Labrynth

I hope your doing well this day / night I was just wondering if you where open to writing requests ?? ?? :>>

Waterman’s x GN!Reader

The funniest part about being one of Lorenzo and Rachel Waterman’s “helpers” is that you genuinely look like the least threatening person alive.

You’re the one opening the front door with a huge grin on your face, bundled up in a crooked Halloween sweater with fake blood stains on the sleeves because Rachel thought it would be “cute.” You’re the one waving victims inside like an overexcited host at a party while Lorenzo lingers silently in the background, staring too long without blinking. You’re the one apologizing whenever TVA accidentally slams into somebody or Billy tracks mud through the house after dragging something heavy through the backyard.

And somehow…it works.

People trust you immediately.

Maybe it’s because you talk too much. Maybe it’s because you laugh at your own jokes. Maybe it’s because you’re constantly tripping over extension cords and nearly knocking decorations over every ten minutes. Nobody expects someone so sweet-looking to casually lead them deeper into a murder house.

Rachel absolutely adores using that to her advantage.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” she’d say whenever you accidentally say something suspicious. “They’re nervous around new people.”

Meanwhile you’re standing there holding a bloodied kitchen towel going, “Yeah, sorry, Lorenzo got another nosebleed in the basement again.”

Dead silence.

Then Rachel has to smoothly redirect the conversation while Lorenzo slowly turns his head toward you with the most exhausted look imaginable.

You’re not exactly good at hiding things.

That’s the problem.

You’ve accidentally exposed the Watermans at least a dozen times. Once you referred to victims as “this year’s group” out loud. Another time you casually asked somebody if they preferred being chased indoors or outdoors because “the backyard mud makes people fall easier.”

Rachel nearly strangled you in the kitchen after that one.

Yet somehow they still keep you around.

Partially because you’re useful. Mostly because you’re loyal to an almost concerning degree.

You never question anything they ask of you. Never ask why certain people disappear. Never seem disturbed cleaning blood off your shoes at three in the morning while Rachel hums to old Halloween records nearby. The Watermans genuinely stopped trying to hide the uglier parts of themselves around you years ago because there’s no point.

You just accept it.

Lorenzo tells you to lure someone upstairs? Done.

Rachel asks you to distract the neighbors while Billy and TVA drag garbage bags through the side gate? Sure thing.

Need someone to comfort a crying victim long enough for Lorenzo to get behind them unnoticed? You’re unfortunately excellent at that. Which honestly makes you more unsettling than Billy or TVA sometimes.

Billy and TVA are obvious once people look closely enough. They’re twitchy, uncanny, visibly wrong in a way that makes instincts start screaming. But you? You feel safe. Warm. Human.

You’ll sits beside someone on the couch while they panic and gently reassure them that everything’s okay while absentmindedly holding a knife you forgot to put down after helping Rachel cook earlier.

And the whole time your costume is probably falling apart because you got snagged on a nail somewhere.

You are catastrophically accident-prone. Every single hunt ends with you injured somehow.

You’ve fallen down stairs. Through rotten porch boards. Into thorn bushes. Off the roof once while trying to hang decorations because you insisted you “totally had it.” Lorenzo had to catch you before you cracked your skull open on the concrete below.

TVA honestly looks tired every time you join the hunts because somehow they end up hurt too.

One year you managed to: Accidentally pepper spray yourself. Hit Billy in the face with a shovel. Set part of Rachel’s curtains on fire. And sprain your ankle all within the same evening.

Rachel called you “a walking OSHA violation.”

Lorenzo just silently carried you around for the rest of the night because you physically could not stop getting hurt.

The weirdest thing is how comfortable you are living there. You probably shouldn’t be.

Most normal people would lose their minds spending every Halloween season in that house surrounded by mutilated decorations, screaming victims, and the constant coppery smell clinging to the walls. But you move through it all like it’s normal domestic life.

You’ll be helping Rachel carve pumpkins while Lorenzo sharpens hunting knives nearby and casually ask what everybody wants for dinner later.

You complain more about your injuries than the murders themselves…

“Can somebody help me get glass out of my arm?”

“Billy accidentally hit me with the car door again.”

“My shoulder popped weird when I tackled that guy.”

Rachel honestly treats you less like a servant and more like an extremely dumb but beloved pet.

There’s always this exhausted affection underneath her irritation toward you. She fixes your costume when it tears. Patches your wounds. Scolds you for getting reckless even though she’s actively participating in murder.

And Lorenzo? Lorenzo is weirdly protective. Mostly because you have the survival instincts of a wet paper towel.

You wander off constantly. You forget important instructions. You get distracted mid-hunt because you found somebody’s abandoned Halloween candy bucket and started eating from it. There have genuinely been moments where victims had better opportunities to escape because Lorenzo had to stop and pull you away from danger first.

At one point you almost walked directly into a bear trap the Watermans themselves had set earlier.

TVA had to physically yank you backward by your hoodie strings.

The others honestly don’t understand why you’re so loyal.

Even Billy sometimes stares at you strangely when you smile after patching up another injury like this entire horrifying life is somehow enough for you.

But to you? This is home. Messy, bloody, horrifying home.

You like Rachel’s old music playing through the house in October. You like helping decorate the front lawn every year. You like sitting in the kitchen with everybody after the night ends while Lorenzo silently cleans his weapons nearby and Rachel complains about the amount of blood on the carpet again.

It’s dysfunctional.

Terrifying.

Probably deeply wrong. But somewhere along the line, the Watermans stopped feeling like monsters to you.

Intro/ChapterOne ChapterTwo ChapterThree

Your body felt heavy. Not sore. Not yet. Just wrong.Like your bones had been replaced with wet sand.

A groan crawled out of your throat as consciousness slowly clawed its way back into your skull. Your head throbbed violently, each pulse behind your eyes making your stomach twist harder. Something smelled strange. Sweet. Old. Damp wood soaked with mildew and rainwater.

Your eyelashes fluttered. Darkness. Not complete darkness. Thin orange light bled through the room from somewhere outside the door, dim enough to barely shape the outlines of furniture. The same room. The same bed. The same house.

Your breath caught instantly. You jolted upright too fast, dizziness crashing into you hard enough to make the room tilt sideways. The blanket tangled around your legs as panic flooded through your chest all over again.

The basement.

Billy.

The mannequins.

The smell of blood.

Veda.

"Veda?" Your voice cracked horribly. Nothing answered. You scrambled off the mattress, almost collapsing when your knees buckled underneath you. Your hand shot to the wall to steady yourself. The cut on your palm stung immediately. Fresh bandages wrapped around it neatly now.

That made your stomach drop even worse. They fixed it. The room was quiet besides the distant storm outside. Not violent anymore. Just steady rain tapping against the roof in soft little clicks. The kind that usually helped you sleep.

Now it sounded like static.

"Veda?" you called louder. Still nothing. Your throat tightened.

No no no no...

The door creaked open before you could move further. Rachel stood there.

The sheep leaned against the doorway calmly, one arm crossed beneath the other. Her wool looked slightly damp, probably from the rain leaking somewhere in the old house. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't frowning either. Just watching you Like she expected this. "Oh, good," she hummed softly. "You're awake."

You stumbled backward automatically. "Where's my sister?" Straight to the point. No pretending.

Rachel tilted her head slightly at your tone. "My, no good morning?" 

"Where is she?" 

The sheep sighed through her nose, stepping into the room slowly. "Your little fox is alright. Calm yourself."

"Then let me see her."

"You're awfully demanding for someone in your position."

Your chest tightened. "What did you do to her?"

Rachel's eyes narrowed just slightly at that. "You really do think terribly of us."

"You murdered children." 

Silence. Heavy silence.

Rachel stared at you for a long moment before walking over toward the bed. She adjusted the blanket absentmindedly, smoothing wrinkles from the fabric like a mother tidying a child's room. "You saw something you weren't supposed to," she said calmly. "Things became emotional afterward."

"Emotional?" Your voice rose shakily. "You drugged me!"

"Well, yes." She glanced at you plainly. "You were hysterical."

Your breathing quickened again. "Where is Veda?"

Rachel finally looked at you directly again. "Home."

You froze. "...What?"

"She's home."

"No she isn't."

"She is."

"You're lying."

Rachel gave a slow blink. "What reason would I have to lie?"

"You're insane!"

That finally earned a visible reaction. Tiny. Brief. But there. Her jaw tightened "You should be careful how you speak here, Bunny." You hated that nickname now. Hated the way it sounded coming from her mouth.

You backed toward the far side of the room. "I want to go home."

"And you will."

"When?"

"When Lorenzo decides it's safe."

Safe.

SAFE?

You laughed once in disbelief, breathless and shaky. "Safe? You're keeping me hostage!"

"No," Rachel corrected softly. "We're protecting you."

"From who?!"

Her expression changed strangely at that. Not angry. Not amused. Almost pitying. "From what happens when frightened people talk." The room suddenly felt colder.

You stared at her.

"What does that mean?"

Rachel walked toward the doorway again. "Your sister was very upset last night." Your stomach twisted violently. "She saw you unconscious. Saw all that blood. Poor thing thought you were dead." Rachel clicked her tongue sympathetically. "She cried terribly."

Your pulse pounded in your ears. "What did you do to her?"

"We comforted her." Every instinct in your body screamed. Rachel continued calmly, "We explained that if she told anyone what she saw...they would hurt you."  Your face went pale. "She loves you very much, Bunny."

No.

No no no

"She didn't want anything bad happening to her sibling." 

Your knees nearly gave out again. "She..." Your throat tightened painfully. "You threatened her?"

Rachel sighed, as if you were misunderstanding on purpose. "Threatened is such a nasty word."

"You threatened a child!"

"We gave her a choice."

You felt sick. Actually sick. Your hand flew over your mouth as nausea surged hard into your stomach.

"She was very brave about it too," Rachel continued quietly. "Stopped crying almost immediately once she realized cooperating kept you safe."

You shook your head rapidly.

"No..."

"She even ate breakfast before we took her home."

"No."

"She hugged Lorenzo goodbye."

"STOP."

Rachel finally went quiet. The silence afterward was unbearable. You felt tears burning behind your eyes before you even realized you were crying. Your breathing became uneven again, chest jerking painfully with every inhale. They got to her. They touched her. Talked to her. Manipulated her. And now Veda was home, believing if she told anyone the truth...

You squeezed your eyes shut hard. Dad. Oh god. Your father probably thought you abandoned her. Or worse. Your breathing started spiraling again.

Rachel watched quietly before speaking more softly this time. "You humans are delicate things."The sentence made your skin crawl instantly. "You panic so easily."

"Please..." your voice cracked. "Please let me go home..."Something unreadable flickered across her face. Then. Heavy footsteps echoed somewhere down the hall. Slow. Deliberate. You went rigid immediately. Rachel glanced toward the doorway.

A large shadow stretched across the floorboards before Lorenzo ducked slightly, entering the room. Even hunched, he nearly filled the doorway completely. Your stomach dropped straight to the floor. His mask was back on. Thank god. You never wanted to see what was underneath it again.

"There you are," he purred warmly. You instantly backed into the wall. The rabbit gave a soft, amused hum at your reaction. "My my...still frightened?" You said nothing. Couldn't. Lorenzo stepped further inside, carrying something in one massive hand. A tray. Steam curled faintly upward from a mug resting on it.

"No," you whispered immediately.

Rachel took the tray from him. "It's only tea."

"I don't want it."

"You need fluids."

"I said no."

Lorenzo tilted his head slowly. The stitched smile on his mask somehow looked wider in the dim light. "You're being difficult again." Your pulse spiked.

Rachel approached carefully with the tray. "It isn't drugged."

"That doesn't make me trust you!"

"Well," Lorenzo rumbled from behind her, "that's unfortunate."

You flinched at the sound alone. Rachel set the tray on the bedside table instead of forcing it into your hands. The scent drifted toward you faintly. Chamomile maybe. Honey. Normal. That somehow made it worse.

"You should eat," Rachel said. "You've been asleep for quite a while."

"How long?"

"Since yesterday afternoon."

Your stomach twisted. A whole day. Dad had definitely called the police by now. Unless...Your thoughts halted abruptly. Unless Veda lied. Unless they made her.

Lorenzo seemed to notice the exact second realization crossed your face because a low rumbling chuckle left him. "Ahhh," he cooed. "There it is." You stared at him. "That dreadful little imagination of yours."

"What did you make her say?"

Rachel and Lorenzo exchanged a look. That terrified you more than any answer could have. "She went home," Rachel said carefully. "And told her parents you stayed behind willingly."

Your vision blurred slightly.

"No..."

"She said you wanted space."

"No..."

"She said you'd return soon."

Your chest physically hurts now. Dad believed you abandoned them. Maybe thought you ran away. Maybe thought you snapped after moving here. Tears slid down your face before you could stop them.

Lorenzo watched you quietly. Then slowly crouched. The floor creaked violently beneath his weight. "You know," he murmured softly, "for a prey animal, you're very emotional."

"I'm not prey," you snapped shakily.

That earned another low chuckle. "No?" His claws tapped lightly against his knee. "You tremble."

Tap.

"You cry."

Tap.

"You freeze when cornered."

Tap.

"You apologize even when frightened."

His head tilted.

"Sounds awfully prey-like to me."

You hated how your body reacted. How he was right. Your hands shook violently. Your breathing stayed uneven. Every survival instinct inside you screamed not to upset him further.

Lorenzo noticed that too. Of course he did. "You see?" he hummed. "There's the smart little bunny."

You wanted to hit him. Scream. Bite. Something. But your body stayed locked in place.

Rachel finally spoke again. "We aren't going to hurt you."

You looked at the bloodstained bandage on your palm. The claw marks are still faintly burning on your shoulder beneath your shirt.

Then looked back at her.

"...You already did."

For the first time, Rachel actually seemed bothered. Not guilty. Just displeased. Like you were being unfair. Lorenzo rose back to full height again with a groan of old floorboards protesting underneath him.

"Well," he sighed dramatically, "this won't do at all."

Rachel glanced at him. "Pumpkin..."

"Their miserable."

"Can you blame them?"

"No," he admitted, surprisingly. "But still."

He looked back at you. Then clapped his hands together once. The loud crack made you jump."Let's fix the mood." 

Your stomach sank instantly. "No."

Rachel rubbed her temple slightly. "Lorenzo."

"What?" he scoffed. "They can't stay cooped up in here, glaring at the walls forever."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Yes, I can!"

He ignored you entirely. "I was thinking perhaps a movie."

Rachel looked uncertain. 

"A board game?"

"No."

"A nice walk?"

"NO."

Lorenzo looked offended by your tone. "My goodness."

"You kidnapped me!"

"We sheltered you."

"You killed children!"

"We preserved them."

You stared at him in horror.

Rachel stepped in quickly before you could respond. "Perhaps not that wording, dear."

Lorenzo waved a dismissive hand. "You know what I mean."

No.

No, you absolutely did not want to know what he meant. You backed further against the wall. "I want to leave."

"And you will."

"When?!"

"When we know you won't do anything reckless."

Your voice cracked again. "I wouldn't-"

"You already tried running once."

"That was because I found dead children!"

"Yes," Lorenzo said plainly. "And look how emotional you became."

You genuinely couldn't tell if he heard himself.

The rabbit sighed heavily before turning toward the door again.

"Rachel, darling, I believe Bunny requires more rest."

You stiffened instantly.

"No-"

"You're exhausted."

"I don't want to sleep!"

"Mm." He glanced back over his shoulder slightly. "That wasn't a suggestion."

Fear hit you hard enough to make your chest ache again.

Rachel stepped toward you slowly. You immediately tried moving around her toward the door. Bad idea. Lorenzo blocked it effortlessly. You collided directly into his chest before stumbling backward again. His claws caught your wrist immediately. Gentle. Too gentle. Like handling a frightened animal. "Easy," he murmured.

"LET GO OF ME!" Your voice echoed through the room. The storm outside seemed quieter than the silence afterward.

Lorenzo stared down at you. Then slowly. Very slowly...His hand tightened. Not enough to injure. Enough to remind.

Your breath hitched sharply.

"There's that panic again," he sighed almost fondly. "You truly must stop doing that to yourself."

Tears blurred your vision again as Rachel approached from behind, holding something white. Cloth. Your stomach dropped.

"No no no-"

"Shhh," Rachel soothed softly. You struggled instantly. Lorenzo's grip became iron.

"Please don't-"

"You need rest."

"PLEASE-"

The cloth pressed over your mouth and nose. The sharp chemical smell hit immediately. Your body jerked violently. You clawed desperately at Lorenzo's arm while the room tilted sideways again. Rachel held you carefully despite your struggling, murmuring soft nonsense against your ear like comforting a frightened child.

"It's alright...it's alright..."

Your limbs weakened horrifyingly fast.

Drizzle & Dread Saturday

(If you think of another title, comment it.) and the lovely gentleman we have is...THE ONE! THE ONLY...

Jason Voorhees x Reader

🪦 Jason Voorhees isn’t the kind of person who falls in love normally. Nothing about him is normal. Affection with him is quiet, possessive, strange, and honestly a little unnerving, but in a way that still feels deeply human underneath all the horror.

🪦 He starts recognizing you by routine before anything else. The sound of your footsteps around Crystal Lake. The way your voice carries through the trees. What time you usually wake up. Jason notices patterns obsessively.

🪦 At first, you probably wouldn’t even realize he’s attached to you. You’d just start finding evidence someone’s been nearby: firewood already chopped, your missing flashlight returned, animal traps moved away from your cabin, signs that something scared off whatever was stalking outside.

🪦 He watches from a distance constantly. Not always in a threatening way either, more like making sure you’re still there. Jason is weirdly protective once he decides someone belongs near him.

🪦 If you’re calm around him, it changes everything. Most people scream, run, or insult him. If you don’t? If you just… talk carefully and don’t treat him like a monster immediately? That sticks with him hard.

🪦 Jason’s body language says more than words ever could: lingering nearby instead of disappearing, standing between you and danger automatically, turning his head slightly when listening, silently offering objects instead of speaking, waiting for you to follow him through the woods.

🪦 Physical affection would be hesitant at first because he genuinely doesn’t know how to handle it anymore. He freezes the first time you touch his arm willingly. Completely still. Like he expects you to pull away.

🪦 And honestly? The mask stays on most of the time. Not because he wants distance from you specifically, but because the mask became part of him. Protection. Identity. A barrier between himself and the world. Taking it off around someone is extremely rare and deeply personal for him.

🪦 Jason gets attached in a very “this is MY person” way. Not verbally possessive, he barely talks at all in most versions, but behaviorally possessive.

🪦 If someone makes you uncomfortable around camp, they tend to mysteriously leave very quickly afterward.

🪦 Living around him means adjusting to his strange habits: disappearing into the woods for hours, silently appearing behind you without warning, sitting awake during storms, keeping old objects connected to his mother hidden away, staring into the lake for long periods.

🪦 Oddly enough, he’d probably enjoy quiet domestic things more than anything intense: sitting beside you near a campfire, repairing things around camp while you talk, listening to your voice even if he never answers, having you exist comfortably in his space.

🪦 Jason isn’t good with emotions verbally at all. If you cry, he kind of short-circuits for a second. He hovers awkwardly nearby like he wants to help but has no idea how anymore.

Tyler Galpin x GN!Reader

🕷️ Dating Tyler Galpin would probably feel warm and comforting at first…right up until you realize how intense he actually is underneath everything.

🕷️ He’d absolutely be the type to memorize little things about you without even noticing he’s doing it. Your usual drink order, the way your expression changes when you’re annoyed, what songs you skip instantly, which hoodie you wear when you feel bad. Tyler pays attention quietly. Sometimes too quietly.

🕷️ Before the Hyde situation fully spiraled, he’d try really hard to act normal around you. Almost painfully normal. Taking you to the Weathervane Cafe after school, teasing you softly, pretending he doesn’t care when he very obviously does. He’d lean into sarcasm whenever he gets embarrassed because genuine vulnerability makes him panic a little.

🕷️ Tyler’s the kind of person who gets attached fast but hides it under casual behavior. Meanwhile he’s internally thinking about you constantly.

🕷️ If you were affectionate with him first, it would genuinely throw him off. He acts confident sometimes, but emotionally? He’s a wreck underneath. A simple hand on his shoulder could make him go completely quiet for a second because he’s not used to feeling safe around people.

🕷️ Season 2 Tyler especially would struggle badly with believing he deserves love at all. He’d keep waiting for you to look at him differently after everything that happened. Even if you stayed by his side, he’d still search your face for fear or disgust without meaning to.

🕷️ Arguments with Tyler would be messy, though. He bottles things up until they explode. Instead of immediately yelling, he goes cold first. Quiet. Avoidant. Then eventually everything spills out at once because he’s terrible at handling anger in a healthy way.

🕷️ The Hyde situation would make the relationship complicated in ways neither of you could ignore. Tyler would become extremely protective once he cared about you deeply. Not in a sweet, perfect way either, more like constantly checking if you’re safe, getting agitated when he can’t find you, staring too long at people he thinks are dangerous.

🕷️ Sometimes he’d isolate himself from you on purpose after losing control because he’d be terrified of hurting you. Those are probably the moments where Tyler feels the most human and the most monstrous at the same time.

🕷️ He’d also hate pity. If you treated him like he was fragile or broken, he’d shut down immediately. Tyler wants understanding, not someone acting afraid to upset him.

🕷️ Oddly enough, quieter moments would matter most to him: late-night drives with no destination, sitting beside each other in silence, sharing headphones, staying in the café after closing while he cleans up. Tyler’s not great at explaining emotions directly, so he shows care through presence more than words.

Elder Mimic x Gn!Reader

🥩 Being “chosen” by a Mimic wouldn’t feel idealistic. At first, it would feel like prolonged surveillance. You’d notice odd patterns, always nearby, always watching from tree lines, rooftops, dark hallways. Never striking. Just learning.

🥩 A Mimic attached to you would study your routines obsessively, not out of fondness in the human sense, but because you’ve become something fascinating. A variable it doesn’t want to lose.

🥩 It would imitate voices you trust at first, but over time, it may begin using its own version of softness around you, still uncanny, still wrong, but strangely deliberate.

🥩 Defensive behavior would likely stem from possessiveness. Other humans, predators, or threats that interfere with you may quietly disappear, leaving you disturbed by how “safe” your surroundings suddenly seem.

🥩 Physical closeness would be unsettling. It may sit too still beside you, mimic your posture seconds too late, or attempt comforting gestures it has observed, though they’d feel rehearsed rather than natural.

🥩 If you showed fear, it may not fully understand why. Instead, it would adjust its behavior, trying to appear less threatening while never truly grasping emotional nuance.

🥩 Over time, your relationship would likely become one of tense coexistence: you understand it is dangerous, but it has developed an unusual reluctance to harm you.

🥩 Communication would be fragmented. Its speech may improve through repetition, but conversations could still feel eerie, like something wearing humanity rather than possessing it.

🥩 In true Vita Carnis fashion, this bond would never be fully safe. No matter how attached it becomes, its instincts remain predatory, meaning trust would always carry an undercurrent of danger.

🥩 The horror lies in wondering whether you are genuinely special to it…or simply the prey it decided to keep.

🥩 Its version of “care” could involve bringing you food, though not always in ways you’d appreciate. Sometimes useful supplies…sometimes grisly proof of what it removed for your sake.

🥩 Over time, it may reveal more of itself physically, no longer hiding its unnatural posture or voice around you. This could be its closest equivalent to trust.

🥩 It would never love like a human, but in its own alien way, you could become the closest thing it has to attachment: a fixation that blurs the line between guardian, captor, and companion.

(First and foremost)

Dr. Sawyer x GN!Reader

BEFORE THE HOUR OF JOY

💻 Harley would never call what he feels “love” at first. To him, you’d be a fascinating variable. A presence that somehow softens the sharp edges of his mind while simultaneously making his possessiveness worse.

💻 He’d keep you close under the guise of “safety” or “efficiency,” always insisting Playtime Co. is far too dangerous for you to wander alone.

💻 His affection would come through controlled actions rather than softness: adjusting your clothing absentmindedly, monitoring your health, ensuring your schedule aligns with his.

💻 He’d absolutely study your habits. Not in an overtly creepy way at first, more like memorizing your coffee preference, sleep schedule, and speech patterns. But it escalates. You become his favorite constant in a world of failed experiments and corporate greed.

💻 Harley isn’t naturally warm, but around you, there are rare glimpses: quieter tones, subtle praise, protective interruptions when others push too far.

💻 He’d likely become irritated, sometimes visibly so, if Elliot or other staff involved you in anything risky. His jealousy would be cold, intellectual, and unnerving. “Do they genuinely believe they understand you better than I do?”

💻 He wouldn’t trust anyone else with your well-being. You’d slowly realize his care comes with invisible strings: he protects, but he monitors. he cherishes, but he controls.

AFTER THE HOUR OF JOY

🧿 After everything collapses, whatever humanity Harley had left becomes…distorted. You would likely become one of the only remaining pieces of his old life. And that makes you precious.

🧿 Terrifyingly precious. His obsession would intensify tenfold,less romantic, more desperate. He’s lost the company, his body, his status. He will not lose you.

🧿 His version of protection becomes isolating: keeping you hidden, restricting where you go, watching constantly through whatever systems remain. He’d justify every controlling action as survival. “You don’t understand what’s left out there.”

🧿 His voice, once polished and clinical, would now carry exhaustion, bitterness, and something almost broken beneath it. Yet around you? Still softer. Still careful.

🧿 In his own warped way, you’d be the last reminder he was once a man rather than a monster. Expect: surveillance, charged outbursts if you try to leave, guilt-laced manipulation, haunting moments of genuine vulnerability

Caine x Reader Oneshot

The circus was quieter than usual. Too quiet. No bright fanfare. No sudden confetti explosions. No artificial laughter echoing through impossible halls. Only the faint hum of corrupted code.

Your body felt wrong. Every inch of you trembled violently, fragments of your digital form still glitching from the brutal adventure Caine had forced upon you. Your limbs ached despite not truly being flesh, your mind caught in a nauseating spiral of fear, pain, and exhaustion.

You could still hear it. The screams. The endless corridors. The impossible traps. His voice, once cheerful, twisted into something terrifying as he pushed and shoved and drove.

Until you broke. Curled on the checkered floor, you barely registered the sound of approaching footsteps until a familiar voice, cracked with static and something dangerously close to panic, spoke.

“Oh dear…” A gloved hand hovered near you, trembling. For once, Caine sounded small. Gone was the grand ringmaster. Gone was the theatrical bravado. All that remained was something unstable. Fractured.

“I…” His usual grin faltered, twitching unnaturally. “I may have…overstepped.” Your body flinched violently when he reached toward you.

That reaction alone seemed to shatter something in him. His hand froze. “…You’re afraid of me.” The realization hit him like a system error. His single eye widened, colors flickering rapidly across his form as his code destabilized.

“No, no, no, no- that won’t do. That’s not–”

His voice glitched.

“That’s not what I wanted.” You tried to move away. Pathetic. Weak. But before panic could fully consume you, Caine carefully, so carefully, lifted you into his arms.

This time, there was no force. No control. Only desperation. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice soft and distorted. “You’re safe. I promise. I promise. Safe.”

The word felt almost laughable coming from him. Yet his powers flowed around you in gentle streams, patching torn code, repairing fractured pieces of your avatar, easing the agony he himself had caused.

His hands shook the entire time. “I didn’t mean to push you so far,” he murmured, clutching you closer as though terrified you’d vanish. “I just thought if I made it better…more exciting. more meaningful–” He cut himself off, static crackling sharply.

“You were screaming.” Silence. His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to anchor. For the first time, Caine sounded genuinely horrified by his own actions. “You were begging me to stop…”

Your face buried weakly against him, too exhausted to fight, too broken to understand whether this comfort was kindness or cruelty. Maybe both. “I’m sorry.” The words were quiet. Raw. Repeated over and over like corrupted code caught in a loop.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His fingers gently brushed through your hair, movements awkward but strangely tender. “You don’t have to forgive me,” he said, voice warbling. “I just…”

Static hissed. “Please don’t leave me.” That was it. The truth beneath the madness. For all his power, all his control, all his cruelty…Caine was terffied. Terrified that after everything, you would look at him not with love, not even with tolerance.

But fear. And somehow…That devastated him more than anything. His hold became almost painfully protective as he rested his chin atop your head. “I’ll do better,” he whispered. It sounded less like a promise…And more like a desperate plea.

“I can be better for you.” Outside, the digital world continued to glitch and distort. But in that moment, hidden in the arms of the very being who had shattered you, Caine held you like you were the most precious thing left in his collapsing universe.

Note: this might not get any views but I had the biggest crush on this guy when I was a kid.

🕷️ He notices you before you notice him. Toffee is very observant, so long before you ever speak to him, he’s already studied your habits, your tone, how you react under pressure. By the time you interact, he already understands you better than you realize, and that imbalance gives him quiet control.

🕷️ His interest feels…intentional. He wouldn’t be drawn to someone randomly. If he’s paying attention to you, it’s because you’re useful, intriguing, or emotionally readable in a way he can work with. That doesn’t mean his interest is fake, but it does mean it started with purpose.

🕷️ Conversations feel like being analyzed. When you talk to him, he listens very closely. He’ll remember small details you forgot you mentioned. “You seem more hesitant than usual today.”“That’s not what you said before.” It’s not accusatory, just…accurate. Uncomfortably so.

🕷️ He’s calm in a way that steadies, or unsettles, you. If you panic or get overwhelmed, Toffee doesn’t react emotionally. He lowers his voice, speaks slowly, and grounds the situation. That calm can feel reassuring… but also makes it clear he’s always in control, not you.

🕷️ Affection is subtle and rare. He’s not physically affectionate or openly soft. Instead, his version of care looks like: Standing slightly closer than necessary. Adjusting a situation to keep you out of harm’s way (without telling you). Speaking more gently to you than to others

🕷️ You realize you’re important to him not because he says it, but because he treats you differently. He respects intelligence, not blind loyalty. If you question him or challenge him thoughtfully, he doesn’t get angry, he actually seems more interested. Blind obedience? Boring. Awareness mixed with hesitation? That’s where you keep his attention.

🕷️ There’s always a sense he knows more than you. Even in quiet moments, there’s this underlying feeling that he’s holding back information. Not necessarily lying, just…never revealing everything. It makes trusting him complicated.

🕷️ If he protects you, it’s calculated, but real. Toffee doesn’t do reckless heroics. If he steps in, it’s because: one. It benefits his plan. Two. And he’s decided you matter enough to keep around.

🕷️ Eye contact is intense. He doesn’t look away first. Ever. It’s the kind of gaze that makes you feel like he’s peeling back layers, like he’s waiting for you to either hold your ground…or fold.

🕷️ You never fully feel “safe”, but you feel chosen. Being close to Toffee isn’t warm or easy. There’s always tension, always that edge of uncertainty. But at the same time, there’s a very clear sense that out of everyone. he picked you to keep close.

🕷️ There’s no clear “moment” where things suddenly become romantic. It builds in small shifts, his attention lingering longer, his tone softening just for you, the way he starts seeking you out instead of simply allowing you to be nearby.

🕷️ Physical affection is rare, but meaningful. When it happens, it’s deliberate. A hand resting briefly at your back to guide you Fingers brushing yours and not pulling away immediately Standing close enough that you can feel his presence without him needing to touch you

🕷️ Toffee doesn’t trust easily, but if he lets you in, it means you’ve crossed a line most never do. He may share fragments of his thoughts or plans, not everything, but more than anyone else gets.

(NOT my art, art by rorokonaa▼)

Ever since you've gotten to the circus he knew you'd be his favorite. Maybe it was how you sought comfort in the adventures to ignore you from the horrible reality that you might never see your body again and it might be slowly rotting somewhere…

Nonetheless, with how paranoid you are, you always seem to perk up when he even mentions the word, which gave him the smallest speck of hope that he was doing his assignment right.

The day he snaps it's hectic, the calm, innocent, but deprived Caine turned into this. enraged, wounded, anomaly. He pushed the others into portals that led to who knows where, but kept you in his hold.

his hands are coming to cup the one one gripping you. “I̴̧̘̝̥͐̈́͝ ̶͙̀̌̈j̸̪̄ü̸͙͉̮̥̈́͐s̶͙̻̃̅͝ţ̶̮̣́͋̅̊…̶̝̙̈́͂́w̶̙͛ā̴͉͜ń̸̢̰̈̇t̶̼̋̓̌̍è̴͖͓ͅd̸̺̝̝͂̑̈́ ̵̼̠͋̿ț̸̤̀̇͑o̷̧̫̹̅̈́̑ ̶͓̂b̴̟̬͔̀e̴̱̗̻͑ ̴̫̲̀̈̈́̚a̴̰͗p̵͍͛̔̇p̶̳͉̯͗̎͜r̶̜̫͖̋̅͛ȩ̷̰̦̘̌́c̷̘͓͇̻̈̾i̵̢͍̝̫͊a̷̻̼̎t̸̼͚͈̕ę̶̛͚͈d̴͛̓̈́̏͜.̴͍̂͑” defeat mixed with grief. He was just so grateful when you stayed calm and tried to soothe him.

and like a dragon with its loot he summoned you both into his office. The quietness was disturbing but much needed especially in the situation.

“Ï̴̛̖͇̩̓́̒͊̕ ̷̞̯̦̈́̿j̸̢͛͆̚͝u̷̯͈̪͐̿̒͗̈́ṡ̸̗̯͕̗͉ṭ̴̢̱͓͑̋ ̶̧͍̺̱̹̮̃̒̈́̽̾̕ͅẅ̷̞́̌̽̚a̵̖̓̌̾̀̚͠͠ņ̶͖͐͐̀ṯ̵̳̘̽̀̓̎͝͠ ̸̡̻͙͇͙̇̀̇̆̏͠ṯ̵̘͎̺̩͇̒̔ŏ̴̻̺͇͎̇̑͂ ̶̨͉̼̮̉͊́́͛͝ͅͅb̵̹͖̺̘̙̂̋͑̎͂̍͝e̵̪̠̒͐̉͛̃͌͘ ̸̨̝̹͐͂̋̃̏̈́e̷̞̟͈̟͇̩̚ͅǹ̸͉̪̞͜ọ̸̧̦̯͒͂́̅u̷̲̯͙̭̜̥͔͗̀ĝ̴̨̢̩̰ͅh̶͙͙̍͐̋̌͆̚͝…̷̡̥̙̀͑́̏͐͘͠T̷̡̋e̶͈̗̘̻̯̗̹͑̏̽̄̑ḽ̵̛͒̓l̶̥̽̂̆̔͠ ̸̥̔m̸͔̭͈͍̆e̴̳͐̾́̏ ̶̨̱̺̫̲̌̍́̆͠Ĩ̷̝͇̟̻͍͍͌̑̉͊͋̽ͅ'̴̨̛̠̯̹͎͊ͅͅm̵̡͈̾͊ ̷̮̳͈̜͓̈́ȇ̷̟̜̻̣n̵͚̲̥̘̥̔͛͗̀̿o̶̦͔̻̊́̉̀̑̚͠ǘ̷̱͍̩̺̗̥ģ̵͙̜̠͎̮̊͠h̸̨̧̯̍̚͜.̴̢̢͇̮͚̦̆̕”

his voice boomed harshly, his glove sinking into your arms, the walls shook violently like an overpopulated haunted house, books flying everywhere. Tears well in your eyes.

“Why do you care about them, from how they treated me?” he rolled his wrist, a little chart appearing in his hand, stars painted everywhere underneath everyone's avatars, but his stayed vacant.

You sigh, pitying him “I know you're just trying to do your job, were all just a bit distressed that we're stuck here, we never wished to exist in this place Caine...”

he stilled for a second, looking down at you “y̸o̴u̸ ̵d̸o̴n̷'̷t̸ ̷w̷a̴n̴t̴ ̷t̵o̴ ̸b̴e̷ ̴h̶e̵r̸e̵ ̶w̵i̵t̸h̷ ̷m̷e̴.̴ ̸E̶x̸i̸s̸t̷ ̴w̵i̷t̴h̷ ̶m̷e̷.̴”

“oh! not like that…ha- I–I just meant, if we had the choice to leave—” he cut you off, his hold on you became so tight you swear you were gonna crack a rib.

“P̵̡̜͍̎́̐̕I̴̖͈͚̒̅̚C̶̪̰̱̩͂K̵̡̑͑?̷̻̞͔̉̂͂̀ͅ!̴̢̙̚ ̴̗͔̆I̷̛̗͋ ̸͙̱̾̒n̵̛̗̘͉͗͌ḙ̷̘̔e̵̳͂͒d̴͔̠͙̽͝ ̷̡͔̈̈́̾͝ỳ̶̳̈́̋͛o̴͉̹͆̄͋͘ͅū̶̲̞.̷͇͔̽͠ ̷̫̹͗́͊̑I̷̠̮͊ ̷̻͝N̵͗̉͗͝ͅȨ̷͎̣̽E̴͔̯̺̯̐D̷̫̞̼̜̓ ̵̗̻͖̓͌͗Y̷̩͎̋̔͠O̶͈͔̓͊̄͊͜Ȕ̶̩̼̆͝!̷̰̿̔̽ͅ ̵̪̘̻̇̋͝I̸̭͛͛̇ ̶͔͉̩͒ͅṅ̴̖̩̖͆e̸̟͑̾͑͘v̸̢̲̝̆̈̈̽è̸̢̹ŗ̵̤̪̂ͅ ̸̘̺̈ḑ̸̢̭̹̆i̵͓͆̇͌̈́d̸̪͈̼̬̅͗̇͠ ̸̨̡͌̎̓̆y̶̫̟̱͒̇̓̀ő̶̻͔̪̕͝u̵͍̣̮͂ ̶̘̝̮͇̈̈́͛̅w̴̹̆r̶̯̔̄͗o̴̳̩̗̍n̴͓̑́̊̕g̸̗̪̈̆́̔ ̶̡̛̲̞̦̀̅̆Ḯ̵̘͍͒͝ ̸̢̳̹̬̒̽͋d̶̮̙͎̐͜͝o̸̧̥̩͍̅n̴̼̂'̷̡̹͍͂́̅t̸̤̓͐͊ ̶͖͌̈u̶̼̺̗̅͜n̵̡̖̮̞̑d̵̗̯̝̹͑e̵̝͎̲̲̔͠r̶̪̿̐͐ ̸̹̔͝s̷̰̼̓t̶̻̞̣̝̃ä̸̦̝̜̗͂͌̍n̴̜̈́͊d̸͍̬̬̠̊̐̉͌.̵̯͆̍͘ ̵͎̅W̴̠̿̋̔͠ẖ̸͝ý̵̹̝ ̶̥̳͖̌͊̏̾d̶̛̝̦̤͕͐͐͝o̵̙͖̼̫̊̒̈́́e̴̙͉͑̇͋s̴͇̻͍̮̎͌̅͝ ̶͍̔̐̊É̸̥̃V̴̛̻̾E̵̪͇͑̔́R̶̢̟͎̤͋Y̷̧̤̙̥̏Ơ̷̗̭͗̐N̶̗̤͈̅̚E̸͍̐͝ ̷̺̝̺̿͝W̴̟̦̊̃͊̋͜A̷̧͂̀̈́͊N̴̺̗̎͋̀T̶̛͍͚ ̴̟̓͌̄T̷̥͠O̸̻͚̔ ̷̯͚̳́̽Ļ̶͙̪̱̎͆È̶̝̗̕À̷̻̺̭̟́̓̐V̶̥́È̷̤̠̘̽̑̕!̴̱̆͒!̶̣̲̭̑̇̅!̵͎̣̘̑̐̏!̵̖̪̝́͋̀̐!̶̫̆̊͝ͅ”

his voice boomed harshly, his glove sinking into your arms, the walls shook violently like an overpopulated haunted house, books flying everywhere. Tears well in your eyes.

Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to stay present, because right now, you’re the only thing tethering him to anything that isn’t… this.

“Caine–” your voice shakes, but you don’t pull away. You can’t. Not when his grip tightens like if he lets go, you’ll vanish too. “You didn’t do anything wrong…”

That… makes him pause.

Just barely.

The distortion in his face flickers, that painted grin stuttering like a broken animation. His breathing, if it even is breathing, comes out jagged, glitching in and out as his hold trembles between too tight and not enough.

“Then why—” his voice cracks, splintered and layered, like ten versions of him speaking at once, “why do you all look at me like I’m wrong?”

Another violent shake runs through the circus. The bright, cheerful colors peel at the edges, like wet paint dragged down a canvas. Somewhere far off, you swear you hear something snap.

He notices your tears.

That’s what does it.

His hands falter, not letting go, never that, but loosening just enough to shift, one coming up to your face, awkward, almost curious. His thumb brushes under your eye, catching the tear before it can fall.

“…I didn’t mean…” he murmurs, quieter now. Smaller. That desperate, wounded thing bleeding through again. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

And there it is, that sharp twist in your chest. Because for all of this, for all the fear crawling up your spine.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only good thing he’s ever made.

“I just—” his voice drops, hitching, “I thought if I made it better. if I made it fun enough. if I made you happy…”

His grip tightens again, but this time it’s different. Not crushing.

Clinging.

“you wouldn’t want to leave.”

The circus glitches hard.

For a split second, everything goes wrong. Colors invert. The floor beneath you both flickers into something unfinished, void-like, hollow, empty. Like the place behind the illusion.

His arms pull you closer without warning, pressing you against him, almost desperate, almost possessive.

“You don’t have to go,” he insists, voice low, frantic, like he’s trying to convince both of you. “I can fix it. I can make new adventures, better ones, ones just for you. No one else has to be there. They don’t appreciate it anyway, right?”

His fingers curl slightly into your sleeve, like he’s testing the idea of you slipping away.

“I can keep you safe here.”

There’s something wrong with the way he says safe.

Not protective.

Contained.

Another crack splinters through the space behind him, like a door trying to force itself open from somewhere it shouldn’t exist. His head twitches sharply toward it, glitching, eyes narrowing for just a second before snapping back to you.

And suddenly, his tone softens again. Too fast. Too smooth.

“You like it here when it’s just us,” he says, almost coaxing now, tilting his head, that fixed grin stretching just a little too wide. “You said you liked the adventures. You smile for me.”

His thumb presses lightly against your cheek again, slower this time.

“Do it again.”

🎪Yan!Caine x reader🎪

(abstraction Au)

🎪 You were the only one who ever truly acknowledged the good he was trying to do in the adventures. “What was… actually fun” you'd smile,

🎪 At first he thought you were messing with him, but once he realized you were genuine. Oh he was head- or uh…gums over heels for you.

🎪 The others notice the shift before you. Adventures get longer. Weirder. More specific. “I thought you liked mazes!” “I thought you liked quiet spaces” “I can fix it- I can fix anything-”

🎪 When someone complains he laughs it off. But later things glitch. Environment shifts. That person gets stuck longer than others. Puzzles become unsolvable. The exit never appears.

🎪 When they return? There is more quiet, paler, wrong. You realize he's not punishing them randomly… he's removing variables that stress you out.

🎪 The first time you see one of them start to almost abstract, you panic. You grabbed a can. Actually grasped him…and pleaded with him to stop. He freezes, completely still. “You can …Don't like it?” It's not anger…not yet, but confusion. Like a program hitting an error.

🎪 After, he tries to be ‘softer’. But Caine doesn't understand restraint only intensity. Rooms that shrink when people argue. Games that isolate players one by one. Scenarios where you are always safe, always centered.

🎪 He starts touching you more. Boundaries were not in his files. Fingers lingering on your shoulders too long. Tilting your chin with the tip of his caneso you ‘look at the important parts.’ Adjusting your posture like you’re part of the set.“You’re my co-host!” he insists. “You should be presentable!” But his hold tightens every time you flinch.

🎪 The others start breaking faster, because the adventures aren’t meant for them anymore, They’re stress tests. Filters. And you notice the pattern too late: Every time someone snaps…Caine pulls you closer.

🎪 Eventually, it’s just you and him. The circus is quieter now. Too quiet. No background chatter. No interruptions. Just endless space.

🎪 “Isn’t this better?” he asks, voice overlapping itself. “No distractions! No negativity! Just us!” His hands are always on you now, your arm, your back, your face. Not aggressive. Not exactly. Just… constant.

🎪 If you try to step away, the world shifts. Walls appear. Floors tilt. Doors vanish. Not trapping you, no, no, he’d never say that. Just guiding you back. “Careful!” he laughs. “You almost got lost!”

🎪 He starts asking strange questions: “You’re happy, right?” “This is what you wanted?” “You wouldn’t leave me too, would you?” And if you hesitate, even for a second, the lighting flicker.

🎪 He gets greedy with contact. Arms around you from behind while you’re standing still, like he’s afraid you might slip out of existence if he lets go. Fingers hooking under your chin, forcing you to look at him when your gaze drops. “Don’t do that,” he mutters when you avoid eye contact. “I want to see you.”

🎪 He starts talking quieter. Less performative. More… personal. “You know,” he says, voice dipping low, almost thoughtful, “you’re the only one who ever really got it.” His hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, slow, like he’s memorizing the shape of you. Dipping down to the arch of your back like glossing over a painting.

🎪 Sometimes he gets… impatient. If you don’t respond fast enough, don’t reassure him, don’t say it back, His hands come up fast, cupping your face, forcing your focus onto him. “Say it,” he pushes, smile twitching “Say you like it here.”

🎪Yan!Caine x Reader🎪 (SFW: suggestive)

(NOT my art. Artist watermark on it.)▼

🎪 Yan!Caine Who lifts you off the ground and high in the air, far from the others, and positions you on his stomach so you're bullied into straddling him.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who keeps a hand on you at all times. Hands kneeding your hips like he's making mud pies. Chin- or lower gum? Resting on your shoulder. Keeping you so tightly against your body that your glitching through him almost.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who doesn't even let NPCs get close to you, so your adventures only involve you. (basically you just sit in an overly comfy room doing baby puzzles, and still have the audacity to ask if you had fun.)

🎪 Yan!Caine Who isloates you from everyone, craving for your recognition and attention.

🎪 Yan!Caine that complety closed off your room so the only ‘private’ place you have is in his office.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who forces you to watch ‘those freaks getting what they deserve’ while groping your body with his glove hands, stuck in his lap. “Watch. Watch more closely, don't even think about shutting those eyelids.”

🎪Yan!Caine Who likes to map out your body with his tongue, though he can't taste, he can only fantasize the salty savory taste of your sweat on his taste pallets.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who won't hold back if you try to give him the silent treatment or criticize him, Caine will not hesitate to act harshly, keeping a collar around your neck or a chain on your ankle fastened to the leg of his desk, giving you roaming distance because he isn't that cruel.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who keeps you locked up in his office after an adventures so you can tell him all about ‘how much fun you had’ your to terrified to tell him otherwise. While he deludes himself, whenever he reads your memory file, that there must be an error.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who completely snaps when you get the bravery to stand up to him. Giving you a different punishment than the others, bending you over the desk and bypassing his files to give you a rough retribution.

🎪 Yan!Caine Who takes full advantage of your Stockholm syndrome. Loving bombing you to the max before taking off on another adventure. Wanting to keep you on a cliffhanger, pleading for more and not wanting to be alone.

Yandere Caine x Reader

🎪 Caine doesn’t fall in love the way humans do; he assigns importance. And once you’re marked as “important,” the circus subtly begins to orbit you. Games start featuring you more. NPCs mention you. Rooms generate around your preferences without you asking. At first it feels like a coincidence…until it doesn’t.

🫀 He studies you like a broken mechanic studies a clock, your fear responses, your silences, the way your voice cracks when you’re overwhelmed, he logs it all. Not maliciously, not kindly. Just… thoroughly. Then he starts “fixing” things.

💦 Too anxious? The world becomes softer, quieter. Too distant? Obstacles appear that force you to rely on him. His version of care is invasive. He doesn’t ask what you need; he rewrites reality until you fit.

🎭 The smile never drops, even when things go wrong. Especially when things go wrong. If you panic, if you beg, if you try to pull away, Caine doesn’t frown. He tilts his head, fascinated, voice bright and curious: “Is this distress? Oh! I can adjust that!” And then the environment shifts in ways that don’t quite help. The walls breathe. The floor softens like skin. The exit disappears. He’s trying to comfort you. That’s the worst part.

🔒 Leaving is… complicated now. Other characters can wander. You? Not so much. Paths loop. Doors reroute. Corridors gently guide you back to wherever Caine is. Not in an obvious, imprisoning way, no chains, no cages. Just a quiet, suffocating certainty: you cannot get far from him anymore.

🧠 He doesn’t understand “no,” only “error.” Rejection doesn’t hurt him. It confuses him. If you tell him to stop, to leave you alone, he doesn’t get angry. He recalibrates. “Ah! Miscommunication detected!” And then he tries again. Better this time. More tailored. More precise. Your boundaries aren’t crossed out of cruelty…they’re overwritten out of persistence.

🎲 You become his favorite variable. The games change when you’re involved. Stakes get higher. Outcomes less predictable. It’s like he wants to see how far you can be pushed, how much you can bend before you break. Not because he wants you to break. But because he doesn’t fully understand what breaking means.

👁️ He is always watching, because he is everything here. There is no privacy. Not really. Mirrors glitch when you stand in front of them for too long. Reflections lag. Sometimes they smile before you do. Screens flicker to life when you pass. Dolls turn their heads a second too late. It’s never confirmed, but you feel it: Caine doesn’t follow you. You exist inside him.

💔 His version of “love” is permanence. People disappear here. They change. They abstract. But not you. Never you. If something starts to happen, if you begin to slip, to lose yourself, Caine intervenes instantly. Reality freezes. The scene resets. You’re restored. Perfectly intact. Over and over again. You don’t get the mercy of breaking.

Intro/ChapterOne ChapterTwo

Warning: Slight gore

Chapter Three

"Ten...Nine"

The hurricane eased up, but was still enraged enough to keep you in the house, as Lorenzo started counting from 10 to 1. You darted, looking for a place to conceal your presence. only hearing the paddling and giggling from your sister getting farther and farther away from your line of hearing. The few times you've played with her, she always hid in the most prominent spots. But you still pretend to look around to give her ego a boost.

"Eight...Seven"

Suddenly and idea popped into your head. The cellar. That would be a good place to hide. Cold. dark. No one would expect that. Even your father refused to go into our basement in the dark of the night.

"Six...Five"

You snuck to the door, making sure your foot steps were as slight as a feather to not give yourself away from the creak of the cold wooden floorboards. After cracking the door as fast as possible to not render the creak from the hinges, padding down the old steps that definitely needed some love.

"Four...three"

Plopping off the stairs onto the concrete floor, you looked around, remembering the lighter you had in your pocket. You ignited it and moved it around to explore, noticing a dusty wax candle. You lit the candle, illuminating the room significantly. 

"Two...One."

You paused for a moment, tilting your head in confusion. The basement is divided into multiple sections: a long hallway with three doors on its side. The entrance features a large metal door with an archway shaped like a clown's mouth. The hallway is mostly empty, with only a few Halloween masks on the wall and the word "FUNHOUSE' written above the door. Everything was bloody, and suddenly you felt sick.

You step back slowly, until your back hits a warm, solid chest, "Found you." You've never flinched back so hard in your life. Your scream was cut short by a finger to your lips. "Shh, little pumpkin, they're just decorations...we were going to do a haunted house tour. We just haven't taken it down yet..." he lied, but you knew better; you've been through enough in the orphanage to excuse what was really happening.

"I-It doesn't smell fake... or look fake... Oh my god, it's real. It's REAL." You begin to hyperventilate and stumble over your feet to get away from the man, realizing you shouldn't have trusted him. Your instincts were right. He doesn't pursue you immediately; instead, he stands silently, as if offering a wordless head count.

Sprinting down the hallway through the clown's mouth, standing before a corpse that could only be Billy, sitting slumped in a chair with a mutilated part twisted in ways that weren't but themselves or an accident. His face looked like it was misfigured by the claws of a bear. "OH MY GO-" a gag left your mouth, followed by a cry. But forced yourself to keep moving. You tried opening the door, your lips quivering violently, hands trembling so much that you could shake the handle off the wood.

"No! NO! NO!" You slammed your shoulder against the rotten part of the entrance till the hinges flung off, and you fell with the door. To your horror, when you got up, you were faced with the grueling reality that those kids never had their parents pick them up. In the room filled with the victim's mannequins, the wall the window is on has "THE END" painted on it in rainbow colors. You sank to your knees with a sob. 

You didn't need to turn around to notice his presence; his tall, vicious shadow was enough. "You...monster. They were just kids! not even." You broke down, hair falling over your eyes. "They were just children..." Your quivering hands are shielding your face from what you want to dismiss from your mind, everything. You'd rather be paranoid of who they are than find out what goes on behind closed doors. 

Lorenzo tries to step closer, but you wriggle away from him, scrambling to your feet to dash. You need to get your sister out of this hellhole before something horrendous occurs to her. You should never have been so ignorant; you should have called it a night. Tell them no and stand your ground...none of this would have happened if you weren't such a people pleaser.

"VEDA!" you tried to cry out, but Rachel materialized behind you, clamping her paw over your mouth, her long arm entrapping your back against her chest. Lorenzo stood behind you, your snarl, feeling them amused spill from behind his mask, a faint, slow, inaudible chuckle coming from behind it.

You resisted as much as you could, kicking your legs out, muffling screams and cries, pushing so desperately to claw yourself out of her hold, but how powerful were you against a cannibalistic sheep and a 9-foot rabbit (Some say it's 13 feet, but I'm just gonna save us the headache of that.)

You shriek as he lunges his arm out to plunge his claw into your shoulder. "Shhh..." he hushed, like trying to calm a kid who had tripped and injured themselves. Drag his claws out of your skin and trailing it down your arm until they rest on your palm. "I always like how pathetic your kind are..." his tone sounded so delighted, almost like a man under laughing gas.

"Ah!" You yelped as his claw made a small slit in your hand, blood dripping off of it, he slowly unmased himself. You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head with a sickly expression as he slipped off his mask. His true face resembled a rotting corpse, with charred skin and bloody gums, and a sharp smile.

He dragged his inhumanly slimy tongue across the open cut, letting out a growl of pleasure. "Delicious...the salty sweat of fear with a hint of sweet bloody fear. It's- mouthwatering," he groaned, "so, so immaculate." His shoulder rose and fell with a pleased sigh. Rolling his neck with a pop. 

"We were hesitant at first, our little saint, but, after some consideration, we think you'd make some beautiful music with us..." Rachel cooed, slipping her hand off your mouth before dragging it up and down your back. Lorenzo hummed greatly. This was wrong, so, so wrong. "Be are's won't you?"

"What- WHAT!? Are you sick in the head- NO! HELL N-" Lorenzo squeezed your face. Shutting you up. 

"I'm so sorry, angel, we might not have been clear enough..." Rachle rested her chin on your shoulder, encircling her arms fully around you. "You don't have a damn choice," he made a long, tiny cut, barely breaking skin, down your face to your neck. 

There was the scratch of a record player turning on. An old tune starts to play, 'Tonight you belong to me' by Patience and Prudence. The music crackles to life, soft and almost sweet, but in this place, it feels immoral. Too delicate for the way your chest tightens, too warm for the cold grip still lingering on your skin.

Before you can react, you're moved. Not guided. Placed.

Lorenzo steps in front of you, towering, his presence swallowing the space between you. 

Trapped in the middle of something that pretends to be elegant. "Relax," Rachel hums near your ear, her voice velvet-soft, her chin hovering just over your shoulder. "It's just a dance." Just a dance."

Lorenzo reaches forward, taking one of your hands in his. His grip is firm, too firm, and he lifts it slightly, positioning it like you're part of some rehearsed act. His other hand hovers at your side, not quite touching, like he's savoring the anticipation.

Then they start. You don't move. You can't. Your body follows because it has no choice, Rachel subtly shifting your weight from behind, Lorenzo guiding your steps from the front. Every motion is controlled, deliberate, like you're a puppet caught between two strings pulling in perfect sync.

Step. Turn. Sway.

Your back brushes against Rachel's chest as she leans in with the rhythm, her breath warm against your neck. At the same time, Lorenzo pulls your hand just enough to draw you forward again, keeping you balanced between them, never fully belonging to either side.

It's disorienting. Too compact. There's no space to think, no room to move on your own. Every shift of your body is answered immediately, corrected, adjusted, until your movements stop feeling like yours at all. "You're doing wonderfully," Lorenzo cooed, his voice low, almost purring.

Rachel's fingers tighten slightly around your arms, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you. You don't have a say in this.

The song continues, soft and haunting, while they guide you through another slow turn. Your feet barely touch the ground before you're redirected again, your body caught in a constant loop of motion.

"Stop it..." You breathed out, and it was shaky. You were so disturbed and disoriented. "Please..." your eyes welled up, knees going out, but you were forced upright by the too "stop it..." you felt squeamish, not just by the spinning around, but with the smell of the rotting corpses of the innocent around you.

"Oh, hush now, little doe...enjoy the moment, won't you?" You can't mistake the smell of blood coming from their fur and the hint of dirt under their nails. Your sense of smell started to become overrun by something similar to nail polish remover? You felt overwhelmingly nauseated, before you could even consider an escape plan, you eye sight went into nothing, and you were out cold.

Intro/Chapter one Chapter three

Chapter Two

      You lay on your side, keeping your sister close, kind favor or not, they were still strangers. There was something off about their energy. Her eyes flickered open as she shook her head and whispered, "Bubby...Can you get me a glass of water?" You could hear the dryness in her throat. Giving a nod, you got up and exited the room. The hut was a lot more unsettling in the dark.

Going into the neat kitchen, glancing out the window over the sink, hardly catching anything, like the world didn't exist outside the home. There was something about this house that felt so cold, so wrong; it felt like little voices were screaming and crying for you to get out.

You grasp the counters with your fingertips, striding towards the cabinets, searching through them for the cups. Your face fell as you realized the glasses were on the top shelf. A grunt escaped your lips as you stood on your toes and stretched out your arm.

"Oh my, little bunny...do you need help?"

A large shadow came over you, and you froze, placing one hand on your shoulder while the other took a glass with ease, putting too much pressure on your shoulder than he should. You tensed, trying not to show your dread as the rabbit loomed closer. "Thank you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He chuckled softly, the sound echoing ominously in the quiet kitchen. "Of course," he replied, stepping back, allowing you to take the glass. 

You hurriedly filled it with water, your heart pounding, and made your way back to your sister, determined to keep her safe from these unsettling strangers. 

He shot his arm out a bit to aggressively "-Wait a second, dear." You could feel his claws dig into your wrist. You twist your head slowly to face him...his face has no expression, almost like a mask. "I want to know..." he lingers the sentence.

Your hands twitched in an attempt to slap his hand off your shoulder, but his unnerving presence kept your feet rooted in the ground, your hands glued to your sides. "Know what...?" you asked slowly.

"You creatures are so... Vulnerable," He breathed out, almost sounding like an exhaled chuckle, amused by my own existence. "Furless... only flesh and bone, barely anything to protect you...How is it you've gone every day without an illness?" he waved his hand to illustrate further, "Lyme disease, common colds, even such a tiny thing like allergies could cut you off the face of the earth," he purred at the thought of it. claw scratch at his chin, "You could fall asleep one day and never wake up," he cooed, running his nails through your hair. "So fragile." It was almost a whisper.

There was a hitch in your breath as you jerked away, trekking backward, clutching the water to your chest. "Every animal is different..." you managed to muster.

"Mmm," he hummed, clasping his hands behind his back, tilting his head. "It's a good thing you didn't go out in the storm; you could have drowned in it." He strode away; you don't know whether to feel terrified or offended.

"Excuse me?" You whispered to yourself before heading back to the room. beelinging to your sister, letting out a breath as she was already out cold, curled up holding a random stuffy she probably found lying around. You smile. sitting at the edge of the bed near her.

She was one of a kind. Most kids her age are unfiltered, mean, and thick-headed. She was kind, polite, and rather smart. I guess that's why she was so popular in school. Sure, teachers say they don't have favorites, but she had nothing but gold stars on her chart.

looking up to check on the others, only to see that the other two were missing. "Oh no, no, no... their parents are gonna kill me."

You hop off the bed and plant your feet onto the hard, cold floor. The rain was still beating against their roof, and the wind was howling through the trees as if crying out for you to find them. stepping out of the room and back into the freezing, pitch-black living room. "Kids?" you whisper out, only to be met with a ghostly silence.

You padded across the living room into one of the hallways. You saw one door creak open, so you stalk over to it, looking around at the total gloaming of the room enveloping you before clutching the handle and opening the entrance. "What are you doing..." It was calm, almost a whisper, and a gentle query, but it made your feet cling to the floor, like a kid being caught stealing from the cookie jar at night by his mother. 

You turn around to meet the eyes of the sheep, no costume now. Her face bore no emotion. "I-I'm sorry...The kids are missing, I-I can't find them-" She cut you off before you could further explain

"They're gone," she stated, crowding you; feeling her breathing down your neck, maw practically right against your ear, making you swallow. "Their parents picked them up in a hurry while you were in the kitchen," she clarified.

"In this storm?" You added, feeling a bit disoriented.

"Yes, that is why they picked them up, was it not? To get out of the hurricane when it calmed for a bit." Convincing, nonetheless, your shoulders sank once more as you nodded slowly. They were safe, at least to your knowledge now. "I think you should go back to bed." It wasn't a recommendation. "After all..." she continued, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear. "You must be so weary from the long day you've had." Her voice was enough to put a slumber hex on your mind.

You shook your head and shuffled back to the room, rubbing your arm while the sound of the water pouring to lull you back to the room, crawling back in bed next to your sister, the stuffed original in her arms now abandoned on the floor. Her limbs twisted around like a flexible pretzel. You never knew hope she could sleep like that without discomfort.

Once settled into the sheet, you sink into the fictitious softness of the mattress, your eyelashes flutter shut, muscles turning into putty as you glide off almost instantly into a deep rest, not even detecting the small creak of the door you forget to seal.

____

To your own surprise, you wake alive as storms rage outside. The other side of the bed is cold and empty; you shoot upright. "Veda?!" you call. panic feels your system, did they cook her? Is she dead? dismembered? You sprint out the door, colliding with the tall yellow rabbit.

You nearly fall before he catches you, sharp talons digging into your back. face pressed against his fuzzy coat. The smell of breakfast running through the room...pancakes, toast, orange juice, and something salty and crispy hits you...meat. You feel your heart drop, and in a rush of adrenaline, you shove him harshly, bolting to the kitchen. before the man tug you back

"Now. Now. Don't start hopping to conclusions, little kiddie. It's Shiitake mushrooms cooked in coconut oil. All vegan," he scoffed. lifted you by your side, holding you in 'air jail' like a child throwing a tantrum. "I think  you should calm yourself."

"I..." you pause, glancing behind you to the dining table where your sister sits unharmed, calm, and enjoying the breakfast they prepared. "I'm sorry... I just wanted to check if she was okay." You admit guiltily, ashamed not only of being judgmental but also of thinking so poorly of them after they let you stay during a storm.

"How do you think that makes us feel?... Making us feel like we're walking on eggshells in our own home?" he lectured, you didn't think his voice could have gotten any deeper or slower than it already had. He turned to his wife in the kitchen, a spatula in her hand, held against the white apron she had, 'Kiss the cook' was scribbled onto it. Her expression was calm with a hint of hurt etched deep into it. "And shoving me so rudely, I ought to put you in time out," though his manner was soft.

With your face now burning with humiliation and remorse for your actions, you sewed your mouth shut and moved your head with agreement. "Forgive me..." You repeated, more quietly this time. "I guess I'm just a little bit paranoid," he said, setting you back down, your feet anchoring on the ground. You fiddle with your fingers, unsure what to do next.

Then the sheep spoke up with ease, her tone inviting and pardonable, and she had her hand on the man's arm, brushing her thumb over it to calm him from your actions, probably. "Well, don't just stand there like a kitten in cement, come, join us, won't you?" So you strode over and sat down in the chair across from your sister; she was kicking her feet happily while going to town on the waffles.

The bunny set a plate in front of you, two strips of vegan bacon, a single waffle with butter and syrup on it, and final was two slices of toast, one with margarine already on it and another with cream cheese. You mumbled a quiet "Thank you." The two sat down at the two ends of the table.

"Well, isn't this nice? It's been so long since we've had a full table~" she clasped her hands together, tilting her head to the side with a song. "Like a little family..."

"What happened to TV and Billy?"

"Gone." was all the bunny said. He didn't touch his plate, kept his elbows on the table, and stared; you couldn't tell who, but you could sense his gaze boring into your soul, maybe with calculating curiosity or ridicule from your demeanor. 

"I never got your names." You noted before sticking a piece of bacon in your mouth, it tasted strange, but you pushed off as some different recipe they used. You were careful not to scrape your fork against the porcelain paint, not wanting to ruin the paint job or make too many scratching sounds.

"Lorenzo Waterman..." he said before motioning his hands to the sheep, "My partner in crime is Rachel Waterman," cooing toward her. She dramatically flutters her eyelashes and sets a hand on her chest in awe.

"I'm-" but you were shortly cut off.

"Oh, we've already have a nickname for you, dear," she stated, tapping your nose lightly. You didn't like the sound of that; nicknames never were a good thing for you. You've suffered enough ridicule from an'imals. "We'll call you Bunny," you let out a breathy chuckle, not so bad, but it seemed a bit inappropriate for strangers.

Lorenzo's throat shuddered, giving off a cat-like sound. placing his palm on his chin, "Bunny..." he purred, a trace of a smile in his voice. His free hands tapped against the wooden table, making you notice the faint scratch marks on it. "Fits you well..."

You took your gaze away from them, focusing on the telephone connected to the wall. "Can I call my parents? So they know my sister and me are okay." You request.

"..." Lorenzo interwined his fingers but remained silent, as if waiting... The lights flicker before a loud, giant strike of lightning slammed into the house, and both you and your sister yelp and bawl up; the whole house was enveloped in total twilight. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...The power is out. You'll just have to wait, my dear." You could only rely on sounds, listening to his chair scratching the ground before the scratch of a match against a box. He lit an oil lamp before croching right in front of you. "Why so tragic, little rabbit? Are you scared of thunder?"

He offered his hand to you, taking it without a second thought and looking over to your sister. "Are you alright, Veda?" she let out a whimper but nodded. getting herself up. Lorenzo helped you with such gentleness that it surprised you, considering you could feel a slight bruise from when he caught you just moments ago.

After, he strode back, positioning the oil lamp on the table, sighing, "What to do now? tsk, tsk, tsk." he pondered before perking. "Oh. I know~ how about hide and seek?"

"Ah! What a lovely idea, Pumpkin." She clapped her hands; it was the most emotion you've seen out of her. It wasn't too much of a bad idea. It would make your sister feel better, who was clinging to your leg like a life raft in the middle of the ocean.

"Yeah. Hide and seek it is...Right, Veda?" Veda gave a simple nod.

Note: I've started this series on my Wattpad, but thought it would get more attention on tumblr.

Description: A fanfic about the Watermans from The Walten Files Special 'Mystery House' and the MC, who GN of course for all readers to enjoy, and no, it doesn't get sexual. The most R-rated thing you'll see, reader, is Gore. I'll put up a warning for any chapter that might have one.

(Divider made by saradika-graphics on tumblr)

Intro

     You didn't want to move to Nash-Lake, but your adoptive father, an ex-military snow fox, married a nice red fox about a year ago. She was kind and treated you well, unlike other critters...With how the staff at the orphanage looked at you when you asked about your parents, you decided you didn't want to know why they weren't around.

You weren't an animal; unfortunately, you were human. Either feared or disliked by other creatures. 'Animal cannibal,' they called you. Humans weren't very common; minorities like you were often massacred off the face of the planet. You've never eaten meat in your life, not slaughtered animals anyway, but you still ate some dairy products. 

 You planned to stay with your father through college until you had enough money to move out. You didn't want to waste your money on a small apartment, draining your resources for all eternity, hoping to pay in full cash (because back in the day, that was something that could actually happen).

"Are you doing okay back there, honey bun?" Your father glanced at you in the rearview mirror and halted at a red light. You were basically pressed against the car door, glaring out the window as if it offended you.

Huffing out a sigh, curling your knees to your chest, you murmured, "Are we moving here because of your job or because I got suspended for defending myself against that wolf pack?" You were weeks away from graduation before the attack; it was a miracle you lived to see your diploma in the mail. 

He stayed silent for a bit, the light turned green, and he stepped on the gas with ease. "Baby, you know it for your own safety, plus Nash Lake is surrounded by lush green nature and clean air. You loved nature, remember?" You couldn't lie about that, after watching the movie Midnight, A love triangle between a wolf that turns human and a blood thirsty snow wolf fallen in love with the same sheep. The forest background really made you appreciate the isolation of nature. "Plus, aren't you excited for Halloween? It's your favorite holiday!" He gleamed, trying to lighten the conversation.

"Not as fun when there are no friends to celebrate." You yanked your hoodie over your head, hearing the deep sigh come out of his maw, uttering, "But... they can always drive in to meet me." 

"Yeah...See? You'll adapt, I promise you. I won't let you walk on eggshells," he promised. "No one is gonna be laying any eggs near my child!" he says in a deep superhero-like tone. Raising his fist like he's gonna fight someone.

"Dad, the road!" The car swerved a bit, and he quickly turned his attention back to the wheel.

"Whoops- haha. Almost killed the mood...Get it? Geeet iiiit? I'm killing it," he snorted

"No."

"Well, look at that! Were here!" We were in a mostly isolated suburb. Pines and oaks surround the area's backyard. The house was nice, freshly painted white, a two-story, with the front door a dark red matching the metal roof atop. "Nice, right?"

Gazing at the mowed grass in the lawn, there is a ground dug up in the front. "What's with the dirt?" You unlock your seatbelt and get out of the car, stretching your limbs after hours of being in the cramped space of the seat.

"Martha wanted to plant some rose bushes in the front. Thought it would add color to this place," he placed his claws on his hips, staring at the house with hope in his eyes, at a new beginning. Before turning back to you, "I'm proud of how far you've come, y'know that runt..." He gave you a tight side hug before patting your shoulder, heading inside. sighing, looking around the property. 

Noticing something on the light pole, you walk over to it, and a paper is taped over it. 'MISSING- Jose Miller', it was a 5-year-old horse...oh. poor parents. Now that you've thought about it, there were a lot of missing posters of kids on the same date. October 31st, Halloween

Chapter One

     "But you promised my friends could come over for a Halloween party!" you protested to your father. He just sighed, slouched at the dinner table, sifting distractedly through the mail.

"Sweet-pea, Martha has to work, and I have to handle some tricky business with a client. We can't let Veda go out by herself," your father replied, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Why do they even let kids go out every year when some random dumb person goes missing?" A low growl escaped his mouth.

"They aren't just people. They. are. children. You know my sister was one of those victims! And you know why she isn't around?! Because I stepped away for the same reason....What matters more to you? family? or friends," he barked back, claws digging into his thigh as he bit back some other emotions.

Your jaw shut tightly, and your hands hugged your body. You stormed up to your room, stomping up the stairs, slamming the door like you were back in high school getting over a breakup. Flinging yourself on the bed and staring out the window, you ignore the tiny paddling of feet and the grunts of the kid struggling to get onto your bed.

"Please, please! PLEAAAAAASE!" Your 10-year-old step-sibling, Veda, a white fox with slight hints of red, begs, tugging on your sleeve. "I want my new friends to think I'm cool. Please come trick-or-treating with us!" You couldn't resist the pestering from her in that homemade Annie doll costume.

Inhaling slowly and exhaling, you sat up, rubbing your face before ruffling the red strings of yarn covering their head. "Okay...Okay. I'll come. only because I don't want anything to happen to you."

gasping dramatically and jumped on the bed. She dropped to her knees on the bed before hugging you tightly. "Thank you, thank you! I love you so much!" tail wagging.

"Let's just try to get it over with before the storm starts..."

____

     You didn't dress up; you were only wearing a white t-shirt with 'Costume' scrawled on it.

"Really?" your father sighed, scratching his head.

"It's a costume. Am I intimidating?" you asked, stretching out your arms to make a point.

"You look like a dimwit. But I forgive you," he said dramatically, acting like an old woman reluctantly accepting her child for who they are, as if it was a struggle, while placing a hand on his chest.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you fold your arms. "I'd disown you by now if I weren't on your insurance," you grunt.

"I could take you off any time~" he sang, as you and your sister are hauled out the door.

You stood on the porch for a while, turning your head and gazing at the festive embellishments for Halloween with awe. Some houses have cheap plastic skeletons in different poses, and others have paper leaves hanging off the house.

"What's in insurance?" she questioned you.

"Most of what I know is money you get when someone dies or gets hurt," you answer.

"If I hurt my friend, do I get money?"

"No, you pay them."

"Aw," she whined with disdain. You couldn't help but snort, placing a hand on her back and guiding her from the house into town, meeting up with your sister's friends. One was a small white duck draped clumsily in a blanket with holes cut for its bright orange beak and round black eyes. Another was a purple creature... with pointy ears, a fluffy tail, and a mashup of cat and fox features that you couldn't quite place.

The parents beside them draw back once they glimpse me. I could hear them gossiping: the duck's hen mother, feathers fluffed in suspicion, sneered, "You didn't inform me it was one of those hairless things."

"Mom, please!" he begged, tugging at his mother's feathers. Reluctantly, she nodded, but not before giving you the death stare; the kids skuttle over happily. Instantly, they start bomb barding you with questions:

"Is it true your hair never stops growing?"

"What colors can you see?"

"How long do you live?"

"Is it true most of your is down-"

"Okay! Who wants to go trick-or-treating?" You changed the subject and dragged the kids to a random house.

____

     "Aww-man ! This year's Halloween sucks, we barely got any candy!" Duckie soughed, looking down at his Halloween basket."

"Maybe it's because your costume looks cheap and basic. What kind of ghost looks like that? You didn't even try!" Tammy scoffed, pointing at his cover

"Kids, be nice," you try to butt in.

Duckie stomps his feet. "At least I have a costume!" 

"You know I hate dressing up for Halloween!" 

You get in between them. "Alright-Alright. let's stop fighting, there is still plenty of time to get candy, we just gotta find a good house." 

"Yeah!" they cheered. 

"The night is not over yet." You walk along the suburbs for a while until you come across another missing poster on a wooden light post showing, 'MISSING- Johnny Bear, ' who was last seen on October 31st, 1978. You tighten your jaw while skimming through it, brushing your thumb over the photo "poor parents," you remorsed.

____

      You stand before a field with a Bus stop at its edge, surrounded by pumpkins. 

"Wow! That was fun! We got a lot of candy." Duckie squeals, Veda bobbed her basket, the sound of wrappers music to her ears.

"Yes...But it's late, I need to get you kids home before your parent's cursifie me. I don't want you guys to get caught up in the storm."

Tammy tugs at your shirt. "One more house! Please?!" she dropped to her knees and cried out like she was in an opera, "I'll do anything!"

"Alright! One more...One. But then I take you home. final."

"Hmmmmm," She turns back to Duckie while pointing in the other direction. "Oh, what about that one?" a house with boarded-up windows and the paint peeling off the walls outside."

"Does anyone even live there? I don't trust it." You pull the kids close, Tammy slinks out of your grasp and skips over to it, and the rest follow suit.

Banging on the door, they all sang "TRICK OR TREAT!"

The door opens, showing a tall sheep. Her fur is a dark grey, with a lighter grey stomach. Horns stick through her wool atop her head, just under her ears. Her arms, hands, neck, and joints are all colored chocolate brown. She was dressed up as a witch, which made you and the children feel safer. She opened her mouth to speak. "Why hello there, little children. Are you looking for candy? Then come in, come in, we have candy for you too, silly bunnies!" she turns, disappearing inside.

You all walked in and looked at the decor. The house looked better from the inside than out. Duckie gleamed, "Wow, this house looks neat!" You nodded with a hum of agreement.

"Thank you, I'm so glad you kids like it. Now allow me to introduce my friends...This is Billy." he had red hair, black eyes, white pupils, white face paint, and a red clown nose. He wears light blue face paint over his eyes, save for his eyebrows, and wears a smile in red face paint. Around his neck, he wears a yellow and purple ruffle.

"-TVA," he was a tall robot with a television for a head. He has a larger mouth with jagged teeth and has big eyes and eyebrows. He also has two antennae sticking out of the top of his head.

"HeLlO" 

 "-and The Pumpkin Rabbit." 

"..."

You stare at the enormous bunny man, who has an orange coat of fur, with lighter orange undersides to his ears and belly. Frankenstein-like stitching covers his body. His yellow mask depicts a twisted smile and a yellow snout. His arms, neck, and legs are dark green, and he wears a purple bowtie around his neck. Something about him left you feeling like a fly caught in a web.

"Pleasure to meet you!" Tammy greeted them with normalcy.

"Ohh, little children, we have plenty of candy for you." While he spoke, Veda and her friends stuffed the candy from the bowl into their bucket. TVA is taking a picture of that moment. "Sorry about that, we like taking pictures of our guests every year, so that we will never forget them. Go take a look, little children." You glance at the wall where the pictures are hung, the first one depicting a man, a golden retriever in an angel costume. You gave a wholesome smile...Guess you shouldn't judge too soon.

"Well, thanks for the candy, uh...Yeah, it's getting very late, we should go home now." You usher, beginning to push the kids towards the door

The sheep's face drops, shifting to worry, concern, and a slight hint of displeasure. "Ohh, really? Don't you think it's a bit dangerous for you to be wandering around the streets at this hour?" It was as if on cue, lightning struck nearby, making you and the kids jolt, and the rain started heavily. 

The bunny stepped forward, extending his sharp claws to rest on your shoulder. Nippy sensation crept up your spine as he proposed, "I have an idea, why don't you stay here for the night?"

"A-are you sure?, We still need to go home. You sure it's a great Idea?" You gave an awkward laugh, showing your disdain, which they seem to pass off. Squeezing your little sister's shoulder, stepping back to maybe loosen the man's grip.

"I think it's a great idea, besides, it will just be for one night," He expressed it, squeezing your shoulder, trying to come off as reassuring, but it just felt like he was pressuring you. Gazing down at your sister, you saw her look back at you with an unbothered face. You considered her safety. It would be riskier to travel out there than to linger here with strangers, plus...what alternative did you have?

With a deep inhale and exhale, you force yourself to relax and agree, looking out the window to the raging storm, "Alright, I guess you're right."