Smiles Can Be Deceiving | Avengers x Cheshire!reader

(Just some thing to pass the time)

( Sorry, I've been so busy and I haven't been able to work on the story, but I did have to write a fiction piece for a writing contest, and this is it! Don't worry, it is about the Cheshire Cat)

What Makes the Cat Grin?

Curiosity killed the cat.

He was curious once. It was burned into his nature, after all, he was human. Or, I guess he used to be human. The boy was victim to an intangible concept of feeling and emotion. He was the object of it's doing. He was killed, murdered, dragged, assassinated, controlled, puppeted. He had fallen under its spell, and it had shaped him and created an eventful path to where he is today.

He had let the curious side get the best of him. He had let the voices in his head urge him to end his seemingly never ending curiosity. He had descended the stairs of an off limits room, to enter a room painted red. No, not just the walls were crimson. Everything. The ceiling, the floor, the little amount of furniture... and most of all, the body shaped duffle bag in the center of the room. It was half unzipped, but he dared not attempt to look into it. The second he had laid eyes on the substance of interest, it had lead to a spiraling infatuation. Moving up and down, though no one could distinguish which way it was moving, and neither could he.

That was the start of an endless interest and curiosity in the familiar, naturally made paint that had covered that room. The voices had gone back and forth, contradicting their own instructions of how he could execute his plan to fulfill his curiosity, but he only became curiouser and curiouser. It had driven him insane, and forced him to take rash actions, including jumping down a seemingly never ending hole to reach a world that he hoped would be covered in that lovely crimson.

However, despite that the land of wonder did not make his dream come true, he did find himself in a form that he could seek out that lovely liquid easier. With his enhanced sense of smell, as the form of a cat, he could constantly smell it, and it seemed to always be taunting him. He was in a constant state joy and mischief, with a permanent smile spread across his feline features. He had accepted the new realm as his home, and had taken each civilian as a friend, and saw them as his steps to reaching his goal. He was no longer curious, but simply interested, and amused. He was inquisitive, and only because of that room that his curiosity had taken him to.

He was insane. He was confusing. He was difficult. He was ill. He was mischievous.

He was mad.

There are no other words for him. He would give people wrong directions, or would allow them to guess, only to get the smell of that substance that he oh so loved. It simply drove him insane. It was like the candy to his sugar high. And there was no way it could stop him.

Not even the voices in his head, neither good or bad, tweedle dee or tweedle dum, left or right, mad or sane, not even they could create a clear path for him. He followed his own, floating through the air, with a wide grin name after himself spread across his features. He was the embodiment of mad, and not even the Hatted man could top the gore lusted tomcat.

Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.