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cherrygummycandy · 2 years

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Fragile Porcelain Person

Fandom: Jack and the Cuckoo Clock Heart.

Yandere!Joe x Porcelain!Reader, Platonic!Jack and Acacia x Porcelain!Reader

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(AN: So, for those who don't know, Jack and The Cuckoo Clock Heart is a film about a (14?) something french boy born with a frozen heart, so it is replaced by his adoptive mother with a clock. He isn't allowed to fall in love, as it will be too much for his heart, but he does anyway, and loves a singer. There's another plot with this rival for the singer's love, but that is the jist. It's spoilers from here on out in this AN, so go watch it on Bibibli if you haven't seen it. For the sake of this fic, I have changed Joe and Acacia's relationship to one of a brother and sister relationship, in which he wanted to protect her from mingling to closely with anyone due to her parents migrant status, and his fear of her getting deported. As for Jack and Madeline, I'm writing them as living at the end of the film, where this fic takes place. Sorry for the long explanation, just wanted to clarify some things!)

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Tick-tock, Tick-tock, Brrr-ing Brrr-ing! The lively ticks and rings of gears, clocks, bells and chimes sound out across the workshop of the notably eclectic Mademoiselle Madeline, who is currently busying herself at her work station. She hums to herself, placing a small gear against a winding mechanism, and stepping back to watch a small wooden bird pop out of the top window of a clock, perfectly tweeting in rhythm with the now-turning gear. A sound not entirely foreign to her makes her turn round, the sound of a soft groan comes from a fragile form laid atop her operating table, as she had taken to calling it. Placing down her tools, she approaches her guest.

A lantern's light disturbs you from a deep slumber. As you awaken, you notice your body feels freer than it has in quite some time. Or at least, you remember not exactly feeling top-shelf, in the before. But, you suppose then this isn't the before, but rather the now.

"Awakened from our beauty-sleep, I see..." A pale-skinned woman, sporting a dress covered in oil stains and minor cuts stands to your left, observing you with a calm curiosity. You try and sit up to get a better look at your host and surroundings, and though you're a little dizzy, you can gather that you seem to be in some sort of workshop, laid on an operating table. "And How are you feeling, mon petit ami?" She asks. You remain silent, but wiggle your arm, legs, and other joints. Everything seems to be in working order, though a few pieces of your ball-joints seem to be needing some sort of grease or oil. "I- Well, I think I'm quite alright, but..." You look at the woman. "How did I get here, and who are you?"

"I," The woman bows her head slightly in greeting, "am Mademoiselle Madeline, and you, mon ami, are in my workshop." She gestures to the cluttered workspace behind her. "Now, as for how you got here, only you can answer a part of that mystery." Madeline steps back to her desk, and rifles through a series of tools and parts while she continues her tale. "I found you while I was out on a stroll in the historic district, the demolished old Kimbrough house to be exact. You were quite the sight, y'know. Pieces of you were all over the place. Took me quite a bit to find all of you and transport you back here. I haven't ever worked with your material before." She says, turning to back to face you for a moment. "Porcelain, are you?" You nod. "Hmm, I thought as much." She picks up a small cloth, and a jar filled with a thick, white paste. "If you don't mind holding still, I'd like to patch up a few minor chips." You hesitate, but allow her to continue. Using a small trowel, Mademoiselle Madeline spreads the paste onto a few small cracks surrounding your ball-joints, specifically the ones that let your knees function. Once the paste is applied, she pulls out a small pouch, and produces from it a few chips of porcelain. She places the back into the damaged areas with an artisans precision.

"There, just be sure to let that set for a while, no sudden, rough leg movements, alright?" She says, returning the materials to her desk. "Now, here's where I'd like to ask you to help me. Who are you?" She asks. You open your mouth to respond, but find no words come from your mouth, and no thoughts come to your mind. "I don't know, I can't seem to remember. It feels... It feels like a piece of me may be missing." You explain, brows furrowed in frustration. Mademoiselle Madeline pushes you no further, and only nods in pity. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. When I found you in that demolished property, it looked as if that old house had practically toppled down onto you. It's a miracle I found all your outer pieces. It's entirely possible that a few important inner elements may be missing." She says, looking you over for a few moments, as if taking you in. "You're an incredible piece of art, I must admit. I wasn't one-hundred percent sure you'd actually work, even with my tampering, much less be capable of thought. Then again, stranger things have happened." Her brief mentioning of how odd you are gives you pause.

"Miss?" You ask, and she hums in acknowledgement. "I'm not normal, am I?" She chuckles softly. "Well, to most, probably not, but to me?" She laughs. "You're just another patient." You tilt your head. "Patient?" You ask. "So you've treated people like me before?" You ask. She shakes her hand in a so-so manner. "Yes, with prosthetics and such, though I admit I've never dealt with someone entirely mechanical." You nod, looking at your now-repaired knees. "Sorry to cause you so much trouble." You apologize, but she quickly shakes her head. "Not at all. Most of your mechanisms only needed minor repair, I'd actually say the hardest part was working with those porcelain fingers of yours." She grabs your wrist and holds it up before her face, manipulating your fingers with hers. "I might have accidentally swapped the fingers into the wrong spots a few times, but I think I've sorted it out. Let me know if they give you any trouble." She muses, letting your hand fall back onto your lap. "Am I alive, truly?" You ask. She shrugs. "I don't know, I think it depends on your definition of 'alive'. Your whole body runs on gears and pulleys, but you seem to think and feel like any other person." Madeline picks up a picture, surrounded in a frame of copper. "You know, you actually remind me a bit of my son, Jack." She presents you with the photo.

A boy, around your age is sat in front of Mademoiselle Madeline, with pale skin and oddly-styled brown hair. Your eyes travel downwards, and you notice a peculiar feature of the boy, a clock lays prominent on his chest. "A time-piece?" You ask. "A cuckoo-clock, actually. Jack was born with a frozen heart, and I needed something to keep him ticking, for turn of phrase. Let me ask you something." You look at her. "Without his clock heart, Jack would die. His hands of time keep him ticking and tocking all the day long. Now let me ask you, does that make this human boy any less alive." You furrow your brows in thought, biting your frigid lip. You shake your head no, and she smiles. "Then I think you have the answer to your question."

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The rest of the afternoon, Mademoiselle Madeline treats you to tea (though you quickly find out that it tea is't the best idea when your stomach mechanics rust). In an attempt to clean the rust, you both stumbled upon a hatch in your chest and stomach, allowing for an easier clean up. It also gave Mademoiselle Madeline a better way to poke around in your inner-workings. You're grateful she always remained gentle. Eventually, you find yourself sitting in her kitchen, warming your cold porcelain over the flame of a candle. Madeline toils with a watch over at her desk. As you sit quietly, you hear footsteps approaching from outside.

The wooden door of the home swings open, and a flurry of snow and cold air sweeps into the home, prompting you to pull the candle closer to your chest. "I'm telling you, they look fine!" "You know I don't like them though, besides, I'm not afraid of bumping into things." A boy and a girl enter, clearly engaged in a debate. In the girls hand there is a pair of white-and-red dotted glasses. "Jack, while I would prefer Acacia to wear her glasses, she isn't as fragile as you." Madeline says, turning to face the boy. He sighs in defeat, prompting the girl to grin and shove her glasses back into his hands with a "Hmph!" of satisfaction. "No kiss?" Madeline asks, and Jack shakes his head and places a kiss on his mothers cheek. "Hello, Madeline." He greets. She nods in sanctification and exchanges a greeting with Jack's young love, Acacia. You watch the encounter from your place in the kitchen.

"Jack, I made an interesting new friend today..." She says, turning to face the boy. As the pair of teens remove their shoes, Jack nods to his mother. "Really? Someone in need of work?" He asks, tilting his head up to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Mhmm, sort of." His face falls to confusion, and he turns to face Acacia, only to be met with a shrug. Madeline speaks no further, only motioning to the kitchen with a hand while returning to her work. Jack and Acacia follow her hand, a gasp leaving the boy as he sees you. The girl seems to have no reaction to your appearance, but you quickly realize she may not be able to see you. . Your eyes dart from them back down to the candle in front of you, unsure how to introduce yourself. Acacia is the first to approach you, while Jack simply stays back, examining you from a distance.

"Hello..." She greets softly, eyes squinting as she attempts to look at you. Jack smiles and sighs, before walking up behind the girl, reaching over her head and placing her glasses on her nose. She grumbles as she adjusts, blinking a few times as you come into focus. "Oh!" She lets out a surprised gasp, a smile spreading across her face as she looks back and forth between you and her lover. "Jack, they're mechanical, just like you!" She exclaims. You can't help but feel your nervousness fade away at how enthused the two seem. Jack quickly extends a hand to you, and you accept. He holds on, turning your hand over a few times to get a look at your delicate fingers.

"You're made of porcelain?" He asks. "So I've been told." You joke. "So, you're not human at all are you?" You wince at these words, and Jack feels a familiar ache in his clock-work heart when he sees your face fall. "I didn't mean... Well, I meant human in a 'flesh-and-bones' sense, not a 'feelings-and-senses' sense." "I sense your saying 'sense' a bit too much Jack, ease off." Acacia whispers. He blushes, embarrassed. You sigh, and say "No, I understand what you mean. And no, I don't have any skin. I'm all cogs and gears." You laugh. "Can't say I have much of a mind either, I can't really remember anything before now..." You muse, eyes trailing down absentmindedly. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and look up to see Jack has pulled the fabric of his coat to the side, revealing the cuckoo-clock from the photo. "Well, as it were, I understand what it's like being made out of 'gears and cogs'." He assures you. It feels nice.

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"Will you be staying with us?" Jack asks. It's later into the evening now, and the hissing of meat against a pan comes from behind, as Madeline cooks a meal for herself and the pair of teens in front of you, intent on learning all about you. You freeze, unsure how to respond. You would hate to over-step and ask to stay here, but you're not sure where else you could go. You're not even sure you know how to maintain your fragile mechanical form beyond basics like avoiding rain. Before you can respond, Mademoiselle Madeline responds, having somehow sensed your anxiety. "They will be, I'm sure you and Acacia will be more than accommodating." She shoots Jack a playful warning look, and he nods. "Of course, but I hope you don't mind if I ask to see some of your inner-workings. I don't even fully know how my heart functions, much less your whole body." Acacia nods in agreement. "I don't see why not, just don't break anything please. I'd rather like to keep my limbs in working condition. The three of you laugh, and Mademoiselle Madeline begins to set the table. A meal of cooked pork and bean stew sits in a bowl before you, the steam rising from it. You feel an ache in your heart, though you wish the ache was that of hunger instead. How you wish you could eat or drink.

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That night, Jack and Acacia tuck into their separate beds (at Mademoiselle Madeline's insistence). A small resting place has been set up for you on the nearby love-seat, and as you lay down you can't help but wonder if you need sleep, or are even capable of it. You shrug the thought off, supposing you will find out. Soft sighing sounds come from the leftmost bed, Acacia is asleep. A quiet ticking is present in the room, prompting Jack to cough awkwardly. "Apologies, I can't really control the sound." He says, and you sit up to look at him. "No, it's fine. I'm not bothered at all." He nods in response, and sits up to meet your gaze. "How come you don't make any ticking sounds?" He asks. You pause, pondering this. "Maybe my porcelain keeps the sounds inside? I don't actually know." You shift your position, pressing your knees up under your chin as Jack asks another question.

"You never mentioned your name?" He pushes. Once again, he feels awkward when your face falls. "I don't have one. Not one that I can remember, at least." You admit. Jack lets out a hum of understanding, and furrows his brows if in thought. "Well, maybe I could help you pick one?" He suggests. Jack reaches under his mattress and feels around, before pulling back and producing a journal. "These are some old scripts and notes from a friend. I've got a friend, he's a film maker actually." "What's a film?" "Long story. But he's also an excellent storyteller. Maybe we can find a name that suits you in here. For the next few hours, you and Jack traverse the pages of his old friends journal, with Jack explaining various inside jokes and references written within the pages. After some time, Jack points to a name mentioned briefly in the first stanza of a scribbled out poem. "Y/N? What about that? I think it suits you." You nod. "Y/N sounds nice. I'd like to be Y/N." Jack nods, and stuffs the journal back under his mattress. "Hmm. This is actually rather nice, Y/N. I've never had a sibling before." You tilt your head in confusion. "A sibling?" "Like a brother or sister. I mean. if you want to be siblings, that is. Don't feel obligated to agree." He trails off awkwardly. You relish for a moment in the feeling of having a family. "I would like that, Jack." He smiles.

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The next morning, Mademoiselle Madeline sends you, Jack, and Acacia off to school after reviewing Jack's rules three, (though after some minor adjustments to his heart there are only a two rules now.) "Remember Jack, if you need me to go down to the school and speak to the headmaster about-" "No thank you, Madeline. I can handle him myself, I promise. I'll be sure to keep my temper under control." You had overheard this conversation between Jack and his mother this morning as you put on the new uniform Madeline had given you. It felt quite odd, though the woolen school outfit did well to keep your porcelain warm. Now, as you trudged a few feet behind Jack and Acacia, you couldn't help but want to ask about this mysterious tormentor. Your questions do not go unanswered, as you soon find out.

You arrive at the school, staying close to Jack as he assists Acacia through the school gates, holding her hand to guide her up the stairs leading into the courtyard. "Ever the gentleman, Jack." She coos, and he grins. "Isn't that why you fell in love with me?" He teases. She pretends to think for a moment. "Hmm, can't say I did, on account of I couldn't really see you!" The pair laugh, and you can't help but grin at your new brother and his girlfriend. This sweet scene is cut short however, as a boy yells from across the playground. "Oi! Clock-boy, didn't we teach you enough of a lesson yesterday?" A scruffy looking red-headed boy approaches with a cruel grin. Jack's face falls, and Acacia's grows angry. She steps in-between Jack and the blurry form of the boy. "Leave him alone, he hasn't done anything to you!" She yells, stomping her foot down. The boy rolls his eyes. "This isn't your fight Acacia, move." The boy growls. Acacia's stance only grows more firm, and a feeling of worry settles inside you, where on a normal person would be a stomach.

"Please, Acacia, let me handle this." "But Jack-" Jack ignores her insistent remarks, and steps in front of her, bravely facing the boy. As of late, Jack had stopped hiding his heart within the confines of his school jacket, altering the uniform to display his abnormality. He figured that everyone at school had known about it, why should he hide what makes him proud simply to cater to the discomfort of the few who already hate him. Unfortunately, this did make him significantly more vulnerable, as the hands of his heart were now much easier to pull and pluck, and gears could be easily manipulated or removed. Jack and Acacia had initially believed that the bullying may have lessened due to the incident in which a boy lost his eye to the cuckoo-bird living in the clock, but this was not true. If nothing, this only increased feelings of anger and fear surrounding the eclectic boy and his already unpopular mother. "Just let us be, please. You've no reason to harass us." Jack looks the boy dead in the eyes with a firm stare, and for a moment, the cocky facade of the bully falters, fear replacing the jest in his eyes. As the children surrounding you and the group watch the boy with bated breath, he feels unable to back down, and escalates. Clenching his hand, he lets out a cold laugh as he launches a first towards Jack's heart, clearly with intent to harm the boy. You gasp in terror, and can practically feel the world slow around you. You've only known Jack a short while, but his mother made you well aware of how fragile his heart is. In a moment of adrenaline and stupidity, you thrust yourself forward.

As the boy's fist collides with your hard cheek, he yelps in pain, recoiling as you go tumbling onto the ground. You feel odd, and as the boy cradles his bruised fist, you feel as though your head is unbalanced. You quickly realize that your cheek is missing a large chunk of porcelain, which now lays chipped on the ground in front of you. As you grab the shard quickly and hold it to your chest, you look up, causing the crowd to gasp. "What is it?" "Some sort of doll?" "It's terrifying!" "Can it hear us?" "I bet Clock-boys witch mother made it."

You tremble before the crowd of onlookers, their words harming you more than the punch to your face. Acacia quickly kneels beside you, shielding your face from the crowd as he examines the damage. "Does it hurt?" She asks. You shake your head. "No, It doesn't really feel like anything." As Jack begins to yell in retaliation at the injured boy, Acacia attempts to fit the piece of porcelain back into your cheek. "It looks like a very small shard is missing." Acacia says, having matched up most of the shard to your face. As the crowd switches between jeering at you and taunting Jack in his anger, a shadow stretches across the playground, causing a hush to fall over the crowd.

Acacia and Jack freeze, as a tall figure emerges from behind where she is kneeled on the pavement. The courtyard is completely silent, save for the ticking of Jack's heart, which has become more erratic due to the stress of the current situation. Clicking heels approach, and Acacia moves up a little, shielding you and your face from the approaching stranger. "Acacia?" The odd male voice questions. She stands promptly, shuffling in front of you as she faces the boy. Though you can't see much, you can tell the figure towers over Acacia, maybe even Jack. The boy has dark hair, and what appears to be an eye-patch covering his right eye. "Joe, hello." Acacia greets, bowing slightly. Jack looks at her, and she only widens her eyes for a moment, telling him to just remain quiet. "What is the meaning of this disruption?" Joe spits, turning to the cowering red-haired boy. The boy points a finger quickly at Jack. "That freak started it!" "He did not!" Acacia yells, but Joe simply puts his hand up, silencing them both. "And is the freak the reason you're bleeding?" He asks, grabbing the boy's wrist and making him grunt in pain. "N-no. I tried to knock that stupid time-piece out of his chest, but I hit that thing instead!" Joe's visible eye flares with anger, and he raises his free hand. "You dare to hit Miss Acacia?" He exclaims, clearly about to face the boy with his full fury. "W-what! No! I didn't hit her, I hit that other freak. Please, Joe, believe me!" Joe's open palm stops mere inches from the boy's face. "'The other freak'?" Joe questions, a brow raised. The boy uses his uninjured hand to point behind Acacia, and Joe steps to the side to peer around her. He sees not much more than a crumpled female form, so he drops the boy's wrist and steps closer. A huff of air leaves his nose in surprise as he moves closer, seeing your chipped face.

"What is it?" He sneers, looking past Acacia and glancing at Jack. "Surely you must know, Clock-boy." Jack sneers back at him. "There not an 'it', it's my sibling." He exclaims, stepping forward to stand beside Acacia. "Their name is Y/N." Acacia says. Joe seems to respect the girl's opinion more, and he calms himself a bit, taking a deep breath. "And it's your friend?" He asks. "THEY are." She corrects him. He goes silent, glancing down at you from your spot on the ground with a cold look. Suddenly, he reaches down and grips your wrist harshly, pulling you quickly to your feet. You stumble a bit, and Acacia places her hand on the small of your back to steady you. "Be careful, they're fragile!" Joe scoffs. "Clearly, look at them. What's wrong with their face?" His free hand roughly grazes around the edge of your cracked facial porcelain. "He was going to hurt Jack, they got in the middle." Joe glances back at the bully from earlier, who seems to be once more in shock.

"Ugh! I think some of it's face is stuck in me!" He yells, panicked. Sure enough, the missing scrap of porcelain that Acacia said was missing is lodged into the boys wrist, having drawn a light pool of blood around it. Joe drops your wrist and returns to look at the injury. "See, look what it did to me- AH!" Joe quickly yanks the shard out of the boys wrist, and drops of scarlet blood begin to drip from the piece. "What was that for?" The boy cries. Joe rolls his eyes and scoffs at the boy's pathetic nature. "It's no more than a paper cut. Besides, the weak of body are weaker of mind." He begins to return to you and Acacia. "Toughen up." He calls over his shoulder. With a glance to the side and a wave of his hand, Joe disperses the crowd of students, who scatter at his command. Joe roughly grabs your chin, placing the small piece against your cheek. He hums in satisfaction when he sees where it fits in, and turns to hand it to Acacia. "I believe this will help out your friend." He says, bowing as he begins to take his leave. He knocks Jack's shoulder as he walks by, and pauses. "See, Jack? I'm capable of doing no harm. Maybe you should learn from me." He coos, before continuing his walk back into the school as the bell rings. As kids file into the school, the three of you hang back to recover.

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"Do you need to go home? I'm sure I can take you..." Acacia offers, gently rubbing your shoulder. You shake your head, attempting to swallow down your fear. "N-no, I'm fine. Really." She nods. "Alright, Jack are you okay?" He brushes off his shirt, and after adjusting his hair and flicking his clock, he's ready to go. Acacia heads off to her first class, but you grab your brother's sleeve for a moment to ask him to stop. "Jack?" "Hmm?" You bite your lip, wondering if you should ask what you're wondering. Before you can decide, Jack sighs and senses what you want to know. "The boy in black? That was Joe." He looks away. "He's been, tormenting me ever since' I set foot in this school." You feel a wave of pity wash over you, as Jack seems absolutely manic as he recounts the things Joe has done to him. "He's hit me, cut me, and he let his goons rip open my heart!" He yells. He pauses when he sees the fear in your eyes, and tries to calm himself. "I'm sorry, I... I'd just ask you to avoid him. Please." He urges, and you nod. "It doesn't seem like he harbors any resentment towards Acacia. Do you know why?" You ask. He nods. "Yes. Joe latched onto Acacia when she first moved here. His family is single-handedly funding Acacias stay in Edinborough. She's not a citizen, and he seems to think he owns her because of that." He chuckles. "I suppose they're a bit like us. Siblings, I mean. He's very protective of her." Jack explains. You nod, following your brother into the school. As the click of your heels and the ticking of Jack's heart echo through the room, one more question comes to mind. "Why did Joe say you could learn from him?" You ask. Jack looks confused, then clicks his tongue as he realizes what you're referring to. "I'll tell you, but... promise that you won't be scared, okay?" Your expression turns to one of worry.

"Well, now I am a little scared!" You joke, trying to laugh off the nerves. Jack moves his hand to his chest, and he pokes at the little door atop his cuckoo-clock, from which the bird emerges every hour. He taps it, and the little metal bird pops out, squawking thrice before retreating into its home once more. "One day, Joe was tormenting me, as usual. But, I didn't notice the time, and the more he hit me, the closer he got to my heart. He leaned in to grab it out, and well..." He pauses. Shock grips you coldly as you realize that Jack's little Cuckoo bird is the reason for Joe's eye-patch. Jack nods as he recognizes you have understood his words. "I hope you do not think lesser of me..." He says. You shake your head quickly, wanting to remove any thoughts of doubt from his mind. "No. I couldn't think lesser of you. If it had been intentional, I would say it was self-defense, but you didn't even want to harm Joe. You reacted better than most would have, brother." you place your hand on his shoulder comfortingly. He smiles back at you. As the two of you leave the main hall and enter the classroom, you feel a chill run down your spine, but ignore it. What you don't see is the dark, one-eyed figure looming just around the corner.

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From where Joe watches, he finds the sneer he wore when looking at your brother falling, as gazes lands on you. Jack holds the door open for you, and as peers from around the corner of the man hall as he hears your melodic voice thanking him. His fist clenches. In his heart, 'a real heart', as he so often mentioned to Jack, a battle of emotions rages. His hatred of Jack and his mother's freakish nature, his annoyance at Acacia's newfound love for the boy, and newest of all, a foreign feeling. A warm pulsing feeling spreads in his heart, strange to the icy boy who's lived his whole life in an even colder town. He feels anger at his inability to understand this feeling, but more anger at the desires this feeling brings. He wants your attention, though he doesn't understand why. He wants your strange, 'freakish', face turned towards him at all times, rather than your bastard clockwork brother. He wants your melodic voice to call out for him, rather than in fear of the boy who smashed in your face in the school courtyard. In this moment, he comes to a decision. His tormenting of your brother will continue, possibly even worsen. In this way, your attention will be on him. He can show you that he is in charge of this school. You will see the fear that he is regarded with, and surely your brother and Miss Acacia will tell you tales of his reputation. Surely, your brother is in no position to defend you, he has more enemies at this school than he has friends in the whole village. You'll no doubt face hardship, given your closeness to that freak and your odd features. You'll need someone to protect you, and Acacia won't always be there. Once you are well aware of his power, surely you will turn to him in your time of need, beg him to help you and to stop hurting your brother. He will, of course, for a price. Just like Acacia, he will have you under his thumb, under his protection. His fist clenches as he begins his walk into the classroom, mumbling to himself.

"A precious piece of porcelain needs a caretaker, no?"