

[azsazz]

Infest

Stalker!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel really really likes you.

Warnings: Stalking.

Word Count: 2864

Notes: Going to try my hand at something a little darker. No plans for what's going to happen next, so it might be a hot minute before the next part. 🖤

Also high-key for my Ghost girlies 🤭

_________________________________________

Thursday, October 31st

The city streets are crowded for the holiday, and Azriel’s there, too.

He must choose his target carefully, but he’s had one picked out since the first time he saw her strolling down the rainy streets one evening, all alone with no protection, head buried in her phone.

And that target is you.

He keeps his head dipped low as not to call attention to himself. The dark hood of his sweatshirt curls over his head, concealing his features. All attempts at blending in are futile, because he isn’t dressed as a cinematic axe murderer or a gimmicky super hero. He’s clothed as he always is; black hoodie and matching jeans, paired with thick-soled, military grade boots.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, because you haven’t noticed him in the forty-three days, sixteen hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-one…twenty-two seconds that he’s been following you.

Azriel can recount how you live your days by heart. He doesn’t need to, because you haven’t left his line of sight since he’d set his focus on you. At five-thirty, you wake up. In the gym at the top floor of your apartment complex by six. You run on the treadmill Mondays and Fridays, attempt the Stairmaster on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with sporadic weight-lifting in between. It hurts to watch, and there have been a handful of times Azriel has wanted to give up his position, make himself known in your life, and show you proper form in and outside of the gym. Wednesday is your rest day. After that it’s back to your apartment to get ready for your day. Protein shake, shower, blow-dry your hair, followed by breakfast, dressing in whatever you wear to your office, though he thinks he might even have your outfits memorized because there are only so many options in your tiny closet.

Tonight, you’re dressed as a scantily clad little red riding hood, which only makes him feel even more like the big, bad wolf that he is. He has much too patience, too much time, and has too much interest invested in you.

It’s dark, which is his home. He’s always sought comfort in the black of night, has had to with the household her grew up in, where he was often locked in the closet for bad behavior that was in no way his own doing. He would stay in there for so long his parents forgot, that time lost all meaning. Inside of that closet, he learned that he could fear the dark or thrive in it, and Azriel chose the latter.

Azriel slides off of the bus stop bench, trailing you and your friend. His eyes are sharp, calculating as he drinks in the surroundings. He is always on alert, even though the streets are filled with joyous laughter and squealing children that make the constant ringing in his ears sound like symbols clashing, reverberating his eardrums in the most annoying sense.

He shakes his head clear and refocuses on his target.

You’re with a friend. Morrigan. She’s the one that always has you rolling your eyes when you take her phone calls. Azriel knows this because he screens them. He doesn’t like her one bit, thinks that there are better options in your friend group that you should hang out with more, like Feyre or Tarquin. If Azriel really thought that he could pull it off, Mor would be gone from your life for good.

Okay, he knows that he can pull something exactly like that off. He didn’t train for a decade as a Night Stalker in the Army to not know how to murder quickly and quietly. Years of training has turned Azriel into a nocturnal animal. Always watching, always waiting for the right moment to strike.

You stumble over the curb when you cross the street and Azriel’s fists tighten in his pockets. You’re not paying any attention to your surroundings. There could people out here who want to bring harm upon you, and you’re too unaware, much too focused on the story Mor is telling you, her voice so loud that Azriel can hear her nasally pitch over the crowd of teens he shoves his way through.

“Hey!” A girl in a skeleton shirt snaps. Azriel deigns her a microsecond of a look. Cheap skeleton mask pushed up into her hair. Black circles painted around her eyes. Much too old to be trick-or-treating. “Watch it!”

Azriel’s only response is to snatch the mask off of her head and keep walking.

The teen calls out after him, outraged, but her friends circle in on her, making sure that she doesn’t start something that they can’t finish. She’s shouting something about getting him on video and that she’s calling her father, who she claims is the chief of police in this corrupt city.

She really shouldn’t be flaunting that information.

He doesn’t have to look up at you to know where you and Mor are headed, but he does because he’s meticulous in his work, and a simple double-triple-even quadruple check is not out of the ordinary for him.

Azriel hates and loves the platform red heels you’re wearing. Hates them because you’ve tripped once already, and they’re not good for running should you run into trouble. That is, trouble that isn’t him, because when he comes for you, there will be no getting away.

He loves them because they look incredibly sexy on you, make your legs look miles tall, and he wants them hooked around his shoulders while he devours you.

Your heels are tall. You look like a fawn standing for the first time. Azriel could blame it on the two drinks and three shots you had at your apartment prior to moseying throughout the city to find a club that doesn’t have a line around the corner to party in for the night, but he’s seen you trip over less. Clumsy would be your middle name if he didn’t already know what it is.

The dress you’re wearing isn’t even a dress at all. The hem hits you just below your crotch, and he knows you’re not wearing any shorts beneath it because he’s caught sight of the little red bow on the waistband of your panties already. His jaw flexes where it’s locked together as the breeze lifts the cheap fabric.

You laugh, brushing down your skirts. He’s caught two father’s drinking you in like bloodhounds. There are women who stare, also, and more than a handful of teenagers. Azriel has to shove the violent thoughts from his mind. He should have made his move weeks ago, because you would never leave the house in something like this if he had anything to say about it.

The bodice of your top—if it can be considered a top at all—is tight, accentuating your curves and pushing your breasts to your chin. It’s raunchy. It’s seductive. You look like an escort, one who is paid top dollar for the services you’d offer.

The crimson cape you’re wearing is the most modest piece of clothing you have on. It’s pulled over your curled hair, blocking your peripherals. If he were to stalk closer to you, you’d never see him coming. Not that you would anyway, not until he’s ready for you to see him.

His cock twitches in his pants, and he rips his gaze from your legs, traveling upward until all he’s looking at is your matching red cloak that currently conceals the rest of your body from how you’ve wrapped it around yourself in a makeshift coat. It’s brisk this time in October, and Azriel would happily give you the clothes off his back if you’re cold, or to cover you up.

Azriel examines the mask he tore from the teens head. It’s a skull poorly sewn to a balaclava, and it makes him think of previous recon missions he’s been on where he’s had to wear a mask of his own. It trudges up a feeling in his gut like he’s been stabbed with a hot knife again, but he shoves it over his head anyway, and readjusts his hood.

You and Mor come to a stop at the crosswalk. There’s a group of people waiting at the light, so Azriel slips closer. He’s not worried about you seeing him. If you did, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because you have no idea who he is, that he knows you, has been following you. You are blissfully unaware, and that gives Azriel an uneasy edge.

You smell sweet, like candy and cherries. It’s his favorite of your perfumes. Intoxicating, delicious. He wants to crane down and press his nose into the crook of your neck, lick it off of you until you’re a whimpering mess with your hands buried deep in his hair and your back arched against him, begging him for more.

Mor’s voice pulls him back into the present. She talks about a man that she had a one-night stand with and is rating him on how well he pleasured her in bed. Not well, it sounds like, and Azriel knows that he’d had no trouble working you to orgasm because of the good girl you’d be for him.

Soon.

“And when do you suppose you’re getting laid again?” Morrigan scoffs when you tease her about her horribly lay. The walk sign lights up and the two of you begin to cross the street. Mor crosses her arms over her chest, and all the action does is push her breasts higher into the sky. A man Azriel passes curses low under his breath, eyes glued to her chest. Azriel checks him with his shoulder as he passes, causing the man to grunt and spit that same curse at him, this time sounding irritated instead of like a man cursed to have the beauty of a young woman flaunted in his face.

Azriel keeps walking, lengthening his strides as you turn a corner, nearly at the bar.

You sigh, long and lonely. It makes Azriel’s cock jump as he imagines you making that noise when he pulls his cock from your mouth only to allow you to swallow down a desperate breath before he’s shoving himself back down your throat. He’s heard you make that noise aplenty: while you’re dreaming sinful dreams and he’s standing in the darkness of your room, watching you.

He imagines the noises you might make with his fingers in your cunt or bouncing on his cock. With a plug nestled in that tight little ass and your hands tied to the headboard. With clamps around your nipples and his face buried between your legs. Moan, maybe, beg, scream, cry, thrash, writhe, plead beneath his touch.

The number of things he’d like to do to you is endless. He’s had over forty-three days to think about exactly what he’s going to do to you.

“I don’t know,” you respond. Azriel knows. “Whenever I find the right one, I guess.”

Mor laughs, and Azriel doesn’t fail to notice the way that your shoulders stiffen at the shrill sound. Another strike against the blonde. “See, that’s your problem! You’re all ‘I need to find the right man,’ but you’re never actually testing them out! It’s not like the man of your dreams is going to drop out of the sky—” Azriel could. He’s trained in that. “And sweep you off your feet. You have to try!”

The streets are busier in the heart of town. The demographic has changed from toddlers and children dressed in silly costumes to adults dressed in even less. The bars that line the street are all packed to the brim, and Azriel’s never been a fan of places with this many people, but he’s used to confined spaces, and being pressed up against a wall in a dark bar while watching you let loose for once won’t be the worst night of his life by far.

He knows which bar you’re going to. Rita’s, the dirtiest, diviest bar on the block. It’s been a staple in Velaris for years, and only the locals, but they play the best music. You and your friends have been going here since before it was legal. You hope that they’re here because Feyre mentioned she and Rhys were in the Uber, but you know that they tend to get sidetracked in each other more often than not.

Maybe Cassian or Tarquin will be there.

“I try!” you defend, but it weak. You hate being on dating apps, and the conversations with the guys that you do match with are drier than the Sahara. And within days they always unmatch you. “It’s not my fault that I’m looking for more interesting conversation than a ‘hey, how was your day,’ or ‘sorry I didn’t respond, I fell asleep.’” You’re not boring, you refuse to believe that you’re the problem in these situations. These men can be so boring sometimes, and your life is already mundane enough, you don’t need entertain a man who is going to pussy out on you before the first date or only wants you to put out.

You and Mor get into the short line. Attor is working the door tonight. He’s a. large, brooding security guard that’s been working for Rita’s forever. He’s known you and Mor since the first night you came here, when you were juniors in high school and Cassian convinced you all to come here after the team won the homecoming game. He’s allowed you in all these years, but never lets you cut the line.

Mor leans against the brick wall of the building, shooting you an offended look. You make a face because you’ve seen more people out here crouched and puking their guts up against these very walls. You’ve seen people fondling each other against it, too, and you’re fifty percent sure that Cassian slept propped up against it one night when he got a little too drunk to coordinate a ride home.

 “You just have to get past that part,” she says, and you bite your lip to refrain from mentioning that none of the guys that she’s met online have stuck around. Maybe you should be thankful for that, because she’s the only other single girl in your friend group. It can’t just be you and Cassian as the single ones, because that would ruin your chances even further.

Azriel doesn’t follow you into the line. He notices the smoking area is a waist-high gate and wants to laugh at the security of this place. He bums a cigarette off of a guy who keeps eyeing him, and while the guard at the front door converses shortly with you and Mor, he lifts a leg and hooks it over the fence, easily making his way into the bar.

He slides through the plethora of people, quickly and with the stealth of a lethal predator. He’s been here before on multiple accounts, thanks to you, so he’s familiar with the terrain and knows that you and Mor are headed straight for the bar to order drinks before scoping out the place for your friends.

It’s muggy, musty. The air smells like body odor and alcohol. Everything’s made of wood: the bar, the floors, the walls. There’s a tiny disco ball over a stick floor where the tables have been pushed aside for a makeshift dancefloor that no one uses until two hours before closing when there’s more booze than blood in their veins.

Azriel slides in next to you at the bar, but keeps his back turned away from you. It’s not time yet, but he loves the warmth of your body beside his. Goosebumps break out across his skin when you accidentally brush up against him.

He tilts his head, listening.

“Well…there might be this one guy,” you trail off, and Azriel’s fingers curl into fists.

He doesn’t like the man you’re bringing up one bit. Has dug well into his life, and even if he hadn’t, Azriel would have been able to tell upon first glance that this man is not going to give you the relationship nor the orgasms you deserve.

“Bitch! Tell me now!” Mor shouts, and Azriel can picture the grin curving her red lips. When you open your mouth to speak, your friend quickly cuts you off. “Wait, wait, wait! We need drinks first.” She waves over Rita herself, the older woman greeting the both of you with warm smiles. She waves in your direction, beginning to make your drinks without even asking.

“You know, the world doesn’t revolve around relationships and how many people you’ve slept with,” you huff, and Azriel agrees. It’s not his world, because in his head, his world revolves around you and only you, but he’d support anything that came out of your mouth, especially if it’s in regards to the other men in your life.

“Okay,” Mor snorts again. The both of you thank Rita for your drinks and head away from the bar, thankfully saving Azriel from having to hear about this new conquest that isn’t even a conquest at all if he has anything to do about it.

[st4rg8te]

A Captured Dragon (BL)

Yandere! Half-brother X Crown Prince! Reader

[tw: graphic depiction(s) of violence, obsessive behaviour, betrayal, imprisonment, gaslighting, non-con kissing, incest!!!, teeny tiny bit of feminization]

✦✧✦✧

“You have done nothing to deserve that title. You were only lucky enough to be born the King’s son.”

A lot of things in life were beyond your control. 

But fate had been kind to you, gifting you a life that most could only dream of. Born into the royal family as their beloved Crown Prince, the world bent to your will from the very moment you drew your first breath. 

Spoiled, indulged, and never once tested by struggle—perhaps you were destined to fall from the start.

✦✧✦✧

✦✧✦✧

It’s getting harder to tell the days apart.

The world around you blurs into a cycle of sleepless nights. Your mind is a fog, heavy with the weight of guilt and fear. Each hour blends into the next, until time itself feels like a punishment.

The nightmares don’t help either.

Every time you close your eyes, they come—haunting, vivid dreams where blood stains the corridors and screams pierce the air. The sounds of blades slicing through flesh, of bodies collapsing onto blood-soaked floors, echo endlessly in your ears. It is relentless. 

You see the palace engulfed in flames, your servants and people—those you’ve known your entire life—crying out in terror as they are cut down by the cold steel of soldiers.

In every dream, you stand helpless, watching as they beg for mercy. Your people reach for you in desperation, their faces twisted in agony, but you can’t move. 

In every dream, at the center of it all, is him.

Daewon.

Your half-brother.

While you grew up in the limelight, basking in the affections and adoration of others, your half-brother was cast into the shadows. Born from a lowly maid, his very existence was a blemish on the royal family's image. He was the son who would never be acknowledged by his father—neither loved nor remembered.

Despite that, you had treated him kindly.

When did everything go so wrong?

After the slaughter, you were taken away and imprisoned. The room you were kept in was dark and empty—there was no light, or any warmth. It was a far cry from the luxury you were used to.

Occasionally, food and water would be brought to you—a guard would come every few days, sliding bowls of stale rice and cloudy water across the floor without a word, without so much as a glance in your direction. You felt like an animal.

But worse than the silence of your captors were the visits from Daewon.

You hated those days the most.

“Brother.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t make out his face within the shadows.

So you bury your head further into the damp pillows, hiding from the monster in the room.

It isn’t long before you feel the bed dip under his weight, the chain on your ankle rustles against the sheets. He kneels beside you, leaning close enough for you to smell the faint traces of blood still lingering on his robe.

“You haven’t been eating,” Daewon’s voice was soft, almost tender, but you could hear the dark amusement laced beneath it. “Is the food not to your liking?”

You keep your eyes shut tight, fists clenched under the thin blankets.

It'll all be okay. Soon enough, he would leave you alone.

Cold fingers brush against your cheek, and you flinch. He chuckles at that, a low, mocking sound that makes your skin crawl.

“Did you know that these meals are what I had to eat as a child?” He whispers, his breath hot against your ears.

You briefly open your eyes, glancing at the food scattered across the floor, remnants of your earlier fit of rage—destroyed, just like everything else in your life. 

“There were many days when the servants never even came. My mother often gave me her share, just so I wouldn't starve." 

You grit your teeth—

"Why don't you just kill me already?"

The words hang in the air, and a suffocating silence stretches between you.

But then, Daewon's firm hand suddenly grips your chin, forcing you to meet his dark gaze.

“Kill you?” A cruel, guttural laugh escapes him, sending a shiver down your spine. “But death would be far too easy.” 

“No... you have to live. You’ll live and endure. Just like I did.”

He had lived a life of invisibility, where no one cared to look beyond the stain of his tainted blood—no one, except you.

And the thought of it drives him mad.

His hand falls from your chin, trailing down until it rests against your chest. With that simple touch, your spirit breaks just a little more.

You hate him—hate him more than you’ve ever hated anyone. 

Without any warning, you feel the press of his soft lips against your own. His body heat seeps into yours as he forcefully pulls you closer and presses you flush against him.

You are too tired, too hungry to resist.

"No, stop—" You protest breathlessly, the words barely escaping your lips as your mind reels, still foggy from the kiss. A dizzying mix of shock, confusion, and disgust floods your senses.

"This is wrong, we can't—"

"They will never fully accept a half-blooded bastard like me as their king."

“What?” You swallow hard, blinking up at the man.

"But surely, they'll accept a 'bride' from the royal family.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. 

Before you can react, his lips crash against yours again, harder this time, more possessive. The taste of him—bitterness and control—invades your senses completely.

A twisted smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you finally understand.

This is a debt of suffering, a price he intends to collect over and over—until you were broken.

"Don’t worry. For everything you’ve done for me, I'll repay your kindness tenfold."

✦✧✦✧

[A/N]

This was not proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

[bunny-jpeg]

the big, bad wolf(f)

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, hybrid au, wolf!toto, rabbit!reader, needy!toto, size difference/kink, missionary style, age difference (20s/50s)

a/n: this is part of a f1 hybrid au, i haven't stopped making bakery prompts, this is just something a tiny bit different! if have any ideas to share lemme know!

"my, my, what big teeth you have, mister wolff." you came close to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders before you sat down in his lap.

toto's wolf-like ears twitched at your words before he leaned in close to you. he cupped your face softly and gazed into your eyes with his dark ones, "teeth, my love." he held you a little closer to him and kissed at your arm, "i guess all the more to bite you with."

he watched your ears twitch a little. cute bunny behavior. he reached for one of your long ears and touched it gently. he watched you squirm a little and he chuckled. he knew you liked that.

toto could be a little scary. he stood much taller than you, and could easily pick you up. with pointed dark ears and a tail that you often rubbed up against when he didn't (or couldn't) give you attention.

you pressed your thumbs against his lips and giggled, "but you wouldn't eat someone like me. you love me too much." then kissed him on the lips.

an alarmingly younger bunny girlfriend and the rich older wold who loved her. it was a match made in heavy. he knew that it turned a few heads, especially when you were dressed in something cute.

he had to restructure your wardrobe so you weren't in softer colours every day, and everyone in the neighbourhood started to make assumptions. you were a university graduate, even though your degree was more wall decoration than actually used.

"i don't know, hase." he cupped your behind and pulled you closer to you. he buried his nose against you and took a small inhale, which was still enough to make the ticklish bunny in his lap jolt. he said as he held onto you tighter, "be still."

you felt a warmth in your body as you looked at him. eventually his face were between your breasts. the prettiest breasts toto had ever seen. he groaned.

you knew your older boyfriend was craving rabbit. you held his head and pressed your breasts up against him. he groaned and held onto you harder.

"does the big bad wolf want a taste of bunny?" you said lowly and hear him deeply exhale. you were going to be the death of him. you tilted his head to look at you and you giggled at the sight of him, "c'mon, honey, let's get you into bed." then got up off his lap, but you didn't get too far. as your wolf lover was close behind you.

your bunny ears twitched a little bit, and toto wanted to yank on them while you rode him. he hated that he felt a slave to instinct. but it was hard not to when his lover was just soft in all the ways he was tough. he was surprised a little bunny like you could take someone like him.

he knew he was so much bigger and had a domineering power over most. but you with those cute little ears, beautiful eyes, and cheerful demeanor, toto was a a panting dog.

when you got close enough to the bed and tried to get your slippers off, toto pushed you onto the bed ass up and you made a small panicked noise as you hit the bed then felt the weight of your lover on top of you.

you yelped and kicked your legs out a little bit and toto had his hands under you and was groping at your choice heavily. he wanted to feel his lovely rabbit.

"don't tear my clothes, you animal!" you kicked out a little more and felt your lover get off of your back and slowly take off your clothes. while the clothes weren't particularity expensive, it was a good pair of t-shirt and sleeping shorts (both stolen from your lover). it was hard to find comfort in most clothes these days!

before he took your sports bra on, he got you onto your back and groped at your chest. he shuddered a little bit at the sight of you, almost naked for him.

"such a pretty rabbit." he noticed the twitch in your ears and he rubbed his clothed cock up against your barely clothed front, "beautiful." he said, "i could put you between my teeth and just bite down. but i'd rather make you cum." something wild ran through toto when he was with you.

soon you were naked and you began to help toto out of his clothes. his large hands on you as you unbuttoned his dark blue shirt. your hands were a little shakey as you undid every last button.

toto eyed you carefully before he was able to take the shirt off his shoulders. you whined a little bit as the sight of you, but he took you by the chin and pulled you in for a heated kiss.

"so lovely." he said, his lips so close to yours. he watched you squirm a little bit as you panted heavily against his lips. he felt like a dream, you felt heat do its rounds in your core.

both striped as naked as you could get. toto kept you on your back with your legs spread for him. he licked his lips, his gaze felt hot. almost like a predator. he leaned into your touch when you ran your hand through his dark hair.

"you should let it go grey." you remarked.

he chuckled as he invaded your space more, his eyes level with yours with his chest pressed against you, "no, no, hase. me all grey and you in those soft sweaters. people will get alarmed."

you giggled, "as if you're not like a foot taller than me. the little bunny and the big bad wolf!" then held onto his shoulders as he got his hands on your hips.

his larger cock pressed up against you. you shuddered a little bit at the feeling of it against you. you gasped when he inched it inside of you. his dark eyes on you as you squirmed a little bit.

"are you okay, hase? not too much pain?" he might be a wolf, and you might be a bunny, but he didn't want to harm you. you were his perfect rabbit. he clutched onto your hips as he moved himself against you.

he slowly got as deep as he could go and he watched your expression grow softer. a little blissed out as he got his entire length into you. you squirmed a little and felt the heat in your body grow.

you were beautiful under him. like the sweetest fruit on the tree, or the most tender rabbit in the field. of course, toto had to sink his teeth into your shoulder as you moved against him. he watched your toes curl and your legs kick out from the hot feeling of it all.

"my rabbit." he said, his voice tinged with a desperate want, "i need you. i need you every day of my life. you excite me in so many ways. you look beautiful under me."

you glowed a little under his attention and felt your stomach do small flips as he moved against you. your cute little cunt took him perfectly. everything about you was always so much smaller than the big scary predator you called a lover. the hungry wolf that was desperate for pretty bunny cunt. but, toto would always take care of you! he wasn't a crazy person.

he knew that he had to take care of his little rabbit, even if that meant thrusting up into her wildly. that made keeping your pussy nice was wet with his cum. he rutted against you and snapped his jaws a little from the pleasure of it all.

"my beautiful rabbit." he purred as he continued to move up against you. you fit him perfectly, he remembered when it was a bit of a struggle. but it wasn't your fault, you were just made so small for him. but nothing a little training wouldn't have fixed. you whimpered and whined as he fucked you.

"please, toto." you whined as you arched your back a little. pressed yourself further against him as he got a good look at every curve on your sweet body.

he once told a friend of his that bunnies fucked the best. the cutest little hybrids, pussies can take a beating and toto loved yours most of all. got him addicted to sweet cunt and cute smiles. he knew if you were on top, you'd be bouncing on him with that same blissed out look.

toto knew he was far gone with you. he knew that he wanted to make you his little bunny bride. then he'd make sure that nothing else could have you the way he did. except maybe a toy for when he wasn't home, something to occupy that cunt of yours. but, nothing else. no one else.

he was a wolf possessive of his little pack.

he continued to brush up against the softest parts of you, your pussy like a grip around his achy cock. he could feel his heartbeat in his throat the more he fucked you. he was egged on by your sweet sounds and your soft breasts up against him.

he gripped onto your hips tighter and heard you let out a sweet, almost sugary moan as he moved up against you. his cock hit all the right places for you. he knew he was going to leave you pretty insides all bruised, but you loved it.

you love when sex with him hurt a little, a reminder for days of how well he took care of you. he pressed into you further, his lips found yours as the two of you feverishly made out.

the bed squeaked under you, and it paired like a symphony with your beautiful muffled moans. when he broke the kiss you panted heavily.

"you pant like a dog." he said in a hot tone that left a shiver through you. he knew you were getting close. he could tell by how tense you were and the expression across your face.

his pace continued and soon you were holding onto him tightly. your arms hung around his neck as you grasped the back of his neck. you held onto him tighter via your legs as he thrusted as hard as he could. the bed moved under you and you felt a sense of euphoria when you climaxed.

"ah! toto!!" you whimpered as you came, leaving his cock fully slick with your wetness down to his balls. you clung to him like a lifeline while he battered the back of your sweet pussy. with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside you as well.

he marked your pretty insides with his cum and heard you whimper loudly into his ear. he eventually slowed to a stop before he was able to catch his breath. pleasure ran through his body like a lifeline. he tried to stop but your pussy called him back.

he was only able to stop himself when he saw how tired you look. bunnies fucked well, but they got easily tired out. all that energy in such a small package.

"do you mind if i take you again?" he asked softly as he took you in his arms. he watched you nod and say yes softly before he put you on your stomach and held your hips up.

he still needed his rabbit. he needed to feel your gooey insides and get himself off. you were so perfect for him, letting him use you while you get comfortable on your shared bed. he slipped his cock into you once more and knew that he would never get enough of his sweet bunny's cunt. <3

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 10. Chapter END TW-Descriptions of Gore.

Mis-misadventures with Tweedle Dee and Dum

Since the make-up unbirthday party yesterday, you felt as if you could safely say that the bulk of your drama was over, which unfortunately meant you had to go back into the horror story. Because in the few days since Riddle’s overblot your mind was consumed with worry. 

While you were a little consumed with worry for Riddle’s health given the near death experience, you had spent most of it worried for yourself. Sure, you sort of forgave Riddle for his accidental slip in his fit of explosive rage. But an apology and forgiveness couldn’t erase the damage he might have done. Because now, you spent the last few days worried on how Ace and Deuce would react to that. And to make  your blood pressure go up even more, since Riddle’s overblot Ace and Deuce hadn’t even said anything to you about it. 

To make matters worse, your dreams had completely stopped over the last few days. That last one you had was the night of Riddle’s overblot and now instead of watching Winston lose his mind, you dreamed of the random garbage you once did before this abrupt vacation to Twisted Wonderland. Since Winston had said there was a way out of Wonderland, you had hoped that in your next dream you’d find the way out you were begging for. But it seemed that you would have to keep begging. 

With all these concerning thoughts swirling in your head, it felt impossible to unweave them to feel even a semblance of peace. Altogether it  massively sucked, it just seemed that the universe was against you again-

“Hello? Twisted Wonderland to _______?” Ace’s voice shakes you from your thoughts, and you suddenly zone back in. Ace looks up at you with a playful expression, “You still here with us?” he teases. 

“Oh, sorry.” You chuckle nervously as you’re brought back down to earth and the rose maze. You’d come here that morning to hang out with Ace and Deuce, because even if you were extremely suspicious of them, you still enjoyed their company… just a little bit. As they’d told you, with it being the day after the unbirthday party, the dorm was all busy trying to clean up the garden for an upcoming event in two days. So you and Grim were in the hedgehog enclosure, keeping Ace and Deuce company as they fed the adorable hedgehogs.

“Grim, stop eating it!” Deuce is busy trying to get the perpetually starving cat out of the hedgehog food. Or more specifically, while you helped Ace and Deuce fed the hedgehogs, and Grim busied himself with eating the hedgehog food. “It’s for the hedgehogs!”

“Myah!” Grim struggles in Deuce’s grip.“I was promised free food, I’m gonna eat free food!” Grim argues,  managing to stuff one more pawful into his mouth before Deuce rips him away. Yes, you did say that you’d stop by Trey to see if he had any leftover dessert from the unbirthday party yesterday, but considering how much the feline ate maybe it was for the best that he ate his weight in the hedgehog food instead of tearing up the grass with his fangs.

To be honest, you’re a little surprised that NRC shells out the big bucks for wet food for the hedgehogs, and considering how famished they are for it, you’re surprised there is so much of it. Minus the stuff Grim is rapidly consuming like a rabid animal. But considering the hedgehogs got used as balls, that’s probably the payment for whatever pain they experience. 

Though the smell does bother you. It doesn’t smell like fish or meat, more metallic, like copper.

Despite that, you still help out and feed them. Almost all of them swarm you, eager to be fed by you rather than Ace and Deuce. You hum a soft laugh, reaching down to stroke their sharp quills on their tiny heads. “I don’t think they like you guys very much.” You chuckle lightly,  as you set down the one you were holding to stroke back the tiny quills on each of their little heads.

“Yeah, because you’re the one pettin’ them and I’m the one stoppin’ them from eating the rose bushes.” Ace complains, setting down the bowls. 

“Or maybe they don’t want to be near mean ol’ Ace.” You tease back, when they don’t immediately swarm him back at the new bowls of food you change your tune. Maybe they do like only you. Like everyone seems so far.

“Maybe not, they all seem to love you” Deuce chuckles when the tiny critter snaps at Ace when he tries to get closer to you. “I can’t blame them.” That fond look is back in his eyes as he looks at you and it makes your stomach churn in discomfort. Time to nip that one in the bud and get him sidetracked.

“Well, they’re like Grim, they just like me because I’m petting them.” you reason. Speaking of your not-cat dire beast, he’s now fighting with the free hedgehogs to protect his latest snacks. “Besides, once you keep feeding them, you’ll be their favorite human.”

“Still, it’s like they’re all gathering around you. Are you sure you don't have any magic that makes them and all the flamingos like you?” Ace’s teasing is accompanied with him ruffling your hair until you playfully elbow him in the side. It’s true that the flamingos prefer you upon meeting you, why else would you have won so easily at croquet yesterday. Or did they let you win? Nah, who cares.

“If I did, I’d have them maul you. Get you both off my back for a few hours.” You joke, half-serious. While spending time with them is fun, you would like a break every once in a while. After having them live with you, the only reason you were here was because you’d rather have witnesses if you vanish. Good thing the garden’s full of Heartslabyul students, otherwise you would have just stayed back.

Even so, Ace and Deuce have been relatively normal this whole time. And it’s been nice to just relax with them without any sign of them being weird with you. Maybe all your worry was just you being in your head. Maybe they really didn’t-

Deuce gives you an amused laugh, before asking something while looking so genuinely curious, “Hey, I heard once that animals like darlings more. I think it might be true for you, _____?”

You can feel time stand still. 

As if your brain is a few seconds too slow, it doesn’t connect. Or maybe disbelief is keeping you from realizing it. Either way, you can only ask dumbly, “What did you say?” As if saying that would suck the words back in like they never existed, as if he’ll correct himself and it’ll just blow over as him misspeaking. 

But they were said, and you’d probably never forget it because Deuce starts to repeat himself, still smiling, “Oh, I said-” before he freezes in realisation. You can see Ace’s eyes widen as the words start to register in his head too. “Shit. wait- I didn’t mean t-”

“Damn it, Deuce…” You watch Ace facepalm, so Ace probably did believe it too. Did he not want you to know? Or did they both want to keep you in the dark? Or did they not really think to tell you?

Deuce starts to repeat himself only to hesitate, maybe because the shock and horror you’re feeling is visible on your face, and he puts two and two together. But when Deuce finally notices the drop in the atmosphere’s happy mood and what he said. And both your reactions to what he said. “What the hell did you mean to say then?!” You didn’t mean to yell at him, but with how loud your blood roars in your ears you can’t find it within yourself to control it. 

“I’m sorry I-” Deuce scrambles to apologize or think of an excuse for a moment that feels way too long. But nothing he says might bring you solace. Every fumbled word just proves that he believed you were a darling and planned on not saying anything about it to you. And you called him your friend. Deuce’s fumbling eventually progresses into silence, and he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at whatever horrified expression you have on your face. “I’m sorry, A-Ace didn’t want me to tell you-”

“Way to throw me under the fucking bus, Juice!” As soon as Deuce’s accusatory words leave his mouth, Ace jumps in to defend himself.  “And I didn’t say that, I said–”

“Yes, you did! You said-” They descend into a shouting match of ‘yes, you did’ and ‘no, you didn’t’ as you sit there and try to gather your mess of  spiraling thoughts.

Despite your panic and the chill flooding your body, you take a deep breath to try and retain your composure. You need a clear head to deal with this. You can do this. It won’t go horribly wrong. You trying to stop an argument won’t end with someone over blotting like it did with Riddle. And yes, the fact you thought the overblot part up unprompted technically is a bad idea for your already high stress levels but focusing on that will only drive you even more crazy. 

“Myah? What the heck are you guys yellin’ about?” Grim shoos away the hedgehogs, who had sought solace in your lap, curling up comfortably in your lap. While Ace and Deuce are too busy yelling at each other to notice, the familiar, friendly presence on your lap brings you the slightest bit of peace. You pet him and he purrs, and you can feel yourself steady after a few breaths. 

“Something I’ve gotten sick of.” You say to Grim, before raising your voice loud enough to be heard over the duo's arguing. “Both of you, stop.”

 You don’t even yell, saying it as calmly as possible, and even over their arguing they hear you well enough. Honestly, you’re getting tired of this. If they’re going to argue about something utterly insane, whilst leaving you out of the loop about something you’d dreaded, then they’re going to hear about how much you don’t like it. So without further stalling…..

At some time while you were lost to your spiraling, Ace and Deuce had almost resorted to blows as Deuce had Ace by his collar with his fist a good six inches away from Ace’s nose. You sigh, now more exhausted than stressed. “Deuce, drop him.” Deuce immediately does. Good to know that they’ll listen to you. “Good. No more fighting.”

They both murmur out apologies, taking a seat on the ground next to you, looking uncomfortably guilty. You ignore it, hugging Grim closer before taking a deep breath. “Alright.  Now I need you both to just listen to me, why do you both think I’m a darling?

Ace brushes his clothes free of imaginary dust, before finally filling you in. “Well, Riddle kinda yelled it out for the dorm to hear.”

You sigh in exasperation, “Yes he did….” It might've seemed like a stupid question, but they were under no obligation to believe him, especially since he was on the verge of a mental breakdown while he said that . “But why did you believe him? He said a lot of things.

“Yeah well, when you and Riddle were both passed out, Crowley got back and panicked a little because he thought you were dead. And he sorta blurted you being a darling out for everyone to hear.”

“......He what?” You say deadpan at Ace’s explanation. 

“Prefect… I asked him about what he was panicking about and he said something about you being a darling meant that if you died that he was going to be in serious trouble.” Deuce’s continuation of what the hell happened when you were unconscious makes some things clear. Like the fact you needed to punch Crowley in the teeth for one.

“Damn it, Crowley…..” Crowley proves to be absolutely useless in every regard including secret keeping. “And you both believed him.”

“Actually, I did first.” Ace being the first to think that doesn’t surprise you. With how suspicious he was of you, him not believing it wouldn’t make any sense. 

You turn to look Deuce in the eye and ask him, “And you, Deuce?” 

Deuce avoids your gaze out of what might be guilt. Maybe he felt bad for telling Ace the first time behind your back. “I actually didn’t, but hearing Ace talk about it later convinced me.”

So inevitably both of them would have found out, maybe there was no way you could have avoided this anyway. Either way, after Riddle  you had no choice on whether or not this would be  revealed to everyone. “Ok, well….now I have a question. And I want the truth as an answer.”

“Uh..Sure, ______.” They seem to dread whatever is going to leave your mouth.”

“Why have you been treating me like this because ‘I’m a darling’?!” You can feel tears prick your eyes as you finally say what’s been bothering you for so long. You might not be able to comprehend why this world even romanticizes what it does, but you aren’t undergoing any more stress because of this nightmare. “I don’t understand why you’re treating me differently because of this.”

Ace  jumps in to deny it, “We’re not-”

But you cut him off, you’re not going through this a moment longer. “Yes, you are because no matter even before that you’ve both been acting! Talking behind my back, fighting each other over stuff like this and trying to keep secrets like this from me.” You keep going on and on as you finally get a mountain of stress off your chest. “I don’t care about why you all think that this is even borderline okay, and I really shouldn’t have to because I’m, and I can’t repeat this enough, NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!!” You end up shouting the last thing, but your point is, hopefully, clear.

“Prefect-”

“NO! I’m not done, so be quiet!” You yell as you quickly silence Deuce before continuing your verbal rampage. “I’m not even supposed to be here lost in a world that seems to lack pity, empathy and selflessness because it’s completely fine with dooming half the population to being held captive by someone who is ridiculously obsessed with them to the point consent goes out the window!!” 

“____-”

“I SAID BE QUIET!! You don’t seem to understand how terrifying this is! Even if I was born here, I still would be as terrified and angry as I am now! And you can’t recognize how completely and utterly terrifying this is because you don’t have to experience it!” You pause to take a deep breath, and then your anger dissolves into sadness. 

“_____?” You don’t yell at Ace this time. As you feel your heart swell with self-pity, and the tears in your eyes fall down your cheeks. 

“This world is just so different from what I'm used to. And the fact that I’m someone that’s frequently a victim here, it’s been stressing me out.” You confess, wiping the tears running down your cheeks,  “And because you two are always acting strange around me, I keep thinking that you’re going to hurt me.”

As soon as the idea that you would even consider them hurting you, they immediately deny it.

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“Prefect, I would never hurt you-”

Grim takes that moment to speak up, “Myah! Both of ya need to stop lyin’ about hurtin’  and scarin’ my henchman! She’s been cryin’ and panickin’ all week because of you guys!!”

You sniff, squeezing Grim tighter to you to seek some form of comfort. Your familiar/boss nuzzles up against you in response, to comfort you, which you gratefully accept, trying to calm the rhythm of your fast beating heart. You’re a little surprised that Grim is jumping to your defense. But he’s seen you go through the motions over the past few days. Maybe it’s been affecting him too.

“Prefect- ______ I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, fuck me- I don’t want to see you so afraid again.” They’re actually apologizing. Were you talking to them about it all you needed to do? 

But if they’re willing to make sure that you’re not afraid of them, well that’s an opportunity that you shouldn't look past. Because to be honest, you don’t want to leave this garden with an ended friendship. “Look, I know that this is as strange to you as this is to me. But…. I just want you to be normal with me. Like you were with when we came back from the Dwarf's Mine. I don’t hate you, I actually want to be your friends.”

The two of them seem genuinely surprised that you feel that way. “Y-You do?!” You hear them say simultaneously.

You nod, wiping away the lingering tears from your eyes. “Yeah. I’m a little surprised I still do.” Which is the truth, but being alone is something you don’t want. “But I still like you guys as friends, as long as you don’t treat me differently or try to do anything bad against me….. then we’re all good.” You smile as you finish that, trying to make them feel as smidge better about this mess. You don’t hate them, you can’t find it in yourself to. 

They say nothing for a while, before Ace lets out an exasperated sigh, “If that’s what you want, then I’ll do it.”

“Really?” You say in complete disbelief.

“Yeah, I wanna still be around you. If you don’t want me to act like that, I won’t if it makes you happy.” That was all it took?! Just asking them to stop being creepy around you and it worked?! There had to be a trick, or lie, Because there’s no way Deuce will-

“Me too. If you don’t want me to ______, I’ll try to stop acting like that.” Okay. You’re a little surprised that that worked. At least a little bit. Because even if they struggle a little bit. You might be gone when they can’t hold themselves back anymore. 

“And you’re both serious?”

A “Yep.” from Ace and an “Absolutely.” from Deuce, are your replies. And you can feel a shred of relief flowing through you and spreading to every inch of your body.

“Great.” You can feel a smile forcing its way onto your face. You’re at least happy that they’re willing to try for your sake. “Great…. Thanks guys. But one more thing….” 

You can see a wave of worry form on each of their faces as you add that part on. “What is it?!”

“I’ll make this clear. If either of you try to kidnap me or something, I’ll give you both hell got it?” You force yourself to stop smiling at that, just make sure that your threat is evident. 

“Is that a threat?” Despite the actual threat, the look Ace gives you reminds you of the playfulness he showed you when he first met you. He knows you’re serious and he’s taking your words to heart, by treating you like he used to. 

“I think it’s better to call it a promise.” You say, completely serious but matching his playful energy. 

Deuce’s expression relaxes to one of determination. “Then Prefect, we’ll make sure we won’t forget it.”

“Yeah! Because if you ever try to hurt my henchman, I’ll cook ya!!” Grim, to prove his point, shoots out a flame that nearly burns the hay of the hedgehog enclosure. 

After the flames are stomped out. you can finally relax for the first time in about a week. With the fear that you’d braved alone for a few days taken off your shoulders, you don’t feel as stressed as you’d been coming into this garden today. 

“So we’re all good?” Ace says, hopeful to be past this nearly as much as you do. 

You take a deep breath, finally relieved. “Yeah.” To be honest, you feel refreshed. You’re glad this conversation is out of the way. “I think we’re all good.” You smile as you say that, and their moods perk up. You’re happy and they’re happy. You’re glad to actually be friends with them without fear for once. Things can maybe be normal again.

Score one for healthy communication. Take that, yandere-ness.

You’re feeling much happier and relieved now that you’ve gotten that off your chest. And you’re just glad that it worked out without anything too horrific happening. And it’s a great feeling….

….for all of ten more seconds.

As soon as you start basking in the relief of having gotten that out of your system, you feel a pair of arms wrapping over your shoulder, and a familiar, upbeat voice that instead of bringing you continued relief and boosting your mood, sends your blood pressure through the roof.  “Hey, hey underclassmen!”

Well, there goes your relief. 

“C-Cater, what are you doing here?!” You turn, finding your face all too close to Cater’s. With your noses almost touching with how close they are. You try to pull away but from the way Cater’s holding you, you can’t scoot away from his grasp. 

Cater pouts at your reaction, “Aww, I tht my favorite underclassmen would be excited to see me, #Ouch,” before smiling at you and granting you your explanation, “Lmao my bad if I scared you, I just pulled up to see what the drama was.” Drama? Wait, had he heard you?

“W-What drama?”  Wait, had he heard you. Had the entire garden- No rather, had the whole dorm heard you. “Did you hear all that?”

“Uh huh, You were basically screaming your hot take into the void.” Well, that's both stressful and embarrassing. You might have yelled to the whole garden about you being a darling, and Cater, who probably had the same suspicions or already heard it. Damn it, you basically just announced it to him. 

Even besides that, you’re still reminded that Ace and Deuce weren’t the only ones that had joined your ‘Be cautious of’ list. Cater had figured it out without anyone telling him. How that happened is still a mystery, because Riddle and Trey have a justifiable reason, Ace and Deuce needed to be told to believe it, and Cater had known before you even officially met Riddle and Trey. 

A pressure on your back appears and suddenly yanks you away, pulling you completely out of Cater’s grasp. You’re pulled out of the hold and back into reality to find Ace's hand fisted in your shirt and both his and Deuce’s faces twisted in distaste. Now, you feel like an idiot, because while you were so stressed out about Cater hearing all that, you forgot about what your surrounding audience was seeing. You were so close to Cater, to the point where you probably looked so intimate with someone after you just went on a rant about why you hate the yandere stuff, in front of two of the yanderes who just promised to stop doing that. Like dangling a bloody, giant steak in front of two dogs and telling them not to take a bite out of it. Yay….

“You can let me go Ace..” you urge, and after a few seconds of tension that makes your already high blood pressure spike he lets you go. Of all things that to happen right after you basically yelled at them to get them to stop being so unnervingly creepy about you, “You both need to calm down,” you try to placate them, to stop them from beating the shit out of Cater for invading your personal space. 

“But-” You silence Deuce with glare dead in his eye until his upset expression falters. 

“This- It’s fine, I actually needed to talk to Cater anyway.” You don’t want them to keep going on about this when you already have your own mystery to solve. You can’t ignore the possible threat to your safety in Cater figuring it out all too soon, if any one outside of this dorm you got exposed in figured it out that could end horribly. 

Unfortunately, your thinly-veiled plan to pry doesn't go over as you expected, or maybe it did go as you expected, because it went over badly…

“Wait, you do?” Cater looks genuinely surprised about the fact you’re happy to see him. Though happiness is an exaggeration, you’re more concerned than happy to see him. 

“You do?” Ace, Deuce and Grim parrot his words in confusion, mostly because you had promised to hang out with them. 

You suddenly feel astruck with nervousness, but backing down would be a bad thing considering what you need to know, “Yeah, I wanna talk to you about something that’s been on my mind for a while, that okay?”

“Def, should I expect a confession?” You flush at his forwardness, but you can see Ace and Deuce’s faces visibly tighten in distaste at the insinuation. Maybe you were a tad too optimistic, you can’t expect to 180 over one conversation. If you are their ‘darling’, then you might have to keep them from being jealous. It’s already an ugly thing and in this world, that might just be your downfall. 

So play it like you’re uninterested. A bit late because you’re pretty sure you blushed at the flirt. And you might be terrible at this since you’d never really had to do this before. Regardless, you cement your face into a deadpan and answer “No, Cater. I just need to talk to you.”

Cater doesn’t stop smiling, but you hate that weird look in his eyes that seems to shift as he speaks, “Aw, too bad. Let’s go then-”

“She’s not going with you,” Ace suddenly objects. His hand wraps tightly around your forearm to stop you from standing. His eyes have that dark glint again, one that makes you think of the throes of jealousy blinding someone’s judgement. 

“What are you on about? She just said-”

“The prefect’s sending the day with us, she’s not going to go with you.” Deuce objects. His face is tight again with that expression that makes you stress peak.  You realise that you may have been a bit too confident in your earlier conversation working. You should have at least expected that it would take a while for what you wanted to set in. 

Cater’s expression darkens faster as the longer they try to stop you from speaking with him,“Aw, C’mon Acey, Deucey, I won’t put a hand on her.” 

You don’t really want to deal with this after just venting like you did. “Guys, we just talked about this. And you have your chores to do, I’ll meet up with you later. I promise.” You might come to regret that decision, but you do need them off you back just for a little while. “Remember what we talked about, I need to have space sometimes.” You don’t want them to break it so soon. You like being friends, and just friends, with them. And if they were to break their promise to you so fast you might have to stay away from them. And then that will just suck for everyone. “And you both promised me.”

“Yeah but..” Ace bites his tongue to stop himself from saying something, you feel he’ll regret. Because even if he argues against it, one way or another, you’re talking alone with Cater. No matter what he or Deuce says. Maybe that feeling is present on your face, because Ace gives into you, “Fine.”

“But-” Deuce tries to object too but after a few more seconds, of which you give him that same look again, he gives in too. “Nevermind.” 

“Good. We’ll talk again later.” Even if this was a stumble in your hopes to have boundaries, you hoped that you’d be able to have them be a little normal around you. This really ran a  lot deeper than you originally thought. “ C-c’mon Cater.” Ace and Deuce both look like they are fighting themselves to stop you from leaving but they don’t stop you. And you stand and leave Ace and Deuce behind, heading back into the twists and turns of the rose maze, all the while pulling Cater by his arm.

Where the two of you, plus Grim, are alone. 

You can’t help but feel a little upset. You knew that the path to change would be a bumpy road full of mistakes but you hadn’t expected Ace and Deuce to act like that so soon after you spoke with them. You rake your fingers through Grim’s soft fur. And while he silently grumbles in your arms, the purrs he makes put you at peace. You could do this now to deal with Cater. 

“You good?” Cater pulls you out of your stupor,  “They kinda killed the vibe.”

“Yeah, sort of.” After that, you don’t want to beat around the bush. Might as well rip off the bandage clean. “Cater, I wanted to talk to you about...um, how did you know I was a ‘darling’? I just learned I was one the day before. So how did-”

“Ohhh, so that’s what had you all pressed and stressed, huh?” Cater flashes you a playful smile, unbothered by the question that had distressed you earlier. “ To be fr, I didn’t.”

Wait, what? “But I thought- You called me a darling the day you met me, I thought that… that you figured me out.”  How had he not, was that just you confusing what he said? Because he was pretty clear with how he said it. You remember him saying, ‘darling’ word for word. Wasn’t that what the whale world called the victims of this obsessive love?

“Yeah, ngl, I was just lowkey flirting with you, but I didn't think you'd freak out like that over one of my alts.” So that was just… harmless flirting? You nearly had a panic attack because of some playful flirting by an upperclassman? “No offense, but it’s not everyday when a cute girl falls into an all-boys school. Might as well shoot my shot before you’re snatched up.” 

“Oh…My bad.” you say lamely, feeling a little embarrassed. So this was just a misunderstanding, and you blew it way out of proportion. That’s a relief. One hell of one. You can’t help but feel a little silly in retrospect. Despite this world’s flawed view of romance, there should exist even a possibility that some normal aspects of it still exist here. Like flirting. You might need to adjust your worldview.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, did I freak you out like Acey and Deucey did?” So he caught onto that, huh?

“You really heard all that didn’t you? Was it all that obvious?” If it was, that would be in your best interest. It could help if someone noticed that either one of them are on the verge of going off their rocker, it probably could save you in a pinch. 

“Painfully. SRSly, I could not live the way you do.” He literally shudders, whether it's dramatic or genuine it strikes you as a bit odd. “ Ugh, literally can’t even. The struggle is so real." While he is right, he doesn’t really know what it feels like. To be honest, you barely know what it feels like. So why would he know how painfully hard it is when he lives on the other end?

“No offense, but how do you know about that?” You ask, genuinely curious. Given your now clear history of jumping to conclusions, maybe it’s best you stop and hear him out first. Maybe he had a good explanation. 

“Oh, blame my sisters for that.” Cater looks genuinely displeased at being reminded of that detail. Were his sisters yanderes like him?

“Your sisters?” 

Cater sighs, and his face scrunches up in what has to be genuine annoyance, “TL;DR my sisters have been manifesting a darling brother like their lives depended on it.” The explanation makes sense to you, and it sheds some insight to his understanding of your situation. Though the idea of your family being obsessed with you makes your stomach churn in disgust. It seemed like no relationship was off-limits when it came to this crazy and creepy love. 

“Oh… I’m-”

“No need to say sorry, I'm lowkey desensitized at this point.” Cater smiles saying that as if it wasn’t something that clearly bothered him. Still, he brushes it off like it was nothing, “Anyways, that’s it or??”

A part of you wanted to pry further, but decide against it. You wouldn’t want anyone here prying into your past regardless of this world’s creepy values. Maybe you could try to learn more about darling’s here. Getting a feel for what darlings go through might be in your best interest to do. But you don;t want to bother Cater further. “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

Happy to be done with all this heavy stuff, Cater smiles that playful smile again. “Okay, now that’s finally done, can we like actually take some pics together? I don’t even have a single one of you smiling on Magicam.” Maybe this was a bad decision, maybe, but you actually accept. What’s the harm in a little fun?

You come to regret that decision promptly thirty minutes later. When you agreed, you thought Cater would have taken maybe ten or fifteen shots, taking no more than five to ten minutes. That was 74 pictures ago, including restakes for blinking and blurry pics. Now you’re tired of all this and wanting to move on to whatever else you wanted to do today. But Cater wouldn’t exactly listen to you. 

“Cater… are we done now?” You were getting tired of so many pictures. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your retinas had flashes singed into them and you weren’t exactly feeling like a shutterbug anymore. You try to push yourself away from Cater’s grip on your waist, only to draw you back for yet another. 

“C’mon, one more pleaseee!!!” Cater says for what has to be the umpteenth time. You sigh in a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. 

“No. I have stuff to do-”

“Why tho? Why don’t you wanna stay with me?" Cater pouts, but that nagging voice is back and telling you to quit this, might as well listen this time.

“No, I-I just have to….” Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this, what’s a reasonable excuse that doesn’t inspire jealousy? 

Thank the seven for what happens next “Myah, Henchman, I’m hungry!!!” Grim’s whiny complaints are much appreciated at this moment. Because it gives you an out, as you’re reminded of what you’d promised Grim earlier

“I, uh, promised Grim that I’d see Trey for free food.” You really hope that works. You’re in for a long day if it doesn’t. Thankfully though, Cater releases his hold on you, allowing you to hurriedly scoop up Grim prepared to make your great escape. Before you turn to leave, you stop to say good-bye, “I’ll, uh, see you later?” 

Cater’s expression is both unreadable and unnerving initially, before turning back to his upbeat smiles, “Yeah, _____ TTYL!” As soon as he says his good-bye you wave back, before speeding back into the rose maze, right then not caring for where you’re going. Getting away feels a lot better than how you felt a minute ago. 

“Myah…” Grim grumbles in your hold, “Are we gonna eat now?!” 

“Alright, alright, let’s go see Trey…” You finally give in to get Grim’s payment for his time. You do owe him one for the reasonable excuse.

As you walk back through the maze, you question what really makes someone someone else's darling. Cater had flirted with you upon first meeting you, and that could be some harmless fun given your situation, but what if it was something deeper? Could what he brushed off as harmless flirting, but could it be a sign of him starting to fall for you? 

Sure, Cater had you living in slight fear for what that meant. What exactly caused someone to become someone else’s darling? Because if Cater was one for you, didn’t that mean you had three to worry about? You had been confused about how Ace and Deuce even fell for you in the first place, so maybe that had to do with why they seemed to get so quick to invade boundaries.   You can consider the fact you’re a tad bit too hopeful, because if this thing was ingrained into their entire being that was reason to be concerned.

Maybe you were half-right earlier, maybe they are just half-normal. 

A Golden Afternoon.

You know your plan to venture back through the maze to go ask Trey if he could spare some desserts for Grim…? Well, that would be the plan if you could remember how to find your way back. Out of all your decisions, maybe it wasn’t the best choice to go back alone in a maze when you barely knew how to get back through it even before you came here today. 

“Henchman..” Grim’s whining had continued for the last five minutes, as you kept turning the seemingly endless paths of the rose maze trying the way back to the stupid dorm building. 

“Yes. I know it’s my fault we’re lost, Grim…” You repeat, for what has to be the umpteenth time. Your decision to go it alone might not have been the best one in hindsight, right now dealing with Grim’s whining you didn’t really care that much. 

Something soft and furry tickles your ankle and makes you jolt, adding onto the once-reduced pile of stress you have. You’re the only one on this path and at the same time, it’s a giant rose garden full of wildlife. A rabbit could have run by for all you knew.

“Henchmannnnnn!” Grim’s whining reaches a crescendo, and you can’t help but sigh in exasperation. 

You take your eyes off the twisting and turning path of the maze inn front of you to scold Grim, “You just ate your  weight in grass and hedgehog food, how can you possible be-”

“Um… Am I interrupting anything?” You and Grim look up to find Riddle, with his face scrunched up in a rather awkward expression. 

You’re just a little surprised and embarrassed since you hadn’t heard him coming earlier, “N-Not exactly, just telling Grim he has to be patient… What are you doing here?”

“I know that 

“Henchman, no!” Grims whines once more, “We’re supposedta go get food from Trey!”

You sigh once more, you can feel your social battery running low but you bite back those thoughts, “Look, I know you must be busy but do you mind guiding me out? I’m sort of lost…”

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind my company-” You cut him off, glad to find your way out of this stupid maze and feed Grim as fast as possible. 

“Great.” You hook an arm around Riddle’s to which the aforementioned dorm leader jolts in surprise for a brief moment. “Lead the way.” 

Riddle’s as stiff as a board of wood as you take his arm, and for a few minutes, with the exception of Grim’s whining, the three of you walk through the maze. As you walk, Riddle’s face tells you that there’s something that bothers him, his face a subtle red in comparison to the raging red he wore a few days ago. That and the hold that he has on your arm, so tight that you can feel it bruising. Clearly, something’s bothering him. 

Well, let’s get this over with. You tune out Grim’s food/hunger based whining and ask, “You have something on your mind, don’t you?”

Riddle’s full body stiffness falters at the sound of your voice, “W…Was it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately,” But you can’t blame him for that, he nearly died a few days ago and had to have an emotional collapse thanks to his mom’s issues making his life that much more difficult. You’re not a therapist, but venting about your problems made your day a little better, it might do the same for you. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

Riddle battles his internal conflict for a minute longer before taking a deep breath, and making eye contact with you, “Do you hate me?”

The question is so blunt that it makes you feel incredibly awkward now. “W-What do you mean?”

“I know we discussed this yesterday, but I can’t help but feel as though I haven’t made amends with you fully. And, speaking of, I owe you another  apology. Trey informed me of your duress at my words a few days ago. My angry raving revealed something you want to keep quiet-”

You interrupt him, tired of dealing with that mess. Better nip the bud before it blooms, “I don't hate you, Riddle. The only reason I said that you weren’t entirely forgiven yet was because I wanted to see you become a better person before I forgave you fully…” You can see Riddle visibly sag in relief as you confirm his idea of your presumed hatred was all in his head. Though since the topic changed to him wanting to owe you another apology might as well learn why he wanted to do so, you are at least a little more curious about why he wanted to apologize than you were interested in getting an apology. “You don’t have to apologize, nothing you could say or do could undo that. But why were you so angry with me? I wasn’t the only one calling you out.”

Riddle visibly hesitates“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have said what I did but it’s just… Mother taught me that darlings like you needed a….”  You can see him visibly hesitate on whatever he planned to say next, “a firm hand to prevent them from stepping out of line.”

“The way you said that tells me you don’t agree, don’t you?” You know that he’s at least questioning what of his mother’s inane rules were right and wrong, but for him to doubt one of them so greatly he looks somewhat sick at the thought of it, “Look, I’m already pretty  sure that she was wrong about it but the fact that you don’t already is a little surprising, so why don’t you agree?”

“It’s a long story… I’ve only considered my mother’s rules wrong twice. The second time was the last time, after what happened with my father.” Once again, Riddle’s face seems to fall as grim as Grim’s name, so you decide not to pry this time. Unlike with Deuce, you anticipate something darker than you’d like to deal with today. 

“Well, I’m glad that you don’t agree. Your future darling will appreciate it.” Riddle freezes in his steps, and your heart rate suddenly skyrockets, “S-Something wrong?” You  notice a soft flush on his cheeks, a pale pink in comparison to the raging red you were used to when he was angry. You hate that you realise that he’s flustered. This day was just a rollercoaster of highs and lows, wasn’t it. 

“N-Nothing,” he wisely brushes it off and instead shifts the conversation to something else. “B-But, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do…. Do you remember seeing anything strange while I was unconscious?” Ok, now you wish it was a different something else.

“Uh… What do you mean by that??” You tactfully dodge the subject because you don’t know how to respond to that yet. If anything, you wanted more than anything to avoid it, being sucked into his head to witness his trauma felt a little like you were invading his privacy. “I was kind of knocked out, so all I was seeing was a load of black.” You say nervously, hoping that convinces him.

“Well, this may sound odd, but I remember seeing you.” The slight flush turns from pink to a soft red, “You were telling me to not give up and die there, that you would-” He pauses for a reason unknown to you, before continuing, “sorry, that we could be friends when we got out. I didn’t want to bring it up with you yesterday but I was under the impression that you don’t have any magical capabilities, so how in the Twisted Wonderland did you appear there?”

“I really don’t have a clue. Whatever happened I don’t even know what caused it.” You explain equally confused, 

“No matter how strange that is, it did help save your life. No complaining about that.” You find it confusing, but you’ll probably never find out why. Overblots being rare here meant that the likelihood of this happening again was slim to none. You’re just glad no one died, the idea of facing death in the world is a scary one. “I didn’t mean to see what I saw, but it did help me understand you a little more, Riddle. I can’t judge you for how you turned out with how psycho your mom was. As long as you don’t act that way again, then I don’t really have any problems with you.”

Maybe what you’re saying would be a mistake in hindsight, but honestly it was partially the truth. Riddle had no way of taking back what he said, and you just wanted to not deal with any more dorm drama along with your own. So forgiveness is earned.

“Y-You don’t?”

“Were you expecting me to demand you spend the rest of your life making it up to me?” You joke. You’re not cruel, and being angry at the past would just make you constantly angry and mean, so you’ll put aside any grievances. “I’m not. I just want to put all this behind us.”

Riddle looks a little shocked that you would even say that, before his cheeks flush, “Well…  if you have no problem with it… Would you be adverse to..” A blush on Riddle’s face deepens, “....being friends with me?”

Your judgement wasn’t the best so far, but that had been your end goal when you arrived here. Though you can’t be sure of whether or not this blush on his face means something more than you think, it probably won't be bad being friends with him with his new ideology on rules. Besides you were being open minded today, what bad could come out of you letting him be friends with you. 

And, what the hell, you could afford to be a little nice. You smile at him, “Sure, as long as you don’t cause me any more headache.” You add onto the end, jokingly. “Speaking of heads…” Entering the dorm to find the students looking a lot brighter in spirits than they had been the last few days of Riddle tyranny is more soothing than you originally thought it would be. Riddle couldn’t make a lot of change in his behavior over the past few days, but it was enough that the bustling students didn’t look like the stiff soldier you met them all to be back at the first failed unbirthday party. 

To you it was a welcome sign that things could change for the better and that Riddle could change for the better. You give a tender squeeze of Riddle’s arm, “I’m happy you’re not causing them to roll at the slightest rule violation, and because of that, I think that I could actually be friends with the calmer version of you.” 

It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie. It was your original goal, but you’re too tired to deal with the perils of friendship at the moment. 

Regardless, Riddle’s face lights up, and the ‘awkward blush’ on his face is joined by a bright, and very welcomed, smile. “Thank you, _____,” you hear him whisper under his breath. 

Once the doors of the dorm’s kitchens come into view, “Finally! C’mon, Henchman!” Grim leaps out of your arms and escapes into the kitchen doors finally ready to reap the rewards of his impatience. 

You roll your eyes, turning back to Riddle lightly patting the fading bruise on his cheek before smiling, “Well, thanks for helping me out, I’ll see you later?”

The soft flush returns once more, and he smiles, “Yes, yes, I will.” 

You slip into the kitchen with a smile on your face, Even with the added stress of this world, maybe it won’t be as bad? Who knows if you ever get past all the stress and mania you’ll be able to feel a little normal here. Maybe.

A Caterpillar's Daze.

You’d like to grow familiar with the comforting smell of the Heartslabyul kitchen. According to some of the other students, if there was one room Trey probably spent most of his time in it was this one. And the smell of warm sugar soothes whatever other nerves you had. And well, the baker’s calm nature really helps too.

“Hey, Trey!” The bespeckled baker smiles at you as soon as he sees you. He’s missing his jacket, but by the amount of flour that’s on his hands and the countertops full of baking equipment and freshly decorated pastries, the culprit is obvious.

“Ah, _______. I wasn’t expecting you today. Though I guess I should have when Grim popped up.” Trey looks pleasantly surprised by your arrival, and  entertained by the wiggling cat beast in his grip, still desperately trying to eat the array of food Trey’s working on. “You look better.”

“Yeah, I’ve sleeping bett-”

“Myah, Trey do ya got any tarts!” Grim interrupts your small talk to demand his right to eat the countertops full of food, which he would be devouring if Trey wasn’t holding him by the scruff of his neck. “C-C’mon, I’m hungry!”

You sigh awkwardly, before wrangling Grim back into your grip, “Sorry, but as Grim very rudely asked, could you please spare some of your desserts?” You spare a glance at all the work he’d been busy with on the countertops. “If you want, I could help you out in exchange?”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” Trey smiles at you in a way that makes you feel content. “You’re in luck, I have plenty. Go-” In response to Trey’s barely finished sentence, Grim promptly dives out of your arms onto the tray and stuffs his face. “-ahead. Nevermind then.”

“Finally!” Grim stuffs his face full like a starving, well, animal. You chuckle fondly, 

You’d like to grow familiar with the comforting smell of the Heartslabyul kitchen. According to some of the other students, if there was one room Trey probably spent most of his time in it was this one. And the smell of warm sugar soothes whatever other nerves you have. And well, the baker’s calm nature really helps too.

“Hey, Trey!” The bespeckled baker smiles at you as soon as he sees you. He’s missing his jacket, but by the amount of flour that’s on his hands and the countertops full of baking equipment and freshly decorated pastries, the culprit is obvious.

“Myah!” Grim, meanwhile, is too busy demanding his right to eat the countertops full of food, which he would be devouring if Trey wasn’t holding him by the scruff of his neck. “C-C’mon, I’m hungry!”

“Ah, _______. I wasn’t expecting you today. Though I guess I should have when Grim popped up.” Trey looks pleasantly surprised by your arrival, and  entertained by the wiggling cat beast in his grip, still desperately trying to eat the array of food Trey’s working on. “You look better.”

“Yeah, I’ve been sleeping better. Came by because Grim is always hungry and as his henchman I have to satisfy his cravings.” You explain, scanning the plethora of finished and half-finished pastries and desserts on the counter tops. “You wouldn’t happen to have any spare treats, would you?” 

Trey smiles at you in a way that makes you feel content. “Well, you’re in luck, I have plenty.” He drops Grim on what has to be a plateful of cream puffs and Grim immediately goes rabid on the stack. “You both can help yourself if you don’t mind keeping me company.”

Well, it could be worse, “Sure, why the hell- Mhm!” The tartlet is in your mouth before you get the opportunity to think of accepting it. Either way, to you at least, what harm will a little tart do? “Why are you so amazing at baking Trey…” You praise, nibbling the offered bite of warm pastry, and humming happily as the comforting taste crosses your tongue. “Why are you even making all this stuff anyway? All this can’t be for the dorm.”

“I’m glad you like it. And you’d be right, these are for another dorm mate's birthday.” 

“Well, in that case, I can’t wait to see what you’d make me for my birthday,” You joke, nudging him with your elbow in the side playfully. You take another bite of the tartlet, not feeling that strange lethargic pull you had last time. “What I’d give to eat like this everyday…”

Trey hums a laugh at your compliments. “You flatter me, _______.”

You hum a laugh, “I’m not lying, it's delicious. Could you come over and make breakfast for me every morning, I’d be thankful for the rest of my life.” Your question is rhetorical but you still would appreciate it. It'd be nice to have something good come out of this. “Why are you making all this? It can’t just be for me.” You tease. 

Trey humors your teasing before answering your question.“Unfortunately, it’s not. Another dorm member’s birthday is coming up this week, so I'm tasked with preparing for the party.”

“Well, then I’d like to see what you’d do for my birthday.” You smile, before taking another bite out of the sweets. Despite the sweetness a bitterness worms its way into your skull and a question plagues your mind. You might as well ask, “Hey, this may be a confusing question… but what exactly is it like to have a darling?”

Trey hesitates for a brief second before continuing what he was doing. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

“Well, I’m prepared for a loaded response.” You reply with a laugh, “ But honestly, I don’t really get the whole mystique. You guys seem so normal, so why do you feel like you need to do this? Can’t you just find love the normal way?”

You can hear Trey sigh, turning back towards you and wiping the flour from his hands, despite the trepidation on his face, he still gives you an awkward smile before saying. “It’s a lot more complicated than you think.”

“How so?” Your understanding was pretty poor of this whole situation, a little clearing up is much appreciated. 

“It’s hard to explain to someone that doesn’t understand it, but…” Trey mulls over his words carefully until he finds the right ones. “Imagine feeling like you have a missing part of yourself your whole life. And that missing piece is something that stops the world from feeling dark and gray, as if it makes the whole world feel alive. From the moment you’re born, you’re born with that missing piece carved into your heart and no matter what you do in your life you can’t do anything to fill it.” So it’s like being born with depression, which honestly sounds awful. 

“It’s easier to handle when you’re a kid. You don’t notice it as much, but it gets worse and worse as you grow older. It’s as if the hole gets bigger and bigger as you age, and it makes your life harder and more painful to live. The worst part, it never goes away. Not until-”

“Until you met your darling.” You finish putting two and two together. So whatever causes the yanking  “But why do you even feel that way?” That’s the thing that I don’t get. Maybe because I’m from a different world or something, but I don’t get why people are so…. strange? odd? when it comes to love.”

“This might not be the answer you expected, but no one really knows why we feel this way. All we know is that no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, nothing but our darlings can feel the hole in us.” That’s a disappointing answer, but what can you do about it? Some things about this world you might never understand, so maybe you’ll figure it out on your own. Or maybe not at all, sometimes remaining ignorant is better. 

“Thanks anyways.” You can’t deny that it was a little useful in understanding your situation. If someone is born with a hole that can only be filled by another, then you have no way of comprehending what it’s like to be like them, feeling an emptiness that can’t be filled for years upon years. It must be awful living like that, but that’s still not an excuse. No one should be forced to suffer to make someone else  feel happy, because it’s not just unfair to the unfortunate victim to have their lives upended but it’s equally unfair to force them to be the thing that grants them joy. But it’s not like you can do anything about this right now, your survival is your first priority. So that’s why you speak without thinking,  “Another question, do you… have you met your darling, Trey?”

“Hm? Well, it’s hard to explain but,” Trey ruffles your hair affectionately with his flourless hand, “Yes, I think that I already have.” Well, that’s comforting. If Trey has his darling already that gets rid of your preliminary unease. It’s nice to finally feel relief. 

“Well, I hope you treat them right. If they eat like this, they’ll be lucky to have you.” You praise, pausing only to wipe a smudge of flour off his cheek. “I know that I would.”

Trey’s eyes widen a smidgen, a brightness visible in them even from behind his glasses, “I’ll keep that in mind,_______. Here.” He hands you another one of his 

“Can I?” When he gives you an affectionate nod in response, you accept the offered spoonful, humming from the sweetness on your tongue. “It’s delicious…”

“I’m glad you like it.” 

You shove his shoulder, “Seriously, why are you so good at baking. Sometimes I wish I could stay here and eat like this forever..” You whisper, feeling the comforting feeling of peace finally filling you after some turbulent days. Sure, you don’t mean it, but it would be nice to-

“Then you should, ________. I can always make an exception to allow you to stay the night.” You hadn’t expected Trey to hear you, but now you feel a little discomfort wedge itself in your peaceful feeling. 

Still though, you don’t want to ruin your good feeling. “Nah, I’ll think I'll be fine. Thanks for all these though, it’ll help keep Grim off my back for a while.” You scoop up Grim off  his now empty tray of desserts. A hasty but polite good-bye and exit wouldn’t be the best way to end the day, but as you turn to leave you call it the second best way to exit this increasingly awkward conversation

Trey stops you with a tight grasp on your arm, your heart skips an uncomfortable beat, “I’m serious, ______. You should stay. ” That tense and dark look is back in a way that makes you feel so much smaller. If it hadn’t been for Trey confirming that he had a darling already you probably would have dropped the boxes he’d given you. Is everyone going to flip-flop between normal and strange today? Maybe it’s just you being on edge but this feels a little odd. 

“That would be nice, but I think I’m going to call it an early night tonight. I’ll try to stop by tomorrow?” You refuse, trying to tug your arm free.

Probably sensing your rising unease, Trey releases your arm replacing that discomforting look with that gentle big brother smile. “Well, nevermind then.” He ruffles your hair affectionately, sparing you one last glance at that comforting smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, _____. Rest well.”

You balance the boxes of warm pastry in your arms, feeling the comforting warmth throw the cardboard. “I will th- Grim stop it!”  You redirect your attention away from Trey back to chaos bringing Feline that’s no longer attacking the stacks of warm uneaten food in your arms. 

“Myah! C’mon, Henchman! Gimme!” Despite Grim’s snacking, his stomach always remains full. You roll your eyes as you let out your peals of laughter, glad to deal with this rather than any of the things you were stressed about. 

“Bye Trey!” You hastily bid him adieu, before turning all your attention to your annoying feline friend. 

Even with Grim trying to snag another treat from the box, you can’t find yourself to be mad at him instead laughing as you’re forced to play keep away with the boxes. Sure, you can’t predict what will happen tomorrow but with the day you had assuaging your own fears, and setting new boundaries, you felt like you would sleep well tonight. Maybe tonight, you could sleep peacefully as you live in this new world.

Maybe things would be alright after all?

What's Right is Wrong.

Today had been a long day, but not long in the way of you being completely and utterly exhausted from stress and sleep-deprivation. Instead of heading back to Ramshackle quickly in order to avoid being out after dark and whatever horrible things can happen in that dark night, you can walk calmly back, humming in contentment as you balance the boxes of baked goods in one hand, whilst fighting back a hangry Grim with the other. 

“Gimme!” Grim orders, as you fight off one of his paws in an attempt to stop him from devouring all them, box and all. 

“No.” you scold. You’ve grown used to Grim’s constant and seemingly never ending hunger. And you were happy to have this be the biggest nuisance of your day, considering the other terrors you could have dealt with. “You can wait till we get back to the dorm.”

“But I can’t wait till then!” Grim whines again. Still fighting your one free hand with a warrior’s fervour. You laugh as you try to make it back to the dorm without him eating any. 

“Yes, you can! Just wait.” You say with a warm laugh, content with the day’s happenings behind you. Today, all in all, was a great one. Calm, fun, and borderline sane. Maybe you were too doubtful in this world. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were-

“Hey! Watch it!” a gruff voice gives you only a seconds warning before they slam into you so hard you fall back onto the stone pathway hard on your butt. The boxes you were balancing collapse onto you like an avalanche of dessert, the not good kind, sending the sugary stickiness of syrups, frostings and glazes onto your skin and clothes and poor Grim. You can’t help but think that voice is familiar.

“Ow!” You groan in pain, wincing as the sticky sensation on your skin along with your new bruises. “Hey, Watch where you’re-” You look up to see the two delinquents from a couple days before. Both now dirty with the remains of the destroyed and smashed pastries. And they seemed to recognise you.  “Shit…”

The one you bumped into growls as soon as he recognises you. His eyes lit with anger, and his face morphs into an ugly scowl,“Hey, wait a second… You’re that bitch that broke my yolk and had Spade beat us up!” You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you brush off the destroyed treats sticking to your clothes.

His lackey pipes up. A bandage is wrapped on his nose where Deuce punched him. “Yeah! You got our noses broken! And now, you’ve dumped your shit on us!”

Grim immediately spits back. “We didn’t do anythin’ to you! You bumped into us!”

They turn their anger onto Grim, “And you still have your mangy rat!” You can feel your face heat in anger. 

“Grim’s not a rat!” You clamber to your feet and step in between Grim and these numbskulls. “And let it the fuck go, this entire fucking mess started over an egg. This is the stupidest thing to get mad at!” But these idiots have skulls as thick as steel. And you can see their faces turning red just like Riddle’s from anger. And then the redness subsides. The one that started this whole mess, lets a cruel smirk cross his face before nudging his lackey.“Hey, wait, she's all alone. Her bodyguards aren’t here.” An unnerving chill goes up your spine. 

“Yeah…” A cruel grin crosses the second delinquents face. “She’s all alone.” 

You take a cautious step back, preparing to snatch Grim and run. You’re already outnumbered and they have magic on their side. “Don’t you fucking dare.” You try to threaten. “If you put a hand on me, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Grim snarls, “Yeah! Stay away from my Hench-!” but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because the first delinquent kicks him harshly into the rose bushes. You can hear a pained yowl as he’s thrown into the brambles.

“Gri-!” Your yell of concern is cut short as the second one punches you in the jaw, hard enough to send you back into the mess of food on the pathway and to make you groan in pain. Before you can even sit back up, the first stomps on your back to hold you down while the other slams his foot into your face. You can hear an audible crack through your skin, forcing a cry from your throat, “Gah..” Blood oozes out of your nose and you feel as if you can’t breathe. 

“There! Now ya nose matches ours!” One of the bullies boasts, but you’re too delirious to recognise which one. To rub salt into the wound, something wet lands on your cheek. You cringe in disgust when realising that one of the assholes spat on you. “You better stay out of our way, or you’ll regret it!” The two bastards both give you a kick to the gut before they walk away, talking all cocky about their successful beating of a disadvantaged target. 

“And I helped your sorry asses,” You mutter, wiping the saliva off your cheek, before you check on Grim, “You okay?” Grim shakes off the remaining food residue, and you check him over for wounds. He’s fine, thankfully. 

“Myah… I shoulda cooked ‘em.” Grim grumbles, “Shoulda make them fear the Great Grim!” You can’t help but nod in agreement. He should have cooked them, it would have deserved karmic justice. “Come on, henchman!! Let’s go get ‘em!”

Grim nearly takes off like a rocket in his attempt to get his much deserved vengeance but you catch him by his tail to stop him. “Wait, Grim!” 

Grim looks completely baffled, “Myah? Wha? Weren’t we gonna make ‘em pay?”

As much as you’d like for Grim to claw their eyes out and cook them alive, if Grim gets expelled for fighting, you’ll lose your roommate and have to sleep alone at night. And while you can’t say that, you know how to get him to listen to you. “Grim, what will happen if you attack them, they report you and you get thrown out? How will the Great Grim become the world’s strongest mage if he’s thrown out? Is that what you want?”

“....No..” Grim deflates as he’s forced to accept that you’re right. “But I wanna make ‘em pay, henchman!”

“We will in the… the pathetic way.” Snitching is the most pathetic way you can get back at them, but you don’t exactly have the luxury of a choice here. “We’re gonna tell Riddle, so he can punish them and we can go clean up.” Grim keeps grumbling, but he doesn’t argue against it. You sigh, wiping away your nose blood with your sleeve but it continues bleeding, and you hiss as your sleeve touches it, the bastard definitely broke it. “Great, and this day was going so well.”

You basically stomp all the way back to Heartslabyul, you and Grim grumbling annoyed all the way and getting looks from the residents from your messy appearance. You yell out for someone to find Riddle right under the threat of extreme violence, before storming to the lounge to find your friends so you could vent out your frustrations. You can’t find it within yourself to care about what anyone thinks of you right now. As your anger boils underneath your skin, you storm to Ace’s and Deuce’s dorm, ready to curse out their existences with your friends until you feel better.

“____-” The playful smile that formed on Ace’s face as soon as he saw you falls just as quickly when he sees the state you and Grim are in, “What the hell happened to you?!”

You plop yourself onto Deuce’s bed, not caring for the stains you're probably leaving on the furniture and instead caring about letting out the rage boiling within you. Considering that he makes space for you with a concerned expression, you don’t think he minds.  Pissed off you vent,  “Those two asshole delinquents are what happened!! They attacked me again and broke my nose!!”

“They what?” You can hear the icy coldness of silent rage in Deuce’s voice, the anger just barely restrained, and with how tightly his fists are squeezed, you can hear the sound of his knuckles cracking. Just like the last time, he confronted those bullies. 

But you’re too blind with rage to consider the negative outcome of this could result in. “AND they spat on me!!” You continue to rant and rave, spilling out every detail that provoked your ire. 

Grim jumps in to recount his own attack, with the same amount of anger and vitriol that  you had. “Yeah! And they kicked me!!”

“They did WHAT!? The angry snarl in Ace’s voice is lost on you, but the anger on their faces is too apparent for you to ignore. Ace looks as pissed as he was when Riddle insulted you, and Deuce looks as furious as he did when those jerks threatened you the last time. 

Deuce gets shot up from his seat next to you like a bullet, his face twisted in anger and his fists shaking with rage. “I’m gonna-” It’s at this point, clarity comes back to you for a split second. Quickly, you cut Deuce’s threat off, “NO. Deuce, sit down.” Deuce complies immediately, sitting back down as fast he stood up. It would be funny if the situation was different, but a different situation this is not. “I am going to take care of this the correct and fair way. And Deuce, I’m not having you end your honor student stuff so early.” You can see the rage dissolve for half a second at your concern, but it rushes back as fast as he remembers the slight you’d face. 

“But-” You silence Ace with an upset look. 

You hiss as you accidentally aggravate the break in your nose, before continuing, “Look, Ace, Deuce. I’d love for you to kick the crap out of them to make me feel better… but I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me. You both aren’t going to go unpunished for kicking the crap out of them like before.” You pout after finishing that statement, picking a few frosting covered pebbles out of Grim’s fur, before adding.  “No matter how much I’d love that.”

You can see the conflicted look on Deuce’s face, “I never should have attacked them then… They wouldn’t have attacked you if I hadn’t beaten them up so badly…”

Ace looks like he feels the same guilt, but he looks more mad about it.  “Yeah, or you shoulda found us so we could walk you back. Then this would have never happened.” 

“Look, it’s too late now for any of that. I just-”

At that moment, the person you want to get your vengeance for you finally arrives. “I came as fast as I could, where is she?!” Riddle all but breaks down the dorm’s door in his haste, with Cater hot on his heels. They both recoil in shock at the state of you. Cater even drops his phone out of shock. 

Cater recovers the fastest, “Wtf, happened to you?!” 

Riddle’s shocked face goes flaming red in a matter of seconds,  but despite that, he manages to calm himself long enough to speak without screaming like he did the last time he got like that. He sighs in dissatisfaction before saying, “Here, let me fix that for you.” With a flick of his magic pen, a warm wave of magic washes over you as the bones in your nose crack back into place and the pain subsides. 

“Thanks, Riddle.

“There, now…” You can see the red rise back into his cheeks as his anger returns full force. “What exactly happened?” You can hear the anger burn in his voice. 

“Two students from here stomped on my face.” You can see second by second the shock in his eyes vanishes and is replaced with anger. “I don’t know their names, but they're from Heartslabyul. Riddle, can you do anything to punish them?”

Riddle snaps out of his shock at the mention of his dorm, “I’m sorry, the people who attacked you are from this dorm?” You can see red creeping up his cheeks, his face turning red from fury, glad to know that the anger is shared among all the people here. (Once again, the reason why doesn’t click just yet) “Do you happen to know who they are?” You can hear him grinding his teeth together, at least he’s trying to restrain his temper. 

“I fucking wish.” You wish you did because you’d be fully prepared to storm to their dorm and let Grim burn it down, “But when you find them, and I know that this is kinda counter-productive, please be that mean and ruthless tyrant again while you punish them, I’m half joking, but seriously make them pay for this….” A part of you can’t believe that you were actually saying that given everything you’d gone through to get him to chill out in the first place, but you’re too blind with rage to think otherwise.

“Wait a sec, I might know which POSs’ did this to you.” Cater’s phone is back in his hand, hand clenched so tightly around his phone, the screen might crack under his grip. “These them?”

Cater flashes his phone screen at you, and the sight of those two cocky bastards smiling unbothered by the crimes they committed against makes your blood boil at the sight of those two losers again. ‘Yep… that's them.” 

Riddle snatches Cater’s phone from him, and his scowl deepens further once he recognises them. “So these two are responsible for breaking rule 810…” You take note of the unknown rule of the Queen of Hearts, the elusive rule 810… Considering how little you know of the Queen of Hearts’ rules, you can’t help but be a little curious. But considering how sticky your clothes are getting, you don’t really care that much.

Cater’s usual upbeat behavior returns as fast as it left. “Hey, ______. How about I take you to get some new snacks from Trey while Riddle, Acey and Deucey go deal with those two walking Ls  , yeah?”

“Wait, I can't stay?” You actually feel disappointed about that, you kind of wanted to stare down at those losers like they did to you. 

“______  can’t stay?” Ace seems to share your sentiment, looking equally confused as you were. 

And Deuce as well, “Shouldn’t those two face _______ and Grim so that they can apologise?”

“It's for the best if _______ doesn’t.” Riddle explains, “The dorm punishment for d- pardon, fighting is a lot more strict than you think it is.” Well in that case maybe it's best you go. If it's anything like the whole tart nonsense, then the punishment might be more ridiculous and outlandish than satisfying. Though you note Riddle’s odd correction of speech. 

“Alright then…” A wave of exhaustion settles over you, all thanks to those two imbeciles ruining your day. “Look, at this point I honestly don’t care about what happens to them, just punish them and make sure that they don’t bother me again. I’m gonna go.” You ‘re ready to leave and chalk this day up to a loss. You feel exhausted and mad from all the wasted desserts being tossed onto you like random garbage. 

You expect them to argue against that and try to stay with you….

“Sure, I guess.”

“Alright.”

…But they don’t. Maybe they’re doing it to honor your earlier request or it’s just them wanting to see the two that beat the crap out of you punished as soon as possible. 

Either way, you’re too tired to care. 

“Cool, well Grim and I will see you all tomorrow?” You bide everyone goodbye, but there’s a pit in your gut, informing you of a very bad feeling. Maybe it was just that kick to the gut……

 *                    *                    *

The dorm kitchen is missing a lot of the warmth it had fifteen minutes ago. There’s the residual sweet smell from earlier, but the contentment you felt earlier was crushed as swiftly as your nose was. Trey notices you and Cater as soon as you enter, but whatever positive feeling he probably had at your return is swiftly crushed as he notices the bruises, blood and the food mess covering you. “What in the Twisted Wonderland happened to you?!” He’s less angry and more concerned than the others had reacted, instead focusing his energy on checking your injuries. 

“Two POSes kicked the crap out of her, that’s what. Invoked rule 810.” Cater’s voice lacks all of his usual peppiness as he says that. “Riddle’s handling it.” There’s a strange emphasis on the ‘handling’ part of that sentence. 

“Is that so?” Trey’s eyes fill with a dark glint, his voice deathly grim, before it switches back to his concerned big-brother and he sighs, “Right now you need some first aid, ______. I’ll be there to help in a bit, Cater.”

“Aw, don't worry Cay-Cay will make sure they pay-pay.” Cater squeezes you into a good-bye hug. You accept it, return it, but you swear that the look in his eyes doesn't match with the smile on his face. Like instead they’re filled with bloodthirst rather than sympathy. “TTYL, ______.”

Riddle’s magic has fixed the break, but the soreness lingers. Plus, your face is spotted with purplish bruises from the beating you took. Trey helps you treat and patch up the small cuts and bruises. His face looking way too guilty from Trey hands you a pair of ice-packs which you accept gratefully, pressing one to your face and the other to Grim’s stomach. Hissing as soon as it touches your bruised skin, you can see Trey slightly wince from the pained noise. “Th-Thanks… To think this was a nice day.” 

“I have something that might help make it less… bad. It might not be much but…” He steps into the pantry for a moment returning with another box smelling sweet of the cool treats. “Here, it’ll make your night a little better.”

“Y-You don’t have to…” You say, partially meaning it. Your nose being fixed was pretty much all you needed and the treats were a wonderful bonus, but you remember him telling you he couldn’t spare much else. Why the sudden change?

“After everything you've been through, you deserve something to make the rest of your day a little better. Here.” Trey hands you another box filled to the brim with nice-smelling treats, just like the last one. Albeit they do smell sweeter than the last ones. 

You accept the replacements with a smile, only to suddenly remember what he said earlier, “Wait, I thought that you said all of these were for someone’s birthday?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Trey replies, ruffling your hair affectionately. “ I’ll worry about that, go and get cleaned up. ” You bid Trey a thankful good-bye, and turn to leave just as Grim jumps into the box to snack on the replacement treats. Grim takes up the most of your attention as you depart. Too focused on Grim’s eating habits to return it back to Trey. Though as you leave, you can swear you heard Trey mutter something under his breath, “He’s never going to get them after all.”

The Queen’s Ax.

“Seriously, Grim?! Did you eat them all?!” Back at Ramshackle, after you’d cleaned up and changed clothes you’d returned to the dusty living area to find that Grim had nearly eaten all but one of the treats Trey had given you. “Those were for both of us!!” 

“Myah… The Great Grim should never have to share his food!” Grim protects the last slice of a tart with his entire body, trying to hog all the food as per usual. “It’s mine, Henchman!”

You raise an eyebrow at his fit, “Oh really, then I guess I won’t open your tuna anymore, so you don’t share your food…” You can see Grim growl, but he extends the last slice out to you in defeat. “That’s what I thought.” You say with a teasing smile, before stealing it away from your pouting roommate. 

You take a large bite out of it, but as soon as you take a bite out of the slice, though, Grim yawns with his eyes dropping out of sleepiness. That was fast. And isn’t it kind of early for him to be so tired? “You okay?” Grim’s head seems to become too heavy for his body, as he starts to nod off. 

“Nnn… I’m fine…Henchman…Zzz.” He falls asleep mid-sentence, curling up into a small furry ball on the couch. 

You set the tart down to poke him with your fingers. And he’s fast asleep. You’ve seen him drift off quickly in class, but when it comes to food especially Grim is wide awake. But maybe he’s just tired from the attack, you should probably get him a blanket or something. It’s been a long day after all. 

You spare a glance to the half-eaten tart, thinking of finishing it on the way, but you decide against it heading for the blanket. You could always eat it after. “If you’re tricking me so that you can finish it, I’m putting you on a diet, Grim.” You threaten, but Grim is so fast asleep he’s snoring. He’s definitely not faking it. 

You spare a thought to why Grim is so tired as you climb the stairs, because this is not the first time he’d fallen asleep like that. It’s odd, that he could be completely awake one moment and fast asleep the next. You’d gone through that the other day, so why-

“What the..” Your vision swims and sways as you cling onto the banister for support as fatigue hits you like a brick to the forehead. Despite the exhaustion, you can’t help but feel that this feeling is very familiar. Still, you try to shake off the exhaustion, muttering “What’s….. happening….. to…….”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Your legs start to feel like noodles and you collapse, tumbling down the stairs backwards, slamming your head onto the hardwood at the bottom. Pain floods your head and the world goes dark. 

 *                    *                    *

“--____?!” Someone’s shaking you, aggravating the blinding pain stuck in your mind like your head hit the bottom steps. Your head throbs as you open your eyes, and you hiss from the light stabbing your retinas. Despite the pain, you can see two blurry figures staring down at you, voices far too loud for your pain filled mind. 

You manage to grasp the person shaking you and forcing their hands off so you can adjust. Light and sound burn your mind like a white hot flame. The colours here are way too bright and even more garish and overly saturated. Wasn’t it dark out when you got back? Why is it suddenly so bright?

<Miss? Please!> The voice of a young British girl sounds so familiar, yet far too loud. You remember feeling your legs suddenly becoming weak, and your head colliding with the bottom step before you passed out. But why did you suddenly pass out? Your body starts to be jerked back and forth again, and you can feel the blades of grass tickle your face as something shakes you. <Please! We need to go!>

<_____, we don’t have time for this! We need to move before she finds us!!> Two arms wrap around you and pull you off of the grass, and in response to that you thrash, trying to shake them off of you. With how much pain you're in you can’t help but fear the worst, something clearly bad had happened or was happening. <Please, don’t fight me, ______! The Queen might find us soon!>

At this point you recognise the voice trying to move you. With some difficulty, you open your eyes to find a very skittish looking Winston and a very scared looking Alice. Wait, why were you back in wonderland? You didn’t do any of what you usually do when you travel here. “W-Wait, what am I doing here?” You leave out the ‘where am I’ despite where you woke up being so starkly different. You squint at the too bright colours of the surrounding environment, instead of the Queen of Hearts palace or its extravagant rose garden, you’re in a giant, and way too over-stimulating meadow. 

All the flowers and mushrooms that are way too big, bright and cartoony grow to the size of houses, mirrors, none of which like yours, grow from the stalks and stems. One the ground is an unkempt and overgrown path of giant pebbles. The too-vibrant colours overstimulate your battered brain, making the agonising migraine worse.  

Winston barely gives you any time to gather your bearings, yanking you back to your feet despite your condition. <I don’t know! We just found you here, but we need to go before Mary and the cards find us!> Winston practically yells as he explains, his hands are shaky and clammy on your arm. With your vision no longer blurring, he is the perfect picture of panic. 

You wince from the noise, with it being too much for your tender head. “Be quieter please... And slow down.” Winston takes a breath for what has to be the first time since you got here. “Now explain, what's happening?”

<I'm- We're going home.> He locks his hand around the frightened Alice’s in that moment, but you can still see him shake. <You were right.I can't take it anymore! Every second I spend with her, walking on eggshells, trying to keep her bloody temper from beheading anyone who looked at her wrong. And…> Winston’s ranting turns into manic muttering to the point where he doesn’t even pause to take a breath between words. Unlike his hot-tempered ‘wife’, Winston practically turns blue in the face as he regailes the nightmare he put up. His anger and grief come out in screamed rambles, as he speaks about the woman he ‘married’ with enough rage filled hate to make you worry about him having a stroke. 

“Winston? Winston!” It takes you your second try to get him to be quiet and listen to you. And even then he looks like he’s on the edge of a panic attack. Maybe letting him vent in a more controlled way will help him out. “You’re spiraling, and Alice and I need you to focus.”

Winston takes another deep breath, still trembling. <R-Right.>

“Now, calmly tell me what you and Alice were doing before you saw me. If you can't, maybe Alice can?”

Winston fidgets to relieve his discomfort, before nudging Alice to explain for him as he tries to calm himself. <We were going to the locked door. His Majesty said that he fell into wonderland like I did, and there was a locked door that led back home just like the one I saw. He said it’s the only way out of wonderland.>

Okay so there was an exit. That’s a good start. “How are you sure that it’s the only way out?”

<His Majesty said that he’d used it before to leave here before…> He what?! <Back when- >

Winston interrupts Alice, gently pushing her forward on the pebbled path. <Alice, how about you walk ahead of us, you’ll be able to spot the door first.>

You and Alice give him a look of confusion. Alice tries to object, <But- >

But Winston leaves no room for her to argue back. <Go.> Not pushing it, Alice reluctantly runs up the path, leaving the two of you alone. 

Despite that, you have questions of your own. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d left here before? Why are you still here if you know how to leave?” If it was possible to leave this world, to the point that Winston had done it earlier? The only reason you’re still stuck here is because you don’t know how, if he did, why didn’t he use it to leave long before this? 

But you can’t help but wonder, was it a point of shame to him? That he’d left once and his return doomed him? The way his face falls as he struggles to find the words tells you that was the truth. <It’s…. It’s complicated.> 

If that’s the case, you need him to explain. If he hadn’t seen the signs as fast as you had, you couldn’t really blame him for it. You try to sound as soothing as possible, “Well, un-complicate it. Just explain, I won’t judge you for it.”

Winston shifts in discomfort as he stares at his feet, <It’s a long story.>

You squeeze his shoulder in comfort. “We have time.”

A little defeated, Winston sighs before explaining. <I first came here when I was maybe 20. I was wandering the woods, looking for inspiration for a novel I was writing.>

“You’re a writer?”

<Was. Back then, I was a free-spirit. I liked wandering around and losing myself in nature, and that’s how I found the white rabbit.> 

“You met the white rabbit, is that how you came to wonderland?” The difference in how you arrived stands out to you. If Winston came to Wonderland the same way as Alice, then what caused you to get here? NRC probably didn’t exist as a school back when Winston lived, so the Black Carriage didn’t bring him there. Was the magic in this world just selective on how people from earth were brought here?

<Y-Yes. I remembered it talking so I  followed it to a stump with a large hole. When it went down, I tried calling out for it, and then crawling after it….> Winston’s face flushes with embarrassment, <And then… falling after it.>So when Alice had said that she and Winston had come to Wonderland the same way, she wasn’t wrong. But you could understand a little bit of the embarrassment considering you walked right into a strange magic carriage. <The only difference between Alice’s story and my own is that I passed out during the fall.>

“You passed out?” You had lost consciousness when entering the black carriage, so the fact it happened to Winston and not Alice feels just the slightest important. No way that was something to casually ignore, right? “I-I passed out when I got here, did you notice anything different once you got here?”

<Not really. All that I noticed when I woke up was that the world around me had changed, and that the flowers I was holding came with me.> 

“Flowers?”

<Roses. The forest I was in was full of red and white roses, so I had picked a lot of them and I held onto them when I fell… If it’s helpful, there was one unique one out of the bunch, a black rose. I’d never seen or heard of one before.> Was that the connecting piece? Something strange occurring in a magicless human life? That left you with more questions than answers.

“Maybe. But back on topic, how did you meet-” You suddenly try to start but even before you say her name you can see Winston freeze up. “Winston? Are you-”

Winston quickly interrupts you, “I-I’m fine.” He quickly lies, with the paleness on his face telling you the truth. “When I fell here, I didn’t know where to go. And like Alice, I got lost in this place. I-I couldn’t help it, I was so… fascinated by this place.” He stops walking to spare a quick gaze over the giant meadow. “Once I looked at this place with wonder, now all I feel is misery….”

You squeeze his shoulder in comfort, “You’ll be out soon.”

<I know, it’s just…> Winston sighs, “ I met Mary for the first time shortly after I got out of this meadow. Went down the wrong path and squeezed myself through the rose bushes, to find myself in Mary’s garden during an unbirthday party.” You hear him curse under his breath as he kicks a rock on the path, <Should have never trusted that bloody cat.>

“Cat?” There was supposed to be only one cat that could have led him astray. The Cheshire Cat?”

<Who else?> That confuses you. The cat had helped Alice no problem, but had sabotaged Winston? <I asked him for directions, and he’d told and I quote ‘ someone will slink into your life, yes, someone strong enough to whisk you away from all those dreadful little worries... if you don't lose yourself first, of course.’  I didn’t have the luxury of choosing against that, so I took him for his word.> But that sent him right to the Queen of Hearts garden, and to the person who replaced his worries with a big new one.

<And because of that I accidentally crashed the unbirthday party and… met Mary for the first time.> The anger fades to be replaced with sadness. <I crashed her party at the worst moment, ruining her winning shot during the croquet tournament and ‘embarrassing’ her in front of all her guests.>

“I’m so sorry.” You’d dealt with enough of Riddle in his tyrant days to know that that was a recipe for disaster. “She probably lost it.”

<She did. And screamed at the card soldiers to capture me so it could be ‘off with my head’ but I thought quickly… Remember the roses?> you nod in reply, <I was still holding them and I… may have offered them as an apology gift.>

“Did it work?” Winston nods glumly, “Then why was that bad?”

<B-Because, the bouquet had a black rose in it, remember? Turns out they’re extremely rare here… Mary calmed down instantly and accepted the roses, saying something about it being the most precious gift she ever got. And then she just commanded the guards not to remove my head. I was so relieved that I didn’t care about why, and when the Queen announced she would house me I just thought she was doing it as an apology for overreacting.>

Maybe you would have been suspicious if you weren’t aware of the situation like Winston had, but either way you couldn’t really blame his judgement.  Winston had unintentionally done something super romantic to the Queen to escape her wrath. Even if you think that the Queen is deluded, you can’t deny that what he did wasn’t very romantic, even if it was what he did to save his own head. “It may have saved your neck, but I think you may have made her swoon.”

<I know… But I didn’t notice that at first. After she calmed down, she apologized to me for threatening to remove my head and offered to help me when I told her that I was having trouble getting home. She even let me attend her party and shared her favorite tart with me.> You’re struck with a wave of deja vu. Riddle had done the same with you earlier that afternoon, and he didn’t even mind that you, really Grim, ate most of it. <We may have also shared the fork, and I didn’t notice the intimacy of it until much later.>

“So you unintentionally had a first romantic date at her unbirthday.> You don’t want to blame that on Winston, but you can’t not believe that this has happened and started the mess that snowballed into the hell Winston would one day live in. You are also reminded that you’d also done the same thing with the fork, rather spoon, once with Trey in the dorm kitchen. 

<I didn’t mean to, I was just being foolish. But back then, I thought nothing of it. And that probably was the worst mistake I ever made. It wasn’t all bad at first. She might have been overly touchy and affectionate back then, but she didn’t stop me from trying to find my way home as long as I spent time with her.> You couldn’t blame him for that either, looking back on what you had done today. Even if they are your biggest threat here, you did seek companionship with Ace and Deuce. You’d even humored Cater, hung out with Riddle and Trey… had, no, were you making a mistake?

“But, you found a way out right? We’re heading there after all.”

Winston  nods, <It took a while, but yes. It’s a door at the edge of Wonderland. It’s the only way out of here I believe.>

“And you’re positive it works?” It working now is obvious, because Alice has to find her way home. But it needs to work for you because if it doesn’t you’re as good as trapped. “Completely sure?”

<It better.> Winston gives you a gentle smile of reassurance. <I’ve used it before and it better not fail me now. As far as I know it’s magical, but it needs a key to work.>

“Key?”  

<This.> Winston withdraws a chain from under his shirt, revealing a bronze key with a big red jewel. It’s starkly detailed and clearly unique, the gem reminds you of the magic pens that Heartslabyul students use. <As far as I know there’s only one in existence. I took it from the door back when Mary first captured me. I didn’t want to risk it being destroyed.>

“But you’d used it before.” If he did, why come back? This world isn’t exactly paradise and considering he was nearly killed on his first day in this ‘Wonderland’  there was no reason for him to come back. Unless, he came back for- “You didn’t come back here for inspiration, right?” Winston’s silence tells you all you need to hear. This world is an author’s dream come true. 

<I’m sorry. I-I was just so intrigued by this new and odd place, I wanted to stay and explore it more and more. I wanted to escape my boring world and enjoy this extraordinary one. So while I was testing  the way out, Mary suddenly snapped at me and asked me to stay with her for a while when I was about to step back home. It took me by surprise but she really persuaded me and I stupidly accepted.> Winston’s gaze drops to the floor, <I… I was really stupid back then.>

While his decision to stay here wasn’t exactly the smartest one in hindsight “You’re not stupid, you were just tricked. You know better now.” You try to reassure him. 

But Winston’s mood doesn’t improve. <You don’t get it just yet. After I got close to leaving, she started to get really, really different. It was like she went back to the angry lady that she was when I met her. She was still touchy and affectionate, but her temper started to get bad. If I talked to anyone that wasn’t her, she would suddenly blow up…> You’re nowhere near what Winston had, if any of your… friends started to act that way you know at least now to run in the opposite direction immediately. <I talked to her about it, after she tried to pull me away from someone I was talking to but she just told me she wouldn’t do it again. She did do it again…> You’re again suddenly reminded by your conversation with Ace and Deuce, when you’d asked them to respect your boundaries and how fast they nearly broke it when you went to talk to Cater. But that was just a coincidence. Right? <But that time she blew up at me, telling me that she needed me more. I started to get a bad feeling then… but then there was the incident.>

You’re suddenly struck with a bad feeling, “What happened?”

<Three months into my stay, someone in the Royal Flush- the royal court here, didn’t like me very much, and they hit me with a croquet mallet in a lapse of judgement. It ended with them breaking my arm and Mary was furious. She got mad occasionally when I was there, but it was the first time in a long time she threatened to remove someone’s head again. I was upset, but I wanted them to be punished fairly and that’s what I told her. She got very calm suddenly, and then she smiled and said that she understood.>

You’re hit with yet another wave of deja vu. Your nose had been broken by two people because of an enormously stupid reason. And in your turmoil, you’d told the same thing (minus the killing part) to Riddle to punish them. With so many concerningly similarities, you’re pushed to ask, “And what happened to him?”

Winston’s face falls to that of grief, <He’s dead.>

You feel as if you heard him wrong. Didn’t he ask the Queen to not kill them? So, you ask lamely, struck dumb. “...What?”

Winston quickly checks to make sure Alice isn’t listening in on your conversation, before whispering. <M-mary tried to hide it from me, but someone led me to the castle’ punishment room, I got there in time to…. to watch him…. To watch him lose his head… I-I remember running away, but I don’t know what happened to the body. I don’t want to know. For breaking my arm, that was the price he paid.> His voice cracks with sorrow, still stricken with grief for the long dead.

“She… She had him killed?” You repeat. The Queen of Hearts was known for being a sadistic tyrant, so this wasn’t a complete surprise to you, but having to watch it is something else entirely. You’re unnerved at the reminder of your own discussion about the delinquents. Was something like this happening?

You quickly shake away the thought, the more you think about it the greater the chance it might manifest. 

Winston’s voice is choked with tears. <I… I still don’t know why she did that. I was only angry because I was injured, and I thought they’d be removed from the court… I-I knew she was a little sadistic, but I didn’t think she’d kill them! I was horrified! And I decided to leave after that.  I just couldn’t stay with a murderer. If she could kill someone for something so small, what would she do to me?!>

Considering how she’d gone from 100 to 0 to back to 10000, you can only see why this ended so terribly. You already feel like you know where this is going. “So you ran?”

Winston nods, <The magic door always had the key in it’s lock. So I just ran there as fast as I could, but somehow, she’d found out I was leaving! I don’t know who told her but just before I got there, she came, bright red and angry, screaming at the card soldiers to capture me. I tried to get away from her and the cards, but she caught me…> Winston visibly wilts as he recounts the tale of his capture and all you can do is pity him.

<I demanded she let me go… but she said that she couldn’t let me leave her. That I’d already proposed to her and she wasn’t going to let me leave her like I almost did. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about, and she told me- >

“That you’d proposed to her? But you never did that?!” 

<...Exactly!> He agrees, outraged, <I told her I never did that, and she told me that since I gave her the black rose, I had proposed to her and she wasn’t going to let me ever leave, even after we were married. She even made it one of her outlandish rules. Rule 222 of the Queen of Hearts, Present a black rose to your sweetheart, and you shall be married, never to part. > You can only listen, horrified. 

You didn’t know more than 20 of the rules of the Queen of Hearts, but you already knew that she was making her rules to suit her narrative. But now you can’t help but think that those rules came to be because of her desire to control Winston. Considering she pulled that rule out of nowhere to force Winston to marry her, what else had he been forced to do because of her rules. Winston continues his spiel, < I told her she was crazy and that I didn’t love her, and that’s when she lost it.She went red with anger and screamed at me that if I wasn’t going to stay willingly, she would make me. And then she had the guards take to the…> Winston visibly shudders, <The cell.>

You hate that that bad feeling doesn’t leave you. It worsens as your curiosity peaks, as you’re spurred to ask, “What exactly is that cell?”

<It’s a room… Hidden behind a wall in her bedroom. IIt wasn’t bad at first, but she left me there for two months. It was awful… dark, cold, too quiet, and the walls were thick. There were only small holes in the wall for air, but no matter how hard I clawed the walls, I couldn’t get out… I knew she could still hear whatever happened inside, all my tears and screams and begging….> Every word that Winston says to describe it looks like it visibly pains him to say it. <The only person I saw during that time was her and her alone.>

You shiver at the thought of being locked in a dark cell for that long with only someone horrifically obsessed with you as company, and that was only when she decided that he probably ‘deserved’ it. Talk about an effective punishment.<After two months in the dark, she told me that if I behaved she would let me out. I was so desperate to get out, I just said yes to whatever she said. And then the next thing I knew I was being held down at our wedding altar.> So, she’d used a cell to keep him hostage till their wedding was ready. The rule was just an excuse for her behavior. <I screamed at her that I wasn’t going to marry her. And again she was furious, but she didn’t lock me back in my cell, instead she threatened to behead all of the wedding guests if I didn’t go through with it. That’s when my nightmare started.>

“She threatened to behead people to get you to obey her.” You piece together. Winston’s right in calling it a nightmare. The idea of holding the lives of others over a person’s head was a tide and true technique to control someone. And Winston was just a normal person that dropped into a strange world by complete accident. 

<Everytime I tried to rebel or disobey her, she would threaten to remove someone’s head. And if I ever did something she didn’t like she’d just make another rule for me to follow, and then threaten to cut off all their heads if I didn’t start following them. After a while, she started just beheading them when I was disobedient. No matter what I did things seemed to just get worse.> That sounds in character for the Queen of Hearts, creating and enforcing rules to keep someone in their place. The place that she wants him to be in. <After a while, she started enforcing those rules onto the card soldiers and her subjects, and executing them if they disobeyed them. I had to walk eggshells every day, every single day, worrying that if I stepped a toe out of line she’d lose it and even more people would die. A-And her rules would get insane! Don’t drink raspberry tea on Thursdays or don’t play croquet if it's the second week of Spring. And it got worse and worse. I-I did whatever it took to make her happy, because I spent everyday worrying that someone would die if I didn’t.>

The 810 rules of the Queen of Hearts go from insane ramblings of a tyrant to a calculating plan by a controlling monster in your mind. The rules are so outlandish that it made Winston go from someone rational and probably brave to someone who looked like they flinched at the sight of their own shadow. With so many impossible rules, there’s no humanly possible reason for him to make it a week without accidentally breaking them. And with there being permanent, horrible consequences for Winston and so many more innocents, no wonder he grew so afraid of his own wife. 

<Before you and Alice got here, I learned to survive without upsetting her, but whenever someone else disobeyed her, she wouldn’t show them an ounce of mercy. I always tried to stop her at first, but after a while I just learned to stay silent.>  <You could say I learnt my place. I hoped that if I waited a while I could find a chance to slip away, and I did try to run away… but it didn’t work and what really scared the hell out of me happened next. I-I…>Winston’s trembling is borderline quaking. You have to grab his shoulders to keep him standing. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You try to reassure him, and he shakes his head in an attempt to show bravery.

<N-No, I can do it. I-I never found out what happened to the remains of all the victims she’d executed. I’d mourned every single one of them, but Mary never told me what she did with them… W-When she d-dragged me back to the palace after I tried running away, she told me that if I couldn’t be upset leaving her behind, she’d teach me to fear ever leaving her again.> Dread pools in your gut as Winston’s breath becomes shaky. <A-And she locked me back in the cell, but…it was different that time… The cell was filled with… with heads.>

“What?”

<The… Their heads, all of the people she- all the ones who tried to stop me from escaping and all the people who died because of my disobedience, she’d thrown all of them in my cell and… and she said that if I w-wanted to be away from her so badly…. I could stay with them as long as I wanted.> 

The discomfort from the pain in your head is replaced by the sudden and horrible nausea churning in your gut. The idea of being locked in a room full of rotting heads, of each and every one of the people who’d died unfairly because of your hypothetical actions must have been traumatising.

<I clawed at the door for hours begging for her to let me out so I wouldn’t have to see them. So I wouldn’t have to be reminded by the people I- she killed. T-The people I killed. She’d checked on me every so often, and everytime I begged her on my hands and knees. I told her that I’d do whatever she wanted, I’d never make her angry again. And a month after that, she let me go and I… I gave up after that.> 

“Gave up?”

<I didn’t want to risk making her mad again, so I… I swore to never try to anger her again. For the sake of everyone here, and my own sanity. So I felt like I just gave up on my hope of escaping. But…>  He clutches the exit key in his grasp, <I remember grabbing it on my second escape attempt, I was terrified that she might’ve destroyed it so I kept it and never took it off, but whenever I used to look at it I would feel so helpless. It was as if Mary had destroyed my desire to be free….> You can only feel sympathy. You might not have gotten to experience this to the extent of Winston’s trauma, but the idea of being controlled to the point that Mary nearly killed his desire to be free of her and Wonderland, it scares you. To be so destroyed, or rather to have his life controlled to the point he longer tried to escape, to be trained and tamed like an animal, it’s one of the most terrifying things you’d ever witnessed. 

You and Winston walk in silence for a few minutes, the bright, sunny and colourful meadow doesn’t match the mood of the conversation in the worst way. Thankfully though Winston, suddenly but welcomely, smiles. It’s one that shows the scars of all he’d suffered but one that still has just the smallest thread of hope, one last thread, holding it and him together. <But I have to thank you.>

You’re taken aback by the sudden thanks, “W-Why are you thanking me?”

Winston wraps his hand around yours, despite it being a dream. He feels warm, warm with the new hope pushing him to do this. Smiling, he says, <Because I wouldn’t have gotten the idea to escape again, if you hadn’t appeared. Maybe all I needed was a harsh shove in the right direction. I don’t want Alice to be stuck here, or die here and even if I couldn’t save all the… the o-others… I’ll save her. I know I can.> Winston looks up at Alice who runs just a little further up the path, a warm, hopeful smile forms on his face. <Even if it’s just one out of hundreds of others, I’d like to save just one.>

Maybe it’s blind hope, or maybe naivete, but you're glad to see him smile genuinely. It’s different to see him at peace, even with the present anxiety of this escape. It’s a sign of hope for you. That maybe things might just be okay. Winston tucks back the key under his shirt, and his smile drops, <However I have to be honest… I have to go back there again. I don’t think I’ll be able to take it anymore- No, I’m not going back there.>

Determination fills you. You might not have done much, but if it saved Winston and Alice then maybe you’d done enough. And your reward would be the escape from your small nightmare. While you won’t make the mistake of staying here when pushed, you’ll be a little at peace knowing that you’d helped someone. Maybe that-

<Your Majesty!> Alice’s voice draws your attention towards where the now excited girl points at something just out of sight. <I can see it. The locked door!> She takes off running, now full of hope and excitement, and Winston chases after her, sharing the excitement of finally being freed from this horrible place. You lag behind, inspecting the surrounding area. If this doesn’t work for you because it’s a dream, you’ll need to find this place in present time. You just hope that this place still exists in the Queendom of Roses after all this time. Still, just like them you can’t help but feel excited in your own right. <______! Come quickly!>

Maybe this is a sign of better things. You yell back, “Coming!” and chase after them, and the genuine joy on their faces is a wonderful change of pace. 

Nearly buried in the foliage, mushrooms, flower stems and tree bark is a door that looks far too small for someone taller than an 8 year old to fit through. It’s reminiscent of the one you saw back in the overblot world with Riddle. Minus all the ink obviously.

Alice jostles the door handle to check if it’s still locked. Which it is, though it doesn’t curb her excitement. <After all this, I’m- We’re going home.> She exclaims, peering through the tiny keyhole. She steps away with a beaming smile on her face, <Thank you, Your Majesty.> She curtsies in thanks, nearly shaking with excitement. 

Her hopeful words make Winston smile. <Thank you too, Alice. And you too, _____.> Now much calmer, he withdraws the key from his shirt, unhooking it from its fraile chain. <Now let’s- >

<WINSTON CHRISTOPHER HEART!>  

A deafeningly loud screech drives the once peaceful meadow into an equally deafening silence. The three of you jump in fright, but Winston looks like his soul nearly propelled out of his skin. To your collective abrupt horror, his now shaking hands fumble the key, dropping it into the surrounding plant life where it vanishes completely from view. 

The three of you stand there frozen, hoping for it to pop right up like a blooming flower out of the earth. Alice, despite her excellent manners, curses.<Aw, bloody hell.> 

Well that perfectly describes this horrible situation. Winston whirls around and you follow suit, finding the opening in the path behind you, thankfully empty. But from the sound of marching inching closer and closer, it won’t be for long. Winston looks completely terrified as he not so gently shoves Alice into the giant blades of grass. He hisses not so quietly, his voice tense with urgency. <Go find it! I’ll stay here and stall her!>

<But- >

<GO!> Alice hurries into the blades of grass, with you following behind to help. You want to spur Winston to hide with you, but when you catch sight of the Queen’s flaming red face in your hesitation, do you realize that things might not end as easily as you hoped.

The Queen’s face is as red as cooked lobster and if it was any hotter her hair would catch fire. You hope the red smear on her face is jam from a tart. You pray that the red smear on her face is just jam. Behind her are dozens of card soldiers, marching in unison behind the Queen on a warpath. A hand presses against your back to shove you into the foliage, and you fall with a tumble. Your head, right where it burned, slams right into the dirt floor.

You just barely bite a cry of discomfort as your head wound is aggravated and your vision is blurred. Alice comes to check on you with the escape key in her hand. She opens her mouth to speak, but you manage to reach out and clamp her hand but you manage to reach out and slap your palm over her mouth, before she exposes her position to the Queen. 

Thankfully, the plant life keeps you hidden from view, but obstructs your view of the Queen and Winston. You’re glad you did because you can hear her exhales of unrestrained anger as close and clear as a bull ready to charge.  <Winston… Why… have… you…. LEFT  ME AGAIN!?> Her roar of rage is so loud that it makes you and Alice fall over from the vibration of it coursing through the earth. But instead of her continuing in her tirade of unrestrained fury, he roars of rage dissolve into- <Do you not love me any more, Winston? After all, I’ve done to love and protect you?> tears?! You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from barking out how this was gaslighting at its finest. But unfortunately your self control doesn’t amount to Alice’s. 

The girl looks like she’s struggling to keep quiet, outraged at what she’s seeing, and you wouldn’t blame her if it meant not revealing your position to the Queen that wants her dead. Because the Queen will flip like a coin back to infuriated if Alice suddenly pops up. “Shush, Alice.” you insist as quietly as possible. 

Winston, thankfully, is experienced enough with this to not fall for whatever she’s plotting, instead he takes the gentle approach. <N-No, dearest. I-I just wanted to send the girl home. Nothing else.>

<Oh really?> You silently hold a deep breath, as she mulls it over, waiting for her to just accept the excuse and move on. For his and Alice’s sake- <DO YOU TAKE ME A FOOL, WINSTON! I KNOW OF THE KEY THAT HANGS AROUND YOUR NECK!> Your blood turns to ice as she screams so loudly that the ground shakes again and again. <HOW DARE YOU LIE TO ME AND TRY TO ESCAPE ME AGAIN! HOW DARE YOU TRY AND LEAVE WITH THAT TREASONOUS BRAT!! I thought we were past this!> 

All you can hear is a soft yelp from Winston, probably as she gets closer to him. Cornering him like she’d done every day of their marriage. He quickly tries to backpedal, <B-But I wasn’t trying to run this- >

The furious tyrant doesn’t let him get a word in.<I DO NOT CARE!! You won't escape me, There is no way back! YOU are NEVER allowed to leave ME!! > There’s a rustle of clothing, and another whimper from Winston. Probably from her holding him by the collar of his shirt. The next noise is muffled, and much sloppier. Your stomach churns in disgust as you put together that she’s forcing him to kiss her. She holds him there for far too long, and then her voice softens, becoming quieter as she says something that makes your blood chill. <I thought we were past this, that you were finally learning!!>

Winston doesn’t even try to deny her anymore, too beaten down to continue making excuses or explanations. Instead, he sobs, terrified of what’s to come. <I-I’m sorry… Please just don’t send me back there… please.> The cell he mentioned comes back to your mind. Are the heads still there? Does he have to see them every time he’s caged there? Your gut twists in horror. 

Unfortunately, despite claiming to love him, Winston is not spared an ounce of mercy. <Darling, you know my rules, and this is the only way you’ll learn. Guards!! Drag him back to his cell!!>

The marching of the card soldiers fills the air as they follow their queen’s order, preparing to drag him away from his only real escape.  <N-No, please! Dearest, please!> Winston begs, like he’s about to be killed. He begs his ‘wife’, though captor is more effective, and he begs the guards. But none listen to him. 

<I do hope you’re proud of yourself Winston, this hurts me just as much as it hurts you.> The Queen’s words stir horror and disgust in your gut. You want to throw up and cry at the same time. Because…

Because… this was your fault. 

And now, Winston would only suffer for it. 

Guilt fills your gut, as Alice manages to slip your hand from her mouth, her cheeks flushing pink from her own anger. The Key to her, his and your escape clenched tightly in her small hand, she stomps to the edge of the foliage. <W-We have to do something!> Realising what she plans to do, you instinctively snatch her arm and yank her back before she gets herself killed. Surprised, she objects, <Quickly, before he’s taken away!> 

<Alice, no!> You grab her and cling to the young girl like a lifeline, desperate to save her life and her from herself. Should she attempt this, the Queen could stop her at any moment. Or kill her at any moment. After you failed Winston like that, you couldn’t fail him with this. <We can’t. They can’t see me, the queen wants to kill you, and I can get you home, please!> 

Alice thrashes, <No, I have to help him!> You do your damndest to keep the stubborn child from walking to her own execution, cursing her childish impulsivity. You hold her as tightly as possible, but Alice jerks free in such a way that you fall back onto the rough and hard ground. Once again slamming your head, more specifically your wound, slams onto the dirt and stone. Every sense in your body slows down as your head throbs in agonizing pain, but you can still hear Alice yell,  <S-Stop it!! Let him go!!>

Your vision stabilizes just in time for you to see Alice run back into the break in the meadow.  Her one and only exit, your one and only exit, is trapped in her hand as she runs straight into danger. You scramble to follow her, but the pain ricocheting through your scalp leaves your limbs like soggy noodles. 

<You let him go, you evil tyrant!> Alice shoves her way up to the dumbstruck queen, shoving an accusatory finger into the bodice of her dress, <You evil witch, how can you be so cruel and heartless! He has done nothing wrong and you do not have the right to do this to him->

<Alice, NO!> You hear Winston plead, trying to stop the girl from digging her own grave. Alice pays no heed to his begging, instead continuing her tirade while the Queen stays oddly quiet.

<You…> The Queen’s voice is ice cold in comparison to her burning hot fury. Her face slowly turns red as Alice falls silent, losing all her confidence as the Queen’s rage-filled glare centers on the girl and taking a few steps back in fear. <You! You’re the criminal!! GUARDS!! OFF! WITH! HER! HEAD!!> 

At the sound of his wife’s damning words, Winston’s pleads for mercy turn into pleads for Alice’s life. <NO! Dearest, please don’t kill her!! I’ll do whatever you want just don’t please!>

The Queen ignores all of Winston’s desperate pleas, instead her eye catches on the key in Alice’s grasp, her pale face turning red in fury. <You vile little thing! YOU DARE COMMIT TREASON AGAINST THE CROWN AND NOW YOU TRY TO TAKE MY HUSBAND AWAY FROM ME!!!>

The accusation causes Alice’s blood to drain away from her face. <W-What?> 

The Queen’s horrible and twisted mind puts together a horrible and twisted conclusion. <That’s why you came, you evil creature! To steal him away and leave me miserable! THIS IS TREASON OF THE HIGHEST ORDER!!! OFF! WITH! HER! HEAD!>

Within seconds of her murderous screech, the deck of soldiers surround the very terrified Alice. You try to stand, to run and grab her away to save her from death and Winston from further anguish. But your legs give out under you and your vision begins to shake and tunnel. Your thoughts slow. So much so that you can barely string together an adequate curse worthy of this disaster.

As darkness clouds over your eyes, you can’t help but hate the people responsible. 

The Queen, absolutely. This horrible and twisted world, definitely. Yourself? You deserved it more than anyone else here. If you hadn’t spurred Winston to do this, maybe this would have never happened. Maybe Alice would have been free to run away by herself away from the Queen’s cruelty. Maybe Winston would be freed after everyone here rose up against the Queen’s tyranny. 

So as Winston’s screamed pleas dissolve with your sight, you mourn your first ever victim. As you fade from the dream that grew into an utter nightmare. 

Curiosity Kills The Cat

You awaken with a gasp. Though it turns from a gasp to a pain filled sob. 

Blind pain fills your scalp, your mind clouded by the pain as you weep silently, shaking from your quiet sobs. Whether it was real or not, what you dreamed of was a nightmare. And as you lie in a pool of blood, cool and sticky against your skin, you can feel it mix with the saltiness of your tears. 

You want to sob after you come to with a shaky gasp. Even as you sob, the universe doesn’t allow you any reprieve as you’re hit with a horrible headache. You don’t have the energy to cry, and only whimper as tears roll down your cheeks. You’d just ruined two lives. You’d pushed Winston to save Alice even when he didn’t want to, because you thought so naively that he could be happy and free if he helped her. By proxy, you’d pushed a child to her death, because of her sense of justice and her own childhood innocence where she thought she could save the person that was going to save her. And… and because you thought doing this would make everything okay. 

Now Winston was being unfairly punished and Alice was in danger. And you were an idiot who was so hopeful, yet equally stupid. So you do the only thing you can do, which is cry. Your body is too sore to pay attention to your situation in the walking world. 

Despite the blinding pain, you open your eyes to find the blurry interior of Ramshackle, your head resting on one of the bottom steps. You remember the dizziness you’d felt before you’d fallen, and the blinding pain you’d felt before you’d gone to Wonderland again. The pain is worse now, burning your head and the rest of your body even when you’re not moving. 

You feel as miserable mentally as you do physically. So you just lie there in your own misery, content with just lying there for the rest of your life and staring off into space. Until you blink and a familiar face and a head of pink-purple hair with matching ears fades into view. “Hello?... Is it a greeting, or a warning of delightful chaos to come?” 

Chenya’s upside down head purrs with an ear to ear smile, lying down next to your bruised form. His eyes glimmer with a teasing glint, as if he doesn’t know about what had transpired. And not with your dreams, according to the sticky feeling on your temple, you’re injured. So why was he so calm about that? Or was he enjoying it? It's hard to tell with Chenya. 

“...henya?” You mumble, “W-What are you… doing here” Your reaction is more tame and confused than it would have been if you weren’t potentially concussed. Your head might hurt, but you remember that you had locked the doors of Ramshackle when you got back. So why the hell was Chenya here?!

Chenya hums, as his disembodied head ‘grows’ a body, laying down next to you. “Oh, not happy to see me, are you? Hmm... can’t really blame you—after all, you are lying in a pool of your own blood.” You’re not in the mood for Chenya’s mischief right now. Sighing in annoyance, you push yourself shakily upwards in an attempt to pick yourself up. Unfortunately, your arms give out halfway. You groan as your head connects with the floor. Again. Your own blood sticks to your skin. Instead of showing concern, Chenya still has his ear to ear smile, “Can’t stand on your own paws? Here.” A vial clinks to the floor, the label is blurry but in cartoonish handwriting read, ‘Drink me :) ’. 

You may have had a lapse of judgement in the dream world, but in real life you’re not that stupid. “ ‘m not drinking that…” 

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll help.” Chenya pouts as his ears flatten against his head. “I’ll even help ya~”

“N-” After you made the stupid decision to open your mouth in reply, he forces the uncorked vial into your mouth, and you’re too weak to fight against it. You're forced to swallow the unknown liquid, wincing as it burns your throat. 

Now very angry, you force yourself to sit up with much more ease. Spitting to clear your mouth of the unknown fluid, you bark, “What the hell, Chenya!?” 

“See~ It worked.” Confused, you check yourself over noticing the sharp pain has dulled and you don’t feel as sluggish as a sloth. So whatever he gave you was actually something helpful. But you just wish he hadn’t forced it down your throat. “No need to be catty, ______~”

“S-Sorry”, you say, a little embarrassed. You feel a lot better now, physically at least. But your mind is buzzing with worry, how did Chenya get in here? Your brain might be bruised but you're positive that you locked the doors to Ramshackle when you got back. “But, how did you get here?”

“So many questions, ______. I can go pretty much anywhere and everywhere.” So dealing with cryptic nonsense is what you're going to do after you just went through something traumatic and when you already have a migraine? Wonderful.

“That's… fine. Just go, Chenya.” You stand up, prepared to take a long bath to wash the sticky feeling of your own blood off. Seeing that nightmare exhausted you, and you don't have the energy to deal with more bullshit today. “Thanks for helping me out, I'll see you whenever.”

“Are you sure? Do you really want me to go so soon?~” He stands and you hate how he towers over you, leaning in close, and his feline eyes flicker with what has to be predatory intent as he speaks. You’re annoyingly reminded of that other beastman in the botanical gardens. Are all beastmen like this?

You push him away despite the numbing soreness in your muscles, “I-I'll be fine-”

“Not with that ugly gash you won't~” he teases, and you’re seriously considering punching him in the face now. Maybe that will get him to- “Trey really did a number on ya, huh?”

“Wait, what did you say?” While your memory had been hazy due the nasty fall you took down the stairs, you remember being completely alone with Grim and you remember feeling exhausted as you climbed the stairs, so the reason you fell had to be that you passed out from being so fatigued. How the hell was Trey involved with this?

Chenya looks at you as if he didn’t know what he just said, “What did I say?”

“Are you kidding me-” You bit back a sigh of frustration, “ You just said that Trey did a ‘number’ on me. W-What did he do?”

“Oh, you still haven't figured it out yet?” You bit your tongue to stifle the no-shit response you were about to spit in annoyance. “Well, I'll give you a hint. Three times you'd taken what he's given you, none the wiser to what's hidden within.” Your mind halts, and you freeze. “Oh? Seems you figured it out~”

And figure it out you did. 

If Chenya’s hint held any water, Trey had… had drugged you with the desserts he'd given you. And according to Chenya, he did it three times. That part feels the most unbelievable because you hadn’t even noticed a difference. Sure, your exhaustion those three times were strange. But they all happened on days you had a lot of things happening that day, driving you to the edge of over-exertion in a way you thought was natural. 

As you recall, the first time you were too tired to even walk or act like a functional human being was after you ate some of the chestnut tart way back then. You were so tired that Deuce had to carry you all the way back to your dorm and you were asleep before your head hit the pillow, but you'd just attributed  that to you being exhausted from being tired from what Ace pulled the night before.

Then there was after Riddle’s overblot when Trey gave them to you as an apology for his inaction. You and Grim had eaten them and both of you were fatigued and ready to sleep in seconds. And now, Grim had eaten almost all of them and you'd taken only one bite out of one of them. The second time you completely finished one and the third time you'd only had a bite, but both times you'd become so exhausted walking felt like too much work.

Has Trey drugged you all three times? But how? Ace should have seen it the first time and said something, and if he didn't, how did Trey manage to hide it from him? Additionally, the last time you ate those possibly drugged treats, why did you wake up sooner than the last two times? Before you slept like a baby through the night, and now you wake up with the sky still as dark outside as it had been when you came back.

And the most baffling question, why did he even do it in the first place? You remember him saying something about taking better care of yourself, but you brushed that off and attributed that to him being concerned because you'd thrown yourself into a blot monster that afternoon. Was… was wanting drugging you under the guise of sweet delicacies so that he could ‘take care of you'?

You shudder at the thought of it. Winston was right in saying that they wouldn’t be upfront about it. Trey had played the gentle vig brother while drugging you thrice and it took Chenya telling you directly to your face for you to finally notice.

Wait a second. How did Chenya know that? You meet him only after Riddle threw you all out, how did he know that Trey drugged you the first time. “Wait, how did you know that he drugged me back then?” 

“I always visit Trey on his baking days, I adore slipping sweets into my paws when no one's looking. Seeing you trying to help your little friends was just a nice lil surprise~” 

So Chenya had just been ‘around’ way before you officially met him. Why he never introduced himself or anything is lost on you, but now isn’t the time to ask about that. Though you do mutter, “How did I not notice that…” One of Chenya’s ears twitches and then he laughs. It’s a good, hard laugh that makes Chenya’s eyes squeeze tight in glee. It’s not anything malicious sounding or mocking sounding, moreso cheeky but it sends the gooseflesh on your skin to prick up. It makes you ask, “W-What’s so funny?”

Chenya cracks an eye open, before chuckling. “No offense, but you're not as perceptive as you think you are. You don't notice a lot of things. Like what Trey, Riddle and the other three planned on doing to the guys who attacked you.” 

What? “W-What do you mean?” You already know that you’ll dread the answer, but your curiosity was peaked. What in the Great, well given what you saw earlier not-Great, Seven did he mean by that?! You had hoped that with Riddle’s new outlook on the rules, he would have been slightly more lax with punishments. Was saying that you wanted him to go back to his old ways just for those two going to end horribly. Oh shit, what did you do!? “What did they plan?!”

A cheshire grin forms on Chenya’s face. “Nuh uh, no more help from me, _____!” 

“B-but.. You just-” 

Chenya purrs. His eyes full of mischievous intent worsening your bad feeling. “If you want to find out, you’ll have to go there yourself~” 

You feel a cold feeling cover you, trying to envelope you tightly in its icy embrace. You don’t trust this one bit, and the chill around you feels as if it’s goading you to make a bad decision. “Go where? To… Heartslabyul?” 

“Nope!” Well, now you were just confused. “Not to. Behind.” You fight the annoyed eye-roll as he just re-words it. Probably after seeing your annoyed look, he grants you the tiniest possible explanation. “There’s something special happening that might pique your interest. In the rose maze tonight some bad little students are going to be punished, and it’s where you’ll find the answers you want… Or maybe they’ll be ones you don’t. I’m not sure.” 

You contemplate on that decision. You could either take his advice and go find out, or you could ignore this. You’re not really sure. If Trey had lied and betrayed your trust, had the others? All Riddle had told you was that they’d be punished appropriately, but he never explained what his punishment was going to be. Had they planned something behind your back, something you deserved to know? 

And if this was just a prank from Chenya to get a laugh, were you really going to risk going outside of the safety of Ramshackle? Potentially jumping out of a frying pan into the flame of the dorm at night full of two, or maybe five people obsessed with you? Staying here would be your best option in that case, safe inside four walls you have control over. But what if what happened would endanger you in the future, making things infinitely worse for you?

You’re going to regret this either way, aren’t you…..

 *                    *                    *

“You can do this, _____. Let’s get this over with…” you mutter, stepping out of the Hall of Mirrors and into the cool summer air. The Heartslabyul dorm in front of you, the lights streaming out of the windows being the only thing that illuminates the dark, cloudy night. Every step you’d make in the direction of Heartslabyul feels like a mistake that you were sure to continue making, but even with your frayed nerves, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. “You still there?”

“Certainly~”, Chenya’s bodiless head fades back into view. “Shall we~? The longer we dawdle, the closer your chance slips, slipping, slipped away~” 

You’d left Ramshackle with nothing but a dull kitchen knife tucked under the waistband of your clothes and a prayer. And also Chenya. Coming to Heartslabyul  in the dark, cold night, with all your logic and self-preservation instincts already telling you to go back to your dorm and calling this night a net loss. Chenya was supposed to be, emphasis on supposed to be since you had no idea on whether or not he was even there when he wasn’t visible; right next to you with you occasionally feeling the ghost of a feather-light touch on your skin. With so many half-assed precautions, you had one question in the back of your mind. 

And the question you wanted to have answered was, Were you friends, all of the people you’d once hoped to have a strictly platonic relationship with until you got home, as bad as the Queen of Hearts?

You had Winston’s words in the back of your mind, recalling his own recount of the day he accidentally got someone killed when he requested his assaulter be punished fairly.  

<I wanted them to be punished fairly and that’s what I told her. She got very calm suddenly, and then she smiled and said that she understood…>

<M-mary tried to hide it from me, but someone led me to the castle’ punishment room….>

<I got there in time to…. to watch him…. To watch him lose his head…>

At this point, your subconsciousness was starting to mimic your reality all too much. While it was marginally appreciated for what good it did you when dealing with Riddle’s mental breakdown/overblot, with what you saw and heard from Winston, the very idea that your friends would commit murder was one that filled your mind with fear and dread. 

It wasn’t only because of the idea that two people could get murdered over something completely pointless, or that you might have unintentionally killed two people; but the idea that your friends could be murderers over something so pointless. If that was what they were prepared to do over something so minimal, what would they do over something drastic?! What would they do if you had made the choice, and mistake, of rejecting them, or running away where they couldn’t find you?

With all those thoughts in your mind, you were willing to confront the risk. Even if there was a chance that your curiosity would prove to kill the figurative cat, you'd only know that if you went. So, into the belly of the beast you went. 

“Hurry up and fade away, I don’t want anyone catching us,” You order, shivering from your rising anxiety and the chilling air. The cool chill of the summer night sends icy chills up and down your spine as you sneak, hopeful that none see you or the disembodied head, into the darkened maze. 

Despite the fact you already committed to it, you already are regretting this decision. Sure, you’re being led by Chenya’s directions, but the rose maze is dark, barely lit by the small garden lights sparsely scattered here and there, and it’s full of twists and turns and dark corners that make you feel like someone’s going to jump out of nowhere and-

You take a deep breath and lightly slap yourself, with how suddenly the Queen of Hearts appeared out of nowhere where you felt moderately safe with Winston, your already frayed nerves are very on edge. “Stop thinking like that, me…” 

“Aww~ Is something gnawing at that little mind of yours~? Do tell, I simply adore a good dilemma~” 

“I can’t really- I haven’t really told anyone about it.” Because it’s so crazy to think about, being throw into another world with it’s fucked up morals by pure happenstance and then being thrown into another world, the past mind you, that shows you how the world got so fucked up, “You probably wouldn’t believe me.”

“C’mon, try me. You might be surprised by what I believe~” 

You debate it. There could be something to gain from you, telling someone else. “W-Well-” 

You’re interrupted by a loud “GAH!” of pain echoing through the bushes, followed by the disgusting sound of bone crunching and splitting, now followed by another cry of pain. Someone that you have a feeling that you sort of know, whimpers like a wounded animal. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you advance, hiding in the opening of another of the maze’s passages….. and finding something you hoped not to see, but expected. 

You have to bite your tongue hard to stifle the noise you almost let out. You taste warm blood spill upon it, and at the sight you saw, and you barely hold back your bile. 

Ace and Deuce are walking deeper and deeper into the maze, which is barely illuminated by what has to be a phone's dim flashlight, dragging two bloody human shaped lumps that you called your attackers. You stumble back and clamp a hand over your mouth before your gasp of shock and horror. 

The two delinquents are alive? They have to be considering the noises they’re making but you could have been fooled by how bloody, swollen and bruised their faces are. Their clothes, likely the same ones they beat you up in, are stained with their own blood. They look like they were beaten half to death. You have to swallow back the other noises of horror and shock. 

Hadn’t you specifically told Ace and Deuce to NOT do this!? Why had they done this, beating two people half to death after specifically telling them not to?! And what the hell were even doing out here?! 

In your spiralling, you accidentally step back onto a random, and incredibly inconvenient dry twig. The snapping is so loud in your ears you feel like it echoes across the whole world. 

The time it takes for Ace to look over his shoulder in just enough time for you to duck behind the wall, and you can only hope he didn’t see you in the time you took to hide. Unfortunately the rustling of leaves gives you away. Your blood freezes as soon as you hear, “What the hell was that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Something’s moving in the bushes.” There’s a loud thump as if Ace dropped the delinquent he was dragging, who groans weakly as his battered and bruised body hits the grass. “Stay here, I’m going to take a look.” Whatever Deuce said next doesn’t meet your ears as all you can hear is the blood unfreezing and roaring in your head as adrenaline floods your veins. You’re frozen stiff and unable to move. What if they find you?! 

Your mind slows to a screeching halt. Your adrenaline is freezing you stiff rather than pushing you to run. Your body feels like it’s stuck in the ground and held by cement. To make your already high blood pressure shoot to the cosmos, an arm wraps itself around your waist and drags you into the darker depths of the maze. It’s Chenya, your racing mind provides, and you send a silent thank you into the air as Ace sticks his head into the hedge walls. To your utter relief, he doesn’t seem to notice you.

Which is good. Because you were too busy noticing the most horrifying part of seeing him. 

Ace’s expression is nonchalant as he stares into the darkness searching for you unknowingly.  The face of the first human friend you ever made here stares right through you. And they look calm but suspicious, looking fine with the smudge of blood staining his skin and his uniform. Even in the dark you can see the tell tale colour of crimson, smudged on his face as if he tried to wipe it off at some point but there nonetheless and  from the moans of quiet agony seeping through the hedges that hide you from view. His hands are bare, and the skin on his knuckles are split and bloody. Your gut sinks with despair.

“Anything there?” Deuce’s voice drags you back to reality, but doesn’t help the new influx of adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

Ace steps away from the opening in the wall, disappearing back into the maze. You have no choice but to release a much needed sigh of relief. “Nah. I must’ve imagined it.” You hear the sounds of Ace yanking up that poor white haired delinquent, the groans of pain filling the air in a higher pitch, the steps and sounds of dragging fill the silent summer night, before fading into darkness.  

“Oh, mew almost got caught… Curiosity almost killed the cat, Nya?” You ignore Chenya’s words, pushing yourself back up and into the opening of the maze Ace had just been standing. After getting no response, he then asks, “Are you still curious, _______?”

“A little.” You swallow roughly, hoping to force the discomfort filling you back down. You could always cry it out later, and your curiosity demands you learn the whole scope of this. All you have to do is follow the trail of blood in the grass and dirt. No pressure…“J-Just warn me  if anyone comes close.”

After seeing Ace’s face stained with another person’s blood, your heart has lodged itself into his throat and you can’t stifle the curiosity, so you and an invisible Chenya trail after them, a quiet distance away. You can hear the noises of pain from the two and their pain filled pleas as you follow, but their noises only earn more fists or kicks to their already bleeding faces and their beaten bodies. 

Trailing after them yields fruit in your worrying venture, as you follow Ace and Deuce and their two victims to a large, well-lit, opening in the maze. You move to follow them but-

“I’m aware that I let you have your way with them but at the very least, either of you could at least tried to not track blood through the garden!” You freeze in your steps at the new, but unfortunately painfully familiar, voice. It’s Riddle’s.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist."” Ace’s nonchalant reply is what finally sells running away for you. 

Out of all the things you weren’t prepared for upon coming to a world that you didn’t even know existed until a couple days ago, you weren’t prepared to watch someone actually die. Not today, not ever. “I’m leaving”  you hiss, careful to not raise your voice loud enough to let your voice be heard. 

But like a monkey wrench thrown into the works, Chenya's head reappears, his Cheshire grin back and more unsettling than it was before. “Aww, but you came so far are you going to turn back now?” You genuinely don’t even know. You want to leave, remembering the early horrors you'd dreamt of and already seen, and you can’t help but feel that maybe it's time to make a tactful retreat. Time to go back home to Ramshackle and forget this night ever happened, and hope that the two people are potentially about to die in whatever cruel way they might and somehow survive. 

“I-” Chenya, for some reason seems hellbent on you scarring yourself for life. You’re starting to feel a little bit like Winston in a bad way…..

Because once again like an idiot, you let him guide you to an opening in the hedges large enough to peek through but small enough to not draw any attention. Your adrenaline and fear induced curiosity was going to be the death of you it seemed, because as you peek through a tiny gap in the hedges, you have to instantaneously recoil. 

Your friends are here, obviously you already knew that, but it was the new things that struck a chord of terror through your heart. Sparkling from the light of the maze’s lanterns and the moonlight is an ornate executioner’s block with a bright red, heart-shaped axe. It’s clean of blood, but something tells you that won’t be for long. 

Alongside that, you can see the complete and utter destruction that Ace and Deuce rained on those two people’s bodies. Their faces are beaten and bruised to the point their eyes are swollen shut and crying blood, their uniforms are dirty with red and brown, red from the blood and brown from the mud their bodies had been dragged through like garbage. You feel remorse and self-hatred for being the one to cause this from your angered ravings. 

You manage to tear your attention off your rising panic and back to the conversation you’d tuned out in your fear. You tune back in, right in time for Riddle and Ace’s argument to dissolve. “Regardless, you certainly did a number on them.” All Riddle gives that unfortunate pair a raised eyebrow of disgust as they groan. 

Cater looks a mix of annoyed and bored as he stares down at the two on the ground, pausing only to snap some pics of their beat up faces for a reason you can’t fathom. “Hey, just wondering are you guys going to just keep stalling or are we actually going to murder them?”

Trey looks as sick of the two innocent people they’re about to behead, and you can’t even connect how cruel he looks now to that same comforting warmth from earlier. “We might as well, the sooner we’re done with them the sooner we don't breathe the same air as them.”

The white haired one manages to find the energy to raise his head. His face is so swollen and bloody, you wonder how he even found it to begin with.  You can’t help but pity him, as he looks up at Riddle  in confusion.“D-Dorm Leader? Why-” 

Riddle doesn’t give them a moment to figure out whatever is going to happen to them. Instead of answering the victim he chose to torture like this, Riddle recites the charges of their crime with such nonchalance and coldness that you’re reminded of the tyrant he used to be. “You both will be punished in accordance with Rule 810 of the Queen of Hearts: Should someone try to take one’s most precious person, by theft or by harm, they should pay an unpayable price.” 

Your heart leaves your throat and pluments through your gut and deep into the ground. Hadn’t Cater explained that rule was one of the most important rules the dorm had? The one rule that was strictly enforced even before Riddle’s arrival and tyranny?  He hadn’t told you the details, but you assumed it was something about fighting and picking on the weak or something borderline rational.

Then again, Riddle had told you that the rule was amended after an incident. An incident that you likely had just bore witness to. And if your memory served you well, it was the last rule she ever made. Had Winston’s escape, believed to be caused by Alice, caused the original rule to be changed?

 The two delinquents' eyes, whichever ones weren’t swollen shut, widen in utter horror. The white haired one makes a desperate plea to save his own skin and you let out a silent prayer hoping it works. “We didn’t hurt her that badly. W-We’re sorry!” The apology does nothing to calm the silent, boiling hot fury among them. You already know that even if they give those unfortunate two the ‘privilege’ of  receiving a reply from them, the next words out of their mouths wouldn’t be one of forgiveness. As you predicted, a chilling silence follows.

Now realising their pleas aren’t working, the red haired one musters the courage to speak and try and plead his case. “B-But we didn’t–” But Deuce doesn’t even give the luxury of finishing his sentence, smashing his fist into the red haired one's face so hard you can hear the loud crack of their bones breaking. When all you can hear and muffled groans of pain you come to the horrified conclusion that Deuce broke their jaw. 

Your once determined, hard-working, if a little bit dull friend only wipes the blood that stained his face without a modicum of empathy. Even from here, you can feel the silent fury that emanates from him. Anger that you once encouraged. 

“L-Listen Dorm Leader, we’re sorry. We won’t do it again. Just l-let us go.” The one still able to speak begs, but you can’t see even the slightest bit of hesitation on even one of your five friends' faces. You once hoped to hear those two words from those two after they’d appropriately learned not to mess with you. But instead, you hear them say it as the rest of their lives look much shorter than any of them could have wanted.

Riddle’s strict and cold look is just as he did when he was the Dreaded Crimson Tyrant he was a few days ago,  just like you’d asked him to be again. Instead of sparing them. “I would tell you to learn something from this, but you won’t be able to do much of anything in a few moments.”

So they’re dead. They’re going to die…

You want to will your body to do something, to run in there and intervene, or get help or just stop the madness about to happen. But you know that you can’t, no matter how much you deeply want to. 

Because revealing that you knew about this ‘secret’ is what got Winston a life of hell with his wife. You’d see the results of Winston’s revealing what he knew and the disaster that it gave Winston after it shattered the illusion of delightful companionship for the Queen, and sent his life into a downturn. And that precious illusion was one that the five of your friends were attempting to maintain, likely for their benefit and your suffering. The lie of a free choice was what would keep you rooted to the ground as the twisted show continues on before you. 

The execution begins, as Trey takes the axe from the block with ease. The sharpened blade sparkles in the moonlight. The gentle, comforting big brother visage is gone as Trey hefts the axe over his head, Cater holds down the unfortunate and visibly terrified delinquent. You can feel every muscle in your body brace for impact. 

A clean swishing sound fills the air followed by the sickening gush of blood and the crack of bone makes you squeak in terror. Silence follows, and then the quick, panicked grunting of the still living one realizing his inescapable fate. The first had lost his head, you don’t want to look at it. Tears prick your eyes as you struggle to stop yourself from bawling from the rush of fear and horror. 

And unfortunately for you, a noise loud and clear in the silent garden slips from your lips. You panic, quickly smothering the sound as fast as you can. But you can hear the silence in the execution grounds.

Followed by a loud, animalistic shriek of pain as Deuce punches the still living one clean across the face, smashing the already broken bones into dust under his fist and knocking out the poor man’s teeth. “Be quiet.” Deuce hisses so coldly that it makes shiver and tremble.

You’re thankful that they only heard it as a pain-filled noise from the still living victim, for all of three seconds once you put together that his suffering is increased because of the noise you made. You just kept making it worse for them, didnt you? One’s dead now because you had said too much and the other keeps suffering because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. This just keeps getting worse. 

“Hey wait a sec.” The sound of Ace’s hesitation makes your heart swell with hope. Maybe this wasn’t going to end as badly as you thought it was. It was horrible, and deeply devastating that an innocent person had to die first but by comparison one death was still better than two. “Let me get rid of this one.”

You spoke too soon. Damn it.

“Hm? You wanna off this one? Why tho?” 

“I was sort of powerless when these douches popped up the first time. And now, ______’s got her nose broken. ” Ace's usual carefree tone voice drops to a tone of ice cold rage. “Let me do this one.”

Deuce is still so angry that his face doesn’t show how hurt he was that he couldn’t protect you like he did earlier. But even from here you can see how he’s a little angry with himself that he allowed you to be put in harm’s way, you feel the same for a different, more justifiable reason. 

There’s silence for a few minutes, then Riddle says, “Fine, I’ll allow it. Trey.” Trey hands the ax to Ace, and you can watch the smile you once had thought was playful turns malicious. Trey instructs him as you try your damndest to tear your eyes away from the innocent victim that lies stuck as the other eyes of this sinister court prepare to witness his final moments.

The poor delinquent’s head is strapped into the same bloody leather cuff that his friend died in, and despite whatever pain he’s feeling, you can hear the pained whimpers he’s letting out in an attempt to plead for his life. He’ll be paid no heed. 

As Ace lifts the ax, you manage to tear your eyes away from the hole in the hedge, squeezing your eyes shut and clamping your hands tightly over your mouth, you’ll hear all the noises but maybe that’s what you deserve. At the very least, he doesn’t get to have the one that sentenced him see him die. Maybe it allows the other one to die with dignity. Or maybe not, because you didn’t even know their name. 

You flinch as the next crack of bone. And then, bite back a miserable sob as the wet ‘shlick’ of the axe cutting and slicing cleanly through muscle and other tissue echoes through the air. And then gasping in between silent sobs as the thud of the axe on the executioner’s block and the heavy thud of the head falling off the stump and metal rattle of it hitting the metal bucket. You fight the urge to shriek in terror horrified by the noises of death being mimicked unwillingly by the second as you hear the thump of a head rolling free of its neck a second time.

Another innocent lost. If your heart wasn’t beating so fast, and you weren’t struggling to keep quiet so hard maybe you would hear what they were saying clearer. You hang your head in your hands, and whimper as softly as you can. You don’t know how long you sit there. 

A sound resonates as if Riddle’s lifting the head to appreciate the handiwork of his punishment, before the head falls back into the bucket with a heavy clang, “There, _______ will be happy to know they’ve both been punished appropriately in accordance with Rule 810.” You aren’t, and if someone told you thinking that, you would have ran for your life, “Now all that is left is to get rid of the remains.”

“Oi, why do we have to do that?” 

“Shut up, Ace…. The sooner I don’t have to see them the better.”

Despite Deuce’s words, Ace doesn’t shut up, “Geez, you’re still such a tyrant, man…” Despite becoming a murderer, Ace still jokes and acts like a smartass, choosing to ignore the fact he’s probably still holding a murder weapon. 

You hear Riddle’s sharp intake of breath, “I should-!”

“Ah ah ah. If ______ finds out you punished me unfairly, I don’t think she’ll like you very much. Don’t want to risk that, do we?” You honestly would have just handed him over, considering mischievous and playful Ace just wacked someone’s head clean off with an axe because he just happened to hold you down as the other beat you up. Or maybe you wouldn't. Your mind is too much of a mess right now. 

You can hear the tiny grumble of Riddle’s as he’s forced to be silent for the sake of you, and you only pray that Ace actually doesn’t get murdered for even insinuating that he’s important to you. 

Trey jumps into peace maker probably to prevent Riddle from actually killing Ace this time. “Hey now, we all agreed that we’d discuss our…. situation in the morning.” That was certainly a word for it, having five people you barely knew obsessed with you to the point of killing someone because they broke your nose. “While we all hate our unfortunate circumstances surrounding ______,” You can hear the veiled anger and discontent in Trey’s voice as he says that. “We all agreed we’d figure it out in the morning.”

“Let’s be real, that’s if we don’t go full feral and tear each other apart first. No matter what we pretend to agree on, we all want her for ourselves. And honestly? The tension is palpable.” You hate how honestly and darkly Cater says that, you hate how the crime scene of a murder somehow got darker when you became the main subject. Of course, they talked about you. Of course, they all realised at some point during their collective anger at the delinquents that they all believed that you were somehow collectively their darling. 

What would happen if they literally killed each other over you, would you maybe wake up to find one or more of them suddenly vanished. 

You can hear Trey’s sigh of annoyance, “We’ll deal with that tomorrow. Right now, let’s get rid of…” There’s a soft thudding sound as if Trey is kicking the remains of the delinquents with his shoe. “them”

“Trey is correct. While this situation is less than ideal,” The darker emphasis Riddle adds onto those final three words sends another shover down your spine, “we will have time to discuss this in the morning. For now, let us be rid of the remains, before the maze is overrun with vermin.”

“And since you were so delighted to emphasize your role as ______ ‘favorite’” Once again, you can hear the anger and jealousy in Riddle’s voice as he drags that final word out, “ you wouldn’t mind cleaning this mess all up? After all, as her ‘clear favorite’ handling this must mean the words to you.”

Maybe earlier today, you would have laughed at Ace getting properly put in his place, now you can only feel numb. You can’t even laugh at Ace's noise of indignation, or at Deuce’s snarky statement, that he was on his own. There’s nothing you can enjoy. 

Especially with the sounds of heavy unliving flesh, being maneuvered like garbage into the burlap. The noises made as the bucket of human heads are emptied into the sack. You can only shudder as you bite your lips bloody to prevent another sound from leaving your mouth. 

What is there to do now? Two people are already dead. Do you just slink back to your dorm, like you weren’t even here tonight, and go to sleep like nothing happened?! Like no one died or begged for their lives. 

You can hear the shuffling of the burlap cease, and Deuce asks, “Dorm Leader, what exactly are we going to do with the bodies?” Bodies, because they’re no longer people. Because those two delinquents are just objects to be thrown away now…

“You’ll just bring them to the shed where we keep all of the garden’s supplies. While these two might have been lousy students have even lousier morals,” What a hypocritical thing to say after ordering two people to have their heads cut off. “At the very least we should be able to get some decent quality paint and feed out of them.” What the hell… what the hell did that mean?!

An “I don’t get ya.” from Ace doesn’t even begin to match your own scared curiosity. 

“What Riddle means to say, “ Trey interjects to explain, his voice calm as if he hadn’t just cut someone’s head off and instructed Ace on how to do it, “is that we use the remains, to make paint for the roses and food for the hedgehogs. For some reason, they really like the meat.” 

You have to choke back bile along with your tears. Disgust joins the pile of horrible emotions churning in your head and now in your stomach. Oh, sweet seven had Grim eaten human flesh when he ate the hedgehog food. You squeeze your eyes tight, begging to wake up from this nightmare, but you aren’t and now you have to choke back another wave of nausea. 

“Ah, alright, that’s…. What, we do what?!” You’re too numb from shock to be happy that Ace agrees with you on the utter horror that the remains are used for such disgusting things. 

And then Cater makes it worse, “FYI, we have full creative freedom with corpse disposal. This is our dorm’s time-honoured tradition. Yeah, it’s nasty but you don’t have to like it, but you’ve gotta deal with it. And the other dorms have way worse disposal methods. BTW: do not piss off anyone in Savanaclaw unless you’re tryna become someone’s midnight snack.” 

How could you have forgotten that crimes like fucking murder was legal on this island. Stomach acid burns the back of your throat. It’s like the longer you stay, the more you were punished for coming here in the first place. Why didn’t you just stay where you were?!

Whatever else they say becomes unintelligible to your brain, your mind too high on adrenaline to make sense of whatever they said. Because you can’t stay here any longer. You just can’t, just  sitting here alone in the dark hearing the drip by drip of blood pooling onto the stone and grass. 

With violently shaking hands, you clamber to your feet like a baby deer on their legs for the first time. Despite the shakiness, you run as fast as you can back into the maze, internally praying that no one heard you. You don’t care where you run.

Anywhere is fine when it’s far from the two people you are responsible for killing. 

*                    *                    *

Running aimlessly through a maze with the current racing heartbeat of a frightened gazelle and a head full of panicked, terrifying and agonizing thoughts, is in hindsight not a good idea. 

You would stumble and fall half a dozen times, as you followed the trail of your victims’ blood back through the maze. The now dry blood didn’t stick to your shoes, but it might as well have. It wouldn't have been split if not for you. On one of your falls the icy chill of the knife would press lightly, but still too deep, slicing your skin slightly but enough to make you bleed. You slapped a palm onto the now bleeding wound, and kept running. 

What else could you do?

You had just seen your ‘friends’ gang up on two injured people and just killed them, and were preparing to desecrate the remains of those two just to ‘make it up to you’. If you had just kept your mouth shut, none of this would have happened. 

You run all the way back to your dorm, trying to force down your tears and nausea, hoping that this was just a nightmare that you would wake up from…

No such luck.

As soon as you’re back in the ‘safety’ of the dorm's gates,you tremble violently. Every breath you take makes your chest stutter, as if every gulp of air in your poor lungs felt like it was your last. You felt like collapsing, dying even. 

The haze of your thoughts become clear again, like fog parting and fading away. The two delinquents, two innocent people who committed a crime not worthy of this kind of punishment, were murdered because you decided to not keep your mouth shut. Were going to be turned into literal paint and animal feed, because they had the gaul to lash out against you. Were punished….just like Winston had told you…..just like Winston saw.

You feel like you’re having an out of body experience, You want to be sick. Bile rises into your throat and burns the tongue. Your friends’ smiling faces are stained with innocent blood in your mind. Disgust, fear and guilt course through you to the point it numbs you from all else. Your legs turn to jelly and they buckle as you spiral. 

You fall onto your knees, still in that grieving, self-pitying daze. The nausea finally gets to you  and you retch, throwing up violently into the barely living bushes of Ramshackle. The sight of torn flesh, all that blood…… you spit whatever excess stays in your mouth as you fight to control your body’s functions.

“Oh, how curious~ Seems you didn’t like what you saw?~” Chenya’s voice sounds from behind you and you turn in time to find him standing over you as his body fades back into view. You’d forgotten he was even with you. He pulls you off the ground and into his arms. After all the stress and fear whirlwind you just experienced, you cry softly in Chenya’s warm embrace. You want to ignore him, as he keeps talking his cryptic nonsense but- “See, mew really couldn’t take it, hmm? Just think, if you’d never gone poking about, you wouldn’t be trembling at the thought of your friends~” -your mind slams into a brick wall as you realise something.

You pull away from the no longer comforting hug, to ask, “W-Why didn’t you do anything?” Chenya tilts his head as if he’s confused, so you clarify, “Y-You were with me the whole time… I-I know that I asked you to stay hidden but… couldn’t you have tried to save them? Y-You could have tried to, right?” 

Chenya doesn’t respond to that. 

His face blank of any of the mischief or his easygoing nature that it had a moment ago. Your gut twists in new anxiety, another dose of realization hits you at his silence and what Winston had said to you back in your dreams,‘~someone led me to the castle’ punishment room…~ Had that someone been the Cheshire Cat? And had you made an even worse mistake by trusting him to begin with!?

Your heart beats like it’s about to fail, and you try to pull away from Chenya’s hold completely but he holds you still. Now both panicked and infuriated, you scream in outrage, ““Why didn’t you do anything? You could have tried to help them out at any time. Why……Why didn’t you?!”

As if realizing your own realization, Chenya’s expression changes back to the complete opposite to how you feel. Carefree, unbothered as if he wasn’t there to watch two people beg for their lives, he finally answers with a now terrifying look on his face. “Heehee, ‘cause they’d have chopped me to bits, you curious little thing~”

“B-but you’re Riddle and Trey’s friend, they wouldn’t-” Shit no. “They wouldn’t….right?” You’re praying to whatever gods this world has for you to be right, Chenya only tilts his head with a thoughtful expression for a few agonising moments. 

“Nah, they would. Riddle would chop my catty little head clean off, and Trey would make me into pie if they found out I showed you that.” He smiles all too calm as he says that. His tail swishing peacefully from side to side as if nothing is wrong. 

“Then why did you tell me to go?!” Chenya was the reason you even went here to begin with. If he had told you about what they were planning, you never would have gone there to begin with. 

But Chenya doesn’t answer. “Then why!?” You yell. 

Chenya gives you a cheshire smile and an equally eerie laugh, which feels as small and helpless as a mouse in a mousetrap. “Didn't ya say that you want your friends to protect ya? Didn't ya say that you want your friends to be honest with ya? I only did what was right, and what you wanted. I peeled away the curtain, revealing the truth! Even showed you how dangerous they allare~ Isn’t that exactly what you wanted~?.”

“What the hell are you-” You’re immediately struck with the reminder of your earlier conversation with  Ace and Deuce when you hoped that they would now be honest with you. Because you wanted to feel safe. Chenya can be invisible. You felt the same feather light touch gracing your skin in the rose maze, he was there. And he heard you when he was invisible in the garden. “You were in the garden….earlier today”

“Mh hm!” Chenya nods excitedly. “Heard you wanted your friend to be normal, and I’m not normal. So I hadta make sure that you wouldn’t ever see them as normal again. And I like you. And, and I want you to like me! Did I do a good job?” He tilts his head playfully, like a cat trying to curry favour. 

Realization hits you in a cold wave. Chenya’s…. “You’re like them…” He's obsessed with you too, like they are. 

“Uhm mhm.” Chenya hums with a nod. 

And suddenly, his arms are around your waist holding your face uncomfortably close to his. “But don’t worry, I won’t hurt ya. Or anyone else,  I’m not allowed to kill anyone like everyone at NRC.” 

You try to shove yourself away but your attempts prove fruitless against Chenya's strong arms. “L-Lemme go.” He shakes his head. “Let me go!” you say more harshly, struggling your hardest to pull away and get out of his reach. 

“Nuh uh.” Chenya’s grip on you is tighter as you fight to get away.

With no choice and adrenaline coursing through your blood affecting your judgement, you change tactics. “Why me? Why me out of all the people in this world”

“Because you feel right. Holding ya makes me feel like my soul is whole again. And you smell nice. Better than alla Trey’s food.” To emphasize his point, Chenya buries his nose into the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath, sighing in satisfaction as he pulls away. “Yeah, and better than all the flowers in all that shop back home”. 

You remember what Trey said about darlings. Like being apart from them is like the other half of your soul is being torn from your body. But five, well now six, can’t be in the slightest bit normal, even for this world. 

Chenya keeps talking. “Following ya was fun. Especially since you smell so nice. You don’t even notice me.” How long was he following you? When did he start following you?!

“How-” He shushes you before you can finish your sentence. 

“Don’t worry about how, how is the brother of why and the cousin of but. And cousin but says you don’t hafta to be a darling for me to love ya, _____.”

“What….but I thought-”

“We just call you guys that because you mean so much to us. Darling or not, we’ll still love you.” Chenya pauses for a split second and you can feel your heartbeat boom so fast in your ears in anticipation that it’s deafening. “But no offense, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Your mind scrambles as you struggle to comprehend the mess of what you’d been told. This web of confusion gets worse the longer you spend caught in it. “But….why? Why are you all okay with killing someone if it means I’m safe or yours?”

“Because.”

“W-What?”

“Don’t think I didn’t wanna get rid of them too. They made your pretty blood come out.” Chenya’s cat-like eyes narrowed predatorily, “I wanted to watch them suffer.” 

But you didn’t. Not to this extent at least. You just wanted them to regret it for a little while, not having them live to regret it for what would be the rest of their short lives.“I-I need to do something, anything. I-” you stammer. You need to do something, need to tell Crowley or something, anything else!

Chenya cocks his head to the side in confusion, and that mischievous glint in Chenya’s eyes becomes backlit by a dark expression. “Why? Do you feel bad for ‘em?”

“Yes! Why the hell wouldn’t I-” Once again, Chenya interrupts you. Again, he brushes off your righteous anger and sadness. 

“You shouldn’t, wasn’t it what they deserved all along?” He boops you on the nose, smiling as he justifies the brutal murder of two innocents, “They went and smashed your poor nose after all. Forget about 'em.”

You’re struck dumb from shock. The complete void of human empathy that he, no, that all of them have is just horrible. And the fact he’s trying to convince you out of it is gut-wrenching. But no matter what he, or anyone else would or could say, you… just feel terrible. Because this feels like it was entirely your fault. 

Two people had been brutalized because you in a fit of rage ranted and raved about them being punished to the fullest extent. You had just been angry. The worst thing that you thought was going to happen was something somewhat logical and fair. Like them being suspended, or being forced to do the dorm’s hardest and most back breaking of chores. Not getting fucking murdered! Those two might have been complete assholes, but even complete assholes don’t deserve to pay in blood.

And the worst part?

It’s almost exactly like what Winston told you. An accident, whether intentional or not, committed by someone that did deserve to be punished fairly led to someone being beaten, beheaded and having their remains disrespected. And it was your fault, because you had made the critical mistake of telling all of them.

 Ace and Deuce, two people that had promised to treat you as you’d asked who then betrayed that and planned to do it behind your back. Trey, Cater and Riddle, all people you thought would have their own darlings who were not you, proceeded to prove you completely wrong as they too were obsessed with you. And then Chenya just had to add himself into this horrible mix.

You made the worst possible mistake. It’s all too much to process all at once. So you don’t. 

More specifically, you pass clean out into Chenya’s arms.

The Red King Holds A Bleeding Head.

The second your consciousness returns, all you can do is cry. The high of adrenaline has finally worn off, replacing it with pain and despair. The illusion of safety has finally dropped to reveal the true danger of your situation, and you can’t bear it. 

What did you do to deserve this? Being trapped in a world where people are truly monsters. You had thought Ace and Deuce would honor your request out of their love for you, but clearly you were woefully wrong, just like Winston had told you, they merely did it in the shadows like the Queen did. You had thought Trey, the gentle big brother figure that you thought he was, would never be capable of killing someone, much less using an axe to sever the head of an innocent man off their body without a care in the world, but he did. You didn’t think Cater would be able to torture someone, much less making jokes and posting about it on his Magicam, but he did. You didn’t think Riddle would break one of the most common laws by killing someone so brutally, but he did. They all did something you would never even think that they were capable of, and they’d spend the rest of their lives normally despite it. 

And their reasoning was, because those two had hurt you, they deserved to die. If you had just gone back to Ramshackle after those two confronted you, none of this would have happened. Those two delinquents would be alive and they probably would have just gotten their butts kicked without any of their spilt blood being used to paint the garden roses. You sob for the lives you’d unintentionally ended, because you never thought they'd sink that low.  This was your fault, because you were stupid. Because you were spiteful. 

And now two innocent lives were snuffed out. Because of you.

In your grief, you slam your fist against the floor in misery…

Only to feel something mushy make contact with your hand. 

Confused, you open your teary eyes to inspect whatever made contact with your hand. Only to be horrified at the sight of brown flesh, the stinking of decay staining your hand. This is the substance of decomposition, created out of human remains. You look down to find that your fist made contact with what remained of a human skull. Flesh still sticking to bone, and the face contorted in horror. 

You scream in terror, only for your other hand to make contact with something else, hard and brittle rather than squishy. You turn around to find that your other hand hit the flesh less remains of a human skull, the spinal cord severed at the neck, as if they’d been beheaded. 

In abject horror, you scan the floor where pile after pile of human heads, some decomposing, some just skulls and some whole, scattered across the tiny room. You put two and two together as bile floods the back of your throat. This is the cell Winston mentioned, and you realise in horror and grief that he was recaptured by the Queen of Hearts. While the room is dark, there’s a source of light behind you that actually helps you see all the heads scattered across the floor like a macabre ball pit. You hurriedly scan the room for the source of light, and in your haste-filled confusion, you spot something that makes your heart sink. 

A figure sits by candlelight, partially illuminated by a heart-shaped red flame. You recognise them to be Winston, and your heart fills with even more grief and pain as you realise that it means he was dragged back to the Queen’s palace. This must be the room that he begged to not be returned to. Heads in different states of decomposition surround him, red, or at least you think that’s what color they are, chains with heart shaped links chain him to the floor, clinking and rattling together as he moves them in his lap. Winston is murmuring something, unintelligible to you, to himself, whispered so softly that your ears can’t pick the words up. 

Either way, your failure, yours and his, is the most noticeable aspect. Winston failed to escape, that was the most miserable part of this whole room, possibly stuck permanently with his controlling, obsessive wife. Still, you realised the same trend in his story with real life. Maybe, there were more similarities. So, despite your nervousness, you call out to him. “Winston?”

Winston immediately shuts up. The chains stop rattling. Eerie silence fills the room. It lasts an eternity, and you can hear the barely audible sound of flame flickering over all else. It makes you anxious, and desperate to know what transpired while you were gone. “Winston? Can you answer me?” You try again, pushing for a reply from the now completely silent king. 

<.....I’ve really gone mad, haven’t I?> Winston’s first words fill the room with an oppressive atmosphere. Winston curls in on himself, continuing his painful monologue while sounding absolutely miserable, <...I thought the voices weren’t real, but you keep coming back. And I keep listening… None of this would have happened if I hadn’t listened.>

What… What had happened in the time you were gone? “Winston, I’m not fake, I’m real.” You try to reason, stepping closer to touch him and assure him of your existence. “What happened while I was gone? Did Alice escape?” She has to. The story ends with her returning home, and if she did, then it’s proof you have a way out. 

<Why do you keep coming back? Is she trying to punish me more?> Winston doesn’t answer you, instead continuing  his rant with his voice going from miserable to erratic. <Is this my punishment for being a disobedient husband?>

“Winston, you’re not. I’m- I was just trying to help you. I’m sorry.” You push your fingers just a few inches away from his back. 

Just before your fingers touch him, he says something that makes you freeze and your blood run ice-cold. <It is, isn't it. I should have obeyed her. She wouldn’t be dead…. If I had just obeyed her.>

Fear fills you, joining the mess of terror pooling inside you. You want to hope it’s not true, you send a silent prayer, pleading for it to not be true.  “W-Who wouldn’t be dead, if you obeyed her.”

Winston doesn’t answer this time, instead he turns to face you. And nothing more needs to be said. 

Rosy skin gone pallid. Terrified blue eyes rolled  to the back of her head. Blonde hair cut parallel to the stump of her neck with the ends stained and matted with drying blood. A face slumped lifelessly. Cradled tightly in the tender embrace of the Red King’s arms, held as gently as when a loving father holding his firstborn……

…..is Alice’s Decapitated Head.

You can’t even scream in terror as bile floods the back of your throat, silencing any scream like Alice had been so cruelly. You choke as you try to stop yourself from throwing up, your legs slipping out from underneath you as your body floods with horror. 

Alice never escaped. She died in Wonderland.

Images of the delinquents' decapitated heads flash into your vision in the place of Alice’s head. Horrific reminders of the deaths you caused silence you, and Winston starts talking again, making the pool of dread flood the rest of your body.

<I just wanted to save her. Just one. After all the others, I just wanted to save one.> Tears trail down Winston’s eyes as he speaks, squeezing the head closer to his body. His kingly garb stained a deep crimson in Alice’s blood. <If… If I had just been obedient, she wouldn’t have died. She wouldn’t have suffered. Like all the others.>

Winston’s ‘disobedience’ caused the deaths of so many people, all thrown away in here to be his reminder and this one on his lap was the latest addition. Alice would eventually rot and decay, just like all the others. 

<There were more, they rotted away… many years ago….. If I had just behaved, if I just gave in much sooner, none of them would be here.> As each word falls from his lips, you feel the crushing chain of dread lock around your throat like a noose and chaining you down like Winston is to the floor. You had unintentionally caused two deaths, Winston unintentionally caused dozens, maybe hundreds. 

A question pops into your mind despite the mental anguish, “Was…was the someone that led you to witnessing the first death…. The Cheshire Cat?”

<...> Winston is silent at first, and then, <....Yes.>

And that confirmed the reality of this. This mess, like yours, the mental anguish and grief that the both of you now were experiencing was because the obsessed took matters into their own hands and killing the innocent. With hindsight, you now can see just how much these deaths became the thing that broke him. Because you had seen two, and that already was breaking you.  The Red Queen used the deaths of innocents to manipulate and control her Red King until he gave into her and stopped fighting her abuse. Would that happen to you?

It felt like it already was…. but there was still one hope.

“B-But you can still escape, right?” You ask, trying to cling onto some semblance of hope in this horrific situation. There’s still the doorway he showed you. The locked one that required a magic key that he’d held onto for years.  “You have the key to the doorway, you can still escape at any-” 

<No, I can’t.> Chills race up and down your spine at the speed of light. 

“Why?” You ask, because it’s all you can say. 

<Because the key’s been destroyed.> Winston replies, his eyes blank and dead. As if saying that sentence sucked the life out of him. And similarly, it sucks the life, energy and whatever joy remains out of you. 

“W-What do you mean?” Winston raises his left hand, a new ring is wrapped over his finger. One that rests right above what you think is his wedding ring. And you recognise the jewel immediately. From the key he showed you. From the one and only key that unlocked the only exit from this world. 

Winston still explains, <Mary said that if I wanted to escape so much and if this key meant so much to me, then I could wear it forever. That it could become a sign of my love and faithfulness, and a reminder that she’ll never let me leave her.>

Horror twists violently in your gut. The one way out, the only way out that had proof that it could work had been destroyed. It had been destroyed centuries ago. There was no way out again. And you were trapped to experience the same horrible fate that Winston was experiencing. To be broken by their yanderes’ love.

<I can’t blame her for it. She’s the one that put up with me disobeying her for so long. And if I didn’t want her to execute anyone, I should have been a loyal and faithful husband, or should have stayed safe so she wouldn’t have to kill anyone to protect me.> Winston’s words chill you to your core. Terrify you of what he turned into, what you might be turned into, <No one dies if I stay. I… I keep her calm. And if I’m loving to her, she doesn’t get mad. If I do as she says, and love her… no one will get hurt.>

“I…I,” You struggle to find the right words to represent your despair. Your one way known way out was long gone, and Winston, over the course of four trips to the dream world, became the perfect sign what you’d become one day should you stay here. You feel as if you can’t breathe.

<If I love her, no one gets hurt.> Winston’s lips curl upwards into a strained yet crazed smile. <So, I’ll love her forever, so no one dies.> His expression is the picture of brokenness, of giving up in the name of survival, of being forced to go down a path that ends with you giving in and never returning home. 

“Y-You don’t have to-” You try to reason with him, to remind him that he doesn’t have to accept this kind of life. But his hands shoot and grasp at your neck so tightly that breathing is impossible. 

<Be quiet! You don’t understand!! I won’t suffer if I’m good!! I won’t be afraid if I do what she wants!!!> He yells whilst choking you, shaking you manically. A thump resounds to your right, as Alice’s head slips from off his lap. <I’ll be happy if I do what she wants! I’ll be happy if I love her!!>

And that’s what he screams over and over, his grip tightening with each scream. Soon you can’t make out words, or shapes or light. Your world fades to black, and you hope just a little bit that you don’t wake up. 

Alice will never Return Home.

Unfortunately, your hopes coming true and you aren’t something that go together. 

“Nya.. You’re back!” You open your eyes to find Chenya in front of you, staring down at you from the couch he’d probably laid you on. “Didja have a nice catnap?” You stay silent, still shaking from fear and horror from what you'd experienced. “Still not talking, huh?”

“Go away…” You murmur. You feel so miserable, all you want to do is crawl in a deep hole and stay there. You turn away until he’s completely out of your view. “Leave me alone…” Isolation might be the only thing that will keep you sane. Saner than Winston at least. You shiver at the idea of experiencing a relationship with a yandere to the extent of what he had. 

“Aww, you want me to leave? Nya, okay..” You can hear the whine and pout in his voice, but you’re just glad he’s going to be gone. “But just so ya know,” Chenya’s arms wrap tightly around your body, squeezing you in a hug with his head on your shoulder. “ Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. If ya ignore me for too long then I’ll really want to see you again, _____.”

Chills race up and down your spine from his words. Being far from them will push them to do whatever it takes to see you again. And that whatever might mean being taken against your will so that he can see you forever. 

Noticing your growing terror, he literally purrs out some words of ‘consolation’. “Aww, don’t be scared, I won’t be too far. Buh-bye _____~” The pressure of Chenya’s arms vanish, followed by his voice and his presence and now all you’re left with are Grim’s sleepy snores.

And after that, you break down. 

Your body is wracked with uncontrollable sobs. They’re so loud that they’re practically wails of misery. You shake with every sob, curled up into a tight and miserable ball on one of the couches. Your sobs echo through the walls of the condemned building, causing the ghosts to poke their heads out to check on you. But you just keep crying. 

Even when you run out of tears, even when your eyes and head burn, even when your throat aches from utter pain, you keep crying until your body is too tired to keep at it. And even then you whimper in your tight ball as you feel the exhaustion and despair finally set in. 

You crack your dry eyes open, staring at the blood that had dried against your palms. It’s yours from the wound on your head and small cut on your abdomen but the sight suddenly sickens you and you gag violently. You didn’t even get the opportunity to run to the bathroom with how much bile is spilling into your mouth, instead all the disgust you’ve felt in the last few hours ends up in the kitchen sink. But in the wake of your horrific day, this doesn’t even score. 

You scowl in distaste at the blood, grabbing the soap. and cranking the water to the hottest temperature, which isn’t that great but you’d rather stick your bloody hands into a basin of boiling water if it meant the blood could come off as fast as possible. You don’t give a damn about how much your skin burns. You need to get the blood off of you. Your skin burns to the touch as you violently scrub your face and arms, the wound on your head throbs but you don’t care. The sight, no, the thought of blood nauseates you. It reminds you of the two innocent people that just got exsanguinated to become rose paint and hedgehog food. 

Innocent blood. Two innocent people were dead, because of a bullshit reason. You can’t decide on whether to laugh or cry at the fact this entire mess started because of an egg yolk. Because you bumped into someone and broke a yolk, two people were just tortured and beheaded to have their blood be used to paint the Heartslabyul garden’s roses.

Despite your dehydration, tears well up in your eyes. None of this would have happened if you never came here, sure; but nothing would have been born out of this if you just accepted Trey’s offer, paid attention to where you were going or even kept your fat mouth shut. If you never did any of those things, those two people would have been alive! You didn’t even know what their names were, and now they were dead. DEAD.

The last of it finally, finally comes off, revealing too red skin. And then another wave of uncontrollable nausea hits you. You vomit right back into the kitchen sink. You can’t help it. Horror and disgust have taken root in your gut, growing like weeds and curling around your lungs and stomach. 

You sob miserably. Why did this have to happen to you? Why did this happen to them? And why, why did they have to drop you in a world which had its only known way out destroyed years ago. Probably centuries before NRC was even founded. You were trapped, hopelessly trapped. 

You don’t even have the strength to cry. All you can do is collapse onto the cracked linoleum. Your body sags from exhaustion, and you can’t even think of a plan or have even a semblance of optimism. Your spiraling thoughts are too stress-filled to think rationally. You don’t know how to react or who to turn to. 

It’s terrifying, disheartening even, that it's similar. The reality between you and Winston. Two people thrown into a whole new world with new excitements and dangers, both assuming that this world would just be a fun little side adventure only to realize that the people here are absolutely crazy and they’re not allowed to leave. It’s painful to realise, but it’s inevitable. 

Eventually exhaustion calms your whimpers. And though you’re already weary from your tears, you crawl back into the living area, where Grim was sleeping soundly right where you left him on the couch, unaware of the horrors you just experienced. You drag your fingers through his fur to comfort yourself, feeling his gentle heartbeat under your fingertips. You feel another trail of tears stream down your face as you’re reminded he wouldn’t be sleeping like death if Trey hadn’t poisoned the two of you. And you would have never known about the poisoning if Grim hadn’t eaten most of it. 

A part of you wishes you had just finished the drugged treats and never saw what you had seen, but it’s too late for that now. Regrets are all you have now. You sniffle as you wipe the runoff of tears and snot from your burning skin, still feeling as terrified and stressed as you did when you scrubbed a layer of your skin off. 

You can’t lie to yourself and say that you weren’t wrong about anything here. Because you had been wrong. So woefully wrong. 

If this world ever had any hope of being saved from the insanity it had descended into, it died before you arrived. There was no talking it out, or pulling at the strings of their hearts, they were monsters held back only by their obsessive love for someone that might never reciprocate it. They would lie to your face about respecting your boundaries, and stab someone in their neck the moment you looked away. In the end, the dorm you once thought would be full of potential friends, were as controlling as tyrants. They cared not for how you felt about it, as long as they got what they wanted from you, your wishes came second. And they’d lie as long as the day about following them. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised.

In another world, maybe you could have been friends with all of them. Close friends with the playful Ace and determined Deuce. Friends with the changed Riddle, the gentle Trey and the upbeat Cater. Maybe you would be able to hang out with them all, spending time with them in the innocent fun you had today. Tea/study parties with Riddle. Baking with Trey. Taking magicam photos together with Cater. Losing at poker against Ace with Deuce. All that innocent, platonic and, if the mood checked out and you weren’t afraid of risking it, romantic. 

But this wasn’t that world. 

Realisation is like an axe to the base of your neck, slicing a neck from the stump and ending the life of whatever naivete you had since you discovered the truth of this world. Just like Alice’s, just like the delinquents. 

You were so wrong. And so stupid. But there’s only one thing that you’re absolutely sure of. 

You don’t want to end up like Winston….

THE RED KING HOLDS A BLEEDING HEAD. CHAPTER 1 END.

[miloscozycorner]

𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬.

Caregiver!Wanda Maximoff x Regressor!Reader

• After a meltdown makes you go nonverbal, Wanda helps you communicate your big feelings together.

cw: age regression

( 1109 Words )

The fuzzy carpet felt cool on your bare legs, your oversized shirt scrunching up and resting on your upper thighs. The room had grown chilly from Wanda opening the porch door just a crack, the wind sneaking its way into the living room.

Your tears had finally dried, your chin now resting on your crossed arms. It felt silly, the meltdowns. It just got all too much. The lights, the noises. Trying to make your brain be a bigger kiddo, make the words come out right.

But Wanda understood it all, of course. She always did. When the words had started to jumble on your tongue, and when with a cry of frustration you had given up, she was quick to sit. Quick to let you squeeze her hand until it grew pale.

“Hey bubby. I got you your cards.”

Wanda’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you craned your neck to see her patter towards you, taking a crossed legged seat on the carpet a few steps away from you.

“Mama even added some stickers,” she added, her lips curling upwards when you let out a soft giggle. Your eyes followed the stickers on the laminated cards, a variety of animals stuck on them.

You took a moment to shuffle through the cards, before picking one to show. The word “like” was printed on it in bold letters, with a galaxy themed background. Wanda had let you help make all the cards months ago.

With a tap, you showed Wanda the card, and she tilted her head towards the sticker arrangement. “You like the stickers, munchkin?”

An enthusiastic nod.

Wanda paused, spreading the cards before glancing at you. Her playful expression died down, her face turning a bit more serious. But the softness in her eyes and the gentle tilt of her lips remained.

“Do you want to talk to mama about those big feelings you had?” Wanda suggested, glancing up at you. You took a breath in, your brows furrowing while you searched for a card.

“Yes”.

Wanda nodded, shuffling in place. “Okay little one, good job using your cards!” she praised, not missing the ways your eyes lit up from it. “Now, can you tell me what was making those big feelings overflow?” she questioned, tilting her head.

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip before answering. “Loud”. “Light”. “Hungry”.

“And all that together made you feel not so good, bunny?” You hummed in agreement, slightly frowning. Wanda was quick to notice, adding on reassurance. “And you know that’s okay, honey. I know it can get pretty overwhelming. But mama got you a snack, and a worksheet. How would you feel about trying that?”

There was a brief pause before you gave a nod of agreement, and observed Wanda stand up, disappearing for a moment down the hallway before coming back, a slip of paper and a box of crayons in hand and a bag of Goldfish in the other.

She sat down cross-legged once more, this time beside you instead of across from you. Your shoulders relaxed, a flutter in your stomach forming when she sat.

“Do you want to sit in mama’s lap? Or, we can sit beside each other and I can help you color.” Wanda offered, waiting for you.

For a moment it seemed she almost forgot until she added on, quick to repair her mistake. “Oh goodness! I’m sorry honey. Mama almost forgot you’re not up for words today. I know big words are difficult for tiny babies! How about you hold up one finger for sitting in my lap, and two for coloring together? Is that okay, little bird?”

You gave a small smile at her remembrance, before holding up one finger. Wanda’s lips curled upwards, grinning happily at you before scooping you under your arms and adjusting you to sit on her thigh. The scent of strawberry perfume calmed your senses further, any lingering weight on your chest fading away.

She stretched her arms over to the coffee table next to you, grabbing a hard-cover book and placing the sheet on top of it, before adjusting it so it was on top of your lap.

“Now, you see all these colors? We can use these colors to fill up the cup to show how you were feeling earlier. So, blue is for sad. Green is for scared. Red is for mad. Yellow is for embarrassed. Can you do that for me, honey?”

You gave a nod, picking out the green crayon first and allowing Wanda to sneak a couple Goldfish into your mouth to chew. Your hand hesitated, hovering over the paper before filling half the cup with green.

After a moment, you added some yellow. Your grip on the crayon grew more sturdy, less shaky.

Wanda watched carefully, helping you take more bites of your snack. Then a bit of blue, finishing the cup.

The crinkling of the Goldfish bag and the scents of the newly bought crayons made a soft smile tug at your lips just ever so slightly, the fear, the anxiety, everything, slipping out of your grasp.

You looked up at Wanda for approval, giggling when she gave you a wide grin.

Wanda gave a hum of approval, setting the empty bag of Goldfish down next to her as you showed the piece to her. “Wow, bubby! You did such a good job drawing out all of those big feelings for mama,” she praised, sticking a light kiss on your forehead.

She adjusted you momentarily, her strong arms lifting you gently under your armpits, settling you on her hip. The paper was placed neatly on the coffee table by the pack of crayons, and your deck of communication cards were placed in your hand.

“Do you want to go cuddle upstairs with mama?” Wanda offered, stopping by the kitchen to throw away your bag and glancing down at you.

You flipped through your cards. “Yes.” More shuffling. “Please.”

“Oh my, such a good job using your cards, bubba!” Wanda praised, beaming down at you and running slender fingers through your hair. “Come on, let mama give you lots of snuggles tonight.”

You felt your eyes grow a bit heavier, the feeling of soft hands supporting your weight and the sound of Wanda’s gentle footsteps with the creaking wooden stairs lulling you.

“It’s okay to sleep pumpkin, mama will be here when you’re up.” You heard Wanda mumble into your ear, the comforting warmth of her breaths fanning onto your cheek.

So, you allowed yourself to slip into a comforting sleep, free from the day’s stress, held in the love Wanda always gave so freely.

[acti-veg]

Leather vs. Pleather: 8 Myths Debunked

Since we are all beyond tired of seeing the same regurgitated leather posts every day, I've compiled and briefly debunked some of the most common myths peddled about leather and pleather… So hopefully we can all move on to talk about literally anything else.

1) Leather is not sustainable.

Approximately 85% of all leather (almost all leather you'll find in stores) is tanned using chromium. During the chrome tanning process, 40% of unused chromium salts are discharged in the final effluents, which makes it's way into waterways and poses a serious threat to wildlife and humans. There are also significant GHG emissions from the sheer amount of energy required to produce and tan leather.

Before we even get the cow's hide, you first need to get them to slaughter weight, which is a hugely resource-intensive process. Livestock accounts for 80% of all agricultural land use, and grazing land for cattle likely represents the majority of that figure. To produce 1 pound of beef (and the subsequent hide), 6-8 pounds of feed are required. An estimated 86% of the grain used to feed cattle is unfit for human consumption, but 14% alone represents enough food to feed millions of people. On top of that, one-third of the global water footprint of animal production is related to cattle alone. The leather industry uses greenwashing to promote leather as an eco-friendly material. Leather is often marketed as an eco-friendly product, for example, fashion brands often use the Leather Working Group (LWG) certificate to present their leather as sustainable. However, this certification (rather conveniently) does not include farm-level impacts, which constitute the majority of the negative environmental harm caused by leather.

2) Leather is not just a byproduct.

Some cows are raised speciifically for leather, but this a minority and usually represents the most expensive forms of leather. This does not mean that leather is just a waste product of beef and dairy, or that it is a completely incidental byproduct; it is more accurate to call leather a tertiary product of the beef and dairy industries. Hides used to fetch up to 50% of the total value of the carcass, this has dropped significantly since COVID-19 to only about 5-10%, but this is recovering, and still represents a significant profit margin. Globally, leather accounts for up to 26% of major slaughterhouses’ earnings. Leather is inextricably linked to the production of beef and dairy, and buying leather helps make the breeding, exploitation and slaughter of cows and steers a profitable enterprise.

3) Leather is not as biodegradable as you think.

Natural animal hides are biodegradable, and this is often the misleading way leather that sellers word it. "Cow hide is fully biodegradable" is absolutely true, it just purposely leaves out the fact that the tanning process means that the hide means that leather takes between 25 and 40 years to break down. Even the much-touted (despite it being a tiny portion of the market) vegetable-tanned leather is not readily biodegradable. Since leather is not recyclable either, most ends up incinerated, or at landfill. The end-of-life cycle and how it relates to sustainability is often massively overstated by leather sellers, when in fact, it is in the production process that most of the damage is done.

4) Leather is not humane.

The idea that leather represents some sort of morally neutral alternative to the evils of plastic is frankly laughable, at least to anyone who has done even a little bit of research into this exploitative and incredibly harmful industry. Cows, when properly cared for, can live more than fifteen years. However, most cows are usually slaughtered somewhere around 2-3 years old, and the softest leather, most luxurious leather comes from the hide of cows who are less than a year old. Some cows are not even born before they become victim to the industry. Estimates vary, but according to an EFSA report, on average 3% of dairy cows and 1.5 % of beef cattle, are in their third-trimester of pregnancy when they are slaughtered.

Slaughter procedures vary slightly by country, but a captive bolt pistol shot to the head followed by having their throats slit, while still alive, is standard industry practice. This represents the “best” a slaughtered cow can hope for, but many reports and videos exist that suggest that cows still being alive and conscious while being skinned or dismembered on the production line is not uncommon, some of these reports come from slaughterhouse workers themselves.

5) Leather often involves human exploitation.

The chemicals used to tan leather, and the toxic water that is a byproduct of tanning, affect workers as well as the environment; illness and death due to toxic tanning chemicals is extremely common. Workers across the sector have significantly higher morbidity, largely due to respiratory diseases linked to the chemicals used in the tanning process. Exposure to chromium (for workers and local communities), pentachlorophenol and other toxic pollutants increase the risk of dermatitis, ulcer nasal septum perforation and lung cancer.

Open Democracies report for the Child Labour Action Research Programme shows that there is a startlingly high prevalence of the worst forms of child labour across the entire leather supply chain. Children as young as seven have been found in thousands of small businesses processing leather. This problem is endemic throughout multiple countries supplying the global leather market.

6) Pleather is not a ‘vegan thing’.

Plastic clothing is ubiquitous in fast fashion, and it certainly wasn’t invented for vegans. Plastic leather jackets have been around since before anyone even knew what the word vegan meant, marketing department have begun describing it as ‘vegan leather’ but it’s really no more a vegan thing than polyester is. Most people who wear pleather are not vegan, they just can’t afford to buy cow’s leather, which remains extremely expensive compared to comparable fabrics.

It is striking how anti-vegans consistently talk about how ‘not everyone can afford to eat plant-based’ and criticise vegans for advocating for veganism on that basis, yet none of them seem to mind criticisms directed at people for wearing a far cheaper alternative than leather. You can obviously both be vegan and reduce plastic (as we all should), but vegans wear plastic clothing for the same reason everyone else does: It is cheaper.

7) Plastic is not the only alternative.

When engaging in criticism of pleather, the favourite tactic seems to be drawing a false dilemma where we pretend the only options are plastic and leather. Of course, this is a transparent attempt to draw the debate on lines favourable to advocates of leather, by omitting the fact that you can quite easily just buy neither one.

Alternatives include denim, hemp, cork, fiber, mushroom fiber, cotton, linen, bamboo, recycled plastic, and pinatex, to name a few. Alternatives exist for everything from materials designed to ensure sub-zero temperatures and specialist motorcycle equipment. There are exceptions in professions like welding, where an alternative can be difficult to source, but nobody needs a jacket, shoes or a bag that looks like leather. For most of us, leather is a luxury item that doesn’t even need to be replaced at all.

If you'd like to see a detailed summary of the comparison between leather/wool and plastic, as well as the available alternatives, you can find that here.

8) Leather is not uniquely long-lasting.

The longevity of leather is really the only thing it has going for it, environmentally speaking. Replacing an item less often means fewer purchases, and will likely have a lower environmental impact than one you have to replace regularly. Leather is not unique in this respect, however, and the idea that it is, is mostly just effective marketing.

As your parents will tell you, a well-made denim jacket can last a lifetime. Hemp and bamboo can both last for decades, as can cork and pinatex. Even cotton and linen can last for many years when items are looked after well. While some materials are more hard wearing than others, how long an item will last is mostly the result of how well made the product is and how well it is maintained, not whether or not the item is leather.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Something to keep you safe

When Logan has to leave he leaves you with a certain something to keep you company

I heard the sound of boots crunching on gravel and turned to see him approaching, his figure solid and reliable as always. He had that familiar look in his eyes—a mix of determination and something softer, more guarded.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, his voice rough but warm.

“Hey, Logan,” I replied, trying to mask the anxiety that had been gnawing at me all day. Logan was heading out on another mission, and though I’d seen him leave countless times before, the worry never got any easier.

He stopped in front of me, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. For a moment, neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. There was an unspoken understanding between us, built over years of shared battles and quiet moments like this one.

“Got somethin’ for you,” Logan said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff, as though he was embarrassed by whatever he was about to do.

I blinked in surprise as he pulled something out from behind his back, hidden within the folds of his jacket. It was a small, stuffed wolverine, the animal’s fur a mix of brown and gold, with tiny black eyes that seemed to stare up at me with a fierce determination that mirrored Logan’s own.

“For when I’m not around,” he said, his tone casual, but the weight of his words heavy with meaning.

I reached out, taking the stuffed animal from his hands. It was soft and small, fitting perfectly into my palm. I looked up at him, a thousand questions and emotions swirling in my chest, but all I managed was a quiet, “Thank you.”

Logan shrugged, but I could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Figured you could use a bit of company. Plus, it’s a wolverine. Thought it was fitting.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. Trust Logan to pick out something like this. It was thoughtful in a way only he could be—practical, yet deeply personal.

“I’ll keep it close,” I promised, clutching the little wolverine to my chest. It was silly, maybe, to feel comforted by something so small, but knowing it came from Logan made it feel like more than just a toy. It was a reminder that, no matter where he went, a part of him would always be with me.

Logan reached out, ruffling my hair with a hand that was far gentler than his rough exterior suggested. “You take care of yourself, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know,” I said, though the words felt heavy in my mouth. I hated the waiting, the not knowing if he’d come back in one piece. But I’d learned to trust Logan—if anyone could survive whatever the world threw at them, it was him.

With one last look, Logan turned and headed toward the jet, his stride purposeful. I watched him go, the stuffed wolverine still clutched in my hands. As the jet’s engines roared to life and it lifted off the ground, I kept my eyes on it until it disappeared into the darkening sky.

When it was finally gone, I looked down at the little wolverine. It was just a toy, but somehow, it felt like so much more. I hugged it close, a small smile on my lips.

“I’ll be waiting,” I whispered to the empty sky, knowing that wherever Logan was, he’d find his way back home. He always did.

[moodygirlzz]

Dating when your 2ft

Mini Giants are my favourite.

The first thing you wake to is the feeling of weight. A mountain of quilt and warm muscle flattening you into the mattress. At barely two feet tall, you’re a little taller than a housecat, and right now you’re about as helpless as one that has been pinned beneath a sofa cushion.

It’s a pocket of stale warmth, your own little airless cave, stinking (comfortingly) of body wash and last night’s tea. You push against the wall of frabic, but your arms aren’t even long enough to dent the blanket fort sealing you in.

Above, something rumbles, a sleepy thunderclap tucked inside an ordinary human chest. You know that sound. Even when it is muffled through the mountain of blankets atop of you. You could pinpoint who that was even if it were storming outside

“Baaaabe…?” The sound vibrates the mattress coils. Your ribs buzz like tuning forks.

You kick until one bare foot pokes free. Instantly a hand, each finger thicker than your wrist, sweeps across the bed. It drags over your calf, your hip, then presses flat to your sternum. The entire heel of their palm spans shoulder to shoulder on your tiny frame.

“There you are.” Their morning voice is a gravel pit, half words, half purr. You squawk as they roll you, blanket and all~into the curve of their arms like a burrito.

“I can’t breathe,” you squeak, voice muffled in cotton.

“Didn’t ask you to.” They peel the duvet back from your face, and dawn light spills in. Your giant~ six-foot-something of bed-headed menace, squints at you. Eyes puffy, lips parted, hair everywhere. You get precisely one second to inhale.

Their lips pucker. Then they kiss.

Their mouth eclipses half your mouth and chin, some cheek too, hot and damp. You feel the plush weight of their upper lip slide from forehead, then chin, smearing drool. They hastily unravel you from the blankets so that they may continue their morning barrage of kisses. You’re easily flung from the sheets, now held in both of their hands like a prized figurine.

Your left breathless as their large mouth attacks your small face. Chin, forehead, cheek, other cheek. Neck, cheek, nose. Oh my god. A single finger tugs down your shirt collar, a kiss lands on your collarbones; another kiss turns into a large tongue slurping across your entire abdomen, ribs tickling from their stubble.

Like some kind of animal.

“Yuck! Stop!” You thrash. They just laugh, a rumble so low it tickles your bare soles. Then they fold you tighter against their chest. Your whole front molds to their left pec, the muscle as firm as a springy mattress topper, skin heated like a radiator. Every breath lifts you an inch; every exhale drops you like an elevator.

“Too much,” you gasp, scrambling, planting both palms on their sternum. Your arms barely reach nipple to nipple, which you’ve noticed have hardened in the cool morning air beneath their shirt.

You push~ nothing. Trying to budge 98 kilos of “morning monster” is like shoving a fridge.

They only growl, deep in their throat, a low, lazy diesel engine of possessiveness. When you try to slip down their torso, the arm beneath you hooks up, forearm thicker than your thigh, rolling you higher until your cheek smears into the soft hollow of their throat. Their pulse trundles under your lips, big and slow.

“Stay,” they instruct, voice reverberating through bone. “Please~ just cuddle me for a bit,” they groan “I need attention” they whine.

You squirm harder. You grumble about your back, your pride, your bruised dignity, but the truth is, you crave this too. The chaos. The closeness. Them.

They answer with nuzzles, broad nose dragging across your ear; lips suctioning at your cheek; a playful nip that makes your whole leg jolt. Schlurp. A hot stripe of tongue up the side of your neck leaves you slick.

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, wiping drool.

“I’m awake now,” they correct, grinning so wide their dimples look like twin sinkholes. “And you’re breakfast.” Another cavernous kiss mwaaaas your belly, the impact folding you like a taco. Your spine cracks pleasantly.

You swing a flat hand at their chin. Trying to shove them off. They barely budge, just huff a pleased noise and tuck you even tighter, palms overlapping across your back so that your ribs creak. Buried under their crossed forearms, you can’t even wriggle; the thick weave of their sleep shirt rasps your cheek with every futile breath.

“Need…air,” you manage.

“Need…you,” they echo, mock-serious, breath ghosting hot across your scalp.

Finally you go limp. Not because they’ve won.. well, partly~ but because the steady drum of their heart under your hands is hypnotic. Boom…boom…each beat a gentle quake rocking your entire torso. Your own heart, hummingbird-fast, gradually syncs down.

“Fine.. five more minutes. But then I need air. And a coffee” you mumble into their clavicle, voice half smothered, breathing heavily.

“Okay~” They grin against your hair, rubbing a cheek against the top of your head.

You smile in return. But, in petty protest, you chomp the tip of their chin, just a nip, enough to leave faint teeth dents. They gasp theatrically, jerking, and the blanket avalanche re-buries you both.

They then roll, pinning you beneath their chest until you’re basically begging for freedom. And oxygen.

They’re never hurting you~ overwhelming, yes. Smothering, absolutely. Utterly humiliating at times… unfortunately~ but when they lean a large cheek into your small palm, pressing their mouth to every inch of skin, needing your touch, your warmth. No matter your size, your more then enough to them. Your heart warms when they look at you like the most precious thing in the world. Even if they carry you around like an accessory.

Five minutes turns into ten, turns into you losing count entirely~ because once the giant has you, time goes soft-focus. Their thumb keeps brushing your spine in lazy semicircles, and you forget you ever wanted coffee, or air, or dignity.

But eventually their stomach grumbles, an earthquake under your ribs~ and the spell breaks. “Food,” they mumble, as if the single word requires Herculean effort.

Before you can brace, fingers hook into the back of your shirt, lift, and suddenly your cargo. Your knees and arms dangle; the hem of your shorts flutters around your thighs. You sway against their thigh like a novelty purse while they stumble toward the kitchen.

“This is my last good shirt! You’re going to stretch it!”You protest, naturally, kick, hiss, call them a barbarian.

They reply with a fond “Mm-hmm,” and a pat to your backside so oversized it bumps your whole torso against their thigh. Each step jogs your organs; each jostle reminds you whose armspan rules this house. Yet you catch yourself grinning anyway, because being swung along, dangling from their hand offers the most ridiculous views: the fridge handle is a skyscraper; the kettle’s whistle could qualify as weather.

They set you on the counter for a heartbeat, looking incredibly sleepy still, hair sticking to one side of their face. Eyes partially closed as they butter toast, then scoop you again, this time belly-down across their forearm. Your chest molds to the warm slope of muscle; your feet dangle over the crook of their elbow.

Your arms and legs instinctively wrap around the width of their forearm, ankles linking like some kind of monkey gripping to a branch. Your cheek rests in the curve of their palm like a fleshy pillow, their fingers smell of bread.

A thumb as broad as a paperback drifts up and down your back, tracing your vertebrae like braille. You melt, traitorous, into a loose-limbed sigh.

“Thought so,” they murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. They lean into the counter as they eat. Toast crumbs rain onto your hair. You grumble half-heartedly, but they finish their breakfast, then their thumb returns to continue stroking, and the complaint fizzles.

Later, on the couch, you’re promoted, if that’s the word~ to pillow. They recline, haul you onto their chest, and then, with a heavy exhale they seem to change their mind. They then lift you to the couch cushion so that they may lower their entire head onto your torso. One cheek alone covers from sternum to hip. It is absurd. It is beautiful. Their lashes tickle your collarbone; their exhale warms the thin fabric of your shirt in waves.

You slip a hand, small as it is, along the line of their jaw. They nuzzle, eyes slipping shut, like a lion claiming sunshine. The pressure should be uncomfortable, but the trust in that weight is its own comfort. They could crush; they simply…don’t.

“Comfy?” you ask, voice wobbly beneath the load.

“Perfect,” they whisper, the word vibrating directly through your ribs. Then a softer confession, almost shy: “You feel like home.”

That one sentence overrides every earlier indignity, the hoodie commute, the drool slick kisses, the threatened oxygen. Because no matter the scale, no matter the awkward angles or your reddening cheeks, you’re enough. Enough surface to kiss, enough warmth to chase the chill from their bones. Enough heart, small but stubborn, to steady theirs.

Sometimes that means being carried like a handbag; sometimes used like a teddy; sometimes a heartbeat under a mountain of muscle and messy, earnest affection.

Eventually your phone alarm chirps. Responsibilities beckon. But before you can wriggle free, a sleepy palm splays across your spine, pinning you with gentle finality.

“Five more minutes,” they plead around a yawn.

You huff, trace a tiny circle over their dimple, and grant those minutes, knowing full well they’ll turn into ten, then twenty, and that you’ll pretend to complain the whole way through.

After all, being overwhelmed has never felt so safe.

[izuchuumi]

Safe - Caleb X.

pairing: caleb x f!reader

words: 5.1k

synopsis: caleb believed the concept of safety and security was a myth until he met a little girl with bright eyes and a sweet smile who shared her apple slices with him

warning: half canon-compliant half made up shit, mild blood and gore (children being experimented on by EVER and reader's chest being cut open while conscious), children being experimented on but not much is explicitly described, non-sexual partial nudity of children (caleb and reader), a little bit of suicidal ideation, lots of angst

notes: this is sort of a mix between the current timeline and fallen cosmos au! this was tons of fun writing and i hope you enjoy :D

Caleb still remembers the day Josephine greeted him at the shelter. She strolled in, a wide, motherly smile on her face, but Caleb knew better. He had subtly shifted himself so that he was standing in front of the sleeping girl, hiding her from Josephine’s view. Josephine looked over, and her smile widened by a fraction at the sight of him.

She approached slowly, her palms up, as if reaching out to a wild animal ready to strike. Caleb felt just like one. He’d never forget how cold and cruel Josephine’s gaze was as she poked and prodded at him without an ounce of sympathy. Although the older woman was far sweeter to the little girl by his side, he would never forgive Josephine for the atrocities she had committed against her.

He was never allowed out of his room aside from when they experimented on him or for meals, but he always found a way to escape. He needed to be there for her, even if a glass pane was in the way. He always watched with wide eyes and angry tears as they cut and yanked the girl apart until her heart stopped beating. Her screams haunted—still haunt him to this day.

Caleb shivered. Despite only being 10, he feels the weight of the world constantly crashing down on him. If it weren’t for the little girl napping behind him, his best friend, he doesn’t know if he’d even still be alive. Before they had met, Caleb had succumbed to his fate of endless torture he endured every day. He had lost his will and drive despite not even reaching double digits in age. Every night, Caleb silently prayed that he wouldn’t wake up the next day.

He had been aimlessly trudging back to his room after lunch when a weight bumped into him, almost toppling him over. Caleb huffed, looking down to see what he had collided with. To his surprise, it was another kid, a couple of years younger than him, it seemed. He had grown used to seeing other children around, but never being in close proximity to any of them. They had set him apart, locked him away in his own special room, away from everyone else. He was something special, powerful, and useful, they had told him.

The little girl had grasped onto the rags they gave him as clothes to avoid her fall. He tried to pry her tiny fingers off but paused when she stared up at him with bright eyes. Caleb blinked, and the girl blinked back. He tilted his head curiously, and her head shifted as well, mimicking his. Caleb opened his mouth to say something, but the girl was dragged off by one of the staff members before he could get a sound out.

He stared as they hauled her down the hall. Though she did not actively put up a fight, Caleb could see the spark of ferocity in her eyes. When he returned to his room, he stood in front of the mirror. Dull, purple eyes stared back at him. His mind wandered to the girl. He had never seen as bright and dazzling as her eyes before.

The second time they met was during lunch a few days later. He had been poking at the plain, tasteless “nutritional” mush that was provided for every meal with his spoon. The sound of a tray clanking on the table caused him to look up. Across from him was the same little girl, the one with the bright eyes, whom he had crashed into the other day, clambering onto the seat too big for her. When she settled in her seat, she gave him a wide smile. Caleb raised a brow and studied her. They told him to always submit without question, but with the rare smile around this place, he couldn’t help the questions that swam in his mind.

“Who are you?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The girl raised her right arm and wordlessly pointed at the band on her wrist. It read A-01. She looked at him expectantly. He copied her movement and pointed at his own wristband, X-02. He didn’t know if she could read yet, but she seemed to understand.

His gaze drifted down to her tray. Alongside the lump mandated nutritional mush everyone was served for lunch, two slices of apples sat bright and red next to it. Caleb’s eyes widened. Nobody ever got anything other than the mandated meal. The girl must have noticed Caleb’s stare because when he looked back at her, she held up one of the slices towards him.

Caleb felt something in him flutter, but not in the usual way his anxiety made him flustered. It was something lighter—warmer. For a split second, Caleb wondered how this simple act of kindness could make him feel so safe for once in his short, insignificant life. He cautiously plucked it out of her waiting hand and was rewarded with another smile of hers. This time, he couldn’t help but return a shy one of his own.

He saw her every day at meal time after that. He had come to the conclusion that she must be special, like him, which allowed them to interact. Though the little girl never spoke, she’d find ways to non-verbally respond to his many questions. Even though Caleb was the only one speaking, the two grew close in a short amount of time. He had even begun affectionately dubbing her as “pipsqueak”.

“It’s because you’re so tiny,” Caleb laughed.

She pouted and rolled her eyes. You’re older than me, of course, you’re bigger than me.

Caleb wrapped her in a tight hug despite the awkward positioning of them being on opposite ends of the table. She nuzzled her head into his chin. Although that was part of the reason, he didn’t want to drag the mood down with his true thoughts. Caleb hated how demeaning it was to be referred to as letters and numbers, as a specimen, less than, and unworthy of a name. He refused to call her by the label EVER had tagged her with, he wouldn’t stoop to their level and refer to his friend—he smiled at the thought, his first friend—as such.

Caleb never saw her outside of meal time, but whenever he was called in to be experimented on, his mind would drift back to her bright eyes and the apple slices she so kindly shared with him. It anchored him, almost letting him forget the pain he endured. Caleb began looking forward to waking up the next day again.

Caleb was shaken out of his newfound reverie the day she had died for the very first time. He was being escorted by a staff member to the torture chamber, as he had deemed it, when he spotted the girl being escorted back from it. He knew every kid at this wretched place underwent some form of experimentation. No kid went about without at least a new scar every day.

He clenched his fist, digging his nails into the meat of his palm. The girl had her head down, silently shuffling next to her chaperone. Caleb figured since they never intervened when they interacted at lunch, they wouldn’t mind him doing so now. He strayed a few steps ahead of his own chaperone to comfort the girl. It was never easy coming out of that despicable room. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and make her feel safe like how he feels whenever he’s in her presence. However, to his horror, when she looked up at him, that spark he had grown to love and admire had vanished from her eyes.

She stared up at him blankly, as if she didn’t recognize him at all. The girl’s chaperone glared down at him, but he refused to take his eyes off the girl. Something was wrong, very wrong. They had been getting along for the past couple of weeks now, he knew she could pick him out from the crowd as he could her. However, her current gaze said otherwise.

Caleb lunged for the adult next to her, nails clawing at skin. He hadn’t been able to cause much harm before he was being tugged away, roaring. He spared a glance at the girl who watched everything happen with an eerie, dead stare.

“What did you do to her?!” Caleb demanded, struggling against the hold on him.

“None of your business, brat,” the woman he had attacked spat.

Caleb fumed. A hand had been placed almost gently on his shoulder, and Caleb looked up. He shivered at the icy glare of his own chaperone. He couldn’t move a muscle as their stare pinned him to the floor.

“He should know, shouldn’t he?” Caleb shrank a little at the condescending tone, “They are…friends, after all.”

The woman chuffed, “Right. Friends. Well, if you really want to know, she finally hit her breaking point and died. She doesn’t even remember anything, which works in our favor. Just as planned.”

Caleb’s head reared up in shock, “Died? As planned?”

His chaperone shoved his head down, “I’ll indulge you this time, but you should stop asking questions if you know what’s good for you. This little girl has something spectacular in her. It shouldn’t be possible to revive her so easily after a death like that, but here she is, seemingly even stronger than before. More experiments will have to be done to be sure, but we’ve only just begun anyway.”

As if they could predict his next moves, Caleb felt a pinch in his arm, and though he tried to resist, the anesthetic set in quickly. As his eyes closed, his gaze stayed steady on the girl’s retreating form. I have to keep her safe, he thought to himself as he fell into a dreamless sleep.

It was an endless, heart-wrenching cycle. It continued week after week, which led to months, and eventually, Caleb stopped keeping track. Every time he reintroduced himself to her, she’d forget him the very next day. His hatred for EVER grew with each memory wipe, but he always put on a brave smile for her.

He heard the murmurs about how her evol kept getting stronger with each death. Caleb wasn’t sure what her powers entailed, but he couldn’t care less when her mind drifted further and further away, leaving her a pliant doll for them to play with. He seethed at their disregard for her well-being.

Caleb began plotting. He had snuck out of his room successfully plenty of times before, but he was fueled with purpose this time. He didn’t care what sort of punishment he would receive if caught; He had to see for himself what they were doing to her. What wicked methods had they been using to torture her—to take her away from him?

He snuck into the experimentation room with ease, which unsettled him. It felt too easy. He had practically waltzed right in. He pushed his wariness to the side and made his way to the giant window that separated him from her.

Nausea hit him immediately, and Caleb felt his knees growing weak at the morbid sight in front of him. He leaned against the window to support his weight as he watched them. Caleb stared, frozen in horror, as they swapped to a new set of equipment. The girl lay strapped onto the table, tears streaming down her dull cheeks, eyes nearly rolled all the way back. He knew the feeling all too well. He hoped she had fallen unconscious, never wishing that she’d experience the point where all the began blending together.

As if the girl didn’t already have her chest carved open, her heart beating weakly in the open air, the woman who seemed to be the lead surgeon—if he could even call her that—picked up the scalpel from her set of tools. He wanted to pound at the window and scream at them. Hadn’t they cut her open enough, stolen enough of her blood? He knew that the only reason she wasn’t making any noise was because she had already screamed herself hoarse.

Caleb wished he could barge in and stop them, but he knew it would only throw a wrench in his plans. They’d simply knock him out and throw him back into his room, and give him an even more difficult time the next time he was on that table. With his evol locked away by his wristband, there was nothing much he could do. He was only a child.

Caleb’s angry gaze flew across the room, taking each face into memory so he knew which ones he wouldn’t spare if he were given the chance. He froze when his eyes connected with the leader of the operation. Caleb shivered under her piercing stare. She looked at him as if he were nothing more than a bug underneath her shoe, perhaps even less than. She held his gaze for only a moment before focusing back onto her task.

“Let us begin,” her voice rang out clear with authority. 

Without wasting another second, she began cutting into the girl’s flesh with practiced ease. As soon as the blade touched her skin and the girl’s ragged screams hit Caleb’s ears, he ran. He couldn’t watch or listen anymore. It was all too much. He locked himself away the rest of the day and refused to go out for dinner. He needed to think, to find a way out immediately.

Caleb was surprised he hadn’t been called in for a few days, but he couldn’t feel any solace from it when he knew they were torturing her instead. He couldn’t wait around any longer and stormed out in search of the girl. Luckily, he caught her as she was about to be escorted in. He clawed at the staff members around him, flailing like a wild animal. He managed to free the little girl from their grasp and stood bravely in front of her, separating her from their tormentors.

One of the staff members reached out to yank him away, but he bit down hard on the hand. With a pained shriek, the staff forcefully pried open Caleb’s jaw to remove their hand. Caleb snarled, and he felt the girl fist the back of his shirt. Even though she was afraid, he felt glad that she was feeling something, rather than the deadness he had witnessed before.

Caleb nearly cried out of relief when they’d pulled him into the room instead of her. It’d mean they’d given her a break. He had long vowed to take on as much pain and suffering as needed in order to relieve her of hers.

As he lay on the table, nude, save for his underwear,  and strapped down, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. Thinking of her sweet smiles and warm hugs always worked. Just as he’d begun to calm, a familiar icy voice calling his name sent his heartbeat skyrocketing with anxiety.

Caleb snapped his eyes open. Though he had only heard that voice once, he could recognize it anywhere. It was her, the one who had cut open his only safe haven in this hell without an ounce of humanity. The one who had eyed him down as if he were nothing but a piece of lint on the ground as he watched them poke and prod at the girl’s dying heart. He was going to be sick.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Caleb thrashed against the bindings on his wrists and ankles.

The woman gave no reaction, which fueled Caleb’s rage even more. How dare she commit these inhumane atrocities and act like nothing has happened? She knew he had witnessed everything. It was almost as if she had left the room open for him to walk into that day, as if she had wanted him to witness it all.

Caleb clenched his fists and snarled. The woman merely gave him a brief smile before turning to set up her station. This must be his punishment for finally feeling an ounce of safety in this godforsaken place.

“You’re incredibly smart for someone your age,” she said as she stuck electrodes onto his forehead, “You should know there is no escape by now.”

Caleb simply glared at her, and as soon as she had finished setting up, the tests began. Caleb had been injected with more mystery substances than he even knew could exist, and his body and evol were pushed to the limits. Everything hurt; he was exhausted and miserable. It didn’t stop for an entire week with little breaks, but he was grateful. He was grateful that he was the one on that table being tormented instead of his kind and caring friend. Caleb refused to cry on that table despite his every nerve being set on fire..

When they finally tossed him back into his room, Caleb wasn’t sure if he was even still alive. He waited for them to leave before he would even attempt to push himself off the floor, but they didn’t. He heard more footsteps coming his way, and they halted before one of them used their boot to roll him onto his back. In his pain-inflicted haze, he swore he saw an angel descend upon him in the form of his best friend.

“A-01 wanted to see you. Refused to eat and starved herself until we let her,” the man who had rolled him over sneered, “Can’t have our best subjects killing themselves without our supervision, unfortunately.”

Caleb let out a weak scoff as his door closed and the escorts left. He felt a small hand gently rest on his shoulder, and he used the last of his strength to sit up and lean against his bed on the floor. Finally, he allowed himself to cry.

He could feel the girl fretting near him but he couldn’t stop the sobs. He cried even harder when she wrapped her arms around his weak body and gave a light squeeze. Amongst his own wails, he heard her murmur, causing him to cease his tears.

“Don’t cry,” her voice came out as quiet as a whisper, a little croaky from lack of use.

For the first time in months, Caleb no longer had a proper concept of time, he laughed—a real laugh. Seemingly startled by his change of emotions, the girl backed up a little and blinked at him with wide eyes. Caleb settled and gently took her hand in his.

“That’s the first time you’ve said something,” he beamed, the warmth of her hand traveling up his own and spreading into his heart.

The girl looked away shyly and nodded, “Safe. With you.”

Caleb felt the tears well up in his eyes but quickly wiped them away before she could worry anymore. He pulled her back into his embrace, kissing the crown of her head. The two held tight, not wanting to let go just yet.

“You make me feel safe, too,” Caleb whispered.

It’s subtle at first, the shaking and rumbling. Having been worn out from the extensive experimenting and testing, Caleb slept heavier than usual. However, the whimpering next to him snapped him awake immediately. He gathered the girl in his arms and held her tight while assessing the situation around him.

The entire sky was red, and the shaking got stronger. There was an ominous, dark pit looming above the building. He immediately knew this was their chance to escape, and if not now, they would be dead from the rubble of the current building anyway. Without a second thought, he helped the girl up and ran with her hand in his.

“Pips, hold onto my hand tight, okay?” Caleb spared a glance behind him to check on the girl he was practically dragging with him.

She nodded frantically and squeezed his hand. Caleb wasn’t at his full strength, but he pushed on. The building had already started collapsing, and Caleb held onto the girl tightly as he guided them away from the falling debris.

It’s only when they halted at a crumbled wall did Caleb realize that their wristbands had fallen off. Perhaps during the chaos, with the building actively collapsing, the systems that controlled the wristbands crashed and set them free. Caleb watched as the wall crumbled three floors down onto the road.

He turned to the girl and said with a gentle voice, “We’re gonna jump, okay? All the doors are blocked, and this is the only way out.”

As predicted, the girl shook her head, backing away from the hole. Tears streamed down her face. As much as it pained Caleb to force her to do something she didn’t want to, he knew he had to. It was their only chance.

“We can use our evols now, see?” Caleb showed her his free wrist, “I can get us down safely, but you have to jump with me. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Despite his own pounding heart, he had to make sure hers wasn’t. His eyes flew to the loosening debris above their heads. He pulled her a little closer.

“Just hold on tight,” he begged.

The girl trembled and cried, but looked at him with determination and whimpered, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Caleb nodded.

Hand in hand, the two children leapt from the third floor just as the ceiling above them collapsed. The girl screamed in terror, and Caleb immediately put his evol to use. If he hadn’t been so drained from the previous week, he probably could have controlled it better, but he was able to soften their fall.

Caleb quickly tugged the girl into his embrace as they shot closer and closer to the ground. He used his body to shield hers as they landed and rolled across the ground. With a pained groan, he sat up, inspecting the girl.

With no visible new injuries, Caleb pulled her back into his arms as she sobbed. He sniffled a little as well as he ran a hand soothingly up and down her back. He cooed at her in hopes of easing her wails.

“You’re okay now, Pips. I’ve got you,” he hushed, rocking a little.

The girl’s cries eased into sniveling, “Caleb…safe.”

“Caleb?” He asked, pointing to himself.

The girl nodded, wiping her own tears away

“Caleb,” she pointed at him and then pointed at herself, “Pips.”

Caleb nearly burst into tears then and there. His lips stretched into the widest smile he’s ever smiled. In return, the girl finally smiled back.

“That’s right, Caleb will keep you safe,” he hugged her, teary-eyed.

Caleb was elated. He finally had a name of his own, dubbed by his very own Pips. With renewed vigor, Caleb stood and dusted himself off, and set off for safety hand in hand with his only friend.

The shelter was safe enough. Truthfully, Caleb wasn’t sure if any place would ever be safe enough for his Pips, but for now, the shelter that had mercifully taken them in should do.

Throughout the months there, Caleb had learned many things. The first was that he had the deepspace tunnel that appeared in the sky for their escape. He later found that people had dubbed it the Chronorift Catastrophe. Despite eavesdropping hearing about how many have lost so much from the disaster, he couldn’t help but be immensely grateful towards it. Without it, he wasn’t sure he’d be standing there at all.

Caleb also learned that though they had escaped EVER’s building, the feeling of safety was fleeting. He was constantly wary of the eyes around him, wondering what two lonely children were doing by themselves with no adult supervision at the shelter. Especially since the girl didn’t speak—she only spoke to him, but even then, she did not speak much—he was worried people would view her as disrespectful and harm her. He kept the girl close to him at all times. Only in the dead of night, when even all the adults were asleep, could Caleb feel at ease.

Curled up under the blankets in the same bed as his best friend was the only source of comfort he had. As he listened to her soft breaths as she slept, only then was he able to calm the storm in his mind. Only when she clutched at his shirt, murmuring in her sleep, was he able to stop the constant warnings his brain would throw at him.

Eventually, Caleb learned to live with “safe enough”. He had come to terms with the fact that nothing would be up to his standard of security, but he was content. As long as he had his Pipsqueak, he would be alright. That was until Josephine walked past the shelter doors.

“Get away from us,” Caleb growls, hackles raised.

The girl stirs behind him and slowly stands up and tugs at his shirt, curious as to what is going on. The older woman simply watches with a placating smile on her face. It creeps Caleb out how easily she can make herself seem docile despite her cold and uncaring eyes. Nothing can wipe the memories of her cruelty from his mind.

Caleb keeps the younger girl behind him as the older woman pulls out a couple of papers from her bag to show him. As he reads and processes the words on the papers, he can feel every ounce of hope draining from his body. She officially has custody over them, and Caleb is once again reminded that he is merely a child and there is nothing he can do.

“My name is Josephine, and you’ll both be staying with me from now on,” she smiles at them.

Josephine gently takes one of their hands in each of her own and quietly leads them out of the shelter. Caleb is numb, Josephine’s soft tittering falling deaf on his ears. He even lets her strap him safely into her car without a fight.

Caleb has never wished to learn her name or to see his greatest tormentor show up in front of him. Yet here he is.

Most of the drive is silent, and it’s only when Josephine finally speaks again does Caleb snap out of his thoughts.

“You’re a smart kid. You should know there is no escape by now,” she smiles at him through the rear-view mirror. 

Caleb feels sick. There truly is no escape.

The first few nights at their new “home”, Josephine had been just so kind enough to let them share a room. Caleb wonders if she’d somehow gained some humanity during their time apart. However, the thought is quickly dispelled when Josephine insists that the girl learn to be more independent from Caleb and sleep in her own room.

After spending months sharing a bed with the girl, Caleb finds it difficult to split from her at night. Even just the thought of her being one room apart has him feeling queasy and anxious. He can’t protect her properly if he’s not right next to her. He puts on a brave face and departs from her with a goodnight kiss on the head, not wanting to scare her. He’s just glad the girl doesn’t remember Josephine and that she has settled in nicely so far. He falls asleep with great difficulty.

Caleb stirs in his sleep. He’d always been a light sleeper, if he slept at all, due to the constant state of hypervigilance he was in while at EVER. His eyes remain closed, but his ears tune in on the rustling seemingly coming from downstairs. He slowly opens his eyes and squints at the clock by his bedside. It is 2 in the morning.

The boy tosses the blankets off his body and sits up. Josephine should be asleep or tinkering away with something, he tries not to dwell on what torture devices she could possibly be working on in her own room. Caleb swings his feet off the bed, toes curling slightly at the coolness of the floor. Rubbing his eyes, he makes his way out of his room and towards the room next to his.

He is surprised to see the door wide open already. Caleb peeks in and sure enough, the bed is empty. He panics quietly, worrying over the girl he had come to this new “home” with. Caleb’s head whips towards Josephine’s door down the hall. The lights are still on, casting a soft glow through the cracks of the door. He only sees one shadow, which he recognizes as Josephine’s, and lets out a sigh of relief. His Pips isn’t in the room with that monster.

Caleb makes his way downstairs as quietly as possible and ventures around in the dark. He spots a familiar head of tangled, bed-mussed hair. He lets out a breath of relief he didn’t even know he was holding. He makes his way over while making some noise so as not to startle her. She turns around at the sound of his footsteps and beams.

“What are you doing down here, Pips? Can’t sleep?” Caleb whispers.

The girl shakes her head, “Caleb…heard you tossing and turning. Just wanted to get you a cup of water.”

She brings out her hand from behind her back and reveals the empty cup she’s holding. Caleb simply chuckles affectionately before taking the cup from her and filling it up himself. He drinks a little before offering the girl the cup, which she drinks from thankfully.

“Thank you for thinking of me. Let’s go back to bed now, yeah?” Caleb sets the now-empty cup in the sink.

He takes her hand and starts to head towards the stairs, but is met with resistance. He looks back, and the girl is tugging at his hand. He gives her a concerned look, and the girl looks away, seemingly not knowing what to say. Caleb ushers her towards the couch instead.

They sit for a while and eventually lie across the couch, cuddling close. Caleb gently strokes her head as she presses close against him. They remain in comfortable silence for a while.

“Caleb,” the girl whispers, and he pauses his patting.

“Yeah?” He mumbles back, wrapping his arms around her instead.

“Caleb, you always keep me safe,” she nuzzles into his chest, “I will keep you safe too.”

At her quiet, sleepy words, Caleb holds her a little bit tighter. He feels her breath slowing down, and he gives her a kiss on the head. He closes his eyes with a content smile. As he dozes off, Caleb thinks to himself that he might just be able to feel safe after all.

thank you for reading this! i haven't really seriously written anything in a while, but hopefully this was still a fun read!

banner by @dollywons divider by @kodaswrld

[hoe4hotchner]

Rebecca!!! Can i request Aaron Hotchner + taking care of his kid (girl or boy) who is sick and super clingy but in a cute way ? and just him being a soft, cute dad? 🥰 thaank you!🩷

Under the weather | [A.H]

Pairing: Girl dad!Hotch | WC: 0.7k | CW: Undisclosed illness, fever, emotional vulnerability…. fluff

A/N: Raph!!! This turned out so cute!!!! OMG I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH. Also dying a little at girl dad!hotch

Aaron Hotchner was no stranger to long nights. Sleepless hours in the office, mountains of paperwork, or lingering over cases that refused to crack — those, he could handle. But the sight of his daughter curled up on the couch under a quilted blanket her grandma had made, her flushed cheeks pressed against her favorite stuffed animal, was something entirely different.

She looked so small, her cheeks standing out against her otherwise pale complexion. She was young but already had her father’s stubborn determination — she’d tried to insist earlier that she wasn’t sick, that she could still go to kindergarten. The glassy look in her eyes and her pitiful cough had told him otherwise.

Aaron put down the cup of lukewarm tea he’d made for her and crouched beside her. The weight of his knees pressing into the carpeted floor didn’t bother him nearly as much as the sight of her miserable expression.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice soft enough not to startle her.

She blinked slowly, her big, watery eyes fixing on him like he was some weird creature. She sniffled and let out the tiniest whimper before reaching up a hand, her fingers trembling as they clutched at the sleeve of his shirt.

"Daddy," she croaked, her voice was barely audible through her scratchy throat.

Aaron’s heart twisted at the sound. He reached out, brushing gently over her damp forehead. Her fever wasn’t dangerously high, at least not high enough for him to rush her to the ER (yet), but it was enough to sap her energy.

"I’m here, baby," he reassured her. "How are you feeling?"

Her bottom lip trembled before she whispered, "Bad."

Aaron didn’t hesitate to lean closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I know, sweetheart," he said gently. "But we’re going to get you feeling better, okay? Want to cuddle for a bit?"

She nodded immediately, her tiny arms stretching toward him. It was rare for her to be this clingy; usually, she was an independent little whirlwind, who needed constant supervision when out, or else she would wander off. Yet tonight she was all fragility and softness.

Without hesitation, Aaron slid his arms under her, lifting her as carefully as he could, almost as if she were made of porcelain. The quilt wrapped around her slipped slightly, and he tugged it back into place, cocooning her in its warmth. She burrowed against his chest, her cheek pressing into his shoulder, her breaths coming in uneven little puffs against his neck.

"You’re warm," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Aaron chuckled softly, adjusting her weight so her head rested against the crook of his neck. "That’s because you’re a little heater right now," he teased his tone was light despite the ache he felt seeing her like this.

He carried her to the armchair by the living room window, settling into it carefully so she wouldn’t be jostled. The chair creaked faintly under him, but she didn’t seem to notice. She curled into him like a kitten, her arms winding around his neck as if letting go wasn’t an option. Her bunny was wedged between them, its stitched smile poking out from under her chin.

Aaron leaned back, one hand supporting her while the other ran through her soft, damp hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. Her sniffles quieted, and he could feel her body begin to relax against him, though the occasional raspy cough reminded him that she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

"Daddy?" she murmured.

"Yes, my love?" he answered immediately, his lips brushing the crown of her head.

"Will you stay with me forever?"

The question was so small, so heartbreakingly sincere, that Aaron felt his chest tighten. He cradled her just a little closer, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back.

"Always," he said softly, his voice firm despite the lump forming in his throat. "I’ll always be here for you. No matter what."

She sighed, a content little sound that warmed him even as she snuggled deeper into his chest. "Promise?" she whispered, already teetering on the edge of sleep.

Aaron rested his cheek against her hair, the faint scent of her strawberry shampoo still lingering from her bath earlier despite the sweat from her fever. "I promise.".

As he rocked her gently back and forth. His phone buzzed on the coffee table — a work message, no doubt — but he didn’t even glance at it.

Work could wait. The world could wait.

Tonight, all that mattered was his little girl in his arms, and he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

[luvjunie]

— less is more

pairing: e-42!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: some tears, a little misunderstanding but a fluffy ending

summary: miles makes quite a bit of cash from his jobs, and with his love language being gift giving he often likes to spend a lot of it on you. however, you didn’t grow up with much, and this makes it especially hard for you to accept such expensive things from him without feeling overwhelmed. wc: 1,224

a/n: based off this request! some people might find this reader easier to relate to so i definitely wanted to write it

Gifts were something that came with the territory of dating Miles Morales. Big bouquets, flashy accessories, shopping sprees at the mall, and probably every single stuffed animal he’d ever caught you eyeing whenever the two of you went out. If you so much as looked at it, it was on your fire escape the next morning. At this point, you had so many on your bed that you were starting to run out of room to sleep.

And you knew he meant well, and you tried your best to enjoy it the way you imagined you should but it was all so foreign to you. Your life was much different before you met him, and it was more along the lines of nervously checking your bank account to see if you had enough cash to buy a five dollar starbucks drink to ‘treat yourself’, or if you’d have to wait till next week’s paycheck for blended coffee with some whipped cream on top.

Most of your clothes were hand-me-downs from your older siblings, or duds you’d secured from the Salvation Army a few blocks down on the colored-tag sale days, and that was the way you liked it. Humble beginnings is where you came from and humble was the way you intended to keep it.

So now as you stared down at the small jewelry box in your hands, Tiffany & Co embellishing the top in silvered letters, trepidation began coursing through you at the size of the box alone. Anything that came in a tiny package such as the one you were holding was bound to cost more than anything you’d ever managed to buy yourself. You realized you must have been lost in thought as you sat gawking at the untouched gift, because your boyfriend’s voice sounded like it was underwater the first few times he called out to you.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You blinked, looking up at Miles from where you were seated on his bed to see him leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Go ‘head and open it, don’t leave me hanging.” Miles joked, brows bunched slightly in confusion.

“Oh— right,” you laughed half-heartedly. Swallowing hard, you gently pried the small box open with hesitant fingers to reveal the prettiest diamond necklace you think you’ve ever seen. Light glinting off the encrusted jewel, Miles waited with bated breath as he watched your hand tremble towards it, a choked inhale catching in your throat as you felt the weight of the pendant alone.

“Well?” he asked quietly.

“How much was this?” Your throat felt tight; uncomfortably so, like the air in the room suddenly wasn’t the kind you were meant to breathe.

Miles glanced to the side for a moment, then stood up straighter. “I mean, I paid for it if that’s what you’re asking...”

“How much was this, Miles?” Voice trembling when you spoke, you asked again but louder, and this time he knew you actually wanted an answer.

Confused because he didn’t take you for the materialistic type, he racked his brain for the memory of the total the clerk had read out to him and scratched his forehead.

“Like… three hundred and some change…maybe? Probably four? I don’t remember. Why does this matter?” He let out a peeved sigh, eyes widening as he watched your shoulders start to shake.

“Ay, mi amor, ¿que pasa? (what’s wrong, my love?)” Miles asked gently as he rushed to sit next to you, taking the jewelry box from your loose hold. He looked down at it disappointedly, lips pursing at the necklace he’d spent so long picking out. He thought you would’ve loved it. “You don’t like it? I can get you somethin’ better—“

“No, Miles. I… It’s perfect.” Warm tears rolled past your waterline and you wiped them away in a rush, aggravated that you were even crying in front of him about something like this. How could you explain yourself without sounding ungrateful or confusing him even more?

Miles licked at his dry lips as he tried to think of what to say. He was usually so good at reading your body language, but this time he was completely lost. You could see it on his expression when you looked at him that he was having a hard time understanding what was going on, and it only made you cry harder.

“No entiendo… (I don’t understand…)” He set the box down next to him and took your hands into his, head lowered to try and meet your averted gaze. “I’m lost.. If it’s perfect, then what’s wrong?”

You inhaled a wavered breath, the feeling of his thumbs rubbing the backs of your hands serving as encouragement for you to go on.

“I just…” taking a breath, your shoulders shrugged weakly. “You spending money on me like this, I— It feels like I’m using you. You should be spending your hard earned money on things for yourself, or… saving it for better things, not spending it on me.”

“Money is nothing to me when it comes to you.” he denied immediately.

“I know, and that’s the problem.” Your lips trembled, but thankfully you were able to prevent more tears from coming.

“Y/n, I—“

“Just, please. Let me finish.” You pleaded quietly, looking up to see him slowly nod at you. “I love you, Miles, and that means I love everything you do for me as well. But I’m not used to things like this.” you looked in the direction of the overturned jewelry box. “It’s a lot.”

Silence filled the space around the two of you. You felt incredibly guilty for even bringing it up, it was never your intention to make him feel this way. There was an energy shift and you could sense him regressing back to the version of him that once didn’t know how to express his love for you.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured simply. He didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t even understand, but he offered it to you anyway.

“No no no, Miles,” You guided his doleful eyes back to you with a hand on his cheek, your tone sincere. “I love the way you love me, really, I do. You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not your fault— I’m just not that kind of girl and I don’t know if I ever will be. But the way I grew up and the things I’m used to have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me, okay?”

He frowned slightly. “So… No more gifts, then?”

You shook your head. “Giving me nice things is how you show your love towards me, I know that, and it would be unfair for me to take that from you. I’d be crazy to not appreciate how you’re always thinking of me wherever you go.”

Chewing on your thoughts, you contemplated the best way to give your answer.

“Okay, so it’s like this,” you sat up a bit. “You could give me a rock, and I’d cherish it like it was the best thing in the entire world, simply because you gave it to me. What I’m trying to say is how expensive the gift is doesn’t matter, all that matters is that my wonderful—“ your head dipped to meet his avoidant eyes. “caring, and thoughtful boyfriend got it for me. I don’t care about the money, I only care that it came from you.”

Miles brightened a little at that, and started to put things together after your explanation. “So, I can still get you nice things, but… less is more?”

A melancholic smile touched your lips before you pecked his cheek. “Less is more.”

He picked the small jewelry box up from the bed. He understood you completely now, but was still a bit bummed. “Does that mean I have to return this?”

You immediately shook your head. “Of course not, baby. I love it, and I think it’s beautiful. Just keep what I said in mind for next time, okay?” He nodded and you turned your back towards him so he could put it on for you.

“Good, cause I kinda lost the receipt.” Miles smiled coyly at the slightly shaky laugh that sounded from you as he unclasped the necklace, draping it over your chest and fastening it.

You peered down at the gorgeous piece around your neck, gently gracing over it with your fingertips. Your heart warmed at the thought of him picking it out for you, how he spotted something this beautiful and needed you to have it. You had to admit, it was absolutely stunning and you didn’t think you’d be taking it off any time soon. Even if the price of it had almost sent you into shock, you were more than grateful to have a boyfriend like him.

“Thank you, Miles. I love it, really.” You faced him once again with your confession, the sincerity laced in your tone accentuating the adoration in your eyes. Your hand caressed the apple of his cheek, it raising when he smiled contently and leaned into your palm. “But I love you, more.”