#kind of made it a little sad and melancholic

[totheidiot]

thy evil spirit

that short tiny moment from julius caesar act 4 scene 3 where the ghost of caesar shows up and tells brutus that he will meet him at philippi. but make it about light and L where L's ghost visits light in the morning of january 28, before the warehouse scene. enjoy :D

fandom: death note

word count: 1,410 words .

The ice-cold water from the faucet dripped on the basin in a methodical fashion. Light turned the faucet to the right, increasing the rush of water as he looked into the bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back at him: he took a moment to study himself as he gripped the edge of the sink. All was in order, it appeared. His hair was neat and his suit tidy, an apathetic expression on his face. As neutral as he seemed outwardly, on the inside, he thought he was the happiest man alive.

Today, it ends. He would win. He was sure of it. Every detail of his plan was absolutely perfect, he couldn't fail this. He would achieve what he wanted so many years ago, ever since he was seventeen years old. Perhaps he wanted this for much longer, even before he had found that notebook on the ground. Perhaps he had always wanted to be God.

His victory was so close, he could taste it. Unlike L, Light had never been one for sweets but now, his victory tasted so sweet and saccharine on his tongue. Light had never tasted something so perfect and divine. Oh, he could barely wait and he was so damn close. All of his life was leading up to this day: 1.28, 1 P.M. Victory belonged to him and very few things could stop his final accession.

With his right hand, he pulled at his sleeve, revealing his watch. His gaze turned to the time: it was a few minutes after ten in the morning. In about ten minutes, he would have to meet with the rest of the Task Force. But until then, he needed a moment alone. Just a moment to himself. Being alone had been such a privilege for him for so long. Just a moment alone in this bathroom, standing before the sink with his hands gripping the marble, looking to the mirror as the water fell from the faucet.

Cupping his hands underneath the tap, cold rushing water fell to his outstretched palms. He began to splash it on his face, closing his eyes. It felt like his skin was burning as the freezing water made contact with his face. Opening his eyes and turning off the tap, he let out a labored breath. Light's hand returned back to the edge of the sink as he stared right at the mirror. As he had turned off the faucet, stopping the sound of rushing water, the bathroom was completely silent. The silence was stifling, all that was left was him.

Water droplets clung to his skin and Light watched as they dripped back to the sink. He was oddly fixated on that methodical motion, watching water drop to the sink one drop at a time. Swallowing hard, he raised his head, expecting to see only his face staring back but when had his solitude ever been long-lasting?

L. Light could recognize his face anywhere: that familiar outline of his face, those black eyes, dark unkempt hair. Light's grip on the sink tightened and his eyes widened, his breath quickening. Through the reflection of the bathroom mirror on the wall, he could see that L seemed to be standing just behind him. Light instinctively turned his head, taking his eyes off of the mirror. No one was behind him, he was alone in the bathroom. He made himself look back at the mirror and there L was in the reflection. Standing with his hands inside his pockets, looking at Light with sharp eyes and a neutral expression.

Though Light was shaken up in the midst of L – after all, it wasn't everyday where you were faced with your dead rival – Light wasn't as surprised as he should be. For you see, this wasn't the first time he had seen him or felt his presence in this odd hallucination-like state, following L's death. Sometimes, amidst a crowd, Light might catch a glimpse of his face, so unmistakable that he just couldn't dismiss it as a misunderstanding or a trick of the light. Some nights, Light could wake up in the dead of night randomly and in his half-asleep daze, eyes half-lidded, he might find L lying next to him in his bed. Light never let himself think about it too deeply. Even after death, L was such a pain.

"Thy evil spirit, Kira."

With a start, Light stared at L through the reflection. Though Light had seen him countless times, this was the first time he had heard L speak in this state. Light hadn't heard that voice in four years and he was surprised to find that it was exactly as he had remembered. Even after four years, Light's memory of his voice hadn't failed him.

Light parted his lips, not knowing what to do. He closed his eyes, opening them again. L's face was still staring straight at him through the reflection of the mirror. It appeared that L only existed in the plane of that bathroom mirror as there was no one standing behind Light right now. "Why are you here?" Light asked, trying to sound as contained as possible. However shocked he was, he couldn't let it show.

L opened his mouth again and without taking a pause, he replied to him immediately. His voice was completely flat, not a single emotion at all. His face was the same. "To tell you that you'll be seeing me at the docks."

Light furrowed his eyebrows, what did that mean? Damn L, even in death, he was trying to confuse him. Just as infuriating as well. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as his grip on the sink loosened. "Well, then I'll see you again?"

"Yes," was L's simple reply. Then, a nod of his head. "At the docks."

Light let out a breath as he stared straight into L's face. Staring into the face of a dead man, the dead man in question stared back at him. That very face, it would forever be stuck in the age of twenty-five. Light reached out his right hand, unclenching the edge of the sink as he began to raise it. He touched the glass of the mirror, his fingertips meeting with the outline of L's face. What he felt was not skin but cold and unforgiving glass. L made no reaction at such a gesture, all he did was stare. For a moment, Light just traced over the reflection of L's face, his lips softly parted as he felt a pit in his stomach. Finally, Light spoke again, his lips moving to produce sound. "Then I'll see you at the docks."

L only gave a shrug of his shoulders in reply. He did not disappear immediately, instead only staring back at Light. Where was L, in which plane did he exist? Light watched as L began to reach out his hand also and slowly, it appeared to meet the glass. Light couldn't help but produce a small choking sound as he saw that L's fingertips met where Light's were. What separated them was seemingly just glass but Light knew better, there was no point in believing otherwise. They were worlds apart, literally. L was dead and Light was so alive. It was all Light's fault.

"Now that I understand," Light spoke, his voice strained and low. He looked to the side, not being able to look at L. "You can go now. You ill spirit, I wish we could have talked more."

When Light looked back at the mirror, L was gone, his fingertips were hovering over nothing. It was as if L had never been here at all. With a sigh, Light withdrew his hands and stood upright. That was a moment of weakness, he couldn't afford something like that. He needed to forget about it, forget what L had told him, forget how their fingertips connected together. There was no point in focusing on whatever that interaction was. Forget about the docks, whatever that means. L was dead and he was alive, and he would be alive for a long time. Light had won while L had lost. Light and L had parted their ways a long time ago, there would be no meeting between them. He pulled at his tie, adjusting his clothes as he looked back at the mirror with a stoic expression on his face. He had more pressing matters to deal with. 

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[heartofbusan]

A layer of fresh snow.

Once we're allowed to focus solely on our main protagonists, the vibe of AYS shifts drastically from playful to softly melancholic. The scenery has a marked effect on them. Is this that youth they keep talking about?

Well, we're seeing it fall through their fingers as they try to grab it with both hands. This is a turning point, and they both know it. Once you've experienced a couple of these, you start to head into them with eyes wide open. One of them is welcoming it with a positive attitude, the other, less so.

The opening scene sets the stage for this mood. I got an ask about this moment because it seems like Jimin is markedly quiet or introverted (just look at his body language compared to other promo segments!) compared to Jungkook, who is laser focused on Jimin. Was Jimin tired, hungover, sick, or sad? Who knows. This is what we're working with, and as the opening scene of season 3 of AYS, it says a lot about the tone they're settling on;

Cementing old memories with a layer of fresh ones.

The show finally landed on the final concept, it seems. There's less of a focus on what they're doing. Making memories is the main goal. There's a focus on the landscape, but it's all emotionally linked to jikook. We're looking at the world through their eyes. It's not so much the surroundings that matter here, or where they are exactly, as it's who they're experiencing it with and how they're enjoying it from inside their little snow globe.

There are whole scenes in which 'nothing' actually happens, no activity, no 'point' to the scene other than its jikook moving from point A to B while enjoying the snow. That's kind of wild, a show with little to no dramatic arc, and the intimacy takes center stage.

The cold makes them seek warmth from a hot drink, a warm cafe, and life is suddenly made simpler. A shelter from the storm. If this isn't a metaphor for their lives at the time of filming, then I don't know what is.

How can we talk about this episode and not mention the Train to Busan Boys scene? It will go down in history as my roman empire. They're enjoying the view while sharing earphones. What makes this moment even more intimate is the fact that we as an audience are not let into what they are listening to. We're not seeing their faces either, but we're seeing the effect this moment has on them : Seeking a shoulder to lean on. Again, the metaphors are writing themselves.

I will never get over this.

[sickwhispers]

Ur so cool for making stuff for dandys world💚 Im asking so politely for you to write Dazzle x Reader pretty pls? 🙏🙏🙏I like never see any Dazzle love

WING MAN

Pairing: Dazzle x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning:

Type: headcanons + drabble

Hand written letters seem to be the only way he'd be able to express his fondness towards you

Letters about his day, how he had messed up while extracting a machine, how sad it made him, how the only reason he hadn't broke down crying on the spot was because you had smiled his way

Sometimes, he wonders if you save those smiles for him

Keeping them locked away for the rest of the day, only revealing the true kindness behind them the moment you two make eye contact

Razzle likes to tease him a lot

Most of the time, it ends with Razzle trying to convince him to talk to you

But there's always a new excuse

Dazzle wants to talk to you,

He really does

Although, when it comes to how he thinks those scenarios would play out, it always end in some sort of tragedy

He might stumble over his words; he might end up tripping both him and Razzle in front of you

He might even bring you down in the process

There were too many risks

Too many possibilities of embarrassing himself in front of you

No matter how many times Razzle seems to try and convince him to talk to you, every conversation ends with an excuse not to

At some point, razzle just ends up deciding to do it himself

Dazzle stares at the letter held in your hands, eye twitching as you try to explain how you had found it earlier in your room. According to your story, you had arrived in your bedroom after a long run extracting machines and distracting twisted to help save your friends, only to find a little white envelope placed neatly on your bedside table.

The letter, once you had opened it, stated it had been from Dazzle. Which confused him to no end, considering he had no recollection of writing it. You had almost laughed while reading it if you were being honest. You've known Dazzle for a quite a while now. And, you've come to learn how he prefers writing. There's always a melancholic tone in his words, his sentences short and simple. And yet, at the same time, there's always a deep hidden emotion behind the way he chooses to phrase them.

Dazzle takes a second to look over at his polar opposite. And it doesn't take long to notice how Razzle seemed to keep his gaze fixated on the wall. You try to speak, noticing the growing tension between the two of them, but before you could get a word out, Razzle speaks up.

"So-! What did you think of the letter? You know, the one your holding? The one Dazzle sent?" Even now, there seemed to be an almost anxious tone in his voice. A brittle laugh slipping past him as he made quick eye contact with you before glancing away again. However, this time, it seemed to have fallen on Dazzle.

"Well... it seems to have an overwhelming amount of positivity, considering dazzle wrote this." You fiddle with the note in hand, rereading the paragraph after paragraph. There had been a lot of exclamation points—more than what would have been appropriate to use. Along with the unusual way each sentence had been worded, there was almost an alarming amount of 'please.' "And a lot of desperation..."

"Y-you don't... uh... have to answer it. I already know what you'll say..." after hearing the last thing you said, Dazzle only seemed to cave into himself, attempting to step back and give himself more room. But, razzle only continued to keep the both of them firm in place. His eyes shooting Dazzle a quick glance, attempting to reassure him of his worries.

Despite how awkward the situation had turned out, you had accepted the letter

Your eyes scanning over the simple topic that had been painted across each paraphrase

The phrase "go on a date with me?" Being obvious among the array of sentences

Dazzle had seemed shocked when you accepted. Eyes widening as he watched you nod up and down

Yet, Razzle, on the other hand, had been fairly confident you would answer that way

And, after this whole ordeal, he made a mental note to thank Poppy for being the mailman for him

It was tricky having to write a love letter in the dark. in bed. While Dazzle was asleep

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Forever in the Dark

Part 2

Summary: In this intense confrontation, Anakin finally reveals to you that he is Darth Vader. Still having feelings for him, you struggle between holding on to the past and accepting the harsh reality of who he is now.

Warnings: Angst.

WC: 5 K.

Part 1 Fictober Challenge

“Everything. Everything went wrong…” His voice cracked under the weight of his confession. For a moment, he stood there, his chest tightening, breaths coming out in uneven, shuddering gasps. You noticed his unease- the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, and the trembling in his hands as he still held your wrists.

“It’s alright, Ani. Come, sit down” You said in a reassuring tone.

He nodded silently, allowing you to lead him over to the couch. “You’re in luck. I made tea, and it’s still hot” you gave him a quick smile, trying to divert his attention from whatever was weighing on him. “I’ll be back in a moment.” You glanced down at where his hand still clung to yours, his grip hesitant, as if afraid to let go- that you’d vanish if he did. Reluctantly, he let your hand slip away from his grasp, but his eyes never left you.

As he sat there alone, his heartbeat quickened. He knew you would eventually ask about what had happened, where he’d been all these years, and what he’d done. But he didn’t know how to answer all these questions. What was he going to tell you? That he thought you were dead? That he’d almost killed you himself? The questions swirled in his mind, and he fought to silence them. He just wanted a moment of peace, a moment where he could just be himself again- raw, vulnerable, without judgment. He’d always been able to be himself around you, but now… how could he?

He needed to delay the inevitable, to find some way to hold back the storm of questions. But it was impossible to think clearly when you were so close, with all that kindness in your heart and that familiar smile on your face. Not when you trusted him with your life again, not when fear was creeping in, the fear of losing you again… he couldn’t bear it.

“Here” You returned and handed him a mug. “Be careful, it’s hot.” You watched him closely as he took it slowly, bringing it to his lips.

He took a small sip and it tasted…familiar. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a question on the tip of his tongue “This is…” he trailed off. You smiled as you watched the recognition blooming in his eyes “ It’s my favorite tea… The one you always made for me when I came back from missions” His eyes dimmed as the memories washed over him, the light within them fading.

“It brought me comfort.” You said quietly, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Like a part of you was still with me.” You sat down next to him, watching as he placed the mug on the table and turned toward you.

He was just staring, taking in every little detail, still struggling to believe that you were really there.

“You look…different” you remarked, unable to pinpoint what had changed but sensing a shift in him. 

If only you knew how different. He wasn’t the same man he used to be- the man you once loved. “I suppose I do” he replied, his voice wistful, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

As you studied him further you noticed he was tense, something he never was when he was with you.

“What is it?” he asked, noticing the way you were eyeing him, the way you had something on your mind.

“You seem distressed” you blurted.

He let out a low, melancholic chuckle. ‘Distressed’ was an understatement, but he couldn’t tell you that. His eyes fell to the floor, his gaze avoiding yours. “I’m fine.”

“You were never a good liar, Ani. But I won’t push you. You can tell me what’s bothering you when you’re ready.” You placed a comforting hand on his upper thigh.

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping slightly. You had always been able to see right through him, sense the things he’d tried so hard to hide. He was quiet for a moment, his mind torn between telling you the truth or avoiding it for as long as he could. “It’s all my fault” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You furrowed your brow, confusion knitting your features. “What is?”

Panic tightened in his chest, his hands curling into fists. “Everything” he muttered, staring at the table. “All of it. The fall of the Jedi, the rise of the Empire… Everything that’s happened. It’s all my fault” He paused, looking up at you, his expression grim. “I destroyed everything, Y/n. And… and I- I failed you.” he searched your face, expecting anger or blame but he saw none of it.

“How can it be your fault?” you asked, trying to make sense of his words.

He let out a bitter laugh “How can it not be my fault? I was weak, naive. I let my emotions control me, and it cost me everything. It cost me… you.” 

“What are you talking about? The Emperor started it all. He’s to blame for everything. I thought he  had you killed” you said, trying to understand why he was taking on all the guilt. Yes, he had a tendency to blame whenever things went wrong, but this wasn’t his fault- or you thought.

So that’s what it was, why you were here- why you were surprised to see him- why you didn’t know what he’d become. You thought he was dead.

His jaw tightened at the mention of the Emperor. If there’s one person he hated more than himself, it’s Palpatine. But still, he couldn’t blame everything on him.

“I failed, Y/n. I failed to see what he was capable of, and I failed to stop him. My failure led to the Empire, to… this. It’s because of me he’s grown stronger, and now no one can defeat him.”

“You couldn’t have seen it coming. Not even Master Yoda knew his true nature” you reminded him gently, hoping to reach him.

He flinched at the mention of Yoda. It filled him with bitterness and resentment “You’re right” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm “The great Yoda didn’t see it coming, and neither did I. Guess that makes us both fools.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself” you reached up to cradle his cheek, hoping to comfort him.

A hollow laugh escaped his lips. “Don’t blame myself? How can I not?” His fists clenched so tightly that the metal beneath his glove creaked. “I brought suffering and pain wherever I went. I ruined everything… I ruined us.” His voice wavered, the last three words barely audible.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, worry creeping into your voice. 

His chest heaved with suppressed emotion, the truth he’d kept buried for years was pouring out. “You were the light in my life, Y/n. You, and only you. You made me happy when nothing else could. When I told you I couldn’t live without you, I meant it. I had to kill the Anakin you knew. I- I destroyed everything we had. I- I broke your heart.” 

“Hey, you didn’t destroy anything. I’m still here, and so are you.” you said, your hands tenderly stroking his face as you tried to catch his gaze. “My heart broke not because of you, but from your loss- when I thought you were gone.” You wanted him to know that it was alright. But there was too much pain- too many things left unspoken. He couldn’t meet your eyes, not when you thought he was innocent in all of this.

Then, you hit him with the question “How did you survive? Obi-Wan told me he saw you die himself after we were attacked.”

The mention of his former Master made Anakin tense. So that’s what the old bastard told you- that you were attacked, and that Anakin died on Mustafar. The memory of what had actually happened still haunted him. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself before speaking again “I was lucky” he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. It wasn’t a lie, him surviving what happened that day was a miracle.

“Where were you? I searched for you everywhere. I- I didn’t want to believe what Obi-Wan said. I came back for you, but I couldn’t find you.” you said, tears glistening in your eyes as you remembered how your heart shattered when Obi-Wan broke the news to you. When you woke up in pain, only for him to deepen it by telling you that Darth Vader killed Anakin, that you were lucky to survive. How you went back to Mustafar and searched for him through the heat, refusing to accept that he was gone. How you had to learn to live with the pain, the emptiness, how you couldn’t move on or function in society anymore, that you had gone back to your home planet where you were supposed to be together after the war. How you’d wake up in the middle of the night, screaming his name in agony. How you had to console yourself because the only person you cared about was gone, and you were left to live- exist alone in a world without him.

Anakin’s expression darkened at your words, shame and guilt etched on his face “You shouldn’t have” he looked away “You shouldn’t have looked for me, shouldn’t have cared. I was…dead, Y/n. To you, and to everyone else. You should’ve moved on. You should have…found happiness” as much as it pained him, he wanted you to be happy more than anything, even if it was without him.

“You’re not making any sense.” How could he say that to you? How could he expect you not to care or look for him when he was your everything? “You know I couldn’t have.”

“Of course not. You were always too stubborn, too loyal.” he sighed, shaking his head. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke again “This is why I was reluctant to come here.” The atmosphere seemed to shift, a palpable tension in the air. 

He had known that seeing you again would be his undoing. That you would tear down the walls he had built around himself, that you’d bring back everything he had tried to suppress over the past five years.

“What? Why?” You didn’t know what was going on in his head, but you could feel the internal struggle churning within him.

“Because…I knew seeing you would bring back memories, feelings that I wanted to forget. I knew it would undo all the progress I made.”

“Progress? What are you talking about?” you asked, frustration creeping into your voice. You could sense that he was hiding something, but you didn't know what or how to ask.

He struggled to find the words. How should he explain this to you? How could he explain that he’d become a monster in every sense of the word? There was no turning back now.

“I’m not the same person I was, Y/n.” He breathed out, the words heavy with regret “Things…happened. I’ve done things… things I’m not proud of. Things that would shock and horrify you.”

“No one has been the same since the fall of the Jedi. What did you do?” you asked, your gaze still soft.

He swallowed, his throat constricting around the words. “Things I can’t undo, actions I can’t take back” he replied vaguely “I…I’m not the hero you thought I was. I’m a monster. A…a murderer.” His gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to face you. He knew if he did, he’d see the revulsion and horror in your eyes, the dawning realization of what he’d become.

“That’s not true. You were always a good man. You cared deeply for those you loved.” you lifted his chin so his eyes met yours. You needed him to know you believed in him.

‘A good man’, oh how he wished that was true. “No, I wasn’t, and I’m not” his voice was heavy with self-deprecation. “I let my anger and hatred consume me. I let my emotions make me weak, vulnerable. And I hurt you in the process.”

You sighed, your frustration now clear in your tone. “You’re still not making sense, Anakin.”

After all that, you still didn’t understand the hints he was trying to give you. He rose from the couch, towering over you, his voice strained “What don’t you understand?” he snapped, his tone harsh. “I’m telling you, I’m not the man you thought I was! I’m not a ‘good man’!”

You stood up to meet him, refusing to back down, your faces just inches apart. Finally, you asked what had been weighing on your mind, your voice trembling slightly “What have you done? What aren’t you telling me?”

Suddenly, he felt afraid. He didn’t want you to be disgusted by him, he didn’t want the way you looked at him to change. But he could see the determination in your eyes “You really want to know?” His voice was low and soft now.

“Yes.” Your heart skipped a beat. Something inside you urged you to stop, to not go further, but you had to know the truth.

This was it- the moment everything would change from this moment forward. He was crossing a line, a line he could never return from. But he knew, he had to tell you. He couldn’t keep it any longer. He gaze locked onto yours, and his voice filled with a mixture of regret and shame. “I…I have killed…hundreds. Civilians, rebels…Jedi…anyone who dared to defy the Empire.”

For a moment, you stood there in stunned silence, trying to process what he had just said. “W-what?” you stammered, your voice breaking.

He turned his head away, unable to bear the look in your eyes- the disbelief, the horror slowly taking shape. “It’s my job now” he said, his tone rough. “To hunt down rebel cells, to eliminate any threat to the Empire.”

You stumbled back a step, and he winced at the sight. “W- what are you saying? That- that you work for him? For the Emperor? For the Sith?” Your voice trembled as disbelief and dread twisted inside you. This couldn’t be happening. You had just gotten him back, and now… this?

He nodded slowly. It hurt him to admit it,  but it was the truth. He couldn't deny it any longer “Yes. I work for him. I am his apprentice. His enforcer… his weapon.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.

“Apprentice?” you echoed, your eyes wide with realization. "There’s only one man strong enough to commit these atrocities. It- no. It can’t be… You- you’re Darth Vader?” A tear slipped down your cheek as the weight of the truth crashed over you.

Anakin froze, his heart sinking at the sound of that name coming from your lips. He was used to his title being spoken with fear, but hearing it from you…it felt different. It felt like a knife twisting in  his chest. For a moment, he said nothing, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He was tempted to deny it, to try and salvage whatever relationship you still had. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to you. You deserved the truth “Yes” he whispered “I am Darth Vader.”

Hearing him say that shattered something inside you. It was as if the world crumbled around you. Your chest tightening as your breath came in ragged gasps. You could hear a faint ringing in your ear as you let out a broken sigh.

He saw you backing away from him, and it tore at him like nothing else. He could see the expression on your face, the horror and pain. It was a look he dreaded seeing, a look he never in a million years imagined would be directed at him. “Y/n, please” he mumbled, taking a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out to you.

“What have you done?” you managed to choke out, your voice strained as a lump formed in your throat.

Seeing the tears on your face made him despise himself more than he already did. It broke him to know he was the reason for your pain. He wanted to reach out, to wipe away your tears, to hold you, but he knew he couldn’t, he had no right. “Everything you’ve heard about me is true.” he confessed.

“W-why?” you whispered, your voice barely reaching him as your vision blurred with tears.

He struggled with the question. He wished there was a reasonable explanation to why he did what he did, but there was none. “I…I don’t know” he spoke under his breath as he shook his head. “Fear. Anger. Hatred. The dark side, it…it consumed me- I let it consume me. I was lost, blind to everything…except my own pain.”

“Yo- you were the Chosen One. People believed in you- I believed in you. Oh, my! The younglings- did you…did you kill them?” Your voice broke as the realization struck, and you felt a sickening weight in your stomach.

Anakin’s gaze dropped at the mention of younglings. He had known the question would come, but he had dreaded this moment. “Yes. I… I killed them too.” The words escaped his lips like a death sentence.

Your brow furrowed, anger flaring within you. “How could you?”

He lowered his head, shame flooding him. “I- I had orders. I…was angry, blinded. The Jedi- I felt betrayed by them. They held me back, kept me from reaching my full potential” he muttered weakly. He didn’t want to have that conversation with you again. You had asked him the same question five years ago on Mustafar. Back then, you also couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing.

You gathered yourself, your tone cold and unyielding as you spoke “Are you here to kill me too?”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide with horror . The mere thought of hurting you, of causing you pain…“Wh- no, absolutely not. I…I would never hurt you. I could never!” it tore him apart that you even thought he’s capable of that. He took another step toward you, but you immediately retreated, pulling your hand away before he could touch you.

“You tried before” you said as all the memories of that day came flooding back.

“I- that… that was a mistake. The one mistake I regret more than any other. I didn’t mean it. I was angry, and I- you reminding me of what I had done- I just needed you to be quiet, for just a moment. I didn’t mean to- please, you have to believe me.” His words rushed out, his head shaking fiercely. He didn’t want to lose you again. He was filled with regret and guilt. And you thinking he’d deliberately harm you crushed his soul.

“How could I believe anything you say after all you’ve done?” you retorted, your voice rising with emotion.

“Believe it or not, but it is the truth” he insisted, his voice taking a tone of desperation. “Despite everything I’ve become, my feelings for you remain unchanged. I swear, I would never hurt you- not again.”

You knew he was telling the truth, and you knew that that day on Mustafar he hadn’t meant to use the Force to choke you. But you suspected the reason he came here in the first place wasn’t because of you- at least not entirely. He had never lied to you before, but you still wanted to see if he was telling the truth now. “Why did you come here, Anakin?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, scrutinizing his reaction.

“We received intel that someone was helping the remaining Jedi and rebel cells. I came to investigate this personally.” he admitted, his voice steady, but tinged with tension.

“So, you have come to kill me?” you repeated, your tone laced with both defiance and sorrow.

“No.” His answer was firm. “When the rumors started, yes, I wanted whoever that person was dead. But, as we gathered more information, I began to suspect that this person was someone from my past. The last message we intercepted mentioned that this person was here on Naboo. When I heard that name, my thoughts immediately went to you. But I had been told you were dead. I came here because a part of me, despite everything, hoped you were still alive. And when I stood outside the cabin, I felt it. I knew it was you.” 

You listened, your expression unreadable. “But I am helping them, and I will continue to do so. Shouldn’t you kill me? After all, you are the Emperor’s enforcer. You said it yourself- you kill anyone who dares to defy the Empire.”

“No. I would rather die than let any harm come to you." His voice was resolute, full of conviction. This time, when he reached out to touch your face, you didn’t move. He searched your face, your eyes, seeking the disgust and resentment he knew he deserved but found none.

“And now what?” you asked, lingering for a moment at his touch before stepping back. “Do you expect me to forgive you? To just go back to the way things were?”

“No, I wouldn’t expect that from you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I will do anything that you ask.” He took a step back respecting the distance you created.

“And what if I want you dead?” You were testing his limits, pushing to see how far he would go.

Without hesitation he dropped to his knees and extended his lightsaber to you.

“What are you doing?” Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him kneeling before you. So vulnerable, so defenseless.

“If my existence brings you pain, then end it. I won’t fight you” He looked up at you, his gaze locking onto yours. His eyes filled with desperate longing. That moment, he was offering you more than just his life. “If this is what you need… if my death is the only way to ease your suffering, then I’m yours to take.”

Here he was, the man who’d faced countless battles- both as Anakin and as Vader- now on his knees, offering his life to you. There were many who would kill, die, and sacrifice others for this opportunity. You ignited his lightsaber, the weapon he’d taken so many innocent lives with, and held it inches from his throat. You could end it all right here, right now. All it would take was just one small movement, and he would cease to exist. It was all so tempting, and yet… you couldn’t. You wanted to hate him so much. After telling you who he’d become you should hate him, but you just couldn’t. The bitterness and frustration of not being able to hate him clawed at your heart.

“Why would you do this?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Because if it brings you even a moment of peace…then it’s worth it.” His voice was filled with desperate sincerity. “Because I would rather die by your hand than live knowing that I caused you this much pain, knowing that you hate me. I can live without you ever forgiving me, but I can’t live with the thought that you hate me.” The weight of his words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating, as you stared at the man you thought you could ever hate.

You deactivated his lightsaber and pressed it back into his hand before walking past him, your back turned to him “I have nothing more to say to you. You should leave” you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back the tears.

He sprang to his feet and turned you to face him again, his hands cupping your face “Please…Please don’t say that…Don’t send me away.” he pleaded, his voice breaking with raw emotion.

“There is nothing left between us” you said coldly, removing his hands from your face.

“I know there are no excuses for what I’ve done.” His voice was full of anguish. “But please, look into your heart and find it in you to feel something, anything. I can’t bear the thought of you not caring for me anymore… I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.” his voice trembled as a tear trickled down his cheek.

You took a shaky breath, struggling to speak. “You said you would do anything I asked. So you- you’ll go your way, and I’ll go mine. Never meeting again, always on opposite sides” Your voice faltered with each word. This was the only way for the two of you. A  punishment for what he’d done and a punishment for still loving him. “We were naive, thinking there wouldn’t be consequences for our actions, for our love… I believe us meeting again now is the universe's way of punishing us for getting into this forbidden relationship in the first place.”

“No, don’t say that, please.” He whispered, shaking his head. “Loving you was the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if I must suffer for the rest of my life, I will never regret loving you. And if I had to do it all over again, I would choose you every time. I would face every consequence, endure every punishment, just to have even a moment of what we had” He reached out to caress your face, his touch so gentle, almost hesitant, afraid you’d pull away again, his forehead coming to rest against yours.

“You are worth every risk, every sacrifice. Don’t you see? The universe didn’t punish us- it blessed us. Even if it was only for a little while… So if I have to pay for loving you, then let it be. But don’t tell me our love was a mistake.”

You were silent, your heart breaking all over again. You wanted to let it all go, to just forget everything and be with him, but you couldn’t. Your conscience wouldn’t let you. You let out a sad chuckle “You call this a blessing?” was all you managed to let out.

“A blessing? A curse? I don’t care. All I know is that I love you.” His voice was filled with fervor.

You pulled away slightly to look at him, to truly look at him one last time before you did  what had to be done. Your eyes trailed to his lips before you leaned in, pressing your mouth to his in a desperate, lingering kiss. It was filled with a mixture of different emotions, you tried to pour everything you couldn’t say into that one fleeting moment. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as if he, too, was trying to hold on to something that was slipping away. Deep down, he knew what was about to happen, but right now he didn’t want to think about it and neither did you. For an instance, the world around you ceased to exist. It was just the two of you again, as it used to be. Nothing else mattered in the moment and you wished you could just stay like this, forever frozen in time.

There was a bittersweetness to the kiss, a silent farewell in the way your lips moved against his, knowing that when you pulled away, everything would change, all of it was coming to an end.

It was time, but you didn’t want to pull away, you didn’t want this to end. Your mind was struggling, if you lingered for a moment longer, you didn’t know if you’d still have the courage to do what was necessary. You didn’t know if you could bear it. No, it had to be now. You opened your eyes, your hands resting against his chest, pushing him away slightly. You had to speak now before him, because if he did, you’d just give in to him.

“If you truly love, let me go” you begged, your voice breaking.

The idea of letting you go felt like tearing his soul from his body. But he knew that this is what you wanted- what you needed, and he loved you. Loved you enough to do as you wished, even if it killed him inside “If- if that’s what you truly want, then I’ll respect your wishes…I- I’l let you go.” 

“You would?” you asked, a hint of shock and disbelief in your voice.

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and resignation “I would… if it means you’ll be happy, then I’ll do it.”

“You should get going.” You said quietly, as you tried to blink without letting the tears in your eyes fall.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, to protest, to beg you not to do this, to give him another chance. But instead, he closed it, finally accepting his reality. “Goodbye, Y/n” he said softly, a tear slipping down his face.

You knew this was the last time you would ever see him. You wanted him to stay here with you, to fulfill that dream you had of retiring together. It was right there in front of you. You knew if you just asked, he’d do whatever you wanted, but you couldn’t. Even if you wanted to, the universe wouldn’t allow it. The Emperor would raise hell and even if by some miracle he was defeated, there were still the remaining Jedi, the rebels, millions of people whose lives were affected by what he’d done. What you did next was the cruelest thing you’ve ever done. You gathered all your strength as you fought to keep your compuse and said in a calm tone “Goodbye, Vader.” Saying that name, you had let go of Anakin, accepting that he had died five years ago when he chose the Dark Side. And the man before you, although he may have looked like him and had his memories, he was not the same- he was the man that killed the love of your life.

He recoiled at the name, the sound of it from your lips cutting deeper than any blade. But he didn’t correct you, he didn’t argue. He simply nodded, reluctantly accepting the name he knew he had become. You just reminded him that now no matter what happened, there’s no hope. He was beyond redemption, and he would remain forever in the dark.

Tags: @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings @dcrthbaeder

[goblinontour]

Sweet Rain

and he’s even sweeter

warnings: dad!alex, smut, handjob, mommy’s boy, he’s a bit sad (of course he is)

word count: 5.5k

It was dark and wet and cold outside, the kind of night that seemed to seep into your bones. You loved it. He hated it. It always made him more melancholic, his usual quiet introspection deepening into something heavier, something he couldn’t easily shake. You didn’t mind the rain, not necessarily, but the cold always brought with it a craving for warmth — the kind of warmth only his arms, wrapped tightly around you, could give. His body against yours. The kind of comfort that only came when the world outside felt so unforgiving.

Tonight, though, you needed something different. Something that would give you space to breathe, if only for a little while. A bath seemed perfect. 

Before heading off, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your lips brushing the faint stubble that had started to grow along his jawline. You whispered that you were going to the bathroom, giving him a gentle smile. He didn’t look up right away, his eyes still fixed on something beyond the window, the rain casting streaks across the glass. But he nodded, his voice low and gravelly from the day’s exhaustion. “I’ll take care of her tonight.”

You stepped back, though you couldn’t help but linger, your gaze finding him once more. He sat in the old wooden chair by the window, one leg bent, his body slouched slightly, as if he allowed the weight of the day to finally settle. His hair was tousled, dark strands falling just above his brow, curling slightly where the rain had touched it earlier when he’d come inside. His eyes, though tired, were still sharp, still alive, focused intently on the crib beside him.

The soft light illuminated the side of his face, catching the shadows under his eyes — deeper now from sleepless nights — and the soft curve of his lips, lips that hadn’t quite formed a smile today. His hands rested on the armrests, fingers occasionally twitching, like he wasn’t fully at ease. Yet there was something almost sacred in the way he watched her. His attention completely absorbed by her tiny figure, wrapped snugly in blankets, her small breaths so soft they barely disturbed the air. She was still settling, tiny movements, little stretches, her face occasionally scrunching in that way babies do, like they’re dreaming of something they can’t possibly understand.

He’d developed a habit of watching her like this, especially when he thought no one else was around. Like the world quieted, narrowed down to just the two of them. Maybe it was how he was processing the enormity of it all, the shift from the life he once had, to this new reality, to being a father. You’d caught him like this before, his gaze far away yet so intimately connected to her, almost as if he was trying to memorise every second of her existence.

Tonight was no different. He was so still, so wrapped up in the moment, that he didn’t notice you standing there, watching him for longer than you intended. Or maybe he did. There was always that thing, wasn’t there? That sensation people get when they’re being watched. The way the air changes, the way something shifts, as if the person can feel the weight of your gaze on their skin. But he didn’t seem to mind too much. If anything, he relaxed into it, as if your presence was a comfort even from across the room.

His fingers drummed lightly on the chair, a slow, absent rhythm that matched the steady hum of rain outside. His other hand drifted toward the edge of the crib, fingertips brushing the wood as if he needed the physical connection to her, like touching the crib itself somehow granted him that. The curve of his shoulders, the way his body leaned into the chair, told you he was tired. Tired in a way that went beyond physical exhaustion. But there was a gentleness in the way he sat there, a calm that only seemed to come when he was with her.

You felt a pang of something in your chest as you finally broke the moment. Stepping softly, you made your way down the hallway, the spell of the room lifting as you moved further away. The sound of the rain outside filled your ears again, a steady patter on the roof that was almost comforting in its consistency. It accompanied you like an old friend as you entered the room.

The quiet was soon interrupted by the rush of water as you turned the faucet, letting it fill the tub at just the right temperature. Warm, almost hot, the kind of heat that would soak deep into your muscles. You sat on the edge of the tub for a moment, feeling the steam rise, wrapping itself around you.

You began to undress, peeling off the layers one by one, tossing them into the laundry basket nearby. You tugged your hair out of its tie, running your fingers through the strands to loosen them. It was a small routine, but a comforting one, a ritual that signalled the day was ending. A time to unwind.

As you stepped into the water, you sighed, the warmth immediately pulling you under its spell. You sank deeper, letting the heat surround you, closing your eyes and listening to the muffled world outside. The cold, the rain, the melancholy — it all felt distant now. All that mattered was this. This moment of stillness, this warmth, and the knowledge that just down the hall, he was watching over her.

That warmth began to take over, its heat slowly loosening the tightness in your body. You let yourself sink deeper, the water creeping up around your neck, inch by inch, until it filled your ears, muffling the sounds of the world outside. The rain still tapped against the window, but it sounded far away now, like it belonged to some other place, some other time. All you could feel was the warm, soothing embrace of the bath, your body floating in its weightlessness.

For a moment, you let your thoughts drift, lulled by the warmth, your mind blissfully blank. It was so quiet, so still, that you almost didn’t hear his steps as he approached. It wasn’t until you caught the faint creak of the floorboards and the way the light from the hallway spilled across the tiles that you realised he was there. You lifted your head just slightly, your eyes half-lidded as you watched the doorway.

His bare feet appeared first, hesitating just on the edge of the tile as if the coldness of the floor was something he wasn’t quite ready to confront. He just stood there, hovering in the threshold, the soft glow of the light behind him casting him in silhouette. He looked almost hesitant, like he’d forgotten why he came in the first place. His hand rested on the doorframe, fingers curling loosely around the wood, while his other hand hung by his side, his posture heavy, but somehow still alert.

“She’s asleep.” he said softly, but still a little rough around the edges. It was the kind of voice that made you feel like everything was all right. Even when it wasn’t.

You smiled to yourself, eyes still closed, relaxing further into the warmth of the water as you asked, “Did you take all the blankets out of the crib?”

He nodded, though you couldn’t see it. His presence was more felt than seen in the dim light. “Yeah. Took ’em all out.” he said, his voice still gentle, like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet of the room. 

“And Mr. Bean?”

There was a pause, and you could almost hear the faint amusement in his voice when he answered, “Yeah, Mr. Bean too. Everythin’s where it should be.” 

Mr. Bean was the small, brown teddy bear that his parents had gotten for her. A soft, worn copy of the one that the actual Mr. Bean, the character, carried around. You both hadn’t exactly been inspired when it came to naming him, but somehow, it fit. He was always there, tucked into the crib, watching over her, just like Alex did. 

You opened your eyes now, catching the faint outline of him as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face in a motion that seemed more habitual than anything. He looked tired, still. His hair, still slightly damp from the earlier rain, curled in uneven waves, and he blinked slowly, as if he, too, was trying to keep hold of some kind of calm in the middle of everything. The room was dim, but in the quiet intimacy of the space, you could see the way his shoulders had slumped, how the day had worn him down.

You could tell he wasn’t ready to leave yet. He lingered in the doorway like he needed a moment before heading back to the quiet house, to the weight of responsibility waiting for him. And in a way, you both knew this was your sanctuary, your small escape from the world you now shared with her. 

You leaned your head back against the edge of the tub, your eyes softening as you looked at him, catching his gaze, trying to offer some unspoken reassurance. 

“Thanks for taking care of her.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the warmth of the water lulling you back into that drowsy comfort.

He gave a small, crooked smile that tugged at the corner of his lips but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing.” 

But you both knew it wasn’t nothing.

He lingered, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other. You could see it, the subtle hesitation in the way his fingers gripped the edge of the doorframe, like he was trying to work up the courage to ask something. His gaze flicked from you to the water, then back again, as if searching for the right words. 

“Can I, uh…” He cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a sheepish grin tugging at his lips as he gestured toward the tub, a small, awkward motion that betrayed how much he wanted to join you in your warmth. “Mind if I...?” 

You nodded, a smile creeping across your face as you shifted in the water, making room for him. He gave you a grateful look, his shoulders relaxing a little as if your permission had taken a weight off him. 

With deliberate slowness, as if to drag this out as long as he possibly could, he started unbuttoning his shirt, his long fingers working deftly down the row of buttons. You’d often wondered why he still bothered dressing up, even when most days he didn’t venture much further than the shop at the corner of your street. A crisp shirt, tailored pants — it was almost a ritual for him. Maybe it was something that made him feel more like himself, even when the rest of the world felt chaotic. Enough so that it came above pure comfort. 

The stripes on the shirt, neatly aligned just moments ago, soon became a mess of crumpled spirals as he bunched it up and tossed it into the growing pile of dirty clothes. There was something oddly satisfying in watching him shed those layers, peeling back the day. His pants followed soon after, falling to the floor with a soft rustle before they were kicked aside. The familiar rhythm of this scene, the quiet intimacy of it, felt like a balm to the coldness outside.

He was left with nothing but the faint gleam of gold around his neck and the ring that rested on his finger. You knew how much that ring meant to him. It wasn’t a wedding band, but something he’d gotten after she was born. “I missed wearing a ring.” he’d told you once, referring to the other one he’d lost years ago, fiddling with it absentmindedly. It seemed like a small thing, but to him, it was significant. Something that deserved its place on him all the time. A mark of who he was now, tied to something greater than himself. 

You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back again, before stepping forward, carefully dipping his toes into the water as if testing the temperature. He let out a small sigh of relief, the warmth already starting to seep into his skin. His body, lean and familiar, moved with that same easy grace he always had, even though you could still sense the exhaustion clinging to him.

He stepped into the tub slowly, the water rising around his legs as he carefully manoeuvred himself to sit in front of you, his back tentatively pressing against your chest. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder, eyes searching your face with a flicker of uncertainty. 

“Is this…okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, softer than one might expect to hear from him. “Or did you want me behind you?”

You blinked, surprised by the hesitation in his words. There was something about the way he asked that tugged at you, like he was testing boundaries, nervous. You could feel it in the way he sat, not quite committing to the closeness yet. “I just didn’t want to, y’know, take up too much space.” he added quickly, a hint of awkwardness creeping into his tone, his gaze flicking away as if embarrassed by his own words.

You tilted your head, watching him closely, and realised just how much this moment seemed to mean to him. It was rare to see him like this. So uncertain, almost shy. There had been a distance between you two lately, unspoken but felt in the quiet moments, in the days that passed without the usual touches or lingering glances. Life had filled every gap, leaving little room for moments like this.

“Hey.” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pulling him closer so his back rested more fully against your chest. “You’re not taking up space. You’re fine here.” You gave him a reassuring squeeze, hoping it would quiet the nervousness you could feel radiating from him.

He paused for a moment, his muscles still tense beneath your touch. “You sure?” he asked again, his voice almost a whisper now. “I can move if you want…”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his shoulder as you spoke. “I want you here. With me. Like this.”

You felt the last bit of tension leave him as he sighed, finally allowing himself to settle into you, his body relaxing in the warmth of the bath. And your embrace. His head tipped back slightly, just enough for you to feel the way his breath started to come slower, deeper. 

“Alright.” he muttered, sounding more at ease now. His hands came up and lightly covered yours where they rested on his chest. “I just…I don’t know.” he trailed off, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing along your knuckles. “I’ve missed this.” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a murmur. “Feels like it’s been…a while.”

Your heart softened at his words. He was right. Neither of you had really acknowledged how long it had been since you’d had a moment like this. Just the two of you. You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, your chin brushing his shoulder as you rested your head against him.

“Yeah.” you whispered, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his collarbones beneath your palms. “I’ve missed it too.”

He let out a soft chuckle, though there was a hint of sadness to it. “Guess we’ve both been a bit…lost in it all, huh?” His hands tightened slightly over yours, as if he was afraid you might pull away. 

You hugged him a little tighter. “Yeah.” you agreed, voice soft. “But we’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He nodded silently, his head falling forward slightly, eyes closing as he allowed himself to truly relax in your hold. For a while, neither of you said anything more, letting the quiet stretch between you. 

After a few moments, he let out a deep, contented sigh. “Missed this.” he murmured again, but this time his voice was calmer, more settled, as though the weight of his admission had finally lifted.

His fingers traced over your knuckles before rubbing softly along his collarbones, the motion gentle, almost instinctive. You felt his pulse there, steady under your touch, and you smiled against his skin.

“Me too.” you whispered back, holding him close, both of you finally feeling the peace that had been missing for so long.

He leaned back into you, fully surrendering to the closeness, his body sinking deeper into the water as he rested against your chest. His head settled against your shoulder, you felt your wet hair dripping softly onto his, dark strands sticking to his forehead. He shifted, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His nose brushed just behind your ear, and a slow ripple of goosebumps formed on your arms, your legs, not from the cold air, but from the way his presence made your body react everywhere he touched. 

His arms moved, sliding over his own chest, as one hand reached around to your neck, his fingers brushing the other side — the part of you he wasn’t currently rubbing his face against. His touch was soft at first, but you could feel the tension growing, the restlessness in the way he held you. It was as if the heat of the water, mixed with the scent of your skin, was pulling him deeper into something he couldn’t control, something he didn’t even want to resist. 

You felt the shift in his breathing, the way it grew heavier, more laboured, as your fingers began to trail down from his chest, over the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping just at the point where the faint trail of hair began. A shiver ran through him, his body reacting instantly to your touch. His lips trembled against the side of your neck, brushing your skin as his hand left its place at your throat and moved to cover yours, guiding it lower.

He didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers pressed down on yours told you everything he couldn’t bring himself to ask aloud. He led you to him, your palm brushing over the hardness beginning to stir between his legs. You cupped him gently in your hand, feeling the way his body responded, his cock growing firm against your palm, his own hand covering yours, his fingertips pressing insistently into your knuckles as if to say, more.

His breathing quickened, loud in your ear, each breath a little more rugged than the last as you started to move your hand slowly along his length. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your touch, and you felt him hardening, the warmth of the water mingling with the heat radiating off him. His chest, which had been pale moments ago, was now turning rosy, the flush spreading like wildfire across his skin. You could feel his heartbeat syncing with the motion of your hand.

The water sloshed softly around the two of you, the movement barely noticeable. His head tipped back against your shoulder, his lips parted slightly, a low groan escaping him as he pressed his body further into yours, wanting more of the contact, more of the closeness. You could feel the tension, the way his hands tightened on yours, guiding you along, wordlessly communicating his desire.

You kept your movements slow, feeling him grow harder with each pass of your palm, the heat between you intensifying until it felt like the water was barely containing it. The flush deeped and you could hear the faint hitch in his breath as you continued, the soft sound of his pleasure filling the room, mixing with the steady rhythm of the rain outside.

His legs bent instinctively, lifting his knees out of the water and exposing them to the bite of the cold air. He didn’t seem to care. His hips moved gently, insistently, pushing into your hand as if pleading for more, his body urging you on even before his voice could catch up. Urging. More please. More.

“Please mommy…” His whisper was so soft, so fragile, that you wouldn’t have caught it if his lips weren’t right against your ear. He wasn’t kissing you, but his mouth hovered over your neck, lips parted against your skin like he was trying to hold himself back, just barely keeping his restraint. Just feeling you, drinking you in. His fingers gripped yours a little tighter, urging you to keep going, to give him more of what he needed so badly.

“Touch me more.” he mumbled, his words rough and trembling, a mix of need and surrender. That admission, that raw vulnerability, hit you with full force. You hadn’t realised how deeply he craved this, how much he needed you, until you processed the weight of his words. For him, asking for anything — let alone this — never came easily. He had made himself ask for it, and that said more than he could ever express out loud.

“Need me to touch you, baby?” you asked softly, the question hanging in the space between you like a bridge only he could cross. His breath hitched when you spoke, and you felt his body tense, a silent confirmation before he nodded slowly, his hips rolling against your hand in response. He didn’t need to answer with words. His body did it for him. He wasn’t just asking, he was begging, wordlessly showing you how much he craved your touch.

“Mhm…” he hummed, his voice strained, a mix of need and vulnerability. His hips rolled again, pressing into your hand, a desperate gesture, the only way he could answer right now.

“I’m here, baby.” you whispered back, your voice soothing, comforting, as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his length. You squeezed gently as your hand moved upward, feeling the soft skin gather beneath your grip, covering the tip of his cock for a moment before you moved back down, revealing him again. His breath hitched, a sharp intake of air, and his body shuddered against yours. 

His hips bucked slightly, pushing up into your hand, seeking more. You could feel the tension in him, the way he was fighting to keep some semblance of control, but the way his fingers dug into your thighs told you he was losing that battle. You didn’t speed up. You kept the rhythm slow, drawing it out for him, making him feel every moment. His lips pressed harder against your neck, still not quite a kiss but close. 

“God…” he groaned softly, his voice rough, barely holding back the desperation in his tone. “Feels so good…please don’t stop.”

You smiled against his shoulder, your fingers tightening slightly around him as you continued to stroke, slow and steady, keeping him on the edge. “Mommy’s got you.” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head. “Just relax, baby. I’m right here.” 

His whole body seemed to tremor at your words, his hips rolling more insistently into your hand. You could feel the heat rising in him, the way his muscles tensed and released with every stroke, his chest heaving as he lost himself in the rhythm of your touch.

His voice was a broken whisper, almost a whimper. “I need you…need you so bad.” The sheer need made your heart ache for him. He wasn’t just asking for release, he was asking for you, for the closeness, for the comfort only you could give him. 

You pressed your lips softly to his neck. “I’m here, baby.” you whispered again, your voice full of reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His hips jerked in your grip, that quiet, needy whimper still caught in his throat. He was trembling in your arms now, teetering on the edge, and you could feel his desperation growing with every slow stroke of your hand. 

“Please…go faster.” he begged, his voice so strained it barely made it past his lips. It wasn’t just a request but a plea, one you couldn’t possibly deny. You’d never heard him sound so raw, so exposed, like he needed this more than air, and your heart clenched at the thought of how long he’d been holding it all in.

You couldn’t say no. You wouldn’t.

Your hand quickened, wrapping tighter around his length as you stroked him harder, the water around you sloshing with each movement, splashing up against the sides of the tub. A few droplets spilled over the edge, trickling down to the floor, but it didn’t matter. You were too caught up in him, in the way his body reacted to every touch, every squeeze, the way his breath hitched in your ear as he squirmed in your arms.

A sharp sound escaped him, a noise so keen and desperate that it almost made you stop. But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when he was so close, so lost in it. His hips bucked harder, rocking as you stroked him faster, his skin slick and hot beneath your palm. He was held there by your touch, by the promise in your voice, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he let go completely.

“Fuck, please mommy-” His voice broke off in a gasp, his head falling back against your shoulder, lips parted as another sound, deeper this time, ripped from his throat. 

His body tensed in your arms, every muscle tight as he hovered right there, so close to the edge. You could feel the strain in him, the way he was holding back, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to just let go. His breath came in sharp gasps, his hips stuttering against your hand, every sound he made growing more desperate.

You leaned in, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “It’s okay, baby. You can let go.” you whispered, your words washing over him like a permission he didn’t know he needed. “I’ve got you…mommy’s got you.”

His whole body shuddered in response, and you felt him break, surrendering to the release he’d been holding back. With a strangled groan, he gave in, his hips jerking one last time as his cock pulsed in your hand. His release spilled out in hot, thick spurts, the water swirling with it as you stroked him through it, your grip firm but soothing.

“Fuck…oh God.” he moaned, his voice shaky and broken, his body still trembling in your arms as you slowed your movements, your hand gently squeezing him through the aftershocks. You held him there, tight against your chest, his breathing loud and uneven in your ear, his heart racing beneath your palm.

“That’s it.” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “Just let it all go.”

The water around you had turned murky, faint streaks of his release still visible before they vanished into the heat. You held him close, letting him come down slowly, your fingers still wrapped around him. 

He was quiet for a moment, his head lolling back, eyes closed, chest heaving. Then, with a soft, breathless chuckle, he spoke, his voice still hoarse from everything. “Fuck…I- I didn’t think I’d last that long.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, your fingers still gently stroking his chest, tracing lazy circles over his skin. “You did so good, baby.” you whispered, lips brushing his temple. “I’ve got you.”

He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck, the kiss barely there but full of gratitude, full of everything he couldn’t put into words. “Needed that…needed you.” he mumbled, his voice sleepy now, a little more relaxed, the tension that had been in his body moments ago completely gone.

You smiled again, resting your cheek against the top of his head. “I’m always here.” you whispered, running your hand through his damp hair, your other arm wrapped around him, holding him. “You don’t ever have to ask.”

He sighed, long and content, the last of his tension melting away. The rain still tapped softly against the window, the sound soothing as it mixed with the gentle lapping of the water around you.

“I love you.” he whispered, so quietly you almost missed it. His words were soft, raw, like they held the same weight as his earlier plea. 

“I love you too.” you whispered back, tightening your arms around him as you pressed another kiss to his head, your lips lingering there for a moment, with his body finally at peace in your embrace.

And for that moment, there was nothing else but the two of you, wrapped up in each other. 

Then, everything was as you’d always known it, slipping back into that familiar rhythm of care. You shifted to let him wash your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp, working through the tangles with a tenderness that was second nature to him now. His touch was slow, not rushing, just taking his time. When he was done, you switched, running your fingers through his damp hair, gently lathering the shampoo through it, the simple act of caring for him grounding you both in a way words couldn’t.

He washed your body, his hands moving over you slowly, almost reverently. When he knelt down to do your legs, his voice came out almost uncertain. “Do you want me to, uh…return the favour?” He didn’t look up at first, his words hesitant, his hands still resting against your calf.

You smiled at his sweetness, at his need to give back even when you knew he was just as exhausted as you were. “No, it’s fine.” you murmured, reaching out to cup his cheek gently, guiding him to stand. “I’m tired. Just wanna get to bed.” 

He looked relieved but still nodded, as if part of him had felt obligated to offer, like he couldn’t let the night end without trying to give you what he felt you might need. He finished rinsing off, and you dried off together. 

Before joining you in bed, he quietly checked on her one last time, making sure she was still sound asleep, Mr. Bean nestled in his seat from earlier, watching over in his place. It was a little ritual of his he did every night, even when he had already made sure everything was in place. He was protective, and you loved him for it.

When he finally climbed into bed beside you, he seemed needier than usual. After earlier, after how raw and vulnerable he had been, it wasn’t surprising. And you didn’t mind. You held him close, his body curling into yours as if he couldn’t bear to be apart, his head nestled between your breasts, his breath warm against your skin. He sighed, a sound that was equal parts contentment and weariness.

“Sorry if it was…if I was, uh, weird.” he murmured, his voice muffled against your chest. His hands were splayed across your sides, his touch gentle, but there was a nervous energy in his words.

You frowned slightly, petting the back of his head, fingers combing through his damp hair. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, your voice low, almost a lullaby. You could feel him relax under your touch, but there was still something bothering him, something he needed to get out.

“How I called you…you know.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s weird now that…with her-”

You interrupted him gently. “You’ve called me that before, you know I like it.” you reminded him, your voice calm, reassuring. 

“I know, but now…I don’t know. Forget it.” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed, though his body still clung to you, craving the closeness despite his hesitation.

You shifted slightly, enough to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “You can call me anything you want. Nothing’s changed.”

He didn’t respond right away. He just buried his face deeper into your chest, his fingers curling into your side.

“A lot has changed.” he whispered eventually, his voice soft but heavy with meaning.

You sighed, knowing he was right. Everything had changed in so many ways. Your lives were different now, more complicated, more tiring. But the one thing that didn’t have to change was this, was you and him, the way you held each other through it all.

“I know.” you said quietly. “But things between us don’t have to change. We’re still us, okay?”

He didn’t bother with words this time, but you felt him nod against you, his body settling even closer to yours. Everything seemed to melt away in the silence, leaving only warmth and connection.

After a while, in that soft, almost drowsy voice that only came when he was on the verge of sleep, he whispered, “I love you.”

Your heart squeezed at the simplicity of the words. You smiled softly, stroking his hair, pressing another kiss to his head. “I love you too.” 

In that quiet, in that stillness, you held him, his breathing deepening as sleep finally claimed him. 

a/n: I hope it doesn't come across too out of nowhere when he says it but I like how this one turned out…I can see him so well :(

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

[indie-summer]

The Cycling RPF Rec List

for @wtfanworkclassification

(tagging the blogs of the authors I know!!)

1. Favorite smut: a vocabulary, expanding by @strigimorphaes

It’s almost unfair that I made myself choose only one for each category, but yes, if I must, this is The One Smut for me. To put it mildly, it makes me weak in the knees every time I read it. It must have been like five times by now. To be read with the AC on and a glass of water by your side. Gotta love p*rn with feelings.

2. Favorite multi chapter: Faking It by @goingslightlymads

Am I biased when talking about this fic? Yes, because it was one of my Secret Santa gifts. Do I think I am unfair? Nope, not at all! I’ve never had any other experience in Cycling RPF like when I read (scratch that, binged) this one: it made me laugh and cry and it had my heart racing and had me hugging pillows at 3am. What a ride.

3. Favorite Sci-fi AU: jonas vingegaard goes back to the sea by @bakurasilver

Beautiful and clever. A reflection on the meaning of life and love, undercover as sci-fi. Bawled my eyes out with this one.

4. Favorite Fantasy AU: Fierce Creatures by @inbetweenpages

Great world building, incredibly fun and hot. Come here for wouthieu and stay for mathsper friendship, a very mysterious vampire!Jonas and a sentient house.

5. Favorite fluff: Worth it by @ridingupsaturn

Melancholic fluff. My favorite kind of fluff. Read it about ten times and had my heart fluttering through all of them. Love is kind of awesome, isn’t it?

6. Favorite angst: Drought by booming_business (part 2 of the A Study in Water series)

Shoutout to sad carpenter!Jonas who made a complete wreck out of me. The entire series is excellent, but this fic in particular is a masterpiece on its own! Also foundational exes!tadejonas fic before it was even a thing. Groundbreaking!!

7. Favorite drabble: doing what heroes do by @etapereine

I have two favorite types of drabbles: the one in which you feel like you read an entire story in just 100 words and the one that immediately makes you feel in absolute need of a 50k story as a follow-up because of all the possibilities it introduces you to. This one is definitely the second kind. I really need a full Percy Jackson AU long fic on my desk in, like, a week ago. Olympian demigods at the Olympics maybe??? Someone please???

8. Favorite crack/comedy: The 2024 Paris-Roubaix mass heat incident by Anonymous

Top 5 funniest shit I’ve ever read in my life and I’m not even exaggerating.

9. Favorite non-cyclists AU: all hearts in love use their own tongues by @thedeadparrot

I’m sorry, I’m not really a well-studied person when it comes to English literature. This is the only way I could ever read Shakespeare. I regret nothing.

10. Favorite remix/fix-it: Unbelievable, or only in Gotham by Lili_Writes_Banhof

Yes I’m parcial yes of course I am biased because it’s fixing one of my fics, but I don’t care. It’s cute, it’s fun, it’s fluffy (like all the awesome works from this author), you should all immediately go read it!

11. Favorite Soulmate AU: All your life by @interdisciplinary-disaster

I never once had given any thoughts about geese before this fic. Also this is the only cycling fic where the main character is not one of the cyclists, but an adorably exhausted old goose (at least the way I see it, because frankly, what a scene stealer). It changed my core!!

12. Favorite rarepair: Jonas is the boss by @mundanememory

Because ok, now everyone loves Jonas/Matteo but back in April it was a rarepair!! And this fic is awesome and hot and clever and features little big boss being… erm, well treated by a lovable giant ginger, so it deserves a million recs!

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Tylo oneshot - Tire Swing

Everyone was walking around their camp, doing something.

Ashlyn was teaching Aiden how to throw a proper punch, Ben was restocking the first aid kit, Taylor putting in new light bulbs in their stage lights, and Tyler was kind of just sitting there, bored.

He had gotten an injury at his last baseball game, and everyone insisted that he sit down to avoid him overexerting himself. He just thought they were all overreacting. It wasn't an awful injury. He wasn't a baby. And besides, it was only his arm.

It really just frustrated him. He hated not being able to feel helpful. Helping and being productive is how he's managed to keep his family from crumbling for years.

Though, there was one thing he did notice, since he wasn't too busy working. Logan was missing. Everyone else was so busy with their own tasks that they just didn't seem to notice.

And, honestly, the more he thought about it, the more concerned he got. Logan hasn't been in a very good mood today. Sad and melancholic.

Out of instinct, Tyler checked Logan's tire spot, but was reminded that it wasn't there anymore.

Due to Logan getting overwhelmed easily, they decided to give him his own quiet spot a little farther from the rest of the camp. A tire swing, hanging from a sturdy tree.

Tyler got up and froze like a deer in headlights for a split second, hoping no one noticed him leaving. Namely Taylor, who's been keeping him under surveillance like a security guard.

Once he saw that everyone was distracted enough, he slinked away. The grass was getting really tall and itchy. He waded through it and spotted the swing, gently moving back and forth against the wind. And there, in the swing, was Logan, the evening sunlight reflecting off of his glasses, casting a faint shadow.

Tyler hesitated. Logan looked sad and rather serious. Lost in thought. Should he really interrupt him?

Tyler shifted a little bit and decided to try and take a step back, only to end up stepping on a branch.

Logan's head quickly turned to where the noise came from and froze, staring at Tyler.

"Um... sorry. I just came to check on you."

Logan stared at him for a bit longer before turning his head and blinking a bit. "It's ok."

Tyler stood there before taking slow and steady steps forward. "So, uh... what are you, uhm-"

Logan turned to him again, his brow furrowed and tears in the corners of his eyes.

"-doing...?"

They stared at each other, another staring contest before Tyler clenched his fists.

"You're crying," he said. Pointing out the obvious, thanks Tyler.

"Who made you cry?" Tyler asked, seething with rage.

"It's not something you need to worry about, Tyler."

"But you're crying. I can't not want to-"

"I said it's ok!"

Tyler's eyes widened, and Logan's did too. Neither of them expected the outburst.

Tyler almost felt helpless. And he hated feeling helpless. When Taylor was sad, he always managed to make her feel better. Who was he if not someone who could help the people he cared about?

Tyler turned his head, thinking, before stamping his foot into the dirt in frustration and climbing into the tire swing with him.

"H-Huh!? Tyler, what are you doing?"

Tyler uncomfortably got situated and grumbled a little. "How do you spend so much time in this thing?"

Logan pouted a little and repeated his question: "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna stay in here until you tell me what's wrong."

Logan's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yep. You shouldn't bottle it in, or whatever."

"Tyler, you're too cramped. Your arm-"

"-will be fine," Tyler finished for him. "Don't worry."

Their legs awkwardly tangled together. Tyler's legs were definitely too long for this.

Logan sighed a little and looked out at the distance. "Why are you doing this?"

"I.. I don't like not being able to help," he said gruffly. He hated saying that stuff out loud, but if he was going to force Logan to open up, he should probably as well... just a little. He didn't like being too vulnerable.

Logan doesn't say anything for a good minute before rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Nothing specifically is wrong. I'm just.. sad."

"How can that be? You can't just be sad for no reason."

Logan shrugged. "Sometimes I am. I have a bad habit where I think about things, make up scenarios in my head, fake conversations in my head and I get sad about them before forgetting what it was that I thought to make me so sad in the first place."

Tyler doesn't know what to say to that before being Captain Obvious again: "That sounds awful."

Logan chuckles halfheartedly. "It is what it is. I've been like this ever since I started to live with my grandparents. I just get sad for no reason and I hide myself away."

Tyler pauses for a moment before gently tapping on Logan's knee. "What can I do to help?"

Logan shakes his head. "Nothing. I can't help that this happens. Most I can do is ride it out."

"But how am I supposed to make things better? I'm supposed to...-" I'm supposed to be the problem solver.

Logan sniffles a little. "Honestly... knowing that you care is almost enough."

Tyler pauses, sweat dripping down his nose from the heat of being in the tire, the Georgia sun, and Logan's body heat so close.

"It is?"

Logan nods and their hands almost touch before they both stop themselves.

"So should I stay?"

"I'd like that.. just no talking. I want your presence."

"Will that make you feel better?" Tyler asked. He didn't know why his voice was so quiet, it just was.

Logan thinks for a second before nodding again. "Ya. It really would."

The swing gently swayed in the wind, the almost setting sun in the distance, casting a shadow over the tree, giving them a cooling shade, as if the world itself was saying:

"Stay and rest."

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[loveisnotfinite]

I was so sure I had posted this, and yet I can’t find it on my blog. I went back watching it and now reposting. Sorry if I had already shared it and I am behaving like a boomer, but it’s such a nice interview.

It has a whole different vibe, it’s really cozy, reminiscing. Almost melancholic, but in a good way.

He recounts their first meeting, remembering their first hug and how it immediately filled him with a sense of warmness. And she says she’s so happy it was him, cause she can’t imagine doing it (this experience) with anybody else.

They talk about the first time they got the call about being the next leads, and their emotions.

I love the way Luke lights up when he talks about Colin and this experience as a whole. He looks like such a nice guy, so open, so generous, so good, deep inside, in the old-fashioned way. Like he has a pure heart. And he has such vibrant clear eyes, so full of life and curiosity, he animates so much when he talks about this season, but at the same time there’s also a tiny shade of insecurity inside them at times, and that is so sweet.

When he says that going back for pick ups was a treat? My goodness you feel like kissing him for such an admission. For such bravery in admitting one’s indulgence in one’s feelings of nostalgia. And Nic goes along saying they both felt kinda sad it was over and to have to say “goodbye”.

I love that he finds this one the steamiest season so far, cause that proves him a very uncommon observer/perceiver. So above range. So subtle in his intakes. He feels so strongly, he can tune in with romantic emotions in such un uncommon way for a man. Although being an actor can obviously help, he comes across as such a delicate soul. One of us, so to speak. And he’s so right. This season is the “steamiest” and not because it has some “visual” quality in it (season 1 was way more smutty) but it is allegedly due to the subtle sexiness of little moments like the when they are talking under the tent and he stares at Pen licking her lips or when he goes to talk to her and can’t see anything but the firmness of her lips or the longing in his eyes, when he enters in their bedroom and can’t help desiring her and he struggles to stay true to his “feelings”. And in turn, the finale, as short as their encounter in the cut, is quite steamy, very passionate: the rapture in his eyes, the way she caresses his chest, how she arches her spine during intercourse, and then reaches forward to get him closer, kissing him full mouth.

I love the way they look in total sync when it comes to their emotions, over anything work related really. The way they seem to finish each other sentences and have a way to foresee where the other is going even before hearing what they are saying. I love how they look e-o in the eyes when answering, as if unconsciously checking to one another to see what the other thinks.

I also noticed when Nicola said she hasn’t been in love since she was 9; it made me think; gave me the feeling she’s very guarded when it comes to love and I can just imagine how’s hard that must be. She comes across as so strong, confident, straightforward and yet when it comes to let one’s barriers down, she’s just one of us.

And the way this chat ends… I mean, the feels... I am believing they are the reason this weird expression boxing with English grammar has been invented. How they acknowledge how nice and kinda liberating it felt talking about this strange kind of melancholy descending upon them when they wrapped the season.

I think it’s my favorite interview so far. IDK it feels so genuine. So not PR. So just them.

Totally madly desperately unrevocably ever so doomily in love with this “couple”.

[softshuji]

Hanma would have thought you'd picked up on it by now.

That he loves you.

It's pretty obvious and he'd like to think he hasn't made it a secret, though apparently it's lost on you even now and it infuriates him when you relegate yourself to just "someone he hangs out with". You're dumb, and he means it endearingly, blindingly obtuse and dense and he'd find it cute if it didn't mean he was biting his tongue hard enough to hurt when you somehow miss all the deliberate glances at your lips.

And he likes that to such a degree it bothers him. He's weird about it, finds himself thinking about you so often and with an intensity that's unfamiliar and terrifying all at once.

He's known lust before, he's never not been transparent about the women there was before you, and you've done the same. You'd like to think you have the unique type of relationship where it never means much, where the overgrown thicket of your pasts is left just there; in the past. He doesn't care, he knows he's not the first and, truth be told, he doesn't expect to be your last either.

And it's not that he doesn't care enough. But he's under no illusions regarding how much of a catch you are. He thinks you're pretty, beautiful even, whatever word he can find in kisaki's stupid thesaurus to describe things he likes to look at . And he really does like to look at you. He's less than subtle about it sometimes. A smile thrown your way he hopes you catch, a Cheshire cat grin that he hopes, much to his own chagrin, inspires a same excitement and spark in you that you do in him.

He loves you and it bothers him more than it should when he realizes he can't have you in the way he wants. The world isn't kind enough to give you to him, and why would it be? When he's spent so long denying simple desires to others for the promise of his own future- or even just because he feels like it. But there is still imperceptible pain, when he asks you how a date went on the other end of a call, and he hears a smile in your voice on the happier ones, or a melancholic undertone on the ones that are less so.

And he hates that it grates him when you talk about this special guy you're in love with who has everything you want, who you think you'd be happy with if he'd just accept you.

And it burns to such an extent he feels like bashing this bastards skull in.

But instead- 'Oh yeah? He sounds like a real catch sweetheart, why don't you tell him how you feel?'

You pause at that point, soft pitter patter of your heart that you're convinced he can hear. 'It's complicated. I don't think he feels the same,' you say and it's a sad truth, because why would he? He's everything and you're under no illusions about the type of girl he can get, or even the one he's into.

Spoiler alert: you don't think it's you.

He almost laughs at the incredulity of it all. 'Doesn't feel the same? Well then that's his loss pretty girl, he's not worth it then.'

The irony isn't lost on you and you're close to telling him, blurting it out in some way to assuage the hurt- or the burden of keeping it to yourself. But you're convinced it'll only complicate your relationship further when you're - even now- not exactly sure what you are. Not quite just friends, not quite whatever else there might be either.

But he'd like to think there's no one on the earth he'd rather stay with, that thanks to you he finds himself thinking more and more about what he'd previously refused to even entertain.

And maybe a ring might catch his eye when he walks past a jeweler's with you, and you'll wander off and he'll watch you and wonder whether it's his imagination that tells him a pretty rock would look even better on a pretty girl like you.

'Babe?' you say and touch his arm and he softens, turns to you with a soft and reserved smile before he lifts your hand to kiss and you flare a little hotter at the simple romance of him and his actions.

You hate that he makes it so easy to love him, you'd wish for a harder heart if it meant it hurt less to watch him like this.

And he lets you do all those embarrassing things he wouldn't be seen dead doing anywhere else. Face masks and movies and late night drives, you dabbing creams on his cheeks that linger on his skin, a scent that reminds him a little too sharply of you when he finds the smell of you on his clothes later. Lavender and honey and oatmeal (like seriously who puts oatmeal in moisturizer?) And he finds he's fighting a smile that's come a little too easily when he catches the scent of you on his skin.

You've never been good at the whole relationships thing- and you're under the impression that if you drowned yourself in enough dates and casual sex, that maybe you might love him less and let him go, or at least love him in a way that doesn't bring you pain. And yet, you find it hurts until you're able to crawl back to him at the end of the day, strong and warm arms that come around you as surely as the night turns to day. If you were any stronger you could deny yourself that simple pleasure, that simple weakness.

'You okay princess?' he says, hands running deftly across your arms,the goosebumps seen and not spoken about.

'It doesn't matter- he sucked anyways, fuck him,' you say and bury your face in the comfort of his broad chest, because it easier to pretend like it's not all about him, like he's not exactly what you dream about.

'I can kill him if you want. You want me to sweetheart?" He's only half joking- he really would. And therein lies half the issue. He'd give you the world if he could, if you'd let him.

You suck in a breath, tears now smeared all over his white dress shirt. 'No, it's fine just forget about him, he's not worth the effort.'

But you are, he thinks. You're worth every effort.

But he'll keep it a secret, the both of you will, and honestly, he thinks you're cute and beautiful, funny and sweet, the best in fact. And blindingly obtuse and maybe it would be funny if it didn't bother him so much.

That the one thing he wants is the one he can't have.

Reblogs appreciated!!

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 2: Make Yourself at Home

Word Count: 11703

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: "Ever since she was welcomed into the Eliatrope palace, Amalia has taken to wandering around the halls, even when left to her own devices. Tensions run high as not all members of the Council of Six have come to truly trust their unexpected guest, nor do they believe her intentions to be pure. And so, it is up to Yugo to find out the truth.

But, just what is the actual cause for the Divine Doll's little excursions around the palace? Could this just be a huge misunderstanding?"

Despite the limited amount of time Amalia spent there, she was sure Sadida’s realm in Inglorium had to be the reason behind the divine dimension’s idyllic nature. A lush paradise where all kinds of plants lived together in perfect harmony, no matter how different they were. Tropical jungles and rainforests showed off the vibrant green of their leaves and palm trees thanks to the constant rains they enjoyed. Grassy plains extended as far as the eye could see, with all sorts of flowers and herbs sprouting over the most beautiful canvas imaginable. 

Mighty oaks, firs, pines and all sorts of trees stood proudly on top of the lands’ mountainous territories. There was even a small, but not any less important, arctic area where rare, exotic plants that could only survive in cold temperatures thrived. Wherever she looked, she could see sources of water everywhere: from the constant rains showering the tropical species, to streams and rivers of all sizes and lengths going down the mountains and plains, to beautiful cascades located in their own secret gardens…

It was simply far too beautiful for words. It was nature in its purest form.

And Amalia could feel how each and every single living being there was a part of her, just like she was a part of them. 

It was such a stark contrast to life inside the Eliatrope palace. She understood her visit was sudden, so much so, it was a complete surprise for the portal-making people. They really hadn’t seen her arrival coming. Which was something her father had warned her about, how it might take her some time to endear herself to the Eliatrope King and his people. 

As expected of a god, her father had been right. Yugo, as he wished to be called if they were to be ‘friends’, had certainly been taken aback by the sight of her when they first met. And it only worsened once she took on her more human form. So much so, the Eliatrope remained quiet and motionless for an awkwardly long amount of time upon the sight of her. 

She truly feared she made a terrible first impression and that was the reason why he didn’t seem so keen on taking her as his bride. Amalia had yet to make sense of the weird wave of sadness and melancholy she felt whenever she thought about it—was that what people called ‘disappointment’? However, despite their unconventional first meeting and Yugo’s apparent disinterest in that thing called marriage, he didn’t seem to be opposed to the idea of the two of them fostering a positive relationship. So, even though she had been ready to abandon his home and return with her father, the Eliatropes seemingly welcomed her in and guided her to her new room.

That had been two weeks ago, and Amalia couldn’t help the melancholic, suffocating feeling that enveloped her. 

It wasn’t as if Yugo hadn’t kept good on his word. He was perfectly kind and cordial towards her; always asking how her day had been, indulging her curiosity a little about his, showing her around the palace, and gifting her with some very nice living spaces that were relatively close to his. 

She had yet to decipher what the odd comments his sister Nora made at that meant, or why they elicited a deep blush from Yugo, too. 

And yet, despite knowing she should be grateful and thank Sadida for the kindness and care she was being treated with despite being an outsider, Amalia couldn’t help but feel trapped. She had yet to be allowed to leave the palace premises and venture into Oma Island, especially if she was on her own. Without Yugo by her side, she really didn’t have anywhere to go. So she remained in her room.

That in itself shouldn’t have been so bad. After all, before being sent to the World of Twelve, she spent most of her time in Inglorium either at Sadida’s hut as he put the final touches on her or in her room. But there was something about this place that made her feel restless. No matter what she did, she couldn’t ignore the constant calls of the world outside, beckoning her to step out of the palace and inside the jungle.

There was a whole other world beyond the castle’s walls, she could feel it in her bones. A world the twelve gods themselves had helped create and replenished with wondrous splendour and experiences. Her whole body just itched and tingled at the thought of going out and exploring. 

But alas, that was but a pipe dream. The Eliatropes and their dragon siblings kept a close eye on her, probably because she had been sent by the gods and, therefore, they felt the need to treat her with care. And seeing as she was specifically there for Yugo, as long as he wasn’t available, there were many things she couldn’t do, so she remained confined to her room. 

She truly didn’t understand why that didn’t feel like enough, after all, her room was spacious and beautifully furnished. Her bed was comfortable and soft. Her closet was big and could hold many pieces of clothing. There was a large vanity with a mirror surrounded by bulbshrooms where she could preen herself all day long if she so wished. And her walls were tastefully decorated with more breath-taking murals depicting the Eliatropes’ history. 

But the more she spent inside those four walls, the more she yearned to get away from them. No matter how much she tossed and turned at night, she just couldn’t fall asleep. As of right now, she really didn’t have more outfits than the one she currently wore she could stash in her closet. The more she looked at herself in the mirror, the more Ibago’s words haunted her and made her feel inadequate, her eyes tracing the lack of stitches on her skin and making her feel like an outsider among her own kind. And, beautiful as they were, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the room’s stone walls were closing in on her the most she remained inside with nothing to do. 

Her one saving grace was the large balcony leading outside. Amalia wasn’t exaggerating when she said she spent most of her time there, leaning against the railing and staring off into the distance, wishing she had a Cra’s gifted sight to see what lay beyond the limits of her chambers. The most she could do was connect with the plants surrounding the castle to feel what they felt, but that only increased her yearning. 

The other thing she discovered her balcony allowed her to do and one she felt quite mesmerised by was seeing Yugo train. Just like she was doing at that very moment, her eyes followed his every move.

She truly didn’t understand why, but the sight of him gracefully jumping in and out of his portals reminded her of the time she witnessed her father dance at moonlight. It was so hypnotic, especially when he took things up a notch and combined his portals with his swordsmanship and hand-to-hand training. Hard as she tried, Amalia found she could not take her eyes off the Eliatrope when he executed complex moves and manoeuvres. Parring an imaginary enemy’s attack with his wakfu shield while he charged forwards with his sword. Or the way he would command dozens of portals to shoot energy beams at once towards a specific target. 

The spectacle was such, her eyes remained glued to it, to him. Even with her limited understanding of the world around her, Amalia understood Yugo was attractive. Very attractive. In a way, it was funny. Her father told her Yugo was her suitor, and as such, it was his intention to make her fall for him. And yet, she couldn’t help but think she was Yugo’s suitor instead. After all, she seemed far more captivated by him than he was by her…

Shaking her head from such thoughts, she got a hold of herself  just in time for Yugo to take notice of her and send her a friendly wave, which she returned with a small smile. Amalia couldn’t help but find it sad that such a small exchange had become the highlight of her day, for that usually meant Yugo was beginning to lose focus on his training, which at the same time meant he would be done for the day soon. 

And sure enough, not even five minutes later, he entered yet another one of his portals, only this time he didn’t reappear from another; at least, not within the doll’s line of sight. 

With a heavy sigh, Amalia’s body slagged forward, her head resting against her arms on the railing, wondering if today would be one of those days where Yugo showed her around the castle some more and entertained her for a bit or, if otherwise, she’d be on her own. If it was the latter, seeing as that was her home now as well, she could always wander the palace halls on her own, trying to sate her curiosity and wanderlust the only way that was available.

However, even after enough time had passed for Amalia to know she wouldn’t be seeing more of Yugo today and therefore she was free to explore the palace grounds, the Divine Doll couldn’t shake the feeling the rest of the Eliatrope Council had their eyes on her…

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

“She spends a lot of time wandering around by herself. I don’t like it.” Efrim emitted a low, warning growl, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“She is allowed to move freely around the palace, Efrim. She is our guest, not our prisoner.” Shinonomé countered, her golden eyes never leaving the orb right in front of her. 

“An uninvited guest, you mean.” Glip corrected pointedly, his chin resting over the handle of his cane as he held it with his hands. “The gods just sent her to us with no warning after months of silence. For all we know, she could be here to spy on us!”

“My point exactly. Thank you, Glip.” Efrim acknowledged his brother with a grateful nod of his head, right before sending his eldest sister a pointed look. 

The female dragon simply exhaled from her nose, puffs of smoke coming out of her nostrils even in her humanoid form. “From our research, Qilby and I have learned that Divine Dolls are difficult to classify and, therefore, to predict. They don’t share the same limitations as other demigods; for all we know, she could be acting independently from the gods’ will.”

Much to her shock and chagrin, this time it was her own twin who refuted her point with a rueful shake of his head. “My dear Shinonomé, you know the dolls’ unique circumstances also mean they’re closer to their creator than most other demigods—in fact, while Divine Dolls get to live in Inglorium alongside Sadida, most demigods have never even met their divine parents!” 

“Which I’m afraid could also mean she will always have his best interests in mind, rather than her own, or ours.” Chibi pointed out without looking up from the small contraption he and his dragon brother Grougaloragran were currently working on, a small wakfu hammer and chisel in his hands. 

“So you mean to say she’s always looking around in search of weaknesses to exploit?” Yugo urged his siblings to voice the thoughts and questions on their minds, growing impatient. He could not believe he had just got back only to be informed his presence was required for an urgent meeting with the Council.

They were all currently gathered at the council room, where the Eliatropes’ leaders met up to discuss urgent matters concerning their people, such as new buildings in need of construction, shortage of food, impending war, or anything that might put their people’s safety in jeopardy. Likewise, seeing as they all had very different duties and talents they used to serve their subjects, another and much more recurrent reason for gathering together was to update their siblings on their advances and struggles in their respective fields. 

The council room was one of the largest spaces inside the palace, second only to the throne room and the communal spaces meant to house large groups of people or protect their civilians when under attack. And with good reason, too. After all, it was supposed to be able to hold both six Primordial Eliatropes and their dragon siblings, even when the latter weren’t in their more humanoid forms. Meaning, it was imperative twelve people, half of them capable of turning into giant, draconic beasts, could be there comfortably. 

Although there were large windows carved onto the stone precisely for the purpose of them being able to join a meeting whenever, the room’s biggest source of light came from the very centre of it, sticking from a round table around which every council member usually sat at. Bathing everything around it in soothing blue, was a giant crystal orb known as the Eliaculus, one of Chibi and Grougal’s greatest inventions. While at first glance it reflected a sea of stars—an impressive feat in itself—, its main purpose was to keep an eye on their territory and help them strategise. All you needed to do to know what was going on on the opposite end of Oma Island was ask the Eliaculus and it would reveal the events unfolding at that very second. 

Another useful feature was that it also projected holographic images to better visualise whatever concerns troubled the Council.

From where he stood in the middle of the room, Yugo’s gaze swept across the council room, landing momentarily on each and every one of its occupants. At that very moment, the only absent members were Baltazar and Phaeris—the former was covering up for his twin in teaching the young ones as the meeting was taking place, for they would have an important exam soon and they couldn’t afford to lose any study time; and it was the latter’s turn to oversee the island and make sure the Twelvians didn’t try attacking them again.

Having just recently arrived, Efrim was seated leisurely against one of the window frames, his long, serpentine tail swaying back and forth in impatience. As Nora’s twin was the smallest of the Eliatrope dragons, he, unlike his siblings, chose to spend most of his time with his true appearance. His body was composed entirely of vivid periwinkle scales, from maw to tail; the only exceptions were his snow-white hair, matching his twin sister’s; his indigo eyelids; and the equally white underbelly and tip of his tail. His eyes were the most unusual out of all of them: instead of white, his sclera was a deep cobalt, and his slitted pupil a bright turquoise, not unlike the wakfu their people manipulated. Nora liked to say that reflected his special connection to their mother. 

Efrim stood out among the other dragons for not having any legs, only arms and a long, snake-like tail, although it was true his natural shapeshifting abilities allowed him to sprout a pair of thin yet strong limbs if he so wished. Even though he preferred to keep them tucked away for most of the time, the youngest dragon also possessed the most beautiful pair of wings out of all of them, thanks to their crystalline quality. 

Much like Nora, the battle with the Mechasms had turned the once joyful and optimistic Efrim into a jaded version of himself, quick to suspect outsiders if it meant ensuring his people’s safety. And, unfortunately, Amalia was an outsider for several reasons. 

Shinonomé, on the other hand, was Qilby’s twin sister, though listening to her retellings of their past lives was much more enjoyable as she never really acted nowhere as insufferable as her brother. Truth be told, even though both of them were technically the oldest of their group, Shinonomé was clearly the most rational one between her and Qilby which, coupled with her sweet demeanour, was the reason their siblings tended to go to her when they needed help. She was seated close to her brother at that very moment, in fact, her eyes going back and forth between Yugo and the Eliaculus.

Given her enormous size and her and Qilby’s natural talent for medicine, the red dragoness was the polar opposite of Efrim, choosing to remain in her humanoid form most of the time as to not frighten her youngest patients. 

Even so, she was far too proud of her origins to suppress her true nature. Such was reflected in her humanoid self. Much like her scales, her skin was ruby red from head-to-toe, with gold markings lining her body along her limbs, sides, and cheeks. Her waist-length hair that she kept in a loose braid—not unlike what her twin did with his beard— was platinum blond and scruffy, highlighted by the four long horns sprouting from her head, with a yellow diamond plastered on her forehead. Beyond her unusual skin colour and horned appearance, there were more details hinting at her true self, like her clawed hands, sharp teeth, and pointy ears; or her eyes—breath-taking and golden, with slitted pupils. Given she had no real use for modesty, she simply covered herself with a simple, sleeveless, yellow silk robe, with no need for shoes for her skin was thick enough to withstand practically anything. 

Glip, leaning back against his own chair at the table, opposite from the eldest twins, was the shortest Eliatrope by far. Always had been. Even when Yugo himself was still in the adolescent phase of his life and his body was that of a child despite his adult mind, back then he was still slightly taller than Glip. A fact he was wise not to say aloud lest he risked getting whacked in the head by his brother’s huge cane. 

Despite not possessing Qilby and Shononomé’s gift for remembering every single reincarnation, or the fact that he was quite ill-tempered, Glip’s passion had always been teaching the younger generations, which he always accomplished admirably thanks to the sheer amount of energy he put into each and every lesson he taught. The fact that, between the two, Baltazar was the most sweet-tempered also helped, as both siblings formed the perfect Firm Hand and Gentle Touch duo—Glip made sure the kids all stayed in line and behaved, while Baltazar was always there to listen to their problems, however small they might be, and encourage them to keep working. 

With a square face and an ever-present scowl, alongside his dark chesnut-coloured goatee, Glip always wore a green and beige tunic over a long-sleeved white undershirt and dark brown pants and pointed slippers. His tunic was tucked around the waist by a leather belt, ancient scrolls he used to keep track of his classes hanging from it. The use of headwear was a huge symbol in Eliatrope culture, and in Glip’s case, he wore a relatively simple hat the same colour as his tunic, though his had a small stump on either side of it. The one thing the shortest Eliatrope was never without was his cane, twice his height and forming a spiral at the top, decorated by three white protrusions. 

Chibi and Grougaloragran were hardly seen apart, and today was no exception as they occupied their respective seats at the table, hunched over their latest invention. In fact, the duo were the most formidable inventors their people had ever known. Although their ingenuity also meant they tended to be quite laser-focused and single-minded when it came to their goals. 

Chibi was the Eliatrope twin, and although he was usually much calmer and more laid-back than Grougal, he tended to be a tad more impulsive as well, especially when it came to battle. Much like his dragon brother, he preferred to wear black, as evidenced by his long cloak, covering his entire body. However, he still felt a fondness for gold that he exhibited in his chest plates and shoulder pads, a body-suit similar to Yugo’s but in black going all the way down from his abdomen. 

His white hair was trimmed into a bob cut and, much like his own goatee, created a nice contrast with his deeply tanned skin and hazel eyes. Despite his love for science, he was the most muscular Eliatrope sibling, and his features—a Roman nose, a strong jawline, an aloof yet cheeky glint in his eyes—only hinted at his hidden depths even more. When he wasn’t covering half his face with his hood, that is. 

Grougaloragran was his brother’s opposite in many ways. While more feisty and quick to anger than Chibi, he also knew when to keep a cool head better than his twin did when faced with aggression. Unlike Chibi, who preferred to keep going until the end, Grougal knew when to take a step back and make a strategic retreat.

Their contrast manifested in their appearance as well, especially when the black dragon decided to take on a humanoid form. As equally muscular and tanned as his brother, given his body was covered in scales, he felt no need to cover himself beyond a white robe, though his wasn’t form-fitting like Shinonomé’s. But that was where their similarities ended. Grougaloragran’s features were sharper, fiercer, befitting a dragon of his power. His cheekbones were sharp, his ears pointy, his golden eyes had slitted pupils and glowed even in the darkness, and he sported a long, silky, dark mane. 

Yugo and his siblings formed a very colourful group. They all had their strengths and weaknesses, and they all complemented each other by seamlessly working together, like a well-oiled machine. Except when they disagreed on something.

And they were all looking at him, their attention drawn by his comment. 

“It’s… a possibility.” Efrim finally said carefully, acknowledging the king’s previous comment about the Sadida Doll looking for weaknesses to exploit. 

“We can’t deny her mere presence on our island is quite suspicious.” Glip added, sharing a nod with the youngest dragon. Then, gesturing at Yugo, he went on, “Don’t forget, dear brother, two weeks ago you weren’t exactly happy with the news of her arrival either.”

Much to his chagrin, Glip had a point. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been fuming when he found out about the gods sending him a bride. Especially when what he needed was for his people to achieve a peaceful coexistence with this world’s natives, not some eye-candy to take his mind off his problems. 

Still, he tried to remain impartial. Even though it was true Amalia’s actions were suspicious, as king it was his duty to give people the benefit of the doubt until proven guilty.

“That’s true, but Amalia said she was sent here by the gods as a sign of good will between their people and ours. We can’t just accuse her of being an undercover agent!”

“One thing is what someone says, and a very different thing is the truth.” Efrim warned ominously, his eyes narrowed. Then, he fluttered open his crystal-like wings and, with one mighty flap, came to meet Yugo face-to-face. “We know nothing about her, for all we know, she could have been trained precisely to get us to lower our guards!” 

“Maybe, but what we do know is that she was both created and sent to us by the gods.” Adamaï countered, making sure to stress that last word so it got through Efrim’s skull as he pushed him back and away from his twin’s personal space. “If we want to be accepted by the Twelvians, the last thing we need is to offend their gods by mistreating one of their own. And considering Amalia is here precisely because of Yugo, he is the one who should be the most careful.”

Yugo flashed his brother a thankful smile at his unyielding support, who returned it with a nod. 

“Exactly, we can’t afford to act rashly and accuse Lady Amalia without tangible proof.” Shinonomé concluded, turning around in her seat to watch the interaction, and even Qilby nodded along to his sister’s assessment, though he was mostly just watching the show. 

“Why are you taking her side?!” Efrim demanded, his eyes flicking back and forth between his siblings in betrayal. Then, he zeroed in on Yugo, jabbing a claw at him. “What, a few days together and you’re already so blinded by lust you fail to see reason?”

A loud gasp echoed around the room, aghast expressions taking hold of their occupants faces. Even Glip and Nora were looking back and forth between their brothers worriedly. In fact, the only ones who didn’t react much were Qilby—who limited himself to rolling his eyes at the unnecessary melodrama—, and Chibi, his eyes fixated on his work. At least Grougal had more tact and actually looked up in alarm at the exchange.

“Efrim, that is quite enough!” Adamaï growled in warning, taking a step closer to his younger brother. He would have got right in his maw if it weren’t for Yugo stopping him by placing his hand on his chest.  

His face hardening into a scowl, his brown eyes narrowed in on his brother, the Eliatrope King tried to keep his voice cool and even as he said, “This has nothing to do with lust. There’s nothing going on between Amalia and I.”

“Oh, so now we’re supposed to believe you aren’t the tiniest bit attracted to her?” The dragon taunted, tilting his head to the side mockingly. Then, he scoffed, smoke coming out of his nostrils. “Please, we all know your brain stopped working the moment she changed forms; Nora had a blast retelling that to us.” 

From the other side of the room, watching the tense exchange with unease, Nora couldn’t help but wince, cursing her mischievous and teasing nature. Luckily for her, everyone’s eyes were on her twin instead.

It was hard to tell if it was on purpose or if he’d meant to mutter to himself, but it didn’t matter, they all heard him loud and clear when he said, “Obviously, your brain has yet to reboot itself…”

In the blink of an eye, Yugo and Adamaï adopted offensive positions, ready to charge, while  Efrim had dropped on his tail, waiting for when his brothers decided to pounce. However, just as it seemed a confrontation was imminent, a clear, authoritative voice cut through the tension: 

“That’s enough, you three!”

Everyone turned towards the origin of the voice. Leaning against the wall, her arms folded over her chest, stood a tall, elegant woman whose sharp, intelligent brown eyes were settled on her siblings. Her features were soft, the only indication of her silver hair being the two strands falling from her Eliatrope hat and delicately framing her face; unlike her siblings’, her hat pointed upwards and was tied in the middle with a piece of robe. She wore a long, sleeveless turquoise dress and armlets—all the same colour as her hat—, another rope tied around her waist as a belt. 

Normally, Mina was the most level-headed and collected member of the Council. But right now, her eyes were blazing furiously. 

She focused on Efrim, her hands on her hips as she adopted a reprimanding posture. “Efrim, enough of this! That is no way to speak to your brother, let alone your king!” 

“But he—!”

“I don’t want to hear it!” She cut him off, raising one hand as if to empathise her point. Her ears perking up at the sound of the other two’s muffled laughter, she swirled on them at lightning speed, causing them to yelp in surprise. “And that goes for you two as well. This is a place meant for debating and reaching compromise; what would our people think if they caught wind of infighting between their leaders?!”

“Tell that to Mr. Accusations over there.” Adamaï jerked a thumb Efrim’s way, who scowled. 

“I simply don’t understand why Yugo’s so quick to defend someone we barely know even when she’s exhibiting suspicious behaviour.”

Yugo was about to open his mouth, a counter on his lips, when Mina beat him to it. “Because Lady Amalia is not here right now to defend herself. It’s not right to accuse someone of something as serious as spying with malicious intent when they’re not even here to explain themselves.” As she said that, she also sent a glare Glip’s way for encouraging Efrim’s behaviour, the shortest Eliatrope shrinking even further in his seat under the heat of her gaze. 

 “Thank you, Mina.” Yugo sent his sister a nod, silently thanking her for intervening when she did as well. Thanks to their gifted wisdom, she and Phaeris were excellent conflict mediators; they always knew how to de-escalate an argument and resolve a dispute the fairest way possible. Be it among their subjects, or their siblings. He turned his focus back on Nora’s twin. “Efrim, I understand your concerns, but we can’t just brand Amalia as a traitor, not when there’s so much on the line. Do you see that now?”

But the furious flickering of Efrim’s tail and the low growl he emitted were signs of his agitated state. To him, it was plain to see they intended to let the doll’s actions go without a proper investigation, and that was a risk he knew they couldn't take, for it might lead to them losing everything. After all, they left the Mechasms to their own devices for millenia, convinced their bond would always remain symbiotic. And yet, next thing they knew, they had inexplicably lost their home at the hands of the very species they once trusted as their own.

Who was to say the Divine Doll, having been sent by the gods the very people that despised them worshipped, would not lead them to a similar outcome? It had only been two weeks since she arrived, that hardly counted as enough time for someone to prove themselves as trustworthy. 

How could his siblings not see that? Did the Mechasm War really mean so little to them? Hadn’t they all experienced the same horrors? Then why were they so willing to put their people’s safety in jeopardy like that? Why—?

A warm, comforting hand he was intimately familiar with made contact with his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Eyes widening slightly, he turned his head to look back at Nora, his twin sister flashing him a small smile to remind him she would always be there. As always, her presence worked like a charm, allowing his shoulders to lose their tension and his mind to think a bit more clearly. 

Now that he wasn’t so overcome by anger and grief, he chanced a look around the room, and noticed everyone’s uneasy eyes on him. Realising what he might have done if he had lost control, the young dragon forced himself to take one deep breath and let it out slowly, the fog in his mind finally clearing.

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me. I-I just…”

This time, he was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Yugo was smiling kindly at him, Adamaï mirroring his expression, although his position remained slightly more guarded.

“It’s alright, Efrim. We’re all just tired from having to fight for the right to exist. It’s not your fault.”

He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, my King.”

“I think your bride’s presence has left us all a little rattled, Yugo.” Chibi commented idly, finally putting his latest invention down. “I propose we take a few minutes to decompress before tackling the subject again.”

“She’s not his bride, remember?” Nora recalled, some levity returning to her voice as she chuckled impishly.  “They’re just ‘friends’.” She made sure to air-quote exaggeratedly. 

She let out a loud yelp when Yugo shoved her not-so-playfully in retaliation, almost knocking her to the ground. After a beat, laughter filled the room, some of it more reserved than the rest, but the Eliatrope family finally began to relax despite the tense meeting they found themselves in. 

Still, Efrim’s words echoed in Yugo’s head. A part of the Eliatrope King had a hard time believing Amalia could be gathering intel on them per the gods’ request. And it wasn’t because he was attracted to her—because he wasn’t! Acknowledging an objectively attractive person was attractive was not lust, just mere facts. But because, despite their limited time together, her childlike wonder for the world around her and slight awkwardness when dealing with him made it plain to see the Divine Doll didn’t have much experience with the outside world. 

Or, at least, she didn’t know much about the Eliatropes. Which made sense, given they hadn’t even been on the same planet until less than a year ago.

Maybe she was just curious and wanted to learn more.

However, she was also quite reserved and courteous. Even when he took notice of the way her eyes glimmered in fascination at some of the things he showed her, she never asked anything about them unless he talked about them first. Which could be her way of throwing them off her trail. If she didn’t appear overly interested and eager to know more, then they would have no reason to believe she was spying on them and trying to learn their weaknesses. She could just be playing dumb.

Just as Yugo was beginning to question the Sadida Doll’s true intentions, Adamaï’s words made him realise how unfair he was being. 

“I understand your concern, Efrim.” He began, sliding up to the younger dragon and snaking his tail around his shoulders for comfort. “It's too soon to claim we know everything about our guest. But if it makes you feel better, when she arrived and we showed her around a little, I took the chance to read her wakfu.”

“You read her wakfu!?” Shinonomé exclaimed in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling. “But, Adamaï, didn’t you learn from that botched meeting with this world’s rulers? That is something extremely invasive here!”

“I know, I know.” The white-and-blue dragon raised his palms up placatingly. “However, I figured it was justified given an outsider would be living with us from now on.”

At his words, the red dragoness paused, seemingly reflecting over what he said, before she finally calmed down with a nod of assent. 

His sister placated, he continued, turning his focus back on Efrim. “What I saw was a clean aura. While it might be too soon to lower our guards completely, at least we can trust we’ll be able to tell if there are any changes.”

“I… suppose that’s fair.” Efrim acknowledged, his claw holding his head pensively. 

“Nevertheless, I could try getting to the bottom of this and figure out why she wanders through the palace alone.” Yugo said, his tone light, but the meaning behind it was serious. 

“But Yugo, what about offending the gods? Won’t accusing Amalia of having ulterior motives for being here cause trouble for us?” Nora asked, her brow furrowed in concern. 

The king just rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying we lock her up in the dungeon and refuse to give her food or water until she fesses up; I’m just going to ask her nicely but directly for an explanation.”

“Uh… Not to be rude, but what makes you think she'll just up and tell you just because you ask nicely?” Glip arched an eyebrow, staring at his brother like he’d grown a second head. 

Blinking in confusion, Yugo could only shrug helplessly, as if the answer was obvious enough. “Um, because I’m clearly the one she’s closest to around here? If she’s gonna be comfortable opening up to someone, that someone is me.”

Silence fell over the council room, the Council looking back at their king and blinking slowly at his thought process. And then, after a beat…

“Yeah. Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Qilby asked, his tone dripping with ill-veiled amusement. His smirk only grew at the blush colouring his king’s cheeks. 

Oh, who knew having a Sadida Doll around would be this fun!

“There’s not!” Yugo squealed, before realising how his voice sounded and clearing his throat. Purposely making his voice sound deeper, he insisted, “Seeing as she is here because of me, I’m the one who’s been spending the most time with her, meaning she’s bound to feel more comfortable talking to me than any of you.”

“I don’t know.” Nora commented idly. She came to lean against a column, looking disinterestedly at her nails, although the amused smirk on her lips didn’t help hide her true feelings. “I was there when she introduced herself. And she’s just my type; I’m sure I could get her comfortable real quick…”

“Nora, down.” Mina said flatly. With an almost bored flick of her hand, she conjured up a portal directly connected to the sea, causing some of the water to be sprayed straight into her younger sister’s face. 

Nora hissed in displeasure. 

“Thank you, Mina.” With that taken care of, Yugo turned his focus back on the conversation at hand. “The point is, she’s here because of me, so I should be the one talking to her about her daily walks around these walls…” After a beat, he couldn’t help but wonder aloud. “It is a bit odd how often she’s out of her room even when I’m not taking her anywhere…”

“Maybe that’s the problem?” Mina suggested. 

“What do you mean?” Adamaï asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

“Maybe she’s out and about so much precisely because she doesn’t like her room.”

“Oh, no. That’s impossible.” Chibi waved the mere notion off at the same time as Grougal vehemently shook his head. “Girlie got one of the best rooms in the entire palace; she’s got nothing to complain about!”

“Grougaloragran’s interior design is flawless.” The black dragon leaned back in his chair stubbornly. His mere body language was challenging everyone gathered to try and contradict him. 

The thing about genius inventors and master builders was their ego. And when you had literal lifetimes to perfect your creations and master new disciplines like Chibi and Grougal did, your ego was the size of Amakna. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.” Yugo said quickly, not really in the mood to listen to another long-winded spiel about the intricacies of architecture and interior design, or how long it took them to realise the perfect shade to paint their walls in was eggshell white instead of cream white because cream white was too dark for the overall look they were going for. 

“Yes, it’ll be for the best.” Finally leaving her place beside the wall, Mina made her way to her seat, ready to get this meeting rolling and to present her and Phaeris’ latest findings to their siblings at last. As she did so, however, she couldn’t help but mutter, “For all we know, she’s just as much of an adventurer as you two and just wishes to explore a little.”

Yugo and Adamaï exchanged glances at their sister’s comment… and immediately afterwards had to stifle down their laughter. No one was as much of an adventurer as they were. Their wanderlust was insatiable. Part of the reason they were so eager to reach an understanding with the Twelvians—besides their subjects’ safety, of course—was so they could finally go see this whole new world without fear of causing a commotion. 

“If she turns out to be as much of an adventurer as Yugo and Adamaï, she’d better not clutter Grougaloragran’s beautiful room with her knick-knacks. Grougaloragran did not spend thirty-six hours painting those walls only for a pile of souvenirs to hide them from view.” 

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

Amalia found herself exploring every nook and cranny of the palace yet again. Even though the Council’s residence would technically be her home for who knew how long, meaning she believed she had a right to know where she lived, a part of her couldn’t help but feel like she was doing something wrong. Especially when she encountered some of the council members besides Yugo. 

She shuddered subconsciously when her mind traced back to a few days ago, where after turning a corner she’d come face to face with Nora and the Eliatrope dragon she introduced as her brother, Efrim. While Nora had remained as polite as when they first met—though the meaning of some of her comments flew right over her head—, her twin was a completely different story. 

His loaded gaze was fixated on the Sadida Doll the entire time. It was so intense, Amalia couldn’t help but feel scrutinised, curling over herself for comfort. She vaguely remembered gulping involuntarily in his presence. For some reason she couldn’t explain, the doll had a feeling Efrim didn’t like her much. 

Fearing she might get the same reaction from the other Primordial Eliatropes and their dragon siblings—the little one, Glip, if her memory didn’t fail her, didn’t seem very nice—, Amalia tried not to get too greedy. In other words, whenever she ventured around the palace walls on her own, she made the conscious effort to always discover new rooms one place at a time, and to never remain away from her room for long periods of time. 

Her first little adventure had been a simple walk from her chambers to the throne room. Deep down she was mostly just making sure she’d be able to remember where her room was even without help. She was just retracing her steps, really.

The next logical step was to include the dining room to her slowly-increasing list. Most of the time her food was actually delivered to her room by some servants, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner. But sometimes, her time together with Yugo would either start or culminate in the two of them sharing a meal as they made civil conversation. Thinking back, she had yet to have dinner with the entire Council of Six at once. Although Yugo said that was mostly because they were all so busy and had such different schedules, their dining together was a rare occurrence these days. 

Then she considered it best to know where all the delicious food she got to enjoy each and every day came from, so she made her way around until finding the kitchen. Just her luck, she stumbled upon it just as the chef and kitchen staff were getting ready to begin making lunch. 

To say they all had been mutually startled by their presence would be an understatement. 

Even so, as soon as everyone’s heartbeat was once again under control, they all shared brief interactions as they introduced themselves. Amalia learned many things that day, but the one that stood out the most to her was the fact that she didn’t see herself cooking any time soon. 

She had been understandably amazed by the way Chef Telif and his staff transformed raw ingredients into culinary delicacies; it was almost magical. But something about the process—the patience it required, all the cutting, slicing, and chopping involved, how dirty one could get—just didn’t sit right with her, for some reason. 

Today, her usual exploring had led her to the palace school. While she didn’t dare open the door, as she vaguely recognised Glip’s voice and she didn’t want another encounter like the one with Efrim, Amalia couldn’t bring herself to stop listening to his lesson from behind the door. 

She couldn’t quite catch everything he said, but the few things she did understand were incredibly fascinating. The more Glip spoke, the more Baltazar added or put things into context, the more Amalia wanted to know. In the end, she stayed glued to the door for the entirety of the lesson, only tearing herself away from it when she heard the teaching duo dismiss the class, causing Amalia to yelp as she hurried to get away and back to her room. 

It was precisely on the way back to her chambers, that an unexpected but increasingly familiar voice cut through her thoughts. 

“Amalia.”

Gasping in surprise, she turned around, her face breaking into a wide grin at the sight of the one person she could call her friend here. She didn’t really understand why the sight of him made her so happy; she just relished the warm feeling she got whenever he was close. 

“Yugo!” She exclaimed in delight. Skipping closer to him, she couldn’t help but beam, “What a surprise, I didn’t expect to see you today! Normally, you come looking for me in my room shortly after you’re done with your daily training.”

Clearing his throat at the reminder of their daily routine, a small blush coming to his cheeks, the Eliatrope King tried to redirect the conversation where he wanted to without arousing suspicion. “Well, yeah. That’s true. But there’s something I want to ask you and the sooner I do it, the better.”

Then, he gestured for her to follow him as they continued their walk, their pace unhurried.

“Oh.” She could only blink at that, surprised by his reason for seeking her out. Pulling herself together, she shrugged. “I see. And… what is it you wish to ask me?”

“This is just like ripping a band-aid off. The sooner I say what’s on my mind, the sooner we’ll be done.” Yugo told himself, steeling his resolve even as he noticed Amalia’s big brown eyes staring back at him expectantly from the corner of his eyes. He gulped.That made it slightly more difficult. 

Taking one deep breath, he decided to just go for the kill. “Amalia, is there a reason why you’re always wandering around the palace halls on your own?”

Eyes widening at his question, she couldn’t help but avert her eyes, ignoring the way the action caused the Eliatrope to narrow his own eyes at her. Yes, there was a reason for her daily little excursions, but she couldn’t tell him what it was! Her arrival had already shaken them off quite badly, from what she’d gathered; she couldn’t make things even more difficult for them. 

Besides, admitting she just felt lonely while Yugo and his siblings were busy ruling their people just felt childish and selfish. 

“No, there’s no reason.” She said instead. “I just want to know more about you and your people, I guess.”

Unfortunately, saying that had been the wrong move. Alarmed that Efrim and Glip might have been right, and knowing the Divine Doll was lying because of her elusive response and guarded pose, Yugo pressed on. 

“Amalia, I’m not mad. If there’s something bothering you, you can just tell me.” He tried to keep his voice even and reassuring, but nothing could keep the tinges of irritation from leaking through. 

The Divine Doll, of course, picked up on it. “You don’t really sound like you’re not mad… Quite the opposite, really.”

“And it definitely doesn’t look like you have no reason to wander around on your own.” Yugo bit back accusingly, before wincing at how easily he was losing his temper. 

Startled by his words, Amalia bit her lip and averted her eyes. She contemplated on coming clean, but decided against it. It really was nothing, so she told him as such:

“It’s nothing important.” With a flick of her head, she walked ahead of him, hoping that would put an end to their conversation. She was abruptly stopped in her tracks, however, by Yugo’s hand firmly taking hold of her wrist and bringing her closer. 

Seeing the surprised expression on the Divine Doll’s face and worrying he might have gone too far or caused her harm, the King of the Eliatropes let her hand go with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Amalia, please. Just tell me what’s wrong. I promise, whatever the reason, we can talk things out, but I need to know why you’re always walking around the halls on your own.”

He chose to keep to himself how her actions were rather suspicious and putting his siblings on edge, the fear of a potential betrayal lingering in the air. He had the feeling that would only rattle her even more. 

For a while, Amalia said nothing. She just kept looking down to her side, her lips pursed and one hand rubbing the wrist he grabbed absentmindedly. For some reason, that irked him. That irked him beyond belief. 

Here he was, doing everything in his power to give her the benefit of the doubt, to allow her to prove his brothers wrong and clear things out. Great Goddess above, he was actually putting a stranger’s feelings over his siblings! And here she was, not even trying to make things easier for him, doing everything in her power to appear as guilty as possible instead. 

Narrowing his eyes, he opened up his mouth, “Amalia, were you sent here to—?”

But just as he was about to flat-out ask for her true intentions and risk offending the gods with his distrusting nature, the Divine Doll unknowingly saved him when she blurted out, “I just hate being in my room, okay?!”

Mouth dropping in disbelief at her words, his brain struggling to process what she just said, he caught a flicker of blue from the corner of his eyes. Blinking in surprise, his eyes travelling fleetingly to Amalia’s form as she hid behind him with a squeak, Yugo could only look on as two very agitated Chibi and Grougaloragran jumped right out of a portal and in front of them. 

“What do you mean you hate your room?!” They bellowed in unison, incredulous. Their imposing figures only intimidated Amalia even more. 

Taking notice of the Sadida Doll’s discomfort and feeling a surge of protectiveness rising within him even despite the previous tension, Yugo cleared his throat to get his brothers’ attention. Once their eyes settled on him, he discreetly motioned with his head for them to take a step back. 

As soon as they obliged his silent request, he glanced down at Amalia, meeting her gaze. “Is that true? You just don’t like your room?”

He almost felt a vein pop at the way Chibi and Grougal were ‘whispering’ among themselves about how it was a much bigger deal than he made it out to be. 

Amalia, however, was undeterred. Emerging from behind him, despite the fact that she had her arms around herself, hugging herself for comfort, her voice was loud and clear when she said, “Yes, that’s the truth. I spend so much time around the palace because I can’t stand being there.”

“But why?!” Chibi demanded, before a warning look from both Yugo and Grougal forced him to take a better look at the doll and realise he was making her uncomfortable. He sheepishly cleared his throat. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, my Lady, but yours is one of the finest rooms inside these walls.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I just…” The words got stuck in her throat. She still felt so silly for complaining about this after the Eliatropes had been so kind to take her in, even when they had informed her she might not be able to fulfil her original goal. But just as she was biting down on her lip, willing the words to leave her mouth, she felt a hand on her shoulder. 

Looking up, she saw Yugo smiling comfortingly down at her, encouraging to speak up without fear of retaliation. She felt her cheeks grow hot. 

“Amalia, it’s okay. We just want to help, that’s all.”

Recovering from her momentary shock, she gave a determined nod and took one deep breath before explaining herself. “Back in Father’s realm, I could feel everything. Everything was a part of me and I was one with it all. It was like I was never alone and, I don’t know, I guess that was very comforting. 

“But here, in my room… Everything feels so sterile. I know there’s so much more beyond my balcony, beyond these walls, but I can’t connect with it like I did in Inglorium. At least, not when I’m in my room. Everything feels so cold in there, so stifling. The more I spend inside those walls, the more I can feel them closing in on me… I hate it. I only feel better when I’m away from it, like when you come to spend time with me.”

As she admitted how she felt, she looked up at Yugo, hoping to convey what she was saying to him in particular. “I guess I’m always going around the palace to escape that feeling, to escape that loneliness…” She said that last part with a voice so small, Yugo, Chibi, and Grougal had to strain themselves to hear her properly. 

Yugo was taken aback by the waves of sympathy he felt towards Amalia at that moment. He, too, hated being confined to one place, that was the reason why he and Adamaï were always adventuring, just like it explained why he’d been feeling so restless ever since they arrived at the World of Twelve and they’d been more or less confined to Oma Island for months. Thinking back to these past few weeks since the Sadida Doll arrived, he realised with a start he hadn’t been feeling quite as on edge since she arrived. 

Apparently, Amalia was good at taking his mind off certain things, after all.

And seeing her now, so despondent… It just didn’t sit well with him. He had to help her somehow.

Sending a meaningful look his brothers’ way, the three of them silently convened on what to do. With a nod of agreement upon deciding on what course of action to take, he turned his focus back on Amalia.

“Would it help if we tried to make your room feel less lonely?”

She perked up at that. “Can you really do that?”

“Please.” Chibi scoffed playfully, matching smirks on his and his twin’s faces. “Grougal and I designed this whole place’s layout.” He said, gesturing at the palace around them.

Grougaloragran finished for him. “There is nothing we cannot do.”

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

After a grateful nod from Amalia for their offer, the four of them made their way back to her room. Thinking back, Yugo had never paid it much mind. Back when it was still unoccupied he, realistically speaking, had no reason to be there, and once Amalia did arrive, the few times he picked her up he would just wait for her by the door, never stepping foot inside. 

But now that he was here, he could sort of see why Amalia would feel so down—though he would never admit it to Chibi and Grougal out of self-preservation. Yes, the Divine Doll’s room was pretty, spacious, and had everything anyone could ever need, but it definitely didn’t feel cosy or lived-in. Maybe it was because it had barely been two weeks since Amalia lived here, or maybe it was the fact that Yugo and Adamaï’s room back in their homeworld was filled to the brim with souvenirs from their many adventures, but this place was just bare.

If it weren’t because of Amalia’s unmade bed and crumpled sheets, the place would look as immaculate as if it didn’t have someone living in it at all. With a quick look inside her empty closet, Yugo momentarily wondered if he should summon the Royal tailor and have some clothes made for the Sadida Doll. She couldn’t just wear the very same outfit forever, no matter how good it looked on her—.

Shaking his head in an effort to dispel those thoughts, Yugo made a show of clasping his hands that momentarily startled the other people present. If he was being honest with himself, however, he was doing it more to get his own attention than his companions’. 

With forced cheeriness, he turned to the doll, “So, Amalia. Do you have any idea on how you’d like your room to look?”

“If you permit us, my Lady.” Chibi cut in, stepping deeper into the room. With a snap of his fingers, he opened a portal from which several papers fell into Grougaloragran’s awaiting arms. “While we insist you don’t change the murals—I’m sorry, but we really did spend a lot of time on those—, we have some suggestions that should really help liven up the room. Don’t we, Grougal?”

The dragon nodded. Picking up what to Yugo and Amalia looked like some random paper, he opened it with a flick of his wrist and pointed at its contents with his claw. “A warm-coloured carpet is a great choice; it can make anything feel more homey in no time at all, as well as help warm things up in winter. Chibi and Grougaloragran can also help you pick any poster you like to add a little personal touch. Not to mention, adding some home décor is another great choice. Personally, Grougaloragran believes you can never go wrong with a little gold.”

“But that’s mostly because he is a dragon and they're known for being such hoarders. Just ask Enutrof.” Chibi whispered to a bewildered Amalia, purposefully ignoring the way his twin huffed at him in annoyance. 

“You say that as if you weren’t wearing gold-plated armour right now.” Yugo pointed out flatly, raising one eyebrow sarcastically. 

Blinking in surprise at the revelation, Amalia tried to steal one quick peek under the muscular Eliatrope’s black cloak and, lo and behold, Yugo was right; he really did wear golden armour underneath!

Chibi made a psh! sound with his mouth as he crossed his arms in mock offence, rolling his eyes. Looking back down at the Divine Doll, he put an arm around her surprisingly small shoulders and brought her closer—and secretly but thoroughly enjoyed the way that small action seemed to ruffle his king’s feathers, judging from the irked grimace on his face and his left eye, twitching every so often. 

Two words: in denial. 

Stowing that for later, the white-haired Eliatrope turned his focus back on the conversation at hand. “Anyway, my Lady, it’s your room. What would you like it to have?”

Glancing back and forth between Chibi’s hand on her shoulder and back at his face, Amalia could only blink for a while, her brain struggling to catch up with the rapid-fire conversation they had just had over things she didn’t understand. She didn’t really know anything about carpets, or home décor, or whatever; but she did know what she wished her room had. 

“I was thinking about adding some plants?” She finally admitted. 

Her response caused the three men in her room to just blink at her for a few seconds, then at each other, astonished, though mostly for not being able to figure that out themselves. After a beat, the Sadida Doll had to do a double take because Chibi went from standing by her side to rejoining his twin brother through a portal. 

She wondered if she would ever get used to that. …or even go through one herself. What would that feel like?

“I mean, technically, she is a Sadida. It makes perfect sense she’d want some plants in her room.” Chibi reasoned, a hand to his hairy chin. 

“Plants do add a lot of life to a room.” Grougal concurred. Then, he pointed at a corner of the room, near her vanity. “We could put a nice ficus there.”

Chibi’s whole face just lit up. “That’s a great idea! Or maybe, we could put the ficus over there,” he pointed at the opposite side of the room, “and place a flower vase on her vanity!”

“Grougaloragran believes Qilby has quite the nice selection of specimens. We could always ask him.”

“Oh, you’re right! And you know Qilby, always eager to show off his entire collection. Though that could also mean he might get a bit cranky if we ask him to lend us some of his plants ‘just to decorate a room’”, he air-quoted with a roll of his eyes his twin couldn’t help but mimic. “Maybe if we told him—”

As they discussed things, Amalia just stared at them while they went at it, feeling a little lost. She might not have spent much time on Oma Island or got to intimately know its residents, but somehow, those two were some of the most eccentric people she had ever met. Suddenly she felt a presence slide up to her, though by then she had a pretty good guess as to who it was. And, sure enough, looking up, she saw Yugo staring down at her with a tentative smile on his lips.

“What do you say, Amalia?” He asked. “Do you think that’ll be enough to make you feel better?”

Instead of answering right away, Amalia bit the inside of her cheek, thinking long and hard about what she wanted and, more importantly, what she could do to get it. She was obviously grateful to Chibi and Grougaloragran for offering their help, but she honestly didn’t see how their suggestions could accomplish much. Especially when she believed she had a much more effective way of doing things…

Her mind made up, a determined glint in her eyes, she called out to the inventors. “Um, excuse me?” When she had their full attention, she continued. “While I’m very grateful for all your help, I think I actually have a better idea?”

Exchanging intrigued glances and a shrug, the white-haired Eliatrope and his dragon twin simply crossed their arms over their chests, giving the Sadida Doll the silent ‘go-ahead’. “Well, let’s hear it.”

However, Yugo, Chibi, and Grougaloragran could only look on, perplexed, when, instead of answering, Amalia simply turned her back to them and walked a little deeper into the room, placing herself just in between her bed and closet door. Jabbing a thumb her way, they tried asking their king for an explanation, but he could only offer a helpless shrug in response, just as lost as they were. 

Taking a deep breath, determination and power coursing through her veins, Amalia slammed her hands down against the floor, a current of green energy leaving her palms and travelling all around the room. 

For a moment, the three men present looked around the space, waiting for something to happen. When after a beat nothing seemed to have changed, Chibi opened his mouth to speak:

“Well, it was a nice try, but don’t worry, we’ll take care of this in no—!”

His words were interrupted by a yelp leaving his throat as a sudden tremor enveloped the room and almost sent him crashing against the floor. It was only thanks to his twin’s quick-thinking he didn’t fall flat on his butt. 

While Amalia was beaming, Yugo and his siblings could only look on, holding onto each other for dear life and their mouths agape, at the events taking place right in front of them. 

From seemingly out of nowhere, countless vines sprouted outside the room and cascaded down the balcony; they were so long they almost formed a rope that reached the ground outside the palace walls. Inside the room proper, a torrent of flowers of all colours bloomed all over the walls—though, Yugo noted, they were careful enough not to cover any of the murals painted on them. As far as met the eye, the few spaces that weren’t covered in flowers or murals had huge, thick vines and ferns forming spirals, be it on the walls or on the floor beneath their feet—Grougal actually had to jump up to avoid one that was literally growing underneath him. Even her vanity’s bulbshrooms shone brighter. Their heads snapped in alarm at the sound of something breaking and, sure enough, a giant, red flower had blossomed right beneath Amalia’s bed, replacing it, and sent the piece of furniture flying in a dozen tiny pieces.

Thinking fast, Yugo conjured several small portals to catch all the broken pieces and deposit them down safely right outside the palace grounds, forming a pile of garbage that raised a few eyebrows among the passersby.

The end result was as if nature had overtaken the Eliatrope castle after centuries of it being uninhabited. It was both breathtaking and a little sobering. And to think this was but a fragment of what a Divine Doll could do with nature…

After all that, the only thing they could say to Amalia’s display of power was:

“Grougaloragran stands corrected. We could not have done that.”

Laughing in delight, Amalia threw herself at her new bed, squealing happily as she rolled back and forth over its petals. Despite his awed state, Yugo couldn’t help but smile fondly at the scene. Seeing her so happy for once was just precious. 

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She exclaimed, propping herself onto a seated position. Opening her arms wide, she gestured at the space around her. “This is so much better. It finally feels like my room!”

“No need to thank us…” Chibi said, partly because they literally had done nothing. This was all her!

“It was our pleasure.” Grougaloragran agreed with a nod. 

And with that and kind wishes for Amalia, they exited the room, leaving their king and the doll alone. 

For some reason, while Amalia was on her bed, staring back at him expectantly, Yugo remained rooted to his spot. Suddenly, seeing her get comfortable inside the flower was bringing forth all kinds of thoughts he should not be having about her. It was best he remained as far away from her and her new bed as possible. 

“Thank you, Yugo.”

Amalia’s kind words broke him out of his trance. Looking back at her, his breath hitched. Once again, the sweet, warm, genuine grin she had on when they first met and he welcomed her in was curling at her lips, her brown eyes flashing with appreciation and gratitude. It was stunning. She was stunning.

He was starting to really hate Sadida and his prodigious craftsmanship. 

“For what?” He heard himself ask back. 

Amalia tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, almost shyly. “For… for worrying about me. For listening to me even when it was silly. You really didn't have to.”

“Hey, now.” He admonished her gently, subconsciously closing the distance between them. Almost without realising it, she took her by the hand. “Don’t say that. It wasn’t silly.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, you’re our guest. The least we can do is make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He told her, a small smile growing on his lips. Then, he said a bit more seriously, “Amalia, if you ever feel uncomfortable or like you need anything, don’t hesitate to tell me. It’ll be much better if you’re just upfront about whatever’s bothering you, trust me.”

He chose not to tell her it would also make it easier for him and his siblings to come to trust her if she didn’t act so suspicious all the time. 

“I-I see.” She stuttered. “I-I’ll try to work on that.”

“I’m sure you will.” And with that, he let go of her hand and was about to leave her room when, just as he reached the door frame, she called out to him:

“Yugo, wait!”

Looking at her over his shoulder, her outstretched in his direction, he raised a curious eyebrow. “Yes, Amalia?”

“I-I was just wondering…” Amalia stammered, her hands fidgeting with her dress nervously. Pursing her lips, she couldn’t help but avert her eyes as she admitted, “I’d also really like to leave the palace.”

“Oh.” Was all Yugo could say to that. He rubbed the back of his head in discomfort, though he didn’t take his hood off, the doll couldn’t help but notice. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” 

“I just want to explore Oma Island!” She rushed out to clarify. “I… I just…” She hesitated. Frustrated with herself, she took a deep breath and started over. “Do you ever get the feeling that there’s so much more out there? Like your world is too small and you can’t wait to broaden it? That’s how I feel, I just can’t help it. Don’t get me wrong, the palace is beautiful and its staff very kind, and you’re always so nice to me but…! But I can’t help myself from wanting—.”

“More.” Yugo finished for her, unbidden. He could only stare at her in awe, his eyes glimmering with something foreign and powerful. Everything she said resonated with his very core. Everything she was expressing was the exact same thing he felt all the time! That pull to see what lay beyond his home, the need to live new experiences, the call of something new, and exciting, and unfathomable luring him in!

The feeling that you were constantly outgrowing what you already knew. 

That was precisely what he and Adamaï always felt, what pushed them to travel the world in search of adventure…

“For all we know, she’s just as much of an adventurer as you two and just wishes to explore a little.”

Mina’s earlier words echoed through his mind. Combined with her call on Amalia’s opinion on her room, it was a little unnerving how on the mark his sister could be sometimes. It was almost as if the prophet was her, instead of Chibi. 

Once again, Amalia put an early stop to his thoughts. 

“That’s right.” She chuckled softly. “My father helped create this world, Yugo, alongside the other gods. I just really want to see what they did.” Then, she grew nervous again, fiddling with her fingers. “So I was wondering if perhaps you could show me around?”

Almost involuntarily, his expression softened. Before he could even register his lips moving, he said, “Of course, Amalia. Let’s go out on an adventure together soon.”

The smile she rewarded him with was blinding.

It wouldn’t be until hours later that Yugo would come to a very unsettling realisation:

“Wait a minute, did she grow all that from stone?!”

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐎𝐍𝐄. 𝐓𝐖𝐎. 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄. [𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓]

PAIRINGS — Francesca Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton [mother-daughter]

SUMMARY — Francesca and Violet struggle to communicate through words and late nights provide alternate means to do so.

Or, Francesca finds Violet playing the piano late into the evening after the Mondrich ball.

WORD COUNT — 2K

WARNINGS — none

NOTE — Okay so full disclosure this idea came to me BEFORE part 2 came out, but part 2 kind of inspired the direction I ended up taking it :) I love them so much so it was definitely necessary to provide my own interpretation ;) Hope you enjoy!

Francesca was not often the last person awake in Bridgerton house, but this time she thought she might just be the one. That was, at least while she was readying herself for bed alone, having sent her maid off to sleep. 

She thought back to earlier that evening, her heart still uneasy from her interaction with her mother. She was still reeling from it, feeling as though maybe her mother didn’t like John just because her love for him was not like those she had seen with her older siblings, or even what she had had herself with her father. 

Francesca didn’t understand it. She thought of all people, when it came to love, her mother would be the one to understand. Clearly she was mistaken.

Just as she was about to climb into bed, a sigh on her lips, she heard a sound, coming faintly from downstairs. Under normal circumstances, she would have ignored it, but there was something that drew her to it. Something melodic. 

Francesca pushed herself up off her bed, tucking her hair behind her ears, and opening the door now hearing the sound a little louder and clearer than before. 

Now it was obvious, she was hearing the piano from the drawing room, but she frowned curiously. She didn’t know anyone in her family who loved the instrument enough to be playing this late into the night, that was besides herself. 

With pursed lips, Francesca made her way downstairs, her robe wrapped tightly around her, listening as the sounds of a melody got louder and louder as she approached it. 

It wasn’t necessarily perfect, there were stumbles and fumbles, but Francesca could hear past that, the emotion that filled every note, every tone, drenched with a certain…sadness. 

She took a moment outside of the drawing room, just listening to the music without revealing who it was that could play such melancholic phrases. 

As she leaned against the wall, she could feel the vibrations of the instrument in the ground, each strike of the key, each mistake followed by huffs of frustration, as if whoever was playing needed to get the note correct, each chord, each progression. 

Francesca turned around eventually, during a lull in the song, the notes becoming more languid and lazy, the harshness in the sadness and anger of the other movement of the piece coming to an end and making way for something more content and peaceful. She placed a hand on the closed door and carefully pushed it open, finally revealing to herself who was on the other side, her jaw dropping slightly as she saw her mother, still in her evening gown, sitting at the piano bench. 

She had one hand resting on her lap, the other carrying the soft simple melody, her head hung low. 

Francesca bit her lip, she thought it would be safe to assume that perhaps the reason she had come back to the piano after so many years of not having played may have something to do with her. Maybe even more so their argument earlier that evening. 

She hesitantly made her way further into the room, careful not to startle or disturb her mother, her feet treading lightly on the ground. When she came closer, almost to the bench, in the middle of a phrase her mother stopped, her fingers still pressing the keys in a minor chord. It was a moment or two before she removed her hand. 

She knew Francesca was standing there.

Francesca pressed her lips into a thin line, pushing away her hurt for a moment and coming to sit on the small space left on the bench beside her.

Violet looked up at Francesca, noticing she was no longer in her dress, only a simple nightgown, her hair tucked behind both ears, a soft look in her eyes. 

Francesca looked over at her mother just as she looked away from her, seeing the evidence of tears that stained her cheeks. 

A lump formed in Francesca’s throat at the sight. She opened her mouth and closed it, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. 

She heard Violet sniffle, but the sound was followed by a note. 

Surprised, Francesca looked down and saw her mother’s fingers resting again on the keys. They played three notes in sequence that Francesca would recognize anywhere. 

She looked up at her mother who had paused to look at her. Into her eyes first, then at her hands. A suggestion. 

Francesca lifted her hands, fingers resting comfortably on the keys in the upper octaves while her mother took the lower ones, playing the first few notes again, Francesca easily finding her rhythm and joining in. It was a simple song, not quite the things she would venture playing now, but one of her favourites from the early days of her lessons. 

She had learnt the basics from watching Daphne with her tutor and would come and practice early in the morning before anyone was awake. 

Her mother among the rest of her family had noticed this, but she was always the one who humoured her the most. More than humouring her, she encouraged her. 

She remembered distinctly one morning, the rest of the house fast asleep when she came as usual, finding the piano bench from where Anthony had hidden it, picking it up with her small hands and moving it to the front of the piano, climbing up and sitting in front of the keys, looking down with wide eyes.

She hadn’t noticed initially, but her mother was awake, likely due to some discomfort from her sibling they had yet to meet, and had come and joined Francesca by the piano, picking her up despite her surprise and sitting down herself on the bench and placing her on her lap.

Francesca could see her expression so clearly, a small laugh escaping Violet’s lips as she saw Francesca’s confusion. She could feel her mother’s enlarged stomach against her back, her confusion soon overshadowed by the feeling of her mother’s lips against her forehead. 

Wordlessly, Violet took Francesca’s hands and placed them over top of her own, showing her a progression of notes. 

Francesca watched so intently as her mother guided her through the steps of the song, eagerly stopping her as soon as she was done, swatting her hands away and listening to her gentle laugh echo through the room as Francesca demonstrated what she could do. 

Violet was thoroughly impressed with her daughter, barely fumbling even though she didn’t have any notes in front of her, retaining everything she had shown her only moments earlier. 

With another kiss to her cheek, she encouraged Francesca to play it again, her hands moving to the lower octave as she began and adding the lower harmony and bass line for the duet. 

Francesca giggled with glee as her mother joined in, the sounds melding together creating some sort of sweet sensation in her heart. 

Violet nuzzled her face into her daughter’s neck in front of her, tickling her and making her mess up which came with a whine of protest until her mother whispered three little words in her ear along with three more notes on the piano. A chord. And all was calm. 

As they played the duet over the years Francesca had added her embellishments, turning it into something new each time they sat down, using it as a way to show her mother what she had learnt all those hours practicing and with a tutor.

And yet, this time as they played, Francesca’s fingers danced only over those same keys her mother had taught her the very first time around. Stripped of extravagances, of the complications of musical theory and creative composition. 

Violet had played this duet so many times it was muscle memory at this point. Her role never changed while Francesca’s evolved, but hearing those same simple notes, the smallest thing from the start of her journey on the piano, threatened to bring tears to Violet’s eyes once more, because maybe through the silence, or rather, the music, Francesca understood. Maybe she understood that Violet had never meant to hurt her, that her happiness was all that mattered in the end, and she was still trying to navigate and learn how to best be a mother to her children who were growing up far too quickly. Maybe Francesca understood she was only human. 

As the song came to a close, Violet hesitated, not wanting the moment to end, clinging to this point in time where she could communicate with her daughter, where she felt as though they finally understood each other even if it was only amongst notes where everything remained unsaid. 

Francesca noticed her mother’s hesitation, unable to play the last notes, so she finished her melody and made one exception. She added a small flourish to the end, the last notes travelling down until they reached that special chord. 

One. Two. Three. 

I. Love. You. 

Violet chewed on her lip and looked up at her daughter, her hand finally able to move from where it was frozen, repeating the notes at a lower octave until they became a chord. 

Francesca found herself still looking down at the keys, her mind fixed on the sound of that chord, trying to feel everything that came from it. Because to her no matter what song, no matter what circumstance, playing or listening, that chord felt like her mother’s embrace, her mother’s kiss, her mother’s love. 

And just as she was about to pull away to go back to sleep, she felt a gentle hand on her arm, pulling her in until she was engulfed in warmth. Arms that, when wrapped around her, made her feel like she was five again sitting on her mother’s lap, protected by her as she did what she adored. 

Next she felt the soft press of lips to the crown of her head, lips that lingered and were a balm to every wound Francesca had ever endured. 

And though all of that, most of all, she felt that love. The love that constantly radiated off of Violet and spilled down over to her children and reminded Francesca that it had always been there, even through their disagreements, even when they couldn’t understand each other, it was as unwavering and sustained as a fermata. 

Francesca didn’t wish to move. Staying in her mother’s arms is what felt most comfortable and Violet wasn’t inclined to let go. Instead, she began to run a hand through her daughter’s hair, smoothing out any stray strands, creating some sort of excuse in her mind to continue to treat her daughter like the small child she remembered her to be, even if only for a few moments before she eventually married and left her for good. 

But Violet knew she had to let go and so did Francesca. 

Even if neither of them liked it, they pulled apart and Violet took one last moment to look at her daughter, to cradle her face in her hand, to admire how much she had grown in such a short time. She squished her cheek just like she would when she was little and Francesca couldn’t hold back the smile that came across her lips at the action. 

When it was time for them to leave, Francesca took her mother’s hand from her face and instead intertwined it with hers, standing up and leading the way out of the drawing room. 

Violet’s hand moved from being intertwined with Francesca’s to holding her close to her side, her arm outstretched over her back and Francesca leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder knowing whatever came next, as long as they were playing a duet, everything would be just fine.

[thequietkid-moonie]

The glimpse of a lost memory about someone that doesn't exist anymore

[ ONE-SHOT ]

[ Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon / Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon ]

Okay, i can't believe I made myself cry after reading it once it was done! I think i put waaaay to much heart on this

I really REALLY hope you like it as much as I did, my dear reader ! ❤️

It all started by just a simple dream, it wasn't the first time Usagi dream with someone calling out for her, it happened before she became a Sailor Scout, but this time it felt different, it wasn't like if that person was calling for her to try and reach her, if was more like if it were someone greeting her, happy to see her again, and whenever she wake up she felt rather melancholic

The first time Usagi tried to just brush it off, but soon it started to happen more and more, every time it was diferent scenarios and diferent places but what never changed was the person talking to her, someone she can't reconize, she can't even see their face but know that is smiling at her, it was too weird, but what it was more weird it was how happy and comforted she felt on that dreams

Soon she will end up telling her friends about it, probably just because she was too distracted with all of this that it had became obvious for everyone, Usagi tried to brush it off but it was of no use since they know her too well, and at the end she finally tells them about the weird dreams she have been having lately, and for her surprised everyone agreed to have those dreams too, for everyone was different but what never changed was the person talking to them, even Mamoru had a few dreams with someone who talked to him with respect but treat him as family

Everyone start to worry about it, they would prefer to don't take it as something bad imediatly but it wasn't imposible to be some kind of trick from their enemies, so everyone decided to investigate more about it, looking for any posible enemies that were trying to trick them into something, or maybe it was just the inmense curiosity everyone were feeling, they needed a reason for that strange melancholic they feel for those dreams

But not matter what they do, at the end there was no threaten, only the feeling of melancholic, like if they had lost something and now they were missing it, it was so confusing, Makoto, Rei and Minako were the ones growing more frustrated for not reaching any answer to what the hell was happening, they want to be ready for any posible future threating but this was too strange and yet it felt so familiar

At some point Michiru, Haruka, Setsuna and Hotaru get involved too, it is normal for them to step in if there is any posible threaten to their princess but they were pretty much in the same position at the rest, the feeling of missing something and some weird dreams of someone they don't reconize, however their role when they were on the Moon Kingdom were far different from the others and they are more aware than the other sailor scouts about what happened, so they are a little more aware about this situation, somehow knowing that it isn't a bad thing, in fact is the opposite

Now being all together on this it would make things easier for them to try to find answers, using all their recurses and powers together to try to find out who is that person that they can't remember but always smile at them. Even when it was dificult they had came way too far to back off now, feeling a curiousity grow by the shared feeling of lost and missing, the more they go deeper by trying to remember the more sadness start to grow in their hearts, it was so strange but make them think that this was far more important from what they thought

The answers they were searching for were finally reveled when they finally reached the spot where they had lost what they were missing, in one of the rooms of the the ruins of the castle of the moon they were able to find the remains of a dead star that leave behind only their feelings, their wish of a greater future, barely noticeable but still somehow intense

The memories slowly started to came to them again, it was you the one that was being missing, that one comforting presence that make them feel melancholic. Still without being able to fully to see your face they started to remember the day they met you, a shooting star that came to the moon kingdom, motivated by pure love you wanted to serve the royal family and fight along side with the greatest warriors that were the sailor scouts, your comforting presence was even able to be felt even for those who were so far away, you used to always look at the vast universe in their direction, sending them a smile hoping they won't feel too lonely

You became their friend and confident, become part of the group and spend a long time with them, caring and helping all of them at the best of your habilities, trying your best to teach the princess what you had to offer, even when that bring you problems since you were the one to teach her to travel to earth. You laughed with them and cried with them so long ago, you cared for them and cover their backs on battles, you were there to fight along side with them to protect the kingdom and the princess, you were also there to watch how the pince Endymion sacrificed himself to save your princess and to see your princess take her own life, you were there to cry for their dead and slowly see the kingdom fall into the deepest sadness, to see the kingdom slowly perish by the aftermath of the war

You had came to serve the princess because of love and that love was the one who motivated you to try your best until the very end, people always said that shooting stars were able to make wishes come true and you were determinated to do that, you didn't care about the price you'll have to pay, you had made your choise and decided to use your power to make your wish come true. But your wish was not only too ambicious but it was also taboo for a shooting star to use their power to make their own wish come true, but you didn't care

So, with all your determination you used all your power (and you even had to use your connection with the other sailor scouts, taking a little bit of their power to help you, just hoping they wouldn't mind), concentrating all your power, putting all your heart and mind to ask for your wish, you asked to please give your beloved friends and princess, the people you consider your family, a second chance to be together

Using all your power and strength you were able to make sure that someday somehow all of them would be able to met again and live together in the planet your beloved princess used to love so much, but, sadly, you won't be able to be in that future that you wished with all your heart, to make your own wish come true you had to consume not only all your power but also your entire existance, you had to return to your purest form as a star to let it happen, but you wouldn't mind, as long you assure that they have a future then you didn't mind giving your life for it

And then, on that last glimpse of memory the recovered they were finally able to see your face, smiling brightly as your body slowly start to fade away, whispering your last goodbye to them and wishing them a bright future before you become nothing but a light that were slowly foing out

It was more than what they expected, and it hit them harder than what they would guess, they were able to remember you only to lose you again, even if they wanted there was no way making you return, your existance have been extinct for so long ago, leaving behind only your love impress on that wish thay will make them company and protect them forever

The melancholy quickly become a deep sadness and a terrible feeling of missing you, now that they remember all that they lived with you they can't stop the tears from falling, even those that never had the pleasure to met you in person can feel an emptiness in their hearts and the lack of your comforting presence, even Mamoru, who had spent little time with you and in really bad circumstances remember that comforting smile you give him when he came to the moon or the horrified expression in your face when he was hurt, he even remember your voice calling out for him before he died as the prince Endymion

You knew that there was a high posibility that you'll be forgotten and yet you didn't care, for you it was fine as long as they could live happily all together, just as they all wanted, but now that they had remember you all of them promised to never forget you again, even if you can't heard them anymore, even if you won't be able to smile at them again they will not forget you ever again, living in your honor and carrying the memories close to their heart, forever grateful for your sacrifice

[pablitogavii]

Can u do a gavi angst where him and reader finally make it official after months of him chasing after her but the next day the paparazzi find him getting cozy with a girl qnd its all over the media and she feels embarrassed but he doesnt think its a big deal so they get into a fight but make up in the end

I'm changing up this request a little bit since it kind of goes with the idea that came to mind recently!

Annoying

Pablo's POV

I went out with my guy friends tonight at some bar in the city since we wanted to catch up a bit before I have to go back to Barcelona for preseason.

I invited my girl to join us as well but when she heard it will only be the guys, she wanted to stay home and watch her romantic comedy instead.

I fell in love with her because she always trusted me and I always made sure to be respectful to her and our relationship whenever I went out alone. Knowing those paparazzi, they couldn't wait to stir up drama and sell their stupid magazines.

"What are you drinking Pablito??" Mario nudged me and I smirked ordering a beer as we joked around about anything that came to mind as I really missed being just a normal guy.

"Damn you look hotter than in those edits! Girls, it's Gavi!!" one of girls practically yelled on top of her lungs when she came to the bar to order her drink noticing me sitting there.

"I'm just trying to have a normal night with my friends if you don't mind.." I said politely although she was very much getting on my nerves now. Why can't I just have one night without any of this bullshit!?

"I'm sure you'll have a better night with me instead baby.." she winked and I couldn't believe she was flirting with me so openly in fornt of everyone when the whole world at this point knew I was in a relationship. Now, I was really annoyed!

"I have a girl waiting for me at home so how about you try somewhere else?" I said taking my beer and turning my back to her about to start chatting with my friends but she wasn't giving up now backed up by her friends.

"Oh come on Gavi! Just dance with her and make her dreams come true!" one of her friends tried pulling on my arm but I pulled away grabbing my jacket and walking outside of the club in annoyance.

"Hermano! Don't go! We can go to the different club??" Ale and Mario caught up with me but I apologized saying that I was in no mood anymore.

"It's the same everywhere I go..I just don't want to deal with it tonight. Maybe we can do a pool day in my house tomorrow instead??" I said before getting into my car and driving home.

Your POV

I was asleep when I heard someone walking into the bedroom slowly taking off his shoes and from the familiar scent of his perfume I knew it was Pablo.

I looked at the clock and it was barely midnight so he came back way early than planned. I turned in bed meeting his smiling face while he took his jeans off and joined me in bed laying on top of my chest while sighing heavily.

"Que pasaba amor??" you said and Pablo just nuzzled his face into your neck taking in your sweet scent and cuddling close just wanting to be held.

"They wouldn't leave me alone..I told them I have a girl at home and they still wouldn't leave! They are so annoying amor!" Pablo finally spoke and you felt yourself sad that his fun night was ruined yet again.

"I'm sorry cariño..but if taking a picture with them would help then I told you I'm alright with that" you said not wanting his commitment to you to feel pressuring on top of everything.

"They don't want a picture! They want to be caught with me and earn attention that way! They want media to say I'm a playboy who cheated on his girl and I'm not that! I'll never be that because I love you..I love you so much it hurts..I just wish they would leave me alone " Pablo spoke sounding very sad and melancholic and you knew this was serious to him.

"I love you too Pablito..and I know that's not who you are..I trust you cariño" you said reassuringly not wanting him to worry that you would ever believe anybody but him about your relationship.

"But..what if they make it convincing that I cheated..that I've betrayed you..and you leave me..I would never survive that" Pablo spoke and you knew that was his greatest fear something he already told you once before.

"Pablito..look at me please" you said and he did making your heart ache when you saw his tearful eyes that led you to lean down and kiss his lips softly.

"I know who you are Pablo Gavira..in here..and I know your love for me is true and that's why I trust you..completely..I promise amor..so don't be scared..because I'm not going anywhere..even when you go out alone..I'll be right here in your bed waiting for you..I promise" you spoke and he looked at you with hopeful eyes smiling at the last part while nodding his head.

"Girls are just so annoying.." he sighed pulling you even closer and when you chuckled he realized what he just said kissing your lips quickly.

"But not you..because you're my girl princesa" he corrected himself and you smiled nodding your head and kissing him a few more times before you both got comfortable and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Ik it's different but I hope you enjoy reading it <33

[twopoppies]

this is very interesting! to harry it probably feels incredibly weird to see people vibing and dancing to this song (i think he actually talked about it during hsh promo. something about “people dancing to your most devastating feeling” i guess, IIRC), and i so empathize with him on that. but, to me, ultimately, that is the beauty, the magic of that song, it’s what makes it special.

his voice is sort of melancholic during some parts of the song. it sort of grows a little bit as he goes along, but it is soft and slower than the happy, vibey, dancey rhythm. the song kind of breaks your expectations because the melody is upbeat drums with a touch of 70’s high piano notes, but the lyrics are, yes, devastating. heartbreaking. it’s happiness and sadness at the same time. it’s heart wrenching and yet you’re dancing along to this pain.

that is life. life is that song. life isn’t a universal, singular ever-lasting feeling of joy, or of sadness, though freud will argue that torment and sadness are in fact more likely to hit us than joy is 🤓 but he also argues that we are made to endure the contrast, not the constant, so life is pretty much a contrast of both suffering and joy.

but, yes, life is just like that song. that’s why i love it so much, and that’s why i dance to it even though, sometimes, when it gets to that verse (you all know what it is) i sit and let the words settle in my mind, and i imagine harry feeling that pain, and it hits me. but then i start dancing again, because it’s about the bittersweetness of life, of our existence.

i’ve laughed and cried during grief. you can both take in the pain and the happiness that as it was offers, because that’s pretty much what we do every day that we’re living – taking in the good, the bad, the contrast.

that’s why that song literally contrasts: harry’s soft, slow, lowers vocals, the sad lyrics, the upbeat music. because it is about the contrast that life is. which is why it’s so poetic and magical. i think it’s sort of cathartic, dancing, singing along to that pain, and i truly believe that’s one of the reasons why that song was such a hit. i think that, at some level, we all understand that feeling, and we feel connected to it somehow. isn’t it fantastic??? isn’t harry the MOST lovely, creative creature? everything about him!!!!

Thank you for this. It's such a beautiful way of looking at that song.