#my take on Alice in Wonderlands caterpillar

[aromanticasterisms]

my god i am ADORING the fontaine world quests so much they are so good

[inkykeiji]

you can always take more than nothing

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: here’s my halloween piece, only half a month late! still, i hope you can enjoy it! as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: alice in wonderland

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, public sex/exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, size difference, biting/marking, blood, minimal prep, rough sex, teasing, begging, dacryphilia, humiliation, a lil bit of degradation, drugs, toxic relationship

words: 8.6k

synopsis:

Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try. He’s the motherfucking Boss. And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always. 

The music is loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with it, bleeding with it, flashes of neon pouring over the frosted mosaics of glass and marble. 

A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event. 

There are people everywhere, scattered across every surface, crystal glasses filled with expensive liqour and cocktail concoctions glittering in their palms. You barely know any of them. 

They’re all supposed business partners, allies and associates, ‘friends’ of your Daddy. Not that it matters all that much to you; they aren’t allowed to say a word to you anyway. 

Your eyes scan the expanse of the club, on the hunt for a familiar face. Takeomi is in the corner, obnoxiously blowing smoke into some of the higher end girls’ faces. He’s really taking his role of The Caterpillar earnestly. 

Good. You told him it suited him.

At your request (AKA at Mikey’s demand), the top members of Bonten have dressed up as Alice in Wonderland characters, donning an impressive group costume. You’ve been taking the whole thing pretty seriously—beginning your extensive planning in August, drafting up designs and taking everyone’s precise measurements to have each outfit custom made to their exact frames—which means the rest of Bonten has been taking the whole thing pretty seriously, too. 

Not that any of them mind. 

What Mikey’s little angel wants, Mikey’s little angel gets. It’s standard protocol, really; you’re merely an extension of the Boss and thus must be treated as an extension of the Boss, and Mikey’s best men have no issues complying. 

Sighing, you rest your chin in your palms, sombreness souring your features. An ache, dull and dense, settles in the pit of your chest. It’s a desolate sort of longing, a gentle but constant gnawing that cannot be sated by anyone or anything other than it’s creator, something that weights your lungs and heavies your heart and stalls your breath, a vital part missing.

You miss Mikey.

You miss Mikey, but you know this ‘event’ really does have some sort of business significance; that, while it’s mostly an excuse to get drunk and high on Halloween night, it also serves as the grounds for some sort of meeting or negotiation or proposition—you can never be sure which, with Bonten. 

You aren’t allowed to know. You’re lucky to be here at all.

But you miss Mikey.

You shouldn’t be selfish. You know you shouldn’t be selfish; he’s already stretched so thin between so many obligations and obituaries, and you shouldn’t add to that strain. You won’t add to that strain. You’ll sit here, pretty and perfect like his precious little princess should be, and you’ll wait, patiently, until Daddy has a moment to spare you. 

He always finds a moment to spare, no matter how many duties and commitments he has. He always finds a space for you in his day, even if he has to carve it out with his bare hands.

So you mustn’t be greedy. You will be good. For him, you’ll do anything, no matter how difficult. 

“No frowning, miss Alice,” Sanzu chastises through a stretched grin, wide and carved into his cheeks—a smile so sharp, so sinister it puts the true Cheshire Cat to disgrace. 

He swims into your vision, teeth glinting with teals and fuchsias, an intricately wrapped box in his palms. Tugging on the ribbon a little, he unboxes it to reveal a wealth of small confections, individually wrapped in colourful foils.  

“Look, your favourite kitty brought you some chocolate.”

That brightens your mood a little—a sugar fiend, just like your Daddy is—and your mouth drops open expectantly, cute tongue unfurling in invitation. 

Sanzu rolls his eyes but places a truffle on your tongue anyway, pressing it down on the slick muscle and forcing your lips to close around his first knuckle to suck the treat free from him, laughing at the way your face twists.

Pervert. 

His nails taste like blood—not that you’ve come to expect any less—but the rusty copper is quickly eradicated by sugar, a content little hum vibrating around the melting chocolate.

“Good, huh?” Sanzu asks around his own chocolate, shuffling a gold box of expensive Italian truffles in his palm as he picks through them, confections jumping perilously with the motion, shimmering wrappers catching in the flashing neon strobes. “They’re imported.”

“Where’d you get those?” you ask through strings of caramel and cocoa, welding to your molars. 

“A little Halloween treat courtesy of Mikey,” he says dutifully, jostling the box in emphasis. “And an apology, for taking longer than expected.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest, swelling with your heart and stretching your ribs. The last few remnants of displeasure fade from your face, giving way to a small smile.

How very Mikey of him, to send his second in command armed with artisan chocolates and a short, sweet explanation; something he knew would make you smile, something he knew would alleviate some of your impatience, a reassurance that he misses you too, that he’ll be back soon, that he’s thinking of you. 

“There’s our pretty girl,” Sanzu teases, but his own grin has softened a little, the glint in his eyes dulled to a twinkle. “No more pouting, ‘kay? Your trusty Cheshire Cat will be by your side until your Hatter returns.”

Ah. A polite way of saying that you’re stuck with him until Mikey’s finished his work, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

That takes longer than either of you expect, though, Sanzu’s plan of entertaining you by leading you, hand-in-hand, around the club to assess each Bonten member’s costume not nearly as lengthy as he had anticipated. 

Because it only takes a mere twenty minutes or so to examine all of them, with you near instantaneously deciding that the Haitanis have won the make-believe costume contest you and Sanzu had been holding between yourselves. 

Sanzu had agreed—everyone looks impeccable in their custom-made costumes, tailored specifically to them at your behest, but no one had any hope of eclipsing the Haitanis in their form-fitted pinstriped suits, each stitch and thread molded flawlessly to their frames, perfectly pressed collars embroidered with Dee and Dum in shimmery purple thread, powder blue bowties immaculately symmetrical around their tattooed necks. 

Now you’re back at the bar, Sanzu’s shaky fingers sifting through the box of truffles as he searches for something, anything, to distract him from the way the blood in his veins is beginning to dry up, the way his capillaries are withering, brittle and thirsty, the way his skin is beginning to itch.

Because he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Not yet, anyway.

No narcotics when he’s chaperoning you; that’s a hard rule. That’s a rule that’s been sewn into the tissues of his brain so tightly it’s interwoven with his synapses. That’s an execution rule; a one time only rule—breaking that rule will get him fucking killed. 

But you’re both starting to become a little bit restless. 

“Come on,” you’re begging, word dragged across your tongue in a petulant whine. “Just one more chocolate?”

“I said no,” Sanzu snaps, eyes hard. “Mikey said three. Mikey’s the Boss. Whatever Mikey says goes; Mikey’s girl, Mikey’s rules!” 

“You’re no fun,” you huff, forehead scrunching with a pout. 

“Yeah, and that’s why he sticks me with you,” Sanzu says, though he sounds almost proud, as if it’s an honour to babysit you, a title of high esteem. “Because I can resist your tricks.”

“My charms,” you correct.

“Whatever,” he waves a hand. “It’s all semantics. Point is, I know how to say no to you, unlike a few certain someones.” 

Unimpressed ice blue eyes sweep across the venue, hovering pointedly on the faces of his colleagues—Kakucho, the Dormouse; Kokonoi, the White Rabbit; Rindou, Tweedle-Dum.

Your eyes follow his, and you smirk to yourself. Kakucho is the easiest out of those three; Kokonoi sometimes deceives you, allowing you to do as you please only to tattle to Mikey later, and Rindou always demands some sort of payment, claiming it’s only fair that you give him something he wants in return. 

Turning back, you’re about to respond, something bratty and bitter simmering on your tongue, when a pair of hands and a smooth voice cuts you off. 

You’d know that touch, that tone, anywhere.

“Pray, tell me, Miss Alice,” Mikey murmurs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, palms curling around your hips and pulling you back toward his chest. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“Because it can produce a few notes,” you answer dutifully, head tipping back against his shoulder to glance at him through the corner of your eye. “Though they are very flat.”

“Correct,” he responds. “My, what a smart little girl you are.”

It’s soaked in condescension, compliment drawled out through a supercilious smirk, breath wafting across your face sweltering and saccharine. 

“Do I get a reward, Mister Hatter?” you ask, sweeter than sugarcane, batting eyelashes framing hopeful, dewy eyes. 

A hum vibrates on his tongue, onyx gaze apathetic and appraising as it glides across your features slowly, thoroughly, pulling each of your thoughts apart and putting them back together again. 

Your head rolls to the side, over his protruding collarbone, to stare at him more resolutely. And God, it’s the way you’re looking up at him, eyes glazed with dedication, with devoutness, like you want to fucking devour him. 

Like you want him to devour you. 

Hips pushing back, you rub your ass into his cock in inconspicuous little motions, lashes fluttering a little, back arched in a perfect curve and tits on full display. 

From this angle, there’s no way he can’t see right down your dress; there’s no way he can’t see the red lace of your bra straining against supple skin as your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths, no way he doesn’t notice the very tips of your nipples, cheekily peeking out from beneath the delicate material with each swell of your breasts. 

Bony fingers flex on your waist, and he huffs out a smirk.

His ebony pupils are enormous, blown wide and gaping, gnawing away at the whites of his eyes. 

He’s high. 

It’s evident in the milky film of artificial ecstasy lacquering his gaze, doped up and hazy, but it does nothing to dilute the potent love he has for you, melting his stare to something soft and sticky, pouring past his lashes.

He’s feeling good tonight.

“I think I know what my little girl wants,” one hand flattens against your stomach, holding you flush to his body as the other slides up your ribs to cup your breast, filling his palm with it and kneading, slow and deliberate, simply enjoying the feeling of you. “And it is very naughty of her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm,” he hums, head drooping to nose along the curve of your neck. “Really.”

His lips brush along your skin as he speaks, his voice barely more than a gentle vibration along the column of your throat, and you whimper a little, fingers curling around his wrist and pressing him closer.

“A-And what’s that?”

“Aw, can’t you guess?” he tuts his tongue. “And I thought you were smart. Must’ve been mistaken. Where’s my smart little girl gone now?”

Grip firm on your waist, his hips rut forward, hard cock prodding at you through the layers of tulle. A discontented little sound vibrates in your throat as you squirm a little—and oh, he knows what you’re whining about, greedy girl, knows that you can barely feel his cock through the thick petticoat, knows you want more—and he presses his hips further forward, grinding harder into your ass.

“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—” 

“What?” he shoves again, stronger this time, teeth nipping at the skin below your ear. “Hm?”

“Your cock is hard,” you nearly whine, pushing back against him in a pitiful little wiggle, desperate for more friction. 

“And who’s fault is that, huh?” 

The hand massaging your breast gives a final squeeze before his fingers find your nipple, pinching it through the material of your dress and bra, then rubbing the heel of his thumb over it in hard, rhythmic motions. 

“Is your pussy wet?” he huffs the question into your ear, his hot breath procuring shivers. “I bet it is, naughty girl. Daddy wants to feel it.”

“Please, please,” your hips buck a little, punctuating your pleads, chest pressing into his touch.

“Please? Please what?”

“Touch me, Daddy, touch me, touch me.”

Slender hands slip beneath the puffy layers of lace, calloused fingertips rough as they skim up your smooth thighs, outlining the silk ruffles of the bloomers he bought you specifically for this costume. 

Your hips twitch slightly, legs spreading instinctively as his fingers trail along the scrunched hem to the apex of your thighs, pressing two into the rapidly dampening material. Pensively, they caress your slit through the material, prodding your hole just a little before rubbing two slow, hard circles into your clit.

“Christ,” he breathes out, curse splintering at the end. “You’re so fucking wet baby, and I’ve barely done anything yet.”

His palm flattens against you, all four fingers dipping into your core nearly to the first knuckle and then curling, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit, and your pelvis cants reflexively, almost as if you’re attempting to draw his fingertips further in. 

“How are you this wet already, huh?” he keens, voice straining beneath his own desire. “Been thinking naughty thoughts?”

“Jus’want your cock,” you slur out honestly, hips gyrating in pathetic little circles, an embarrassing attempt to follow his touch. 

“Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes, eh?” he rolls your clit between his thumb and his forefinger, nonchalantly toying with it as he mulls. “Just my cock?” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod blearily. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

“Cute,” Mikey spits, the compliment sheathed in venom, “how utterly stupid just the thought of my cock makes you.” 

His fingers clamp down on the swollen nub and tug, your whole body jolting with the pain, a yelp hitching in your chest. 

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens in response, holding you close, holding you still as he humps away at you, sloppy and uneven.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, fingers tweaking your clit in rhythmic motions, sparks of pleasure chased by shocks of pain. “You’re so fucking easy for your Daddy, aren’t you? So quick to get soaked for him, so quick to get ready for him, such a good little slut for him, yeah?” 

His voice is gravelly, letters wispy around the edges despite fact that he’s nearly shouting over music. Another rush of heat surges between your thighs, and he laughs, dark and dangerous. 

Your clit throbs in his touch, the silk of your panties drenched all the way through, aiding his fingers in their slippery motions—several small, fast S gestures, followed by a few firm strokes of your slit, fingertips gliding over your folds with ease. You’re so soaked, whole cunt now outlined by the shimmery material, molding to your folds and enabling him to feel every dip, every bump, every crevice, another chuckle dripping from his lips as your little hole clenches around nothing.

“Daddy,” you whimper, thighs squeezing together tightly as you attempt to fuck his fingers. “Daddy, I—I can’t—I need—” 

“Shh,” he hushes you, lips caressing the curve of your ear. “I know, baby. Daddy knows what you need.” 

A palm wraps around your wrist as Mikey mutters something about going somewhere a little more private, pulling you along behind him and leading you toward those purple velvet VIP couches, empty and roped off in a darkened corner. 

“What are we—” you begin as Mikey collapses heavily on the couch, knees spread wide open, hips shifting up slightly as he forces his feet even further apart, getting comfortable. 

C’mere, his lips mime, voice drowning in heavy bass, his chin jutting in the general direction of his straining cock, yearning against pin-striped pants. 

Strong hands curl around your hips and yank you backward, the abrupt motion punching a sound of surprise from your chest as you tumble into his lap, spine pressed tight to his sternum. 

The hinges of his jaw hook over your shoulder, a crude way of keeping you from squirming as he manhandles you into straddling his thighs, hard cock pressing into your core. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants out, the curse damp against your skin. “You’re so wet I can feel you leaking through my pants.”

“Daddy,” you say, and although it’s meant to be a warning, it comes out as a whine, stringy and petulant.  

Because it already feels so good, and he’s already so hard, and you just can’t help but rock your hips back, slow and firm, whimpering a bit as the head of his cock glides over your clit, teasing as the slick, swollen little nub jumps beneath the dull pressure. 

He laughs a little, nothing more than a deep, dark rumbling within his ribs, reverberating against your back.

“You’re so fucking nasty, baby,” he chides lowly, though you can hear the self-satisfied smirk sewn into his voice, tinged with sadism, as he rolls his hips up twice, grinding his cock into your drenched core. “You’re so fucking needy, baby, trying to get yourself off in the middle of this crowded club.”

You are, you are, another little sound escaping your lips as you rut back against him, already beginning to speed up, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit in quick little strokes.

“It’s really precious, y’know, how pathetically eager you are for me,” he murmurs, notes of fondness negating the sting the insult should bring, words gone melty and sweet. “But you gotta stop humping Daddy for a moment, so he can get his cock out and give you what you really want.” 

A disgruntled little whine sounds in your throat, motions stuttering a little as you attempt to stop moving. But it all feels so incredible, greedily unable to quell your hips completely as they rotate in messy little circles, tummy starting to ripple with each graze of his blunt head against your clit.

“Hey,” he warns, sharp and stern, a palm colliding with your bare thigh and leaving a burning handprint seared in its wake, the impact of the slap loud enough to draw a few pairs of eyes. “Don’t get bratty with me, or you won’t get anything at all, you understand?”

Your head’s nodding before the words are even finished leaving his lips—yes, Daddy, of course, Daddy, brats don’t deserve to be filled by Daddy’s cock—desperate to be good for him, to be the best for him.

Because you know he isn’t fucking around; Mikey’s threats are never empty threats, each and every word plucked from his brain with superlative care, heavy and infused with meaning.

It’s terrifying and tantilizing, how easily and instantly he can switch from one mode to the other: from playful to imposing, from Daddy to Leader, a pleasant shiver skittering up your spine, your hole clenching and pulsing as your stomach plummets, gut weighted with a tingling pressure.

It’s a bit of a task, freeing his cock and manoeuvring yourself as you try to inconspicuously sink down on it, but you both manage, your fluffy petticoat of crinoline and tulle providing a decent amount of privacy. 

A hiss slips through the gaps of your gritted teeth as it begins to tear you in two, cute little hole stinging as it strains around his cock, struggling to accommodate his girth, delicate skin splitting itself open for him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he breathes lowly, voice vibrating against your ear. “There you go, good girl.” 

An airy little moan spills from your lips as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix, and you melt back into him, skull knocking against his shoulder, eyes slipped shut. 

“Feel better, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble out dreamily. “S’good, S’right.”

“It feels right, huh?” he chuckles a little, thumbs rubbing fond circles into your hips, his hands all the way up your skirt, slipped beneath the frills and fluff, forearms buried in your dress. “You like it when Daddy fills you up?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Stretches me out real good, makes me feel all stuffed ‘n full.” 

Whole, complete, one. Like everything feels as it’s supposed to again.

And it hurts, because it always hurts, because he’s too thick and you’re never prepped enough, never patient enough, core split open on his cock and little hole aching as it attempts to adjust to him, but it’s so fucking perfect, too. Your cunt spasms around him, hips twitching a little in desperation—like you’re trying to suck him in further, like you’re trying to bury him deeper—and he groans, fingers flexing as he holds you still, nails gorging on your flesh.

“Eager, are we?” 

“S’not my fault,” you mewl, back arching a little as you attempt to push your hips back, squirming a bit in his strong grip. “Need you, Daddy.”

“Is that so?”

Grasp tightening, his hips thrust up, grinding the head of his cock into your cervix in slow, hard motions—back and forth, back and forth, inspiring a dull pang throbbing in your gut. 

Gasping sharply, your hips jerk back in response, automatic and instinctual, pulling a hoarse groan from his chest. 

His clutch turns to near bone crushing, a fractured little cry sticking in your throat, and he forces you to hold still for a moment, muscles in his thighs gone rigid and stiff as his hips press up further and tug you down, frozen, revelling in the way your cunt pulses around him, as if it’s whining for him.

“M-Mikey,” you echo its sentiments, his name a sulky plead on your tongue, brows knit together and lips jutted in a pout. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“You know,” you huff out, wriggling a little in his palms, feebly trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Tell me anyway,” he demands.  

Scalding embarrassment pricks your cheeks and you whimper, fidgeting in his grasp again, head shaking in defiance.

“Come on,” he chides, but there are notes of amusement infusing his tone. “Daddy can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask for it.” 

Sharp teeth sink into your shoulder suddenly, your half-formed response strangled by a gasp, Mikey’s jaw tensing as he burrows his teeth further into your flesh, piercing through tissues and snapping capillaries until copper explodes in his mouth. 

He holds it for a moment, all thirty-two of his teeth latched in your skin, ensuring he leaves a full, detailed outline of his mouth etched into you—a signature of sorts—before his tongue flattens against the wound, dragging over it in a single wide lick and sealing it with blood-tinged saliva. A gentle exhale wafts over the bite, cool against the searing pain, and you shudder, chills erupting across your flesh.

“You’re a big girl,” he coaxes over your whimpering, the encouragement steeped in condescension. “I know you can do it. Use your big girl words and tell Daddy what you want.”

Your eyes squeeze shut against the burn of humiliation, lids crinkling at the corners, the softest hiccup catching in your throat, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“I—I wanna ride your cock, Daddy,” you push the stubborn words from your tongue, trembling and breathy.

“Yeah?” he asks, bloodied tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. “How bad?”

“So bad,” you bleat out, striving to bounce on his cock under the firm restraint of his hands, dewdrops of annoyance clinging to your lashes, glittering in the beams of magenta and teal as you blink rapidly.

“Hm,” he muses to himself, nonchalant as he readjusts his grip, hands constringing, completely halting your pathetic little movements. “It doesn’t seem like you want it all that badly.”

“Daddy,” the word leaves your lips in a whine, scrunched and petulant through your pout, body thrashing beneath his strong grip. “Come on—” 

“Are you sure you wanna be such a naughty little whore in front of all of these people?”

Your body stops its writhing, his words like a slap to the face.

It’s a bit of a shock, to hear it spoken aloud so bluntly, cut and dry and honest, and it sends a torrent of sparks fizzing through your chest to collect dense and tight in your tummy. 

Shame and revulsion sets your skin aflame, the cinders in your gut flaring in response, an intoxicating combination. 

“Yes—”

“Huh? What was that?” he shouts theatrically in your ear. “I couldn’t really hear you over the music.”

“Y-Yes,” you repeat, trying to steady your hiccuping voice, to be stern and resolute, even as tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

“Really?” he breathes, and he sounds astonished, he sounds appalled. “You’re so fucking sleazy, baby. I wonder what all these people would think, if they knew how truly filthy my little girl is...”

“Manjirou,” you weep out his birth name, whole face saturated in frustration.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he chuckles out the word, and it’s vicious. “Graduated to using my full name, now, have you?” he licks at the steadily oozing bite, mopping up more blood with his tongue. “Christ, you do really want it.” 

“I do!” you cry out, struggling against his grasp again, hips bucking in wild, erratic motions. “I do, I do, please, let me ride your cock, please.” 

“What if I made you sit, still and straight like the good little girl I know you want to be, on my hard cock for the rest of the night? Do you think you’d be able to handle it?”

You know he won’t, know he’d never be able to, because he’s just as addicted to you as you are to him, just as desperate, just as eager, just as needy; because even as he holds you motionless, he can’t quite halt the delicate jerk of his hips, rolling up into your core; because you know he wants this just as badly as you do, gets off on the depravity just as much as you do.

Even so, the mere thought of being teased like this, of being forced to hold such a degrading position, is still enough to inspire a rush of agitated tears to flood your eyes, vision gone bleary with despairing desire and rendering the club a bleary haze of glowing neons. 

“No, Daddy, no, I—I just want to ride you, please, Daddy, I c-can’t—” 

You’re nearly wailing now, head thrown back dramatically as your neck twists into an uncomfortable knot, anguished as you try to bury your face in his throat, looking for solace. Your chest stutters as you stammer out half-finished pleads, gone garbled with spit, and Mikey smiles.

You’re starting to cause a scene. 

It’s exactly what he wanted.

“Okay, baby, okay, okay,” he’s pacifying as he feels hot tears soak into his neck, a choked sob catching painfully in your chest. “Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”  

And finally, finally his grasp loosens, stiff fingers gone lax, massaging lopsided circles into the rapidly developing bruises left in the shape of their prints. 

“Go ahead, angel,” he urges, nuzzling into the junction of your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the congealing bite. “Ride Daddy’s cock.” 

Then he’s slumping back, settling into the couch cushions and spreading his thighs a little wider, pressing the soles of his boots into the waxed floor for stability and leverage. 

His hands stay on your waist, a gentle guidance, but he allows you to set the pace—a rare occurrence—patient as your hips work up a steady rhythm of quick, shallow gyrations, each swivel dragging his cock against your favourite spot.

And God, you’re so cute when you use his cock to make yourself feel good. It’s a shame that he can’t see your face in this position, can’t see the way your lashes flutter and frame the rolling whites of your eyes or the way your features scrunch so delicately; a shame he can’t hear your gorgeous noises, all your sweet little gasps and pitiful little whines consumed by the blaring music. 

But he can see how your back is bowing, spine forced into a near perfect arc by your building pleasure, bending just a hint more with each brush of his cock; he can feel your palms clutching his knees, nails digging little crescents into his shins and using them for support as your movements accelerate, as you fuck yourself harder, faster, better.

And he lets you have your fun for a little, lays back all languid and lazy and watches through lidded eyes as you play with yourself and use his cock like it’s your favourite toy—because, well, it is—but eventually it just isn’t enough and you need Daddy’s help. 

Just like he knew it wouldn’t be. Just like you always do.

Not that he minds one bit.

Yes, it isn’t enough, because it never is, because you can never manage anything more than teasing yourself when left entirely to your own devices, spritzing kerosene on the dull smouldering in the pit of your stomach as the head of his cock brushes up against that engorged spot inside of you, not nearly hard enough or fast enough to have you anywhere close to creaming on him, merely enough to have your clit throbbing, swollen and neglected. 

He knows you’re beginning to get restless when your hips turn sloppy, tempo starting to falter as your motions stutter, and then you’re looking over your shoulder at him with a beseeching pout, glazed eyes begging him to do something!

So he does. 

He’s straightening up in a split second, hands around your waist tightening as he yanks you back toward his chest, chin hooking over your clavicle again and grinding the sharp bone into your skin.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, mocking and mean. “Can’t even get herself off without her Daddy’s help.” 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you wail over the roar of EDM, head shaking in accentuation. “Need you, need you to do it for me.”

“Of course you do, angel,” he says, as if it’s obvious, as if it’s common knowledge. “But that’s okay—Daddy will make it feel good.” 

That’s the only warning you’re given before his hips are ramming up, rapid and rough and downright ruthless, the abrupt motion slamming a high-pitched yelp from your throat, so pure and genuine and full of lust that it rises above the music, breaks through the heavy bass beat, gathering a handful of glances from a few nearby party-goers. 

So much for being inconspicuous. 

You should’ve known that that just isn’t Mikey’s style. 

They lose interest just as quickly as they gained it, though, going back to their drinks and their drugs, unconcerned. What the Boss does at his own club is none of their business, even if it is on display for the whole venue to see. 

Still, it’s enough for Mikey.   

“Everyone can see you, you know,” voracious black eyes scan the balcony space. “Everyone can see you being such a good little whore for your Daddy.” 

The thought of being watched, of being caught, inspires a whole flock of butterflies to flit around in your tummy, another surge of heat gushing between your thighs, and Mikey laughs. Oh, he felt that. 

Because he’s right; if anyone dared to look a little closer, a little longer, cared to paid a smidge of more attention to the two of you, hidden on one of the velvet couches wedged in the corner of the VIP section with your hips rocking and Mikey’s hands buried in the lace and tulle of your skirt, they’d know exactly what the two of you are doing.

But it doesn’t matter; you don’t care. Neither does he. Why should either of you?

“Do you—Do you think they like it?” you question, and Christ, it’s so precious, that pathetic hope ringing high and clear in your voice. “Do you think they like watching me bounce on their Boss’s cock?”

“Fuck,” the curse fragments in his throat, sharp and pitchy, and he coughs on the shards. “I know they do, sweetheart.”

“Do you think they’re g-gonna go home and touch themselves to the thought of me—of us?”

“Aw,” Mikey coos out in a chuckle, breathless and condescending. “It’s cute that you think they aren’t already jerking off to you on a regular basis.”

Of course they are, you silly little stupid thing; how could they not be? With all the sweet, short little dresses he buys you to prance and twirl around in—the ones with the sweetheart necklines that dip just a hint too low, teasing the swell of your breasts with each of your gentle inhales; the ones with the rippling hems that end just a touch too high, swishing and swaying and flashing with each of your movements, riding up and fanning out to gift them with teasing little glimpses of the lace and satin underneath. 

“You think I don’t know what my—ah, Christ—what my men think of you? How my men think of you?” He tongues a little at the bite, using his front teeth to scrape off a few half-formed scabs, blood rushing to pool in their place. “You think I don’t see the way they look at you?” 

A whine stammers in your throat, your back arching a little more as your cunt quivers around his cock, that drove of butterflies sending your stomach swooping, the organ tensing, tying itself into thick knots pulled tight and taut with each plunge of his cock. 

Mikey laughs again, the sound nothing more than a deep, dense vibration rumbling within his ribs, seeping into your back and sending tingles up your spine. 

“Would you like to see the way they look at you?” 

“H-Huh?” 

Oh, how adorably fucked out you already are, mind gone dumb and numb to everything but him, but his voice and his touch and his steadily driving cock; oh, how adorably easy it is to make you this fucking idiotic. 

“Look over there,” he presses his cheek into yours, forcing your head to turn and follow his gaze. 

Across the club, Rindou sits with an elbow resting on the edge of the bar, a glass dangling from his fingertips. His eyes are cavernous, carnivorous, a smirk smearing across his face as your stare meets his, heavy lids framing a leering look. 

Using a shoulder, he nudges his brother’s stomach, jutting his chin toward you and his Boss in indication when Ran looks down in question, redirecting his attention. 

Now they’re both watching you, with doped up violet eyes and identical sleazy smiles, toothless and worming.

It makes you want to scrub and scratch at your skin, their gazes painting you in a thick coat of grime, body soiled by their lust and left feeling dirty, feeling gross, a strong shiver crawling across your flesh.

Your head jerks reflexively, desperate to hide from their lechery, skull knocking against Mikey’s hard enough to send thorns of pain searing through your temple. 

A yelp cracks in your throat, and Mikey snorts, seemingly unfazed. 

“Aw,” Mikey tuts in false admonishment. “Don’t get shy now. Look at them. Look at them while you ride my cock.”

“M-Mikey—” your eyes shut tightly, a pitiful attempt to escape their invasive eyes, head shaking in little judders.

“C’mon,” he goads, forcing you to face their stare. “You want them all to see, right? How good my little girl is? How pretty my little girl is?”

Peeking through your lashes, you squint at the Haitanis, features teetering on the verge of a wince, as if you’re expecting them to physically strike you. 

They’re still looking at you, wide and unblinking, speaking out of the side of their mouths in laughs and murmurs to one another. 

Dressed in matching pin-striped suits and thick suspenders, Rindou has discarded his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled haphazardly up his forearms to his elbows, first few buttons of his shirt popped undone, revealing a defined collarbone. 

Predictably, Ran is still the perfect picture of poise and elegance, not a single hair out of place, suit jacket square on his shoulders and flawlessly tailored to his body, each stitch outlining his edges.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.

Whatever it is they’re saying to each other, they’re clearly enjoying themselves, amusement playing in glassy irises as Ran rests a hand around Rindou’s neck, slim fingers pressing into plush muscle. His younger brother instantly relaxes into his touch, mollifying back against his stomach and hooking an arm around his thigh, hugging it to his ribs. 

And it’s the way they’re looking at you, as if they’re peeling the clothes from your body and the skin from your bones and peering into the depths of your soul to dance with your demons and devour your secrets; as if they’re singeing your expression into their minds, the sight of your features saturated in perturbation and pleasure branded into the tissues of their brains, carved into the walls of their skulls, ensuring they’ll never forget.

Everything feels overexposed as they pry you apart bit by bit, heady mix of hedonism and humiliation hazing over your brain.

Mikey’s hips slow to a drag, thighs tensing and soles of his boots skidding across marble as he expertly angles his hips and presses up, rubbing the head of his cock over your g-spot in slow, controlled motions—back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again. 

And the moan that claws at your throat is almost obnoxious, is definitely embarrassing, which means Mikey needs to fuck at least three more from your chest, grunting a little with the effort as his cockhead jabs against that plush spot, hard and precise.

A whine that sounds suspiciously like his title, tangled in spit and weighted with shame, spills from your lips, and you nestle your face against his own even as your hips jolt, desperate for comfort, desperate for cover.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he nuzzles your damp cheek. “I know you do. I can feel it.”

It’s true, he can—you’re sure he can, with the way your straining little hole keeps pulsing around his length, another stream of heat cascading down his shaft, viscous and wet and so, so much, to pool in the folds of his balls, to stain the waistband of his pants and the velvet of the couch.

But you know he likes it just as much as you do. 

Because you’re both so fucking naughty, so fucking nasty, but the depravity just works to heighten it all, makes it that much better, amplifying every touch and brush and tease and fondle and making it all feel so fucking good, even as Mikey’s pace eases into something unhurried, his thrusts turned languid but powerful.

So you join in, you rise to his challenge, a sick little game the two of you play, a sick little game you force others to participate in—because you’re fucking untouchable.

“Do you think their cocks are hard, Daddy?” you ask, the question dripping with syrup as you roll your hips backwards, slow and purposeful, returning the Haitanis’ smouldering stare through fanned lashes, unblinking and tenacious. 

“Ah, f-fuck,” Mikey’s cock jolts, rhythm stammering for a moment before he regains his composure. “Yeah, baby, I bet they’re wishing they were me right now.”

You bet they are, too, mouths stopped moving and gazes gleaming with want, lips parted with uneven exhales pushed from their heaving chests, entirely enchanted by your movements.

It’s the most affected and authentic you’ve ever seen them before, and it sends a thrill of power shooting through your body, blood left fizzing in its wake. 

One of them reaches into their pocket, groping around blindly for their phone, not daring to spare a second of their attention away from you, and Mikey snarls, nose scrunched in disgust and lip curled in a sneer, baring gritted teeth.

Because that’s too much, that’s crossing a line, and Mikey swiftly redirects your face, effectively hiding your expression from the Haitanis’ hungry eyes. 

Mikey’s always liked to show off. Mikey’s never liked to share.

He swaps shoulders quickly, the defined hinges of his jaw clasped firmly over your collarbone, and smushes his face flush to yours again, skin clammy with sweat. 

“And look over there,” he steers your gaze toward the other side of the club, where Kokonoi sits with a smattering of men surrounding a tall cocktail table, littered with crystal glasses and white lines. 

The men around the table are laughing about something, sloshing liquor and cutting powder into thick, fat stripes, but Kokonoi isn’t paying attention to any of it. 

No. Kokonoi is looking at you. 

His eyes snap away when they meet your own, head whipping forward with such speed and such force it’s a marvel he doesn’t instantly give himself whiplash. A deep laugh rumbles in Mikey’s throat in response, something dark, something decadent. 

“He’s gonna go home and touch himself to you, too,” he says. “He might not even make it before he goes home; might end up jerking his cock in a bathroom stall or the front seat of his car.” 

“How can you tell?” 

“Well, look at him,” Mikey snorts. “He’s so hard he’s about to burst outta his pants.”

Following the line of Kokonoi’s body, your gaze travels downward, to the straining lump in his white pants. His hips shift a little uncomfortably as his thighs tense, hands curled into fists on his knees as he steadily trains his stare forward at the wall opposite of him, throat bobbing with a thick swallow.

Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.

The thought of Koko rushing to his car to collapse in the driver’s seat, head tipped back against the headrest and hand shoved down his pants as his palm rubs frantically at his hard cock, or hastening to the washroom to lock himself in a stall, forehead pressed tightly to the rickety door and panting out stuttered, half-stifled whimpers hotly against his upper lip as he hurriedly relieves the problem you’ve created, is almost too much to bear, stomach clenching in time with the throbbing of your cunt, a torrid pressure building and burning in your gut. 

The sudden acceleration of Mikey’s thrusts snaps you out of that tangle of thoughts, effectively drawing every ounce of your attention back to him.

A mewl pries past your lips, sharp and high and cracking at the end, whole spine arching as Mikey resumes his assault on your favourite spot, cockhead driving hard and fast against plush flesh. 

“They can look all they want, but you’re mine.” His fingers tighten, his grasp rigid and unbreakable, the words nothing more than a snarl spit in your ear, wet and harsh. “I won’t fuckin’ share.” 

“Never, never, never,” you babble in time with the bouncing on his lap, head nodding in sloppy motions with each repetition of the word. 

“Never,” he growls, teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sloppily, excess spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he breaks the skin for the second time tonight and sucks hard, drawing blood from the string of tiny wounds.

It has another cry escaping your throat, whole face crinkling in a sordid mixture of pleasure and pain, head instinctually thrown back against your Daddy, automatically giving him more room to work. Drops of watered down blood drool down your back and Mikey takes a moment to admire them, mesmerised by the way they shimmer in the strobing lights of the club, before he licks at them with the tip of his tongue, leaving crude strokes of fresh spit in their wake.

Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try.

He’s the motherfucking Boss.

And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always. 

He’s really fucking you now, vicious and vigorous, your entire body juddering in his lap as his hips piston up, cockhead pounding against that sensitive mound of tissue buried deep within you. 

Each thrust shoves another shattered sound from your tongue, splintered moans of his name and his title pouring past your lips in a jagged stream. 

The knot your stomach has twisted itself into strains under the building pressure, growing heavier and heavier with each jackhammer into you, stretched taut and stiff and ready to snap. 

It’s all so much, the ogling eyes and the ramming of his cock and the tightening in your belly, every muscle in your body coiled and aching for the ecstasy that comes with release. Your breath mangles with the mewls shoved from your lips with every slam up, sticking to your throat and you cough, wheezing past the splinters.  It’s all too much, and—!

“M’gonna, m’gonna cum, Daddy!” you gasp, tears dotting the corners of your eyes, sparkling in spidery lashes.  

“Yeah, baby?” he breathes, voice dropping to a ragged rasp. “You gonna cream all over Daddy’s cock? Huh? Make a mess on my cock surrounded by all of Daddy’s closest and most esteemed colleagues?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nearly sob out, palms curling over his wrists, nails clawing at the delicate skin, desperate for an anchor. 

“My dirty fucking girl,” he hisses out, sharp breath stinging your cheek. “Such a good—Ah—good little slut for me, aren’t you?” 

You can no longer respond, rendered stupid from the ardor, potent pleasure corroding your brain and gnawing through your synapses. It’s downright intoxicating, it’s fucking insatiable, it’s simultaneously immense and insufficient, way too much yet not nearly enough, because you need more, you need more, unintelligible pleads shattering on your tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, gush all over Daddy, make a pretty mess on his lap for him. Show everyone in this Goddamn club how gorgeous you look cumming for me.” 

And so you do, ever your Daddy’s best girl, body eager to obey its owner as your cunt convulses around him, copious amounts of slick cascading down his shaft to drench his thighs, sticky and sharp and so fucking sick as he continues to bounce you in his lap. 

The spasming of your cute little hole draws the sweetest whine from the back of his throat, panted out against the curve of your ear, and another bout of warmth rushes to the apex of your thighs, earning you a shuddered little curse, the exhale sweltering against your sweaty skin.

You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy. 

Three more pumps of his hips and he’s following, thrusts stuttering as he fucks up messily into you, cock throbbing almost violently and stuffing you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Strong hands hold you firmly in place, cockhead pressed flush to your cervix as he spills himself into you, as he forces you to take every fucking ounce of what he’s giving you. 

And you love it, you love it, you love it, you’re telling him, sentiments pouring from your mouth in a jumbled stream, singular and continuous until your lungs run out of air, voice cutting off with a squeak. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mikey’s murmuring into your skin in response, lips leaving smears of sugary saliva just below your earlobe. 

He allows you to sit on him for a moment, chest heaving against your back with ragged breaths, sweaty forehead pressed tightly to your shoulder. Tilting your head, your rest your cheek on the back of his skull, eyes slipping shut as your own heart begins to calm, cunt still pulsating irregularly around his shaft, almost as if it’s attempting to squeeze a few more drops out of him, his cock acting as a crude plug, keeping most of his cum buried inside of you.

Finally, his head lifts, pressing a tender kiss to the blood-encrusted bite glittering on your shoulder. 

“Go get cleaned up in the washroom,” he mutters gently, pressing another string of kisses along your jaw. “Don’t wipe away any of Daddy’s cum; let it soak into your panties real nice and good, let them get really wet, and then snap a few pictures and send them to me. Can you do that for me, angel?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you slur out, nodding in loose, liquid movements. 

“Good,” he pats your thigh twice. “Now, go.” 

A small noise of affirmation sounds in your throat, head still nodding as Mikey helps you stand between his spread thighs, hands on your waist keeping you upright while you wobble on unsteady legs. 

And the noise that you make as his cum and your slick surges out of you—something caught somewhere between a mewl and a whine, turned on and disappointed simultaneously—is the cutest thing he’s ever heard, a muted coo slipping from his own lips as your hands wrap around his, using them to further stable yourself. 

He holds you for a moment or two longer, making sure you’re sturdy and your knees won’t suddenly give out, before giving you one final squeeze and releasing you, smirking a little as he watches you teeter away on rickety feet. 

Initially, his plan was to have you capture a few naughty photos for him—pretty little things to stash away in his phone for later use, during the nights he’s forced to spend away from you, sitting in expensive cars or laying in lush hotel beds—and force you to wear the gluey, cum-drenched undies for the remainder of the party. 

But then his phone is buzzing, and he’s unlocking it to find your cunt perfectly outlined by thin silk as it sticks to your folds, little clit and hole contoured and accentuated by the slick, shining fabric, soiled by a large, irregular patch of wetness, and oh, there’s no way he’ll be able to wait until you arrive home to fuck you again. 

No, he needs to fuck you now, a sudden burst of adrenaline buzzing through his veins, little sparks and minuscule explosions that have him up and moving in under a second, cock already beginning to fill with life again.

Sheer, potent power permeates the atmosphere around him, trembling off his body in sharp bolts; dense, heavy, cracking with electricity. 

The way the crowd instantly parts for him is awe-inspiring, their gleaming eyes full of terror and worship, hastily tripping over their own toes and ankles to move from his path as he strides toward the washroom, desperate to not be stung by his brilliance, desperate to get as close to the currents as possible without being scathed. 

You’re just exiting the restroom by the time he reaches you, breath punched from your lungs as he backs you into a tiled corner, trapped between the cold wall and his scorching form, his hands splayed wide on either side of your shoulders.

“We gotta go,” he’s nearly panting out as he shoves his forehead against yours, eyes closed and noses nudging, straining cock grinding unceremoniously into your hip. “We gotta go, now.”  

And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants. 

[grllmx]

"Ragatha in Wonderland"

🌻 Them side by side for height difference 🌻

Heya!! Y'all wouldn't mind some info dump, would ya?

But before I share my thoughts and ideas for this au, note that I am making this all for fun and that I am only merging two concepts at once because they sound fun in my head!

-- So without further ado, let's start shall we?

Ragatha in Wonderland is a fun silly lil' au I thought about in my spare time (Though I am aware that I'm not the only person who had similar ideas) buuut! Here's my take on how this concept goes ~

💜🟣🎀- - - - - RAGATHA IN WONDERLAND - - - - -🎀🟣💜

🌻 Wonderland is similar yet different from the Circus. Many possibilities await in this newly found land, but wait... How odd, suddenly everyone and everything is of new variation! Did things really stay the same? Are things different? It's a confusing world that warped and transformed the original digital land into something new. New places to explore, new outfits! New concepts... New people? It seems everything changed. Perhaps even... True death is possible now.

Ragatha - Plays the role as Alice. Confused and bewildered at first but Ragatha progressively adapts to the world and the surroundings around her. Acts like herself for the first portions of the story but as she dwells longer in this 'wonderland' she loses herself, her identity, as if the place was sucking out all of 'her'. She'll meet a lot of familiar faces. She feels comforted, knowing that she isn't alone in this newly found world but little does she know - they are not what she seemed.

Jax - The white rabbit leading Ragatha to wonderland. Jax was the one who dragged her in this, so Ragatha's first instincts was to follow him, hoping he knows where the exit is. Though he often plays tricks, teasing and playing with Ragatha's head whenever given the chance. Maybe he doesn't sound like a reliable shoulder to lean on, but he is Ragatha's key in terms of escaping wonderland.

Gangle - Starring as the mouse and the dormouse. The first person (other than Jax) Ragatha meets in wonderland. Gangle is skittish and has an extreme fear of cats. She does not like hearing or mentioning them, her mouse-like features says so otherwise. Though, in later unfortunate events, Ragatha scares her by mentioning, you guess it, cats. And then flees elsewhere.

Zooble - Following the (possibly tobacco) smoke trails, enters in the wise caterpillar. Meeting for the first time was not fun, in Ragatha's case mostly. Zooble asks Ragatha a lot of questions, typically centering around herself which gradually starts her descend into madness. Zooble's questions hit hard for Ragatha, making her realize a lot of things and learn more about the world. Though one question stuck the most, "who are YOU?"

Caine - The Hatter/Mad hatter. Need I say more? Hehe, anyways... Caine, alongside Bubble, is notably the most mad or insane person living in wonderland. Always yapping about random things (Riddles, jokes, factual statement... you name it) that can either be truth or made up, which Ragatha can't tell the difference of since they are always so surreal and deranged, or in other words, utter nonsense! He is another character that made Ragatha's mental state and mindset deteriorate. (Ragatha wishes to never meet him again)

Pomni - It's Pomni! Though, something is off... Pomni's role is the Cheshire cat. She's willing to help Ragatha escape, even suggesting ideas that felt to be possible, but are things really that easy? No, of course not! She is a red herring, a person filled with mischief that fools and plays with her victims until she deems them boring. Ragatha meets Pomni in the woods right after she ran away from Caine, and just like Jax, Pomni plays with Ragatha's head. But eventually helps her out and leads her to the kingdom's garden.

Kinger - Sometimes, a king is fit to be queen. Kinger is the Queen of Hearts, a short tempered, bossy but childish queen. After first meeting, Ragatha didn't deem Kinger as a threat at first, even playing a simple game of croquet with him. But as she starves and remembers that hunger was present in this land, she secretly ate the queen's well-known 'tarts'. This resulted into the seething rage of Kinger, declaring a court trial in which Ragatha was later proven to be 'guilty'. Hence, "OFF WITH HER HEAD!"

🌻 So, spoiler alert -- Just like in original tales and stories inspired by Alice in Wonderland, this was all in Ragatha's head, a dream! I'm debating to either turn this into a comic or not, because I think it helps further explain my ideas, but who knows? Maybe with the right motivation and energy, I might do it.

Thank you for reading! Have a nice day/night 🌻

[qierxing]

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly. 

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?" 

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back. 

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far." 

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?" 

Another question out of left field. 

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke. 

"Yeah…" they murmur back. 

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

-

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual. 

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that. 

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while. 

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

-

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things! 

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone. 

Ace tried two more times to meet you. 

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter. 

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough. 

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now. 

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly. 

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First]. 

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu. 

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?” 

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face. 

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for? 

-

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon. 

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations. 

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in. 

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out. 

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation. 

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance. 

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes. 

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–" 

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander. 

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts. 

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in. 

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.” 

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.  

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally." 

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement. 

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash. 

"Cater." 

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen. 

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair. 

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

-

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.” 

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt. 

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough. 

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?  

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him. 

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards. 

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?" 

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him. 

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors. 

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved. 

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day. 

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard. 

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges. 

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down. 

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants. 

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him. 

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute. 

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate. 

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes. 

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. 

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other. 

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air. 

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.” 

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear. 

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.  

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back. 

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.” 

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary. 

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago. 

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you. 

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says. 

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.” 

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed. 

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak. 

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam. 

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone. 

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking. 

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

[ragdolls-and-such]

MP100 WONDERLAND AU!!!

I will probably never write a real fic for this, so I'm gonna explain the general plot and ideas and lore and stuff as a way to introduce each character. Or you can just not read and look at the designs instead

Ritsu is our Alice,

and Sho is the rabbit he chases after. Unlike the white rabbit, Sho isn't anxious - he's mischievous more than anything. While he IS trying to be on time to the Queen's croquet game at first, teasing Ritsu as he fails to catch up with him becomes his main priority.

Tome and Goda (do people in this fandom call him musashi or goda?? i have never seen anyone talk about him) are the first characters Ritsu meets. They play the roles of the mouse and the dodo from the book. After the whole pool of tears thing - I'm assuming you know the general story of Alice in Wonderland - Tome infodumps at everyone, much like the mouse does in the book. Goda is basically like "that's BORING we should EXERCISE the water off of us" and then the caucus race happens!!

The scene where Alice gets stuck in the Rabbit's house does happen but I have no character assigned to Bill so I didn't draw anyone for this.

Next stop is the caterpillar!! Played by Dimple. He's the ghost of a caterpillar that looked forward to becoming a butterfly, but died before reaching the chrysalis stage, and has since become a little crazed about the butterfly idea. He finds Ritsu kind of annoying but keeps talking to him because he enjoys the attention.

Mezato is the Cheshire cat! Psycho Helmet is not a thing in Wonderland so her time is more devoted to being mysterious and cryptic and taking photos of people and things. Plays the cheshire cat role pretty straight.

And now! The moment everyone's been waiting for! The three characters that people usually care the most about in aiw AND mp100.

Reigen started the hat business with his good pals Serizawa and Mob and then went a little bonkers. The Queen sentenced him and his coworkers/friends to eternal teatime for being annoying basically. (There IS lore there, but aiw is my special interest and i could talk about that forever.) He's still very Reigen-y but always a little on edge. Basically, think about Reigen's most high-energy yet pathetic little meow meow moments, it's just that.

Serizawa is just like - imagine you teleported Serizawa into the March Hare's place without warning and he just had to figure out what to do about it. That's not what happened, but that's basically how he behaves.

Mob is the dormouse, but like the book version of the dormouse, he gets his time in the spotlight. (anyone out there know about the three girls in the well?? no? just me?) Because this is Ritsu's dream, nobody needs to wonder whether mousemob is humanritsu's brother. Just don't worry about it

Finally, we have Teru as the Queen of Hearts. His personality definitely matches his pre/during-that-fight-with-mob self. Violent, self-absorbed fashion disaster. Sho, being his messenger, has a very "siblings who kind of hate each other" dynamic with this Teru, in my eyes.

That's it!! If anyone wants to write or draw a wonderland au based on this casting, that's totally fine because I in no way own the idea of a wonderland au. That's like, the most basic "what if this media was actually this other story?" au concept.

[pimosworld]

Down the rabbit hole

Kinktober prompt-Group sex/Orgy/Costumes

Pairing-Triple Frontier boys x f!reader

CW18+,MDNI,NSFW,EstablishedPolyamorous Relationship,Fluff,Teasing,Smut,Coercion,BribeCostumes, Hints at Roleplay, Fingering,Oral f receiving,Oral m receiving, mentions of MM dynamics, unprotected p i v, anal, cream pie,anal cream pie(don’t look at me)

WK-4.8k

A/N- In the story of us universe but can be read as a stand-alone. I definitely could’ve added more smut but I’m not done with this group just yet.

Not beta read

[Main Masterlist] [Series Masterlist]

“We have to do a group costume please….please.”

“Cariño, whining isn’t going to change my mind.”

  You huff out in frustration as Frankie tries to conceal his laughter. You and Santi had been going at it for a while as you tried and failed to convince him of what you’d already got the other three to agree to after some unfair persuasion tactics. 

  “Sweetheart he’s just mad you want him to be the cat.” Will chimes in from the loveseat as you all sit in the living room.He says it with such disdain that you know he’s not helping your case in any way.  Alice in Wonderland, is long paused on the tv because Santi decided half way through he was not going to be the Cheshire Cat. 

  “How did you all even agree to this?” Santiago still looked gorgeous despite the permanent scowl that worked its way onto his face throughout the conversation. 

  Benny sits up from the floor stretching his long arms over his head. “Well besides for the fact that the rabbit is the coolest character, I got one the best massages of my entire life after my fight last week.” 

  “Weak.” Santi scoffs as he places your feet in his lap. His actions are the complete opposite of his tone. 

  “You’re just jealous.” You’re flattered at Ben's enthusiasm but you know it’ll take more than a massage to convince Santiago to wear a costume. You gave him frequent massages that always led to something else and of course he knows that…hence the smirk etched on his face as he silently rubs your feet. 

  “What about you iron head? How the hell did she convince you to be a caterpillar?” Everyone chuckles at the hilarity of it all because how? This stoic and mostly reserved ex military man was going to dress up as a caterpillar for you. 

  “He’s actually the best character, way better than a rabbit.” He ducks as the pillow Ben throws from the floor narrowly misses his head. “I may have got a lap dance.” The rest audibly groan. “I also get to smoke.” 

  “Okay rub it in some more.”

  “I’m not the one who caved for a massage.” 

  The brothers continue to bicker as you shift in Frankie’s arms to look at Santi. He’s got the look on his face, the annoying toothy smile… the reason you wanted him to be the cat in the first place. That look that says it's gonna take more than that. It’s your own fault really…you were showing off some clothes you bought the other day when he told you to strip. You thought he was joking at first but the way he looked at you, you couldn’t help but do whatever he asked. 

  Your impromptu strip tease turned into another impromptu lap dance. Which of course always turns into something more because this is Santiago Garcia.

  “Sooo hermano that just leaves you. I’m sure all she had to do was look at you and you caved.” The men laugh but you know as soon as Frankie shifts behind you he’s thinking about the other night. 

  Frankie leans in pushing you closer to Santi “For your information I got to put it in her…” You elbow his stomach before he can finish his sentence. It’s too late as you watch the grin on Santi’s face grow even wider somehow. 

  “I heard that Fish.” Ben’s sitting up again looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe. 

  “Sweetheart…I mean this in the nicest way possible but how?” Santi and Frankie are cackling at Will's response as you lean back into Frankie covering your face with your hands. Your body is on fire from the attention placed on you at this moment. 

  “With much preparation.” He whispers into your ear as he squeezes your side. You can’t help but think about how he took his time and worked you open. Whispering praise into your ear as he did, of course in your lust filled haze you hadn’t realized how he knew exactly what to say and do. Like he had been given a playbook on all the things that made you tick. How you would keen under the praise and melt into his touch.

  He would only know this because Santiago had already done it and told him step by step instructions as if it were a mission and for Frankie it was a successful one. He would don any ridiculous costume for the rest of his life if it meant he could hear you make those sounds again. 

  “I’d like to add that the Mad Hatter is the number one character…and I get to wear my standard oil hat underneath.”

  “Oh my god babe you gave him everything.” Ben’s dramatics have everyone buckled over in laughter. You try to regain your composure as you wipe the tears from your eyes. 

  Santi leans toward the coffee table to grab the remote, you can just see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks it over. 

  “As wonderful as all that sounds…I’m still not convinced.” He presses play on the movie as you sigh and drop your head back onto Frankie’s lap, he rubs your arm sympathetically as you stare up at the ceiling wondering how his mother ever put up with him. He lived and breathed to be difficult it seemed. You think he may even secretly get off on it. 

  “At least you tried hermosa.” Frankie leans down planting a kiss on your forehead, no doubt pleased with the outcome either way. Everyone got what they wanted except for you. 

  The boys are suddenly so enthralled with Alice in Wonderland while your mind wanders. With Santi things were never simple, you had to make it exciting or he would lose interest in whatever it was you were trying to accomplish. He may not even realize he does it but you think it’s his way of coping with not being in the military anymore. You know what makes him tick, anything that requires a challenge or a puzzle to solve. 

  Alice: Why, why you’re a cat!

Cheshire Cat: A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves… 

Alice: Oh, wait! Don’t go, please!

Cheshire Cat: Very well. Third chorus…

Alice: Oh no no no… thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go.

Cheshire Cat: Well, that depends on where you want to get to.

Alice: Oh, it really doesn’t matter, as long as I g…

Cheshire Cat: Then it really doesn’t matter which way you go! Ah-hmm… and the momeraths outgrabe… Oh, by the way, if you’d really like to know, he went that way.

Alice: Who did?

Cheshire Cat: The white rabbit.

Alice: He did?

Cheshire Cat: He did what?

Alice: Went that way?

Cheshire Cat: Who did?

Alice: The white rabbit!

Cheshire Cat: What rabbit?

Alice: But didn’t you just say… I mean… oh dear!

Santiago was indeed just as frustrating as the aforementioned character that you were unsuccessfully trying to make him dress up as. You’ve spent the last several months in happily uncharted territory since you finally put a title to what it was you all were. The boys had no issues sharing you, it seemed they were much happier doing that than seeing you unhappy with any guy you’ve ever tried being around. 

You were all so close, there was never any animosity or jealousy…maybe some light hearted teasing when someone was feeling left out but you always managed to keep them all satisfied. 

It’s a mad idea…but we’re all mad here. 

You sit up abruptly,slightly startling then with your enthusiasm as you grab the remote from Santi’s lap pausing the movie again. 

“I know you’re going to wear that costume.” He turns to look at you as if you’ve grown two heads. 

“Oh is that so?”

“Yes that’s so.”

“Are you going to forcibly put it on me?” You shake your head as you bite your bottom lip.

“Remember that thing you said you wanted to try?”

“Cariño you’re going to need to be more specific.” You know it’s silent as the intrigue lingers in the air. 

“You said when I was ready to just tell you…so I guess I’m saying I’m ready.” In all honesty you’ve been waiting for the right time to bring it up but you’ve been so nervous. This seems as good a time as any. 

“I see what you’re doing here Alice but I don’t remember, you’re going to have to tell me.”

“Well we have two weeks until the party so if you figure it out let me know.” You press play on the movie again as you get comfortable. Now you can enjoy the rest of the movie while Santiago tries to decipher your riddle. 

****

It’s really not fair

How you have all these men somehow wrapped around your finger. You try to ignore the looks you get when you’re all out together and they can’t keep their hands off you. You can see the wheels turning when someone tries to make out which one of them is yours. You’ve always been affectionate with one another but since putting a name to this it’s like the band aid of shame has been ripped off. 

You’re buzzing with excitement as you sit nestled between Ben and Santiago in the back of Frankie’s Jeep. Frankie’s new boss insisted you all come to his annual Halloween party after meeting the guys and hitting it off with them. Meeting new people and attending such a large party in a ridiculous costume no less took some convincing but the past few days they’ve all been very agreeable. 

Santi promised he'd wear the costume even though he couldn’t figure out the bribe. He said he would ‘since it was important to you’. That should’ve been your first indication that something was off. 

Will is the stoic picture of perfection in the front seat next to Frankie as he twirls the unlit cigar in his hands. He wasn’t a man of many words and he jumped at the chance to be the aloof caterpillar. 

“You look beautiful Honey.” He’s not even looking at you as he stares out the window watching the street lights. You’ll never get used to the flurry of his attention. The affection seemed to ooze out of his pores like he’s been waiting years to tell you how he felt about you. 

You glance over at Santiago as his furry pink and purple sweater brushes your bare legs. You can tell he’s uncomfortable but he’s doing his best as he fidgets with the collar. His salt and pepper curls peak out adorably along the headband of the matching cat ears. 

“I can feel you staring cariño.” You quickly avert your gaze to Ben who is doing some staring of his own. Since you came out of the room adorned in your flouncy powder blue dress with knee high white stockings he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you. 

“I like this.” Ben grazes his finger just under the hem of your dress, lifting it slightly to reveal your thigh. You shift in the seat rubbing your legs together desperate for some relief. The last two weeks have been uncharacteristically lacking in the sex department which is nearly impossible when you’re sleeping with four people. His barely there touch has goosebumps rising along your skin as he threatens to touch you almost where you want him too. 

“Ben.” Frankie warns from the driver's seat as he  approaches a red light,he notices your desperation in the rear view mirror as you hang your head back in frustration. 

“Just worry about the road, old man.” Ben flicks the back of his comically large hat placed atop his standard oil cap. 

“I’ll show you old man.” He grits out through his teeth as he returns his attention to the now green light. 

The tension in the air is thick, it has been since you left the house. You all decided to get ready together and seeing as though you moved into the Miller-Morales household a few months ago that only left Santi to bring his costume and an overnight bag. You had the feeling that conversations were being had without you even though not many words were spoken. It was reminiscent of the night before a mission. All of you lost deep in thought while meticulously going over the plans ahead. 

The four of them had a way of communicating despite all your years spent together that you just couldn’t seem to tap into. You couldn’t shake the nagging feeling like you had been left out of this one. 

You pull down an unfamiliar street lined with massive homes, certainly less modest than the one you currently resided in. You assume most of the cars you pass are for the party and your excitement bubbles over into nervousness as you realize how many people may be in this house. The men all seem completely fine…almost unaware. 

Frankie parks and exits along with Will and Benny without so much as a word being said. You turn to slide out Santiago’s side but he hasn’t moved. You think he’s having second thoughts about going in with this ridiculous costume. 

“Listen if you don’t want to wear the ears -.” He cuts you off with his fingers placed gently on your lips. He smiles wide as if channeling his character for the night as he trails them down along your jaw. His other hand is wrapped around your shoulder teasing the top of your sweetheart neckline. 

You’re already one edge with this being the most physical contact you’ve had in weeks. He leans in placing feather light kisses along your neck as his hand makes its way further down. He traces the path Ben once did as he lifts your skirt higher, his firm grip on the inside of your thigh when he bites down gently on your pulse point. 

You don’t miss the way he chuckles in your ear as you shudder a breath when he drags his fingers along the seam of your panties nearly soaked from just the anticipation. 

“I figured it out a couple days ago.” He rasps into your ear as he continues teasing. You’re trying to focus on his words but you think you could come like this from his barely there touch. “You told us we needed to learn how to share.” 

In reality this is your fault, it was your suggestion after all when date nights kept overlapping. They never made you feel bad or acted jealous of one another, but you couldn’t help but think how unfair it was to split your time so often. 

“We could all go on a group date?” 

“We already have group dates, sweetheart.” 

“Yes… but I mean it doesn’t have to end with the date.”

That was months ago and you thought he had all but forgotten or maybe he suggested it and no one else was down for it. Either way you dropped it until you realized you’ve been tricked. Santiago knew he had to raise the steaks in order to agree to this and you fell right for it. 

“You have a few hours to decide what you want to do. Just say the word and we’ll leave.” You’re speechless as he withdraws his hand and it’s as if a bucket of cold water was dumped on your head. The humid air as he opens the door is a stark contrast to your chilled exterior. 

“Alice?” He’s standing next to the door ajar with his hand out to help you down, you quickly smooth down your skirt as you grip his hand and hop down. 

‘Every adventure requires a first step.’ Cheshire cat

****

It’s not that you aren’t having fun…it’s just you can’t stop thinking about what’s to come-no pun intended. After introductions everyone instinctually split up. Frankie roped into schmoozing with his boss while Ben found a partner to play beer pong, some jock dressed as Ken seemed fitting for the younger miller.  

  Santiago had made eyes at you when you saw him cornered by Barbie, there wasn’t a jealous bone in your body as you watched the poor girl talking his ear off as he stalked you like his prey. He teased you enough for you to let him flounder his way out of the conversation. If there was anything he hated more in this world it was pretending to be interested in a topic he could care less about.

  You were plenty buzzed as you wandered aimlessly through this extravagant house, the furniture and fixtures much too gaudy for your preference .Gold plated frames lined the walls as you climbed the spiral staircase to explore the upstairs. You drag your fingers along the banister as you stare up at the three tier chandelier above the entryway.Apparently running a private helicopter business paid very well…unfortunately money didn’t buy good taste.

  Your eyes are drawn to the red carpet lining the hallway as you peak into the first room on the left. A large Victorian bed with a gold frame is in the middle of the room. Next to it is a floor to ceiling mirror with a slightly beveled curve, the room in its reflection is a little distorted as you lean in further gripping the door handle to keep yourself steady. 

  Either you’ve had too much to drink or the floor is caving in. Strong hands grip your waist just as you’re prepared to meet face to face with the awful carpet. The wind is nearly knocked out if you as your back is met with a hard surface and you feel like your head is in a tailspin as you’re whipped around to meet your savior. 

  You’re met with the soft chocolate brown eyes of Frankie as he walks you backwards further into the room. The smirk on his face as he raises his eyebrows at you because surely he caught you snooping about his boss’s house while you were supposed to be enjoying the party. 

  “Find what you were looking for Alice?” His eyes roamed up and down your body as he stopped you just before the foot of the bed. 

  You realize you haven’t spoken in awhile as you try to answer and manage a squeak. You clear your throat slightly embarrassed after being caught and scramble for any words to come to mind. It doesn’t help when he’s looking at you that way or when he presses against you with his arm caging you in. You can feel his arousal through the thin fabric of your dress as he cups your ass pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

  He leans in and you close your eyes waiting for a kiss that never comes as he drops down to his knees. His fingers dip into the waistband of your panties as he slides them down your thighs. A soft whimper of his name leaves your lips and the thought of someone walking in is completely drowned out in your horny brain when all you can think about is his deft tongue working you open on no doubt his boss’s bed. 

  He taps your leg silently instructing you to step out of them as he balls it up in his fist and places it in his pocket. His breath is hot on your stomach through the fabric as you place your hands on his shoulders for purchase. You’re trying to be patient but you’re pulled taught after the teasing from Santiago in the car. 

  An inaudible whine leaves your mouth as he stands again and places a soft kiss to your forehead. “Shh it’s gonna be ok.” It most certainly won’t be. 

  “Frankie, where are you going?” The look on his face says isn’t it obvious as he grabs your hand and makes his way towards the door without an answer.”

  “Frankie…where’s your hat?” He points to the standard oil cap as if that’s the one you were asking about as you huff out in frustration. 

  They are having way too much fun. 

  ****

  When you finally returned to the party Ken had decidedly had enough of Barbie flirting with Santiago and ditched Ben. 

  Ben managed to find someone he could talk to about his upcoming fights and Will was still nowhere to be found. Frankie and Santi looked like they were having a serious conversation in the kitchen and their eyes on you were suddenly too much. You needed some fresh air as you stepped out on the back deck. Of course there seemed to be no place that wasn’t occupied with guests, as you say your excuse me’a and make your way down the steps to find a modicum of privacy. 

  The smokey sweet aroma of tobacco and chocolate permeates your senses as you follow the trail coming from around the house. Will is leaned back, head against the wall with one leg propped up as he stares up at the rings disappearing into the clear night sky. 

  He holds out his hand and you hesitate, you’re not sure you could take anymore moments of being brought to the edge…but it’s Will. His large calloused hand takes yours as he pulls you into his chest making you face out. You sigh into the warmth and you’re enveloped by his cologne and the smell of the cigar. 

  “How are you feeling Honey?” Honestly…like you’re all trying to kill me.

  “I’m fine.” He tsks under his breath as he kisses your neck, he breathes in deep as if you’re having the same affect on him as they are on you. 

  “I don’t like that answer…you tell me if you don’t want to do this.” Always the one to check in with you, he’s so sweet even when his own resolve is breaking. 

  You doubt he’s expecting your next move when you spin in his arms and grip him by the collar of his shirt as you crash your lips to his.The taste of tobacco and mint fresh on his tongue. He’s lost momentarily as he moans into the kiss, not caring about who could come around this corner at any moment. You pull away, reveling in the way he chases after you. His hooded lids staring you down as you brush your thumb along his swollen pink lips. 

  “I want to do this, I just don’t think I can take anymore teasing baby.” Will’s a private man so your pet names are reserved for your private moments, but you can see the moonlight luminate in his eyes as the blue practically disappears. 

  “Come on Honey, all you had to do was ask.” You scoff at that as he yanks your hand and practically runs you up the back steps back into the house. 

  When you enter the kitchen Benny,Frankie and Santi are all standing in the corner with knowing looks on their face and Will signals it’s time to go. 

  Santi and Frankie are out the door before you can blink as you pull back slightly in Will's grasp. “Shouldn’t Frankie say bye to his boss?” 

  “No time sweetheart, we’re late for a very important date.” 

  “Seriously Will, you’re going to steal my only line.” Ben skips along in front of you both as you exit the grandiose home. 

  “You had all night to use it, it’s not my fault you’re too slow.” 

  ****

  You thought you would’ve been more nervous or feel unprepared but it seems as you lay out completely exposed on Santiago’s bed as you try and keep track of the hands all over you, it sends a surge of confidence through you. 

  Santiago had taken control right away, the guys already had some sort of plan hatched out as you could’ve guessed by the way they were silently communicating every step. 

  The ride home was less than romantic as they went over your safe word and hard no’s. That shifted as soon as Frankie pinned you against the front door, too impatient to wait any longer before touching you as he unzipped your dress leaving it in a pool of fabric beneath you. 

  He knelt down on the floor, raising your leg over his shoulder as you gripped on tight to his soft curls. Your panties lost in one of his pockets earlier left easier access to you as he licked a stripe through your wet folds. Your head hits the door as you try to stay standing, already so worked up from before. 

  You’re a whimpering mess as Frankie works you open like a man starved. “You always taste so good hermosa.” 

  “Frank!” Santi reappears in the entryway naked and hard, looking as though he’s gonna spit fire. 

  “What?” You’d laugh if you weren’t so close to your first climax of the night as his nose nudged your clit. 

  “Bedroom?!” He sighs into you sending a chill up your spine as he fights against every urge to ignore Pope and continue his ministrations. He looks up at you almost apologetically as he places a kiss on each thigh. 

  ****

  “Fuck baby that feels so good.” Will’s grip is tight in your hair as he works his cock deeper down your throat. You can’t manage more than a whine as you try to focus on Santi thrusting behind you, slamming you further onto Will's cock with every switch of his hips. 

  “Do you have any idea how good you look right now?” Frankie pants beside you as Ben works his hand up and down Frankie’s length. 

  The praise and attention has you keening as you arch back into Santi’s chest. His hand on your hip is sure to leave a bruise as he pounds into you relentlessly. He’s close, he can tell you are too as you clench him tighter and moan out his name. 

  “Santi, I can’t.” You’ve lost count on how many times you’ve come. On Frankie’s tongue, on Will's fingers. When you were sitting on Bennys lap with Santi’s face buried in your cunt, you thought you were close to passing out. 

  “Tell me what you need.” You’ve never seen Santi as sweet or gentle as you have when he was methodically taking you apart. 

  You weren’t sure they heard when you whispered more. Santi was sure he heard you loud and clear as he asked if you were sure. Your pathetic mule as you chase his hips was all the answer he needed as he slowly pulled out of you. He gives a silent signal to Frankie as he replaces Will's spot on the bed.

  Frankie’s wrecked, his own orgasm held off this entire time in anticipation for this. His sweat slicked curls cling to his face as he guides your hips above his throbbing erection. He  grips the base of his cock as he slides the tip through your swollen folds. As you sink down onto him he moans in unison with you as a cold sensation meets your other hole. Santi smears the lube around your sensitive nub with his thumb and he nearly chokes at the way you push back onto it. 

  “Stop teasing Santiago.” Frankie rasps out between muttered curses as he bucks his hips into you. 

  Santi is a tease but at this moment he can’t hold on much longer. Your grip on Frankie tightens as Santi prods your entrance, the tip just barely in almost has you seeing stars. Will’s behind Santi working his length as he watches him pick up his pace. Ben’s lips are on yours as he reaches between you to rub slow circles on your clit. “Oh fuck…oh my god.”  

  “I need you to come cariño.” Santi grits out behind you as his hips start to stutter. 

  Frankie plants his feet in the mattress as he pounds up into you, a lewd moan leaves your lips as you cling to someone’s hand. Benny singing sweet praises in your ear of how good you’re doing as your body heaves and your heart threatens to pound out of your chest. 

  The smallest sound leaves your mouth as you cease up in pleasure, it rolls over you in waves as they both stutter their hips spilling into, the only sounds in the room are moans and pants as you collapse into a puddle in the middle of the bed. 

  You come too with concerned faces surrounding you as Will cleans you up gently with a damp towel. 

  “I told you, you went too hard.”

  “Me…I’m not the one who made her come three times.” 

  Ben notices your blissed out face as you suppress a giggle. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His dopey smile is on full display as the other men bicker behind him. 

  “You ready for round two Honey?” 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

@csarab615 @syrupsstuff @ghostslillady @uudelally @onefinnedwonder-fm @thedreadandthefugitivemind @romanarose @scarletthefierce @heather1482 @pikapuff-316

[pestorik]

I love your AU so much, it's so cute!

I need to know what kinds of adventures Adeuce gets up to with their caterpillar. The name Absolem comes to mind (or perhaps Alistair?) just because that's what the caterpillar from Tim Burton's Alice is named, if you're wanting to keep with that theme.

I'd love to see what Octavinelle looks like in your AU (they're my favorites!!!) but take your time, and make it how you want it to be. You're doing wonderful work!

im shocked i actually forgot about there being a caterpillar in alice in wonderland. absolem sounds a bit too serious imo, i was imaging a cutesy name to match his appearance lol. im considering "fozzy" like fozzy the bear.

putting this under the cut for those who want to read my very sane ramblings

I imagine A+D adventures would be very much in the vein of the original AT episodes with every one having a new storyline and introducing new characters, and then later episodes having those characters come back and revealing more backstory/becoming more involved in the overall plot (ie magic man, slime princess, etc). and then ofc a more "core" cast with more frequently occurring characters like heartslabyul and maybe some other first years. It would definitely be ace and deuce-centric with them driving most of the interactions and then gradually having more and more episodes that arent just about them.

in my head riddle introduction goes like this: A+D are native to the garden kingdom and are doing their regular stupid shit. that day it just happens to be doing parkour in the royal gardens. riddle comes along and is ofc furious and being the overreactive little freak that he is, banishes them from the kingdom. that's how they meet cater, who introduces them to trey, and they eventually kick riddles ass and its revealed he has a very controlling mother who influences his behavior. riddle realizes the error of his ways and they all team up and usurp her. riddle takes over the kingdom and is now mostly an ally.

trust me i love riddle and a lot of other characters but almost everyone would start out as being a cartoon villain bc that's just the nature of AT. leona is a prince but has no real political power so spends his days bullying civilians. epel has been enslaved by an evil witch (vil) and needs the help of A+D to beat him up, but after vil's defeat epel understands him better and becomes his apprentice by choice. jack the wolf seems hostile at first but they learn he is actually a human who has been cursed and he spends like the entire series trying to break the curse and you only get to see him human in the very last episode lol. everyone will be a silly character with silly problems but overall still sympathetic and relatable. it will have some sad and heartfelt moments but mostly remain lighthearted (just like AT). these are cartoony, oversimplified representations of canon twst, not meant to be realistic takes or a deep dive into mental illness.

i'll be working on octavinelle once i finish savanclaw (they will all be in order) but azul is going to be the octopus wizard and he has 2 evil henchmen. they run a successful seafood restaurant as a front for their magical crime ring. or maybe A+D defeat them and convince them to go into the food business instead of organized crime and they find out they are really good at it lol

[tockrangle]

Who the Welcome Home Guys Remind Me Of!

Wally Darling: Yellow Guy from Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared

Barnaby B. Beagle: Blue from Blue’s Clues

Eddie Dear: Postman Pat from Postman Pat

Howdy Pillar: I can’t think of anyone! Maybe the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland?

Julie Joyful: Star Butterfly from Star Vs The Forces Of Evil

Frank Frankly: Mr Robinson from The Amazing World of Gumball

Poppy Partridge: Big Bird from Sesame Street

Sally Starlet: Sundrop/Moondrop/Sun/Moon/Daycare Attendant from FNAF Security Breach

BTW this is not me saying that the creator of Welcome Home is copying anyone - I am really excited by Welcome Home and I really want to see where Clown takes the series! My little ADHD brain just made some dumb little connections and wanted to share them :>

[princesssarisa]

Autism (and possible ADHD) headcanon: Alice (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/Through the Looking-Glass)

This analysis is based on the books, but most of it applies to Disney's Alice too.

Now of course she wasn't written with either autism or ADHD in mind: no concept of either existed when the books were written. Some people might argue that all the "evidence" below is just her being a seven-year-old child. But all these qualities make her relatable to neurodivergent people, and whose to say that she wouldn't be diagnosed as neurodivergent if she were a real person and lived today?

Autism evidence

*Alice is a very inward little girl. Not only do both books literally take place mostly in her mind, but even within her dreams she's constantly thinking, daydreaming, analyzing, and imagining things. She sometimes gets so lost in her thoughts and fantasies that she forgets all about what's currently happening, or about the other characters, and they sometimes notice this (e.g. "You're thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk.").

*She constantly talks to herself and pretends to be two people.

*In what little we see of her life in the real world, she's never shown playing with children her own age. She's content to play by herself, talking to her kittens, creating elaborate fantasies, or even playing a game of croquet against herself.

*She's precocious and smart, with a good (though imperfect) memory for facts she's learned in school, and she likes to show off her knowledge, both to others and to herself. She knows many "grand words" that other children her age don't know (e.g. "latitude," "longitude," "jurors"), and she enjoys saying them out loud, even when she doesn't know what they mean. In Wonderland, when she tries to recite the lessons and poems she's memorized and finds herself comically mangling them, her core sense of self is shaken.

*Despite being sane and sensible compared to the fantasy characters she meets, Alice is more than a little eccentric herself. She constantly daydreams and talks to herself, as mentioned. She comes up with outlandish fantasies, like mailing Christmas presents to her own feet, or that different foods change people's temperaments, or that people in New Zealand and Australia walk upside-down. Her confusing experiences in Wonderland make her wonder if she's still Alice or if she's become a different person. The fact that her adventures in Wonderland and Looking-Glass Land are dreams make her seem all the more eccentric in hindsight: those two fantasy worlds and all the strange things in them are creations of Alice's own mind.

*Even though she tries to always be proper and polite, she sometimes makes offensive remarks without meaning to. For example, when she praises her cat Dinah's skill at catching mice and birds in front of a mouse and group of birds, or when she calls three inches "a wretched height" while talking to a three-inch caterpillar. She also throws manners aside and talks back to adults whenever she thinks they're being especially rude or unreasonable.

*She often seems to imitate the adults in her life. When she remembers to check the "Drink Me" bottle and make sure it's not marked "poison," or when she scolds herself for crying or for lolling on the grass, she's clearly parroting what she's heard from adults. Likewise, when she scolds the pig-baby for grunting, or her kitten for all its mischief and "bad manners," she's obviously affecting a tone that adults have taken with her. All the scolding and correcting she does, especially to herself, might also imply that she's a child who's been scolded and corrected especially often.

*She's often described as speaking "shyly" or "timidly" – though as mentioned, she can be bold to the point of impertinence when she's pushed far enough.

*She dislikes books without pictures, and she can make no sense of the poem Jabberwocky – even though its plot is easy for most real-world readers to follow – because there are too many made-up words in it. Now, these don't necessarily imply that she has trouble with reading comprehension, but they might.

*One throw-away line in Through the Looking-Glass implies that she's a picky eater. When she brings up the subject of having to go without meals as punishment, she says she would rather go without them than eat them anyway.

*She's particularly annoyed by certain small noises and sensations – like Bill the Lizard's pencil squeaking at the trial in the first book, or the Gnat's tiny sigh that tickles her ear in the second.

*Both stories consist of her wandering through nonsense worlds, being baffled by their strange rules and customs, and being ordered around, corrected, and judged negatively by the strange creatures she meets, just because her logic is different from theirs. For those of us on the autism spectrum, this is a relatable experience.

ADHD evidence

*She tends to be impulsive, particularly in the first book. For example, she goes down the rabbit hole without thinking of how she'll ever get out again, and later drinks the potion in the White Rabbit's house without knowing if it will make her grow or shrink just because she's anxious for some change in her size. This isn't a matter of not knowing better – she sometimes tells herself what she should do, only to act on her impulses anyway. Or, in other words, she gives herself very good advice, but she very seldom follows it.

*She can be verbally impulsive too: for example, her careless remarks about Dinah catching mice and birds.

*She's prone to daydreaming, as mentioned above.

*She sometimes has trouble controlling her emotions, most memorably when she cries a big pool of tears after growing to the size of a giant. She tells herself she should be ashamed for crying so much, but she can't stop.

*She can be easily distracted, especially by her own imagination, and in the first chapter of Through the Looking-Glass, she flits from subject to subject while talking to her kitten.

*She's easily bored and always in search (literally or figuratively) of some new adventure or amusement. One of the things she most dislikes is "having nothing to do."

[captainjackscoat]

my Once Upon A Time

Rumplestiltskin could predict the future. He didn't have to make the deal, but he chose to. He saw that the woman would become abusive towards her daughter, so he asked for her child so he could protect it.

The child was called Belle. Rumplestiltskin raised Belle as his own daughter and she was very happy.

Hansel and Gretel are orphans who can imagine things into existence. They run away from the orphanage, to find an exiled witch, who tries to feed them despite not having much herself. They imagine a gingerbread house into existence, and the witch adopts them.

One day, the witch disappears, and the villagers destroy the house. Without the witch to take care of them, Hansel and Gretel are alone and distraught. They attempt to imagine a world for them to live in, away from the people who want to hurt them. However, they imagine different worlds, and so the siblings are separated.

Hansel and Gretel's names are actually Peter and Alice. Peter imagines a world with pirates and mermaids and lost boys. Alice imagines a world with tea parties and talking caterpillars and painted roses.

The witch disappeared because she was trapped inside a mirror.

Aurora is forced to marry the prince of a neighbouring kingdom and turns to Maleficent for help.

Snow White loves Aurora. Snow's aunt, Maleficent, tries to help out by introducing the two. Aurora's fairy godmother, secretly an evil queen, doesn't approve and curses both girls into eternal sleep.

Prince Charming is childhood best friends with Snow. He kisses her forehead, which wakes her up. Snow attempts to kiss Aurora, but the nature of the curse means that she cannot go near Aurora. Aurora remains asleep.

Prince Charming doesn't go after the mystery princess and is forced to marry Snow after saving her. However, he rather likes newest servant girl - who is Cinderella, of course.

Ursula rescues the mermaid girls from their abusive father, Triton. They seek aid from above. The humans help them overthrow Triton, and the seas are divided so each of the princesses rule a different part. The sea and the land are now united.

Triton returns to his wife, the Evil Queen.

Goldilocks is homeless, and hides in the bears' house after being caught stealing food. When the bears return, they take pity on her and offer to take care of her. Goldilocks is raised by the bears.

Pinnochio was once a real boy who was cursed by the blue fairy (evil queen) after Gepetto refused to build the Magic Mirror for her. Gepetto builds a portal to send Pinnochio somewhere where a puppet can live. Pinnochio lands in Wonderland as a living puppet who can see through lies.

Alice, also known as The White Queen, falls in love with a madman who has an obsession with hats. Her adoptive sister, The Queen Of Hearts, is busy weaving a romance for a girl called Belle.

Belle, who lives with her inventor father Rumplestiltskin, gets sucked into one of her books. She falls in love with a character known as The Beast, and she becomes a fairy to free them from their curse. However, she can't stay with them, and she returns to the real world, and to her father.

Little Red Riding Hood is raised by the Werewolf, but she gets lost when she's little and the Werewolf thinks she intentionally ran away. The mother adopts her, and the Werewolf is really angry believing that the humans stole his child, and he swears revenge on the family.

Little Red Riding Hood meets a girl with golden hair who speaks Bear.

Rapunzel is a trans girl who is desperate to transition, but she is cursed to be stuck looking like a boy. Her adoptive mother is a sorceress who rescued her from an evil witch who wanted revenge on the vain royal family. She tells her mother that she is in fact a woman, and her mother searches for a spell to transition her.

Teenage Peter Pan flies to other worlds in search of his sister, but doesn't find her. However, he does find other girls and helps them. For example, a young princess called Rapunzel, who he brings back to Neverland for a little while and teaches her confidence, or Belle, who brings her father and chooses to stay with Peter, becoming the inventor fairy known as Tinkerbelle.

The Gingerbread House Witch is still trapped inside the Magic Mirror, which is unstable because it was made with dark magic. Maleficent employs Gepetto to study the Mirror, so she can free the Gingerbread House Witch, and hopefully find a way to wake up Aurora. She promises to restore Pinnochio if he helps, so he agrees.

The Werewolf finds Red Riding Hood and she remembers him. She takes him to meet her human family.

Peter Pan falls in love with a handsome teenage pirate captain.

Pinnochio lives with Hatter and Alice in Wonderland, and The Queen Of Hearts is now trying to fix things for Tinkerbelle.

Tinkerbelle falls in love with Peter's newest friend, Wendy, who can see dreams and stories.

Gepetto and Maleficent free the Gingerbread House Witch from the mirror, and they build another portal to Wonderland to try and find Pinnochio. Gepetto and Pinnochio reunite, as do the Gingerbread House Witch and Peter.

Maleficent stays behind to try and cure Aurora.

Charming, Cinderella and Snow go into the enchanted forest to try and find a cure for Aurora, and they find Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks, who help them survive in the forest. They meet the Dwarves who run an inn.

The Evil Queen and Triton discover Wonderland.

Charming, Cinderella and Snow leave the forest after finding nothing, to discover everyone else has gone to Wonderland and Maleficent is helping Aurora alone.

While the Queen of Hearts is trying to help Tinkerbelle, she spots Peter, and shows Alice, who tries to get to him but the Evil Queen smashes the Looking Glass.

Wendy begins to see the dreams of Aurora, and shows Tinkerbelle. Tinkerbelle makes the Captain's ship fly, and they ride Aurora's dreams into Aurora's world, where they meet Maleficent, Charming, Cinderella and Snow.

Peter trades his immortality, giving half his life to Aurora to wake her up.

Tinkerbelle, Peter, the Captain, Rumplestiltskin, Maleficent, Wendy, Aurora, Snow, Charming, Cinderella and the Lost Boys go through the portal to Wonderland.

Peter, Alice, and the Gingerbread House Witch reunite. Yay!

Pinnochio reveals that Cinderella is the mystery princess, and she confesses her love for Charming

BATTLE TIME

Triton sends his whole army of sea creatures and monsters.

Rumplestiltskin and Tinkerbelle build weapons for Alice's army

The Hatter and Cinderella make the armour

Wendy, Charming and the Lost Boys take care of the people

A crocodile tries to get to Peter, but the Captain takes his place. The crocodile bites off the Captain's hand.

There's a fair bit of fighting

Triton cuts off Maleficent's wings

Aurora and Snow raise an army of animals, the ravens supporting Maleficent and being her wings.

Triton becomes the Kraken, but he is defeated by the Gingerbread House Witch, who sends him god knows where.

The Evil Queen becomes the Jabberwocky, attacking Wonderland. The Queen Of Hearts fights her, cutting off the Jabberwocky's head and causing the Evil Queen to take her mortal form.

The Evil Queen makes one last desperate attempt, threatening to burn Pinnochio if they don't surrender

Geppeto becomes furious, sending the Evil Queen into a portal that causes her to fall to her death.

All curses are lifted.

The Captain takes a piece of Triton's trident and attaches it to a piece of metal, then attaches that to his hand. It looks like a hook, but it looks cool, so he keeps it.

Peter and Alice imagine hard enough that they manage to combine Neverland and Wonderland into one huge world. In the centre of it all, there is a Gingerbread Palace.

[sas-soulwriter]

Wonderland of writing

"Down the rabbit hole, fellow writers! Writing is a whimsical Wonderland, full of enchantment and adventure. Yet, lurking in shadows are peculiar mistakes even seasoned writers can stumble upon. In this post, I'll be your guide, pointing out these errors and offering graceful solutions."Spelling and Grammar Hiccups: These mischievous creatures, known as typos and misplaced commas, can make your writing tumble down the rabbit hole of confusion. Beware the Jabberwocky of poor grammar! Proofreading is your vorpal sword.

Adjectives and Adverbs Overflow: Much like the Mad Hatter's tea party, too many "very" and "really" can create quite the ruckus. Opt for strong nouns and verbs to paint your scenes vividly.

Run-On Sentences That Never End: Like a never-ending tea party with the March Hare, long sentences can leave you breathless. Cut them into bite-sized pieces for clarity and sanity.

Punctuation Puzzles: Commas, semicolons, and em dashes are the Cheshire Cats of writing—mysterious but helpful. Learn their curious ways to keep your prose coherent.

The Forgetful Red Queen (Editing): Haste makes mistakes! Rushing to publish without proper editing might as well be painting the roses red. Take your time to revise and make your writing shine.

Ignoring the Cheshire Critic: Constructive criticism can be your guiding grin in Wonderland. Don't dismiss it; use it to grow and become an even better writer.

Factual Flamingos: Inaccuracies can be as absurd as flamingo croquet. Fact-check your content to avoid Wonderland-sized blunders.

Clichés as Curious Creatures: Overused phrases are like the Queen's incessant cries of "Off with their heads!" Strive for originality and paint your own roses.

Inviting the Dormouse (Reading): To be a great writer, you must be an avid reader. Reading is the potion that will make you grow in your writing adventures.

Unleash the Wonderland Wanderer (Creativity): Sometimes, we forget to invite our muse to the tea party. Find your creative spark by following the White Rabbit, stargazing with the Caterpillar, or indulging in the whimsies of your imagination. Let your writing be a magical Wonderland of its own!

So, whether you're a curious novice or a seasoned adventurer in the realm of words, let's journey together through this Wonderland of Writing and create tales as enchanting as Alice's adventures! Follow me for more :

[lemonbitrambles]

Here’s the wonderland residents! (Most of them, I shift characters around a lot and I forgot the puppy, who’s just a big dog from the original 1939 draft)

Each characters design is based off one or two iterations, some of which are pretty weird (except Ella I’ll explain Ella-) but the entire concept of this series(??) is a bit weird . Info on characters under cut

Before we start, depending on which path Mickey follows, wonderland will either take on the personality and look of David halls 1939 draft (scary, beautiful but scary) or Mary Blair’s concepts. Certain characters will or won’t show up either

We’ll go in order

Anthropomorphic drink me bottle- from the original 1939 David hall draft. Was essentially replaced by the doorknob. Only character in the movie to be original and not come from the book.

Dinah- the scrapped concept of Dinah falling down with Alice and becoming the Cheshire Cat gained life in wasteland, and retains the more helpful guide side of the character from what was Mary Blair’s concept I believe. She plays a lot with the David hall vs Mary Blair aspect.

Mary Ann- also showed up in the David hall draft. Her design and personality I took from wonderland, a comic book series published by Disney and slave labor graphics

Jokerface- HAH OkAy SO THIS IS A BOSS FROM DISNEY MAGICAL WORLD 2- he a ghost that can impersonate others and when I replayed the game in 2019-ish I fell in love with him and he showed up again in the remake I’ll never play but people can’t seem to remember he has a name so he COuNTs. I’ve played with the idea he frames Mickey and plays as a mini boss in the “good” path

Griffon and mockturtle- these two made it into drafts from the 1940s. Some by David hall, one by Mary Blair, but more specifically ones depicting a scene where they dance with Alice and lobsters (can’t find the artist at the time). Their design are a mix of that specific draft, and my favorite, their jello commercial. Where they are fully animated in old Disney style with new designs and talk to Alice about how to entertain and feed guest at the same time with the wonderful power of jello.

Executioner- from the David hall draft. Design is from the Alice in wonderland dark ride in Disneyland because in the Draft he’s just a dude. He would be the boss in the “bad” path, trying to execute Mickey. He’s also the caretaker of the heartcards

Heartcards- from one specific piece of work by Mary Blair. They’re childish and innocent at heart. Only show up in the good path.

Ella- HeH, whoops okay. This is already a long post and Ella needs a lot of explaining because she’s not a wonderland character. That will probably be in a separate post. But just know her design is based of a butterfly and some David Hall drafts of the caterpillar

[b0ba1nw0nd3rl4nd]

THE FIRST POST FOR ALASTOR IN WONDERLAND {my official Hazbin Hotel AU} here we are wooooo!!!!!!

I'm so excited to show yall my au and I can't wait for you to see what you think of it,

I chose Alastor for Alice cause of their names sounding similar lol.

The ✨LORE✨ for Alastor in wonderland:

Alastor regains consciousness mid-fall, surrounded by peculiar floating cards. With no memory of how he arrived, he lands in Wonderland, disoriented but intrigued. Unfamiliar with the land, Alastor begins a journey to discover the reason behind his fall.

As he explores Wonderland, Alastor encounters Charlie and Vaggie, who, in this world, take on the roles of the White Rabbit. Curiosity piqued, Alastor follows them deeper into the whimsical realm, where he meets a bizarre cast of characters.

Sir Pentious assumes the role of the enigmatic Caterpillar, offering cryptic advice as Alastor seeks answers. Razzle and Dazzle become the mischievous Tweedledee and Tweedledum, adding chaos and laughter to the journey.

Cherri Bomb, transformed into the March Hare, joins the group, and the eccentric Angel Dust becomes the Mad Hatter, hosting a wild tea party. Nifty, taking on the Dormouse persona, provides unexpected moments of insight.

Meanwhile, Husk, now the Cheshire Cat, appears and disappears at will, guiding Alastor with cryptic remarks.

Vox reigns as the imposing Queen of Hearts (or King), with Lucifer as the White Queen (or King), both adding their own flair to Wonderland's dynamics.

As Alastor uncovers the mysteries of Wonderland, he discovers connections between this fantastical realm and his own forgotten past. The journey becomes a quest for self-discovery, as Alastor navigates the madness and magic, facing challenges that test his wit and powers.

Friendship, betrayal, and unexpected alliances shape Alastor's adventure as he pieces together the puzzle of his arrival in Wonderland. The boundaries between Hazbin Hotel and Wonderland blur, creating a unique and captivating tale of chaos and redemption.

{BIG FAT NOTE: yes Lucifer is in this but Lillith is dead in this au}

Here's a breakdown of the characters in my AU:

Alastor: Alice

Charlie and Vaggie: White Rabbit

Sir Pentious: Caterpillar

Razzle and Dazzle: Tweedledee and Tweedledum

Cherri Bomb: March Hare

AngelDust: Mad Hatter

Nifty: Dormouse

Husk: Cheshire Cat

Vox: Queen of Hearts (or King)

Lucifer: White Queen (or King)

Valentino: Knave of Hearts

Velvet: Servant of the Queen of Hearts

{art is by a friend from YouTube: https://youtube.com/@noorbalkisabn2712?si=gTAXDR7yodORkk59 }

[vodika-vibes]

Wonderland

Summary: After an injury, Gregor falls into Wonderland. And you, as the White Rabbit, are tasked with making sure he gets home safely.

Pairing: Knight!Gregor x Reader

Word Count: 3595

Warnings: None

A/N: I've never written for Gregor before, so I'm not sure about his personality. His wookiepedia page did not go into personality appropriately. Also, Alice in Wonderland is hard. I haven't seen the movie or read the books in years, but I did my best.

Tagging: @the-bad-batch-baroness who gave me this idea to begin with

Divider by saradika

All good stories start with ‘Once upon a time’ and end with ‘Happily ever after’, you know this. You’ve read the stories (written by mortals) and you’ve heard the tales, and so you can’t help but wonder why your story didn't have a happily ever after.

Well, no. Not your tale.

You have to wonder why your mother’s tale didn’t have a happy ending. She is mortal…had been mortal(?) before her injury, before she was tricked and teased and goaded into taking a place that isn’t hers.

And so mother created you. You are the embodiment of everything mortal that mother once cherished so dearly. You are light and laughter and love, but you are also darkness and tears and hatred. You are the woman that mother should have been able to grow into.

But, as you run through crimson hallways, darting between the guards, heading towards your mother’s throne, you can’t help but hope that, perhaps, this story will turn out different. 

You open the door to the throne room and delicately skip from one white tile to the next and you stop before your mother and you bow, “Mother, mother! I bring news!” 

The woman you call mother regards you silently, looking like a statue carved from granite, there is little remaining of her humanity. “Tell me, little one.” She orders, her voice sounding like broken glass against stone.

“The Winter and Summer Courts intend to war.” You say breathlessly, alive, alive, alive in a way your mother hasn’t been in years.

“And what do they intend to battle over?” She demands.

“There is a Man, a mortal man, standing on the edge of the Faewild. The man is of the nobility.”

Your mother, somehow, becomes even more still. You don’t blame her, it’s a familiar tale, after all. A tale of which your mother is intimately aware.

“So,” She says, sounding almost bored, “Wonderland has another Alice?”

“So it would appear, mother.” You reply, “The Winter Court is sending the Hatter to draw him further in…the Summer Court has called on the Caterpillar.”

“Hm,” Your mother stares over your head, at the portraits of the former Alice’s, some of whom you’ve saved, and many of which you haven’t. “Very well. Go to our new Alice, try to encourage him to wake from whatever dream he is in. Protect him, if you can, from the Hatter and the Caterpillar.”

You nod, and turn to skip out of the room. “And if I can’t, mother?”

Your mother turns back to her tarts, “Then kill him.” The massive door slams shut behind you as you step out of the throne room, and begin your long trek through the winding halls of the palace your mother crafted to keep herself safe from the machinations of the Courts. 

It is here, and only here, that the magic of Wonderland doesn’t touch the inhabitants. But once you step outside the gates, the magic will take over you, and you’ll have to play by the rules of Wonderland.

You pass through your mother’s garden, curiously eyeing the red roses…you’re pretty sure they were white this morning, and then you push open the deceptively light gates, and step on the path.

You feel the magic of Wonderland wash over you, and the very first thing you do is reach up to your head, feeling for your ears. You heave out a sigh of relief when you tug on long white ears. The White Rabbit actually isn’t too bad.

Not as good as the Cheshire Cat, mind. But you almost never get the Cheshire Cat.

The rules of Wonderland are simple. There can only ever be one Alice. Alice must be mortal. If you’re not Alice, you cannot be mortal, so Wonderland changes you into something else.

You carefully adjust the ribbon in your hair, mussed up with the new ears on the top of your head, and then you follow the path. Alice always arrives in the forest, at least they have in every iteration since your mother was Alice, and even before, if some of the Guards are to be believed.

You find Alice several hours later, and you’re surprised, to say the least.

Generally Alice is a child…or a teenager, not a man fully grown. You tilt your head from one side to the next, an adult Alice breaks the rules, surely. One of your ears flops into your face and you huff out a breath.

Well, whether he’s breaking the rules or not, he is Alice, which means you have work to do. Hopefully it’ll be easy and you can just point him back towards the mortal realm.

“Hello, hello~” You scramble over to him, intentionally spinning him around so he’s looking at the way back. “You look lost, my friend!” 

“Uh…maybe, a bit.” He’s staring at the ears on the top of your head, “Or maybe I’m just dreaming.” He adds.

You laugh, he’s more right than he knows, “Who says it can’t be both?” You ask, “Lost in your dreams, perhaps?”

“...you have rabbit ears.” He says, sounding slightly shell shocked. 

“Well yes. I’m the White Rabbit.”

He stares at you, as though he’s trying to wrap his head around the fact that you’re calling yourself the white rabbit, and then he grins, “Do you have a tail?”

Whatever you might have expected him to ask, that wasn’t it. “W-what kind of question is that?” You demand, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment.

“A fair one,” He counters, “I mean, you’ve got the ears, and you’re even wearing a variation on the bunny suits that they make the girls wear at casinos sometimes.”

Your jaw drops and you hazard a glance at your outfit. He’s not…wrong. Technically. “T-that’s just…it’s because the magic can’t actually turn me into a rabbit!” You reply, your face burning red.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, you’re super cute. Definitely the kind of thing I would fantasize about in a dream.” He says soothingly. You spin away from him and press your hands over your burning face, and then he makes a delighted noise, “Oh, you do have a tail. Cute!” You pull your ears down over your eyes, your face burning even more.

“This is why Alice is always a child!” You whine.

You jump when you feel a tap on your shoulder, and you release your ears and tilt your head back to look up at him, he’s grinning, “My name is Gregor, copikla, not Alice.”

You squint at him suspiciously, “What does that word me? Copikla?”

“It means cute,” He replies with an even wider grin, as though he had heard a joke that was hilarious, “Cause I’m definitely not calling you Rabbit. That’s just rude.”

He sets his hands on your shoulders and lightly spins you so youre face to chest. Pulling a startled squeak from your lips. 

“There. That’s much better. Now, copikla, you were saying?”

“Y-you need to go that way,” You point in the direction that will lead him back to his body, “It’ll take you home.”

“Aww. But I don’t want to leave just yet. Come on, copikla, show me your home?” Gregor asks with an admittedly adorable pout.

You panic for a moment, “What? No! It’s not-ack!”

You topple backwards as a massive top hat slams into your face, and you fall into a bush, “Copikla?” Gregor reaches down to help you back up, but is stopped when a woman wearing a three piece suit waltzes up to him.

“Oh, naughty, naughty little bunny,” The Hatter coos, “You almost made my guest late for tea. With me!” She giggles madly and you finally manage to get yourself untangled from the bush.

“He doesn’t want to have tea with you Hatter,” You say with a scowl as you look up at the much taller woman.

“Oh, but what’s the harm in a simple cup of tea?” The Hatter asks with a silky smile, as she turns her gaze towards Gregor, “You said you wanted to see more of Wonderland, I am more than happy to show you.”

“...I suppose there’s no harm in one cup of tea,” Gregor says slowly.

“Splendid!” The Hatter grabs his arm and tugs him away from the exit, and you, “Just, no rodents allowed.” She flings her hat at you again, and you yelp as you topple back into the bush again.

By the time you untangle yourself, the Hatter and Gregor are gone, and you feel a swell of panic. The Hatter is nefarious, she’ll twist her words around and around until they almost make sense. And Gregor didn’t even know he was in danger.

You nervously dance in place, waiting for an idea, any idea, and then you freeze, your gaze landing on the flowers all around you. That…might work. You drop to your knees and lower your head towards a yellow blossom, and you whisper your instructions to them.

The giggling starts quietly, and then becomes louder and louder, as the instructions are passed through the flower network.

If nothing else, it’ll buy you time. The flowers are devious when they want to be, and there’s no love lost between the flowers of Wonderland and the Hatter. Of course, there’s always the chance that the flowers will warn the Caterpillar, but he’s not half so nefarious as the Hatter.

You find Gregor standing outside of the Hatter’s cabin, a look of bewilderment on his face as flowers bar his entry into the cabin. You run over to him and lightly wrap both of your hands around one of his arms, “I found you!”

“Copikla?” He beams down at you, “I was wondering if you were going to catch up.”

“Gregor,” You sigh his name as you lightly tug him away from the cabin, “You’re not safe here. You need to leave.”

“She just wanted to have some tea,”

“It’s never just a cup of tea, Gregor. Not with her. Not in Wonderland.” You continue pulling him away, and this time he follows you freely.

“You keep implying that I’m not safe,” There’s no humor in his face, “Can you explain that?”

You consider your words for a moment. The rules have already been broken. Alice is always a child or a young teenager. Never an adult. Someone targeted him intentionally. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough.

“Wonderland has a more proper name,” You explain, “It’s less obvious here, on the outermost ridges. But the further in you go the more obvious it becomes.”

“Copikla, where am I?” Gregor asks.

You release his arm and stand on your toes, pressing your hands against his cheeks, “Gregor, you’re on the edge of the Faewild, and I need to get you home.”

He stares at you, something grim crossing his face, “And is that what you are? A fae?”

“No. But also yes.” You shrug, “It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it.” It’s not a suggestion.

“Okay, so…my mother was Alice. She was pulled from her home as a child, and she went on this magical adventure, and she didn’t understand the rules of the Fae. She was just a child, only five summers old.” You explain as you release his face and take his arm again, propelling him again, “She thought the Hatter was a friend. She tricked mother into killing the last Red Queen.”

You’re not running, not quite, but you know that you’re walking a very fine line. The fact that you’re not being stopped from saying these things to Gregor indicates that you’re right, someone broke the rules, which means that all of the rules are now broken.

Which means Wonderland is now much, much more dangerous.

You lead Gregor down the path, and then he suddenly stops, “Where did all of this smoke come from?”

“Smoke? What smo-” You look at your feet and inhale sharply. Swirling around your feet and up your legs is pale purple smoke.

“Yes, yes. It’s me.” A tall man emerges from the shadows, “Hello, welcome. I am the Caterpillar.”

“Why’s he called that?” Gregor hisses in your direction.

“He used to be one.” You reply, totally honest.

“This place is so fucked up.” Gregor mutters under his breath.

“Quite so, to understand Wonderland one must be quite mad,” The Caterpillar agrees as he settles on a tree stump. “But I find myself ensnared by your tale, little rabbit. Continue it, and I’ll let you and your mortal friend go.”

“The Summer Court-”

“Has no real interest in this man, or the mortal realm. It’s so much more fun to draw an Alice here.” He smiles broadly and takes a deep inhale of his pipe, “Indeed, I may release you anyway, but I do enjoy a good story.”

“Right, so. Alice, your mother, killed the last Red Queen.” Gregor prompts.

“Yes. She didn’t understand, you see. There must always be a Red Queen, and the Red Queen must always be an Alice. So when the old Queen died, mother was forced to take her place.” You say quickly, “But mother was a child, and she didn’t know how to rule or lead or do anything really.”

“So what did she do?”

“Ooh, this is my favorite part of the story!” The Caterpillar cheered, “Let me tell it!” He leans in, “The Red Queen was lonely, so very lonely, there in her massive castle with her playing card guards and her rose gardens. The Red Queen went quite insane, rather Fae like, really.” He smiles broadly, “And so in a fit of desperation she created the little rabbit there.”

Gregor looks at you, surprise on his face, “She created you?”

You nod, “I was meant to be a friend, the same age as her, but to create me she had to split off portions of herself. At first it was just her sense of joy. But as she aged, as she lost more of herself to Wonderland, she pushed more and more of herself into me.”

“It’s quite twisted, actually.” The Caterpillar says with a laugh, “The child, born of Wonderland, is just as mortal as you are. While the former Alice is just as Fae as I am.” His grin broadens, “What happened to all of the other Alice’s, I wonder?”

“The majority of them were sent home,” You reply, “But some…some mother killed. Better dead than a pawn between the courts.”

“Oh, brava!” The Caterpillar claps, “But, now I’m quite done with this show. I’m going to dance with the hatter. Be off with you now.” He waves his hand and the purple mist fades, and so do all but one of the paths.

“...is he for real?”

“Unfortunately,” You reply quietly, “He’s not good or even kind, but he is honest, almost to a fault.” You grab Gregor’s arm and tug him down the path again. With any luck no one else will stop you.

“W-wait. Wait, wait, wait.” Gregor stops moving and lightly grips your wrist, keeping you from moving, “Stop. I have a question.”

“Can it wait?” You ask.

“No.” He looks serious again, and you shift nervously, “The Caterpillar said that you're mortal. Why haven’t you come to the mortal realm?”

You blink at him, “I…I don’t know. I guess I feel like I don’t belong there?”

“But you don’t belong here, either. How long can you stay here before you start going insane?” Gregor asks.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” You point out, very logically you think.

“You can come with me, copikla. I’ll take care of you.” He reaches up and lightly tugs on one of your ears, “You can just be you.”

“I’ll…think about it.” You offer, as a compromise, and he smiles at you warm and bright. 

“That’s all I ask.” Conversation over, you continue guiding him.

“I have a question,” Gregor asks, “And we can walk and talk this time.”

“Okay?”

“Why didn’t anyone tell your mother all of this stuff?” He asks, “I mean, it seems like people maybe should.”

“It’s not allowed.” You look up at him, “Alice has to figure everything out on her own. It’s part of the story. She can get help, but no one can give her the answers.”

“But you told me everything.”

“Mm. You’re Alice, but you’re not the right Alice.” You explain, and then seeing his bemused expression you try to clarify, “You’re Alice due to the fact that you’re mortal and you’re here. But Alice is always a child. Never an adult. So you’re Alice, but you’re not recognized as Alice.”

“Okaaay. And how does that happen?” Gregor asks slowly.

“Someone wanted you here?” You offer with a shrug, “Or, well, if not you then someone like you.”

“But…why?”

“Well, they probably wanted to replace you with a changeling, to have a member of the court within your family.” You offer with a shrug, as you finally stop in front of the barely visible opening that leads back to the mortal realm, “Here.”

“...that was quick.”

“Will you be offended if I tell you that Wonderland doesn’t want you?” You ask sheepishly.

He shoots you a look, and then grins, “Not at all. I don’t really want to be here either.”

“That’s too bad,” You jump and Gregor shifts to place himself between you and the Hatter, who looks absolutely furious, “You’re coming with me. I’m not asking nicely.”

Gregor’s eyes go cold, “You can’t make me.” He replies, “I’m not a child you can bully around, or trick.” He says.

The Hatter falters, and she sneers, “Are you sure about that? Maybe I’ll just kill the little rabbit instead.”

Gregor glances down at you, and then over to the Hatter, and then back at you, and his face contorts with guilt, “Sorry, copikla. I’m taking the choice away from you.”

“You…what?” You yelp when he scoops you into his arms and flings himself into the portal. You hear the Hatter scream in rage, and then something hard slams into, the sensation of Wonderland magic ripping away from you, and you black out from pain.

*******

Three days later, you’re still not really sure what to do. The mortal realm is a lot like Wonderland, you suppose, just the rules are a little different. And the people in the palace seem to just accept that you’re not quite like them.

And you’re fine with that. The old man who lives in the tower is teaching you some gentle magic, though the most you can do is make rainbow sparks fall out of your fingers.

For the most part, you spend your time sitting next to Gregor’s hospital bed. His brothers tell you that he was attacked while in the city, and that no one knows who his attacker was. 

But they all reassure you that he’ll be fine, that he’s stronger than he looks. You ask, on the second day, if it’s to reassure themselves or you, because you know how strong he is.

You lift your head from your book when Gregor groans and his eyes open. He immediately rolls his head to the side, and he smiles brightly when he sees you, “-kinda miss the rabbit ears, copikla.” He mumbles.

You grin at him, “Well, what do you think about this version of me?” You ask, as you tuck your hair behind your, very human, ears.

He considers you for a moment, “Mesh’la,” He decides, “It’s better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reaches out and lightly brushes his fingers through your hair, “Very, very mesh’la.” He falls silent for a moment, “‘M sorry. I took your choice away from you.”

“The hatter would have killed me if you didn’t,” You reply lightly, “And I never would have been able to pick. So I’m not mad.”

“Mm. What do you think of the Mortal Realm?”

You scrunch up your nose, “It’s not very bright.”

Gregor laughs, “No. No it’s not. Do you think you’ll adjust?”

“The old man in the tower is teaching me magic. He says I think differently than him and his apprentice, so-” You shrug, “I think it was a compliment. Or maybe it was an insult, he was rubbing his beard the whole time.”

“That means that you’re going to become his junior apprentice.” Gregor replies easily, “He’ll help you figure things out.”

“And you won’t?” You asked.

“Of course I’ll help, mesh’la! You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He drops his arm, “Anything else interesting happen?”

“It’s only been three days, Gregor.” You reply, though you hesitate.

“Tell me.”

“A little boy whose parents work here in a palace fell into a coma, he’s five years old.” You explain.

Gregor sighs, “You think Wonderland found their new Alice?” He asks.

You nod mutely.

“Hm…What do you think will happen?”

“Either he’ll escape and wake up, or he’ll remain in the coma as the Red King, or he’ll die.” You shrug, “There’s nothing we can do about it. Wonderland, and the Faewild, is outside our reach now.”

“Yeah.” 

Gregor closes his eyes, and you stand and lightly kiss his forehead, “I’ll go get the healer, and your brothers. They’ve been worried about you.”

“Thanks, mesh’la.” He says with a small smile, as you leave the room.

You lean against the door as you step into the hallway. Things are going to be hard for you, and him, for a long time. It’ll take time for you both to heal, and for you to learn how things are supposed to be done. But you will, and so will he. For now, all will be well.

[lilacmingi]

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU: NAMJOON’S ENDING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Caterpillar!Namjoon x fem reader

Word count: 1,290

Note: There’s no taglist for the separate endings. If you haven’t read the series yet, you can find the intro here or find it on my masterlist which is linked at the end of the imagine

Every single one of them were amazing and beyond perfect, but your heart seemed to be pulled towards one of them in particular.

You glanced over at Namjoon, who seemed so composed about the whole situation while everyone else looked uneasy. You really did love all of them, but the way you felt about Namjoon was a different kind of love.

"I choose Namjoon."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Me? You choose me?"

You chuckled lightly and nodded.

He stepped forward and hugged you, squeezing you tightly.

"Thank you." He whispered into your hair.

Despite his confident demeanor when the both of you met earlier that day, he was anxious and a small part of him didn't think you would pick him, but he was elated that you did.

"Congrats you two." Jin smiled warmly.

"You guys don't forget to stop by and visit, okay?" Hoseok spoke up.

"Of course." Namjoon nodded. "It'll be just like the good old days."

The both of you said your goodbyes to the group and parted ways, heading to Namjoon's house where you would be starting your new life.

"Sorry about calling you stupid when we first met." Namjoon's apology seemed to come out of nowhere.

"It's okay. Your good looks and smooth talking make up for it."

"Ah." He chucked. "Does it really?"

You nodded.

"Thank you." He gave a shy smile.

His hand reached for yours and intertwined your fingers while guiding you down the pathway that ran throughout Wonderland.

The both of you arrived shortly at the clearing where you met Namjoon earlier that day, walking past his chair and other items in the middle of the grass and down a small path where the grass didn't grow anymore due to it being walked on so much. Not far down the trail was a house hiding amongst the tall plants and flowers, some of which were growing along the side of the structure.

"Well, here it is." Namjoon smiled, gesturing to his abode.

"It's adorable. I didn't expect you to live in such a cute house."

"Come on. Let's go inside and I'll show you around. I think you'll like it."

The front door was pushed open and you stepped past the threshold where you were met with the living room which was decorated nicely. Paintings were scattered along the walls and a variety of green plants dotted the area. Some sat in the windowsill while a couple were placed on the natural driftwood coffee table.

"This is the living room. The kitchen is over here." He gestured to the open cooking area, leading you over so you could take it all in.

You were then led down a short hallway where Namjoon showed you the rest of his house which just consisted of a bathroom and his study.

"This last room here," He opened the door. "is our room." He spoke, emphasizing the word our, making your heart flutter.

"It's nice."

He hummed in agreement against your neck, causing you to freeze up. His arms snaked around your waist while his lips attached themselves to your neck. Your eyelids fluttered in response at the sensation of being able to feel every movement of his full lips against your sensitive skin. 

"Namjoon." You sighed out.

"Yes, baby?"

"Keep doing that."

"As you wish." He murmured, continuing to work his way up your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

When he reached just beneath your ear, he spun you around towards him and captured your lips between his. His kisses were warm and the way his plush and pillowy lips felt pressing against your own was enough to send your mind into a foggy haze of bliss.

"Baby." He sighed into your mouth, his voice dropping low as he uttered the affectionate nickname.

Your hands gripped desperately at the collar of his coat, pulling him impossibly closer, your fingers curling around the navy blue fabric in order to ground yourself.

Not wanting things to get too intense, Namjoon parted ways, his arms staying looped around your waist.

"I love you so much, Y/n. I really do." He panted, breathless from all the kissing. "I can't wait to see what the future holds for us."

Two weeks later

Your quiet footsteps barely made a sound as you entered Namjoon's study where he was reading one of the many books he owned. Soft music was playing throughout the room on a record player as his eyes scanned the pages of the book perched in his large hands. He was wearing wire framed glasses that rested cutely on the edge of his little nose. He glanced up from his book, taking notice of your presence, a dimpled grin spreading across his face the moment his eyes met yours.

"Hello, gorgeous." He greeted.

"Hi. I brought you some tea."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know I didn't." You grinned and set the steaming beverage down on his desk.

You leaned on the back of his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." He hummed.

"You're welcome, Joon."

One of your hands played with his hair, glancing down at the open book in his palms.

"Whatcha reading?"

"A love story. It's nothing compared to ours though."

You giggled. "Namjoon."

"Was that cheesy?"

"A little."

"I'm only cheesy for you, baby." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him.

"Well," He sighed, placing a bookmark in his book before snapping it shut. "I suppose I should try this tea you so lovingly made for me." He reached over and retrieved the cup from the table, blowing in the hot liquid before bringing it to his full lips.

You waited in anticipation as he set the cup down, smiling shortly after.

"It's delicious. How did you learn to make such amazing tea?"

"Well, I'm a bit of a tea addict. I like to try new things and experiment with my tea."

"I love it." He took another appreciative sip from the cup and placed it back on the table.

You moved around to the front of the chair he sat in and slowly lifted the book from Namjoon's hands. He looked up at you and raised a brow, though there was a glint of anticipation in his eyes as you took a seat on his leg and leaned into him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, his hands running up and down your back.

"Your glasses are so cute, Joon."

"Thanks."

You pulled them from his face and placed them on your own, just for fun. He flashed a smile that was full of adoration.

"You look so adorable in those."

"I don't know." You shook your head, removing the glasses and setting them aside.

"You do." He assured, moving his face closer to yours.

Namjoon's eyes darted to your lips, a small smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Initially, you didn't intend on having a little make out session with him, but when he looked that good, how could you not?

Wasting no time, you took his face between your palms and smashed your lips against his, initiating a passionate kiss. His hands squeezed your waist in response to your bold actions, a low groan vibrating against your lips as he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss and pressing your mouths closer together. The exhilarating rush of heat that ran through you was intense and had you feeling lightheaded.

Your hands released his face and moved to his hair, raking your fingers through it, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands.

"I love you, Y/n." He sighed against your lips.

"I love you too, Namjoon."

Masterlist ᝰ

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[lovelyllamasblog]

Cari Pillar 🐛

Parent: The Caterpillar

Parent’s Story: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Powerful Qualities: Independent, Spiritual, Resourceful

Roommate: When your school year is only one day a year, you don’t really have one you know?

Secret Heart’s Desire: To take over my family as the next Caterpillar. Being the Head of the Pillar family has been my lifelong dream.

My “Magic” Touch: When I smoke my hookah, I can see bits of the future. It’s quite thrilling. Though my mom says I shouldn’t use it too much, otherwise I might see too much.

Storybook Romance Status: I’m not really interested in romance at the moment.

“Oh Curses!” Moment: When people ask me about the future, I tend to give cryptic answers. Mother says the future shouldn’t be given out so easily.

Favorite Subject: Poetry Class. It allows me to express my future seeings more freely.

Least Favorite Subject: Grimmnastics. I am not made to run long distances.

Best Friends Forever After: Arslan Lionheart, Uniqua Cornia, Lizzie Hearts, Maddie Hatter, Kitty Cheshire, Alistair Liddell-Wonderland, Bunny Blanc, Courtly Jester, Chase Redford, Lily Whitecastle, Jillian Beanstalk, and Darling Charming.