#and wordlessly agree to simply Not Bring It Up

[puppy-the-mask]

So I've been cooking up some alternate outfit ideas for my Lmk sona and this is what they'd look like if they were with the Demon Bull Family! The idea is basically they'd be something of a court musician but it's mainly just a title.

Edit: Added the version without her armor <3

I don't have a concrete story but the initial idea was that cas was friends with swk in the brotherhood days and stuck with dbk after everyone else got sealed away and the whole consumption incident went down since she had nowhere else to go (and conveniently was the only lady around that he could ask for relationship advice when courting Iron Fan). They didn't expect Cas to live this long, only really expecting to have her around through her natural lifespan but they noticed she wasn't aging so now she gets to be their babysitter for date nights! Through the years she's been something of an aunt/sister figure and has become fiercely loyal to the family despite having no desire to take over the world. Redson built her electric bass and the armor she wears over her gems, the Bass has 2 extra buttons on it- the fire button spews fire out of the pipes and the Bull button unsheathes her sword from the neck of the instrument since she can't exactly walk around with a sword on her hip so easy these days. She travels with a heavy metal band across the continent- i like to imagine her intro episode has the crew excited about a big band coming to the city and while they wait they run into redson and annoy him cause he's bragging about getting exclusive vip passes to the show. The crew would expect someone mean from the music and the from the rest of the family but Cas is super welcoming and nice when the crew sneak backstage to bother redson some more XD

[omega-e123]

!! NSFW !!

cw: mild somnophilia(?), Cunnilingus, Vaginal sex. Fingering. Breeding kink.

In A Rut…

Prologue || Restraint || Part 3 (HERE) || Adoration

Indulgence

Depressed. Lonely. Unwanted. Those are the words that you’d describe how you’re feeling. You knew Shadow liked his personal space, but isn’t this a bit much? After being the only one initiating for a month straight, it’s finally taken its toll on you.

Rationally, you’re aware if Shadow didn’t at least tolerate your company, he wouldn’t give you the time of day. Let alone reciprocate affection when given. It still hurt, putting in all the effort suddenly.

It’s been a while since the last time you spent the night at his place. Not from the lack of asking. Shadow shot down every time it was brought up. The way he answered differed. Sometimes it was a flat, “No.” Other times he would go silent, deep into thought before politely declining. There was no tell whether or not Shadow was hesitating to say yes or to say no.

Tonight was the night. You practically begged him. Your hands clasps his, bringing it to your chest. Puppy eyes refuse to break contact even as he slightly turned his head away. “Pretty please Shadow? Pleaaaase? I really miss you. Just one night,” you implored.

Shadow grits his teeth. The glaring annoyance in his features conceal Shadow’s inner turmoil. Curse these damn thoughts. If only you were begging for something else. I’d give it all in a heartbeat.

Damn it— “Tch! Fine. For one night.”

It’s a good thing he already replaced those torn covers…

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

The plan was simple. You take his bed, Shadow takes the couch. With this arrangement, he can keep himself in check while you’re still able to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

What a fool he was hoping that you’d agree.

Even though Shadow insisted he take the couch so you can have his bed all to yourself, you countered with, “Well, if you’re going to sleep on the couch so will I! I didn’t ask to stay for the night for us to end up not sleeping together, idiot.”

At first, you tried to sleep with your head laid on his chest. Leg propped over Shadow’s torso. Normally, you both wouldn’t have a problem falling into a deep slumber like this. A subtle steady heartbeat coercing your body to drift away. Protective arms wrapped around your being. Tonight? You weren’t sure if who you’re nuzzling against was a hedgehog or a wooden log.

Try as he might, Shadow couldn’t relax his muscles. In and out. Focus on breathing. Nothing else.

Don’t pay any mind on how much his body has been aching for your touch. Ignore the hot breath that tickles his chest. Your sickly sweet scent filling up his nose. The way your crotch is pressed up against his hip.

You resign, noticing the rigid, mechanical breathing. Wordlessly peeling yourself off of Shadow to lay on your side, back towards him. Better not make him any more uncomfortable even though you really wanted to cuddle him. Give him space and let him chase.

Almost immediately, some of the tension Shadow was holding dissipates. Finally allowing himself to sink further into the mattress. The air feels like a thousand needles pricking him now that your warmth is gone. A heavy breath leaves him, not noticing he’s been holding it in this whole time.

It would be so much easier if he simply told you what is going on. Why he has been ‘distant’ for the past few weeks. Bringing up the topic feels too awkward, too… humiliating. Your partner is so stubborn when it came to asking for help. Shadow didn’t need to suffer alone at all if only he spoke up. You were more than happy to assist him whenever needed… this Shadow knew well.

Weight of the mattress shifts behind you. Springs crunching and squeaking underneath. You paid no mind as your consciousness stood at the border of dreamland.

As the last strand of thought was about to be plucked away, a paid of arms found purchase around your waist. Like a squeaky toy being squeezed, your eyes shot open and bulged out as you quietly squealed from the sudden movement.

Shadow’s body and yours press up against each other. Legs tangle with one another. A tender kiss is pressed to the back of your neck sending goosebumps down your spine.

Sleep finally drags you into the void.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Moonlight peeks through the cracks of the black out curtains. Watching your every move. Shadows intertwine and dance upon the cool sheets of the bed. Ecstasy clings onto every inch of your skin. Combined sweat glistening due to the spotlight provided by the moon.

“Ngh.. haah.. Shadow—“

Your heart leaps out of your chest. The utterance of your partners name startles you awake. Wetness pools in between your legs from the dream. Underwear sticks uncomfortably to your cunt.

Heavy breathing combined with something hard pressed against your ass signals that you’re not the only one having a wonderful dream or maybe he was the cause? Pressure varies from light to firm in a nice rhythmic pattern.

Shadow’s arms are wrapped around you tight, unaware that you’re awake. His hot breaths that moan your name tickle your ear. One hand begins to wander. The inhibitor ring gets caught by the fabric, here and there, contributing to his clunky movements. Eventually it finds its way to the edge of your shirt. Shadow’s bare hand slides up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, before settling on a mound. Gently but firmly gripping it. Even though you call out his name, no response is given. Shadow continues to hump your ass, riling you up more. Hips begin to move in tandem with his, craving more friction. A whimper escapes past your lips, calling out his name once more.

What woke Shadow up was your hand squeezing the top of his. Blinking the sleep away, he became more aware of his actions.

Guilt swallows him up whole. Shadow mutters a rushed apology, “I didn’t— Forgive me.” His ears flick back momentarily in agitation as he begins to free his limbs from you. Although untangled your hand refuses to let go. When he sits up, so do you. Oh no, you’ve let this gone on long enough.

“Forgive you for what?”, you interject, worry laced in your words. Due to the low light in the room, you could only partially see Shadow’s expression. An oh so familiar mask of stone adorns his face.

He doesn’t move an inch. A good sign. It means he’s not immediately avoiding or distancing himself from you. A chance to reel Shadow back... To keep him grounded.

Silence follows your question. Again, you speak up, “What’s on your mind, my love? You’ve been acting odd these days. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

The void of the room stares straight back at Shadow. Thoughts collecting to form a coherent sentence. Finally he speaks, though not of his own volition. Words spill out before he could stop them, “That’s the problem. You can and you would. Taking advantage of you is not something I intend to do… but I might with my current state.”

Brows furrow and a deep frown sets on your muzzle. “What the fuck are you talking about.” May the gods praise you for your patience with this man—. Sucking in a sharp inhale you speak again,“Shadow.. It is not taking advantage for accepting my help. Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered in the first place. It’s not as if I’m physically unable to say no later down the line anyways,” your free hand reaches up to Shadow’s cheek, turning his face towards you, “So if you could please tell me instead of having me guess, I would appreciate it.”

Your hand is so incredibly soft. Shadow couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “It’s— rutting season,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

Although he’s facing you, his eyes refuse to meet yours. Shadow’s shyness announces its presence in the form of crimson staining his cheeks, “It’s.. supposedly the time of the year for hedgehogs having the urge to breed.” His tail thumps excessively at the thought of knocking you up. Reaching back, Shadow grabs his tail to hold it still.

The cogs in your brain begin to turn, putting the pieces together. This whole time he was acting touch adverse due to being overstimulated by your presence. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Shadow didn’t tell you sooner.

Taking too long to answer, Shadow takes your silence as judgement. “Hmph, I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces, shuffling away from you.

“The hell you are! You’re finishing what you started tonight, mister.” Your partner is forcefully yanked back and pinned onto the mattress. Straddling him, you can see his features much easier. Eyes looking up at you widen in shock before narrowing. Shadow’s fangs flash in a mischievous smirk.

“You are aware of what you’re asking, right?”

“Uh, yes?”

Easy as flipping a pancake, you two switch positions. Your hands are in tight grips above your head. Shadow leans close to your ear, chests nearly touching. In a low sultry voice he says, “You sound unsure. Allow me to clarify: I won’t be done with you until you’re passed out or I’m empty, understood?”

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. Now that the laundry has been hung up to air, Shadow can finally indulge what he’s been craving for: you.

Scarlet eyes scan your features for any hint of fear, hesitation. Of course Shadow wants you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself while he lets out his urges.

Immediately your heart leaps into your throat. Excitement shooting through your system like electricity. The edges of your mouth twist upwards into a lopsided smile. “Loud and clear, Shad. You have a lot of lost time to make up,” you answer back cheekily. Finding your answer satisfactory, Shadow encapsulates your lips in a kiss. Starting slow, pacing yourselves, enjoying the moment.

Minuscule moans fill the silence here and there as the pace picks up. Wanting more contact, your hands struggle against Shadow’s grip. One hand lets go to snake under your shirt and massage your breast. The other adjusts to keep both of your wrists down.

So much stimulation but none quite what your body aching for. Legs squirm, complaining about the lack of attention on your bottom half. Your hips arch up, drawing out a guttural moan from Shadow. As you two part, a single string of saliva bridges the gap. He hushes you, “Behave and sit pretty. You can do that, right?”

Entranced, you simply nod your head.

“Good. I promise I’ll take care of you,” Shadow whispers, pecking your cheek. A kiss is pressed to your neck, your throat, collarbone. One after the other, he leaves a trail of kisses leading all the way down to your abdomen.

The smell of your cunt already abuses Shadow’s nose. Hunger grows within him. Patience is a virtue; however, nothing will stop this unholy night. A finger hooks to the hem of your underwear. Delicately Shadow pulls them down, stopping inches from revealing your clit. His lips encapsulates the bud, giving it a gentle suck and a flick of his tongue. A quiet gasp is pulled from you. From there he rips off the thin fabric, tossing it off the bed carelessly.

“Hey! That was my favorite pair!” You complained in a huff.

Teeth graze your inner thighs, causing them to quiver with anticipation. Your concern about the small fabric disintegrated by a simple act. A low feint chuckle can be heard if you listened closely. The underside of your knees are propped up over Shadow’s shoulder after he pulls you down closer by the hip bones. A nip near your pussy elicits a squeal of pain mixed with pleasure. Just as you were about to playfully scold Shadow, a drawn out moan fills the bedroom. His tongue dances over your clit. With each suck, your back arches, chasing his lips. Claws dig into your flesh, drawing little beads of blood. A silent command telling you to hold still.

“Shaaaadow~!” You cry out. So many sensations tingling your skin.

He backs off for a moment, blowing onto the folds of your pussy. Instinctively your knees buckle together.

A quiet, “Hnph,” signals Shadow’s satisfaction in teasing you.

It couldn’t be helped. He’s so aggressive, intending to devour you. Tension builds up in your torso but not quite close to snapping. The folds of your pussy spread as Shadow’s tongue slides up the slit and enters. Drinking up every drop of nectar.

Meanwhile, his bottom half has been busy, rubbing itself against the mattress in a steady rhythm. Every time Shadow got close, he would cease his movements for a second before continuing. All of his cum was going to go inside you.

Time is at a standstill, staring at the bedroom wall. You concentrate on the assault his mouth is currently conducting. Hands cling onto the sheets for dear life as you try to obey Shadow.

“Ah��� ah.. please..” you manage out, nearly breathless. He pauses. Darkened eyes look up, waiting for you to continue with your train of thought. The loss of contact allows cold air to hit your cunt.

“Please, what?” Shadow asks politely as if he wasn’t just nose deep in you, “What is it that you need?”

“I need more.. more friction”

Now towering over you, your legs are nearly pressed to your chest. His hands propped on either side of your head, supporting his weight. Shadow’s cock effortlessly sliding between your labia “Mmnh. You’re going to have to elaborate more than that.”

This fucker. Teasing your entrance. One fell swoop and it’ll go right in. Your pussy clenches nothing at the thought, bringing attention of just how empty you are. “Need more.. more friction, please. I need you inside. Please, Shadow.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

You should have known better to think he was going to start fucking you. No surprise that Shadow travels back down, sliding a single digit in. You can feel his smug grin against your sex when you hissed out of disappointment. Another finger is added in, curling against your walls. Shadow’s free hand splays atop your belly.

Oh, how your pussy glistened with your arousal. Sweet nectar drip onto the mattress, creating a lovely pool. It might stain after tonight. Your needy cunt clenches around his fingers. That familiar tension rises back up as Shadow sucks and French kisses your clit. So red, puffy, and sore. He’s absolutely proud of his work.

Before you knew it, praises began to tumble out. Your hand reaches down to grab Shadow’s hand, holding it tight. Legs quiver as his hand picks up the pace. A third finger slides in easily. Stars enter the edge of your vision. The familiar bedroom ceiling now turning into a night sky.

“Love, you’re going to crush my hand,” he laughs. His ministrations continue while he rises up to lay next to you. Both of his legs capturing one of your thighs. “Keep them open for me.”

Arms reach underneath, pulling Shadow into a hug. You beg and plead him, “I’m close— I’m so close. Shadow I’m going to cum. Fuck, let me cum please.” When your nails dig into his back, a pleasureful growl bubbles up from his throat. In efforts to silence it, Shadow’s lips crash into yours. The taste of your slick swirling around.

Your hips erratically buck into his fingers, chasing that high. Like a mirror shattering into a million pieces, you had come undone. Screams of ecstasy reaches the heavens even with your teeth buried into Shadow’s neck. Wet slapping follows suit as he guides you through your climax. “Music to my ears. Ah, you’ve done such a good job,” Shadow whispers into your ear, slowing down his movements but not quite stopping. Tears nearly form from the overstimulation. To let him know, you whimper, “Too much”, into his chest, nuzzling in.

When Shadow pulls out, a pathetic mewl escapes past your lips. Already, you miss the warm feeling in your pussy. He brings up his sodden fingers and licks it clean before lifting your chin up to give you another taste. During this little break Shadow’s giving you, a warm palm caresses your cheek, lightly stroking it.

“You better not be tired, yet. I’m not done with you”

Caged below his body, his cock, seeping with precum rests on the low part of your belly. Even though your body is still recovering, it can’t help but shake in anticipation.

A sticky trail leads down to your entrance. The tip just barely prodding the entrance. Your hips instinctively want squirm, allowing it in. Looks like Shadow noticed as well, because he backed away just out of reach. He wants you bad; however, watching your cute little face twist out of frustration was simply too entertaining.

Here you thought that Shadow would be the impatient one, waiting so long to fuck your brains out. How the hell has he been able to keep it together now that finally got what he needed? Well, Shadow’s mind has been teetering on the edge. Holding it together long enough so you’re also enjoying it too. Not only mindless fucking to reach his objective. You’re not merely a means to an end.

“There’s only two things you need to remember, okay? My name, and that you’re mine.” To emphasize the last two words, Shadow slams his cock in one fell swoop.

Once again his claws sink into the sheets and mattress below, unable to contain his fervor. Because your cunt didn’t have enough time to adjust and accommodate Shadow’s length, it squeezes him tight. The sensation was not unwelcome. Pain and pleasure dancing in a delicate tango.

A long breathy moan is accompanied by his own animalistic growl. He does his best in earnest to stay still, savoring the way your pussy stretched and clenched around his cock. “Fuck you’re so good to me,” he moans, “You don’t know how much I wanted you— needed you.”

Shadow’s hips slowly pull back just to thrust deep into you again. The sudden motion causes you to grip tightly onto forearms. Your head tosses back with a gasp.

It felt like you were made for him. Made for each other. He starts to pump into you. Ass bouncing from the force. Shadow’s gaze never leaves your face. Every little expression you make, he commits to memory. The way you have to keep prying your eyes off of his to keep from being hypnotized, entranced. When you bite the inside of your lip or open your mouth for a silent cry of pleasure. Your eyes squeezing shut and brows knitting together, as you violently turn your head from hitting that right spot.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough!

Your ear is captured between his lips, nibbling and sucking on it. The sensation tickles. You giggle, finally letting out that breath you’ve been unconsciously holding. Shadow whispers into your ear, “Good.. make sure you’re breathing. I’m going to pull you in closer, okay?”

Your hands are removed from him as he sits up for a moment to adjust. In order to gain better access, you are folded up into a proper mating press. Legs hooked onto the crook of Shadow’s arms. Knees on either side of your head.

The new angle allows him to hit you deeper and with the way your hips are positioned will perfectly hold his cum in. Mercilessly, Shadow pounds into your little hole. Despite his best efforts to redirect his fangs, they continue to land on multiple spots along your collarbone and neck. Bruises and bite marks for everyone to see who you belong to.

With each thrust, his dick kisses your cervix.

It’s a good thing you didn’t live in an apartment, but you were sure the neighbors across the street could hear your screams of euphoria.

You looked so lovely. Heavenly, even. Shadow wonders how he was able to snag an angel like you. Those three little words, Shadow doesn’t say them often enough as he thinks he should. You understand. His actions speak volumes much louder.

At the pace Shadow is going at, he’s not going to last very long. Judging by the way your face is scrunched up and the tension in your nether regions, you’re in the same boat.

“Relax. Cum for me, my love.”

That’s all it took for you to unravel once again. Shadow is pulled in for a tight embrace as you call out his name, telling him how much you love him. Your sweet words melt his heart.

Trembling, quaking, your orgasm rips through your body while Shadow continues to snap his hips, his own climax following close behind. If you weren’t so cock drunk, you’d have heard “I love you” tumble from your partner. Words that come out of your mouth are no longer coherent but rather a giant babbling mess. Your cunt milks every single drop his cock has to offer. His movements slow down.

Shadow’s body isn’t satisfied. Even if he wanted to, his hips won’t stop. Not until he drowns your cervix in hot sticky cum. Filled to the brim until it starts leaking out even with his dick plunged deep in.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

Round one of many.

[moonstruckme]

hellooow i love your writing and characterization is so good 🤌🤌🤌 could you write something about james and r talking about their future together and james is like "yess and we'll live in a nice house with two or three little us running around!!" and reader is like "haha thats so cute love but i don't want kids... ._."

Thanks for requesting!

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You tsk, adding a picture to your pinterest board. “It’s decided. Someday, when we move out of this apartment, I simply can’t live without a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.” 

“Mm.” James’ hum vibrates on your chest. He’s been lying there for some time, in and out of dozing while you’re on your phone. “I think that can be arranged. I want a fireplace.” 

“You just want to chop up wood.” 

You feel his smile spread against your skin. “And so what if I do?” 

“It wasn’t a criticism. So long as I can come watch.” 

His laugh is a warm puff of air, followed by a soft kiss just below your collarbone. This commences a fascination that involves his lips making a slow, idle perusal of your skin. “Do you think you want a big house?” 

“Not really.” Your attention has been pulled from your screen, the sight below you too adorable to ignore. You thread your fingers into James’ hair. “Too much cleaning. Honestly, if you have any questions you should just look at my pinterest. I’ve got it all laid out. We can make room for whatever TV you want, though, I suppose. Plus a secret tunnel to Sirius’ and Remus’.” 

“Obviously,” he agrees. “Yeah, I’m the same. All I need is my fireplace, you, and maybe a nice backyard for the kids.” 

Your hand stills on James’ head as a heavy weight drops into your chest. 

You’ve managed to evade this conversation, you’re not sure how. You’re not sure why either. Maybe just to make a good thing last, for as long as you could. But you know how much James loves kids. And if you’re honest with yourself, this, the proof that he does expect them one day, has always felt inevitable. You feel like a liar for not bringing it up with him sooner. 

Maybe it worsens your deception, but you keep your tone light as you ask, “Would you settle for a backyard for a couple of dogs instead?”

James gives a little laugh, tinged with bemusement. It makes you feel worse. 

“Or cats,” you say, voice growing smaller. “Or no pets, up to you.” 

It’s probably your obvious unease that tips him off. James looks up at you. You straighten his glasses for him automatically. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, and there’s no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. 

A low buzzing burrows into your ears, not unlike how you imagine it’d sound if you were drowning. 

“I don’t really want kids.” 

James’ face falls, and your heart splinters. 

“You don’t?” It’s like he thinks he might’ve misheard you. 

You shake your head. “I’m sorry,” you say, immediately angry with yourself for apologizing but not angry enough to overshadow your guilt. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I just don’t. It’s not that I hate kids or anything, I just, I don’t want to have any of my own.” 

“Oh.” The word seems to leave James on a breath, faint and hollow. “Okay.” 

Your eyes burn, and you cannot cry right now but you can’t seem to shut up either. “If I ever did want to, it would be with you. But I just—” your voice fractures “—I don’t want to bring kids into a home that doesn’t want them, even if—if it’s only me that doesn’t. It’s not fair.” 

“No, you’re right.” James’ voice sounds a bit more like him now. He’s nodding, slowly, like he’s still wrapping his head around things. “You shouldn’t have kids if you don’t want them. For you and for them.” 

You nod. Hot tears trudge down your cheeks. 

Wordlessly, he sits up and wraps his arms around your shoulders. James is a really good hugger. Tight and warm, like he’s given and received plenty in his life. You know he’d be a great dad. Any kid would be lucky to have him, someone who comes from a love passed down and strengthened through generations. You’re just not meant to be a mom. 

You hold onto each other tightly, and you wonder if it’s the last time you will. You know in your heart that you’re doing the right thing for yourself, that you should never make such a life-altering choice based on someone else, but right now you’re desperate enough to consider it. You think you might do anything to keep him. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

James pushes his face into your neck. You think, to your horror, that he might be crying too. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t want you to be sorry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” 

“I wish that I wanted to.” 

“You don’t. It’s okay.” 

You sit there like that for long minutes. When James pulls back, he sets his hands to your face, smiling ruefully as he thumbs away your tears. You choke out a little laugh and do the same for him. You have the urge to kiss his cheek, warm and beloved, but you don’t know if you should. 

“We can have pets,” he says in a quiet, rough voice. “And if Sirius and Rem or Lily or anyone has kids, I can just be their favorite uncle.” 

“You would be,” you say. “Being their aunt would be fun, too.” You study him anxiously. “Are you sure?” 

James’ lies down beside you, seemingly exhausted. “Sure about what?” 

You chew the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know, I guess that you’re okay with this.” 

He doesn’t answer right away, which you appreciate. You want him to think about it. A sigh leaves him, long and heavy. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea,” he says finally. 

“But…for right now, you don’t want to break up?” 

“What?” James turns to look at you. Whatever he sees makes his face soften. “Oh—no, honey, I don’t want that. That wasn’t even…I wasn’t thinking like that.”

“Are you sure?” you ask again, though it threatens to bring another wave of tears. “I know you pictured things differently. I’d get it.” 

“I always wanted all of that with you,” he says, soft and yet somehow firm. “It’s going to take me some time to change how I picture the rest, but you’re not going anywhere. Not if I can help it.” His mouth curves slightly as he holds out his hand in invitation. You place yours in it. He brings your palm to his lips, kissing your heart line. “It’s you and me, yeah?” 

A pleasant feeling skitters up your arm to sit in your chest. “Yeah.”

[makeitmakesomesense]

Eyes Closed

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 11: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 11th of January, which is 'prom'.

Fluff and gentle smut contained below.

.

You were in bed. The darkness had crept into the room slowly, just like the silence. You turned on a light but it wasn’t enough for that kind of darkness. 

You thought about her. You tried not to worry.

.

‘I know, I know.’ Natasha called out as soon as she entered the room. Your mouth dropped as you stared in shock at her appearance. Blood stains coated her face and suit. You could barely see her skin beneath. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed with a nonplussed expression on her face. 

‘I feel like Carrie at the prom.’ She yawned as she unzipped her blood-soaked suit to her waist, revealing her toned stomach and sports bra. 

Natasha reached up to her hair then, ready to undo the end of her usual braid. She groaned as she remembered her more intricate hairstyle made up of several smaller braids.

‘Here, love.’ You slipped off the bed and walked to her. ‘Let me help.’

Natasha tilted forward, her head pressing tiredly against your shoulder as you worked to undo each braid. You tried not to hesitate as you worked around the hair matted with even more blood.

When you were done, you resisted the instinct to kiss her.

‘This might be your most disgusting post-mission look.’ You said wrinkling your nose at the pervasive smell of the dried blood. 

Natasha gave you a sarcastic thumbs up as she headed to the ensuite bathroom.

‘Guess you won’t be joining me.’ She commented dryly as the shower began to run. 

‘It’s so hard to say no.’ You grinned, grabbing your phone and keys and heading out of the room. ‘I’ll bring you back sustenance.’ You promised as you left. 

You returned soon enough, a peanut butter jelly sandwich in one hand. You’d cut the crusts off. Natasha didn’t actually care about the crusts. That wasn’t why you did it. 

You knocked the door as you entered. Natasha was lying on her stomach, sprawled out on the bed, wrapped in a fluffy white robe that she’d stolen a million years ago from a fancy hotel. It was tied loosely, already half off one shoulder. You could tell she was naked underneath. Her long red hair was damp, combed through and already curling at the ends. 

She turned at the sound of the door. Her attention immediately fell to the plate in your hands. 

She made a happy noise, muffled by her pillow as she rolled over onto her back. She shuffled to a seated position in the bed.

‘Give.’ She demanded teasingly as you held out the plate. 

Natasha noticed the missing crusts. Her delight was easy to see. She covered her face and gave a laugh. 

‘I’m special.’ She teased.

‘Yep.’ You agreed simply and sat down next to her, your arm automatically snaking around her waist. 

Natasha leaned against you like you were her support pole. She chewed slowly on the sandwich, her eyes closed with the first bite and she nodded happily to herself.

‘Good?’ You checked teasingly. 

Wordlessly, she gave you another thumbs up.

When the sandwich was done, Natasha fell backwards onto the bed. With great effort she moved back to her starfish position across the centre of it. 

You felt yourself finally approaching the moment. The time for acknowledging what she was obviously avoiding. 

The energy had been too light since she got back. It had been a bad mission. 

‘I’m so tired.’ Natasha mumbled finally against her pillow. 

You crawled over to lie beside her. You brushed her damp hair away from her face.

‘What kind of tired?’ You prompted gently. Natasha’s eyes screwed tight against your gaze.

‘A lot of people died.’ She murmured at last. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

She opened her eyes again and met you with a heavy stare. You recognised the swirling regret and thought inexplicably about ocean waves crashing over rocks.

‘I should’ve-’ Her voice cracked. 

The rush of love was overwhelming and you leaned forward with the sudden, aching, urgent want to kiss her.

Natasha clung to your lips needily, her fingertips brushed your jaw. 

Her lips were cracked and the sensation brought you back to yourself. You cupped her cheek gently as you slowly encouraged Natasha back to a sitting position. 

‘You’re thirsty.’ You hummed out as Natasha’s lips continued to brush yours over and over again. 

Natasha’s eyes briefly squeezed shut again and then she nodded. 

You left the bed to retrieve her water bottle on the other side of the room. Natasha unscrewed the top and wordlessly drank it all.

Your stomach twisted as you watched her.

It could be a symptom, sometimes, of the bad missions. Not giving herself what she needed. Punishing herself for things that weren’t her fault. 

Natasha put the empty water bottle back on the nightstand. She turned back to you with the same hidden sadness in her eyes. Still, she gave you a small smile. 

You reached forward again with a surge of the same want. You left a trail of the softest kisses along on her neck. You could smell the familiar mix of her body wash and that scent that was only Natasha. 

Natasha hummed with pleasure. You felt her body rise and fall as her breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths. You tugged the white robe gently away from her shoulder, and then again, until you’d removed it all the way.

Natasha acquiesced readily to the direction of your touch. There was a relief almost in the way she was naked next to you. As if the pretence could leave her. 

She arched her back dramatically and you watched the muscles move and stretch. Then, she returned her body easily to its most comfortable bad posture. 

Natasha looked at you again and, this time, her gaze was easier and her smile was warm. 

A longing caught itself in your throat. 

Hesitantly, you touched the old scar that sat between her shoulders. Evidence of another mission survived, another risk taken.

You pressed a little harder and Natasha moaned in response to the pressure on the fatigued muscle just beneath the skin.

You adjusted yourself back on the bed, propping yourself up on your knees. You kissed the base of her neck as your thumbs began to rub concentric circles over her shoulder blades. 

Natasha murmured your name. Her back arched again in pleasure. 

‘You are brave.’ You told her, consumed with the constant need to take away her pain. 

You kissed her again, trailing a path down the curve of her spine.

‘You are strong.’ You murmured, your mouth grazing past another nameless scar. 

You felt the rise and fall of Natasha’s chest against your lips. The steady proof of her existence; all you could hope for.

‘You are trying your best.’

Your thumbs brushed lightly over the large, fresh bruise that sat under Natasha’s ribcage. Natasha stiffened.

You ran your hands soothingly back up to her shoulders and then around to cup her soft breasts.

‘And, you are always, always forgiven.’ 

You felt Natasha’s limbs loosen unthinkingly with your words and then, slowly, you felt her muscles tighten again with a different want. 

Natasha murmured your name again. And then again. You listened to the longing soaked into her voice. 

You squeezed her breasts slowly before moving around to stand in the space in front of her seated position on the bed.

You reached over and took a pillow from the bed. You held it to the back of Natasha’s head and gave her a teasing smile as you pressed her gently in encouragement to lie back. 

Natasha’s fingers caught the front of your shirt automatically as she let her torso go flat against the mattress. 

Her feet were still touching the ground. You watched her hip bones cant upwards towards the air in this new position.

You lost yourself briefly in the act of just looking down at her. At the softness and sharpness that made Natasha's body the only one that you craved. 

Natasha’s eyes were half-shuttered as she watched you too. Her smile was easy but you caught the swirling of a thousand emotions that sat beneath her stare.

It was enough for you to drop to your knees.

You spread her legs slowly and slid between them. The steady warmth of her was your favourite heat. 

Another anchor that promised you she was here. 

You stretched out your arms, letting your fingernails brush back and forth along her toned stomach. You didn’t waste any more time. 

Slowly you ran your flat tongue along her pussy. There was the familiar tang of her body wash  and the taste that could only be Natasha. 

Natasha groaned above you. You felt her stomach muscles tighten under your fingers and knew that she was already close. 

You moved on instinct, your eyes closed as you lost yourself in the sounds of her hums and sighs. The heat of her against your tongue spread through you. You let your tongue arc and flatten, finding the rhythms that caused her breathless moans. 

You felt her tensing. Felt the pleasure inside her become a desperate need. You used your hands to keep a steady pressure against the urgent movement of her hips. 

Natasha gave a strangled cry and in the midst of it you heard your name. You pressed again and again with your tongue. You felt her body wind itself tighter and tighter and then undo itself all at once. 

You tasted the dripping want and heard the soft pants of something achieved. 

You gave one last lick along her pussy. 

‘Good?’ You murmured, as you moved back to survey Natasha. 

Natasha didn’t move or speak. Slowly, as if with great effort, she gave you a silent thumbs up. 

You breathed a laugh, kissed her one more time and got to your feet.

You headed to the bathroom, grabbing a flannel and running it under the warm water. You returned and gently washed between her legs. 

Natasha’s eyes were fully shut now. 

You leaned forward and Natasha moaned in automatic pleasure at the sudden heat of your body against her bare one. 

‘Bed, love.’ You whispered, pulling the covers back and coaxing her gently. 

Natasha acquiesced and you watched her crawl beneath the warm covers. 

You left and got yourself ready for bed too. 

Just as you were about to slide under the covers, you heard the first snuffling noises of Natasha pressing herself comfortably into her pillow. 

A moment later, you clicked off the light on your nightstand.

.

You turned to face her. Natasha’s face was framed by her own messy curls. You thought about her. About the sadness that you could always see unless her eyes were closed. You tried not to worry.

Natasha snored suddenly and the sound was another steady proof that she was here. You closed your eyes and finally slept. 

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[wileys-russo]

blurb request:: meeting alessia’s family for the first time, and surprising them all that you can speak italian. you get into a conversation with mario in italian about which teams better, ac milan or inter milan ultimately you both agree (which ever team you prefer out of those) are the best. Alessia gets hot and bothered at ur italian but you make her wait all night and throughout dinner and movies with her family until you both go to her bedroom to let her get her neeeedy kiss. and pls that girl will be needy for you all night, hands on your body somehow, always trying to kiss you even infront of her parents, always wanna be near you.

mambo italiano II a.russo

"what if they don't like me?" you drummed your fingers nervously against your bouncing knee, your heart rate accelerating the closer and closer you got to your final destination.

"what's there not to like?" your girlfriend grinned, reaching over and placing her hand on your knee as it stilled and you exhaled deeply. "alessia i'm serious!" you frowned at her jokes, your stomach in your throat at this point from the nerves.

"okay my love please try to breathe. i'm only joking around because really i'm more than confident they're going to love you." alessia assured calmly, squeezing your knee before retracting her hand and turning into the driveway.

"i think i'm gonna be sick." you mumbled to yourself, head thumping gently against the headrest as alessia quickly parked behind her brothers car and shut off the engine. "hey, baby look at me." the blonde grabbed your hands in hers as your head lulled to the side to meet her soft gaze.

"i adore you. they know that and they're very excited to meet you i promise. they've been pestering me about bringing you home from the very moment they found out i was seeing someone. i didn't even need to tell my mum she said she could just see a change in me, a positive change, genuine happiness. and they want to meet the girl whose responsible for it!" alessia smiled sincerely, poking teasingly at your cheeks as your own lips curled upwards and the blonde lent in, peppering a few sweet kisses across your face before you cracked a smile and lightly pushed her away.

"i'll be by your side the entire time principessa, i promise."

~

and true to her word alessia had stuck by that, right up until her mum had called for her help in the kitchen to finish the last of dinner, a stern look shutting down any sort of protest.

before she left your girlfriend wordlessly checked in with you, sending a look as you returned a small smile and a nod, assuring you were okay as you sat conversing with her dad and brothers.

who of course already adored you just as alessia knew they would, having watched on with amusement as her brothers battled one another for your attention, determined to get to know you.

they'd already gone out of their way to embarrass her as she feared they would, sharing all sorts of stories, nicknames and memories from her childhood with you, ignoring their sisters murderous warning glares and bright red cheeks as they did.

she'd breathed a sigh of relief seeing her dad sweep you away for a one on one, her mum ordering her brothers around to set the table for dinner.

though it was during your little one on one with the older man that alessia learned something that would change the course of your relationship for the entire foreseeable future.

at first she wasn't sure she heard correctly, pausing what she was doing as her focus zoned back toward you. ignoring her mum calling for her as she watched your lips intensely, shaking her head as all seemed normal again.

she must have been simply imagining it.

though as alessia heard her dads boomingly familiar laughter and he wrapped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into a side hug, she heard it again.

and this time she definitely hadn't imagined it.

the strikers head shot up and her eyes narrowed, jaw slackening once the realization dawned on her that she had been correct the first time.

you were speaking italian, fluent and effortless in your diction with her dad who looked on in marvel as the two of you exchanged conversation back and forth. listening a little more carefully she realized the reason for the mans grin, you were discussing football.

or more specifically italian football, her dads childish grin due to the fact you'd professed your own love for his favorite thing beside his children, his beloved ac milan.

"you didn't tell us she spoke italian lessi." her mum had also noticed the exchange with a surprised smile of delight at the new information. "i wasn't aware that she did." alessia laughed in somewhat disbelief you'd not shared this with her before.

"can i help with anything carol?" you suddenly appeared, her dad breaking away to try and wrangle her brothers who'd started to bicker over who was sitting where making the blonde roll her eyes.

"no nothing darling, lessi's on top of it." her mum smiled with a wink making you grin at the way your girlfriend rolled her eyes and the older woman stepped out for a moment as her phone rang.

"you." alessia pointed to you accusingly with narrowed eyes. "me?" you echoed back with an innocent smile. "why didn't you ever tell me you spoke italian?" your girlfriend huffed crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyed frown. "non hai mai chiesto amore." (you never asked love) you quipped with a smile, retreating to the table as mario called you back over, patting the seat beside him with a grin.

feeling her cheeks heat up alessia cleared her throat, feeling an all too familiar feeling coil in her stomach as the foreign language dropped oh so casually from your lips.

lust, want, desire, need.

alessia had never associated her families home tongue with any of those feelings, though hearing you speak it drove the striker absolutely mad.

to the point where she couldn't help but let her thoughts drift to how pretty you'd sound begging and whining in italian in an entirely different situation.

it also went without saying that you didn't need her to tell you for you to have caught on quickly how much this had affected her. the blonde throughout the entire night making sure to show you exactly how she was feeling without needing to utter a single word.

like the way her hand slowly crept up your thigh at dinner meaning you continued to move it away and send her a subtle glare until eventually you'd had enough and stamped on her foot as a much more firm warning.

or the way she'd snatched possessively at your arm once you'd all finally moved away from the dinner table, tugging you around the corner and out of sight from her family before attempting to quite literally shove her tongue down your throat.

"lessi!" you'd laughed in shock, ducking out of the way and pushing her off. "your family is right there." you smacked at her chest playfully as the blonde groaned and her head thumped against your shoulder.

"you speaking italian is killing me baby. killing me!" alessia emphasized, again leaning in and trying to pull you into a kiss as you turned your head and her lips met your cheek instead. "keep it in your pants russo." you shook your head with a teasing smile.

"e poi forse potrai entrare nel mio più tardi." (and then maybe you can get in mine later)

that left alessias jaw almost on the floor as you pecked her lips and strode back away into the kitchen to help her mum clean up, chattering away to her dad and brothers in italian, sending her a knowing smile every time you'd catch her eye.

alessia's mood only worsened when her mum offered for the two of you to stay and watch a movie, right as the striker was mentally preparing her goodbyes, internally groaning as you eagerly agreed.

"you don't want to head off amore? you've got work tomorrow." alessia had sweetly smiled through gritted teeth as you waved her off.

"not until midday tesoro it's fine." you'd assured her, kissing her cheek in thanks as her brothers pulled you both away for their goodbyes, headed back to their own homes as alessia so desperately wished the two of you were as well.

her neediness only escalated during the movie, the two of you pressed side by side under a blanket on the lounge you once more found yourself wrestling to wrangle her hands which slipped and snuck beneath the material of your clothes.

"stop it." you warned quietly in her ear, shooting her a glare which she only returned with a charming smile, stretching her arm over the back of your shoulders and tangling a hand in your hair instead.

"oh have you shown y/n your old room lessi? it's still the exact same way you left it." carol smiled affectionately as the movie finished, alessia perking up at the opportunity as she shook her head, grabbing your hand and practically yanking you up with her.

"i'll go give her a proper tour and we'll be back down in a bit to say bye before we head home." the striker smiled sweetly though you saw right through it as she pulled you upstairs, recognizing the real intention clouded beneath her ocean blue eyes.

and sure enough the very moment the two of you passed the threshold of her childhood bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you, hardly giving you a chance to look around before her body crashed into yours.

"alessia!" you laughed as your girlfriend tackled you down onto her bed with a cheeky grin, balling your top in her hands and feverishly connecting your lips.

you withheld the urge to moan as her tongue traced your bottom lip, taking it between her teeth and nipping teasingly as your head spun and your hands came to rest on her shoulders, pushing her away as your chest heaved.

"baby your parents are literally right downstairs and we only just met and-" you were cut off as once more her lips smashed into yours silencing you, her hand resting on your cheek deepened it further before she was now the one to pull away.

"say that again in italian and maybe i'll listen."

[starshipsofstarlord]

pretty eyes (3)

summary. picking up where you left off isn’t always the easiest thing to proceed with, especially when you and daryl are still bickering. but there are ways to make amends

warnings. smut, fingering, a lottt of making out, swearing, slapping, brief angst

a/n. again there will be another part, i apologise for this having taken so long 🖤

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

He was rough yet tender as he cupped your face, his thumbs tracing the structure of your jawline as his mouth devoured your own, the broad and crisp sunlight bringing heat to your skin. Your noses traced back and forth together, your heavy breaths became one notion of inhaling and exhaling. There wasn’t a thought surpassing your mind as you physically reconciled after your stubborn disdain at one another, moulding together as though you could melt after the other’s touch.

Alas you were forced to part from the oxygen that your lungs required, and you breathed heavily, your chest rising in a rapid motion as the two of you wordlessly stared at one another. His pupils were transformed into an enlarged size, there wasn’t anything that could surpass the silence that brooded scornfully between you, as neither of you both were sure on how to proceed. You could feel the swollen lining around your lips, and you bit nervously at it, attempting to scratch an itch to make the quiet around you less tense.

“Shoul’n’t a done tha’.” Daryl stated, however he seemed less appalled by the contact that you had made than he had shown previously. His cerulean orbs raked across your face as his feet jaggedly trudged backwards, committing some distance from you. He felt almost drunk from your kiss, and that made him feel absurdly foolish. It wasn’t in his nature to be so astounded by a simple touch, but it was definitely affecting him.

His pulse raced in the depths of his flesh, and his bloodstream pounded heavily in his ears as he awaited for your response, hoping that you would agree with him. It was a mistake, one that certainly shouldn’t happen again. Those damning eyes of yours were distracting him from his shield of resentment, and he tried to shun them from his sight, however you were staring straight ahead at him, which made it defiantly impossible.

“Daryl,” the sound of his name escaping your plush lips had him desperate to hear it fall from your lips over and over… No. He wasn’t some idiot that was willing to fall head over heels, he was simply attracted to your physical form, that was all that it could be. It was all that he would allow it to be. He never wanted anyone close, he’d be a pussy as Merle would call him if he had any feeling for you and his brother were here.

“Don’ got time for this.” He remarked as he swiftly turned around with the purpose of getting as far away from you as possible, however he hadn’t anticipated for you to follow him like a lost lamb, with a frown written upon your face. “Why the hell ya followin’ me? Huh, ain’t no one else yer wanna fuck ‘round here?” In truth, he’d inwardly resent it if you shacked up with one of the other men in your group, but he’d silence the qualms he’d have with your sexual relations.

“Honestly, no.” You crossed your arms once again, and he battled with looking in your eyes to your raised breasts, sucking in a much needed breath. “But again that’s not why I’m here Dixon, we have to sort this tension between us out; and I didn’t come on my own accord, Shane sent me here for the sake of the rest of the group. It’s not about me and you screwing, it’s about being civil. I think we can do just about that, right?”

Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. “Ya listening to Shane now.” He laughed mockingly and you rolled your eyes at his behaviour, already wishing you hadn’t bothered. You were prepared to stalk away, and so to relent from this dispersive attitude you were being given, you headed to the woods, touching your side in a double checking fashion for your blade. Yes, you had it. You were all good to go, and escape this hellish debacle. The trees surrounded you, hiding you in their shrubbery and shading of leaves as you tried to clear your head. “Ya tryna get yourself killed or somethin’ woman?”

Of course he had followed you, but you raggedly shook out your hair, ignoring him. He had wanted you gone, to leave him be in his solidarity, and the next moment he had trailed after you, in a marching stride as he recalled you to return back to the campsite that you had set up on the farm. “No.” You blankly stated, you weren’t stupid and knew damn well how to defend yourself. “No I’m not Daryl. You wanted me to leave you alone so that’s what I’m doing. So go back to being by yourself, you don’t owe me anything.”

“Wait. Just hold up a second.” He sighed, stalking alongside you to make your steps pause. “I- uh, I jus’, fuck you woman.” He closed his eyes, as your palm collided with the side of his face and the sting blossomed upon his cheek. The man was a little taken aback, but he shouldn’t have expected any different for his last words. Daryl was full of copious frustration, and he was done with it. “Fuck it.” With his body weight he grasped you by the shoulders, leading you backwards until you were trapped between him and a tall shot of bark.

You were furious, but all discretions were smothered into dismal whining as Daryl pressed against you, his mouth hungrily colliding with your own. Your eyes were closed as you could do nothing but reciprocate his motions, licking into his mouth with vigour as his hands strewed in your hair. He became lost in your kiss, as he allowed one of his hands to grapple down and pledge your ass in his grip. His administration caused a gasp to shatter from your lips as you allowed him to do as he pleased, his hands worked desperately at the fly of your faded and worn jeans as he began to pull the denim down.

“This is definitely a way we might be able to get along.” Inherently you mumbled as you felt lips and teeth tug at the flesh of your neck, and you hadn’t even thought of him leaving bruising marks along your throat. A pleased moan fell deliriously from your lips as you felt his rough hand slide into your cotton panties, feeling your cunt over as he stroked his ring finger against entrance. He ensured you were wet enough before he plunged it inside of you, and when he did your eyes flew open.

As he licked his lips in concentration, he became adherent to anything other than your eyes, even with his wrist continuing to move to prompt you pleasure. “Such pretty eyes.” He muttered to himself, allowing a soft smile to capture his mouth for a moment as he brought you to the brink of pleasure, slipping another finger inside of you. Your eyes were blow wide like those of a deer, and you grabbed at his arm, lips gaping open as you released silent moans, restraining all noise if there were any walkers nearby.

“Daryl.” His name burned like an ember on your lips, and he was compelled to capture them again, as your hands caressed wantonly down his body, grabbing at the prominent bulge he wore beneath his clothing. This was a sure way to reconcile your arrogance towards one another, and you were futilely desperate for more.

[bbina]

since you finished packing yesterday, you were the first one to get inside the cinema room so that meant you had a loveseat all to yourself. immediately. you plopped your feet on the other side of the sofa so no one else would sit beside you. this was the last day for lounging around in a house with all your friends

not even a moment later the rest of the guys all start coming in, you figured everyone just finished doing their own thing.

suddenly the other side of the sofa dips. you look at the culprit who had the audacity to sit next to you only to see it was wonbin.

“hope this seat isn’t taken” wonbin quips, patting your leg as he moves it to the side so he can have some space to sit.

“it is, now move” you say, trying to kick him off the loveseat but he doens’t budge. instead, wonbin lifts your legs and places them on his lap.

“too damn bad” wonbin pokes his tongue out at you, leaning back as he makes himself comfortable.

eunseok passes by and makes a “bleugh” sound before sitting down on the sofa with shotaro following suit

shotaro makes eye contact with wonbin and grins, making a heart sign with his hands, referring to you and wonbin.

anton, sohee and seunghan all sit near the projector, arguing about which movie to play first.

“i say crayon shin chan!” seunghan proposes, snatching the laptop off anton’s hands as he types his favorite show onto the web. sohee lets out an irritated sigh before snatching the laptop back

“i don’t want to watch shinchan over and over again!” sohee argues, looking up new movies that everyone hasn’t seen yet.

“uh have you guys asked everyone what they wanted to watch though?” anton looks at the rest of you, just waiting for what movie they were gonna put on. eunseok hears the commotion and suggested trolls 3. you countered that by saying you wanted to watch a horror movie. but wonbin chimes in that he doesn’t want to watch anything scary the night before you all leave back to seoul, shotaro adds that he doesn’t really care what movie they’re gonna play.

at this point everyone was just talking over each other

while everyone was arguing, sungchan and his girlfriend wordlessly come into the room. they just had a little argument prior to coming and it was evident on sungchan’s face.

yujin was accusing sungchan about some baseless accusation that he was “too” concerned for your well being and that he should just drop the fact that you were with wonbin. sungchan argued back by saying he has the right to be concerned for you as you were his best friend.

not wanting to ruin the group’s plans, they just made amends for the sake of not ruining the last group bonding.

sungchan’s eyes trail towards you and wonbin when him and yujin find a spot to sit. the way your legs are on wonbin’s lap, wonbin massaging your legs as you play on your phone. sungchan couldn’t pinpoint what he was feeling over this. why does it hurt him that you’re acting like how you usually act with him with another person?

yujin notices sungchan staring and clicks her tongue in annoyance, promptly bringing sungchan back to his senses.

“them again? seriously sungchan, this is getting annoying and weird” she grumbles, arms crossed over her chest.

sungchan rsisted the urge to roll his eyes. “you’re just seeing things, jin”

yujin doesn’t say anything else and simply goes on her phone, ignoring sungchan.

“jesus christ let’s just watch everything!” you yell, having enough of everyone being indecisive.

“i wanna watch everything everywhere all at once too!” you hear sohee excitedly say to anton and seunghan who also agreed that they wanted to watch it too. not even a minute later, anton plays the movie and projects it to the big screen

you and wonbin start giggling at the fact they heard you wrong but it evidently prompted the youngests to start the movie marathon.

and so, everyone settles in and starts watching the first of many movies.

—

a couple movies in, you couldn’t take the cold much longer. you didn’t put into consideration how cold anton’s cinema room would be. you find yourself shivering next to wonbin who looked all warm and cozy thanks to his hoodie. you wrap your arms around your body, trying to conserve body heat, fidgeting next to wonbin.

“what are you doing?” he asks, noticing your discomfort

“nothing, just fixing my position” you reply, attempting to appear nonchalant (and failing)

wonbin notices the goosebumps on your skin and the way you were shivering a little. he sits up and takes off his hoodie before offering it to you.

“here” he says, handing over his hoodie to you. you hesitate for a bit before you shake your head no and refused his hoodie. wonbin rolls his eyes and pushes his hoodie back to your hands

“i’m not taking no for an answer” he says seriously, giving you a look that made you feel fuzzy. wonbin just had this effect on you when he was being serious. so you reluctantly accept the hoodie. wonbin smiles at this, commenting that you look cute in his hoodie before he resumes watching the movie.

you continue watching whatever movie was playing on the big screen, ignoring wonbin’s comment and that weird feeling in your stomach again

suddenly, wonbin removes your legs off his lap and stands up from the couch before leaving the room for a moment. when he returns, he drapes a blanket over you.

he plops back down on the couch and resumes watching the movie up front. you sit there dumbfounded by his act of service. he really took his time to get you a blanket from another room even after he already offered his hoodie.

you feel yourself blush as you sit there, touched by wonbin’s actions. who would even have thought that wonbin was that kind of boyfriend. but oh wait, he’s not your boyfriend. he’s just pretending to be. you start to feel a little conflicted. you shouldn’t even be feeling like this towards wonbin. never in a million years you’d find yourself imagining what it’s like to be wonbin’s real partner.

in attempt to pull yourself back to reality, you remind yourself that this was all fake. you and wonbin aren’t together. you never were. it was all just pretend til this whole thing is over.

maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try and be an actual couple.. even if it’s just for tonight.. you think to yourself. you were in a room with all your friends and sungchan’s girlfriend after all, might as well play the part

your eyes peer over to wonbin who was focused on the movie. you kick his back a little to grab his attention. wonbin turns around with an eyebrow raised. you motioned him to join you under the blanket

wonbin’s worried eyes glance over at eunseok who was at the other end of the room, laying on his back as his attention was fixed on the screen. even if this was all just pretend for him, he still fears eunseok just a tiny bit. he was your older brother after all and he can only guess what could go wrong if he actually pulled a move on you

wonbin feels you kick him again. he holds out his hand out, telling you to wait before scooting right next to you. you smile as you drape his side of the blanket on him before snuggling further into the couch, finally feeling warm

besides the kiss, this has been the closest wonbin has ever been next to you in front of the guys. you had a rule where there would be at least an inch of space between you just to keep things at bay but after everything that happened recently, it's safe to assume that rule has been ruled out

feeling a little risky, and tired from the awkward stiff position wonbin was in (he’s literally sat still with his hands strictly on his lap and his legs straight as a board with eunseok around), wonbin thinks that it may or may not be a bad idea to at least wrap an arm around you

wonbin suddenly leans down and whispers something to your ear

“can i wrap my arm around you? my arms is feeling a little cramped from sitting so straight” he whispers. you didn’t even need to answer him with the way your response was immediately laying your head on his chest. wonbin takes this as a yes and carefully wraps his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to him

at that exact moment, everything suddenly feels like it’s fallen into place. this whole ordeal suddenly feels right for the both of you. you can’t deny the fuzzy feeling you’re feeling anymore. the way you are snug in wonbin’s arms just feels so right.

you can’t help but smile and sigh in content. wonbin takes it up a notch and leans his head on top of yours while rubbing random shapes on your exposed arm. almost as if this was second nature to him

you two remain in that position for a while, simply enjoying each other’s company while watching the movie. you even started absentmindedly playing with his free hand. wonbin pays no mind and even thinks that you look cute while doing it

“i need to wash my eyes with bleach, jesus christ” eunseok suddenly blurts out. his eyes wide at the sight before him. the rest of the guys look around to see what he was referring to, and their eyes fall on you and wonbin cuddling

you and wonbin simply ignore eunseok, as well as the teasing from the other guys

“eunseok just let them be” shotaro interjects, feeling happy for his best friend

“they’re so cute” seunghan adds

“wonbin hyung is so…” anton trails off, cringing a bit at the sight of his wonbin hyung being lovey-dovey

“will you guys shut up, we can’t hear the movie” wonbin grumbles. trying to block out the surprising supportive comments from his friends. despite his heart swelling at the thought that they actually like you guys together. he reminds himself that this was all for show

“bin is there popcorn left?” you ask, sitting up a bit to look over the table for the bowl of popcorn

wonbin removes his arm around you and looks for the said popcorn bowl which was empty. he shakes his head no and offers to grab some more but you pull him back to the couch, saying you’ll be the one to get it since he already went out of his way earlier to get you a blanket. you say this would be truce so you didn’t have to owe him anything. wonbin simply laughs and ushers you to hurry up before returning his attention back at the movie

with that, you leave the room to grab some more popcorn. sungchan notices and follows suit

“where are you going, chan?” yujin asks when sungchan removes his arm around her. “i’m gonna get a drink” he says, slowly getting up but is stopped when yujin clutches his shirt.

“let me come with”

“no, just stay here and keep my seat warm, okay?” was all he says before kissing the top of her head. she pouts, making sungchan’s heart swell and agrees. “fine, but could you get me a glass of water? thanks babe” she chirps before sinking further with the couch

sungchan spots you by the kitchen counter watching the little corn kernels pop. he smiles at the sight of you giggling as you watch more kernels pop and pop. you probably just added a new batch and was waiting for it to cook

he sneaks up on you before poking your side. instantly, you jump and let out a small yelp.

“fuck you” you cursed, glaring at your best friend.

“haven’t had a proper conversation with you in a while and the first thing you say to me is “fuck you”? i’m hurt, y/n” sungchan pouts, pulling out the puppy eyes on you

you huff as you divert your attention back at the popcorn maker. “what do you want sungchan”

sungchan? not jinsu? sungchan thinks to himself. he shakes his head before trying to make you look at him

“what? can’t i talk to you anymore?” sungchan raises a brow, “and whats with the government name? what happened to jinsu?” he continues, why are you suddenly mean to him?

“that’s your name isn’t it?” you sassed, hoping that the popcorn machine finishes soon. you couldn’t stand to be near sungchan much longer

“y/n” he frowns

the popcorn machine dings, signaling that it was done cooking. you hurriedly scoop a handful to pour it into your bowl. once the bowl is filled to the brim, you walked around sungchan, silent indicating that the conversation is now over

“why are you avoiding me these days?” sungchan turns around to look at you, clearly frustrated with your constant brushing off of his attempts to make a decent conversation with you

“i’m not” you deny, not wanting to continue the conversation. why can’t sungchan take the hint that you didn’t want to talk to him?

“ever since this trip started, you’ve done nothing but brush me off or avoid me. what gives?” sungchan accuses.

you stop on your tracks. a part of you just wanted to drop the bomb on him right there. you were tired of hiding your feelings for him but you know that won’t change anything. he already has yujin so what’s the point?

“are you still mad that i didn’t tell you? god, i said i was sorry already!” sungchan throws his hands up in frustration, “i’m sorry i have a girlfriend now. there, is that what you wanted to hear?” he rants

you snap your head towards him, incredulous at his accusation. yes, you were upset with him over that but that doesn’t mean you were mad at him for having a girlfriend that isn’t you.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, sungchan?” you fumed, slamming the plastic bowl filled with popcorn on the kitchen island. sungchan’s eyes widened at your outburst. already feeling regret that he said those things to you so easily

“sorry to burst your little bubble but i don’t really give a shit if you have a partner” you continued, seething “in case you haven’t noticed i’m with wonbin now” you add, the words just tumbling out before you can stop yourself

hurt flashes through sungchan’s features at the mention of wonbin. so it really is confirmed now. that you really are with wonbin

“wonbin, huh” sungchan chuckles wryly. “so you really are dating him.. since when? why tell me this now?” sungchan continues to throw out questions

that’s when it hits you. that you admitted your “relationship” with wonbin with sungchan. the initial plan of not confirming anything long gone. you internally curse yourself for digging a deeper grave, realizing that you now have to keep up the act til god knows when

“why does it matter to you? you have a girlfriend now so i shouldn’t be your concern anymore!” you bark. having enough with this conversation, you stormed out of the kitchen empty handed, leaving an upset sungchan alone in the kitchen.

“fucking hell” you cursed quietly, walking back to the cinema room. til you spot wonbin leaning by the wall, who seemed to be eavesdropping the entire time

“how much did you hear?” you ask frantically, your hands shaking.

“the part where you confirmed our “relationship” to him” wonbin says, “even if we just said we wouldn’t be doing that” he mumbles the last part.

feeling overwhelmed with everything, tears well up in your eyes. wonbin notices and quickly makes his way towards you, immediately engulfing you in his embrace. your initial irritation with sungchan gradually turns into frustration as you begin to cry

wonbin doesn’t know what took over him when he suddenly plants a kiss on your forehead, ushering you that everything will be alright but somehow it made you feel a tad bit better. the feeling of frustration slowly dispersing

you pull away for a bit, feeling a little embarrassed that wonbin’s shirt was now wet with your tears.

“sorry” you murmured, wiping your snot with the sleeve of his jacket that you were wearing, “wow i can’t believe i let someone else that isn’t eunseok see me cry” you try to crack a joke mid breakdown

wonbin chuckles, tucking the messy strays of hair away from your face. “even in a breakdown, you still managed try and crack a joke?” he muses, trying to make you feel better. it does make you feel better that wonbin was taking care of you. something was just so comforting about wonbin especially when he has you like this in his embrace.

sungchan suddenly appears, a glass of water in hand as per his girlfriend’s request. he feels his chest tighten at the sight of you and wonbin having a moment. he suddenly hears you sniffling and that’s when he realized that he made you cry.

at the same time, wonbin looks up to see sungchan staring at him with wide eyes. wonbin averts his gaze back to you, rubbing your back as you hug him again. sungchan apologizes for interrupting before heading back to the cinema room.

you didn’t bother to look back at sungchan and just stayed still in wonbin’s embrace in the middle of the hallway.

when wonbin was sure that sungchan was out of earshot, he pulls away from the hug to look at your face. your tear stained cheeks and swollen eyes. eunseok might kill him on the spot if you return to the cinema room in that state

“do you want to head back or..?” wonbin starts, unsure how to ask you if you wanted to be back at the cinema room or elsewhere

“i’d rather be anywhere than be in a place where sungchan is in” you grumbled, recalling your argument in the kitchen. “let’s go to my room” you say, grabbing his hand, intertwining it with yours before heading towards your room.

you ignore that weird feeling you had in your stomach again whenever you were like this with wonbin. the feeling of warmth and comfort that he unknowingly provides you

back in the cinema room where almost everyone but yujin was passed out, sungchan hands her the cup of water she requested.

she sits up and gratefully takes the cup from sungchan.

“what took you so long?” she pouts, taking a sip of water, watching her boyfriend who seemed to be frustrated.

“got caught up with y/n and wonbin and we just had a little talk” he says, avoiding the topic.

“y/n again?” she mutters but sungchan doesn’t hear it, before putting the cup in the cup holder, “okay..” she says, dropping the topic. sungchan wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, so be it.

between the lines ★ why does it matter?

⤷ from what started as a simple arrangement to hide your feelings for a certain someone by getting into in a fake relationship soon turns into a tangled mess. in which some things are hard to tell when you can’t read between the lines

 ˗ˏˋ prev | next  ˎˊ˗

★ notes .ᐟ oops

★ taglist .ᐟ @callanton @annswwa @renjuneoo @pinkraindropsfell @lecheugo @ilovejungwonandhaechan @ahnneyong @haechansbbg @snowyseungs @sseastar-main @odxrilove @leeknowarchives @onlywonb @wonychu @leehanascent @jaeyunsb @au-ghosttype @revehosh @keilovr @kyusqult @pinkskiesdream @ether-yeol @yangasm @qwonbani @starwonb1n @ffixtionista @daegale @scrumptiousloser @seunghancore @marksluvs @wonbinfiles @ohmykwonsoonyoung @reenfluffmarshmallow

[kitkat238984]

Love Means A Free Babysitter

Summary: As a single mother of a three-year-old, you are constantly struggling to keep him under control, and boy are you glad Tyler was there at Rampage when you needed help. It worked out better than you expected.

TW: An annoyingly adorable child. You either love him or you hate him.

“Asher! Wait for me, please! Don’t run off!” You called for your three-year-old son who thought it would be a fun idea to make you chase him around backstage. 

The babysitter you’d hired had cancelled a mere hour before she was due to arrive at the hotel, so you made a quick call to Tony Khan’s team to ask if you could bring your son to Rampage and he reluctantly agreed so long as you kept him under control. 

“Oh yes of course. I promise you he’s an angel. You won’t even notice he’s here”. 

An ear-piercing shriek echoed through the hall you were running through and you ignored the shocked, puzzled looks thrown your way. So much for being unnoticeable. It probably would have been easier to catch up with him if you weren’t carrying all his toys, snacks, his blanket, your own water bottle, and your gym bag with your ring gear in. 

“Asher…”, you warned. “If you don’t stop running, mommy will be very angry with you”. Still nothing. You swore this kid had as much energy as if he’d drank dozens of energy drinks and eaten a bowlful of sugar. 

If everyone here didn’t know you were one of the professional wrestlers, they would most likely mistake you for a crazed fan. 

You didn’t take your eyes off Asher for one second, cautious of where he was running to, not wanting to find him somehow running through somewhere and into the arena. 

However, you gave an audible sigh of relief when a figure appeared from around the corner, causing Asher to bump into their legs and ultimately stopping him in his tracks, now wordlessly gazing up at the person’s face. 

As you drew closer you realised that the person your son had crashed into was Hook - or Tyler as you and some others preferred to call him - who returned the intent gaze into your child’s eyes, but his eyes filled with perplexion as he glanced around him trying to figure out where this random kid came from. 

“Uhh…”, he uttered before you closed the distance and placed your hand over Asher’s shoulder and pulled him away from your coworker. 

“Tyler, I’m so sorry about him. I’ve been trying to catch up with him for five minutes already and he just won’t stay still”. You managed to speak whilst catching your breath, proving difficult with everything you were holding as well as keeping Asher at bay who was now clinging and leaning against your leg. 

“Uh it’s cool. What’s with the kid?” He asked with no hesitation. 

You could see the obvious bewilderment in his features, glancing back and forth between yourself and Asher, and giggled before answering his question. 

“This is Asher. My son”, you told him, and he responded with five seconds of lip-mimed stuttering until speaking up again. 

“Since when were you a mom? You’ve never said anything before”. 

It was true that you’d never told Tyler before that you had a young child to take care of, but that was only reasoned with the fact that you never spoke to one another all that much. The closest you’d get to a conversation would be a few remarks on someone’s match in the viewing room or in one of the locker rooms. Your paths simply never seemed to cross naturally very often. 

“Since three years ago. I fell pregnant at eighteen, gave birth at nineteen, and now I’m a very tired mother and professional wrestler”. 

Hook felt he needed more than just a couple of seconds between bombshells to wrap his head around this discovery. You were a mom of a three-year-old boy. You were younger than him and had somehow managed to climb up the ladder of success into AEW whilst carrying around a baby in the background. 

He felt a sudden rush of respect that he’d never had before. Truthfully, he always thought you had a few screws in your head loose as you always scurried about everywhere and constantly looked like you had somewhere you needed to be. It had never the slightest bit bothered him and it never made him think any less of you, but now knowing there was a reason behind your madness made him feel guilty for thinking such things about you. 

“Can’t the father look after him?” he asked. 

“Oh um no”, you told him plainly. “He left me when he found out I was pregnant. Thought he was too important to deal with a child”. 

Then he felt worse than ever. You were a single mom, juggling everything all at once. How were you even sane? 

Frustration was visible in Tyler’s demeanour, evident in his clenched fists, pressing into his thighs and a small wrinkle in his nose which did not go unnoticed by you. 

“I’m kind of glad he left actually”, you continued. “I was trying to find a way out for months. He wasn’t a very nice person and would have been an even worse dad”. 

He appeared to relax slightly and you were thankful that he hadn’t burst into some fit of rage, however, what confused you was that he was angry in the first place after telling him about your ex. 

You hadn’t realised he cared so much about single mothers, let alone care about yourself. You wouldn’t exactly call Tyler a close friend so it surprised you that he would… well… actually give a damn. Whatever his reason for caring was, it brought you happiness that he felt the same way you did when your ex told you he was leaving you. 

“Anyway”, you snapped out of your thoughts. “We’d better get going if I actually want to fight tonight”. 

“The show doesn’t start for like four hours”. 

“It will take that long”. 

Hook gave you a questioned look before stuffing his hands back into the pocket of his hoodie and putting one of his earbuds in his ear. 

“I might see you later then. Good luck with uh… that…” He nodded towards Asher beside you and walked away behind you. 

“Thanks?” Was he scared of Asher or something? 

Taking advantage of the opening in front of him to continue causing chaos, you found yourself running after Asher yet again. 

“I swear that child is on steroids”, you huffed. 

—

Before even having gone in the ring yet, it felt like it had been the most stressful match day of your life, and you were waiting patiently in the viewing room with Asher standing in between your legs whilst you were handing him surprise tickle attacks. 

At least he wasn’t running wildly and screaming. 

You weren’t alone in the room as Hook was sitting on the opposite side with his earphones in and distracted by whatever was happening on the screen. You were a bit too preoccupied with your son to notice anything, even the frequent glances Hook gave the both of you. All you really knew and cared about at that moment was that you were to have a quick match with Saraya and that you were going to win. 

“Hey hey hey, Asher”, you addressed your littlun to get his attention. “When mommy’s done here we’re going back to the hotel and you, mister, are going straight to bed. Okay? So you’ve got to be a good boy”. 

“I am a good boy”, he said, nodding his head. 

“Good”. You kissed his head and reached down to Asher’s bag to pull out a bag of carrot sticks since it had been a while since he ate his dinner. 

As you were doing so, the door to the viewing room opened and you spun your head to see - as you expected - one of the producers. “Y/n, you’re needed now”. 

“Alright. I’ll be there in just a minute”. 

You quickly gave Asher his carrot sticks and got him to settle on a chair with his ipad so he should have been fine there for a while, however, you didn’t feel comfortable just leaving him alone the way he was. You had hoped that someone around you would be available, but one look at Hook made you feel… reluctant. 

As funny as it was that he called your son ‘that’, you shamedly didn’t have much faith in his babysitting abilities, and you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. 

But in all honesty, you didn’t care too much. You were sure he wouldn’t let anything bad happen which was all you needed to know, and taking another look at Asher, he seemed pretty absorbed in his game so… 

“Hey, Tyler”, you called and he raised an eyebrow up at you. “Can you look after Asher for me? I won’t be long and he’ll be good. Thanks. Bye. I owe you”. 

He was in safe hands. 

Rushing to get out of there, you kissed Asher’s head and ran through the door to get to your match, leaving a dumbfounded Hook staring at the empty doorway where you were just standing.

‘What the fuck just happened?’ He thought. 

Hook unfortunately knew absolutely nothing about children and so felt very awkward about the situation he was forced in, however, he thought maybe if he kept completely silent and didn’t move then the kid wouldn’t notice he was there and that his mom had disappeared. 

Of course, that didn’t last long. After a couple of minutes, Asher’s head poked up and looked for his mom but found only the man with the fluffy hair staring at his phone. 

“Where’s mommy?” he asked, which attracted Hook’s attention. 

Here goes nothing. “She’s in the ring. She’ll be back soon”. 

“What’s a ring?” 

“It’s where people go to fight”. 

Asher looked puzzled and tilted his head to the side as if he were a puppy. 

“Mommy said no fighting. That’s not good”. 

“Well your mommy fights. Everyone here fights”. 

“Mommy doesn’t fight”. He began aggressively shaking his head. “Mommy’s a good girl”. 

A smirk turned into a chuckle at the thought of you telling your own child that fighting is naughty and there you were on the screen throwing someone’s head against the padding of a corner post. 

“I think mommy’s cappin’. Look up there”. He pointed to the screen where you were now being thrown onto the canvas with Saraya’s foot making contact with the arms that covered your head. 

Hook had assumed Asher would feel offended that you had lied to him yet think what you were doing was cool like he had when he first saw his dad wrestle, but when he looked over, what he feared would happen, happened. He was never good with kids so making one cry caused him probably the most panic he’s ever felt, even more than when he’s been pinned and desperately tried to find an outing. 

“Hey hey, kid, don’t cry. Your mom’s fine. She’s not getting hurt”, he said, rushing to Asher’s side, crouching to his level and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t like it”. 

Asher’s whines alone were enough to make Hook’s heart break. What would you say if you knew he’d just made your son cry? 

He needed to fix this before you came back. He needed to fix this now. Fast. 

“Uhh it’s only pretend. It’s not real. They’re just… tickling each other”. 

“Tickling? Why are they tickling?” 

“Because it’s fun. They uh tickle each other until one of them gets too tired to carry on”. 

That’d have to do. At least the tears had stopped now. 

“Mommy being tickled?” 

“Sure”. 

“I want to do that”. He pointed to the TV and stared at Hook with large hopeful eyes. 

It wasn’t his position to start play-fighting with your son, let alone being the one to tell him what you do for a living, but the thought of a little kid wanting him to teach him wrestling made him forget about all that. He wanted to teach your kid the child-friendly version of wrestling and that was what he was going to do. 

“Alright. So have you ever had a tickle fight before?” He nodded. “Well it’s just that but you have to try and get me on the floor and for me to stay there for three seconds. Can you do that?” 

He nodded again with a gigantic smile that brought Hook some pride. He was about to guide Asher to the first move, but he beat him to it, flinging himself at Tyler who in turn flew back and hit the ground. 

His instinct would have been to push him off, but he had to restrain himself from being aggressive. 

In fact, he almost laughed when Asher made a poor attempt to tickle his neck. Three-year-olds were apparently terrible ticklers. 

“One two three”, the small person said, clearly not knowing how long one second is yet with how fast he was, but Hook went along with it anyway. 

“Heeeyyy I want a rematch. I wasn’t ready”. 

Hook surprised himself with how well he was with Asher and how easy it was to get along. It was pretty amusing how innocent and naive he was. He honestly thought that he could tell the kid anything and he’d believe him. 

Whilst ‘fighting’, he also noticed elements of Asher’s appearance and behaviour, small habits that easily resembled you. The little sparkle in his E/C eyes were the complete replica of your own, and the dimples in his cheeks was something he’d seen before many times when you’ve laughed at something someone said. 

There were parts about Asher that didn’t quite match, like the hair colour was completely different to yours which he presumed was from the dickhead ex-boyfriend. However, Hook didn’t hate the way it looked on Asher like he thought it should. It suited him and brought out the good in something wicked. 

He didn’t want to sound like a creep and say he’d been staring at you long enough to notice all these little things about you, but… well yeah he’d been staring. Truthfully, he thought you were a beautiful, sexy sight to behold which is why he was so surprised to see you with a child. 

How had he not noticed? 

How the fuck did you manage to carry that for nine months?! You looked fucking incredible for someone who had given birth and it only gave him another thing to love about you, that you were strong-willed and ambitious enough to make it this far with a baby. 

Again he was pinned to the floor on his front with Asher sitting on his back. If anyone saw Hook in that moment - pretend screaming and waving his arms and legs as if he was struggling - he would probably die of embarrassment. He had a cool reputation to keep up. But with his head facing away from the door, he didn’t notice that you were standing in the doorway enjoying the show from the sidelines. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at this sight for two reasons: you were happy Asher seemed to be having a great time (and would sleep really easily that night), and the smugness you felt seeing Tyler’s complete personality change from what you’ve ever known from him. 

“Ahh you’ve pinned me”, he cried. “Remember the count. Remember the count”. 

Asher giggled and counted to three on his fingers. As much as you wanted to continue watching the cute show, you knew you had to make yourself known. 

“Ding! Ding! Ding!” you called out and both boys whipped their heads to the sound of your voice. 

“Mommyyyyy!” Asher immediately jumped off Tyler’s back and ran to you, tightly wrapping his arms around your legs, a sign of affection which you kindly returned. 

“Have you two been having fun?” you asked. 

“Yeah! Yeah! I just learning wrestling”. 

“Oh really now? And who’s been teaching you that?” 

Asher looked back and pointed to Hook who was now sitting up and leaning against the chairs, running his hands through his hair trying to fix it. 

“Tyler taught you now, did he? How about you play with your cars for a bit and calm down, yeah? I think Tyler’s tired”. 

You and he knew that was all but the truth, but Asher had to come down from his energy surge somehow. 

“You told him? Really?” you asked, walking towards the chairs Hook was pulling himself onto and sitting beside him. 

“In my defence, I didn’t know you were trying to keep him away from fighting and I may have accidentally made him cry”. 

You gasped and your mouth stayed gaped open for a long few seconds before playfully slapping him on the arm. “How dare you make my son cry? You really are cold-hearted. And it’s not that I was keeping him away from it, I just don’t want him growing up thinking he can solve things with aggression. I mean, he still doesn’t fully understand the difference between right and wrong”. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry”. 

You chuckled lightly at his apology. “Don’t be. It was sweet watching him doing what we do”. 

“I thought the same. If he keeps that up he’s looking at a good future career ahead of him”. 

You nodded and watched as Asher so cluelessly played with his cars around the room, occasionally driving the toy cars across both your laps. 

“How do you make it look so easy?” 

The question took you by surprise and you unintentionally scoffed. “Easy? You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” 

“What I mean is”, he corrected, “is that you’re a fucking good-” 

“Language…” 

“Right. Sorry. You’re a great mom, and even though you’ve probably struggled, you’ve had incredible success. I just wanna know how you do it”. 

You took a deep breath, knowing this was going to be a looooong night. “Well… truthfully… I’m a hot mess. I don’t sleep. When I first found out I was pregnant and Asher’s dad left me, I was so sure I’d get an abortion, but then I went to the clinic and had a scan and realised I had a helpless child living inside of me and I wouldn’t let it down by taking away its chance at life. Although at least once a week I stay up all night crying, regretting every life choice I’ve made, when I wake up to this beauty I’m proud to call my son, I become slightly more disgusted with myself that I even dared to think about giving up”. 

You had to force yourself to breathe after that confession. You completely shocked yourself because you’d never really had the chance to talk to anyone about what went through your mind almost on a daily basis and yet here you were, telling Tyler everything in one go as if he were your damned therapist. 

“God I didn’t mean to spill everything out like that”, you told him. 

“Ah  don’t worry. You shouldn’t hate yourself so much for it, though. Can’t imagine what crazy shit- uh stuff you’ve gone through. I bet all single mothers have gone through the same as you”. 

You sent him a heartwarming smile and he sent the same but in smirk form which you never knew was possible without looking like a complete jackass. 

It still wasn’t possible. He looked dorky but you loved it nonetheless. 

“Do you want kids?” you asked. 

“Whoa ask me out to dinner first”. 

You tried to hide the laughter that was begging to come out from that cheesy line with a shake of your head, but you knew it was no use. 

“Me? Kids? Nah. At least not now. I wouldn’t even know where to start with being a dad. I’ve never really been around younger kids being an only child and all. It’s not like I could just drag a wife and kid around with me everywhere I go. I’m not father material”. 

Your heart dropped at hearing his admission, because you yourself had thought the exact same thing when you were pregnant. You remember how frightened you were of being alone or having no one there as the role-model you so desperately needed. 

But how were you to know how rewarding it all was in the end? 

“Well I understand where you’re coming from but you’re wrong. Very wrong. When I walked in here and saw you and Asher, I would have been easily convinced that you’ve been hiding three kids back home. You’d be an awesome dad”. 

“Ha… thanks, but it still feels like it’s off the cards for me. My job just doesn’t work well with having a family. It sucks but it’s the truth”. 

“And what about me? Do you think I teleport from place to place? Of course not. Asher and I take a few days once or twice a month to go home where he sees his friends, and we don’t let the constant travelling stop us from doing the things that mean the most to us. Which goes for you too”. 

Your words truly touched Tyler’s heart. His parents had told him so many times that it was possible to have a family life and still do pro wrestling, but he still never quite believed it. He wanted to be there for his future wife and children whenever they needed him at any time of the day, not just the occasional weekend when he had time off. 

Hearing your story and how you’ve coped with all the madness in your life finally broke that barrier that’s stopped him from believing he had to choose between a career and a family. Tyler was only twenty-four and had a long time ahead of him for his plans, but he knew where he wanted to start his future - well he knew who he wanted to start it with. 

He had no idea how long he’d been staring at you, but he was happy you were staring back. 

‘There it is’, he thought. The same shine in your eyes as the one he saw in Asher’s earlier. It took everything in his willpower not to devour your lips right there and then. Who cares if the kid saw? He’d find out eventually that kissing was quite normal between a man and a woman. 

“Hey”, he began talking, snapping you both out of your trance. “Can you make time in your busy schedule for a date tomorrow? About 12?” 

You bit your lip to prevent you from grinning like some psycho serial killer and managed to nod which brought a broad smile to his own face. 

“That is if I can find another babysitter by then”. 

“Bring Asher along. We can go to the park and get something to eat”. 

Your heart warmed at the thoughtful gesture. “I wouldn’t want to invade your plans with a three-year-old”. 

“You wouldn’t. I promise”. 

“Then yeah. Yeah, I’d love to go on a date with you”. 

“Perfect”. 

Tyler asked for your number which you willingly gave him and he sent a text to make sure you weren’t messing with him. 

“Alright, Asher. Say goodbye to Tyler”. 

Asher turned around and waved to your date. “Bye, Tyleeer!” 

“Bye, Asher. See you tomorrow”. 

“See you tomorrow”, he replied, not fully understanding what was actually happening tomorrow. Sweet. 

— 

When you got back to the hotel, you thought that the roles might have been reversed because you were exhausted from the long day and you could have passed out in the elevator, whereas Asher was straight on the small bed laid out for him and bouncing up and down like it were a trampoline. 

“Hey calm down. It’s time for bed. It’s been a very busy day and it’s very very late”. 

“I want to play wrestling”. 

“We can play wrestling tomorrow with Tyler. I’m sure he’ll play with you again if you bother him enough”. 

“No. I want to play with you”. 

You sighed deeply, just wanting to flop on the bed and let sleep overcome you. It was almost midnight which definitely shouldn’t have been a time a toddler was still awake at, and you were sure he’d end up waking you at stupid o'clock in the morning. 

Maybe one game wouldn’t hurt. He had such a confusing and stressful day. 

“Alright. One time then straight to bed”. 

He giggled before launching himself at you from the bed and you quickly caught him so he wouldn’t drop, but you still pretended to fall backwards on the bed. You were confused as to why Asher was fidgeting so much, but you carried on playing nonetheless and switched positions, rolling him over and throwing yourself over his torso, pinning him down. 

He had to learn to lose the hard way. 

“Nooo! Stop!” he cried. Thinking you might have hurt him, you quickly got off and scanned his face for any sign of pain. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“You doing it wrong!” 

“Wrong? How am I doing it wrong?” 

“That’s not how you do it”. 

“Then tell me how to do it”. 

Now he was sulking. Typical behaviour. You weren’t going to get a word out of him until you knew what he wanted. 

“Let’s just go to bed then”. 

“NOOOOO!” he screamed. 

“You’re tired. Come on”. 

“I not tired! I want to play wrestling!” he crossed his arms. You’d been through this situation before. Maybe if you just slept he would forget about it and go to sleep himself. 

“I want to play wrestling!” he screamed again. 

A lightbulb felt like it turned on in your head at the genius but probably the most logical idea. You hoped he wasn’t asleep yet but there was a slim chance that he was. 

“Heeey, Tyler”, you spoke into the phone. “Can I ask you a real quick question?” 

“You changed your mind already? I thought I would have had at least tomorrow’s date before you decided you didn’t like me”, he responded, his voice slightly muffled through the speaker. 

“Oh, no nothing like that. I haven’t dated in like five years. I need tomorrow. I just wanted to know how you played wrestling earlier”. 

You could imagine the perplexed look swept across his features. “Do I wanna know why?” 

“I think you’ve created Asher’s new favourite game and he keeps saying I’m doing it wrong”. 

“Well, are you tickling him?” 

“Tickling? You tickled him? You?” 

“Yeah, let's not tell anyone”. 

You almost burst out laughing at the all mighty Hook secretly being a softie and embarrassed the way he was then. 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to tell Ricky tomorrow and the word that you’re a secret teddy bear will have reached everyone’s ears before the week is over”. 

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Now go to bed”. 

“Thank you so much. Goodnight”. 

“Night”. 

You felt yourself swooning at his thoughtfulness and you understood why all those girls fawned over him and his unlikely charm. 

“Right. Now I know how to play, how about we start the game again?” 

— 

“Eminem is not better than Snoop Dogg. You’re insane”. 

You snickered, relishing in the satisfaction you had from teasing Tyler. 

“Eminem’s songs tell a story. Snoop Dogg just says a bunch of random shit”. 

“What’s storytelling about two trailer-park girls going round the outside, huh?” 

“Ah you got me there”. 

The three of you were walking down a trail down the side of the park, Asher running ahead of you hitting every tree he could see with a stick. You took a side glance at Tyler who was gazing off into the distance at your son. You thought it was pretty adorable that he was growing a liking to Asher, particularly after the awkwardness he possessed around him when they first met. 

A laugh escaped your lips which drew the attention of Tyle who whipped his head to face you. “What’s so funny?” 

“What happened to the guy who didn’t like kids?” 

“Ah he’s growing on me”. 

“I’m glad. Because he’ll be tagging around to a few of our dates”. 

He stopped in his tracks whilst you continued walking but turned around once you noticed he wasn’t catching you up. 

Had you put him off by inadvertedly inviting a third wheel? 

“What makes you think there are more dates?” 

Oh thank fuck. 

“Well, aren't there?” 

He let out a sly chuckle as you moved closer to him, mirroring his smirk, and he instinctively rested his hands on your hips. 

Tyler felt his fingertips tingle at the touch of you. It was like his hands had finally found their destined home. 

“I guess you’ll just have to find out”. 

His lips captured yours in craving and you felt in the small but powerful gesture all the longing he had for you and your lips. Both yours and his lips massaged each other and your body fell into complete ecstasy. 

Until the little monster ruined the moment… 

“Why are you kissing?” You pulled away and smiled at Asher’s innocence. 

“It doesn’t matter, sweetie. Come on, let’s keep going”. 

“I don’t want to. My legs hurt. Pick me up?”. 

You looked at Asher in disbelief. You’d seen this child practically run marathons without stopping and somehow an hour at the park has him too tired to stand? You weren’t believing it for a second. Besides, as strong as you were, the kid was heavy. 

“You’re too big to pick up now. You’re a big boy”. 

“Pick me uuuuup!” 

“I told you no”. 

Ah there was the grumpiness again, his arms flailing everywhere and foot stomping on the ground. You sent him a stern look that you held for all of five seconds before Tyler decided to speak up. 

“Hey, do you want to sit on my shoulders?” 

“Yeah!” 

Hook knelt down whilst Asher climbed up his back and swung his legs over his shoulders, Tyler’s arms securely holding them in place so he wouldn’t fall backward. 

You rolled your eyes and you all continued walking down the path - with the exception of Asher, of course. 

It was a beautiful sight, you had to admit to yourself, but he was a cheeky mother fucker. 

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” 

He chuckled at your comment for he knew you were telling the truth, but he loved the drama. 

“First, you make Asher cry, then you teach him wrestling, and now you’re his personal chauffeur. I hope you’re happy”. 

“Oh I’m more than happy, baby”. 

You couldn’t have agreed more. You had hope that this situation would progress into something much more wonderful than it already felt. 

THE END. 

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 10: Connection Found

Word Count: 31,275

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summery: "Oma Island is, once again, the centre of activity. Between Council meetings, training sessions, and unexpected visitors, the once calm tropical island has never been busier. As Yugo deals with his family and his kingly duties, Amalia too finds herself spending more time with the Eliatrope Council. She just wanted to do Baltazar a favour, how did she end up in the middle of a fire?!"

The air within the Council Room was charged with anticipation and a touch of tension that day. Soft murmurs and the rustling sound of paper as the council members leafed through their reports and notes filled the room. The Eliaculus remained where it was at the very centre of it all, the eerie glow it gave off a reminder that it could be used at any moment. The murmurs immediately quieted down when a large portal materialised right in front of the table, Yugo and Adamaï coming out of it. At the sight of them, their siblings all rose to their feet in greeting as one and as a sign of respect while they waited for their king to occupy his place presiding over the meeting, his dragon twin right next to him in his own chair. 

As soon as Yugo was in his rightful place, he motioned for his siblings to follow suit with a flick of his hand. They wordlessly obeyed him. 

“Thank you all for coming today.” He broke the silence with the customary greeting. “Shall we begin today’s meeting?”

The Council of Six all nodded in response. 

“Very well.” He turned to his dragon sister. “Shinonomé, I believe it is you who was in charge of the minutes last time. If you please…”

The red-scaled woman stood up, a stack of papers in hand, and began to read, “Last week we discussed Mrs. Minervante’s latest complaint and agreed once again that, no, the maximum of acceptable decibels did not have to be changed just because she’s a light sleeper. Likewise, Chibi and Grougaloragran shared their findings regarding the completion of the stage for this year’s—”

Shinonomé droned on about her summary of last week’s deliberations and agreements. As soon as she was done, they would have to appoint somebody else to fill that same role this week, to write down the minutes of today’s Council meeting. At least, that would be what they’d have to do if it weren't for the fact that the role ended up alternating between Qilby and Shinonomé. Many times they had tried dissuading their eldest siblings of always undertaking the same task, and many times their efforts were swiftly shot down with the admittedly accurate observation that, thanks to their divine gift, the Crimson Twins were simply the best suited for that kind of duty. 

After all, who better to take note of everything that went down in a meeting than the two people who could remember every single detail of it? Really, if it weren’t because they needed to leave a register of everything that was shared during a Council meeting, they wouldn’t even have to write it all down—it was but a mere formality. 

All in all, things were finally back to normal, he thought as his eyes glanced over his siblings. They hadn’t had to hold any emergency meetings since Master Joris’ arrival and his subsequent invitation to Bonta. Which meant they could go back to holding weekly assemblies to discuss their progress and hurdles in their respective duties and projects. 

And the best part? They hadn’t needed to bring Amalia up as a topic of conversation for a while. 

Yugo discreetly sighed in relief at the thought. He didn’t think he’d be able to calm his thumping heart if they were to talk about her given his current state. He was already struggling over coming to terms with his own feelings, the last thing he needed was doing so while discussing matters of state. 

“—and thus concluded last week’s meeting.” Shinonomé finished. Placing her notes down on the table as she sat back down, she turned to her twin, “Qilby, would you do the honours of taking care of today’s minutes?”

“Way ahead of you, my dear sister.” He smirked confidently, motioning towards the blank pages and ink and quill neatly arranged on his own side of the table. 

By that point, the rest of their siblings knew better than to try to argue with them. 

With deft fingers, the spectacled Eliatrope grabbed his quill, dipped it into the ink, and began to write on a piece of paper. He looked towards the king. “Ready when you are, Yugo.”

The king nodded before addressing the rest of the room. “Are we all in agreement to commence today’s Council meeting?”

He was answered by a chorus of affirmative words. 

“In that case, seeing as the matter wasn’t solved last week, I propose we give the floor to Qilby and Shinonomé.” He gestured towards them, catching their attention. He didn’t miss the way Qilby tsked at having to speak up just as he was only beginning to write everything down, and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

He didn’t understand why his brother insisted on being so dramatic. He was the one with the prodigious memory! Yugo knew for a fact Qilby would even be able to annotate the times he paused to breathe later on.

Sharing one last nod between them, the Crimson Twins stood up, this time, it was Qilby who had a stack of papers in his arms. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses and glanced down at the documents. “Taking Mina’s suggestion from last week, we tried using our Wakfu vision to identify the kind of plants we could use to replace those native to our homeworld.” He let a wry smile stretch over his lips. “It pleases us to say, it was a success. Now we know which herbs and plants are closest to the ingredients we need, meaning we should be able to proceed as planned from now on.”

“We are even more pleased to say it was all thanks to you, Mina. We wouldn’t have made any progress without you.” Shinonomé sent a warm smile her sister’s way and bent her head down slightly, gratitude oozing from her every pore as her tail flickered in pleasure. 

Ever the humble one, Mina just raised her hands up and shook her head. “You have nothing to thank me for. I simply made a suggestion; there was a 50-50 chance I’d be wrong. It is only a matter of luck that my hunch ended up being correct.”

“Yes, well, we’ll be sure to thank Ecaflip for his help, then…” Qilby muttered sarcastically, looking to the side. He had to hold back a yelp when his twin elbowed him in the gut to keep him in line. 

If their teal-clad sister heard his snide comment, she didn’t show, the grin never leaving her face. “Nevertheless, this is all thanks to your dedication and hard work. Congratulations.” And with that, she started a round of applause that was soon imitated by the rest of their siblings, each of them offering their own compliments. 

“Thank you, Sister.” The red dragoness inclined her head once more, strands of golden hair peeking through her horns. “However, knowing is half the battle; we have yet to implement the next phase of our plan.”

“That’s right.” Qilby concurred, subtly nursing his side. He smiled coyly up at their leader. “With this, we should be able to tell Amalia which plants and herbs to grow in her garden. Who knows? With a little luck, if we tell her of the characteristics of our world’s native plant-life, she might be able to recreate it in Twelvian soil!”

Yugo’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the doll. He was helpless to stop his heartbeat from racing as his mind materialised images of her wild beauty as she tended to her garden—her laughing face and the proud glint in her eyes as she managed to grow an entire orchard with just a flick of her hand. Happy, confident, unbridled. 

Irresistible. 

“Yes, if anyone can do that, it’s Amalia.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth—moreover, as soon as he registered the softness in his voice—, Yugo scrambled to clear his throat, pretending it sounded like that from lack of use, and said, a little louder this time, “My apologies. I mean, yes, indeed. Don’t hesitate to take your findings to Amalia. She’s been waiting for your instructions on what to do with her garden.”

That was… an interesting reaction, Qilby mused to himself, an eyebrow raised. One quick glance towards Adamaï told him Yugo’s twin had definitely noticed his brother’s more than peculiar response to hearing Amalia’s name and his clumsy attempt to cover it all up. If he knew those two as well as he thought, and he knew them very well, they would be having a talk about that later. As for him, he would have to store that away for now. 

“Yes, well,” Shinonomé continued like nothing happened. “We hope, even if this isn’t enough to solve our current shortage of medicines, it will at least be a step in the right direction as relations between us and the Twelvians improve.”

“Of course, Shinonomé. I assure you, as soon as we have a more stable relationship with other kingdoms, our first course of action will be to establish solid commercial routes and exchanges between us.” Yugo promised, and they all knew that was a promise he intended to keep. He raised an eyebrow towards the Crimson Twins. “Anything else you wish to report?”

When they both shook their heads and took back their seats, the Eliatrope King turned to address the rest of the Council. “Very well, who wishes to go next?”

His eyes immediately went over to Mina when he noticed her raising her hand from her seat. He gestured at her encouragingly and she took his action for what it was; permission to take the floor. And so, sending a grateful smile their leader’s way, the Ochre Twins stood up. While Mina smoothed down her dress, Phaeris raised a claw in the direction of the Eliaculus and, with a flick of his wrist, the magic artefact came to float over their heads, the light it emanated glowing brighter as a sign that it was fully operative. 

Adjusting her hat, her silver curls bouncing with the movement, the Eliatrope woman began, “We are pleased to say preparations are well underway for this year’s Sacred Dance Day. Our merchants are already beginning to sell ceremonial silks and portal pendants. Likewise, just like Qilby and Shinonomé, we are incredibly pleased and relieved to say we eventually managed to find the perfect substitute for the traditional materials.” 

As she spoke, the Eliaculus shone more brightly before projecting an image of their subjects, buying from the stands lining the town square and bringing their purchases home, where they would be used as decoration. They would drape large silken mantles all over their homes, especially over their windows, and hang stone rings on their doors. Indeed, the holiday season was fast approaching. 

The first one in their new home. The thought left more than one council member feeling a little misty-eyed. 

The Council eventually took their melancholic gazes away from the orbiting sphere hovering over them when Phaeris continued. “Phaeris would also like to add that he and Mina have already begun to receive offerings for the upcoming celebration. We have stored them away for now, and we will take them out in time for Sacred Dance Day, alongside the Eliatrope relics.”

“It’s truly fortunate that you managed to take them with us before we fled from home.” Nora pointed out. For once, her voice lacked all forms of mischief or impish delight so characteristic of her, instead being replaced by genuine sympathy. 

“Indeed, I can’t even imagine what would have happened hadn’t we succeeded.” Mina nodded, her eyes clouding over as she lost herself in the ‘what ifs’. By her side, Phaeris furrowed his brow and gently nudged her with a wing. The action snapping her out of her reverie, she shook her head to get herself back together again and clasped her hands. “Fortunately, it didn’t come to that and this year we’ll be able to celebrate without issue. Right, Phaeris?”

The turquoise dragon nodded, a small smile on his otherwise stoic face. “That is correct. Moreover, Phaeris believes this year might actually be one of our most successful ones yet. Offering period has only just started and we have already received so much.”

“It would appear our people are well aware of the importance of this year’s celebration and wish to summon as much luck and good will as possible.” Baltazar deduced. His expression remained serene even if it gained a grim quality to it. “Eliatrope knows we need some hope.”

“May she hear our pleas…” Chibi sighed heavily, his arms crossed and his expression grave. Grougal grunted by his side, nodding along.  

Nora’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest when she noticed Efrim clenching his claws tightly on the table and his serpentine tail coiling around the chair, clearly lamenting and questioning the weakened state of his connection to their mother, and not for the first time. Despite everything that went down between them recently, the pink-eyed Eliatrope didn’t hesitate to reach out her hand for her brother, placing it on his forearm and rubbing soothing circles on his scaly skin with her thumb. 

“We must remain hopeful, my Siblings. For hope is the most effective weapon against despair.” Mina urged, her voice warm and welcoming, whilst unwavering in her conviction. She snapped her fingers, and with that simple action, the Eliacube changed yet again, this time to display her and her dragon twin praying at the temple. “And this year’s Sacred Dance Day will not only be blessed in abundance, but it will also brighten our people’s spirits and alleviate the burden in their hearts. It promises to be a most joyous occasion, and Eliatrope knows that’s what matters at the moment.”

All around her, her siblings voiced their agreement. Nobody dared say it, for the wound was too fresh still, but they all knew that, deep down, what she truly meant was that their people deserved to experience some joy in their lives after everything they had gone through. And they couldn’t agree more.

Yugo’s own morose memories of the war were unceremoniously interrupted by Adamaï’s voice in his head. “Have you told Amalia about this?”

The king glanced discreetly over the rest of the Council, gouging their reactions. When it was clear they weren’t paying attention to them, Yugo shook his head slightly. “Not yet, but I mean to.”

His dragon twin sent him a stern look. “You know you can’t keep this away from her, right? At least, not forever. She’s going to know something’s up when the day approaches and suddenly everyone’s in a flurry of activity.”

“Trust me, I know. And I’m not trying to hide anything from her. It just hasn’t come up naturally in conversation yet and I didn’t want to force the topic.”

Adamaï just kept his eyes on him, trying to study him as if he somehow could dissect his innermost thoughts any more than he already did by literally being in his mind. After a few uncomfortable seconds where Yugo kept anxiously glancing back at the rest of the Council, the dragon finally eased up with a sigh. 

“Okay, I understand. It’s not like this is something worth hiding in the first place. As important as it is to us, deep down it’s just an annual festivity. Knowing Amalia, she will be thrilled to partake in it.”

“I can already picture her face when I tell her all about it.” Yugo said, his eyes going soft as his mind’s eye conjured up an image of the doll’s sparkling eyes and dazzling smile as she learned all about the tradition. With a cheek-splitting grin on her face, she would rock back and forth on the balls of her feet as she begged him to take her, somehow not knowing he meant to show her all along. 

The familiar warmth only the Divine Doll could conjure up spread all over his being at the thought, the giddiness coursing through his body increasing the more he thought about spending the entire day by her side…

“Something you wanna tell me?” Adamaï’s infuriatingly smug voice cut through his daydreaming like a knife, sending him plummeting to the ground as his heart rose up to his throat. 

The pleasant warmth from before had morphed into hot embarrassment as he realised his brother had most definitely seen everything through their mental link. 

His cheeks were on fire, and it only got worse the more Adamaï’s smirk twitched upwards and his raised eyebrow took on an intrigued quality. He was practically oozing with pretentiousness and, in that moment, there was nothing Yugo wanted more than to wipe the smug look off his face. 

“Should I schedule an appointment to say ‘I told you so’, or should I just get it over with?”

“Shut up.” The Eliatrope hissed. Looking to his side, his ears perked up when he noticed Mina and Phaeris were already done updating the Council of Six on their progress. 

“All I’m saying is—.”

“That’s all on our part.” Mina concluded, either ignoring or choosing to ignore her siblings’ antics. It was most likely the second, as she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes exasperatedly at them. They were so lucky nobody else had noticed and she was such a good sister for not calling them out about it. 

“Thank you, Mina, Phaeris, for your hard work. I’m sure this year’s Sacred Dance Day will be memorable.” Then, under the Council’s attentive eyes and Adamaï’s disbelieving ones, Yugo stood up from his chair. “With your permission, dear council members, Adamaï and I would like to share our own progress next.”

He had to suppress the urge to smirk in triumph at the dirty look his twin was sending him, clearly not amused by his drastic change in topic. Still, when everybody else voiced their consent, the dragon was left with no choice but to acquiesce and admit defeat, raising up to his full height as well in order to inform the Council of their own progress. 

Before Yugo could begin to speak, however, he made sure to send him a pointed glare that not only had the king shuddering, but made it abundantly clear he was not getting out of that conversation that easily. He would catch up to him, and they would talk about the new place Amalia seemed to occupy in Yugo’s life. 

Holding back a wince at his brother’s silent threat (and wondering if it’d be too suspicious if he just portaled himself away as soon as the meeting was over), Yugo raised his hands up to gain control of the Eliaculus. Both palms facing the sphere, he then brought them down in order to change what was displayed in it. For the time being, the orb remained working but inactive. 

“As you know, things have calmed down recently, for which we are grateful. Especially since it has allowed us to focus on trying to solve our people’s most immediate issues.” The Eliatrope King explained, even though the recounting of events was mostly a formality at this point. 

He might have been the king, but they were a council and worked as such. The moment trouble arose, they all knew about it and worked together as a team to deal with it. It was also hard to miss when trouble did arise, as their new precarious position as this world’s latest inhabitants meant they had everyone’s eyes on them; anyone could come knocking and demand an explanation. 

Amalia’s arrival and Master Joris’ introduction were proof enough of that. 

Meaning it was also a mere formality when Glip asked, “Is there anything in particular we should remain vigilant about?”

While Yugo just shook his head, Adamaï gathered up the most recent reports and documents their king had had to look over—not without some complaining, as he’d had a lot to catch up on after he took Amalia out on their little adventure. Not that the dragon felt much sympathy for his brother after having to fill in for him for a full and very busy day—, and addressed the room. 

“Fortunately, no. It doesn’t seem to be the case.” Looking down at the documents in his claws, he began to leaf through them. “Mrs. Minervante filed a new complaint this week,” he nodded with a tight smile as his siblings all let out audible, long-suffering groans at that, “but it was a non-issue and she has already been informed of it.”

“In all my years, I have never seen a single person half as adept at finding some kind of flaw as that woman, and that’s saying something!” Qilby muttered sarcastically, momentarily halting in his writing to rest his head against his knuckles in boredom. While Shinonomé nodded by his side, grimacing, for once everyone agreed with him. 

“And she always manages to complain about something new each week.” The ruby-scaled dragoness added with a tinge of reluctant admiration in her voice. “That’s impressive.”

As her comment elicited a series of chorus and murmurs of agreement all around the table, the Emerald Twins exchanged a look before Yugo cleared his throat to set everyone back on track. “Yes, well, we have fortunately received more grievances than that this week.”

“That’s an odd way of saying it…” Chibi furrowed his brow. 

“You know what I mean.” Yugo rolled his eyes. 

“While not fortunate,” Adamaï sent his brother a look, “we have at least been informed of more issues in need of repairing, verifying, or solving.” He turned to his brother, “Yugo, if you please.”

With a nod, the Eliatrope raised his hand towards the Eliaculus, which then began to display several images of Oma Island. “For the most part, Oma Island’s location is advantageous, as we simply don’t seem to suffer from an actual cold season. So there’s no need to worry about not having warm enough clothing or the brand of diseases typical of that time of the year.” The orb overhead showed sunny skies, gentle breezes, and lush vegetation all over the island. 

“Having said that,” Yugo continued, and with a flick of his wrist the Eliaculus went on to show what could only be described as an unforgiving tempest, immediately capturing the room’s undivided attention. Dark thunder clouds loomed overhead, violent lightning strikes followed soon after by deafening thunder the only source of light, and waters so agitated they threatened to swallow the poor ship fighting just to stay afloat whole. “The island’s tropical location also means that, while we don’t have to worry about stocking up for the cold season, we do need to have supplies stored away for when storms hit. In this area, what might begin as a simple shower can easily evolve into a veritable hurricane. 

“Worst case scenario, we could be forced to remain holed up until the storm passes, which could range from a few hours to several days. We can’t risk our people going hungry or thirsty during that time. Not to mention suffering any possible casualties.” He finished, his eyes dark as the machine conjured up simulations showing their people, frightened and helpless without the necessary supplies to survive. Some of them were gathered at the throne room and other areas in the palace specifically designed for emergencies, while others portrayed their subjects huddled together in their own houses as they fearfully waited for the crisis to be over while they desperately tried to shield their loved ones from harm.

“Grougaloragran wonders why we don’t just take the Eliaculus to the Twelvian leaders to explain our plight to them.” The black dragon leaned closer to whisper in his twin’s ear, his voice strained from the emotional scenes. Not like Chibi was faring much better, as he was biting down on his bottom lip hard to keep himself from crying. “It would be a great way to garner their sympathy.”

A stern shhh! coming from his side got his attention, and he immediately shrank back down in his seat, contrite, when he noticed the death glare Mina was sending his way. Next thing he knew, there would be a wakfu spear impaled right over his head if he didn’t behave. 

Choosing to ignore the interaction, Phaeris leaned over the table, his hands clasped professionally, but the way his wings tensed gave away the true concern he felt. “Have you been able to come up with a solution, or at least a plan?”

Adamaï shook his head remorsefully. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh. “We’re working on it, Phaeris.”

“That’s actually why we decided to bring the matter to you today.” Yugo explained, backing his brother up. “We believe this is the kind of issue that justifies the involvement of the entirety of the Council of Six.”

“And you would be right to believe that.” Baltazar agreed, smoke coming out of his nostrils as he huffed. “If you ask Baltazar, it would be imperative that we started setting up action protocols that would allow us to shelter our subjects in the palace as soon as possible.”

“They could always just open up portals inside. All access between the palace and the village is cut off unless it’s through the use of portals.” Efrim pointed out, one eyebrow raised. His other eyebrow joined the first as they shot up in surprise when Chibi tsked his tongue and leaned back in his chair, his arms folded. 

“You’re forgetting the fact that focus and hysteria do not mix, Little Brother. Even though our people know better than to let themselves be distracted as they use their powers, something could still go wrong.” 

“That, and Grougaloragran believes Baltazar actually meant everything should be ready by the time our subjects arrive. Instead of facing yet another last-minute crisis because we do not have the materials and supplies needed to provide for hundreds of people.”

A nod from the Ivory dragon confirmed his Ebony counterpart was right. 

“We can definitely start drafting action plans and safety protocols, as well as begin storing some of our produce away—be it food, water, medicines…—in order to have an emergency reserve.” Shinonomé offered, already drafting some ideas of her own and showing them to her twin, who nodded approvingly. 

“We should also work on organising our soldiers into different groups.” Efrim offered, and Yugo couldn’t help but be secretly surprised by how cooperative he was being for once. Then again, this was a matter of self-defence and security, of course Efrim would be willing to help.  “One assigned to keeping guard over the refugees, and a search team focused on looking for potential stragglers or victims of the storm.”

“And let’s not forget the need to organise both soldiers and civilians to deal with the aftermath.” Mina was quick to add, already thinking about what would happen after the metaphorical and literal storm. “We might have to rebuild some houses or, at the very least, put someone on clean-up duty.”

“We must also keep our people’s morale in mind.” Even from where they stood, wide-eyed, Yugo and Adamaï could make out the small gasp that left Efrim’s mouth. And not without reason, as it was the first time since leaving their homeworld that they heard Nora suggest anything related to her role as Joybringer. “The children will be terrified, and their parents overwhelmed with soothing their worries while trying to keep calm themselves, especially after the war. We must find a way to assure them everything will be fine.”

Despite the gravity of her words, the Emerald Twins and her dragon brother couldn’t help but be relieved at the sight of Nora thinking about their people’s emotional well-being. Until then, even if she was better at hiding it, her brain had been just as wired into surviving as Efrim’s. More than once, Yugo and Adamaï had both at different points wanted to reach out to her and get her to open up, but the other always stopped them, rationalising they had to let Nora come to them, lest they risked she retreated into herself even more.

Each time it happened, they would reluctantly admit defeat, but it was just so hard to sit idly by and do nothing. It had been so long since Nora had been able to connect with anyone like she used to. The closest thing was her amiable bond with Amalia, but even that was a double-edged sword as the doll’s presence always got a rise out of Efrim. 

It was like one Turquoise Twin couldn’t be happy without upsetting the other. It was heart-wrenching. 

Even so, while Yugo understood it was for the better, part of him couldn’t believe the rest of their siblings hadn’t taken notice of their little sister’s emotional distress. But, then again, he couldn’t help but sigh, it wasn’t like they all didn’t have their hands full with their own problems and challenges…

A small smile formed on Yugo’s face at the sight of the little sister he knew and loved, knowing without needing to look that Adamaï was smiling as well. And so, the Council of Six began to brainstorm different ideas so as to settle on what to do in case of a tropical storm, Qilby dutifully writing down every single suggestion, why it would or wouldn’t work, and every word that was exchanged between them. They most likely wouldn’t be able to come up with a working plan that day, but they would at least have something to work with either during next week’s meeting or whenever they decided to hold an assembly to discuss this very topic further. 

Once Qilby had everything written down, he gave his notes one last glance over. Humming in satisfaction with the results, he set the papers back down and rested his chin over his clasped hands, a wry smile on his face. “So, who wants to go next?”

“We do.” Efrim said, standing up from his chair with Nora in tow. 

Everyone listened attentively, in case there was anything that required their immediate attention, but otherwise remained calm. The Turquoise Twins had been in charge of patrolling the island that week. As with when Phaeris first noticed the Cra sentinels that eventually led Master Joris to them, had there been anything unusual to report to the Council, they would already know about it. 

But alas, they had nothing to worry about. “There has been no indication of suspicious activity during the night shift.” Nora informed them, her palm outstretched as the Eliaculus showed nothing but the quiet of the night. 

While their siblings had been stumped at first that she would prefer to take over the night shift when her brother was the one with night vision, Nora simply argued that was what wakfu vision was for, and that she’d be alright. In truth, the real reason why she wanted to patrol at night was that she simply wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, so it was actually less risky than the day shift and she at least got to use that time productively. Not like her siblings needed to know about her insomnia. 

“The most I’ve seen were some people arriving home late until having a drink or two. But in those cases all I needed was to remind them to be mindful of their neighbours and to make it home safely.”

“That’s a relief to hear.” Glip commented. “People can get a little unruly at night, especially after a few drinks.”

Nora nodded. “It appears they’re trying to remain alert for the most part. Our subjects just want to live in peace.”

Though she didn’t say it, she didn’t need to. Everyone present heard the words ‘especially after the war’ loud and clear. Yugo’s mouth pulled down in a deep frown. While the Eliatropes had never been ones to look for trouble, they weren’t above getting a little tipsy and fooling around; however, the scars from the Mechasms’ betrayal were still recent, and it looked like nobody wanted to be taken by surprise again. Which meant steering clear from anything that might lower their awareness of their surroundings. 

The king had to bite back a sigh, and he could tell Adamaï lamented the situation as much as he did. Sometimes it was incredible how deep their scars ran and how they affected their everyday life; or, at least, it would be if it weren’t for the fact that their people were thoroughly traumatised by the experience.

“And we will make sure they get to live in peace. That’s our top priority.” Adamaï assured their little sister. He sent a look towards the rest of the Council. “Isn’t that right?”

His question was answered with a chorus of agreements. There was nothing the Council of Six wanted more than to ensure their people’s safety and well-being. After all, that was their purpose. 

A small smile stretched over Nora’s lips, who nodded gratefully. However, as soon as it appeared, it vanished, leaving a tight line in its place as she addressed her brother. “Would you like to share your findings, Brother?” She didn’t even look at the dragon as she asked. 

Efrim scrunched up his maw at his twin’s coldness, pained, but he schooled his expression soon after. As much as Nora’s recent estrangement from him hurt, he couldn’t let him affect him when he was supposed to perform his duties. Besides, he couldn't help but think with a touch of annoyance, this was all because of the Divine Doll and how things went down between them the last time. Which in itself was nothing but a scuffle, a warning. It was only a matter of time before his sister saw things his way and got over it. 

“Thank you, Nora.” That still didn’t mean he didn’t feel a pang in his chest when his twin didn’t even bother to look his way. “I am pleased to report everything has been calm during the day shift. No sign of external or internal threats; the most I have had to deal with was diffusing an argument between some customers over who was first in line or who saw a piece of clothing or certain food item first.”

“So, a regular Tuesday, then?” Grougaloragran smirked, amused. 

“It was actually on Wednesday, but yes.” 

“Is that all?” Yugo asked, an eyebrow raised. Even if he knew better than anyone that the Council would have been informed immediately had something worthy of note happened, it didn’t hurt to ask just to make sure. Sometimes, alert as they were, they tended to forget to mention certain things simply because they considered them to be minutiae. 

And, sometimes, that was exactly what they needed to look out for. 

The young dragon remained quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Then, his face lit up as realisation dawned on him. “Now that you mention it, the other day I had the feeling that I was being watched…” He trailed off, his sapphire eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

That got everyone’s attention. Glip leaned in closer, gripping his staff tightly. “Do you think it could be the Twelvians? Perhaps the Cra again?”

But Efrim just shook his head, his brow creased as he tried to recall any useful information. “No, that was the first thing I tried to verify. But even with my wakfu vision I didn’t detect any life forms beyond some birds. And definitely nothing as big as a Cra or their steeds.”

“Perhaps it was nothing…” Chibi tried to offer, but it sounded unconvincing even to his ears. If an Eliatrope or any of their dragons felt like they were being watched, then chances were they were being watched. 

Perhaps their senses weren’t as sharp as the Cra’s, as they’d learned in the past, but they still had something no other Twelvian possessed. Their mastery of wakfu. And wakfu never lied. 

“Nevertheless,” Yugo spoke up, drawing Efrim’s dark blue eyes to him. “It is our turn to patrol the island next week.” He gestured between his twin and himself. “Rest assured, Efrim, Adamaï and I will keep our eyes peeled for any sign of trouble or suspicious activity.”

“Thank you, my king.” The periwinkle dragon said solemnly, and something twisted inside Yugo. 

It had been so long since his little brother last deferred to him like that, since he treated him with genuine appreciation and respect… Ever since Amalia arrived, Efrim had been constantly on edge, even around them, and especially around Yugo. He didn’t shy away from voicing his thoughts and accusing him of letting Amalia wrap him around her little finger, and more than once they had been on the verge of coming to blows over it; only Mina was capable of putting a stop to their arguing. 

Not for the first time, the king thanked the Great Goddess for his sister. Eliatrope knew their society would have gone up in flames if it weren’t for her and Phaeris. 

His thoughts turned back to Amalia, but what else was new? Yugo found himself thinking about her more and more often, moreso after realising the true depth of his feelings for her. The reminder made his stomach churn and his face pale, though he was quick to cover it with his hood. Efrim was already prone to hostility and near insubordination when it came to her, and that was when she was just their guest. How would he react when Yugo finally admitted to having fallen for her? 

The mere thought gave him a headache, and though he managed to hide it from the rest of the Council, he never could hide anything from Adamaï, who used their connection to ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He said, then, because he knew his brother had probably sensed her presence in his mind anyway, he added, “Just thinking about Amalia, that’s all.”

To be completely honest, Yugo expected some kind of good-natured barb, or even a light scolding for letting his mind drift away like that when they were in the midst of discussing a potential threat. What he didn’t expect, however, was Ad pointing something out that made his blood run cold:

“You think whoever’s watching us could be after Amalia?”

His eyes widened in horror. Shoot. The thought didn’t even cross his mind. But now that Adamaï had brought the possibility to his attention, no force on the face of the world would have been enough to keep his heart from racing in fear. 

Because that was certainly a possibility, wasn’t it? 

While the Cra sentinels flying around Oma Island were definitely suspicious and they never really bought Joris’ explanation that they were just out on a reconnaissance mission, what ended up catching their eye and warranting them informing the world’s nations of their findings was precisely Amalia’s presence. And back then they merely thought she was just a regular Sadida that had somehow found herself surrounded by the Eliatropes. But now her identity as Sadida’s new Divine Doll was a relatively well-known fact. She was bound to attract more people!

Sensing his brother’s rising anxiety, his eyes widening, Adamaï was quick to reassure him. “Yugo, it’s okay! We don’t know for sure!”

“But it’s still a possibility, isn’t it? There could be threats lurking around just to get to Amalia!”

The dragon winced, forced to admit his brother had a point. “It is a possibility, that much is true. I wish I could say it’s highly unlikely, but I can’t.” 

Just when Yugo was about to spiral again, he discreetly reached out to him with his tail to place it on his hand, trying to offer some comfort and a chance for his twin to anchor himself. Yugo was a great leader and warrior, and he worked exceptionally well under pressure, but the deep love he felt for those he cared about tended to reflect in deep concern when he so much as thought they could be in danger, which at the same time often affected his effectiveness as a leader, too lost in his own worries.

It was in those moments that it was up to Ad to keep his brother’s emotions from getting to the best of him. “However,” he rushed out to add, “we can’t forget that we haven’t signed any peace treaties yet either. It is just as likely that the Twelvians are more interested in spying on us than in letting any sort of harm befall Sadida’s child.”

“That’s not really much better, Ad.” Yugo pointed out, but a small smile formed on his face. For some reason, he was far better equipped with the idea of fighting tooth and nail to protect their people than with anyone targeting Amalia. 

The dragon just shrugged nonchalantly, returning his smile with a smirk of his own. 

Their little moment was interrupted by Qilby’s voice. “Anything you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

Lightning fast, the Emerald Twins schooled their features into complete neutrality as they turned back to look at the bespectacled Eliatrope. “Everything is fine, Qilby. We were simply exchanging ideas as to who could be watching us and how to tackle the issue.”

“And even so, it might be nothing in the end. Not like we’ll be able to tell for sure until we begin to patrol.” Adamaï finished for his twin brother. Then, he sent Qilby a warning glare. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

But Qilby just hummed, unbothered by the edge in the dragon’s voice. “Oh, relax, Adamaï. I was simply trying to do my job and make sure I had everything of relevance annotated in this week’s minutes. Nothing else.” His hazel eyes landed on the white-and-blue dragon, a silent challenge to contradict his unspoken accusations that the former would have met head-on if it weren’t for Yugo choosing that time to intervene. 

Just like Ad was always there to help him keep a cool head whenever his emotions threatened to blind his judgement or overwhelm him, nobody could help his twin keep a lid on his temper like Yugo. 

“And you will have everything annotated, Qilby. In fact, why don’t we move this meeting along?” He turned to the Ivory Twins. “Glip, Baltazar, would you like to continue?”

“Certainly, Yugo.” Baltazar nodded, a kind smile on his maw. 

He and Glip rose from their seats, and Baltazar couldn’t help but grunt a little from the effort.Despite his actual, relatively young age, sometimes he still felt like he was getting old. As the beige dragon got everything in order, his Eliatrope twin twirled his staff in his hand until its curved edge pointed downwards and drove the cane firmly into the ground, tightening his grip on it. Letting out his own grunt of effort, he propelled himself and somersaulted in the air, landing neatly on top of the blunt end of the staff. 

Baltazar wisely chose not to say anything about the extremes his brother was willing to go to just to be closer to the Eliaculus. Instead, he discreetly rolled his eyes. 

With a snap of Glip’s fingers, the orb was already displaying images of the Eliatrope children practising Wakfung. “As you can see, training with the kids is going marvellously this year. Our most advanced students have been keeping their skills sharp on their own, and the young ones who’re just starting are likewise making great progress.”

“The learning curve is not quite as steep this year.” Baltazar added with a nod. 

“That’s excellent news, you two.” Phaeris congratulated them, impressed. His eyes were on the progress made by the kids as shown by the Eliaculus. “May Phaeris ask how far along in your syllabus you are?”

As it was his area of expertise, it was Glip who answered, “While we started off with some new moves and exercises for all the kids, these past few weeks we have organised the older ones into makeshift duels.”

“As you know, that is the best way for them to hone their skills; by being forced to think outside the box in the presence of an actual opponent.” The dragon clarified, stroking his bushy beard, his tiny wings fluttering. All around them, their siblings murmured in agreement, as they were already familiar with their teaching methods. “Soon enough, Glip and Baltazar will proceed to teach them about wakfu vision. Not only is it an ability inherent and, therefore, necessary for all Eliatropes, but it will certainly be of help during their future training.”

“What about the little ones? They’re too young to just nuke it out with the older kids. What have they been doing in the meantime?” Yugo asked, genuinely interested in the conversation. 

Even if he had heard the Ivory Twins make similar progress countless times in this lifetime (and that was without taking into account all his previous reincarnations), he always found himself genuinely invested in the well-being of his youngest subjects. Especially when it came to Wakfung. Even if many of them wouldn’t end up serving their people alongside him as soldiers, there were few things the Eliatrope King took more seriously than the children’s safety. He desperately wanted for them to be able to take care of themselves. 

The shortest Eliatrope hummed in response, sliding his hand over the floating sphere above their heads and showing lines of noticeably younger-looking Eliatropes striking out different poses and belting out battlecries. Some of them had glowing palms, while others went as far as to conjure up small portals. Though only one at a time. 

“As you said, they’re still too young to really test their skills.” Glip agreed, his eyes trained on his students. “Still, soon enough it will be their turn, even if we’ll organise the duels by age; so it is imperative they start out by learning some basic Wakfung katas and how to channel their wakfu into creating portals. Once the children have all proven they can do at least that much, they too will enter the arena.”

“But against children on their own level, of course.” Baltazar was quick to point out, never one to cause ambiguity on purpose.

His twin huffed. “Yes, Baltazar. I already said that.”

“Well, that fact is important to highlight.”

“Thank you, Baltazar.” Was Glip’s clipped answer. 

Qilby watched the scene with curious eyes. Setting his notes aside for the time being, he took off his glasses and wiped them clean with a soft rag, his hazel eyes scanning the room, searching for a shift in the atmosphere. A smirk tugged at his lips as he noticed a certain tuft of emerald hair from the corner of his eye, a smirk that only widened as he gazed back and forth between Yugo and Efrim. 

It had been quite a while since those two entered one of their heated… debates. What’s worse, their king had been getting awfully chummy with the Divine Doll lately, growing very appreciative of the things this world had to offer. He had to keep himself from scowling. They couldn’t have that, now, could they?  

Using their psychic bond, he quickly went over his idea with Shinonomé, who sent him an approving nod, urging him to set his plan in motion. For one, Qilby couldn’t help the small thrill that ran down his spine at the prospect. These meetings were all the same after the first thousand years. At least the upcoming storm proved to offer some entertainment. 

“Tell me, Glip, Baltazar,” he called out to them, his voice deceptively kind. “Rumour has it the kids aren’t your only students anymore. Is that true?”

While the goateed Eliatrope didn’t hold himself back from scowling at their brother, the stocky dragon’s gaze darted back and forth between Qilby and Efrim, silently begging the former to watch his tongue. What was he up to? Didn’t he know bringing up a certain someone in front of their little brother was bound to cause trouble?

He had to fight back the urge to gulp when he sensed Efrim tense up all the way over the other end of the table.

“Where did you even get that idea from, Qilby?” Glip asked through gritted teeth. He cursed under his breath. He knew his twin was the one with the better poker face, while his sudden prickliness would give them away, but he couldn’t help himself. Leave it to Qilby to run his big mouth…

He almost threw himself at him to wring his pretty little neck when all he did was shrug nonchalantly in response. “Where, you say? Why, I simply refer to the progress you yourselves have shown to us.” His easy-going grin widened as he lifted a hand to point right beside them. Over their heads. 

The Ivory Twins’ eyes widened. The Eliaculus. 

Whirling back around so fast they almost gave themselves whiplash, Glip and Baltazar, as well as the rest of the Council of Six, could only gape as the magical orb flashed with images of a certain wild beauty training under Glip’s wing and by the children’s side. 

“Is that… Amalia?” Nora was the one to voice everyone’s thoughts, worry starting to creep in. Immediately after, her pink eyes darted towards her twin, sensing before even seeing him the dangerous cocktail of emotions brewing within him at the sight of the Divine Doll. 

Feeling satisfied with himself, Qilby swept the room with his eyes, taking his siblings’ reactions in. And even though Shinonomé remained as composed as ever, he could tell she too was immensely pleased. And how could she not be? In the seconds following the revelation, the tension in the room had skyrocketed, all eyes on the youngest dragon. Bracing themselves for what their brother might do. Feeling triumphant, he chanced a glance the teachers’ way, only to blink disbelievingly when instead of the grimaces he had come to expect, they had instead schooled their expressions into calm neutrality. 

A pointed look from his sister kept him from doing anything drastic, but the eldest Eliatrope still huffed and rolled his eyes. Never mind them, though. One glance at Yugo was enough to know their dearest king had a lot on his mind as well. 

He smirked. Good. It was him they needed to convince anyway. 

What they had all been bracing for finally came to pass. A loud banging noise made the Council flinch in their seats, the cause of it being Efrim furiously slamming his paws on the table as he rose from his chair, his tail swishing back and forth erratically. His breathing was heavy and his claws scratched the smooth surface of the table as he clenched his fists so tight his scales turned white. When he lifted his head to address them, a furious snarl sprawled all over his maw; his anger was palpable, his voice venomous. 

“What is the Divine Doll doing there?”

Glip let out a heavy sigh before replying. “She is training with us, of course.” It took gargantuan effort to suppress a groan, he could already feel the upcoming headache. They had honestly seen this coming, they just didn’t expect for their little brother to find out so soon.

“After all, Baltazar and Glip are her masters, too.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Efrim snapped, flabbergasted by the nonchalance of their answer. As if they were just talking about the weather rather than the fact that they were all but betraying their people. “She has no right to learn our ways!” He turned to address the goateed Eliatrope in specific, one claw raised, searching desperately for the same person who had once seen eye to eye with him when it came to the green-haired menace. “Glip, you should know this better than anyone. Wakfung is sacred! Outsiders have no business trying to learn our people’s ancient martial arts!”

But Glip remained undaunted. “You are right. Wakfung is sacred.”

“Then why are you letting the doll deface it?!” The dragon snapped, his wings unfolding from his back subconsciously, making him look more imposing and unhinged. “Why are you letting her in on our secrets!? What, do you want her to sell us out?!”

“Amalia is not going to sell us out!” 

Everyone turned around to stare in shock, their eyes only widening further at the sight of a furious, panting Yugo on his feet, his jaw clenched, and glaring daggers at Efrim. The effect was only amplified by the sight of his usually warm brown eyes glowing bright blue as currents of wakfu crackled all over his body. For once, even Adamaï seemed at a loss of what to do. 

Yugo had tried to remain out of it, to not let his feelings for Amalia get the best of him. He really did. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help his heart from constricting in pain and his blood from boiling at the dragon’s words. 

Just, what was his problem?! Yugo could understand growing cynical of people after experiencing the Mechasms’ betrayal, but for his little brother, who used to be such a calm and grounding presence to everyone around him, to throw accusations and spit venom like that… And towards Amalia! Who had been nothing but kind, and nurturing, and helpful ever since she arrived. She was the one in unfamiliar territory, for even though the Eliatropes were still not welcomed within the World of Twelve, they at least had each other. Amalia had no one but herself when she arrived, instead having to cultivate positive relationships from the ground up. 

Yes, he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been taken by surprise as well at the sight of Amalia in the training grounds. Especially because he didn’t recall her saying anything about it. But then he remembered how she said she would have to talk to Glip and Baltazar or how she had more time ever since they started training the kids, and he realised she probably meant this. Honestly, it hurt a little to know she hadn’t been more open about her intentions, but at the same time, so what? She was their guest, not their prisoner. She was allowed to do whatever she saw fit, and Wakfung lessons fell into Glip and Baltazar’s jurisdiction anyway; if they hadn’t wanted her there, then Amalia would simply not be there.

How could Efrim fail to see that? How could he believe she was a threat still, even after everything she had been doing for them?

What would it take for him to see reason?

Yugo watched as Efrim’s expression hardened, his snarl morphing into an outright ferocious glower, but just as the king braced himself for yet another argument with his little brother, Baltazar’s calm yet booming voice put an early stop to it. 

“Efrim, Baltazar and Glip understand why you would be upset,” he started out diplomatically, only for his gaze to turn downright icy as he kept the younger dragon from saying anything else. “But this was not your call to make, and you should respect it.”

But he would not back down that easily. “Oh, so now I’m the only one who cares about preserving our people’s culture?” He said derisively. “The only one concerned about protecting our secrets from outsiders?”

“Of course you’re not.” Glip said. 

“Then why are you teaching a Sadida Doll Wakfung?!”

“Ah, but we never said Lady Amalia was learning Wakfung, did we?” Glip raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching up into a smirk when that shut Efrim up. “After all, our powers work differently. We project wakfu whereas she needs to channel it through the ground and into her plants. Lady Amalia would not be able to master our craft even if she wanted to.”

“But, if Amalia is not learning Wakfung, then what is she learning?” Grougaloragran asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Baltazar smiled. “She is training under Baltazar and Glip to gain a better grasp of her own powers.”

“Which, at the same time, allows us to understand how the Sadida fight.” Glip added, crossing his arms over his chest and sending a silent glare towards Efrim, daring him to say anything else to that.  

For this part, the periwinkle dragon looked like he wanted to argue further, but before he got the chance, the sound of someone clearing their throat meaningfully cut through the air. 

All eyes on the source, they settled on Shinonomé, her posture equal parts regal and commanding as she stood up from her chair. Brushing some blond hair behind one of her horns, she sent a pointed side-glance to Efrim, her golden eyes compelling him to remain silent. 

“Thank you, Glip and Baltazar, for explaining the circumstances behind Lady Amalia’s involvement in your lessons to us.” She started, flashing a warm smile at the Ivory Twins. “As always when it comes to your craft, you are absolutely correct; this will permit us to learn more about what the Sadida are capable of if they ever choose to come after us.” She spoke with such finality that she left no room for arguments, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

Or so she thought, for Mina piped up, “We mustn’t forget that Amalia is a Divine Doll, one of the most powerful Sadida around after her divine father himself. Studying how a demigoddess fights will be of great help if we ever need to design a plan of defence against her mortal counterparts.”

While the rest of the Council nodded along, and even Efrim seemed to have calmed down somewhat as he pondered the possibilities, Yugo could feel a lump forming in his throat, anxiety coiling around his heart in an almost painful squeeze. The idea of betraying Amalia’s trust like that, by using her as the blueprints through which they could defeat her people, sat heavily in his stomach. 

While it decreased slightly, the feeling didn’t go away even as Ad placed his tail on his hand comfortingly and used their mind link to assure him Mina had no intention of using Amalia either, and was just saying that to put Efrim’s mind at ease. And most likely, neither did Glip and Baltazar.

“Likewise,” Shinonomé cut back in, eager to move the conversation along. She focused her gaze back on their people’s teachers. “You are also correct to remind us whoever is allowed into your training grounds is indeed your call to make. Certainly, Lady Amalia is no exception.”

“Thank you, Sister.” Glip nodded his head gratefully, as did Baltazar. “That is all we ask, a little more faith in our judgement and abilities.”

“Of course, and you more than deserve our trust.” Yugo assured them, placing a hand on his chest to show his sincerity. “Anything else you would like to share with us?”

“Not for the moment, Yugo.” Baltazar shook his head.

“Very well, then. Thank you for your report.” He then turned to address the only members who had yet to share their progress today, an inviting eyebrow arched. “Chibi, Grougaloragran? Would you care to round up today’s meeting with your findings?”

“Perhaps you have some good news to share with us?” Nora offered. The smirk playing on her lips was a feeble attempt to hide her desperation for something, anything, that might keep her twin from mulling things too intensely. 

Her hopes were dashed when Chibi, usually jovial and laid-back Chibi, let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his face tiredly. Grougal shaking his head regretfully by his side only served to sink her heart deeper into her body. 

“As much as it pains me to say it, Lil’ Sis, no, we don’t exactly have good news.” 

Adamaï straightened up in his seat, before leaning closer out of intrigue, his arms on the table. His gaze reflected the slight alarm he felt. “Is something wrong? Have there been any major setbacks?”

“Not exactly.” The white-haired Eliatrope shrugged half-heartedly. “It’s not like we have accidentally set the lab on fire or our experiments have gone horribly wrong…”

“Which is honestly a welcome surprise coming from Grougaloragran and Chibi.” The Ebony dragon commented drily. 

Instead of growing offended, his twin actually perked up in agreement. “Yeah, precisely. If anything, that’s the good news.”

“You guys should really consider setting up a sprinkler system to actually prevent work-related fires…” Qilby deadpanned with a roll of his hazel eyes, only to be ignored.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Phaeris pressed, leaning back in his chair and wrapping his wings around himself. 

Chibi sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck in defeat. “Just that we’re not making as steady progress as we would have hoped.”

With a motion of his tanned claws, Grougal brought the Eliaculus closer to himself, willing it to display the many failed attempts they had gone through as of late. To be honest, the sight of their inventions blowing up and covering their stunned faces in soot would have been hilarious if the implications weren’t so disheartening. Same when the orb revealed one of their prototypes had been on the verge of going up in flames, only for a panicked pair of twins to run around their lab like a pair headless chicken as they tried to find the means to prevent it. 

“Every time is the same.” The long-haired dragon began, his brow furrowed as he looked down at the recordings being played. His gaze darkened in the face of their failure. “Chibi and Grougal come up with a basic idea, something simple that can be improved on later on in the process. Chibi drafts the blueprints and Grougaloragran gathers the materials needed. We will then proceed to build the prototype, and everything appears to be in order!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his claws as if trying to convince his siblings that he was telling the truth. Only for his confidence to falter. “But then…” He trailed off.

His twin finished for him, just as resigned. “Something inevitably happens that causes the prototype to malfunction. And just like that, all our progress,” he mimicked an explosion with his hands and mouth, “gone. Kapoot. Game over. It’s back to the drawing board for us.”

He plopped back down on his chair, his hand cupping his head as it rested on his leg. Given the Ebony Eliatrope’s imposing build and his role as their people’s greatest inventor, prophet, and former king, there was something incredibly humanising in seeing him pout like a small child. 

“Have you any idea on what could be causing the malfunctions?” Mina enquired, her brow furrowed in concern. Objectively speaking, her siblings’ current project wasn’t of the utmost priority at the moment, so it wasn’t like their people needed it yesterday, but it was something they had to deprive themselves of after fleeing their world. It had been a long time since they’d last been able to use such a commodity and having it available once again would do wonders to help them adjust and transition to their new home more quickly. 

“Chibi and Grougaloragran have theories.” The black dragon confirmed, sharing a look with his brother. 

“We believe it’s all because the way wakfu works in this world is different from ours, as Mother has no direct control over it.” Chibi elaborated, leaning forward in his seat, his hands clasped between his legs. “On the one hand, life energy can be found just about everywhere, but on the other hand…”

“...Chibi and Grougaloragran have yet to find a way to channel it productively into our inventions. To really understand how it reacts.” The dragon finished.

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about, actually.” Chibi threw his head back, his alabaster locks falling back with the movement. He pointed at Baltazar, the beige dragon doing a double take upon finding himself as the centre of attention. “Do you think we could borrow some of your books? We figured doing some more research might do us some good. Maybe it’ll even help us understand what we’re doing wrong and solve this little conundrum we find ourselves in.”

The kindly dragon’s stunned expression melted into an understanding one. A warm smile stretching over his maw, he nodded. “Why, of course. Please, do come with Baltazar to his private library after the meeting. He is sure you will be able to find what you are looking for.”

“Thank you, Brother.” Grougaloragran sent him a grateful nod. “Grougaloragran and Chibi promise to give them back soon.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time.”

After the Ebony Twins finished sharing their weekly progress—or lack thereof—, all that was left for them to do was to make some closing statements and, if needed, to explain the issues and projects they would be tackling next week. With one last look at Qilby to confirm the minutes were finished and up to date (as always, a mere formality), that week’s Council meeting was adjourned and they all went their separate ways, Chibi and Grougal following Baltazar out of the room and into his library. 

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

That afternoon, the rustling of leaves dancing through the treetops was the only sound carried by the breeze. The paper lanterns and bells hanging from the stone columns flanking the entrance chimed in the wind. The sun’s rays shone down on the arena below, a wide circle carved into the ground that separated the shallow pit hosting the challengers from the curious eyes of their classmates. Their gazes were attentive and enthusiastic—though some of them had to be reprimanded for letting out a yawn or two—as they observed the scene playing out in front of them from their seats on the grass or stone benches surrounding the training field. 

As per usual, Master Glip stood inside the pit, his expression unreadable as his eyes followed the two contenders around, studying them with a critical eye. The only giveaway of his true feelings was the subtle clutching of his staff at certain strategic moves and choices. Whether they were good or bad, however, wouldn’t be revealed until the outcome of the match. 

It was a fairly simple and straightforward exercise: the two Eliatrope children currently engrossed in their training were to hold a sparring session with the purpose of displaying and honing their skills. Determining the end of the exercise was even simpler—it would either be over as soon as one of them left the arena or, if things dragged on, when their teacher said so. 

The two kids currently facing each other were two boys named Bidule, a sweet boy with a pudgy build clad in yellow, and Michel, another boy Bidule’s age who was easy to spot thanks to the everpresent white scarf he wore around his light green hoodie.

Even from where she was, sitting on the floor alongside the rest of the children with her arms holding her legs close against her chest, Amalia could see little Bidule was struggling. 

Since the goal was to get their opponent to step foot outside of the line separating the arena from the rest of the training grounds, it seemed like the kid had decided to use his larger girth to his advantage. As Master Glip had accurately pointed out at the beginning of the match, under those circumstances, all Bidule would need to do was to connect a few katas against Michel and, at the very least, he would have him up against the metaphorical ropes. 

At least, as the Wakfung master added later, quite purposely, that would be the case if your opponent wasn’t faster than you. 

Just as Bidule had been about to deliver an Elienno Kata to the scarf-wearing kid, Michel managed to easily bypass him by jumping straight into one of his portals. From what the Divine Doll had gathered from watching Glip and Baltazar instruct the children the past few days, that in itself was quite the feat, as most of the younger kids were still working on their stamina to open more than one consecutive portal at a time. While most of them were already capable of jumping in and out of portals, they would tire very quickly if they tried to use them as a transportation method. 

Which made Michel’s strategy all the more awe-inspiring. 

Every time Bidule tried to connect a hit, his green-clad rival would easily outrun him, either by sliding away from the punch or kick or by summoning a portal to place him as far away from his opponent as possible but within the rink’s limits. 

By that point the rest of the class had all become eager spectators, and they instinctively divided themselves into two groups as they cheered for their preferred champion. Bidule’s supporters urged him not to give up, while Michel’s followers cheered for their favourite by assuring him he had his adversary right where he wanted him. Even as Amalia giggled, amused, and tried to evade the kids’ questions about who she was cheering on—she didn’t have the heart to choose between the two, as she was fond of all her little friends—, a part of her couldn’t help but think the scarf-wearing kid’s supporters might be onto something. 

While conjuring up different portals in succession was certainly taxing, as evidenced by the beads of sweat pooling on Michel’s forehead, so was constantly rushing towards your target, kata at the ready, only for them to dodge at the last second and to send you tumbling back. Poor Bidule was clearly exhausted, breathing heavily and sweating profusely, especially as he tried to pull his own gamble and jumped into a portal of his own with the intention of finally connecting the hit with Michel, only for the faster kid to duck and roll out of the way as the former came crashing down. 

In fact, even though Michel had made no move to actually throw the bigger kid out of the field, it was clear to see he was playing the long game. He most likely realised he might not be able to overpower Bidule alone and decided to tire him out until he either surrendered or Master Glip declared the match over. 

For his part, Bidule was on his last legs, physically and emotionally. It was so frustrating. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t do anything right. Out of his entire age group, he had been one of the few stragglers, having the hardest time getting the katas down or conjuring up portals. Several of his classmates teased him over his weight; even after Master Glip and Master Baltazar and even Lady Amalia reprimanded them, they always got back to messing with him. And now he couldn’t land a single hit while Michel ran circles all around him. 

Embittered tears welling up in his eyes as he bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself from crying, the little boy stopped thinking and just acted on instinct. In a desperate attempt to one-up his adversary, he extended both hands with the intention of opening a very big portal, only to recoil in surprise when he accidentally created two, one juxtaposing itself over the other. 

The reaction was immediate. Upon the surcharge of wakfu coming from the combined energy of the portals, a beam of blue light emanated from them and shot straight towards a wide-eyed Michel, his body unmoving as he struggled to comprehend what was going on. 

Amalia let out a high-pitched squeak and quickly got up to her feet, bringing both hands to her mouth as she braced herself for the worst. But just before her body had time to react before the beam reached the child and she could get him out of the way with one of her vines, a bigger, far more stable portal than the ones the two challengers were capable of opened up right in front of Michel, absorbing the attack and redirecting it somewhere safe. 

In an instant, all eyes were on Master Glip, who lowered his outstretched hand, the glow in his palm dying out. His expression remained stoic even after he focused his eyes on the kids, who could only flinch, worried they were about to be reprimanded. 

Relief eased off of them in waves, mixed with a tinge of confusion, when all he did was smile in satisfaction instead. 

“Very well, you two. I have seen a lot of progress today.” As a pair of dazzling smiles spread over the kids’ faces, both of them preening under their master’s praise, he jumped into a portal himself until he was standing face to face with them.

First, he addressed Michel. “It was very clever of you to use your speed to your advantage to dodge Bidule’s attempts to land a hit on you, especially given your promising creation of consecutive portals. We’ll be sure to hone that skill of yours in the future.”

Then, he turned to Bidule with a questioning eyebrow, but his expression softened when he noticed the sombre look on the boy’s face. He had a very good guess as to what caused it. 

Soon enough, the kid proved him right. 

“I’m so sorry, Master Glip…” He sniffed, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Because of me, Michel almost got hurt.”

Bidule gasped when he felt the curved tip of Master Glip’s staff lifting his chin gently so he would look at him. “No need to be so upset with yourself, Bidule. We all know it was an accident.” By his side, Michel nodded eagerly, assuring him he wasn’t mad at him. “Besides, I’m actually quite proud of you, too.”

“Huh? You are?”

He chuckled. “Why, yes. Of course. Even if you didn’t manage to connect them, your posture when executing those katas was perfect. Moreover, you’ve gone and taken a step further in your training all by yourself!” His tone was conspiratorial as he leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Creating wakfu beams is quite the advanced technique, and you figured it out all on your own! Now we just need to practise a little, and you’ll be the fastest shooter in class, I’m sure of it.”

With one last wink at an awestruck Bidule, he dismissed the two kids, who went back to their respective seats to watch the next challenge. As they walked, they chatted animatedly and gushed over each other’s accomplishments, their friends cheering for them and congratulating them as they made their way back.

Watching them go, Glip positioned himself on the other end of the arena, one hand behind his back while the other gripped his staff tightly. “Lady Amalia, you’re up next.”

The doll immediately felt all eyes on her, shining with curiosity and barely concealed anticipation. Even with her stomach tied up in knots, she managed to flash them a small smile. She knew for a fact the kids loved it when it was her turn to practise her skills, their starry-eyed faces were a dead giveaway, but that didn’t change the fact that she always got the strong urge to gulp nervously. 

Especially when she knew a sound butt-kicking awaited her. 

Nevertheless, one of the first tips Master Glip had given his students as soon as these matches began was that their opponent could never know how they truly felt. According to him, confidence was half the battle; if your enemy sensed you were in turmoil of any kind, they would instantly know they had the upper hand and the outcome of the fight would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Never let your opponent know they’ve already won. That would only make it impossible to turn the tables back around. 

And so, taking one deep breath through her nose, Amalia rose to her feet, her head held up high, and made her way over to the rink, her steps measured and confident, even if her clenched fists at her sides betrayed her true feelings somewhat. As soon as she was inside the pit with him, Master Glip announced the rules, just like he did for every match: 

“This will be a simple one-on-one match between you and me, Lady Amalia. Our goal will be to get the other to step out of the rink using whatever is available to us; the moment one of us has stepped out of the line—be it our entire bodies, or some wayward limb—, the match is over and the person remaining within the rink will be declared the winner. Understood?”

She nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Likewise, the match can also come to an end if I see it fit and make the call. Are you in agreement with that?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Very well, in that case…” He got into a defensive pose that was mimicked by Amalia. “Let us commence!”

Not thinking twice, Amalia arched her body downward and rose back up, one glowing green hand outstretched as a series of thick vines erupted from the floor and straight for Master Glip, who eyed them critically. Even as she focused on directing the rambles toward him, the doll already knew from past experiences that it wouldn’t be that simple. 

Her suspicions were proven right when, just as her weeds were about to connect with the Eliatrope’s stumpy figure, he deftly leapt out of the way, going as far as to perform a backward somersault as he did so. The most astounding thing about Glip, Amalia soon found out, was that the otherwise serious and collected Wakfung master had a fondness for showing his acrobatics off. Something Master Baltazar never failed to tease him about.

Growing slightly frustrated, although she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t seen it coming, the Divine Doll tsked her tongue. Her eyes narrowed in determination. Like she was going to let that stop her. 

Feet planted firmly on the floor to remain sturdy, Amalia began to fail her arms around slightly, guiding the vine that had just missed its target after him with the intention to catch him. All around her, the children let out ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s to express their admiration, their eyes transfixed on the plant that elegantly coiled around like an emerald serpent and stretched over to their teacher’s turned form. 

Blood rushing to her ears, her heart thumping wildly in her chest at the idea of finally catching her master by surprise, Amalia’s Ogrine heart then sank to the floor at what happened next. 

Just as her ramble was about to snare an unsuspecting Master Glip up, he showed his cards with the same devilish grace as an Ecaflip with a winning hand. He leisurely turned back around, enough so the knowing smirk on his face could be easily discerned, and dashed her hopes in one fell swoop. Right as the plant was about to snatch him up, the Eliatrope raised a glowing palm up and, in the blink of an eye, he easily diverted the attack by conjuring up a sizable portal that engulfed the vine. Then, with his other hand, created another to direct it far away from him, the ramble closing in on nothing but air. 

With the children’s amazed cheering coming from all directions, Amalia only had a few seconds to compose herself and school her astonished features into cold determination. Although seeing how easily her attempt at beating the Wakfung master was thwarted, she couldn’t help but feel equal parts astounded and disappointed. The bitter taste of failure coating her mouth. But she couldn’t afford to let her true feelings show. Not only would it go against the most basic rules, but the match was still far from over. 

She couldn’t help but gulp nervously despite herself. At least, she hoped the match was still far from over. 

Brown eyes trained on her opponent, at the slightest twitch of his muscles, the Divine Doll knew she had to act fast, as the Eliatropes’ speed far succeeded that of the other races, including the Sadida. She made the split-second decision to go big or go home, and she began to move her upper body with an almost erratic rhythm as she kept on summoning vine after vine with the intention to either smack or trap Master Glip. 

But much like Michel had been able to run circles around Bidule’s every strategy, so did the shortest Eliatrope. Except he was a centuries-old Wakfung master instead of a small child who was just beginning his training. With fluid and composed movements, Glip expertly manoeuvred away from every single one of Amalia’s attempts at overpowering or capturing him. He jumped over and below the upcoming vines, teleported himself or the plants away, at one point, he went so far as to jump into one of his portals and on top of an incoming ramble, rolling over its length almost playfully before raising to his feet and teleporting himself away yet again. 

Her eyes darting around as they tried to fruitlessly follow her adversary in an attempt to predict where he’d appear next, Amalia didn’t even register the gnashing of her teeth as she fiercely clenched her jaw. Her teeth borne in exasperation, both with the lack of results and herself, she dropped her vines as she tried to come up with a new strategy. 

There had to be something she could do to get her master up against the ropes for once, but what? Maybe if she formed a circle with her vines in order to reach for him from all directions… She quickly shook her head and that idea off her mind. No, it wouldn’t work. He could always just portal himself away. 

The doll was so lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t see Master Glip summoning a portal and opening it right in front of her until it was too late. As she finally registered the blue flash of light, she stood like an Elante in headlights, the image of the goateed Eliatrope emerging through the vortex of wakfu, his hand outstretched in her direction, clouding her vision. 

Letting out a loud gasp, she acted on instinct and rolled to the side and away from his grasp before making an upwards sweeping motion with her hands, willing a series of rambles to form a circle around her and encapsulate her within it. Placing a hand over her thumping heart at the same time as she tried to get her panting under control, the doll looked around the tight space she was in—she had instinctively built a plant-dome around herself in order to shield herself from Glip’s attack. 

She was safe. 

However, the peace didn’t last long. Or rather, it was suspicious how long it did last. Even as she finally got her laboured breathing under control, the Sadida Doll still felt uneasy. She squinted her eyes into the darkness that was only broken by small sun rays peeking through the gaps of her shield, and she strained her ears in search of any sound that might help her decipher her master’s next move. However, the kids’ soft murmurs aside, everything was quiet. 

Too quiet. 

And then, she saw it from the corner of her eye. The tell-tale turquoise glow of a portal opening up right behind her. Thinking fast, she managed to miraculously escape Glip, dropping her dome and quickly motioning for one of the vines to pull her away and put some distance between the two of them. She grunted in pain when her backside collided against the ground, a hand coming to gently nurse it. 

She froze as a creeping realisation hit her. She had her back to the line separating the training rink from their makeshift bleachers. One wrong move and it would all be over. 

“Looks like today’s match will be especially short, Lady Amalia.” Glip said, and she couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or expressing his disappointment in her lack of progress. She honestly couldn’t tell which one hurt more. “What a shame.”

Amalia watched with wide eyes as he twirled his staff in his hands and pointed it straight at her, readying it to push her off the rink’s limits with one simple touch. 

Her first instinct was to crawl away, but thankfully she still had enough presence of mind to realise doing so would only result in her own disqualification as she would most likely pass over the limits herself. She could feel the beads of sweat rolling all the way down from her forehead to her chin as she waited for the inevitable, her heart pounding in her ears. 

And yet, even when her master’s approaching figure was all she could see, images of watching Yugo train flashed through her mind. She had always been mesmerised by the way he constantly pushed himself to surpass his own limits. His expert movements as he parried and battled against an imaginary enemy. The steady hold of his wakfu sword as he brought it down. The instinctual use of his shield to protect himself. The grace he jumped in and out of portals with. The ingenuity behind his uses for them, always so different, so unique, so unpredictable. 

He was just so inspiring. 

The doll had to fight the urge to smile warmly at the memory. It seemed that even when Yugo was nowhere to be seen, he was always looking out for her. Yugo would never give up in the face of a challenge, and neither would she! 

Her mind made up, a fire lit up within Amalia, one that soon coursed through her entire body. Her expression hardened with resolve. No, she would not go down like this. Not without proving both to Master Glip and to herself what she was capable of. 

She had to think fast. The staff was getting closer and closer and there’d be no point in her sudden surge of determination if she got disqualified before she could even put it to good use. 

It was easier said than done, though. Master Glip was literally a few steps away from pushing her off the rink, whereas she would need her father to perform a divine intervention to even have a shot at winning! Her fists clenched over the soil, some dirt getting under her fingernails with the motion. She had to come up with a good strategy, the problem was that it all felt useless. Her most effective method of attacking were her vines, and the Wakfung master had one-upped her at every turn!

Every time she thought she had him, he would instantly prove her wrong by easily sidestepping or teleporting away from her rambles, or using his portals to divert her vines away from him! And all without breaking a sweat while she was struggling just to keep her breathing under control. 

Her jaw clenched in frustration. It was especially aggravating when he so easily changed the course of her attacks. All he had to do was wait for the perfect moment and summon a portal to swallow her plants whole. And because that wasn’t humiliating enough, her vine would enter one portal, and exit a completely different one, aimed in another direction. It was just so—!

Her eyes lit up like the night sky as an idea came to mind. She was quick to hide it, however; she couldn’t afford Master Glip to suspect her until it was too late. For him.

Now that he had her where he wanted her, with nowhere to run, Glip pulled his arms to swing his cane back forward and to finally push Amalia out of the arena. And while her attempts were a valiant effort, he had to admit he was disappointed it had been so easy to take her down. The doll wasn’t kidding when she came to him to ask for his help; she really had to work on her powers. 

She didn’t even attempt to get up after dodging his last attack and the action sent her to the ground. 

He let out a small sigh. Oh, well. There was always room for improvement, they just had to keep working on her battle prowess. 

Resignation seeping into his bones, the goateed Eliatrope was about to put an end to the match when Amalia’s next action caught him completely by surprise, momentarily halting his movements. She propelled herself forward into a crouching position and slammed her hands against the ground, a vibrant green light extending all over the rink as a large, thorny vine materialised right behind her and reached over to him. 

While he had been taken aback at first by her sudden movements, Glip soon composed himself, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the Sadida attack. Taking advantage of his low stature, all he needed to do to avoid the incoming hit was to bend down, the vine harmlessly soaring overhead and missing him completely. 

He couldn’t help but to raise an eyebrow pointedly as he nonchalantly leaned against his staff, almost bored. “Amalia, haven’t you learned by now that I can easily dodge your vines?” He asked, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “I honestly expected a little more from you.”

His confident expression faltered when all she did was smirk in return. Her next words causing an almost forgotten feeling of worry to make his stomach churn:

“Oh, but Master Glip, who said I was aiming at you?”

Eyes widening at her declaration, he quickly turned around, only for his jaw to drop open at the sight. As Amalia said, she had never been aiming at him, instead, her goal all along was to fool him with a feint. With him distracted by his ego and easy dodging of her attack, her vine had successfully bypassed him and gone straight through one of his portals, one located right behind him. 

While he gaped at the scene before him, from the corner of his eye he caught how the end of the ramble came out from another portal and was headed straight at him. However, before he had time to react and get out of the way, the plant coiled in on itself and delivered a mighty swing to his side, the force behind it managing to send him careening against the ground. 

All around them, the kids gasped in astonishment. Amalia had just connected a hit with Master Glip; no one had ever done that before!

Her eyes shining and her mouth stretching into a huge grin, Amalia couldn’t help the ecstatic squeal that escaped her as she rose to her feet. Her own cheers mingling with that of the kids’, she skipped in place several times, euphoria overtaking her senses. 

Her little celebratory dance was stopped abruptly by Master Glip’s knowing, suspiciously close voice. 

“You should never chant victory before making sure your enemy is defeated, my dear.”

Eyes snapping open, it was her turn to be too slow to react as her teacher jumped right out of a portal inches away from her and flicked her forehead hard enough to force her to take a step back… and outside of the rink’s limits. 

The kids all ‘awwwwed’ at that development, and even Amalia couldn’t help but slump forwards in disappointment, pouting. Well, she thought, trying to cheer herself up, at least she got a hit in. That alone was far more than her last few attempts. 

Landing nimbly on his feet, the Wakfung master straightened himself up. “And thus concludes this training match.” When he opened his eyes to stare at the doll, she almost teared up when she noticed they were shining with pride. “You have my sincerest congratulations, Lady Amalia. Using my portals against me and to aid your own attacks was a very ingenious move. It takes a very clever person to think outside of the box like you just did. Be very proud of yourself.”

“Thank you, Master. It means a lot.” She told him honestly, bowing her head respectfully. 

“However,” he continued, his tone growing somewhat sterner, yet not unkind. “We ought to work on your versatility. While your vines are a powerful tool, you simply cannot rely on them all the time, for they make you a very predictable opponent. I will be pondering on how to utilise your Sadida magic to its full potential.”

While his words stung a little, Amalia remained perfectly composed. Master Glip was right, she did rely too much on her vines when she honestly had no reason to. She had already summoned different plants and even her dolls before; she could introduce that into her fighting style. 

“Good job today. You may go now.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Amalia made her way back to her seat as the short Eliatrope called the next two challengers into the rink, satisfied with herself and already coming up with possible ways to improve. 

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

Glip studied with a critical eye as his students exchanged katas and attempts at better utilising their wakfu. While he never allowed himself to grow careless in case anything happened, the good thing about beginning the little ones’ training was that he could afford to subtly multitask and let his mind wander. They were far too young and too green for their strategies to become complex enough that anything could go awry, in which case, he would need to give them his undivided attention. 

As it were, however, the Eliatrope let his eyes roam over the bleachers. A small grin stretched over his lips. 

The kids were invested in the match taking place in front of them, with even the older ones showing a healthy level of respect. Even from where he stood, Glip could tell from the way some older kids leaned over to talk to their friends that they were studying the battle just as intently as he was and pointing out the mistakes or right choices the younger students made, talking from experience. 

Not surprisingly, while some students who were beginning to develop and hone their wakfu-based senses could tell something was going on, the only one who could tell he was watching was his twin. Baltazar sent him a knowing look and a proud smile, the corners of his lips twitching upwards when his light blue gaze trailed over to Amalia. Pointing with his tail at her with all the subtlety a dragon of his girth could muster, he nodded approvingly at his Eliatrope twin, to which the latter had no choice but to return the nod. Albeit his was curt and to the point so as to not distract the kids. 

With that, Baltazar turned his attention back to his books. He liked to revise everything for when it was time to return to their lessons—even though he was a great educator, not everyone had Qilby and Shinonomé’s prodigious memory, after all. Eliatrope dragon as he was, the beige creature just wasn’t as fond of Wakfung as his brother, just as Glip wasn’t as fond of teaching history as his dragon twin. So long ago, in their very first life, according to the Crimson Twins, the two had agreed on each of them focusing on teaching a specific subject to the kids, with the other helping in any way they could. A decision that worked out so well, from the look of things, that they kept going back to it each reincarnation.

That still didn’t mean Baltazar couldn’t chip in once in a while in order to instruct the kids. While Glip wasn’t against asking for volunteers, every so often he liked to put on a bit of a show with his brother to show the kids what they'd be doing and learning that day. 

After all, there was no better exhibition than that between a pair of Primordial Twins. Their little audience tended to go absolutely insane whenever Yugo and Adamaï dropped by and had a friendly match to show the kids how far they could go if they applied themselves. The children would simply become enraptured, their eyes big and starry, and their mouths either hanging low or forming perfect ‘o’ shapes as they gaped. 

Not unlike what Lady Amalia was doing at the moment. 

Finally, Glip settled his gaze on her. He had to fight the urge to shake his head at himself. If anybody had told him back when she first arrived that the Divine Doll would soon become one of his most hardworking and dedicated students, he would have completely lost it and whacked the poor idiot in the head with his staff. 

But looking at her now… Even an old grouch like himself had to admit he was mistaken about her. Amalia was quickly shaping herself up to be the best thing to happen to their race since finding the World of Twelve. Now, if only Efrim and Yugo could reach the same conclusion, that would be great. In Efrim’s case, because all that hostility and cynicism weren’t doing him any good. And in Yugo’s case… Well,  they were long overdue for a queen, to put it simply. 

But now that he looked at Amalia, really looked at her, and replayed their battle in his mind, the Wakfung master couldn’t help but be reminded of the day she reached out to him to ask for his help.

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

It had been shortly after finishing the historical and cultural aspects of their lessons, Baltazar’s specialty, and letting Amalia know she was now free to do whatever she wanted, as Glip would be incapable of teaching her Wakfung. Not like he was even sure it would be a good idea in the first place, if he were being honest with himself. 

Given her obvious disappointment upon learning her schedule had just cleared itself up, Glip would be lying if he said he hadn’t been surprised to see her again so soon. It had only been a week or two since their last talk, when Nora took her away, and yet, there she was, timidly entering the training grounds outside the village and heading towards him. Though not before greeting the throngs of kids warmly and affectionately as they went back home with their parents. 

He knew Baltazar had offered to help her reinforce her studies as a private tutor, but he honestly didn’t expect her to take him up on his offer. At least, not so soon. Not when she already had her garden to work on or she could always choose to spend her time with Yugo. They all knew for a fact their lovesick king wouldn’t be complaining. 

But what truly struck him as odd was when she finally reached him. He had to picture one of Baltazar’s reprimanding glares to keep himself from blurting something insensitive out. 

Even though the doll didn’t look bad, per se, she was certainly missing her usual exuberance. While normally her mere presence would be enough to put the island’s prettiest flowers to shame, at that moment the girl’s smile was timid, small, and forced. Gone was the confident and poised demigoddess with impeccable posture he had come to meet over the course of several weeks, in her place was a doll curling in on herself and rubbing one arm up and down in an attempt to bring comfort to herself. 

Something had clearly happened to her, but what?

Rather than voice his thoughts, however, Glip opted, for once, for taking the more diplomatic approach. 

“Lady Amalia, what a surprise!” His twin would be so proud of him. It wasn’t every day he managed to sound perfectly composed and polite. “What brings you here?”

She hesitated for a moment, squeezing her arm, before answering. “I wanted to ask  you about those classes you mentioned. Is that alright?”

Glip blinked, surprised. She must have liked Baltazar’s lessons even more than he originally thought. Recovering from the shock, he nodded. “Of course, my Lady.” He looked over his shoulder. “But Baltazar isn’t here at the moment. Would you like me to go fetch him so you two can talk?”

It was Amalia’s turn to blink, confused. He watched as a myriad of emotions flashed through her face. Confusion, bewilderment, pensiveness, and finally, realisation. Her eyes widened for a second as she seemed to have reached a conclusion, before she shook her head. She focused her gaze back on him, craning her neck downwards to look him in the eye. 

“That’s quite alright, Master Glip.” She shook her hands in front of her body. “Maybe another time.”

“Wait, so you’re not here to take my brother up on his offer to tutor you?” 

She shook her head. “Not really, but maybe once I’ve advanced some more with my garden. There is still much I wish to learn about your people.”

“Then why did you come all the way over here for?” He pressed on, flabbergasted. 

“I actually wanted to ask you to teach me.”

Okay, that cleared absolutely nothing up. 

“Me?” He repeated, just to make sure. Somehow, seeing her vehemently nod her head wasn’t all that reassuring. “Lady Amalia, while I am indeed capable of teaching you, I must insist, Baltazar is the expert when it comes to our culture. And he has access to hundreds of books that will be of great use to you. You should ask him for help, not me.”

What she said next disarmed him completely. 

“That might be true, Master Glip. Except I’m not looking to learn more about your culture at the moment. Just like you’re currently doing with the little ones, I want you to train me too.”

For the first time in the many centuries of his current lifetime, Glip was sure he was gaping. Gone was his usual stoic and impenetrable façade. Instead stood a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, gawking fool who was so shocked by what he heard, he almost dropped his staff. He had to have heard her wrong. It was the only reasonable explanation. What she just asked of him made no sense whatsoever. 

He blinked rapidly. “You want me to train you?”

“That’s right.” She nodded. 

He blinked again, blankly. Alright, so he had heard her right. That still didn’t make what she said any less confusing. 

They remained like that for a few more seconds, with Glip sporting the most dumbstruck expression of his many lives (he didn’t need Qilby to confirm that, he just knew it) and Amalia standing there awkwardly, her eyes darting every which way now and then and fidgeting with her hands. 

Seemingly having enough of the tense silence, she asked tentatively, “Uh… Master Glip?”

He jerked back slightly, broken out of his stupor, his whole body arching with the movement. He shook his head quickly to rid himself of the mental fogginess and finally composed himself. His grip on his cane tightening may or may not have been to keep himself from falling.

He cleared his throat. “Right. Right. Forgive me, my Lady. I was just a little… surprised by your request. That’s all.”

“I understand it might be a lot to ask, especially after you allowed me to attend your lessons the first time, but—.”

He cut her off by raising his hand. “I’m afraid that rather than it being a lot to ask, it is simply unfeasible. I told you, Wakfung isn’t just our people’s sacred martial art, it is also impossible to learn if you are not an Eliatrope!”

She lowered her gaze in embarrassment when his eyes roamed her figure meaningfully. “And you, my dear, are many things, but an Eliatrope is not one of them.”

“But that’s the thing, Master Glip! I don’t want you to teach me Wakfung!” That intrigued him, and he could tell by the way her lips twitched up into a smirk that his interest didn’t go unnoticed by her. Her expression softened before she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “I just need you to hear me out first and then we can decide whether it’s truly feasible or not.”

The Glip from a few months ago wouldn’t even have thought twice about it. He would have just let out a resounding ‘no’ and gone on with his day, far too busy with organising classes and council meetings to entertain a little doll’s delusions. Now, however, much to his chagrin, he had to admit he had developed a little soft spot for the Sadida beauty. She proved herself to be so much more than a simple pretty face who just so happened to have a green thumb. 

He hummed, pondering his next course of action while he stroked his goatee. At last, he caved with a sigh and motioned for her to sit with him on a nearby stone bench. “Very well. What did you have in mind?”

The smile she gave him in return could have lit up a moonless night. Before she had the chance to squeal, however, the Wakfung master quietly stopped her by raising one pointed eyebrow. 

With a sheepish apology and a blush, she began, “You told me you couldn’t train me because my magic doesn’t work like yours.”

And because Efrim would never let him live it down if word got out that he’d taught their fighting secrets to the Divine Doll, as well as his own reservations on the matter, is what he didn’t say. Instead, he pointed out, “And I stand by what I said. Please, don’t take this the wrong way, my Lady, but last time I checked, you can’t exactly open portals at will.”

Fortunately, she just giggled. “Trust me, that’s actually the last thing I’d want to do.” When he scrunched up his nose in confusion, and a little bit offended, she rushed out to clarify. “In case you didn’t know, I can’t exactly stomach going through portals.”

He chuckled at that, the sound coming as a rumble from his chest. “Ah, that’s true. Each time you go through one, you end up getting reacquainted with your lunch, don’t you?” He laughed more openly at his own joke, his shoulders shaking as he snorted… only for his laughter to stop abruptly at the pouting scowl on the doll’s face. 

Her arms crossed over her torso, one finger drumming impatiently against her forearm, she deadpanned, “Are you done yet?”

“Uh… Yes. Sorry.” Glip cleared his throat awkwardly. “What… What were you saying again?”

A soft grin stretched over her lips, her posture relaxing. “I was saying that I don’t need you to train me in Wakfung.”

“That is going to be a little difficult, considering it is what I specialise in. How am I supposed to train you, then?”

Just then, something flickered behind Amalia’s brown eyes. Something bold, challenging, determined. Glip was actually taken aback by how much it reminded him of Yugo right before one of their sparring sessions. The Divine Doll was readying herself to go to war, and she had every intention to win it. 

“I want you to help me train my powers.”

The words were out of his mouth before he even had the time to think them over. 

“I’m sorry, you what?!”

“You heard me.” She said, her tone dripping with confidence and sass. He would have to remind her she still owed him a modicum of respect as her master. “I’d like for you to teach me how to use my powers for offensive and defensive purposes.”

“May I ask why you would even need that in the first place?” 

Once again, something flickered in her gaze, but this time the Wakfung master felt his stomach churn in apprehension by what he saw. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but something had somewhat doused that same fire that had encouraged the doll to take a leap of faith just a few seconds ago. Suddenly, her eyes were filled with worry and apprehension and, dare he say, fear?

Before he could reach out to her and ask the doll about it, however, she blurted out, “I want to learn how to defend myself, in case something like what happened with Count Harebourg repeats itself.”

Ah, right. The incident with the count of Frigost. While Glip had stayed behind during the banquet at Bonta, Nora and Qilby had spared them stragglers no details, little gossipy hens that they were. 

Apparently, the Divine Doll’s presence left an even bigger impact than they thought on the other guests. According to Qilby and Nora, Harebourg, an attractive Xelor aristocrat, seemed quite taken to Amalia right from the start, and he didn’t hesitate to whisk her away while Yugo’s back was turned. 

As the Twelvian saying went, ‘When the Meow Meow’s away, the mice will play.’

Unfortunately, his interest in her soon proved itself to be far from innocent. As soon as he got the chance, he started making proposals to her, and when that didn’t give him the results he had been hoping for, he grabbed a hold of her, refusing to let go until he was forced to. 

By Yugo. 

Who, for some inexplicable reason, had been fuming practically all night. 

Part of him was relieved he missed all that drama, while another part of him was disappointed about it. But most importantly, he was concerned about Amalia. The whole incident must have shaken her up more than he expected if she was asking for help about it now, months after it happened. 

He couldn’t help himself. “Lady Amalia, you know that what happened with Count Harebourg wasn’t your fault, right? He was just a creep.” He reached out and put one hand on her knee, hoping it would come across as reassuring. 

But she just shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. Her eyes were glassy, causing Glip to gulp. As much experience as he had with little kids, he had never been good with people crying. He certainly didn’t know what to do to make Amalia feel better about this.

“I still should have done something!” She retorted, her voice wobbly. “Maybe I’m not as old as other demigods, but I am still one of Sadida’s Divine Dolls. What good is having powers beyond mortal comprehension if I’m just going to freeze up every time I’m faced with a challenge?”

Glip wanted to protest, to tell her she was wrong and that there was so much more than what her powers could do for her, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“I can’t keep relying on Yugo to fight my battles for me.” Glip actually started at the sheer bitterness in her voice. The way her fingers clenched on her forearms, her frown deepening… He didn’t know where she got that idea from, but he knew it couldn’t be good. “He’s not going to be able to always be there for me. I have to learn to take care of myself when he isn’t around.”

He almost let out a yelp in surprise when her bark-like gaze settled on him, her face set in a mask of determination. 

“That’s why I’d appreciate it if you could teach me how to defend myself, Master Glip. I have a lot of potential, I just know it! I just don’t know how to put it to good use.” She clasped her hands together once more, her eyes earnest and searching. “What do you say? Will you help me?”

Glip considered his options, doing his best to look away from the doll’s forsaken puppy-dog eyes lest they tore at his heart and made him cave. It was incredible how even Qilby admitted in all their years they had never found a more efficient manipulation tactic than those darned eyes she and the children liked to use so much. 

On the one hand, he wasn’t sure he could help Amalia even if he agreed to. When he said he couldn’t teach her Wakfung because their magic was different, it actually worked both ways. He highly doubted he’d be able to understand how Sadida magic worked well enough to not only come up with exercises for the doll, but to evaluate her progress as well. 

But, on the other hand, he knew that look. The one he’d seen on her face when she confessed to being disappointed at herself for, in her mind, failing to stop Harebourg. And no matter how many times people tried to assure her it wasn’t her fault, she would just keep blaming herself. It was the kind of look of someone who didn’t want to be hurt again. 

It was the look every Eliatrope who understood what happened wore on their face ever since the war with the Mechasms. 

He couldn’t bring himself to say no to her when all she wanted was to be able to stand on her own two feet. Not when he found it to be nothing but admirable. 

Not to mention, it would also be the perfect chance to study how Sadida fought. If they learned how to counter a demigoddess, then there would be no problem in case her mortal counterparts ever chose to attack them. Which at the same time would be the perfect excuse to justify his training her. 

Not even Efrim would be able to protest that. 

With a heavy sigh, he prayed to the Great Goddess he wasn’t making a mistake, “Very well, Lady Amalia. Come tomorrow after lunch for your first lesson. I will see what I can do.”

The smile she gave him in response was so radiant he couldn’t help but understand why Yugo was head over heels for her, even if he would never admit it. 

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

A loud thud! snapped him out of his thoughts, his head perking up at the sound. As he refocused his attention back to the present, his eyes roamed all over the space until they finally settled on the young boy laying on the ground and outside the rink limits. Shaking his head quickly to rid himself of any more distractions, he brought his staff down and signaled the end of the match. 

The afternoon went on like that for about another hour and a half. Knowing the sun would set in just a few more hours, as always, Glip congratulated his students and briefly explained what they would be doing the following day before wishing them all well. And with that, he and Baltazar announced class was over for the day. 

Just in time for the kids’ parents to come pick them up at the gates.

While the throngs of children returned home with their families, Glip turned back around and began to tidy up the area. The upside of Duel Day was that there wasn’t much to store away in the first place, since all they really did was fight in a mostly bare circle while their classmates sat around the pit. Tomorrow he wouldn’t be so lucky, however, as he intended to teach his students some new katas and needed to arrive early to take out the training dummies. 

As he scoured the area in case any kid had accidentally left anything behind, the large shadow that fell over him was enough to let him know his brother wished to speak with him. 

“How did you find today’s training, Baltazar? Did we manage to take your eyes off your books for once?”

As he chuckled fondly, the dragon let out a puff of hot air through his nostrils that had the Eliatrope holding onto his hat lest it flew away. “Baltazar enjoyed what he saw, correct.” He leaned over so he would be looking his twin in the eyes. “You have been making a lot of progress in a relatively short amount of time.”

“What can I say?” Glip shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant that nonetheless failed to conceal his actual pride. “The kids are very focused this year. Not a single day goes by where they don’t practise what they’ve learned in their free time.”

“Hopefully, they’ll be as willing to study when it’s Baltazar’s time to teach.” He commented airily, the smile stretched over his maw betraying the humour in his words. 

“Look on the bright side, Brother. At least this time no kid fell asleep in the middle of one of your lectures. That is definitely something!” Glip laughed, remembering all the times he had to act like the tough, stern teacher and wake up sleeping students. Although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. 

“As much as Baltazar would like to take credit for it, he must admit that was probably Lady Amalia’s doing. The kids are so enchanted by her, the last thing they want to do is disappoint her!”

“Yes, you might be right…” He trailed off, his eyes momentarily fleeting over to where the Divine Doll was. She was usually the last one to leave the training grounds, either because her special circumstances meant she needed to stay behind to discuss with Glip how her training should proceed, or because she liked to bid the children goodbye as they left. At that moment, she was doing the latter. 

“Her powers seem to be developing quite nicely as well, despite the lack of formal training.” Baltazar observed, following his twin’s gaze. 

The Eliatrope hummed in response, noncommittally. 

“You are doing a good job teaching her in spite of the limitations, too.” The dragon smiled. “It was very wise to advise her to stop relying so much on her vines. Baltazar personally never would have thought of it.”

“Meh.” Glip just shrugged it off. “It’s the same kind of advice I would give to any of our children. Besides, we’ve all seen she is capable of so much more than just summoning vines; she just needs to be able to incorporate those other abilities into her more instinctual responses to danger.”

“Still, to be able to train her at all despite not even being the same race…”

“I mostly just taught her some basic katas so she has some experience with hand-to-hand combat. Besides that, I basically let her run wild with her powers.” The Eliatrope said dismissively. 

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Baltazar’s mouth. He had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at his brother. “You know, Glip, for all your liking your students to respect you and how much you like to show off your skills, you can actually be quite modest.”

His wings fluttered in delight and he chuckled when all Glip did in response was grumble. 

“What were you thinking before?” He asked suddenly. 

“Huh?”

“Before, during the match that followed yours and Lady Amalia’s.” He clarified. “And don’t try to lie to Baltazar, he can tell when his twin’s mind is elsewhere.”

“That darned psychic connection…” Glip muttered under his breath, tsking his tongue. 

Still, his dragon twin’s persistent look proved itself to be too much to bear. He raised his arms up in surrender. “Alright, alright! I’ll tell you! Sweet Goddess Eliatrope, are you annoying!”

“It is one of Baltazar’s charms.” He said easily, shrugging. 

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Glip finally admitted, “I was just thinking about the day Lady Amalia asked me to train her, is all. Sometimes I can’t help but feel like she pushes herself too much for our sake. Like she still feels like we don’t want her here. And while I can’t help but feel responsible for how I treated her at first, at the same time I just can’t fathom why she would feel the need to demand so much from herself. After all, her mere presence is already helping us!”

There was a moment of silence where Baltazar just let his brother recover from his little rant, panting as he did, before he simply asked:

“Is that all?” 

Glip had to refrain himself from doing something he would regret, equal parts flabbergasted and enraged his dragon twin would extort a confession out of him only for him to act so nonchalant and even bored about it. 

He limited himself to glare at him. “Yes, that’s all.” He deadpanned. 

For reasons beyond Glip’s understanding, Baltazar simply nodded, straightening himself back up. He’d recognise that devious little glint in his bright blue eyes—he was plotting something. The real question was, what?

“You know, Baltazar believes Chibi and Grougaloragran should be about done with the books Baltazar lent them the other day. But Baltazar has no time to retrieve them today.” He said out of the blue, confusing his Eliatrope twin even more. 

Before he could question him about it, however, the beige dragon called out, “Lady Amalia! Do you have a moment?”

Perking up at the sound of her name being called, the doll, who had just said goodbye to the last girl and her family, turned her head around. When she saw it was the Ivory dragon who called out for her, she immediately jogged up to join them.

“You called, Master Baltazar? Is anything the matter?”

“This old dragon just wanted to ask you for a favour, my Lady. That is, if you’re not too busy?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I was actually about to head back to the palace.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder to illustrate her point. “I wanted to check in on something from my garden, but it’s nothing that can’t wait. How may I help you?”

“Thank you kindly, dear.” The dragon smiled. “Baltazar is actually relieved to hear you are indeed headed towards the palace, that way, he won’t be keeping you for long.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head, her emerald ponytail bobbing with the movement. 

“You see, Baltazar lent Chibi and Grougaloragran some books a few days ago, but he cannot go get them back since he has some matters to take care of. Since you are headed to the palace anyway, would you mind stopping by their workshop to get them for Baltazar?”

“Oh, certainly. It’s not a problem at all.” She replied easily, before growing a little sheepish, fidgeting with her fingers. “But, uh, I haven’t actually been to their workshop. I don’t know where it is.”

“It’s on the lower levels of the palace. Above the underground systems but below some of the emergency communal areas.” Glip explained despite himself. When he was done, he felt like facepalming. 

“I see! Thank you, Master Glip.”

“You’re welcome…”

“Well, there you have it!” Baltazar said, clasping his large paws together. “Do you think you could do Baltazar this one favour, Lady Amalia?”

“Of course! You can count on me!” She beamed in response. “I’ll be sure to return your books to you tomorrow.”

“Baltazar is very grateful, my dear.”

With that, Amalia summoned a large vine underneath her feet that would take her to the outskirts of the village, where she would have to make her way to the palace on foot. The place was still protected, after all. 

As they watched her go, Glip’s eyes kept darting back and forth between her retreating form and his twin’s suspiciously serene smile. Oh yes, he was definitely up to something. 

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

Amalia climbed down the stairs leading to the level housing Chibi and Grougal’s workshop with curious eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. The truth was she hadn’t been to one since her father created her in his hut, and she had been on Oma Island long enough to know she couldn’t exactly expect the Eliatropes to function just like Sadida would. 

As she made it to the final step, she had to squint her eyes as she adjusted to the difference in lighting. Given the floor’s almost underground position, there were no windows around, a bunch of torches lined up around the corridor, the only source of light. Following the line they formed, the doll perked up at the sight of a large shuttle with the Eliatrope emblem in bronze at the other end. 

Heading straight for the door, a part of her couldn’t believe the Ebony Twins would ever find such a location for their workshop acceptable. Given how they acted when she said she wanted to redecorate her room to feel more at home, one would expect them to be appalled at the lack of natural sunlight in their own wing of the palace. 

She pushed that thought aside for now when she reached the gate. Raising one fist up, she was about to knock on the door when she took notice of a metal arrow coming out of the shuttle and pointing at a large button to her right. Peering over at it curiously, the faint light allowed her to see there was something written above it; unfortunately, it was written in draconic, and all she knew about it was that she knew nothing of it. 

Still, figuring she didn’t have anything to lose, Amalia shrugged and pressed the button. To her surprise, all the action did was elicit the sound of bells ringing. It was nice, if a little underwhelming. When the ringing stopped, she awkwardly waited for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on the ball of her heel, before the abrupt appearance of a metal horn and a microphone made her yelp in surprise and almost jump right out of her skin. 

“Yes? What is it?” Came an echo-y voice that sounded suspiciously like Chibi’s. 

Her hands over her still rapidly-thumping heart, Amalia composed herself enough to reply, “Uh…This is Amalia?” She said uncertainly, grimacing. “Master Baltazar asked me to come pick up some books he lent you.”

There was silence on the other end until, “Oh, right! Right. The books. Yes, we have them right here. Come right this way, Amalia.”

The doll went from staring blankly at the receding equipment to whirling her head around at the whirring sound of the metal gates opening right in front of her. A nervous tingle went down her spine as she took the first step into her room, causing her to shiver when her bare sole came into contact with the sleek, cold floor. 

She had to blink a few times because of the new change in lighting, but when her brown eyes finally adjusted, they immediately widened as a gasp escaped her throat.

Chibi and Grogaloragran’s atelier was an engineering and architectural marvel. The room formed a u-shape that, upon further consideration, seemed to take up the entirety of the floor it was located in, explaining the lack of personnel and other rooms. The floor was made of some kind of metal, and the walls were the same bluish colour as the stones scattered all over the village, suggesting it was made from the same material. 

Neon blue streaks the colour of the purest wakfu lined up the walls, forming spirals; the turquoise hue shone brighter every so often, indicating some sort of activity as it pulsed with energy. Sticking out of those very walls were golden gears, some of them doubling as platforms and even tables on top of which were scattered countless artefacts and tools Amalia wouldn’t have been to name even if she tried. But what really caught her eye and brought a smile to her face was the sight of potted plants carrying white flowers in bloom that decorated the top of the columns supporting the ceiling.

Despite its grandiosity, however, it had to be said that the workshop wasn’t exactly the tidiest, most organised place either. Aside from all the objects cluttering the different tables, there were numerous pieces of equipment lying around on the floor, obstructing the way. Just like many blueprints the contents of which the doll couldn’t make heads or tails of were hung up the walls or threatening to slide off the tables. 

However, the most fascinating thing of it all had to be the weak pulse of light coming from behind what seemed to be either a closet or another small room located at the far end of the atelier. It pulsed with energy, the same kind of energy travelling all over the workshop, nay, the palace, only purer, clearer, more powerful. 

The Divine Doll didn’t even register taking the first step deeper into the room and towards the energy source, entranced by its call. It was like those mysterious pulses she kept feeling now and then, resonating with her and reverberating all over her being. But also different. It just compelled her to get closer. To reach out and—.

“Amalia! Good afternoon!”

She was stopped dead by Chibi jumping out of a portal right in front of her. His usual laidback grin was as contagious as always, causing her to manage a small, trembling smile of her own even as she tried to recover from the fright. Sliding one arm around her shoulders, the tanned Eliatrope continued talking as if he hadn’t just scared about a century or two out of her lifespan. Hadn’t the doll been so out of it, she might have noticed he seemed to be gently leading her away from the gates guarding that mysterious energy. 

“Good afternoon, Chibi. It’s good to see you again.” She managed. 

“Let me just say, Grougal and I weren’t expecting you.” Right as he said that, the dragon in question appeared from behind a column, offering the Sadida Doll a curt nod of acknowledgement that she returned with a weak, but friendly, wave. “We were actually expecting Baltazar to come at some point, asking for them.”

He led her straight to a nearby table, motioning for her to sit down after pulling out a chair for his surprise guest. With a soft ‘Thank you’, it was Amalia’s turn to explain. “Apparently, he was busy today so he couldn't come himself, and since I was headed to the palace anyway, he asked me for a favour.” She shrugged, unbothered. “As I said, I was planning on coming back either way, so…”

“Still, it is rare for Baltazar to delegate something so minor on somebody else.” Grougaloragran pointed out, coming to join them at the table. “Normally, he would take care of it himself some other day. When it comes to lending books, he’s much more of a giver than a taker.”

“Maybe he needs them for an upcoming lesson he’s prepping up?” Amalia offered. She furrowed her brow when the Ebony Twins just exchanged a glance, clearly not convinced. 

“Maybe…” Chibi conceded, drawing out the words slowly. Then he perked up, seemingly choosing to ruminate those thoughts later. “Anyway, here are the books, Amalia. Thank Baltazar on our behalf; hopefully, we’ll be able to apply what we’ve learned from them.”

Grougaloragran pulled a few tomes out of his white robes and handed them over to the doll, who, after letting out an ‘oof!’ due to the unexpected weight, could only tilt her head in confusion as she read the titles. A perk of living on Oma Island with the Eliatropes was that one of the first things she learned was how to read their language (draconic speech notwithstanding). A downside of it was that she still had a long way to go before she could understand everything.

And what was written on those books she had no idea what it said. 

For a moment, she pondered whether she would be too nosy for asking, but curiosity won out against good manners and, before she knew it, she blurted out, “Uh, if you don’t mind my asking, what did you need these for?”

She blinked at Grougaloragran’s answer, “Grougaloragran and Chibi just wanted to know if they held the answers to some of their questions.”

The white-haired Eliatrope flashed his brother a wry smile, amused at his enigmatic answer, but especially at the discombobulate look on the doll’s face. Whatever Amalia had been expecting when she asked, it sure wasn’t that. 

Normally, Chibi would leave it at that, thank Amalia again before bidding her goodbye, and focus back on their work. There was much that needed to be done and their constant setbacks weren’t helping them any when it came to making progress. Rather, instead of learning from their mistakes, they just found new ways to make them. 

One thing was patience being the mother of science. One thing was trial and error. But another, very different thing was being absolutely, hopelessly stuck. More than once he found himself hoping he’d get one of his visions and that would miraculously lead to a breakthrough, but no such luck. 

Sometimes he couldn’t help wondering what was the point in being a prophet if he didn’t have a say in the things he could see and when. It would certainly be of use with creative blocks. That was a problem they hadn’t really dealt with since their days designing the Zenit, judging from Qilby and Shinonomé’s retellings. And Chibi couldn’t deny he liked it much better when his and Grougal’s creative juices flowed freely. 

They’d been putting off helping Mrs. Minervante pick some curtains due to this for weeks! Say what you will about her, but that woman had impeccable taste when it came to interior design and the Ebony Twins, passionate as they were for their craft, had to respect that. 

It was in spite of all this—their inherent perfectionism; their tight, self-imposed deadline; their drive to give their people even the slightest sense of normalcy and familiarity in unfamiliar territory—, Chibi surprised himself by taking a few minutes to seriously consider and try to answer Amalia’s question. 

“What my brother means, Amalia,” the doll’s head snapped over to Chibi, her brows furrowed as she listened attentively, “is we’ve been having a bit of trouble working on a new invention lately.” He sent her a lazy smile. “So we were hoping we’d be able to figure things out if we had more information.”

Amalia let his words sink in, taking her sweet time in processing them. That was right. It had completely slipped her mind that those two weren’t just the brilliant minds behind the design and construction of both the palace and village, but they were also their people’s greatest inventors. To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t really spent all that much time with them since she redecorated her room, so it was easy to forget their multiple facets beyond ‘interior design nuts.’

It turned out even geniuses had creative blocks every now and then. Huh, who would’ve thought?

Her curiosity piqued, the Divine Doll couldn’t help but ask, leaning closer from her seat, “May I ask what kind of invention has been giving you trouble?”

The dark-clothed Eliatrope sent his older brother a questioning look, silently asking for permission—and not-so-silently via their psychic bond. 

Grougal’s golden, slitted eyes flickered between his twin and their guest, unsure. It wasn’t that he didn’t like or even trust Amalia, thanks to his wakfu vision, he had been able to see she meant them no harm practically as soon as she arrived; it was just that he tended to be a little squeamish when it came to whom he allowed near their inventions. Especially the unfinished ones. 

Eventually, he gave in with a sigh, throwing his head back slightly in surrender. It wasn’t like secrecy really mattered anymore, not after Chibi told her loud and clear the reason they needed Baltazar’s help in the first place. Besides, they were already making zero progress. What was Amalia knowing going to do, stuck them more?

Amalia scurried to her feet, honestly surprised, when Grougaloragran raised a clawed hand and gestured for her to come with him, Chibi following right behind her. So, raising from her chair, she walked right behind the humanoid dragon, not knowing what to expect as he led her deeper into their workshop. 

She let her eyes roam around the space for a little while longer, her brown orbs following the patterns drawn on the walls by the wakfu lines almost on autopilot. Her neck craned instinctively as her eyes tried to follow the energy pulses all over the room and up to where they ended—or began, depending on how you looked at it. 

She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice when Grougaloragran stopped walking and she bumped right into his back. Letting out a small sound of protest, she brought a hand to her nose and gingerly nursed it. 

“Amalia, are you okay?” Chibi asked, his hazel eyes shining with concern, but mostly amusement. 

She waved him off with a motion of her free hand. “Yes, yes, don’t worry. I wasn’t really looking where I was going, that’s all.”

Speaking of… Where were they? Blinking rapidly to focus, the Sadida Doll peered over the dragon’s shoulder—who stood with his arms crossed over his white tunic as he waited for his two companions to be done with their conversation—and finally took in her surroundings. 

They were still inside their workshop, that much was obvious. But it was somehow even more disorganised than the area she had just been in. Tucked away into a corner was a relatively small space, not unlike a grotto, hidden away from the rest of the world behind a large, thick curtain that was currently drawn to the side, revealing its contents. 

Draped all over the walls were even more blueprints she didn’t really understand, alongside papers with countless equations, unfinished or scribbled over, and lists with certain elements crossed out or with arrows sticking out of them and pointing and what she could only imagine were corrections. Gaze lowering, she laid her eyes on another golden gear right below sticking out from the wall, flanked by two stools, and equally overflowing with contents: an assortment of unused pieces, tools, and scrap metals were scattered over its surface, some dangling dangerously close to the edge while others had long fallen to the floor, where they laid, forgotten. Trays and glasses with nothing but crumbs or half-eaten food already revealed that the Ebony Twins hadn’t really left their wing of the palace in a while, not even to eat. 

While a part of Amalia couldn’t help but be concerned for their health, what held her attention was the unfinished contraption standing out amidst the mess, almost as if beckoning her to focus on it. Either she had a good eye, or Chibi must have noticed her looking at it, for he gestured at the mysterious object to explain:

“This,” he began, picking up the rectangular and surprisingly thin object and dropping it gently into the doll’s careful hands, “is what’s been depriving us of sleep lately. As you can see, it’s not quite finished yet, but with Baltazar’s books, hopefully soon.”

“What is it?” Amalia asked, almost absentmindedly. 

Fully aware that what she had was something important to her hosts, she gingerly moved it around in her hands, giving it a good glance-over. It was a small, metallic rectangle with a smooth glass on one side and rather rudimentary circuitry on the other, which, if she had to guess, she’d say was probably the part that remained unfinished. Even so, despite its unpolished state, the doll had to admit it was considerably sleek, so much so, she was actually looking forward to the finished product. 

Even if she had no idea what it could be. In her eyes, it looked like a very futuristic hand mirror. She wrinkled her nose at her own thoughts. She seriously doubted the Eliatropes’ greatest minds would have that much trouble with something that had already been invented. 

As the saying went, ‘if it’s not broken, don’t fix it.’ Which was doubly true when talking about mirrors, especially if you were superstitious. 

Although, to be perfectly honest, even Grougaloragran’s answer didn’t do much to enlighten her: 

“Back in our homeworld, that was called a cellphone.” He said, leaning closer to Amalia and pointing at the ‘cellphone’ in her hands with one claw. “Our people used them to communicate with each other immediately, even at long distance.”

“All they needed to work was to be connected to the Wik-Fi Network, a connection Grougal and I developed that used radio waves to transmit data to the Wakfu Core, which at the same time allowed for every cellphone user to be in contact with each other and to communicate.” Chibi rambled, too engrossed in his explanation to realise all his techno-babble went right over his guest’s head. 

As he spoke and Amalia’s expression grew more and more dumbstruck, the Eliatrope raised a glowing palm in the air. Curious, brown eyes following the direction it was pointed at, the doll managed to vaguely make out a moderately-sized object standing not too far away from them right before a portal opened up right beneath it and swallowed it whole. She stared blankly at the now vacant space for a few more seconds before the sight of that very same object emerging from the floor and right in front of her startled her, causing her to almost drop the cellphone in surprise. 

“If Grougaloragran may…” Ever the cautious one, the black dragon gently pried the device from her hands and placed it back on the table. 

As much as she would’ve liked to be offended at the silent implication that she couldn’t be trusted with it, all Amalia could do was blush and laugh sheepishly instead as she toyed absently with a strand of her hair. To be fair, she did almost drop and break it just now. 

Deciding it’d be best if she played it cool for now, the doll focused back on the prism she now had right in front of her. It was a blue, square-shaped object with golden details decorating every corner and lining up the edges. Some small lights located alongside the base flickered on and off, shining the same bright turquoise she had long learned to associate with the portal-making people. Glinting underneath the room’s faint light and on top of the base of the artefact was what appeared to be a button of some kind, a dark shell inside a golden circumference pierced by straight lines that brought to mind the outline of a portal. Several more, smaller buttons surrounded it, each of them in charge of their own unknown function but clearly nowhere near as important as the one they all guarded. 

Despite himself, Grougaloragran couldn’t help but chuckle at the owlish look on the Divine Doll’s face as her eyes trailed all over the object, but it was Chibi who continued on with the explanation. “And this is the Wakfu Core. Thankfully, we managed to bring it with us from home and it is still operational. Talk about luck, too!” He made a show out of wiping his forehead at the same time as he let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Getting a cellphone to work is a walk in the park compared to trying to rebuild the Wakfu Core from scratch. It would have been nearly impossible even for us!”

“Is it really that important?” Amalia couldn’t help but ask, failing to grasp the true significance of it all. She knelt down and gingerly slid one hand over the machine’s smooth surface, and almost snatched it away when she noticed it was actually warm to the touch. 

“Extremely so.” The black dragon replied, the gravely inflection in his voice conveying just how serious he was. “It may not look like it, but this little friend over here powers the vast majority of our technology. From the lamps in the village, to the Eliaculus.”

“The Eliaculus—?”

“Without it, we would be left unable to perform even the simplest of tasks for a very long time. Our only chance would be relying on far more primitive and rudimentary methods to get by.” Chibi added, returning the Wakfu Core to its previous place just as quickly as he first summoned it. 

“You mean like lighting candles during nightfall?” Amalia offered as she stood up from her crouched down position, mentally resigning herself to accept her question went ignored but choosing to let it go. 

“Precisely.” Grougal nodded. 

“Alright. Then what seems to be the problem?” Just as the doll asked, Chibi grabbed a pair of safety goggles from a nearby shelf and put them on. She involuntarily let out a small gasp of excitement, her body standing to attention at the possibility of finally seeing an Eliatrope with his hood off—although a part of her really wished it had been Yugo—, only to softly whine in disappointment when the robed Eliatrope turned her back to her and somehow got the glasses on with his hood still in its place. 

When Chibi finally turned back around, goggles safely in their place, he couldn’t help but raise a confused eyebrow at the doll’s slumped shoulders and sour expression, his twin soon mimicking his actions. “Um… Are you okay, Amalia?”

“What?” Fretting when she realised she wasn’t doing that good a job at hiding her disappointment, she immediately straightened herself back, an awkwardly big grin that didn’t really fool anyone on her face. “O-oh, yes. Of course. Everything-everything is fine.” Then, cheeks burning under their intense scrutiny and her own mediocre acting, she sputtered, “S-so, you were saying?”

“Okay…” The Eliatrope drawled out the word, sharing one last look with his twin before walking past the doll and toward the table. Pulling one of the stools away, he plopped himself down on top of it and began to tinker with their unfinished prototype. “Well, as we were saying, our main problem is that we just can’t get the cellphone to connect to the Wik-Fi Network, therefore, it simply doesn’t work. However, if Baltazar’s books are right, all that’s needed are some minor adjustments and problem solved!”

Amalia couldn’t help but gape in awe when, with a purposeful twirl of his fingers, Chibi summoned forth a few wisps of energy that he then molded into a small hammer and a pair of pincers. While she already knew Eliatropes could use their magic to shape wakfu into energy objects, she had only ever seen Yugo summon his trusty sword and shield, so the sight of Chibi’s own choice of tools still took her by surprise. Although she had to admit his preference for actual instruments rather than traditional weapons suited him perfectly. 

She watched on as he poked and rearranged and altered the circuitry, small sparks flying every which way with every touch of his tools, lighting up the corner. She was completely transfixed by the process, hands clasped before her chest and a beaming smile stretching her lips. However, when the doll chanced a glance the black dragon’s way, her doe-like eyes soon darkened with concern. 

The Divine Doll had long come to understand Grougaloragran was, for the most part, a rather stoic dragon. The only things that really got his blood pumping were his position within the Council of Six, their people’s safety and well-being in jeopardy, and the mere suggestion that you didn’t agree with his and his brother’s expert opinion on home décor. So it really wasn’t a surprise to see he wasn’t nearly as awestruck as her by his twin’s work (really, it was to be expected as he most likely saw it on an everyday basis). What the green-haired doll hadn’t been expecting, however, was the deep frown framing his golden eyes, nor the way his jaw tensed. 

Before she could ask him if anything was wrong, though, he blurted out, “Chibi, are you sure you know what you’re doing? Those are far too many sparks for Grougaloragran’s liking…”

His brother just waved his hand dismissively with a psh sound, not once tearing his hazel eyes off his task. “You worry too much, Brother. According to what I read, we just need to weld circuit A and circuit B together and it’ll be perfectly functional—.”

Just then, the cellphone caught on fire. 

Amalia screamed, acting on instinct and coming to hide behind the humanoid dragon, who couldn’t help but take a step back in alarm even as he instinctively used his body and spread his arms wide to shield the frightened Sadida Doll. 

Jolting in his place, it took a few seconds for Chibi to fully process what just happened. As soon as he did he let out a loud stream of curses and jerked away from the table so fast he knocked over his stool in the process. 

This was bad. This was really bad. If the fire got out of control… Even if he didn’t dare finish that thought, his eyes still flickered all over the room and at the very flammable objects held within. All those blueprints, the highly volatile oils and substances they sometimes worked with, the pots overflowing with flowers… His eyes trailed over Amalia’s form, his stomach dropping to his feet as he took in her leafy, green hair, her plant-based clothing, her dark skin that he had seen become raggedy fabric with his own two eyes… Even now he idly wondered if it was some kind of hyper-realistic fabric known only to Sadida or if in turn it was actual skin. 

One stern glare from his twin brought him back to the present and away from his crafting-oriented train of thought. 

“Hey, Amalia?” He called out to her, surprising even himself with the relative steadiness of his voice given the circumstances. “Given you're a Sadida Doll, will you burn?”

Wide, alarmed eyes darted back and forth between the Eliatrope and the quickly increasing fire in utter disbelief for a few seconds, her shock slowly hardening into outrage as she steadily lost her grip on her emotions. Finally, hysteria took over and she snapped, “I don't know, but I don't feel like finding out!”

“Good point.”

“Chibi, now is not the time for idle conversation!” Grougaloragran groaned, incredulous. He loved his brother to death, he really did, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would be the death of him. Although, if he could choose, preferably not in a fire of their own making if it was possible. “Do something about the fire!”

“It’s alright! There is no need to panic!” Chibi tried to reassure them. Not wasting a second, his hazel eyes began to scan the room with renewed purpose. There had to be something he could use to put out the fire, but what? As he kept one watchful eye on the growing flames, he racked his brain for every single fact he knew about fires, trusting his vast experience with lab-related accidents to come through for him and give him an idea on what to do. 

“Okay, Chibi. You got this.” He told himself, taking yet another cautionary step backwards and away from the burning table. “Fire. We’re dealing with fire. And what do we know about fire? We know it’s the rapid oxidation of a material in the exothermic chemical process of combustion, releasing heat, light, and various reaction products. The flames are the visible portion of the fire, and they are made of carbon dioxide, water vapor, nitrogen and… Oxygen! Fire needs oxygen to burn!”

Eyes widening at that crucial piece of information, the white-haired Eliatrope didn’t waste a single second. He reached for the clasps of his dark cloak and tore it off, revealing the golden plates protecting his upper body and the black bodysuit he wore underneath. He didn’t have to worry about uncovering his head since his ever prepared mind was always two steps ahead; he had long decided it was far more convenient if instead of wearing a hooded cape he sewed it onto his bodysuit. That way he could move more freely in combat without having to feel even more exposed. 

He was so focused on putting out the fire with the discarded piece of garment, he didn’t hear Amalia’s disappointed whine. More glaringly, however, was the fact that Grougaloragran’s warning came too late, “Chibi, no! Wait—!”

“Huh?”

Just as he turned his head around to send a questioning look at his dragon twin over his shoulder, the Eliatrope flinched when the crackling sound of the flames only intensified, alongside Amalia’s high-pitched cries. Heart thumping wildly in his chest, he whirled his head back around so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash, only to confirm what he already feared; somehow, trying to deprive the fire of oxygen had only made things worse. 

“But I don’t understand!” He exclaimed as he came to stand beside Grougal and Amalia. His eyes wide and frantic. “Without oxygen, most fires die and fizzle out on their own! My cape should have done just that!” He complained when Grougaloragran, face contorted into the most equally aggravated and frantic expression he had seen on his face in a really long time, smacked him on the back of his head. 

“Grougal, now is not the time to devolve into barbaric behaviour! We have a fire to put out!”

But the dragon’s unamused frown only deepened something fierce. “Chibi.” He started after a deep exhale from his nose. His last attempt at remaining calm. “Care to remind Grougaloragran what you used to deprive the fire of oxygen?”

It was Chibi’s turn to frown, only he was just confused. “Why, my cape, of course.”

His two index fingers clasped and tapping them against his nose, the dragon hummed. “Right. You mean the same cape you often use to clean your hands off the many substances we work with? Including highly flammable ones?”

 The Eliatrope had the decency to blanch as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ is right.” Grougaloragran deadpanned. 

Amalia could only look back and forth between the quarreling brothers, incredulous, all the while she grew poignantly aware of the growing fire that wouldn’t take long to reach them just a few metres away from them. Somebody needed to do something, and they were done for if those two didn’t get their priorities in order. 

“Guys!” She screeched, finally drawing their attention, the two of them blinking down at her in clear surprise. Amalia tried to let the fact that they’d clearly forgotten she was even there in the first place slide. For now. They had more pressing matters to tend to. “Hate to interrupt, but in case you forgot, there’s a fire in the middle of your workshop!”

Flinching at the reminder, the two of them had the decency to look chagrined for a moment, before the severity of the situation dawned on them and they shook their heads in unison. They had to focus. 

“Any ideas on how to deal with that?” Chibi asked. 

Grougaloragran shook his head, while Amalia said, “I’m afraid I can’t do much either. My powers are connected to plant-life; I highly doubt my vines will be of much help save for serving as kindling.”

She silently cursed her luck. All that training with Master Glip to be able to think fast in times of crisis, and the first threat she faced without Yugo by her side had to be the only one where she was virtually useless. Ecaflip had to be having a field trip with her. 

The dark-haired dragon raised an eyebrow. “What about your dolls? You said they can be used for a great variety of purposes, including clearing the air from toxins.” But Amalia just shook her head sadly at his suggestion. 

“While it’s true I could use my dolls to try and absorb the fire, they’re all in my garden at the moment. Too far away from me to summon them. And I’m still working on developing the seeds needed to create a bunch of portable, rapid-growth ones. They won’t arrive on time.”

“Wait, that’s it!” Chibi startled his two companions, an idea already forming in his mind. He pointed at the fire and instructed, “Grougal, blow the fire!”

“What?!” The dragon sputtered. “Chibi, you know Grougaloragran cannot do that! If he does, all he will do is breathe fire, which will only make matters worse!”

“Yeah… I don’t think the whole ‘fight fire with fire’ thing will really be useful in this context…” Amalia had to agree, air-quoting. 

Chibi smacked his head, cursing himself for his inappropriate wording. “Wait, no, that’s not it. I meant the opposite of blowing!”

“You mean breathe in?” The doll offered. 

“Yes, exactly!” He turned to Grougal. “Brother, you are a dragon! Fire cannot hurt your lungs. If anyone can inhale the fumes and the flames and come out unscathed, that’s you.”

Grougaloragran’s eyes widened as he realised his brother had a point. He had to at least try. With a confident nod, he strutted closer to the burning table, the fire spreading all over the small space yet thankfully remaining relatively controlled for the time being. Firmly planting his feet on the sleek surface of the floor, the dragon took a deep breath, his back arching as he inhaled all the air around him and, with it, the flames. His throat felt a little scratchy from the smoke and the tongues of fire licking at his esophagus, but he pushed through. He’d had worse whenever the chef felt like cooking something spicy for dinner. 

He didn’t stop until he was sure he had everything. Only then did he swallow the hot sensation back down, a small burp escaping him and tendrils of smoke peeking out of his nostrils as he apologised sheepishly. 

And just like that, the crisis had been aborted. They could finally release the collective breath of relief they had all been folding. 

“See, I told you there was no reason to panic.” Chibi said, standing proud with his hands on his hips.

Only for the fire to start up again no sooner had the air left their lungs.

“Okay, time to panic.” The Eliatrope squeaked, eye twitching. 

And panic they did. 

Any semblance of calm and level-headedness flew right out of the nonexistent window at the sight of the persistent flames, all that was left was collective hysteria. The three of them began to run around in circles like headless chickens all around the area, their arms flailing wildly around them as they screamed.

Well, Amalia was going in circles and flailing her arms around, her green ponytail a frazzled mess. Chibi and Grougaloragran were standing face to face as the latter repeatedly shook the former by the shoulders, all the while the Eliatrope kept smacking his twin in the forehead, both of them frantically yelling at the other to ‘Think, think, think!’

They all froze when the crackling got more intense, hazel, golden, and brown eyes owlishly and comically large as they observed the flames grow higher for a few agonising seconds. Only for all Shukrute to break loose when the fiery tongues started making their way towards them. 

And to think it all came from an object the size of their palm!

Rushing forward to the other side of the workshop in a blind panic, only to collide against the walls, not for the first time that day Amalia had to bite back her personal, very justified opinion on how ironic and downright moronic was that a pair of design enthusiasts like Chibi and Grougal didn’t think it appropriate to have windows in their own work zone. Lips pursed into a tight line that only barely kept her groaning at bay, she punched the wall in frustration, grimacing at the ache coursing through her fist right after. 

Her face contorted in pain, she shook her hand in hopes of ridding it of the unpleasant sensation when she caught sight of a blinking light from the corner of her eye. Doing a double take, she snapped her head to the side, where she stood, frozen and cursing their clear struggles with working under pressure, slapping a hand against her forehead.

Because right as there was a fire going on around them, one they had no idea how to put out, Chibi and Grougaloragran were busy trying to save their many ongoing projects, prototypes, surviving tools, and books. The dragon scurried to grab as much as he could into his large arms, only to then unceremoniously drop them into the portal his Eliatrope twin kept open as he told him to hurry up or not to forget certain things. 

Amalia could feel her eye twitch.

Mustering every ounce of self-control she possessed not to screech at them, she uttered, her voice deceivingly calm, “Chibi, aren’t you an Eliatrope?”

The aforementioned Eliatrope and his dragon twin halted in their task long enough to send her a confused glance. Now wasn’t the time to be playing ‘Captain Obvious’! 

“Um, yeah? Obviously.” He shared a bewildered glance with Grougal, mentally asking each other if the stress had got to her and she had officially lost it. “Why do you ask?”

“Then why don't you just open a portal to get rid of the faulty prototype that threatens to burn us alive?!” She couldn’t take it anymore, she finally screeched, one hand pointing meaningfully at the ‘faulty prototype’ in question while her own glare burned holes into the twins’ skulls. 

Eliatrope and Dragon just blinked, the latter still carrying as many salvageable things as he could in his arms while the former kept the portal open. After a beat where the very irate doll’s words sank in, their mouths formed a perfect ‘o’ shape. 

“…Huh. Good call.” Chibi conceded at last. 

“Chibi!” Amalia snapped, urging him to wake up and do something.

“Right, right.” Raising his palms up, he dropped the portal he had already created and redirected his hands towards the table holding the source of their anxiety. Hands facing towards the fire, he willed a small vortex of wakfu to materialise right beneath the more than busted cellphone, the swirling energy engulfing it and, unbeknownst to them, scaring the living daylights out of a family that had been lounging around in the shore while on a beach outing as it unceremoniously plopped right into the ocean without a warning. 

And just like that, the fire was gone. This time for good. 

After a beat and making sure nothing else would suddenly combust, all Grougal could do was deadpan, “…Grougaloragran and Chibi cannot keep postponing to install a system of sprinklers in their workshop. It would have saved them a lot of trouble.”

All the air leaving her lungs in one enormous sigh of relief, Amalia fell down to the floor, the stressful experience leaving her practically boneless. “Oh, thank Sadida! I thought I was a goner for good!”

“Hey! Not to be disrespectful, but I’m the one who saved the day!” Chibi felt the need to point out, only for the doll’s unforgiving glare to shut him up. 

Grougaloragran shrugged, letting out a heavy sigh, “Back to the drawing board. Clearly, Baltazar’s books were wrong.”

But Chibi just shook his head. “Nah, his books are never wrong. My money’s on the materials being the problem. Clearly, we still haven’t found the right replacements.”

Her heartbeat back to normal, Amalia perked up at that, her interest piqued. She raised to her feet, her head tilted to the side in curiosity, as she took a few cautious steps towards the two inventors. “What do you mean the materials are the problem? And why are you talking about replacements?”

The Eliatrope gestured with his hand for her to get closer, before picking up a half-burnt piece of scrap metal from the scorched table—not without yelping and blowing hurriedly at it to cool it off—and showing it to her. 

“Cellphones are made with a special type of mineral known as ‘Eliatan’.” He began to explain. “It’s essential for them to work, as it channels the wakfu around them so the device becomes receptive to the radio waves coming from the Wakfu Core, hence, allowing the cellphone to connect to the Wik-Fi Network.”

Grougal continued, “Eliatan was fairly common in our homeworld, but apparently nonexistent here.” After a moment’s worth of consideration, he added, “Although, that isn’t necessarily surprising. After all, the Great Goddess is the source of all wakfu in the universe; it is only natural a world of her creation meant for her people would be more closely connected to life energy than one where no one worships her.”

Amalia didn’t have time to process that piece of information before Chibi went on with the improvised lecture:

“Even the inanimate objects were charged with wakfu!” The white-haired Eliatrope pointed out. Then he turned back to Amalia. “We’ve been trying to look for similar materials to build our new cellphones from, but there just doesn’t seem to be any homologues here on the World of Twelve. We thought we could always change our approach and that maybe the answer would be elsewhere, but…” He trailed off. 

“Clearly, we were wrong.” Grougal finished for him with a huff. 

Amalia didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what to even do. She really wished she could help them, but she was a Sadida Doll, her specialty was plants, not machines. She feared there really was nothing she could do to solve the problem. The realisation sent a painful pang to her heart; it was clear if Chibi and Grougal were so insistent on seeing this particular invention through, it had to be important.

Just then, as she was about to offer her condolences to the twins, she registered a faint motion from the corner of her eye. Following her line of sight, she took notice of a small petal falling from the flower pots located above their small station. An eager grin lifted her lips as an idea came to mind. 

“Then why don’t you stop trying to use inanimate objects?” She blurted out, startling the twins out of their conversation. 

“Come again?” Grougal said, raising an eyebrow. 

Amalia pushed through. “You said the World of Twelve is not as charged with wakfu as your homeworld, so there aren’t any raw materials that can channel its energy like you want them to, correct?”

They both nodded, trying to understand where she was getting to. 

“Then why don’t you try using materials that do have wakfu? Shouldn’t that make things easier?”

Chibi and Grougal exchanged a look of surprise, before turning their gazes back ahead as they pondered her hypothesis. “In theory,” Chibi began, his voice laced with caution, “that could work. After all, that does guarantee the wakfu will flow better. But what could we even use to achieve that? We can’t just take animals and use them as living batteries!”

“It would be extremely inhumane.” Grougaloragran agreed solemnly. 

“Then how about plants?” Amalia smirked. Then, under their astonished gazes, she stepped closer to the hanging pots and stood on her tippy toes as she gingerly picked one of the flowers up and presented it over to them. “Wakfu flows through plants naturally, and this way you could plant them all around the island in order to have a wide network. As for how humane it is…” She shrugged, trying to hide her own unease. “Well, it depends on if the process would hurt or not, and whatever the answer, we could always ask them first.”

“It wouldn’t hurt.” Chibi blurted out so fast he surprised even himself. “Unless we’re talking about a very high dose, enough to far exceed a mortal’s limits, having wakfu ‘injected into your system’,” he air-quoted, “feels more like a boost in energy than anything.”

“Then, what are we waiting for?” Amalia smiled. “Let’s give these little ones a boost.”

“But Grougaloragran and Chibi aren’t botanists.” The dragon pointed out. He hated to be the one poking holes at their plan, but they couldn’t keep going in blindly about it. It would be too risky. “We do not know how to make this work.”

“Luckily for you, I do.” The doll grinned proudly, bringing a hand to her chest. She looked back down at the flower in her hand and gently caressed it with a finger. “I can use my magic to better prepare it for the energy intake, but I will need you to infuse it with wakfu. As you said, the World of Twelve is different to your homeworld, even if life energy flows through plant-life—.”

“It might react differently to the waves coming from the Wik-Fi Network.” Chibi finished for her, eyes widening as he finally understood where the doll was trying to get at. 

If Amalia was right, that could indeed be the answer to their problems! All they would need to do was to develop a new species of flower—which should be a piece of cake with a Sadida Doll by their side—and plant them all over Oma Island. It certainly was different from usual, maybe it would even pose a bit of a challenge, but the possibilities were endless…

He turned to his dark-haired brother. “What do you say? Wanna give it a try?”

After a moment of consideration, Grougal just shrugged. “It can’t be worse than almost setting the workshop on fire…” A puff of air escaped him when an enthused Chibi excitedly grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him flush to his side in a side hug. But even as he rolled his eyes at his twin’s antics, the dragon couldn’t help the small, affectionate smile that formed on his lips. 

Now that they had Grougaloragran’s approval, Chibi and Amalia grinned at each other with starry eyes, a sense of anticipation bubbling up inside them. The Eliatrope didn’t waste any time coming to stand beside the doll. 

“So, what do you need us to do?”

Amalia looked down at the flower in her hands, then at the sleek, metallic floor, and back up at Chibi, her brow furrowed in concentration as she pondered her options. 

“Can you get me a pot with some soil in it? I need to plant this somewhere for my idea to work.”

With a nod, Chibi looked over at Grougal, who was already ten steps ahead of him with a small ceramic pot and some ground at the ready. He took it out of his twin’s hands and placed it on the floor and right in front of Amalia, just like she requested. 

It was Amalia’s turn. She crouched down in front of the pot and dug into the soil a little bit with her free hand, enough so she could safely place the flower inside it. Glancing up at the Eliatrope, she motioned with her hand for him to follow, silently urging him to come to stand at her eye-level. 

Delicately touching the white petals with both hands, she instructed, “First, I’m going to transfer some of my magic to the flower in order to prepare it for the sudden intake of wakfu it’s about to receive. At my signal, I need you to synchronise its energy with the waves coming from the Wakfu Core. Do you think you can do that?”

“Like Grougal said, it can’t hurt to try.”

Knowing that was the best they were probably going to get, Amalia nodded her head and took a deep breath to steady herself. As she let her fingers mindlessly trail over the snow-white petals at her reach, she concentrated on the familiar energy at her fingertips, letting it transfer from the flower to her veins. At the same time as the flower’s wakfu coursed all over her body, she willed her own life force to redirect itself towards the bud, allowing her lips to lift upwards into a small smile as she sensed the process strengthening her little friend’s core and preparing it for what lay ahead. 

That ever-present mysterious pull made its presence known once more, but instead of getting distracted by trying to trace it back to its source, Amalia welcomed it, taking advantage of the small energy boost it granted her.

Eyes never leaving the task at hand, she called out for the inventor, “Now, Chibi.”

Acting fast, Chibi placed his own hands on top of Amalia’s. He couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped his throat as he felt the current of wakfu transfering itself both ways. Shaking his head back into focus, he mimicked the doll’s actions, closing his eyes; only he was trying to link the flower’s energy with the waves coming from the Wakfu Core. 

After what felt like an eternity of futilely searching and fearing they would have to give up, a jolt ran down his system. 

That was it. That was the core’s signature! 

Refusing to let it slip away, Chibi reached out for the wave of energy he just sensed and mentally pulled. He pulled with all his might until the links between the flower and the core were within touching distance and, with one final push, he tied them all together. 

Grougaloragran’s astonished gasp was the only thing that broke them out of their trance. 

Hazel and brown eyes snapping open in surprise, all Amalia and Chibi could do was stare in gleeful disbelief at the sight in front of them. The flower’s stem had grown exponentially, to the point it now probably reached past their waists if they stood at their full height. While it had yet to fully bloom when Amalia had picked it out, its beautiful white petals were now open wide and proud, revealing a beautiful, blue swirling vortex where the seeds used to be. 

“Did it work?” The doll asked, equally parts fascinated and apprehensive by their possible scientific breakthrough.

“Only one way to find out.” Grougaloragran said, reaching a hand out towards the flower. Closing his eyes, he projected his own wakfu onto the plant and waited. After a beat where a heavy silence reigned over all three of them, the dragon’s golden eyes snapped open when he heard the telltale sound of a working phone line on the other end of the connection. 

“It… It works!” He exclaimed, his voice tremulous, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. And he certainly wouldn’t have believed it hadn’t he heard it for himself.

Chibi and Amalia broke down in celebratory cheers at the news, hugging each other tightly for their successful teamwork, each of them insisting it was all the other’s doing and that they had merely helped. They even brought a still catatonic Grougal into the hug, the sudden action snapping him out of it as he half-heartedly tried to pry them off of him, the grin never leaving his face no matter how much he tried to hide it. 

After they calmed down a little, remembering they wanted to establish an island-wide network, with a swirl of her hand over the flower’s centre, Amalia summoned a sizable amount of seeds she then entrusted to the inventors. All they needed to do was plant them around Oma and their Wik-Fi Network would be good to go!

And with that, they all bid each other goodbye for the time being, still buzzing from their success. 

As the doll left the workshop for the day, secretly hoping she wouldn’t have to come back in a really long time despite her giddiness at having been of help, all three of them failed to realise the books she originally came looking for were laid forgotten on the table she’d been seated at upon arriving. Or the fact that Baltazar didn’t ask for them when he met up with either of them later on. 

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

The upside of living on a tropical island was that temperatures tended to remain cool and pleasant. Even at night, whenever a storm wasn’t brewing, the air would remain consistently warm, with only the slightest bit of crispness as gentle breezes ensured the heat wouldn’t become unbearably stuffy. Not to mention the clear view of the beautiful stellar canvas shining above the territory, guiding sailors and travellers alike to safe port, as well as providing wonderful scenery for anyone out and about. Something to get lost gazing at. 

But even idyllic landscapes weren’t immune to cloudy weather, even when the weather was nice. And dense clouds traversing harmlessly through the dark canvas of the nighttime sky was the perfect cover when one wanted to do some surveillance without being noticed. 

While the dark plumage all over her body offered great camouflage, the same couldn’t be said for her wings—between their rather striking colouration and her considerable wingspan, remaining hidden as she glided over the island was proving itself to be more trouble than she had originally anticipated. But it had to be done. While she usually didn’t like to get involved until the right time had come, she was the only one with the aerial skills required for her current mission. 

If they wanted to learn more about Amalia and the Eliatropes, they couldn’t afford to wait until they were allowed into the next political gathering. If they wanted information, they had to go straight to the source and get it themselves. 

Coqueline had offered to send her seagulls once again to keep watch and to report back to them, but her leader quickly dismissed the idea. As useful as the demigoddess Osamodas’ powers were for stealth and infiltration missions, especially when they could just send a seemingly unsuspecting animal to gather intel for them, it was a risk they couldn’t take at the moment. Not after that periwinkle, legless dragon seemed to have sensed they were being watched, even if he apparently didn’t figure out the birds flying around Oma were the cause of his unease.

With one mighty flap of her wings, she abandoned her hiding spot and ventured a little closer to the palace, all the while keeping a sizable distance in case she needed to retreat. Her sneaky eyes narrowed as they took in the light coming from what Coqueline had assured her were the Sadida Doll’s chambers. Although they weren’t exactly easy to miss—it was the only room in the entirety of the palace that more closely resembled a greenhouse than someone’s private quarters.

She bit back a low curse. While there was light coming from inside and the shadows reflected on the walls indicated movement, Amalia remained out of sight. Her nightly routine most likely took place away from the balcony or the large windowpane leading to it. And to make matters worse, she was beginning to get tired. Though she wasn’t a stranger to remaining afloat for extended periods of time, she was beginning to yearn for a place from where to perch herself to, but alas, the Brotherhood’s goal wouldn’t allow it. 

Not when she could become an easy target with her talons gripping a railing. 

Her mother must have been paying attention to her plight and, as always, decided to remain completely unhelpful to her child, for just as she tried to get a little bit closer to get a better look at Amalia’s room and the doll herself, she caught movement from the corner of her eyes. 

Head swiveling to the side, her bright yellow orbs shrunk significantly as she caught sight of a humanoid white-and-blue dragon headed her way. The snarl on his maw and shining blue eyes alerting her that, much like the periwinkle dragon, he must have sensed her, draconic wings fluttering almost frantically as he searched for the intruder and possible threat. Momentarily frozen on the spot, she vaguely remembered Count Harebourg identifying an identical-looking dragon as King Yugo’s very own twin and right-hand man, which would only seal her fate if she were to be caught, before snapping out of it and commencing her retreat.

But even as she used the dark veil of the night to cover her tracks and hide herself from view, the Eliatrope dragon was relentless in his pursuit. Only a few metres of distance kept her from getting captured and their plans being put in jeopardy. Then, as she failed to lose her pursuant even after diving headfirst towards the ocean, only to do a feint at the very last second and ascend once again, she couldn’t help but slap her forehead in frustration when she realised his enhanced senses—the same that had allowed him to recognise her presence in the first place—most likely meant he had locked in on her. 

It would take nothing sort of a miracle to escape. 

The wind whipping through her locks, she frowned and groaned in resignation. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to resort to this, as it would risk her anonymity and temporarily unveil her identity, but it was shaping itself up to be her only chance. 

Loathe as she was to admit it, it was better to leave clues behind but to escape than to let yourself be captured. 

Thus, with a resigned sigh, she spread her wings wide and concentrated all her power within her very core. As soon as it reached its apex, her energy expanded all over her body, a faint purple light momentarily outlining and emphasising her features. Then, under the astonished gaze of the dragon hot on her trail, a series of particles detached themselves from her body. Taking advantage of the fact that her back was to him, she took one of those particles in her hand, right at the same time as her pursuer came back to his senses and sped forward with the intention of apprehending her. 

However, just as she could feel his claws graze her back, there was a bright flash of light that forced her would-be capturer to halt mid-air and shield his eyes. When he lowered his forearm after a few seconds, his jaw dropped. 

She had vanished without a trace. 

Or so he thought. Blinking rapidly a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him allowed him to realise their runaway intruder hadn’t been as sneaky as she thought. Eyes darting towards the clues she left behind, he didn’t waste a second and dove, reaching out for them. 

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

Yugo waited in his balcony for Adamaï to come back to report his findings during the night shift of their patrol, barely stifling a yawn. He might be used to waking up with the dawn of day, but that necessarily didn’t mean he couldn’t be tired still. Especially when he stayed up late revising some urgent documents. 

Kingship was a full-time job. 

The ears on his hood perked up as he finally made out the advancing form of his twin, headed straight towards him. He raised a hand in the air to enthusiastically wave at him, only for his smile to falter at the expression on Adamaï’s face. He was far too alert and on edge for someone who had just pulled an all-nighter. 

Something was wrong. 

He made sure to ask him about it as soon as he landed in front of him. “Ad, is everything alright?”

Adamaï didn’t beat around the bush, he wasn’t sure they could even afford to, “I caught someone spying on us last night.” He winced as he forced himself to look his brother in the eye for what he was about to reveal, “I found them near Amalia’s room.”

Yugo’s blood turned cold. Eyes flashing angrily and protectively, his voice grew steely, “They ran away, didn’t they?”

“She.” Adamaï corrected him, but that didn’t change the fact that the ‘she’ in question wasn’t apprehended by his side at the moment. “But yes, she ran away.”

“Wait, ‘she’? Ad, did you get a good look at her?” He cursed his luck when his brother shook his head in the negative. But of course, they couldn’t be so lucky so as to at least know who to look for. 

Once again, Adamaï could only wince. 

“Not exactly… But, I can tell you this much: it wasn’t a Cra. She wasn’t riding any birds like their soldiers.” He rushed out to say, knowing that was Yugo’s next question. Then, he rubbed his neck sheepishly, averting eye contact. “To tell you the truth, Lil’ Bro, I’m not even sure what she was.”

Yugo’s brow furrowed in confusion at his admission. “What can you tell me about her? How do you even know it’s a woman, was it your wakfu vision?”

“Not quite.” The dragon admitted. “Her wakfu definitely hinted at her being female, but I didn’t fully confirm it until I was about to catch up to her, when she ran away.”

The king gestured for him to go on, his arms crossed as he listened to his twin’s retelling intently. He never in a million years would have been able to guess what Adamaï said next:

“Right as I was gaining on her she suddenly… began to glow.” He confessed, moving his arms around and gesturing wildly as if that action would help him convey his story better. “This faint purple glow outlined her whole body, lighting up the night sky, and I could finally make out her form: she was definitely a woman, a winged woman at that, and I’m pretty sure I also saw a pair of horns on her head. 

“To tell you the truth, I was so taken aback that it affected my reaction time, because even as I finally shook the shock off and set out to close the distance between us, it was too late.” He heaved a heavy sigh. He looked Yugo square in the eye. “She disappeared.”

The Eliatrope’s eyes widened at the revelation, his stomach churning in worry. A winged, horned woman who was seemingly capable of teleporting herself away had been spying on them, more specifically, on Amalia? That spelled trouble. They would have to double down on their defences and urge their guards to keep an eye out at all times. Not to mention the upcoming headache that would be informing their siblings of the situation. He was most certainly not looking forward to Efrim's response to it in particular. 

Even so, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. Who could their mysterious intruder possibly be? Or, more glaringly, what? Judging from Amalia’s explanations on the twelve gods and their followers and his experiences with them back in Bonta, no Twelvian filled the criteria needed to identify the woman. 

Apparently, the Osamodas were master shapeshifters, though their actual level of skill varied from individual to individual, which would explain the wings and horns. And, now that he thought about it, not only did he remember sensing something odd about their royal family, but one of their princesses was apparently the Sadida’s future queen consort. In other words, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe they would have some kind of secret interest in Amalia. But, even so, what about the teleportation spell? As far as he knew, they were incapable of such a feat. That was something only Xelors and his very own people could do. And while he wouldn’t put it past that wretched Harebourg to watch Amalia for his own twisted pleasure—his blood boiled at the mere thought—, it couldn’t possibly be him. Not when Adamaï had identified the spy as female. 

That still didn’t explain how she managed to escape, however. A recall potion, perhaps?

“But,” his twin’s words broke him out of his thoughts. “Not all is lost. She left something behind when she ran away.” He said before gingerly dropping something into his king’s awaiting palm. 

Yugo stared, wide-eyed, at what he had in his hand, before bringing it to his eye-level to study it more closely. Bewilderment overtook his features as he stared back at Adamaï and back at what he had in hand. 

“Black, white, and red feathers?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Leader of the Pack 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you’re promoted from wing woman to main star.

Characters: James Conrad, short!reader

Note: I'm Canadian so I get a three day weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“I defer to you,” James says as Sy grumbles over a near miss. “Call it.” 

You look at the table. Oh, right. Only the eight ball left. You examine the felt and consider every angle. It’s well out of your skill range. 

“I can’t...” 

“Certainly, you can,” he insists blithely, “I’ve no doubt.” 

You frown with tight lips, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

You walk around the table, one way, then the other, and back again. Sy lets out a deep sigh of irritation as Martyna giggles into her glass. How many drinks has she had? You resign yourself to failure and approach the trim. 

“Right corner,” you declare, though it is more murmur.  

You shift back and forth, trying to get the angle right. You squeeze the cue tight until your knuckles hurt. You loosen up as you glance away from the felt and your eyes meet James’. He shows no sign of anxiety. He simply watches. Patient. 

You open your dry lips and blow out between them. You narrow your sights on the ball and pull back. You bring your back hand forward and the tip sends the cue ball spinning. You look away before it can bounce the eight ball off the edge. 

You back up with your cue and cling to it, the butt to the floor. 

“Aha,” James exclaims as Sy groans, “victory.” 

“Huh?” You blink and look at the table as the white ball rolls away from the corner pocket, the black ball gone. 

“Whatever,” Sy growls, “need a girl to fight your battles.” 

“Don’t be a poor sport,” James chides playfully. He gets only a growl in response. “What say you all to another match?” 

“Mm,” Martyna hums as the ice clinks in her glass, “I need a drink.” 

“Me too,” Sy agrees as he puts his cue in the wall rack, “what’re you drinking?” 

He takes her cue and places it away with his own. She grins and gives her order before following him away. She leaves you alone at the table with the other man. Barely more than a stranger, even if you know his name. 

You sway awkwardly and look around. Maybe you could distract him by losing to him. You glance at the table and try to piece together the suggestion. 

“And you? Would you like a drink?” He offers before you can summon your voice. 

“Oh, uh,” your lashes flick. “I don’t really... drink.” 

“Perhaps a sparkling water?” He suggests and offers wordlessly to take your cue, “we should let some others have a go. I’d hate to live on the felt.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” 

You hand over your cue and watch him take both to the rack. He secures them then turns back, strutting over to you. The coned glass shade casts a glint in his eyes and nicely limns his features. You’re all too aware of how mismatched you are. Where he is confident and handsome, you’re reticent and plain. Boring, if you do say yourself. 

“Come,” he beckons you toward the bar as he trails behind you. 

You lead the way ahead of him, through the bodies waiting for their own drinks, and you stop before a tall stool. He gestures over your head and calls the bartender by name, “Curt.” 

The man finishes up the order and takes a bill in return before he nears your side of the bar. He greets the other man with a subtle nod, “pint?” 

“Yes, and whatever the lady prefers,” James says. 

The bartender only notices you then, tilting his chin down to see you. You give a sheepish grin. You don’t often order more than water. 

“Ginger ale, please?” You request. 

“All I got is organic ginger beer. It’s spicy,” he replies. 

“Sure, thanks,” you agree easily. You hate to trouble him or the man who’s kindly offered to buy you a drink.  

You’ve done this before. You bear through the awkwardness of the courtesy until you see Martyna has her catch of the night. Then you find a way to excuse yourself and the men never seem to mind. They're already scoping out someone else. 

The bartender uncaps the dark green bottle of ginger beer and places it on the bar. Then he fills a tall pint of golden beer and sets it next to the non-alcoholic beverage. James takes both and bids you to ‘come’. You do as he says. You’re not sure what else to do. 

He leads you to a table and you peer around. You see Sy and Martyna. He has her penned in by the wall as they speak closely and nurse their drinks. You sit as James puts your drink before you. You face him and wonder for a moment how he got his fare for free. He never paid. He probably has a tab, he seems to know this place well. 

“You don’t come here often,” he states, not asks. 

You nod, “I’m not much for... bars, but Martyna likes them.” 

You put your hand on the bottle and turn it slowly. His eyes follow the movement of your fingers for a moment before they return to your face. You save yourself from talking and take a sip of the ginger beer. It is rather spicy. 

“I wouldn’t figure you the type. In the best way possible,” he chuckles softly, “this isn’t the place for nice girls.” 

Nice girls. Boring girls. You know what he means. 

“Yeah...” you agree flatly. 

“You from the city or visiting?” He asks. 

It’s small talk. He’s filling the air. He’s playing his part. Keep the other one distracted while his buddy seals the deal. You get it. It’s torturous. 

“From here. Live here,” you shrug. 

“Right,” he nods, “in this neighbourhood?” 

“South east,” you say. 

“Ah, not very far,” he muses and tastes his beer. You stare at the table. You’re tired and slightly embarrassed. You appreciate him being so nice but you know it’s not genuine. 

“You know,” you examine the label on the bottle, “you don’t have to sit with me. I can just go,” you glance over at Sy and Martyna as they lock lips, “looks like they’re getting along so--” 

“Pardon?” He cranes to see over his shoulder, hooking his arm behind the chair so his bicep bulges and his bluish grey tee strains across his chest, “no,” he turns back, “I... that isn’t-- unless you want me to go away.” 

You swallow. You drink again, just to wet your dry tongue. 

“Sorry, I just thought... usually...” you cringe and snap your mouth shut. You shake your head. 

“I’m intrigued, it has nothing to do with anyone else,” he brings both elbows to the table and leans forward. “I see a lot of types come through here but you... you’re different.” 

You crinkle your brow and look down. Your slate gray pants with the barely discernible plaid pattern sewn into them and your stuffy turtleneck under the crocheted vest don’t really fit. You’re all too aware of how you stick out. You let go of the bottle and drag your hands down to your lap, picking at the tip of your thumbnail. 

“Like I said, I’m not really a drinker. It’s Mart,” you sniff. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. Truly,” he keeps his attention on you, “did you make the vest yourself? I like the roses.” 

“N-no, my grandma...” you once more scald in humiliation. With each word, you just stamp in his first impression. 

“You’re close with her?” He intones. 

You look at him. His eyes make you want to melt into the chair. He isn’t like the other men you’ve sat in purgatory with. He isn’t looking around at anyone else. In fact, his intent stare makes you squirm. 

“Yeah, I try to visit,” you clear your throat and shift in the chair, nervously running your fingernails in a ridge of the ribbed sleeve of your turtleneck, “I’m boring. What do you do?” 

He chuckles, “talk about boring. Trust me, I’m not very exciting. I want to know about you.” 

His intensity makes you want to fan yourself. 

“Just a bookkeeper,” you answer.  

“Ah, a very useful occupation.” he praises. 

Boring, you want to say again. Just like everything about your life. You look at the ginger beer and frown. 

“You don’t like your drink?” He suggests. He’s attentive to the point of discomfort. 

“It’s fine, I just... different,” you utter. 

“Who do you bookkeep for?” He asks. 

You give pause. He asks a lot of questions. Maybe you’re just not used to that much interest, but it feels like a bit much. How would you know? You see Martyna and the men she associates with. They look at her the same way. It could just be that he really is into you. 

“A publisher. There’s a few of us.” 

“Hm, yes, there would be,” he hums, “think I might know the book house.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you give half a smile. Everyone knows the publishing company; it’s the core of the city’s economy. 

“I’m rather a fan of their mysteries,” he says. “Have you read--” 

“Conrad,” a drunken slur interrupts him and James sits back to look up at the other man. Sy’s eyes are half-glazed as Martyna clings to his arm, “we’re headed out.” 

“Ah, yes,” James checks his watch, “it is rather late.” He turns his attention to you, “shall we?” 

You look between them. Martyna bats her lashes at you drunken and tweaks her brow. You’re all leaving. Together? 

“I’m afraid he’s crashing at my place, he had some issue with his pipes,” James explains, “so I’m afraid I’ll need to let him in like a stray cat.” 

“Hmph,” Sy growls but is quickly distracted by Martyna’s hand rubbing his chest. 

This is strange. It’s never been like this before. Maybe it’s better that you stay close to Martyna to make sure she’s okay. Usually, she tells you to go. She calls you a cock block. She isn’t wrong. You don’t exactly inspire lust. 

“Right, yeah,” you stand and hit the table as the chair is heavier than you expect and traps you.  

The ginger beer wobbles and clatters onto its side, sending a foamy wash across your middle. You quickly pick it up and set it right but it’s too late. You’re mortified. 

“Ah, pity,” James remarks, “Sy,” he looks at the other man, “fetch us a cab, I’ll get something to clean up from the barkeep.” 

“Don’t drag your ass,” Sy warns. 

James doesn’t acknowledge the warning, striding over to the bar and speaking briefly with the man behind it. You stand in the damp mess as Martyna purrs at the other man before he leads her out. James returns and offers a dish cloth. 

“How unfortunate,” he remarks as you accept the cloth. 

“Yeah, I... it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“I hope it doesn’t stain your vest,” he says. 

You shrug, “it’s fine.” 

“Yes, but your grandmother put such hard work into it.” 

You dab at the moisture and look up at him. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you. Your lips slant and you focus on sopping up the ginger beer. 

“I wasn’t... wasn’t making fun,” he says, “if it came across--” 

“No, no, I didn’t think so,” you lie. You do what you can and ball up the cloth, “I’ll bring this back. Maybe I should just meet you outside.” 

“I will wait,” he assures, “I am a gentleman after all.” 

[aealzx]

After having gotten the kids off to sleep in the same room, wrapped up in a mass of blankets and pillows, the adults were only half surprised when a roar came from their room a few hours after midnight. Mikey was the one who was closest, and therefore the first to burst into the room. There was only one of two options that could have caused what they soon learned was Raph bellowing; either an intruder had gotten past their alarms, or a nightmare. And it was pretty easy to tell once Mikey was in the room that it was the latter.

Lil Mikey had Leon bodily shoved off the mattresses, his small frame joined by April in shielding Leon on the floor. And still on the two mattresses slid together on the floor were Donnie and Raph, the larger brother still waking from an obvious nightmare while his hand was clasped firmly at Donnie’s throat. Not quite choking, but his fingers curled around to press roughly against Donnie’s shell while his thumb was wedged into his collar bone. Yet despite the position Donnie just shot Mikey a quick shake of his head before he went back to speaking quietly to Raph, trying to coax him around his heaved breathing.

“It’s okay Raphie. Take deep breaths. You're safe. We’re all safe. No one is going to hurt you, or any of us.” Donnie’s voice was quiet, and gentle. A stark difference from what Mikey had heard from him before. And despite the position he was in Mikey was surprised to see Donnie wasn’t struggling. Gentle hands simply rested comfortingly on Raph’s arm, sometimes rubbing up and down to coax him to focus on the real sensation rather than whatever he’d seen in his dreams.

“D’Donnie?” Lil Mikey asked, wanting to check on his other brother while slipping his fingers into Leon’s hand to keep it away from his own neck.

“I’m alright Mikey. Just focus on Leo, I’ll get Raph,” Donnie’s reassurance came with the same calmness that made Mikey believe this had happened before.

“C’mon Leo, you too. Big slow breaths,” April directed, starting to rub Leo’s back to give him something to focus on too.

As Leo closed his eyes to comply, drawing slow yet shuddering breaths to try and calm his racing heart, Mikey blocked and shushed the rest of his own family from interfering. It looked like Raph was breaking out of the dream now, and Mikey didn’t think it would be good to crowd in on them.

“...D’Dee?” Raph’s start of recognition came in the form of his brother’s name questioned in budding anguish. The hand that was holding Donnie instantly flexed open once Raph realized where it was, and he tried to yank it back as though it were poison to his brother. Yet Donnie stubbornly held onto it, getting pulled forward slightly before Raph stopped, holding up his other hand to catch him if needed. “I’I’m so sorry. I’m sorry Dee, I didn’t mean-”

Raph’s heartbroken apologies were cut off as Donnie shushed him, deliberately leaning into his brother’s grip despite him being so afraid to touch him. “Shhh. I’m not hurt. It’s okay,” Donnie assured, gaining a small smile when his refusal to let Raph let him go was enough to convince him to change tactics, his huge hands moving instead to wrap around Donnie in a tender hold. “...Tell me where we are, big guy. Let’s get you awake,” Donnie directed next, bringing Raph’s focus to their environment.

At that point Don and Leon started wordlessly shoving the rest of the bystanders away. Don and Raphael had already filled them in on what April had said, but they didn’t think they would have been any help in this situation. Not just yet anyway.

“Mikey- Where are you going?” Raphael hissed when Mikey broke off from the group to head for the kitchen.

“To get them some water and tea. Like we usually do,” Mikey hushed back, making a drinking motion with one hand.

“Try the lavender,” Leo directed as Don gave an agreeing nod. They didn’t all need to crowd in, but it should still be fine to let the kids know the rest of them weren’t oblivious, and were there to help if they needed. Plus staying hydrated was always a good thing.

“Let us know if we’re needed,” Don requested, shuffling away with his other two brothers while also trying not to trample over Master Splinter. He didn’t move as fast as they did these days, so they made sure to fill him in on what was going on.

“Little Raph had a nightmare. They seem to be handling it on their own, but Mikey is going to bring them some drinks,” Leo explained.

Master Splinter gave an understanding nod, then looked to Mikey since he was still waiting at the door. “Bring them some of the candied fruits as well. Growing boys always need snacks,” he directed with another nod. And then instead of returning to his room he headed for the cushions in the living room, aiming to take up residence there just in case.

It was a good idea, and the other three boys followed suit, huddling into the couches or other cushions while they let Mikey take point this time. The tea didn’t take long to make with the electric kettle they had. Most of the commonly used teas were kept right next to it as well, so while the water boiled Mikey just gathered the candied fruits together in various small bowls. Then when the tea was added to a metal container and rested in the ceramic teapot Mikey gathered it, the food, and plenty of cups onto a tray to carry to their guest’s current room.

It had only been a few minutes, but all of them were gathered back on the mattresses when Mikey returned, Raph gently holding both Leon and Donnie now while April and Lil Mikey did their best to hug him. Since his hands were full Mikey just gave a small whistle to announce he was there, feeling just a little bad when most of them snapped their gazes to him in mild startle.

“I brought snacks,” Mikey explained as an apology, gesturing with the tray and stepping over to the group of teenagers. They seemed wary, but not unwelcoming. And while Leon keyed in on the smell of the tea, the others seemed more taken in by the fruits. Master Splinter had made a good assumption, especially since right as Mikey set the tray down two hands reached out to snatch pieces of fruit to nibble on.

“Thanks….” Leon’s voice was husky both from rough sleep as well as just not speaking loud. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t hear that…” he commented, half regretting saying anything once he did. He didn’t really want to talk about it if the others actually weren’t aware and just had impeccable timing.

“Pff, everyone heard that,” Mikey dismissed, pouring a cup of tea and holding it up to Raph first. “But we didn’t want to crowd. So it’s just me, with our usual. Gotta make sure everyone stays hydrated after all,” he explained with a wink.

It was so casual. Like Raph had only dreamed about something silly like bugs crawling on him. Yet he didn’t feel belittled. Far from it. Mikey was so relaxed with all of this not because he wasn’t taking it seriously, but because he was used to it. This wasn’t the first time someone in his home had woken up screaming from night terrors caused by memories.

“...S’someone here has nightmares too?” Raph asked, his voice still a little shaky, and he used both hands to take the teacup because of it.

“All of us do,” Mikey answered, the smile never faltering as he handed out more cups of tea. “It’s just been long enough since the latest crisis that we’re not currently making noise everyone else can hear. - Well, actually Don never makes noise that loud, unless he accidentally blew something up in his lab. So for him we usually end up taking turns checking in on him.”

The way Mikey spoke, as if it were any other topic like the plot of a movie or something, ended up earning snickers from the others and a few glances at Donnie when Mikey mentioned lab explosions.

“What was the most recent- Wait I shouldn’t ask that, nevermind,” Leon started, then realized what he was saying and corrected himself before lowering his head to his tea.

“Nah, it’s fine. That’s the main reason I stuck around. To talk about whatever you guys wanted,” Mikey admitted, not bothered by the question at all. “I think it was…. Hmm, hang on. They all blur together. I sometimes forget what happened when,” he hummed, putting a curled finger to his chin.

“Honestly I’m not really good about remembering the events as much as the fun stuff that happens after, you know?” Mikey eventually relented, giving up on trying to figure out their own history. “Like, there was one time we had to scare off some goons that were after Casey’s cousin. But Raph had some broken ribs, so we shoved him in a closet to keep him quiet and away from trouble.”

At least three of the kids ended up sputtering on their drinks, which Mikey counted as the second win of the night.

“You didn’t seriously?” Leon gaped, aghast at the treatment of someone with broken ribs.

“We did,” Mikey laughed, then caught himself and quieted down again. “We were just teenagers, and it was the first time we’d had to deal with broken bones. That same event is how my legs ended up getting all messed up forever now. Which, by the way if you guys’ old injuries start aching just go whine about them near ol Raph. He gives the best massages.”

More chuckles were earned, and more tallies were added to Mikey’s mental chart. He actually did know what the most recent scare had been for them, but he didn’t want to mention it. He wasn’t sure how much it would remind the others of their own trauma, and therefore didn’t want to even suggest anything new to them. And regardless of that, it was still better to talk about the fun stuff.

“There was the other time, after Don got really sick we ended up babying him so much we wouldn’t let him help with anything. Just forced him to stay on the couch, even while we were moving it around to set up a new lair. Oh, and then one time Leo got so sick of us hovering he booby trapped his room entrance to hit the next person that entered with a pie. It was the first time he’d ever pulled a prank like that, I was so proud.”

As Mikey continued to chatter there were more and more snickers and giggles from the teens, their forms gradually relaxing as they shifted into comfortable positions to listen while they snacked. Eventually Mikey’s stories somehow trailed into him talking about their local superhero group, which led to talking about the comics he had, and the stories they held. It was easy to keep going, and he made several promises to let the boys read the comics in the morning. But even as he spoke with animated mostions for some of the stories, Mikey eventually started talking more softly, and making smaller motions. His captive audience was starting to doze off again, and he wasn’t about to force them to stay awake. Not if they could get a few more hours in with hopefully more pleasant dreams about superheroes and space.

It was only two hours later when Mikey was stealthily gathering up the remains of the snacks, slipping out of the room after making sure all the kids were properly tucked back in. If it were any other task accomplished he would have been humming as he made his way back to the kitchen, but considering he wanted to make as little noise as possible he refrained. Instead as he passed by the living room where the rest of his family was, he just gave them a thumbs up and wink.

“Mission accomplished. All five are back to sleep,” he announced in a whisper, pleased when his brothers and Master Splinter all visibly relaxed.

As the rest of them stood to return to their own beds, Raphael moved to help Mikey clean up the dishes, giving his taller brother a soft pat on the head in praise for a job well done.

____________________

Previous

____________________

Whew 8D slight delay because I ended up getting hyperfocused on my own story for a bit because I'm nearing the end of it. But then Five by Sleeping at Last came on a few days ago and just vibbed so well with the first part of this part in my head that I had to write it while looping the song.

[senka-mesecine]

This may sound sooo weird but could I request some predator/prey play with Barnes? Thank u!

WARPAINT.

Robert Barnes x Reader

-

-"Dusk's settling. It's time."-

You remark standing on the threshold of the house looking out into the woods as you shrugged into your jacket, zipping it up for warmth there to ward off the chill of the great outdoors. The agreement was made. Was a done deal. Bob's impaled you on a stare from inside the house like he was hellbent on giving on a quiet head start and wordlessly intending to make sure you take it; in fact, those were the agreed rules of the game. You go on right ahead, start walkin', he said, and I'll be right behind'ya, because if I go at it right now, you won't make it past the front porch. And you believed him. Truly. You did. There was simply something quietly fascinating, perhaps a little daunting and curious how seriously he took this whole thing. Like it was an actual insurgence or ambush and not two lovers deliberately toying with one another. Like it wasn't mere foreplay, for lack of a better word. -"I'll just go out there and start strolling, alright?"- You carefully explain and re-explain as if though you weren't over this a hundred times before --- the whole cat and mouse thing? Needed to seem natural and spontaneous. Like you were truly someone caught unaware instead of a person genuinely chased. At first anyway. That was the impression that was meant to be projected. It was just that Robert was so very stern and grim looking you had the odd impression he already started the game, at least inside of his own mind, all while you were still here assessing the rules and preparing for it, fidgeting with your zipper, awkwardly staring out into the bosom of the forest. A distant pheasant shrieks somewhere in the bush and the sound nearly makes you shiver. God.

-"And please, come and find me soon, Bobby. I can't stand the dark."-

You borderline plead, disguising it, perhaps, as a tiny, mild mannered little joke especially once you pepper in an endearment for good measure, stepping off the threshold and across the porch, still talking to the man who hasn't even made a single move outside the house, merely assessing you, back leaning against the wooden pillar holding up the ceiling, almost casual in his body language. Something about his eyes relaying what you could only translate as him saying 'Bet' before you ran out down the trail leading into the tree lot, house becoming smaller and smaller behind you.

---

-"Robert!?"-

You call out, approximately what you could only deduce as a full hour later. Your voice echoes into the abyss, but no response comes. You vaguely pondered if bringing a wristwatch with you would make everything better or worse, but it was a moot point. You particularly cursed yourself for not having a flashlight, but you supposed you were the vulnerable, hunted party to exuberant degrees as it were. Didn't need to worsen your chances as much as you actually wanted to be caught prematurely, so Bob could take you back to the warmth of home so you could call it a night. -"You there!?"- You try again, understanding that the game wouldn't have you giving away your position this blatantly, but thing was you assumed he'd show himself sooner. After all, he's promised. Maybe he's changed his mind and you're merely being teased. You wonder. No, no. That wasn't Bob. When he set his mind to something he went through with it. This wasn't meant to be, in your mind, a chase in the woods at dusk, but you stumbling around in the dark, borderline as blind as a bat, your only relief of light coming from the half moon above head, careful steps following the pale ribbons of light squeezed through the foliage of the trees as you watched you step, the occasional dry branch or twig cracking underneath your feet, alerting an unseen hooting owl in the distance. Must've been ten at night by now, according to your vague assessment. Somehow, the gravitas of the situation settles in like a rock around your neck; if it was so scary, why was your heart thumping fast? Excited? Catching your breath on a downward slope you lean against the trunk of a nearby pine tree, leaning your back against it and using it as a momentary rest and refuge from sight. Love did make you do stupid things; if someone told you'd be in forests of Tennessee playing hide and seek with someone, you'd snort in amusement. You embrace your arms around yourself, around your torso and the jacket on it, keeping your warmth intact, imagining the hands were his. A distant echo cuts through the silence. You stir, breath hitching, calming only once you realize there was a silhouette between the pines; grazing in the distance in the moonlight, causing your shoulders to drop in relief. A deer. Just a deer that didn't notice you.

Scared the crap out of you.

It was late. You move, deciding you had to at this point, either heading further into the woods or back, towards home, following back the trail leading towards the house and hoping to God you'll run into Robert somewhere along the way only for the soul to jump out of your body, on the steep top of the precipice where the three lot started to thin above you, he was right there against the moonlit sky. You'd recognize the outline of him anywhere and before you can think, you yell, unsure if you feel happy or terrified to see him. Maybe both. How long was he there, how long was he there, long was he there and how on earth did you not hear him, your mind races, feverishly, looking for questions that didn't have any momentary answer and you feel it reflect in the way your voice comes out shivering like a leaf. -"Bob!? Where were you? I was waiting for you!"- You words crack in your throat, echoing all around you, getting no response back. -"What are you doing!?"- You inquire; sheesh, what took him so long? You watch his silhouette shift from one leg to another, leaning his weight sideways. He was about to taunt; you knew that stance. You knew that body language. It's just that you couldn't predict what he was going to say next no matter how cognizant you were of his mannerisms.

-"Deer huntin'."- He drawls candidly, stepping forward and shit ---

If you run, you run on pure instinct.

Your legs simply take off from under you like they were operating with a mind and a will of their own, rushing through a maze of trees, bushes and branches, making decisions independently from your brain and the rest of your body, giving you no time to process anything but the primal survival instinct that told you to flee. Flee as far as you can. You loved him. You understood that. But every atom in your body carried you as fast as it could out of there to the degree you couldn't even stop yourself. Even if you wanted to. If someone stopped you there and then to ask you if this was still only foreplay or if you were truly running from Robert Barnes you were convinced you'd have no precise answer to give with a head full of white static and noise, hearing his footsteps behind you loud and clear and swearing that it couldn't be him; must've been the frantic beating of your own heart in your chest, in your head, in your ears. The Robert you knew was too quiet for this. A moment of distraction is all that it takes. The sleeve of your jacket gets harshly tangled into a sharp branch, and with a volatile tug, the material rips, taking the fabric of your shirt with it along with some of your skin. You're scratched. You're bleeding. But, you're still running. The tattered remains of your jacket remain hanging limply and in tatters from a nearby pinecone riddled bough. Shit, shit, shit --- the pain's intense, even with all the adrenaline pumping through your system.

-"Mhmm-hmm! Lettin'ya flag get captured, girl."-

You hear him from behind you gloating like he knew something you didn't, almost humming in contentment, and when your own frenzy briefly allows you to throw back a glance across your shoulder, Robert's there, standing some twenty odd feet behind you, the dark outline of him anyway, holding up the remains of your sleeve like they're a trophy. He either moved like the wind, soundless and as fast as a hurricane or you were much slower than all of this subjectively felt and your mind was playing tricks on you. He could've caught up to you right now, you concluded, but he didn't want to. He wanted to hunt. You envied that deer from earlier just now, grazing in the dewy forest grass. Envied and understood it. Wanted to be quite as lithe and fast it probably was and slip into the night, never to be found again. The only thing that slows you down is the burning sensation stemming from your scratch; the fact that the blood was trickling down your elbow and that you could feel it pooling in your coiled fist, dripping down into the foliage. You stumble back like a wounded domestic animal, forehead lined with cold sweat. You ain't got no fuel or air left in you. You breathe, loud and ragged and desperately fast only to find him there, leisurely striding in your direction down from the hill, inspecting a blood stained piece of cloth with pursed lips like the sight of it almost entertained him in ways you couldn't comprehend.

He dips his finger into the bloodstained material, maintaining eye contact.

Bringing it up to his face and drawing a straight crimson line across his cheek.

Slowly, almost leisurely, like he wasn't in a tremendous hurry whatsoever.

Then repeating the exact motion with the scarred side of his face.

It was makeshift warpaint.

Warpaint made out of your blood.

A trophy made out of your own sleeve tucked promptly into his belt.

-"Bob, you're scaring me."-

You gulp hard, you exposed bit of skin erupting in goosebumps as you were holding up your hands defensively, speaking as fast and as firmly as your hyperventilation and lack of breath allowed you, catching yourself flying. It was a bold faced lie and you knew it even as it was spoken. Or perhaps a half-lie at best. You weren't just scared. You were aching. You were aching to stop running, walk towards him, give yourself up and let him do whatever he wanted with you here and now and be wholly content doing so, which was mad. It was insane. He was the most horrifying sight you've ever seen so to want this meant that, the way Robert himself would put it, you've gone dinky dau. Totally unhinged. You wanted to escape and never return here again just a second ago. Now you wanted him to fuck you. Were was the logic in any of this? God forbid some trekkers, mountaineers or hunters come this way and spot this scene; they'd think you're both unhinged or that you're about to be murdered. -"Hell's bells, so run, then, if'ya so scared."- He shoots back and judging by the harshness of his voice you felt like he was giving you an order and disbelieving you at the same time. It's like your mind's been read; he knew how turned on you were right now and how guilty you felt about not feeling guilty about it. -"You're talkin' the talk and not walkin' the walk, darlin'."- And there it is; he's taunting you again, stepping forward soundlessly, hit by a ray of moonlight, faced adorned with your own blood. He was right. You could've started running again by now, instead, you were here listening to his soliloquy, mesmerized. -"I'd reckon,"- He begins. -"y 'thought it'll be all fun an' games out'ere and the fact that it ain' made'ya feel alive."- There it is; hitting the nail right on its head, as always. At that point, you feel your thighs practically pulsate with need, your lurching guts tying themselves into a million tiny knots. -"And you want me for all my horrible self."- He tilts his head smugly. You were like a deer in the headlights. Just bleeding and not even being able to deny what he was saying. You were prey wanting to get caught. -"You ain' 'fraid of the dark neither. You thrive in this shit."- He takes your very own words, reformulating them and so deep is his influence that only once he tells you, and you know the words are coming, do you actually start sprinting again.

God, what did he do to you?

He was in charge of your very soul. You were literally obeying commands.

Robert wasn't hunting wild, untamed big game tonight.

He was hunting his domesticated, well-trained house pet he personally set loose.

-"Go on. Run, bun. I know y'love me."-

He quips with a hard, raspy baritone that shakes the forest and you attempt to run finding yourself clumsily stumbling about instead through the bushes, practically sobbing up; exhausted, hurt, burned out, you practically hear yourself whimper with every move. He catches you. Does so effortlessly. Could have done so ten times by now, but the fact he does it now when you're weakest sends a little wail past your quivering lip. -"No!"- You sniffle as his hand halts you in your tracks mid-movement practically having your whole body haul itself back like you were lighter to him than a feather, his index finger and thumb holding you right above your bleeding scratch; you hiss instinctively, captured. The last feeling in the long list of sensations you needed now was pain.

-"Oh, god, please."-

You moan, begging as he lifts the arm he had his vice grip around up, poking the wound with an index finger, almost as if inspecting it, or perhaps intending to cause you some unease in a bout of sadistic inspiration, no more than you could handle, right before he leaned his head down with eyes still on you in the dark like daggers, taking his mouth to the blood and sucking on it, tasting you, hot saliva cleaning away the dried ichor of your fresh scar and whatever specks of dust and dirty got caught in the surface like it meant nothing to him. You throb and your mouth parts as you cry out, more so when he lets go, done with savoring, hands around your waist once your back gets pressed into the trunk of a nearby pine tree, held in place by him, causing you to go lightheaded with exhaustion, never even noticing he's wrapped your own ripped sleeve tucked into his belt around your gash instead of a bandage or that his other hand produced a knife, doing away your sweat drenched, wet blouse, cutting it down the middle with a ripping sound no differently than cutting through paper, using his knee pushed between your legs to keep you from falling over, maintaining your thighs parted. You were certain you were as wet as a person can be by now. The prey's been caught.

He kisses you rough enough to bruise, all grunts and desire.

A kiss with the aroma of rust and metal; the lingering aftertaste of blood.

Leaving you no space to breathe.

You moan into the contact, your blood smeared over his face smearing back unto yours along with the potent cocktail of his sweat mingled with yours, feeling his hands everywhere, rough, heavy and calloused; ripping at the thin strap the held your bra together in the front, on your throat, squeezing, around your waist, pulling by the hair and yanking back rough, grabbing your jawline, puckering your face up, biting your cheek and leaving behind teeth marks you could feel like he really intended to fucking eat you alive, not a bit of finesse or poise to him, bloodshot, feral eyes glazed over, angry yet blank, seeing the moon and nothing but yourself reflected in them, finding his stare simultaneously hollow and beaming with something primordial. Around these parts people used to gossip how sometimes, if you look carefully enough, that Barnes guy, as they called him, had eyes that shine red in the dark and right about now, you believed them regardless of how much you never enjoyed them talking shit about your man, the rut that ensues being rough, crude and quick --- hungry --- without preparation or maybe this --- all of this --- was all the preparation you needed as he fucks you against the dark pine bark, back scraping against its surface. You were a hole. Just a hole for him. In this neck of the woods, here and now, anyway.

Would you be able to walk or stand up straight after this?

You had to wonder.

Probably not seemed like a plausible answer.

-"You animal."-

You whimper and gasp as you're grabbed with both arms, practically thrown on the grass, him standing over you, his legs on either side of his body as he loomed with his head against the pitch black sky, your clothes torn, flesh exposed here and there and everywhere for him. He was magnificent. Holding his cock in his hand pulled out through the zipper of his slacks and undone belt buckles like it was a barrel of a rifle about to shoot. Appearing like he wasn't offended by the moniker that slipped past your lips unwittingly, more as a statement of the truth than an actual tease; in fact, he smiles even though he smiled so rarely, his scars embossed into the surface of his skin reflecting the pale light of the moon, making his face appear like it was smashed to pieces, centered only by his teeth on display, still red from the blood he practically drank from you. He kneels over you as you catch your breath from being hauled down as you were, spreading your legs even further, deciding it seems he prefered to have you on the cold hard ground, rather than standing up. Your feeling, aching fingers coil into the dirt, bracing yourself. Deer about to be slaughtered and displayed above the mantlepiece. Bob? An animal? More like a whole zoo. This was going to be a long night. He leans down with his visage still drawn out with the scarlet fingerpainting camouflage for a second time, speaking so closely to you you feel his breath in your nostrils caressing you, all heat, liquor and nicotine. His tongue proceeding to trace the inside of his cheek like he was itching to chew into his own flesh, spitting on the nearby soil, frustrated and wild,

Right next to where your jacket lay discarded and forgotten by the root of an old tree.

Places his hand covering nearly your entire face against your mouth.

He liked doing that as a habit from time to time, containing your moans and screams and keeping them all to himself, like he didn't like to share even the faintest echo of your desire with the world, letting it wash against the skin of the palm of his hand like a muffled, trapped cry instead; not unlike something he could close around his fist and keep like a tangible thing long after he's done with your body. It was his. All his. Every part of you was. Your soul and the very breath in your lungs.

-"Animal?"-

His expression is raw, lips crooked to the side as he cocks his head.

-"Darlin', you ain' never seen what an animal is. Not half of it."-

[captain-jacks-coat]

Warmth

A short story by me.

TW for homophobia, death and grief

Sixteen Years Old

It started with a knock at the door. The world was white, the lakes I’d usually sit at for comfort frozen over, the windows blocked by frost. I was reluctant to answer it, far too comfortable in my living room, but then the same knock came again. So I stood, wrapping my cardigan tightly around my shoulders, and went to open it. I regretted it as the cold hit my face immediately.

“What in the world are you doing?” I asked incredulously, once I recognised the visitor. “It’s freezing out there, shouldn’t you be home?”

Jacob’s face was drawn with worry. He pointed behind him. “There’s a young woman. I found her by the edge of town, all alone. She’s an absolute wreck, Bri, I can’t just leave her, and you know my father won’t let me bring her to mine. Please?”

Looking past his shoulder, I caught sight of the woman. He was right. She was a wreck. Her dress, odd as it was, was ripped halfway up her skirt, and her shoulders were bare. A sliver of golden hair showed beneath the snow on her head, her having no hood. There was no question about it. If we left her alone in this weather, it was likely she’d die. I sighed, and opened the door further. “Bring her in. I have cocoa in the kitchen, if she wants it.”

Jacob shot me a grateful smile, and gestured for her to follow us inside, to the living room. The warmth was a welcome contrast to that of hallway, and she appeared to glow in the light of the fire. I offered her a blanket as she sat down wordlessly in one of the armchairs. She took it.

“What’s your name?” I asked, attempting to strike up conversation to make her more comfortable whilst praying for Jacob to take over. Talking had never been my strong suit.

“My sisters call me Marilyn.” Her voice was soft, but seemed to echo around the room. I started, but covered it up by clearing my throat and sitting down across from her.

“Marilyn’s a beautiful name,” I said, meaning it. She smiled, pale blue eyes meeting mine.

“Might I have your name, too?”

I nodded, and folded my hands in my lap. “Sabrina.”

The moment I had spoken, I was sure I saw her eyes flash lighter, but less than a second later, they were normal again. Perhaps it had just been the firelight playing tricks on me. 

“Your name is beautiful too, Sabrina,” she replied, and I noted the way my name sounded different when she spoke. Not only for the echo that came with her voice, but for everything else, too. Far more than could be conveyed in words. My name, my ordinary name, spoken like an incantation when she used it. I mirrored the upturn of her lips, and spoke back.

“Thank you.”

Nineteen Years Old

I took her down to the lake in the summer, and she lay her head against mine. Since meeting her, my heart had learned to ache a thousand different ways at once, for a thousand different reasons. Now, it ached for what I couldn’t have, as I stared down at the wedding band on her finger. The wedding band I had not placed there. 

She turned to me, seemingly reading my thoughts. “It means nothing. It is simply insurance, to all four of us. As Otto is to you. You know that.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes, feeling the breeze against my face. I preferred the summer. Warmth was available from every corner, then. “It’s no less unfair.”

“No,” she agreed, “it is not. If it were my choice, I would choose you. Every time. Despite the laws, and my family, and the promise of children. I would choose you.”

Vaguely it occurred to me that I would not need the summer air to be warm. “And I, you. Would you want that?”

“I believe I just said I want you, but yes, if you need it repeated.”

I shook my head, laughing. “No, not me. Well, yes, me. But I meant would you want the rest? Your family, and…” I swallowed. “Children?”

Her hair blew into her face, and she pushed it away again, thinking. “My family will never be as I want them to be, but if I chose my life, I would want them with me, and with their blessings. However, I have my family, with you, and Jacob and Otto. Children are impossible to have with you, but again, if I chose my life, I would like them. One day. Not yet.”

The idea had never crossed my mind before. My own family, one of my own choice and creation. It wouldn’t be easy, or without pain. Nothing ever was. And yet. “I’d like that, too.”

In another life, perhaps, or another time. In another circumstance, we would not need wedding bands with men we couldn’t grant our love to for insurance. But these were the circumstances there were. The law decided against us, regardless of her status as the heiress to some fantastical throne she had escaped from. The law decided against us because they feared our love. It was unfair, but most things were. We could have fought. But instead, we sat here, in the sun, in the stolen moments away from traitorous, spying eyes, with each others’ warmth. And we were happy.

Twenty-Nine Years Old

The moment I received Jacob’s letter, I packed my belongings and arranged for Otto to care for my girls. Every regret I had had about moving further away from Marilyn swam before me as I boarded the carriage and instructed the driver to go as fast as he could. 

Fields that held memories held nothing as I passed them, and the heat of the sun could not reach me. The carriage passed the lake, and I felt nothing. Only a searing, burning fear. 

“Where is she?” I asked, pointless as I already knew, and rushed past Jacob to climb the stairs. He called after me, saying something, but it was of no significance. The wooden door swung open to her bedroom, one that I had been in in far better circumstances. Any circumstance better than this. I looked down at her, in her bed. “Marilyn?”

Her eyes were closed. Peacefully. She could have been asleep, to the unknowing. But I knew, and every inch of me wished I didn’t. I sat down beside her, brushing golden strands of hair out of her face so I could see her fully. “Marilyn, my love, I did not come all this way for you to be asleep when I got here.” 

I reached down, pressing a hand to her heart, and felt nothing. 

I think someone screamed that day. I think it might have been me. Everything went dark, after that. Dark, and cold, and I could still feel and see everything. But I don’t remember it now.

I just remember her heartbeat, gone. And her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, shut away. And her hands were cold.

Thirty-Seven Years Old

If I were to be remembered, someday, it would not have been for how I raised my daughters. It would not have been for how I ran a household, with a husband who would leave me in the same way my beloved had. I would not be remembered for my exploits, small as they were but far more impactful. I would not be remembered by the lake, or by the people I had grown up around, or by Marilyn’s daughter, with the golden hair and the soft voice that never echoed, and the warm hands, and the dimmed, grey eyes. Not blue. Never blue. Never her.

If I were to be remembered, someday, it would not have been for my warmth. My warmth died with my love. My love died before I could say goodbye. My voice died before I could use it. Such is the way of life. 

My hands never felt heat again. My daughters, my pride and joy, felt the ghost of my warmth in fragments of moments. And the world that hid me, caged us, and killed her, felt my ice cold rage in every step I took towards its end.

[purble-turble]

*raises hand* I have an idea for the Prince Red AU!! Parent wise! I don’t remember everything from the older posts so apologies if I missed anything important.

I’d like to think that after everything that happened at the end of season 5 with his and MK’s breakup (and now being on better terms with his parents) that he didn’t even think to tell them about what happened. All they know is that the pillar was restored and everything is fine now. They didn’t ask questions and Prince Red was just unused to his parents being involved in his life. Until everything with MK and Nezha happens and it becomes noticeable that something is very wrong with their son.

Maybe his mother passes by him training in the training grounds and he’s just literally scorched over the entire area, as in it’s no longer recognizable and just ashes, and Red is visibly upset (smoke at the mouth if you will) and she asks what’s wrong. He tries to evade her and tells her it’s nothing, just him training a bit more seriously. Until she brings up the “little thief.” and maybe it’s because he just finished burning the training grounds to a crisp or how Princess Iron Fan adds that she hasn’t heard about him from the servants in some time. But all that jealousy and frustration just gives way and he starts crying.

Princess Iron Fan is immediately thrown off and when it’s clear that he’s not going to be able to talk for a bit, she takes him to his room and just… holds him until his sobbing stops and tells her EVERYTHING. His mother nods along and listens silently, still holding him as he lets it all out. The Prince starts on about how all he ever wanted to do was keep MK safe, and be there to support him and-!

And then his mother stop him and says she has a few important questions to ask him. Red’s a bit surprised but agrees. She asks him when he started courting the Monkey King’s successor? How long had they been properly dating? Where are the gifts MK was supposed to have given him if they were properly dating? After a while PIF points out how her son seems to have put a lot of effort into the relationship while this boy was simply receiving it. MK accepted the gifts after knowing their symbolism and still kept them despite not reciprocating. He was trapped in the calabash for a day, home for six more, and at no point in that time did they question his absence?? And everything about the self sacrificing with zero regard for how it would affect her son(or everyone else but that’s besides the point)???

Prince Red of course defends him, bringing up their shared moments and how they addressed the more serious issues from the beginning of their relationship. That it made the two stronger. Only for his mother to remark that it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t change that he was hurt. It didn’t change that it seemed neither of them were willing to compromise on anything either. And that wasn’t how relationships were meant to work. Relationships are a two way street, they’re built on trust and compromises. Arguments and apologies. No one person gets a final say in what the other or even themselves deserves. It was a partnership, and that meant working together. Love takes time and work, or else it wouldn’t be worth it. And sometimes… loving someone is a blinding thing that makes you miss out on what needs your attention and support. She of all people understood that. And that made Red cry even more.

Not much is said after that, DBK eventually comes to find the two, and wordlessly brings them both to their room. And with that, the entirety of the Bull family in peace, his mother humming an all but forgotten song and the steady breathing of his father. The world outside would have to wait. For now, the Prince was in comfortable peace. Something Prince Red probably hasn’t felt since he was a small child.

Aaaaaaa this is so sad but also heartwarming!!! Yes I love this!

PIF and DBK don’t really get much of a role in the Prince Red AU after season 1, but that feels unfair.. they love their son and want him back, even if they have a hard time expressing that in a healthy way. So having them reunite while Prince Red is at this low moment after breaking up with MK is just so sweet! Especially to have PIF actually be emotionally there for him in a way she probably never has been before. After all, her boy is so soft, she figures showing him a little softness in return (even if it is couched in a bit of a prickly “well what has that boy ever done for you” language) is definitely what he needs… anyway, YES! DBK fam group hug! 🥰

[dios-favourite-simp]

dio pet play but He is the pet i beg 🤲

You pull the leash taught, the collar around Dio's neck pulling his head back to look into his eyes. His face is unusually flushed. It's not often you get to see him in this position, on his hands and knees with a gag in his mouth and collar tight around his thick neck. You lay a hand on his ass, slowly stroking down to cup his balls and feeling his drooling cock twitch in response.

"You're so pretty like this, my lord," you state, leaning against him and kissing his forehead.

He twitches his face away, huffing indignantly.

"now, now," you purr warningly, pressing the thick head of the strap against his exposed ass, "I thought you agreed to be good for me today?" You tantalisingly nudge the ring at the very base of his cock, reminding him you could take it off at any time, but only if he stopped being a bratty asshole.

Dio glares at you, wordlessly grinding himself against it. He'd never admit in a thousand years how much he enjoyed being fucked like this, but his wanton moans and how hard he'd cum every time was enough for you to know he wanted more. Being restrained like this - under a mortal, no less - was embarrassing. It made his cock nearly painfully hard.

Tutting, you pull your hips back. "You have to be good if you want me to fuck you, my lord," You reach forward and pull the gag out of his mouth "do you want me to fuck you?"

All he gives you is a stern glare from under his arm and a grunt.

You chuckle "I couldn't hear you, pet" you say condescendingly, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back to look at you properly: the look in his eyes is sinful "do you want to get fucked or not?"

He can't help but moan shakily, desperately pressing his ass into your hips "yes~" he drawls.

The both of you had been at this for nearly an hour, the vampire pressed beneath you getting needier by the minute as you'd edge his now desperate cock and pet his head. Of course he still had an attitude - this was Dio - so you'd frequently had to administer some light reprimands by dragging out the edging longer and longer, slapping his ass and peppering his neck, chest and thighs with bites.

"How bad do you want it?"

Your hand finds its way to his throbbing dick, slowly gliding along the silky skin and letting it drool precum into your waiting palm. Smirking, you pull your hand up to his pretty face, pushing your fingers into his mouth and making him taste himself. He lewdly sucks on your fingers.

You scoff at his lewd display, deciding to reward him.

Splashing some lube against his waiting hole you push in with ease, the thick strap on gliding along his walls and eliciting a deep, delicious moan from his throat. Your smaller hands grip his waist, stroking his hard body before finding their purchase at the junction between his torso and legs.

He loved this position, so you're able to start thrusting within a short amount of time. You bottom out, slowly pulling back about half of the length of the large strap before slipping it back in, movements slow and deliberate. He wants you to bend him in half and rail him, but you've decided to save that for later.

"Harder," he grunts, gripping the sheets.

"pets only speak when spoken to," you snap, looping the leash around your hand and pulling, he chokes out a strained moan as your hips thrust forward sharply, your other hand slapping his thick ass hard.

Dio arches his back, the supple curves and divots of his muscles making your cheeks heat up a bit as they ripple beneath his white skin. Running your hands over his body, feeling up the solid planes of his torso, you press your chest against him, moving your hips faster.

The moans coming from the huge vampire beneath you are sinful, to say the least - the deliberate thrusts of your hips bringing him closer and closer to the edge. The leash around his neck has been abandoned, you've taken you simply grabbing the collar itself and pulling it back hard. His eyes are hazy with pleasure, trying to focus on you but failing.

"Beg," you spit, clamping your teeth down on his flushed, pointed ear. This makes him whine, his voice strained against the painfully tight collar.

"P-please," Dio pants "let me cum, please,"

Hearing his broken voice, full of pleasure and close to the edge, snaps something inside you. Your languid thrusts snap to rough ones, the slapping of skin on skin loud and hot. You fist his cock, desperately throbbing in your hand, and are rewarded by what can only be described as a squeal.

He cums hard, painting the bedsheets with his spend, his asshole tightening around the thick strap. You slam your hips into him, grinding deep, hard inside of him as he rides out his orgasm. When he's finally done, he's limp and shaky beneath you.

You gently pull out with a satisfying pop, lube dribbling down his shivering thighs. Pressing against him, you plant gentle kisses on his tender neck, unfastening the collar and letting his head drop.

"Good boy~" you purr into his ear, eliciting a haughty grunt from the vampire. Even after being fucked like a cheap whore he's attempting to maintain his air of superiority, which makes you laugh at him lovingly.

--------

sorry it took me so long to get to u!!! as you can tell I'm a fan of subby Dio, sometimes the big vampire man needs to be put in his place 😔🫴

[justalonelybitch]

I'm so sad I can't write for you rn guys because I have so many fucking ideas AHHHHH-

Lemme give you guys a lil sneak peak of what's to come tho

Huh Yunjin x F!Reader - College AU (Angst)

“In the meantime, I’m not gonna sit around and take this bullshit.” You declared, hand slipping from her arm as you backed away from her. “I’ll see you at home Yunjin,” you muttered, turning on your heel and walking into the distance.

The brunette watched as you disappeared into a crowd of students, groaning in irritation. With her fists clenched by her sides, she stormed off in the opposite direction from you. Truth be told she herself couldn’t comprehend the rage that burned within her, but she knew that the unsettling feeling within her chest left her incredibly frustrated with you. It was all because you’d agreed to go on a stupid date with Park Sunghoon.

Miyawaki Sakura x F!Reader - Secret Relationship (Fluff)

The hint of a smile crept onto Sakura's lips as she felt the couch dip beside her, focus wavering as she struggled to finish the hardest level of a game on her phone. She didn't need to remove her gaze from the glowing screen to know it was you who'd taken up the place by her side. The comforting brush of your leg against her own was an action so small, and yet Sakura's heart still swelled with familiarity each time.

You silently dropped your head to her shoulder, the soft scent of your shampoo overwhelming Sakura's senses. She wordlessly placed her phone face down on the couch, turning to meet your gaze with eyes that swirled with nothing but adoration. Reaching for her hand, you mindlessly fiddled with her fingers before lacing them with your own. Neither of you paid any mind to the chaos that ensued within the dorms, simply getting lost in a world of your own.

Ko Yurim x F!Reader - Friends to Lovers (Angst, Fluff)

Yurim's heart twisted in her chest, aching in confusion as she stared blankly at your blindingly bright smile. It was one of the only things in this world that filled her with nothing but pure joy no matter the circumstances. It was only your grin that effortlessly cured the lingering pain within her heart. But now the sight left her feeling unusually bitter, heart tainted with a poisonous envy for your ceaseless happiness.

Your smile was no longer enough to heal her wounded heart, instead it grew to be the one thing she'd grown to loathe. She longed to be as happy as you were, dream freely like you could, but she couldn't. Yurim was bound to a life of misery and there was nothing your grin could do to cure that. Witnessing your joy was no longer a blessing, but a curse. She couldn't bare it any longer. It hurt to much to see her life collapse around her, and yet there you remained, pure and innocent, unknowing of the worlds sorrows.

If only she knew of the pain you hid behind your smile..

Kim Chaewon x F!Reader - High School AU (Angst)

Your lips were sucked between your teeth thoughtfully as you aimlessly strolled down the stone footpath. Paying no mind to the rain that began to fall, feigning ignorance to the familiar red car that pulled up beside you. "Y/n!" Chaewon yelled, leaning closer to the opened passenger window. Crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly, you picked up the pace, foolishly assuming she would leave you stranded in the rain with enough persistence.

"Get in the car, Y/n!" Your girlfriend shouted as the droplets began to fall harder, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. "Fuck you Kim Chaewon," you seethed, the short haired girl wincing at your harsh tone. She knew she deserved it, but that didn't mean she was going to let you punish yourself for her mistakes. "Please," she begged, eyes shinning hopefully as you came to a halt, finally turning to face her, gaze hardened with a burning rage.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Luxurious Love, Lust & Lies - Series, Chapter Three (Mystery)

Glancing down to the ground, you squinted, struggling to make out a faint silhouette in the darkness. “What is it?” Soyeon asked, following your gaze curiously. “Not sure yet, hand me your phone.” She rolled her eyes at the absurd demand, but nevertheless she passed over the battered device. Tapping away at the screen, you opened the text chain between you and Soyeon before clicking the camera icon. Leaning over the edge eagerly, you zoomed in, snapping a picture and sending it to yourself. A rough grip on your collar pulled you back, keeping you from toppling over the edge in your excitement.

“Idiot,” Soyeon muttered, snatching her phone from your grasp, gazing at it intently. Swinging your legs over the ledge, you planted your feet on the roof, wandering towards the opposite edge of the building. “Hey Y/n?” Soyeon called after you, hands stuffed into her pockets as she followed after you. “Yeah?” You hummed, glancing up at the tree that towered above the roof. “How did you know my password?” She questioned, brows raised inquisitively. “Lucky guess,” you excused with a shrug, carelessly climbing onto the ledge. “Until next time, Jeon Soyeon,” you saluted with a dopey smile, stepping backwards to gracefully fall over the edge.

~~~~

These are all unedited bits and pieces of upcoming unwritten stories!!