[𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴]'𝚂 𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙲 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚄𝙴 𝚄𝙿 𝙵𝙾𝚁!
yan! twisted wonderland x gn! reader─poor you, even after death, couldn't get a proper rest. instead, you were pulled from limbo by a sleazy headmage and became his school's caretaker under one condition: that he helped you find your killer. though that proved to be difficult, especially when you unwittingly garnered the dangerous affection from many individuals.
HEARTSLABYUL EDITION!
having an academy chock-full of boys that had yet to fully comprehend the responsibility of magic and their unresolved mental issues was not a good idea, even in theory.
you, a ghost bound by a vengeance that bled from your head, were unlucky enough to land yourself as the one to take charge of the school's clinic. your own problems hadn't been solved yet, but that birdbrained crowley decided to rope you into more mayhem.
oh well, you knew the gig by now: ensure the students stay in good shape, and he would help you remember who was in charge of your wretched existence.
sounds easy right? no, because apparently, a magicless human and a fire-vomitting beast enrolled this year, thus setting of a chain of overblotting never seen before in centuries.
you grimaced when your blood-stained fingers clutched against the list, eyes narrowed onto the name engraved with black ink.
heartslabyul, the dorm built on the spirit of strictness of queen of hearts, honored her by obeying the ridiculous rules she had created.
this dorm wasn't that troublesome to you on the physical aspect, with most students from there going to you for injuries from trivial stuff, like getting their fingers pricked by the horns laying in the rose bushes, or daily events like brawling.
what concerned you the most, however, was the mental health of these living beings. in the recent years, they never failed to show up at your clinic to rant about the cruelty of their housewarden, who you had heard from other ghosts was named riddle rosehearts.
ever since riddle took the reins, he had been ruling over the dorm with an iron fist, quite literally when he utilized his signature spell as a punishment every time someone made the foolish mistake of breaking the rules. freshman? off with your head! only remembered the first 500 rules (which was an impressive feat on its own)? off with your head!
the only impression you got from their words was how pitiful this housewarden was: using that much magic daily was extremely unhealthy, and you were even baffled when checking through the records to see he had never been admitted to the infirmary before.
that boy was going to end up dead on the floor one day with this influx of collared students using you as a therapist (not that you entirely minded since… that was your job). however, you were practically powerless outside the suffocating confines of the clinic, so you decided your best bet was to threaten the shit out of that botched crow.
"greetings my dear employee who I oh so graciously allow a place to stay-"
"WOAH WOAH WOAH PUT THE SWORD DOWN!"
that was what the students heard echoing through the hallways, bouncing from the office of the headmage. you weren't fond of that memory much, certainly not the best moment in your undead life, but as long as you took off this sudden burden of being others' therapist, you would gladly trim off crowley's feathers with your sword again.
that was also how you were permitted to move more freely, through the walls of the library and up the stairs. you were highly careful in your attempt not to be spotted by other students, especially by the freshmen who had yet to familiarize themselves with the sight of a bloody, sword-lodged-in-the-head ghost. (the sword had been there for as long as you could remember, and only you could pull it off, though the bleeding would intensify, so it rarely left.
that was how your relationship with riddle began, a first meeting in the library, with you carrying some books per professor trein's request, which coincided with the time he spent there for self-studying. you almost shed tears of joy at the sheer effortlesslness at finding him, thinking you would have withered if forced to chat with another entity any longer.
"studying history?" it had been decades since you properly held a proper conversation with another individual that wasn't just you being commanded or inquired of something. your eyes darted to the high stack of books on the table, o-shaped lips highlighted your surprise at youngsters' hardworking nature these days. he merely nodded in return, deep inside his preparation for the upcoming exams.
"oh, this part is wrong, the mutiny against red royals didn't occur until...." your index finger pointed onto the timeline, frowning at the audacity of the publishers to approve such blatant misfortune in the first place. being a forgotten relic of the past, you were passionate about history, or rather, the modern perspective of the important events of the past. it acted like an anchor amidst your seemingly eternal servitude, something you took pride in other than your basic knowledge about healing potions. as you went off on a rant about how overlooking even the smallest detail could cause a collapse in the future generations' awareness of students, you failed to notice how riddle stared at you.
intently.
being the oblivious spirit, you failed to realize how famous you were in reality. the time you spent with crowley, and other students who didn't appear to care for you that much had dampened your already nonexistent self-esteem.
you were a fascinating subject for riddle to hear of: the vengeful ghost that was chained to the very bricks of NRC, who had forgotten what caused their lingering desires in the first place. a mystery to be cracked, a puzzle waiting to be solved, any intellectual student would die to meet you.
that was why he counted himself a lucky man when you approached him, and the very first thing he knew of you was your passion for history. those hands stained with blood, origin unknown, guided him with a gentleness he was sure you used to comfort others, especially the unruly rule-breakers from his dorm.
at first, he regarded you with the same light most ghost staff were perceived, a helpful ally to lessen the burden of the school, nothing more. however, riddle wasn't a fool not to realize your insistence on spending time with him outside of studying. for the first time, ever since he was 8, the red-haired housewarden got a friend who didn't look at him with fear or defiance.
your gaze, always on the verge of spilling tears, viewed him with friendliness; sickeningly sweet care oozed through each and every one of their movement. it confused him greatly, for what he had achieved to be lavished with such attention from you? you often inquired about his health, advised him not to overwork himself and his magic, even taking it upon yourself to ensure he had a restful sleep. he had been so familiar with the knowledge of your constant presence, like how one would sleep with their pillow, that he would never assume his fellow dormmates would harbor the same budding feelings for the ghost.
no one took from the queen without consequences, and disaster befell the students who had thanked you profusely for 'making riddle more lenient '. so that was why you were so soft with him, offering the smiles that brightened his days even after tests he felt unsatisfied with? that was your ploy all along, to rip out his heart from the ribcage and toy with it in your blood-stained fingers, chuckling at your own frivolous attempts to make tea for him, wasn't it?
what a coy ghost, seems like even those contractual chains couldn't stop you from wreaking havoc. no worries, riddle had taken it upon himself to discipline you. just a bit of sternness, and you would finally grant him the privilege of sincerity.
the queen of hearts and her king were known to have a brutally honest relationship, no?
accompanying riddle on your misadventure was trey clover. you encountered him while messing around with sam's shop, and your interest was piqued when you realized the heartslabyul uniform he donned. oh? was this the vice housewarden you usually heard of? the student who, for mysterious circumstances, wasn't allowed to give you a chance of introductions at all? luck must have been in your favor! after all, your priority was to calm down riddle; it was best to know of the people he associated with.
you greeted him by helping sam collect his groceries, keeping it as natural as possible. since he assumed the role of the mediator, you both would get along well in no time, perfect for your mission.
"you like baking?" you exclaimed with those same o-shaped lips, feet grazed the ground as your hands clasped behind your back. there was a chuckle in response to your question, as you looked over him curiously. was....what you said humorous? from his perspective, it was, considering you had partaken in collecting his shopping list, so you should have at least kept in mind what he bought. in your defense, the phantom sensation of bleeding did render your thinking slower than usual.
'strange....' your eyes darted towards your surroundings, not wanting to understand the complicated mind of youngsters these days. that repeated phrase made you feel old, but it was true that you struggled a lot in adapting to the modern world. that confusion was what caused you not to notice the way trey was examining you, eyes swept over your bloody form.
so this was who stole riddle's heart.
trey approached you with purpose at first. the one riddle he had talked about oh so fondly, the one responsible for the fury he unleashed onto others one day, the one that could soothe his moods as easily as dampen them, you were disruptive to the order that had been established for two years in the dorm. your ruckus wasn't akin to a storm, noticeable at first glance, no. it was more similar to the snake that infiltrated eden garden, subtly nudging the humans towards a false promise of decadence.
he didn't blame you, for from his observation, you were genuine in your intentions to help riddle get better. in contrast to the rash red-haired boy that lost half of his mind upon the fragments of conversation he eavesdropped, trey was much calmer. he saw your actions, all done to help riddle become a better version of himself.
things he was too cowardly to do.
you were meek, easy to be swayed by pressure, and quick to get emotional over the smallest things, and yet, a ghost that couldn't even stand still on the ground without slipping, had put more effort into helping his childhood friend get better.
but your friendship, or at least that was how you spoke of it, was not healthy. trey had seen the consequences of that; he had seen how riddle's fists clutched so slightly when he expressed his desire to meet you, the crestfallen expression he donned in your absence. (after all, you were one busy caretaker!)
you had the housewarden on a leash, and you didn't even know it, smiling absentmindedly when you test-tasted the treats he prepared for parties and recounted things you considered interesting, by your vintage standards.
trey didn't mean it to be some sort of secret rendezvous behind riddle's back, but he knew the housewarden would never allow him to properly chat with you. you didn't need to know that, though, just give him those amused praises of yours, yeah?
you didn't need to know how fixated he was on wiping the invisible crumbs from your mouth. oh, your poor thing, the headmage must have overworked even after your death with all those brash students, so quick to get injured. no worries, trey was a sensible person, he was the fraternal figure to many of the freshmen in his dorm, after all!
he understood your burdens really, so don't scold him when you realized the subtle fatigue you felt each time after sneakily whisking away his desserts, thinking your ghostly identity helped you get away easily. what a sweet ghost, so eager to fix others without expecting a reward in return. for that, trey took it upon himself to look after you. worrying about a toothache? not in his watch, trey was very serious about your oral health, like he did the same with others. except his fingers lingered longer than they should around those oddly sharp teeth. what a beautiful preservation of time, and he was so lucky to be alive to witness it.
don't ask too much about his shady ingredients, you cared for him, like how you were with riddle, didn't you?
you didn't understand technology, and since your previous friends (you hung out a lot, so that should be considered friends, right? or did these younglings have a different view on allyship now?) weren't, in the lack of better terms, chronically online, you expected not to deal with such hassle.
that was until you were ambushed, like actually jumped from behind, while in the middle of appreciating the fine sculptural art of the pink flamingos by none other than cater diamond. of course, that was a hyperbolic statement, considering his body went right through you and his head hit against the porcelain thing, much to your dismay. wait, the statuette let out a squeak in response......how long had you been staring at a living, breathing flamingo without noticing? you really needed to get your eyesight checked.
back to your problem, you managed to catch the ginger (ew) before he fell headfirst onto the ground via your ghostly powers. you had heard tales where ghosts obtained outstanding magic, such as stunning their opponents through a slap, but you were stuck here with little telekinesis and a sword going right through your head, which could be used to fight theoretically, but the bloodshed that followed was exhausting.
"thanks mx. ghost!" you could practically feel his grin, and alarm sounded off in your body, for you had been faced with the epitome of your fear: social students. riddle and trey were both quiet, letting the silence simmer between you two like a mutal understanding, while this guy.....
you helped him get up and, 'confronted', if you regarded threatening to pull the sword out from your body and smacking his head as that, why he decided to choose such an ungoldly way to approach you, decades of being trapped here, and the world seemed to never run out of surprise for you.
his answer was nothing short of confusion, something along the lines of 'wanting to check out the cute nurse that had stolen the hearts of many', which was a blatant lie since many would be dead by now. and one unique thing about cater: he spoke in this weird language you couldn't understand.
"what a shame ghosts couldn't be captured through magicam, otherwise others would see your #moemaxxing." he sighed melodramatically, and you had to uphold your power to keep the impression that he was leaning against your shoulders. was this how young people spoke these days? you had many things to learn about outside of the mundane routines of assigning students the same treatment over and over again.
"i would take it as a compliment....thanks...." you stepped an inch from him, looking increduosly at the increasing influx of modern slangs and the repition of hashtags in sentences.
despite the hazardous first impression, you promptly saw right through cater's facade. what? keeping up a persona in front of you, a ghost with experience in dealing with mental issues, was like offering a fish to swim. still, you didn't utter a word about that, allowing him to drag you everywhere he went as he pleased. you were here to fix riddle, but it turned out that this whole dorm was as mentally unstable as one another. oh well, the less work you would get, the more your heart opened, not in a literal way.
riddle's words painted a perfect picture of who you were in his head, so cater wasn't surprised by your indifferent antics. so ghosts could be camera-shy despite not being able to be captured by them, so cute! you were willing to hear out what his social-obsessed ass had to say, doing a bad job at hiding your growing confusion. you didn't know what the internet was, trying your hardest not to cast him a judgemental glance whenever he showed you the newest trend.
old-fashioned, that was how ghosts were, so it was no surprise to him that you were close to the housewarden. there was a clear distinction between being inactive on most platforms and being technology-blinded, and you fell into the latter spectrum. cater had lost count of the amount of time you accidentally possessed his phone in an attempt to learn more about his interests. oh? so you didn't know how to use your magic well? so cute!
his fixation with the notion of being adorable didn't slip past you, especially when you weren't objectively not so, blood-stained fingers and a sword right through your stomach; you would feel weirded out if someone called you cute. this was your current situation, when cater seemed mournful about your inability to change outfit, something you lied to him about without regret. anyone who paid ramshackle a little attention would know its ghastly residents changed into different costumes on halloween. besides, you were comfortable in the outfit you currently donned, though it wasn't the same one you died in.
"because i am oh so gracious, i shall give you a new garment to fit in with the school more!" crowley had said that, after pulling you from a ritual he did. you had no recollections of your past life, and before meeting him, you were a mindless, wandering ghost of limbo. he had promised to help you find the owner of the sword, in exchage that you helping him bandage up his students. what a fancy way to lure free in labor, you chuckled bitterly at the thought.
you were zoning out again, and though cater might not show it outwardly, he assumed he had bored you with his yapping, which was bad. he was the social butterfly, cay-cay, it would be rude for the heartslabyul's guest to feel their spirit dampened in his presence. in an effort to compensate for something that wasn't his fault, he would be more persistent in spending more time with you. you occasionally left him in the dust to hang out with trey or riddle, or to tend to those silly freshmen. however, each time before your departure, you would always profusely apologize to him, as though his existence around you wasn't bothersome, as though you welcomed him into your world. don't look at him with concerned eyes, don't say that you were anxious for his health, don't make him too attached!
you were the nurse, you said? well, that meant being injured would help him spend more time with you, no? please, don't be surprised by the sharp rise in the time he had to go to your clinic for wounds that ranged from insignificant to severe. you were worried sick for him; he knew that, through the continuous lectures you reserved for him and him only as your hands curled around his wrists, allowing the potion to do its job. How ironic, those fingers marked with the unmistakable sign of violence were deliberate and kind in the way they guided him back to full health.
you cared a lot about others, and it hurt him so painfully to see that he was no exception to you. no worries, he could always bounce back with his signature spell: leaving a clone of him back in the dorm as he lay on the comfortable mattress of the infirmary, hearing you fretting over his impairments.
for you, cater would bash his head against the walls several times, so continue to look after him with that pitiful look in your eyes, wouldn't you? would be a shame to see the social lives of many students ruined by spending too much time around you.
back to the present, when you were reading the paper sent to you by crowley. apparently, the newest addition to the prestigious institute had caused supposedly irreversible damage to the chandelier in the cafeteria. unsurprisingly, to anyone who had known crowley well, the responsibility of cleaning it up fell onto you. you could feel your stomach ache again at the prospect of more work to do. how did they manage to destroy it? what a reckless batch of new students.
speak of the devil, he shall appear in the form of three humans being dragged to the infirmary alongside a whining feline creature the following afternoon. you fingers itched against the hilt of not-really-your sword, because words told that these freshmen had attempted to retrieve a magic stone from the abandoned mine and injured themselves in the triumph of defeating a monster there.
what annoyed you the most was the stubbornness of ace trappola in refusing to take the medicine you provided because of how bitter it tasted. he complained, almost aggged, and let out protests of unfairness when you swiftly shoved a spoonful into his mouth. you glared at his partners in crime, who were on the verge of laughing, as though you threatened to do the same if they refused to cooperate.
deuce spade was much more compliant, though you noticed he did habour fear, somewhat, to the prescription you provided. he tried to act brave, though ace realized that right away and kept on teasing him. had it not been for the obvious blot stains and scratches on their outfits, it would have been more believable to conclude that they got enoigh energy for another brawl.
at the sound of you clicking your tongue impatiently, the blue-haired boy profusely apologized, muttering something with the lines of 'an honor student' under his breath. ace, on the other hand, didn't display the slightest hint of remorse, and you only sighed in defeat.
yuu, the magicless human, was… weird. they remained silent all the time, dull eyes stared at you as you examined their body. no scratches, they must have stayed behind during the feud due to their helplessness. grim rudely interrupted the process and began to inquire why you were scanning his henchuman so intently.
"mister grim, i'm a nurse...." you gave up on this group, but at least they showed some semblance of camaraderie, something highly lacking in NRC. you thought of them as trouble-makers, but also good friends, and hoped that you wouldn't have to meet them a lot in the infirmary.
meanwhile, ace was interested to see that the one that half of his seniors swooned over was a ghost! his brother had told him about you, though only fragments of rumors and information, during his studies at the academy. the general consensus was that:
you had a sickass sword.
and your potions tasted disgusting.
seriously, out of all the flavors you could use, you decided to go with that unfiltered, raw taste of mismatched herbs? seriously? what kind of period did you live in? oh right, you were a ghost, many apologies. he could feel deuce and grim laughing at his reaction, but they hadn't even had a lick of the liquid yet. he was convinced this was how crowley allowed legal poisoning to take place on the campus.
over the course of time, he would find himself back in the infirmary a lot. it wasn't his fault that his group would be roped into so many overblots. every time, you would appear without fail, pathetic eyes scrunched in annoyance briefly before they were filled with concern.
how did cater manage to handle this, ace didn't understand. that two-faced senior of his would always be sighted in your clinic, did he not feel the sourness of your medicine?
"love makes people stupid, ace." his brother once said, and he figured that could be applied to his entire dorm. even his housewarden was head over heels for you, talking about a spoiled brat with mother issues being infatuated with someone who assumed the role of a caretaker.
yuck!
ace thought he was special by treating you like nothing. psst, playing hard to get? no way! he just regarded you with the so-called annoying professionalism, not like he feared the tart taste of your medicine threatening to strike his taste buds. when he unfortunately got collared by the rose-red tyrant, he sought you out to gain information on riddle's weaknesses, a reason you were so baffled about you couldn't even muster a word.
of course, you weren't the type to sell out those you deemed your friends, so you gently inquired of him what had happened, and it surprised you to see riddle still retain that temperature. weird, he was normally relaxing (around you), maybe this year's rule breakers were more than the previous ones. having remembered a few rules, you advised him to return what he had stolen, though you were quick to add that 'anything but a chestnut tart on unbirthday party'.
ace was… surprised at your willingness. he assumed ghosts would be more mischievous, and though he should have considered you boring, paling in comparison to your fellow spirits, he felt grateful to at least escape his punishments. without your suggestion, he would have ruined an otherwise perfect unbirthday party. however, when you met a volcano fated to erupt, you could only do so much to stop it. troublemakers were bound to cause some later on, and guess what rule ace broke? flowers in the garden must never be picked on wednesdays.
the reason could be traced back to, unexpectedly, you. what? the trappola never owed anyone anything, so he dreamily plucked roses from the bushes to set up a magic trick to surprise you as a thank-you gift for the previous suggestion. he totally didn't think of the way your face would light up, tearfully expressing your gratitude as you moved the roses to replace the mundane flowers in the vases. he so did it for platonic reasons, only! as though he wasn't giddy at the thought of you being caught off guard by him, in awe of his family's tricks. he could play pranks under your nose, and you would only scold him in the same soft tone that had never risen, except to the lazy headmage. it was so fun to rile you up, causing you to contemplate what choices you had made that led to these silly moments with him.
if anything, deuce was the one smitten, not him! so don't blame him when students started to get scared off your infirmary for some not-so-harmless tricks he pulled on them. what? he was creating less work for you; be grateful!
"....HOW DID YOU CAUSE YOUR HOUSEWARDEN TO OVERBLOT!?" there you were, in that concerned timbre. shout at him more, acknowledge him, don't just regard him as another of your patients!
prepare for trouble, and make it double! deuce was determined to make up for the headaches his friend group had caused you by that chandelier accident. in NRC's language, that would normally be translated into more work for you. the blue-haired boy became your errand boy, willing to run to sam's shop whenever you asked for more empty bottles. he even forgot to take the thaumarks you left on the counter in a rush. what a freshman.
there would be nothing remarkable about him from your personal perspective, had you not witnessed the violent side of him while attempting to transport the money. in this institute, hostility was the norm, and a weakling like you would usually be dragged into escalating situations. while strolling, a.k.a floating in your case, through the campus where the great sevens' statues were positioned neatly, some savanclaw students ended up attempting to pull your sword out from your head for their sick entertainment.
you were prepared to deal with this as per usual, until deuce landed a harsh punch on one of the guys' faces. woah! no one in this school was normal! you thought the obvious as you leaned against a statue, watching the fight going on. normally, you would try to dissipate the situation, but the mob had viewed you like an object, meant to be made a fool of to amuse them, so you pretended you saw and heard nothing. crowley knew better than to interfere with your decisions in controlling the students' behaviors, anyways.
deuce had feared you would see him in another light, so he prepared for you to step back in fear or in scorn. instead, all he got was some patting on his head, and your hands against his head to check for injuries. you were a ghost living for centuries, he realized, and there were bloodshed that decorated you, so such a simple thing wouldn't guarantee a reaction from you. besides, you understood him, didn't you? you two both had violent pasts and were currently trying to redeem yourselves through different means. you had mended that macarbe canvas of your body into a solace for the students here, a living proof that he could still have a second chance after what he had done in the past.
"i can handle myself." you remarked, a sigh of relief upon seeing no wounds on deuce. your face leaned dangerously close to his face as you observed the spade near his eyes. manually hand-drawn, you wondered if that was the current trend, or if he did that to fit with the aesthetic of his dorm. such an enthusiastic dedication was quite rare and appreciated in your world.
"what are you waiting for? let's go pay mr. sam back." you added, already turning your back on him, conveniently preventing you from noticing the blush coating his face, or the stuttering of his words.
"yes...yes....mx. [name]." polite, wouldn't be so bad to have an errand boy after all, was your conclusion. it took him quite a long time to register what happened, and to catch up with the slow rhythmical floating of your figure.
sweet deuce would constantly volunteer to help you around, much to the teasing of his friend. you had grown familiar with his presence, tossing your ingredients and shopping list into his arms. he was your most loyal one, so don't mind it when there was an increase in students visiting your clinic with the same punching marks on their bodies. they insulted you, looking down on you as though you weren't the only comfortable entity that was kind enough to look after them. they had it coming, really, and you didn't reprimand him about the use of violence during situations where he protected your honor.
he would help you around with that, so keep being busy checking for the prescriptions while he was threatening the students not to ever dare to think of touching even one strand of your hair again. when you turned around, he morphed back to the clumsy try-to-be honor student you knew!
phew! dealing with heartslabyul gave you quite a headache, though you didn't mind these polite students! as long as there wouldn't be a chain of accidents targeting the players of the upcoming magical spelldrive tournament!
wait a minute.
there was.
you were itching to flay that ugly crow. so close.
━━━━ 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅.
it was funny, wasn't it?
you said my death haunted you, tormented you in the rest of your fleeting existence. you spoke of my passing like it was an accident, like it wasn't something you had actively participated in.
we both knew that wasn't the truth. you remembered me only for your fragile ego.
to deny the true nature of my death was to continue in indulging in a delusion, wherein i was incapable of negative feelings, where i only served to love you.
grieving me made you feel, no, believe you were better, that you were but a human puppeted by cruel fate. thinking of me like i was a tragedy, a ballad that ended on a sad note, did that feed your insatiable vanity?
perhaps you were right; you had become more human, more adept at emotions, more susceptible to the woes of the living.
all of that, at the expense of me.
𝐚/𝐮: this is what ive been working on instead of my other series the brainworms got to me #fuckmybakalife
