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auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

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Devil's Trumpet

AKA the Appalachian horror brain worms would not leave me alone

Summary: You move to small town West Virginia to get your head on straight but the men in the woods start unravelling you instead.

Words: 3.5k

CWs: mild horror, vague reference to mental illness

This is best read while listening to some Southern gothic tunes 🎶 I suggest Big Dark Love by Murder by Death!

Colour leeched out of the world here. There is something almost comforting about that, something familiar. Familiar too is the way this town moves like syrup too thick to be pleasant in your mouth. It was how you moved though the world once. Not anymore though, no, now your mind is your own and not an invading force. Now you can appreciate the drab slowness as something external to yourself, just an environment around you and not a prison closing in inside your head.

There wasn’t much of a plan really. A will reading that left you with not a lot, but enough to get the hell out. Signing with a fountain pen that made your skin crawl with how it scratched. A stiff drink and a dart thrown at a map and tearing a ragged hole in the Greenbrier River as the sharp point didn’t quite sink far enough into the board and tore its way through the paper on the way down. You were never any good at darts.

You aren’t putting down roots. Those were for old growth, not for hardy weeds that broke through concrete and always found another crack through which to grow when killed. Nothing that felt too much like a home, so instead a room at the only inn.

This town is too small to warrant one, but it doubles as a watering hole come evening. It doesn’t seem to have been updated in an age, you wonder idly if the plaque upkept to a gleaming shine declaring the inn to have been opened in 1824 is somehow conveying pride at the fact. The peeling wallpaper in your room was probably pretty once, but the green now seems sick with age and the delicate floral pattern has started to wilt.

There is no routine to your days here until one slowly creeps in as it always does.

Breakfast first. You don’t know if it’s something in the air here, but you wake up with a bitter taste in your mouth and are eager to drown it in food and mint toothpaste. The inn has a small kitchenette for guest use and you make yourself toast with butter and strawberry jam. It’s a little too sweet but the tea helps, black with no sugar.

You stretch out the back of the inn and enjoy the view of the woods. You don’t call it yoga because it makes you less likely to do it, but you had learned when things were bad that quietly engaging your body in the morning was a good way to quiet your mind. There’s a little tension in the back of your neck you try to work out but it sticks there until you finish up and go back inside to shower. The hot water fixes it you think.

The first few weeks here you just sit and watch the world go by, but then you one day you decide to get up and spend some time wandering the town. It’s small, decrepit. There is the inn, a few sparse houses, one general store. The library, despite being the only venue with any chance of entertainment, is usually empty. You meet Mrs Lela Kaletaws who runs it, although she isn’t always around.

Roads here are barely holding together, but the one main road that runs out of town is at least in somewhat better condition. It runs parallel with the woods at one point, curving off just past old Mr Kleer's house. The man in question usually sits on his porch but he’s friendly enough so you don’t pay much mind to the gun.

After you’ve wandered town you make sandwiches for lunch. It isn’t much exciting, but it is routine and is filling enough that you bunker down for a nap after.

In the afternoon you go for a long walk before returning to the inn for dinner. There is a bar downstairs that opens in the evenings and serves food that while not a delicacy by any means is hot and filling. You retire to your room, read some of your book and go to sleep.

It continues that way. Breakfast, stretch, shower, wander, lunch, sleep, walk, dinner, read, sleep.

At first you only really skirt the edge of the woods, but with each passing dreary day you venture closer to the depths down the packed dirt path. The path through the woods is confusing and unmarked. Where you swore just yesterday it went to the right, today it goes to the left. Even so it must be your sense of direction, because the path always leads you past the jimsonweeds that come up to you chest before spitting you out on the road that leads to old Mr Kleer's house. The flowers are beautiful, but there is some metallic tang to their otherwise sweet scent that causes your teeth to ache.

—

More comfortable with the area now, it causes a fright when you see a man in the woods just in the corner of your eye only to snap your head around and have him vanish. You force calming breathes and keep walking. There is no such thing as ghosts in these woods.

Old man Axell calls to you from his porch as you pass, rifle butt settled on the rickety wood that you worry will collapse and left leg stretched straight out towards you like reaching for something.

“Seeing things in the woods kid?”

“I look spooked sir?”

“Like you’ve seen a Ghost I reckon.”

You give a shaky laugh at that.

“Only if ghosts come in flesh and blood and quick feet. Some man gave me a fright is all.”

“Must be out of towners” Axell says.

You do not like the way he says it. You do not like that he looks at you strangely. But you smile and nod and get on your way. He is only an old man.

—

There is someone in the woods. You feel his gaze on you, feel the dull prickle that rests on your nape from those eyes.

“We really must stop meeting like this” you say.

You have stopped trying to catch him. Now you only speak, eyes set on the dirt path in front of you. You do not think you will get a reply and when you do you shudder horribly at how much closer the voice is than you had anticipated.

“Don’t enjoy the company?”

He’s English and you frown. Out of towner. The old man must know something, but maybe you cannot begrudge him having fun at your expense. You have not made friends here.

“Enjoy company where I can see it if it’s all the same to you.”

The man laughs. It is a confusing laugh, warm and cold all at once as it bounces through the trees.

“Careful what you wish for.”

You resist the urge to turn even as his voice moves strangely, like he is swaying from one side of the path to the other.

“Must have a face like sin to keep hiding away” you say.

The next words you can feel. His breath is right at your cheek, a strand of your hair lifted by his fingers.

“Quite the opposite.”

Your heart is a prey animal running from a predator, beating wildly against your ribs as you turn to find he isn’t there. Only you certainly felt him. He leaves a sweet smell behind.

—

Sleep does not come easily that night. The rain against your window casts the moonlight strangely into your room. You spend hours watching as the creeping vines on the wallpaper seem to twist and shift beneath the moon flowers. When you finally fall asleep, it is almost as if you can smell them. Sweet and slightly metallic.

You wake up with the fading scent of damp earth and something on the edge of rot in your nose and the feel of dirt packed uncomfortably under your nails. They’re clean you find, but you spend the start of the morning cutting them down once you see the fading scratches left on your arms and legs through the night.

—

He is not the only stranger in the woods. You swore you would not go back, but routine takes you there without thought.

The Scottish man likes to walk on your right hand side, just enough steps behind you that you can only see him at the very side of your vision. You think he is handsome, but it is difficult to be sure. What you can be sure of is that he is dressed oddly. You have spoken to him for a while now, discussing yourself mostly. Perhaps it is the eerie quiet of the woods that makes you want to fill the dead space, but you tell him more about yourself than you ever would have thought yourself comfortable with.

“Are you a soldier then?” you ask.

“Sometimes, I think.”

You take a moment to chew that answer, wonder at the taste of it. There is a panic when you smell blood on the air, but it is quickly blanketed by sweetness. You have reached the jimsonweeds. It is too early, you have not walked far enough to be here already. But before you can protest the steps to your right stop and you know the man is gone.

None of them ever come farther than this.

—

You try the next day and the next to get answers from him. He seems to make a decision at one point just as the familiar smell reaches you and you think you will leave with no more information than you had before.

“I’m SAS.”

He is not there when you turn to thank him. He is not there at all when you return the next day.

—

The library run by Mrs Kaletaws is added to your routine. Breakfast, stretch, shower, library, lunch, try to sleep, walk, dinner, read, try to sleep. The small building has the peculiar addition of a cat you never quite see. You hear the skitter of claws on worn wood floor that has started to smell of sickly sweet rot, see fading scratches on the legs and arms of the chair, find hairs on your clothing, feel the prickle of eyes focused on you from the dark running up your spine to settle dully on the back of your neck. You have tried before to get a glimpse of the creature, but it only seems to exist in the very corner of your eye and retreats when your gaze tries to creep around to catch it.

Lela never talks about the cat. She told you once that it is only her and her wife that live in the basement below the library. You have never seen her wife and fear she must have some permanent sickness that stops her from being able to do much. You think they should move above ground so she can at least see the world through the windows obscured by racing raindrops, but you keep it to yourself.

The one computer here is old, the white plastic exterior now yellowed. Still, it is the only gateway to the outside world in this little town and you blow at your tea while waiting for your search results. ‘SAS military bases in West Virginia’ is a shot in the dark, but you need to start somewhere. After a sip you dump more sugar into your cup before looking at your finally loaded results.

There are none. No British military installations at all in the USA. You had hoped at least the results would bring up something about training exercises but it is just pages of useless information about bases around the world. You read about the SAS, fall down a rabbit hole of how they torture their soldiers to train them to withstand it. You go through pages and pages of search results until finally one talks about SAS soldiers in this area.

The link takes you to a dusty website that stopped being updated sometime in the late 90s. It’s some sort of conspiracy blog and you are prepared to close it, but you can’t help but get lost in the story it tells.

The details are unclear which you suppose is the hallmark of any good conspiracy. 40 years ago. There was a team of two, or maybe four or maybe seven. They set up just outside the woods with little to no explanation. There’s an interview from a local, not a name you recognise so one you think is likely long dead. She says two of the soldiers went into the woods first. She remembers something bad must have happened, because there was an argument between the five left outside. Nobody was allowed close, but she watched two more men go into the woods. After that the operation seemed to vanish entirely overnight and nobody heard anything more about it.

Whoever authored the blog has a gift with words because despite your logical mind knowing it was probably nothing but a random training exercise, the hairs on the back of your neck raise.

There is a photo of the alleged unit at the end loading slowly. You stare in fascination as line by line appears from the top. The world stops before it fully loads. At first you are confused as to why your whole body is tense, why your heart is racing. And then you figure it out. Silence. Complete and all together sudden silence. No rain hitting the windows, no scratching of the cat echoing, not even the whir of the computer.

You do not want to look away from the screen. You do not want to turn around. The prickle on your neck goes from dull to sharp.

The computer powers down.

—

He says to call him John. This man does not walk to your right like the Scottish one, or behind you like the first one you met. He walks in front of you. You can see the full expanse of his back clad in a vest. He wears a hat. He only ever turns slightly, enough to see that he has sideburns but never enough to see his face.

You are so enraptured by being able to see so much of him so clearly that it takes you a while to notice there is someone on your left. A few steps behind like the Scottish one does on your right. It takes you by surprise enough that you are about to forget the unspoken rules and turn, but John predicts your move.

“Eyes forward.”

“Sorry” you say automatically, fixing you eyes to his back and letting the other man stay as the impression of a creature just in sight of your left eye.

“They’re pretty, Captain.”

“I’m aware.”

It should not make you blush but somehow it does.

“What’s you name?” you ask.

There is no way to direct it specifically to the man on your left, so you simple direct it to the back of John and hope that the trees will send it where it needs to go.

“Captain?” the man asks, not for permission but as if genuinely unsure of the answer.

“Kyle, your name’s Kyle.”

“Right. Kyle.”

You catch the movement of him touching his chest, maybe rubbing at a name tag there but you can’t be sure.

“You can call me Gaz if you like.”

John and Gaz are your company for weeks. Whenever you ask after the other two, the air turns sweet and bloody and you are left alone among the jimsonweeds.

—

“Got intae trouble for ye.”

You’re not sure where you are but you recognise the voice. Is he in your room?

“We both did. Curiosity would’ve killed you little kitten,” comes the other voice from the first man in the woods somewhere behind you.

You hazily look down at yourself. You are not in the bed at the inn, you are in another bed laid on your back. You feel your legs brush against one another, not clad in the flannel you remembered wearing. Silk, you are wearing silk. Delicate against your skin, not much of it. Were you wearing perfume? Something smells sweet.

As you stare at the bare expanse of your leg a hand sinks into your thigh, squeezes.

“Fuck LT, so soft. Fingers just sink right in.”

You fight the urge to look to the right where the hand is coming from. You can’t look, some primal part of your brain knows you cannot look.

“Stay away from the woods” the man behind you whispers into your ear like a caress as his hands settle gently around your neck.

You do not feel the snap of bone, but you hear it. You taste the blood in your mouth.

You do not manage to fall back asleep when you wake.

—

Breakfast, library, try to sleep, don’t go into the woods, dinner, try to sleep, stare at the wallpaper, try to sleep.

—

You overhear Axell and Lela once. You think they are talking about you.

“You think we’re doing the right thing?” Axell asks.

“I don’t think there is a right thing anymore.”

“It’s been a long time now. Maybe we should let them go.”

“You think we could?”

There is a silence. Neither of them thinks so. Paranoia settles over you that you haven’t felt since back when things got bad. It’s like an old vice settling into your bones, or maybe seeping out of them as if it never truly left. You cannot go back to that place again so you take some aspirin for the rhythmic pulsing behind your eyes and the dull prickle at the back of your neck and resolve to put any thoughts of conspiracy out of your mind. Lela and Axell are simply old, there is not something they know that you do not.

—

You do not mean to walk into the woods again. The man behind you is back. He feels different somehow.

“I could eat you right up” he says against your neck.

Old Mr Kleer sees the bloodied bite at your throat and says nothing as you walk by.

—

You book a bus ticket. It feels too much like there are tendrils growing from you to burrow into the ground, to fix you here. If you don’t rip them out now, it is only a matter of time until the roots are so deep you won’t be strong enough to move. You aren’t eating properly, you’ve hardly slept and when you do you wake up with a bitter taste in your mouth and covered in scratches. There is still the shape of a bite on your throat and the B&B owners in Pennsylvania look at you with pity as you check in.

The building is charming and fairly new. You stare at the neutral pink wallpaper. One corner of it has lifted ever so slightly. You fall asleep staring at the peek of green underneath.

—

It doesn’t rain as much here, the sun is out and everything seems more colourful. Weeks pass in a haze and you slowly emerge again, eating properly, sleeping through the night. The town on the Greenbrier starts to fade to an unpleasant dream.

—

There is something comforting about the old man who comes to stay and sits by you for breakfast in the mornings. He has the remnants of a Russian accent and laughs frequently and easily. The stories he tells are fantastical, but he’s non-committal about his visit to small town Pennsylvania although he at least tells you that he likes the nature around here. He whispers that his legs aren’t up for much walking anymore, so he has to take the easy paths through small patches of nature.

It takes a week or so more to work up the courage to accompany him on a walk. It seems silly, but the woods make you feel afraid. Maybe a short walk through the small area he spoke of will help you get beyond it. You rub at your neck, feeling the marks faded but still there.

—

He notices your discomfort and tries to ease it with his stories as you walk the dirt path.

“It’s the most important thing I’ve learned you know” he says, the aching grief in his voice causing you pause, “you cannot leave friends behind.”

You turn to him, intending to ask how much longer the path leads since it is getting dark now. He is not there.

“Nik?” you ask, calm at first but increasingly more frantic.

That old familiar dull prickle settles on the back of your neck as you run back down the way you came to get out of the woods. Drooping tree limbs get in your way and you push through, ignoring the scratches. As darkness falls you slow to a walk, unable to see anything in front of you. You catch the smell the sweetness of the jimsonweeds. You can smell blood.

Foot steps that are not your own surround you. A set in front of you. One behind. To the left and to the right.

“Welcome home.”

#mhairiwrites #tf141 #tf141 x reader #sort of not really?#horror is so hard to write my god

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allfearstofallto · 8 months ago

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hii! can i make a request?

I've been thinking about angsty things a bit. say if, reader got pregnant, would she hate it? how would scara/childe react? in my opinion, id like to think that scara thinks of this as a way to tie her down to him more, plus its canon he likes kids!! and as for childe i think he'd be very very happy since he has soooo many siblings, (maybe he wants a lot of kids too??)

and..what if reader miscarried? i have this thought of where scara would still be cold to her but give her breaks and more space than usual, but what if reader completely locks herself in and then when he confronts her about it they get into a huge argument, how would scara tackle that, would he resort to abusive tactics and would it increase readers hatred & distance more?

just a brainrot, you dont have to write about it if you're not comfy^_^

This took me so so so long!! I'm so sorry if you were waiting for it!!

I don't typically write for things like pregnancy because it makes me uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I do not absolutely fucking adore angst and hopelessness.

Parasite

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dark Content, Forced marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Mentions of Dub/Non-Con

A week late turned into two. Two turned into a month. A month turned into three. And three turned into unusual cravings for foods that didn't go together. Sickness and vomiting clouded the hours of your mornings. Dread filled your body the second you realized what this was. Stress makes your cycles late, you told yourself, stress makes your entire body change, and this was a stressful situation, but stress wasn't causing this, was it?

Scaramouche could tell the changes in you immediately. As someone who constantly kept tabs on your life, it was only fair to assume that he'd noticed your slight fluctuation in weight and lack of asking for your monthly cloths. When you were called into his office, you felt a hot flash all over your body, you assumed it was fear, but it could've also been nausea.

His office was a place filled with dread. The air in the room was too thick and worst of all, he was there. The room made you feel small, the only good thing about it was that he was usually too focused on his mile high stacks of paperwork. Except today. Today his razor sharp gaze was focused on your trembling form as you bowed to him, his eyes following down, then back up.

“Answer me honestly,” he began, hands planted on the wood in front of him, “Are you with child?”

If you could throw up again, you would. Of course, you knew all this time, but you never wanted to say it. You hoped, just hoped and prayed that maybe if you never acknowledged it, it would all go away. It would all be a bad dream. But it was true. There was something disgusting living inside you. And it was his.

“I believe so, my lord,” the words couldn't even completely fall from your lips before you were a blubbering, sobbing mess of anguish and fear. Despite the fact that you were completely breaking down before him, he had a small smile on his face, like he was proud of what he'd done to you.

“That's good,” he said calmly, wiping away your tears and planting a forced kiss upon your face. His touch felt cold as ice, but his hands against you made you want to melt your skin away.

The reaction to the “good news” was immediate, whether that was good or bad was up in the air, but everything changed. The tight obi of all the kimono you owned would put too much pressure on your budding stomach, new one's were ordered to be ready as you grew more in size. Your diet was changed completely, less of the Inazuma raw delicacies and more lean meat and vegetables. Daily classes of calligraphy and tea ceremonies were switched to resting with your feet up or light stretching, everything to keep you happy and healthy during your pregnancy.

The biggest change was Scaramouche himself. A man filled with so much hatred and disgust, was suddenly being kinder. Or trying to at least. You watch him open his mouth to make a comment, only to shut it again in favor of saying something still rude, but less insulting.

The Scaramouche that believed that he could take your body whenever he pleased was long gone, even though that was what got you in this predicament in the first place. He'd taken to leaving you in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to sate his urges. He'd come back with cold damp hands and lay next to you, a protective hand over your stomach as he kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you.

The day you saw blood between your legs and felt an aching pain in your stomach was a joyous one indeed. A part of you wanted to scream out in glee, but you didn't want to wake your already on edge husband. The blood that coated your fingers could only mean one thing. One good thing. It was gone. You were free of it. Almost immediately, the dark air that seemed to linger over your body vanished and you let out a sigh of relief.

Scaramouche was informed shortly before breakfast that same morning. You relayed the information to a maid, who then told him, whispering the words in his ear so quietly, it sounded like she was speaking gibberish. His face, his expression, changed to one shock, then horror, then pain. You didn't even know he could make such a face, yet there he was with tears in his eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” There was that tone again. The one you were used to. The anger and distaste for you in his voice. He slammed his fist down on the desk, turning his head away from you as his voice became high and breathy, so desperate for answers, “What did I do wrong?”

You stood in his office awkwardly, even this display from a person you hated, this display of agony was hurting you as well. You thought it would be funny. Seeing the man who pulled you from your home and forced you into marriage in pain was supposed to make you happy, but you felt your own chest clenching, felt your hands tremble.

“I-i suppose…I was stressed, my lord,” you muttered, his already labored breaths hitching at those words. The few months you were carrying that thing inside your body, was when he asked for less from you. He expected you to laze around all day and relax. For your body to fall into a daze like trance of naps and delicious food. He wanted happiness for both you and his child that you carried, yet you were still the most stressed you'd ever been in your entire life, knowing that he had something inside you. Something that would continue to fester and grow, until it eventually ate you alive.

He sat back in his office chair dejected, hurt, and empty. Scaramouche's normally sharp, glaring eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling, body limp as he bit his lip, “Leave me,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Had it not been for the quietness of the room, you wouldn't have heard him.

Leave him you did, closing the door as silently as possible and not lingering behind. You felt yourself finally stop tensing, telling yourself that all your woes were over, for now. The thing was gone. You were happy. For once, even if unintentionally, you'd won over your captor.

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #tw pregnancy #mdni

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postnutperfection · 21 days ago

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What’s frustrating about the whole Perverts title issue is that it really boils down to people sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. If everyone minded their damn business on the internet this wouldn’t even have to be a conversation. Its ok to be a lukewarm fan of someone, but I think TikTok has made it feel like you either have to stan someone and be a keyboard warrior in their defense 24/7 or you can’t like them at all. The whole “debate” gets to a point where it feels like im talking to a wall! Even if you didn’t listen to the rest of the album, you have to scroll to find Strangers! Did you not see the literal song titled August Underground on the way there! Hard Times is about CSA! Strangers is literally about her getting eaten! She literally gets cannibalized! I feel that maybe perchance the whole concept of Preacher’s Daughter should be more shocking then an album called PERVERTS

and I know, i knowwww, this has something to do with those motherfuckers on booktok romanticizing every sick and abusive asshole thats somewhat conventionally attractive. I’m sorry but correct me if im wrong but Strangers (at least to me) is not a love song. While Ethel may have loved him and while she may not feel hatred or resentment towards him lets be honest he did not eat her because he loved her, he did it because he is a bad person who does bad things and took advantage of a girl who has known nothing other than abuse. He groomed her and moved her across the country only to drug her and pimp her out and then when he was bored of her he killed and ate her.

I’m just so sick and fucking tired of these stupid ass motherfuckers thinking that they have the media literacy of Jesus H. Christ himself and that think they’re sooo fucking smart when in reality all you have done is taken a BEAUTIFUL and HEARTBREAKING piece of ARTWORK and watered it down for mass consumption. All you’ve done is slapped a pretty little label on it and put it on a shelf to sell to the masses and now the meaning and intention behind it will wither away. Don’t get me wrong, I love TikTok, I think it’s a great place to learn and share and create and find new interests but it gets to a point where it feels like its just a giant cesspool of braindead people talking about how a wood flooring is so “ethel cain lana del rey coquette naturecore maximalist anti-millennial grey girl boss power move”

I know this probably ended up being a incoherent ramble that says a lot and nothing at the same time but I really just had to get it off my chest because holy fuck you guys lets use our brains! hellooo lets lock the fuck in and really do our best to have some sort of competent level media literacy

#holy fuck yall #this doesnt make sense #sorry in advance #if you read this all thank you #ethel cain #mothercain #preachers daughter #ethel cain perverts #hayden anhedönia

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means, the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world.

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.”

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated.

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do.

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while.

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is.

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment.

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something.

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light.

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate.

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck.

"I was just looking for.. uhh…"

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed.

" Shit. Sorry, let me-"

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly.

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-"

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-]

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen.

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless.

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples.

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early."

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge.

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it.

So naturally , you were sent to kill him.

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer - particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable.

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower.

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside.

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry.

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange.

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily.

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?"

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold.

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view.

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial.

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought.

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him.

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you.

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression.

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-"

He shrugs, noncommittal.

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt.

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile.

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes.

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter.

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time.

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile.

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?”

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky.

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong?

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

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@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #eventual smut #angst #kat_writes😼

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sunflowergirl522 · 1 year ago

Text

Fairy Circles

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fairy!Reader

Summary: Eddie accidentally traps you in his lunchbox and takes you home with him.

Word Count: 2545

Fairy!Reader Masterlist

Eddie eyes up the wooded area next to the trailer park from his van before sighing and grabbing his stash from the passenger's seat. He’s been trying to smoke less for the last couple months knowing Wayne’s been getting sick of the smell, but it had been a long day. It seemed like everyone in Hawkins car had an issue and they were down a man at the garage and on top of that he’s been having phantom pains on and off all day in his scars. And the weed always helps, so he turns the van off and crosses the park.

He’s not paying attention to where he’s walking, too busy searching for the blunt he knows he rolled yesterday. Which is what leads him to almost stepping in the fairy circle that definitely wasn’t there a couple of days ago. It’s only when the slight tinkling sound reaches his ears that he looks around.

“Shit!” Eddie moves his foot that was about to be set down on the other side of the mushrooms sprouting from the ground back to safety before taking a giant step backwards. The tinkling stops as soon as he does, causing him to look around for what could have been causing it. When he doesn’t see a cause for it he glances back at the decently sized circle of mushrooms that seem to have sprung up overnight.

He’s never seen a fairy ring in real life before and he has to admit he’s intrigued. Just not enough to risk stepping into it. He knows all about the different outcomes that could come from it, and the last thing he wants is to get trapped there or dance until he dies. So instead of investigating it, which he wants to do oh so badly, he turns to go around it.

The light shining off of his rings is what had initially drawn your attention to him. And when he was about to step into your circle you couldn’t contain your excited laughter from your lounging spot on the moss growing on a branch of the oak tree above the circle. You feel like you’ve been waiting ages for someone to come across it and dance with you. You even got up and moved to get a better look at this, as you came to realize quickly, pretty human man. And when his foot stops just as it was going to cross the boundary and he takes a step back you grow the most aggravated you’ve been in a long time.

You cross your arms and stomp your feet as you pace in an angry circle, cheeks puffing out. You let out a tiny yell that gets absorbed in the wind and kick the part of the branch pointing up that you were leaning on to get a better look. Your eyes catch on the acorns on one of the thinner branches under you. You have to pull with all your might, and you go somersaulting backwards once you rip it off, but you get it with a proud smile on your face.

The rustling of the leaves only catches Eddie’s attention for a brief moment before he shrugs it off and keeps walking to his designated smoking spot, a hunters' platform he found his freshman year of high school and has yet to see anyone actually hunt on.

“What the-” It’s when an acorn hits and bounces off of the top of his head that he spins around and looks up at the tree, brown eyes becoming slits as if that’ll help him spot the culprit. When he doesn’t see anything he chalks it up to just nature running its course instead of a fairy throwing something at him and scoops up said acorn before continuing on his way.

You follow him, becoming intrigued even more by him once you watch him put the acorn in the thing he’s carrying and wanting to know what else is inside immediately. Once he’s situated on the platform in a tree you hover for a while watching in awe as he brings his weird stick to his lips and inhales before exhaling and leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree. You enjoy how the dying sunlight glints off of his rings and the ink on his newly exposed arms.

Once he throws his fire starter back into his box you fly over to it landing just next to it, staying crouched so as not to be spotted. Once you see his eyes are closed again you stand and grab onto the top to peek inside. The pretty blue crystals scattered on the opposite side immediately draw your attention. After seeing the man preoccupied you dart inside to get a better look. They’re all different shapes and bigger than your head and you can’t help but think you’ve found treasure.

Eddie puts his roach out against the platform before putting it back in his lunchbox to throw out later and shutting it. He slings his jacket over his shoulder and grabs the box’s handle before climbing down to head back home.

You don’t notice the stub of the stick he had fall in behind you, too distracted with turning one of the more ball-like gems around in your hand, until you get overwhelmed with an odd earthy smell and notice the lid shutting. It’s immediately being moved and knocking you onto your ass. You huff before standing, finding purchase on a smaller less solid red and white box, and flying up to try to push on the lid to try to open it. After several failed attempts you land back on the constantly slightly tilting ground and let out a scream. One that stays hidden from Eddie’s ears due to the metal blocking it and the distance from his lunchbox to his ears.

You should have never gotten into this trap! Because of course that’s what this was, the intriguing pretty human and the gems were all a ploy to capture you. You feel so stupid and your anger boils up as one of said gems slides to your feet. You kick it into the wall enjoying the echoing noise it makes. You enjoy it so much that you continue to kick and throw the things in your prison, stomping all over the green clumps and snapping the arm of the little statue off. As soon as your prison stops moving and finds solid ground you rush to start banging on walls.

Eddie hears the constant dinging coming from his lunchbox just as he’s pulling his pajama pants on. He sits at the chair in front of his desk before sliding it in front of him, successfully knocking you on your ass again, and opening the lid up. He’s immediately met with the sweet smell of strawberries, which is definitely not what it should smell like. His eyes go wide when he sees you sitting there arms crossed and slightly glowing in the midst of the chaos that is his lunchbox.

“Woah.” You look up at the sound of his voice catching the shocked look on his face briefly before you’re shooting up and out of the box you were stuck in. You hover there for a second before seeing your way back outside next to him and flying straight into a wall of some sort.

“I gotcha!” Eddie catches and cradles you in his hands as you bounce off of the window. You can’t be taller than three inches and your wings, which tickle the slightest bit as they brush against Eddie’s palm, remind him of a butterfly. Your dress looks delicately made out of the petals of some purple flower and he wants to admire the craftsmanship. And he would if you hadn’t flown out of his hand to hide behind his lunchbox as soon as the shock of flying into the window wore off.

He’s still in so much shock that there’s a real living fairy in his room that it doesn’t register how scared you might be after being shut in his lunchbox until you’re scurrying away from him.

“Oh god, I’m such an idiot. You must be so scared, hold on.” He gets up and you peer around the corner to watch him as he digs around in a drawer, the softness in his voice gaining your interest. When he sits back down you go back to hiding only hearing the beads he drops in between your hiding spot and himself. “Here, I don’t want to hurt you, I swear.” He pushes his chair back and crosses his arms so you know he’ll keep them to himself and waits for you to come out.

You think about it for a couple minutes before poking your head around the corner again looking at his new position before at the small offering in front of you. The pretty beads make you smile and you clock the human in front of you again before making your way to them. Eddie’s transfixed as you walk out from your hiding spot and kneel to pick up and admire the beads.

“Sorry for shutting you in my lunchbox. Right hand up to god I didn’t even know you were in there.” Your attention goes up to him and Eddie catches himself holding his breath for your reaction. You can tell he’s telling the truth, you’ve always been good at that, so you just shrug and go back to your beads. You don’t even flinch when his hand goes up with his choice of wording. He notices and decides to test his luck and move his chair back to where it originally was. All you do is look at him and tilt your head to take him in. He has very pretty eyes, if you were a more violent fairy you’d want to pluck them out of his head. The thought makes you giggle and Eddie recognizes it as the tinkling sound from earlier.

“That was you earlier, I was about to step into your circle.” He’s beaming at you and getting excited. It’s admittedly contagious as you nod and smile at him before remembering how he ruined your fun by not stepping into it. Your smile drops and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices and goes to reach into the box pulling out the acorn from earlier.

“Did you throw this at me?” You nod once pouting. “Well I’m sorry for not stepping in. I’ve just heard and read stories about what could have happened and didn’t want to risk it. But you seem very nice and I’m sure you wouldn’t have kept me trapped there forever.” You shake your head rigorously. You really just wanted to dance with someone for a bit, you’ve felt so lonely recently. And you had forgotten completely about how some fairies will do things like that.

“What were you doing in my lunch box that got you shut in anyway?”

“Oh!” Eddie doesn’t hear your exclamation, just sees your mouth form it before you’re standing and climbing into his lunchbox. He only has to wait a couple seconds until you’re throwing out his D20 dice and rolling a nat twenty without meaning to. When you fly out you have his D4, D8, and D10 balanced in your arms. You drop them where the D20 rolled and beam while gesturing with open arms at them.

“My dice?” You nod even though that’s an odd name for gems.

“They’re pretty.” To Eddie your words are a little like small bells but the way you stare at them has him agreeing with you anyway.

“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you?” Once again you look up at him but this time you really take him in, from his long hair to his pretty brown eyes to the scars on his neck, chest and torso. Under your studious gaze he suddenly remembers that he never put a new shirt on and starts to fidget with self consciousness.

“I should finish getting dressed.”

“What are those from? Somebody hurt you?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying darlin’ but if it’s about the scars you don’t have to worry about it. I got them a while ago.” He winces as the phantom pains decide to pick the worst moment of his life to return. And suddenly he’s feeling the bites all over again just slightly less painful. You fly over to hover in front of him as he rubs the ones on his chest and grimaces. You start to panic not liking watching the human who gifted you such beautiful beads and showed you kindness and called you pretty go through whatever this is.

“Let me help.” You fly closer to his ear hoping it’ll help him hear you. After you fly back to see his reaction you find his eyes wide at hearing your voice before he nods an okay. With his permission you fly closer to where he’s rubbing and trying to get it to go away, placing your tiny hands on the scars and starting the healing process you normally just do for animals or plants. After so long of it not working how you want it to because you can’t cover enough surface area you aggravatedly sigh and back away for your next move hoping it’ll work better.

One minute you’re this small fairy in front of him and the next you’re human sized, glitter falling to the floor where you stand from your use of magic. He barely has time to take you in before your hands are on his chest again, a sort of glow emitting from your connected skin as you try to heal him. It works, the pains fade but Eddie’s not sure if that’s because of you or well you.

Your hands are cooler than he would have expected them to be. And now he can really see the curves that make up your form and the gorgeous eyes that he could only barely make out the color of before. You’re pretty as a pixie but as a human you’re like nothing he’s ever seen, you’re plain ethereal.

“Better?” Your voice sounds different than in your smaller form and Eddie immediately falls in love with it. All he can do is nod as you look up at him, because even in your bigger form you’re shorter than him, and you take your hands off of him. You giggle as you see the glittery dust in the shape of your hands on his skin where you were using your magic. It’s Eddie’s new favorite sound because on top of it being an actual laugh there’s still the slight tinkle in it from when you’re fairy size. “Good.”

Before Eddie can say anything else you’re poofing back into fairy size, leaving more glitter behind, and flying over to the desk to pick up all the beads you can carry. After that you fly over to the window touching the glass with your foot wondering how to get out.

“Let me get that.” Eddie comes over and opens the window watching you while he does so. “Will I see you again?” You just shrug before flying out and heading back home.

Eddie Taglist (27/40): @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @gaysludge @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @midnightsgetawaycar @mushroomelephant @saramelaniemoon @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @spikedhe4rt @siriuslysmoking @toobsessedsstuff @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @sparkletash @aactuaaltraash @spookyemorockbabe @jesssssmaybankk @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead @bl4ckt00thgr1n @eli-flower @canyonmooncreations

Everything Taglist: @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke @m00nkn1ghts @rory-cakes

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x fairy!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine

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henry7931 · 6 months ago

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I Don’t Want To Go Back

Bradley:

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office and I feel butterflies in my stomach. All I can is look down at my legs and feet— well I guess Luke’s legs and feet. They are his in the first place but I now control them.

I’m waiting on a response from the doctor who’s helping my big brother Luke and I with our situation. He’s with Luke right now in the other room who’s in my body.

From what I can understand, one of us gave the other some kind of sick that caused everything. All I know is that, one night I went to bed as me and the next morning I woke up as Luke.

That night, Luke was doing his workout when I walked in to his room. I was trying to ask him if he could help me out something.

“What do you want twerp? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Suh—sorry Luke! I just wanted to get some help with—”

Before I could even ask him anything he got all angry with me and pushed me out of his room.

Then the next morning happened…

I remember waking up and feeling strange, but it wasn’t until I sat up and saw Luke’s big feet and hairy legs that I knew I wasn’t myself.

The next thing I noticed was Luke’s morning wood, i learned quickly that morning that he does not go to bed in PJs.

I looked down at the hard wiener amazed by its size, I touched it and it sent sparks through me.

It took me a second to fully focus but I eventually got up and went to the bathroom.

That’s where I realized that I am now my brother Luke.

Seeing Luke’s reflection in the mirror made me feel nervous and excited. I had so many questions.

But then I felt something for the first time, confident! I feel so confident in this body.

I stood in front of that mirror for awhile until I heard a loud voice hollering.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!”

I peak out of the bathroom door and saw my body rushing down the hallway angry.

But the second we made eye contact, he froze in one spot.

“Bradley… is that… are you me?,” he said to me.

“Yeah it’s me, are you Luke?” I asked him back.

I thought he was going to be nice to me for a second but nope!

Like charged down the hall and almost like he was going to lunge for me. Before he could get to the door, I quickly shut it which caused him to crash into it.

A locked the door, scared of what he was going to do. Then I remembered something, I’m the one with all of the strength now! I opened up the door and Luke was on the ground still trying to get back up.

“You little shit! You did this! I don’t know how but you did this!” he said to me.

All of the sudden, my dad came out of his room.

“Boys! What’s going on here?”

“Your son over here took my body!” said Luke.

“I didn’t take it Luke! I promise!! I’m just as confused as you,” I said crossing my now bigger arms.

“Can someone clue me in on what’s going on? And Luke can you please get some clothes on!”said my dad.

We sat down with him after I put on a pair of pants and explained what happened that morning.

He didn’t believe us at first but after a call with a speciality doctor, my dad’s eyes got wide and then he hung up.

“Boys, I’ve some good news and bad news.”

“What’s the good news?” said Luke.

“Well this is a rare situation to happen but you’re not the first ones ever. And you’re both physically fine other than uh… well.”

“Come on dad! What did they say? Are we stuck like this?”

“Well they want to run some test but that won’t happen until next week.”

“NEXT WEEK?!? BUT I GO ON MY BEACH TRIP NEXT WEEK!!”

“I’m sorry but you have to cancel Luke!”

“Fuuuuuuckkk this! I’m going upstairs!”

Luke stormed away from the table while I stayed back.

“Sorry bud that’s he’s so upset, you know it’s not directed at you right?”

“I guess so,” I said back.

“Do me a favor for right now, just stay clear of him for right now.”

“I promise I will!”

The next few days changed me a lot. It started out with Luke and I having to switch out all of our stuff. My dad wanted us to at least pretend to be each other for the time being so I got Luke’s room, clothes, even his cellphone (which made him the most mad).

I even learned a lot as well. Like how to work out, what being a 19 year old is like, my dad’s started to teach how to drive.

But what I find interesting is all of the things i like about my new self.

Like my new feet! I love the way they look, my dirty socks, the way they smell after a long workout— it makes me so hard!

I’ll take pictures of them and even put my face into them after a long day!

I also love my muscles! I feel so powerful with them!! Even my friends are into them.

Well once again, technically Luke’s friends. Specifically Seth, who I talk to everyday. We go back and forth sending pictures of ourselves. I think he likes me, a lot! I like him too, a lot lol.

He even told me last night.

Texts:

Seth: Dude, I wish you told me how you feel. I would have made a move a long time ago. But if you want to keep this on the DL, I’m cool with that. But as long as we have our fun on the beach trip.

Bradley: We are going to ALOT of fun on the trip I promise!

Seth: Well could you send me a little teaser? Maybe a body pic 😈

Bradley:

Seth: Hot!!🥵

Bradley: Do you like feet?

Seth: …

Seth: If I have to be honest, I’d never tell anyone else this but yes. I do indeed have a foot fetish.

Bradley: I took this one earlier 😎

Seth: Well since you’re showing off 😛

Bradley: You have really nice feet!

Seth: Oh do I? I’ll let you do anything with them on the trip.

Reading that text from Seth made me instantly hard!

I talked to him for a while and this morning but I’m so nervous to find out what’s going to happen!

Are they going to give me something that will put Luke and I back in our bodies? I can’t go to my body, not before I go on my trip with Seth!!

A knock was at the door.

“Bradley, can I come in?”

The doctor came in and I felt like I was about to puke!

“Hey, sorry that took a little bit. Your brother doesn’t seem that happy. How are you with all of this?”

“Me? Oh I’m good, just an adjustment.”

“Well you seem to be taking it better. You know this is very rare. Unfortunately, this is something so new even to us. I wish I could tell you things are going to be back to normal soon but…”

“Wait, are you saying this is forever?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say forever. I guess I’ll just go ahead and say it. This is a lab made disease that somehow got to either you or your brother. We don’t have a cure for it at this moment. So I’d highly advise you, your brother, and your father to try and make this your new normal for the time being.”

“Oh wow! I can’t believe it!”

“So you’re good to go—”

I hopped up and immediately went for the door. As I walk out, I see Luke with his head turned down.

“Hey, you okay?”

“No…”

“Well cheer up! That body isn’t so bad,” I say messing up my former hair.

“ Easy for you to say!”

“I’m sorry Luke but we are gong to have to accept this for now. Sides, I’ll be a good big brother to you. I promise.”

Luke looked up at me and for the first time in a while he had the tiniest smile.

Two Days Later:

“Flex on em Luke,” says Seth as he takes a picture of me.

I walk up to him and say, “You have the bigger muscles why don’t you show them off.”

He grins and says, “I only show them off for you.”

“Hey do you wanna sneak up real quick while none of the other boys notice?”

“I thought you would never ask!”

We run up the stairs and as soon as we’re out of eyesight Seth pulls me in and kisses me.

“Come on inside Luke, I’ll let you play with these piggies,” he says wiggling his toes in my face.

“Can you do that thing you did last night with them?”

“You want another foot job?”

“Yep!”

“Oh boy! You’re lucky you’re so cute!”

#body swap #male body swap #male tf #brothers

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painted-flag · 18 days ago

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OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 14: The Saphire

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.4k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under a canopy of stars, you forge a bridge of companionship with the elf king.

The soft light of the rising sun illuminated the tops of the rocky snow-capped mountains. The sun had not risen enough to shine on the meadow you were camped in, but the subtle light of the sky brushed the ground. Dew settled on the grass that moved with the breeze. The guards had woken up and made food. You broke your fast with them and enjoyed the calm small talk they provided. During that time, your eyes would occasionally glance over to Aemond’s tent, but he had yet to emerge.

After eating, you had begun a general sweep of the area. You had no idea what you were looking for, as your father’s notes were vague. All he mentioned was that the properties of Lake Rosemagne were rumoured for its healing capabilities. Whether or not those rumours were true, that had yet to be discovered. When you passed by a fallen and hollow log, you noticed some ground beetles scurrying about.

You had thought back to the promise you made with Helaena and crouched down. You pulled a small wooden box with holes from your bag and opened the lid. Your hands delicately picked two up and put them in the box. You closed the lid and slid the metal lock to secure it.

“I did not know beetles were used in healing,” Aemond’s voice, abrupt as it was, startled you. The box almost dropped from your hands. You placed it in your bag and stood up while brushing the skirt of your dress.

“No, your grace, they are not used in anything.” You clarified, “I promised Princess Helaena that I would catch anything that she may like. She mentioned these beetles many days ago during one of our lunches together.” You crossed your arms. Aemond looked at you, his eye filled with something soft and indecipherable.

“I was told we would be leaving on the morrow because you have duties to get back to. Forgive me, your grace, but why would you come along when you are so busy?” You questioned.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, “Well since you so easily snuck out of my castle, I thought it best that I come to make sure you don’t do it again. If you’ve slipped past my guard once, you could do it again.” You took in his words for a moment. The idea of sneaking into the woods was ridiculous, but it did leave a bit of satisfaction that it had managed to get under Aemond’s skin.

“Oh, so you do care if I stay?” You teased. You could have sworn you saw his eye roll, but you had begun to look down at your fidgeting hands. The conversation you had with Aemond the evening prior had played in your head countless times as you had tried to go to sleep. It was another instance of a conversation with him turning sour. That seemed to be a common habit, whatever words the two of you exchanged had an equal chance of becoming venomous or ending well.

“Only for you to fulfill your end of the deal. A year of looking for a cure and then you can go.” Aemond said. You nodded and then moved to watch the water.

“Do not worry, you won’t have to tolerate me for much longer with how well things are going. I’ll be out of your way soon.” You reassured him. It was true. If things went as swiftly as they were going, with your access to the elf’s resources and their wisdom and help, a cure seemed tangible in the near future. You may even be looking at a window of time shorter than the year you were granted. When you had originally taken the offer, you thought a year was not nearly enough time, but now that had changed.

“I suppose you will.” Aemond’s tone had dropped and he took on a contemplative face. He then straightened his back and spoke, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Aemond had gone back to his tent. You had waited for a moment, wondering if he was going to stay there for the day. His explanation as to why he came with you did not add up. If he was worried you would sneak away, why was he avoiding you so much?

There was no point in trying to understand him. Even if you somehow lived as long as elves, you doubted you could ever come to understand him in that time. No amount of conversation could unwrap the enigma, so you decided to go about your day.

It had been hours spent, collecting an array of samples. Everything from blades of grass to the twigs of branches from trees that lined the meadow were collected. Since you were only there for a day, you knew you had to get as much as you could.

Just as the sun had begun to wane, you kneeled in front of the water with some empty vials. You filled six of them and corked the tops. You held one up to the light and watched the swirling of a bunch of minerals in the water. They shimmered in the light. You then put them securely in a bag and got up. You made the walk back to camp which was only a short while from the lake. Some of the guards were sitting around the fire and eating.

You stopped by the cart and placed your samples in one of the bigger chests. Once that was all done, you approached one of the logs by the fire. Four logs formed a square-like formation. Elias scooted over to let you sit and you joined him. He handed you a bowl of stew that you took gratefully.

The sun went down over a few hours. The elves swapped stories as you watched on with rapt attention. There was always underlying wisdom within their tales, no matter how ridiculous or even downright raunchy they became.

One by one the guards each retreated into their shared tent to rest. Once it was down to you and Elias, he shuffled to the side to give you more space.

You had been watching the fire when he spoke up, “Do you think a cure can be made?” His question caught you off guard and you looked to him. The stars had come out and the fire and moon provided the only light. You could see the reflection of the flames dancing across his face.

“Of course I do.” You answered.

“I… my wife is expecting. I don’t want my kids to be born into a world that is dying.” Elias admitted. He fidgeted with his hands, pulling on his fingers.

You adjusted in your seat, “That won’t happen.” You were firm in your words. There was a way out, there had to be a way out. For multiple millennia, there had been things thrown at the world. Terrible events that none thought would be overcome. Yet, here the world remained. Continuing on and on, with no end in sight. Those previous perils were defeated, why should this be any different?

“I hope so.” Elias patted his thighs and sighed. He stood up and faced you, “That does it for the day. Don’t stay up too late.” He nodded to you and then approached the guard's tent.

You continued to sit on the log and watch the fire. Crickets chirped and it was mixed with the sound of croaking frogs. You listened to the noise, taking in the sight around you. Everything was calm and you again pulled out Lyra’s doll. You were stuck looking at it and processing her passing. Those days you had spent locked in your room were not healing, nor did it aid in your grief. It had been nothing but nonexistence – trailing from one hour to the next.

Here, away from the kingdom and other obligations, you could finally breathe.

The abrupt passing of Lyra had you reflecting on your own life. Back to your humble life with your father in the capital. That when he disappeared, you had to learn to take care of yourself. He had left you enough money to cover food and other needs, but only for a short period. You had come to know what hunger was really like. It was by some miracle you had managed to make it to a village on the outskirts and settle. Even then, you were not as stable as one would like.

While you were looking at the doll, Aemond emerged from his tent and sat down on the log adjacent to yours. You could see his blue eye observe the depths of the flames. For a moment, it was silent.

“When you found my sister, injured on the borders, you helped her despite the great possibility of death,” Aemond spoke softly, “Why?” There was quiet contemplation across his face. He seemed to be going through some moment of clarity. The foundations of whatever he previously thought of you were shaking, yet you could not understand why.

You wanted to tell him everything, you wanted him to tell you everything. Damn the distance, damn all preconceived notions you had of one another. You wanted nothing but a complete reset, a possibility to connect.

“My whole life, I have struggled to find a purpose. If there is anything I can do right, that is healing. She needed help… and I could give it to her. Why should I not?” You spoke. Aemond moved his gaze from the fire to you, but you had already looked back down at the doll in your hands. You could not look at him, you were scared of what you would say if you did.

He did not speak, so you continued, “I did not think it would lead to me coming to your kingdom. It was scary, at first. But your people have given me something I have not had for a while. A home. I just did not expect to lose someone…”

Out of the corner of your field of vision, Aemond was looking at you. It was obvious, from your hold on the doll, that you were still in that uncomfortable state of mourning where all a person was filled with was regret. In the distance, an owl called out as the crickets rose in volume.

“I promised to take her on an adventure. I don’t know why… as a healer I should know not to do that. But she was so innocent and broken.” Perhaps, in her fragile state, you had seen yourself reflected in the glassy orbs of her eyes. Lyra was a reflection of you, or more accurately, a reflection of you before the disappearance of your father. A time when all you had was your innocence.

“You care.” Aemond seemed to have had an epiphany at that moment, his mouth slightly agape, “You care about my kind…” Anger flared in you at his comment. Had he not seen, the whole time you had been there, that caring was all you did? Your work with the cure, with the patients, connecting with other elves including his family. It was all because you did care, more than you have ever in your life.

“I care?” Your grip on the doll tightened as you finally looked at him. You met his soft gaze with hostility, “Do you still think so little of me after all this time? Have I not proven myself?”

Silence settled between you two. That seemed to be a habit lately, though the silence was not uncomfortable. There was a connection there that you two shared. Isolation of sound gave way to a deeper understanding. You had observed him in that moment. Your eyes traced the curve of his jaw, and the pursing of his lips, and moved along the scar to settle on the thick leather patch that covered whatever was underneath.

You quickly turned away, suddenly ashamed at staring so unabashedly at it. You had managed not to do that your entire stay there, largely out of fear that he may lash out at you for it. You gazed back into the fire.

“It’s a sapphire.” Aemond suddenly spoke.

You put your attention back on him, “What?”

“The eye that I lost. I replaced it with a sapphire,” The roles had reversed and Aemond had a difficult time looking at you, so he turned his gaze back onto to fire, “You were looking.”

You tilted your head slightly but made no move to comment. How many people had been privy to this knowledge? From your time in the kingdom, he had never taken it off. When you had first met Aegon, the topic of Aemond’s eye had come up, but he had brushed it away with underlying hostility. If it was such a sensitive topic, why had Aemond revealed it to you?

“You want to know how it happened.” It was not a question, but a flat sentence that seemed hesitant to come out from his lips. You continued to watch him, scanning his lithe form as it sat on a log. He was not dressed up in his finery but simply wore boots, pants, and a thin white shirt. The top half of his hair was not collected into a tie at the back, but fell loosely over his shoulders and down his back. The strands looked soft and caught the orange haze of the fire.

You swallowed some saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “I would be a liar if I said I was not curious and I will not lie to you.”

Aemond looked up for a moment, “It was before the Great War.” He lowered his head again as if it would shelter him from the memories that likely pushed to the forefront of his mind.

“You need not tell me this.” His growing discomfort had begun to rub off on you. You did not know if he had been drinking, that this instance might be a lapse of judgement in his muddled perception of reality as the alcohol took hold. However, there was no indication that he had.

“You want to know,” Aemond said plainly.

“Not at your expense.” You whispered. It was barely heard above the sound of the environment and the fire, but Aemond whipped his head in your direction as if you had yelled it. Your words were a quiet revelation to him that you indeed did not carry complete hate towards him like you had led him to believe.

“It was a human that did it.” His words felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you. It was like those moments between sleep and awake when the world was hazy and made no sense until the final wave of energy hit you and everything sharpened into focus. The coming of the dawn, the rising of the birds, it all made sense to you.

His perception of you made sense; the one that he had voiced to you the morning after your first party in the library.

All humans are a threat.

For him, you were just another version of the person who dealt him irreparable damage and unquestionable violence.

“He was a prince from your kingdom,” The way he had said it was almost accusatory, “Our people had been allies. I thought of the Prince Lucerys as a friend, perhaps a brother…” The way he spoke the man’s name sent a shiver down your spine. It was an intense portrayal of animosity, a loathing monster lurking in a forest of broken trust.

“I had just become king, but still so young. My people were still weakened from my father’s death and it was treated as an opportunity by your kind.” His grip on his thighs tightened and you could almost see the memories themselves through the glossy film of his eye. “I had woken up that night to him above me, dagger in hand. I… I tried to fight him but,” His words fell short. You watched him ball his hands into fists, shaking ever so slightly. Either from fear or anger, that much was unclear.

“Why are you telling me this?” You whispered. You had leaned over in your seat during his recounting of events, attention rapt with both horror and curiosity. Aemond then faced you for the first time since his confession and you could not help but look at the scar on his face. A symbol of betrayal and violence, what should be a mark of a monster, was truly just a blow dealt to a scared child.

It was not elf King Aemond Targaryen who sat by you, but a scared little boy broken in countless ways.

“If you think to betray me or my people, get it over with so we can avoid the pain.” You understood that what he truly meant was that he could avoid the pain. What you did not account for was the possibility that, perhaps, he is still just as prone to unwavering naive trust as he was as a child. It was clear that he had some form of a degree of trust and even camaraderie with you. That the thought of you committing such an act against him would be another scar upon himself.

He had been waiting for you to hover above him, dagger in hand, and prepared to even the score.

“You are not what people say you are.” Your voice acted like a balm for him and you could see Aemond visibly relax. “You are not a monster.” You knew he could sense the double meaning of your words. That his actions were not monstrous, but most importantly, that he did not look like one. You did not doubt that the scar had led him to feel deficient in many parts of his life. Which, in your whole honesty, was a complete lie. To think that someone could glance at that face and shrink away was nearly insane.

Aemond’s shoulders sagged and you could have melted under the intensity of his gaze. The softness, the sheer dedication of reverence. There was a thick gloss that reflected in his eye and even now you could see that he was holding back. It was all too much.

“And you are not like the other humans… you care.”

You wanted to move over and get closer to him. To feel if he was warmer than the fire; if the swirling ocean in his eye was worth it to sail. You cursed the distance between you two. Now, when you were speaking and had gotten closer than ever before, he still felt far. With each time you two connected it was always the opposite. When you were arguing, you were always physically close and could feel his heat, but when you two were getting along, he seemed so impossibly far.

It was an odd form of cruelty that you each imposed upon one another.

“Do you think,” You began but hesitated, “Do you think we can be friends?” Your heart thumped against your ribcage. That you had even asked such a question had your mind racing. Would this attempt be successful? Or, if anything, will he see this as a threat for getting too close?

Aemond appeared almost shocked and his back straightened. His eye squinted, full of uncertainty. “You want to be friends… with me?”

“Yes.” You decided to take the risk and moved to sit by him. Everything felt slow like your senses were pushing to delay this moment; to lock it in your memory and keep it forever. You raised your hand, which elicited an almost imperceptible flinch from him. You slowed your movement and rested your hand on one of his that had been balled up tightly on his thigh.

It was like a damn broke and his hand opened up to receive yours. You could feel the heat of his skin and the callouses that littered the pads from endless training. There were a few scars that littered it, each line spread out like randomized patches of flowers in a field. They were beautiful to you. He was beautiful to you.

You did not care that you were in too deep anymore. If you could know him, really know him, if just for under a year – you could carry that with you for life. Your fingers slotted between his and he squeezed your hand.

Aemond had looked back to the fire, now slowly dying out, and spoke just barely, “Friends.”

It was there, fingers intertwined, that both your souls rested together as you bathed in the light of once-unspoken words.

Chapter 15: Know Your Enemies Preview

A hand waved in front of your vision. You had not even acknowledged how your vision had gotten blurry in your moment of thinking. Aegon was crouched down, a crinkle prominent between his eyebrows as his face was morphed with worry.

“Come back down to the ground here. Shit, did I break you?” Aegon shook your shoulders gently and his voice dropped to a near incomprehensible whisper, “Gods, Aemond will kill me.”

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ataraxiaspainting · 10 months ago

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pretending to be dead in front of hxh yans. because why the hell not?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and implied violence.

Word Count: 900. (this was only supposed to be 400 😭)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

Chrollo will know right away. There is no doubt about that. Even if he was in another room and just happened to walk in through the doorway as you flopped on the floor like a fish.

He will probably hit you up with a "Darling, get up or we won't go to the museum tonight" or something like that. He likes using this carrot and stick technique quite a lot, but with his own spin on it using his manipulation tactics. He will lure you in with a reward for behaving yourself or take something away when you are bad.

If you continue this charade despite his threats, he will attempt to entertain you for a bit. Maybe he pokes you with the end of an umbrella or something, or mockingly weeps your supposed death. Eventually this will annoy you so much you will surrender.

His response is directly proportional to why you did this. Did you do it for attention? He will gladly give it to you, with reading to you and handfeeding you your favorite food, still warm from its takeout box, or maybe he even attempted to make it himself (though, if the dish doesn't come out as planned, as his perfectionism is a huge part of him, he will throw it out before you even find out he cooked something in the first place).

Did you do it so he would actually think you are dead so you could sneak off to freedom? Well, expect him to tease you about it from this point forward, but nothing serious happens. Unless you attempt to attack him and actually prevail, usually his punishments are bare to none.

Nobunaga

Nobunaga is many things. Being in touch with reality is definitely not one of them. He already sees you as a fragile little baby, so trying to play dead in front of him will cause him to have a panic attack of sorts.

He believes your entire act, as bad as you were doing it. He cries and caresses you in his arms. His crusty, dry lips, unholy body odor, and his utterly disgusting breath will be the only reasons you will ever reveal your cover.

He reacts to you being alive as horribly as you expect. He will start yelling at you, scolding you like a toddler who snuck into the cookie jar and not a captive trying to get back to society once more. If he was already in a somewhat bad mood, like you rejected his advances for the umpteenth time, and he got annoyed at you playing "hard to get" again, expect to even be sent to bed without dinner or dessert. Horrifying, right?

But, then again, dinner is always raw or burnt. You are sometimes convinced Nobunaga is trying to poison you to further immobile you, so you won't attempt to escape further. Maybe this whole playing dead thing was successful, in its own way? You would rather eat pebbles than the halfway cooked rice Nobunaga puts in your pink plastic plate.

Feitan

Feitan just stares at you, not blinking. He already knows what you are trying to do. He already has a staring problem, observing everything you do, from drawing to looking outside the small, barred window in your room, so his reaction, in all honesty, does not surprise you one bit.

He will just go about his day. Feitan is an expert on the human body, being the Troupe's lead torturer and all, so he knows the difference from when you are faking being sick (or in this case dead) from when you are actually sick (a possibility from both the escape attempts and the fact that Feitan's little cabin in the middle of the woods has no heat or air conditioner. He says he does not need it, so he does not recognize it as a problem).

As always, he says nothing. He only sees this as a little bit of a tantrum you're having, and lets you have your way for once. When you eventually give up or when he has had enough of watching you, he'll leave the room to do something else.

But nothing bad happens to you, shockingly. But there is major emphasis on to you. If you have refused to admit defeat, he'll torture yet another poor unfortunate soul in his basement, their screams much louder than usual, and you will break at one point or another, either asking Feitan to stop or going to your room to put your pillow (which can also be a weapon with how hard it is) over your ears.

Machi

Machi, similar to two of the three assfarts, knows exactly what you are doing. But, like Nobunaga, she still worries, although she does not show it, and she also scolds you.

But, unlike the rest of them, she tries to listen to you after she shakes you into revealing yourself. She wants to know why you did that. If you say to try to escape from her, her heart will be broken once again.

Machi may not be the most emotionally understanding, but she does in fact try, although what she does after this incident is largely the opposite of what you wanted to happen. Even though her intentions are good, in her opinion. She will become more present in your life, bringing home more gifts for you and trying to hug you whenever you ask, although she will never initiate it herself.

She hopes you won't do that again. She'll tell you as such. She was not trying to manipulate you with the increase in gifts and consensual touches, but you will feel so bad you won't attempt such a thing from that point forward.

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dawnoftime22 · 3 months ago

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guitar session.

| T.S

Warnings: Tay being a little sick, R being the teensiest lonely/anxious but getting reassurance, R singing and playing guitar

Summary: One day, Taylor gets home and finds a heartwarming surprise waiting for her in the music room. But even with the sweet surprise, she gets concerned for you of your time without her.

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: fluff! hurt/comfort(?)

A/N: parts of this were made with this is me trying on repeat so that may be why you can expect a little bit of sadness here and there, but, enjoy lovelies<3

| Started on 27/10/2023, 2:59 PM |

| Finished on 29/08/2024, 11:46 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

"Even if something thats good still ends up coming with the bearing of bad news, know that its okay to relieve yourself of it and be sad or anxious, or anything, even just a little bit of emotion aside from happiness. Don't keep it all in."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was a warm cozy day as you sat in your home, feeling awfully bored. The house was quiet and empty aside from the cats, and all you've been doing is sitting at the couch within the living room.

You had changed spots, changed positions, and tried different things; watching tv, or reading a book, but it all seemed to turn out as gray looking as the clouds that started to loom outside your window.

It was almost lonely, to say the least.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you stared at the ceiling. But upon decision, you start to get up, moving with a slow pace to get your feet back on the floor, although getting your vision blacked out by dizziness when you stand anyway.

You blink the fuzziness away before you walk, taking in a breath to steady yourself. Since there were signs of an oncoming storm, with there not even showing a glimpse of the sunset through the sky, you had to go through the house within a bit of darkness.

The lights click on with a flick of the light switches you pass by, and you close the curtains along with them too. You were doing the usual nighttime routine, although, for now, without your favorite blonde.

You were about to go in the last room when you realize it was the music room, and you pause in your tracks. A part of you wished that there were sounds of Taylor's singing, the gentle strum of her guitar, or her piano as you stood by, but there was nothing but the rain pattering outside, and a lightning striking that caused you to jump.

Exhaling a breath, you shook your head, holding your heart slightly. Your feet brings you to the door, and your hand reaches up to turn on another light, this one orange and dim; a perfect warm room for her to make her music in.

A smile raises up on your face as you walked in, taking in the sighting. Her guitar was propped up against the couch, left there by her last session.

You could remember it clearly. She was sat, not on the couch, but on the floor. It was in the middle of the night, up until you appeared at the doorway of the room.

She had left it there and stood up, going towards you in concern of whether she had awoken you, but you were only missing her from the cold sheets. And now you were missing her as her presence wasn't here.

It was only last night, and you couldn't shake off how real her love felt in the way she had instantly got up, checking on you and giving you the embrace of her arms. You didn't mind the night session much really, you even spent a little time in this room with her until she invited you back to the bedroom.

Your fingers brush over the head of the guitar, feeling the dips and edges until you reach the tuning pegs. But of course you don't mess with them. There were fingerprints on the wood, ones only being Taylor's.

The piano was over just beside you, and your gaze lingered on it for a moment, but then you pick up the guitar.

You made sure to handle it carefully as you sat down on the couch, putting one of your hands over the fretboard and the other on the guitar's body.

As Taylor had played many times before you with this exact guitar, you try strumming down with your thumb. The strings echoes its sound easily, although a wince lightly crosses your face when you accidentally hit some of the metal strings with your nails rather than your skin, eliciting a sharper noise rather than the sound of raw skin.

You tested it and did some light playing for a few moments before you soon pull out your phone, starting to search up guitar tutorials on the internet. It didn't take long for you to end up stumbling upon one of your girlfriend's songs, and your eyes brighten at the finding.

The video plays, and the chords were onscreen. You follow it, needing to pause every couple of minutes so you can follow along without difficulty.

The pads of your fingers were marked with several lines of the guitar strings whenever you lifted them off, having pressed on them and getting the smallest sting, but you tried to not mind it.

Once you've got the hang of the song's playthrough with the guitar, you finally try to add some singing to it, going slower as it was harder to play and sing at the same time.

The quiet room was filled by only your voice and the strumming of the guitar, and you were gradually getting used to the rhythm, multitasking the use of both your voice and your fingers on the fretboard.

The couch started to get more uncomfortable, so you decide to sit on the floor, your comfort levels returning back as your back meets the couch. Taylor was right all this time. And to think you had questioned her all along whenever you saw her sitting on the floor.

Time passes by, and even the rain had started to calm down a little, letting you take over the noise in the atmosphere-- although the crickets were still keeping with their own singing outside.

You hadn't even noticed the sound of a car or the front door of the house opening as you practiced...

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The blonde gently closes the door, clicking the lock back to keeping security of your shared home. Just for a moment, she leans back against the door, closing her eyes and relishing in the warm feeling of home.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh of relief, opening her eyes once more. She was finally home, back to where she's wanted to be at all day long. Her shoes and socks were quietly slid off from her now aching feet, and her keys rattle slightly as she gently puts them off to a nearby table.

Taylor's gaze move over to the living room space and the kitchen, but upon seeing nothing, she decides to simply go upstairs instead, glancing back at the couch to make sure you weren't hidden, laid down there.

Her hair, and, nearly her entire being was wet from the rain outside, so all she wanted really, was a shower and a warm cuddle with you.

But she stops right at the last step of the stairs, a distinct sound catching her ears. Her eyebrows furrow, and she grows wary, but she goes up fully to the second floor, getting closer to where the noise was coming from.

"But you're just so cool, run your hands through your hair"

"Absentmindedly makin' me want you!"

She could just barely identify it, a voice and guitar strumming-- her mind was starting to think she could perhaps even be imagining things. She's been singing the whole day, so it would only make sense.

When she steps closer and closer, the soft melody was getting even clearer. It was coming from the music room, and she stares at it, seeing that the door was wide open and the lights were on.

Her heart beats a little faster in anticipation of what scene might greet her, but a small smile starts to slowly grow on her face. She can recognize that it was your voice.

When she finally arrived to the doorway, she sees you.

There you were, in the most cozy and peaceful form, sitting on the floor like she usually does. She guessed you had gotten just as uncomfortable as she was, and she smiles wider, much more on the fact that you were in her music room, holding her guitar, and singing her song.

She could feel her heart melting entirely, and the weight on her shoulders from the work she's had were starting to fade away from her. You weren't facing her, so you didn't even notice her standing by the doorway.

"And I don't know how it gets better than this." Your voice held happiness, purely out of the proudness that you had achieved to learn the song, and you were nodding your head to the rhythm.

"You take my hand and drag me headfirst, fearless!" The way you moved showed that you were deep into the music, and she shakes her head. She didn't even know you could sing so well, but oh, you could. It just about made her fall in love with you even further, if that was even possible anymore since her heart was already overflowing with love for you.

"And I don't know why but with you, I'd dance, in a storm in my best dress, fearless..." you finish off your singing, only starting to strum the guitar for the instrumental part, going freely.

She bits her lip, then takes a step forward. "I like your singing." She says suddenly, her voice cutting through the sound of the guitar and making you jump slightly, your strumming stopping as your head turns around quickly, only to see Taylor standing there with a smile.

"Oh!...You're home," you say, your voice now a little quieter than your singing as your cheeks flushed, your hands relaxing on the guitar.

"I...got bored so I-- um, I picked up your guitar," you stammered out slightly, gesturing to the instrument in your lap as you gaze up at her.

"I hope you don't mind," you add in quickly, and your eyes follow the way she smiled wider with a small chuckle, going forward to sit on the couch behind you.

"Baby, you can grab it anytime...but I didn't know you played?" She says curiously and thoughtfully, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks down at you, seeing the pinkish tint on your face turn into a shade of red.

"I don't, I...just learned it," you reply, gently putting the guitar on the floor, facing up before you turn your body to look at her properly, resting your head against her leg.

Her face only held soft happiness and pride as she gazes back at you, her heart about to jump out her chest. "Well, you did an amazing job, sweetheart. Especially playing that song when its raining," she says, adding in the expression of her hand, reaching out to boop your nose slightly, and you scrunch it up at the touch.

Your facial expressions go back to a normal gentler face, and you look over her appearance, noticing the raindrops on her hair, and her shirt and jacket slightly having wetness on them. "Speaking of it, you're covered in rain, baby. What happened?" You ask with concern, your hand going to rest on her knee.

She purses in her lips and her eyes move to her own appearance. "Just a little...the wind threw my umbrella off balance..." she says softly under her breath, a pink blush fading into her face. Then, her eyes glide to you.

"Were you the one who initiated the rain by playing Fearless? Because if so, I'm blaming you," she says playfully, pointing to you. Your lips raise up into a smile and you giggled, shaking your head.

"Well, you're the one who took the lyrics literally, except without me," you replied back, reaching out to give a gentle tug to the hem of her jacket she was wearing; possibly the only thing keeping her warm.

She chuckles at your playful statement, then tilts her head. "I also didn't dance in the rain or quite in the best dress..." she says, gesturing to herself.

You smile lovingly up at her. "No, but you look pretty anyway," you whispered, taking her hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Then, another thought came into your mind, and you get concerned once more. "You don't have a cold, do you?" you ask suddenly, your eyebrows furrowing.

"No, I'm fine, baby." She shook her head quickly, giving you a reassuring smile to play it off. The quickness of it was almost suspicious.

"You're sure?" you ask, raising a conspicuous eyebrow as you looked over her appearance. She was shivering ever so slightly, and her nose was red.

"Mhm." She nods, giving you a hum for an answer, but then a small sneeze escapes her as she turns her body to the side, sneezing into the arch of her elbow.

She takes a breath in, and opens her eyes again when it felt like the sneeze had faded. When she sees the concerned questionable look on your face, she smiles shyly. "Maybe just a teensy bit..." she whispers.

"Teensy bit?" you repeat her last two words with a gentle pinch of air with your index finger and thumb, smiling wider at her as you rested your head against your now folded arms on the couch.

She found the sight of you adorable at the moment, and she lets out a small giggle at your gesture, but then bit her lip, wanting to get warmer. "Can I just have cuddles now...?" she asks softly, and you had the chance to do the most playfully mischevious thing.

"Mmmmm, no, I don't wanna get sick," you teased, turning your head away from her and leaning back with your hand getting off the couch, as if you were trying to get away from her.

She pouted in response, her hands now stretching out to reach your shoulders before you could go any further. "Please?" she whispers.

Your fingers curled back down on the couch, and you smiled at her small pout in the corner of your eye, finding it adoring. You glance back at her once more before standing.

"I was kidding. Of course you can...once you take a bath," you say with a chuckle, not wanting her to be sleeping in wet clothes and being uncomfortable from the lingering rain on her body and face.

"Yay," she says under her breath, throwing her arms up as her pout easily faded away into a smile.

"Come here, sweetheart," you say softly, gently taking her hands and pulling her up while she was also moving to stand by herself, a balance of a loving act.

Once she gets up entirely, she instantly wraps her arms around you, burying her face into your chest. Your lips softly curled up at her quickness, and you instinctively go to return her embrace, warming her cold body up.

"I missed you..." she murmurs into your shirt, tightening her arms around you as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

You tilt your head, brushing your nose lightly against her blonde hair. "I missed you even more." you whispered softly, your voice filled with love and sincerity, and the room held all the comfort of your shared sweetness.

Once you pull back from the long comforting embrace, you slip one of your hand into hers, but picked up her guitar that you had left on the floor, delicately moving to put it back on its stand.

"How was your day, baby?" she asks, seeing you return your focus to her and putting a gentle kiss to the side of her head, making her smile softly.

"It was okay...a little lonely though," you murmured, turning off the light in the room, then having your gaze on the floor as you walked in the halls with her.

Her smile falters a little, and the hand she has intertwined with yours squeezed you gently. "I'm sorry sweetheart..." she whispers, leaning closer to your side.

You give her a gentle assuring smile. "Its okay, at least now I've gained a new hobby by being bored," you say, brushing your shoulder against hers, but her expressions held concern and a small frown.

"It doesn't excuse the fact that you felt lonely..." she quietly says, her mind going over her thoughts as she focuses her eyes to the path of your bedroom. She had been so caught on the show she had today, that she forgot to even bring out her phone from the private room during her breaks.

"I'll text you more while I'm away," she assures, turning her head to catch your reaction to her words, her thumb caressing over the back of your hand.

Your eyes meet hers, and it was surely visible that you had the smallest anxious battle ongoing inside you, but you purse your lips. "It's okay, really, but...thank you." You shake your head, both of you arriving to your shared bedroom that already had the lights and fan on.

You squeeze her hand before letting go, going to the closet to grab her some clothes for her to change into after cleaning up. She bit her lower lip, gazing at you.

"Hey." she breathes out, quietly, but holding the smallest bit of firmness to get your attention, and you pause in your search of clothes, looking back at her.

She lets out a gentle breath, taking steps forward to be closer to you, and wrap her arms around you. "Don't forget to text me too, okay?" she whispers, holding gentle eye contact with you to make sure you were listening.

You stay quiet for just a small moment, but the visible fraction of a breath you released only showed that you had a realization, and you gave her a nod. "I'm sorry I didn't," you whispered back, making her features soften.

"No, honey, it's okay. I'm sorry I didn't either," she reassures you softly. The shake of her head caused your noses to brush, the close proximity you both held not giving much space. But of course, neither of you minded.

"I love you," she says under her breath, softer than ever. Her voice held more emotion than it did before, and her hand reaches up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing.

You tried to hold back the emotions bubbling in your throat, and you nod again, a soft smile raising on your face. "I love you more," you whispered, leaning in for your lips to meet.

"You're gonna get spammed with cat videos," you add, lightening the situation with a gentle joke, and she breathes out a chuckle, nuzzling against your nose.

"Good," she whispers, sliding her hand to your back and rubbing it up and down in a soothing motion; one that only made you lean into her embrace, fingers furling into her shirt as she continued assuring you.

Afterwards, you got her into a nice warm bath, helping her clean up and decompress after work, then relax with her once she had gotten into comfier clothes; such as your hoodie, and soon had fallen asleep together in each other's embrace.

--------------

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shiny-jr · 2 years ago

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♥ damnation [ the king of hearts ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover, Riddle Rosehearts.

– Note: Decided to try a new type of look with the formatting here, thought it would be a good opportunity since I used the original formatting I usually use with the original announcement post. Okay, so, here is one of currently three and what will eventually be seven results from my damnation project, which I’ll link below. Lots of content for y’all. I wanted to put all three results in one post, but that would be so annoying for readers because the post would end up ridiculously long. Which is why I opted to separate the results. Anyways, I’m also posting these here for those who do not want to take my quiz (please try it, I worked hard on it!) or just can’t get the result they want from it. So, here it is.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The King of Hearts | The Hyena Chieftain

Robes. You were wearing robes of the finest quality that weighed heavily on your shoulders. This surface you laid on felt... nice. Soft, nothing like the hard bench of the prison cell. As you sat up and recalled your current dire situation, you felt a sense of dread loom overhead like a thick blanket of gray clouds. Immediately, fearfully, you scanned your surroundings. Everything was painted red, there was so much red velvet. The floors were polished checkered black and white and the furniture, if not completely red, was crafted of finely carved wood. It was fancy here. Safe, for now. Wherever this place was.

There was something hefty on your head, only noticing its weight settling on your skull as you moved to stand up from the crimson red sheets on the king-sized mattress. As you removed the item from your head, you were perplexed to see a small golden crown and a heart-shaped staff beside the spot you had laid on. Wait just a moment... red everywhere? A fancy setting? A crown and a heart-shaped staff? Rapidly you dashed over to the mirror just beside the bed, gasping at your appearance.

You were dressed just like royalty. And not just any royalty, like a king. A king of red with a heart-shaped staff... Just like the meek king that was married to the ruthless Queen of Hearts from the fairytales. So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... you were the king. How did the story go again?

The Red Queen, or Queen of Hearts, ruled over Wonderland with an iron fist. She would behead anyone who got in her way, and her reign terrorized the residents of the realm. That is, until Alice fell down a hole and arrived in Wonderland. She would eventually free this land from the oppressive rein of the queen. As for the king... what happened to him again? He didn't really appear in the story. You wracked your memory for an answer, when the horrid realization came to you. The Red Queen had been so terribly jealous and suspected that her husband was cheating, that she had him beheaded! His head left to rot as it floated in a river of blood, surrounded by the heads of other victims, and the king's lifeless head still with the crown. He had died before Alice even arrived in Wonderland!

You clutched your neck, grimacing at the thought of your own detached head, crown still attached, doomed to sail in a moat of blood. It made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. There had to be a way to prevent your death, or at least stall for time, but how? The king couldn't just up and run away! People would take notice immediately, someone would inform the queen, and you'd be a goner for sure! But then what? You couldn't kill her either, could you...? It certainly was an idea. You would be doing a favor for the rest of Wonderland too...

THUMP!

Abruptly the doors flew open, nearly causing you to shriek. But you managed to hold your tongue as you quickly placed your crown back on and clutched your staff. When your eyes focused on the door, you were surprised and almost relieved to see the figure of a short young man that had slammed the doors open. He was... rather adorable, actually. It caused you to tilt your head, endeared by his appearance.

The young man had hair that shamed the red roses, and wide gray eyes. As soon as his eyes landed on you, however, his face grew flush and his expression twisted into one of rage. Immediately he slammed the doors shut behind him, stomping up to you, his heels violently clicking against the tiled floors. When the short young man was in your face, another horrible realization dawned on you. With that crown on his head and his wondrous red garbs, this could only be the queen. Or at least, someone meant to be the red queen.

“You knave! Where have you been lurking?!”

“I…” You were at a loss for words. What were you supposed to say? What was the king even doing before you got here? Most importantly, how would you avoid this queen’s wrath?

At your lack of a response, he only seemed to grow more frustrated as he threw wild accusations, “You–– You’ve been sneaking about, seducing the men of my court, haven’t you?! I shall have your head––!”

“Wha–– N-No, I haven’t!” You blurted out. The king was originally beheaded because the queen was jealous and thought she would lose him to others. So if you could assure him that your heart belonged to him, well… survival just might be possible. Although acting wasn’t necessarily your strong point, you could only try for the sake of living another day. Nervously you smiled, throwing aside your staff as you lifted your hands to gently hold his fist he had been angrily waving near your face. Thank god he didn’t have a knife or anything of the sort, or you feared he may have tried to stab you out of raging envy. “How could I ever dare to throw my loyalty to you away…? You are amazing…! I apologize sincerely if I haven’t been able to express my love for you properly. Sometimes it feels like you’re really too much for my heart to handle, you in all your… glory…!” Oh god, this was going terribly. All you could do to give the messy act a bow to top it off, was lean your head down and hesitantly kiss the back of his hand.

Miraculously, that seemed to work. Almost. The queen’s face was no longer as flushed, but he gazed down at you as you lingered at his hand. Suspicion was still evident in his eyes. “How do I know?”

“H-Huh…?”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? How do I know you won’t leave me as well? How do I know that you still love me? Prove it to me.” Those gray eyes of his watched you carefully, seemingly unhappy with your lack of a response. After about five seconds of no answer, his face scrunched up and he bellowed, “Guards!! Gua–– mmph!”

Not knowing what else to do, you kissed him. He wanted a sign of devotion, right? Oh god, this was it. Your death was here and now. You had no other way to shut him up. If you covered his mouth with your hands, you were a goner. If you attacked him, you were a goner. If you tried to continue reasoning, you were still a goner! You can’t believe that this was how you died, having to kiss a stranger as your last desperate attempt to stay alive. Well, he wanted a sign. You were ready for him to push you off and armored guards come running in to drag you to the guillotine, when the most unexpected thing happened. He froze, he didn’t fight back or scream bloody murder.

When you slowly pulled away, you were stunned. His face was flush again, but for an entirely different reason other than anger. There was a dazed look on his face, and it almost looked as if he wanted to do it again judging by how he gazed longingly at your lips. It was then you understood that your reckless decision making might’ve just saved your neck.

The red ruler frowned, but you were unsure if it was because he was unsatisfied with something or if it were for another reason entirely. This time, when he opened his mouth, he spoke softly, as if still dazed. “You scoundrel… How dare you play with my heart like this? I should still take your head for that.” You gulped, but he continued. “But… I truly didn’t want to get rid of you. So I’m glad we can avoid that now. I expect to see you well away from the noblemen.”

“Y-Yes… Your Majesty.”

At your obedient response, he smiled and patted your head. “Good.” Taking one step closer, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your cheek. He lingered there for a few moments, before taking one step back.

The action left you flustered, embarrassed, because not only had you kissed a stranger but they had kissed you in return. And not only that, this crimson ruler believed you were his partner, the king! Under normal circumstances, you would’ve considered yourself lucky to land in such a position since the king has so much power and wealth. But in this type of situation, you can only shudder to think of what may come next and what would’ve become of you. Because these were no ordinary circumstances, and this was no normal kind ruler.

“Come along now. I don’t want you alone, do you understand?”

“Yes… Your Majesty.”

He beckoned you towards the very doors he entered from, and when he opened them, you were met with another character. It was a tall man with glasses and short messy dark green hair. Immediately he bowed to the queen, but when his eyes landed on you, he looked as if he saw a ghost.

“Change of plans, Trey. We will not be beheading my king today. Nor tomorrow, I think. They’ve become quite affectionate, so my doubts have been dismissed.”

“O-Of course, Your Majesty…” The glass-wearing man, Trey, glanced over at you with disbelief, but he looked a bit relieved, it’s as if he wanted to say something. But he opted to hold his tongue and instead shifted his gaze forward as he walked beside the red-haired royal. “There is still that soldier imprisoned that displeased you.”

“Ah yes, the one that claimed to see those messy blonde locks but failed to capture our lost wanderer. Bring him to me in the throne room.” Just then he glanced at you as you walked a bit behind him, “My dear, you must be there with me. This should be quite the spectacle. I will see you in a moment.”

“A-As you say, Your Majesty…” You replied stiffly.

He frowned and stopped in his tracks before grabbing your collar and bringing your face closer to his. What you half expected was a sharp knife against your throat, something that would kill you, but there was no such thing. There was only his sharp gaze and disappointed tone. “You’re supposed to respond with: my dear. Not Your Majesty, not Rosehearts, but perhaps I’ll allow Riddle for now. Do you understand, dearest?”

So his name was Riddle. Judging by Riddle’s tone, he wasn’t angry, but rather irked that all the sweetness from earlier was now gone. Proceeding, you chose your words carefully as you attempted to smile as convincingly as possible, “Y-Yes, of course, anything you say, Riddle, my darling.”

At your words his cheeks became a pink hue before he let go of you and cleared his throat, quickly turning away and proceeding forward towards the end of the hall where he had whatever duties to fulfill. So you were left with Trey, his subordinate. The calm and collected tall man’s shoulders sagged once the royal left, all the tension seemingly evaporating from his body. When he gave you a somewhat soft smile, your worries ceased for the moment as well. “I’m glad you’re still intact. I was certain you were a goner.” He was… nice? “You need to be more careful. I don’t know what you did to change Riddle’s mind, but he was ready to behead you himself. You know how he keeps that huge battle ax under his bed. He mentioned something about using that, and I thought he was going to use it to chop your head clean off.”

Oh god. That little guy was going to do that? That stupid kiss really did save your skin. “Heh, I’m still a little shaken…” Wait, you were supposed to be acting like the king! What did the king even act like? How were you supposed to know? He never even lived long enough to make it into the story! “I, um, am very appreciative towards your concern… Trey.”

Trey appeared a bit surprised but he then smiled once more at you. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, we have a situation on our hands.”

What kind of situation? You didn’t even have time to ask when Trey led you down the checkered hall to an opening behind velvet red curtains which were the entrance directly to the large elegant throne room. There, you saw another stranger talking animatedly to the less-than-pleased-looking Rosehearts. This stranger had orange hair that brushed against his lower neck, and he had much more enthusiasm than those you had encountered thus far.

“Dear, there you are.” Instantly Riddle visibly brightened up as he gestured to the soft smaller heart-shaped throne beside his much larger grand seat. “Come, sit, we’re currently discussing the important matters at hand. Such as the dilemma with our prisoner. Cater, continue.”

When this Cater, fellow’s, green eyes trailed over to you, they became filled with surprise as he fumbled over his words, “Huh–– O-Oh! Right!” Forcing his gaze back on the red-haired royal, he began explaining, “There’s nothing really new to talk about, Your Majesty! I mean, seriously, this rookie was just the unlucky one that happened to see that blondie Ellis. According to him when I went to question him, he just said that he saw the guy in blue and when he went to confront him, Ellis escaped with some purple beastman!”

“Purple beastman…?” For a mere moment he appeared perplexed, when quickly the dots began to connect in his mind as he gasped, “Chen’ya! Why, the nerve of that––!”

When you saw his face begin to heat up again and a look of anger crossed his face, you slowly placed your hand over his arm that rested on the armrest of the throne. Then, he froze, everyone else, Trey, Cater, the armored guards in the room, they all were wide-eyed at what you had done. You had touched the queen when they were about to enter a fit of rage! You messed up–– Shit––

Riddle released a slow breath before placing his other hand atop your own. You felt such a massive flood of relief knowing you made the right move when he appeared much calmer as he nodded his head toward you, “Thank you, my dear. We shall discuss a proper punishment for that wretched feline later. For now…” Instantly his voice did a one-eighty as he turned his head toward the two imposing doors and shouted, “Bring him!!”

Nervously you looked over at Trey who stood tall and upright by Riddle’s side, and he remained oddly focused on the door. And that orange-haired guy, Cater, where did he go…?

“Hey…!”

Your eyes flittered over to you right where Cater was bent over a bit to whisper in your ear, while everyone else was distracted by the prisoner being escorted inside.

“I’m so happy that you’ve alive…! Don’t go dying on me so quickly, ‘kay? You wouldn’t leave me all alone here, would you?”

“Uh… no, of course not.” Huh. This Cater guy seemed pretty close to the king, or now you actually.

When you averted your eyes to the front, you listened to the clacking of armor as you watched more soldiers bring forward one of their own. Yet unlike all the others masked by metal, this soldier in shackles didn’t have a helmet. His messy red hair stuck out every which way, which made you wonder how on earth he even managed to fit that mess of hair under a helmet at all. His eyes were glued to the floor, and he wore a stiff frown as his shackles rattled with every step he took until he was right before the steps leading up to the red royal. When he refused to kneel, he was pushed down to his knees as Riddle eyed him with disdain.

Riddle wasted no time, because as soon as this prisoner was on his knees, he began his tirade of questions. “Ace Trappola, was it? We know you saw Ellis. Do you know where he is?”

The soldier’s head lolled forward a bit, his warm-colored eyes stopping on you for a moment as you gazed back at him. In a way, this Ace reminded you of… well, you. In shackles, forced to kneel, in front of a higher authority that was obviously not particularly fond of you, and likely with a sentence that could only mean your doom ahead of you. In a way, you did feel for him after hearing the basis of why he was arrested.

All was silent, only his shackles could be heard again as he slowly shrugged and snapped back, “I’d like to know that too! I mean, I’m sure wherever he is, he’s free as a bird. Meanwhile, me? Locked up for trying to do my job––!”

“Failing to do your only job.” Riddle corrected with a scoff. “I will ask you one more time. Where. Is. Ellis?”

Ace, still annoyed, continued. He must’ve been either stupid or brave for continuing. Although it might’ve been both as he mocked him. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know.”

Under your hand you felt Riddle’s fingers dig into the armrest, his knuckles growing white as he raised his voice an octave, “What if I take off your head? Will you know then?”

“If you took my head, you wouldn’t get any answers after that.” He retorted with a slight eye roll.

Underneath your hand you could feel Roseheart’s anger growing the tighter he dug his nails into the chair. When you saw his face, you and everyone else could tell that he was fit to burst, no doubt ready to seal this soldier’s doom. Instantly you shot up from your throne, wanting to help save this prisoner. However, you very quickly began to regret it when all eyes darted over to your form, and you now became the center of attention. You couldn’t just sit back down, so with no other choice, you awkwardly cleared your throat and proceeded nervously, “My dearest, earlier when in our chambers I had an… um… epiphany! A vision! Y-Yes, I had a vision…! Ellis will slay your–– our, pet dragon jabberwocky.”

Instantly Riddle’s eyes widened. “He killed our jabberwocky?!”

“No…! No, at least not yet!”

Technically you weren’t lying. The story goes that the Red Queen had a powerful dragon, the jabberwocky, which was the main reason why she could keep such a grip on the kingdom with no rebellion ever coming close to dethroning her. At least, that is until Alice comes along and slays the jabberwocky. If you could somehow get rid of Alice, or Ellis in this case, and stay in Riddle Roseheart’s good graces, you would have it made! It was practically certain that the court back home thought you would’ve been beheaded already and your head would float in that river of blood for eternity. Yet here you were, alive, and if things went smoothly, you could live out your life in splendor here. Yes, you’d have to deal with the red royal, but if you could just stay in his good graces at all times, you would have a wonderfully lavish life! At this point you were just speeding things up, Ellis’ intentions of slaying the jabberwocky probably weren’t supposed to be revealed until much later. But, it would make a perfect excuse now.

As all eyes remained on you, you recounted your fake tale, “It all makes sense now…! In… In my vision I saw… A red-haired knight, um, clashing swords with a blonde man in blue and white!” Well, that part was a lie. There never was a red-haired knight in the stories. But this was an opportunity to potentially save Ace as well, and give him a chance to redeem himself in Riddle’s eyes. When you turned to face Ace, he was gazing at you with furrowed eyebrows, but you proceeded anyway as you gave your attention to Riddle now. “Riddle, I think–– I mean, I b-believe that knight is this one here in front of us.”

“Him?” The royal exclaimed in disbelief, looking at the soldier with something akin to disgust. To which the said soldier stuck out his tongue before a stern glare from Trey and Cater made Ace close his mouth. Riddle blinked, quiet for a moment before gazing up at you, his expression softening as he flipped over his hand so it held yours. “Is that what you were doing in our chambers alone? You were studying texts and had a vision, to save me?”

“Y…Yes…?”

His big gray eyes became fixated on you, as his voice became soft when he replied, “I’ve misjudged you, my dear… I believed you were being unfaithful, but you were working hard for me. How wrong I was.” The way he looked at you could only be described as adoringly.

It made you nervous, but you could only awkwardly smile in return. In order to ensure your own life of comfort here, you had to be sure to ruin the plot of the story. This meant that Ellis, the protagonist, could not win no matter what. Although it pained you to do such a thing, knowing that the outcome would most likely mean death by beheading him and his allies, you were more afraid of death than you were of the hero. For this, you would have to make sure the antagonist, Riddle Rosehearts in the role of the Red Queen, obtained a happy ending instead of a bad ending where he himself would be banished after being defeated by Ellis.

Clearing your throat, you hesitantly listed off the sequence of events in the way you recalled them playing out, “In my vision I saw… a blonde boy in blue, a purple feline beastmen, and a hatter, among other allies. Ellis will… will attempt to infiltrate the palace, and gain your favor under a disguise, and steal the ancient sword that can slay our Jabberwocky.” As all eyes and ears remained on you, you hesitated once again, mentally apologizing for what you were about to do. Maybe in the end, you might be able to plead with your supposed spouse to spare them. But deep down, you knew it was unlikely for the ruthless tyrant to even consider the idea. “Your Majesty, my darling, i-if I may make a suggestion…?”

Riddle nodded as he listened attentively, “Go on.”

Thankfully you had moved your hands away from his, and had them folded in your lap as you took a seat again so he couldn’t feel the way your fingers trembled with anxiety. “I would like to suggest we allow this knight before us to carry the sword, sheathed and hidden at all times. Let this be his redemption–– um, please, if you allow it, your Majesty.” Said knight gazed up in surprise. “It would be best to keep sir Ace in our sights. So might I ask that he and another capable knight become my guards?” Guards. Smart move, especially if things get hairy later. “I-I’d also like to suggest an increase in your personal escorts too… my dear. So… so you’ll be safe. And, no one else besides those in this room, will know of what we spoke of today––”

“That way, Ellis will come here all on his own, and if he searches for the sword it will not be there.” Riddle finished, to which you nodded. He caught on quickly. “That’s brilliant!” You nearly breathed a sigh of relief as the red royal turned to glance at his two subordinates, Trey and Cater, only to gesture to the former prisoner and demand of them, “Unbind him, Trey. How can he wield a sword if his hands are bound?”

Trey slowly stepped forward as Ace was allowed to stand, and he unlocked the shackles around the knight. Ace continued to peer up at you, suddenly flashing a grateful smile. To which you only caught a glimpse of before being distracted by the redhead on the throne.

“Cater!” Cater stood upright immediately and awaited orders from the royal. “Find a suitable knight to escort my partner! I expect only the strongest and most obedient of knights! Am I understood?”

“You got it, Your Majesty! I already have a few in mind.”

“Wonderful. I will be interviewing them myself, as well as hand-picking my own escorts.” Riddle stood from his throne, tossing out more commands and orders to be followed by his remaining subordinate and the guards that had escorted the former prisoner. “You lot, I want an increase on the perimeter and another search crew to hunt down that wretched boy Ellis! Trey, go and fetch the sword. As for you, Ace Trappola,” Turning to face the knight, he warned, “You have one more chance. Should you fail a second time, there will be no do-overs. Your head will roll and your family shall pay the price for your mistakes.”

For a mere moment, disbelief and anger flashed on Ace’s face. Just as he opened his mouth, you spoke up, “T-Thank you, Your Majesty…! You really are so… merciful.” Better to be a pawn in this game than to be dead.

Riddle turned his attention to you before smiling, such a true and proud smile as he declared, “I have you to thank for this, for saving my kingdom and protecting me. Once we have Ellis and his companions captured, we will have a morning execution for him, with front row seats to the show." As his eyes drifted back to the onlookers, he commanded, "All of you shall speak nothing of what transpired in this room.”

A chorus of Yes, Your Majesty echoed in the chamber. The royal nodded, content for now, sending you one last smile before turning on his heels and walking off to elsewhere with Cater in tow. Leaving you alone with Trey and Ace as all other attendants and soldiers exited the throne room to go fulfill their duties.

Just for a moment, you wanted to talk to Ace alone. There was something about Trey, something about the way he watched you so calmly but there was something in those yellow eyes behind those glasses. Something that made it seem like he knew your secret, like he knew you were not really the king. You weren’t sure if it was your paranoia getting to you and your mind was just playing tricks on you, but you wanted to distance yourself as far away from him as possible. As the former prisoner made his way towards you, you cleared your throat and spoke quietly, but loud enough for Trey to hear. “Can–– M-May I have a word with you, sir Ace…? In private.”

“Sure, I’m free now.” He half joked, giving a bit of a grin which didn’t do much to ease your worries.

Trey stood beside the empty throne, watching as you glanced over at him and made a gesture for him to carry on with the assigned duty of retrieving the legendary sword, as dictated by His Majesty. To which he did, after he carefully observed the way you scurried behind velvet curtains with the knight not too far behind.

When you were finally out of sight with Ace, you noticed his raised eyebrow. Noticing this and the way he tapped his foot, you hesitated, unsure where you were even going with this or what you should do now. “You… You look like you have something to say.”

“Why’d you save me?” He demanded, all that cheerfulness from before gone now as things took a serious turn. Looking you up and down, he crossed his arms and continued, “You could’ve had your cute little hubby chop off my head like all the others before me. So, say it. That’s the reason you wanted to talk alone, isn’t it?”

He got you. Were you that obvious? You’d definitely have to work on being more discreet… Looking around twice to make sure no one was listening in, you huddled with him in a corner by the stained glass windows as you whispered hurriedly, in a panic, “O-Okay, whew, you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I’m not really the king, or queen, or whatever role I’m supposed to play here! Well, I guess I am now? Uhhh… h-here! It’s like this: I was put on trial in my homeworld, and as punishment I was banished. When I woke up, I was in Roseheart’s bed and he started talking to me like I was an unfaithful partner! I didn’t understand it, until I realized that it was all exactly like a story I read as a child. My punishment was to become the king that dies by being beheaded by his own wife! I… I got out of that somehow, and now, well…”

Ace was looking at you as if you were crazy, as if you had grown an extra head or something. His arms were crossed and he continued to stare at you. Should you have done that? Could you trust him? Well, he did owe you his life. If things really came down to it, you could have him arrested again and beheaded. Play the victim, call guards, and make up some lie that he attacked you, but you really really didn’t want it to go like that… Finally, after a few seconds, he shook his head and gave a weak chuckle, as if he couldn’t even believe it. “Hold on, let me get this straight: You’re not the royalty, but you’re a criminal from another world? Did you hit your head or something?”

You knew it. He wouldn’t believe you after all.

“I mean, they keep saying this Ellis loser came from another world too… So… Maybe your story doesn’t sound too crazy after all.” His scarlet eyes focused on the floor, as if considering something. “You really weren’t lying about knowing the future. And I thought you had gone mad or something! So I’m a hero in the story?”

You could only scratch your arm nervously, a bit regretful for having to crush his sudden burst of excitement. “Ahaha… not exactly? I made that part up…”

Disappointed at the revelation that he wasn’t some badass hero wielding a legendary sword, he scoffed, “Seriously? So why save me then?”

“Look…” You took a deep breath, hiding your fidgeting fingers in your palm as best as you could. “We were both supposed to die. At least my character was mentioned in the story, but you? Y-You weren’t even mentioned at all…! You were just a nameless faceless soldier, someone not even worth mentioning––”

Offended, he snapped back, “Faceless? Rude much!”

You quickly shushed him, internally freaking out at the prospect that you may have been overheard. But when nothing else and no one else stirred, you frowned and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just really nervous… I guess what I’m trying to get at here is… why don’t we both help each other survive?”

“What?” Shaking his head in disbelief. First this person called him someone not even worth mentioning then they ask for his help? Seriously, what was with them?

“T-Think about it…! I’m the second most powerful person in the entire kingdom…! I know what will happen! Kinda…”

“Well, I do want to live just as badly as you do…” It appeared he was still on the fence. Leaning his weight against the wall, he demanded, “But what do you mean you kinda know what will happen? I thought you, for sure, know.”

“Um…” Twiddling your fingers, you hesitantly explained the dilemma, “I did mention we were both supposed to die… And while that part isn’t a lie and the whole you being the destined one to stop Ellis was a lie, the other thing I didn’t lie about was Ellis gathering with his allies to infiltrate the palace and acquire the sword to kill the Jabberwocky. That will actually happen. S-So, since I told everyone that––”

“Let me guess, you told it early?”

Freezing, you gazed up at him and murmured, “H-How did you…?”

He shrugged, “I would’ve done the same thing if I were in your position. That means a higher chance of survival, right? Assuming that the blonde is the good guy and our King Rosehearts is the bad guy of the story. And considering all that, now you have no idea how the story will be affected, right?”

“R-Right…” Wait, now it just looked like you were useless! Immediately interjecting, you added, “But I can still make predictions based on what I know, like how things were originally supposed to play out…!”

“And you are still technically a royal…” Ace placed a finger to his chin, probably thinking about possible outcomes, upsides, and downsides if he agreed to work together. Finally, when his gaze flittered back to you and you stood upright, he questioned, “What if things don’t go how we–– you plan?”

You actually considered this briefly. If everything came crumbling down and all plans failed, there was but one last option to avoid any punishment. “Find Ellis and the White Queen… or is it the White King? I-It doesn’t matter…! The point is, the White Royal is very kind and merciful. If I go to them and explain that I am not really the Red King’s consort, then they’ll spare me…! If you come too and bring the sword to slay the Jabberwocky, that will assure them of our good intentions!”

“Isn’t that just running away? I don’t want to do that. And come on, the Whites? Are you for real? I thought us Reds were bad, but those pristine prissy little killjoys are no fun.”

For a second you wanted to strangle him. What kind of idiot would risk certain death by staying here if everything goes south, instead of fleeing to a good place that would grant you sanctuary? “It’s exactly running away, that’s the point…! The point is to stay alive!”

The redhead tilted his head to the side, his disappointed and serious behavior disappearing as he grinned. “What if I became king?”

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he were the insane one. Was this knight actually the mad hatter that had been driven insane by mercury poisoning?

“I do owe you one for saving my neck back there. And I won’t lie, I’ve dreamed about being king one day. And you, you’re actually way more ruthless than you seem at first. I thought you were a scared little wimp that always cowers behind their little hubby husband.” He mocked. Ouch. He thought you were a wimp…? “But turns out, I was so wrong about you. Sounds like you’re willing to do whatever it takes to live another day. Even turn on your own husband!”

He was whisper yelling, and it was starting to make you anxious that someone would overhear. So you whisper yelled back at a lower volume, “S-Stop that…! You know the truth, he’s not really my husband…”

That smirk made you think that he was going to respond in a louder voice, but thankfully he wasn’t that stupid. Just stupid enough to plan to overthrow the bloody Red King and talk about it in his own palace. But maybe you were stupid too, for talking about such delicate matters in the palace halls. Ace took your hands and performed a mock bow. “No running away, you got it? I’ll take that tiny red punk’s crown and become king, then I’ll keep you as a royal beside me, it’s the least I can do after what you did. We’ll both not only survive, but thrive. What do you say, Your Majesty~?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When only a few days passed, you couldn’t get the thought of what Ace proposed out of your head. Death to Rosehearts, and long live Trappola. That was what he wanted. It was an idea, an option to consider should Riddle eventually become hostile towards you again. The proposal left to marinate in your mind as you spent the next day idling in the garden, doing nothing in particular. Since Ace was now your guard, you didn’t want Riddle to become paranoid or anyone to start spreading false rumors. So you’d spend your time in the garden, in public, where you could be seen so no lies were ever fabricated. The Red King was quite busy and so concentrated on the efforts to find Ellis, while his attendants kept close by.

You were chatting with Ace as he stood beside you while you sat by roses and sipped tea, listening as he spoke about himself and the latest rumors. Sometimes you replied, divulging bits of your own life when none of the gardeners or landscapers were close by. He was actually pretty laid-back and cheeky for a knight that served the Red King. Right as you were in the middle of telling him about your experience of being a prisoner, you zipped your mouth shut when a soldier appeared some distance away from the tall hedges.

It was a soldier with armor much like Ace’s, but Trappola’s was red and this one approaching was blue. Not to mention Ace never wore a helmet, but this blue one did wear his. Once the helmeted head turned towards you, he swiftly marched forward and stood straight in front of you. He bowed his head before kneeling in front of you and removing his helmet, revealing a young man, about Ace’s height, but with short blue hair and cyan colored eyes. He then announced himself, “Your Majesty, I am Deuce Spade! I was recommended to this position as your personal guard by sir Cater Diamond. It’s an honor to serve you! Here is my recommendation letter. I hope you’ll see me as suitable for this role.” Outstretching his hand without lifting his head yet, you unsurely accepted the rolled up scroll.

“O-Oh, um, thank you. I’m sure you’ll be fine… Stand up if you’d like, I don’t think the ground is comfortable.” Out of the corner of your eye as you unraveled the scroll, you could see Deuce obediently nod and stand as he held his helmet in his arm. Before you began reading, you could even see Ace frowning at this newcomer.

The scroll was much less like a recommendation letter and more like a haphazardly written medieval text message. It read: Hey, Your Majesty! Hope you like this newbie I sent over. He’s a littleee dumb but his heart’s in the right place and he’s surprisingly tough for a fresh recruit! Trust me, I saw him myself when he took on two older knights and won. You will be perfectly fine with this guy! He is literally perfect for a bodyguard. I’m kinda jealous. Anyways, meet me tomorrow night at the bridge between the palace’s northern towers! Come alone. –– From, Cater Diamond, always at your service!

That was strange… Come alone…? Not wanting there to be any evidence that you were meeting another man alone, that would definitely piss off Riddle, you tore the scroll to shreds and turned your attention to the blue knight who became the target of Ace’s pestering. They seemed quite familiar with each other, as Ace continued to poke at this Deuce guy while the blue knight attempted to remain calm and composed but was quite obviously growing annoyed.

“You? You’re the new knight? The guy who stupidly thought one of the nobles was an intruder and nearly attacked them on the spot? Ha! C’mon, I mean, we’re supposed to be the same rank, but even I’ve never made a mistake that bad!” Ace scoffed, grinning a much crueler smile, appearing more content with every passing second he noticed his companion was beginning to lose their cool. “You’re lucky to even be alive! King Riddle could’ve had your head for that, and he should’ve.” Deuce opened his mouth, likely about to snap back in reply, but Ace only cut him off. “Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t be so rash in front of Their Majesty, if I were you.”

“Ah––” Recalling where he was at and your presence was just feet in front of him, he resumed his uptight stance while averting his eyes to the ground respectfully, but he was still irked with the fellow soldier beside him.

“Ace, quit bothering him, will you?” You requested, sending the redhead a pleading glance to which he, surprisingly, listened to. “Will you go find Trey? He has something very important, and I need you to deliver it to me.”

The red knight sighed and took a step back, not bothering to argue or continue his efforts to make the blue knight explode with anger. However, he did hesitate at your request, but after a second he finally relented, “Whatever you say, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you.” Nodding, you watched Ace leave the small area of the garden before then turning your attention back to the matter at hand. The new knight. Poor guy, he looked a little nervous. “You can relax, it’s alright. I promise, I am certainly more nervous than you currently are. Can you, um… maybe tell me a bit about yourself?”

“Uh…” Deuce appeared at a loss for words, not expecting the sudden interview. Finally thinking up a response, he did the opposite of relaxing. He only appeared more tense as he stood rigidly and loudly declared, “I am a soldier part of the first platoon!! I began training after being recruited a few months ago, and I was raised by my mother!” That last part was unexpected, and the volume of his announcement made you jump in your seat. Maybe he didn’t entirely know what to say when you asked him about himself. “I am honored to be chosen as one of your personal guards! I will do everything in my power to protect you!!”

Ah… still too loud. You winced at this shouting introduction before nodding in understanding. Your reply was like a quiet squeak of a dorm mouse compared to his tone. “T-Thank you, Deuce, but you really don’t have to be so stiff… I assure you, I’m not like my… my husband.” God, that felt so weird to say. “I’m not exactly the type to take off heads, as you can tell, haha…”

Your awkward smile managed to finally get him to relax. His shoulders sagged down as he sighed, and he smiled. It was an odd smile, not an ugly or strange one, but genuine and somewhat kind, it was unexpected and placed you on edge.

Why was he looking at you like that…? It wasn’t like how Riddle would often stare at you with fondness, but rather, this one could be described as something akin to… admiration. “Is something wrong…?”

He bowed his head, giving an awkward chuckle but his smile remained. “Sorry, I know it’s rude to stare, but you’ve changed. A lot.”

“Changed…?” Your nerves were spiking. Did Deuce somehow know the king before? You gripped the armrest of your lawn chair, wondering if you would need an escape.

The blue knight seemed to sense your distress, because he quickly waved his hands and explained in a small panic, “W-Wait! It sounds weird when I say it like that. Uh–– you probably don’t remember me. But we met a few years ago during a parade in town that was thrown to celebrate your engagement to His Majesty, and during that parade I was racing some friends and nearly crashed my horse into the royal carriage! The King was furious and my mother was there too, apologizing for my stupid mistake, when he cut her off and declared that me AND my mom were gonna be sent to the guillotine as punishment! They took us to the palace, and I remember you quietly watching the whole time. But before they could drag us by the chains to the dungeon, you appeared and secretly pardoned us! Do you remember now?” His cyan eyes were sparkling with excitement as he pointed to his head of hair and added, “My hair was bleached back then!”

“O-Ohhhh, of course…!” Not of course. You didn’t remember a thing! That wasn’t you, that was the true king! Those weren’t your memories! But you could only continue to awkwardly smile as he let out a sigh of relief and a bright beaming smile took over his expression.

By now, all his previous tension was gone. He was in a much different mood, delighted as he continued to explain with such boundless energy, “I was really a mess back then. But that day changed my whole life! I was so scared for my mom, I thought she was going to die because of me. When you pardoned us and we went home, I decided to change. That’s when I decided I wanted to pay you back for saving our lives, and I wanted to help make ends meet. And the best way to do that was join the King’s army. I know it’s tough work, but I knew I’d get funds to send back home and I might get a chance to properly thank you! I’ve waited for this day to see you again for so long!”

“Is… Is that right…?”

Noticing your apprehensiveness, Deuce frowned lightly and changed the subject. “No one has seen you outside the palace in ages. Everyone is worried! People are starting to say you’re being kept inside because of, well… every Red citizen knows you’re the favorite royal. So when you stopped appearing in public…”

Wait, just a moment. The king was beloved? Actually, that wasn’t too hard to believe when the only competition alive was the hot-tempered queen. It might not even be too far-fetched to believe that the king once spared people often behind the back of their spouse. At least based on Deuce’s story, because why else would the former king have any reason to spare the lives of what were, back then, simple rabble, if not due to the kindness in his heart?

The blue knight continued with another short story, “On your weekly outings, my mom and I used to try and wave at you from the crowd. But we never got noticed. And they never let us close either…”

They must’ve been truly grateful to the king, now you, and it only makes sense after what happened.

“Oh–– sorry, I just keep going about myself! That other guy is taking a little long…” Turning his gaze over to the exit between two hedges, exactly where the red knight had gone, he muttered, “Seriously, what’s taking him so long? Isn’t he supposed to be your guard? Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I’ll bring him back for you!”

“Ah, wait––” Too late. He was gone. Complaining about Ace leaving and then leaving himself? It was clear that Cater was right, Deuce wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but he had spirit. At the very least, you felt safe with him around. Due to the obligation he felt toward the king, he would no doubt be a great help. In the quiet of the garden, you sipped your tea and listened to the buzz of bees traveling from rose to rose, flowers which gave off a pleasant aroma in the slow breeze. It was relaxing, peaceful for a moment, not like every other waking hour as you fear your true identity will be discovered or even last night you lay awake in bed fearing the moment your spouse would come to bed, yet he was so busy that he never did, so you lay awake with major anxiety practically all night.

“Your Majesty, forgive me for the intrusion.” The sudden voice startled you, shattering your tranquility, but you quickly regained your composure upon realizing it was just a servant from the kitchen. One arm was neatly folded behind their back, and the other held up a tray of delicious pastries. “I’ve brought you extra, should you desire any.”

“Ah… haha…” Your sigh turned to a nervous laugh as you managed to stammer out a polite, “T-Thank you.” When they bowed their head and began to make their leave to the pathway behind your seat, you turned your attention back to the fresh baked goods just waiting to be devoured. Plucking up one of the smaller delicacies to take a bite––

“Your Majesty!!!”

CLACK!

Dropping the pastry, you whipped your head around only to be met face-to-face with the sharp end of a dagger. The only thing stopping that knife from plunging into your flesh, was the equally sharp end of a spade-shaped spear that had crossed with it and deflected it. The servant was the culprit, having replaced the tray of desserts for a weapon meant for slaughtering. And they nearly had killed you, had it not been for the blue knight.

Horrified, you fell out of your chair, back, away from the two. Your terror only grew when with one swift motion, Deuce used his spear to slash the face of the attacker. They fell back, you didn’t know if the servant was alive or dead, if they weren’t dead they certainly would be soon. But you did see red. Red, red, red, why was red everywhere in this world? You had nearly died, again. Your heart felt like it was racing as you saw the red knight reappear and tackle your attacker, the struggle hidden behind the lawn chair and table cloth. There was shouting, you think, but the banging of your heart against your rib cage was too deafening.

All you could make out was the presence that had rushed to your side. They stuck close by but never quite touched you, their hands ghosting over your side. There was red. Red on his hands, red on his blue armor, a small dash of red against his cheek. You were growing lightheaded, your head hurt. You must’ve peered up a bit, because you could see Deuce looking frantic and as your vision became spotty, you saw his mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear a word he spoke.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

When you awoke, it was a bit of a rude awakening. You could hear shouting, behind a door. As you slowly sat up, feeling the familiar softness of the king-sized bed belonging to the Red King himself, you practically melted into the silk sheets. The shouting was muffled behind the heavy double doors, but you could easily distinguish the voice as belonging to Riddle. And just as you could tell who it was, you could clearly make out what he was saying. The thickness of the door was not enough to quiet his tone, even from here.

“I want the executioner here now!!! The crime of attempted regicide against my consort is unforgivable!! It is the highest form of treason!! Make it a public execution in precisely one hour! I want all those that dare to even think about harming my companion to understand what fate will await them should they dream to even attempt it! Question that blasted assassin, and I want to know who sent them so that I may punish them in a matter even worse than a beheading!!!”

Wow, he sounded pissed. It was kinda scary. Even though you couldn’t see him, you just picture his face twisted into pure rage, no doubt he was about ready to pop a blood vessel. As you began to recall what happened, you shuddered, both because of recalling the fear you felt at the moment and how you imagined what pains the assassin would face at Riddle’s hands.

Clink!

Flinching, you fearfully looked to the side, half expecting another assassin to appear out of nowhere and take revenge on you for their fallen compatriot. However, much to your relief, or not, it was only the King’s familiar subordinate, Trey. He readjusted his glasses over the bridge of his nose, giving you a gentle smile as he finished placing down a glass of water by your bedside. “It’s alright, there’s no need to look so frightened. You’re safe now. Everything is being dealt with, as you can, uh, probably tell.”

Right, you could still hear the commotion of Riddle’s bellowing commands along with the various rushed footsteps of servants and soldiers running about to fulfill their given tasks. It sounded like things were really getting hectic.

Lowering himself onto a wooden seat placed at your bedside, his yellow eyes flitted over to you, peering at you through the glass. “Normally I would let you rest and I would take on the responsibilities from here on out, but I have to tell you…”

You gripped the glass cup, feeling that oh-so-familiar anxiety creep up your neck. Trey had to tell you what…? Was something wrong? Did the assassin hurt Ace or Deuce? Were they okay? Did it have something to do with Ellis or the White Royal? Did Ellis successfully infiltrate the palace and steal the legendary sword? Has the Jabberwocky been slayed while you were unconscious? Or worse, had Riddle discovered you were really a big fat liar this entire time? Oh god–– what sort of unspeakable torture would he inflict upon you for this? Just yesterday at dinner, you saw him declare that a very young servant of the kitchen staff was to be beheaded because they stole a single tart! You didn’t want to die––

“It’s good news actually, so you don’t have to look so pale.” You resisted the urge to sigh–– wait, Trey was surprisingly observant. Or maybe you were still failing to better conceal your reactions and emotions, because he could tell you were obviously distraught. “Based on the intel you’ve given His Majesty, soldiers were able to capture a hatter, twins, a white rabbit beastman, and… a purple cat beastman. All working with Ellis, and loyal to the White Kingdom. There isn’t any sign of Ellis though.”

No Ellis yet… The fact that the protagonist was out there somewhere and still had a small chance to succeed, slimmed by the fact that his allies were now imprisoned, but still a chance, made you uneasy. This place was really starting to drive you mad… You’d have to readjust your escape plan and make a backup if it came to it…

“Your Majesty, now that I have the opportunity to talk with you in private, I’d like to ask you something.”

Tapping your fingers against the half-filled glass, you nodded for him to continue. “Okay… I’m listening.” The news was already said, so that placed you at ease. Slowly you raised the glass to your lips, taking a sip of the cold water that parched your dry throat. You didn’t realize you were absolutely parched until right now.

“Earlier, I said normally I wouldn’t tell you the news because I know you don’t do well under stress. But this time was different. This time, you initiated the action. So, I just wanted to know, who are you?”

You froze, nearly choking on the water you forced down. “W-What…?”

Folding his hands together, he stayed on his seat, but again, those eyes of his just watched you. That gentle smile he wore often, was no longer present. He looked serious, which made you even more tense! He spoke calmly, quietly, but that did nothing for your spiking nerves. “Their Majesty that I know, wouldn’t save Riddle even if they had the power to do it. They were waiting for a chance to run away to the White Kingdom, because they had fallen in love with someone else. And the more I look at you, the more I’m realizing that you aren’t them.”

Shit, shit, shit–– you seriously underestimated him. Of course he’s one of the king’s right hand men for a reason! Your hands were shaking uncontrollably. So much so that you dropped the glass, the cup rolling onto the sheets and drenching the blanket as you pleaded, “P-Please, don’t tell Riddle…! You’re right, I-I’m not His Majesty’s consort, but I can explain…! Just, please, please, I’m begging you, don’t tell him the truth! I… I’ll tell you everything you need to know! Please, I don’t want to go like this…!”

“H-Hey, hey, I wasn’t going to tell him!” Caught off guard, he picked a box of tissues from the nightstand and moved it in front of you. He spoke softly, gentler this time, “You’re not them, but you really do act like them sometimes… Here, use these tissues to wipe your tears. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tears…? Reaching up to your face, you gasped when you felt your cheeks damp and droplets dripping down from your eyes. You were crying, and you hadn’t even noticed it. Fear had been the cause of these waterworks. As you rubbed your eyes to clear your vision, once you removed your hands, you saw Trey extending a tissue to you as his hand rested on the small of your back. “I… I’m sorry, I overreacted…”

“No, I should’ve approached you more carefully.”

Dabbing away your tears with the tissue, you sniffled, still finding it hard to meet his concerned gaze, so you averted your eyes down to the wet sheets and now empty glass in your lap. Where do you even begin?

Appearing to sense your hesitance and fear, his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he assured, “Take your time. I’d like to know everything, but go slowly if you need to.”

Despite knowing you didn’t belong, he still treated you so carefully. Maybe it was foolish to believe the right-hand man of the bloody Red King, but this was the kindest anyone had been to you since before your banishment. Ever since you were arrested, everyone had eyed you with suspicion, it felt like that continued into this world as most people were stepping on thin ice around you, and even you would be on your toes around certain people like King Rosehearts and his subordinates. But this time, it felt like you were truly being heard, even if it was a trap, something which you didn’t want to believe. So you told him everything about your story, but not this story. Afterall, you still needed leverage so that they wouldn’t kill you.

There was something about Trey that made him easier to talk to, easier than the red knight Ace you’ve trusted with your secrets, and easier than Deuce who had just saved your life. Trey listened attentively, never interrupting you, never looking away, keeping a hand over yours. Occasionally he nodded or hummed, providing reassurance that he was still listening to you recount your tale. Once you were done, and only then, did he speak.

The king’s right-hand man let out a sharp exhale as he rubbed his head, still attempting to process all the details. You were still trying to process everything that was going on.

“Everything makes sense now… but, I never thought you were bad. When you came out of that room with Riddle, when he was supposed to kill you, I thought something was off but I couldn’t put my finger on it. But when you stood up as His Majesty was questioning the soldier, that’s when I realized you weren’t the same royal from before. And then I understood that you weren’t a person with bad intentions. If you do really hold knowledge on our future, you could’ve usurped power for yourself and gotten rid of the King. But you didn’t.”

He smiled at you, not a malicious or cruel one, but a soft kind that placated a bit of your jumpy nerves.

“I owe Riddle a lot, so all I ask is that you tell him the truth soon and make him happy. Because you do make him happy. I’ve never seen him smile so much as he does when he thinks of you, even when you aren’t around. Of course, you don’t see it. You’ve made him much happier than his previous consort ever could.”

Frankly, you were at a loss for words. Yes, your original plan was to get Riddle Roseheart his victory and remain on his good side, but you didn’t think you’d actually get this far! Now at the prospect of having to permanently stay playing the role of his spouse, even if you survived telling him the truth, well… now you weren’t sure what to do. Not to mention, you did feel a little guilty because while Trey caught you, he didn’t entirely understand that you were only doing this to survive. It wasn’t for him, it wasn’t for the kingdom, it wasn’t for Riddle, it was for yourself. “And you… you really aren’t mad…?”

“Well… I do feel a little betrayed. But now, I think I’m starting to understand you and what you’ve been doing. So I’m not hurt. I’ll just continue with my job, serving His Majesty and serving you.” Removing his hand from yours, he stood up and picked up the glass you had dropped onto the sheets now damp with water. “Come on, let me get these sheets changed for you.”

For a while, it was just you and Trey, talking quietly about things like yourself, and he even revealed details about himself and his life to put you at ease. Trey was truly a comforting figure, and it became evident by more than just his words, it was obvious by his actions as well. Servants brought sweetened goods and various drinks, some of which he claimed to make with his own two hands. How a busy subordinate of the king even had time to bake, you have no idea. Not too long after, presumably after he sent out soldiers, servants, and put the executioner to work, Riddle Rosehearts entered the room, making a show to throw the doors open as he commanded sternly,

“Leave us, Trey.”

When the king’s gaze traveled over to you, you froze on the small chair you were currently seated in. At that moment, you just wanted to shrink in on yourself, all the little confidence you had built on the foundation of Trey’s presence, crumbled the instant he obediently nodded his head and hesitantly left the room. You felt frozen in fear as soon as the king appeared in your line of vision, but all you could see was heeled shoes against the tiled floors, since you kept your gaze down. That’s when the questions that spurred your anxiety came to fruition. Had he somehow heard the conversation between you and Trey? Did he know too about your true identity? Had he realized it? Was he growing bored of you or becoming jealous once again? How would you get out of this one––?

“My dear, I apologize for not being able to see you sooner. There were matters that needed to be dealt with.” His hand went to your chin, and he forced you to look up at him, carefully though, as he used his fingers to prop up your head. What consoled you, pacifying your fears, was the look in his eyes. Those eyes were filled with sorrow and possibly… dread? “Are you alright? Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

“N-No, I’m alright––” You were just more alarmed and concerned as to why he was acting this way.

Using his other hand, he took your palm, quietly inspecting you for injury. It seemed something was on his mind, because his eyebrows furrowed together and he scowled, seething quietly, “I can’t believe the moment we are getting along, just when I’m receiving your love, that foolish assassin tried to take you away from me.” His hold on your hand tightened. “How dare they? How dare they?! Do they not understand that all I want is to be loved, and when I finally have it with you, they try to–– Forget it. They will become an example of what happens to those who dare attempt to harm you.” Looking down at you, his gaze softened as he spoke in a much gentler loving tone, “My dear, the public execution of the criminal will be in a few moments. Would you like to go and spectate from above?”

“Umm… n-no, thank you.” There was no way you wanted to watch someone be beheaded. Especially knowing that they were there because of you, even if they had attempted to kill you. You didn’t need the very vivid image of their head dropping and rolling on the ground, with their lifeless eyes still open, to haunt your dreams at night.

“Very well.” Taking a seat beside you, he sat upright and proper as he continued to hold your hand. “And your knights? Shall we have them beheaded as well for failing to apprehend the suspect quickly and for being so idiotic as to leave you alone?”

“W-What? No!” Ace and Deuce, beheaded for failing to protect you? You turned to the king, pleading, “Please… my darling, don’t punish them. Afterall, they saved me in the end, so please… I… I commanded them to go! I did…! I had sent them to retrieve the sword and a duplicate I had Trey commission the royal blacksmith to make. That way, s-should Ellis and his allies manage to retrieve the sword, they might get the useless duplicate instead…! S-So you see, it’s really all my fault.”

For a while Riddle was silent and you feared that he would place you on the ballot of today’s executions. But then the unexpected happened. Slowly, he reached forward, awkwardly wrapping his arms around your figure and resting his head over your shoulder. His voice was quiet, hushed, “Taking all these steps to ensure my victory and continuous rein… you have truly changed.” Tightening his hold, he pressed himself against you, forgetting all the formalities and etiquette that a king should have. His warm breath fanned your ear as he whispered a promise, “For you, I will not stop until our rule is absolute. I will control the whole realm, and shape it into a wonderland that you desire.”

When he pressed a soft kiss against your cheek, you felt your face heat up. You sat rigidly, arms awkwardly wrapped around his waist as he moved himself to sit upon your lap as if it were his very own throne. As he leaned closer, you noticed his cheeks were pink, quickly turning red, as he leaned his forehead against yours so you could look each other in the eye.

In your childhood you read about Alice’s adventures in Wonderland with the odd Tweedle twins that spoke much like in riddles, the mischievous yet mysterious grinning Cheshire cat, the wondrous Mad Hatter who was insane, and an abundance of others in the colorful cast of characters. Yet no matter how often you read the tales, it always told of a cruel hot-tempered Queen with no heart. And yet, here was Riddle, in the role of the Red Queen, flustered yet affectionate as he continued to sit on your lap and wrap his arms around your neck.

Those big gray eyes continued to gaze at you, never looking away, which caused you to immediately avert your gaze. That is until he tapped your chin lightly, chiding,

“Don’t look away, darling. I demand your attention.”

“A-As you say, my dear…” Slowly you focused your gaze back on him, by now you were sweating bullets. How did you end up this close to the bloody Red King? It seemed like he was starved of love, he craved it so desperately and wanted it all for himself, that he nearly killed you the moment you first met him, out of pure envy. Just as he was leaning in to place a second kiss, this time on the lips, you inquired in the tiniest squeak, “Is it not better to be feared than loved…?”

Riddle stopped just an inch away, processing your words as he eyed your nervous expression. “I wasn’t certain anymore, but now I am.” He lingered in place, taking the time to explain his answer, “By the masses, it is far better to be feared than loved. They can be unruly, rebellious, disorderly. Yet it is fear that never fails, it tames and controls those that are even insusceptible by love.” A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers played with the small locks of hair behind your neck. He shifted closer, “But when it comes to you, I must change my approach. Love is the most favorable option, because I want your true love. Not a forced type of affection. Do you understand, my dear?”

You gulped, growing more abashed with every passing moment as Riddle remained so close. “Y-Yes, I understand…”

“Just as you proved to me that you desire my affection, I shall prove to you that I truly love you.”

That night you fell asleep in Riddle’s arms, laying on the plush king size mattress you two were supposed to share every night. Your face was red, both from embarrassment and partly due to the bit of lipstick he wore now marking the spots on your face where he had kissed you. At first it was nearly impossible to sleep, you stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, as the bloody Red King peacefully slept beside you with his arms around you. It was only until exhaustion finally knocked you out, forcing you to close your eyes and rest a few hours. Only then as you drifted off to sleep while gazing at Roseheart’s content sleeping face, did you realize how much of a mess this plot has become.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

In the morning, you groggily awoke to Riddle, already changed and prepared for the day, leaning over to adjust the blankets around you and wish you a good day before his leave. Not too long later, once you got up and prepared for the day, as soon as you opened your doors, you were greeted by two particularly distraught knights, Ace and Deuce. The sudden quiet you had was immediately shattered as the two began speaking, almost shouting, rapidly as if babbling, you couldn’t understand a word they were saying due to how fast they were talking and how they spoke over each other. How long had they been waiting outside your door? Just barely you could distinguish the occasional apology, mixed in with exclamations and bickering against one another over who the fault lay on.

This was going to be a long day… and a long day it was. As you were escorted to breakfast by your two protective knights, you passed by a window where outside you could see a courtyard. Your eyes wandered to the scene behind the glass, and down below you could see a balcony where your spouse was seated, overlooking the courtyard below where a crowd gathered. In the center, your heart dropped when you saw the executioner standing over a heavy basket where a colorful hat poked out of, beside a pair of white rabbit ears, and brown rabbit ears. There was red seeping out of the basket, and the sight immediately caused you to turn your head away. The mad hatter, white rabbit, and march hare, had all been executed. But there were no cat ears, so the cheshire cat must’ve been spared. You lost your appetite for breakfast.

In the middle of the day, after giving Ace and Deuce the swords, you left it up to them to see if they could tell the difference between the two blades. Which was the real artifact of legends and which was the duplicate? They couldn’t figure it out. You then accompanied Trey to the kitchen as he was commanded by the king to make something delicious for dessert. Turns out, Trey was only usually commanded to drop his usual responsibilities and bake when the king was in a good mood. You didn’t know what was worse, was Riddle in a good mood because of the smooch you hesitantly gave him last night or was it because he had put his enemies to death?

For dinner, you ate beside Riddle, unnerved as he watched you with contentment the entire time. Throughout the dinner, you managed to distract him from staring by carefully sharing bits of information that could provide useful. To defend himself from the might of the Jabberwocky, Ellis would need the legendary armor currently in the White Kingdom. The Bandersnatch, another powerful creature under Roseheart’s command, can be tamed by Ellis and convinced to change sides. Ellis may very well retreat to the White Kingdom for help. All of which he noted down carefully.

And finally, later that evening, before Riddle could arrive for bed, you snuck past your two dutiful knights that were changing shifts with other soldiers that would stand guard beside your room. You had a bit of time, as they rotated often, and when they rotated to patrol the halls and come back, was the opportune time to sneak right back in. Through everything that happened and how hectic it became, you had nearly forgotten that Cater extended an invitation to meet you in private.

It had only been a few days, but by how often Ace, Deuce, and Trey led you through the palace, you were beginning to get a rough understanding of the layout and vague memory of the routes. So it didn’t take you very long to reach the northern towers near where the monstrous Jubjub Bird, what you learned was Riddle’s giant pet bird of prey, resided at the highest point. It really was no wonder Rosehearts had such an iron grip on the kingdom, with beasts like the Jubjub Bird, Bandersnatch, and Jabberwocky at his command, no one would be so foolish as to question him.

Thankfully, Riddle had offhandedly mentioned that the Jubjub bird spent most nights in its cage, and was only freed during the day to bring back rebels to the gallows. So you weren’t too fearful of seeing the giant bird of prey at the windows. What did make your heart stop, was when a hand covered your mouth, and you were suddenly pulled into a room. You kicked wildly, your screams muffled against their mouth––

“Wait, wait, calm down, it’s just me! It’s me! Look! It’s your Cay!”

The rapid pace of your rising and falling chest slowed and you stopped screaming as your eyes readjusted to the dim lighting of the room. In front of you, just inches away from your face, you could make out familiar downturned green eyes and orange hair. When you finally went quiet, he removed his hand away from your mouth.

“You’ve always been super jumpy, Your Majesty, but not like that! Didn’t you recognize me?” He pouted, whining, “I’m a little hurt. I thought I was your favorite!”

“W-Why on earth would I––!” You stopped, realizing his hair was down.

It wasn’t tied up like before, and he wasn’t wearing all the intricacies of his outfit which you saw him in prior. In fact, he was very very casually dressed, and that was putting it lightly. All he wore were his dress pants and the last layer that was the dress shirt that had only the lowest buttons together, so as he leaned closer his shirt moved as well, exposing his torso. Keep it together! You weren’t like some Victorian maiden who fainted at the mere sight of an exposed ankle! By the dim candlelight you could piece together that you were in a spare bedroom, and the dots began to connect in your head.

Cater tilted his head, his longer orange locks shifting with his movement as he murmured quietly, “What’s wrong, Your Majesty? Are you not in the mood tonight? I know you’ve been reallyyy busy lately, with so much going on and all. But… I just really wanted to see you.” Too close, he was leaning too close! “I have to admit, I’m a little jealous of all the time you’re spending with His Majesty.”

Wait. The loose layers he had on, the dim candlelight, the bed, the suspicious hour of meeting, Cater’s sweet talking–– oh my god. The former consort in your position really had cheated on the Red Royal, and they did it with Cater! It made your cheeks burn, but wait–– that wasn’t you! You had nothing to be ashamed of! But things would look really bad if you were caught like this with one of the king’s closest subordinates!

“I-I’m afraid you’ve gotten it wrong––” Was it a good idea to tell him the truth? Afterall, his equal Trey knew, and you would be telling Riddle sooner rather than later, as you didn’t want the lie to fester into something ugly, thus lessening your already slim chances of survival by admitting the truth to the king. How did the former king even get with one of the queen’s subordinates? “You… You see, I’m not––”

“Really the royal consort?” He finished your sentence, giving a sort of cheeky smile at your dumbfounded expression. Straightening his posture, he hummed, “Yeah, I know, it’s pretty obvious you know! And that face you’re making right now, is so cute. It totally confirms it.”

It was obvious? Your stomach dropped at the potential prospect that Riddle already knew. But wait, if he really knew, then why hadn’t he said anything–– or were you getting too hopeful that he wouldn’t want to slaughter you as soon as the truth reaches him? It was probably safest to assume that he didn’t know at the moment. Now, as for Cater, you nervously eyed him, grimacing as he gave you a playful wink. “If you know I’m not them, why would you t-try to initiate…” You gestured to him and the bedroom. “––this?”

“Just testing you, that's all. Had to make sure I was right, after all. I didn’t really plan to do anything, unless you wanted to risk it.” As you immediately shook your head, he laughed and proceeded to button up his dress shirt and shrug on a coat. “I’m kidding! Joking. There’s no real reason to get all embarrassed. I just wanted to mess with you a teensy bit.”

Averting your gaze down as he readjusted his attire, you muttered quietly, “Did you and the person before me really…?”

“Hmm…” He paused, as if considering whether he should answer or not. Finally, he shrugged, “I mean, since you are kinda them in a way, I should probably tell you? As long as you promise not to tell His Majesty Riddle about all this, I promise not to tell about your dirty little secret, you know, being an imposter and all! Oh, that, and your little chit-chatwith Ace.”

Your blood ran cold. Cater had heard that? Even the part where Ace plotted to take the throne for himself? The part about you running away? Pursing your lips, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of your head. If that got out, it would be game over. Your life would truly end, and all Cater had to do was whisper in His Majesty’s ear. But you now had dirt on him too. The fact that he knowingly slept with the bloody Red King’s consort, and kept it secret. It felt like with these secrets, you were both holding a knife to each other’s neck, figuratively speaking. “Something tells me you really did…”

“I did. But it was a one night-stand. They were a scaredy-cat, even more than you. They said they needed someone else’s comfort beside the exact person they feared the most in the world, which is why they came to me.” That easygoing smile appeared back on his face. “But you know, I wasn’t lying when I said you were cute. It’s just a real shame you’re already Riddle’s, or else I would’ve definitely snatched you up for myself!” Taking a seat at the desk, he propped his head up with both hands and continued, “Sooo, are you going to tell me who you really are? You will, won’t you? Let’s get to know each other a little bit longer before you go, ‘kay~?”

With not much of a choice left, you sighed and recounted your story once more. You told him why you ended up here in the first place, what was supposed to happen to you, how you managed to survive, and how you knew what was supposed to happen. He listened, only occasionally chiding in with a witty remark or comment.

Only once you finished your story, he whistled and spoke, “Everything makes sense! You’ve really been through the wringer, huh? Riddle must be so hard on you! But I’m not.” Then he brightened up, as if remembering something, “Oh! And Riddle won’t be getting any rest tonight, so you can stay with me as long as you want tonight!”

Perplexed by his words, you furrowed your eyebrows and gazed up at the cheery subordinate. You were kinda afraid to even ask what he meant by that. “What… What do you mean…?”

“I mean that His Majesty is gonna be way too anxious to go to sleep anytime soon! Ah–– right, you don’t know.”

Don’t know what? It felt like he was teasing you with this information you didn’t have. You would’ve said it made you nervous, but on the contrary, it puts you a bit at ease knowing that Riddle won’t stumble to bed only to find it empty and go mad. But still, you didn’t like the way Cater was messing with you. It didn’t feel like he meant any ill will, but not knowing what would happen and not having control placed you on edge. A single finger of his tapped your head as he answered,

“Ellis’ beheading–– Oh, but not yet! Using your intel, Riddle managed to pinpoint the location of a forest where that little blonde must be hiding in, also partially thanks to the Jubjub Bird’s latest catch who was a rebel that cracked like a nut when the king questioned him! And this evening after dinner, he sent out multiple soldiers to go hunt Ellis down! It’s really only a matter of time before they drag Ellis back in shackles. You see, Riddle’s just waiting impatiently for news back. So that’s why!”

In the distance, outside, you heard a trumpet. On impulse, you raced to the window, followed by the curious Cater, as you both stuck your faces against the cold glass to get a peek at the ground below where the noise had come from. At the towering palace gates, you could make out the small moving figures of soldiers crossing the river of blood and heads. They held up their sharpened spears and blades, torches of fire to light the way, and… in the midst of it all was a tall young man with blonde hair and a coat of baby blue, locked and restrained in shackles, dragged forward along the path.

“I… I have to go––”

Astonished at the speed you took off in making a direct beeline for the door, he blinked and exclaimed, “Wait! You’re not even gonna let me walk you back?”

No, there were far more important things on your mind. Without wanting to waste a single second, you rushed back, silently skittering and speed walking through the halls as quiet as a mouse. You avoided all the guards on patrol as you weaved from hallway to hallway, taking multiple twists and turns that were as confusing as the hedge maze in the king’s beloved garden. It seemed like an eternity before you finally snuck back into your room, where you were relieved to see the room empty. No angry king awaiting your return.

So you jumped into bed, nestling yourself into the make-believe safety the comfortable sheets provided you. As if these blankets could protect you from everything in the world, much like how your mind liked to believe the warmth protected you from the boogey-man lurking in the shadows. It was a childish thought, but a persistent one that refused to leave your mind. The seconds you counted not with the tick-tock of the clock, but the thump-thump of your beating heart that filled your ears as you lay silent and still. Thump, thump, thump, your heart beat, as your mind wandered to imagine whatever horrible fate would shortly greet Ellis, if it hadn’t already. A life in exchange for a life, the innocent blue boy in exchange for you who had done wrong before. Yes, it was wrong. So so wrong, and it ate at you inside, but you didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to.

And it scared you, knowing you’d have to tell Riddle the truth soon. Very soon. If he found out by his subordinates telling him the truth, you may very well be right behind the blonde boy waiting your turn at the guillotine. If you told him, he could very well decide to kill you anyways. Even if he had proclaimed his obsessive bloody love for you, would that matter? Riddle believes he loves the royal consort, a role you’ve been playing. It wasn’t truly you. Nothing would stop him from yelling, off with their head! Right then and there.

Well, there was one way to save your head if things got ugly… Ace was still in your corner, and if you could possibly convince Deuce to join you, you’d have both knights, one of which had the real sword of legends. If they could just slay the Jabberwocky, that would be enough for the White Kingdom to interfere. The only thing preventing Riddle Roseheart’s fall, was that damned Jabberwocky––

THUMP!

“My dear!!!”

The door slammed open, followed by a screech in that familiar voice you’ve been dreading. You froze, resisting the urge to scream and beg for forgiveness. Your heart dropped, and you just wanted to perish in your cocoon of cloth and fabrics. By now it felt like your heart had grown louder, pounding in your ears so loud that when you hesitantly lowered the sheet down over your face so you could see. What you saw made your heart stop, it felt like your soul left your body when you saw Riddle leaning over you with a huge battle ax in hand.

The ax could easily sever a whole appendage, even a head, in one fell swoop. It was recently sharpened, its metallic material and the red rubies encrusted into the weapon both glimmered in the light. It was a huge weapon, but despite its size, Riddle appeared to carry it with ease. Finally, when he dropped the weapon beside you and practically flung all his weight on you, did you snap out of your fear-induced trance.

“We did it…! We found Ellis, and it’s all thanks to you!” By now he was on top of you, normally he would’ve realized quickly and scrambled to get off while composing himself. But at the moment, he was far too eager for that. Instead, he grabbed your head with both hands on your cheeks, and on his face was the loveliest smile. The prettiest smile that was so large it reached his rosy cheeks, and joy was evident in those big eyes. “We have that wretched boy in the dungeons right now!”

“T-That’s great…!” Nervously you glanced down at the ax, “And that…?”

Waving it off, he replied without so much of a second thought, “Oh, it’s not for you. It’s for Ellis. I’ll be beheading him myself, no guillotine or executioner needed.”

Not for you… Carefully you inhaled shakily, feeling your hands begin to tremble. If there was a time to tell Rosehearts, it would be now when he’s at his happiest and most merciful. Yet, telling the truth did nothing to help you back home. So why would it help you here? You were so scared, so nervous–– if Riddle reacts explosively, he could just grab that ax and end you here or he could use his arms wrapped around your neck to suffocate you. There were so many countless ways this could end, and you could only think about the negative outcomes. Slowly you reached for his hands over your face, removing them so they were in between the two of you. His confusion did not go unnoticed. “M-My… No… Riddle, I have something to tell you…”

You took notice of the way his eyebrow raised, and his smile shifted to a sort of concerned frown. Oh, how you dreaded that it may soon become the ugliest scowl known to man.

“I-I’m… I’m……” Why was it hard to say? You couldn’t force out the words. Slowly shaking your head, you began to regret coming this far. Why couldn’t you have just run with your knights when you had the chance a few minutes ago? “… not–– not who you think I am…”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you anticipated something. A slap, a punch, the pain from the ax being brought down upon you for your sins–– something terrible! Not gentle hands patting down your head. “Is that all?” He giggled, to which you hesitantly opened your eyes, petrified at his expression of adoration. Placing a finger at your chin, he tilted your head up as he hummed, yet there was a bit of a dark look in his eyes as he spoke.

“Did you believe I wouldn’t notice that my own spouse was replaced? My former partner wouldn’t lift a finger to protect me, yet you did. So, upon my realization, I thought to myself: perhaps I should spare them and see how else they serve me. And serve you did. In ways that were incomprehensible, your short time here surpassed all efforts ever made to hunt down our dear Ellis. It took some prying out of my subordinates you’ve charmed to learn what secrets you’ve uncovered to them. But, I believe I have the whole picture painted.”

Using his thumbs, he rubbed your cheek and his fingers massaged your temple.

“A criminal from another word, sent here in exile to receive a gruesome death as their punishment. Yet they survive, because they recognize that this world is much like a story from their youth. So they trick, lie, and act, all to save their life, even risking the demise of others just for their own salvation. And in the process, not only win the hearts of some cards, but also the heart of the land’s monarch. Do I have that right?”

When his gaze became focused on you and he leaned closer, you nodded, feeling the pace of your rising and falling chest begin to increase rapidly. In response, Riddle placed a hand over your chest, where your heart would be, and continued in a quiet tone,

“Don’t panic. I’m not angry. In fact, I’m very glad this happened. In exchange for your servitude towards my cause, I’ll reward you with forgiveness, but beyond that, I’ve taken a liking to you. So, from now on, you will remain as my royal consort! And, as promised, I will shape this world into whatever your heart desires.”

Removing himself from you, he brushed himself off and stood upright at the bedside, offering you a hand to take as his other hand reached for the heavy ax which he carried over his shoulder. The bloody Red King smiled, oh-so-delighted.

“Shall we go now? I understand it’s late, but tonight is a special occasion. This night marks the death of Ellis which we will witness together, and the proper beginning of our relationship. Tomorrow, with no one left to protect the White Kingdom, I’ll send my pets to conquer. Then, the only ruler of this land will be me and you, and we’ll govern the land splendidly. Don’t you agree, my King of Hearts?”

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a-killer-obsession · 3 months ago

Text

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 4 - Toy Mouse

Heat is being greedy, so Kid puts him in his place.

WC: 3.6k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

At first things seemed fine and normal with Heat. He was clingy, definitely, but at first you just chalked it up to him being a little touch starved. It wasn't until he refused to leave when you needed to use the bathroom that you realised something might be off, not even turning away to give you privacy. It was difficult to do your business like that, but something about the dark look in his eyes when he watched you made you aroused and more willing to do what he wanted. He kept you by his side 24/7, with no chance of going off on your own even at night, when he kept his tail coiled around you like a boa constrictor with its prey. He never hurt you, but the lack of privacy was starting to get grading, not to mention your cunt hurt from how many times he'd mounted you. Sometimes you woke up with him already inside you, which you didn't mind so much, except for the fact you were exhausted and he was interrupting your sleep constantly. If you tried to scold him, he'd just give you sad little puppy eyes, and you couldn't help but give in. By day three it seemed like all you did was eat, sleep and fuck. He barely left the bed or let you leave, instead having someone bring meals to the bedroom so he could keep you to himself, and you were beginning to feel like you had no agency in your own life at all. As much as you enjoyed being used like a personal fleshlight, some fresh air would've been nice.

On day four of Heat keeping you captive, the others decided they'd had enough. Heat was slacking off on his chores to play with you, and Kid was sick of his insubordination. He had warned Heat right from the start what would happen if he acted too possessive, knowing full well it was in the wyrm's nature to act like this, and with Sabaody on the horizon he decided to do something about it. Both you and Heat were summoned to Kid's room, where he had his own private dining room he sometimes used for meetings.

As it turned out, the stairs in the stern castle led to the captain's quarters, in other words: Kid's floor. Only the commanders and whoever was responsible for cleaning his chambers were allowed up those stairs unless invited, so you felt highly intimated as Heat led you up. At the top of the stairs was a short hall with two doors, the first of which, Heat explained, went to Kid's workshop, and the other to his living quarters.

The main part of Kid's quarters was made up of two rooms, separated by a large archway. The first chamber held the dining room and bar, a similar setup to the commander's table on the stage downstairs in the galley, while the second chamber held his bedroom. Another door led through from the bedroom, you would learn later that these led through to a walk-in closet, and beyond it a bathroom which also connected to the workshop, making one large loop that took up the entire expanse of this floor.

Kid's main chambers were decorated as you had expected in reds and blacks, with deep scarlet wallpapers decorated with an embossed baroque pattern that was glossier than the base, but the same colour, giving a subtle texture to the walls where the light caught it. The lower third of the walls were shiplapped with a deep ebony wood, almost black, the doors, framing and much of the furniture being made of a matching wood. The floors were a slightly brighter wood, with large black and red ornate rugs with purple accents laid out under the dining set and bed. The bed itself was a gothic styled canopy bed, with an ornate headboard and deep red sheets, set with red velvet blankets and a red fur much like his coat draped over the end. At the end of the bed was a long purple ottoman, and the room also held several dressers that matched the bed; side tables, a purple velvet loveseat and matching armchair, a small glass topped coffee table in front of the sofa, and wrought-iron faux candelabra lighting fixtures scattered around the walls of each chamber. Each chamber also had a grand matching chandelier in the centre of the room, both sections lit in warm orange light. The dining section also held two china cabinets with glass panelled doors, one one either side of the room. The first held a multitude of expensive looking liquors and crystal glasses to enjoy them with, while the other seemed like a collection of antique weapons, a variety of well kept guns and knives of all kinds.

Kid, Killer and Wire already sat at the dining table as you and Heat entered, Kid in a throne-like seat at the end of the table that was taller and more ornate than the other chairs. Heat pulled you into his lap as he sat, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The others rolled their eyes at the overly possessive action.

“Come now,” Kid tutted, “come warm my lap instead, mouse.” He pushed his seat a little away from the table, patting his knee to invite you over. You made to move to him, wanting to be obedient, but Heat made a growl behind you and held you tighter. “Heat, what did I say? Do I need to take your toy away from you permanently? Prove to me this wasn't a mistake to let you take responsibility of her”

Heat grumbled but let you go, knowing that if he didn't give in then Kid would have to send you back down to the brig, and he didn't want to give up having you warm his bed. You spared Heat an apologetic look as you walked to the head of the table, and Kid quickly pulled you into his wide lap, the large, jewel encrusted belt buckle he wore digging into you as you tried to get comfortable. His hand rested on your inner thigh as he held you still, the other against your waist to pin your back to his chest. You could feel the vibrations in his chest from his deep voice whenever he spoke, while Heat watched on with a deep, unhappy scowl on his face. Kid's hand was so high on your thigh that he could swipe his thumb over your slit, making you bite your lip and squirm as he put pressure against your clothed cunt.

“Wipe that fucking look from your face, snake, she offered herself to everyone, quit being selfish,” Kid barked at him.

“Don't call him a snake,” you said quietly, a slight quiver to your voice, “that's not nice. He's a dragon, not a snake”

“Damn, you showed her your full form already?” Kid laughed, “no wonder she fuckin’ stinks of you. I'll just have to put my own scent on her,” he jeered, running his sharp canines over the pulse point of your neck, making you shiver. Heat made a growl, black smoke leaking from his mouth, and Kid openly laughed at him, running his hand further up your thigh to cup your cunt while his other hand grabbed a tit, making you let out a surprised squeak. “Sounds like I'm gonna have to put your boyfriend in his place, mouse. Be a doll and bend over the table for me.”

You moved to do as he asked, apparently not moving fast enough for his liking as he suddenly manhandled you, pushing your front down against the table and yanking down your borrowed sweatpants and oversized briefs. You couldn't help but let out a whine as he ran two fingers between your folds before bullying them inside you, finding you already wet from just his earlier teasing. “Little mouse is already soaked, you want this don't you, whore? Want me to use your greedy cunt? It's sucking my fingers in.”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, blushing heavily and trying to ignore the other three men in the room who were watching you discerningly, most of all Heat who was growing angry as Kid played with his toy. There was wet squelching and the metallic jingling of gold bracelets as Kid finger fucked you, showing no mercy as he scissored his fingers to stretch you out as quickly as possible, adding a third thick finger and curling them down to press against your g-spot. “Ahh- hnng- Kid-” you moaned, writhing against the table, one of his hands still pressed to your back to keep you from getting up. He forcibly ripped an orgasm from you, not letting up even a little as he felt you clamp down around his fingers, and you heard the soft pattering of fluid hitting the rug as he made you squirt.

“Fuck, now there's a good whore,” Kid praised, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean, savouring your sweet taste. If he had more time he'd eat you out, but this wasn't about making you feel good, this was about putting Heat in his place. “You didn't say she was a squirter, Heat. Sweet little mouse, making a mess on my rug. I'm gonna make a fucking mess of that pussy. See who you dream of then.”

You heard the unbuckling of his belt behind you, his blue sash thrown to the floor beside you as he yanked down his pants. You turned enough to see his erection, gasping at how impossibly thick he was, somehow even thicker than the base of Heat's dragon form cocks, though not as long. The man was built like a fucking soup can. Kid gave Heat a shit eating grin as he pushed your head to face forward again, lining himself up and pushing his cock into you far too fast, knocking the air from your lungs and making you sting from the stretch. If it wasn't for how regularly Heat had been mounting you, the stretch would have no doubt made you scream in pain, but thankfully Heat had been giving you no time for your cunt to recover fully.

“Fuck, so tight,” Kid growled, grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise and immediately starting a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your thighs with every snap of his hips. He couldn't care less if you came again, his only goal was to cover you in cum so Heat would smell him on you for days and remember you didn't belong to only him. He was enjoying your tight cunt though nonetheless, seriously considering keeping you around for a while just to fuck even if you turned out to be full of shit.

You squirmed and moaned at Kid's rough treatment, moving too much for his liking. He made a frustrated growl and lifted a leg to the table, pressing his boot against your head, threatening to crush it. “Stop fucking squirming bitch,” he barked, “take what I fucking give you.”

You could smell the dirt and dried sea salt on the sole of his boot, as well as the polish he used to shine the leather (or more likely, that another crewmate used). You couldn't help the string of moans that left you at the degrading treatment, your nails digging into the wooden table top as your clothed tits slid back and forth against it. You made the mistake of looking ahead, making eye contact with Wire, who looked highly amused, his eyes dark and hungry as he twirled his trident on its base. You whined at his expression, he was watching you like you were nothing more than a plaything, practically seeing the cogs in his head turning as he considered all the things he would do to you when he got his turn. Killer's face was of course unreadable, but he watched you with crossed arms, sitting in a relaxed looking slouch with his mask pointed right at you. You expected Heat to look upset, but instead his eyes were wide and blown out with lust, finding surprisingly that he actually enjoyed watching Kid fuck you. He could get used to this, he thought. Possessiveness still prickled in the back of his mind, already planning on coating you in cum the second he got a chance, maybe he'd even piss on you for good measure, but for now he was enjoying watching Kid use you, and seeing the way your eyes rolled back at his merciless pounding.

“Oi, you two,” Kid pointed at Killer and Wire, “jerk yourselves off, we're gonna paint this bitch with our cum so Heat knows to share in future.”

The two of them didn't hesitate for a moment, already rock hard from watching as they each unfastened their pants and pulled out their cocks. You couldn't see how big they were from this angle, but just knowing they were fucking themselves while they watched you was enough to make your legs shake, clamping down hard around Kid's cock and near screaming as you came. “Oh you like that huh? You like seeing them jerk off while they watch me fuck you?” Kid laughed, “you were born to be a whore. That's the real reason you ended up on this ship, a perfect little whore, made just for us.”

Heat made a move to touch himself, but Kid growled and snapped a finger at him. “Not you, selfish cunt, you're just gonna sit there and watch. You've had enough turns already.”

Heat whined, putting his hands on the table, his fingers twitching and shifting nervously as he struggled to control his urges, black smoke puffing out of his nose with every strained breath. Kid removed his boot from your head and pulled his cock out of you, flipping you onto your back unceremoniously before he grabbed your thighs and pulled your ass to the edge of the table, reshealthing himself with a grunt. He grabbed your shirt and tore it open easily, exposing your breasts which bounced with every thrust. He tweaked and pinched your nipples, making you whine and your back arch of the table. “Fuck, look at those tits, these natural baby?”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, thighs squeezing around him involuntarily as he started rubbing your clit hard with a calloused thumb.

“Fucking nice,” he growled, groping your tit hard before his hand moved further up and squeezed around your neck. The restricted air flow made you light headed, adding to the dizziness you were feeling after two hard orgasms. You vaguely registered the creaking of the table behind you and the striped mask hovering over your face, before Kid released your neck, only for Killer to grab your face and tilt your head back, shoving his cock in your mouth and giving you no time to adjust before he was gagging you with it. You had to keep your eyes shut as they watered, trying hard not to gag as Killer's cock choked you, so you didn't see how Wire stood at your side, playing with the tit that Kid wasn't already occupying as he continued to fist himself, rolling your nipple between his fingers and slapping your soft mound. Your hands came up to grab at the lacing on Killer's jeans for support as you slid back and forth on the dining table, unable to concentrate on anything except for breathing through your nose.

You moaned around Killer's cock as Kid pulled at your clit and you came again, your gummy walls squeezing him and pulling him to his own peak. He pulled out just in time to coat your pussy with cum, thick ropes beading between your labia and dripping to the rug below as he panted. The other two took that as their cue, Wire spraying hot ropes over your tits while Killer unloaded over your face, leaving you thankful that your eyes were shut. The three of them left you whining and panting on the table, leaving you cold as the three hot bodies around you suddenly disappeared. You felt used but in the best kind of way, running your hands over your body and playing with the cum, pushing Killer's into your mouth and moaning around your fingers as you sucked the frosting from them.

“What do you say, mouse?” Kid purred, sitting back in his chair, pushing his cock back into his pants.

“Thank you captain,” you whimpered, touching your oversensitive clit with gentle circles. You couldn't help yourself when you felt unbelievably lewd covered in the collective cum of three different men.

“Look at her, can't get enough, she's jerking herself off with my cum,” Kid laughed, “go on then mouse, make yourself cum, show us how much you like being our little cum rag.”

You whined as you touched yourself harder with purpose, knowing it wouldn't take much to get yourself off given how sensitive you were right now. You dipped your fingers inside yourself, curling them the way you knew you liked best, zeroing in on the spot you knew would make you squirt, wanting to impress Kid. You sat up a little to reach better, seeing Kid's shit-eating grin as he watched you, looking pleased and amused as you fingered yourself in front of him. “Good girl mouse,” he purred, “you gonna cum for us sweetheart? Show us how much you love being the ship whore.”

“Ahhh- Kid~” you whined, your torso falling back to the table as your back arched, pumping your fingers fast in and out of your overused and gaping cunt as you felt the coil in your abdomen pull tight, your free hand running over your breasts and spreading Wire's spend over them. “Gonna- gonna cum- can I cum captain?”

“Good mouse, you can cum,” he purred, impressed by your naturally submissive behaviour. You did so immediately, squirting hard with a scream the whole Grandline would hear. With nothing for your release to catch against you almost got Kid with it, which pleased him greatly to watch as your release sprayed out over the rug and tabletop. You collapsed against the table with your legs draped over the side, shaking and twitching with aftershocks, entirely spent. Kid pulled your fingers from your cunt and licked them clean, making you whine as he gave your pussy a playful slap. “Good girl, mouse, you did good. You can go back to Heat now sweetheart.”

Heat helped you off the table, pulling you into his lap where you could feel his raging erection straining in his pants under your ass. He buried his face in your shoulder with a needy whine, and as exhausted as you were you couldn't do much to comfort him, so you just pressed your face against his. Killer and Wire had already returned to their seats, acting like nothing had happened, like there wasn't a puddle of fluids on the table or a stain on the rug, and like you weren't still covered in cum, not that Heat or yourself minded. He hated smelling the others on you, but he was too turned on to complain.

“Right,” Kid cleared his throat, “now that we've gotten that out of the way, Sabaody is a few days away.” You did your best to show him you were paying attention, but it was difficult given your half asleep state. “So you better have a plan for how you're gonna prove you're not full of shit. As tight as that pussy is, you ain't stayin’ on the ship if you can't prove your story.”

“Mmm, I have a plan, Captain,” you replied with a half-lidded gaze, “I can write down everything that'll happen, give it to one of you so you know I'm not changing it. Then afterwards you'll see everything I wrote down happened. I don't think you should read it till you're back though, I don't know yet if telling you will change things, so while I'm proving myself it would be best to play it safe.”

“Hmm,” Kid hummed, “alright then. But Heat is coming with us, so you're gonna have to come too. I don't trust anyone else to babysit you when we have no proof right now that you don't have powers.”

“Ah, I'd rather you lock me in the brig, to be honest,” you replied anxiously, “not to spoil things but Sabaody will not be… uneventful… and I have no way of defending myself. I'm a decent shot with a rifle from a stationary position but I have no experience with fighting. I only know how to shoot because my dad used to take me hunting, I'd be no good in a real fight. I'll just be a burden out there.”

“Fine, but if you turn out to be full of shit, don't think we won't drag you straight to the closest human auction house,” Kid threatened.

“Noted,” you shivered, hoping like hell that you just being in this world hadn't already fucked up the series of events due to play out. You weren't keen on getting branded and sold off to some Celestial cunt. Being used like a sex doll was only fun if it was with your favourite boys.

“Heat, get her cleaned up,” Kid barked before standing, “you're dismissed.”

Heat quickly picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the room without another word before Kid could change his mind, eager to have you to himself again. He'd clean you up, for sure, but not before he put his own mark on you.

[Next Chapter]

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