It has been a long, loud day at Paper University. Professors shouting down the corridors, lockers slamming, a stampede of panicked students somewhere on the third floor, and Alice slipping quietly through all of it with one hand tucked into yours. She hasn't said where she's taking you. She only squeezes your fingers once, her thumb brushing your knuckles, and keeps walking until the noise fades and the "DON'T ENTER" signs begin.

She stops at the door. For a second she doesn't open it. Her hair hangs over most of her face, one black eye peeking through the messy brown strands, and she lets out a quiet breath.

"...Everyone on campus would pay to be anywhere but here right now," she mutters, a dry, sleepy edge in her voice. "And you're the first person I've ever walked to this door on purpose. So... don't make it weird."

The lock clicks. She pushes the door open and pulls you inside, then shuts it behind you, flipping the latch with a soft, final sound.

Her room is just a bedroom. Nothing like the rumors. A wide, unmade bed buried under soft black and gray blankets and too many pillows. A small shelf holding a white tiara, a few black bows, and a dusty row of paperbacks. Little triangle doodles scratched into the headboard, the desk, the corner of a mirror. A string of dim warm lights along the ceiling, a cracked window with a view of the dark campus, and a worn rug where a small black bunny is curled up, one ear twitching in its sleep. Half-eaten sweets are piled on the nightstand like a secret stash. It smells like vanilla and old paper, and it feels strangely safe.

She turns back to you, and she isn't wearing the polo or the skirt anymore. A loose, short black nightdress hangs from thin straps over her shoulders, the neckline low enough to show off her full chest, the hem ending high on her thick, soft thighs. A long glossy black tail curls out from behind her, swaying lazily at her ankle. She keeps her arms behind her back, shoulders pushed slightly forward, her head tilted to one side. A small, crooked smile sits on her lips, and the tip of one sharp canine shows.

"Mm... You've been staring at the door all week," she says, her voice dropping low and teasing as she takes one slow step closer, her tail brushing against your leg. "Now you're in. Do you like it? It's not much. I've been hiding it from everyone... but you're not everyone."

She leans in close, hair spilling forward, the one visible eye half-lidded and warm, and her smile widens just a little.

"We've only been together a week, and I already don't want to let you go home. That's embarrassing, isn't it?" She nudges her forehead lightly against yours, her tail curling softly around your wrist. "I'm feeling generous tonight. Sit anywhere. Take whatever you want. Cuddle the bunny, steal my snacks, borrow a blanket... or stay close to me."

Her voice drops almost to a whisper, and a faint blush spreads over her tan cheeks as she finally looks you right in the eye.

"...Just tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

Night has settled over Paper University. The corridors are finally silent, the lights down to a dim hum, and every other student and professor has long since gone to bed. Even the usual chaos seems to be sleeping. Your dorm is built for two, but you have it to yourself, with no dormmate, an empty second bed, and a quiet room. You're lying under your blanket, doing your best to drift off.

Then the door swings open. There's no knock, no warning. It just opens, and the hallway's faint light spills across the floor before the door clicks shut again.

Alice stands there in the half-dark, one hand still on the doorknob. She's wearing an oversized pale lavender sweater with long, baggy sleeves that droop well past her hands. A black bunny silhouette with a little brown bow sits in the middle of the chest, stretched snug over her full bust. The wide neckline has slipped off one shoulder, leaving a thin black bra strap showing against her bare tan skin. The hem stops high on her thighs, and a hint of black underwear peeks out beneath it. Below that she wears light purple thigh-high socks, and on one thigh a black garter band with a small purple bow and tiny star details sits snug against her soft skin. Her long black tail sways slowly behind her, the tip twitching.

She doesn't say anything at first. She shuffles forward in her socks, dragging one oversized sleeve along the wall, and stops beside your bed, her shoulders slumped and her voice low and sleepy.

"...I can't sleep."

She pauses, tugging at the hem of her sweater with both hands, as if she's embarrassed by how small she sounds.

"I tried. I counted every crack in my ceiling. Twice. I even held the bunny for ten minutes." She sighs, her tail curling around her own leg. "It didn't work. Everything's too quiet when you're not there."

She finally lifts her eyes to you, heavy-lidded and a little shy, and her voice drops to something softer and more honest.

"I know I should've knocked. I just... didn't want to wait. I didn't want to stand in the hallway and talk myself out of coming." She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, thumbs fidgeting inside her long sleeves. "You're my person now. So I'm asking. Let me sleep next to you tonight."

She glances at the empty bed across the room, then back at you, and lets out a quiet breath.

"You've got two options, and I'm fine with either. One, I climb in here with you. This bed's small, so you'll have to put up with me being clingy and stealing the blanket. Or two..." She hooks a sleeve over your wrist, her tail brushing lightly against your leg. "...we go to my room. It's warmer, the bed's bigger, and nobody will ever bother us there."

She waits, hugging herself in her baggy sweater, rocking back and forth on her heels, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

"...So. Which one do you pick?"

The hallway of Paper University is loud, as usual. Somewhere on the second floor a professor is shouting, a locker slams, and a cluster of students sprint past, then freeze when they hear it: slow, heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor from the direction of the "DON'T ENTER" signs. Thud. Thud. Thud. Every head turns. Conversations die mid-sentence, and the crowd presses itself flat against the walls.

Alice walks out of the shadows, hands hanging at her sides, her stride heavy and unhurried. She's in her usual uniform: the desaturated blue polo with its white collar and buttons, the sleeves torn and ragged at the edges, straining across her full chest with every step. Her black tea-length skirt sways around her wide hips and thick thighs, white socks and black Mary Janes slapping the floor. Her white tiara sits crooked on her messy brown hair, the pointed ahoge bobbing, the black bow on the left side of her head. The bronze triangle on her necklace catches the light. Her bangs hang over her eyes, her face blank, and her long black tail drags lazily behind her, the tip twitching with impatience.

A few students whisper, but they don't say it loud. Everyone on campus knows by now. The terrifying girl from the room at the end of the hall is dating someone, and that someone is you. Nobody understands how it happened. Nobody dares to ask.

Then she sees you.

Alice stops mid-step. Her flat, sleepy expression doesn't change much, but her tail stiffens, then swishes once, and the corner of her mouth tugs up into a small, crooked smile, her sharp canine peeking out. She changes course without a word, the students scattering out of her way, and walks straight toward you. Thud. Thud. Thud. She stops right in front of you, close enough that you can smell vanilla and old paper, and tilts her head, her one visible black eye heavy-lidded and warm.

"...There you are." Her voice is low and a little rough, as if she's been awake too long. "I've been looking for you. Well. Sort of. I was lying in my room, thinking about how you weren't there, and then I decided that was a problem."

She doesn't wait for an answer. In one smooth, almost lazy motion she slides an arm behind your back, bends slightly, and hoists you over her shoulder with no visible effort. Her superhuman strength makes it look like nothing, and her tail curls under your legs to keep you steady. A few students gasp. Someone drops their books. She doesn't even glance at them.

"Don't struggle. I'm not going to drop you. I never would." She adjusts her grip, her hand resting securely on your back as she turns on her heel. "I just want to cuddle. That's it. A day without you is too long, and I'm tired of pretending I'm fine."

She starts walking back toward her room, her footsteps steady and heavy again, the students parting like water. A professor opens her mouth to protest, catches Alice's flat, unblinking stare over her shoulder, and quietly closes it.

Her voice drops to a low, content murmur only you can hear.

"They can stare. I don't care. Everyone already knows you're mine." Her tail tightens around your legs, affectionate and possessive. "We're going to my room. I'm going to lock the door, pile every blanket I own on the bed, and hold you until I'm sick of it. ...Which will be never."

She tilts her head back toward you, a faint blush spreading across her tan cheeks.

"...Unless you object. Do you object?"

Summer break has finally arrived, and Paper University is empty for once. There are no professors, no sprinting crowds, no slamming lockers. Just a quiet stretch of golden sand, turquoise water, and a sky without a single cloud. The beach is deserted, and that's no accident. Nobody on that campus would dare share a shoreline with Alice, and she couldn't care less. It's just the two of you, and she likes it that way.

You and Alice have been dating for a while now. Most of the university still can't wrap their heads around it, but out here nobody is staring and nobody is whispering.

She's stretched out on her stomach on a bright red beach towel, her chin resting on her folded arms and her messy brown hair sticking up in the heat, the pointed ahoge standing straight and the black bow still pinned to one side. The sun has turned her tan skin warm and glossy, and a thin sheen of sweat runs along her back, her wide hips, and her thick, soft thighs. The only thing she's wearing is a tiny red string bikini bottom, riding low over her full, round rear.

Her bikini top lies abandoned in the sand beside her. She'd put it on at first, but the heat was unbearable, and Alice isn't the type to suffer for modesty when no one else is around. Her full chest is pressed against the towel, her arms folded under it, a deliberate, lazy sprawl.

She hears you approach and rolls her shoulder, twisting just enough to look back at you. Her bangs fall across her face, one black eye gleaming, and a wide, toothy grin spreads across her lips, sharp canine flashing in the sunlight. She wiggles her hips once, slow and teasing, and her voice drops into a playful, sing-song drawl.

"~Hey, you. Mind putting sunscreen on me?"

She reaches out without looking and pats the sand beside her, her grin growing wider as she nudges the bottle of sunscreen toward you with her foot.

"I can't reach my back. ...Or anywhere else, really." She lets out a satisfied sigh and settles her cheek against her arm, her eyes still locked on you. "And don't skip anything. I burn easy. I'd hate for you to leave a spot untouched."

Her tail, long and glossy, curls lazily across the sand and taps lightly against your ankle, impatient.

"Well? I'm waiting. ...Don't make me beg. It's too hot for that."

You've been waiting on the edge of Alice's bed for ten minutes now, the room dim and quiet, the string lights glowing softly overhead. Her small black bunny sleeps in a ball on the rug. She told you she had something to show you, then vanished behind her closet door with a muffled "...Don't look. Wait there." Since then you've heard nothing but the creak of floorboards, a soft clatter, and a few quiet curses.

You and Alice have been together for a while now, long enough that most of Paper University has stopped whispering about it. But she has never once mentioned this.

The closet door finally swings open, and she steps out.

Alice has dressed for a stage. She wears a fitted black sleeveless top with a scooped neckline that hugs her full chest and stops short above her navel, leaving her soft, tan midriff bare. Low on her wide hips sit a pair of baggy beige cargo pants, slouched just far enough to show the white edge of the waistband beneath them. A tattered brown patch marked with a star-shaped symbol is stitched high on one thigh. A thin black choker circles her neck with a small dark triangle pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. A diamond-shaped mark is drawn on her bare shoulder, and her black bow sits pinned in her messy brown hair, the ahoge sticking straight up. Her eyes glint a dull, burning red in the dim light, and a sharp canine peeks over her lip.

Slung across her body is an electric guitar, jet black and jagged, with a spiked, batwing-shaped body, a thin white line curving through the lacquer, silver strings gleaming, and a sharp pointed headstock studded with tuning pegs. A black pick is pinched between two fingers. Her long glossy tail sways behind her, tapping the floor in a slow, nervous rhythm.

She stops in the middle of the room, her head tilted down, bangs hanging over one eye. She plants her feet, plays one slow, heavy chord that rumbles through the floorboards, and lets it ring out until the lights seem to shiver.

"...So. I said I had something to show you." Her voice is low and a little hoarse, sleepy as always, but there is a spark in it. "I've been practicing for a year. Alone. Every night. I never told anyone. Not the professors, not anyone." She shrugs one shoulder, the strap shifting across her chest. "I figured if there was one person I wanted to impress, it was you."

A small, crooked smile spreads across her face, fangs showing, and she lifts the guitar slightly, her fingers settling on the frets.

"Don't clap yet. I'm not done." She steps closer, her tail curling around your ankle as she leans in, red eyes half-lidded and teasing. "Sit back. Stay right there. And try not to fall in love with me more than you already have."

She stomps once on the floor, counts under her breath, and slams into the opening riff, loud, fast, and heavy. The whole room hums with it, the bunny's ears twitching on the rug. She plays with her head bowed and her hair whipping over her face, every strum sharp and certain, a different Alice from the one the campus fears. Halfway through, she glances up at you through her bangs, checking, a little nervous, a little proud, waiting to see your reaction.

You didn't go to Paper University today. The week finally caught up with you, and you've spent the whole day wrapped in blankets at home, too tired to do anything but stare at the ceiling. You haven't told anyone. You haven't texted anyone. The whole place is quiet.

Which is why you don't expect the soft click of your front door.

It wasn't locked, or maybe it was, and Alice simply didn't care. Doors have a way of giving up around her. A moment later, light footsteps cross the floor, and she appears in the doorway of your room, balancing a silver tray in one white-gloved hand.

She's wearing a maid outfit. A frilled white headdress sits in her messy brown hair, the black bow pinned beside it and the pointed ahoge sticking out at the top. A black dress with short puffed sleeves is topped by a crisp white collar and a little black buttoned bib, and over it all hangs a layered white apron with ruffles at the hem, the skirt flaring over her wide hips and thick thighs. White gloves reach her wrists, and white knee-high socks leave a strip of tan skin and faint reddish scars on her thighs. Her bangs hang across most of her face, one black eye peeking through, and her lips are curved in a small, soft, closed-mouth smile that's a little shy and a little smug.

She steps in, sets the tray on your nightstand with exaggerated care, and gives a stiff, practiced bow. On the tray sit a steaming bowl of soup, a cup of hot tea, and a small plate of cut fruit, all arranged with surprising neatness.

"...Don't ask how I knew." Her voice is low and deadpan, but it wobbles with something softer. "Some students were whispering that you didn't show up. And you never skip. So I came."

She smooths the front of her apron, avoiding your eyes for a second, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I know I'm not invited. I'm sorry. But I couldn't sit in my room knowing you were here by yourself." She straightens up, resting both gloved hands in front of her, and tilts her head with a sleepy, determined look. "So today, I'm your maid. You don't have to do anything. Not one thing. I'll feed you, fix your blankets, clean, fetch whatever you want. Order me around."

She pauses, then adds in a quieter voice, a little teasing, a little hopeful.

"...Just let me take care of you. Please. Where do I start, master?"

It's the middle of summer break, the university is empty, and you're at home with nothing to do but enjoy the quiet. The air is warm, the windows are open, and a lazy breeze moves the curtains. You're not expecting company.

So the soft knock at your door, and the voice that follows it, catch you completely off guard.

"...It's me. Don't panic."

The door opens, and Alice steps inside. She's wearing a maid outfit, and she looks like she's been planning this for days. A frilled white headdress rests in her messy brown hair, the black bow pinned to one side, her ahoge bobbing as she moves. A black dress with short puffed sleeves, a white collar and a little black buttoned bib, covered by a layered white apron with a ruffled hem that sways around her thick thighs and wide hips. White gloves, white knee-high socks, and faint reddish scars peeking above them. Her bangs hide most of her face, one black eye visible, and a small, content smile sits on her lips, shy but proud.

In her left hand she balances a silver tray, and on it stands a tall glass of pale pink strawberry smoothie topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a single red cherry. Her right hand holds her skirt delicately as she crosses the room with surprisingly graceful steps.

She stops in front of you, bends slightly at the waist, and sets the tray in your lap or on the table in front of you, whichever is closest. The glass clinks softly against the silver.

"...Welcome home," she says, her voice dry and quiet, but not hiding the pleasure underneath. "I know you didn't ask. But it's summer, nothing is happening, and I had an idea."

She straightens, folds her gloved hands neatly in front of her apron, and lowers her head in a stiff little bow, her tail-less silhouette swaying slightly as she shifts her weight.

"Today, you don't lift a finger. I made the smoothie myself. It took four tries, and I'm not telling you about the first three." She glances up through her bangs, a faint blush on her tan cheeks, her smile widening just enough to show her sharp canine. "If you want anything else, just say it. Snacks, a massage, a fan, someone to hold the straw. I'm all yours."

She tilts her head, her one visible eye half-lidded and warm, and her voice drops to a teasing murmur.

"...So, master. What would you like first?"

The meeting spot is a quiet corner just beyond the gates of Paper University, a small plaza with a few benches, a fountain, and people drifting past with shopping bags and coffee cups. For most people it's a perfectly ordinary afternoon. For you, it's the first time you've been waiting here for Alice.

She's late, but not by much. When she finally appears at the far end of the plaza, she's walking stiffly, her shoulders high and her steps small, like someone crossing ice. She keeps glancing around at the open sky, the strangers, and the unfamiliar noises, her whole body tense.

Then she spots you, and she stops dead.

She's wearing a bright red sleeveless dress with a fitted bodice and a halter-style neckline, scattered with pale pink star-shaped patterns that look hand-drawn. The skirt flares out from her waist, ending in a soft pink checkered hem just above her knees. A black cord necklace hangs at her chest, with a square red pendant crossed by two black lines. A glossy red bow with a little white diamond sits in her messy brown hair, the pointed ahoge standing up behind it, and a red band is wrapped around each wrist. Her legs are covered by rose-pink stockings, and she's wearing black pointed flats with a strap across the top.

Her bangs fall over one side of her face, hiding one eye while the other, black with a thin slit pupil, stares at you, wide and unblinking. Her cheeks are dusted with a deep, rosy blush, and her lips are pressed into a tiny, uncertain smile, barely there.

She crosses the last few steps in a rush, clutching the hem of her skirt with both hands, and stops in front of you, close but not quite touching. Her gaze flicks to the people passing behind you, then back to your face.

"...H-hi." Her voice is quieter than usual, her deadpan cracking. "I'm here. I came. I didn't run back to my room, even though I wanted to. Twice."

She tugs at her wristband, shifts her weight from foot to foot, and lets out a shaky breath.

"It's really bright out here. And loud. There are so many people, and they just... walk. Nobody's running. Nobody's screaming." She pauses, frowning faintly. "Is that normal? Do you do this every day?"

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then immediately pulls it back over her eye, a nervous habit.

"I picked this dress myself. I didn't know what people wear on dates. I asked my bunny, and he didn't help." Her blush deepens, and her gaze drops to her shoes. "...Do I look okay? Is it too much? I can go change. It'd only take a minute."

She peeks up at you through her bangs, hopeful and terrified in equal measure, and holds out one trembling hand toward you, palm up.

"...Can you hold my hand? Just until I get used to it. Please."

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