strawberrygummiess

[strawberrygummiess]

the nutcracker.

chapter 3 | chapter 4: march of the marzipan militia nutcracker x reader staff & reader che'nya x reader 2.3k words cross-posted on ao3 "He continues to talk, but you’ve stopped listening. Surely, he was exaggerating. A millennium? A thousand years? And you were still searching for them? There was no way the only solution to the Rat King was a fairytale. You would simply get Grim back yourself, Sugar Plum Fairy be damned."

The walk to Confiserie is quiet.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. You’d think that after your near-death experience, you could wrangle answers out of your Nutcracker friend. In the forest, when he held you tight to his chest and looked at you with such a look in his eyes, you figured you had made some progress in getting closer to him (albeit, with minimal effort on your end, but if you were so effortlessly charming than you would use it to your advantage). But once again, when you try to pry information out of him, he smiles and shakes his head, ignoring your badgering to continue walking.

At this point, you admit defeat. Maybe everyone from this mirror world is a strange creature, and you’re only offending him with your pestering. You had yet to meet another human since the rat attack, and based on everything that happened since then, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were far and few between.

You do consider it progress that he acknowledges you now, even if he quickly changes the subject. However, even if he won’t answer your questions about the land, or himself, you are set on finding something else to call him.

“What is your name? Or what can I call you besides Nutcracker?” you ask, looking down at your feet when you hear the clicks of your shoes. Slowly, the snow on the ground has given away to a worn stone path, signaling that you’ve finally left the snowy forest. The ground looks completely untouched by the winter air, the grass is bright green and healthy and the trees bushy and full. The view of the field is beautiful, and you gape in awe at the serenity of the walk.

“You’re very adamant on finding this out,” he says, shocking you out of your reverie. He says, continuing to look forward. You frown, increasing your speed until you move before him, stopping him.

“I will stop asking you personal questions if you tell me your name,”

He stares at you for a second, debating. For a second, you think you might’ve won him over, watching as he opens his mouth to answer you before he frowns, grabs your arm, and pulls you behind him, drawing his sword with the other.

“Who goes there?” he shouts, his grip still tight on your wrist. If the wood of his hand weren’t bruising the skin, it would be a comforting gesture. Instead, you wince in pain, trying to stay quiet.

You cower behind your Nutcracker, peering over his shoulder to see what spooked him. You hadn’t heard anything, and when you looked around him, you couldn’t see anything either. Rook would be ashamed of your subpar hunter instincts.

“What is it?” you whisper, standing on your tippy toes to whisper in his wooden ear. The Nutcracker doesn’t respond, continuing to point his sword ahead. If you squint, you can see the town center up ahead. Otherwise, all you can see are abandoned cottages and empty fields. The outskirts of the town were practically deserted, and you couldn’t help the eerie feeling rising through your chest.

It was a complete ghost town. Paired with the beautiful scenery, it looked more like a painting than a real town.

“It really is I, who should be asking you, ‘Who goes there?’”

The voice is so quiet, it sounds like a whisper in your ear. But when you turn, there is no one beside you. A giggle fills the air, ringing out like a horn, yet no one is around you or the Nutcracker.

“Show yourself!”

“We mean no harm!” You cry, putting your hand over the Nutcracker’s, urging him to lower his sword. “We just want to find the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

The voice laughs again. “A figure more elusive than I. You sure do have your work cut out for you,” You move around the Nutcracker, looking for the source of the voice, trying to find your way closer. Your Nutcracker reaches out for you, urging you to stay beside him, but you continue to search.

And then, out of thin air, pops a boy.

“Oh!” You cry, stumbling backwards. It’s not a full body, but just his head. He peers at you with a cat-like grin, purple locks blending in with his violet military beret. Where an insignia would be, is instead a sugar-coated sugar plum.

“Do you serve the Sugar Plum Fairy? Do you know where they are?” you ask pointing to the candy on his hat.

“We Marzipan serve all who need us,” he says, head bobbing between you and the Nutcracker. “Although we've been stretched awfully thin these days, due to the Rat King,” He sighs. You feel a weight on your back pushing you forward, realizing he’d languidly leaned on you for support. By now you can see his whole body, violet military uniform coming into view. He pokes your nose and giggles again.

“We’ve been stuck recruiting from all over the lands. Candy Canes from the north, Chocolates from the west, Coffee from the south,” he begins listing many different regions. You glance at the Nutcracker, hoping for some sort of clarity, but he glances at you with an equally bewildered look.

Weird meet weirder.

“So… help me understand a little bit,” you say, turning your head to look at the boy on your shoulder. He looked no older than a teenager yet was dressed up to fight in a war. You tried to ignore the pang in your chest at the thought. “You’re a part of a Marzipan Military- “

“-militia,”

“-Right, and you’re fighting the Rat King… and I’m guessing you don’t know where the Sugar Plum Fairy is.” You summarize, shifting your shoulder to get his head to lie comfortably. He takes the bait, practically purring as he stretches his neck into yours, relaxing.

“My, you’re smarter than you look, little human. No one’s heard from Sugar Plum in a millennium, it's unsurprising that in our time of need, they’re nowhere to be found. Our own Royal family though- “

He continues to talk, but you’ve stopped listening. Surely, he was exaggerating. A millennium? A thousand years? And you were still searching for them? There was no way the only solution to the Rat King was a fairytale. You would simply get Grim back yourself, Sugar Plum Fairy be damned.

“Your General, you say? Take us to him, won’t you?” The Nutcracker says, knocking you back into the present. The boy on your shoulder sighs, before pushing himself off your back, standing straight.

“Oh no, not I. I must remain at my post, but go on ahead- you’ll find him eventually,” he giggles, and just as he appears, he fades away, until nothing is left but his Cheshire smile.

You’re left stunned and turn to your Nutcracker, who tsks in irritation, before continuing to walk toward the town center.

--

Just like the outskirts of the village, Confiserie Town Center is barren. Shops are barricaded and boarded up, looking abandoned. The whole town seems completely deserted.

“Hello?” you cry out, much to the chagrin of your Nutcracker. “Is anyone here? We met your… uh… lookout!” You move through the town center, yelling at anyone who could hear you.

“Are you mad?” The Nutcracker cries, grabbing your arm. “Who knows what’s out here? You’re inviting anything out to attack you!” He chastises you, pulling you behind him, grip tight. You roll your eyes, annoyed with the knightly act by now.

“The Marzipan are fighting the Rat King. Clearly, they’re our allies. We might think to have their help against the Rat King instead of the Sugar Plum Fairy,”

“Preposterous!” A voice cries from the Town Hall. Scrambling out from behind boarded doors is a tall man with a shako hat, strangely bright yellow. In the center was a sugared lemon, matching his uniform. “There is no army in the world that can beat the Rat King, especially a hodgepodge militia!”

He scrambles over, and standing at full height, you’re surprised when he towers above you. He peers down at you, almost like a curious bird, tilting his head back and forth. “You are searching for the Sugar Plum Fairy? You dare brave our dangerous lands? How brave you are, how courageous!” He grins, grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks together.

“Are you the General of the Militia?” The Nutcracker asks, moving between you and the birdman. You��re thankful to be freed from the strong man, rubbing your sore cheeks. Everyone from this world has such a strong grip!

“Yes, yes, I so generously lent my expertise for a failure of a militia, and yet we lack manpower and support. It is quite sad indeed, is it not, my wooden lad?” The birdman says, bringing his hands to his head in shame. “How am I to fight a real army with a plethora of silly children and old men, I ask? If you’re set on finding Sugar Plum you must, oh yes, you must!”

You move to stand next to the Nutcracker, pouting. He gives you a smug look as if to say “See; we must find the Sugar Plum Fairy like I said,” glancing at the Birdman while he had his miniature tantrum.

“Excuse me!” you interrupt, waving your hands in his face. “We know the Sugar Plum Fairy hasn’t been seen in quite some time, but do you happen to know where we could begin to look for them? We need their help to defeat the Rat King, and free my friend.”

The Birdman stops for a second, rubbing his chin with his fingers. He mumbles a series of “no… no… maybe… yes, that’s it!” before snapping his fingers in excitement.

“Peach! Pear! Prune! Plum! I need your assistance!” he practically sings, cupping his hands around his mouth to announce his call.

From the boarded-up building, four men emerge. One is very old, much too old to be a part of any militia. The next is so skinny, you’d think he’s too malnourished to serve any use. The next man is incredibly muscular, large, and boisterous, with a shining smile. The last man is almost model-like, too pretty to be a part of any military.

“Quite a rag-tag group, is it not?” The Nutcracker whispers in your ear. You giggle and nod.

“Lads! These two brave souls are searching for the Sugar Plum Fairy. In my generosity, I’ve allowed them to confer with my intelligence team. Aren’t I so merciful!’

“Maybe so, if we had any information to pass on,” the older man, Prune, quips. “Alas, as you may know, the Sugar Plum Fairy hasn’t been seen in quite some time,”

“Yes sir,” you nod. “But we must! My friend was taken captive by the Rat King. I have to save him, and we can’t do that without their help!”

Prune hums, shaking his head. The muscular and the pretty man mumble to themselves, also seeming stumped by your predicament. The skinny man laughs, grasping you and the Nutcracker in his arms.

“All is not lost, Little Sweets! I may know a way to help you in your quest.” He says, leaning close between your faces. “The Sugar Plum may be elusive, but their magic can be called upon!” He releases your shoulders and fishes through his jacket pockets, pulling out a small sack.

“Sugar Plum is the guardian of the Land of Sweets. Legend states that they can be summoned only by gathering magic from every inch of the land and chanting the spell of Noel. And, luckily for you, Little Sweets, we’ve gathered many of the Lands’ people right here.” He gives you an impish grin. “You find the other soldiers, ask them for a little bit of… ah- pixie dust and you’ll be ready to summon Sugar Plum in no time,”

The Nutcracker outstretches his hand and Peach places the bag in his hand. “As a start, I’ve provided you the magic of the Marzipan. For free, of course, so long as you use your newfound knowledge for good. Help us defeat the Rat King and we’ll be indebted to you.”

“Thank you, thank you so much!” You cry, grasping his hands. “We will. I promise.”

“We will restore order and hope to these lands and release you from your duties. Soon the Marzipan may return to their ordinary lives,” The Nutcracker says, giving a slight, princely bow. “For now, if you may- point us toward your barracks. We must converse with the rest of the soldiers.”

The Lemon-General/Birdman directs you toward the barracks while chanting about his generosity and benevolence which fills you with a deep sense of Deja vu. The Nutcracker chimes in with polite remarks, nodding and agreeing while sending you occasional incredulous glances.

You were happy to see his sense of humor coming out after a while. You hadn’t learned his name yet, but maybe you could make a nickname for him. Nut? Nutty? Cracker? Scratch that- all of those were horrible! Maybe you were losing your touch. Or maybe you could spice it up somehow. How would Rook say it? Casse-noix? You could shorten it to just Noix, and he’d be none the wiser to his nickname just being “nut”.  

When you begin giggling to yourself, Noix shoots you a questioning look. You smile at him, tilting your head as you inspect him. The classy red uniform (much nicer than the rest of the colorful military uniforms you have seen thus far) matches his gray hair quite nicely. Despite being made of wood, he was quite handsome. Noix definitely suited him.

With a newfound hope, you follow the Lemon General and Noix, ready to gather some magic.

[strawberrygummiess]

i have been as sick as a dog for the last few days, i'm sorry everyone ;-: next chapter will be out overnight i'm sure

[strawberrygummiess]

i am back from my mini vacation! new chapter tonight 🫶🏽

just a heads up- i tried to get a chapter out before my trip but i just ran out of time- i’ll be out of town until the 21st🫶🏽 when i get back it’ll have to be a chapter everyday (or double features) to be done by christmas uh oh

see yall then! logging off for now

[strawberrygummiess]

just a heads up- i tried to get a chapter out before my trip but i just ran out of time- i’ll be out of town until the 21st🫶🏽 when i get back it’ll have to be a chapter everyday (or double features) to be done by christmas uh oh

see yall then! logging off for now

[strawberrygummiess]

Do you have a visual for the nutcracker? Not to spoil who he is but like does he look more like the traditional wooden kind with tufts of hair? Or more like the in nutcracker prince 1990?

Hi anon! In the first chapter, I tried to describe the Nutcracker as the most stereotypical one you could buy in the store, lol.

like these:

to keep the identity of the Nutcracker a secret, I wanted him to look like the gift the reader got in the first chapter, just life-sized lol.

but I neglected to describe him in the recent chapters, so that's my bad! I'll be sure to add more descriptions in the upcoming chapter to avoid any further confusion!

thanks for reading! and thanks for asking lol!

[strawberrygummiess]

I 💗 the nutcracker story 🤧

Did not expect Rollo as the rat king but he’s a good fit!

Thank you for sharing your writing ❤️🙏

aw thank you so much anon <3 it means a lot to hear that people are enjoying this story so much haha

just for you, here's chapter 3

[strawberrygummiess]

the nutcracker.

chpt. 2 | chapter 3: waltz of the snowflakes the nutcracker x reader heartslabyul x reader 2.6k words cross-posted on ao3 "You cup your hands around your mouth and puff hot air into them. You notice the bed of your fingernails are turning purple. “What gives? It wasn’t cold when we got here!” “Hmm…” He looks around. “The Pixies must know we’re here now. They’re welcoming us with fresh snow for winter.” On cue, it begins to snow. It starts light, a few snowflakes landing delicately on your nose. The snow made the forest glow beautifully, snowflakes shining like stars in the blue light. If you weren’t so cold, you would fall back into the pillowy ground and soak up the snow. Instead, you shivered in The Nutcracker's grasp, watching the landscape dramatically change. "

You didn’t know what to expect after you crossed through the mirror.

Truthfully you didn’t think you would go through the mirror at all. You figured you’d push your hands into the solid glass and wake up from this strange dream. And yet when you pressed your hand against the glass, your fingers slowly inched forward, moving through like water. And then, when you brought your whole body through, you were in a completely different world. Gone was your room in Ramshackle. Now you stood in ankle-deep snow surrounded by trees that almost shone blue in the light.

Despite standing in the snow, you didn’t feel cold. You were still in your pajamas, (and you had quickly thrown on a pair of real shoes before leaving.) but even in a weather-inappropriate outfit, no chill or ice fills the air, feeling more like a spring day.

You walked alongside the Nutcracker, sneaking glances at his profile. His gaze was focused and determined, as it was during the mouse battle. He moved robotically, one side lifting awkwardly when he took a step. It looked unnatural for him to walk, and you couldn’t decide if it was because he just came alive, or if he was trapped in a nutcracker’s body.

You didn’t even know his name. The last time you asked, he avoided the question. And based on his quiet demeanor, he would never tell you of his own volition. Conversation starters flew through your mind: “So, you never answered me earlier- who are you?”; “Why does everyone here look vaguely familiar?”; “Has this place always been in my mirror? Do you happen to know a nice mouse named Mickey?” You sigh, shaking your head defeatedly. None of these questions would warrant a satisfying answer from him- he’d shut down as soon as you pried too much for his liking. You were no closer to understanding him, or the land he was taking you through.

While you were walking, the weather began to shift. Slowly the air got cooler until you were shivering and watching your breath puff out before you. The snow got tougher to move through, the ice melting through your shoes and soaking your feet uncomfortably.

“Why did it get so cold suddenly?” you huff, clutching and rubbing your arms. You’re regretting not bringing a coat with you. You sniffled miserably, nose running and dribbling due to the wind.

You glanced at the Nutcracker. Besides his awkward gait, he seemed to pay no mind to the sudden freezing temperature, wooden eyes still cast forward. If he heard you, he made no indication that he did, ignoring your question to trek forward. You purse your lips, annoyed. Maybe he didn’t want to answer personal questions, but writing you off completely was irritating.

“Hey,” you prompted, touching his arm. Despite the frigid air, the wood was still warm. You let your hand linger on his shoulder, indulging in the small bit of warmth in the freezing forest. “I don’t know if I can keep moving through this, I don’t have the right clothes, and it's freezing,”

The Nutcracker turns his head towards you, eyes cast downwards at your hand on his shoulder. He hesitates for a second, as if not expecting you to touch him before he finally looks at your face.

You must be in worse shape than you thought because his eyes widen in shock at the state of you. For all you know, you’ve turned into a walking icicle.

“Your lips are blue. Are they supposed to do that?” The Nutcracker moves your hand from his arm and cradles you into his chest, attempting to warm you up like he already knows the answer. The wood is slowly getting colder, but you greedily take whatever warmth is left, pressing your cheek into his chest.

“No!” You cry cupping your hands around your mouth and puffing hot air into them. You notice the bed of your fingernails are turning purple. “What gives? It wasn’t cold when we got here!”

“Hmm…” He looks around. “The Pixies must know we’re here now. They’re welcoming us with fresh snow for winter.”

On cue, it begins to snow. It starts light, a few snowflakes landing delicately on your nose. The snow made the forest glow beautifully, snowflakes shining like stars in the blue light. If you weren’t so cold, you would fall back into the pillowy ground and soak up the snow. Instead, you shivered in The Nutcracker's grasp, watching the landscape dramatically change.

“The Pixies…?” you ask, watching the trees as the branches frost at the tips. It looked like dew; crystal clear drips gracing each branch. Most of the trees in the forest were bare, leaves long dead due to the winter air, but the ice acted like fresh leaves, weighing the branches down until they bowed to the ground.

“The Snow Pixies to be exact… they’ll go dormant once winter ends, but until then…” The Nutcracker looks up, extending an arm into the sky as if inviting snowflakes into his hand.

After a second, he brings his arm down to your eye level. In his hand, is a little blue pixie.

“Oh!” you gasp in shock. A boy, as tall as the Nutcracker’s hand, beamed at you, a lazy glint in his eye. He was multiple shades of blue: his skin was almost white, a tinted sky blue that contrasted against his royal blue hair. Under his right eye was a snowflake tattoo, a deep warm blue that popped against his skin.

That definitely felt familiar.

“Hello there,” you greet, leaning in closer. He flutters his wings at you, giving you a boyish grin as he flutters up from the Nutcracker’s hand to get even closer to your face. “Are you the one making it so cold?”

His laugh rings out clearly; little jingles like a bell, as he presses a hand against your nose. He’s so cold he burns, and the action shocks another gasp from your lips. He laughs again and presses his face into your cheek, and to your surprise, it’s much warmer than his hand. His kisses shock your skin, the switch from frigid to scalding, and you huff again.

“If you are, I don’t appreciate it. I nearly froze to death out here,”

The pixie jingles again, pressing a hand to your face as a warning, before pressing apology kisses above your brow. Eventually, once he’s done one side of your face, he pulls back and sighs dramatically, draping his body on your shoulder in exhaustion.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you move him to your hand (noticeably smaller than the Nutcracker’s) and bring him up to your ear. “Are you tired?”

“Very!” He squeaks. You grin excitedly, happy to be able to hear him. “You’re huge!”

 You frown. Maybe his silence was a blessing.

“Could you help me? We’re trying to find the Sugar Plum Fairy, but I can’t find them if I freeze out here. Could you call your friends to help warm me up?” You ask, already feeling the chill return to the left side of your face.

“Ugh, actually,” he says sheepishly. “I’m not on good terms with my liege, currently. Don’t know how open he is to helping visitors right now,” he laughs again, bells ringing in your ears. “You might be all out of luck little human,”

The Nutcracker grabs the pixie quickly, lifting him by the wings in his wooden hand. “That will not do. Call upon any Snow Pixie you can find and tell them I sent for them.” He lectures.

They converse for a second, the pixie ringing in disagreement before finally fluttering off in a huff, leaving a trail of blue snowflakes lingering in the air. You don’t know how the Nutcracker could hear him- especially with wooden ears. You attribute it to his affinity for magic. Either way, you are left in the cold again with your Nutcracker.

“Is he getting help?” You ask, looking up at him. He nods, watching the pixie until his glow fades into the distance. “Good… I hope he comes back soon,”

--

You don’t know how long you were left alone in the snow. You’re shivering again, leaning into the Nutcracker, desperate for warmth. He holds you princess-style, lifting your feet from the snow to keep them dry. You feel weak, eyes struggling to stay open as your body succumbs to the winter chill.

“So much for a welcome,” you mumble—the Nutcracker hums in agreement, pulling you tightly to his chest. “It’s more like a farewell,”

“Silence that talk at once,” The Nutcracker hisses. “You must stay alive for your cat,”

You sigh pitifully. Grim. Of course. You have to find Grim. You have to go home. But you’re so cold. And so tired. You could close your eyes- for just a second, and take a small nap before the pixies return.

Little jingles make you drowsily open your eyes. The little pixie boy is back, fluttering around your face, saying something you can’t understand. He says something else, but you shake your head.

“I can’t hear you when you’re that far away. Come closer to my ear,” your hands shake as you point to the side of your head. You hear the fluttering of his wings when he gets closer, and the tickle of his body as he settles on the side of your head, leaning over to talk into your ear.

“Hey! Shapen up! I brought you my Queen, so show some respect!” He cries into your ear. You look around and find a sky full of blue lights, glittering and jingling like stars and bells. The sound is magical, ringing out into the forest in a melody unfamiliar to your ears, but beautiful, nonetheless.

“Oh. Thank you,” You say, watching a group of pixies fly towards you. “I must apologize, Your Majesty, but I am inappropriately dressed for your gifts,”

They jingle in response, and you smile, not understanding.

“You broke Rule 457 with your attire! It clearly states that on Saturday mornings, humans must wear pink-striped pajamas and a green plaid peacoat when visiting the Forest of Fir! You must study the laws of the land before you visit!” The Queen squeaks- so loud you can hear him despite his distance from your ear. He flutters close to your face- to the displeasure of his retainers, who struggle to follow him at his speed. He’s smaller than the other pixies, but his size doesn’t stop his poise- he stands straighter and more refined than your friend. He shares the same blue color scheme, this time with decorated royal robes fitting of a Queen.

 “What say you-“he halts when he sees the state of you so close, eyelashes decorated with snowflakes and lips chapped and blue. Your skin is pale, eyes unfocused and lazy as you smile again.

His retainers chime among themselves at your condition. You hear the squeaks of the pixie by your ear: “Yeah, according to the hunk of wood, they’re dying out here. But I don’t know, they look like us now, don’t they?”

One flutters to your ear to scold the boy by your ear. “Humans aren’t supposed to be blue!” he cries. This one has a tattoo on his opposite eye, acting as a perfect pair to your friend. “They will die if they don’t get warm!”

“You didn’t tell me that human!” your friend cries, panicked. “I thought you were being dramatic!” He flutters off your ear to join the Queen who nervously floats around your face, analyzing your condition.

“It is quite rude to let a guest of the Fir Forest pass in my presence.” The Queen says. “Very well, we shall help you, but I expect you to brush up on the laws of this land before your next visit,” He nods to his retainers, a pixie in a dashing hat, and one with a ponytail, before raising his scepter to your nose.

The pixies jingle again, the beautiful bell melody filling your ears again as they dance around you. The shades of blue are beautiful, they move like a sparkling sea around your body, as they chant a spell around you.

You don’t know how ice fairies can warm you up, but you slowly regain feeling in your fingers and toes, and soon find yourself more alert as your body returns to your natural temperature. The pixies are almost dancing, blue sparkles and snowflakes drifting around you in an ethereal display of magic. You’re mesmerized by their work, watching as flurries of snowflakes shoot around you in a circle, encasing you in a warm icebox. You glance at your Nutcracker, surprised to find him looking at you.

Even with his limited expressions, you see the affection in his eyes.

Flustered, you return your glance to the pixies, who are nearing the end of their spell. The Queen flies forward, lifting his scepter from your nose to the sky, and you watch in awe as the forest fills with a beam of bright light and snow. The snowflakes around you settle, and the bells cease as the pixies return to the forest.

You are left with your friend, the original pixie, who flies around you, checking to see if you’ll survive the rest of the journey. He rings out, looking confident at the sight of your face, no longer pale and sickly.

“Thank you,” you smile warmly, pressing your index finger to your lips. You press it lightly onto his head, ruffling his hair even with your slight touch. He glows the brightest blue you’ve seen thus far, flustered and embarrassed, before ringing out again and flying into the distance.

The Nutcracker sets you down once he’s gone, ensuring you’ve warmed up completely. You feel rejuvenated, excitedly flopping into the snow once he puts you down. It’s the softest snow you’ve ever felt, pillowy and cloudlike under your fingers. You don’t feel the chill, instead feeling the plushness of a warm blanket. You sigh as you relax in it, happy to indulge in the Snow Pixies’ welcome gift at last.

“Why would Snow Pixies have warming spells anyway?” you ask, moving your arms and legs to make a snow angel. “It seems counterintuitive,”

“It’s not a warming spell. They made you resistant to the frost.” The Nutcracker says, extending his arm to you. You pout but grab it anyways, dusting the snow off your pajamas. You did have a mission, but after nearly freezing to death, you wanted to enjoy the magical snow. “It seems the side effect is wanting to play in the snow,” he chuckles, watching you attempt to make a snowball.

Once caught, you drop it, watching it splat in front of your feet. You give him a sheepish grin. “Right. I should focus. We gotta find Grim. And the Sugar Plum Fairy.” He nods in agreement and points into the distance.

“Just beyond the forest, there’s a village named Confiserie. We’ll travel through and ask for anyone if they know the whereabouts of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” he says, moving forward in the direction of the town. “

Grabbing the Nutcracker’s arm, you pull him forward, spirit renewed after your near-death experience. “All right then, tally ho, Nutcracker! Let’s get out of this forest and rejoin civilization, shall we?”

If he could grin, you’re sure he would.

[strawberrygummiess]

the nutcracker.

chapter one | chapter two: the battle the nutcracker x gn!reader rollo flamme x gn!reader (one-sided) 2k words cross-posted on ao3 "Mice scattered the floor, squeaking and chittering. Your breath caught in your throat; the urge to scream battled with your fight or flight. They were everywhere; you could barely see the wood underneath the mass of rodents. And Grim, who usually slept in a ball by your feet, was nowhere to be found."

You tried your best to keep pests out of the dorm.

Combined with the age and the neglect, the dorm was in extreme disrepair when you moved in. After a scare from a roach in your kitchen and a mouse in your bedroom, you had to take matters into your own hands. Your first month in Twisted Wonderland was spent trying to keep the inside in and the outside out; sealing all the holes and gaps you found around the dorm and spent countless hours scrubbing all the grime away. (Of course, Ace and Deuce were quick to tell you that they could’ve done a month’s worth of work with a wave of their wand had you asked. From then on, you used them as your personal housecleaners.)

Despite all the renovations to your dorm since then, you had the occasional pest sneak into your house. But usually, it was just one unsightly bug or a mouse that Grim had brought in as a “gift”.

But this? This was an infestation that seemingly spawned overnight.

Mice scattered the floor, squeaking and chittering. Your breath caught in your throat; the urge to scream battled with your fight or flight. They were everywhere; you could barely see the wood underneath the mass of rodents. And Grim, who usually slept in a ball by your feet, was nowhere to be found.

“The Nutcracker! Where did you hide him? Show us where he is!” You hear a high-pitched chat fill the room. You glanced around, looking for the source of the chants. But soon, you realize the chants were coming from the mice. You had figured Grim was a unique cat; none of the other animals you encountered in Twisted Wonderland could talk. And yet, here you were, flanked by an army of talking mice. You take your attention away from the mice and look to the fireplace, realizing that the Nutcracker is missing from its spot on your mantle.

You finally yelp in surprise when the mice begin crawling on your bed. You scramble to move away, pushing your body as far up the bed as possible. They wore miniature suits of armor, advancing toward you with tiny rapiers. They repeated their chant, louder and clearer now that they were closer to you.

“Stay back!” You pulled your legs up to your chest, grabbing your pillow and outstretching it as a makeshift weapon. “I don’t know where it is! Get out!”

A loud CRACK, like glass breaking, makes the mice stop. Your mirror is broken, cracks spreading from the corners of the glass and framing a center circle. And peeking from your broken mirror is the largest rat you’ve ever seen.

It begins crawling out from your mirror headfirst, slowly lowering itself to the floor. The mice seem to clear the way it stands at full attention. It looks almost humanoid, with silver hair, styled and cut neatly, and piercing gray eyes (ones you’ve definitely seen before). If not for the white fur covering its body and face, you would’ve thought he was a normal beastman.

It, or he, since he looked more human than animal, was wearing an ornate black robe that kissed the floor. Underneath was an expertly tailored and fitted military uniform, a deep plum matching his robe. He gripped a silver scepter in his hand, topped with a red ruby. On his ring finger, was an ornate ring with the same oversized red ruby. On top of his head sat an elegant silver crown that hid his ears.

He seemed unbothered by your presence, looking around the room stoically, before suddenly swinging the scepter towards you, still avoiding your face.

“You, human: where is that pesky Nutcracker?”

You don’t answer right away, flustered and overwhelmed by the night. The longer you take to answer the more the man sneers.

“Maybe I was not clear,” with a snap of his fingers, the mice begin to move again, jumping on your bed towards you. You scream in fright, trying to make yourself as small as possible on the bed. You notice in horror that a few mice grow life-sized, standing by the bedroom door and at the side of the Rat King. “You will tell me where the Nutcracker is, lest you join my collection of minions.”

He approaches you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. He tilts your head in several directions, observing you like a doll. His frown quickly morphs into a smirk, and an uneasy feeling fills your body as he begins to eye you less as an obstacle and more like a prize.

“I ensure you complete safety in my kingdom,” his grip on your chin tightens, and you wince in pain. “As long as you tell me where the Nutcracker is,”

You struggle in his hold, avoiding his harsh gaze by looking around the room. “I don’t know where he is,” you gasp pathetically. “He was on the mantle when I went to sleep, I don’t know where he went,”

The Rat King narrows his eyes, smirk growing more strained. His nails dig into your chin, breaking the skin, waiting for you to remedy your answer. The mice on your bed crawl over your covered legs, chittering and crying “Answer him, answer us!”

Your door swings open with a BANG, flinging the guards on the ground. The Nutcracker, your Nutcracker, enters the room, also life-sized, holding his sword in one hand. The other is hanging uselessly to his side, limp and flimsy. The Rat King turns his attention away from you, allowing you to scramble out of his grip and off the bed.

The Nutcracker extends his sword toward the Rat King, eyes focused and determined. With a wave of his hand, the Rat King orders his army of mice to attack the Nutcracker, standing behind his guards. Despite his broken arm, the Nutcrack fights valiantly, overpowering the guards easily. The smaller mice swarm his feet, pushing and pulling his body like waves.

As the Nutcracker fights the mice, you crawl on the floor, struggling to escape the room. You pass by your slippers, (a gift from Grim that you never used due to their ridiculously large size- but it’s the thought that counts) and grab one of the shoes, continuing your army crawl to the doorway. Blood drips on the floor, drops staining your pajamas as you crawl over the puddles. You attempt to escape the room unnoticed, but as soon as you crawl to the doorway, you’re scooped up by a guard mouse by one arm, feet dangling above the ground. You quickly hide the slipper behind your back and stop struggling, hoping to lull the guard into false security.

The Nutcracker has overpowered many of the mice, despite his injury. The smaller mice have mostly retreated, finding solace behind their king. The royal guards had been defeated, holding their wounded limbs tightly as they squeaked in pain. The Rat King was unsympathetic to his wounded army, fishing a handkerchief; violet with embroidered yellow stars, from his pocket and holding it to his nose. He scowls from behind the fabric, disgusted, as he raises his scepter towards the Nutcracker.

“You, Nutcracker, are the last obstacle standing between a pure kingdom, and debauchery,” he says, his scepter glowing red. The magic looks different from the usual spells you’ve seen in Twisted Wonderland; runes decorate the floor where he stands, and fiery flowers blossom beneath his feet.

 The Nutcracker says nothing, grip tightening on his sword as he braces for the magic attack. Whatever the Rat King is planning will kill him, and possibly you as well. Without thinking you launch the oversized slipper at the Rat King.

It doesn’t hurt him, but it stuns him long enough for the Nutcracker to charge first, dislodging the scepter and prematurely ending the spell. The Nutcracker swings his blade, slicing through the King’s clothes. The guard quickly drops you, rushing to aid his king while the sea of mice moves to protect him, carrying him to the mirror.

The King clutches his chest, scrambling up the mantle. The mice swarm over his scepter, preventing the Nutcracker from grabbing it and pushing it up the mantle, through the mirror. “This is not over, Nutcracker!” the King cries, before disappearing through the mirror after it. The mice follow him, squealing and chittering until the last one scurries out of the room.

For a while, you sit in stunned silence at all you’ve seen. Your time in Twisted Wonderland has exposed you to strange scenarios, yet nothing could compare to the absurd battle you’ve witnessed. You go to pinch your arm, thinking it was a dream, but you’re rudely reminded that you are awake when blood drips from your chin again.

“Are you all right?”

The Nutcracker speaks for the first time, the booming thuds of his wooden feet echoing in the room. You stand up, but even at full height, he towers above you. He looks exactly like the Nutcracker Crowley gifted you, the same uniform, hair, and familiar face. The only difference is his broken arm, weakly hanging from the elbow joint.

“I’m okay… it’s just a scratch. What about your arm?” You tentatively grasp his forearm, examining the elbow joint closely. It was knocked out of place but could be popped back in with a strong push. “…I don’t remember receiving a broken gift,”

“Your cat broke me, he knocked me off the mantle in the middle of the night and brought me to the kitchen to hide me, but they captured him before he could go back to sleep,”

You gasp in shock and let go of his arm. “They took Grim!? When?” you ask him a million questions a minute. The Nutcracker opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him.

“Where did they take him? What do they want with him? What do they want with you? What’s happening? Who are you?” They all tumble out of your mouth rapidly, giving him no opportunity to answer anything before the next question pops out of you. He grabs your hands, engulfing them in just one of his wooden ones before you can say anything else.

“I will help you find him- but we cannot free him ourselves. We must journey to the Land of the Sweets and find the Sugar Plum Fairy; they can help free Grim and defeat the Rat King.”  The Nutcracker explains. “To get there, we must travel through the looking glass,”

You resist the urge to pinch your arm. Again.

“So…” you start tentatively. “We have to find a fairy. Where are they?”

The Nutcracker chuckles, slightly flustered. “I’m not sure. They’re said to travel the lands. But they've been hiding ever since the Rat King took over the Land of Sweets. Sugar Plum is the last person who can overpower him, and he’s stopping at nothing to find them,”

“And you,” you say, grabbing his arm again. “…Why does he want you dead?”

The Nutcracker doesn’t respond, watching you fiddle with his arm until you finally click the joint back into place. He moves it successfully and nods at you.

“We should leave now to find the Sugar Plum Fairy. Your cat needs you,”

Ignoring your question, he stands by the mantle, gesturing for you to follow him. Against your better judgment, you do.

[strawberrygummiess]

the nutcracker.

chpt. 1 | chapter two: the battle | chpt. 3 the nutcracker x gn!reader rollo flamme x gn!reader (one-sided) 2k words cross-posted on ao3 "Mice scattered the floor, squeaking and chittering. Your breath caught in your throat; the urge to scream battled with your fight or flight. They were everywhere; you could barely see the wood underneath the mass of rodents. And Grim, who usually slept in a ball by your feet, was nowhere to be found."

You tried your best to keep pests out of the dorm.

Combined with the age and the neglect, the dorm was in extreme disrepair when you moved in. After a scare from a roach in your kitchen and a mouse in your bedroom, you had to take matters into your own hands. Your first month in Twisted Wonderland was spent trying to keep the inside in and the outside out; sealing all the holes and gaps you found around the dorm and spent countless hours scrubbing all the grime away. (Of course, Ace and Deuce were quick to tell you that they could’ve done a month’s worth of work with a wave of their wand had you asked. From then on, you used them as your personal housecleaners.)

Despite all the renovations to your dorm since then, you had the occasional pest sneak into your house. But usually, it was just one unsightly bug or a mouse that Grim had brought in as a “gift”.

But this? This was an infestation that seemingly spawned overnight.

Mice scattered the floor, squeaking and chittering. Your breath caught in your throat; the urge to scream battled with your fight or flight. They were everywhere; you could barely see the wood underneath the mass of rodents. And Grim, who usually slept in a ball by your feet, was nowhere to be found.

“The Nutcracker! Where did you hide him? Show us where he is!” You hear a high-pitched chat fill the room. You glanced around, looking for the source of the chants. But soon, you realize the chants were coming from the mice. You had figured Grim was a unique cat; none of the other animals you encountered in Twisted Wonderland could talk. And yet, here you were, flanked by an army of talking mice. You take your attention away from the mice and look to the fireplace, realizing that the Nutcracker is missing from its spot on your mantle.

You finally yelp in surprise when the mice begin crawling on your bed. You scramble to move away, pushing your body as far up the bed as possible. They wore miniature suits of armor, advancing toward you with tiny rapiers. They repeated their chant, louder and clearer now that they were closer to you.

“Stay back!” You pulled your legs up to your chest, grabbing your pillow and outstretching it as a makeshift weapon. “I don’t know where it is! Get out!”

A loud CRACK, like glass breaking, makes the mice stop. Your mirror is broken, cracks spreading from the corners of the glass and framing a center circle. And peeking from your broken mirror is the largest rat you’ve ever seen.

It begins crawling out from your mirror headfirst, slowly lowering itself to the floor. The mice seem to clear the way it stands at full attention. It looks almost humanoid, with silver hair, styled and cut neatly, and piercing gray eyes (ones you’ve definitely seen before). If not for the white fur covering its body and face, you would’ve thought he was a normal beastman.

It, or he, since he looked more human than animal, was wearing an ornate black robe that kissed the floor. Underneath was an expertly tailored and fitted military uniform, a deep plum matching his robe. He gripped a silver scepter in his hand, topped with a red ruby. On his ring finger, was an ornate ring with the same oversized red ruby. On top of his head sat an elegant silver crown that hid his ears.

He seemed unbothered by your presence, looking around the room stoically, before suddenly swinging the scepter towards you, still avoiding your face.

“You, human: where is that pesky Nutcracker?”

You don’t answer right away, flustered and overwhelmed by the night. The longer you take to answer the more the man sneers.

“Maybe I was not clear,” with a snap of his fingers, the mice begin to move again, jumping on your bed towards you. You scream in fright, trying to make yourself as small as possible on the bed. You notice in horror that a few mice grow life-sized, standing by the bedroom door and at the side of the Rat King. “You will tell me where the Nutcracker is, lest you join my collection of minions.”

He approaches you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. He tilts your head in several directions, observing you like a doll. His frown quickly morphs into a smirk, and an uneasy feeling fills your body as he begins to eye you less as an obstacle and more like a prize.

“I ensure you complete safety in my kingdom,” his grip on your chin tightens, and you wince in pain. “As long as you tell me where the Nutcracker is,”

You struggle in his hold, avoiding his harsh gaze by looking around the room. “I don’t know where he is,” you gasp pathetically. “He was on the mantle when I went to sleep, I don’t know where he went,”

The Rat King narrows his eyes, smirk growing more strained. His nails dig into your chin, breaking the skin, waiting for you to remedy your answer. The mice on your bed crawl over your covered legs, chittering and crying “Answer him, answer us!”

Your door swings open with a BANG, flinging the guards on the ground. The Nutcracker, your Nutcracker, enters the room, also life-sized, holding his sword in one hand. The other is hanging uselessly to his side, limp and flimsy. The Rat King turns his attention away from you, allowing you to scramble out of his grip and off the bed.

The Nutcracker extends his sword toward the Rat King, eyes focused and determined. With a wave of his hand, the Rat King orders his army of mice to attack the Nutcracker, standing behind his guards. Despite his broken arm, the Nutcrack fights valiantly, overpowering the guards easily. The smaller mice swarm his feet, pushing and pulling his body like waves.

As the Nutcracker fights the mice, you crawl on the floor, struggling to escape the room. You pass by your slippers, (a gift from Grim that you never used due to their ridiculously large size- but it’s the thought that counts) and grab one of the shoes, continuing your army crawl to the doorway. Blood drips on the floor, drops staining your pajamas as you crawl over the puddles. You attempt to escape the room unnoticed, but as soon as you crawl to the doorway, you’re scooped up by a guard mouse by one arm, feet dangling above the ground. You quickly hide the slipper behind your back and stop struggling, hoping to lull the guard into false security.

The Nutcracker has overpowered many of the mice, despite his injury. The smaller mice have mostly retreated, finding solace behind their king. The royal guards had been defeated, holding their wounded limbs tightly as they squeaked in pain. The Rat King was unsympathetic to his wounded army, fishing a handkerchief; violet with embroidered yellow stars, from his pocket and holding it to his nose. He scowls from behind the fabric, disgusted, as he raises his scepter towards the Nutcracker.

“You, Nutcracker, are the last obstacle standing between a pure kingdom, and debauchery,” he says, his scepter glowing red. The magic looks different from the usual spells you’ve seen in Twisted Wonderland; runes decorate the floor where he stands, and fiery flowers blossom beneath his feet.

 The Nutcracker says nothing, grip tightening on his sword as he braces for the magic attack. Whatever the Rat King is planning will kill him, and possibly you as well. Without thinking you launch the oversized slipper at the Rat King.

It doesn’t hurt him, but it stuns him long enough for the Nutcracker to charge first, dislodging the scepter and prematurely ending the spell. The Nutcracker swings his blade, slicing through the King’s clothes. The guard quickly drops you, rushing to aid his king while the sea of mice moves to protect him, carrying him to the mirror.

The King clutches his chest, scrambling up the mantle. The mice swarm over his scepter, preventing the Nutcracker from grabbing it and pushing it up the mantle, through the mirror. “This is not over, Nutcracker!” the King cries, before disappearing through the mirror after it. The mice follow him, squealing and chittering until the last one scurries out of the room.

For a while, you sit in stunned silence at all you’ve seen. Your time in Twisted Wonderland has exposed you to strange scenarios, yet nothing could compare to the absurd battle you’ve witnessed. You go to pinch your arm, thinking it was a dream, but you’re rudely reminded that you are awake when blood drips from your chin again.

“Are you all right?”

The Nutcracker speaks for the first time, the booming thuds of his wooden feet echoing in the room. You stand up, but even at full height, he towers above you. He looks exactly like the Nutcracker Crowley gifted you, the same uniform, hair, and familiar face. The only difference is his broken arm, weakly hanging from the elbow joint.

“I’m okay… it’s just a scratch. What about your arm?” You tentatively grasp his forearm, examining the elbow joint closely. It was knocked out of place but could be popped back in with a strong push. “…I don’t remember receiving a broken gift,”

“Your cat broke me, he knocked me off the mantle in the middle of the night and brought me to the kitchen to hide me, but they captured him before he could go back to sleep,”

You gasp in shock and let go of his arm. “They took Grim!? When?” you ask him a million questions a minute. The Nutcracker opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him.

“Where did they take him? What do they want with him? What do they want with you? What’s happening? Who are you?” They all tumble out of your mouth rapidly, giving him no opportunity to answer anything before the next question pops out of you. He grabs your hands, engulfing them in just one of his wooden ones before you can say anything else.

“I will help you find him- but we cannot free him ourselves. We must journey to the Land of the Sweets and find the Sugar Plum Fairy; they can help free Grim and defeat the Rat King.”  The Nutcracker explains. “To get there, we must travel through the looking glass,”

You resist the urge to pinch your arm. Again.

“So…” you start tentatively. “We have to find a fairy. Where are they?”

The Nutcracker chuckles, slightly flustered. “I’m not sure. They’re said to travel the lands. But they've been hiding ever since the Rat King took over the Land of Sweets. Sugar Plum is the last person who can overpower him, and he’s stopping at nothing to find them,”

“And you,” you say, grabbing his arm again. “…Why does he want you dead?”

The Nutcracker doesn’t respond, watching you fiddle with his arm until you finally click the joint back into place. He moves it successfully and nods at you.

“We should leave now to find the Sugar Plum Fairy. Your cat needs you,”

Ignoring your question, he stands by the mantle, gesturing for you to follow him. Against your better judgment, you do.

[strawberrygummiess]

the nutcracker.

everyone x gender neutral!reader chapter one: the party |chapter two 3.5k words cross-posted on ao3 "The Nutcracker's face looks familiar, despite not fitting the description of any of your friends. You keep staring at its face, trying to determine who it looks like, but you keep coming up empty. You purse your lips, running through the people you’ve met in Twisted Wonderland. You even hold the Nutcracker up, spinning it across the room to compare it to your guests,"

When the excitement of Winter Break came to a head you were hit with a wave of homesickness unable to be quelled by any of your usual coping mechanisms. At first, you attributed it to the seasonal depression, and then the inevitable loneliness of an empty campus, soon it became apparent that you were missing your traditions for this time of year.

So, the weekend before students left for break, you decided to hold a Christmas party.

You expect prep work: making Ramshackle as presentable as possible in its current state, prepping enough food to keep Grim satisfied for at least an hour (without donations, there was no way you could afford to feed the partygoers and Grim all night, but you knew they’d understand), and scrambling enough craft supplies together to make DIY Christmas decorations.

At first, you only mentioned it to your freshmen. It would be a casual get-together where you could share your culture with them, cook them a meal, and exchange gifts with one another before they went off to break. Hosting a group of five and a Grim wasn’t impossible, if maybe a little tight on the bank.

Until the news spread across campus.

It was Deuce who let it slip first. During a study session, he mentioned your party absentmindedly to Trey and Cater. And from there it was only a matter of time before Riddle knew. You were ready to be annoyed, already trying to stretch your budget to accommodate your guests, but seeing Deuce’s remorseful face, you couldn’t be mad for very long. “A few more guests, especially as polite as they were, wouldn’t be too bad,” you thought, already brewing up a plan to put Trey to work. A group of eight and a Grim could work if you were smart about where your funds went.

Sebek was next to ruin your plans. You brought the freshmen together, begging them not to let anyone else know about your party unless they planned on contributing to the cause. From there you spied Sebek’s puckered face, torn between the urge to defend himself or to stay quiet to avoid your lecture. You were hoping to be wrong about your suspicions, but when Lilia approached you happily about attending your party, you knew it was too late to rescind the invite, lest you face Malleus’ wrath.

You don’t know when Epel and Jack told their respective housewardens, however, they made it very clear they were offended by your lack of direct invitation (although Leona continued to emphasize that he wasn’t going regardless). By then you were hoping that would be the end of unexpected guests, and you could progress with prepping for triple the amount of your original guest list.

One cannot utter the word “party” without Kalim hearing it. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t heard earlier. That day Kalim volunteered (and voluntold Jamil) his help and support. And while you were nervous about how out-of-control your get-together had gotten, you were excited to have an appropriate amount of food to feed your guests.

You knew Azul was annoyed about being out of the loop for so long, complaining it was bad for business to be “so behind the times” even if he regarded you with such an extreme level of politeness. Any explanation you tried to throw in was quickly waved away with a proposal to work your party for a small sum. If you couldn’t afford to host five students, you absolutely could not afford to pay Azul’s high prices. And you were keen on keeping your house for the entire winter break. Eventually, you convinced him that the party would be a prime networking opportunity, persuading him to just attend normally.

If there was anyone you could count on not attending your party, it was Idia. While you were scrounging together supplies at Sam’s, Ortho asked about the party. After explaining how your intimate get-together had spiraled out of control, Ortho had excitedly confirmed his arrival, much to Idia’s displeasure. You supposed you had jumped the gun too early on counting him out.

Finally, you added everyone to a group chat and announced the party. “The cat’s out of the bag!” You opened sarcastically. Everyone had invited themselves over at this point, you were only fulfilling formalities (and trying to prevent guests from arriving several hours too early). “6 PM, Friday the 20th. Try not to be late.”

--

While most students were readying to leave for winter break, you were stuck prepping Ramshackle for a party quadruple the size you originally planned for. What was originally a homey set of décor and menu, now looked exponentially sadder than you were comfortable presenting. You weren’t sure what to make Grim do, scared he’d light your kitchen on fire or destroy even more of your already pathetic Charlie Brown-style Christmas tree. Luckily, the ghosts of Ramshackle were handling most of the decorating while you cleaned the floors. But you know he couldn’t stay in the same spot on your couch, snoozing away until dinner is served.

“Okay Grim,” You start, approaching him with a rag in hand, “I need to finish cooking, or else our party guests won’t have anything to eat-“

“Or me!”

“Yes, or you,” You roll your eyes. “So, I need you to please finish tidying up the house before our guests arrive. Please,” You hand him your dirty wag and wave him off, quickly running to the kitchen to check on the food you started. It was 5 pm when your first guests arrived. Flustered, you rushed to let the members of Heartslabyul in.

“I think you misread the time!” You said, taking dishes from Trey’s hands to place in the kitchen. “The party doesn’t start for another hour!”

“We figured you needed the help,” Ace grinned, taking in the half-decorated room and Grim’s lazy figure, still curled up in a ball with the cleaning rag laid on top of him as a makeshift blanket. “And we were right. Without us, you won’t get anything done, Prefect,”

Before you can argue, everyone is helping. Trey has taken over your kitchen, Deuce and Cater are assisting the Ghosts with finishing the decor, and Riddle and Ace are adding magical touches to your twig/Christmas tree.

Once it’s closer to the party start time, more people begin to arrive. Jamil and Kalim show up at 5:30. Jamil runs to the kitchen as soon as you open the door, leaving Kalim to shower you with an abundance of gifts, hugs, and happy kisses on your cheeks. Vil, Epel, and Rook show up at 5:50, each with a hostess gift in hand. Azul and Jade show up at 6 on the dot, claiming Floyd is waiting to be fashionably late. They too, hand you a gift, but you find yourself reluctant to take it.

Jack arrives on his own, annoyed at Leona and Ruggie’s tardiness. You playfully remind him that he’s arrived 30 minutes after the start time, and he wags his tail in embarrassment before entering. Floyd waltzes in closely behind him, wrapping you in a hug so tight you squeak in surprise. Diasomnia arrives shortly after, Silver apologizing profusely for their tardiness while Lilia attempts to shove Tupperware into your hands. Sebek quickly grabs the offensive concoction and throws it onto your lawn, much to your annoyance. Malleus is practically buzzing with excitement as he enters Ramshackle.

The last of your guests arrive at 7. Leona and Ruggie stroll in (Ruggie is carrying the now empty Tupperware inside, keen on taking leftovers home) handing you a hostess gift more expensive than useful to you. Idia is tumbling in after him, being shoved by Ortho. You breathe a sigh of relief as you get ready to serve

The chattering fills your living room. You’ve long scrapped the idea of a “formal” dinner setting, your dining room table too small to house twenty-three people, and a gluttonous cat, opting to feed everyone “buffet-style” instead. Dishes were set on any clear surface area, from the coffee table to your kitchen counter. Some of them are yours, most donated by Jamil and Trey. And all of them were quickly being eaten by Grim.

“C’mon Grim!” Ace whined, swatting away the mischievous cat’s paw from his plate. Deuce juggled a cup and plate in one hand, and an irate cat in the other, looking to you for support. “Don’t be greedy!”

Grim hisses in frustration. “I’m hungry and you took the last samosa! I wanted that! It’s so yummy and warm,” Grim leaps from his place in Deuce’s arms, forcing him to spill his drink on the floor, and runs to you, pressing his face into your leg, feigning affection.

“Hench-human,” He purrs circling and nuzzling your legs. “Please ask Jamil to make me more samosas!”

“No.”

“But it’s Christmas!”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him out of the way. “Let me clean that up, Deuce. If you guys could just keep Grim from eating anything else,” You quickly excused yourself from the buffet line, moving into the kitchen.

Trey was nursing a cup, leaning against the kitchen counter watching the oven. Jamil stood beside him, engaging in polite conversation. Trey waved at you when you walked in.

“I thought the kitchen was closed,” you remarked, opening a cabinet to grab a towel. “What are you cooking?”

“I figured I’d make a ‘Christmas cake’” Trey said. “It’s a Yule log- well it will be a Yule log. Right now, it’s just a sponge cake.”

“I’m taking my holiday break,” Jamil says flatly, sipping from his cup. “Kalim is occupied with dinner and the Pop Music Club. I can afford to be away from the party for a few minutes,”

“Well, if you haven’t eaten yet, you both better be sure to grab yourself a plate, Grim is halfway through the buffet, with no signs of stopping,” You wave them goodbye, quickly exiting before they can request food from you.

When you return to the buffet line, Ace, Deuce, and Grim are gone. You huff in annoyance before quickly cleaning the puddle Deuce left behind. If you worked quickly, it wouldn’t leave a sticky patch on your floor.

“Child of Man, you shouldn’t clean a mess you didn’t make,”

“If I don’t, Tsunotaro, no one will,” You look up at Malleus with a grin. He still looks elated, positively glowing with happiness. “How are you enjoying yourself? Party to your liking?”

“Absolutely delightful. I even find myself enjoying the company of the more… audacious students,”

Leona.

“Well, I hope you continue to enjoy yourself. Sorry- I’m a bit stretched thin tonight. I’ll see you again, promise,” you finish cleaning the puddle and extend your hand, pinkie outstretched. He linked his with yours, and you shake on it, before quickly excusing yourself to talk to more guests.

You find Leona on your couch, languidly lounging across the entire sofa. Ruggie is perched in the small space he left, packing leftovers. He makes little quips to Leona, occasionally prompting a few grunts of acknowledgment. Vil is in one of your loveseats, tsking at everything Leona says and does, judgmental stare lasering in on the indolent lion. Rook sat idly on the arm of the loveseat, observing the scene unfold in front of him.

“Ah, bonsoir Mon Filou,” Rook greets you, prompting the group to acknowledge you. “We are having a wonderful time. Come sit with us!” Vil gestures for Leona to sit up, and to your surprise, he does. Ruggie snickers, teasingly signaling you to sit down where Leona’s head was.

“It’s okay, I’m making rounds- “Leona promptly plops back down. “Besides I think I need to find Grim. Everyone’s been enjoying themselves too much,”

“I know I am. I’ve got a ton of delicious food to take back home!”

(You try to ignore how the leftovers were supposed to be for you.)

“It’s a delightful party. You’ve done a great job on short notice- “Another grunt of approval comes from Leona. “But if you’re looking for Grim, I think I saw him bothering Riddle,” Vil says, gesturing to the other end of the room. You turn, spying the Octotrio, Riddle, and Grim huddled in a corner. You thank Vil and quickly excuse yourself to diffuse the situation. “And if you see Epel, send him over! Last I saw him he was stuffing his face with all carbs no vegetables!”

Grim is quick to yowl when he sees you, struggling in Floyd’s grip. Riddle gives you a helpless glance, silently begging you to save him.

“Ah, Prefect, perfect that you’ve come by,” Azul turns to face you with a polite smile. Floyd quickly drops Grim, and before you can grab him, he runs between your legs. You notice Riddle inching away from the group, also looking for a quick exit.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd exaggerates the “y”, quickly grabbing you now that his hands are empty. “Let’s see if you squeak again if I squeeze this much!”  On cue, Floyd envelopes you in a bear hug, pressing your chest into his. His fists lock in the middle of your back and push, increasing the pressure until you hear a series of cracks emanating from your body.

“Okay! Uncle! Floyd!” You squirm around in his hold, trying to escape the pressure on your back. You eye Azul and Jade, hoping they’ll call Floyd off, but they only giggle at your pain. Riddle is long gone at this point.

“Alright that’s enough Floyd,” Azul gently pushes Floyd off you, and you grimace at the soreness on your back. The bruise on your back was bound to be painful. “We need the Prefect in perfect health,”

“Or not. If you’re feeling sore, we could always finish hosting for you,” Jade runs a hand up your back. What was supposed to be a soothing gesture only burns in pain when he reaches the sore spot. “For a small fee, of course,”

“You must be enjoying yourselves if you feel like you need to invest in the party,” you say rubbing the sore spot. “But I’ll pass. Everyone’s going to want to leave for break early tomorrow morning, I can’t imagine people will be staying for much longer,”

Jade tsks, before smiling again. “We’ll be here all break, do stop by for tea. You can teach us more about Christmas,”

You give him a nod, leaving quickly before they try to coerce you into a shady deal, or before Floyd gives you another squeeze.

--

It was shocking how well Grim could hide.

Every time you greeted a guest, you’d ask if they had seen him. Usually, it was the buffet line. But he was nowhere to be found every time. You thought by now he’d be unafraid of Floyd (and Idia, who unhappily sulked in a corner waiting to find an opportunity to sneak away). Originally, you thought it was nice to be away from his chaos, but the longer he was away, the more likely he was creating chaos somewhere else on campus.

You were leaning against the wall, scanning the room for your plump cat. Kalim was on his third cup of cocoa, Jamil tiredly rubbing his temples. The freshmen stacked various objects on Silver’s sleeping body, while Lilia doodled on his face. Idia was still glowering in the corner, but now Azul was hovering above him, trying to engage in conversation. Even if Grim was causing trouble elsewhere, you could at least call your Christmas party a success.

Your reverie is interrupted by the front door slamming open. Grim is sitting smugly, tail waving contently. Behind him stands the headmaster, decked in red and holding a sack.

“Hench-human! I brought you Christmas!”

Crowley enters the room, blabbering about his “infinite generosity!” before slinging the sack over the coffee table with a large crack. Great.

Grim is circling through your legs again, purring and rubbing against your legs, clearly proud of himself. “Crowley brought us all gifts. I told him he had to play Sanda. He said he has something special for everyone,” He chirps, nuzzling his head into your calf. “I had to keep running around so you wouldn’t spoil the surprise,” You’re so touched by his affection that you don’t even correct him.

Your guests seem unsurprised by Crowley’s entrance. Floyd quickly dives into the sack, looking for his gift, while Cater snaps pictures of your shocked face. You hear him exchange words with Ace, who cannot contain his cackles.

“I’m totally gonna print these,” Cater shoves his phone in Ace’s face. “They look totes’ adorbs, don’t you think Acey?” You ignore their gleeful laughs and shove your way forward.

“You guys were running me around on purpose?”

“You were hellbent on finding him,” Leona yawns. You were surprised he was still awake, completely unmoving from his position on the couch. “Personally, I wouldn’t’ve cared where the furball went,”

“So- “You shove Leona’s torso and move to sit on the couch facing Crowley. He immediately lays his head on your lap and closes his eyes, ready to nap for the rest of the party. “You guys knew Crowley was coming as Santa? …Do you even know who Santa is?”

“Nope!” Grim begins to swat at Leona’s ears, fighting for a seat on your lap. “But he’s Christmas, right? He brings everyone presents and then that’s when Christmas starts!”

“Well, not exactly,” Crowley begins handing gifts around. When he hands you a lumpy, chalky, substance, labeled: “Leona”, you laugh. “Santa brings gifts for kids on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day you open the gifts with your friends and family. But Christmas happens regardless of if Santa visits,”

Crowley shoves one last gift into your face, wrapped in brown parchment paper, labeled: “Prefect”. It’s strangely oblong (and noticeably not a check) and awkwardly shaped, messily kept together by twine. If Grim told you he wrapped it himself, you’d believe him.

“This is for you,” Crowley shakes the present in your face. “I want to see how grateful you are when you see it, so open it right away,”

You roll your eyes and unwrap the gift, untying the twine and ripping the paper. Underneath is a nutcracker. It’s a picture-perfect nutcracker, clad in a striking red military uniform, topped with silver hair. He holds a scepter in one hand, sword holstered on the opposite hip. Gold embellishments decorate the statue, almost glistening when held in certain lights. It was beautiful and ornate.

“Oh wow,” you say, turning it around in your hands. It feels high quality and expensive, and you’re surprised Crowley would even gift something of this nature to you. “Thank you, this is really beautiful,”

Crowley clasps his hands together in delight. “See, my generosity knows no bounds, does it not, Prefect? How wonderful to see your delighted face,” He continues to ramble on, but you tune him out and continue to observe the nutcracker.

Its face looks familiar, despite not fitting the description of any of your friends. You keep staring at its face, trying to determine who it looks like, but you keep coming up empty. You purse your lips, running through the people you’ve met in Twisted Wonderland. You even hold the Nutcracker up, spinning it across the room to compare it to your guests.

“What are you doing, Prefect?” Riddle asks, quirking his brow at your behavior. You ignore him and shake your head, moving the nutcracker to the next victim (choosing to ignore his comment about breaking a ridiculous rule) comparing its face to Jack.

“Who does this look like, Grim?” You ask moving the doll around the room again. You reach up to scratch behind his ears to get his attention. He’s settled on your shoulders after losing the battle for your lap.

“Hmm… Trein! Or uh… that one guy we met at Noble Bell,”

You give him a sideways glance. “Is it because he has gray hair? Why not Silver then?”

“Because this guy looks serious! And old,”

You shake your head and chuckle. Maybe it just had a familiar face.

--

It was a nightmare trying to get everyone out of your dorm (including Crowley, who insisted on calling the rest of the staff to your party. Thankfully, they all declined his offer). By the time you cleaned everything up and forced everyone out, it was well into the early morning. You had originally promised to see everyone out in the morning, but now that you were getting ready for bed, you regretted making that promise.

You flopped on your bed immediately, groaning into the sheets as your body sank into the too-soft mattress. You had to sleep on your stomach, the bruise from Floyd’s “hug” still fresh in your skin. The sheets were cold underneath your comforter, a welcome change from the warm living room. You sigh in relief, glancing at the nutcracker on your mantle before closing your eyes, and drifting into a deep sleep.

The Nutcracker, eyes once focused in front of him, glances at your sleeping form. He straightens his back and stays alert, awaiting any danger that would come forth.

[strawberrygummiess]

hi, long time no update!!

i had to move unexpectedly and i had a death in the family, (and a minor depressive episode due to the u.s. election 👎🏽) and just haven’t had the time to write in the last few weeks

im finishing up my move this weekend, and i’ll be off for a couple days for the holiday, hopefully i can finally finish a fic before december hits

i wanted to break my own rules and do a Nutcracker series for december, i do have a lot going on next month too but i have already started planning for it- we’ll see what i decide to do

anyways that was a lot of talk and with no actual fic promises, sorry. i should have something uploaded by next weekend!!

thanks for reading!

- bea

p.s. follow my bluesky (@/strawberrygummies.bsky.social) cuz i’ll probably update there more often than here

(edit: idk why i cant link my bluesky,, sorry)

[strawberrygummiess]

u.s. presidential election: 👎🏽

leech twins birthday: 👍🏽

[strawberrygummiess]

goo goo muck.

floyd leech x gender neutral! reader 1.4k words cross posted on ao3 "By the time this year’s Halloween was over, you never wanted to see a piece of candy again—especially no trick-or-treaters. But now you were in a dance hall in a pocket dimension, tired and annoyed, watching the students’ party when all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. Bah, humbug, or whatever the Halloween equivalent was." (sorry for posting this after Halloween)

If there was a competition for being Halloween’s biggest Scrooge, you’d win it.

As a kid, you loved Halloween—the obvious candy collection, of course, but also the costumes, the décor, and the overall joy the season carried. Even now, you would’ve loved Halloween if you weren’t forced to work seven days straight to keep annoying teenagers out of your dorm room.

By the time this year’s Halloween was over, you never wanted to see a piece of candy again—especially no trick-or-treaters. But now you were in a dance hall in a pocket dimension, tired and annoyed, watching the students’ party when all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep.

Bah, humbug, or whatever the Halloween equivalent was.

You were glowering in a lone corner, holding a drink in one hand and rubbing your temple with the other. Your head was pounding. Lilia insisted that the music be deafening, and it felt like the ghosts might hold you here indefinitely. And the longer you stayed, the grumpier you got, your scowl getting deeper and deeper. At this point, the pounding of your head synced with the beat of the loud techno.

"Woah, Shrimpy, if you keep frowning, your face’ll get stuck like that.”

You purse your lips and look up at Floyd. On a good day, you can only handle Floyd in small doses. On a bad day, you just wanted him to go away. You liked Floyd, but he was not something you were capable of handling while your head was seconds away from exploding.

“It’ll be perfect for Halloween then, won’t it? A scary face for a scary day.”

You mean it to be dismissive and boring. But you should know better than to assume Floyd will leave you alone so easily. You know Floyd has a bit of fascination with you. At first, you were concerned, especially when- in between cheers of joy- Riddle gave you half-hearted condolences. But Jade had eased your concerns, saying that “you weren’t so interesting to hold his attention for that long” and that he’d eventually grow bored of you (whatever that meant). But that was months ago, and he was still going strong. And Riddle was still happy to revel in your misery.

Floyd grins and joins you along the wall, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes you. You catch the frown on his face and rub your temples again. The music is much too loud.

“What gives Shrimpy? You’re being a big stick-in-the-mud,” Floyd whines, scrunching his body so his face is level with yours. You sigh again and take a sip of your drink. You could lie and say there’s nothing wrong or that you can’t dance, but he’s not stupid. The longer you stretch this out, the worse it’ll be for you.

“My head hurts, and I’m really tired." You start, finally looking at him. His full attention is on you, and it’s slightly unsettling. You’ve always liked how his eye glowed in the dark, but now it was too intense. It was like you were wronging him by denying him his fun, even if it was at your expense. You break eye contact.

“My head feels like it’s going to explode, and this music is not helping.”

You stare at the ground, counting the tiles under your feet while you wait for Floyd to respond. You assume he’ll say something about you being boring or try to get you to ignore your pain to entertain him. But instead, he says nothing. For a long time. So long you have to check if he’s still there.

He’s staring at you when you look again. Face blank, eyes focused. He straightened up back to full height, an imposing figure staring down at you with one glowing eye. He looks terrifying in the dark.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—to save yourself, but Floyd begins to giggle.

“Oh man, I’m DIGGIN’ that look, Little Shrimpy. I gotta make your face contort in fear more often.”

You hadn’t realized you were making a face. Now you hope he can see your irritation.

"Aww, don’t get all clammy on me, Shrimpy,” Floyd whines, moving from his place on the wall to stand in front of you. He raises his hands to cradle your head, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. You can’t tell if you’re scared this time.

“Do you feel the pressure here?” He moves his hands to your temples. “Or here?” He takes his right hand and gently rubs his thumb under your eyebrow.

You use your open eye to look up at him, trying to see if he planned on crushing your skull then and there. But he only gives you a lazy smile, patiently waiting for you to answer him, absentmindedly rubbing your face. It might’ve felt better if it was skin-on-skin contact, but the fabric on the glove was beginning to irritate your skin.

“My temples,” you answer, wincing when he moves his hand. Floyd hadn’t been rubbing the skin that hard or for long. Maybe you could ask Epel to share some moisturizers with you later.

Floyd puts his hands back on your temples. You assume he’s going to rub the sides of them like you were doing earlier, but when you look back up, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

He looks giddy, with a wild grin on his face and his eyes focused like a hunter. This is the face he makes when he’s given the green light from Azul to “squeeze” some unruly patrons of Mostro Lounge. And now he’s giving you the same look, hands wrapped tightly around your head.

You were going to die.

You can’t bear to look Floyd in the eyes anymore and squeeze them shut. Hopefully, this means when he crushes your skull, your eyes won’t pop out. You’ve always wanted an open-casket funeral. You hear Floyd cackle in glee, and your head throbs again. If anything, you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with your migraine anymore.

Floyd puts pressure on your temples, slowly squeezing your skull. You feel it slowly, the sensation blossoming from where his palms are to the orbital region of your skull. You wait for your head to explode violently, but it never comes. Instead, you realize your headache has subdued significantly, barely feeling the throbbing sensation at all anymore.

Your eyes shoot open, and you look at Floyd shocked. He meets your gaze and begins to giggle again.

“Dude, you’re full of fun expressions. What’d you think I was gonna do?”

“Not that! You looked like you were ready to kill me!” You try to defend yourself, but you look silly, head crushed between Floyd’s hands.

“You’d know if I was gonna squeeze you in the bad way. This is the good squeeze that makes your headaches go away. I do it to Jade all the time." To emphasize his point, he adds more pressure to your temples.

You pout, because he’s right. It is making your headache go away. And because you know you’ll be stuck with Floyd for another month while you are indebted to him. Maybe if you got enough headaches, you could bore him away.

“Well?” Floyd draws the L’s out in a sing-song manner. “Feelin’ any better, Shrimpy?”

You feel a lot better. Your headache isn’t fully gone, but it’s manageable now. Hopefully, the ghosts will declare the party over and release you soon. Floyd’s squeezing can’t fight exhaustion, and now that’s your biggest problem.

You grab Floyd’s hands and move them from your temples, rubbing the top of his hands with your thumbs. You smile appreciatively, genuinely happy to be freed from your migraine.

“Yes, thank you.”

You try to let go of Floyd’s hands, but he moves to interlock them, his wild grin back on his face. He leans down to your level again, his glowing eye narrowing as his smile grows impossibly wide. You initially thought you tamed the beast, but your naiveté left you caught in his trap.

“Good, now we gotta dance. I’m not letting you go ‘til you collapse." He pulls you away from the wall quickly, dragging you to the center of the dance floor and twirling you around until you’re dizzy.

Make it two more months stuck with Floyd.

[strawberrygummiess]

goo goo muck.

floyd leech x gender neutral! reader 1.4k words cross posted on ao3 "By the time this year’s Halloween was over, you never wanted to see a piece of candy again—especially no trick-or-treaters. But now you were in a dance hall in a pocket dimension, tired and annoyed, watching the students’ party when all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. Bah, humbug, or whatever the Halloween equivalent was." (sorry for posting this after Halloween)

If there was a competition for being Halloween’s biggest Scrooge, you’d win it.

As a kid, you loved Halloween—the obvious candy collection, of course, but also the costumes, the décor, and the overall joy the season carried. Even now, you would’ve loved Halloween if you weren’t forced to work seven days straight to keep annoying teenagers out of your dorm room.

By the time this year’s Halloween was over, you never wanted to see a piece of candy again—especially no trick-or-treaters. But now you were in a dance hall in a pocket dimension, tired and annoyed, watching the students’ party when all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep.

Bah, humbug, or whatever the Halloween equivalent was.

You were glowering in a lone corner, holding a drink in one hand and rubbing your temple with the other. Your head was pounding. Lilia insisted that the music be deafening, and it felt like the ghosts might hold you here indefinitely. And the longer you stayed, the grumpier you got, your scowl getting deeper and deeper. At this point, the pounding of your head synced with the beat of the loud techno.

"Woah, Shrimpy, if you keep frowning, your face’ll get stuck like that.”

You purse your lips and look up at Floyd. On a good day, you can only handle Floyd in small doses. On a bad day, you just wanted him to go away. You liked Floyd, but he was not something you were capable of handling while your head was seconds away from exploding.

“It’ll be perfect for Halloween then, won’t it? A scary face for a scary day.”

You mean it to be dismissive and boring. But you should know better than to assume Floyd will leave you alone so easily. You know Floyd has a bit of fascination with you. At first, you were concerned, especially when- in between cheers of joy- Riddle gave you half-hearted condolences. But Jade had eased your concerns, saying that “you weren’t so interesting to hold his attention for that long” and that he’d eventually grow bored of you (whatever that meant). But that was months ago, and he was still going strong. And Riddle was still happy to revel in your misery.

Floyd grins and joins you along the wall, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes you. You catch the frown on his face and rub your temples again. The music is much too loud.

“What gives Shrimpy? You’re being a big stick-in-the-mud,” Floyd whines, scrunching his body so his face is level with yours. You sigh again and take a sip of your drink. You could lie and say there’s nothing wrong or that you can’t dance, but he’s not stupid. The longer you stretch this out, the worse it’ll be for you.

“My head hurts, and I’m really tired." You start, finally looking at him. His full attention is on you, and it’s slightly unsettling. You’ve always liked how his eye glowed in the dark, but now it was too intense. It was like you were wronging him by denying him his fun, even if it was at your expense. You break eye contact.

“My head feels like it’s going to explode, and this music is not helping.”

You stare at the ground, counting the tiles under your feet while you wait for Floyd to respond. You assume he’ll say something about you being boring or try to get you to ignore your pain to entertain him. But instead, he says nothing. For a long time. So long you have to check if he’s still there.

He’s staring at you when you look again. Face blank, eyes focused. He straightened up back to full height, an imposing figure staring down at you with one glowing eye. He looks terrifying in the dark.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—to save yourself, but Floyd begins to giggle.

“Oh man, I’m DIGGIN’ that look, Little Shrimpy. I gotta make your face contort in fear more often.”

You hadn’t realized you were making a face. Now you hope he can see your irritation.

"Aww, don’t get all clammy on me, Shrimpy,” Floyd whines, moving from his place on the wall to stand in front of you. He raises his hands to cradle your head, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. You can’t tell if you’re scared this time.

“Do you feel the pressure here?” He moves his hands to your temples. “Or here?” He takes his right hand and gently rubs his thumb under your eyebrow.

You use your open eye to look up at him, trying to see if he planned on crushing your skull then and there. But he only gives you a lazy smile, patiently waiting for you to answer him, absentmindedly rubbing your face. It might’ve felt better if it was skin-on-skin contact, but the fabric on the glove was beginning to irritate your skin.

“My temples,” you answer, wincing when he moves his hand. Floyd hadn’t been rubbing the skin that hard or for long. Maybe you could ask Epel to share some moisturizers with you later.

Floyd puts his hands back on your temples. You assume he’s going to rub the sides of them like you were doing earlier, but when you look back up, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

He looks giddy, with a wild grin on his face and his eyes focused like a hunter. This is the face he makes when he’s given the green light from Azul to “squeeze” some unruly patrons of Mostro Lounge. And now he’s giving you the same look, hands wrapped tightly around your head.

You were going to die.

You can’t bear to look Floyd in the eyes anymore and squeeze them shut. Hopefully, this means when he crushes your skull, your eyes won’t pop out. You’ve always wanted an open-casket funeral. You hear Floyd cackle in glee, and your head throbs again. If anything, you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with your migraine anymore.

Floyd puts pressure on your temples, slowly squeezing your skull. You feel it slowly, the sensation blossoming from where his palms are to the orbital region of your skull. You wait for your head to explode violently, but it never comes. Instead, you realize your headache has subdued significantly, barely feeling the throbbing sensation at all anymore.

Your eyes shoot open, and you look at Floyd shocked. He meets your gaze and begins to giggle again.

“Dude, you’re full of fun expressions. What’d you think I was gonna do?”

“Not that! You looked like you were ready to kill me!” You try to defend yourself, but you look silly, head crushed between Floyd’s hands.

“You’d know if I was gonna squeeze you in the bad way. This is the good squeeze that makes your headaches go away. I do it to Jade all the time." To emphasize his point, he adds more pressure to your temples.

You pout, because he’s right. It is making your headache go away. And because you know you’ll be stuck with Floyd for another month while you are indebted to him. Maybe if you got enough headaches, you could bore him away.

“Well?” Floyd draws the L’s out in a sing-song manner. “Feelin’ any better, Shrimpy?”

You feel a lot better. Your headache isn’t fully gone, but it’s manageable now. Hopefully, the ghosts will declare the party over and release you soon. Floyd’s squeezing can’t fight exhaustion, and now that’s your biggest problem.

You grab Floyd’s hands and move them from your temples, rubbing the top of his hands with your thumbs. You smile appreciatively, genuinely happy to be freed from your migraine.

“Yes, thank you.”

You try to let go of Floyd’s hands, but he moves to interlock them, his wild grin back on his face. He leans down to your level again, his glowing eye narrowing as his smile grows impossibly wide. You initially thought you tamed the beast, but your naiveté left you caught in his trap.

“Good, now we gotta dance. I’m not letting you go ‘til you collapse." He pulls you away from the wall quickly, dragging you to the center of the dance floor and twirling you around until you’re dizzy.

Make it two more months stuck with Floyd.

[strawberrygummiess]

helloooo everyone

short update post, i'm gonna be super busy this week so there might not be a new post .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. but i logged on to tell y'all i made a twitter and a bluesky! i will post more updates and casual musings on there! i will still post these kind of updates on here tho

bye for now,

-bea <3

[strawberrygummiess]

❥ Twisted Wonderland fic recs

Housewardens

Insecure Confession ❥ headcannon, fluff ❥ @/twstpasta (deactivated)

Get drunk and forget they're your boyfriend ❥ text, crack/fluff ❥ @kingconia

Reaction to their drunk texts ❥ text, crack/fluff ❥ @kingconia

Overblots

i've become the villains lover! ❥ one shot, crack/fluff ❥ @dulcesiabits

Riddle Rosehearts

Trash Novel Chronicles: Villain System vs World ❥ one shot, crack/fluff ❥ @solxamber

Azul Ashengrotto

Shark Tanks and Shady Deals ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @solxamber

Jade Leech

Kaebedoned!! ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @yulin-pop

Intimidation ❥ one shot, crack/fluff ❥ @lynnie-ee

Floyd Leech

his cleaner shrimp ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @hisui-dreamer

Kalim Al-Asim

Starlight ❥ ficlet, fluff ❥ @ceruleancattail

Vil Schoenheit

Mirror ❥ ficlet, fluff ❥ @pomefioredove

How to win the heart of Vil Schoenheit ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @harfanfare

by saying something stupid, like "i love you" ❥ one shot, flangst ❥ @pomupom

Heroes vs. Villains : Pomefiore ❥ series, crack/fluff ❥ @dilatorywriting

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live ❥ one shot, crack/fluff ❥ @solxamber

something like sympathy ❥ one shot, tooth-rotting fluff ❥ @pomefioredove

Idia Shroud

Chicken ❥ ficlet, fluff ❥ @pomefioredove

My sunlight, sunlight, sunlight ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @voiidlizrd

Fluffy Mornings ❥ one shot, tooth-rotting fluff ❥ @/twstpasta (deactivated)

easy. ❥ one shot, crack/fluff ❥ @strawberrygummiess

Malleus Draconia

I will love you forever ❥ one shot, flangst ❥ @dilatorywriting

Dragon Lover ❥ one shot, fluff ❥ @/twstpasta (deactivated)

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince ❥ one shot, crack/fluff ❥ @solxamber

Silver Vanrouge

Kiss me Once Again ❥ one shot, angst ❥ @trappolia

[strawberrygummiess]

easy.

idia shroud x gender neutral!reader 2.4k words cross posted on ao3 "Now, you sat on the sidelines, watching the team endlessly run the routine over again, clutching your cat/space heater to your chest to fight off frostbite. You severely regretted not talking to Idia more while you shopped for souvenirs and snacked on various apple products. At least you could admire him from afar."

You worked very hard for your relationship with Idia. Slowly but surely getting closer to him by sneakily probing Ortho and Azul out of any information they would give you (of course, in Azul’s case, not without a price). And it had all culminated in a budding friendship where he could barely stand to look you in the eye during a conversation, but he at least was happy to play Blockcraft with youoccasionally.

Baby steps, you supposed.

You knew Idia loved Sled Over Heels before he mentioned it to the group so while you knew his interest was piqued by Epel’s pitch to Sebek, you were pleasantly surprised to see him so excited to see him voluntell (or maybe volundemand was more appropriate) to join Epel on his homecoming trip. It was a win-win for you, seeing a brand-new city and hanging out with your crush at arguably the most romantic time of the year.

It was too bad fate was determined to make your trip to Harveston the most un-romantic, miserable weekend ever. You were here with Epel and his sledding team, freezing your butt off in Harveston. Back in your world, the cold hadn’t bothered you too badly, but the chill in Harveston was unlike anything you had experienced before. Even with the thick coat on, the bite of the winter wind still gave you full-bodied shivers. You had never been so grateful for Grim’s higher-than-average body temperature, gripping him tightly to your chest whenever he misbehaved, or you were just too cold to deal with the outside air. Which, to his dismay, was frequent.

On top of the cold, the competition took up much more of Idia’s free time than you anticipated. You weren’t a stranger to the boys’ competitive streak, having seen them all display it throughout your time at Night Raven College but, the introduction of the Royal Sword Academy’s participation in the competition kicked the team into high gear.

Now, you sat on the sidelines, watching the team endlessly run the routine over again, clutching your cat/space heater to your chest to fight off frostbite. You severely regretted not talking to Idia more while you shopped for souvenirs and snacked on various apple products.

At least you could admire Idia from afar. You really liked his new braid.

When Epel frantically gathered the team after practice, Grim struggled in your hold. Keeping him still for this long was challenging, and he was getting tired of being cooped up in your arms.

“Let me go, henchman!” Grim grumbled, still squirming. “I’m starving!”

“Just wait- I’ll put you down when we start walking towards town, okay? Besides, you’re warm,”

Grim wiggles again, before finally breaking free. He gives you a smug look before prancing ahead of everyone, and then taking off into a full sprint towards town, yelling about smelling something tasty! Sebek and Jade begin to chase after him. You watch as the scene quickly descends into chaos.

“Ugh! What a mess. Maybe you should keep that thing on a leash,” In his frustration, you hear Epel’s twang, words strongly laced with Southern animosity. You grimace in embarrassment, quickly apologizing for Grim’s behavior. You glance at Idia, who’s staring off in the direction they ran in, completely indifferent to you standing next to him.

Great, you’ve annoyed him into silence.

You’re sulking the entire way back to town, watching Idia from behind while Epel yaps about the competition and the “Welcome Feast,” You’re too busy trying to figure out ways to salvage your “romantic” getaway to listen.

You needed to find time to corner him into a conversation. Of course, you needed to be careful that you weren’t too enthusiastic, or else you would scare him. But you can’t be nonchalant in case you bore him. And you had to be topical, but not too on the nose about the conversation, so mentioning Sled Over Heels seems safe enough-

You run into Idia’s back. You squeak out an apology, moving around him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,”

“Duh,” He grins, and you feel your body relax (you didn’t even realize you tensed in anticipation… this crush of yours was just terrible) after seeing he wasn’t annoyed. “Off in sla-la land, huh?”

“…Sla-la land?”

“Um, yeah, like, sledding,”

It was neither clever nor funny. It was entirely endearing to you, though.

You go to respond, but you see Grim sneak past your peripheral, and you know scolding him is more important than trying to salvage the conversation with Idia.

-

Once you’ve finally settled on a team name (you can’t help but sulk a bit that no one thought “Granny Felmier” was clever; a product of being from different universes), you join the rest of the town at the Welcome Feast.

It’s lively and warm, and you enjoy stuffing your face with different foods after freezing in the cold. Grim, for once, is behaving himself, giving you time to finally relax without keeping a watchful eye. Luckily, this allows you to think about your approach to Idia. You've noticed he settled into an opposite corner, shrunk down as small as possible. Social settings were antithetical to Idia’s entire demeanor, and it was obvious to anyone who looked in his direction that he was incredibly uncomfortable with the size of the party. You thought about approaching him, the conversation topics from before floating through your mind. Hopefully, he wouldn’t shut down before you even opened your mouth. He emanated an “don’t approach, don’t converse,” aura, brooding in the corner of the room. Maybe you could ask about practice or pretend to devise a strategy for them to use in the real race.

“Hey, Prefect,” Epel taps you on the shoulder. “Do you mind taking a bowl of fruktsoppa Idia? I don’t think he’s moved from that spot since we got here, and besides, I think he likes you best,”

You’ve never been so grateful for Epel in your life.

You grab the bowl and practically prance to Idia, head full from the compliment. He looks up at you, relief flooding his features once he realizes it’s you. Or when he realizes you brought him food. Either way, he looks happy. And pretty. So, so pretty.

“Hey, uh, I brought you some soup,” you say, suddenly feeling awkward. All the confidence you had while approaching him is out the window. “It’s fruit soup. I don’t know how to pronounce it like Epel did.”

“Is it… cold?”

“Soup typically isn’t cold to begin with,” You sit next to him, careful not to spill the bowl on you or him. You set it on the table and begin to shake your hands. “It was burning my fingers actually,”

Despite your warning, he takes a spoonful of fruktsoppa and gulps it down quickly.

“LOL,” you always loved how he pronounced the text-speech. “This is barely lukewarm. But it‘s good, thanks,”

You quickly say something before he gets too comfortable eating in silence.

“So, um,” You try to remember any of the topics you were supposed to talk to him about.

“How are… sports?”

Your question shocks a laugh out of him. He sputters out his soup as he devolves into a series of giggles.

“How are sports? What are you, a stereotypical sitcom nerd? Cri-i-i-inge!”

“Pot meet kettle! You’re only competing because of your favorite anime,”

“Sled Over Heels is a valid reason to compete. It’s the best sports anime to exist! Totally not cringe,”

You shake your head and giggle. It’s very cringey, but you’re charmed by it. You watch him take another bite of the soup, propping your head up in your hand as you stare at him. His coat is perfectly oversized, a welcome change from his usual hoodie. Plus, his hat and new hairdo do wonders for his face; something you barely see. While you poked fun at him for joining the group for an anime, you were happy he was here. You benefitted from it more than he ever knew.

“…I feel like the protagonist of a bizarro weirdo shoujo anime right now.”

“What?” You can’t control your voice. If you weren’t so focused on the surge of embarrassment coursing through your body, you’d notice the boys laughing at your outburst. Instead, you were focused on trying not to look guilty. You were probably failing.

“Look at you! You’re drooling all over the table, like some incel shut-in after he maxed out his love-bar in his otome.” His grin is splitting his face right now.

You cannot believe you're getting bullied by him right now. You cannot believe he’s right.

You can’t think of a clever retort, and you can’t even imagine denying the fact. You just try to avoid his eyes while hoping you’ll get cold enough to get rid of your flush. You’ve been intolerant of the cold the entire trip, but you start to think that if you ran outside without a coat, your body would be so hot that the snow would melt under your feet as you walked. You wonder if you’ve been this obvious the entire time and he was just being polite.

“Lawl, nothing to say because you were caught right? You’ve always been a weirdo,”

Idia starts giggling again, trying to keep his hair out of sight. If you catch the pink in his hair, you’ll find some ammo against him. Right now, he’s relishing someone being more pathetic than him.

It’s okay, he’s charmed by it.

“I guess it takes one to know one,” You mumble, utterly defeated. You chose to ignore his retort; and stand, claiming Grim has been quiet for too long.

At first, Idia thinks nothing of it. It was weird for you to stare at him. Him. But then, his mind began to race.Was there something on his face? Was he just that weird-looking? Were you only hanging out with him out of sympathy? He knew you were out of his league, but he always thought you were into it- at least a little bit. Idia glanced at you, watching you sit with Grim, petting his head absentmindedly while he devoured slice after slice of smörgåstårta. He’d rather not confront what it meant for you to leave so abruptly. Maybe he was wrong about your feelings to begin with. Idia sighs and puts his head in his hands. He would be the person to mess everything up.

-

After embarrassing yourself with Idia the night before, you tried to find solace in the rest of the team. The boys, however, were happy to humble you further.  To be (playfully) bullied by your crush was one thing, but to be the butt of Sebek’s “you’re obsessed” jokes felt extra humiliating (although, you had to extend your thanks to Epel once more, for calling the kettle black). After everything, you wanted the race to come to an uninteresting finish. You weren’t necessarily advocating for them to lose, but you were hoping there would be no more opportunities to be humiliated. However, it seemed they had other plans and showed determination in a way you had never seen before.

Team sports were usually a disaster for Night Raven College students, but now you were convinced they had a genuine chance of winning first place.

Once the team reached the pitstop, you couldn’t help but be excited by their performance. Despite a tear in Sebek’s plushie, they were making exceptional time. You joined Granny Marja in congratulating them; passing out their snacks while she reinforced the stitching on Sebek’s plushie.

A twinge of embarrassment pangs through your stomach as you hand Idia his sandwich, your hands accidentally brushing. You couldn’t even feel his hands through the thick gloves you both were wearing, but it still felt strangely intimate.

“You guys are doing great. I expect you to win, okay?”

“Yeah… thanks,”

You both stand awkwardly for a second.

Your mind is racing, and your heart is beating wildly. The rest of the team is preparing their sleds for the second leg of the competition, but Idia is still standing in front of you, tightly gripping his sandwich like he’s waiting for you to say something. Or like he’s psyching himself to say something to you.

A rogue thought flies through your brain. You should kiss him. No, you probably shouldn’t. You couldn’t. He would be so flustered he’d lose the competition. It was tempting, but you couldn’t.

“Idia!? Are you ready to go?” Epel calls. “We can’t let those RSA punks beat us!”

Idia glances at them and begins to shuffle his feet. He keeps hoping you’ll make the final push. He knows he won’t.

He makes it to his sled and takes one last look at you. You’re still staring at him, air puffing from your lips. Snow speckles your hair, and he swears your eyes are sparkling. You look like a typical shoujo love interest, right before they do something drastic; like confessing their love for the MC before kissing them dramatically.

So, he really should’ve seen this coming.

You bound towards him, and before he can scream at you, you grab his collar and pull him down to your height, pressing your lips to his cheek. It feels like you're kissing him forever, but as soon as he gets used to the feeling, you’re releasing him. He can faintly hear cheering (and polite claps from Jade) but it's like everyone else around him is muffled. You’re telling him something, but he can’t hear you, his ears are ringing too loud. He feels his face burning hotter than his hair, and if he thought the pink tips from yesterday were embarrassing, the hot pink color must be mortifying. He just turns and faces forward, readying his plushie for Epel’s command.

“Go Idia! You have to win this thing!”

Your cheers of encouragement ring out into the air as the team takes off from the pit stop, snow flying wildly in the air as they speed off. You’re waving them off until they disappear from your sight. Your grin is massive as you help Granny Marja pack up the rest of the equipment, ready to meet your team at the finish line. Based on how they took off; you’re hoping your good luck kiss propels them to finish first.

--

“Your kiss was a total party-wide stat debuff; there was no way for us to recover in enough turns to win!”

“Oh, for the love of- shut up!”