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winedarkthoughts · 3 days

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house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

NEXT CHAPTER RELEASE: 05/08/24

#bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts mystery #bts x fem!reader #bts series #bts f #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff

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nana-au · 4 hours

Text

Best Friends Forever!

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex

₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor.

BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place.

BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you.

BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend.

BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating.

BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him.

BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option.

BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed.

BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste.

“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.

BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze.

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy.

Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations...

No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.

It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.

BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic.

BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.

BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend.

BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”

BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you.

BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his.

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged.

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shuttershocky · 1 day

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Is there any power scaling discussion that will inevitably make you feel the need to respond, no matter how irrelevant power scaling is to the actual media in question?

"How did Nero defeat Vergil at the end of DMC5 he's only 1/4th demon he should be much weaker wahh wahh plot armor"

First of all, Nero won because he wanted to win more than Vergil did. Second of all, Vergil's used to fighting an agile clown like Dante and not a brute gorilla like Nero who has no problem with just grabbing him and slamming him into the dirt repeatedly until he cries uncle.

BUT ALSO we know that human blood fuels demons in Devil May Cry. They have to consume it to grow their powers, which is why these guys keep powering all their infernal machinery with blood and why the tree whose fruit is kingmaker of the underworld must feed on human blood.

Before Nero, it looks like Vergil and Dante's strength came from being the sons of Sparda, who was Mundus' strongest soldier and was able to solo all of hell for his lady love.

But honestly I think a lot of their power comes from their nature as hybrids. When Urizen consumes the same fruit that made Mundus king of the underworld, he gets torn a brand new asshole by Dante working with an 8 year old's logic (if Vergil cut himself in two with the Yamato, maybe stabbing myself with Rebellion glues both my sides tighter?) and it actually works.

Not only is Dante's SIN Devil Trigger form written down in Nico's notes as matching (or even surpassing) Sparda's peak, he crushes Urizen both before and after the latter consumes the fruit containing human blood worth millions, completely mystifying the demon king because what the fuck kind of bullshit powerup is that?

Urizen's only able to match Dante's strength once V fuses his human self back into him to recreate Vergil.

I think being a demon-human hybrid basically acts like an infinite human blood battery. It's already inside you and never runs out because your body just makes more blood. The demonic side isn't granting the power, it's granting the abilities; the human side is the gas fueling this killing machine.

The whole time Sparda was turning on his own hell legions for Earth pussy he was unknowingly stumbling into the blueprint for creating unbeatable demonic super soldiers, and had no idea.

Every time Dante defeated the likes of Mundus or Argosax they must have been calling horseshit because there's no way they're getting destroyed by this buffoon just because he's Sparda's son when fighting skills aren't something you inherit like it's hair color, not realizing Dante's powers are fueled by his own blood (and plenty of self-stabbing).

This means that Nero is not inherently weaker than Vergil or Dante by having less demon in him, because it's the hybrid nature itself being their strength.

While Nero's powers aren't as mature as theirs, his demonic strength is enough to grab both Dante and Vergil's SIN devil trigger forms and push them back when they charged at full might, and in fact he's physically strong enough to lift giants like Goliath and ragdoll them around like their name is Bluto and he's just eaten a can of spinach.

Dante even points out at the end that Vergil cut off his own son's arm for more power and the son still kicked his ass anyway. By the end of DMC5 Nero doesn't need the Yamato anymore to do Buster moves, he can shape his own aura into arms to punch and grab things just as effectively, making him completely independent from actually using any devil arms to fight (he only needs human weapons like Lady does). He's strong enough that Dante trusts him with protecting the world by himself while Dante goes to hell, which is a big ask given you know, everything in DMC 1-4.

TL;DR - Nero strong

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wosoluver · 3 days

Text

Trying hard

TW: suggestive content

Andrea x Teammate!reader

"Why are the both of you fighting so hard to hate eachother?" - Asked Lola.

No one on the team understood where all that came from. And seemingly not even you or Andrea seemed to know.

"She started it."

You were all doing warm ups in training

"Literally when?" - Lola insisted knowing her friend very well. And Andrea just huffed at her.

You were new on the team, arrived in the beginning of the season. You were a forward, she was a defender, you naturally clashed a lot during trainings.

But still there was never an event to cause your constant bickering at each other.

"Everyone dividing into teams." - Yelled the coach.

As usual the two of you were in opposite sides. But twenty minutes in Medina started to get frustrated. She couldn't manage to stop your attacks, that led her to commit a bunch of fouls, this one had been particularly hard.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" - you screamed out as you got up. You were in pain but in the moment you saw red. And you pushed her back. - "You aways pull this shit! Try to learn how to manage your anger issues. It's not my fault you suck at your job."

And that's all it took for her to stand up and try to start a physical fight.

But thankfully you were separated by your teammates.

"You two are staying late as punishment." - That's the only thing coach said before starting the game once again. You stayed on the sidelines trying to cool down.

You couldn't help but watch her every move. How the sweat glistened over her muscles as she gave her all on the pitch.

"Alright we're done for the day. Not you, Medina and Y/L/N, you two are working on your 1 v 1 and if you start another fight we'll have a problem."

"Fuck!" - You let out under your breath.

You grabbed the ball closest to you.

You two did some drills, but when you tried to pass her once again she pulled you down, but you managed to trip her with your legs, and soon she was on the ground too.

"Your not gonna yell at me?" - she asked.

"I'm too tired for that." -

"Why do you do it?"

"You're the one who keeps attacking me! But I apologize for saying your not good at your job. You're actually pretty skilled."

"Yeah, just not enough to stop you."

You looked over at her watching how the sun made her eyes look, their prettiest.

"Sorry for being harsh, I just- it's frustrating."

You got up and offered her a hand up in the process, which she took.

"Let's go."

You both went into the locker room, and went straight to shower. But she accidentally slipped on the wet floor right in front of you, taking you down with her.

"This one was not intentional I swear!"

"I'm so going to get bruised." - you said trying to help each other up. But failing miserably. But taking the situation in comically.

When you two finally managed getting up, you finished showing and getting changed.

"Can you give me a ride home? I came with Lola this morning."

"You'll owe me one."

"Fine."

Next day everyone was shocked when the two of you started joking around.

"Oye, I'll go easy on you today!"

"No, you can't!"

You left for the gym, as Andrea stayed behind.

"I knew it!" - Said Lola.

"Knew what?"

"You two liked each other deep down."

The younger girl only rolled back her eyes. Leaving the room. She didn't want to admit to anything.

She stared at you the whole day. Now that she couldn't blame it on the hate, she realized that maybe those feelings she had, were more than frustration. It was a mix of admiration and longing. It felt somewhat like a crush. And the realization made her cheeks red.

"Y/N! Can you stay and train with me for a little longer?"

"Yeah of course."

Lola simply looked suspiciously at her friend. - "Don't you need me to give you a ride home?"

"Y/N can take me."

"Okay." - She didn't want to insist too much. But she knew something was up.

After spending another hour training you decided to call it a day. Heading inside.

"You're doing better at blocking me."

"You're still winning though."

"Give it some time, you'll get there."

That week during the derby, between the team and Real Madrid. You were being ferociously taken down. Probably for the same reason as aways. But that was working you up, and Andrea as well. Even if she wasn't personally getting hurt.

But when they took Wifi down, as she was about to enter the penalty area, Andrea was so annoyed, she started running from the other side of the pitch to start a fight with Oihane. But before she could you intercepted her, pulling her away the best you could.

"Hey, stop if you get another card, you're out of the game."

"I don't care!"

"Well, I'm not letting you."

"You can't boss me around like you do to everyone else!"

You thought you were past this stage of fighting for no reason. She thought so too, but right now she couldn't deal with the pressure of the game, her hot headed need to bite back and the way your arms held her back with force against yourself.

Once the game was over and you were ready to leave, you walked towards the car without saying goodbye to anyone.

But unfortunately Andrea was able to catch up with you.

"I'm really sorry."

"I thought we were on good terms!"

"I can explain, can we please get into the car?"

"I'm not giving you a ride."

"I'm not asking for one. I just want to talk privately."

You huffed as you unlocked the doors.

You both sat respectively in your seats. You waited for her to start talking.

"My head was spinning out of control. The way they were making so many fouls, and we were struggling to keep up, was getting to me and when you held me back in your arms, I just exploded."

"You keep throwing your frustrations on me again and again."

"I know, but I've been trying to fix it, since I realized where they came from."

"Which is what? Your anger issues?"

"I don't have anger issues, it's you!"

"I don't have any anger issues!"

"No, I mean I have a crush on you.

That's what has bothered me from the start!"

By now you just stared at her, mouth agape.

"You're not going to say anything?"

But before she had barely ended her sentence, you kissed her passionately. This led her to pull you from the driver's seat to seat on her lap. And when you pulled away to breathe, she decided to pull you to the backseat to blow off all the steam you had build up during the game.

And you thanked god you were parked so far from everyone else that day.

#woso x reader #espwnt #andrea medina #andrea medina x reader #atletico madrid femenino

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dindjarindiaries · 3 days

Note

Oh pretty pretty please could I request a Hunter x reader with ❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜ where Hunter shows up to readers bunk/room with a migraine from his hightened senses? Maybe he's had a few of these before but this one is much worse (because of a mission gone sideways or something) and he just needs someone to take care of him that isn't one of his brothers (he loves them but they're way too loud for this kind of situation)?

Also, I just cannot express how much I enjoy your writing! I read through all of your Hunter works in one sitting a few days ago!

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompt: "I didn’t know where else to go."

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You were only half asleep when you heard shuffling across the floor of the ship. After you blinked yourself awake, you sat up on your elbow and saw Hunter making a cautious approach. His gaze was apologetic, but the pained creases at the edges of his eyes was what made you fully attentive.

"Hey," you greeted, keeping your voice hushed both to keep anyone else from waking and because of your own suspicions about whatever was bothering him. "What is it?"

Hunter was still more concerned about you. "Did I wake you?" You noticed he had to fight back a whimper as he spoke.

You shook your head and sat up, swinging your legs off the side of the bunk. "I was barely asleep."

Hunter sighed. He closed his eyes and lifted two of his fingers to his temple, giving it a rub. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You tucked your hands under your thighs to resist the urge to reach out and soothe him with your touch. "Is it a migraine?"

Hunter reopened his eyes and nodded. His gaze was uncertain as it began to dart around the space. "I wouldn't have bothered you, but this one's... worse than usual." His eyes found yours again, and the desperation within his gaze nearly took your breath away. "I didn't know where else to go."

You offered him a reassuring smile. "Well, you came to the right place." You scooted over on the bunk to make room for him.

Hunter followed your lead, hopping up onto the bunk and hanging his head as if it was too heavy for him to carry. You twisted your lips and brushed your hand over his back.

"Rough mission, huh?" You had stayed back on the ship with Omega at Hunter's reluctant request.

Hunter huffed, then winced. "Yeah. You could say that." He lifted his forefinger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There was a lot going on."

"I bet." Your nails drew soothing circles over the black material that covered his back. "Are you okay with me touching your head?"

Hunter kept his eyes closed as he responded. "Yeah." His free hand found your knee as he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I trust you."

That made your chest inflame with the sweetest warmth as you nodded and bit back your giddy smile. "Okay. Then my first idea is..." you paused, reaching up to untie his bandana, "loosening some of this pressure."

You set the red material aside and watched as his hair slowly slid back into its natural place. It made your smile impossible to fight.

"Are you comfortable laying your head on my lap?"

Hunter nodded, and he almost seemed to be fighting a smile of his own. You moved yourself back to where your pillow was, propping it up for your back to rest on as you sat criss-crossed and help Hunter to ease himself down. He kept his eyes closed as he did so, and the pained creases of his eyes slowly relaxed as you began to run your fingers through his hair.

"There you go." Your words were no more than a whisper at that point. Your fingers eased through the strands of his hair, being careful not to be too quick or too rough as you knew even this simple action had the potential to trigger his enhanced senses.

Hunter's hands were folded over his middle as his eyes slowly opened. He looked at you and let the smile he had been trying to fight spread over his lips. You returned the gesture before you could stop it. Your heart began to race just a little more when he grabbed one of your wrists to lower your palm against his cheek. "Thank you."

Your smile grew as you gently ran your thumb over his tattooed skin. "You don't have to thank me." You bent down to place soft kisses on each of his temples. "Just relax."

Hunter folded his hands again and closed his eyes. He let out a relaxed breath and aired out one last concern. "What if I fall asleep?"

You didn't bother holding in your giggle. "Then I did my job right."

Hunter huffed, and you were more than pleased to see that his expression of pain had been exchanged for one of pure satisfaction. It was just as sweet as the thought of him coming to you for help in the first place. You were just as much his refuge as he was yours.

#what i would give to help this man to relax!!!!!!!!!!!!#sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #the bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb x reader #tbb hunter x reader #prompts #dindjarindiaries

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avocado-writing · 3 days

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Hi, I really like the way you write BG3 party members! I had a thought for a while and wanted to request the main party with a Revenant!Tav? Imagine all the angst that comes with Tav only seeking vengeance on their killer, knowing that their time is limited (revenants have only 1 year to enact their revenge). Or maybe the companions try to find a way of making them 'alive' again, if you want a happy ending? I just think it has a lot of potential and want to know your thoughts!

this one is a bit angsty, so reader beware

My beautiful boy Astarion understands the need for revenge, and is committed to helping you get it if you help him kill Cazador. The two of you stay up late at night to discuss tactics, how you will enact your brutality upon the people who deserve it… but then Astarion realises that you do not talk about what comes after, like he does when he considers a life without his abuser. He does a little research and finally finds what a revenant is. It breaks his heart to think that you’d die at the end of your quest because… well, he loves you. He begs you to reconsider. That there are other ways. You don’t need to be like him. But you take his cheek in your hand and tell him there is no other path for you, so the two of you must just enjoy the time you have together. If he finds a way to cure you, he’s yours forever - if not, the time you have together is sacred. He wastes not a second.

Gale immediately researching about how to lift your curse, that the two of you may live a happy life together after you get your revenge. You tell him not to bother, it’s too much effort, he needs to move on and find someone better - someone with a life worth giving to him. He deserves proper, warm, and tender love, something your dead heart isn’t capable of giving. He does not listen. He doubles down, desperate to keep you in his arms. Maybe he finds some secret forgotten rite which allows you to live after you’ve killed the person who wronged you… or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he watches you die and pass on peacefully when you’re done, then does everything he can to ascend to godhood and bring your soul back into his arms. Either way, nothing will stop your wizard.

Wyll listens to your story with a heaviness in his heart, but he knows he wasn’t upfront about his past either… but that does give him an idea. One night, with no way to understand how or why, you feel your curse being lifted, life returning properly to your body. When you seek out your Blade he tries to act pleased, but there’s something weighing on him. It does not take long to realise that he has given up his soul in its entirety to Mizora in order to restore yours. You cry and wail and beat at his chest pathetically. How could he make such a trade? You are not worth it. He holds you at arm’s length to look you over and tells you you’ve always been worth it, and he’d make his choice a thousand times over again. You love him so utterly that you're brought to silence. You vow to make the best of this gift he’s given you, with him by your side.

She knows what it is like to live your last days, does Karlach. The infernal engine in her will kill her sooner rather than later, so she indulges with you. Rich food, fine wine, long evenings of partying and celebrations of life. At Baldur’s Gate you hold her after she kills Gortash, and she begs you not to follow her suit, because revenge isnt worth it. This confession just leaves you empty. There is nothing left after except hollowness. And maybe you listen to her, the two of you find a way out of your curse and go on to Avernus to live out your happiness there (or what you can muster of it) or maybe you ignore her, or your time runs out, and she is left to face the Absolute alone - and lets herself burn on that dock, because a life without you isn’t a life at all.

Lae’zel is excited about your revenge. Enthusiastic, even supportive. She does not understand the nature of your curse. Many a long evening is spent training with her so you may sharpen your abilities, and she gains a great respect for you as both a warrior and a person. Either you find a cure which allows you to be together… or too late does she find out what your revenge brings. She holds you in her arms as you pass, your final words ones of love as your body goes limp and your soul passes into a different plane. She takes a lock of your hair and keeps it on her as a reminder. It is all she has left, after all.

Shadowheart is a great supporter of you… as a Sharran. She pushes for your revenge, evangelising the merits of you killing the person who wronged you, as it’s what Lady Shar would want. But then, as a Selûnite, she begins to think differently. Life is sweeter than she believed. There is more to it than suffering, and she wants to experience the loveliness of it with you by her side. She spends her nights poring over tomes to try and cure you. Maybe she finds a way with her new goddess. If not, when you pass, she keeps you in her heart forever, trying to move on with the guidance of her new goddess, but always feeling just that little bit empty without you.

Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kat @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @snoozeeebee @hopeful-n-sad

#gale of waterdeep x reader #Gale of waterdeep x tav #Astarion x reader #astarion x tav #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #my writing #Long post #bg3 imagine #Gale x reader #Gale x tav #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #companions x tav

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creative-caramel-coffee · 22 hours

Text

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 4

Summary: Reader goes shopping with Pepper, Wanda and Nat. It ends a bit early though when reader starts to struggle with her senses.

TW: overstimulation, flirting, speeding, domestic fluff (hehe)

Words: 3.8K

A/n I changed the floor layout my bad. Also, I planned like 16 chapters of this fic so far and there will probs be more. Now i’m just worried I’ll end up loosing interest and not finishing it 😭 and I’ve been up since 2am. I slept for two hours 💀

After a dinner of pizza and other takeaway foods Tony had bought, Wanda and you headed back to the floor with Peters room.

Stepping out of the lift Wanda led you to where you had been staying for the past few days while Nat went ahead to your new room put sheets on your bed.

Your room would be on the same floor as Natasha and Wanda’s. It was also where Yelena and Kate stayed when they were in town as well as Carol when she was on earth.

You reached the door and headed into peters room. It didn’t take long to gather your things. You grabbed the backpack with some clothes in it, all of which were dirty by now as well as your tablet, computer and sketching supplies.

Once you had shoved most of it into the bag and had your laptop in your arms you followed wanda back out the door.

Despite your very comprehensive tour of the compound, you still didn’t know where you were going.

Wanda and you got back into the lift and set out for your new room.

The lift was filled with idle chatter as Wanda caught you up on the avengers love lives. Tony and pepper were together while the rest were still living the bachelor life.

Feeling a little bold you decided to ask her.

“What about you?” You asked. “Are you seeing anyone?” You clarified when she shot you a confused look.

“Not currently.” Wanda said studying the rarely used buttons on the lift. Jarvis often did all of that for you.

“Ok cool.” You said before stuttering. “I mean not ‘cool’ but its not uncool” you began rambling only cut off by the angelic sound of Wanda’s giggles.

Your cheeks were rosy as she smiled at you.

“Your cute when your flustered.” She said with a wink just as the doors opened and she stepped out. You were frozen for a second before gathering yourself and following her out half a pace behind.

As you trailed after Wanda down the halls she turned to look over her shoulder at you. “You coming sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded speeding up your steps to walk beside her.

As you rounded another corner she slowed. “This is my room.” Wanda said gesturing to a closed door. “And that’s Nat’s.” She gestured to the door next to hers. “This is your room.” She said walking down to the door halfway between Wanda’s and Natasha’s on the opposite side of the hallway.

The door to your room was open as Nat was sat on your freshly made bed with a grin.

“Wondering when you were getting here.” Natasha smirked making Wanda roll her eyes at her.

You stepped into the room. It was large with a king bed and huge windows that let in natural light, or at least it would if it was daytime. It was past evening now and almost nine pm. The New York skyline was just as beautiful, however.

You set your bag and laptop down on the desk before sitting down next to Natasha on the bed.

The walls were white and grey. There was a big desk near the windows and a bedside table on each side of the bed. A door was off to the side which you assumed led to a bathroom. There was also a second door which must have been a wardrobe. Other than a lamp on the bedside and a Tv mounted on the wall, the room was bare.

“We’ll get thing to decorate when we go shopping tomorrow.” Nat said almost as if she could read your mind. More likely she could read your expression and body language.

“Sounds perfect.” You said with a smile.

“Do you have clothes you can sleep in tonight?” Wanda asked and you shuffled your feet before looking up at her.

“Er… no?” You said.

“Are you asking me or telling me sweetheart?” Wanda asked coyly making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Telling?” You said still sounding unsure of yourself.

“Very well then. I’m sure Nat and I can find something for you to sleep in for tonight.” Wanda said looking to Nat for her opinion. The widow nodded and you felt yourself relax slightly.

“Thank you guys. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing dirty clothes in a clean bed tonight.’ You said sighing in relief.

“Are all your clothes dirty?” Nat asked eyeing your backpack.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

“We’ll find you something to wear tomorrow as well then, just until we can sort out some new clothes and laundry. Sound good?” Nat asked and you nodded.

“Yes, thank you.” You said.

“No need to thank us darling. Your quite welcome.” Nat purred and you felt yourself resist a shiver as her words danced close to your ear. The hair on the back of your neck swaying slightly under her breath as your skin tingled with the heat of her words.

You swallowed trying to regain your composure much to both women’s amusement.

“T-thanks.” You stuttered.

“Already said that darling.” Wanda chuckled and your blush deepened.

“Your so easy to mess with.” Nat said laughing from beside you.

You just glared at them and went to take the things out of your backpack while Wanda and Natasha left to find some clothes for you in their cupboards.

You had just finished setting down the last of your art supplies on the desk when Nat walked in loosely holding a faded black shield T-shirt that immediately knew was hers from how worn it looked. It also looked to be almost two sizes too big for Nat, so you shot her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “Its comfier to sleep in when its too big, and it kept the other boys I trained with back in the day from being able to stare at my ass.” She said with a wink.

“Whats this about Nat’s ass?” Wanda said walking in with a sly grin as your cheeks heated and you buried your face in your hands with a groan.

You heard the two of them high-five and rolled your eyes.

“Here.” Wanda said and you felt the bed dip beside you.

Wanda was holding out a pair of red track-pants which you took with a smile.

A second later Nat threw the shirt at you with a laugh as it landed on your head. You pulled it off and glared at her.

“You’re a menace.” You declared and Wanda hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Sure thing sweet cheeks.” Nat said rolling her eyes. “Now it’s bed time kiddo.” She said and motioned for wanda to leave as well.

“Im not a kid Romanoff.” You said and she smirked at the use of her last name, having been able to get under your skin successfully.

Wanda cuffed Nat but she ducked and took off down the hall. Wanda rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ignore her, she’s been drinking too much coffee lately.” Wanda said and bid you goodnight before retreating to capture the other redhead and force her to sleep.

You grinned at the shut door like a lovesick puppy before shaking yourself out of it. You changed into the clothes which smelt like them and made you feel safe.

Sliding under the sheets and getting comfy, you listened to the hallways to see if anyone was coming back. When you were met with silence, you reached over your backpack and pulled out a small white stuffed teddy.

Curling up with it under your arm, you buried your face in Nat’s shirt and fell asleep thinking of the two pretty redheads down the hall.

The next morning you were up bright and early. Having slept well for the first time in weeks.

You found your way to the communal kitchen just in time to run into Natasha who was coming back from early morning training in the compound gym.

“Hi Y/n/n.” Nat said smiling as she went to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

“Morning Natty.” You said with a smile.

“You're in a good mood.” Nat said looking amused as she took a big swig from the water bottle in her hands.

“Yep.” You said popping the P.

“Do you know if Wanda’s up?” Nat asked and before you could respond someone else did for you.

“I’m up.” Wanda said entering the kitchen.

“Morning.” You smiled.

“Morning Y/n. Who wants breakfast?” Wanda asked gravitating to the pots and pans in the drawers beside you.

“I’ll have some.” You said with a smile as you took a seat by the counter.

“Put me down for some too, I’m just going to go and have a shower before breakfast then we can head out ok?” Nat said as she refilled the water bottle and put it back in the fridge.

“Sounds good.” Wanda said as she began pulling things out of the fridge.

“Umm… where are we going today?” You asked feeling a little lost. Nat had already taken her leave for a shower so it was just you and wanda now.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Wanda said looking amused.

“Forgot … what? … exactly?” You asked.

“The girls shopping trip?” Wanda said.

“Oh yeah!” You exclaimed sitting up a little taller in a way that made Wanda’s heart stutter.

“So… how did you sleep?” Wanda asked.

“I slept well, how ‘bout you?” You asked watching as wanda beat the pancake batter within and inch of its life.

“Good, good. It’s a bit hit and miss some nights but last night wasn’t too bad.” Wanda said vaguely as she turned around the pour the batter into the pan.

After Nat returned and the three of you had eaten what could only be described as the best pancakes known to man, you got ready and headed for the garage.

Pepper was meeting you at the shopping centre a bit later after she sorted out some stark industries meetings this morning.

“You ready?” Wanda said putting an arm around your shoulders. You jumped in surprise making Nat laugh and Wanda frown.

“Too busy daydreaming there, Parker?” Nat asked with a grin, and you glared at her.

“No, just planning your murder.” You said with a wink before blow if her a kiss that made Nat roll her eyes at you.

“Alright, enough you two.” Wanda said giving you a small shove before punching Nat in the arm.

“Get in.” Nat said opening a door for you to the backseat and waving her hand toward the car's interior.

“This feels personal.” You grumbled as the two redheads took the front seat.

“It is.” Nat grinned as the engine hummed to life. You were taking one of Tonys’ many fancy, and very expensive cars. Nat’s favourite was the Bugatti La Voiture Noire, but it was only two seats, so you were left with the choice of a Mercedes Mayback or a Ford Mustang both of which had four seats.

In the end Nat had opted for the mustang and the three of you had piled in to head off.

With Nat driving you must have arrived in record time; it was no secret the redheaded assassin was a speed demon and Tony had begun framing her speeding tickets in the garage on the wall. The government always came to her aid if the police ever tried to take her license as it was argued she needed it to quote “save New York”

Of course, you hadn’t known this before hand and had let out a small scream as Nat took off at breakneck speed out of the garage.

One very fast car trip later the three of you were stood by the door the mall waiting for pepper to join you.

It had barely been five minutes before the last redhead showed up. Pepper was actually on time; Nat’s driving had just made you all early.

As pepper walked over Nat decided to tease her a little.

“Picking up on Tony’s habits there, pep?” Nat asked.

“Oh please.” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m the only reason he’s even at any of his meetings at all. Without me he wouldn’t just be late, he’d be missing.” She said and Nat laughed.

“True.” The assassin nodded.

“Alright, lets do this.” Pepper said smiling at you and Wanda.

The four of you headed into the mall. It was a little crowded but nobody seemed to mind. You just crossed your fingers that your spider senses stayed in check.

Pepper had barely made it ten feet in the door before she was dragging Natasha into a very expensive looking boutique.

This was how you spent the next hour. Pepper and Wanda dragged you and Natasha around, stopping at every pretty dress shop and expensive looking store in the complex.

After about an hour you were beginning to nurse a small headache and the tingle in the back of your mind told you all you needed to know for what was going to happen.

Nat had just stopped at a rack nearby before pulling wanda over to her. Holding out a dress you saw Wanda’s lips moving as she nodded, and Nat took the dress and disappeared into the change rooms.

It was a tight red cocktail dress and when Nat came back out to show it off you swear your jaw unhinged and landed on the floor.

It hugged her in all the right places.

Wanda was too busy ogling Nat to notice your reaction but pepper snorted a laugh before covering her mouth.

Nat pouted.

“What? Does it not look good?” Nat asked and you shot pepper a pleading look but she just smiled.

“No … no. I’d just say its … jaw dropping.” Pepper said winking at you as you glared at her with flushed cheeks.

“Yeah?” Nat asked raising an eyebrow and shooting you a look. “Then I guess I’ll have to get it then won’t i?” Nat said and you nodded eagerly. “Your lucky your cute Detka.” She said as she brushed past you on her way back to the change room. “Because your drooling.” She whispered in your ear and your blush darkened a good two shades of crimson.

Your headache was still getting worse and about a half hour later it was almost reaching full force.

You had found a dress and Nat was carrying four bags, one with a dress for you and her and the other three had a few random pieces of clothing for your day to day wardrobe and some room décor.

Just as you were beginning to think you wouldn’t be able to take anymore Wanda suggested the four of you get lunch from the café downstairs.

By now you were surprised none of them had noticed your discomfort, despite trying to hide it it was still bothering you.

The fluorescent strip lights that lit the mall were too bright and seemed to be burning your retinas with each blink.

The noise level despite not exceeding regular mall noise levels was almost deafening in your sensitive ears.

Even the mixed smells of fast food and perfumes was making your head swim.

Your headache pounded behind your eyes as well as almost throughout your full skull. There was a buzzing in your ears that sounded like the electricity in the walls that simply wouldn’t shut up.

Your stomach was rolling from the mixed smells and it was just too loud and too bright.

As you slid into the booth next to Nat, with wanda and pepper on the other side facing you, you resisted the urge to crawl under the table and cry.

Your headache thundered in your ears and pounded on your skull.

Your headache was in full force and Pepper must have noticed how quiet you were being as she looked you over with a knowing gaze.

She took note of your pinched brow and slightly sweaty forehead, how you were biting down on your lip and squinting. As well as how you flinched as someone in the café banged their cutlery against their plate.

Wanda noticed peppers look and was now looking at you too with a frown which drew Natasha’s eyes to you as well.

The conversation had reached a lull as all three women studied you. You were too zoned out to notice their attention all being on you.

“Y/n?” Wanda asked slowly.

“Yeah?” You said looking up and sounding absolutely wreaked.

“Are you ok?” Wanda said looking slightly worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said not even believing your own words. Your voice was lathered in a tired tone. You shook your head while saying this only managing to anger your headache more as you winced and brought a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Feeling nauseous you leant on nat and rested you head on her shoulder. Nat seemed almost surprised at your sudden desire for contact.

She held you close to her as your body relaxed into her side having no more energy to hold yourself up.

“Y/n?” Pepper asked softly.

“Mmm?” You hummed as you vaguely heard shuffling before you sensed someone close to you.

Opening an eye slightly you saw pepper crouching next to you.

“Y/n?” she asked softly. “Do you get the same thing peter does honey?” Her voice stayed low and quiet. You turned your face into Nat’s neck and weighed up your options before giving a small nod.

You miss the frown that adorns Wanda’s lips at the news that something was wrong and pepper seemed to know what it was despite you never having mentioned anything about this.

Pepper stood again and looked over at Nat and Wanda.

“She’ll be alright. Just stay here and I’ll be back. I’ll explain in a minute.” Pepper said and she took off in a brisk walk to a nearby shop.

After pepper had darted off she wove through the crowd and into a tech store, making a purchase before making one more stop and then hightailing it back to the café.

When she returned you’s seemingly not moved an inch while Wanda and Nat were talking in hushed tones. Nat had her arm around you and was holdin the back of your head into her neck as you seemed to be almost trembling from all the overstimulation.

When pepper came back Wanda sat a little straighter while Nat eyes the two new shopping bags pepper was carrying.

Pepper came to crouch beside you giving you a small nudge that set your skin on fire.

“Y/n?” She asked softly. “Can you look at me honey, you can keep your eyes shut, I promise these will help.” She said coaxing you out of Nat’s neck.

You faced her with your eyes squeezed shut as she slid a black pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears and switching them on.

The blissful sound of quiet almost made you cry as your headache lessened. A moment later you felt pepper place something on your face before cautiously opening one eye to find the world dimmer and more tolerable.

Now decked out with the headphones and sunglasses you felt a lot better. You were exhausted and the headache was still present just less intense.

You watched as Wanda, Nat and Pepper conversed, the sound not reaching you. Pepper seemed to be explaining what was happening to them based off the sad look wanda gave you.

Pepper explained that your powers increased your senses, and that in the right conditions they were very helpful in fights. But were more than problematic in a domestic setting. She explained that it wasn’t unheard of for peter to get overstimulated when out or somewhere loud. She went on to tell them she recognised the look peter had when he tried to simple tough it out when they went out.

Wanda felt awful that your powers had caused you pain.

Nat however was already planning to talk to tony about getting something built to help.

Once pepper had explained the extent of the issue and some of the things that helped, the three seemed to change gears, looking to be making plans now instead.

After they had finished talking Pepper decided to try something.

She turned to face you and moved her hands to form some simple signs. Your face lit up in recognition.

*How are you feeling? * Pepper signed.

*tired* you signed back.

Nat and Wanda looked surprised.

“How did you know she knew sign?” Wanda asked.

“Peter seemed to know some when he first was with us.” Pepper explained. “I assumed Y/n might also know some if peter did.”

You could tell what they had asked. “My dad was hard of hearing. He taught us sign at a young age before … he died.” You said and pepper nodded.

*We are going to go home* pepper signed but you shook your head.

*you stay here, I’ll go. I don’t want to ruin things* you signed.

*nonsense* pepper signed and you knew based off Nat’s eyes she was following along.

Nat had learnt sign language from Clint in the academy when they were partners. Clint had insisted in case his hearing aid were ever damaged in a fight.

You sighed realising you weren’t going to win this one.

*ok* you signed and hesitated for a moment before continuing. *thank you*. You signed.

*your welcome* pepper signed back and Wanda offered her hand to you.

Holding Wanda’s hand, the four of you headed for the car park.

You felt bad for ruining the trip, but Nat shot you a look when she saw you getting lost in your head that banished all thoughts.

Once you were in the car, Wanda had insisted on driving. Nat was riding with pepper to try and find out more about what was going on. You kept the headphones and sunnies on the whole ride home as you zoned out slightly.

Wanda droves slowly so she didn’t throw you around while Pepper and Nat sped back to try and organise things for when you get back.

When you arrived, you were almost asleep leaning into the passenger door.

Wanda coaxed you out of the car and led you by the hand up the lift and down the hall to her room.

You were beyond exhausted as Wanda lifted the sheets and got you settled under the thick comforter.

She ordered Jarvis to dim the lights and soundproof the room. She thanked Tony for the added features in her mind as she felt you snuggle into her side.

A few moments later the door opened slightly to reveal Nat and Pepper peaking in.

“Is she asleep?” Nat asked and Wanda studied your breathing.

“Not yet.” Wanda responded.

“Well we have some pain meds for her.” Pepper said as they both came inside and handed wanda a glass of water.

After coaxing you into taking some medicine, you laid back down against Wanda was was massaging your head as you melted in her lap.

Pepper and Nat had dropped by Bruces lab to pick up peters pain meds for you before coming to Wanda’s room where Jarvis said they could find you.

You fell asleep not long after taking the medicine which had finally gotten rid of your headache.

81 notes · View notes

arlathavellan · 2 days

Text

The Silence Left in My Wake

Fandom: ACOTAR

Pairing: (past) Rhysand x Reader, Azriel + Reader, Morrigan + Reader, Cassian + Reader

Reader: she/her, High Fae, Y/N used

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 3.6k

<<request>>

For a while, you had convinced yourself they would come for you. Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan... Rhysand. It was the one hope you held onto over the years. But fifty years is a long time to hope for something that will never happen. || The world keeps spinning when we're gone. Unfortunately for you, that means when you're finally free after over fifty years of captivity, nothing is the same. Once told you would marry the love of your life and become his Lady of Night, you come come face-to-face with your new reality, and reunite with the family you had been waiting on to save you.

The Court of Nightmares was no place to dream. You had no hopes, no freedom, no choice in the life you would live.

Then came the High Lord; Rhysand. A dark force of nature, who came into your life like a terrific storm and upended everything you thought you knew. With Rhysand, you let your walls crumble, let yourself imagine a life outside of that mountain. There were politics to navigate before he could steal you away, of course, but he assured you that one day he'd sweep you off into his City of Dreams and make you his wife, his Lady.

But The Court of Nightmares was no place to dream.

Rhysand had the perfect story to spin for your father; a proper marriage alliance with the High Lord himself. Your father was not the ambitious fool your lover took him for. He knew there would be no true alliance, that marrying you off would be no better than sending you away to never hear from you again. After all, Morrigan was at his side, and Keir was no better in his good graces for it.

Cassian and Mor both advocated for taking you anyways, but you agreed with Azriel when he argued all the ways that could end badly. As much as you wanted out of that mountain, you wanted to truly be free from it. So, Rhysand continued his painstaking negotiations, with his patience whittling down to nothing. Compromise seemed impossible between the two bull-headed fae, and you began to wonder if the end was in sight.

Then, the worst came to pass.

Amarantha, who you had been carefully hidden from upon her visit to Hewn City (one of the only things Rhysand and your father could agree on), forever changed the the course of fate in one fell swoop.

It was Azriel who had visited you that morning, half-hidden in the shadows in case your father or one of his servants entered your room. He told you of the meeting Rhysand had been invited to with the other High Lords, Amarantha hoping to “make amends” for her actions during the war. He told you of Rhysand's plans to finally take you to Velaris, father be damned, before she was made aware of your existence.

"Pack only what you need," Azriel had said. "If Rhysand doesn't make it, I will come get you myself— Mor and Cassian have been preparing for you all morning."

You had laughed, sending him off with a chaste kiss on the cheek as he melted back into the darkness, his shadows curling around the hand you’d held against his jaw.

That was the last you had heard from them. For the next fifty years, you were well and truly alone.

-----

That night, your father had stormed into your room while you were getting your bag together. Grabbing it and you, he dragged you down to the dungeons and threw you in a cell with a simple “be quiet, and stay safe.”

It wasn't often that your father came to visit you himself. His visits became more and more scarce over the first few years, until you would go years before seeing him again. He looked more haggard every time. You were so lonely that you started to miss him.

You took solace in the darkness at first, but it soon became your greatest torment. Something would move in the corner of you eye and your heart would soar, thinking maybe—just maybe—those familiar shadows had found you. Maybe you would soon be free.

The wraith servants who brought you your food were your only company, and they barely said a word. The room was smaller than your bedroom, not much more than a cell with a bed, desk, and bookcase thrown in, and the bathroom had you longing for your carved tub.

No one would tell you anything. Screaming yourself hoarse got tiring after a while, and your father remained outwardly unmoved by your tears. A dread had crept into your chest, wondering if he had discovered Rhysand's plans to take you away to Velaris. He never mentioned it, but the timing couldn't have been more suspicious. No one had come for you, not even Azriel. How had he stopped even the Shadowsinger from getting to you? Surely the High Lord and his Spymaster had access to the Hewn City dungeon.

You stopped asking questions years ago. Now, you wallow in your monotony, reading every book on your shelf by dim candle light, and occasionally letting those delivering your food know that you needed new ones. They'd always bring you more the next morning, your father's scent, fir and petrichor, faint on the covers and pages. Some nights, when the isolation grew to be too much, you'd hold onto them and cry. You never thought you'd miss the days of your childhood, of him teaching you personally from his own library. You never thought you'd miss your father.

He'd never been like Keir, never treated you the way Mor was, but you'd certainly never have called him loving. And now, he'd locked you in a heavily warded cell and refused to tell you why. You started to feel an odd kinship with the monster you knew lurked beneath the stone, trapped here as you were, only seeing someone when it was time to be fed.

Time blurred together. How long had it been since Rhysand had promised to marry you, since Mor promised a shopping trip, Cassian promised to train you, and Azriel promised to make sure you made it to Velaris? Why had no one come for you?

"Who?" you ask, voice shaking as you sit up in your bed. "Why did you do this to me?"

Then, you’re woken one morning to some answers from your father.

"I'm sorry," he says, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back to you. "I couldn't let them find you. They would have torn you to pieces just to hurt him."

A tense silence falls on the room. "Amarantha trapped the courts Under the Mountain. Rhysand stood at her side for fifty years, and his Inner Circle were unreachable."

Your heart plummets in your chest at his admission.

"I told Keir you were gone, that they had taken you before they disappeared," he continues, voice oddly soft. "I couldn't reach his daughter or the Spymaster, or even that damned General to take you away from here. He told Amarantha about you, wanting to get in her good graces, and she had that damn Attor tear the manor apart looking for you."

He runs a hand down the wall your headboard is against, and you get a peek at new scars across his skin as his sleeve falls at the motion. "This cell is warded heavily. If Rhysand knew you were in here, he was good at hiding it. But Keir kept sending his Darkbringers to check every so often, either hoping to catch me off-guard or just remind me of where I stand. This was the only place I could think of that even they wouldn’t search."

"What happened?" You finally ask. "Why tell me now?"

"Feyre Cursebreaker," he says with a resigned tone. "High Lady of the Night Court, and Rhysand's mate. She defeated Amarantha, and now we’re preparing for war with Hybern."

Nausea rises in your throat. Out of everything he said, Amarantha, Keir, war—one fact continues to ring in your head. "His mate."

“I’ve tried to get into contact with them since they reemerged, but they’ve refuse to hear me.” He looks back at you, and you wonder if his gaze has always looked so empty. “If Keir knows you are alive, he will kill us both. The High Lord’s lackeys are the only ones who can get you out safely.”

The stress of your situation settles heavily on your shoulders. “So I’m stuck here. Is that what this is leading up to?”

You watch his brows pinch as he considers for a long moment. With a weary sigh, he stands from your bed. “I’ll bring some stationery.”

He drags a heavy hand down his face, but makes no move to deny it.

“Let me write a letter,” you say. “They may not listen to you, but I may have more luck.”

-----

News of the war ending comes long before any response. A letter a month for three months, before they start getting sent back. Perhaps that in itself is a response. The first time he brings a letter back, you let yourself break down. It had been years since you had any hope hopes to crush, but you had let yourself imagine for a moment that it could all be over.

What was even waiting for you out there, now? Your future had been stolen from you the moment the High Lords put their trust in Amarantha, the moment Keir turned his gaze your way. Perhaps it was always supposed to happen like this, with you alone in the end and Rhysand with his mate and High Lady.

In the end, it's Keir who lets it slip and hands you the key to your freedom. Keir, whose mouth works faster than his brain, who looks for any opportunity to hurt his daughter. Keir who sneers, asking how Rhysand’s Hewn City pet felt about being pushed aside for Feyre Archeron.

And it's that daughter who finds you. Holed up in your cell, sitting on your bed and reading anything you can find to take your mind off of your eternal solitude.

It scares you, the way she throws the door open. Her eyes are wide, breath ragged, as if she'd run all the way down to the dungeon instead of the simple winnow she'd more likely done. You hold her gaze, eyes burning as the silent disbelief stretches between you. Setting your book down carefully, you stand from the bed slowly, as if moving too quickly would make her disappear. She stumbles forward, and you find yourself meeting her halfway as her arms wrap around you almost too tightly.

"I thought he was lying," she says, voice shaking. "I wanted him to be lying. I wanted to go back up there and tear his tongue from his lying mouth and—"

"I'm so sorry, Mor," you manage, squeezing her just as tightly.

"Rhys said you were dead, Y/N," she presses. "Your father—"

"Has been trying to tell you all."

A sob chokes its way through her throat, and you're soon joining her. You hear her try to ask more questions, most starting with why, but she seems to find the answers herself before she even gets them out.

"I'm so sorry, Mor," you repeat.

Your reunion doesn't last in peace much longer.

"We have to tell them," she says, face buried in your neck. "Cassian, Azriel— fuck, Y/N, we had a funeral for you. There's a bird bath in the garden with your name carved into it, we thought you were dead. Cauldron, we were just down here, how did we not…"

Pulling from her, you wipe your damp face with your sleeve. She doesn't let you go too far, an arm still wrapped firmly around your waist as she dabs at her own watery eyes.

"I'm getting you out of here." The words you wanted to hear all these years, feeling like a dagger to the heart.

"Mor," you sigh. "I don't know if I can go to Velaris anymore. It's been so long, but I don't know if I can stand in front of him and his mate and say I'm happy for him without breaking."

She cradles your cheek with her free hand, resolute. "Azriel should have taken you with him. He's regretted it every day, leaving you here. We won't make that mistake again. I have a place you can stay at, at least until you figure out what you want to do. But, please, don't ask me to leave you here."

Hesitation grips you tight, the fear of opening your heart up to hope once more. But the look in her brown eyes, her hands warm against your cheeks, has you nodding. "Okay. I'll go."

Her lips smash against your forehead, and you wonder idly if she left a smear of red behind as she pulls away to start grabbing your belongings.

The first time she winnows you into a forest, you cry. Maybe a single tear rolling down your cheek would have felt more poetic, but you're left with the embarrassing kind of chest-shaking sobs.

"It's okay," she murmurs, rubbing your back. "There's going to be a lot of that. Just let it out when it hits you."

Her attempts at lightening the mood are mostly successful, but a lingering dread persists in your gut as you get closer to Velaris. You trust Mor not to drag you there against your will, but there was nothing your mind was better at than exploring worst-case scenarios. The journey thankfully passes without incident, and as you set your bag down on her living room floor you find yourself buzzing with some kind of anticipation.

"Tell them." The sound of your voice has her head snapping to you, eyes wide. "I need a bath first, but… tell them. I can't ask you to lie for me, not to them."

Mor shows you to your room, and you do indeed take your bath. Feeling a little greedy with the hot water, you soak and scrub a little more than usual as you watch the trees outside the window.

A pained expression crosses her face as she takes you into her arms once more. As you wrap yourself around her in turn, you wonder the last time you've ever been held this much in your eighty-odd years.

"Take your bath," she says, voice soft. "There are very few things they'd drop to be here."

How did you ever survive inside of a mountain, never knowing the world outside? Would you survive if you were ever made to go back?

-----

You help Mor set the table. Adjusting plates to hide your shaking hands, rearranging silverware to keep your mind occupied. Eventually, she perks up with a shaking breath.

“Cas and Az are on their way,” she says, slowly sinking into her chair. Relief and disappointment grapple for control at the sound of the short list. The look she gives you does nothing to help.

“Feyre just… had a baby. She and Rhys won’t be leaving Velaris if they can help it.” A baby.

You manage a smile, as painful as it is genuine. “Tell them I understand, please. And that I’m happy for them.”

Her hands reach out across the table, taking yours and rubbing circles into your scrubbed-sore skin. “I’m so sorry this is how things happened. If we knew you were in there—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you interrupt. “Not really. But I’m out now.”

Squeezing her hands in reassurance, you watch her expression crumble. Desperate to change the conversation, a thought comes to you.

“Could we… eat outside?” Her head lifts at your words, eyes widening slightly. “I saw a table on the patio out back, and as lovely as your home is I don’t think I’ve gotten enough of… outside.”

She laughs, something happy and sad all at once as your words seep in. “Yeah. Yeah, we can eat outside. It’s nice out, anyways. Staying in would be a waste of a perfectly good sunset.”

And just like that, you once again busy yourself with setting the table. This time, however, your guests arrive before you can readjust the silverware. They sound like thunder as they near the patio, their wings covering you in momentary darkness. Then, a literal darkness as Azriel’s shadows swirl around you in a miniature tornado, checking for themselves that you’re you, and you’re alright.

“What the fuck,” Cassian begins, as eloquent as ever.

Mor comes behind you as you turn towards them, placing a grounding hand against the small of your back.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, no one knowing quite where to begin, before Cassian rushes in as he does best and sweeps you off your feet. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, holding him tightly as he swings you around. What feels like a sentient breeze plays with your hair and caresses your cheek, and you find yourself in another pair of arms as soon as your feet hit the ground.

Unspoken words hang heavy as Azriel carefully lowers you back onto the floor. From the lack of questions, you can deduce that Mor had filled them in as much as she could before their arrival. This wasn’t to be an interrogation.

“Who’s hungry?” She asks, pulling out a chair.

-----

Dinner is significantly less awkward than you had feared. Cassian and Morrigan do most of the talking, and a familiar darkness curls comfortingly around your leg whenever it feels you drifting someplace less pleasant.

“I think you’ll like Nesta,” Cassian says. “She can be a viper, but only if you’re trying to piss her off.”

You laugh as you push what’s left of your food around. “I hear she’s quite the reader. We’ll have some common ground at least.”

Mor’s breath hitches and you feel the shadows at your feet twitch in apprehension, but Cassian takes it in stride with a booming laugh. “Cauldron, I’d like to see that. Maybe you could expand each other’s horizons, start a book club.”

The topic dances around what you’re all trying to avoid; the one you’d been waiting to save you for over fifty years. Your head is spinning a bit from all the talking and laughing, but you fear if you send them home you’ll never see them again.

“Do you want to come to Velaris?” Azriel’s voice startles you so badly you nearly don’t even register the question.

“Az,” Mor hisses, all her delicate conversation work thrown out with one question.

You look at him as you consider your answer, and find he has no expectations written on his face. It’s not a probing question, no demand for a response. Just a friend asking where you stand.

“Eventually,” you say, voice quiet. “Maybe not yet.”

He nods, unwilling to press further, and motions for Cassian to continue.

“Not like we’d mind coming out here to visit,” the General says, barely missing a step. “Mor never lets us come around, now she can’t turn us away.”

She laughs, brushing off the earlier upset. “If I want to spend time with you all, I can do it at one of our, what is it, four houses in the city?”

The two continued their lighthearted bickering as you all finished up dinner, acting as if no time had passed. While you had time to mourn your lost future as Rhysand’s wife, you had truly missed the friendships that had been taken from you. Right on cue, as the dark thoughts began to creep in, you were pulled back out. This time not by the shadows lazing about your ankles, but their master himself, his warm hand covering yours on the table. His gaze is soft when you look at him, more vulnerable than you’re used to seeing him.

Mor’s words from earlier swim in your head. ‘He’s regretted it every day, leaving you here.’

Turning your hand over, you squeeze his back with a smile. “It seems we all have some catching up to do.”

“I can go into the city tomorrow and get some stuff for your room,” Mor says, clapping her hands together and drawing your attention. “This place is mine alone, so it’s home for as long as you’ll have it.”

All the laughing, smiling, and talking is starting to make your face hurt, but you can’t seem to stop. “Make sure you stop by a market. I’ve been craving blackberry pie for the last thirty-odd years, and I might just have to make it myself.”

Azriel squeezes your hand. “Elain can make one. I think she’d like to meet you.”

“She needs more friends,” Cassian says. “She might even wander off and turn that weed patch over there into a garden.”

“Hey!” Mor laughs. “Those aren’t weeds, they’re the natural flora of the area!”

You shrug. “They’re pretty to me. But I wouldn’t mind some flowers.”

The blonde smiles with a roll of her shining eyes. “Fine, she can plant some flowers.”

“Pushover!” Cassian shouts with a barking laugh.

In the morning, you’ll wonder if dinner even happened. If you were really free, if Mor, Cas, and Az were really here, wrapping arms and hands around you like the past fifty years had been a bad dream. You’ll lay there thinking about the future, about the one person you had been longing to see most who hadn’t been there at all. You’ll think about how to move forward, how to build a new life, and how to find your place in lives already built. You'll wonder why no one responded to your father, what had happened to your letters, why no one seemed to notice a cell in the dungeons being used for fifty years. Why Rhysand told them you were dead.

But for now, you think only of the people who are there, who are keeping your thoughts light and your glass full. No matter what happens, you know you’ll be able to keep walking forward, in whatever direction that may be in. So for tonight, you let those worries sit in the corner of your mind for another time.

#acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #arlathavellan: acotar #arlathavellan: fanwork

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sequinsmile-x · 2 days

Text

Quality Time

She missed her husband, even though he was right there with her.

Part of the Love Languages series

-x-

Hi besties,

This is just...pure fluff really because that is all my brain was capable of after a very busy few days at work.

This is just these two idiots being idiots for each other.

I really hope you like it, as always please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It’s late when he gets home.

He feels the tension in his shoulders start to ease the moment he steps over the threshold into the house, the sense of home washing over him as he closes the door behind him, locking out anything other than his family on the other side.

He pauses as he turns from the door when he hears the low hum of the television. He checks his watch and frowns when he realises just how late it is, surprised that anyone is still awake. He walks towards the living room, a purpose in his step, and as he gets closer he realises it’s one of his wife’s favourite reality TV shows, something she’d sworn him to secrecy over when they first started dating. He half expects to find Emily asleep on the couch, slumped over with her hand pressed against her stomach after she’d lost the battle against sleep to stay up for him, but instead when he walks in she’d wide awake, her focus torn from the TV as he enters the room.

“Hi honey,” she says, sitting up a little straighter when he walks over, one of her hands on her baby bump as she kisses him before he joins her on the couch, slipping under her legs as she raises them just enough for him to sit, “You made good time.”

“Traffic wasn’t bad,” he replies, squeezing her foot, smiling softly when she groans in pleasure, “You didn’t have to wait up.”

She shrugs like it’s nothing, like she wasn’t just shy of 8 months pregnant and constantly exhausted, “It’s okay, I wanted to see you.”

He frowns, seeds of concern planting deep in his chest, her tone of voice, the way she was holding herself tightly, both of her hands on her bump as she absentmindedly drew patterns on it.

“You’re tired. I wouldn’t have minded if you’d just gone to bed, I’ll be here in the morning anyway.”

She scoffs, unable to stop herself, hormones, exhaustion and irritation she knows he doesn’t deserve swirling in her gut, “Yeah, if you didn’t get called away for a case.”

His concern for her immediately gets worse, the flowers of it taking up all the space in his chest, burning against his lungs as she tries to figure out what is wrong. She’d been okay when they spoke earlier, relieved even when he told her that they were about to fly home. It’s a flash of his past life, a momentary collision of his marriage to Haley forcing its way into his marriage to Emily.

She’d never had an issue with his job, with their job, and she understood the unpredictable nature of it. Things had been different lately since she’d stopped going on cases with the team, he knew that, and he knew she missed being a part of it.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

She blows out a breath, embarrassment at her outburst colouring her cheeks, and she shakes her head, “Nothing. Sorry, I think I’m just hormonal,” she flashes a tight smile at him, “Your kid is ruining me.”

He squeezes her foot again to get her attention after her failed attempt to deflect, his face nothing but kind as he looks expectantly at her, their promise to never lie to each other on the tip of his tongue, “Em…”

She looks down at her bump and clenches her teeth, desperately trying to stave off the tears she can feel pressing at the back of her eyes. Pregnancy had left her on a razor's edge, everything sharp and making her prone to breaking down at the tiniest thing. It was driving her crazy, irritation at herself that only ever seemed to make things worse, her head swimming with emotion she was trying and failing to push down.

“I…” she says, clearing her throat when her voice wavers, shaking her head at herself as she chuckles humourlessly, removing a hand from her bump to wipe tears from her cheek, “I just miss you,” she says, wiping away another tear. She shrugs as she avoids eye contact with him, embarrassed in a way she doesn’t understand, her love for him overwhelming even after all this time. “That’s all.”

“Em,” he says softly, moving closer to place a hand on her knee, squeezing gently as she looks up at him, his smile gentle as their eyes meet, “I’m right here.”

She blows out a breath and rubs her hand over her belly as she feels the baby move, a constant reminder these days that she isn’t alone. She’d spent so much of her life chasing something exactly like this - a family to call her own. She had Aaron and Jack and the baby and she always would.

She’d never be alone again.

“I know. I think it’s because you’re going on cases and I’m not. I miss spending time just the two of us - which we never got a whole lot of anyway,” she smiles, an edge of sadness mixed in with the happiness as she reaches for his hand and places it on her stomach where the baby is kicking, “And we’re about to have even less of it.”

She’d stopped going on cases earlier than she’d originally intended. Pregnancy had been much harder on her than she’d anticipated, the nausea in the first trimester giving way almost immediately to exhaustion when it faded away. She’d wanted to carry on, content to sit in precincts and work on victimology because it made her feel useful, like she was still contributing to the team, but Aaron and her doctor convinced her it was time to stay home just as she turned 6 months pregnant. She hated that they were right, that she felt better for it, and she mostly hated that it meant she saw less of her husband than she was used to.

Since the start of their relationship, they’d spent practically all of their time together. It was clear from their first date that they were it for each other, a type of pull she knew she’d never felt before, her love for him overwhelming from even before their first kiss. They spent all their spare time together, she slept at his most nights - content to hang out with him and Jack until the little boy went to bed and then they’d get some time alone. Despite initially saying they wouldn’t, they snuck into each other’s rooms on cases before they told the team about their relationship. They were both aware that they slept better with the other there, a type of peace neither of them thought they’d ever experience again.

She missed him. Their bed felt bare without him, their choice of buying a super king even though they snuggled, more than half the bed empty even with them both in it, feeling all the more absurd when it was just her and her pregnancy pillow in it. Occasionally Jack would sneak in and join her, his small hands on her face as he woke her to tell her he’d had a bad dream. She’d feel guilty by feeling relieved when she had him there with her, the little boy she loved as her own pressed up against her whilst her baby shifted under her skin.

Aaron smiles softly at her, rubbing his hand on her bump for a moment longer before he links their fingers together and lifts their joint hands to his mouth. He presses a delicate kiss to her knuckles and it gets her attention, her eyes meet his again, and he tucks some of her hair behind her ear.

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “I miss you too.”

Even though it was almost six weeks since she stopped going away on cases he still found himself looking for her, his eyes flitting around a room she wasn’t in to look for her reassurance, for the love she always freely gave him. He missed having her there, her smile sometimes the only good thing that would happen to him on a hard day at work. He found it difficult to sleep in hotel beds that she wasn’t in with him, her weight against his chest, her breath skipping across his neck as she slept, both as essential to him for a good night's sleep as a dark room and a decent mattress.

She was his safety net. His port in a storm. And whilst he was excited for this next step in their life, close to desperate sometimes to meet their baby, to see the face he’d imagined for months, he knew he’d miss this stage.

She smiles sadly at him and stamps a kiss against his lips before she rests her head on his shoulder, “Sorry I kind of ruined the mood the moment you got home.”

“You could never ruin the mood,” he assures her, turning his head to kiss her temple. He tugs her in closer, a tightness in his chest that had been there for days easing now she was in his arms, and he feels an idea start to form, a smile spreading across his face as he pulls back to look at her, “Why don’t we go somewhere? Just the two of us.”

She hums, her eyebrows knitting together as she looks him up and down, “What? Like a babymoon?”

He frowns, tilting his head as their eyes meet, confusion painted across his face in a way that she finds nothing short of adorable, “What the hell is a babymoon?”

She chuckles and runs her fingers through his hair, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to tamper down her amusement, “It’s a trip you go on before the baby comes. Pen was telling me about them.”

He smiles and nods, “Then yes, exactly like a babymoon,” he says, not missing how her smile gets wider as he says it, “We could go to Virginia Beach. Get a rental right near the water. Spend some time just you and me before this little one joins us and life gets a lot busier.”

She wants to do it more than anything, wants to spend some uninterrupted time away with him, something they hadn’t done since their honeymoon almost 8 months ago, but she sighs, the reality of their lives causing anxiety to spike in her chest.

“What about work? We’re both taking some time off when the baby comes, I don’t want it to be a problem.”

Aaron squeezes her hand reassuringly, “Em, we both have enough leave days banked to take a year off if we wanted to,” he says, smiling when she nods, “If you want to do this we’ll do it. I’ll book us a place to stay tonight.”

She doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t have to mull it over anymore and she nods, kissing him fiercely as she leans in.

“Yes,” she says, kissing him again before she pulls away, “I want to go away with you,” her words disappear into a laugh as he pulls her in for a hug, her bump pressed up against his side, as he kisses her temple. She sinks into it, into him and wraps her arms around him, her cheek against his shoulder as she sighs, a relaxed feeling washing over her for the first time in weeks, “If you think about it, it’s perfect timing.”

He furrows his brow as he pulls back to look at her, curiosity sparking in his eyes as she tries to suppress a smile, a hint of mischievousness in it that never fails to make his stomach swoop, “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Her smile only gets wider, “Well you got me pregnant on our honeymoon,” she says, shrugging playfully, “It seems like a nice way to bookend the pregnancy.”

“Em.”

___

He knows they’ve made the right decision the moment they get to their vacation rental.

She’s instantly more relaxed than she has been in weeks, a softness to her smile that makes him want to call up the owner of the beach house and offer to buy it off of him.

“I can help with the bags you know,” she says, her eyebrow raised at him as he gets their bags out of the trunk of their car, her pregnancy pillow tucked under his arm as he shuffles towards the stairs leading up to the house.

“I’ve got it,” he says, ignoring the strain in his back as he makes it up the stairs, smiling at her when she rolls her eyes. He sets down the cases and crouches down to press a kiss to her bump, “You’re already carrying the most important cargo.”

She chuckles wryly and runs her fingers through his hair, fighting a smile as he kisses her bump again, “You’re ridiculous,” she says, shaking his head as he straightens back up, her gaze drifting to where her pillow was still tucked under his arm, “If you drop my pregnancy pillow I’ll kill you, and we both know I’d be able to - even if I am the most pregnant person to ever exist.”

He clears his throat, well aware that whilst her threat was playful she’d be mad if she thought he was laughing at her.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again before he digs through his pockets for the key to the house. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, his hand splayed on her lower back as he guides her in, “Why don’t you look around, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get everything in from the car. The owner said his wife would leave lemonade and homemade cookies.”

Her eyes light up and she looks down at her stomach, already walking into the house before she replies, her focus on their unborn child, “Did you hear that, baby? Cookies!”

When he’s done bringing in their things, the suitcases carried up to the bedroom and her pillow diligently placed on her side of the bed, he finds her on the back porch sitting in the swing, her gaze fixed on the ocean and the seemingly unending horizon. She turns to look at him as he steps out, her smile wry as he unfolds a blanket as he joins her, laying it over both of their laps, making sure her bump is covered, when he sits down.

“It’s not even cold out,” she says, wrapping both her arms around one of his, her hand squeezing gently at his tricep as she lays her head against his shoulder.

“I know,” he replies, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “But I’ve got to look after the two of you,” he adds, placing his hand on her bump, smiling at the movement of the baby, something that got no less amazing no matter how often he felt it, “So,” he says, kissing Emily’s forehead before he pulls back to look at her, “We have four days to do whatever we want.”

She hums and tilts her head to look up at him, the reality of being here with him, the next few days stretched out ahead of them washing over her, “I’d like to say we could have a crazy amount of sex and barely leave the house,” she laments, “But I think all I want to do is nap, eat and sit right here with you.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he assures her, resting his hand on her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline, “As long as I’m with you I don’t mind what we do,” he says, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose, “And, I have it under good authority that a restaurant just down the street has to die for mac and cheese and they deliver.”

She moans, the sound turning into a delighted laugh as she closes her eyes, “You really know what a pregnant woman loves to hear.”

He hums, kissing her forehead before he lets his hand fall back to her bump, “Maybe I just really know my wife.”

She can’t explain the feeling that swells in her chest, threatening to pull her under as tears press at the back of her eyes. It was moments like this, moments when it was just him and her and their love for each other when she let herself feel the happiness she never thought she’d get, let herself bask in it.

She wasn’t lucky, this hadn’t fallen into her lap. She’d fought for this. Fought to get here and sometimes she’d lost, tripped and fell as the battle seemed too much, but she’d made it here. Made it to him, and he’d done the same to make it to her. They’d endured so much apart, but she knew whatever came next, the good and the bad, they’d face together.

She cups his cheek and rubs her thumb back and forth over his skin, “You’re the love of my life, you know,” she says, her cheeks warm with love and a hint of embarrassment, “I can’t imagine wanting to do any of this with anyone else.”

“You’re the love of my life too,” he says, and he places his hand over hers on his cheek and leans in to kiss her, “I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else either,” he says, frowning at himself when he says it, realising it sounds clumsy because he had done it with someone else.

A shaky breath escapes him, her admission not new but unexpected in the moment, their conversation about her favourite pregnancy food suddenly turning into more. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes. It was different to how he’d loved Haley. They’d grown up together, had initially grown together and then apart, both of them still in love with a version of themselves that no longer existed. He and Emily loved each other for who they were, for what they’d gone through, and he knew he’d have it for the rest of his life.

He sighs at himself and shakes his head, “I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” she says softly, cutting him off as she presses her thumb into his lower lip, “I’m glad we came here.”

He rests his forehead against hers, “Me too.”

They sit there for a few moments in silence, the only sound the waves crashing against the shore in the background. The moment comes to an end when her stomach audibly makes a noise that makes them both laugh, the baby almost moving in tandem.

“I think baby wants some of that mac and cheese,” she says, leaning into his palm when he wipes away a stray tear that had escaped her lashline.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss against her lips before he kisses her bump. He stands up to find the stack of take-out menus the owner had left out, but she stops him, her hand tight around his as if she didn’t want him to go, “I’ll be right back.”

She sighs and relents, letting go of him before she winks at him, “Make sure to bring me some of those cookies on your way back.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he says as he steps back into the house, “Absolutely anything.”

-x-

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geekgirles · 2 days

Text

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 4: A Lesson in Humility

Word Count: 15,747

Read on AO3

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Chapter summary: "With Yugo unavailable to spend time with her, Amalia makes a daring request: that she be allowed to attend to Glip and Baltazar's classes. The question is, will she be able to keep up with one of the Council members least willing to accept her? And what will she be able to gain from going to class in the first place? Perhaps, this will turn out to be a learning experience for not just her, after all."

Was it weird to feel that after an experience that should have brought you closer to someone the distance between the two of you was greater than ever?

Because Amalia would be lying if she said that wasn’t how she was feeling at the moment.

She really couldn’t make sense of it, no matter how much she tossed and turned at night trying to decipher it. And by ‘it’ she meant Yugo. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something had changed ever since their little excursion to the beach. The doll had already grown accustomed to his mercurial moods—sometimes he would be nothing but sweet and kind to her, other times, it was as if the mere thought of standing close to her was enough to freeze him on the spot. But given that was how he’d been acting since they first met, Amalia just figured that was just how he was, so she really didn’t think twice about it.

Things didn’t seem to be quite so simple as of late.

Yugo still treated her cordially and his manners when interacting with her were impeccable, befitting how a king like himself should treat a lady. However, perhaps, he was just a tad too polite? While the Eliatrope never went out of his way to be rude to her, he did go above and beyond to ensure he wasn’t too familiar, either. Not that long ago, he wouldn’t hesitate to take Amalia’s hand, especially if he sensed she could use some comfort; before either of them realised it, the distance between them would gradually grow smaller; and the Divine Doll could have sworn there was this undeniable fondness in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

And yet, soon after they returned from their little adventure, all that perceived intimacy had gone up in smoke. In fact, she would dare to say the strangest thing was how she could feel it was all still there, even when it wasn’t; it was almost as if Yugo were holding back.

She saw it in the strained curl of his lips, how it appeared as if he were physically forcing the smile out of his face, or at least, forcing the genuine happiness out of it. More than once, surely when the king thought she wasn’t looking, the doll caught sight of his hands making the motion of reaching out for her from the corner of her eye, only for him to then tuck them close to his body, denying them any movement. It was in the way he tended to linger by her side, only to seemingly snap out of whatever trance he found himself in and excuse himself for the day.

Bringing her arms around herself for comfort, Amalia had to suppress a groan. It was all so confusing! How was it possible that he could act like that after their adventure, while she had actually felt closer to him than ever? Not only did they go out to explore, but thanks to Adamaï she learned that day the two of them shared a strong wanderlust. They had discussed all kinds of topics under the sun, from whatever few memories she had of her time in Inglorium, to the Eliatrope siblings' high intake of red meat.

And they’d learned so much about each other, too! Amalia learned how going through an Eliatrope portal felt like—and subsequently swore to never experience that again—, and about Eliatrope dragons being shapeshifters. Meanwhile, Yugo (and by extension Adamaï) learned all about her connection to nature and how certain actions against plant-life could inadvertently cause her pain, as well as her own brand of shapeshifting-based tailoring.

Moreover, Yugo had explained what love—or, more accurately, romantic love—was, and now she knew she had one more new experience to look forward to.

Everything had been so perfect then, so why did everything feel so wrong now?

Truth be told, the Divine Doll sensed something wasn’t right the moment the Eliatrope King hastily told them they should return to the palace, his tone sounding almost desperate as he broke the quiet that had fallen over them in the afternoon sun. Said feeling only grew as they made their way back to the palace and Yugo didn’t so much as utter a word the whole time.

At the time she had been too overjoyed by the whole experience to really dig into it, the optimistic, foolish part of herself shrugging his uncharacteristically quiet demeanour off as just Yugo being in another one of his moods. He’d be as good as new the next day.

Said hope that things would go back to normal soon was dashed the next morning when, for the first time since redecorating her chambers, Yugo didn’t go pick her up. Despite the initial disappointment, Amalia tried to reason with herself by pointing out his royal duties probably got in the way. It was only a matter of days before said disappointment turned into hurt when she realised he was purposely avoiding her. Not only did he not bother to go see her most days, but the few times he did let himself be seen by her, the Divine Doll could feel the growing distance between them chilling her to the bone despite Oma’s tropical temperatures, his demeanour nothing like the king’s whose friendship she’d come to hold so dear.

She was especially heartbroken to realise he had even put a stop to their little routine, as several days had passed since he last trained in front of her balcony. Whispers and murmurs running down the halls, her only way of knowing the Eliatrope King had seemingly gone back to the training grounds alongside his siblings.

Amalia would be lying if she said she hadn’t been surprised to discover the palace even had training grounds of its own. But that was beside the point.

The point was, the same loneliness she had been feeling soon after her arrival at Oma Island was back, only this time it wasn’t caused by a room she couldn’t quite call her own, but because the one person Amalia thought she could call her friend was nowhere to be seen, and when they were together, it still felt like she was all alone.

Even when she wandered around the palace halls, always crowded with servants and other Eliatropes, it was as if no one was there. No. Worse. If all felt as if she wasn’t there at all.

Was it possible to never be by yourself yet you always felt alone?

Much like the last time she felt like this, Amalia’s one saving grace was getting to explore the palace. It was the only thing she could really do on her own, after all. There was no doubt in her mind she would not be allowed outside again unless Yugo acted as her escort, something she honestly doubted would happen anyway given how the Eliatrope seemed so adamant on keeping her at arm’s length. Surely another day-long field trip would be off the table.

But more than anything, this time around she felt drawn to Glip and Baltazar’s classroom, her feet practically moving on their own accord and taking her in front of the large doors separating her from the Eliatrope siblings and the lessons they imparted behind them. Even if she couldn’t make out half of the things they said, the Divine Doll remained glued to those doors, her ears straining to absorb as much information as possible. It wasn’t mere curiosity anymore, but a genuine desire to learn that was only fuelled by Glip and Baltazar’s way of teaching.

It was incredible how such a little, anger-prone man could imbue such passion into the things he talked about, each phrase that left his mouth helping to craft a perfectly vivid image—when he wasn’t barking out instructions on how to perform a certain move, that is. And Baltazar was always there to add his own two kamas and add the remaining details to the story. When he wasn’t the one giving the lesson, of course. Just by listening to them talk was enough for Amalia to be transported to a whole other world, one she’d never even been to but that already felt like her own—and that was just from listening to a heavily water-down version of those stories!

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it’d be like to attend one of those classes and get the whole picture for once.

Just then, at the same time as Baltazar was retelling a tale about a time the Council of Six had to step in because a town’s cruel governor had died under mysterious circumstances, only for everyone in his town to insist it had been the town itself that killed him, the true extent of her thought process hit Amalia.

Clenching her fists against the door, her big, brown eyes glinted in determination as her resolve grew. As Yugo explained to her when he asked her if she wanted to go on an adventure around Oma Island, this was now her home, she was entitled to knowing her way around it. And considering she would also be living alongside the Eliatrope people for who knew how long despite being a Sadida Doll, then she figured she also had a right to know more about the race surrounding her. Moreover, if Yugo wasn’t there to help her like he said he would, then she figured she should ask the experts for help.

Then again, Yugo was still the king, while she was ‘just’ a guest—a guest sent there directly by the gods, true, but she probably wouldn’t be able to milk that moogrr forever—, so protocol dictated she asked for his permission first. And so, for the first time since she first discovered her new pastime, Amalia tore herself away from the door even before class had been dismissed. Her step was firm and assured as she walked down the hallways in search of the Eliatrope King, the pants clinging to her skin giving her the mobility she needed. And by Sadida she would get him to listen to her before he tried to evade her yet again!

It was high time she got to attend at least one of Glip and Baltazar’s classes.

........................................................................................................................

She found him just as he exited the throne room. Apparently, he had been listening to his people’s problems and grievances and looking for ways to solve them as quickly and efficiently as possible. Catching the tail-end of a conversation about some issue in particular Yugo couldn’t solve on his own, Amalia learned those kinds of problems were seemingly the ones the entire Council of Six deliberated on.

Not even that much time had passed since she made up her mind about attending class and she was already learning a lot. Amalia chose to count that as a sign she made the right call.

Yugo and Adamaï were immersed in conversation, discussing preliminary ideas on how to approach some of their people’s requests when the sound of someone clearing their throat startled them. It looked like they missed one person, that sometimes happened.

Not even looking at whom he was talking to, Yugo cleared his own throat. “My apologies. I’m afraid I must have not seen you. Tell me, what can I do for you?” When he finally laid his eyes on the person he was talking to, he idly wondered how come he hadn’t seen her.

Despite her resolve to be firm on her request regardless of Yugo’s weird behaviour as of late, any harshness in her gaze vanished at the almost frightened look on the Eliatrope’s face at the sight of her. Trying to ignore the painful pang in her chest at his reaction, Amalia couldn’t help but drape one arm over her abdomen, trying to offer herself some comfort. Her brown gaze turned unsure and evasive, and she kept shifting in place, nervous of the incoming conversation.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally found her voice. “Good morning, Yugo.” She bit her lip as she chanced a look his way. She allowed a small smile to grace her features. “And good morning to you as well, Adamaï.”

While the dragon answered with a nod and a smile of his own, he glanced over at his brother, waiting for his reaction. Finally, Yugo seemed to collect himself, squaring his features into a stoic mask and straightening his posture right before greeting the doll back, “Good morning, Amalia. It’s good to see you.”

The Divine Doll had to bite her lip to stop herself from accusing him of lying to her face. Instead, she said, “Yeah, you too.”

Despite herself, it really wasn’t a lie at all.

However, greetings and small talk only get you so far, a heavy silence falling over the three of them as Yugo and Amalia couldn’t bring themselves to make the first move and speak. Eyes darting back and forth between the two and sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere—the tension was so thick he could’ve cut it with one of his claws—, it was up to Adamaï to awkwardly break the ice.

“Is everything alright, Amalia?” He asked, offering her a small smile to put her at ease.

The green-haired beauty let out an almost inaudible gasp, so consumed by her concerns she almost forgot why she had even come looking for Yugo in the first place. Blinking twice, she had a little trouble finding the words at first, “I-I… Um, well, you see… I…I just wanted to…to ask Yugo something.” She managed to stammer out.

Inside, however, she was groaning in desperation. Not that long ago, conversation with Yugo was as easy as breathing! How come trying to get the words out now was harder than taking a kama from an Enutrof?!

Her confession took the king aback. “R-really? You came all the way here because you wanted to ask me something?” While he did his best to remain nonchalant, deep inside he was bracing himself for the worst. Even if he knew what he was doing was for their own sake, a part of him wasn’t ready to be confronted by Amalia about it.

Not just yet. And, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, maybe not ever.

Which was why he had to do a double take when Amalia admitted instead, “I wish to be able to attend Glip and Baltazar’s classes as a student.” Then, she added, a bit more timidly, “If that’s okay, of course.”

Just as he was about to let out a sigh of relief, the full extent of what the Divine Doll had just asked for hit him. “I’m sorry, you what?”

This time, Amalia stood a little taller, her voice a little clearer as she clenched her fists at her sides in determination. “I want to receive lessons from Glip and Baltazar.” She stated.

The Eliatrope siblings exchanged awkward glances. The implications behind Amalia’s request making them sweat.

“How do you know Glip and Baltazar are teachers?” Adamaï asked.

At that, she grew a little sheepish. A small blush on her cheeks as she fidgeted with her fingers, she looked away. “Well… Um, remember when you asked me why I was always out and about around the palace?”

Both nodded, and even if that conversation had been up to Yugo, Adamaï still remembered quite vividly the very animated council reunion it caused.

“One day, I stumbled across their classroom while class was in session during one of my little escapades.” The doll admitted sheepishly. She thought it’d be better to omit how she had half-listened to one lesson and hadn’t been able to bring herself to stop since.

On the outside, Yugo looked like he was paying rapt attention to what Amalia said, but on the inside he was positively freaking out. Oh, this was bad. Very bad. Amalia wishing to go to class and learn more could result in unforeseeable consequences. Or even worse. It could result in the very consequences Efrim had been so paranoid about—Amalia acting as an undercover agent for the gods and trying to find out their secrets.

The fact that Glip himself wasn’t exactly one of her most ardent supporters only complicated matters.

Already fearing for the worst, Yugo scrambled to find a way to dissuade the Sadida Doll without making it too obvious he didn’t want her to learn more about his people. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

For now, he was off to a terrible start.

If having Adamaï staring owlishly at him wasn’t bad enough, Amalia’s little offended pout only put the last nail on the coffin.

“Why not?” She asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Because…” the Eliatrope began, flashing his brother a pleading look and cursing under his breath when the dragon raised his claws up in a ‘Leave me out of this’ fashion. Resisting the urge to narrow his eyes at his sibling, he finally settled for the teacher’s most prominent flaw. “Because Glip has a terrible temper.” He blurted out, before regaining some confidence. “And he is very strict, too. Trust me, you don’t want to have your marks graded by him. If it were up to him, none of his students would pass unless they studied day and night.”

“But it’s not up to him. Baltazar is also a teacher and they work together.” Amalia pointed out, not missing a beat.

Feeling his eye twitch, Yugo felt the mighty need to scream into a pillow due to her very astute, very accurate observation.

“That’s true, but still, their classes can be very demanding…”

“But I want to learn!” Amalia exclaimed, her eyes big and pleading. “I’m tired of only half-listening to their lessons through closed doors, I want to have the full picture.”

“Wait, how long have you been eavesdropping on them…?” Adamaï tried to ask, but was ignored.

“And that’s commendable, Amalia, really!” Yugo tried to assure her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. A second later, however, upon noticing what he had just done, he tucked it away as fast as if he’d been burned. He was so busy trying to regain some semblance of control, he missed the way the doll’s eyes dimmed at his actions. Or Adamaï’s frown. “It’s just…”

“What?” She cut him off, her tone challenging. “What’s so bad about me wanting to learn more about your people?”

Everything.

So far, Amalia’s curiosity about the world around her had been child-like and innocent, the kind you’d expect from a stranger in a brand new place. The kind of curiosity and wonder he felt for the world around him. But if she started asking questions about his people… Then he would no longer be able to convince his siblings she wasn’t up to something. He wouldn’t be able to convince himself she wasn’t a threat. And even though in the past he’d had no qualms confronting or even getting rid of what he thought might put his people’s safety in jeopardy, for some reason, when it came to Amalia, he couldn’t bear the thought of cutting her off for good.

He blamed his people’s need to get in this world’s gods’ good graces for making him hesitate.

And for making him realise he couldn’t just say he wouldn’t allow her to study with Glip and Baltazar because she couldn’t be trusted.

So he lied through his teeth. “Because only children attend their classes; when Eliatropes reach a certain age, they choose their own path, be it battle, crafts, medicine… Won’t you feel a little uncomfortable being the only adult in a room full of kids?”

“Glip and Baltazar are adults too.” Amalia shrugged, not missing a beat. She raised an eyebrow at him, however. “And didn’t you just say it would be very demanding? If anything, that would only mean it’s closer to my level than the kids’.”

Cursing how easily his words could be turned against him—and making it a point to dig his heel into Adamaï’s foot when he heard him snicker at his misfortune—, Yugo found himself floundering for words. “Well, yeah… But, um… you see… I…”

“Please, Yugo.” She cut him off, her voice desperate. Despite her apprehension and the weird phase their relationship was going through, Amalia mustered up the courage to step a little closer to him, her body leaning in with her hands clasped before her chest. Pleading, begging for him to listen to what she had to say. “You told me it was only natural I learned my way around Oma Island if this is going to be my home from now on. Don’t you think that should apply to your people, too?

“Not only am I a Sadida surrounded by Eliatropes and dragons, I’m the only Divine Doll currently inhabiting this world!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms to her sides to emphasise her point. “I’m going to be living with your people for the gods know how long, much like with the island, I need to know things about you, like your traditions, and what you consider sacred, things I must and mustn’t do… As I am right now, even the little kids Glip and Baltazar teach know so much more than I do! Please, Yugo, please! This isn’t about me just being curious, this is about me needing to learn, for my own sake.”

Her eyes were almost watery when she finished, her voice at the verge of breaking, “Please, tell me you will at least consider it.”

If Yugo was already having a hard time trying to remain firm and put his foot down in the face of Amalia going above and beyond to tug at his heartstrings, Adamaï's disapproving look at his refusal pushed him over the edge. Despite all he had been doing to ensure he wouldn’t get too close to Amalia and she wouldn’t get too close to him, it was plain to see he had much work to do if he wanted to be free of her influence.

Defeated, he drew a deep exhale through his nose. “I’ll ask Glip and Baltazar next time I see them, alright? After all, it’s their class. They have the last say in everything concerning it.”

Her reaction was immediate.

“Really?!” She exploded, her eyes shining like stars in the midnight sky at the good news. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you so much, Yugo!”

The Divine Doll was beyond herself with joy. Sure, she still needed Glip and Baltazar’s permission, but she was already one step closer to her goal! Amalia was so overjoyed, she couldn’t help herself and practically threw herself at Yugo’s arms, the pull to hug him tightly as thanks stronger than she was.

But just as she was about to wrap her arms around him in celebration, she was abruptly stopped by two strong hands resting firmly on her shoulders. Eyes snapping open at the unexpected action, she glanced up, a painful pang in her chest at the sight of Yugo looking supremely uncomfortable as he tried to keep her at bay.

Memories of the last few days rushing back, Amalia quickly took a step back and away from the king. Making a show of dusting off her outfit and willing the blush away from her cheeks, mortified, she cleared her throat. “Um, uh, thank you, Yugo.” She coughed into her hand.

“You’re welcome, Amalia. I’ll see what I can do.” Was Yugo’s equally awkward response, his throat tightening up.

Moving back and forth on the heel of her feet, she eventually pointed behind her. “I… Um, I should probably go. I’m sure you’re quite busy. Uh, thanks again and, you know, see ya! You too Adamaï.”

As the two waved awkwardly at each other, turning around and resolutely making their way to opposite directions of the palace, Adamaï watched it all with a critical eye. As he stared at his brother’s retreating back, replaying what had just taken place as well as the past few days’ events in his mind, the dragon narrowed his eyes.

He had a very bad feeling about this. The kind of feeling that told him Yugo would come to regret whatever he was doing very soon.

........................................................................................................................

“Nope. Absolutely not. Not gonna happen. I forbid it.”

Yugo had half the mind not to slam his head against the table in exasperation. It was one thing that Glip refused to teach Amalia, but his doing so this vehemently, to the point of crossing his arms and deliberately shaking his head to get his point across, was just unnecessary.

It took even more of him not to slam Qilby against the table for what he said next:

“Did anybody else notice all we ever talk about when we meet up as of late is Yugo’s precious flower?” He pointed out, one finger raised and his characteristically smug smirk on his lips.

“Meh, it beats having to listen to you bring up our 97th reincarnation and how Chibi and Grougal’s first spaceship prototype blew up in their faces.” Phaeris shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Luckily for him, it was the aforementioned inventors’ turn to patrol the island, so he wouldn’t get in hot water with them for making fun of their scientific pursuits.

The peeved snarl curling at Qilby’s lip at his dragon brother’s quip was a welcomed reminder as to why Mina and Phaeris were the king’s favourite siblings after Adamaï. While they always knew how to break up their infighting and childish bickering, Phaeris in particular had the added divine gift of always knowing how to get under the bespectacled Eliatrope’s skin.

It really was the sweetest payback after all his relentless teasing.

“That actually happened in our 79th reincarnation and you know it!” Qilby snapped, his hazel eyes narrowing at his brother behind his glasses. On the table, his fists clenched in aggravation even after Shinonomé placed a hand on them to calm her twin down.

“Don’t start up again, you two.” The red dragoness admonished, tired of the same old song and dance. “We have much more urgent matters to attend to, like Lady Amalia’s request.” She reminded them, her tone kind but serious.

“They can spend all day bickering as far as I’m concerned, because I already made my stance on allowing the Divine Doll near any of my classes clear.” Glip groused, his arms still folded over his chest stubbornly as he stuck up his nose in indignation.

They were currently gathered around the Eliaculus at the council room once again, Yugo having called for a meeting as soon as he’d been done listening to his subjects’ grievances for the day. It was something they usually did. Whenever the king was faced with a problem he couldn’t solve on his own, he summoned his siblings at the council room to tackle the issue together and find a solution to it. The fact that this time the reunion also came immediately after Amalia made her request was a very beneficial coincidence for the Sadida Doll.

And a very unfortunate one for Yugo.

“And you’d be wise to refuse her request, Glip.” Efrim chimed in, his long tail curled around his lithe body even as he rested on his chair. Without warning, he jabbed a claw on the table. “It’s one thing we allow her to roam freely around our palace or our island, but letting her learn more about us directly from the source?” He scoffed at the mere thought, before sniffing derisively, “What’s next, sending her to Chibi and Grougal’s laboratory so she can learn how to build a weapon to kill us all? I say we’d better not take any chances.”

Massaging his temples in an attempt to soothe his pounding headache, Yugo bit his lip as to not point out that Chibi and Grougal would actually be ecstatic to have a willing audience as they worked on their projects. Or the fact that, technically speaking, Amalia still wasn’t allowed to leave the palace premises without him, so she couldn’t explore the island freely, either. That would only earn him a glare from Efrim, and he was not in the mood for arguing with him.

“Not only that,” Glip added, nodding along. “My students are young, it already takes everything in my power to get them to pay attention on their worst days, imagine what would happen if the Divine Doll were to join us; my class would fall into anarchy!”

Under the table, Yugo couldn't help but clench his fists until his knuckles turned white at the teacher’s words. Outrage on Amalia’s behalf bubbling up within him. That feeling only got worse at what he said next:

“Besides, even if they are disorganised, they are still my students. We’re very advanced on our syllabus, she would only lag behind.” He let out a low chuckle as he proceeded to examine his cane absentmindedly, as if the mere topic at hand bored him. “Better save her the embarrassment of being the only adult in a group of children who doesn’t know the most basic aspects of Eliatrope society.”

The king knew his brother could be quite brusque and ill-tempered, not to mention arrogant in his own abilities, but the way he was disregarding their guest was simply uncalled for. Amalia did not deserve to be looked down like that when all she wanted to do was learn. Fortunately, before he had the chance to tell Glip any of that, Baltazar mercifully beat him to it:

“The only reason she doesn’t know, Glip, is because she is a Sadida Doll.” The dragon pointed out from his spot behind his sibling, where he rested lying on the floor. “You cannot expect someone so young and from an entirely different culture to immediately know everything about ours, especially if you refuse to teach her.”

Pretending to lower his head in a nod, Yugo took advantage of the way his hood came to cover most of his face to allow a small, grateful smile to plaster itself on his lips. He could always count on Baltazar to reign his twin brother in.

Despite his large size, Baltazar was arguably the least imposing of the Eliatrope dragons. Unlike the rest, who flaunted lithe yet robust forms and an impressive wingspan, Baltazar, much like his twin, was comparatively stumpy. His body was distinctly barrel-shaped, with thick limbs and tail, but stubby wings and horns. Truth be told, more than once the siblings found themselves wondering how they withstood his weight whenever he flew. Their best bet was that it had to be his own special gift.

Baltazar stood out in many other ways as well. His scales were a very light beige, with darker-coloured spots covering his form from head to tail. His snout was as square-shaped as his twin’s face, and the pair also shared their bushy eyebrows, however, unlike Glip’s chesnut-coloured hair and goatee, Baltazar sported a rather unkempt white beard, which gave him a grandfatherly look even back when they were all children.

It wasn’t like the look provided by his beard wasn't appropriate, though, for while Glip could be strict, easy to anger, and very grumpy, Baltazar was much calmer, more patient—especially with the kids—, and very kind. Even if he actually wasn’t the eldest sibling, he really did play the role of grandfather perfectly. So it wasn't a surprise that he was usually the one tasked with reeling his brother’s worst impulses in.

Unfortunately, while his comment gave Glip some pause, he apparently still had much to say.

“Perhaps, dear brother.” The shortest Eliatrope started, his lips pursed. “But precisely because she is from a completely different race, there’s not much I can teach her. Remember? I specialise in teaching Wakfung—I cannot teach someone who doesn’t project wakfu like we do.”

“Thank the Great Goddess for that!” Efrim chimed in sarcastically. “Can you imagine the disaster it would be if she discovered the flaws in our fighting style?”

“Efrim, please. Let’s hear what Baltazar has to say.” Nora whispered to him, almost pleadingly, a hint of concern in her voice. She loved her brother and understood better than anyone his desire to be careful, but she was starting to grow worried over his growing hostility towards Amalia. Each passing day, he sounded less like the brother she so adored and more like a complete stranger.

Purposely ignoring the youngest twins’ conversation, Baltazar pressed on, not missing a beat. “That does not mean she cannot learn about our history or our customs, Brother. You may specialise in Wakfung, but Baltazar doesn't.” Raising one paw from the ground, he proudly pointed between the two of them to emphasise his point.

That was another key difference between the two siblings. While they weren’t above working together to lecture their students on certain topics—in fact, those were arguably their best lessons—, the two had different interests and approaches to their people’s education. Glip was a firm believer that their people should learn how to control their wakfu and defend themselves as soon as possible, hence why he was an expert on Wakfung, their people’s martial art of combining their particular brand of magic with hand-to-hand combat. Meanwhile, Baltazar was the most scholarly of the two, his passion for uncovering and sharing knowledge second only to Qilby and Shinonomé—and only because they had the unfair advantage of retaining everything they learned from their previous lives.

Despite his brother’s best efforts, Glip only shook his head ruefully. “Brother, I’m afraid you’re clearly not seeing the dangers in allowing the Divine Doll in our class. She could endanger the children!”

“Exactly!” Efrim agreed, his tail unfolding just enough for him to stand taller amongst his siblings around the table. “We have yet to determine she is not a threat to us, and with those Cra sentinels from the other day threatening our safety from the outside, we can’t afford to allow the threat to come from inside!”

“Phaeris took care of the Cra, Young One.” The dragon in question was quick to remind his younger brother, never one to let his efforts go unnoticed. He wasn’t called ‘The Powerful’ for nothing. “Phaeris intercepted them before they could get too close to the island.”

“The mere fact that they came all the way here is suspicious enough.” Efrim shot back ominously, his eyes narrowing menacingly.

“Efrim is right.” Glip agreed, not for the first time. At this point, Yugo was inclined to believe the two had formed an Anti Amalia Club or something behind their backs and this was all rehearsed. “Our people are vulnerable as is, we can’t afford the risk of letting the Divine Doll uncover our secrets!” In his disbelief, the Wakfung master stomped on the floor with his cane, the resounding thud! echoing around the council room. He shook his head ruefully. “I simply do not understand why you and Yugo are so intent on letting her attend our class.”

While Baltazar remained impassive even in the face of his twin’s outburst, Yugo was having a hard time trying not to squirm out of his chair and tear Glip a new one. The worst part was he didn’t even understand his own behaviour! This was what he wanted; for Glip to reject Amalia’s request so she wouldn’t have access to their secrets and end up proving his distrusting siblings right about her. For all intents and purposes, he should be siding with Glip and Efrim on this one! He had tried dissuading her of her goal not even an hour ago!

This—was—what—he—wanted!

And yet, the moment his siblings started accusing Amalia, claiming she only had ulterior motives rather than a genuine interest in their culture or, even worse, that there was no point in trying to teach her anything, it all made his blood boil. His fingers clutching at the fabric of his cloak as he tried to keep himself in check, he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. And he stubbornly refused to meet Adamaï’s eyes because he knew his brother would be able to tell he was quite bothered by everything that was taking place and he did not want to give him the satisfaction.

Again, it was Baltazar who voiced the king’s thoughts—although the heavily revised and edited version of them. “Lady Amalia is our guest and has expressed an interest in learning more about us. Many would wish to have the same opportunity.”

“Perhaps, but surely those people have a lot more to gain from the experience than us.” Glip replied stubbornly, glancing up at his brother and raising an eyebrow, as if daring the dragon to refute him.

It seemed as if he had underestimated the old scholar, for he simply smiled down at him. “Just like Lady Amalia wishes to know more about us, we could take this opportunity to learn more about Sadida.” Yugo and Adamaï were taken aback when Baltazar’s tired gaze rested on them. “After all, just the other day, Yugo and Adamaï discovered Sadidas’ connection to nature is so deep, they feel pain if plants are damaged. That is valuable information.”

“Indeed. I’ll make sure to apologise next time I make myself a salad.” Glip deadpanned.

Yugo had had enough. His siblings’ attitude towards Amalia had long moved past simple wariness to outright disrespect. If they wished to eventually live in peace with the other races populating the World of Twelve, that kind of behaviour would simply not do.

So he told Glip as such.

“While I understand your concerns, Glip,” that wasn’t a lie, he had been genuinely worried upon hearing Amalia’s request. “We mustn’t waste a perfect opportunity like this one. Who knows when the next one will present itself?”

“‘Perfect opportunity’?” Efrim echoed, mockery dripping from his tone. “To what, draw a target on our backs that says, ‘Come and get us!’?”

“To be one step ahead.” Yugo smirked when that finally got a reaction from the members attending, though not before sending Nora a look telling her to please control her brother.

“What do you mean by that, Yugo?” It was Mina who spoke. Much like Shinonomé, for the most part she had chosen not to intervene. After all, at least this time their conversation was more like an animated debate than a heated argument on its way to becoming a fist fight.

“If the gods have truly sent Amalia to spy on us and learn our weaknesses, then let’s turn that into an advantage!” He finally stood up from his chair, his aching body ever grateful for the small respite—how come Chibi and Grougal could successfully lead the construction of an entire settlement in record time, and yet they couldn’t choose comfortable furniture for one of the rooms they’d be spending the most time in?

He leaned closer to the table, his hands resting on it as he made his point. “The gods said Amalia was sent here as a sign of good will, and yet, we haven’t treated her as such since she arrived! I say we play their game and beat them at it.”

Glip couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He loved and respected Yugo both as his brother and his king, but it was clear all logical thought escaped him whenever his little doll was concerned. And seeing as Adamaï wasn’t much help at the moment, it was up to him and Efrim to get their ruler to see reason.

“That’s all great and all, but what does any of that have to do with the Divine Doll attending my class?”

He certainly hadn’t been expecting Yugo’s answer:

“It’ll help us set the right example.” He smirked, his brown eyes glinting excitedly at his own idea. With the same amount of energy, he made a sweep around the table with his eyes, purposely drawing his siblings’ attention to him. “If we hope to live in peace with the Twelvians, then we should know each other’s history, culture, and traditions. And what better way to start than by having a Divine Doll learn all about ours?

“In turn, I’m sure Amalia will be delighted to let us know whatever we want about her, her sisters, and maybe even their father. After all, she had no qualms showing vulnerability when I accidentally hurt her—if she truly were here as our enemy, she would show no weakness of any kind, especially if it can be exploited.”

At that, the attending members of the Council of Six began to deliberate, murmurs of agreement echoing around the walls as Yugo watched it all, a supremely self-satisfied grin on his face.

“It is true Amalia’s presence and the knowledge she can provide us with could be a huge help in ensuring the Sadida’s trust, at the very least.” Nora pointed out, her thumb and index finger holding her chin pensively. Even Efrim had to agree with her statement.

“Only because you won’t allow me to examine her.” Qilby complained with a sulky roll of his eyes. “Had you let me study her when I first suggested it, we would have all the answers by now!”

“We are not going to experiment on her, Qilby!” The entirety of the Council of Six (sans Chibi and Grougal, of course) roared in abject horror at their brother’s insistence, even Efrim and Glip. Just because they didn’t trust the Sadida Doll, it didn’t mean they trusted Qilby with her, either.

“You never let me do anything…” The bespectacled Eliatrope mumbled. With a sigh, Shinonomé began to gently rub his arm up and down for comfort.

“As Yugo said, Lady Amalia’s presence is supposed to be a sign of good will. It is high time we treated her as such.” Baltazar sentenced, putting an end to that particular topic. Despite his calm features, he sent his twin a very pointed look, clearly expecting him to be the voice of dissent once again.

For his part, even as he was still sulking in his chair, Glip perked up at his brother’s not-so-subtle stare. Despite himself, he let his eyes wander around his siblings, gauging their reactions. He had to bite the inside of his cheek when everyone was looking at him expectantly. He could feel a vein about to pop—he hated when they all ganged up on him like that!

After what felt like an eternity, the Wakfung master let out a long-suffering sigh that gradually turned into a groan. Rubbing his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, he asked, “You’re not gonna leave me alone until I give in, are you?”

Their shaking heads in unison was all the answer he needed, and the one he was dreading the most.

“Fine.” He ended up saying, although very reluctantly. “The doll can come to our class, but she’d better not fall behind! If she does, I’m not lifting a finger to help her!”

His threat lost a good amount of impact when Baltazar piped up, “Worry not. Baltazar will make sure to help her with whatever she may need.”

Glip sent his brother the stink-eye. “You just love undermining my authority, don’t you?”

Even with his imposing girth, Baltazar managed to shrug, an all-too-innocent smile on his snout as he looked down at his brother.

Glip’s scowl deepened. “The only reason you care about the doll being in our class is because that way you might learn a lot about her people, isn’t it?”

Baltazar’s smile didn’t falter.

While the masters bickered, Yugo let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting himself slump on his chair. A small, tired smile made its way to his features. At least that would make Amalia happy.

.........................................................................................................................

Amalia had a hard time remaining still as she waited for class to start. Well, technically, that wasn’t true. She could already hear the children’s animated chatter from behind the doors, she was only waiting for Baltazar to announce her arrival so the kids wouldn’t be too surprised at the sight of the famed Sadida Doll sent to their king going to class with them. As she waited for her cue, she kept rocking herself back and forth on the ball of her feet, her hands tapping rhythmically against her thighs.

Since she had never been to the other side, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Would they all sit on the floor forming a ring around their teachers? Would they have individual desks and chairs? Maybe benches? Either way, the doll didn’t feel like taking any chances and settled for her adventuring outfit and the low-risk her pants provided. Maybe she wasn’t out and about seeing the world, but she was about to have her first day of class. If that wasn’t an adventure, she didn’t know what was.

She certainly felt more nervous now than she did when Yugo took her to the beach.

Her excitement dimmed slightly at the thought of the king. She hadn’t seen him since she made her request; he had even sent Adamaï to inform her of the good news rather than doing it himself. Amalia really didn’t know what had got into him, but she was starting to grow really sick and tired of feeling so helpless. Next time she got the chance, she was going to give that elusive monarch a piece of her mind.

Feeling all fired up, her fists clenched close to her chest determinedly, the Divine Doll almost jumped right out of her skin at the unexpected deep, gruff voice coming from down below.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not like this because you happen to find my brother’s customary greeting to the children riveting?”

Amalia didn’t need to even know who was talking to know their words were dripping with sarcasm. Then again, she was perfectly aware of whom the voice belonged to; she had listened to him talk far too many times not to be able to recognise him.

With a blink, she glanced down to her side and, lo and behold, there he was, Glip, the Eliatrope children’s Wakfung master. The doll still had no idea what Wakfung even was, but she had a feeling it might have been some sort of martial art given whenever it was time to teach it she would only hear battle cries and instructions like ‘Aim your portal a little higher’ or ‘Alternate between beam and kick’ coming from the other side.

As her brown gaze met Glip’s dark scowl, the doll could feel herself sweatdrop, an awkward laugh all she could muster at the moment. She knew he was harsh from listening in on his lessons, and the few times they crossed paths in the halls were almost as frightening as doing so with Efrim, but now that she found herself under the true fire of his gaze, Amalia felt scrutinised. Like he was already grading one of her tests.

And what was worse, like she failed said test.

A heavy silence stretched over them after his words, and Amalia had half the mind not to beg her father to suck her up in one of their divine portals or whatever they used to communicate with the World of Twelve and get her out of this situation. But then she remembered how much she wanted to be on the other side, and how much she begged Yugo for this and she changed her mind. Even if she was still mad at him for how weird he was being, Yugo definitely delivered.

It was thanks to him she was even allowed to study their people’s history and culture, the least she could do was remain strong in the face of adversity.

A sense of newfound vigour coursing through her veins, she clenched her fists discreetly to give herself some courage. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she addressed the Primordial Eliatrope that would be her teacher from now on, “It’s an honour to finally meet you—.”

“Rule Number 1: don’t talk in class unless you’ve been given permission after raising your hand.” He cut her off, not even looking her way.

Amalia blinked, taken by surprise. “But… we’re not even in class yet…”

He ignored her. “Rule Number 2: pay attention in class.” And with that and without looking back even once, he turned the doorknob and let himself inside, the children all quieting down and greeting their teacher at the sight of him.

Flabbergasted and not sure what to do, Amalia was about to open her mouth when she could finally make out Baltazar’s voice from the other side:

“From now on, children, a very special guest will join our class.” He started, the kind tone of his voice a stark contrast to his twin’s gruffness. “Apparently, she’s shown remarkable interest in our people, even if she is unfamiliar with our customs. That is why we must be patient and understanding of her situation. And without further ado, let’s all give a warm welcome to our new student: Lady Amalia!”

That was her cue. Taking one last deep breath to steady herself, Amalia copied Glip’s actions. She grabbed a hold of the doorknob and turned it, finally opening the door to new experiences, both literally and figuratively, and entered the room, though not before closing her eyes in slight apprehension.

When her arrival was met with an eerie silence, the Sadida Doll finally mustered up the courage to open one eye experimentally. Only for both of them to snap open in shock at the sight before her. Her brown gaze clocked in on the vast expanse of space inside, sandstone pillars lining up the mural-covered walls, only this time, it was clear to see the paintings were meant to reflect what took place inside the room—schematic designs of Glip and Baltazar were constantly surrounded by smaller Eliatropes as they either studied, played, or made portals; the little ones they were meant to raise and teach.

In the background she could make out a lot of equipment, such as safety nets, hoops, mats, and even what looked like small arenas. In fact, a quick glance upwards was all it took for the Sadida Doll to notice there was actually a large safety net, tied around the four sturdiest pillars, going from one side of the room to the other, right below the ceiling. Although Amalia had the impression there was a patch of space where the ropes seemed more worn out than the rest, but she had no time to dwell much on it. It was all very impressive to see, but she had no idea what it was even for.

Another thing that caught her eye was how each wall separated by a column had a porthole. On paper, it was only natural that a room full of children would have windows, so the space could be bathed in natural light. What wasn’t so natural, however, was how the landscape seemed to change from one porthole to the next. Okay, she hadn’t been on Oma for long, but she would have sensed the lack of vegetation typical from an honest-to-the-gods desert.

Once again, Baltazar’s warm voice broke her out of her musings, “Kids, Lady Amalia here is a Divine Doll. Much like we descend from the Great Goddess Eliatrope, she was created by this world’s god of nature, Sadida. She is here as our guest, so Baltazar hopes you will make her feel welcomed.”

The dragon’s words caused a small gasp to leave her lips. Of course, the children! She had been so busy observing the interior of the room she had completely overlooked to get a good look at Yugo’s youngest subjects.

What she found was so adorable Amalia had to bite her lip hard to keep herself from squealing loud enough to shatter their weird-looking windows.

Staring back at her, awe in their eyes, were dozens of little children, boys and girls, of all ages. From a distance, she could make out the similarities between them, and was momentarily taken aback by how much they all looked like Yugo. Technically, that shouldn’t have been surprising, as her father had once explained to her that a god's followers would all inherit some key characteristics from them, making their people look somewhat homogeneous. However, seeing as the Eliatrope members of the Council all had very distinctive features, such as slightly different hair colours, she had not been prepared to come face to face with a group of children all sporting Yugo’s exact same shade of dirty blond hair, slightly tanned skin, and dark brown eyes.

Then, there was their clothing. While the Eliatrope King always wore his blue battlesuit and cloak, the Eliatrope children all wore much more appropriate outfits for their age. Shirts, pants, dresses, skirts… And yet, wherever she looked, all she could see were large, eared hats whose colour matched the rest of their clothes. Unlike the members of the Council and their varied colour scheme, most kids wore yellow or a light orange, though they were a few exceptions wearing green, blue, or even white, too.

Which was another surprise in itself since the only other Eliatropes Amalia had come in contact with besides Yugo and the Council members had been the elite guards and servants working inside the palace. And they all wore light purple robes that covered the entirety of their bodies except for their eyes.

As she met the little ones’ awestruck expressions with one of her own and a small smile, Amalia realised with a start this was her first time ever seeing children. A warm sensation spread over her chest; they were simply precious.

“Hi, there.” She finally said, offering the kids a small, friendly wave.

And with that simple gesture, chaos ensued.

In what felt like a split-second, the doll had dozens of children surrounding her, looking up at her with starry-eyed expressions. Looking back and forth between all of them, Amalia felt like her head was about to explode with the cacophony of sounds assaulting her ears.

“She’s so pretty!”

“Why is your hair green?”

“Is it true what the adults say? You’re really here to marry King Yugo?”

“Are you really a doll? You don’t look like a doll.”

“Do you really not know anything about us?”

“Can you do any cool Sadida tricks?”

“Oh, yes! Please, do something cool, like-like, growing a huge tree from the ground!”

As the Divine Doll was being bombarded with questions, the uneasy smile on her face doing nothing to hide how overwhelmed she felt, Baltazar and Glip were watching the scene. But while the beige dragon was staring at it fondly, the Wakfung master had his arms over his chest and a surly look on his face.

“Look at that,” He scoffed. “Not even five minutes in and she’s already driven our kids crazy! I knew it was a bad idea to let her in…”

Baltazar just rolled his eyes. “Please, Glip, they’re children. Baltazar has seen them lose focus on class because they saw a bird through one of the portals. How did you expect them to react at the sight of the Divine Doll everyone’s been talking about?”

“I maintain her presence is only going to be a huge distraction for the children and a waste of time for us.”

Knowing it would take his brother a while before he finally let go of his reservations about Amalia, Baltazar simply walked back to their lectern. Though, to be completely honest, it was just a plain old rock gorged in wakfu where Glip liked to stand above their students as he taught the lesson. The shortest Eliatrope liked to claim it was so all their students could see him without having to worry about the tallest ones getting in the shorter ones’ way, but they all knew better. They just chose not to comment on it.

Taking pity on the poor divine creature attending their class that day, the dragon cleared his throat. “Very well, children. Baltazar knows you are all very excited to meet Lady Amalia, and she will love to answer all your questions but first, today’s lesson.”

At the sound of their disappointed whimpers and whines, he sent his Eliatrope twin a look, reminding him of his cue. “Alright, alright, settle down! You can’t be playing all the time! If we could, this wouldn’t be a class but a playground. Come on, around us!”

At Glip’s instructions, the kids looked more than a little dejected, and Amalia’s eyes widened at the sight of the ears on their hats drooping. But she didn’t have much time to dwell on that, for she suddenly found herself being dragged to the centre of the room by a little hand. Looking down in surprise, she came face to face with a smiling Eliatrope girl that wore her hair in pigtails under an orange hat.

“C’mon, m’Lady. You can sit with me.” She said as she led the doll to the centre of the room, where the other children were already beginning to sit down around their teachers.

“Oh! Uh, thank you, um…”

“My name is Lori.” She giggled cutely as she finally took her place, causing Amalia to smile as she followed suit.

“Nice to meet you, Lori—.”

“Don’t go thinking that just because you’re a guest you’re exempt from the classroom rules, you hear me?” Glip’s gruff, chiding voice interrupted her. Looking up at him, she couldn’t help but gulp at the glare he was sending her way. “In case you already forgot, the very first rule is that you cannot talk in class until you are given permission. And that’s only after you’ve raised your hand for said permission. Are we clear?”

Amalia didn’t know what to feel. Not because he was scolding her for breaking a rule, or anything like that. He was right in that sense; just because she was a guest, that didn’t mean she was above following the rules like everyone else. No. What caught her eye was the fact that, technically, Lori had broken that rule too, yet he was only reprimanding her. With a shake of her head, she chose to let it go. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who got mad because a child wasn’t being yelled at instead of her.

That was just wrong on so many levels.

“Yes, sir.” She ended up saying instead, though a part of herself couldn’t help but pray to Sadida she hadn’t made the same mistake.

Glip just regarded her with an unreadable expression, his hold on his cane tightening. Thankfully, no, she didn’t make the same mistake.

“The appropriate title is Master Glip.”

She just made another one.

And with that, Glip turned around, stuck his cane between one of the wakfu-filled cracks going up and down the large stone in the middle of the room and levered himself up to the top in one swift motion, landing on his feet even as he somersaulted in the air.

Amalia’s jaw hit the floor. Although she was quick to shut her mouth, seeing as the children around her remained unperturbed by the Primordial Eliatrope’s display. Maybe that was a common occurrence?

Back to Glip, now that he was up on his rock, he stomped his cane against it three times to ensure he had everyone’s attention. Once everyone’s eyes were fixed on him—even the doll’s—, he explained in a booming voice:

“For those of you who don’t know,” he sent the Divine Doll a condescending look, “today’s lesson will be mixed. The first half will be spent studying Eliatrope History with Baltazar, while we will be working on the katas we learned last time after practicing on our own for a bit during the second half. Are there any questions?”

The Wakfung master had to suppress the urge to groan in exasperation when he saw the doll’s hand raised. If it weren’t for Baltazar flashing him a warning glare, he would have pretended not to see and continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened.

“Yes?” He pointed at her with his cane, derision laced with his tone despite his best efforts.

“Um, sorry, but what’s a kata?” Amalia asked a little sheepishly, tucking a strand of her forest-green hair behind her ear when the children around her giggled at her question. Funny how she was being laughed at and that still felt a lot less judgemental than how Glip was treating her.

His only response was a smirk. “You’ll see.” Then, out of nowhere, he clasped his hands as he gestured to his dragon twin. “The floor’s all yours, Baltazar.”

For his part, Baltazar’s expression was rather cold even as he stared back at his brother. He would definitely have a word with him over his treatment of Amalia after class was over. But first:

“Thank you, Glip.” Even his tone was icy as he addressed his twin. Then, it softened considerably as he focused back on the kids. “Today’s a very special day, children. Since this is Lady Amalia’s first day, how about we show her how much we’ve learned so far? Any volunteers to share our last lesson?”

It didn’t take long for the reaction he had been dreading to be sparked. As soon as those words left his mouth, all children present seemed to shrink on themselves, the few of them that were closest to a bewildered Amalia scooted over to the Divine Doll as if she could offer them some cover from the terrible fate that was being asked to repeat a lesson aloud.

He had to count the fact that none of them had tried to create a portal to run away yet as a success.

He waited a few minutes, but eventually gave up with a sigh as none of the children could even look him in the eye. He understood between Yugo and Adamaï’s adventures and Glip’s teachings, their people’s history might not look as appealing, but it was still worth learning. Knowledge could open the door to so many new experiences and even help you perfect things you already knew, just as it helped you avoid making the same mistakes again. And Baltazar knew the children paid attention in his classes, if only they weren’t so afraid of speaking up.

“Looks like you’ll have to take it from the top again, Brother.” Glip sent him a compassionate look, knowing how much this meant to him.

“Baltazar would say so, yes.” With a tired smile, he opened up his mouth, ready to begin… Only to be interrupted by Amalia raising her hand yet again. Arching one bushy eyebrow, he asked, “Yes, Lady Amalia? Is everything alright? Forgive Baltazar, but he cannot understand how you can have a question already since he has yet to say a word.”

Slowly, Amalia lowered her hand and brought it to her chest, a small blush colouring her cheeks. “Oh! Um, no. I mean, it’s not exactly a question, but… more of a request, actually?”

The twins exchanged confused glances. “A request?”

“This isn’t a ball where you can just ask the band to play a song, you know?” Glip quipped harshly, eyes narrowed on the doll.

“Oh, no! It’s nothing like that!” Amalia immediately tried to defend herself, shaking her hands in front of her body.

“Then what is it you’re… requesting?” Baltazar asked again after a pause.

“I was just wondering, since you intend to review everything for my sake—which you have my sincerest thanks for—, if you could start with the construction of the Zenith?”

The twins’ eyes widened like saucers at her words. And they weren’t the only ones, for the kids had all turned to stare at Amalia, their surprise evident on their faces. Meanwhile, all sorts of alarms went off in Glip’s mind as he readied himself to attack if need be. “How do you know about that?” He questioned, his tone dangerously low.

Her blush deepened. Her hands clutching at the fabric of her pants nervously, she finally admitted. “Well, the thing is… I just never got to hear the whole story.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?” It was Baltazar who asked, his tone as kind as ever, albeit cautious.

“I’ve been listening to your classes for a while now, and I’ve always been enchanted by the way you retell everything that happened.” She confessed, her voice growing in confidence the more she spoke. Soon, even her gestures and expressions were becoming more animated. “It’s incredible! The way you can just… transport me to another world! It feels like I’m there! Especially when the both of you teach the lesson. It’s just… just… amazing.”

Glip’s eyebrows shot up at that, pleasantly surprised despite himself. That had to be the highest praise they’d received in a while, and to think it came from the Divine Doll… At the thought of her, the Wakfung master shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t grow soft now, not after what she’d just said.

“But why do you want to learn about the Zenith in specific?”

She grew embarrassed again, her fingers fidgeting on her lap. “Because I never got to hear the full story. I know certain things, but not everything.”

“Wait!” This time, the three adults had their attention drawn to the children. It had been Jeré, one of the oldest ones whose bangs covered his eyes, who spoke. “You’ve never heard the full story?” His jaw dropped when all Amalia could do was shake her head. “But it’s so awesome!”

“Do you really don’t know about it?” Another kid, a little girl named Jamille, pressed on, turning around to face the doll properly.

Amalia smiled kindly at them. “I know some things. Like how Chibi and Grougaloragran are the Eliatropes’ greatest inventors and the only thing they hadn’t been able to master yet was how to go beyond your world─something not even your portals could achieve.”

The first time she heard the story, Amalia’s curiosity had been picked once again by the mention of their world. She still wasn’t fully aware of what they meant by that or why they would be in the World of Twelve if they already had a home of their own, but she chose to keep that bit for later. Right now, she was far too enchanted by the children’s awed grins.

“Yes, that’s right!” Jeré nodded enthusiastically. “They kept researching for decades, but they just couldn’t get it right!”

“For the longest time, they tried creating a special kind of portal that would lead us away from our world, but that plan failed because our portals can’t work unless we’re close enough to our destination or we at least know it by heart.” A girl with fluffy bangs added.

“And-and, and no one knowed what was outside of home, so it didn’t work.” Amalia almost died when what looked to be the youngest kid present shily spoke next. He was so cute! With his little wabbit onesie and those puffy cheeks she so desperately wanted to pinch!

Once her cuteness-induced high was under control, however, their words registered in her mind. Her mouth formed a little ‘o’ shape at the realisation that that had been the reason Yugo hadn’t been able to teleport them directly to the beach when they went out. Now she felt a little bad for snapping at him and Adamaï, but it was a little hard being unfailingly nice after throwing your stomach’s contents on a poor, unsuspecting bush!

She was brought back to the class when another kid continued on with the tale. “In the end, they realised what they needed wasn’t for us to be able to create that kind of portal, but to be able to leave. Period!”

“So they decided to build this huge and super cool machine where we would all fit and we could use to travel around the Krozmos!” Another kid noted.

Little by little, the rest of the class grew in confidence too. All of them taking turns to tell everything they knew to the Sadida Doll, who hanged onto every word with rapt attention.

As this was all taking place, Baltazar and Glip could only look on, astonished, their mouths millimetres away from touching the floor. And while the dragon’s shocked expression eventually settled into an extremely pleased smile, Glip had yet to recover. It was simply unbelievable! For some reason, the doll had single-handedly managed to encourage the kids to repeat their lessons aloud, a feat that took considerable effort from him and Baltazar to achieve. And yet, there she was, listening intently as their students bombarded her with information.

Somehow, it was even more surprising to find out the doll had indeed been paying attention to the lesson whenever it was that she eavesdropped on them. Whenever the children got a fact wrong, if it just so happened she had been able to listen to that particular part of the story, she would kindly correct them in a way that wouldn’t make them feel bad about it.

Glip… really didn’t know what to think.

Eventually, he was snapped out of his trance by Lori finishing off the story by throwing her hands up in the air triumphantly, her classmates mimicking her actions with matching enthusiasm. In response, the doll simply clapped with a warm smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, you guys. I’m learning so much already!” She gently rubbed the heads of the two kids closest to her, Lori and a little boy whose name she didn’t know. She couldn’t help but raise an intrigued eyebrow at the way they made sure their hats remained in place even after her caresses. “And it’s plain to see you know your stuff too!”

At the little, playful wink she sent them, the Eliatrope children couldn't help the beaming smiles from forming on their faces, basking in the beautiful doll’s praise. Boy, their king sure was lucky to have such a cool girlfriend!

Chuckling fondly at the scene—and allowing a supremely satisfied smirk to curl at his lips at the sight of his discombobulated brother—, Baltazar cleared his throat to bring everyone’s attention back at him. “Very well, children. Lady Amalia is right; you sure know a lot! Balthazar is very proud of you all. But, as we all know, just like there’s always something new to be learned, it is also good to remember what we already know so we never forget. Which is why Baltazar will be telling you about our people’s origins.”

Despite that being a story they all knew by heart, it was still one of the children’s favourites, so they all eagerly leaned in to better listen to what the dragon had to say. Amalia in particular was awestruck at the revelation. She had been wondering exactly the same thing since practically her birth. She really didn’t know much, just that the Eliatropes descended from the Great Goddess Eliatrope so they clearly didn’t worship any of the gods her father was a member of. But she had no idea how they ever came to be or why their goddess wasn’t a part of the Twelvians’ pantheon. So, much like the children, she leaned in, her head resting on her propped up arms, ready to learn.

Normally, Glip would have argued sharing that particular story around the Divine Doll would have been foolish, as it would have compromised some very delicate information regarding their people. But when he and Baltazar had been prepping the lesson before class, the two twins actually discussed the subject at length. While the Eliatrope had been firmly against it at first, his dragon brother eventually managed to convince him by raising the very valid point that Amalia had been born in Inglorium, surrounded by this world’s gods. She was most likely already aware of their origin! So he acquiesced and relented, allowing Baltazar to do as he pleased.

If anything, maybe hearing their version of the story would be enough to convince the doll not to sell them out to her nature-loving father and his friends. It was unlikely, but for once Glip dared to hope.

“Long, long ago,” Baltazar began, his incredibly talented storyteller voice enrapturing his students with just a few words. “There was nothing. Everything was darkness. Things such as planets, the concept of time, or the very Krozmos itself didn’t exist. In fact, the only things that did exist were two very different essences: wakfu, the source of all life; and stasis, the energy of destruction.

“Two divine beings represented these energies; the Great Goddess Eliatrope was the source of all wakfu, whereas the Great Dragon was the source of all stasis. These two opposite forces, being the only living creatures in the whole wide universe, fell in love. Guided by their feelings, they were joined in a dance from which the Krozmos was born, and with it, life could thrive before parting from the material world, thus continuing the two lovers’ dance—existence became a balance between life and death.”

Amalia found herself completely captivated by the dragon’s tale. She remembered her father briefly mentioning the existence of stasis and how it was opposite from wakfu, which was crucial for the survival of their people, even if he didn’t have the time to dwell much on that; but she was sure he had never mentioned the Great Dragon, let alone how the Krozmos came to be thanks to him and the Eliatrope Goddess. She brought her legs close to her chest, looking forward to knowing what happened next.

As he retold the events that took place aeons ago, Baltazar paced around the room at a leisurely stride. His little wings fluttered in delight at the sight of his fascinated class, even Amalia looked positively enchanted by his tale. And the way even the most unruly kids had yet to misbehave, sneaking discreet glances the doll’s way, made him appreciate having her in his class.

Apparently, she was a good influence on the kids.

“But that is not all that they did.” He shook his head, as if the mere idea was ludicrous. “Shortly after they created the Krozmos, the two lovers found each other once more. Much like the first time, they were joined in a dance, only this time they created life on a considerably smaller, but not any less magnificent scale.” Abruptly, he stopped pacing. He sat down on the floor as he regarded the children all seriously, before a small smirk graced his features. “Tell me, children, what did they create this time?”

The response was immediate. All students present but Amalia—who could only look around in surprise—exclaimed in perfect unison, “They created the six Dofus Eliatropes!”

“That’s right.” Baltazar chuckled, satisfied. “And from each Dofus a set of twins was born. Each of them were granted a special gift they were meant to use for the sake of the people they would lead. Hence, the Council of Six, composed of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragon siblings was born!”

Amalia’s surprised gasp was drowned out by the sound of the children cheering and applauding, clearly delighted with the story. But as the kids celebrated and Baltazar went on about how it was their duty as their leaders to look out for their people in each reincarnation—wait, so they were that kind of demigods, too?! But the only demigods she knew could reincarnate were Ecaflip’s children, and even they only had nine lives… She would have to store that information away for later, lest her head would explode—, Amalia’s brain clocked in on what he’d said about him and his siblings.

Being a demigoddess herself, Amalia was aware of the fact that her divine parentage made her special, moreover, many would agree her case in specific made her even more exceptional. After all, unlike the other gods, who needed to mate with mortal partners to bear offspring, she and her sisters had been conceived single-handedly by Sadida himself. The Leafy God had created them out of practically nothing, using a fragment of his supreme power to bring each and everyone of his daughters to life. Therefore, by virtue of not possessing mortal blood, they were almost as godly as any other deity, hence why they were allowed in Inglorium.

At least, that was what her father and sisters told her.

And yet, Yugo and his siblings and their origins managed to be even more staggering. Whereas Sadida’s Dolls had been created by the god of nature’s sole intervention, the Eliatropes had been born from the union of their patron goddess and the Great Dragon. They were descended from two gods!

Wait, if that was the case, could they even be considered demigods? She wondered idly.

Even as Amalia struggled trying to understand what it all meant, a wayward thought materialised in her brain, effectively taking her mind off such matters as she made a vital connection. That at least explained how it was possible that each set of twins hatching from their respective Dofus comprised an Eliatrope child and a dragon.

A part of the doll was rather relieved to be able to put that mystery to rest.

Before she could dwell on the matter any longer, however, the sound of Glip stomping his cane against the floor drew everyone’s attention back to him. “Well, that concludes today’s history lesson, children. Thank Master Baltazar for everything and go over the training grounds. Today’s training session is going to be intense.”

...................................................................................................................

Though confused at first by the Eliatrope teacher’s instructions, much like she’d done at the beginning of Baltazar’s lesson, Amalia decided to follow the children’s lead. Letting herself be dragged by Lori as she and the other kids resumed their questioning of her—and struggling slightly to keep up—, the green-haired beauty stood slack-jawed upon being led to the training grounds.

Suddenly all that equipment and safety nets she’d seen when she entered the classroom made a lot more sense.

Her awe only grew as Glip instructed the kids on what they’d be doing that day and divided them in groups, pointing at the areas each group would train at with his cane right before telling the children to disperse. As she remained where she was, glued to her spot, the doll’s big brown eyes kept darting back and forth between the little ones. Some of them were trying to execute a complicated set of movements, their efforts focused on combining traditional hand-to-hand combat with the use of their wakfu. Another group consisting of the youngsters were trying to conjure up portals, their little hands glowing blue but not achieving much else. And finally, the group little Lori belonged to was up high in the ceiling, using their portals to move from one place to another and landing safely on the net hanging over her head whenever they failed. If she had to guess, Amalia would say these groups were actually skill levels, going from beginners, intermediate level, and advanced level.

She met Lori’s shy wave from up above with one of her own and smiled kindly up at her. Even so, despite how interesting this all was, Amalia couldn’t help but feel a little out of place just standing there with nothing to do.

Looking to her side, she found Glip watching his students with a careful eye, his gaze never leaving them. Despite being a huge grump and more than a little condescending, Amalia had to admit he was at least a caring and responsible teacher. Even if that aspect of his personality was directed at anyone but her.

Mustering up all her courage by taking one deep breath, the Divine Doll made her way over to him, careful not to ruin his concentration as he kept an eye on the children. Every now and then he would yell some kind of instruction or piece of advice for them to follow, and Amalia was proud to say she only flinched slightly each time that startled her.

Hiding her hands behind her back as a clear sign of her nervousness, she tried to say, “Um…Master Glip?”

He didn’t even look at her, just grunted, “What is it?”

“Uh, well, I was just wondering… Is this supposed to be Wakfung?” She gestured at the training session taking place.

Even though he had yet to look her way, Glip was starting to regret not sending the doll away when his part of the lesson started and he had the chance. Ironically, he had been so distracted keeping an eye on her and the chaos her presence could ensue, he had forgotten all about her by the time it was his turn to take the reins. Well, thankfully, it wasn’t like she’d be able to gather much intel from watching the kids’ training session. Neither of them were ready yet to try out for becoming guards-in-training, which meant their technique had yet to be fully polished. She would not be able to do much harm with non-perfected moves.

That didn’t mean he shouldn’t be careful, however. “You could say that, yes.” At first, his voice remained impassive, until he grew impatient. “What about it?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” She trailed off, almost too afraid to ask.

“Well…?” The Eliatrope urged her, still not looking at her.

“I suppose I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She finally admitted.

“What you’re supposed to do? Whatever does that mean?”

Amalia shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, aren’t I here to learn? I’m not really sure what to do when my magic doesn’t work like yours.” As she said that, her eyes trailed back up to Lori. She had noticed how she hadn’t been as eager to jump through portals like her classmates, and she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at the sight. “Is there a way I can learn Wakfung without… you know… being an Eliatrope?”

That made him look back at her in surprise, his eyes wide like saucers. However, that was nothing compared to the shiver that ran down her spine when he began to laugh, the sound effectively causing most children to stop doing their respective activities to watch the scene. Even Baltazar looked down at his twin in surprise right before exchanging slightly alarmed glances with Amalia.

After what felt like an awkwardly long amount of time, Glip finally quieted down. Wiping a tear off his eye, he simply said, “No, there is not.” And then he turned back around to stare at the children, his abrupt demeanour immediately making them return to training.

For a while, all Amalia could do was blink, speechless. It took her a bit before she finally regained the ability to speak, “W-what do you mean? Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m positive. You see, there is no Wakfung without wakfu.”

“But I have wakfu.” She insisted, her brow furrowed at his refusal. “See?” She extended her palms facing the ceiling, a faint green light enveloping her hands as she called forth her father’s divine gift without actually manifesting it.

“You have Sadida magic, not Eliatrope magic.” Glip pointed out without missing a beat. “Sure, you might be able to make flowers grow and to sprout some vines, but you are incapable of creating portals or wielding wakfu in its purest form. Therefore, I don’t see the point in teaching you.”

“Glip!” Baltazar exclaimed, scandalised at his twin’s callousness. He knew better than anyone that his brother tended to be blunt and was never one to sugarcoat things, but to think he’d be this disrespectful towards Lady Amalia! It was imperative he defused the situation. “Please, forgive Baltazar’s brother, my Lady. He did not mean to be so rude, it is simply that we do not know how to adapt ourselves to your unique abilities.”

Seeing as Baltazar’s words made perfect sense, Amalia was about to reassure the beige dragon everything was alright when Glip cut in, although his words felt like they were actually cutting through her.

“Oh, don’t grovel like that, Baltazar! Have some dignity!” Glip loudly complained, swirling around to face his brother with a reproachful look. “She isn’t one of us, and she will never be, no matter how much she tries to integrate herself with us by learning our culture or our history! She is not an Eliatrope and therefore it would be extremely foolish to teach her Wakfung, and you know this!”

Even if Amalia already felt like she’d been slapped by his harsh words, she couldn’t help but gasp when the shortest Eliatrope settled the full fire of his fury on her, making her curl around herself subconsciously in fear. “There is simply no way I will ever make it easier for an outsider to hurt my people.”

His words were dripping with venom and Amalia ingested every single drop. Her heart fell to her stomach, and she could feel the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. What was worse, even in her numb state, she could discern how the entire room had grown eerily quiet, the children’s attention drawn to them by the commotion.

Was it true? Didn’t the Eliatrope trust her? Was that the reason for Glip and Efrim’s animosity, for the servants' cordial yet distant treatment of her? Deep down, she knew they certainly hadn’t been expecting her, that was something she became aware of as soon as she arrived at Oma Island, but to think they would actually hold such vitriol for her… Even as she stood there, frozen in shock as Baltazar flashed a seething glare his brother’s way while the latter refused to even meet his eye, the Sadida Doll couldn’t help but wrack her brain for answers. Tried as she might, she just couldn’t come up with anything in specific she might have done to earn their scorn. As she kept on searching, a chilling thought assaulted her.

Was that the reason why Yugo…?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a bloodcurdling sound; a shrill, frightened scream.

“Lori!” One of the children shrieked, pointing up at her.

With a gasp, her heart pounding in her chest, Amalia swivelled her head to the origin of the scream. Her eyes widened in alarm at the sight of Lori’s portal malfunctioning at the last second and her falling. Normally, the little girl should have been perfectly fine, the safety net underneath her breaking her fall and preventing any disasters, but the doll couldn’t help but bring a hand to her mouth as Lori collided against the area where she’d noticed before the trope was worn out. As the kid collided against it, she sent a quick prayer to Sadida, begging him for the net to hold on, but alas, no such luck.

The ropes gave in under Lori’s weight, sending the little girl plummeting to the ground.

Overcome by a protective instinct she didn’t know she possessed, so overwhelmed by the surge of power coursing through her veins she only vaguely registered a flash of blue light from the corner of her eye, Amalia didn’t hesitate to act. Thinking fast, she threw her arm out, her palm outstretched, a portion of the floor in front of her—she sent a quick thank you to her father for their classroom being at ground level— glowing green for a split-second before a large vine shot forth and towards the terrified child.

At staggering speed, the thick plant reached just below Lori, softening her fall. Then, as soon as she made contact with it, the vine twisted and turned, creating spirals that acted as a slide and safely deposited Lori on the ground under everyone’s astonished and relieved gazes.

As soon as Lori’s feet made contact with the ground, she broke down crying. Seeing Amalia’s open arms, she threw herself at the Divine Doll, clutching onto her like a lifeline. “I-I-I…” She hiccuped at first, before it all became too much and she eventually wailed, “I was so scared!”

As she held the crying girl in her arms, Amalia made soothing noises in an attempt to calm her down. “There, there. It’s okay, Lori. You’re safe now. You’re safe now.”

While Amalia was busy trying to console the poor kid, her classmates surrounding the two and dissolving into both praises for the doll and words of encouragement for Lori, the two teachers watched the scene. In Glip’s case, who had been about to reach the girl before Amalia’s vine went ahead, his expression reflected the many mixed feelings going on in his mind.

By his side, Baltazar sighed. “Baltazar understands we must be careful not to underestimate her and what she’s capable of, but he believes in doing so we are also doing just that.”

“What do you mean?” Glip asked, his voice as small as his height, for once.

“You believe her undeserving of trust, and yet, she did not hesitate to save Lori. A truly heinous creature with no concern for anyone but their own would not do such a thing.” Then, he gestured to the crowd of children surrounding the crying girl and the doll with his tail. “Children are unexpectedly good at telling who is worthy of trust and who isn’t. And our little ones have been enchanted by her from the moment she walked through the door.”

Looking back and forth between his brother and the doll, Glip found himself at a loss. His voice was almost desperate when he begged the dragon for answers. “Baltazar, you’ve been much more willing to trust her than me since the beginning, but… why? What do you see in her that makes her worthy in your eyes?”

In response, Baltazar simply smiled kindly, the corner of his eyes wrinkling at the action. “Baltazar is a dragon.” He replied simply. “Much like you told him Adamaï did, Baltazar stared into her wakfu.” Leaning closer to the Eliatrope, he placed his tail on his shoulder. “Baltazar cannot speak for the twelve gods and their true intentions, but Lady Amalia holds no ill intent in her heart. She is far too pure for that.”

And with that, the dragon went over to join his class in looking after Lori to make sure the little one was okay, leaving the Wakfung master alone with his thoughts.

.......................................................................................................................

After that scare, the two teachers thought it best to dismiss the class early. There would be no katas that day, after all. Everyone, especially Lori, was far too rattled by the events to continue as if nothing had happened. Since it was still a little too early for the kids’ parents to pick them up, they remained inside the classroom as they often did whenever class ended sooner than expected. However, while they would normally be playing around until it was time to go, this time the children remained huddled around Amalia as she gently and soothingly caressed a still recovering Lori, who remained glued to the doll’s front, hugging her tightly like her life depended on it. They spent the rest of the time like that, with the children talking to Amalia and hanging onto her every word like she had just lowered the moon for them.

Finally, it was time to say goodbye for the day when the kids’ parents arrived. While they had all been understandably surprised at the sight of the Divine Doll surrounded by their children—and a few parents had had to not-so-subtly nudge their partners to react when they stared, or more like ogled, at the forest beauty for a tad too long—, it was nothing compared to their reactions upon learning what had happened.

Lori’s parents in particular spent a good time thanking a slightly overwhelmed Amalia profusely for saving their daughter as soon as the latter was done with her retelling, having wasted no time in informing her parents of her little brush with death and the super cool plant Lady Amalia had used to rescue her just in time.

Once every kid had left the room with their parents, waving Amalia goodbye—a gesture she returned wholeheartedly—, she was about to leave as well when Baltazar’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Lady Amalia. A word, please?”

“Of course, Master Baltazar. Is anything the matter?”

“Not at all, my Lady. In fact, it is Baltazar’s brother who wishes to speak with you.” Right after he said that, he nudged his Eliatrope twin forward, and Amalia immediately braced herself for the worst.

“In light of recent events…” The Eliatrope began uneasily. After a pregnant pause, trying in vain to organise his thoughts, Glip finally gave in with a sigh. “I have come to realise I’ve been unfair to you. I judged you far too quickly and treated you according to my prejudices rather than who you really are. And for that, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies, my Lady.”

Genuine shame coloured Glip’s features even as he bowed down deeply in front of the Sadida Doll, who could only blink, taken aback. However, soon enough, her confusion gave way to a warm smile, touched by the gesture.

“I gladly accept your apologies, Master Glip.” She told him, bringing a hand to her chest. “Please, accept mine as well. I’m aware my actions might have offended you, even if it was the furthest thing from my intention.”

“Think nothing of it.” He nodded. Then, he cleared his throat and he held his cane a little bit tighter for (moral) support. “Um, I… Well.” He coughed. “Even if I have yet to decide whether it’d be possible to teach you Wakfung, given your Sadida nature, seeing as you have shown genuine interest in our people’s way, we…” Another pause, this time punctuated by deliverance. “I would be honoured to see you in class from now on, Lady Amalia.”

If it was even possible, Amalia’s smile only stretched wider. “The honour would be all mine, Master Glip.”

And as everyone made it back to their respective homes after such a hectic day, there was one topic that kept being discussed at the Eliatrope children’s tables during dinner. They couldn’t wait until King Yugo took Lady Amalia as his queen.

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