#honey and clover scene by scene

[dykebehaviour]

honey on your tongue

domestic bliss with southern!wife!ellie x reader

summary: deep family fluff, loving married smut, sensual scenes, tender language, motherhood themes.

cw: fem!reader, butch!ellie, smut, oral r!receiving, fingering r!receiving.

a/n: save me butch cowboy ellie…save me…

you wake to the soft creak of the old farmhouse settling around you, the pale gray glow of dawn slipping through the gingham curtains.

your body is warm beneath the quilt, pressed tight to the familiar weight of ellie. one of her arms lies heavy across your ribs, her calloused palm resting just beneath your breast. her breath is a slow, deep rhythm against the back of your neck, her scent like cedar and sun-warmed hay.

you shift slightly, earning a gravelly murmur from her sleep-rough throat.

“where ya goin’, darlin’?” she rasps, voice thick with sleep and accent slow as molasses.

you smile softly, hand covering hers. “gotta start the day, cowboy. juniper’ll be up soon.”

her arm tightens around you instinctively. she noses into your hair, lips brushing the curve of your neck.

“mmm. lemme have you just a minute longer.”

and you do, the two of you swaying in that sweet early-morning hush, your pulse drumming slow under her touch.

by the time juniper’s little feet come pattering down the hall, you’re standing in the kitchen in one of ellie’s old flannel shirts, humming as you pour batter onto the hot griddle.

“mama!” she squeals, curls wild, cheeks pink with sleep.

ellie’s behind her seconds later, grinning with her hat tipped back, sweat-damp from feeding the horses.

“mornin’, juni bug,” she drawls, bending to scoop her daughter up in strong arms. “you ready for some pancakes?”

“yes!” juniper giggles, wrapping her arms tight around ellie’s neck.

you watch them, heart full to bursting - ellie pressing a kiss to juni’s temple, that lopsided smile of hers lighting up the whole room.

the old truck rumbles over dirt roads, the morning already bright with sun and birdsong.

juniper sits squished between you both on the truck seat, her tiny hands clutching a worn straw basket. ellie drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting across the curve of your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles through the worn denim.

downtown, the farmer’s market hums with life. stalls overflow with fresh produce, jars of jam and honey, baskets of bright flowers. the air smells of cut grass, ripe peaches, and fried dough.

juni pulls you both from stall to stall, cheeks flushed with joy.

“look, mama! look, mommy!”

she picks out fat red strawberries, bundles of wildflowers, a tiny jar of clover honey.

ellie leans close, whispering low by your ear, her breath warm against your skin:

“could spend every damn saturday just watchin’ my girls smile.”

later, the three of you sit beneath a big oak tree, sipping lemonade from paper cups. juniper falls asleep against ellie’s chest, her little hand fisted in her mama’s worn work shirt.

you lie beside them in the shade, watching ellie’s lashes flutter against sun-browned skin. she looks at you, a soft smile tugging her mouth.

“got more than i ever dreamed of,” she murmurs. “you. her. this whole life.”

you stroke your fingers through her hair, voice thick:

“so do i.”

by mid-afternoon, the sky bruises dark.

you and ellie race across the porch as fat drops begin to fall, giggling breathless. the thunder rolls low and deep across the fields.

inside, juni shrieks with glee, pressing her hands to the windows to watch the lightning.

“mama ellie, look!”

ellie crouches beside her, one arm curled around juniper’s waist. you settle on the couch behind them, wrapping them both in a worn quilt.

outside, rain batters the tin roof in a steady roar. the house feels small and safe - a little world unto itself.

ellie hums soft against your shoulder, an old song joel used to sing. you press your lips to her hair, breathing her in.

later, with the storm easing, you three curl in bed together, juniper nestled between you. ellie’s arm reaches across both of you, protective even in sleep.

and in the hush of the post-storm dark, your heart aches sweet and full:

this is it. this is everything.

one warm night, you put a record on while ellie’s finishing up the dishes.

the notes crackle soft - slow and sultry country blues.

ellie turns, eyebrow raised. “you tryna seduce me, darlin’?”

you grin, taking her hand. “might be.”

she pulls you into her arms right there in the kitchen, strong hands settling low on your waist. you sway together, bodies pressed close.

“you’re somethin’ else,” she breathes against your ear.

juni comes toddling in moments later, squealing. “dance with me too, mama!”

ellie grins wide, sweeping her up. “always, bug.”

the three of you spin and laugh beneath the old light fixture - the kitchen filled with joy, with love, with all the things that matter most.

down at the south pasture, ellie lifts juniper onto the gentle mare, hands steady on her waist.

“you hold on tight now, juni bug,” she says softly. “i got ya.”

you watch from the fence, heart in your throat.

ellie walks beside them, leading the mare slow and patient. she murmurs praise the whole way, her voice warm and low.

“that’s it. you’re doin’ so good.”

juni beams, waving at you proudly.

ellie catches your gaze, eyes shining, and you both know, without words:

we built this. we’re raisin’ this beautiful little life together.

that night, the house is quiet. juniper sleeps sound and sweet down the hall.

you and ellie curl beneath the quilt, her body warm against yours, her scent all hay and sun and salt.

ellie kisses you slow, deep - her tongue teasing yours, her thigh sliding between your legs.

“been wantin’ you all damn day,” she growls low.

your breath catches as her mouth trails down your neck, her hands rough beneath your nightgown.

“ellie-”

“shh, darlin’,” she soothes. “gonna take care of you real good.”

she strips you slow, reverent, her green eyes dark with hunger as she takes you in, bare beneath her.

“fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

she slides down between your thighs, lips soft and teasing over the inside of your knee, your inner thigh, making you writhe.

then her mouth is on you; hot, slow, relentless.

her tongue works you steady, her low groans vibrating through your core.

“god-ellie-” you cry, hips arching.

“that’s it, pretty girl. gimme all of it.”

she doesn’t stop until you come shaking beneath her, her name a broken moan from your lips.

but she’s not done.

she slides up your body, slick fingers teasing your entrance.

“wanna feel you ‘round me, darlin’. need it.”

she pushes two fingers deep, slow and sure, her thumb circling your clit.

you gasp, clutching her broad shoulders as she fucks you steady, her mouth hot at your ear:

“love you. love you so fuckin’ much.”

you come undone around her, sobbing her name, lost to the stars.

after, ellie gathers you close, kisses slow and soft.

“mine,” she whispers. “forever.”

you nod, voice thick:

“forever, cowboy.”

in the mornings, ellie brings you coffee in bed before dawn.

in the afternoons, she teaches juniper how to ride, strong and gentle by her side.

in the evenings, she kisses you soft on the porch swing, your daughter’s giggles echoing through the fields.

at night in the hush of your room, beneath the old quilt, she loves you with hands and mouth and heart, slow as the turning of the seasons.

this is the life you chose.

a house full of love.

a wife who touches you like you’re made of gold.

a daughter who lights the whole damn world.

and every day, every breath, you thank the stars you found them both.

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Side Story 3 (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader)

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth.

>> HEAD TO CHAPTER LIST

>> SIDE STORY 3 [END] <<

You stood there, overwhelmed by the abundance of choices before you. The bakery was like a three-tiered bakery, with the aroma of freshly baked goods filling the air. It was no wonder that the place was teeming with customers from all level.

You recalled Lilia's story that this particular bakery had been established hundred years ago by the Clover family. No wonder their food were not like others. The scent that wafted over you felt somehow nostalgic, as if reminiscing about happy memories. So weird.

It was the start of the new year, and you and Malleus had carefully laid out plans to travel to the Queendom of Roses. The purpose of this journey was to expose your future heirs to new experiences and a different cultural background, which would play a crucial role in their upbringing as princes.

Malleus believed that this experience would be invaluable for their development, as it would foster an understanding and appreciation for diverse perspectives. He wanted his sons to grow into well-rounded individuals, able to navigate the complexities of the world with wisdom and compassion.

You had been intrigued by Malleus's decision to travel to the Queendom of Roses. There were, after all, other continents that were closer to the castle, but Malleus had insisted on this destination. You did not question his decision, as your primary focus was on the growth and development of your children. A change of scenery would surely be beneficial for them, given that they had spent most of their lives in the Briar Valley.

"Mama! Mama! That cake looks so good! And that one, and that other one as well! Can't we just buy everything and all those pastries?" Your eldest child, Levan tugged enthusiastically at your hand, his eyes wide with excitement. He pointed at the various cakes and pastries on display.

Levan clearly had a soft spot for sweets, just like any child his age would. He then remembered the taste of the tarte that Lilia had once brought back and quickly added, "We should buy something for Uncle Lilia and Uncle Sebek too!"

Malleus, who was holding his youngest son in his arms, chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he watched his eldest son playfully tug at your hand. He knew that Levan had a sweet tooth just like any child his age, and he found it endearing. With a warm smile, Malleus gently intervened.

"Levan, my boy, don't tug so hard on mama's hand. Be gentle, alright?"

He then added, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement, "But I agree, my love. We should definitely get a few things for Lilia and Sebek"

If this took place years ago, he might bestow a severe punishment his chid as he clearly had taken your attention from him. Malleus initially desired nothing more than your undivided attention focused solely on him.

As time had passed, Malleus gradually learned that sharing your attention with your children was a part of the natural order of things. The possessive gaze he once harbored for you had softened, and now he found himself enjoying the sight of your tender affection towards the children that he and you had created together.

'Our little bundle of joy'

Malleus realized that he had no need for your undivided attention, for he knew wholeheartedly that you would always be his. Even if your focus was divided among your children, your love and devotion would never waver, and that knowledge brought him a profound sense of contentment. He only did discover this from multiple experiments he put on you.

"I want cake too mama, looks so delicious. Can we take some back home?" Your youngest son, Marcellus, shyly peeked at you from his father's broad shoulder, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he saw the delicious cakes and pastries on display. Unable to contain his excitement, he pleaded with you.

Your tone was gentle yet firm as you replied to your young son, "Sure, dear. We could get all the cakes if you really want, but it would be even more enjoyable if we share and keep it to a minimum, alright? We'll take one slice each and share it together. How does that sound, my love?"

You knew all too well that your husband had a history of stomach aches from indulging in an entire cake by himself, and you wanted to avoid a repetition of that unfortunate event. Malleus couldn't help but smile warmly at your response. He knew that if it were up to you, you would buy all the cakes on display, but he appreciated your consideration for his past experience.

"My dearest wife, I am well aware of your propensity to dote on our children, and I must express my profound appreciation for that. You truly are the epitome of sweetness, catering perfectly to my own discerning palate." Malleus couldn't resist commenting on your tendency to spoil your children, as his tone was one laced with gratitude and affection.

"You act like you dont do the same, Malleus. Do you think I dont know about all those toys and gargoyles decorating their rooms are from you, dear? And I know you will do the same for our baby girl too" You changed the focus to the small baby sleeping soundly in your arms. A bundle of emerald blanket was wrapped around her form. That tiny horns of her was still small and the end was not sharp like your husband as it more round as she it would grow later when she got older.

Malleus chuckled softly, his eyes glimmering with affection as he leaned closer to you. "Ah, you've caught me in the act, my dearest. I must confess that those toys and gargoyles indeed originated from me. And of course, I will certainly shower our baby girl with just as much adoration. After all, she takes after her sweet mommy" He gently caressed his baby girl's cheek and poked gently at her chubby side, his touch tender as he made sure not to wake her.

Malleus chuckled softly as he looked at your two little boys, who were eagerly exploring the bakery. "Ah, I remember those days all too well. Little Levan and Marcellus were so small and cute, and now they're wreaking havoc everywhere they go. It seems like they inherited my mischievous streak, my love."

He shook his head with a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation. "But I can't deny, they keep things exciting around here."

"They were just following your steps. We should be grateful at least they don't covered the castle with frost"

Malleus chuckled heartily upon hearing your comment about your sons following his footsteps. "You're right, my love. I suppose we should count our blessings that they haven't decided to frost over the entire castle. Though knowing them, it might be a matter of time..."

He responded to your question with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, so Lilia told you about the icing incident, did he? Trust him to unearth my most embarrassing moments."

"He even showed me the picture books. You used to be so cute too when you were a child too."

Malleus grumbled playfully at your words. "I see Lilia has left no stone unturned in his quest to embarrass me. Of course, he would have photographic evidence of my most cringeworthy moments as a child."

He couldn't help but soften a bit upon hearing your comment about his childhood cuteness. "Well, I suppose I was indeed rather endearing in my youthful years. But let's keep that between us, my love. I want to be perfect father to our children."

"How can a perfect man like yours exist? I'm just lucky to be your wife" Malleus listened to your words with a mixture of gratitude and a tinge of guilt. While he appreciated your praise, he was keenly aware of the dark chapters from his past. His possessive side made him killed your love one, that red head, those children. He destroyed all of the things that you love and even the pendant.

Malleus' thoughts delved into the darkest corners of his mind as he pondered his past actions. He could not shake off the memory of contemplating the murder of Marcellus, his own son as he dislike the idea of having the same sequence of child that you have with that man. 2 boys and a girl. A male heir is necessity so it would be preferable to have a girl as the second child. It was as if the fate was mocking at him and testing his patient.

The image of the baby boy, with your features, had been the only thing that halted his impulse. However, as Marcellus grew, his affection for the child began to develop. The sound of the boy's first word, "Papa", had been a turning point, making it impossible for him to harbor such sinister intentions.

Malleus became a more gentle father as he experienced the blissful moment. He became softer and more matured in taking care of everyone he loves but he still could not cure the possessiveness he had over you. He even feeling regret of his past action, not in killing Ace but in killing the that red hair children in the process too.

As the royal family finished with their shopping, people nearby could not help but express their awe and fear. The Briar Valley royalty was known far and wide for their magnifying presence, immense magical prowess, symbolized by the iconic horns on all five members of the fae family.

You caught a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of your eye, and for a brief moment, it seemed familiar. However, amidst the joyous family time you were having with your children and husband, you opted to dismiss the fleeting thought and fully immerse yourself in the present moment with your loved ones.

Malleus noticed the encounter and he could not help but smile in sense of accomplishment. He looked at his side and saw you with one hand, held your baby girl in your arms and in the middle between you two was Levan happily tug his parents hand. Marcellus in his other arms. He had acquired a happy family of his own.

At the end, you were really his...

[END]

SIDE STORY 2 <<

[knuiui]

╮TWST Boys feat. "What's your perfume type? "

♡ HEARTSLABYUL ❣

the dorm based on the strict queen of hearts! since that 'certain' fiasco just a week after you and yuuken arrived the first friends you had is from this dorm! you still hangout with them from time to time especially during unbirthday parties! pictures of your outfits for the event always go viral.

╰ Riddle Rosehearts ♥

you and him got close after 'that' incident. you consider him as a smol hedgehog that needed to be protected 🥺 he almost dropped kicked your knee caps after you said that /j. but on serious note, riddle considers you as one of the most hard working person he's ever met aside from his mother. he'd been the witness of your grueling hours of practice just to get a character's accent right (yk cause you're not from here) and study what type of character you're playing as. he wished you'd take care of yourself more though. relaxing is good okay! he's been through the same road and he'd hate to see you suffer some sort of breakdown like he did, minus the homicidal tendencies.

he's seen that video. It practically went viral over at twistok the moment it was said to be you participating in the "What's your perfume type?" kind of questions.

acts cool but is actually panicking on the inside. really considered changing his perfume to match whatever you said was your type.

he didn't get to ofc. that perfume was practically sold out within 24 hours of the viral video being posted. you're fans really are very dedicated. instead he opted for a new fragrance that caught his eye while browsing the store.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Amouage, CRIMSON ROCKS

cater later did the whole trend as well for the members of heartslabyul dorm and asked him the question, he glared for a little bit before answering and hastily turning back to his books. if you squint you can see the tips of his ears almost color matched the shade of his hair.

he answered, "[your perfume]"

╰ Trey Clover ♣

this handsome mf almost had you groveling for him jk. you two has always been in good terms even before the whole heartslabyul fiasco, you darn nearly kneeled on one knee after he gave you a box of his divinely baked sweets. now he's the one that always supplies you snacks whenever you're at nrc campus for practice aside from jamil ofc. he admires how dedicated you are in getting all your scenes on one take. though, he wished you'd take time and eat properly, he can see how small the portion of the foods he brought you actually ate. you insists you'll eat it later but he's not having any of it. mom friend tbh.

of course he saw the video. he might not look like he uses social media daily but he does actually use it a lot more that an average person, his family's bakery has to advertise their products somehow yk?

when he came across it it didn't bother him that much. but now that he thinks about it, didn't his perfume ran out just a week ago? well maybe it's time for some replacement after all.

you'd think that trey is the kind of guy that prefers mild perfume or even something with vanilla on it, considering he always works with sweets. well he likes to subvert expectations sometimes.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Jo Malone, WOOD SAGE & SEA SALT

cater commented the same when it's trey's turn for the twistok trend. trey just smiled casually.

his answer to the question is, "[your perfume]" of course.

╰ Cater Diamond ♦

your bff. besties for life. he's the first one you actually really got along with, because his personality resembles a past friend of yours. you two have weekly meet ups at cute cafes or at the mall to chat and gossip about stuff. Oh sevens, mostly gossip actually. you two are the most knowledgeable with gossips and rumors that are floating around NRC and the entire internet in general. if people think their secret is safe with you, no honey, their secret is safe with you AND cater <3. you've definitely used a picture of his side profile or his back, in one of your stories and the internet almost bursted into flames at the prospect of you, the goddess amongst men dating someone. cater later dropped a short behind the scene video of you using instructing him to pose very non-celeb lover like style. the internet almost collapsed for the second time that day.

that original video has tens of millions of views on twistok, you'd have to be living in a rock or a house with bad wi-fi to have not been aware of its existence.

he's kinda chill with it on the outside, but the background of his latest magicam pictures that includes bottles of perfume and a few boxes of a certain women's perfume says otherwise.

if it's his perfume that you answered with he'd be all smug about it, even posting a story holding a full ass brand new bottle of it. but if it's not it's fine ig not, he'd feel indifferent of the matter because his own perfume is actually picked and gifted to him by you <3.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Chanel, PLATINUM EGOISTE

immediately did the trend a day after the video of you doing it was uploaded. he's bummed that he didn't get to do the trend with you first though.

he'd mysteriously winked at the camera after answering, "[your perfume] girls are goddesses, y'all are drop dead gorgeous <3."

╰ Deuce Spade ♠

this doofus is a part of yuu's gang of idiots of course you two are close! you treat him like your little brother at times ouch. deuce often tags along yuu when he visits your sets, he'd only ever seen your neat and crisp appearance when you're in NRC uniform so imagine his gobsmacked face when he saw your disheveled appearance on set (you have to play a captured hostage). he almost called crewel because he knows that his professor would definitely fly into a rage if he saw his precious daughter covered in dirt and soot, ... yuu had to explain to him while you died laughing in the corner. he definitely teared up when he finally saw you acting out a gut wrenching scene for your character. deuce has always believed that you're special beyond your lack of magical prowess and finally he has been proven right.

ace showed him a video, it has clips of the viral one of you doing the twistok trend but the poster added screenshots of the perfumes you mentioned.

if it's not his perfume that you mentioned he definitely deflated a little bit, it's fine though, his mother bought a bunch of perfumes and she gave him his perfume because it's a bundle freebie with hers.

considered changing his perfume to the one you mentioned but he took one look at his wallet and that idea was shut down immediately.

but, if you chose the perfume carolina herrera good girl, he'll definitely malfunction on the spot. because his mom told him that perfume specifically is the partner of his own.

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Carolina Herrera, BAD BOY

when cater came up to him asking what his perfume is, he innocently answered. this poor oblivious boy..

he only realized that it's the twistok trend when he saw the video cater posted, he sulked a little bit but did not regret his answer.

he'd blink then say, "Oh, Carolina herrera I think? the pink shoe one. " quite proudly, it's his mom's perfume.

╰ Ace Trappola 🂡

both of you hated each other's guts. considering the fact that you saw him fighting grim and insulting yuu, adding that his brash personality is very much exaggerated to you by the said cat. ace is definitely the least favorite of yours in yuu's band of idiots. this mf also doesn't know how to watch his tone so when he joked about something it sounded more like an insult. but long story short you two get along the second best now. disregarding the fact that you two almost became enemies to lovers got off the wrong foot, you two usually hang out in this quiet spot near the gym whenever he has basketball practice and you need a quiet place to do script readings the tranquility of the area are only ever broken when a loud screeching from floyd would ring from inside the gym.

yeah, yeah, he's seen it. heck! practically everyone has. he'd always be enchanted by your smell but now he knows what perfume to gift you once you ran out of a bottle <3

he'd act so nonchalant about it you wouldn't notice he'd subtly try to change his perfume however like deuce, he took a look at his savings and it said 'nope'!

he'll be a smug fucker if you said his perfume's name tho

════ “ What's his perfume? ”

Killian, BLACK PHANTOM

he'd blinked whe cater said the question while simultaneously shoving his phone to his face, then he smirks smugly and say,

"[your perfume], of course" while looking straight to the camera, as if talking to someone.

you're very loved by Heartslabyul, darling! Make sure to not forget to drop by sometimes very soon! they just miss you so much, your busy schedule be damned there will be an unbirthday party next week make sure to wear your best dress, beloved Alice! ~

[prythianpages]

Cruel, Wicked Thing | Eris x Reader

summary: you are betrothed to Sawyer Vanserra yet that doesn't stop the eldest Vanserra from wanting you.

warnings: I can't really think of anything? this isn't really fluff or angst, just eris longing. slow burn maybe?

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone imagine but it's a part two to this. I intended the second part to be something else but then I ended up writing this scene and it didn't really fit the vibes I was going with so I decided to just post it separately.

As Eris steps out into the courtyard gardens, his gaze is immediately drawn to you. You’re seated upon one of the stone benches that faces the grand water fountain, the one where he first met you. His steps slow, compelled to take in the sight of you. The sun’s light filters through the clouds, caressing your features with a golden glow as you delicately turn the pages of a book. A gentle breeze rustles through the Autumn trees, creating a ballet of falling leaves and causing loose strands of your hair to dance in the air. As the wind carries the sweet scent of rose and honey to him, Eris inhales deeply.

Among the fluttering leaves, a single one lands atop your head, a delicate crown bestowed by nature itself. Yet, you remain unaware. You’re completely lost to the realm of literature in your lap. The same way Eris is lost in you.

He wonders if he should turn and walk the other way. Much like he has done in the weeks that you’ve moved into the Forest house. He doesn’t want to avoid you but the magnetic pull you exert is thrilling yet fear-inducing. So he's resorted to studying you from afar. He knows you enjoy walking around the gardens, reading and hanging around the stables. He knows you well enough to know you don't belong in a cruel court such as this one.

Yet, the Cauldron has unequivocally marked you as someone special to him and he finds himself wary of the potential depth of affection you might set ablaze within his guarded heart. It’s laughable, how someone as sweet and pure as you is so dangerous to him.

You are engaged to his younger brother, Sawyer. And Eris? He’s engaged in the delicate balance of playing the role of the perfect son—perfect heir—all while conspiring against his own father. He cannot afford to harbor any weakness nor does he want to drag you into the depths of his hell. 

But as he looks around the gardens, he confirms there’s no one else around. He then decides to indulge himself, even if only for a little bit.

As he walks toward you, he deliberately steps on the fallen leaves, allowing them to crunch under his boot. The intentional sound announces his approach and has you looking up. Your eyes widen in surprise as you sit up straight.

“Lord Eris.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and he greets you with the same formality. “Lady y/n.”

His fingers reach out to delicately pluck an orange leaf from the crown of your head. The touch lingers longer than necessary, and “accidentally,” his hand brushes against the softness of your cheek as he lowers it. The lingering contact leaves you slightly flustered, a soft blush creeping up on your face—a reaction he takes delight in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t run away,” he remarks.

Eris knows the past three weeks have been rough for you. He’s not only seen it as you chased Sawyer, your unfortunate husband to be, like a lost puppy but he’s also felt it. On occasion, he sends one of his hounds, Clover, to cheer you up. Even the vicious little creature has fallen victim to you, revealing a softer side in your presence. One she normally only shows Eris.

Your father, a busy and highly esteemed merchant, departed as soon as he signed your marriage contract, leaving you to navigate the Autumn Court alone. Sawyer barely gives you the time of day. It’s a double edged sword because though Sawyer is content with neglecting you, he is the lesser evil of his three remaining brothers. 

Sawyer’s disinterest for you, however, often leaves you vulnerable to his two other brothers, Hunter and Oliver. Hunter, who much like his name, always has a thirst and desire to give chase to anything that isn’t his and Oliver–well, Oliver lusts after anything with two legs. The thought of them touching you–hurting you–sends a fire to course through his veins. It reaches his hand, small flames emerging from his fingertips and the leaf in his hand succumbs to ashes. He brushes them off, feigning nonchalance, grateful that you're unfazed.

With a deft motion, you dog-ear the page you were on before closing your book and gracefully rising to your feet. Upon realizing his attention drifting to the book in your hands, you swiftly hide it behind your back. 

“Why would I run away? Maybe, I’m right where I want to be.”

As his gaze lifts to meet yours, a flicker of surprise and curiosity dances in his amber eyes. Bold words. Unlike you. Despite your hands held behind your back, the subtle nervous twitch of your arm muscles is not lost on him.

“But you’re unhappy,” Eris says and he almost expects the emotions churning within you to come to surface. For you to agree. For you to complain. He leans in closer to you, willing to listen.

You do none of that, though. Instead, you force a smile onto your face. One that fails to reach your eyes. "I'm very happy.”

 “Well, you’re very convincing.” 

“And you’re very nosey.” 

Eris lets out an exhale through his nose and you shrink back, worried you have offended him. The small smirk that lifts the corner of his lips soothes your concern. “I kind of have to be, angel. This is my court and I am to rule over it someday. It is my duty to be aware of everything that goes on.”

“Perhaps, I should start with finding out what had you so captivated earlier.”  Eris adds, eyeing the book you continue to conceal behind your back.

You take a step back, fingers tightening against your book but it’s useless. In a heartbeat, the book disappears from your grasp and reappears in Eris’s thanks to his magic. He holds it up in a taunting manner and you’re running after him.

“Eris!”

A spark ignites in his amber eyes as he recognizes the title, and a chuckle escapes him at your adorable yet desperate attempt to reach for the book. He holds it higher, taking full advantage of his height.

“You shock me, angel. I didn't pin you to be the type to read–”

“Please give it back.” 

Eris pauses for a moment in deep contemplation. You are asking so nicely–begging, more like it. But he finds that he likes the way you’re madly blushing at him too much. He shakes the urge to give into your puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think so…shall I start reading where you left off, hmm?”

Panic flashes in your wide eyes as you desperately lunge forward to retrieve your book. However, Eris's quick reflexes had him turning away, causing you to trip over the pavestone. With Eris's body no longer there to block your path, you found yourself tumbling into the water fountain with a loud splash.

The water is cold and has you gasping, goosebumps rising on your skin. You lift your gaze and though you glare at him, he finds it adorable. Absolutely endearing. He tilts his head back in laughter and the sound softens your gaze.

Eris is still laughing when you hold out your hand to him expectantly. “What?”

Your eyebrows knit together in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to be a gentleman and offer me your hand?”

Unspoken desires stir within him as he gazes at your outstretched hand. In his eyes, there's a subtle ache, a silent wish to offer you more than just his hand. The wave of your hand has him breaking from his thoughts. This time, he takes it. He fails to notice the gleam in your eyes as he does. He doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s already too late–until he’s falling into the fountain and on top of you. Quick reflexes save your book from the water, while one hand is planted at your side to avoid the full weight of his fall.

“Not so funny now, is it?” Your laughter dies in your throat and your voice embarrassingly losing its vigor as you both find yourselves unexpectedly close in the watery aftermath.

Wide amber eyes, bathed in the warm glow of honeyed hues, lock onto yours. His chest is pressed against you and his nose is so close to yours, they’re almost brushing. All you can hear is the soothing sound of running water and his soft breath. You can feel the warmth of it too and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath. 

“You cruel, wicked thing,” he murmurs, voice dripping in velvet, capturing the not so subtle shift in your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

He does the same, also well aware of how close he is to you. Gods, you’re dangerously close to him and as your eyes flutter shut, anticipation charges the air. A mere inch closer, and he could savor the allure of your lips—your pretty but devilish lips. The mere notion sets his heart aflutter. The golden string, binding you both together, seems to tug at him insistently, reeling him in.

Closer, the bond in his chest sings. Closer–

A series of distinct and deliberate chimes has both of you abruptly turning your heads towards the grand clock that oversees the gardens. Eris suppresses a sigh. He has to go but doesn’t want to leave. Reluctantly, he pulls away and rises to his feet, stepping out of the fountain. He then offers you his hand, helping you up. When your shoes slip along the fountain’s tiles, he chuckles and helps steady you by bringing you close to his chest.

“Thanks,” escapes you in a breathless whisper, the frenzy of your mind leaving no room for any other words. 

Once you’re back on steady feet, he distances himself from you, careful not to betray the protest of his heart. While you wrap your arms around your cold, trembling form, your gaze lowers to the book he safeguarded through the entire ordeal. Eris summons every ounce of strength to resist the urge to rush towards you and warm you with his kiss. He has to leave now.

“I’ll return your book to you,” Eris promises, smirking at the small sigh of relief you let out and mischievously adds:  “Once I’m done with it.”

Then, Eris leaves before you can say a single word. Before you can unravel his resolve further. You’re dangerous, he reminds himself. A cruel wicked thing that beckons a wayward soul like his to crave entry into heaven. Not just any heaven, but yours.

a/n: what type of book do we think the lovely reader was reading? lol I do have 2 more parts planned for this little au and maybe more 👀 depending on how the other 2 parts go (they're both inspired by songs and i'm literally just going with the vibes now since I'm really indecisive on how I want to go with this au. I have so many ideas.)

[crmsnmth]

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

Do flowers silently scream as I pluck it’s petals out in a nursery school “she loves me, she loves me not” sacrifice? I could always just ask her as we lie here, lazy underneath a maple tree listening to the sounds that summer always provides

The grass next to me is covered in the white parts of a daisy And I think she knows what I’m doing Even as I keep it all in my head but she’s watching my hands make the movements with a subtle hint of her perfect smile

The background scene of a public park plays out out as if the script was already written It’s a perfect representation of every movie with bad acting Romance flicks on the Hallmark channel The kids laugh and brighten the air as the race around the wooden jungle gyms Dotting the grass are blankets and people I swear I saw a man playing Frisbee with his dog

She loves me, she loves me not

The roar of the interstate is all but muffled here and sometimes it’s easy to forget we’re surrounded by 600000 people and not in some small town Somewhere a dog barks And I’m almost positive that it wasn’t the one catching plastic out of the air The grass is soft and tiny plots of clover give just a bit of color

She keeps her head on my chest, still watching my hands perform the rituals And I don’t want this moment to be like all the others please, just let this one last forever Make these minutes my eternity and I promise this and I promise that

She loves me, she loves me not

she yawns and squeaks and I pull petals off the daises just enjoying the laziness of it all the cozy outdoors the breeze carries the smell of budding flowers the sweet smell of lavender plus the scent of her on my chest just like watermelon Jolly Ranchers everything she is, is everything I want to need

She loves me, she loves me not

She looks up at me with a smile that couldn’t have been more perfect and there’s a twinkle in her ocean eyes God, she is beautiful “She loves you,” she said in a voice of honey and I lean down to kiss her one hand on her chin the other holding a daisy with one petal left

She loves me

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’M HERE FOR THE TEA please can we see Mama Rosehearts seeing Trey again?? You know the boy she probably blames for leading her son astray with SUGAR 😆 maybe throw in the Clover siblings or Clover parents too? Only if you want to though!

Scalding hot tea to go with those banned strawberry tarts... 👀 (Not gonna lie though, it's so funny to me that Mrs. Rosehearts may see Trey, one of THE most normal and mild-mannered dudes in the main TWST cast, as some kind of twisted degenerate that peddles an addictive white powder to her child 🤡)

While writing this, I kept thinking of the passive aggressive dinner scene in Shrek 2 (that eventually turned into a full-blown food fight) 😅 Trey can be Shrek since he's green and Mrs. Rosehearts can be Fiona's dad since they're both protective parents-- (I decided to keep it to Trey, Riddle, and Mrs. Rosehearts! The rest of the Clover family would be a lot of people to account for in one interactions.)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Trey was used to cutting cakes, not cutting tension. The vice dorm leader job description had said nothing about the latter—yet here he was, newly saddled with the responsibility.

To his right was Riddle, forcing himself to maintain impeccable posture for afternoon tea. Back straight, head up, eyes forward, as he wove a teaspoon through a cup of warm liquid. Normally, he would slightly sweeten his tea with honey—but he went without it today, only stirring on reflex.

A ha-RUMPH! sounded as Riddle set the teaspoon down on his saucer. Their guest was disapproving, as Trey had expected. He gathered his strength and muttered a silent prayer to the Great Seven.

"Tea?" Trey offered the woman to his right, teapot at the ready.

Mrs. Rosehearts tapped a dagger-like nail against her arm. She had painted them a deep crimson, the exact shade of the red velvet cakes Patisserie Clover whipped up—though with the scathing expression she wore, Trey figured the last thing she wanted to hear about was baked goods. The woman looked like she was out for his blood, rich and oh-so-red.

"Okaaay, no tea then." Trey carefully returned the teapot to its spot and reached for a plate of the least sweet item avaliable. "How about a finger sandwich? We've got all different kinds of fillings, so just pick the one you like."

Mrs. Rosehearts didn't so much as pass the poor sandwiches a glance out of pity.

"Alright, I guess that's also a negatory?"

Her icy eyes bore into Trey, silently judging him. The tension thickened, turning heftier than a filling pea soup (though he doubted she was in the mood for any food at this point).

A hand reached over and plucked a sandwich from the top of the pile, staving off some rigidity in the air.

"Thank you, Trey." Riddle offered a small smile.

"You're very welcome. Don't eat it all up in one bite now. Remember to save some for everyone else," Trey joked light-heartedly. "You've got a smoked salmon on whole wheat there. I tossed the fish in lemon juice, salt, and pepper, then mixed it with a little cream cheese, dill, and minced onion."

"Is that right? It sounds delicious and healthy," Riddle said carefully, emphasizing the final word. He delicately nibbled at the crusts--still left on--while eyeing the contents of his teacup.

The table settled back into a stiff silence. Riddle staring at his drink, his mother staring at Trey, and Trey staring at the wall behind her. If he made eye contact, would she explode?

Trey rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. His hand came away damp with perspiration. He dared to say what was on everyone's mind.

"Well, uh... This is awkward."

There was an audibly sharp intake of breath. Riddle, paralyzed. His thumb pressed down hard on his sandwich, puncturing a hole in the bread.

"You're the eldest son of the bakers," Mrs. Rosehearts declared, her first utterance as prickly as thorns. "The boy who led my Riddle astray with sugar."

She makes it sound like I was peddling something way worse than what it actually was! It was only a slice of strawberry tart...

Trey bit back his protests and tried at a smile. He and Riddle had spent hours reviewing and rehearsing their game plan for this dreaded moment. "Don't challenge her, don't instigate," his dorm leader had instructed him. "Be agreeable. Lie if you must. Whatever it takes for us to come out of this encounter unscathed."

His had confidence wavered, worry in his big eyes. A flash of fear, and Trey saw the sad little child from years before, the fat tears that had been dribbling down Riddle’s contorted face. Sobbing, apologizing, pleading.

He had tipped his head and nodded. A mere card soldier obeying his queen. The line he parroted so often was spoken once more: “Yes, dorm leader.”

Trey reached within himself for the best he could manage. "It's nice to see you again, ma'am."

"If only I could say the same!!" Mrs. Rosehearts huffed dismissively. She then snapped, quick as a whip, to Riddle, who flinched. "It’s no wonder why you came home in such a sorry state for the holidays! I suspected it for a while now, but this confirms it. You’ve been reintroduced to bad influences at school."

“That’s not exactly…” Riddle trailed off, his voice weak. His mother continued to rant, undaunted.

“NRC has its fair share of students that cause trouble,” Trey confessed, tactfully cutting in. “Still, that’s to be expected of teenage boys."

“My Riddle rarely ever behaves in such a disrespectful manner,” Mrs. Rosehearts retorted. Rarely stung like a slap to the face. “Were it not for poor choices in friendship, he would never act out.

“Why a prestigious learning institution like Night Raven College would allow such riffraff in, I’ll never understand! They only ruin it for the others. It only takes one bad seed to spoil the whole bunch.”

She didn't name names, but it was clear who she was talking about from where she directed her intense gaze.

“I don’t know about spoiled apples, but bruised ones can still be used,” Trey pointed out, eager to divert the heated topic. “They don’t look the best, but they still taste fine. Bruised apples work for lots of recipes. Salads, sauces, ciders, jams..."

The smoked salmon sandwich slipped, falling into Riddle’s untouched tea. His eyes widened. Then Trey’s slowly followed. Both of them caught the misstep, their times staggered.

The scowl on Mrs. Rosehearts deepened, her crimson lips forming an almost bloody line. “You would just love to stuff my son with more of that sugary poison, wouldn’t you? Just like you’ve filled his head with your poisonous thoughts!!”

“What? No, I wouldn’t… I haven’t—” He instinctively pivoted to providing a defense, something to placate her.

It was an ill-advised mistake.

"Young man!!" Face red, she rose from her seat, slamming both hands on the table. The fine china and silverware clattered violently. "First you feed him that horrible junk food, then you've graduated to feeding him all these untruths!! You've done quite enough damage to my son."

He had one foot in the rabbit hole now, the situation spiraling into chaos. Trey braced himself against the verbal barrage, wincing as her volume climbed higher and higher, her features distorting from rage.

A part of him wanted to cry out. To argue, to shout. But fear clawed at his throat, seizing his tongue.

"Look where hanging around you has gotten him! He comes home over the winter break spouting nonsense—nonsense he no doubt picked up from you. I thought I had done all I could to rid us of the pests buzzing around him, but clearly even those efforts haven't been enough!"

"M-Mother, please... I can explain!" Riddle insisted, jumping up. His teacup wobbled, threatening to topple over and stain the table and rug. "I implore you, don't blame Trey--"

"A mother knows what's best for her child! I'll be speaking to the headmaster about this, and there WILL be some changes around here!"

Riddle recoiled, defeated. He balled his hands into fists on his lap—to stop them from shaking.

It's happening, Trey realized. Again, it's happening...

The edges of his vision blurring, his throat closing up. A distant memory of his parents profusely apologizing to a screaming woman. Riddle huddled behind her, in tears, tugging, begging to be heard. Him, standing frozen, unable to act.

"Riddle..." Trey made to place a hand on his shoulder to reassure him, but a protective arm blocked his path. He met the livid face of Mrs. Rosehearts.

"Don't you touch a hair on my son's head.”

His hand jerked back but refused to fall limp to his side. He frowned slightly, brows furrowing in hesitation.

But he pushed himself forward and tumbled deeper down the rabbit hole.

"With all due respect, ma'am," Trey said very evenly, "I get wanting to support and protect him, I really do. That's part of my job as his vice dorm leader—but Riddle doesn’t need it all the time. He’s not the fragile flower you seem to think he is.”

He was the thorns that warded off enemies. He was the stalk, morally upright and willful. He was the roots that burrowed deep and anchored the group.

He was anything but a rose.

“Frankly, I think you sorely underestimate how strong Riddle really is,” Trey continued. He must be, if he has the courage to speak up for me when I couldn’t do the same for him. “I don’t mean just in magic either. He has the will of a queen too.”

Mrs. Rosehearts drew back, positively appalled. Her nostrils flared. "And just what are you insinuating?!"

Shock replaced the delicate discomfort on Riddle’s face. “Trey, you…”

“Ahahah… Sorry, Riddle.” He passed his friend a faint smile. “I guess I couldn’t help but meddle this time. I broke my promise to you. My bad.”

“No, don’t be.” His response was quiet, like the trace of a whisper on a breeze.

“I understand now. It’s not the school that needs changing, but you,” Mrs. Rosehearts snarled, jabbing an accusatory finger at Trey. “I’ll have you expelled from this school!! You won’t ever be put in a position where you can sink your venomous fangs into my…"

"Stop, mother...!!"

"Riddle?" Mrs. Rosehearts looked expectantly at her son. She had stiffened, the fire in her eyes now petrified to stone.

He hesitated under her gaze.

"... Hey. It's okay. You've got this," came a soft voice from beside him. From Riddle's right, his right-hand man. "No one else can speak for you but yourself."

Riddle swallowed. He tried to maintain his cool, but his words came out shaky.

"Mother, I..." He stopped and started again. "You may see Trey as a villain, someone who leads children astray from the good and morally righteous path with a house of sweets. But that's not what he is.”

Riddle remembered the scene well.

In a garden of rose hedges… Collars turned into fluttering playing cards. Then the pitch black had consumed him. A light he had reached for. The hand that had reached back. Someone calling out to him, panicked.

That person was…

"At my darkest moment, Trey was there to stop me from sinking lower than I already had. When I sought a hand in the void, it was he who reached back for me. His hand is what pulled me up when I was down.

“For that, I will always be grateful, no matter what you may think of him. He is worthy of standing by my side as Heartslabyul’s vice dorm leader. That is my decision—a decision acknowledged by all.”

His mother bristled. "You would side with this… this boy over me? Your mother? Your family?"

“I’m suggesting that raising a complaint to the headmaster wouldn’t change the circumstances. He, too, is aware of Trey’s merits as my second-in-command and would wish for him to stay.”

Riddle shared a small, knowing smile with his friend. Indeed, Crowley had been present for the debacle—and indeed, he would promote their support of one another. To save face and reputation. (“Wh-What nonsense is this!! Of course my students are well-mannered and cooperative! What would make you think anything less of them?!”)

“Clever,” Trey mouthed.

“Well, I never!!” Mrs. Rosehearts huffed, abruptly rising from her seat. “The depths of depravity know no bounds!! To think you’ve magically convinced the entire school that you’re good…!!l

“I’ll do my best to show you my good points too, ma’am,” Trey replied. He couldn’t stop a smirk from making its way onto his lips. “After all, everyone at NRC’s like a diamond in the rough. All they need’s their time to shine.“

At this, Riddle coughed into a fist to conceal choked laughter. “… Yes, one could say such a thing. Rest assured, mother; I’m in good hands. There is no learning institution more fit for me than here.”

At our Night Raven College.

[highwaistjeanandblackeyeliner]

NEVERLEAVE | nct x reader

CH. 5

nct wonderland au

summary: You woke up in a world where time bleeds and mirrors whisper truths you were never meant to hear. The flowers speak in riddles, the air tastes like memory, and everyone seems to know your name. They say Wonderland bends to your will - but what if it's bending you instead? Doors don't lead out, only deeper in. And every heartbeat you feel might not be your own.

Welcome, dear. You were never meant to leave.

genre: yandere, dark fantasy, angst, psychological horror

triggerwarning: obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, kidnapping, mental health, non-con/dub-con, violence, blood, explicit sexual content, panic attacks. list will be updated!

previous chapter

You awoke slowly, the way one surfaces from dreams too heavy to name—not rising, no, but being extracted, as though the world had gripped you by the ribs and was now drawing you upwards, breath by breath, through a viscous fog laced with memories you hadn't asked to keep. Your body felt like it had been slept in by ghosts. Your skin clung to the warmth of some impossible sun, and your mind fought the echo of screaming corridors and gnashing things that wore teeth like secrets. But here—here, now—was birdsong. Thin and delicate, like a lullaby etched onto glass.

The air kissed you like forgotten poetry. It tasted of green things and dappled light and pages left open in some old, beloved book. The kind with margins full of notes written by hands no longer alive. There was a calm to it. Not the calm of safety, no. Wonderland didn't do safety. But the kind of quiet that comes before you realize you've started crying.

When you pushed yourself up, the grass held on a moment too long—like it didn't want to let go. You were curled into a bed of golden clover so soft it felt like dream-fur, the leaves cool and dry and smelling faintly of honey and ash. Your bones ached in their sockets, like they'd been reassembled, like the fall had broken something deeper than bone, and now the world had stitched you back together with clumsy tenderness. You sat upright, blinking in the fractured light that spilled down from a sky too perfect to trust.

And they were still there.

The creatures. The deer-things. The ones who had followed you.

You still didn't have a name for them. Maybe no one did. Names, here, had too much weight, and too many teeth. But they hovered at the edge of the glade, luminous and strange. Their legs moved as though they skimmed the edge of gravity, their antlers spiraled like candle smoke. They glowed faintly—not with light, but with presence. They weren't of this world. Maybe they weren't of any.

Their eyes held galaxies. Silent. Watching.

Why they had followed you, you didn't know. But something in their gazes spoke a language your blood recognized: the bone-deep ache of being lost. The unbearable lightness of carrying grief that hadn't happened yet.

Maybe they saw it in you. Maybe they saw him in you.

You stood slowly, legs trembling as though waking from a fever. And with that motion, the illusion broke. The weight returned—not all at once, not like a crushing blow, but like water slowly rising in your lungs. The memory of the corridor, of the Knave's voice, of the Bandersnatch's smile, all pressed inward against your ribs again. The knowledge that stillness was mercy, and mercy was always temporary.

"I won't go far," you whispered, voice barely more than breath. You didn't expect them to understand. And yet—one of them blinked, slow and solemn, the way stars do when they're dying. It tilted its head. Not in confusion. In agreement.

As you stepped out of the clover's golden reach, they followed. Soundless. Unquestioning. A procession of silent witnesses trailing behind you like forgotten gods.

The forest you moved through was surreal in its order, like something painted by a hand too steady to be human. The trees were tall and silver-skinned, bark flaked like old memory. Some leaned just a degree too far, as though listening. Others bled slow rivulets of sap the color of ink. Leaves above filtered light into narrow ribbons, flickering across your face like the hands of someone too afraid to touch. Every step you took felt like it disturbed something watching.

And then it changed.

Not the landscape—no sudden shift, no thunder, no scream—but the feeling beneath your skin.

The first of the deer-creatures stopped. The way it did it was so subtle you might have missed it, if not for the way your spine knew. The way the hairs on your neck stiffened like soldiers waiting for a war to resume. Another stopped. Then a third. Their bodies were still, but not frozen—braced. Listening not with ears, but with bone.

The silence that followed was so complete it felt like something had eaten the sound.

You turned. Their eyes weren't wide. They weren't afraid. But they were locked. On something distant. On something wrong. Something that breathed just beneath the fabric of the world, curling its fingers around the roots and pressing its mouth against the underside of your reality. A slow, sick pressure began to build in your ears—as if the forest was inhaling.

You swallowed.

Hard.

"I think I'll go a different way," you said, trying to pour steel into your voice but finding only smoke. "You... you don't have to follow."

No response. Not a blink. Not a breath. Just that same inhuman stillness, like statues carved from sorrow.

None of them blinked. None of them moved. They were statues now—elegant, breathing statues anchored in place by something you couldn't see.

You took a step sideways—toward a slope in the earth where fernlike plants grew in spirals. A second step. Still they didn't follow.

Whatever they felt, they would not leave this spot.

You hesitated, torn between the need to flee and the reluctance to abandon the herd, and turned back for one last, longing glance at those delicate, antlered sentinels—silver-eyed and quivering—only to catch movement ahead. There, bathed in a shaft of pale, otherworldly light, stood a young man in white armor, the edges of his breastplate faintly iridescent with frost. His hair was as pale as starlight, bound back from a sharp, noble face set with calm determination. A bow rested loosely in his grip; an arrow nocked, trained on a lone creature at the edge of the clearing.

Your chest seized. That solitary deer—one of those gentle, glass-antlered beings—stood frozen, its head lowered in an almost supplicant pose. You knew then why the others had refused to follow: they sensed the cruelty to come, the violence aimed at their kin, and their fear had held them rooted where they were. If you left them now, you'd betray them, leave them prey to this silent executioner.

A fierce protective flame ignited inside you. With a desperate whisper of apology, you spun back toward the herd, arms flailing as you tried to urge them back toward the deeper woods. "Go!" you hissed quietly, voice trembling. "Get out of sight!" But they stood like statues of mist and moonlight, unmoving, eyes locked on their fallen companion, unable or unwilling to flee.

You stooped down, plunging your fingers into the damp underbrush, each scrub of your hand through wet leaves and broken twigs feeling like you were digging through layers of memory you weren't sure you wanted to reclaim, until your grasp closed around something solid and cold—the heft of a stone heavy in your palm, its surface worn smooth like a promise turned weapon by your own trembling weight. You lifted it almost instinctively, muscles coiling beneath your skin in a slow-motion readiness that was as much about survival as it was about betrayal, for you had no intent to kill—only to frighten, so the creature had a chance to escape, drawing the knight's calm certainty away, a fleeting distraction in a world that had tasted too much of chaos already. Yet even as you inhaled, preparing to fling the weight with angry desperation, your heart clenched with an ache that felt like your own ribs were being wrung; your pulse throbbed a sharp reminder of everything you'd lost, of the morality you'd stitched together from ragged fragments of fear and hope, now stretched paper-thin and tearing under the pressure of a choice you never wanted to make.

You took a tentative step forward, the stone raised, and the forest held its breath. Then—like the snap of a broken clock spring—you heard it: "You shouldn't do that."

The words cut through the hush with the cold precision of a knife pressed to your throat—low, even, male, calm but not cruel, resonating in your chest as if he had spoken them from within your own shattered bones. You froze, breath caught in a brittle gasp, and realized the voice came not from the underbrush, not from any hiding place—it came from across the clearing, from him.

The White Knight.

He remained motionless, helmeted head unmoved, bow dangling in one hand like a half-forgotten promise. His gaze was fixed beyond the trees at some invisible horizon, yet you knew, as surely as you knew your own name, that he was speaking to you. That every step you'd taken, every desperate thought, had been within the sphere of his awareness from the first moment your world shattered into this silent glade.

"It stands alone for a reason."

His voice slipped through the air like silk over steel, and you felt the weight of the stone in your hand pull you downward, gravity suddenly more insistent, shame heavier than the weapon you'd nearly unleashed. Your arms lowered of their own accord, the stone's rough surface biting into your palm as if reminding you that compassion, even in Wonderland, was a far stronger force than fear.

Your mouth opened, raw words trembling on your tongue, but no sound emerged. In that suspended moment—your chest tight as a clenched fist, your mind a kaleidoscope of guilt and relief—you realized that even here, in a place unmade by logic, morality could still bend the course of violence.

Without another word, the White Knight drew an arrow from his quiver with a fluid grace that seemed almost effortless, as if his movements were choreographed by the very silence surrounding you both. The bowstring sang as he pulled it taut, a sharp tension that hummed through the air like the quiet before a storm. Time seemed to stretch, each heartbeat slow and weighted, until the arrow flew—cutting through the dappled light of the clearing with a whispering hiss, precise and unerring.

It struck the creature—the one you'd mistaken for one of the gentle, deer-like beings—with a sharp, almost imperceptible thud. But instead of the expected reaction—pain, fear, flight—the transformation began. The creature's body shimmered, flickered, as though a veil was being lifted from a painted canvas. Its delicate antlers twisted and fractured, melting away into something raw and terrifying. The starlight sheen faded, replaced by shadow and sinew, and the eyes that had once mirrored the forest's tranquility turned hard, wild, and fiercely human in their hatred.

The creature's true form emerged, stark and terrible against the soft mossy earth beneath it. Not a member of the graceful herd at all—never had been. The other deer-like beings, still frozen in place like statues carved from moonlight, had known all along. Their tense stillness, their refusal to move with you earlier—it was not caution, but fear. Fear of this creature cloaked in lies and borrowed gentleness, a predator among the prey.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the revelation sinking like cold stones into your chest, and the quiet clearing seemed to darken around you, as if the light itself recoiled from the unveiled truth. The herd's wide, mirrored eyes flicked toward you, beseeching, warning—but the creature's gaze remained fixed, fierce and unyielding, a living nightmare born of fractured dreams and whispered dread.

The creature's struggle lasted only moments—an eerie stillness settling over the clearing as its life ebbed away beneath the unwavering calm of the White Knight's steady gaze. The beast finally crumpled, a shadow collapsing into the moss, and with its last breath, the tension that had gripped your chest began to unravel, though the shock lingered like a cold fog you couldn't shake. Your hands trembled at your sides, your mind reeling with disbelief and something darker, an unspoken horror that clawed beneath your ribs.

Then, slowly, the White Knight turned to face you.

For a heartbeat, you couldn't look away. His presence was commanding—tall and poised, with features sharp yet softened by an almost fragile beauty that made your breath hitch. His skin was pale, but not sickly—more like moonlight on smooth porcelain. Dark hair fell in gentle waves, tousled but effortlessly so, framing eyes that held the calm, steady warmth of someone who bore the weight of worlds without breaking. There was something hauntingly familiar about him, a quiet grace reminiscent of a young man you once glimpsed in a fleeting memory, whose face seemed carved from the delicate lines of whispered dreams and twilight. You dared not name the thought aloud.

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his movement fluid and unthreatening. You instinctively took a step back, your heart hammering—not out of fear but uncertainty. The Knight paused, raising a hand in a gentle, disarming gesture—a silent promise that you were not his enemy.

His voice was low, measured, and smooth, cutting through the stillness like a balm. "You should understand—this creature was never one of the herd. It came from the Heartsland, a place where such beasts are born from broken shadows and bitter rage. I would never harm one of these," he said, nodding toward the deer-like beings who had remained frozen like statues.

Almost on cue, the herd moved with graceful reverence toward him. Their eyes—once wide with fear—now shimmered with trust and recognition as he smiled softly and reached out, stroking their shimmering coats with gentle hands, each touch a silent reassurance. The creatures leaned into his touch, their presence wrapping around him like a living, breathing cloak of light.

He stepped back and gave you a steady look, the kind that bore both patience and quiet strength. "I am Doyoung," he said simply, his name hanging in the air between you like a fragile bridge, inviting you across.

You swallowed, the tension in your chest easing just a fraction, though your mind swirled with questions that clawed for answers. "Doyoung... what was that creature? Why was it here, so far from the Heartsland?"

He regarded you thoughtfully, eyes narrowing just slightly, as if weighing which truths were safe to share. The soft rustle of the herd brushing against his legs punctuated the heavy silence before he spoke, his voice steady but edged with a subtle gravity. "That creature was born from pain and malice, twisted by the Red King's will. It's not meant to roam freely—least of all here, in this part of Wonderland. Its presence here is a warning, a shadow cast from the Heartsland's darker corners."

You took a tentative step closer, curiosity burning beneath your shock. "The Red King sent it?"

Doyoung's gaze flickered with something unreadable, a flicker of bitterness or maybe regret. "Yes. The Red King's influence spreads like rot through the land. He sends such beasts as reminders—harbingers meant to unsettle, to fracture the fragile peace we cling to here. That creature was hunting, tracking... perhaps even searching for you."

Your breath hitched. "For me?" You shouldn't be suprised anymore. But you were. In some way. It was more fear than suprise.

He nodded once, sharply. "You carry something the Red King wants. Something powerful enough to pull his shadows out into the open."

You were about to respond, to ask what that something was, how you could protect yourself from it, when a soft weight pressed against your side. You turned your head slowly, startled to find one of the deer-like creatures—its coat shimmering faintly in the dappled light—nuzzling against you with a gentle persistence. Its large, glassy eyes looked up at you without fear, as if offering comfort.

Instinctively, your hand rose, the movement soft and unpracticed, and brushed a tentative stroke along its neck, the fur yielding under your fingertips with a warmth and silkiness you never could have imagined in that fleeting nightmare form of desperation. The creature's breath came in gentle exhalations against your skin—each soft gust grounding you in a moment that felt impossibly tender amid the sea of chaos that still churned beyond the edge of this glade. You could feel its pulse beneath your palm, a slow, steady drum that echoed against the fractured rhythm of your own heart, weaving a fragile thread of calm through the storm of your racing thoughts and ragged memories.

Doyoung watched you quietly, his posture relaxed but alert, every inch of him holding back both strength and serenity. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening the pale angles of his face in a way that made your chest constrict with something raw and aching. "You have a good heart," he said, voice low and steady, the words wrapping around you like a promise. "You meant no harm. You wanted to save one of these beautiful beings—you thought it was one of them, truly."

You felt heat flood your cheeks, embarrassment and relief mingling in that breathless moment. For the first time since you stumbled through the broken halls of Wonderland, something in you shifted—a tentative warmth blossoming at the edges of your fear, like a timid flower unfurling in defiance of the long winter. Your lips curved into a genuine smile, delicate and real, and you realized tears—sharp, bright tears—hung at the corners of your eyes. Hope, fragile and quivering, flickered there like a candle struggling against the wind.

The herd stirred then, shimmering back to life as though your kindness had breathed energy into them. They nestled close to Doyoung, seeking the reassurance of his presence in the same way they had once trusted the gentle lie of the deer-form, and he reached down, brushing each one's rump with a careful gesture that spoke of centuries-old rituals you could not begin to understand. In that soft contact—the touch of his hand on the creatures—you felt a pulse of something profound stir between you: a spark of connection that felt dangerously like home.

He straightened, turning back to the herd as they settled around you both in a living, breathing circle of trust. Then he faced you once more, voice soft but firm, each word a feathered assurance: "I will keep you safe, at least here. But soon, we must move. The Red King's shadows will not linger in the woods."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, every muscle still trembling from the raw vulnerability of the moment. Yet beneath that tremor lay a new resolve—an ember of courage fanned by his belief in you. "Thank you, Doyoung," you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of unspoken gratitude and the fragile hope of survival. "I... I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

He offered you a gentle half-smile, the kind that promised patience and understanding. "Just stay close, Darling" he said. "In Wonderland, no one travels truly alone—least of them are aware though."

It was a delicate balance, teetering on the edge of trust and suspicion—fifty-fifty at best. You clung to the slender thread of hope that if Doyoung treated the creatures of the forest with such care and reverence, then perhaps he was truly one of the good ones. That his presence here wasn't another trap, another twisted game spun by the unpredictable hands of Wonderland. What other choice did you have? In a place where shadows breathed and the very air whispered deceit, trust was a currency too precious to spend lightly, yet too vital to withhold completely.

You let your fingers brush lightly against the soft fur of one of the deer-like creatures nearby, grounding yourself in the tangible warmth of life amid the intangible maze of doubt. His calmness, the effortless way he moved among these strange beings, stirred a fragile sense of safety inside you—like the first hesitant rays of dawn pushing through an endless night. The alternative was darkness, isolation, fear gnawing away at what little remained of your resolve.

The soft murmur of the forest seemed to hush as Doyoung ceased stroking the creatures' delicate fur and, with a swift, clear whistle, called out—a crisp, resonant sound that cut through the gentle rustling leaves like a silver arrow. Moments later, a magnificent white Friesian horse appeared, its coat shimmering like freshly fallen snow under a moonlit sky, muscles rippling beneath its sleek form as it trotted gracefully toward you both, hooves barely touching the ground. Its mane and tail flowed like liquid silk, framing a noble head crowned with intelligent, deep eyes that flickered with quiet understanding.

Doyoung's gaze shifted to you, calm and steady, the faintest teasing smile tugging at his lips. "Have you ever ridden a horse before?" he asked, voice soft but edged with gentle curiosity.

You shook your head, uncertainty fluttering in your stomach like a bird caught in a storm. The thought of mounting such a creature loomed as large as the dark corridors you'd fled.

Sensing your hesitation, Doyoung stepped closer, his presence a steady warmth against the cool breath of the woods. "It's all right," he murmured, kneeling to guide you. "I'll make sure you feel safe." He reached out, brushing his fingertips along your elbow with the same care he'd shown the deer, and you felt the tension in your shoulders loosen, as though a cord had been untied. "Trust me," he whispered.

He placed a gloved hand on the saddle, then offered the polished pommel to you. With his steady support, you lifted your leg and swung yourself onto the horse's back, the smooth leather cool beneath your palm. Heart hammering, you settled against its flank, breath catching as the world shifted into new motion. Doyoung settled behind you.

"I'm going to touch you again," he said, voice soft but firm, "so you don't lose your balance. Is that all right?"

You nodded, breathless, caught in the intimacy of that promise. His arm tightened in a protective loop around your waist, His other hand found the reins, thick leather warm against his gloved fingers. 

The horse exhaled—a velvet puff of breath—and then, with a smooth, powerful stride, they were moving.

You rode out of the glade in companionable silence, the forest's shadows parting before you like curtains on a stage. Doyoung guided the Friesian with practiced ease, each footfall a steady heartbeat beneath you. The world blurred at the edges—twisted trunks, dappled light, the echo of silent hoofbeats—and all you could focus on was the warmth of his arm around you and the gentle brush of his coat against your back.

Your heart was still fluttering from the suddenness of the moment—the closeness of Doyoung's arm wrapped around your waist, the easy strength of his body pressing just enough to steady you without crowding. The woods whispered past, but all your senses focused inward, on the faint brush of his breath near your ear, the subtle scent of his cologne mingling with the crisp forest air. It was intimate and grounding and terrifying all at once.

After a few moments of riding in silence, your voice broke through the quiet, tentative but seeking. "Where are you taking me?"

Doyoung's grip tightened gently, a small reassurance. His voice was low, calm, threading through the space between you like a soft melody. "To the White Palace," he said simply, as if the name itself should bring comfort.

"The White Palace," you repeated, letting the words roll over your tongue, heavy with meaning. The idea of a palace was like a beacon, a place of order in the chaos of Wonderland's fractured reality. "Is it... safe there?"

He shifted slightly behind you, the contact sparking a tiny thrill you couldn't quite hide. "Safe enough," he answered, and you caught the faintest hint of a smile in his tone. "Not all danger stays at the gates. But inside, there are those who watch and protect."

His words settled over you like a soft blanket, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. It was strange—feeling this close to someone in a world so alien and unrelenting, but with him, a fragile thread of trust began to weave itself through your fear.

You swallowed hard, emboldened by the quiet strength of his presence. "How long have you been a knight?"

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back. "Long enough to know that this place doesn't give up its secrets easily." His hand tightened just a fraction, and you imagined the countless battles he'd fought—not just with sword and arrow, but with doubt, fear, and the darkness lurking beneath Wonderland's surface.

"And you... you're not afraid of it?" you asked, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

He paused, the horse's steady gait the only sound between you. "Afraid?" His voice softened, almost wistful. "Maybe once. But I learned that fear is a tool, not a cage. You have to wield it carefully—or it will consume you."

The intimacy of his words wrapped around you, and for a moment, the tangled nightmare of Wonderland seemed to soften, its sharp edges blurring like watercolors in the rain.

Your breath caught, and you dared to turn your head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of him in the filtered sunlight—a face framed by silvery hair, eyes steady and dark, brows furrowed with quiet resolve. There was something achingly familiar in his gaze, like a secret shared in silence, a promise of protection without pretense.

"Thank you," you murmured, voice barely audible. "For helping me."

Doyoung's arm tightened again, and he shifted slightly so that his chest brushed more fully against your back. "You don't need to thank me, Darling," he said softly, voice close enough to send warmth rippling through you. "We're on the same side." 

Your fingers trembled slightly as they found the reins, tightening just enough to steady yourself. "I'm not sure what side I'm on anymore," you admitted, voice wavering. "Everything's so twisted here."

He laughed again, low and genuine, and it felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. "That's Wonderland for you. But trust me when I say, the White Palace is the closest thing we have to a safe place. You'll see."

The horse's hooves clicked rhythmically on the mossy ground, a steady beat to your rising hope. Your body relaxed fractionally into the embrace, and you let your mind drift for a moment—imagining the White Palace as a fortress of calm, a sanctuary where perhaps you could catch your breath, maybe even begin to heal.

"Do you always ride like this?" you asked, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Doyoung's chuckle was a warm echo behind you. "Only when I have someone important riding with me."

Heat flared across your cheeks, and you dared not look back, afraid you'd betray the sudden flutter in your chest. But the way his arm tightened gently around you—neither possessive nor distant—spoke volumes. It was an unspoken promise of safety and something softer, something tender blooming in the cracks of this fractured world.

Minutes passed, the forest shifting around you, but the connection between you and Doyoung held firm—an anchor in the chaos. Your mind reached for questions, hesitant but eager.

"Doyoung..." you began, turning your head just enough to catch his profile—sharp jaw, soft waves of silver hair, the faint curve of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Why did you become a knight?"

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours with an openness that surprised you. "To protect," he said simply. His voice was low, carrying easily over the steady clip-clop of hooves and the rustle of leaves. "I saw too much unfairness in this world. Wonderlands and hearts and fools born with names like curses on their tongues." He paused, tugging gently on the reins, guiding you around a bend in the path so your bodies leaned together. "I thought if I could stand for something—anything—maybe I could change the endings for people like you."

Your chest tightened. "People like me..." Your fingers tightened on the reins. "I don't even know what that means anymore."

Doyoung's arm tightened around your waist—just enough to remind you he was there, firm and unwavering. "It means someone decided you deserved better than the monsters that chase your name. It means you didn't ask for any of this, and so you didn't deserve it."

You bit your lip, the gentle protest in his words warming you despite the chill in your veins. "Thank you," you whispered. "For believing that."

He didn't respond right away. Instead, the forest opened upward, and you could see the soaring spires of the White Palace in the distance—tall and pale against a sky streaked with gold and rose. The path ahead wound through a courtyard lined with hedges sculpted into impossible shapes: hearts entwined with clocks, swords dripping roses, crowns melting into blossoms.

Doyoung turned his head forward again. "The palace won't disappoint," he said, pride threading through his tone. "You'll have fresh clothes, a warm meal, and a bed that doesn't shift beneath you."

You gave a small, nervous laugh. "I'm not sure my definition of 'shifting bed' will ever return to normal."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Most don't. But with time..." He hesitated, as if choosing each word with care. "...you'll find that a few things hold steady."

Silence settled again—comfortable this time, threaded with something like promise. The palace gates loomed now, intricate ironwork gleaming. A pair of white-robed guards stepped forward as you approached, bowing deeply to Doyoung before straightening, eyes flashing with respect.

Doyoung nodded at them, and they parted to let you through. The Friesian's hooves clipped over the marble floor, soft and echoing. The courtyard opened into a grand hall lined with statues of past kings and knights, each more regal and stern than the last. Tapestries of battle and banquets hung on the walls, but you barely noticed them.

Doyoung guided the horse to the center of the hall, then slid gracefully to the floor. You followed, landing lightly beside him, knees still unsteady. The Friesian nickered softly, and he patted its neck in farewell before leading it through a side archway to the stables.

You watched him go—long legs, steady shoulders—and realized how small you still felt in this vast place.

He returned quickly, empty-handed and breathless in a good way. "Come," he said, voice gentle. "There's much to arrange."

You hesitated, steeling yourself, then nodded and followed.

He led you down a corridor of polished white stone, punctuated by windows that looked out over gardens of silver-blooming roses. You noticed how he moved—purposeful but unhurried, every step measured, confident. You fell into step beside him again, comforted by the space at your side.

"How long have you served the White King?" you asked, voice low as you passed beneath arched doorways.

"Too long," he admitted, a rueful edge to his tone. "I was knighted when I was barely older 17, and I swore my oath under a blood moon. Since then, I've chased rogues from the Blackwood and mediated disputes in the Court of Hearts." He glanced at you, amused. "But trust me, none of it was as harrowing as finding you in the forest this morning."

Heat flared across your cheeks. "I'm glad it was you, then."

His lips curved into that quiet, lopsided smile that felt like sunrise. "Me too."

You rounded another corner and stopped at a pair of huge doors carved with scenes of victory and mercy—two sides of the same blade. Doyoung paused, glancing at you once more, eyes gentle. "After you."

You reached for the handle, heart pounding like the Manor's great bell, and stepped inside. The room beyond was warm and filled with soft laughter and the clinking of fine china. Servants in white and silver bustled about, and the walls glowed with paintings of distant realms. A table covered in steaming dishes waited near a hearth so grand it seemed to hold the sun.

Doyoung followed you in, closing the doors behind him. The world outside felt distant now—mere rumor.

He offered you a seat and bowed his head slightly. "Eat," he said, "and rest. You've earned it."

You let your shoulders drop, exhaustion finally catching up to you. As you sat, he took the seat beside yours—close, but still respectful. The way he poured a cup of tea for you, his fingers brushing yours in the act, sent a familiar thrill curling up your spine.

You glanced down at your arm, where Yuta's wound had once cut a scarlet promise across your skin—a scar that had since faded into a smooth, flawless surface, leaving no trace of pain ever having existed. It seemed impossible, miraculous, as though the very scars of wonder were being rewritten in real-time. Skin whole and unmarked; breath steady, unfractured. A tiny swell of hope pressed against your ribs—maybe healing in this place wasn't just a physical gift but a promise of renewal.

Around you, the room hummed with gentle comfort. Servants in crisp white and silver glided like soft shadows, carrying trays of dishes whose aromas curled through the air—roast pheasant glazed in honey, a tangle of fresh garden greens, warm bread that smelled like dawn. Laughter drifted down from nearby corridors, mingling with the crackle of the hearth. It was so earthly, so normal that your bones—so long accustomed to fantasy and fear—quivered in disbelief. For a moment, you let yourself believe: maybe you were safe here. Maybe you weren't just running anymore.

Then the voice came, a lance piercing the lull, familiar and urgent, rifling through your calm like a dark wind.

"Was she seen? Was she okay?"

It carried a tremor of fear and relief you'd come to know all too well: Mark's voice.

Your breath hitched, heart igniting in a scramble of relief and alarm. Why was Mark here? He wasn't a knight. He wasn't part of this palace's quiet promise. You should have felt curious, maybe happy—but the shock that gripped you was too sharp. You'd only just begun to trust; now your heart thudded unevenly, accusingly.

He burst through the doors with Hendery close behind, both men silent as specters drifting in on jagged feet. Mark's eyes—so frantic a moment ago—flew over the room until they landed on you. The transformation in his features was breathtaking: panic melting into muddied relief, disbelief blooming into something like worship. He came to an abrupt halt, gaze locked on your face, as if he feared you might vanish.

Doyoung, seated beside you, remained calm—unruffled by the intrusion. He rose and offered Mark a silent nod, an invitation to explain. The tension crackled like static between them, but Mark spoke first, voice tight. "She was seen," he said, chest heaving. "We thought—They thought—" He caught himself, shaking his head. "I don't even know. But yes—she's here."

Hendery, flank rigid as a drawn bow, stepped forward, his broad frame cutting a clean line through the golden haze of the room. The way he moved—purposeful, precise—reminded you of something carved from stormlight and resolve. His voice was smooth but carried the unmistakable weight of command, curling like velvet around steel. "Mark found her at the edge of the woods. Doyoung, the White King wants to speak to her immediately."

You felt the room pause. Not just quiet, but pause—like even the walls were holding their breath.

But then Hendery's eyes flicked to you.

And they didn't leave.

He was supposed to be addressing Doyoung, that much was clear. But for just a second—no, longer than a second—his attention lingered on you. His gaze moved not with suspicion or protocol, but with something softer, something more curious. Like he was trying to memorize the exact moment your eyes met his. And you felt it—not just the glance, but the intention behind it. Like he wasn't just checking if you were real. Like he was wondering what it would mean if you weren't.

Hendery, flank rigid as a drawn bow, stepped forward, his broad frame cutting a clean line through the golden haze of the room. The way he moved—purposeful, precise—reminded you of something carved from stormlight and resolve. His voice was smooth but carried the unmistakable weight of command, curling like velvet around steel. "Mark found her at the edge of the woods. Doyoung, the White King wants to speak to her immediately."

You felt the room pause. Not just quiet, but pause—like even the walls were holding their breath.

But then Hendery's eyes flicked to you.

And they didn't leave.

He was supposed to be addressing Doyoung, that much was clear. But for just a second—no, longer than a second—his attention lingered on you. His gaze moved not with suspicion or protocol, but with something softer, something more curious. Like he was trying to memorize the exact moment your eyes met his. And you felt it—not just the glance, but the intention behind it. Like he wasn't just checking if you were real. Like he was wondering what it would mean if you weren't.

Your skin prickled under the weight of it. You told yourself it was just nerves, just adrenaline, just too many unfamiliar faces in too little time—but your pulse betrayed you. It was the kind of look you only ever read about, when paper catches fire and doesn't even burn away clean. A little too focused. A little too warm.

His head tilted, just slightly. His lips parted, like he might speak again, but he didn't. Not right away.

He just looked.

And something low in your chest tightened.

Next to you, Doyoung's body shifted, casual but unmistakable, his arm brushing yours as he rose to his feet. The contact was brief, featherlight—but deliberate. A reminder: You weren't alone. And that Hendery wasn't the only one who noticed you.

Doyoung didn't speak immediately either. His silence had weight to it, and you felt it settle across your shoulders like a cloak. Then he stepped forward, the barest edge of tension in his jaw, and spoke with calm assurance. "She needs rest. And time to recover. The King will understand."

"I don't doubt that," Hendery murmured, but his eyes were still on you, softer now—almost amused. "Still, he asked for her personally. Which means this... isn't something I can delay."

A flicker of a smirk. Barely there.

And then, as if realizing he'd been staring too long, Hendery blinked and stepped back. His professionalism returned in a breath, the flicker of interest tucked away beneath his polished exterior—but it had been there. You'd felt it. That subtle, impossible-to-name thing between two people when the air thickens without permission.

Mark cleared his throat behind him, clearly having noticed the shift too, and you could feel his eyes bouncing between the three of you like he was trying to decode a conversation no one had spoken aloud.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly very aware of how exposed you felt—how the hem of your sleeve brushed your wrist just so, how your knees were angled slightly toward Doyoung, how Hendery's gaze still hadn't entirely left your silhouette even though he was pretending otherwise.

And Doyoung—quiet, watchful Doyoung—caught it all. The weight of the glances. The things unsaid. He didn't bristle. He didn't retreat. But you could feel it again—that arm that had once held your waist, steady and unyielding, now folded carefully behind his back like he was choosing not to act, not to claim, but very much aware that he could.

You stood, slowly, smoothing your palms down your sides to calm the flutter in your chest. Hendery stepped slightly aside, the movement respectful—but not distant. The kind of closeness that lingered in your bones.

"So," you said, trying to sound more composed than you felt, "when does the King want to see me?"

Hendery's mouth curled—just slightly. "Now, if you're ready."

----

CH. 6

[annaphoenix1994]

Friends Close, Enemies Closer

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

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Bud paced along the field of deceased cattle, his lips pursed and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Kiera stood alongside him as Frankie and Lawson walked along the corpses of the livestock. "Sir," Lawson said, approaching him with a clasp of what looked like wheat grass. "Found your culprit." 

Bud took the grass from Lawson's hand, bringing it up to his nose before slinging it to the ground. "Goddamn clover," He mumbled. "This is a fuckin' crime scene. Kiera, call your brother and get livestock agents out here." 

She nodded, removing her phone from the pocket of her bibs. Dennis was considered the black sheep of the family, but he was included, nonetheless. He lived off of the ranch with a family of his own as well as ran his own real estate business. 

"Cole, you're not a reserve agent anymore, you're on regular duty. You cover this area. I don't even want a fuckin' bird landing on it. Got me?" 

"Yes, sir." Cole nodded. 

"You, come with me." Bud pointed to his daughter, both Johnny and Simon watching as they all shared a look of confusion. What the fuck is happening here?

"Looks like we have another fight on our hands, honey." Bud said lowly, adjusting his hat. 

"Do you have any idea who would do this?" 

"No," He shook his head. "That's why I need your help." 

"I'll get right on it." 

"Use my office in the lodge." 

Once the sheriff arrived, tension seemed tense between Bud and Sheriff Richards, the men glaring at each other as if they had a past conflict. "So, you think this was intentional?"

Bud nodded. 

"I don't see any tire tracks. The fence is way over there, so nobody threw it over and it didn't fall out of the fucking sky--"

"That's exactly what it did."

Richards scoffed, "So you think someone flew a plane over here and dropped clover on your cattle in the middle of the night?"

"That's the only thing I can think of," Kiera added, the tension between the three rising, Simon's fingers flexing against the reins in his hands as he stayed on his horse as well as the rest of the team. "Could've been a King Air, which is designed for skydiving and has a side door large enough and could hold the weight."

"Why would anyone do that? Who would do that?" Richards questioned. 

"That's what we need to find out." 

"Bud, I have no jurisdiction. Cattle is Chris's department. What can I do for you?" He sighed, referring to Chris Farley - the current Livestock Commissioner of Wyoming.

"Well, Chris has six four full-time agents and two reserves. He doesn't have the manpower for this investigation. I need your deputies." 

"No, I can't spare any deputies," Richards shook his head. "There's more county police guarding the jail than who I have out on patrol." 

"You wanna help so bad, then give me deputies or deputize my men, and not in eight weeks - right now, right now in this field."

"Which ones?" 

Bud turned and looked at his daughter, "Her, for starters." 

Richards scoffed, Simon seeing the borderline disgust Richards had once he laid eyes on her, and he didn't like it. "Isn't she still on duty with her federation?"

"On leave." Kiera corrected.

Richards paused, looking down to the ground at his feet, ignoring the searing pain of his fingers freezing from the harsh wind. 

"In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going to start in this valley," Bud said to Richards, patting the sheriff's shoulder. "Today is the day you choose sides."

He sighed, removing his hat and the wind nipping at his semi-bald head, "I'll issue the permit, but she has got to understand that a gun isn't the first thing she reaches for. I know how she is--"

"She's trained to use it." 

"Well, now you train her not to use it," Richards scoffed, watching Bud walk to his daughter. "If it comes out of your holster, you better have a sure-as-shit reason to use it, got it?" 

"Loud and clear." She sighed, looking over at Simon, embarrassed that the "Christmas Break" had to come to an end. You're about to see why we're all so crazy, babe...

"If she calls dispatch for support, I expect you to give it to her," Bud shouted, his hands on his hips as he watched Richards walk away towards his car. "Did you hear me?" He repeated. 

"I heard you, Bud! The whole goddamn valley heard you!" 

Bud shook his head, scoffing as he pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lighting it before looking to Kiera, "I know you can find out who did this. Find the evidence. When you do, you drag him by the hair back to me."

"You got it, daddy," Kiera nodded, sighing as she returned to her horse, the split rein clasped between Simon's fingers as he kept her horse still for her. "Guess I'm back to work." She frowned.

"Don't worry. We'll find out who did this, love." He encouraged her. 

"I need to make a call." 

He furrowed his brows at her, asking who. 

»»-------¤-------««

Simon sat in the guesthouse with the rest of the men, shaking his leg impatiently with both worry and anxiousness as he hadn't seen Kiera since discovering the deceased cattle in the field. A beer bottle clasped between his fingers, leaving all but two sips as it had been hours since he had seen her. What is going to happen? Is someone starting a war with her family? I need to do something. 

"What's eating at you, Simon?" Price asked, taking note of Simon's worry by his furrowed brows and sad eyes. 

"Never seen nothing like it." 

"Nor have I," Price sighed. "She has it under control. You should know that by now." 

"It's not her I worry about - I worry about who this person is that intentionally did this." 

"Why?" 

"Because I don't know what's going to be worse: when her father gets a hold of him or when she gets a hold of him." 

Price breathed a chuckle, lighting a cigar and offering one to Simon, "She's a walking fit of rage, but I don't think I've ever seen her as angry as I did today."

"I don't know about that, she was spitting fire that night I found her in the prison break," Alejandro added. "I feel sorry for whoever decided to start a war with her." 

"It had to have been someone who knew of this place. Aren't cattle worth thousands?" 

"Yeah, per head," Simon added with his extended knowledge of raising cattle by overhearing conversations between Kiera and her father. "At least fourteen hundred per cow." 

"Fuck," Soap sighed, sipping from his bottle of beer. "Wonder how many there were?" 

Simon shrugged, "Frankie and Lawson are counting them." He recalled, remembering how they stayed behind to get an exact number of fallen livestock before herding the bloating heifer they had saved to the barn for recovery. 

"Is-Is there anything we should do?" 

"I don't know. As much as we shouldn't expect to, have your guns ready just in case." 

The desire to go to the lodge and check on her was unraveling within every minute, noting that dusk was approaching. Removing his gifted phone from his pocket, the corner of his mouth curled as he looked at the wallpaper he had figured out how to set - his favorite photo of her he had kept in his uniform breast pocket, glad he was able to set it to where he can look at it every time he looked at his phone. 

Finding the 'messages' app, he searched her name, relieved that she had programmed it already for him by putting in her contact information as well as the rest of his team's, knowing he was always eager to keep in contact with his friends--

Family.

The text was simple yet held so much worry behind his screen as he waited for her to read it, wondering if it would even notify him that she had. He set the phone aside, ensuring the ringer was on before trying to peer his focus on the television that both Price and Gaz had their attention to. 

You two are seriously obsessed with that show, he scoffed to himself, forcing him to watch as he knew better than to ask Price to change the channel.

It was "Lizard Lick Towing." 

Soap joined in on the watch party, chuckling at Ronnie on the screen. "I like his haircut." He commented, referring to Ronnie's mohawk. 

"Of course you do." Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes before they darted to his phone, seeing Kiera had finally replied to him.

The sound of Kiera's truck caught Simon's attention from the kitchen of her house, wanting to have dinner at least started for her when she returned. Though Kiera wished the roles were reversed, thinking that she was the one who needed to have dinner ready for him after a long day.

Unbeknownst to her, Simon thoroughly enjoyed cooking for her. Granted, he wasn't the best cook, but it reminded him of how he would cook for his mother when she was sick. It was nostalgic to him as his wandering thoughts sunk back into the depression of finding her deceased from enemy forces, the memory never failing to leave his mind. 

He heard her rustling with the doorknob, turning his head to watch her enter the house with a smile on her face. She was wearing a bulletproof vest with a badge hanging around her neck with a laptop clutched under her arm. "Hey," She smiled, the Velcro of her vest ripping apart as she removed it along with her badge, setting it on the table as well as the laptop before walking up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and seeking his natural warmth. "You don't have to start dinner, I can-"

"I'm going to," He hummed, placing a delicate kiss to her neck as he was grateful for her return. "Look at you, little miss deputy." He poked. 

"I figured I should've been suspicious when this break went on too long," She frowned. "You sure you want to deal with me and this crazy family?" 

"Positive. As long as it's with you, the whole world can throw itself at me." 

She smiled, leaning her head on his chest as her fingers spread through his hair. "I'm trying to find any leads. So far, nothing." 

"You'll figure it out, C.I.A." He encouraged. 

"It's one thing if it's terrorism, which I'm used to, but I've never had to deal with something like this before. Someone is wanting to attack this family and it's up to me to stop it." 

"Well, I'll be guns-ready if it comes down to it." 

"Oh, I know," She chuckled. "I pity whoever it is." 

"That's for sure." 

»»-------¤-------««

A loud moan ricocheted from the shower walls as Simon had her pinned against it, her hands bracing against the wet tiles as he had a bruising hold on her hips. Hot water streamed down his back, leaving marks in its wake. Neither had expected to be having a lovemaking session in the shower, but her constant teasing and his eagerness for her touch were too much to ignore. In one powerful thrust, she felt her feet shift against the shower floor, causing her to gasp, "Baby, don't let me fall." She giggled. 

"Oh, you're not going anywhere." He smirked, using his body to push her up further against the wall, his lips finding her shoulder and pressing a soft kiss there, his growing beard scratching against her skin. 

She reached her arm around his neck, turning her head to kiss him as his thrusting began to subside, his hot breath against her ear before he peppered kisses to the skin behind her ear when his hand reached down to slide down her leg, lifting it up to where her foot rested on the side of the tub, giving him deeper access. She gasped, leaning her head back onto his shoulder as his head cradled hers, their cheeks pressed together.

He listened to her moans, holding back from edging her as he did before, and let her enjoy the release of her orgasm, his soon to follow. The grip on the back of his neck intensified as her rush of ecstasy consumed her as his hand fondled her clit as his massive arm snaked down her torso. 

He encouraged her through her orgasm with three delicate kisses to the crook of her neck, "There you go, love. Let go." He encouraged her, his other hand gripping her hip and rubbing soothing circles on the bone, ensuring her that he was there to help tame the wave of arousal. 

She panted in overstimulation briefly as Simon's orgasm was soon to follow, his grip tightening on her as the rush subsided. 

She relaxed into his touch, the water becoming too hot as the surface of her skin matched with his was beyond intensifying. "At least we're already in the shower to clean up the mess." She giggled, feeling his smirk on her lips at her comment. 

"Makes it easier, doesn't it?" He smirked, reaching for the washcloth that was draped over the side of the tub, running his fingers through his wet hair as his body caught all of the water during their intimacy. 

He helped wipe away the stickiness between her legs as she held onto him for support, turning the heat of the water down as he helped guide her to the falling water, insisting on washing her hair for her. 

"You know something?" 

He hummed in response, the pads of his fingers massaging her scalp gently. 

"We never started dinner." 

"Well, you were desperate to have a shower," He chuckled. "Besides, I'm never against having dessert before dinner." 

"I'm surprised we didn't use all of the hot water." She blushed. 

His lips pressed against her shoulder, "I mean, give me a few minutes and I'll be ready to have you against the wall again." 

"Don't tempt me." 

»»-------¤-------««

"Are you ever going to stop working for the day?" Simon huffed as he made her a plate of fresh food, seeing she was still on her laptop. 

"Eventually," She sighed, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "I just have to make a call." 

"It can't wait for the morning?" 

"Not something like this, babe." 

He sighed, "I'll take your word for it. Just at least eat." 

She nodded as he sat the plate of food next to her, closing the lid to her laptop before beating him to the fridge, getting him a drink before getting her own, a grin on her face as she watched him make his own. She rushed to compile the data she had been needing to search, jotting down quick notes before he joined her at the table, knowing he had been glaring at her. "Thank you," He said, appreciative that she put away her work to have dinner. "Find anything?" 

"No," She sighed, opening her can of Dr. Pepper. "I need names to run through a database and see if I can pinpoint who would've had that plane." 

"It had to have been someone with deliberate intentions." 

"I know. I ran Graves' name to see if he owned a plane. Even though he's dead, it wouldn't surprise me if word got around to take me out." 

Simon gulped.

The table fell quiet as the couple ate, a mischievous chuckle filtering through her nose as she looked up to the ceiling, Simon watching as, out of habit, reached her hand toward her shirt pocket in search of her vape pen. "What is it?" He asked, swallowing his food as he watched her chuckle. "Kiera?" 

"Right under my goddamn nose."

[bettathanyou]

Hii againnn, if requests are open could I get a cedric and reader fic where somehow the entire castle thinks shes pregnant and congrats them,throws a party or sumn and theyre just so confused its hilarious??? Maybe at the end of the day they realize they actually want a child??? Bonus points if there's a time lapse to when she's actually pregnant and how the castle finds out??? Thanksss

Oh boy, we do love a supportive castle for the non-existent baby to be! Hehe I love exploring Cedric's viewpoint about children, it's so fascinating to me!! Anyways I hope you enjoy, and thank u so so much for all the asks!!

Edit: the fic was getting long, so I couldn't squeeze in the bonus scene! But I left the ending as hinting towards reader and Cedric having children! :)

____________________________________

An Absurd Idea, Isn't It?

A fic by bettathanyou, requested by @acupnoodle

____________________________________

You were tending to a patch of the royal garden, replaying the words princess Sophia spoke to you; "I need all the blueberries you can get- clover is suuuper hungry today!".'

A smile forms on your lips as you chuckle slightly to yourself. You found Sophia's devotion to her pets quite endearing; but even so, you had a gut feeling that there wasn't something quite right with Sophia's request.

You've been her personal servant for over two years now, and within those two years, it was a very rare instance where Sophia didn't make Clover's meals herself. You tried to brush aside the suspicion that was mounting in your head, but you couldn't get rid of the thought that Sophia was up to something.

You sigh to yourself, dropping another handful of berries into your basket.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter... I still have quite a lot left to pick."

You lift your head to scan along the bundles of blueberry patches, taking a quick moment to rest in the solitude of the garden. The day was quite mild today, with the sun partially obscured by the clouds. A strong breeze carried across the royal gardens, making the leaves around you rustle and sway.

The silver banged sorcerer saw you earlier sitting in the gardens, while he himself was taking a break by gazing out of his balcony.

Cedric's warm caramel eyes drank in the sight of you, a serene look on your face that made his heart melt with affection. At first, he didn't want to disturb you- you both hated being interrupted, after all. However, the more he looked at you, the more his body ached to be by your side.

Exhaling a love sick sigh, he teleports to the lush garden with a flick of his wand.

With your mind distracted by nature, you didn't notice the approach of Cedric off to your right.

Cedric then calls out your name in greeting, and his voice snaps you out of the trance you were in. Your head whips to your right, taking in the sight of the lanky man you've come to love so much.

"Cedric!" You speak his name in equal parts shock and excitement, your eyes shining with love. You scramble to your feet, dusting off the grass and leaves that cling to your clothing.

"Sorry I didn't see you, there- my mind was..." You trailed off, waving your hand to signal that you were lost in thought.

"No worries, darling- I just got here." Cedric gives you a reassuring smile, stepping closer to grasp your free hand that was still in the air. He brings the back of your hand to his lips, gently kissing along your knuckles.

You watch wordlessly as Cedric kisses your hand, feeling too flustered to speak. Your heart starts to beat faster, and the familiar flush of your cheeks betrayed how Cedric's touch made you feel.

"W-What.. what are you doing here, by the way... need more herbs?" You ask with a shy smile, trying to regain your composure.

"Hm?" Cedric's honey brown eyes flicked up to meet yours.

"Well... actually, now that you mention it..." Cedric pauses, his eyes tearing away from yours to span across the well kept garden. You watch as his eyes scan the expansive area, a soft laugh leaving your lips at how his brows scrunch up- that's how you know he's focused on something. His eyes also take on a particular glitter- like a cat, searching for its prize.

Upon hearing your laugh, his attention snaps back to you again.

"Anyways-! I just saw you, sitting alone in the garden from my balcony... I thought you could use some company." Cedric shrugged with a coy smile, and you raise a brow teasingly.

"Right... Are you sure it was me who needed the company?" You cock your head to the side, sarcasm laced in your voice.

"W-Well..!" Cedric sputters, eyes widening at how easily you cut through his intentions. "If you'd prefer me to leave, then.." Cedric says with a pout on his lips, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitch as he fights off a smile.

The sorcerer steps away from you for emphasis, his back already halfway turned to leave.

"Hey-! I didn't say that!" You exclaimed in mock defense, grabbing onto Cedric's robe sleeve as you laugh. Cedric stops, giving you a sideways glance with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Come here." You commanded, pulling on his sleeve to motion Cedric to turn towards you. Thankfully, he complies, with a full grin plastered on his face that made your heart light up inside. Your eyes meet as Cedric steps close to you, his arms snaking around your back.

After a brief pause, you weren't sure who initiated the kiss- but you find your lips brushing together in the blink of an eye. You sigh lightly into the kiss, enjoying Cedric's affection and body heat as your skin tingles.

After a few more gentle kisses, you both part, with cedrics lips lingering on yours for a moment longer. His honey gaze bores into you, his fair skin taking on a faint rosy tint. His bangs hang into his eyes as he looks down at you, and you tenderly brush a loc of silver away.

"So.. is this what you meant by 'keeping me company?' Because it seems like you're just keeping me distracted, Cedric." You say in a slightly teasing voice, biting back a laugh as you hold Cedric's gaze.

A chuckle escapes Cedric's lips, his eyes crinkling as he laughs. His warm mahogany eyes drift over to the basket that you needed to fill, seeing the cogs in his mind begin to turn.

"Ah, forgive me, love. Shall I make up for it, then?" Cedric's eyes flick back to you, his hand already reaching for the wand that stashed away in his sleeve pocket.

Before you could reply that you were fine, after all it wasn't a hard task picking blueberries by any means- Cedric had already stepped forward, a spell halfway being cast. You watch with an amused smirk as Cedric's magic sends the remaining dark blue berries into your basket, neatly placed in a huge pile.

"Thank you, Ceddy." You nod towards the sorcerer, placing a hand on his back with gratitude.

Cedric turns towards you, dipping his head towards you in respect. You smile in response, your hand leaving Cedric's back to interlock with his own.

"Say.. why are you out here, anyways? You're usually with Sophia." Cedric eyes you curiously, waiting for your reply.

"Well, Sophia is why I'm out here in the first place." You shot back with a shrug, but you took note at how Cedric noticed the oddness of your task as well.

"The princess said she needed them for Clover.. and with the amount she requested, I almost believe her." You say with a snicker, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Almost?" Cedric parrots back with a raised brow.

"I think she's up to something... not sure what, though." You confess, reaching down to lift up your basket of berries.

"That girl is always up to something," Cedric retorts, muttering under his breath as he helps you lift the hefty basket.

You giggle at Cedric's unamused comment, finding his reaction endearing. Some days, you really do see Cedric as an extended father figure to Princess Sophia. They speak about each other all the time, and the level of care they both carry in their hearts for the other makes you only love Cedric and Sophia more.

"Well, it's not my job to question her whims.." You say with a weary sigh, shaking your head. Tipping the basket on your hip, you turn towards the castle to leave.

"I should get this back to her. Thank you for your help, Cedric!" You chirp happily, flashing the sorcerer a genuine smile.

"Anything for you, dear." Cedric says with an affectionate hum, watching as you walk towards the servant tunnels to report back to the princess with a slight sadness in his gaze.

-------

You dutifully carry the goods Sophia requested to the palace kitchen, huffing with exertion as you lift the basket onto the closest table you could reach. The basket landed with a heavy thud, shaking the utensils that were already on the wooden table. Swiping at the sweat along your brow, you rub your arms to soothe your aching muscles.

As you recover in the kitchen, the doors swing open suddenly. You flinch from the noise, your head snapping to the kitchen entrance to see princess Sophia strutting through.

Her puffy pink dress sways behind her as she marches up to you, an extra spring in her step- moreso than normal. The grin on Sophia's face reaches ear to ear, and you nervously smile back.

"S-sophia! Your timing couldn't be better, I just finished-"

"Yeah, it looks ah-mazing, (y/n)!" The young princess cuts you off quickly, her eyes not even sparing a passing glance to the overflowing basket of berries.

"Ah.. thank you, princess.." You say halfheartedly, your eyes narrowing at the increasingly odd behavior the princess was exhibiting.

"Would you like me to prepare Clover's plate for lunch?" You offer a small smile, your feet moving towards the cutlery.

"No-!" Sophia cries out, her tone a little desperate. You turn to her sharply, your confused and slightly suspicious stare on full display. Sophia's bright blue eyes dart away from your piercing gaze, clearing her throat awkwardly as she shifts from heel to heel.

"Ah, I mean, um.. no, thank you, (y/n)." The princess declined, shaking her head.

"I actually have another thing I need you to do, if that's alright?" Sophia asks sweetly, looking at you with a hopeful gaze.

Seeing the princess's sweet smile always has a way of disarming you, so you decide to set aside your questions about her behavior for now.

"Of course, princess Sofia- that's what I'm here for, after all. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to get Cedric, and bring him to the ball room. It's really important!" Sophia says with confidence, her bright blue eyes boring into yours.

A sigh of annoyance leaves your lips before you can mask it, making the princess slightly deflate.

"Well, I wish I knew that beforehand- I was just speaking to Cedric in the garden.." You mutter, trying to keep your voice level.

"No offense, Sophia- but why is it important that I ask Cedric?" You ask with a curious tone, your mind reeling at the bizarre conversation between you both.

"Well..." Sophia drags out, a mischievous spark in her eye that you didn't quite like.

"Cedric can't say no to you, so I can count on him to actually show up if you ask." Sophia says with a giggle, eyeing you with a knowing look.

Your cheeks immediately start to burn like hot coals, embarrassment making you lose the words on your tongue. Sophia's giggle only increases in volume the more your face begins to flush, making you hang your head in defeat with a resigned sigh.

"..Alright, I'll go get him." You agree with a strained voice, not waiting for Sophia's reply as you carry yourself out from the kitchen doors.

_________

You walk beside Cedric, escorting him towards the ballroom as your nerves begin to feel shot. Cedric didn't look to be faring any better- but no words of comfort came to mind to soothe him.

Instead, your hand reached for the familiar gloved hand of your partner. You both interlock your fingers together, a silent act of solidarity as you both stand in front of the towering doors of the ballroom.

"It's quiet in there... too quiet." Cedric glares at the double doors in front of him, his lips forming a tight line.

"Whatever Sophia is planning... I know you can handle it." You glance over at the man, seeing his unconvinced look to your words.

You swallow, digging further into your brain for what you think Cedric needs to hear most right now. You squeeze Cedric's gloves hand tighter, feeling the soft worn leather on your fingertips.

"There's a reason you're called Cedric The Great, you know. You'll do... great!" You offer an encouraging smile to Cedric, your heart beating in anticipation for what lies in store for both of you beyond the door.

That seemed to slip past the wall of doubt around Cedric's mind, as his tightly knit shoulders loosened slightly.

"Let's hope you're right, love." Cedric says with an unreadable look, pushing the doors open. You both blink in surprise, finding the ballroom empty, with the windows barred with thick drapery to block out the sunlight.

You both turn to each other at the same time, exchanging an incredulous look. You step cautiously into the room first, calling out Sophia's name nervously. Your voice echoes in the empty hall, the only reply you get.

You glance back at Cedric, and as he opens his mouth to say something, the room explodes with a bright light. You both gasp, blinking harshly to adapt to the newfound lightsource.

"Surprise!" A choir of voices join from all sides of the ballroom, familiar faces popping up from behind the furniture adorning the hall. King Roland and Miranda, Sophia, Amber, James, Baileywick, along with a plethora of other servants and hand maidens you know or befriended, all gaze at you and Cedric with bright and cheery smiles.

You sputter in disbelief, your eyes searching for any explanation for what is going on right now. As you look upon the scene further, you notice the decorations that adorn the walls, bright ribbons and balloons in every nook and cranny of the walls. You and Cedric both stand in utter shock, your voices temporarily gone.

"Congratulations, you two! I always knew it would only be a matter of time..." King Roland's loud voice cuts through the room, his smug smile landing between the two of you.

"What-?!" You and Cedric both exclaim with equally confused expressions, your usual decorum for the royal family now gone at the moment.

"Oh, there's no need to play coy anymore! We all knew about it for weeks... Well, I was the first to figure it out, anyways." Princess Amber chimes in, hiding a cat-like grin behind one of her favorite hand-held fans.

"I thought Sophia mentioned the baby stuff first- didn't you, Soph?" Prince James gives his twin a raised brow of suspicion, before turning his head to Sophia.

You and Cedric both share a sharp glance at the mention of the word "baby", turning back to the royal children now beginning to bicker about the origins of the baby rumors.

You go to open your mouth to interject, but Cedric beats you to the punch first.

"Whatever this- "baby stuff" you're all referring to, I'm ecstatic to inform you all that (y/n) is not pregnant...!" Cedric announces loudly to the room, his voice confident until the last few words of his sentence. He feels his palms become slick as he partially turns to you, his eyes wide and his skin turning slightly pale.

"Y-you're... not, right?" Cedric stutters in fear, swallowing hard as his golden cognac irises swirl with dread.

"...No, I'm not." You reply flatly, crossing your arms defensively as your eyes linger across the room. Your eyes pierce through Sophia, feeling your anger rise as you fight it from breaking through the surface.

The young princess shyly dodges your icy glare, biting her lip nervously. You catch on to her tell, knowing that Sophia realized the enormity of her mistake.

"B-but... the baby clothes! I saw you make them!" Sophia cries, stepping towards you with huge eyes that begged for understanding.

You feel the entire room's eyes on you, crumbling your nerve. Your skin tingles in embarrassment, and you awkwardly clear your throat. Your mind feels blank, but each second you stand in silence, the more you feel as if you're being accused of something.

"Yes, I was making baby clothes-" you start, but you're cut off by Amber's bossy voice.

"So then you must be pregnant! Why else would you be making them?" Amber pipes up, grabbing Sophia's hand to come to her defense.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. In any other scenario, you would respect Amber's loyalty to Sophia- but now, it's only becoming more of a nuisance.

"For my cousin, Amber. She is pregnant, not me." You shake your head, pausing as you laugh from the absurdity of the idea.

"God, no..." You mused to yourself, shaking your head.

"Oh..." Amber replies, her voice numb from shock. She turns to her sister, her brows raised.

"I-I'm so sorry, (y/n)!" Sophia sputters out, her cheeks red from shame. She approached you quickly, looking up at you with her sad puppy gaze. You let out a tired sigh, glancing over to Cedric to gauge his reaction.

His warm golden eyes had since hardened, looking at Sophia with a disgruntled expression. Cedric's brows were heavily knitted together, deep wrinkles of annoyance etched into his face. Feeling your eyes on him, his brown irises flickered to yours.

You both share a complicated look, and Cedric's shoulders twitch in a halfhearted shrug. Almost as if saying "this is your call, not mine."

You sigh again, looking down at princess Sophia.

"It's- it's alright. I know you were only trying to be kind, Sophia." You crouch down to Sophia's level, touching her shoulder reassuringly. You give her a smile, trying to cheer her up. Her expression softens a little, but she still looks at you with sad eyes.

"And hey- you cared enough to make this huge party for Cedric and I, right? That's what any good friend would do for one another." You say in earnest, your smile slowly cracking through as you spoke.

"Isn't that right, Cedric?" You tear your gaze away from the girl, shooting Cedric a foreboding look to ensure his compliance.

His eyebrows rise in a panic, momentarily erasing the sour look on his face for a fake saccharine smile.

"A-aah, yes, that's right..!" Cedric coos, his voice overtly sweet, practically oozing sarcasm if you listen hard enough.

Thankfully, Sophia doesn't pick up on Cedric's sarcasm, ever- so her eyes regain their shining luminosity in an instant.

"You guys really aren't mad...?" Sophia asks slowly, her bright blue eyes darting between you both.

"Well-" Cedric cuts in, but you leap to your feet in the blink of an eye, grabbing Cedric's hand tightly. He stutters in confusion, so you take your opportunity to lie.

"Nope, not at all." You say with as much conviction as possible, glancing once again at Cedric with a smile full of daggers.

Cedric's eye twitches to betray his true feelings, but he purses his lips and nods in agreement.

You practically see the weight lifted from Sophia's shoulders, as she exhales a heavy sigh of relief.

"Well, since you already have a party going, Sophia- why don't you uh... celebrate... I don't know, you can probably think of something- you seem to already have quite the... imagination." Cedric responds coyly, arching a brow as he throws a copious amount of shade at the young girl.

However, you can't help but let a snicker pass your lips at how subtle Cedric's comment was. Sophia looks over at you, and you quickly cover your tracks by clearing your throat.

"Hey, I'm always down to party!" James responds with a whoop, quickly grabbing a party popper from his coat pocket. He launches a rainbow of confetti and streamers into the air with a satisfying pop!, finally clearing the heavy tension that had accumulated in the ballroom.

The guests finally broke out into laughter, and quickly the sound of mingling voices gave you and Cedric the perfect chance to slip away from the party. With a shared glance, you both made a straight bee line to the doors, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls.

_______

It is an absurd idea, isn't it? Us, being parents- could you imagine it?"

Cedric snorted as he shook his head in disbelief, settling down into his work stool.

His caramel irises glanced over to meet your own in solidarity, but you nimbly dodged his gaze in order to hide the flicker of hurt that flashed across your (e/c) orbs.

You weren't even sure why you felt upset- after all, both of you agreed early on into your relationship that children weren't a priority for either one of you.

Up until now, you thought were sure of your feelings...

So, why now did hearing the sorcerer laugh off the notion of having children so casually feel like a sword was struck through your heart?

You lean against the wood of Cedric's work desk, fiddling with an empty bottle to try and still the ache in your chest.

"Well- I- I can't imagine it would be much different than what our jobs are already." You say with a weak chuckle, keeping your eyes glued to the small vial in your hands.

Cedric stops for a moment, his eyes resting on yours.

"What do you mean?" He asks, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

"Well, my main job is to look over a child- I know it's not the same as being a mother, but.." You trailed off, sighing.

"You certainly might as well be- I see Sophia more with you than I have her real mother." Cedric replies with a snort, sifting through the papers at his desk.

You scoff in amusement, but don't bother to deny Cedric's claim. Walking over to where Cedric sat, you wrap your arms around him from behind in a hug.

The sorcerer stops for a brief moment, before surrendering to your embrace with a low hum of contentment.

"You know, I could say the same of you, Cedric... Sophia talks more about you than she does her own father." You speak softly, resting your check against the curve of Cedric's neck.

"Really?" Cedric asks in a bewildered tone, his face turning towards you.

"Of course... She looks up to you." You affirm with a nod, moving your face to hold eye contact with Cedric.

You see the cogs turning behind his mahogany colored eyes, processing your words. He then abruptly turns his face away from you, brushing his finger over his lips as if he was conflicted by something.

"Well... even so- I'm not, good... with children." Cedric drags out his words as he cringes, shrinking into himself.

"Sophia is nice to me, because she's nice to everyone- but outside of her, I just... don't know what to do with them." Cedric admits with a weary sigh, running his hand through his hair in a nervous habit.

"I don't really think that's true, Ceddy." You reassure the man with a light chuckle, shaking your head.

Instead of answering right away, the sorcerer looks at you with an arched brow and a scathing side eye that would dissuade most from arguing further.

You though, brush off the look with another chuckle.

"I'm not just saying that, Cedric." You reiterate, your voice full of conviction.

Cedric hums noncommittally in response, clearly unconvinced but willing to see where you would take your argument.

Swallowing hard, you speak further.

"You.. really do have a way with kids, love." You pause for a moment, trying to find a solid point to base your claims on.

"I mean, come on- who's the first person the royal children run to when they need help, hm?" You stand up straight as you talk, crossing your arms.

Cedric waves you off, a snicker rolling off his lips.

"Yeah, sure- because those little devils think I can just snap my fingers to make their problems all disappear," Cedric mutters bitterly.

"Ceddy- that's a little harsh, even for you." You give Cedric a pointed look, and he shrinks a little bit under your gaze.

"They go to you so much because they trust you; because they can rely on you." You speak with a confident smile, your hand squeezing Cedric's shoulder.

"I don't think that you being a father would be that absurd.." Your confident voice dips into a more hushed tone, your cheeks heating up at every word.

Cedric looks down at the ground, feeling lost for words at your implications. It's not like the idea hadn't crossed his mind before- he just never had any reason to entertain it much.

Not until you, anyways.

And until tonight, neither of you had really talked about the possibility of becoming parents- only reaffirming your shared terror at the idea of it, in the beginning of your relationship in passing.

Cedric sighs again, feeling weighed down as the reality of the conversation started to finally hit him.

"I... I thought- we said..." Cedric starts, then stops as he doesn't want to sound crass when you look so vulnerable.

"Has your mind changed, about wanting children?" Cedric asks in a light voice, curiosity and a slight mix of dread filling his body.

"I... maybe? I- I don't know, it's just.." You rub your arm self consciously, feeling regret at even bringing the topic up at this point. You still weren't sure why it even irked you this much, so why were you trying to make it into a big deal?

"You can speak to me honestly, darling." Cedric coos in reassurance, his hand finding your own and taking it into his grasp. He gets up from his seat, his free hand giving your arm a soft squeeze as his eyes rest on you.

Feeling Cedric's touch and soft gaze eases your tense muscles slightly, halting your racing thoughts so you could think clearly again.

"I never really thought much of it, I suppose- then, well. Today, happened.." You glance up at Cedric with an amused smirk, and a small grin forms on his face in reply.

"Then, once you mentioned- ah.. the idea, of us being parents... being 'absurd-'," you pause for a moment, and Cedric bites his lip apologetically.

Taking in a breath, you continue.

"It made me feel.. upset, hearing that from you. My change in attitude is sudden, I know- I have no justification for it, really." You shrug halfheartedly, feeling emotion claw its way up your throat.

"It's fine, dear- you're allowed to change your feelings about what you want." Cedric stroked your hair as he spoke, warm caramel eyes softening as he gazes down at you.

"I know, but- your feelings haven't changed, though."

You try to disguise the emotion in your voice, but the sentence still comes out wobbly. You look down at your feet, studying the groves between the stone floor so your thin facade won't break underneath the crushing weight of Cedric's eyes on you.

"It's- my feelings aren't as.. rigid, as I make them out to be, (y/n)." Cedric mumbled, feeling his skin prickle as he uttered the truth.

"Your feelings are always rigid, Cedric." You say with a tiny laugh, trying desperately to make a joke so you won't cry.

While Cedric could tell you were trying to lighten the mood, he didn't have it in himself to laugh.

"It's not that I dislike the idea, of having a child.." Cedric exhales in a long sigh, rubbing your arm to soothe both him and yourself as he speaks.

"...I'm afraid, (y/n). I- I would have no idea what I'm doing, being a father. I didn't exactly have the best example to go off of, growing up."

Cedric's voice tightens, causing you to lift your head in concern. You see the worry lines appear on the sorcerer's face again, and a brief flicker of the fear he hides behind those brown eyes you adore so much.

"I know..." You whisper gently, raising a hand to cup Cedric's cheek into your palm. Your gaze softens as you drink Cedric in, your heart aching at the memories Cedric carries in his own heart of his father.

"There's only one chance to get it right, with a child.. I can't imagine messing up something that important." Cedric nuzzles his face into the palm of your hand, exhaling slowly into your skin. His body is tense now, shoulders hunched with his skin a shade paler.

"You won't- well, wouldn't." You quickly correct yourself, a tinge of melancholy in your voice.

"Parents aren't meant to be perfect- we'd both make mistakes. But- you wouldn't be alone, and you wouldn't be like.. him, Cedric. You're too kind."

Your voice falls low as your thumb caresses the sorcerer's cheek, guiding your arm around his waist to pull him closer to you.

Cedric stands quietly, pressing his cheek to your palm even closer; almost as if feeling your words seep through his skin.

The silence is heavy between you both, but not in an uncomfortable way.

Instead, it feels like a blanket, enveloping you both in the words still left unspoken inside yourselves.

"I'm not saying we try now, by any means.." You whisper, your voice hesitant and light.

"I just..." Your words shrivel up on your tongue, as you're still unsure what this conversation means to you.

After a beat, you feel a warm hand reach up to where your own hand rested on Cedric's cheek. You jump, eyes flicking up to meet his once again. The color had returned to his skin now, and their lustrous golden hue now sparkled with the same adoration he always held for you.

"...Think we still have more to discuss, than we initially thought?" Cedric offered, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

You burst out laughing, shaking your head.

"It would seem so, Cedric."

Then, very sweetly, the silver banged man leans down to capture your lips into his own. The kiss is soft, endearing- full of promises and the hesitation of beginning something so strange and new.

You break apart, finding a new kind of sheen in each other's eyes- excitement, along with small flecks of hope.

[dirthenera]

7&8 for the writer asks!

First! The questions!

For 7-

~~~~

“You change… Everything.” It escaped before he could deny it, one of the most honest things he had ever said to her. She took in a sharp breath, and looked at him with utter certainty, raising one long, beautiful, strong hand to his face with astonishing gentleness, and he turned to her. She leaned in, closer and closer until he was certain he could drown in her presence alone. She paused, searching his eyes, question in her gaze that he had no chance of denying. Everything was her and she could have everything.

She reached up and pressed her lips to his. Soft and cool in the mountain air, like rose petals against him, and sweeter than any moment Desire could have prepared him for. In an instant, he was on fire, ignited by a touch so profoundly gentle he could barely be certain she had touched him at all.

And then she pulled back.

His mind cautioned as his hands were already reaching out, wrapping firmly around her hips and pulling her back, back to him, pressing her lips back to his as if he meant to drown. He clutched her to him, bending her body against his, matching her form to her weapon and yielding to her grace. He was burning against her, tongue hot against hers, and every part of her a cool balm to his fever. She clutched at him, nails scraping through his tunic, on his neck, gasping into him as she met his fevered pitch.

~~~~~

OK so I LOVE writing Solas’ POV. His internal narration is just so beautiful. This is from Truths From Dreams, Solas’ POV of Secrets From Dreams. A lot of it is the same scenes, just written from him- and they always nearly double in length lol. He’s wordy. With this fic in particular, I tried to start him from where he was at the end of The Masked Empire, so he’s quite cold to start- and his journey to get to here is… an interesting one. Also Thenera is an archer and I just… really love the line “matched her form to her weapon and yielded to her grace” to describe him bowing her to his body.

For 8-

~~~~~

He called his magic into his hands, blue glow suffusing the tent as he checked over her skin, gliding just close enough that she could feel his mana brushing against her, and she shivered.

“You can feel that? What is it you feel, Vhenan?” He asked. He took one of her hands and began brushing mana up her arms. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“It… Feels like when someone doesn’t quite touch you, but you can still feel their energy and warmth. But… more. More personal. More like you and not just someone. I don’t… It’s another sense. Closest to touch, but I feel like I can smell it too, and taste it. And there’s… Memories, almost like… Nostalgia woven into it.”

“There was once a term for that, in Elvhen. Sethera. You are correct that it was considered a separate sense. It amazes me that you, a non mage, can feel it.” He traced his fingers up, along the ridges of her collarbones and across her neck, and she choked back a moan.

“Sethera…” She repeated. “Yours… reminds me of old places and the possibilities that hide under the dust. Of naps in the sunshine as a breeze plays across your face. Passion tempered with wisdom and… Funny enough, tea.”

“Can you tell me what that tea smells like?” He asked, far more seriously than she would have expected. She swallowed, and tried to concentrate on it.

“It’s… Light. Like the freshest baby leaves brewed for just a few moments, with something like clover? Maybe chamomile? There’s a… stickiness to it. A hint of honey? The steam wreathes up and settles in your nose, until it’s the only smell there is…”

She pulled back suddenly, shaking herself from it. The longer she focused on it the more cloying it felt.

“Ah, yes. That was a special recipe I had far too much of when I was younger. I’m afraid it has contributed greatly to my disdain for the stuff.”

~~~~

Sooooo I struggled to pick- there’s a ton of banter I’ve really enjoyed writing, both snarky, and angsty. But I’m very proud of this conversation and the meta involved. Solas never expands on *why* modern people seem near tranquil, so I HC that the veil was equivalent to removing a sense- the sense of magic. This is from Secrets From Dreams, my longfic that has about 150k published, and I’m actively publishing on again.

[lyranova]

Omnes Sumus Peccatores: Love is Rich with Both Honey and Venom

Chapter 4: Theia

Solara/Theia belong to @thoughtfullyrainynightmare , as do a couple of quotes in this chapter. The Zera and William scenes in this chapter are partially taken from chapters 3 and 6 of her Mafia AU fic called "Omnes Sumus Peccatores - Ex Igni Natus", please go check it out, it's amazing (and also helps to give context to Zera and Solara's meeting!

Word Count: 3,990

Warnings: Mentions of typical mafia things (such as selling weapons, money laundering, prostitution, etc).

————

Outside Conference room A in the Kikka Hotel

Zera took a deep, calming breath as her stomach churned repeatedly while standing on the other side of the conference room door.

Was her stomach churning because of nerves? Or was it because of morning sickness? Perhaps it was because of both?

Both. It was both.

While she was born and raised in this environment, she wasn’t very involved in it aside from attending parties and healing members of The Family. She didn’t deal with the business like her father and brother’s did; in fact, she did her best to avoid it even though she was a ‘smooth talker’ according to them.

But now that she was becoming the wife of ‘The King’ of the Golden Dawn, the leader of one of the highest ranking Mafia Families in Clover City, she felt that there was no way she could avoid the business side anymore.

Especially if she wanted to become a good and suitable partner for William.

“ It’ll be fine! Just pretend that you’re having tea with your friends,” Zera tried to tell herself as she took another calming breath.

“ Yeah…yeah it’ll be fine! William wouldn’t have sent you here by yourself if he felt that it was super dangerous to you and the baby, right?”

With that thought in mind, she cleared her throat, dusted off her skirt, and pushed the door handle down and opened the door.

….

Later, after meeting with Theia

Zera got into her car, closed the door, and let out a sigh of relief as she leaned back against the driver's seat.

Who would have thought that ‘Theia’ was her old high school friend, Solara Equinox? She nearly laughed, she had gotten herself all worked up and anxious for nothing!

However, even though doing business with one of her high school best friends made things a lot easier, it was still a business meeting at the end of the day.

“And… you’re looking to make a deal with the Golden Dawn?” Zera’s tone was inquiring, but there was an underlying tone of wonder, almost as if she was questioning it. 

“Actually…” Solara uttered, half sighed, “if I can be perfectly honest…”

“I was hoping to make deals with all the… groups, in Clover.”

Zera let out a quiet sigh as Solara’s words from their meeting repeated in her mind; while it made sense to form alliances with all of the mafia families in Clover, at the same time it was extremely dangerous.

Building alliances in this world was like building a house of cards; one wrong move, one misstep, and the whole thing could come crashing down.

But unlike a house of cards where nothing happened if it came crashing down, in this world, when the house of cards comes crashing down it costs people their lives.

And the last thing Zera wanted was for her friend to lose hers.

“Well, I was thinking, or hoping that… if the company gets a footing here, we could stabilise things here to an extent by providing jobs to people. That way there wouldn’t be so much need to crime, and… well the police force would continue to be what it is, but it would still have an impact in people’s lives. A positive one. And if this office grows into a larger one, then it will be many lives that are positively impacted. Which would also be a good learning opportunity for myself when it comes to taking charge of the whole EEN someday.”

It was an idealistic, borderline naïve hope; however, it was also built on logic.

To make her hope a reality, she would need to ally herself with the people who ran this city, which were the mafia families.

Zera let a small, fond smile appear on her face; she could see Solara’s vision, and silently hoped that maybe, just maybe, it could come to fruition.

No, she would make sure that it did!

She was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts as her phone began to ring, and when she looked down at the caller I.D she saw it was William.

“ Hello darling, I was just about to call you~!” She began as soon as she answered the call.

“ Oh, so you’re out of the meeting?” William asked, his tone sounding genuinely surprised.

“ I am.” She confirmed as she started her car and began to pull out of the hotel’s parking lot.

There was a slight, hesitating pause between them.

“ How…did it go?” He eventually asked, his voice going from surprised to unsure, but she could also hear tinges of worry laced in his tone too.

“ Actually, it went surprisingly well, thanks to the info you and Langris gave me.” Zera said with a cheerfulness to her voice.

“ Though none of the info you two gave me said anything about Theia being an old high school friend of mine!” She mentally added before she heard a sigh of relief leave her fiancé.

“ That’s a relief,” He muttered softly, which made her giggle.

“ Aw, were you worried about me~?” Zera asked as she began to drive down the street towards the Doré Lounge.

“ I-,” William paused for a moment. “ Knew you could handle it.”

She let out a skeptical hum.

“ Really? You weren’t at all worried about me and this meeting?” She asked curiously as she stopped at a red light.

“ I always worry about you,” William admitted softly, which made Zera’s heart skip a beat. “ But I had absolute faith in you, and since you said it went well, I can see that it was not misplaced.”

She suddenly felt her cheeks burn at his words; this wasn’t the first time he complimented her, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last time either, but there was something…different about this one. It made her feel warm and tingly as though he had just told her she was the most beautiful and sexy woman he had ever seen.

And all he said was that his faith in her wasn’t misplaced!

“ Zera?” William said on the other side of the phone, pulling her out of her thoughts. “ Is everything alright?”

“ Yep! Everything’s fine!” She said as she started driving again.

“ Anyway, we can talk more about my meeting when we see each other later. How was your meeting with Yami and Charlotte?”

She heard William sigh again, but this time it sounded completely exhausted.

“ It was…eventful,” He muttered, and she could just imagine him pinching his brow.

“ Apparently, one of our clubs, one of Charlotte’s girls, and one of Yami’s bank accounts are all being investigated for potential ‘illegal activity related to prostitution.’.”

Zera scoffed.

“ Let me guess; leading the investigation is Detective Dante Zogratis.” She said as she turned down a side street that would lead her towards the back entrance of Doré Lounge.

“ Along with his brother, Zenon Zogratis.” William sighed.

She rolled her eyes and also let out an annoyed sigh; ever since she turned Dante down at that party all those years ago, he had it out for William and the Golden Dawn and would make up any and all excuses to investigate them and their clubs.

But now he was getting his youngest sibling, Detective Zenon Zogratis, who was known for being the coldest of the siblings, involved.

It was concerning, but also extremely annoying.

“ Well, we’ll just have to be extra careful then, won’t we?” Zera said as parked behind the club.

William chuckled on the other end of the phone.

“ Indeed.”

———

Elsewhere in Clover

“ Never turn your back on the enemy.”

Yuno watched as Neva clicked a button on the side of her taser that released the wired prongs before she put it behind her back again.

“ I had them.” He told her with a deadpan expression, and he watched as her lips twitched up in a bit of a smirk.

“ Of course you did, Ace.” She replied, her tone nearly sounding amused as she walked back over to the old man.

Yuno sighed and shook his head, he really hated that ‘code-name’. It almost sounded…pretentious, in a way…he would rather her and the others in the Golden Dawn to call him by his given name.

“ This world we live in is dangerous, which is why we use code-names, to protect our real identities. I guess one could say we’re like super heros, or maybe more like…anti-heroes.”

That was what William, otherwise known as ‘The King’, had told him when he asked about it after he first joined.

“ Are you okay?” Neva asked softly as she leaned down to help the old man up.

Yuno quickly rushed towards them and also helped the old man to stand.

“ Yes, I’m okay, thanks to you two.” The old man said as he dusted himself off.

“ Well…it’s what you pay us for.” Neva muttered as she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

The old man chuckled as he nodded in agreement.

“ Speaking of, today’s collection day, so we need your dues for the month. Plus extra for today.” She suddenly added, making Yuno’s head snap in her direction.

Was she serious right now?

“ Oh, you’re right, just a moment!” The old man said before turning and walking back into his shop.

Yuno glared slightly at Neva; after what the old man just went through, she was still asking him to pay the ‘protection fee’ to the Golden Dawn? He felt his earlier annoyance and anger about the mafia families bubble up again.

This world…it really earned its reputation at moments like this.

The old man walked out of his shop and towards Neva, and just as Yuno opened his mouth to say something, he stopped.

In the old man’s hand was a lone five Yul bill and a piece of hard candy that appeared to be strawberry flavored.

“ Here’s the payment for the month, plus extra, as requested!” The old man said cheerfully, but then his gaze shifted to Yuno and he walked over to him.

“ Oh, I didn’t forget about you either; here’s your extra payment as well!” The old man added as he opened his hand and placed something inside.

When Yuno looked down into his hand, he saw a green piece of hard candy with the words ‘Green Apple Flavored!’ on the wrapper.

“ Thanks. Same time next month?” Neva asked as she put the five Yul bill into the duffle bag.

The old man nodded.

“ Indeed! Give the King my regards, won’t you?”

She quickly nodded before throwing the bag to Yuno.

“ Will do.” She replied as she gave him a small wave before she and Yuno began to walk down the street again.

As the two walked down the street, he couldn’t help but be confused by what he just witnessed; the due they collected from the old man was only five dollars? That didn’t make sense business wise.

“ Something on your mind again, Ace?” Neva suddenly asked as she put the strawberry flavored hard candy into her mouth.

Yuno stopped walking and turned to face her.

“ Why was his fee so low?” He asked, his tone was in its usual deadpan tone, but there were also hints of curiosity in it.

Neva stopped walking as well and turned to face him.

“ Because it was all he could afford to spare,” She replied, her tone calm and matter of fact, but her brows knitted in confusion. “ Didn’t the others tell you that?”

When he shook his head, she sighed in irritation.

“ Of course they didn’t, those idiots,” She muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms.

“ The shops in this area don’t make a lot, and most of them are run by the elderly, single parents, or people who have fallen on hard times,” She began to explain. “ They don’t have much, and they don’t make a lot during the month, so they can’t afford high protection fees like other places.”

“ Which is why we only take what they can afford to give. Whether it’s five, ten, or a hundred yul, or even just a couple of pieces of hard candy… we only take what they can afford to give.” She concluded.

But Yuno’s frown only deepened.

“ Then, doesn’t that mean we’re operating at a loss in this area? Why would we do that since it’s ‘bad business’?”

Neva half shrugged.

“ We are operating at a loss here,” She confirmed. “ But what we lose in this area we more than make up for in the weapons business and the clubs.”

“ And while, from a business standpoint, it would make sense for us to kick everyone out and redevelop it into luxury clubs, bars, or hotels…the King would rather take the financial hit then do that.”

“ Why?” Yuno asked, and he watched as she turned away from him to face the various stalls that lined the sides of the street.

“ Because… It's special to him.” She replied softly, and he could have sworn he saw a brief smile try to work it’s way onto her lips.

Yuno’s gaze followed her’s to look back down the street; a cold, fearsome Mafia leader who was also sentimental and warm to people who have less than him… it was strange, confusing, and also contradictory to everything he had heard about the mobs.

“ Wasn’t the answer you were expecting?” Neva suddenly asked with a raised brow, pulling Yuno out of his thoughts.

He turned to look at her and shook his head.

“ Not really.” He replied honestly, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.

“ Seriously?! So you just think the mafia’s are cold, heartless organizations that take advantage of the weak while making thousands off of them?” Neva asked, her voice raising in surprise.

Yuno half shrugged.

“ Kind of.”

She gaped at him like a fish out of water for a moment before she sighed dramatically and shook her head.

“ Geez if that’s your answer on the Golden Dawn and other families, I can only imagine how you were going to answer my question earlier.” She muttered as she suddenly began to walk away.

Yuno’s frown appeared on his face when he suddenly remembered what she was referring to:

“ So, you’re not even a little bit worried that the same thing could happen to you?”

He quickly followed Neva.

“ The answer to your question is no, I’m not worried that you’ll do to me what you did to your previous partner,” He answered as he came up beside her.

She once again stopped, and turned to him with a frown on her face.

“ Why? I mean, you barely know me…” Neva trailed off, her voice soft and full of confusion.

Yuno stared at her for a moment; to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t really sure himself. Earlier, when she had first asked him that question, his answer was going to be the same as it was now.

Except, this time, he had a bit of an inkling as to why he believed she wouldn’t harm him the same way as she did her previous partner.

“ Because…you’re good.”

Neva stared at him in surprise as he suddenly began to walk away from her.

Because…she was good? What the hell did that mean? There wasn’t anything ‘good’ about her!

At least, not in her mind…

“ Hey wait up! We still have a few more shops to go to before we go back to the Golden Dawn!” She exclaimed as she chased after him.

————

Later that evening at the Doré Lounge

The loud, thumping music that reverberated through the club walls slowly floated up to the top floor that was meant exclusively for VIPs and the Golden Dawn, however, it still didn’t manage to reach William’s ears due to his mind being elsewhere.

“ The Zogratises are becoming even more bold it seems,” He mused as he watched the many patrons of the club dance and move around on the dance floor.

Initially, they had been subtle in their movements, maybe they were just testing the waters to see how the Families would all react? But at the same time, Lucius was known for preferring to keep his cards close to his chest, which was how he was able to become the best detective in Clover City, because none of the people he arrested even realized they were being investigated to begin with.

So for Dante and Zenon to suddenly become so bold…something must’ve changed.

“ Knock knock~!” A familiar voice said from the doorway, and when William turned around he saw his wife standing there.

“ Am I interrupting?” Zera asked as she closed the door behind her and walked further into the room.

He quickly shook his head as he walked away from the glass window overlooking the club and towards the plush white couch that sat in the center of the room.

“ Not at all, I was just admiring the view,” He lied as he sat down on the couch, his right leg crossing over his left one.

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms as she walked over to the couch that sat opposite of her husbands.

“ Liar.”

William chuckled and shook his head.

“ Anyway, what did you and Theia discuss during your meeting?” He asked, and he watched his wife’s features soften.

“ Oh you know, this and that,” She said vaguely, which made his eyes narrow in confusion.

“ Theia is an old high school friend of mine, so we had some catching up to do before conducting business.” Zera explained with another chuckle, and that made William’s brows shoot up in surprise.

Theia was an old friend of Zera’s? Why didn’t any of the files Langris found say any of that? Could it be that the Equinox Exchange hid that information to protect them?

It would make sense, and to be honest, William would probably do the same if he were them.

“ That’s…surprising.” He admitted softly, and he watched her nod in agreement.

“ It was, but her plan and offer was a lot more surprising.” She muttered softly as she glanced out the window.

William titled his head.

“ Oh?”

Zera nodded slowly.

“ It’s ambitious, a little naïve, but also very dangerous; however, I think she’ll be able to pull it off.” She told him softly as she looked back at him, and William leaned forward as he listened to her.

“ And what is this ambitious, naïve, but very dangerous plan?” He asked, his voice soft but also very serious.

“ Theia…wants to conduct trade with all of the Families in Clover, not just us. And in doing so she wants to improve the lives of the citizens here, while also attracting new revenue streams for them and supplying those on the other side of the crooked law enforcement, otherwise known as the Families.”

William slowly nodded as he listened to her explain her friend’s plan before finally the words settled in his mind and he just stared at Zera.

“ Are you serious?” He asked her in complete disbelief.

“ I’m as serious as a broken penis.” She replied, once again making him stare at her before he suddenly stood up and began to pace.

“ Look, I know it sounds insane, but-!” Zera tried to explain, but he quickly cut her off.

“ It’s very, very insane!” He corrected her as he continued to pace.

Zera rolled her eyes, let out an annoyed sigh, and stood up before walking towards him.

“ Please don’t interrupt, Will, I’m tired, nauseous, and not in the mood for an argument,” She said as her eyes narrowed and she held up her hand.

“ I know it’s…an ambitious plan that could easily go sideways if there is a single misstep, but, I really think it can be done,” She continued as she took a breath and stood in front of her fiancé.

“ Like…I’m sure she may not be able to make a deal with all of the families, but most of us use the same suppliers for things anyway, so why can’t she get into contact with more families than just us? And besides, unlike our other suppliers, she isn’t intending to supply us with anything illegal per se; she’s more or less supplying us with items that we can use however we see fit.”

William’s brows knitted together in a confused frown, but he let her continue.

“ As in, if we choose to use them for less than lawful things, and get caught, then she can claim plausible deniability, which also works in our favor; because as long as our main source of goods isn’t cut off, we can always change our aliases and contacts on paper to continue doing business with them.” Zera concluded with a small shrug.

He stared at her for probably the third or so time this evening, except this time it wasn’t in shock or disbelief, it was in concession; she made many good and valid points that he couldn’t really argue against.

Eventually, William sighed.

“ You have a point,” He muttered, and a small smile appeared on his face when she clapped her hands together excitedly.

“ Yeah?” Zera asked, and he couldn’t help but chuckle before nodding.

“ Yes. You made an excellent point,” He agreed, which made her clap her hands again in excitement. “ but may I ask, what makes you trust her?”

She let out a quiet hum.

“ Well, does her being my old friend count?” She asked, and when she saw the look in his eyes, she realized that no, that didn’t count. And she pouted in response.

Zera turned away from him and once again looked out the large glass window.

“ I trust her because she’s a good business woman. Her plan is ambitious, but it’s also built in logic; she knows it’s dangerous if she doesn’t play her cards right, however, she has plans on how to mitigate that. She’s going to treat us all fairly and price us all at equal amounts, because she knows if she shows any sort of favoritism it could spell disaster for her. And considering we all have a common enemy…” She trailed off as she glanced over at him.

“ The Zogratises.” William muttered firmly as he turned to also look out the window.

“ Exactly,” She confirmed with a nod.

He let out a quiet hum as he replayed Zera’s words in his mind over and over again.

“ So, essentially, as long as we all have the funds to buy the supplies, and in equal amounts, then all of the Families will be priced fairly?”

“ Well, there’s more than one way to pay for supplies that doesn’t include money,” She told him as she turned away from the window.

“ Favors.” William finished her sentence, and she nodded in confirmation.

“ Yep.”

“ But isn’t that a bit of a gamble?” He asked as he turned away from the window to face her.

Zera smirked.

“ It is. But then again, isn’t all business a gamble? Especially in our line of work?” She asked with a quirked brow, making William speechless once again.

Again, she had a point.

But still, was this a gamble he was willing to take? Especially with the Zogratises already beginning to breath down his neck, and when he had so much more to lose now?

“ I…need to think about it,” William eventually told her, his voice soft but also warm.

She slowly nodded before she walked up to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“ Understandable. Theia said to take as long as we need, and to call her when we’ve made our decision.” Zera said as she handed him Theia’s business card.

William wrapped his arm around his fiancé’s waist and kissed the top of her head before taking the business card and putting it into his suit pocket.

“ Now, can we go home~? I’m exhausted and I think my brain is fried from today.” She suddenly whined as she turned to look at him.

He chuckled again before nodding and giving her a quick kiss.

“ Yes, let’s go home.”

[coquettedragoon]

(you don’t have to reply I just wanted you to know this ;w; sorry that it’s long!!)

I replay my favourite scenes from Coquette whenever I’ve had a really tough time at uni. The subject matter you write about is so beautifully portrayed, relating to Xio’s struggles and seeing her be treated kindly despite her messiness is so deeply comforting, I don’t even have words for it. It feels so surreal to have feelings I’m unable to describe be written so clearly in a project like this.

Every time I load up CD it’s just striking how much effort has been poured into everything; the graphics are stunning, the songs are genuinely so catchy (I scoured both Ootheca and Clover And Sealife’s SoundClouds trying to find the soundtracks!! xD) and everything just feels so polished. Aside from just how insanely beautiful everything is, the characters are so vivid and their experiences are enthralling, I just want to keep reading more and more about them. I personally am most excited for Bell to show Honey her pudding transformation fetish art which I’m hoping wasn’t a joke because that would be hilarious

I really, really can’t stress to you how important and inspiring I find CD as both a young adult teen girl and a creator. It brings me so much hope that creating things like CD isn’t impossible and can be done; the existence of such a clean, polished, openly queer and weird and strange and thoughtful VN that genuinely brings me comfort when I’m struggling means that it’s a doable thing!!! I’d love to make something someday that can make someone feel how CD makes me feel.

Thank you so much for making Coquette and all the effort you put into it, it’s so important to me and I can’t wait for more!!! 💞💞💞 (Please make sure you rest also 🫂)

i'm very touched, thank you

[locatislunaticolupin]

Day Eight: Guts

Written for day eight of @remadoramicrofics. 236 words. Also available on Ao3.

There were guts all over their garden.

Dora slammed the door in Teddy’s face (“Sorry! Please go get da, honey, alright?”) and surveyed the scene. A hare’s carcass was strewn about, half of it under the plastic table and half of it hiding in the clovers. Bongui, their probably-at-least-Greyhound-mix, was laying in the middle of it all chewing a bone, tail wagging, looking very proud of herself.

The door rattled and banged as it always did, and she heard her husband’s whistle before she felt his hand on her waist.

“I blame you for this one,” she said. Remus startled.

“What did I do?”

“You’re the one who found and brought that vicious murderer home. I could bring you in for housing a criminal, you know?”

“You wouldn’t dare. Who would clean this up for you if I wasn’t here?”

“I’d move houses. I’m seriously considering it right now. Teddy, get away from the window!”

Remus tried to hide his chuckle in her hair. Dora, figuring her husband wasn’t about to make himself useful anytime soon, took her wand and attempted to clean up the bloodbath.

“I was never any good with household spells,” she said, the hare’s head now looking straight at her on the bloody clovers. Remus kissed her cheek. A loud crack and crunch came from Bongui’s direction. “You clean this up, and I’ll wrestle that bone from her before she hurts herself.”

[dreamwritesimagines]

OH MU GAWD!!!!! I was thinking the same thing about Teddy being Clovers son😱😱😱 but like I was watching some pretty messed episodes of Law and Order SVU so my messed up theory was that Teddy was Clovers, forced on her by her own father(very loved by Clover but despised by her mom and dad for obvious reasons one of them being that they had to hide out from their village for months)….and like I thought so many times of sharing this with you but thought I was crazy for even thinking Teddy was Clovers let alone also her dads. And I thought this was gonna be one of her secrets till only a few chapters ago. AND I also thought of sharing this with you so many times but I thought it was to much of a messed up theory and I also believed that I must be the only one thinking it so why put it out there. Glad to learn I wasn’t the only one that at least thought the same thing I did for part of it🫣😅😅😅😅 AND TO LEARN THAT HE WAS ALMOST CLOVERS!!!!! Dream the angst that this could’ve cause in so many different ways(chefs kiss👌👌👌) I really want to know what differences this would’ve caused for different scenes through out the story!!! Dream if you ever feel the creative juices flowing to share snippets and conversations between her and Ben about him finding out or Clover even sharing this little tidbit with him, or even bens inner dialogue thinking about it. Just know that I’d be the first in love to read….oh wait I just thought of maybe even an au one shot?? Of course this is only an idea but I hope you share a little🫣🫣😏…lastly please excuse my excessive use of certain words I’m excited and wrote this all up in a few minutes😂

TW: Abuse

Omg omg!😱 So I don't think I could write abuse BUT Teddy being Clover's, from maybe her lover from her past or something!? 😱 I did consider the ton making up rumors about that even if Teddy is in fact her brother, but if he were her son, it would change so so many things in the story! 😱

Let's have a HC with the idea of Teddy being her son honey! ❤️ Thank you so much for this! 🥰❤️

So Benedict would be very shocked at first, and I feel like Clover would tell him before they got married, when they "got engaged" 😈 And Benedict would be sitting there all frozen, and Clover would be like,

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah I just- I didn't know."

"Yeah, that was the point, no one in the ton knows. Listen, Benedict, I'd just appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else the real reason why we break off the engagement-"

"We didn't break off the engagement."

"Come on, this changes things."

"This changes nothing concerning my feelings for you."

"You're jesting."

"We could just have Teddy live with us once we're married, the ton still wouldn't know."

"Benedict."

"I'll raise him like my own, you know that."

[aclaywrites]

How to fall in love via Deneuve Magazine Personal Ads Circa 1993

❖ Go to your mailbox and see that your latest issue of Deneuve magazine has been delivered. It’s in a plain brown envelope, but you still take it all the way inside the house before you open it.

❖ Take a moment to gaze at the cover and appreciate the fact that it’s named after Catherine Deneuve in honor of her sex scene from The Hunger which awakened us all.

❖ Flip past the first few pages of ads. Do I want to fax away for a brochure about the chance to go on a Kenyan photo safari with the world’s first out lesbian commedienne? What about the Olivia Thanksgiving cruise?

❖ Enjoy the Editor’s Column about how our new President Clinton has pledged to make real progress for the LGBT community. Bask in the warm glow of happiness knowing that the gay dark ages are finally coming to a close.

❖ Chuckle at Alison Bechdel’s ad for the Feminist Bookstore Network and wish you had one of those stores near you.

❖ Keep up with the state of the lesbian nation via the letters to the editor. Aren’t the repressive laws being passed in Oregon and Colorado shocking? Goddess bless that Kentucky baby dyke having to dodge the KKK at her high school 🙁

❖ Read the wedding announcements and get all choked up, remembering why you’re here. Resist the urge to flip to the end and see if there’s anyone new from last month. Hope springs eternal!

❖ Oh, the 20th anniversary of Naiad Press! I love their stuff! Especially how all the covers look like they’re printed with ink that was on sale. I wonder if they have any more copies of that Lesbian Queries book from 1990???

❖ Audre Lorde sure is gonna give them hell at the march on Washington, eh?

❖ So many bookstores. So many books.

❖ An article about Safe Sex! Hell yes! Even though lesbians don’t get AIDS because we’re God’s chosen people, this will be fun to read about in theory! “After all, aren’t we told that lesbians and priests are in the lowest risk category?” lol people thought priests weren’t constantly having gay sex. Simpler times.

❖ An interview with Alison Bechdel! She’s so swoony.

❖ Articles about soap operas, speculation about Hilary Clinton, gossip about Madonna and Sandra Bernhard. And what about Whoopi Goldberg? And that Ellen lady? She’s been on Arsenio Hall acting all cagy about the men in her life. A list of women we wish were gay, including Joan Jett? Didn’t she sing Crimson and Clover without changing pronouns like waaaaay back in the 80s

❖ Music reviews: Sweet Honey in the Rock and Alix Dobkin! We’re almost to the ads…

❖ Labrys jewelry, freedom rings. C’mon, let’s get to the good stuff!

❖ Here we go! Classified ads– 30 words for $20! Queer personal finance, we buy used computers, a lesbian resort in New Hampshire.

❖ Personals at last! Is my woman here?

❖ Hey there’s that woman who has an ad every month expressing her ‘complete and sincere respect for’ women in military, fire, police, private security, corrections’. A gay male ad would say ‘Uniform fetish’ but apparently we’re too delicate.

❖ Bisexual boston babe ‘femalely handsome’ looking for someone who’s ‘nice to look at, not a feminist and not a bitch’. Next!

❖ Lonesome in Wyoming, Bisexual Bodybuilder, Softball is over, time to find someone warm for winter, Reubenesque Arkansas Buddhist…

❖ Find a girl who sounds promising– seems interesting and is not too far away. Spend a day or so composing a letter with a pen and piece of paper introducing yourself. If you don’t have a photo of yourself that you like, have a friend take one. Then finish the roll of film and bring it to the Fotomat and wait a day or so and then pick up the prints and hope you like one of them. Choose one anyway, and put it in the envelope with your letter.

❖ Get a stamp, hang it on the mailbox, never hear anything ever again.

❖ One month later, go to your mailbox and see that your copy of Deneuve has arrived.

[warriors-wyrms-writing]

The House

a story where something is not quite right.

    At a traveler’s first glance it may have seemed an ordinary house, albeit a bit large. However, it was anything but. Such a thing could be seen by the more keen of observers as far away as the wrought-iron gate, noticing the fantastical creatures and strange runes hidden within the intricate whorls and spirals. Most dismissed it as curious and went on their ways, and even those who didn’t initially were forced to, for the only time the heavy gates screeched open was when a new family took up occupancy, which happened rarely, and none of the residents deigned to leave except in boxes, even to retrieve food, all of the inhabitants as far back as memory served always having their few goods delivered through a hatch in the gate. That was the closest “common” folk ever got to the house, unable to see over or even really through the closely-woven iron.

  If any of them had on a regular day, they would have seen a stone path forgotten by time and people, overgrown with moss and wildflowers that children would gather up by the bunches when they lived there, and for a few weeks, the worn white stones would be visible once again among the waving grasses. If—and this is growing exceedingly unlikely—by any chance someone was to journey along the forgotten stone path through the clover and dandelions and actually approach the front door, they’d notice an elaborate white arched doorway, carved with waves and dolphins and with fishes and seashells.

     Ensconced within this intricate frame was a wooden door, sometimes red, sometimes black, it’s only extraordinary quality that it was always faded. And, of course, the silver door knocker. This intricate knocker was almost never used, but it was beautiful despite, or perhaps because of, it, carved into the shape of a dragon with a coiled tail. Though the detailed knocker was seen by so few, those who did gaze upon it did so for the rest of their lives, along with every other detail of the great red-brick house. It wasn’t just a house you lived in; it was a house that lived in you.

     If one got past that marvelous knocker, which on the date of this writing very few have, they would find themselves standing on a rug so red that one could almost fancy that it had been stained such with the blood of former occupants, staring out at softly tinted lilac walls and honey-gold wooden floors, and a crystal chandelier larger than the world’s tallest and fattest men combined and shining like a thousand captured stars in the light streaming through the great bay windows of the house’s welcome-room.

     If a resident (all who have ever beheld theses scenes have been residents) were to advance up the white-carpeted spiral staircase in the room’s middle as they all did eventually, they’d find a long hallway, seemingly windowless but lined with white doors along the corridor of which the walls had been painted with mint in an age time has forgot, but which still looked like it had been done last week.

     The rooms beyond the doors were all exactly the same, although with the house’s layout and outward appearance that seemingly would have made no sense to an outsider, although whenever you were actively beholding it it seemed perfectly reasonable. All these bedrooms were splendid, and would have been the envy of the state had they known of them. With a beautiful and cheerful abstract pattern, though still identical to those in the other rooms, letting in flecks of colored light that danced upon the yellow walls and flitted over the dresser and nightstand’s painted vines and flowers, pausing only to linger on the sunny blue blankets that lay upon the bed.

     If one elected not to venture up that spiral and instead went around it’s back, they’d find themselves in a kitchen tiled with geometric patterns in small black diamonds and with copper pots hanging over the black counters shot through with white from the underside of the dark cabinets fixed to the walls, the silver handles appearing to drip off them like teardrop earrings.

     At the far end of the kitchen was a swinging door such as everyday folks see in a restaurant, and if one were to go through it they’d enter the dining room, home to a chandelier even more impressive than the one in the welcome-room, structured too instead of merely a cascade of prisms. The candles held by its branching golden arms would illuminate a dining table and chairs carved with the same whorls as the fence outside, complete with the hidden pegasi and griffins, dragons and twisted runes, climbing up legs and backs, hissing malevolently at the residents of the cabinets of golden wood that lined the deep forest green walls, intricately painted dishes and vases accompanying sculptures of people and animals and a few strange mixtures of the two behind the glass fronts.

     The chandelier would also, more likely than not, illuminate a small passageway five feet high and three wide, lined in mirrors. If one would so choose to enter this strange passage, they would find it full of sharp corners and unexpected turns before it suddenly spit them out at the back of the house, near the dark grey rear door, the passage they had just emerged from looking like a mere unassuming crack in the red brick.

     They could re-enter the house through the grey door, but unless they knew about the key, hidden within the beak of the bird carved into the doorknob, it was unlikely. This was when the front-door’s dragon knocker was most often used, for few could find the mirrored hallway from outside. If, after re-entry of the welcome-room, they would turn right, they’d find themselves in a room with walls and cushioned couches of maroon and gold, and a fireplace large enough for a midnight tryst. The walls round the room were hung with portraits in ornate gold frames, or at least gilded thus. 

     If one did all that they would have explored all the house easily accessible, though not even half of the whole. After all, they hadn’t even discovered the secret greenhouse yet, but ah, maybe another time we’ll explore the innumerable mysteries of that strange house.