2p!England x Reader: Twisted Fairytales 1

WARNING! This chapter contains a bit of violence, and... well... If you're reading a 2p, you should know by now. May not be appropriate for smallish children!

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You sat down on one of the stumps in the woods and put your head in your hands. So lost…

Your father had sent you to chop some firewood, because that ego-tastic moron refused to buy a heater. He made it clear that you were only allowed to chop up stumps, because he didn’t want dead wood and he couldn’t bear the thought of killing a tree.

You decided not to tell him where paper came from. That idiot.

You sighed, straightening up and stretching. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that you had gotten lost. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with your frantic father for a while. Maybe you would even have an adventure or two. Picking up your axe, you started wandering again.

Surely you would find somebody who could help you get home, right?

Not paying attention to where you were going, you stumbled on a rock and fell down, knocking your knee on the ground.

“Owowowow…” You rubbed your leg, fearing it was going to bruise up. Luckily for you, it didn’t hurt exceptionally when you walked, but your stride was now edged with a limp.

After another hour of walking, you had to sit down again, your knee hurting from overuse.

Leaning against a tree, you closed your eyes, the fatigue of traveling for so long without food or water taking over as you drifted into sleep…

“My oh my, what have we here?” Your eyes snapped open. You looked up to see a young man standing over you, a basket slung on one arm and a goofy smile on his face. His bright blue eyes had a flash of pink in them, matching his pink dress shirt, magenta vest, and bright blue bowtie. His smiled widened when he saw you were awake. “Good morning, poppet, glad to see you’re not dead.” He said cheerily, a higher-pitched voice laden with a thick British accent.

You looked away, uncomfortable. You had never been able to talk to strangers. Looking people in the eye when you talked to them was not on the list of things you did.

“I-I’m sorry, are these your woods?” You asked him, taking a sudden interest in your shoes.

“Not really. I’m just looking for something tasty to have with my tea!” He giggled. “You wouldn’t have happened to stumble across anything, would you?”

“Not that I know of, sorry.”

“Oh well, not your fault, is it, poppet. I’m sure I’ll find something.” He walked away, humming to himself and swinging the basket about.

“Wait!” You called to him, standing up. He turned around, his huge grin never faltering.

“I-I’m lost, sir. Would you help me find my way?”

“That depends. Where are you trying to go?”

“Home, sir.”

“Home? Are you sure?” His answer surprised you, and you stopped, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t look like you want to go home in the slightest, poppet. You look like you want to get out and have an adventure or two.” He giggled again, his smile widening, if that was possible.

How did he know that? You backed up a little, still avoiding eye contact. “I… uh…” You stammered, unable to form sentences. It was as if he was getting into your head!

“Are you afraid of me, poppet?” You could hear a little bit of sadness in his voice. And something else… You looked up. He was looking down at the ground now, his hand resting on the picnic basket he was holding.

“No, I just… You surprised me is all,” You comforted him. He looked at you again, and you looked away, quickly. “I’m not used to people knowing me so well, because I’m always at home. My dad only ever lets me out to gather firewood.” Why were you telling this man what you were thinking? You barely even knew him!

His grin returned, and he walked over to you, grabbing your hand.

“Let’s have an adventure, poppet! You and me, and then I’ll take you home. Unless, of course, you want to have more adventures after that.” He gave you another smile, just as fantastic as all the others. Something inside of you made you want to trust this man.

Besides, what other choice did you have? It was unlikely that you were going to find your way home by yourself.

“Okay, but first you have to tell me your name.” You looked up at him. Even his eyes smiled.

“My lady, I am Arthur Kirkland, at your service,” He gave you a mock bow, nearly spilling the contents of his basket in the process. You giggled, doing a little curtsy.

“_______.”

“It is very nice to meet you, _______,” He stood up, straightening his bowtie and holding out his hand. “Now, how about that adventure?”

“I would be honored to join you on your quest,” You giggled. His happiness was infectious.

“Oh, hurrah!” He took your hand, walking with you through the woods.

“Where are we going?” You inquired, looking up at Arthur. A part of you thought about how strange it was that you trusted him so quickly, how unlike you to talk to other people, but you pushed it from your mind.

“No idea, poppet.” He replied, swinging his basket about gaily. “But I am sure it will be adventurous.”

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“What’s that?” A glimmer peeked at you from the corner of your eye, and you stopped, still holding Arthur’s hand. He stopped next to you, the grin never leaving his face.

“What’s what?”

“That! What’s that?” You let go of his hand, inching forward through the woods and peeking out of the bushes into a clearing.

“It’s a house.” Arthur followed you into the bush, “Do you think there’s an adventure in there?”

“There might be,” you pondered the question, still staring at the house. “Should we go find out?”

Before you had even finished the sentence, Arthur had jumped from the bushes and walked over to the house, snaking his way across the lawn.

“Arthur!” You hissed. “Come back!”

He ignored you, instead proceeding to walk up to the door and jiggle the doorknob. The door opened easily, and he winked at you, mouthing an “Its open!” before slipping inside.

“Thanks, Sherlock, I didn’t figure that out,” You muttered under your breath, crossing the clearing and running inside after him.

The door shut behind you, as if on its own, but you ignored it. You paused in the entryway, then tiptoed into the living room Arthur was currently exploring.

“Isn’t this breaking and entering?” You whispered, but he simply smiled and wandered about some more.

“If they were worried about burglars, they would have locked their doors,” he pointed out, as if this made perfect sense and you were silly for not figuring it out.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Arthur–” you began, but he motioned for you to be quiet. Arthur peeked into the next room, then gave you a thumbs-up and slipped into the next room. You followed him, gazing around at the huge kitchen. You found Arthur licking the wall.

“Uh, Arthur…” You stared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Licking the wall,” he replied bluntly, giggling. “You should try it!”

You stared at him like he was an idiot, but you sighed and gave the wall a small lick. How unsanitary… You stopped, startled.

“The wall…”

“It’s made of chocolate!” Arthur finished your sentence in a sing-songy voice. “Aren’t you glad you licked the wall?”

“Remind me to write that down in my ‘Weirdest Questions People Ask Me’ booklet,” You giggled, licking the wall again.

Arthur paused for a moment, then began laughing uncontrollably. You laughed harder, too, surprised he thought your joke was so funny.

“Aren’t you so sweet, _______?” He caught his breath, leaning against the chocolate wall.

“Sweeter than a cupcake, I like you!” He laughed as a hint of pink crept up onto your face.

“Arthur, really, we’ve only known each other for a few hours!”

“And you are already my best friend!” Arthur grinned at you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome!” He sang.

“Ha ha, thanks,” You walked past him into the next room. The walls there were also made of chocolate, and huge piles of cakes and candies sat piled up on a table.

Arthur nabbed a cupcake from the table, licking the icing off and exploring the new room.

“Should we split up?” You asked. “This house seems pretty big.”

“Well, if you really want to,” Arthur finished his cupcake and threw the wrapper into a small trash bin under the table. “Holler if you find some adventure, poppet!” He left the room, and you listened to him run down a flight of stairs, laughing and singing a silly tune.

You giggled. Why couldn’t you stop smiling? You pushed it from your mind, jogging upstairs and opening a door. You were on an adventure! Why shouldn’t you be happy?

This isn’t you! A part of you screamed out. You gave this a moment of thought, but decided it was best to ignore this thought, also.

Gazing around the room, you stopped every once and a while to taste the furniture or walls. That’s when you saw it.

“DON’T TRUST HIM”

The wall was covered in blood, dark red capital letters spelling out a desperate message.

“DON’T LOOK HIM IN THE EYE. DON’T LET HIM GET INTO YOUR HEAD. AND WHATEVER YOU DO,

DON’T EAT THE CUPCAKES”

You gasped, leaning against the opposite wall. Something inside your head snapped, and you blinked, holding your head. Thoughts and memories that you had been ignoring this whole evening screamed out at you, making you writhe in agony. The stories of the house made of candy, where a wicked witch that killed children lived, deep in the woods. Your sudden easiness with strangers. Why had you trusted him? You didn’t trust anyone, especially strangers! And how had he known you did not want to go home?

Arthur. Arthur was the witch. And you had fallen for his spell.

Catchunk.

You looked up. Arthur leaned against the doorway, spinning a key in his hand. His gaze bore into you, his once friendly smile dripping with poison. He swallowed the key, and your eyes widened as you realized that he had locked you into the room with him.

“Ello, poppet,” his smile widened, his eyes narrowed. “How are you enjoying your adventure.”

“I… I….” You struggled for words, refusing to look him in the eye. “I want you to take me home please,” you cringed as he let out a high-pitched laugh.

“Home? Why, aren’t you sweet.” He turned, looking at the wall covered in blood. “Oh, dear, what’s this? Those horrid vandals, writing on my wall!”

He approached the wall, tracing the bold letters with his finger. You pressed yourself further against the wall. Arthur stood between you and the door, and there were no windows in the room to speak of. Running out of hope, you began scratching the wall, hoping to be able to create a hole in the hardened chocolate that you could escape through. A foolish idea, but at this point it was your only option.

“Why, I ought to kill the bugger who ruined my wall. Oh, wait,” he leaned forward, tasting the blood-covered chocolate. “I did. Hehe! That was easy.” He turned back to you, and you shrank back. Crossing the room, he leaned forward so his face was directly in front of yours.

“P-Please…” You begged him, closing your eyes. You didn’t want him back in your head, even if that meant not being able to see him.

“Aren’t you sweet, poppet,” He crooned, his breath hot on your face. He took your face in his hand, and you gasped as you felt a cold steel edge pushing against the skin of your right cheek. “Sweet as a cookie, hehe!”

You whimpered in pain as he pushed down on your face with his knife. This only made him giggle harder, and he watched the blood from the cut he gave you slowly drip down your check. He leaned forward, licking your check and sending a shiver down your spine.

“Even your blood is sweet, very tasty.” He observed, the laughter never leaving his voice.

You panicked, the fear in your heart overtaking your attempt to beg for mercy. Pushing against Arthur’s chest, you stumbled past him and ran for the door, your eyes opening only to make sure you didn’t fall. You shook the doorknob, beating against it in an attempt to break the hard candy and escape.

Arthur grabbed your wrist, throwing you onto the ground with amazing strength for his small body. You struggled to stand up, but he sat on you, knocking the wind out of your body. He pinned your arms to the ground with his hands, and you shut your eyes quickly, refusing to look at him.

“Aw, don’t be like that, my little cupcake!” He giggled again, laying on top of you so you couldn’t struggle. “I thought we were having an adventure together!”

“No!” You cried out, breathing hard. He was so much stronger than you, and the house’s sweet smell was becoming sickening, chocking you and making the little oxygen you could take in poisonous. “P-Please, Arthur, let go!”

“What if I don’t want to,” He teased you. The knife was pressing against your skin again, not enough to draw blood but enough to hurt. You whimpered, weakening as the sweet smell of the house cascaded into your lungs, making you dizzy.

“Oh, won’t you look at me when we talk? It’s so unlady-like to not make eye-contact when having a conversation.”

“N-No!” But it came out as a whisper as you choked on the air and your fear.

“Well, then, let’s play a game while we wait for you to warm up to me again,” he sighed, then giggled again. “How about tic-tac-toe? I do so enjoy that one, don’t you?”

Before you could say anything, he was making a tic-tac-toe board on your face with his knife, singing a little song and occasionally stopping to taste his knife or lick the blood of your face. You cried out in pain, but he only laughed harder. He made an X in the center square, then paused to look down at you.

“Well, dearie? Where do you want to put your circle?” When you didn’t say anything, he let out a small huff of annoyance. “I guess I’ll just pick for you, then. Really, you’re not very good at these games, are you?” He drew a circle in one of the squares, playing with himself now. When he finished, he drew a deeper line through three of the squares with a quick flick of his wrist. You cried out again, the blood on your check flowing faster.

“_______, you won! I bet you cheated, you little troublemaker! Look!” You could hear a rustling, as if he was pulling a mirror out of his pocket so you could see the game he had drawn on your face. You opened your eyes, unable to think or do anything. The sweetness of the room was fogging your mind; why had your eyes been closed again? You couldn’t remember.

Your cheek was a bloody crisscross of unintelligible lines, and your (e/c) eyes were growing dull. The mirror moved, and you found yourself looking up into Arthur’s blue eyes, the dashes of pink glittering with unexplainable happiness.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” He smiled down at you. You stared at him blankly, unable to close your eyes. “That’s so great, I was afraid you had gone and died on me.” He laughed, and the corners of your lips turned upwards without consulting you.

He bent down, placing his lips on yours, then whispered in your ear,

“So sweet, my little cupcake. You’re delicious,” You let out a quiet giggle, your vision swimming and your mind slipping. The wall was colored in unintelligible red scribbles.

Urgent scribbles, but you ignored them, quietly laughing while Arthur kissed you again.

“My sweet,” he murmured, “Would you like a cupcake?”

<^><^> Arthur’s POV <^><^>

“For he’s a jolly good fellow,” I sang, pulling the gingerbread cookies out of the oven and putting them on a cooling rack.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow,” I searched through the cabinets, looking for my pink food coloring to put in the icing.

“For he’s a jolly good fellow!” I added a few drops to the sweet mixture, running the whisk through the icing until it was a soft shade and then spooning it out onto the first cookie.

“Which nobody can deny!” I examined the cookie, than took some of the (e/c) icing I already had and dabbed two eyes and a smile onto the cookie. I giggled; what a cute little cookie!

I allowed myself a taste. Sweet, just like my little cupcake. I grinned, taking a
huge bite before turning to ice my other cookies.

One of the lower cabinets opened suddenly, and a skull rolled out.

“Oh, dear,” I tutted at the skull, bending to pick it up. “I told you to stay inside the cabinet, my sweet little cupcake! Shame on you!” I placed it back inside of the cabinet, making sure it stayed shut this time, then returned to frosting my cookies.

“Which nobody can deny, which nobody can deny, for he’s a jolly good fellow!” I finished the first cookie, licking my lips.

“Which nobody can deny!”