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Force in Nature | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover x Toddler Reader
Part 2
Being a child, in your experience sucked. Even with a developing mind there were constant reminders of all your faults. Short, weak, disadvantaged and constantly at the whim of adults. Most children wouldn’t mind so much, considering that the adults in their life mean well but not you. Never you.
“(Y/n) don’t give those fat brats anymore then that. They’re already eating us out of house and home.”
The drivel of your mother rings like a bell in your head. Always chastizing, always negative. It had gotten better now that she had found your father but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. In her mind she figured his children were the only obstacle left between her ‘happily ever after’ with your father.
“Ace! Deuce! Did you break into this pantry again?!”
It didn’t help that the twins were rambunctious spitfires that were prone to trouble anyway. Which meant they were often forced to reach out their hands to suffer the wrath of the ruler. Their father was a popular man, often more focused on updating the town’s bulletin boards than disciplining his children but it was clear he loved them.
But love was never enough to save the duo from your mother’s accusations.
At least once a day, your mother would report the twins for doing or saying something awful. It would always lead to an exhausted sigh before stomping over to the children to give another lecture and dish out some chore as punishment.
“This so unfair, we didn’t even do anything this time.”
“Well I know I didn’t. Maybe you did something Ace.”
“What!? How dare you blame me! Don’t you believe me, (Y/n)?”
You usually were a witness to their innocence, often spending your time with them anyway. But for whatever reason not being able to speak meant your written testimonies were invalid. No matter how many times you wrote in you’re book and presented it to your father it never seemed to work.
“You’re so sweet (Y/n). Trying to save your big brothers; you know that lying doesn’t help their case anymore.”
It was fine when it was only that. Baseless accusations and then the punishment of simple chores. Every now and then a prank in return for their suffering but then the chilly warning of Autmn came around. While the likeness that the snow would pile too high was low, the scarcity of food was a guarantee. Already aware of the set portions you’d receive suddenly decreasing and the way your father didn’t dare eat with you all any more spoke volumes.Unfortunately your mother wasn’t all too fond of cutting material costs.
“Cater I’m telling you, we’ll never get to eat if we have those kids in the house.”
“But love (Y/n) would never survive the trip into town.”
“Not them you idiot! They hardly eat more than a rat! It’s those boys of yours! They’re so big they ought to be hunting for their own by now.”
“The boys…not them they are still children too.”
“Stop whining. I’m going to take them out tomorrow, to learn how to hunt.”
“You?! But you’ve never—”
“Shut-up! Maybe then I can get those kids to do something worth the wasted meal.”
Reporting to your brothers the plan for the day felt like being the espionage detail for a secret operation. It made you proud when they used their information to concoct their own plan. They deduced that she planned to ‘lose’ them during her hunting lesson. Thus Deuce’s genius-plan to leave stones leading to the house was born. It was a shame that this plan didn’t involve you in any way but you were happy to see Deuce leaving stones behind as your mother led him into the forest.
Trying to comfort your father for a decision he didn’t protest felt odd. Of course, you wouldn’t understand the emotional struggle of his love life and the love of his trouble-causing twins. You are a kid, you aren’t supposed to know. Still, you let him hold you, mumbling curses to himself about cowardice as your mother opened the door. She huffed and puffed about him not greeting her before going off to prepare dinner.
Unable to resist the urge you settled on the chair beneath the window. Watching the opening into the forest being led to by the stones. Sure enough, before the sun had set and the fourth time your mother had called you for dinner they were there. Appearing slightly dirty but determined they came just in time, much to your mother’s dismay.
Of course, what followed was a new plan for tomorrow.
“I’ll take them deeper in! And I’ll make sure to kick all those pebbles away”
“Please let’s just–”
“Starve!? We’ll barely have enough for dinner tomorrow! They must go!”
“But it’s so cruel.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
The silence from your father was telling and like before you reported to your brothers. They took your notes with just as much urgency as the last, instead trading their stones for crumbs from the sliver of bread they’d be given for lunch. At the time it sounded like a great idea.
But as the sun set and the critters of the forest picked at the crumbs left behind, it dawned on you.
This was a terrible idea.
With a quickly scribbled note left on the window sill, you took a ball of yarn tying it to the bush near the forest opening. Following the disappearing trail of critters, you were walking in the direction your brothers went finding that it stopped in a clearing. From there the moon could no longer illuminate the crumbs still left and the critters weren’t leading you accurately anymore.
It was getting colder. The woolen sweater and mitts are your only comfort. With a rumbly tummy and the heaviness on your eyelids increasing, you settled into the dirt. Promising you’ll find your brothers when you wake, staving off the fear from your shrunken spool of wool.
When the sun rose again you woke with renewed vigor. The pain of hunger leaving you for the time being you set your gaze to the ground. Of course, the crumbs were gone but vague indents in the dirt gave you enough of a guide. During your tracking you start the game of letting your smaller shoes take a fraction of their tracks following along as you replay a song your father would sing.
Eventually, the tracks stopped at a paved pathway, it smelled sweet like a candy you’d seen the twins eat. It made you curious but you trusted your judgment to ignore your hungry thoughts. The tracks didn’t continue past the pavement and knowing your brothers they’d certainly gave the brightly colored path a try.
The grumbling desires of your stomach weren’t spoiling your resolve— or that’s what you were telling yourself. Going down the hill the path led over it’s destination led you to a place you swore shouldn’t have existed. In a clearing, the candied path led to a gingerbread house, decorated with various frosting, gumdrops, and red vines. The fence around it was peppermint canes surrounding the sugary house invitingly. A perfect garnishment for an already delectable house. Your stomach agreeing you found yourself closing in on the gingerbread foundation perfectly level with your small mouth.
Before you could dive in, you stopped. Thinking back to nicer days in the forest you remembered thanking the squirrels buried in the trees surrounding your cottage. Instead of burrowing inside your warm, inviting home they kept to their holes in the nearby trees. Of course, your young mindset wouldn’t have comprehended why animals that wanted to survive avoided the cottage. But that was beside the point.
Your manners for the owner of the candy house would not be affected. Even though your stomach churned almost painfully at your denial. To make it easier you turned away from it crouching down to hold the grumbling organ. Repeating that you could eat when you returned with your brothers to share—no matter how little was left.
“You are allowed to eat you know.”
The sultry voice of a man stopped your internal thoughts, peeking your head over your shoulder to look at the interruption. In the doorway of the house was a tall and handsome man, he reminded you of the young bachelor in town. Wearing a tight black long-armed shirt lined with rhinestones, your mother would envy. The dangling sparkles matched his pants which were long and wide at the ankles. His attire was interesting because you’d never seen it before, the man’s face was just as alarming. Hair as green as the surrounding trees was flowing to his waist contrasting his black outfit in a ragged but neat look. It was like a halo of green against his pale skin, golden eyes, and pink lips.
“You look hungry, why don’t you take a bite?”
The way he said it was hypnotic. An inviting and comfortable thrum of a voice that started to pinprick into your morale. You shook your head as if that would expel the greedy thoughts threatening to take hold. You hurriedly pulled out your notepad writing as neatly as you could. Holding up your notepad, you hoped he could read.
'It’s your house…that’d be mean.'
He leaned in to see what you wrote, retreating back to the arch of the gingerbread door.
“I was the one who chose a candy house. It just comes with the territory.”
He flashed a smile, white as milk. You licked your teeth beneath your mouth, feeling the plaque build-up that you’re sure makes your teeth yellow. Thinking of brushing, your memories trickled the moments you’d had with your brothers. The excitement that came with using your toothpaste for anything but. It reminded you of your real objective.
'Have you seen my brothers?'
The man tilts his head. You proceed to draw them to the best of your ability; trying to use the charcoal to detail the colors of their hair, and their height compared to your own. It’s hard to tell if he knows anything as his small smile hasn’t waivered. But as you scribble and point you worried he’d stopped listening.
“How about you come inside, have a bite, and I can help you find your brothers. That sound like a plan?”
You nodded. Standing up, you rushed to his side to grab his extended hand letting him lead you inside.
Trey Clover loved to eat children. It was in his nature to come from a long line of baking witches. It wasn’t a trade secret that children extend your life and beauty; the real secret was how to craft the potions with the children to make delicious desserts. Forest animals and pesky adults were fine ingredients but nothing was more fulfilling than a child’s soul. They were also much nicer to have as victims. They cried sure but they were dumber, more gullible, and so much easier to fatten up. But for all the children he’d consumed over the past century, there was something Trey could definitively say was the truth.
That Trey Clover loved children. His family ruled him as demented for such a thought but it was the truth. For all the fulfillment he’d have after his rejuvenating meals, there was still a resounding sorrow that nothing he could make would overshadow. Nothing but the shining presence of another child.
Trey rationalized that he wasn’t crazy, humans had pet pigs all the time. He’s no different in that way. That every now and then the thought of keeping one crossed his mind, diminished at the thought of one thing or another. Whether it was a spark of brattiness that was hidden behind a sunny demeanor or just the undisciplined actions of a bully in the making. It reminded him why he’d never let himself feel too bad as he tossed their belongings into the basement after a satisfying meal. He figured it was natural selection. Like any other predator, he looked for the weakest, the slowest in the pack to pick off and sustain him for another ten years.
But he’d begun to waiver with such an innocent soul in his grasp.
“How was that? Was it good?”
'But my brothers–'
He'd close the pad before the question was asked.
“Your head is so warm, I think you’re coming down with a fever.”
Cradling the young child, he settled to swaying them to sleep. His usual victims were not so young, often much older and more defiant. That is why it was such a treat to have a well-mannered impressionable little toddler to care for. With a resolve to their mission that was unavoidable, it still was nothing against the bedtime routine he’d been taught long before. He couldn’t remember if it was his mother or one that he’d eaten but she detailed the way to care for small children with such pride. In his heart of hearts, he’d admit to having eaten her out of envy. But now she proved more useful than her bones as he ran a bath for the yawning toddler.
Distracting them with talks of nothing as he gently wiped the grime off their little body. He had to refrain from frowning at the signs of a rash on their back. He was blankly staring at the untreated patch, cursing the adults who’d allow a sick toddler to run through the woods. But from their other children’s stories, they weren’t all that good to begin with.
The sound of a sneeze reminded him of his task.
“Bless you. After your bath I’m just rub a little ointment on your back before you settle down okay?”
They tiredly nodded, Trey resisted the urge to coo.
“You’re doing a good job staying awake. Let’s finish up before you fall asleep, okay?”
His parents were completely right about him. What sane witch would have a room decorated for a toddler already made, already infused with sleeping herbs that’d erase the thoughts of the past?
“Goodnight, my sugar cube.”
The notepad had been abandoned long ago. The urge to burn it was growing.
“Tomorrow we can look for your brother.”
The demanding sign of '2 brothers', made him laugh. Not after today you wouldn't.
“Maybe one day sugar cube, sleep tight.”
Kissing (Y/n)’s head and waving as he closed the door, Trey was elated. It was difficult to wipe the smile off his face when he unlocked the basement door.
It wasn’t just as he left it per his instructions to the bratty boy. Ace was far too skinny to be worth a good meal and from what Trey could tell a decent worker under stress. Trey figured it’d be hard to break his spirit if the other boy was around. Of course there was a chance it'd return with his little one. Trey would bet on fear and duty overwhelming him and he’d fall right into place.
Ace stopped sweeping, his little knuckles white as he fought the urge to scream at the witch. He only wanted to see his brother. After the first night, he knew rebelling would get him nothing but trouble.
“Can I see my brother now?”
Trey hummed closing the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He knew the boy wouldn’t want to leave. He took the ring of keys from his belt twirling around his lithe finger as he stepped deeper into the basement. Ace stuck close to his side, waiting anxiously to see his brother again.
The last time he saw him, his face was wet with tears. His hands were still sticky from the treats they’d gorged on, angrily shaking the unmoving metal bars around him. Ace couldn’t sleep if he tried.
“Before we go in, you two have a younger sibling. (Y/n) was it?”
Ace’s already sped-up heart-rate, went seconds faster. The collection of little papers in his hands with a tattered cover was far too familiar.
“They sound so determined to find you two.”
“What did you do to them!?”
When Trey turned his head over his shoulder the sneer he gave, bore into Ace's soul like a needle. Flashes of the suffocating pain the night before demanding he fix his demeanor immediately.
“Quiet boy.” The command was like a heat rod, sweltering from such a short distance. He looked away from those golden eyes for his own sake. “I won’t be doing anything to them if you behave.”
The final warning hung in the air with the door now unlocked. The metal door swinging open was a cruel mirror of when they first accepted the invitation to eat some more. There were tables of sweets and pastries along the cracking walls of the room. A table with a checkered tablecloth and a painted chair were placed off to the right side of the room; waiting for someone to enjoy the decorative plating on its surface. But unlike the day they first arrived a metal cage was hanging from the ceiling and his brother Deuce was in it.
“I’m glad you ate. At least hunger won’t be the last thing on your mind.”
Trey’s off-handed comment was ignored as Ace ran to clutch at the bars separating him from Deuce. As best as they could they hugged one another, the cold and rusted bars a constant reminder of their unfortunate circumstance.
“Deuce I can’t let this happen! I have to do something!”
Deuce shook his head,” No, if you do anything bad he’ll eat you too! You’ve got to get back home and find Dad!”
Ace pulled at his orange strands, “I can’t he has (Y/n).”
Deuce’s serious face, quivered. His brave instructions became mute as he imagined their youngest sibling unknowingly falling into the same trap they did.
“You have to protect them. Please, Ace.”
The blue-haired boy couldn’t speak anymore his nose running and tears falling again. All he could do was clutch at Ace’s hands, attempting to put his forehead against the bars to feel his brother's. Ace was crying too, barely standing as he held onto his brother.
“Are you done? I’m not getting any younger over here.”
Trey's snide remark was not appreciated, nor was his giant hand pulling at the rags of his clothes, shoving him toward the oven. Ace didn’t need to ask for Trey to point at the brush and pan on the floor.
“Clean up the oven. The metal earrings from my last meal will make him taste worse.”
Ace murmured his distaste as he opened the oven door. Looking into the deep black mouth of the oven, it amazed him that whole people could fit in there.
It also gave him a devilish idea.
“Uhm I don’t know how to.”
Trey turning towards him was frightening, the black coloring around his eyes flaring with such disgust.
“Are you troubled? You just go in and sweep the ash at the floor of the oven.”
Ace pretended to look into the oven before jumping back, “Are you sure there’s not someone down here?”
The witch was prepared to punish the boy but he thought of the toddler upstairs. He had dreamed of the day, he would be called to check the closet for monsters. He figures if he’s keeping the defiant one, he should show some of the same care that he’ll be showing for (Y/n).
It’s all too easy for Trey to climb inside, having done so on his own, hundreds of times before. Crawling to the back he felt the child coming up beside him, immediately making him grab the head of the boy.
Ace felt his stomach flip. Had he figured him out?
“We can’t go in at the same time, wait ‘til I’m done.”
“O-okay.”
As instructed Ace crawled back out, watching how the witch's body fully disappeared into the oven. Once his feet passed the threshold of the oven’s opening, he didn’t hesitate to close the oven door. Jumping up to flick the lock closed, Ace ignored the angry banging as he pulled at the red-colored lever to turn on the oven.
The feeling of the heat flickering to light brought a successful comfort to the orange-headed boy. The frantic banging from within the oven was as frightening as the demonic screaming from within.
“W-wait but the keys! He still has them!”
Ace assured his brother with the jingling object in his hand. Deuce pulled him into a teary hug once he’d been freed from the metal cage. The smell of sweat and burning flesh, never being so enticing. The moment between the two stopped as the banging became more and more apparent; the lock clicking as it held the oven closed.
“Let’s get out of here before he breaks out of there.”
“I agree.”
Deuce is the first to run through the door and out the basement; likely because of his time in the metal cage. Ace on the other hand faltered, snatching an armful of the pastries lining the room. He flipped the bird at the furnace and ran to lock the door to the basement door. Before he did, he took a moment to pay his respects to those before him. Bowing his head at the rows of shoes and belongings he’d organized, he apologized again before snatching a satchel. With the final locking of the basement door, Ace lets Deuce run up the stairs to search for their little sibling.
Allowing Ace to have free reign of the upper floor that had deceived them before. He was never considered a good kid but he hardly saw the appeal when he had no qualms about breaking whatever he couldn’t take.
“It almost makes this all worth it!”
Deuce, on the other hand, found you easily. The room had a distinct smell that almost made him feel safe. Going out on a limb he found his baby sibling curled up underneath a fluffy blanket. He easily tucked his arms underneath to carry them, he stopped to notice the spool of wool falling from their hand. Deuce put two and two together; smiling at the sleeping toddler in his arms.
“Thanks to you, (Y/n). We’ll all get to go home.”
The trip back was like a minor stroll. The original dangers of the forest were diminished to minor nuisances in comparison to the horrors they’d endured. Of course, the two still had other things to worry about when they did return home.
“What are we supposed to do about the step-lady?”
“Hm, I don’t know maybe we should push her into the oven too.”
Ace laughed and usually, Deuce would scold him for the macabre joke. But Deuce didn’t really consider that a joke nor was he completely against it. The brothers had plenty to think about as they each took turns holding their snoozing sibling.
It’s probably best they didn’t look back at the candy house.
For they might be filled with dread at force they awakened.
what’s crazy to me is like… with the state of hip hop currently & it’s globalization & commodification, general nonblack rap fans not gon feel this the way we feel this, get the references, or have any real cultural or personal connection to the things represented within bc time & time again it’s been proven how culturally & politically illiterate mainstream music fans are & have become, eschewing all context in favor of just aping vibes, aesthetics & sounds.
the amount of ppl who are fans of “counterculture” music unironically asphyxiating whenever it’s brought up that ethics, de rigueur, & leftist history (aka “wokeness”) inform the creations they consume & how it is meant to be inherently political, is too high to ignore. they just gon see another bop to play, more “cool new” AAVE to misuse & bastardize into “internet slang”, more new “fortnite dances” to copy, monetize, & upload, more aesthetics to copy + paste onto themselves, to front like they tapped in with us like that like they “gone native” 🙄.
it’s so ugly the way they can compartmentalize what they want out of Black ppl, our culture, & our bodies like a vivisectioned open chest cavity all you can eat buffet, with the essence of us being portioned off & consumed on a sushi carousel, to be gorged on, sampled & discarded.
cannabilized so the rest of you can synthesize what it feels like to be real.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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This debut from the author Ayesha Manzir Siddiqi is a firecracker of suspense. It introduces so many threads, and every single one is neatly tied up with a bow at the end. It touches on deep social themes, and yet it never felt heavy-handed. It was a gripping horror that leaves you uneasy and waiting for the answers.
This book follows a young woman named Anisa, Pakistani-born and raised, living in London. Working as a translator for Bollywood films, she begins to feel the dread of inadequacy. Wanting to become fulfilled in her life, she seeks out more.
“It all began with Adam.”
After attending a literary translation studies conference, she meets a man who seemingly has a dozen languages under his command. Sparking a conversation that slowly turns to marriage-serious romance, the couple feels its time to return to Anisa’s hometown to meet her parents. Adam, not speaking a word of Urdu, mysteriously becomes native speaker level of fluent within mere days of their trip. Stunned by this development and hit again with that twang of jealousy and inadequacy, Anisa forces Adams to spill his secret. The Centre. The most exclusive language learning program, so secretive that you can only tell one person in your whole life.
As Anisa grapples with the learning process for German and then a second trip for Russian, the author seamlessly adds in commentary about;
Social hierarchies and class structure
Female relationships vs Male relationships
Women in the workplace
Racism
Religious Strife
SA
Generational Trauma
But it never felt heavy; it takes such a talent to make these hard-hitting topics not feel heavy.
In the end, this novel lingers long after the final page, not just for its sharp twists and creeping dread, but for how effortlessly it weaves horror with deeply human questions about identity, ambition, and belonging. Siddiqi proves that suspense can be both entertaining and thoughtful, delivering a story that unsettles while it illuminates. This is a debut that announces a bold new voice, asking the reader to sit with discomfort and difficult questions, to savor the thrill of a story that is as reflective as it is unsettling.
