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qierxing · 1 year ago

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. This is one of the longest fics I’ve written…..carried by my love for Heartslabyul. Been chipping away at this every so often until now. I would strongly recommend reading Shiny’s part first, or else a good part of this will not make sense. Part two will be something that will be floating in the future.

TW/CW: Graphic descriptions of PTSD & panic attack symptoms, self-harm from bad coping habits, dissociation, dismemberment, references to Alice in Wonderland, made up lore LOL

I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

"So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality…"

– Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

i. Cremation

Ramshackle's mailbox is a pitiful thing.

It sits right in front of the small graveyard near forgotten covered in tangled vines and weeds. Unlike its surroundings which shine from recent renovations and repairs, the hinges still squeak loudly when the latch is opened and the outer parts are scratched and dented. On bright sunny days, it sticks out like a sore thumb.

And today, it's even more obvious.

The box now is in danger of tilting off its support pole, filled with the weight of lumpy letters, spilling out envelopes upon the dirt. Around it sits various colorful wrapped boxes and packages that are piled haphazardly across each other. You swear it gets larger each passing day.

“How many does this make?”

A battered top hat pops into existence next to you, one of the resident Ramshackle ghosts who's been helping you around lately. (He had said you remind him of his siblings when he was alive. You're still unsure whether that was a good or bad thing.)

You let out a sigh through your nose. There's nothing to say about the situation in front of you. You wish they could disappear the minute you wish for it, yet the colorful wrappings and the various envelopes scattered around your feet don’t vanish the more you stare.

“I’m really sorry about all this.”

The ghost shakes his head, frowning at your apology.

“It’s not your fault, prefect.”

The words are reassuring, but they don’t make the gross feeling go away when you crouch down and start picking up letters that have fallen out of the mailbox.

From: Azul Ashengrotto

Sender: Vil Schoenheit

Sent by: Riddle Rosehearts

All of them are addressed to you, of course. You can already imagine their contents: filled to the brim with regret and guilt, blotted words begging for forgiveness for the wrongs they’ve done. When you told the Headmaster that you didn’t want anyone visiting Ramshackle, that wasn’t an invitation for them to flood you with unwanted mail. Then again, perhaps you should have foreseen that they would do this. All of them are stubborn to a fault. It wasn't like your phone was any better until you’ve blocked all numbers making it go off endlessly like a shrieking parrot.

The resulting letters alone are thick enough to rival the textbooks Professor Trein assigns students. Pressing your lips together, you turn around to start heading back to your temporary home.The rest of the bulky packages can wait. The ghost helps swing the door open and Grim perks up from his seat in the living room as you set down the letters.

“Grim, can you get a fire going?”

“Now?”

He eyes the thick pile of letters with wary slit pupils and asks, “Aren’t ya…gonna read ‘em?”

You did. For the first few ones, at least. They were barely discernible, their apologies blurring by as they begged for your grace and mercy. That they would do anything to right their wrongs. If you didn’t know any better, you would say their reverence was akin to a cult.

It makes your skin crawl.

After that, you stopped bothering to even skim through. What is the point of continuing to make sense of lunatics? Of cruel games and intrepid players?

"We have the wood, and the house is a bit chilly, so why not?" You reply. Grim scrunches his eyebrows but doesn't object as heavy wooden logs are dumped into the grate. He takes a deep breath and blows upon the letters scattered on the wood, encasing everything in familiar neon blue flames.

You settle into the armchair next to Grim, staring into flickering blue flames. Grim curls up next to you, purring contentedly. All too easily, your eyes lull close to the sound of crackling flames consuming paper.

–

When you step out onto the front porch the next morning, you're overtaken by an overwhelming fragrance.

There's crimson red petals floating through the air. Fluttering in the crisp morning wind, they fall in your hair and the rest end up crushed under your feet. You'd feel bad if it wasn't so pungent; the very air feels like it's infused with the scent of roses.

Your nose crinkles as you pick up the impossibly huge bouquet that is wrapped in silk and ribbons. It's certainly beautiful, you'll give it that. Yet this scent doesn't bring back good memories. It only brings vivid flashbacks of being lost among rose bushes, covered in dirt and scratches, trying so frantically to find a way out. When every single crack and snap was a possible life threat.

You don't realize you're crushing the bouquet until something trickles down your fingers. It doesn't feel like blood pooling between your skin. Relaxing your grip ever so slightly, you find pin sharp thorns running down the stems where you were gripping. The fleshy meat of your palm is punctured cleanly in the shapes of the thorns. Was it left unclipped on purpose?

The card is the next thing you find with bloodied fingers, rumpling white cardstock and soiling it without a care.

To our beloved player,

We deeply apologize for the pain we have caused you and beg for your forgiveness. We will make sure to atone for our sins of harming you.

The initial and the bouquet is too obvious of who it's from. Riddle must've penned it, because none of the card soldiers would ever write this formally. But it must've been Cater's idea to send the bouquet–Trey nor Riddle would've come up with such a sentimental and sappy idea. And Ace and Deuce would rather die than do such a cringey thing.

The door opens again behind you. You turn to see a half-awake Grim groggily yawning. He stops once his blue eyes land on the bouquet in your hands.

"Whazz that?" He points a paw at the rumpled roses, and you hastily shove them behind your back.

"Nothing." You say.

Grim makes a face before finally breaking the awkward silence with, "Do ya want me to go tell 'em off–"

"No."

The answer is rushed and makes Grim's eyes widen. It's crazy, you know. But to have Grim try to solve the problem for you doesn't sit well with you. It's not like it's his fault for what you went through.

And maybe, deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of telling them nasty insults and curses to make them hate you more.

"I'll take care of it." You add, trying to reassure Grim, who only stares impassively. He shakes his head.

"Am I making another fire?"

"...if you can, please."

ii. The Morgue

It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been brought to Twisted Wonderland.

Yuu’s…body has been moved to another room. It freaks you out more than you would like to admit. It’s familiar, yet it’s not. It’s carved to your image, but with none of your personality. There’s something wrong with the way its eyes are tilted, the dip of its cheeks, the curve of the chin. An idealistic, dreamy mirror of yourself.

Still. You’ve seen many dolls in your lifetime, and even you cannot deny the life like artisanship. The seams of the joints are cleverly hidden and the skin is smooth and unfettered without any misshapen resin(or clay?)–these are marks of a true doll-maker.

“It’s your vessel.” Grim had said with a matter of fact tone. As if you weren't looking at an unmoving human body. “Everyone was freakin’ out cuz’ it just shut down outta nowhere.”

It must’ve been because you were brought here at that moment. The hypothesis doesn’t really make you feel any better. You should know better than to blame an inanimate shell of a vessel, but...

You jerk awake, cold sweat running down your neck and face. It takes a second for you to realize you're not being encased in burning scarlet flames and it's not claustrophobic verdant green hedges surrounding you. The bed sheets are tangled, wrapped in a chokehold around your legs and torso. Instead of translucent leaves, the bed canopy curtain shields you from the moonlight pouring in. The soft snores of Grim sync with your ragged breaths in time.

Tonight's nightmare had been recurring for a while. Every single time you thought you had shaken it off, it comes back like a bad omen.

Instinctively, your hand runs over the bumpy raise of scars running down your back and neck. Most of them had faded with magical treatment and time, but there are some that still have rough skin that has hardened like scales on a dragon.

Your fingertips curve inward and dig.

You thought you were safe. The rose maze is large and encompassing: hiding would be the best move. You breath in–

– and you were face to face with the Crimson Tyrant himself.

His face contains no humanity, his eyes only reflect dark, dark anger and resentment. You thought you were staring into a never ending abyss. Something inky black catches your eye, and you realize with horror that blot is trapping your feet and leaving stains upon your skin.

"Stop right there, imposter!"

Your nails scrabble at the bumps and raises, tearing through them with obsessive speed. Faster, faster–it doesn't feel right, you have to scrub your skin clean of those foreign textures.

Adrenaline is the only thing keeping your legs from collapsing to the blot climbing its way up. You have to do something–

–something wraps around your neck and torso, and all air leaves you as it squeezes and knife sharp needles gnaw into bone.

Your breathing grows more hoarse as your nails scratch faster and faster, desperate to remove more of those vile clumps of impurities.

"You will suffer as Yuu did." The verdict is declared with deranged gleeful vengeance. The tyrant points his scepter at your fallen body covered in thorny vines reminiscent of roses. Blot swallows your form and screams whole–

It's only when the familiar smell of iron registers in your mind, that you finally snap back to your senses. When you finally draw your hand back to view, it's covered in clotted blood and torn skin, both dead and fresh, all clogged under your nails. The open cold air now makes your neck and back sting sharply as blood trickles out of reopened wounds.

It's with a heavy heart that you quietly leave the bedroom entirely to wash away the blood in the kitchen sink. Crimson dyes the white ceramic for a brief moment before swirling away down the drain.

The wounds sting and ache, but you can barely be bothered to tend to them as you resign yourself to the living room couch with a thin blanket. You think of Grim sleeping unaware upstairs and close your eyes. The old weathered grandfather clock in the corner ticks on and on with each second.

No, you can't blame a puppet for functioning for its purpose.

But you could tear its limbs out of its sockets so it could never walk anywhere again. If you plucked out its fingers and eyes, it wouldn't be able to find its way around anymore. Sewing the mouth shut would seal the deal.

Then it would truly know how it felt to have no choice.

–

Working as Sam's assistant helps take the mind off things. Crowley had begged you to resume classes as Grim's 'beast tamer', but something in you screamed at the thought of having to shed your feelings aside to return to what normalcy was. As if this world didn't run on the giant malicious cogwheels of fate and lines of code.

How painfully obvious it is that your mere presence is just a substitute.

"Ah!"

You look up from sorting products on the shelves to a surprised looking Riddle Rosehearts. No no no no–

You take in his sunken gray eyes and pale skin, before going back to shelving products. It takes strength to play dumb. Your shaking hands betray the fear growing within as they sort through stationary merchandise. Finally, the products are lined up neatly and you're trying to bustle away as quickly as you can–

"W-wait!" You try to ignore the half whispered plea, moving behind the counter with an unnatural speed.

"Please, wait, I need something!" You do stop, because unfortunately, you can't completely ignore a customer in need. So you take a deep breath and grit your teeth, turning around with a polite smile. Stare straight ahead. Think not of smoldering flames and knife like rose thorns–

"What can I help you with?" He stares into your eyes, frantic and desperate. It's clear with the way his mouth opens and closes that he wasn't sure how to continue his case.

"If you aren't sure, take your time to browse, dear customer." The grin was starting to wear on your cheeks already with how much you struggle to keep it in place.

Please just leave, you internally beg. You settle behind the counter, watching as Riddle bows his head and disappears among the shelves for his items. A tired sigh leaves your nose.

Your hands keep shaking no matter how hard you clench and unclench them.

He can't hurt me here.

Sam is just a yell away and there's mace and a knife in your bag underneath the counter.

It'll be fine. It's not the Tyrant.

A clink of glass catches your attention, as some ink bottles are pushed on the counter.

"I've finished." Riddle's smoldering eyes choke you under their hues.

"I'll ring that up, then."

The exchange happens quietly yet as you hand him the bottles, he pauses, looking down. "What happened to your hand?"

Shit. There were still obvious swollen scratches and puncture holes imprinted on your hand. You completely forgot about bandages after Grim caught you with the bouquet the other day. You quickly hide your hand in your pocket. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He seems to want to say more, but is cut off when someone else comes up behind him, waiting to pay for their items. He only swallows hard and nods, setting out with only a guilty look back.

You finally breathe out a long sigh of relief when the door chimes echo behind him.

"That'll be ten thaumarks and thirty madols."

This is the fifth time Riddle's shown up during your shift and bought ink. This time, it's a deep crimson color not unlike the shade that saturates his dorm. It reminds you of torn skin on nails from that night, and it takes a minute to shake those thoughts off as you pick up the bottles.

"Prefect, could I talk to you after your shift ends?" You turn to fix him with an incredulous stare, and he grimaces.

"I promise I won't harm you! Did you not get our letters?" But how can I trust you? On this cracked chessboard you are forced to play upon, you don't know where to place Riddle at all. He is too much of an unstable bomb that could blow up in your face at the wrong impression.

"Fine." He definitely won't back down until you agree to hear him out, and it's best to let him state his case once and for all. "My shift ends in an hour. I'll meet you outside."

"Excellent. I shall wait for you then, prefect." He takes his bag and leaves with a small bow.

The time passes all too quickly. Sam shoos you out before you can try to coax some overtime hours from him. And much to your annoyance, Riddle is waiting for you promptly as you step outside.

He looks nervous as he bows his head in acknowledgement of your presence. You'd almost feel bad, if it weren't for the fact that he nearly beheaded you at first sight.

"Have you received our recent letter and flowers?" A long silence follows, before you reluctantly nod. Your hand throbs as you open and close it out of habit. You just removed the bandages this morning, but the unbearable itch to reopen the scars is too tempting. Steel eyes are immediately drawn to the movement. "I see. Then I won't drag this out. Prefect, could we prove to you our sincerity to make amends?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I said. Please let our dorm express to you our sincerity to mend our relationship." The intensity of his eyes makes you sick to your stomach.

"You've apologized enough, Housewarden Rosehearts. I'm sure your card soldiers have too." Subconsciously, your hand drifts toward your neck.

He winces. No doubt it must be a sting to his pride that his numerous penned letters weren't acknowledged. "It's not just about apologies. We want to start over–turn over a new leaf, if you will, for our relationship. It would be a disgrace to the Queen of Hearts herself if I could not atone for what I've done."

Always with the rules. You're not entirely sure what Riddle means when he says 'mending your relationship', but it seems he's already set his mind to it. It would be hard pressing to get him to change his mind now.

"...sure." You reluctantly acquiesce. The tips of your nails brush against scarred skin before drawing back. You shouldn't. It took so long for the wounds to close again, for sinew to piece itself together, and for skin to finally grow back. You don't want another lecture by Crewel or Trein.

He brightens considerably with a look of relief. "Good. Then, please wait for our call."

You watch in confusion as he trots off hurriedly after another deep bow. Wait for our call? What does that–

Something buzzes, and you realize it's your phone, lighting up with a notification from Magicam. You frown, tapping on the icon. A message?

cay4cay sent a message request

The second you processed the username and profile picture, you instantly hit the block button. With a frustrated scowl, you shove the phone into your pocket. You deleted Yuu's account and only had a burner account for info purposes. How the hell did that social butterfly find your handle?

You groan. This is all too much.

iii. Paying Respects

A letter arrives, but not by mail.

A jarring commotion rudely rips you from sleep's embrace. You groggily sit up, blinking once, twice, before realizing the noises were very much real and still happening. Who is this loud on a Sunday morning? Grim continues to snooze right next to you, unperturbed by the disturbances. You debate whether it's worth it to get out of the comfy covers. Then another yell echoes up to the room and you groan in annoyance.

You slam the entrance doors open, ready to give the lecture of a lifetime before you stop in your tracks.

Deuce Spade looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. Even Ace Trappola, haughty asshole that he is, looks thoroughly ashamed to be caught in a compromising pose. The scene is so familiar that you can't seem to be confused. It takes a second of awkward staring from all three of you before you realize that you're still standing in your thin pajamas, out front in the public entryway in the cold.

"...May I help you?" The distant polite inquiry has them both flinching. They scramble to their feet, brushing off dirt and debris from their fist fight.

"We're very sorry!" Deuce bows deeply, while Ace scoffs and looks away.

"Housewarden Riddle told us to give you this, so…" Ace shoves a white envelope with a seal boasting a crown insignia into your hands. The Queen of Hearts. You exhale through your nose. So this is what Riddle meant earlier.

You open the envelope gingerly, carefully inspecting it as if it were some kind of trap.

"We're going to have a party soon." Ace is still determinedly avoiding your eyes. "You can come…if you want."

You hold back a sardonic chuckle. Even after everything that's happened, he's trying to act like some kind of cool, suave guy. Your eyes drop down again and you open up the flap to reveal the elegant crimson cursive that decorates the paper.

You're cordially invited to Heartslabyul's monthly tea party. Please send your response ASAP.

Date: XX/05

Time: 14:00 - 17:00

A silence lingers in the air, heavy as a rock. You can tell without looking that the two were holding bated breaths waiting for your reply.

This certainly was out of the blue. But. It was Ace and Deuce. Riddle may have issued the order, but they must've taken initiative in delivering her majesty's decree. Stubborn and tenacious, yet they were still endearing with their loyal friendship. Who in this world would run across a whole desert for you?

That wasn't for you though. The intrusive thought immediately makes your lips thin. The card soldiers shift at the subtle expression change, nervousness painted all over their faces.

You would be lying if you said you weren't curious. Why an invitation to a tea party? It was rather unlike Heartslabyul–or at least most of them–to be indirect like this.

"Sure. I'll be there. I can bring Grim, right?" You flip over the card and envelope, raising an eyebrow at their stunned faces.

"Wait, you serious?" Ace stutters. His ruby eyes blink rapidly as his mouth gapes open. It’s clear he wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes.

"Why would I waste my time lying to you?" You sigh, crossing your arms. Granted, you never did send any response back to that ostentatious bouquet, but you were already preoccupied with the hundred of other letters and packages flooding your mailbox.

"In that case, of course Grim can come!" Deuce says, looking like he's been released from an entire burden off his chest. It was no doubt plaguing him on what your answer would be.

"Great." You wave a careless hand, turning to close the door. You're so ready to go back under soft bed covers. "You can give my answer to your housewarden. See you then."

A hand grabs at your arm and tugs you back suddenly. You turn and open your mouth–

"You! You're the one that caused Yuu to shut down!!"

Wind blasts past you, leaving a thin trickle of blood down your cheek. Eyes wide, all you can do is stare at furious crimson eyes glaring you down.

"-Hey!"

Those eyes. It's the same bloody crimson. The same sharp glint of raw bloodlust. Your right cheek aches terribly. Cold sweat runs down your back. Try as you might, you cannot suppress the reactive instinct to flee.

"Don't touch me." Your terse response has Ace retracting his own hand immediately.

"S-sorry, sorry–" He’s scrambling to get past his mistake. If you were in a better state of mind, you would've laughed at his genuinely flustered state. "I–I didn't mean to grab you like that, it’s just that–"

"We also have something else.” Deuce cuts in, trying to cover for Ace’s blunder. He shoves something warm under your nose, and it takes a hot minute to process what you’re smelling.

Lavender. The cookies within his hands are simple and aren’t decorated, but the buttery floral aroma they emit leaves you salivating. You slowly take it from his hands, staring at the carefully packaged bag.

“...From Trey,” Deuce offers hesitantly after seeing your surprised expression. His tight expression and stiff posture betrays the way he is attempting to look respectable. “He's wanted to send you something for a while now.”

For a while? His dorm mates were all clambering to get any crumb of response from you. He might've had the manners then to understand that you wouldn't be delighted to hear from someone who only watched from the sidelines as you were being attacked. Did he only wait because his beloved housewarden didn't move yet? How typical.

“Tell him thanks for me.” The two of them shuffle their feet while exchanging glances at your freezing cold tone.

"Don't mind us, prefect." Deuce elbows Ace, causing the red head to click his tongue and glare back. "Sorry for bothering you like this–we'll get going now!"

The two actually leave without more fuss, leaving you to twirl the invitation in trepidation.

When you look down again, the flowy calligraphy has been smudged by your fingers, ink blooming on your skin like blood.

–

"What does one wear to a tea party, Sam?"

The question slips out before you know it, making the store keeper turn around and raise an eyebrow at you.

"And why is our little imp curious?" He teases. At your unamused face, his face splits into a garish grin.

"Perhaps you should ask Professor Crewel. After all, he does have quite the fashion sense." Sam strokes his chin in thought. "While we do have some outfits here, it might be best to get advice from someone who has been to these kinds of events."

And so, you find yourself standing in front of an indifferent Divus Crewel, who takes one look at you and takes another drag from his fashionable cigarette holder. He continues to shuffle through papers, all the while shaking his head.

“I should’ve known Sam would be the one to send you.” His voice sounds annoyed, yet carries no weight of anger. Much like how his bark is worse than his bite, Crewel isn’t one to heartlessly turn you away. “A tea party, you said?”

“Sam recommended that I go to you since you have more experience in this sort of thing.” Crewel does another critical once over of you, no doubt estimating your measurements for the look he’s thinking of. As expected of a former Pomefiore housewarden. He seems to already have an idea of what outfit would be best.

“I’ll help you, but you’re running some errands for me first, pup.”

You shouldn’t have expected anything less from the alchemy professor. Now you’re stuck picking out ingredients in the botanical garden while you’re waiting for him to get the materials together for your outfit.

Of all the botanical zones, it just had to be the tropical zone. The harsh artificial lights shine down as you lean down to pick herbs. While the temperature is bearable, you don't know how much more sweat your outfit can take before it gets soaked completely. The humidity is choking, and you feel dizzy from both the moisture and heat clouding your senses.

“Prefect?”

You look up wearily from basil plants to see Cater Diamond in his labwear, with a face that mirrors your stunned expression.

Give me a break. Immediately, your awkward customer service smile falls in place. First her Majesty, then Tweedle Dee and Dum, and now the March Hare? But Cater knows how to read the room. Maybe he'll know to let it go–

Your hopes are dashed as he immediately bounces up to you with a grin. “Didn't think I'd run into ya like this. Whatcha doing here?”

“Er, Crewel wanted my help with getting him ingredients…” This conversation was quickly swerving into awkward territory. “Why are you here?”

“Ah, you know…” Cater chuckles sheepishly, “I got assigned to water the plants…”

You take notice of the steel watering can in his gloved hands, then the long green hose by his boots. “Ah.”

“Guess that means we’ll be working together!” He chirps cheerfully and you cringe. Seven, anything but that! You quickly turn back to your basket and begin to pick up the pace in harvesting the basil. The quicker you finish, the faster you can get out of this deathly awkward situation.

“By the way, Acey and Deucey wouldn’t stop chatting about you accepting our invitation!” You flinch as Cater idles up next to you, using the hose to spray a generous amount of water over the patch of herbs. “It was pretty cute to see, y’know.”

“R-really?”

"Trey was also glad too. He and Riddle have been planning to make it the best tea party ever," he mock emphasizes. "They've been running the dorm ragged over the party deets. Cay Cay's been so busy with planning stuff!"

"That's not really necessary…" A feeling of guilt worms into your guts for a moment. You squash it. What Riddle and the others do is none of your business and no obligation of yours.

"Right? That's what I said too!" Is he implying that you're the reason there's more work than usual? How shameless is he?

After a good minute of dead silence, Cater pipes up again.

"Sooo, prefect, whatcha been up to lately?"

You can't take it anymore.

“Why are you talking like I have a gun to your head?”

Ever since he made his presence known, he's adopted a high pitched cheery tone that grates on your ears. It was akin to a customer service voice, but you know Cater. That's his influencer speak.

Cater's chipper smile vanishes instantly.

"Whaaaat?!" You catch a glimpse of his snaggle tooth in his exclamation. He quickly turns and moves to water a patch of sprouts further away, "Like, what are you even talking about? You know ol' Cay Cay's just trying to lighten the mood!"

More like he's desperately trying to appeal to you. He knows which attitude will get him the most views, and the best expressions to rake in likes and comments. You often thought that trait was endearing in its own way when you saw him as a fictional character. Now that you're dealing with him as a human being, it just pisses you off to no end. How could he? You know Cater isn't known for his genuineness but….you thought he would at least act his usual aloof casual self. Then you would know that it wouldn't matter if you offended him.

The straw basket is finally filled with everything Crewel asked you for. It's with dirtied skin and sore muscles that you turn towards the exit without sparing Cater a glance.

"If you say so, Diamond." You hurl the words like a molotov cocktail, and it's very effective. Cater's eyebrows twitch and his hands clench around the watering can. It's one thing to call him by his last name, it's another to completely blow off the nickname he blatantly shoves onto you. "See you later at the party."

“Wait, wait, time out for a second!! Can you at least unblock me on Magicam?” The last sentence makes you freeze in your tracks.

When you turn around, Cater’s somehow still smiling that insincere smile of his. Your neck prickles with dread.

You trust me now, right? His crinkled lime green eyes gleam.

You're not fooled. He is desperate to appeal to you not from genuine adoration, but rather guilty obligation. Although he tried to scrub it from his Magicam profile, you saw the blurry reels and pictures of you fleeing for your life. The detailed descriptions underneath. Each one boasting deliberate timestamps meant for best exposure. He put a bounty on your head with his own hands.

Two can play at that game.

"Block you? I don't have a Magicam account," is your dry response. Cater continues to smile as his eyes close.

"Really? I swear that it was you…" His lips jut out in an insincere pout, tilting his head. You shrug apathetically, hoping the conversation runs itself dead.

"Well, if you do make one, hit me up okay?" Cater calls out after your retreating back.

Once you're in the school corridors and catching your breath, you dig your phone out with shaky hands and pull up Magicam.

Hitting delete account has never felt more relieving.

–

The outfit, in your quiet opinion, was not worth the mental gymnastics you had to do in the botanical garden. Not that you were going to say anything to the very teacher who has been known to treat his students like barking dogs.

"It should fit just fine," Crewel smooths out the crinkles in the fabric before handing it to you. "Go on now. Try it on."

A simple white with a red ribbon bow tie and black slacks. It was rather simple, which is just fine. You didn't need or want to stand out in this party. But you certainly didn't want to end up looking like a slob either. This suit your needs quite nicely.

Smoothing down your shirt, you give a spin as Crewel looks on unimpressed. He waves you off with a dry "Don't expect me to do any more favors for you, pup." You mischievously grin and wave him goodbye as you trot off with your clothes in tow.

The last rays of the sun sets the hallway ablaze with orange and yellow hues. You hum as you take the familiar pathway back to Ramshackle. With everything crazy that’s been going on lately, it gets too easy to be swept up in the moment. As you watch the shadows flicker between the stone pillars, you slow down to observe the scenery for a bit.

The sunset catches a glint and reflects bright white for a moment. You blink and it’s gone when you focus. You stop, confused at the intrusion.

A loud click echoes behind you, but when you whip around, there’s nothing but the empty hallways.

You stand for a moment in place, waiting and listening apprehensively. Nothing else happens, and it’s with cautious paranoia that you turn around and start speed walking.

iiii. Funeral

It would be impolite to show up to a party without something.

But now as you're standing before the mirror leading to Heartslabyul, you're having second thoughts.

What if it isn't good? You glance down at your box containing the simple custard puddings you were able to make just last night. You didn't really have the skills to make complicated sweets and the puddings only took three ingredients. And your outfit, what if it isn't up to the Queen of Hearts' rules–

"C'mon, [First]! Or else the food will be gone by the time we get there!"

You breathe out a giggle. "I don't think anyone can beat you on your eating speed, Grim."

"You don't know that!" He hops up and down impatiently, waiting for you to adjust the box in your hands.

Right, who cares about any of that?

You follow your companion through the warped glass.

The fresh spring breeze graces you first, then the refreshing scent of flora, and finally, the warmth of the sun on your skin. When you open your eyes, the stretch of viridian green pastures and vibrant flowers greets you. The land of Heartslabyul is as picturesque as you remembered on screen. It feels unreal.

And waiting for you at the end of the path is the very first dorm you've befriended.

"Weird. Where's everyone at?" Grim grumbles, ears twitching in irritation.

The entrance is completely devoid of any human presence. You don’t sense anyone in the building either, which is completely strange.

Grim's right. Where is everyone? For an incoming tea party, wouldn’t there be various students rushing in and out for the preparations?

“Perhaps they’re in the maze?” You glance warily over to the tall hedges that bloom with beautiful roses. “Should we wait?”

“Ugh, that’s so rude of ‘em to keep us hangin’ though! I say we go lookin’ for them. Who knows how long we gotta stand out here!” Grim shakes his head, distraught at the thought of having to wait for his food. "Let's go to the kitchen!"

"You just want to see if you can eat something." You tut at Grim's scheming face.

"Mya, so what?!" He yowls. "I'm going and you can't stop me!"

"Grim, wait–" You call anxiously, but your companion is already scampering off into the dorm. You're left with no choice but to take a deep steadying breath and press on.

But the kitchen room is also empty when the two of you pop in. However, it seems like it was used recently, if not for the smell, then the sight of various dishes laid out on the counter would have clued you in. You sneakily compare your puddings to the spread laid out before you and wonder again if it isn't too late to put them away in a dark corner.

"What do you have there, prefect?" A low voice breathes in your ear.

You and Grim shriek in tandem, with you almost fumbling and dropping your box and Grim’s signature sharp nails digging into your shins.

The looming presence behind you is revealed to be Trey Clover, who has an apologetic face after spooking the two of you. At least he is conscientious.

"My bad, my bad," he chuckles, "I should've been more obvious about my arrival." He places a steady hovering hand behind your back. Just barely touching, yet close enough to feel its heat. Embarrassingly, the feeling is soothing enough that you can't find it in yourself to pull away.

"Sheesh, for real! You took some of my life with that, y'know Trey!" Grim hisses, detaching his claws from your poor legs. Trey only laughs and ruffles his head.

"I’m sorry about that Grim. Anyway, you guys came just in time," Trey begins to transfer the dishes onto a wheeled cart. "Food just needs to be carried out and the tea party can begin—but you have something, don't you?"

Regret seeps in when you think of your sad puddings next to all these gorgeous pastries and appetizers.

“Uhm, I don’t think it’s really needed since you got all this,” you laugh sheepishly as your hands automatically hide the box behind your back.

“No way.” Trey’s smile is warm but firm. When he gently guides your hands to give up the box, you can’t find it in yourself to protest. “It can’t be that bad, since you made it.”

You're struck silent, and Trey immediately takes advantage of your state to press his hand to your back to usher you forward. His fingertips graze your side, and for a second, you swear his lips quirk into a smirk.

You follow alongside Trey as he pushes the cart out through the door.

"By the way, I'm happy to hear you liked the lavender cookies." You look over to see the baker smile warmly. "I would've tried something with the candied violets I had, but I ran out just as I was making them." He sighs as he shakes his head.

Something with the way he's worded it makes it sound like there was more to the story, but you don't care enough to pry further. Trey's golden orbs slide to meet yours discreetly, and you realize he's waiting for you to respond. You murmur an apathetic response back, and he visibly droops.

It's a long, quiet walk through the rose maze.

It seems your arrival with Trey threw everyone off guard. You don't know why they look so alarmed: the venue looks absolutely resplendent. Colorful lanterns dot the tree lines, swinging back and forth cheerily with brightly colored flags. The long table is draped with fine cloth embroidered with intricate lace patterns. There's not a single wrinkle to be seen in the fabric. And the rose bushes, blooming with both red and white roses, are pruned cleanly, not a leaf or branch out of place.

It is a tea party fit for the Queen of Hearts.

"And the guest of honor is finally here!" Easygoing as ever, Cater calls out jauntily to you both. He seems to be the only one not visibly panicking. "Trey, what took ya so long?"

"Had to get the dishes here, you know." He shoots a knowing glare at Cater, who flinches with a sheepish smile. "Someone was supposed to help me, which would've made it a lot faster."

Ah. Cater giggles nervously while twirling his hair. Ace and Deuce exchange disbelieving looks before shaking their heads.

“Welcome, prefect.” Riddle greets you with a stiff bow. "And Grim." He hastily adds, seeing your companion’s face twist sulkily. The action makes you smile, if only for a moment.

“We’ve been waiting forever for you, Yuu—” Deuce jabs an elbow sharply into Ace’s side, making him cough and sputter mid sentence, but the damage has already been done. Another awkward silence reigns as everyone’s fearful faces are directed at you, trying to figure out how to best traverse the conversational minefield.

“W-What Acey meant to say is–” Cater is cut off immediately.

"Uh, er, come to think of it, what's your actual name?" Deuce is the one who pushes forward despite everyone else’s horrified looks. As if he had uttered a profane exclamation.

"My…name?" You echo back.

Right. Since all they knew was the puppet, they didn't know your true name. Heavy silence hovers in the air, even Grim was looking at you in anticipation.

"My name is…" Something chokes your throat. Reluctance? Or fear?

"[First]. [First] [Last]."

They mutter it among themselves, tasting the syllables and weaving the rhythms of the letters. How strange. With sugar coated lips, their voices ring like church bells for prayer. You're born anew, for the way they look at you is enough to make your heart soar for several fleeting seconds.

For a brief moment, you could believe that you were with your Heartslabyul again.

The tea party begins like a baby animal: slow, unsure, and always in danger of stumbling to the ground. But it’s Heartslabyul, and who else would know how to best host a party for its guests?

By the time the tea is being poured into your cups, a steady conversation has started naturally flowing between all of you.

“Is there something the matter?” Riddle asks for the nth time as he worriedly gazes at the way your eyes stray to the hedges and whimsical decorations beyond the table.

"Oh uhm…” You hesitate, still not meeting Riddle’s worried face. “Why are the roses both red and white? I thought one of your rules is that tea parties always have white roses."

Riddle exchanges a look with Trey at your question.

"That is true, [First], however…" He pauses, before continuing with a determined look. "Red and white roses are customary for parties celebrating with new friends."

“New…friends?” Your hand is frozen at your teacup.

Something fiercely warm fills your chest. There's cautious hope glimmering in Riddle and Trey's eyes. That wasn’t fair. How could they say something like that and not expect you to react?

The party ends on a light note unlike its stiff beginning. The soldiers gather to see you and Grim off, but once Grim scampers off with his leftovers in paw, her Majesty moves to your side.

“Prefect��no, [First], would you come again?” He asks. His hands are trembling, tugging at your sleeve timidly like a young child again. “F-For an Unbirthday party, of course!”

It’s a request that’s not selfish, you note. Her Majesty’s card soldiers look on expectantly behind their monarch, and it takes everything within you to not collapse.

“Of course. I can’t wait for it already.”

Your heart weighs heavy. They do not know that the promise is an empty white lie. Though you cherish them, you do not wish to act the role of a doll whose purpose is to play house.

When they looked at you with those pleading eyes, who did they see?

Yuu, the puppet they adored for its safe default responses and supportive words?

Or you, the player who has their own flaws and biased personality?

It's okay, you reason.

They won't be able to tell the difference between clay and flesh.

v. Burial

You have a hunch about Yuu.

Only a guess based on many hypotheticals, but better than nothing.

If the puppet stopped working when you arrived, then shouldn't it go without saying that if you left this world, that it would return back to life?

The wooden door creaks open, stirring up dust and sending it flying into the air. You cough and sneeze, waving your hand to disperse the irritant. Serves you right. After all, you refused to step into this room since Yuu's body was hauled here. Didn't even dare to come clean the room. The dust settles and you can finally make out the puppet's silhouette from the waning light rays of the window.

It still adorns its proper NRC uniform, wrinkled in the spots where you had lifted it. It hasn't moved at all from its sprawled pose on the sofa. You remember the dread at realizing the only fitting school uniform you could possibly wear was on this puppet. It only cemented your resolve to break away from the puppet's image. Even if you had to resort to clearing out ancient closets and haggling with faculty, you'd rather take the raggedy shawls and worn flannel over the crisp blazer and button up the puppet wore.

Its skin has become ashen gray, drained of any life. Old joints creaked in agony when you adjusted it to a sitting position for better examination. For a while, the both of you stare at each other.

Despair tugs at your mind. How long will you be trapped in this world? Has the Headmaster even done anything to help you get home? You snort. He couldn’t even bother doing anything when it was just the vessel. Why would that change now?

Can you hear me?

The voice, so quiet yet clear, makes you whip your head around. No one's in the room. Are you finally going crazy?

You can hear me, right?

Is one of the ghosts playing a prank on you? You can't pinpoint the source of the voice at all.

I'm here–look!

With dread and fear pooling in your heart, your head turns slowly to meet the doll's eyes; whose pupils are now fixated on you.

The urge to scream and push away the doll is overwhelming. But in a world where the supernatural is natural, you suppose that dolls that can speak are the least impossible thing out there.

I can help you find your way home.

You swallow thickly. Pursing your lips, your grip on its arms tightens as you lean in. Something stirs, and it’s crazy, but you swear it hums in pleasure.

Listen to what I say carefully…

Decorations? Check. Refreshments? Check.

Outfits? Check.

So why does it feel like there's something missing?

"What's wrong, Riddle?" He turns to see Trey's concerned face. He gives an awkward smile back.

"I'm not quite sure, but something feels amiss." He explains, rubbing his neck. It's obvious enough to make him feel the familiar slivers of irritation slither through him.

He tries to will it away. It's a good day, and there was nothing to be angry about. The player–no, [First]–had decided to give them a chance and agreed to come over to celebrate an Unbirthday party with them. Ace and Deuce are behaving as good, law-abiding card soldiers should be. The roses were saturated with dripping red, the dormouse had its nose smeared with jam–so what is this itch that won't go away?

"We can do a double check of everything again," Trey offers gently. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Riddle shakes his head. “It’s almost time for them to arrive. I will not have them waiting on something that isn’t even a problem.”

“Housewarden~!” Speak of the devil. He turns with a frown at Ace’s loud shout, but it fades to a small smile when he sees you trailing after Ace.

"Hello, Riddle." You smile warmly at him, and his cheeks flush pink.

Wait. He stops. Have you ever called his name? He doesn’t have time to ponder this before he’s interrupted by Trey and Cater bringing in the food.

When everyone is seated and the party is in swing, he notices something.

“Is the food not to your liking, [First]?” He inquires as politely as possible, softening his tone to make it sound less accusatory.

You fluster, waving a hand. “Not at all. I’m just not that hungry right now.”

He decides to leave it, because it’s not as if it’s wrong, per se, if the guest wasn’t eating. He recalls Ace’s previous words to him.

“Housewarden, you really should loosen up a bit! Otherwise you’re gonna end up being a killjoy!”

He may be many things, but he is not a killjoy! Just because he was particular about certain things doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to let go.

But something feels off.

Then he realizes that while the conversation is flowing as usual, you are hardly speaking at all. You only speak when directly spoken to, and even then, it’s short, clipped responses.

He watches incredulously as you pour yourself a cup of tea and then drink it.

The golden scepter materializes in his hand as easily as breathing.

Everyone else reacts explosively, looking alarmed at the scene unfolding. Meanwhile, you merely stare blankly at the end of the scepter nearly several inches from your nose.

"Riddle, hold the phone, what are you doing?!" He barely hears Cater's frantic voice to his left. He's too focused on the way that…that thing is not reacting at all.

"You. Where is [First]?"

It's silent for a moment, and then a disturbing crooked grin breaks out from its poker face. It starts cackling loudly and it makes his blood start boiling.

"Start speaking or it's off with your head!" He screeches, scepter shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"Boo, I was hoping you guys were stupid enough to fall for it.” The thing taunts, leaning back in their chair.

Red fills his vision. How dare this thing use your visage and breath such vile words? Before he could register it, his arm swipes across. By the time his eyes clear and his breathing steadies, he's staring at a decapitated body that is mangled beyond repair.

It takes another moment to realize he is not the only one who has raised their magical pen.

Trey is at his right, golden eyes dark as Riddle realizes he positioned himself to shield him. Cater mirrors Trey, but his arms are visibly shaking and his eyes keep switching from him to the broken body on the trimmed lawn. Ace and Deuce had positioned themselves to the backside, but they too, barely seem to be holding themselves together, clenched fists at the ready for physical blows.

“What…” he breathes, “is going on?”

The only answer he gets is the wind whistling through the grass blades.

He collapses to his knees as he fumbles with a body that has been torn asunder, but instead of flesh and bones, he only finds clay and chipped resin.

“What have we done?”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere heartslabyul #my works #if this gets good reception i'll have a easier time of writing part 2

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thebibliosphere · 2 years ago

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I am jittering with the need to finally (finally) paint our bedroom, and I think I’ve cracked the color combo I want.

So for the longest time I knew I wanted to paint the bedroom green. I was thinking of doing a deep, dark jewel-tone green (and I still might, ADHD brain going brrr) to make the space darker and better for sleeping. But supposedly jewel-tones make you more awake and pastels help you sleep? Idk, I read it somewhere. Anyway.

You know that arsenic mint green color in my office? I was thinking about how much I love that room yesterday, and I realized I still have a bunch of that paint. I could do the bedroom walls the same color, but instead of painting the ceiling pink like in my office, I could do the ceiling in a deep dark jewel-tone green. Maybe get some flower and vine stencils and go ham around the edges of the beams.

And honestly, I think it would fuck. Like paired with the same dusty pink curtains (we have them all through the house) and our nature-themed bedding and the Van Goh wallpaper in the closet? It’d absolutely fuck. My only regret is that we likely won’t be able to recreate that absolutely stunning trim in my office.

Though, idk, maybe. My FIL does woodworking so maybe...

Anyway. Prepare yourselves for more home renovation stories. I’m gearing up to do so many things this year. Including, finally finishing the bathroom 7 years after we started renovating it.

#the house that cthulhu built

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leezlelatch · 4 months ago

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Petrichor - Part I

Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader - fluff, rainy days, burgeoning friendship Terzo is feeling introspective on a rainy day. Perhaps he doesn’t have to spend it alone?

“What do you think Terzino, eh? Should Papa play tonight?” Terzo watches with a lazy smile as the tuxedoed cat jumps from his perch on the window to settle into his lap. Long fingers stroke delicately through plush fur as he heaves a sigh. “You will be getting hair on my pants, you rascal.”

Terzino blinks slowly, a rumble starting deep in his throat the more Terzo gives him attention. The cat’s nails dig into Terzo’s leg as the little thing gets more comfortable, the man giving a small grimace but making no move to push the cat off. “You know, I am thinking I am getting old.” Terzo glances down at the cat and scoffs. “Ah, do not try to argue. I have more grey hair than I can keep up with.“ He lifts a hand to his neck, his fingers brushing the soft, loose skin. “And may have to consider turtle necks.”

Terzino stands and stretches, his little body shivering, before turning and lying toward Terzo’s knee, facing away from him. “Ah, Terzino, if you turn from me too, I will not know what to do,” Terzo sighs, lifting a hand to drag his fingers through his wavy, black hair. “The Siblings, they like the power. What little I have of it, ha. But one can close their eyes and think of someone else. Do they think of someone else?” His brow furrows, and he glances out the arched window, eyes scanning the manicured lawn. “Perhaps I should take up gardening like il mio fratello.”

He glances down amusedly. “Sì, you are right, amico. I am far too much of a masochist to change my ways now.”

Terzo carefully picks the cat up and places him down, standing from his desk and swatting at his pant leg until most, but not all, of the cat hair is gone. The tinkle of Terzino’s bell sings through the room as he trots away, perhaps to play with one of Copia’s little companions. Terzo places his hands on his hips, looking out the window once more. “I think it is going to rain.”

ᰔᩚ

It was luck, finding this place. The way his shoes clack against old stone, the gilded candle holders on the corridor walls covered in wax from wicks long burnt. Stained glass of varying shades of purple, red, blue, and green. There were some renovations made when the Clergy first purchased the building half a century ago. Cracks filled in the walls, ceilings reinforced, foundation repaired, but they ultimately chose to maintain its old warm charm. This place may have a Catholic history, but Terzo did not view that as bad, or something needing to be cleansed. There was an energy in these old walls, full of the stories of residents long passed who prayed, and hoped, and dreamed for a better tomorrow. It would not do, he thinks, to forget that. No matter if their god was above or below.

The corridor leading from his office transitioned into a breezeway, four pillars covered in the delicate drawings of one of their more artistic Siblings opened into one of the inner courtyards. A perfect place to watch the rain. A crack of thunder rolls across the sky, and Terzo glances up at the swirling clouds, leaning his shoulder against painted vines. It seems, however, that he would not be alone with his thoughts this storm.

You sit on a stone bench just under the roof, your legs pulled up, arms resting on your knees as you hold a cup of tea in your hands. There’s an open book at your feet, and Terzo catches a glimpse of a few words which makes him arch a brow. “Hello,” he says, his accent curling around the words. “You know, I have heard it be called very dirty words, but never ‘velvet wrapped steel.’ That is a new one.”

You glance up, your lips quirking in a half smile. You cross your legs and lean forward, setting your bookmark between the pages and closing your book. “Sort of makes you feel like you’re grabbing a stick shift in an old car.”

Terzo pauses for a moment, just looking at you, before he tilts his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh, dragging out the final note with a shake of his head as he leans forward. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue. “That is very funny. Yes. Well, sometimes it is like handling a stick shift. Satan forbid you stall.”

“Pfft,” you snort and shake your head, your smile growing. You glance up at the sky as another rumble of thunder echoes overhead. Pinpricks of rain dot the ground, ever so slowly increasing. “Come to watch the rain, Papa?”

“It appears we had the same idea,” he nods, watching intently as the rain flicks the leaf of a plant growing in the little garden some of the Siblings tend to. “Perhaps you intended to watch the rain alone?”

“I intended,” you say, tilting your head a little as you regard him with a curious air. “But this is better.” Terzo glances back at you, his heavy brow slanting down. He takes a few steps toward you, slow and deliberate. You take a moment to glance over him, appreciating the slacks, loose black button up, and the brocade evening jacket draped over his shoulders.

“Better how?” He asks, his voice genuinely curious. “And what is that look for, eh? Admiring Papa?” It wasn’t just a superficial question. She could see his face, a rare sight without the paint, the lines deepening around his mouth. His strangely beautiful eyes burn into yours and you understand that he’s serious. It isn’t playful banter.

“I don’t get to talk to you,” you answer truthfully, sincere in the small smile you give him. “Your attention is usually taken, and I understand that there are more Siblings in this building than clergy. You can only get to so many people.” His frown deepens, and you continue. “So it’s nice. It’s nice to talk to you. I want to watch the rain with you.”

“Cara mia, you can request time, you know this, sì? I have office hours. Please do not be thinking you cannot come to me,” Terzo talks with his hands, his fingers waving in the air, punctuating his words. He looks so concerned, his body angled toward you, features twisted in worry.

You huff a laugh, shaking your head as you adjust on the bench. “I’m okay, Papa, really. I just mean I can’t come by to say hello, or make an appointment only to chat.”

“Why not?” Terzo shoulders rise and fall and he stands with one foot forward, hands on his hips. “You are more than welcome to come and say hello. Antichristus, and here I was thinking I come on too strong. Unless, that is the problem?” He looks at you, and you have to smile from the sheer befuddlement on his face. But you can tell, also, that he’s hurt. And that doesn’t make you feel good either.

“No. Papa-“

“Terzo,” he corrects you, sitting down at the end of the bench next to your feet. He rests his hands on his legs and gives you his full attention, and it’s altogether exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You’ve never spoken to a Papa like this, for this long, outside of anything that really has to do with your duties or other Ministry matters. It makes you blush, and Terzo takes notice, leaning a little closer to watch the pink pass over your cheeks with great interest. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“I would explain if you let me get a word in,” you say, not unkindly, your lips pulled into a gentle smile. Terzo chuckles to himself and nods, waving a hand in your direction, and then he pinches his fingers and pulls them across his lips in a zipping motion. “Thank you,” you continue lightly, laughing. “What I mean to say is, yes, I’m nervous. And it’s not for reasons you think. I don’t think you’re unapproachable. I don’t think you would show me any unkindness or give me reason to believe you aren’t totally invested in what I have to say.”

Your eyes pass over his face, taking in his dark features, and you briefly wonder why he doesn’t wear his paints less. His face is aging to be sure. Pocked and marked and wrinkled, but he is so expressive. So soft in the curve of his mouth. The way his lashes brush his cheeks when he blinks. His white eye, meant to be intimidating, reminds you of freshly fallen snow. The warmth of a cup of hot chocolate on a winter’s day near Yule. It was truly beautiful, and you realize you’ve stopped talking.

But Terzo doesn’t move. He doesn’t prompt you to continue, he just stares back. The rain falls around you in heavy drops, a steady stream that wets the ground and mists your faces as it bounces off the stonework.

“I think I would fool myself into thinking that we could be friends,” you finish, your voice soft, caught in some kind of new understanding, a breath of realization. Terzo tilts his head very slightly, and he pulls in a sigh.

“Friends,” he murmurs, as if the word is foreign to him. His eyes fall away from yours and he focuses on nothing as he processes your words. And then he’s looking back at you and smiling, and it only occurs to you then that you’ve never quite seen his smile reach his eyes the way it does now. “Not many peoples wish to be my friend, dolcezza.”

“You are very frequently surrounded by people.”

“Yes, but what is that saying, eh? You can be in a room of people and still be alone. I am an old man, as much as I cover this face,” he gestures to himself. “Or dye my hair. I have my brothers, sì, but they are not so understanding at times. It has been many years since I have had someone who I can talk to as Terzo and not as Papa.”

“Someone your own age?” You ask quietly, expecting rejection.

His lips soften. “Not necessarily.”

You smile, and look out over the courtyard as thunder once more cracks overhead. The scent of rain and wet soil fills your nostrils, and you feel very at peace. For a moment your heart is full sitting next to this man. “I’m a Sibling, and I know I’m supposed to act a certain way around my authority figures. But sometimes when you’re giving a sermon, or I see you at events, or feast days, I just want to know if you think the potato salad is as delicious as I do, or if you wished whoever was in charge of the playlist would stop, for the love of all that’s unholy, playing Cruel Summer.” You laugh, and Terzo laughs with you. “I want to know who you are, and I don’t know if that’s okay.”

Terzo taps your shoe with an amused smile, and he looks happy. He looks like you just told him he won the lottery, his eyes sparkling with a kind of glee. “You know, just this morning I was talking to Terzino about this very thing. He said I should be more open. Open to change, which I scoffed at. Papa cannot change, not now. Not so late in his life, yeah? But…” He reaches a hand out into the pouring rain, watching the water cascade over his skin. “Rain renews. And I think I am ready for something new.”

He brings his hand back in, and grasps yours, a few droplets falling between you onto your closed book. “It is more than okay, amica. Now, tell me about this smut.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers sliding over his slick skin. You smile. “Your cat talks to you?”

Terzo pinches the top of your hand and you gasp, swatting at him. He laughs, low in his throat, a wild brow arching. “Shush.”

#the band ghost #papa emeritus lll #papa emeritus terzo #papa iii #papa iii x reader #The band ghost fanfiction #papa iii x female reader

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lilacgaby · 2 months ago

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02 | ᴍᴀʀʀʏ ᴍᴇ

~2.2k

chapter select!

[name] eyes him oddly after his confession. "you despise your father so much, that you'd marry a witch just to spite him?"

"yes."

"what-- this is unhinged prince!"

"i'm well aware. but, i promise your life will be a luxury. anything you'd want whenever you pleased. all i wish is for the kingdom's reputation to change, and for the people in it to prosper. but, marrying a princess isn't enough you see, i need someone who'd upset him, who'd force his hands."

"force his hand how?"

"you're a powerful witch, that in itself would upset him. also, when we'd wed, there'd have to be a coronation of sorts first. that's when i plan to make my move, and banish him from the land."

"so, just getting him off the throne isn't enough."

todoroki sighed, flipping his hair out his face as he continued to explain. "no, i'm afraid. if i want to achieve my goal, i would need a complete and utter renovation of the kingdom's proceedings. my father would never allow it."

she hummed, picked up the things she dropped, and squinted her eyes in suspicion. "so, you're saying id get to live as a queen for the rest of my life, with nothing in return?"

"that is exactly what i am saying."

"and what if i refuse."

"well, id do nothing. id marry a princess from another land and would be moved to rule over there. leaving this place in ruins, with a tyrant still at the helm."

[name] sighed heavily. this was a to think about. but, after a moment of reflection, and thinking of the good life the villages would lead if this succeeded, she finally said something "okay, im in, but i have conditions!"

"obviously, please do tell." he said, leaning up against his horse.

she crossed her arms. "i want to be able to continue practicing my magic. and i want the effects of our marriage to be seen in this town immediately."

he raised an eyebrow. "that's all?"

she nodded. "yes, just treat my town nicely."

he sauntered over to her, lighting grabbing her hand that wasn't holding the basket, and kissed it lightly.

"well, then, thank you for your help, future queen." he brought her hand down and stayed holding it as he guided her over to his horse. "do you have any belongings? i can send a guard of mine to go pick them up for you."

"oh, yes i do! most of it is packed up anyways, so it'd really be a great help."

he signaled to the red-haired knight, who promptly picked up the boxes and set them in the cart behind his horse, along with the basket she'd held earlier. inside the cart, there was also a number of remedies that were addressed for the current queen.

before todoroki helped her onto the horse, she wrote a note addressed to her three friends that explained her situation. she promised to write to them frequently in the note as well, and asked them to do the same.

after, she ran quickly, stuck it on the tavern door, and dashed away back to the horse. todoroki helped her onto the back of it, climbed on it himself, and set her arms onto his waist for security.

"hold on." he said, before telling his horse, aptly named snowflake because of it's shimmering white color, to start galloping.

the sun was going down, but the time wasn't what she was focused on at the moment.

what occupied her thoughts was the huge, glamourous castle that was coming up in the distance. banners of blue surrounded the area announcing the kingdom's claim, as a large gate encapsulated it all.

the greenery complimented the fencing, moss and vines were tastefully grown around, as well as blossoming flowers and breathtaking types of trees she'd never seen before.

her breath was taken away as they grew closer and closer, every building, brick, and path was put together with more thought than her entire town.

she was so caught up in it, that she didn't even realize todoroki was speaking to her.

"[name], hey [name]?"

"oh, sorry todoroki, i was just.. looking at everything. it's really gorgeous."

"you may call me shoto from now on. and, yes it is quite beautiful. would you like to know the best part?"

"what?"

"you and i will own all of this soon."

her eyes sparkled at the realization. this would all be theirs to maintain and uphold, to spread to the rest of the kingdom.

to her town.

"that is very cool."

"cool? but it's quite hot outside."

"oh! it's village slang, for uh.. amazing."

"oh, okay." he pondered thoughtfully, looking back at her for a brief moment. "you'll have to teach me more then, i'd like to get to know you better.

after all, we will be married soon."

she flushed at that. "yeah, we'll get to know eachother well soon enough."

after they passed through the gate, with the attendants bowing at todoroki and her as they passed though, she decided to ask him what exactly would happen before the coronation. "so, shoto? what will we be doing before your plan comes to fruition."

"oh, we're going to spend about a month together testing our compatibility. it's tradition."

she felt the air leave her lungs. a month? she had a month to convince some randoms she didn't even know that she deserved to marry a prince?

"you couldn't have told me that earlier?"

"you never asked."

"that was rhetorical. just, who do i have to convince anyways? is it you?"

"yes, but also my family. don't worry though, i think my siblings will enjoy your company. my father though, he won't.

and that's what i'm betting on."

"thanks shoto."

"you're welcome." he said, not catching her sarcasm."

the rest of the ride was silent as she leaned against him, admiring the lives of the nobles. they all seemed so carefree, girls walking around in their fancy gowns, carrying satchels full of gold to spend. boys, carrying satchels of gold and using them to play games. the older folk, who lazed around, not lifting a finger. it was peaceful here,

she wanted that for the people back home.

when they finally reached the castle doors, shoto got off the horse first, then gently lifted her down. an attendant came quickly to take snowflake to their barn, and the red-haired knight was quickly dismissed.

as they walked inside, she immediately felt out of place. although her outfit was considered high-class back at the tavern,

here she swore she saw similar fabric used for the one of the dogs' rug.

the pristine atmosphere was set off by the odd feeling of tenseness that washed over shoto, and as they entered the dining hall, she soon realized why.

king enji todoroki, was a tyrant in his very own home.

the much smaller throne next to him at the dinner table was empty, but other chairs that were awkwardly spaced out considering the width of the table were filled by three siblings, each looking less happy to be there than the last.

she grabbed his hand, as if in support. the king's eyes glared at her at the motion.

"what is the meaning of these? why would you dare bring a peasant into our home shoto?"

"father, i'm marrying her."

as the king choked on his own spit, his siblings all took the initiative to look at her. the only one with black hair suddenly spoke, "way to rip off the bandaid shoto."

"you cannot be serious shoto, we've spoken about your idiotic actions, but this is too far!" the king spat, his eyes crazed as he slammed his chalice full of wine on the table.

"i am serious, i will announce it on my eighteenth birthday, and we will be wed a month after."

"you--"

"that's so sweet shoto. i'm happy for you." his sister cut in, smiling despite the harsh atmosphere.

"you take after touya! each of you serve to annoy me, why can't you just marry who i choose? a respectable princess, and not this-- this swine!" the king slammed the table once again.

"that's enough father," the white-haired boy spoke. "shoto made his choice, during the trial period we can find out this girls character."

the king took a drink of wine as if to calm himself. "yes, there's no way a peasant such as that will gain the full interest of shoto. he'll boot her out in a week."

"oh, and another thing. she's a witch."

the black-haired brother started laughing, as the kings veins almost popped out of his head.

"she's a what?"

"a witch?"

"she's to be executed as all witches are! i know she's not working here! are you trying to murder me shoto?!"

"well, you can't execute her now. if shes shotos fiance, technically she's servicing the royals, and can be kept alive, according to your own rules father."

"correct fuyumi. father, please calm down, maybe this is a turn for the better. witches used to be our main element before that law was put into place, and besides, maybe she can assist mother."

[name] swore the king, for a split second, put on a face of disgust at the mention of the queen, but quickly hid it.

"i.. suppose so. witch, heed my warnings. i do not respect you, i do not like you, and if any action you take is to conspire against me, i will strike you down myself." the king said, before dramatically leaving.

after they were sure he was out of earshot, they each commented on her. "way to go brother, i don't know what you're planning, but you sure pissed him off. now, introduce that fiance of yours officially already." the scarred man complimented.

"oh, of course. this is [name], she's a village witch i've been seeing for a while." he lied.

"hello [name], it's amazing to meet you! i'm fuyumi, i rule a territory out in the west."

"greetings [name], i am natsuo, its a pleasure. i rule a territory out in the east."

"hey witch, im dabi officially, but when you become a royal, ill let you call me touya. i rule up in the north."

"nice to meet you all." [name] said, bowing to them.

"there's no need for that, you'll be joining this family soon enough." natsuo commented.

"yes, please treat us casually. now, care to explain how you and shoto met?"

[name] froze, crap. she needed her story to match up with shoto's-

"can't you see they're tired from their travels fuyumi? let's just question the hell out of 'em tomorrow."

"touya! language! but i suppose you're right."

"i always am." he shrugged. "you two love birds go huddle up for the night, we'll be here for majority of this month, so we got plenty of time to question these two."

"yes, please go rest."

"okay, i'll see you all tomorrow." shoto said, before gently guiding her out the room.

"you'll have to teach me your slang quicker than i thought, i didn't understand a lick of what my brother spoke back there."

"ah, of course shoto. but, where will i be staying?"

"in our room of course."

"what-"

"this month, even though it doesn't start officially til' my birthday, is about testing our compatibility. my parent's marriage is very.. complicated. i don't want to become like them, so i feel we should start act with the normal acts now, like laying together."

"oh, of course shoto. that makes sense."

"unless you'd rather not sleep with me-"

"no, no that's not it at all!" she said, waving her hands around frantically. "i was just surprised is all."

"ah, okay. well, here we are."

they entered a luxurious room as big as her house, a large bed covered in silk sheets and pure cotton cloths was the centerpiece to it all, with a chandelier and furs on the floor just to match with it all.

yeah, she was definitely out of her element here.

she was then guided to the bathroom, which was the size of an entire bathhouse. a large tub, with real gold installed on it, was matched by glamourous sinks and showers.

"i've prepared some sleepwear for you to adorn to sleep."

"thank you shoto, this is just-- crazy."

"uh.."

"it's in a good way."

"okay, well i'll leave you too it."

she had the best shower of her life, treating herself to the expensive soaps and rags at her disposal. the real heaven on earth was how she felt when she slipped into her silk robes, she had never felt anything so soft.

until she laid in the bed, which was the real most comfortable thing she'd ever been in. shoto joined her soon after, and took the initiative to pull her into a hug.

she relaxed into it, and wrapped her arms around him as well.

they fell asleep holding eachother, and the whole time she thought about how natsuo was right.

maybe her presence here was a turn for the better.

prev | next!

#anime fic #mha fantasy au #mha x you #mha shoto #mha x reader #mha #bnha #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #shoto x reader #shoto x you

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coal15 · 1 month ago

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Because Happy Fandom

In the interest of spreading positive vibes, I'm working on the 2nd chapter of I Never Do This so I decided to post a sample. It's Bucktommy. Explicit but also has the gushy romantic feels scattered amidst the smut. The following sample is smut-free, but if you follow the link to Ch.1 you'll find yourself tits deep in obscene material. You're welcome.

************************

Tommy grinned when Evan’s lips pressed against the nape of his neck. “Good morning.”

“I woke up alone,” Buck pouted. “How dare you.”

“Will a Denver omelet earn me forgiveness?” Tommy asked, swiveling sideways to reveal a cutting board and a half chopped bell pepper.

“I’m listening.”

“Light on ham, heavy on veggies, average amount of cheese. With a side of beautiful sliced tomatoes I just picked off the vine. They turned out really great this year.” Tommy smiled and mmm’d into long, gentle a good morning kiss.

“I’m gonna get spoiled dating you, aren’t I?” Buck sighed, sounding so love-drunk he may as well have had little cartoon hearts floating around his head.

“Oh, absolutely. I try to spoil all my guests, especially the cute ones.”

Buck gave him a quick nuzzle and stepped aside so he could get back cutting peppers. “Wanna point me to the cheese grater?” The chance to help prepping a meal in Tommy’s kitchen made him feel all giddy. ‘Kid-with-an-extra-helping-of-dessert’ giddy.

Tommy tapped his bare foot against the cabinet door behind him. “Grater's in there. And you might have to dig around a little for the cheese, I’m terrible at keeping my refrigerator organized.”

Normally the sight of veggies, condiments, leftovers and so-forth scattered around a fridge all willy-nilly would awaken Clipboard Buck with a vengeance, but this time he just shrugged and made a mental note to tackle it later. “Are these green beans from your garden?” he asked, pushing aside an overfilled bag to reveal a block of sharp cheddar. The block sat between a takeout container and a bottle of ketchup, but Buck kept his attention riveted to Denver omelets and Tommy.

“No, they’re from my neighbor Cathy down the road.”

On the counter next to the knife block were four cutting boards of descending size held upright by a cat figurine wearing a chef’s hat and apron holding a whisk. It was impossible not to notice how much the kitschy object clashed with the rest of Tommy’s decor, so Buck figured it must have sentimental value. The thought gave him a soft, warm feeling. “It took me a minute to escape your hall by the way.” He teased after selecting a cutting board and getting to work.

“Uuuugh, sorry.” Tommy cringed. “I should have thought to label the doors with post-its before you woke up, I literally do that every time I host an event. It’s the only thing I really don’t like about this house. But I’ve got major renovations planned and that nightmare is getting fixed as soon as I’ve got enough money saved up.”

"Do you wanna hire a crew or go diy?” Buck asked whilst imagining Tommy wearing a toolbelt . . . maybe taking a big sledgehammer to a wall, all covered in sweat and drywall dust and wearing beat up old work clothes with streaks and splatters of dry paint all over them from past projects. And, and maybe the jeans hang really low. Like barely perched on his hips so just the slightest nudge might–

“Woohoo!” Tommy whistled, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Oh!” Buck flinched and cleared his throat. “Hi, yeah. I’m, I’m back–did you say diy?”

"I did." Tommy chirped.

"Neat. I'm, uh, happy to help out if you want."

"I will keep that in mind."

The couple returned to their self assigned tasks, chopping, grating, and frequently sneaking glances at eachother.

Buck tried to maintain focus on grating cheese, but found himself increasingly morning-horny, which was slowing down progress more and more. The sense of arousal surprised him. He had never really been a morning sex kind of a guy–then again, he’d also never been a ‘fucks other men and likes it’ kind of guy a until recently. He supposed this was just his season of revelations. Morning horny. Okay. What to do with that energy? Huh. “Soooo . . . we’ve officially had sex in both of our beds now.”

“God Evan, you say that like there’s a bingo card!”

“There could be bingo cards.” Buck gazed sidelong at Tommy with a sly grin that seemed to broadcast certain intentions.

Let’s play.

****To read the 1st Chapter go HERE

#bucktommy #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #we're having such a happy day #don't let anyone piss on your parade

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vinerenovations · 6 months ago

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#VINE RENOVATIONS

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a-heart-attack-ow · 9 months ago

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The Arrangement. Part Five

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five: **NSFW** **mention of a breeding kink**

It was dark. Pitch black. With no light in sight.

The only thing guiding me forward was the hand I was holding. The man in front of me knew exactly where each step would take us. Every step I take fills me with nausea, each step more unsure than the last one. I didn't know if my feet would catch on the vines growing out of the ground or in the raised tree roots. I can't understand how the man in front of me can see, but he knows these woods well. I can feel how sure he is with each step forward, each step closer to wherever he is trying to take me. I want to ask him about where he is taking me, but I don't dare speak a word. His body is tense and I know that he's focused on guiding us forward.

Through the night. Through the curtain of darkness that feels thicker and thicker the deeper we walk into the forest. A part of me is unsure of what to expect when we reach our unnamed destination.

I just have to hope that wherever Colby Brock is guiding me, is safe. That my husband wouldn't ever lead me somewhere dangerous. The woods diverge in the middle of the forest, around an old dilapidated warehouse. It's a big, rusted structure that appears abandoned at first glance, but it isn't. The trees perfectly circle the building, like a protective barrier. Around the outskirts of the warehouse is a perfect dirt circle. A thick circle of dirt that our feet find once we reach the edge of the forest. No longer walking on an uneven ground of roots or vines, I feel my nausea subside momentarily.

"You better not be dragging me out here to kill me Mr. Brock."

I say jokingly, hoping that somehow my comment could break through the thick atmosphere of darkness. My husband stops when I speak, his face peering over his shoulder. His blue eyes seem more striking in the darkness, something I didn't think was possible. He smiles at me with a wicked grin, trouble etched on his face as he studies me closely.

"I'd never hurt my girl..."

He pauses.

"...But if you're not careful Mrs. Brock, you might end up in handcuffs later tonight."

A dark chuckle escapes him, his wicked grin growing slightly. My mind can't help but wander to the last time he'd used his handcuffs on me... The thought alone causes my heart to skip a beat and my breathing to hit. Something I know he notices. He gives my hand a firm squeeze as he continues forward, taking me with him. The abandoned looking warehouse door is where he guides us, through the darkness I can't tell it's a door until he reaches for the knob. He opens the door slowly, a gentle squeak escaping from the hinges. The moment the door is open I am met by the first sight of light that I've seen in the thirty minute trek out here. The inside of the warehouse has the kind of lights one would find at a renovation sight attached to the walls. Strings of bulbs lighting up the room in various corners, barely bright enough to see around the room. The moment we step inside and Colby closes the door behind me I can tell that this place had more to it than it seemed at first glance. The cold concrete of the warehouse was a farce, something that would mislead anyone who could potentially stumble upon it. It appeared to be one empty building, but I could hear the faint sound of something happening beneath us. A hum of some sort. I attempt to ask him where we are, but he cuts me off and shakes his head.

"I don't want any more secrets between us. You told me you loved me and I know I love you, so I'm sharing this part of my life with you. It's not pretty, but I hope that when you learn everything you'll still love me."

He says this quietly as he studies me from over his shoulder. As if he's nervous to fully turn to face me. My brow furrows at his words, but I say nothing. Instead I nod and give him a small smile. He nods back and looks forward once again. Across the room is an old elevator that looks like it hasn't been used in years. He pulls us forward until we reach the cold, metal of the sliding door. He puts his hand along its surface and pushes gently in the top right corner of the door. When he does, the door pushes open and when it does there's a set of stairs, leading down to wherever that faint hum was. The stairs look older than the building we are standing in, but I say nothing as he pulls me down the stairs with him, the heels of my boots clicking against the old concrete.

At the end of the stairs is the second floor of the warehouse, a basement of sorts. Downstairs was just as old and dusty as the upstairs, only a bit brighter with overhead lighting. Another stark difference was that there were other people down here. I could hear them before I saw them, their laughter carrying up the stairs as Colby and I descended. My eyes had gotten so used to the darkness we’d traveled through, and the dimmed light of the upstairs that the brightness of the overhead lights was almost too much to handle. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust and when they do, I notice the working stations that were laid out around the open room. Five total stations that had packages of contraband littered around them. Stacks of unmarked boxes and packages were stationed around the basement, but what caught my eye was the massive black couch in the furthest corner of the room. Five men are sitting around the couch, beers in hand as they shoot the shit and have a laugh. The hum I'd heard upstairs was the faint sound of music playing on an old 1940s looking radio. At first the men don't see Colby and I, but the moment a familiar face looks up at me from the couch, he waves in our direction. Sam smiles and gestures for us to come forward and when he does everyone turns to face us. Instantly I recognize another one of the men sitting on the couch. I didn't know his name yet, but I knew he was at the party we'd thrown the week before. He was the same man who'd whispered to Colby that I wanted to talk to them and they were playing pool. The other men look familiar too and I realize they'd all been to the events we'd thrown, hidden in the background, but always there. They were probably perfectly nice men, but I was suddenly nervous to meet everyone when they all clearly knew each other. When Colby and I reach the couch, he keeps my hand in his. For a moment Colby glances over at me, giving me a look of reassurance.

"Everyone, this is Emilia. Emilia..."

He pauses, extending his left arm. He points at Sam and starts naming everyone off.

"You already know Sam, but..."

He pauses once again moving his hand to the other man I recognized, on Sam's left.

"... This is Jake, Corey, Johnnie, and Nate. They all work with me."

The moment they all look at me, my stomach turns. Not because I don't like them or have an issue with them, but because I feel so nervous under their gaze.

"Hello. It's really lovely to meet you all."

I manage, my voice small as I use my free hand to wave at the new faces. I try to give each of them a smile, but I can feel my cheeks reddening with the attention. It's not until I glance at Sam that a look of sympathy moves across his face. An understanding of how nerve wracking this was for me to meet all these new people in an intimate setting.

"She's cute boss, no wonder she has you wrapped around her finger."

Jake is the one who speaks, his grin as mischievous as Colby's had been earlier. I look at Colby and watch him nod as he studies me in return. Watching closely to see how I was reacting to his other friends.

"I wanted to bring her here to show her what we do. I figured my wife ought to know what goes on. From now on, you can interact with her at the events we hold, we no longer have any reason to keep things from her. I want everyone to include her, she's an essential asset to both our business and to me."

The tone he uses with them is firm and assertive. The look on his face is serious as he makes sure that every person is hearing and understanding him.

"With a body like hers I can see why you say she's the best sex you've ever had."

The mood of the room shifts when Corey says this, his eyes locked with Colby as if he's challenging him. I don't know whether he's making a joke or trying to get Colby upset, but whatever it is I can't help but feel embarrassed. I knew friends told their friends things about their sex lives. That didn't upset me, but hearing him say it out loud did make me feel uncomfortable. Colby's jaw clenches as he looks at his friend. The others all looked at Corey with a look of question. A look that seems to ask why he was even choosing to start this up right now.

"Sam, maybe you can show Emilia around. It seems like Corey has something he needs to get off of his chest."

Sam goes to stand from the couch, but when Corey opens up his mouth again, Colby stops him.

"The only thing I have to get off of my chest is that I think it's stupid to tell her all of this and to bring her here. You've known her for what, five months? Just because she's a good fuck doesn't mean she needs to know everything we do. What if she tells someone?"

I understand the hesitance that comes out of Corey's mouth. Whatever it is they do here and I could guess it had something to do with drugs, given the work stations and the unmarked boxes. There was also the fact that the Brock Family Estate is a major pharmaceutical company with millions of people hooked on the pills they produce. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to put this together. I'd known the family I married into was dangerous, this newest development wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility. Without thinking I speak up;

"I'm his wife, if anything ever got out, our marriage literally makes it so I can't be forced to testify against him in court. I also signed an NDA before we got married. There's also the fact that if I fuck up my father's life is on the line and he's the only family I have left. I’m not going to say anything, I can’t risk it."

The words fall from my mouth in a steady realization of how silenced I’ve become. I don’t know if what I’ve said is enough to reassure Corey and the others, but once I say the words I look over at Colby. He gives me a look that tells me he didn't know about my father or that his life hinges on my ability to behave. Everyone is quiet after I speak, everyone seeming as shocked by revelation as Colby is. I breathe a deep sigh as I move my gaze to Corey.

"I swear I’m not going to say anything. I’m very in love with Colby and I'm not dumb enough to fuck it up."

I feel vulnerable when I say this, but I don’t care. I needed them to understand that I couldn't and wouldn’t say anything. Even if I wanted to, I was in too deep now. I was trapped, loving Colby was just an added bonus to a difficult situation. I feel Colby's gaze on me but I can't will myself to return the favor. The shocked look on his face when I mentioned my father was still lodged into my mind. The fact that he really didn't know made me feel worse. Because, if he didn't know that, what else had his family kept from him? Corey nods in response, my words seeming to be enough evidence for him to be okay with me being here.

"You all should get back to work..."

Colby starts after finally looking away from me, when he realizes I’m not brave enough to look him in the eye. He turns his attention returning to the guys on the couch, his body language stiff as he stares at them all.

"...I'm going to show Emilia around my office. If you need something you can talk to Sam."

Without missing a beat the five men on the couch stand up and get back to working. For a second, I keep my eyes trained on the now empty couch. I don’t want to address this, but I know Colby isn’t going to let it go. Without letting me protest, my husband tugs me along with him, his feet carry us past the couch and towards an old door attached to rusting hinges. Using his free hand he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys for the office, shoving them in the door knob. He wastes no time pulling me into his office before closing the door behind us. From behind me I hear the door lock, but I refuse to look at him. Instead I look around the office he'd brought me to. It looks like an office from the 1940s, matching the aesthetic of the workstation area just outside the office. The massive desk in the center of the room, and the old leather chair behind it looked like reclaimed furniture and it was beautiful. In the corner of the room, to my left is a leather couch, the same color as his desk chair. On the wall hangs a T.V. screen, a massive 80 inch screen that is the only decor in the entire room. There's also a bar that's tucked to the right of the desk, with an assortment of different whiskies lined up against the bar counter. Without waiting for the okay to move around the room, I make my way over to the desk in front of me, my hands running over the smooth cherry wood. This desk is the most well kept antique I've ever seen and it's a beautiful piece of work. I turn to face my husband, lifting myself up onto his desk when I do. My feet dangle off of the side of his desk as I finally force myself to look into his eyes.

"You know... I've always had a thing for bad boys. I guess I just didn't realize how bad you were."

Colby's face is dark and unreadable when I say this. Under his gaze I feel warm so I move my hands to my coat zipper, unzipping the jacket before pulling it off and laying next to me on the desk. His gaze moves from my face to my chest when he notices the outfit I'd chosen to wear. A pair of skinny jeans, a black lace bustier and a black blazer to cover my arms. The bustier pushing up my cleavage that had been concealed under the coat I'd been wearing. From the look on his face I can tell that he approves, but I know he wanted to unpack what I said earlier.

"How come you never told me about your father?"

He sounds sad when he says this, even though his face remains unreadable. I shrug my shoulders and run my hands through my long curly black hair.

"You never asked so I never said anything. I kind of though you knew, but now I know you don't. I'm sorry."

When I say the words 'I'm sorry.' He looks at me with an outraged expression. He walks across the room, his eyes never leaving me as he strides over. He puts his hands on either side of my face and for a moment I don't know what to do next. I just sit there and look up at him helplessly as he shakes his head.

"Don't you dare apologize to me. It's not your fault. This entire time I thought you were just someone my parents picked out for me to marry. Someone they bribed to marry me, but they threatened you? This whole time I've been giving you shit about doing what you’re told, but it's literally because you're afraid. You've been afraid this entire time and I've only made it worse by being an asshole to you."

My mind flickers back to the first night we'd met, the night we got married. When he stated that it was like his parents 'picked me out of a magazine' The same night that he told me I'd been such a good girl for wearing the dress his mother picked out and for letting Kris do my hair and makeup. I think back to how good I've performed in front of the cameras at our events, how proud he'd been of me for putting on a show. He had no idea I'd been doing it for my father. No idea that I did everything I did to avoid a conflict. To keep my father safe. I know he's thinking about it too, putting our every interaction into this new perspective. Understanding the hell I'd been through. I wasn't even offended that he'd thought I married him for money. He was probably used to people using him at this point, he expected it and I wasn't angry at him for that.

"My parents told me you didn't have any family. They said they found a nice girl who did local charity work and knew it would be good for our image. A nice girl for me to settle down with and produce heirs to our business empire. I had no idea."

He says this more to himself than me, sheer horror and awe in his voice. I feel bad that he feels this way, but I'm also happy he knows. This was the first time we were really talking to each other. Or showing each other who we truly were. Everything else was love on a physical level, but now it felt deeper and that's all I truly wanted.

"Colby..."

I whisper, placing my hands overtop of his. The action caused him to focus on me.

"...You know that this doesn’t change how I feel about you. I'm still in love with you..."

I feel my eyes well up with tears before smiling bitterly.

"...Even though I married a mobster."

He smiles at the joke the moment I say it, sympathy still etched into his face as he wipes away a tear that managed to escape. He places his lips to the top of my forehead and breathes me in, his body unmoving as he lingers there for a moment.

"I’m in love with you too."

He rasps. I let him hold me, his lips still on my forehead as we breathe together in unison. I couldn't help but wonder if this was how things were going to be now. If we'd be riding out every storm together like this, united and unyielding. I can't help but feel like we are both trapped here, two pieces of a larger puzzle. I worried how far his family would go, they already expected us to start a family at some point. What else would they expect? After a few minutes Colby pulls back to look at me.

"By the way, the term mobster is too old school for me. It makes me feel like I’m ancient."

He laughs, a real laugh with a smile that reaches his eyes. The first real one I'd seen since we'd gotten together.

"You and your buddies are performing large-scale drug trafficking for your family's pharmaceutical empire. I think you have bigger things to deal with than terminology Colbs."

He raises his eyebrows when I say this, shocked by how bluntly I describe his job. But there wasn't any other way to describe it and I knew that he knew how serious all of this was. I can tell he's also impressed by how I've managed to put two and two together without him actually saying anything. But I'd seen enough of his secret workplace to know what he and the boys were up to.

"How long have you been doing this job?"

I ask him in honest wonder. I couldn't imagine having to do this job for any amount of time. The longer I sat here the more I realized that I would have to do something to counteract it. If his family wanted me to be a good image for their family through my charity work, then I wanted to know how much damage they'd done. So I could do something... anything to undo it through charity. Colby sighs, looking at me sadly.

"Well, I'm 27 now and I've been doing this since I was 18, so 9 years. My father forced me to do this job when he decided to take over the hospital chains that my grandfather had been working for. This has been a job that's been handed down from generation to generation. Like a curse that I wasn't strong enough to break. Something our children might be forced to go through."

When he says this I feel a chill move up my spine. Our eyes lock and he knows that he's said something that bothers me.

"Colby, honey please don't take this the wrong way, but no. I don't want this for our children, whenever we have them. I want them to have choices and I want them to do things legally."

I don't know if he's really heard me because when I call him ‘honey’ he looks at me so sweetly I feel like I'm going to get a toothache. As if he didn't expect me to call him anything other than the two other nicknames I've given him during our time together. But after a few minutes he nods and I know he's heard me.

"We will do things differently when we have children…”

He pauses, looking at me closely. His eyes drift down to my chest, a smirk pulling at his lips. Again, he appears to like what he sees and it’s enough to make me wet right then and there. I couldn’t explain the electricity between the two of us, but I’d given up trying to understand it. I knew whatever we had was special to just us. I could just feel it.

“...I’m personally very excited to see you pregnant. Knowing that you’re carrying our child…”

He pauses, his lips inches away from mine.

“...Knowing that I fucked you senseless to get you pregnant in the first place.”

Lust hangs on his every word, desire burning deeply within him. Just hearing him speak was enough to almost send me over the edge, but I try to remain calm as he studies me. He knows me and I know that he’s fully aware that I want him. No matter how calmly I tried to remain he could tell that I was seconds away from fucking him right here. Not caring about the others working just outside the office.

“Mr. Brock, do you have a breeding kink?”

I ask, my tone mimicking his. My own desire and want hanging in the air around us. His jaw clenched as he studies me, his hand moving from the side of my face, to my jaw where he holds my gaze.

“Do you want to find out my darling?”

He asks me, his eyes seeming to darken a few shades. I move my lips to hiss without hesitation and entangle my hands in his hair. He deepens the kiss as I let out a small moan, louder than I meant to. Colby doesn’t appear to mind the loud moan as he chuckles darkly against my lips.

“Go on baby. Make all the noise you want. Let the boys know how good it feels when I touch you.”

He pulls my hands from his hair so he can pull my blazer off, tossing it onto the floor. Once he’s rid me of the blazer, he allows my fingers to entangle in his dark brown hair. He does pull his lips from mine, guiding them down my neck. A trail of tender kisses make their way along my collar bone as he sucks the skin gently. Teasingly slow, it makes me needy for more. Another moan escapes me when his lips kiss the top of my right breast. His fingers lightly trace the lace of the bustier I’m wearing. I can tell he wants to rip it off of me, but I stop him.

“Colbs, we don’t have anything to change into if you do that.”

I whisper breathlessly. I earn a faint ‘hmph’ in response from him, but it's enough to still his actions. Instead, he pulls me up off of his desk, his lips back on mine. I wrap my legs around him and deepen the kiss. This time I earn a groan from him, a sound that instantly makes my breathing hitch. I would kill to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life. It was the best sound I’ve ever heard.

Before I have time to properly process it, he has me laid down on the leather couch. My back finds comfort in the cushions. He keeps his lips on mine as uses one hand to pull the bustier down and grasps my breast as it escapes the confines of my top, the other arm propping himself over me. He gives my breast a firm squeeze before using his fingers to play with my hardened nipple. He’s relentless with the way he touches me. It’s almost enough to make my head spin.

“Baby, I want to fuck your pussy so bad.”

Colby’s words come out in a deep huff as I guide my hands away from his hair, finding the buttons of my skinny jeans. I unbutton them and slide them down my legs quickly, my underwear sliding down with them. While he remains attentive to my breast, I unbutton his black jeans.

“Colby, I need you inside of me. Now.”

I demand it from him in a tone that causes him to laugh. A low breathy laugh that makes me want him inside of me even more. I pull down his pants for him, enough to expose his hardened cock. Enough for him to be able to push inside of me, his cock filling me in an instant. For a moment he doesn’t move, he just lets himself savor the moment. The moment of my soaked sex wrapped around him. He stares down at me for a moment, his lips parting. He looked so fucking hot, so beautiful that I almost didn’t feel like this was real. How could I have ended up with a man who looked like Colby Brock? He was breathtaking.

He doesn’t say anything as he starts to thrust inside of me, his hands finding my breasts once more. I focus on how good it feels to have his hardened cock sliding inside of me. How much the friction makes the nerves in my stomach build up in harmony. How every perfect movement brings me closer to the edge. I focus on how deeply he fucks me, slowly and deliberately. He’s savoring it, but I also know that he wants to cum inside of me as much as I want him to.

I moan the second that he picks up his pace, his lips finding my neck once more. He begins marking me up, this time sucking harder than the last.

“Do you want me to fill you up with my cum darling?”

He asks, his voice a taunt. I can only make a whimpering sound in response, words failing me. I am too wrapped up in how good he feels inside of me to form a sentence. Colby seems amused by the fact that I can’t verbally respond. Instead he thrusts faster inside of me, my nerves building up until I look at him, seeking permission to cum at the same time he does. He nods in response, lips against mine once more. “Cum with me my love.”

He grants me permission to do what my body desperately needs to do before he cums with me after one final thrust. Our lips remained locked together as our bodies came down from their high, his cock twitching as he shot the last bit of cum inside of me. We breathe in each other slowly, our hearts regaining a regular beat.

“I love you so much.”

He rasps, pulling me in against him on the couch. I think about everything I’ve learned from this visit to his secret location. The people I got to meet and the revelations that I knew I’d have to deal with for the rest of our lives. What that would mean for whatever we decide to do next.

“I love you too.”

I respond, nuzzling against him. I felt safe in his arms, so safe that I knew I wasn’t ever going to leave. I would do what I could to make up for the bad things that our family did, but I wasn’t ever going to risk what I was building here with Colby. I smile up at him, but when I go to speak I hear the sound of Jake’s voice on the other side of the door.

“For the love of god, we get that you love each other. Fuck quieter next time.”

The others laugh at Jake’s comment and I feel my cheeks redden. I knew I’d have to face them when we eventually left the office, but right now I couldn’t care less.

I was with the man I loved and there wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock smut #sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby #colby brock imagine #sam and colby smut #colby x reader #sam golbach #sam goldbach smut

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sadslay · 1 year ago

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- NEIGHBOR⋆☆ 𝐩𝐫𝐞!𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — suggestive nsfw content, age gap (reader in mid 20s & joel in early 40s), neighbor!joel, the apocalypse never happened?

you had moved out of home a few years ago, leaving the small texan town you had grown up in for the big city, but you often tried to visit once every few months to keep your parents happy, although the reason you kept doing these frequent trips was because of your long time neighbour, joel miller. of course you still wanted to see your parents, and you couldn’t deny that you missed the comforts of living under your parents roof, but you treasured the short interactions you had with joel any time he crossed your pass on your short visits to home.

and joel, well he too looked forward to your visits. one day, he’d catch your parents in the front yard doing some gardening or sitting on the porch keeping themselves busy and he’d find subtle ways to ask about you and when you were next coming home. and oh boy, when he heard the delightful news of your return, he’d count down the days until you arrived. today was the big day, you were returning home for just a short three day visit and joel had been counting down the days since your parents had told him the news.

he had finished work early, and sarah was at a friends house for the night, so now he patiently waited for the taxi to pull into the neighbouring driveway. waiting. he had been waiting for what felt like hours but in all reality it had only been about a half an hour. his eyes were focused on the living room window that looked out onto the street but occasionally looked over at the wall by the front door which had a clock, the small red hands slowly ticking around as the seconds and minutes went by, but then he heard a car driving down their street, a dead end street that hardly ever got any traffic. it was you.

after paying the taxi driver and tipping the kind man for helping you with your small amount of luggage he had insisted on helping you carry up to the door, you found yourself wrapped in your parents arms as they welcomed you home. your father placed your belongings in your old childhood bedroom before taking you out to the new patio area your father had built a few months prior.

“wow.” you breathed, walking out into the neatly paved area, decorated with beautifully stained wooden furniture - no doubt chosen and styled by your mother who had an eye for these sorts of things - mixed with newly planted vines beginning to grown up some trellis lining the walls of your home. “it looks beautiful out here.” you smiled, looking back at your parents as they stood beside each other, your fathers arm slung around your mother’s shoulder.

“did you like the table ‘nd chairs?” your father asked, his eyes momentarily looking at the matching set to admire it.

you eagerly nodded before extending your hand to feel the sleekness of the wood. “it’s beautiful dad.” you smiled warmly.

“he built it ya know?” your mother noted, proudly looking up at your father with a smile plastered on her lips.

your jaw dropped a little causing you to admire the table a little more. “with the help of joel.” he retorted, not daring to take the credit all to himself. “he’s a very smart man, he helped me do all the measurin’.” he continued to explain.

joel you thought. of course joel had helped your parents, he was just so handsomely sweet to them it warmed your heart.

shortly after your parents had pointed out all their newly renovations and additions to your childhood home - many of which were overlooked or done by joel - you had gotten changed into a pair of white lace bathers, planning on going for a swim before your father started preparing dinner, but you were unaware of the guest your parents had invited over.

joel watched the bright yellow taxi drive away before springing to his feet. he quickly pulled on his work boots - surprisingly the only suitable shoes to wear out of the house, especially if you were home - and made it way to the front door. after grabbing his keys from the small bowl sitting on the hallway table beside the front door, he paused for a moment, thinking if he should have changed out of his work clothes as he suddenly became aware of how he smelt. placing the keys back in the bowl, he made his way up stairs, beginning to unbutton his green and black plaid flannel shirt - throwing it into the corner of his room where a pile of dirty laundry was beginning to grow - before searching through his wooden drawers for a clean shirt.

and then, he found himself standing on your porch, holding a bottle of red wine as he waited for the door to swing open, hoping and praying you’d answer, but seconds later he was greeted by your father.

“i was starin’ to think you weren’t comin’!” he smiled, standing to the side a little to allow joel to walk inside.

joel let out a breathy chuckle, placing the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter before his hands rested on his hips, “smells good in ‘ere,” he noted, the genuine comment earned a smile from your mother as she pulled a deep pan out of the oven.

“thank you.” she chimed, placing the tray of freshly baked focaccia onto a cooling tray before placing her oven gloves on the counter. “how have you been?” your mother asked, giving him a welcoming hug.

“busy.” joel breathed. he wondered where you were. it was odd you weren’t with your parents, chatting up a storm and filling them in on all your new stories and adventures. “how’s that new door holdin’ up?” he asked, referring to the old bathroom door he had fixed a few weeks prior.

“great!” your father cheered. “no more squeaking.” he commented.

“m’glad.” joel nodded. “did yer need any help in ‘ere?” he asked after a brief moment of silence, earning a mixture of scoffs and repeated ‘no’s’ from your parents.

“you go outside and relax hun.” your mother insisted before her faces lighted up, “y/n’s out on the patio if you wanted to go say hello.” she smiled.

joel did nothing but nod as he took a few wine glasses from your father before wandering outside with the bottle of red wine under his arm. as he opened the french sliding doors he saw an empty patio, so his eyes began to search for you but it didn’t take him long to find you sitting waist deep in the door with a cigarette between your fingers wearing nothing by a small white bikini.

“howdy neighbour.” you sang from across the yard, a small cloud of smoke exhaling from you lips as you watched joels eyes find you.

“howdy stranger.” joel smiled, placing the glasses and bottle of wine on the table before cautiously wandering over to you. “whats a nice girl like you smokin’ for?” he asked, standing at the opposite end of the pool, his feet a few inches away from the edge.

“just for special occasions.” you grinned, subtly winking before standing up, droplets of water running down your curves as you began to walk towards him. “how’ve you been joel?” you asked, putting the cigarette out before hiding it in a near by plant pot. “feel like i haven’t seen you in months.”

joel let out a chuckle as he followed you back to the table, consciously making an effort to keep his eyes on yours, worried he’d get a little distracted. “cause yer haven’t been home.” he smiled. “how’s life in the big city treatin’ ya?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“s’good.” you nodded, grabbing the bottle of red wine as you began to inspect the label. “what about you joel?” you asked, unscrewing the bottle cap allowing the smell of the wine to spew into the air.

god, the way you said is name was heavenly. it was like ecstasy to him every time his names slipped from your lips. “s’been busy.”

then you grabbed a glass from the table - leaning up close to joel in order to do so - the very action making joels breath hitched a little as his eyes wandered further down your body, admiring every little drop of water on your sun kissed skin. as you held the wine glass by your stomach you began to pour the drink, suddenly very conscious of joels eyes on you.

“how’s tommy?” you asked, taking your eyes away from the glass as you continued to pour, your eyes wandering up to meet joels to find his eyes fixed on the glass. you let out a giggle before whispering, “earth to joel?” his brown eyes darted up to meet yours as you extended your hand to offer him the freshly poured glass. “how’s tommy ‘nd sarah?” you asked again, your voice softer and a little more flirtatious as he began to reach out for the glass.

“good.” he answered, taking the glass from your hand causing your skin to momentarily touch. you looked up at joel through your eyelashes with a smile ghosting over you lips as he began to stutter, “she uh- she’s just goin’ into her-uhm senior year.”

“let me know if she needs any textbooks.” you offered as joel desperately tried to compose himself. you began to pour a second glass for yourself as you continued, “i have a ton.”

joel softly nodded, taking a sip of the red wine before his eyes reconnected with yours. “she’d like that, she’s always askin’ ‘bout you.” he lied, sarah had spent most of the summer break with her friends and he had hardly seen her.

before you could reply, your parents walked through the french doors with plates of food in their hands. you finished pouring you glass before taking a seat at the table, continuing to pour two more glasses for your parents.

“smells amazing mom.” you smiled as she set down a bowl of salad and the plate of focaccia while your father placed the roasted chicken in the center of the table.

she smiled as she say down beside you, allowing your father and joel to sit across from you. “thank you sweetie.” she hummed, taking a sip of the red wine.

as the night moved on you retold stories of your life in the big city, earning big laughs and smiles from everyone around the table, but as you and your parents continued to talk, joel couldn’t help but stare. you were sat opposite to each other and ever time you reached out for your glass of wine, he could have sworn everything fell into slow motion.

⋆☆

reaching across the table to grab the almost empty bottle of wine you had knocked over the salt shaker, creating a domino effect as joels wine glasses got knocked over, the red liquid spilling onto his lap and stomach.

“shit!” you mumbled. “m’sorry joel!” you apologized, immediately standing up from your seat mirroring joels actions as he reached out for a cloth.

“don’t apologize.” he spoke softly, a weak chuckle escaping his lips as he began to drag the cloth against his now stained clothes.

“dab it sweetie, don’t drag.” your mother mentioned, trying to hide the smile on her lips. “y/n take joel inside ‘nd get him cleaned up.” she advised, joel of course truing to insist he was fine only to be shushed by your mother. “you can borrow one of johns shirts.”

“alright.” joel sighed, looking at you before following you inside.

“i’m so sorry.” you kept repeating, occasionally looking back to find joel a few feet behind you with a smug smile on his lips. “why are you smilin’ like that?” you whined, growing even more embarrassed by your fumble.

he shook his head as a chortle left his lips, the wine beginning to give him the little buzz he needed to be more confident around you. “s’nothin’.” he mumbled, his eyes cautiously drifting down to look at your legs and ass as you made your way to the bathroom before darting back up, not wanting to get caught staring.

as you both arrived at the bathroom, you left the door open before rushing over the sink to turn on the tap, letting the water run. you grabbed the nearest hand cloth before retrieving a large bottle of soap from beneath the vanity. joel watched you scurry around but before he knew it you hand connected with his before you directed him to sit up against the vanity.

“i am so sorry.” you sighed, putting a little bit of soap on the hand towel before reaching behind joel to run it under the warm water shortly after turning off the tap.

“i told yer to stop apologisin’.” he spoke lowly, his eyes fixed on you ad you began to busy yourself with the base of his shirt, your knuckles occasionally grazing against his skin.

you looked up at joel, momentarily getting caught in his eyes as you basked in his gaze. “right.” you breathed before returning to the task at hand before realising majority of the wine had been split on his pants.

while your mind desperately tried to focus on cleaning the stain you had created, joel couldn’t help but stare and before he knew it his hand had connected to your waist causing you to freeze. joel stayed silent as he watched your eyes meet his, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

“you are so god damn distractin’.” he spoke, barely above a whisper.

you began to stammer and stutter, suddenly becoming flustered. “joel, i uh,” you took in another much needed breath of air before swallowing as you became aware of how dry your mouth had become.

“your s’beautiful.” he mumbled, his hands rising from your hips to begin peeling away the awfully thin white button up shirt, revealing more of your shoulders and chest. as joel leant down, his lips connecting with your exposed collarbone you let out a steady breath as you moaned his name sending goosebumps over his skin. “do you know what you do to me?” he mumbled.

but then you pulled away, and joel was suddenly terrified he had overstepped. he head hung low as you backed towards to door, far to ashamed that he had quite possibly made one of the biggest mistakes of his life but when he had heard the bathroom door squeak close his eyes had lifted to find you. you were still here. a spark had been lit between you and now a wildfire was beginning to spread as you hands reached out to grab onto each side of joels face.

you had noticed the smirk growing on joels lips before they had met your own and within seconds you were entangled in each others arms. your fingers had run up through his course curled hair while his hands roamed your backside. before you could even grasp at the consequences that might come about from this little interaction, joel had hook his hand under your thighs and hoisted you up before spinning you around.

the cool marble that formed the vanity made your breath hitch as joel sat you down. the last remnants of a red lip gloss had now been smeared between your lips. almost instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist pulling joel impossibly closer. a whimper had erupted from your throat as his body caged yours against the vanity mirror.

“wish i could listen to yer all day.” joel murmured, as his fingers began to dip beneath the thin lace fabric, the feeling of his fingers against your skin was tantalizing and euphoric. “all ‘em pretty noises.” he added as another moan slipped from your lips.

you pushed yourself closer to joel, grinding up against his hips as you whispered, “m’all yours.”

joel would have taken you right there, right in that very moment but fate was not on his side as he heard the french doors slide open and the footsteps of your parents began to wander throughout the home.

“are you two alright?” your father called out causing the pair of you to pull away in the blink of an eye, leaving you breathless.

joel wiped his lips clean of any evidence before pulling open the bathroom door. “couldn’t get the stain out.” he lied, walking out into the hallway to greet your father as you hurriedly tried to compose yourself.

“i was just about to grab ‘im a shirt.” you spoke, desperately trying to sound normal as you walked out into the hallway to join the pair, wiping your lips clean of the smeared gloss. “s’really stuck in there.” you laughed weakly, sneaking past the pair before giving joel once last glance.

“thanks.” he mumbled as he watched you walk away like a sweet piece of forbidden fruit and my god, were you the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

𓋼𓍊 masterlist 𓍊𓋼

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kykyonthemoon · 2 months ago

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The first bouquet: For reunion and childhood memories

⭑.ᐟ The Little Flower Shop In Linkon ( Long fic) - Table of contents

⭑.ᐟ L&D Masterlist

Word count for this chapter: 2k5

When the late spring hues began to bloom, Lunaire decided it was time to open her own flower shop.

That property was on a quite ancient and peaceful street. Finding a calm space like this amid crowded Linkon, near the city center, was a blessing. The shop consisted of a ground floor that was a commercial space, on the side was a wooden staircase covered with vines leading to the upper floor separated from below. It became Lunaire's living space - a modest house with full amenities for one person.

That property was formerly owned by Lunaire's grandmother's long-time acquaintance. They opted to live overseas and sell it. With her savings over the years, Lunaire could only afford a lower floor. Although her grandmother intended to help her, she did not accept and was still working hard to be able to buy the house above.

After some renovation and rearrangement, Lunaire was able to officially move in on a late spring day.

Her flower shop, Elysium, would be open that weekend. Everything was well, thanks to her grandmother and Caleb, who frequently came to support her. They were now in the kitchen, and Lunaire sat on the floor, holding a huge cardboard box filled with beautiful objects from her previous home. Most of them were older than ten years. Lunaire had a passion for preserving artifacts related with specific memories.

The box gradually emptied once the objects were displayed in new positions. Her palm met something chilly at the bottom. It was a box made of wood. The familiar icy air emanating it drew Lunaire's attention. It had been a while since she had opened it.

Lunaire lifted the box with her hand. It had been on her desk for many years, stretching back to her childhood. She vividly remembered what was inside: plump, snow-white seals presented to her. But since the person who gifted them to her departed, Lunaire no longer desired to open the box and look at them.

That was why the box was always carefully tucked away in a corner of her desk. Sometimes, when she missed that certain person, she would softly touch it, allowing chilly air to flow through her palm. For a brief moment, she imagined her childhood friend standing in front of her, with the same appearance as before, encouraging her to keep studying or soothing her when she was in a bad mood. But it would all disappear when she returned to reality and realized that what she was holding on to were just memories.

"Lunch is ready." Grandma's words echoed from the kitchen. She quickly emerged. "Oh, you've found that box?"

Grandma, more than anyone else, acknowledged the value of the wooden box in Lunaire's hands and the memories contained within it. So she was astonished when her granddaughter did not bring it with her to the new residence on the first day. The next day, when the girl came to get something else, grandma quietly placed this box in her cardboard box. How silly that Lunaire then rummaged through her old room just to find it, almost crying because she accidentally lost such a precious thing. Of course, her grandma had not told her where the box was. She thought that sometimes her granddaughter had to truly lose something first to eventually admit how much she needed it later.

"Yes." Lunaire answered. "But I don't remember putting it here."

"Sometimes you still forget things here and there." Grandma's bright grin puzzled her a little. "Once you discover it again, be mindful of it. It would be a shame if you lost it for good one day!"

Before Lunaire could reply, Caleb's voice burst out:

"Grandma Céline. Lune! Let's have lunch!"

Lunch was served in Lunaire's brand new and cozy kitchen. She and Caleb prepared the dishes. Lunaire felt a twinge of sadness as she realized that after living alone here, she would no longer be able to enjoy her grandmother's cuisine every day.

In recent years, she had frequently had to leave her home to engage in EVER's research projects. Not long after returning, Lunaire moved out again. Only her grandma was left alone at home. However, she constantly claimed that she was not alone because Caleb's grandma lived right next to her.

When she was a child and moved to the Bloomshore district with her grandmother, Lunaire became Caleb's next-door neighbor. He also resided with his grandma. The two kids instantly became friends. To her, Caleb was like a big brother who always protected her. Currently, because he was on leave, he came home to visit, but then Lunaire bothered him again, asking for all kinds of help with her new shop and home. Despite his complaints, he was still willing to assist her.

After lunch, her grandmother said she wanted to go downstairs to see how the flowers in the shop were doing. Lunaire's maternal side of the family had a strong connection to plants. She also inherited the bloodline believed to be from witches. To others, this ability was known as Evol, but her family called it magic.

Grandmother seemed pleased with how Lunaire displayed and adorned the shop. It resembled their modest garden, particularly the light-filled tea area. She assisted her with the plants as Caleb checked the shop's lights. Lunaire was waiting for an electrician to arrive and install extra lights that day. Everything came into place, leaving her absolutely thrilled.

Suddenly, she heard a clanking sound in the corner of the shop. Grandma hugged her chest and knelt on the floor.

Some members of Lunaire's maternal family have exceptional talents. They have the ability to influence the Evol of others, either increasing or decreasing their strength. But that type of impact comes at a cost. If someone utilizes such power excessively, their body will be destroyed in a variety of ways.

Grandma Céline frequently suffered from heart attacks. When she was younger, things were not as dreadful. However, as she grew older, the suffering increased longer and more powerful. That was why she had not used her Evol in a while.

That day, she intended to use a little of her power to make the flowers in her grandchild's shop bloom exactly on opening day. Unexpectedly, just that little bit would cause her to be hospitalized.

Elysium Flower Shop was located near Akso Hospital. Caleb and Lunaire were waiting in the sparsely populated hallway. Her phone rang. The electrician had arrived at the shop and was waiting. She was about to reschedule for another day when Caleb suggested:

“How about I go back to take care of the shop for you? After finishing work there, I'll get back to the hospital to visit Grandma Céline. Is that Okay?"

"Thank you." Lunaire nodded slightly. Fortunately, Caleb was there for them.

A nurse arrived shortly after he had departed. She stated that Grandma Céline had recovered consciousness, but that Lunaire needed to first consult with a doctor about the patient's condition before visiting her. Worried, she followed the nurse named Yvonne to the front door of an office. She glanced at the nameplate attached above and thought she was dizzy.

Yvonne said: “Just go inside. Doctor Zayne is waiting.”

Zayne…

Lunaire's heart rate increased as she heard the name. Perhaps she was not mistaken. Maybe she knew the person in the room. Once.

With her fingers on the doorknob, Lunaire's thoughts strayed back to a day many, many years ago.

The town where the Lunaire family resided has been attacked by Wanderers. The ten-year-old girl lost her relatives and could only follow with the flow of refugees into Linkon city. By the time she regained consciousness, she was surrounded by strangers who were injured and screaming.

The girl shifted her gaze, seeking for any recognized faces. Yet, there was none. As she walked, she inquired whether anybody knew where her parents were. Those tiny legs kept roaming till they became exhausted. She sat down beneath the eaves of an unknown home. In her palm was a melted popsicle, leaving just the vibrant colors on her fingers.

Little Lunaire started to weep. What if she were forever separated from her loved ones? What if no one could find her? What would she do in this utterly unfamiliar city?

At that time, a person approached her. Another child who was older than her had a calmer demeanor. He stood there staring at her, his yellow and green eyes barely showed anything. But then he held out a popsicle in front of her.

“Take it. Don't cry anymore.”

Lunaire gazed at the popsicle, then at the young boy, and finally at her hand. Did he think she was crying because her popsicle had melted? She hesitated for a time before taking the icy present from his palm. She no longer had the heart to wonder where the boy got the ice cream from.

Sweets always made Lunaire feel better. The popsicle had a mild minty flavor. It was not her favorite flavor, but at that very moment it was strangely delicious. While she was eating the treat, the boy sat down next to her on the porch and took out a clean handkerchief from his pocket.

"Wipe your hand." He talked in short sentences, his tone a little frigid. However, he appeared to be rather kind and gentle. To Lunaire back then, everyone was good people. That was why she extended her hand to him.

The boy was a bit astonished. He obviously told her to wipe it off herself, but instead she extended her hand to him. He did not say a word, merely using the handkerchief to cover her palm and carefully wiping away the remaining traces of cream. When his hand touched hers, Lunaire felt a bit of cold mist emanating from it. When she calmed down, she realized that the boy possessed a type of icy Evol.

Lunaire's hands trembled slightly. The boy knew she was a refugee who got lost here and offered to help. He volunteered to take her to where people were seeking sanctuary in the district. There maybe she would find her family. Eventually, Lunaire agreed to it.

The little girl was absolutely unfamiliar with this place. But she kept following the boy. He was considerably taller than her, and his mature appearance gave people the impression that he was immensely reliable. Lunaire occasionally fell behind due to exhaustion. Realizing this, he deliberately walked slower to allow her to catch up. Her legs were not hurt, but they were fatigued and covered in mud. Her face was dirty and her clothes were unkempt. After a long distance, the two children arrived at the district's center, where a big crowd was rushing in the direction of the Wanderers' recent attack.

In the midst of the crowd, Lunaire lost sight of the friend from earlier. While looking blankly to the left and right, she felt a squeeze on her hand. He found her.

"Let's go. We're almost there.”

Lunaire's tiny fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to guide her through the crowd. All turmoil appeared to have subsided. Finally, they arrived at the shelter. But the boy remained with Lunaire for a while longer, until her grandmother found her.

That boy was Zayne. And after several years, they met again at Akso Hospital.

Lunaire walked into the minimally decorated office. An individual sat behind a desk, focusing intensely on the computer screen. The typing on the keyboard stopped. He lifted his head. Through his thin glasses, their eyes met.

Lunaire would always remember that childhood friend's eyes. Everything about he could change; his appearance, his voice, his address; yet those eyes remained the most gentle. It had been too long. She had imagined the moment they met again, the things she would say to him. But when they actually met, her mind became empty.

He was the first to say: "Come here."

Still so gentle.

Lunaire moved closer. She felt like her feet failed to walk anymore. She sat down in the chair near his desk.

"Grandma Céline is fine." He spoke as if he had sensed what she was worrying about. "She used Evol again, which caused the previous illness to recur. She will have to stay here to be monitored over the remainder of the day. If everything goes well, she can leave tomorrow morning.”

"Thanks, Z..." "Dr. Zayne." Lunaire spoke.

Zayne glanced at her swiftly and handed her a piece of paper.

"Fill this out."

He remained as reticent as he had been as a child. She snatched it from him. She assumed it was Grandma Céline's paper, but it had her full name written on it. The messy handwriting made her have to squint her eyes to read it over and over again before she could recognize her name being there.

"This is?…"

"Yours." Zayne responded without glancing at her. He resumed his work on his computer screen. "You need regular health check-ups."

Zayne turned to look at her and replied:

“Grandma Céline and you own the same kind of Evol. Do you still feel pain in your heart at times?"

Lunaire nodded slightly. Zayne was well aware of this since as a child, he had witnessed her go through a similar predicament.

“But it was only fleeting,” she continued.

“Nevertheless, you should be checked. I already spoke to Grandma Céline about this. She also agreed that you should both have regular health check-ups."

“All right…” Lunaire replied. She raised her head, looking for a pen on Zayne's desk. He immediately reached into his pocket for one and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She took it. At that time, she unintentionally noticed the scars on Zayne's hands. He promptly retracted it.

Lunaire began filling out her information on the paper in silence. But in her heart, she wanted to ask him countless questions; about Grandma Céline, about him. How had he lived these past years? Where had he set foot to? Who had he met? What had he gained and lost during the time?

Finally, as late afternoon fell on the pot of jasmine in the window - the only plant present in Zayne's office - Lunaire handed him the paper. It was time for her to go see her grandmother.

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne.” Lunaire said as she stood up. The reunion that she was looking forward to may have to wait a bit longer. For this meeting, it ended here.

Lunaire walked out the door with unprecedented awkwardness. When she looked back, she found Zayne staring at her from his side of the desk. She smiled.

“By the way, I have a flower shop nearby. Elysium Flower Shop. This weekend will mark its grand opening. If... Doctor Zayne has time, perhaps stop by for a bit? I will be delighted if he does…”

Lunaire hesitantly observed Zayne's expression. His face remained the same, nothing had altered to indicate whether he would agree, or if he was happy to see her again. Zayne simply replied: "I will see."

Lunaire nodded slightly to say goodbye to him, attempting to disguise the disappointment that was quickly showing on her face.

When the door closed behind the girl, the jasmine bud in Dr. Zayne's window suddenly stretched out, bursting with white petals. He smiled a little, realizing it was a present from his childhood friend.

Artwork: commissioned by me.

Artist: Thiếu I-ốt

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