#yes there are exceptions and yes we like to do it more than previous generations but by god if it doesn't take a toll on your mental health | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justbelievinginmagic · 4 months ago

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im(mortal) - part 3: blurred.

pairing(s): vampire!enhypen ot7 x fem!reader. series summary: Seven souls struggle with the bitter dregs of eternal life. As they hide amongst human society, they try to discover a cure for their curse, decade after decade, century into century. In their investigations, they find more than they could imagine brewing including a strange magnetic pull towards a human woman. Will they be able to find their humanity once more or will their world crumble beneath the weight of immortality? glimpse: Jake gives into temptation and pulls his blood-brothers into his fascinations with the human woman that makes his vampiric heart beat faster than ever. warnings/tags: Inspired by Enhypen's MVs lore, Vampire AU, sort of Soulmate AU, College AU, heavy science fiction inspiration, ot7 x reader but not poly ot7 (but some are really close tbh), 3rd person POV, use of YN, Ni-ki written as Riki, mature topics, vampire typical themes, vampire lore, mentions of blood, biting, death, other vampire things, canon typical violence, descriptions of blood & sounds of blood, bloodlusting, stealing blood bags, mentions of illnesses, mentions of medicine, obsessive tendencies from Jake, lowkey stalking lets be real, flirting, suggestive themes, let me know if there needs to be more tags! word count: 8.7k previous chapter <- -> next chapter series masterlist

“According to an anonymous tip, there have been 10 confirmed cases of a novel illness with unknown etiology at Desolis General Hospital. Doctors are working quick to identify its source and possible treatment. This is a developing situation, so, as always, wash your hands and when coug-” The newscaster read off the teleprompter with little gravity to his tone. It held the same old ‘newscaster tone’ inflecting at odd moments to keep the viewers’ attention.

In the hospital’s waiting room, a normal human could barely hear it over the busy hustle and bustle. The beeping of medical equipment, the shuffling of papers, and the gossiping of the front desk admins all overlapped to make the audio nearly inaudible. The few patients waiting in uncomfortable plastic chairs had to rely on the severely delayed black-boxed subtitles popping up below the newscast. But, Jungwon could hear it. Jungwon could hear a pen drop two doors down; he could hear the phlegmy cough from the old man in the waiting room; he could hear the doctors discussing private patient information behind their closed office doors. And of course, he could hear the siren call of a hospital full of hearts. Beating, thudding, pumping, and pulsing. Nonstop. Overwhelming. Constant.

He could hear everything as he continued his night-shift on the second floor of the Desolis General Hospital. Jungwon rounded a corner, raising the surgical mask up over his nose as he rolled the freshly sanitized and plastic-sealed equipment down the hall.

“What do you think?” a concerned voice chimed, half-muffled by the oak door Jungwon strolled past.

“I think they’re blowing it out of proportion frankly – especially with that news article,” an elderly-sounding man argued.

“What could it be then?”

“Anemia,” the man coughed after his reply. “Strange severe cases of anemia. Chest pains, shortness of breath, extreme fatigue, and even pica. Odd, yes. Novel, no.”

His tone held an air of finality. Like there was no other explanation except that.

“Ten concurring cases of low-iron deficiency, doctor?” the woman laughed in disbelief. There was a shuffle, the squeaking of leathered seat and another cough into a hanky.

“Give them -,” the man’s voice was strained, scratchy, “- a blood transfusion; prescribe iron-pills and a diet change. Bingo. All fixed.” He chortled lowly.

“Any links between the patients? Living situations, shared restaurants, or places of works? This is all just a coincidence?” she queried, unconvinced.

“None that we could find. I really think it’s just luck. Bad luck.”

Jungwon huffed, heat billowing out of his mask and into his eyes. More blood transfusions meant more of Sunghoon and Jay getting ‘dinner.” Sunghoon will hate this. While he was good at tracking and breaking and entering, he wasn’t the best with carefulness. There was an air of confidence and optimism that Jungwon just didn’t have in his slow-beating heart anymore. Mistakes were always around the corner. There had been times where Jay had to fix Sunghoon’s mess-ups. Some Jungwon told him; others he kept secret.

It’d be easier if Jungwon could just pocket a few IVs of blood. But it was too dangerous now. Ugh. So inconvenient.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Once, twice, three times. His brows crinkled. They know he’s working tonight. They know when his break was. (His schedule was posted on the fridge via a yellow sticky note – like always.)

So why were they texting him? And who?

It could be Sunoo. He’d been moody after dinner earlier, but Jungwon welcomed it. A sassy Sunoo was better than a despondent Sunoo after all. He’d do anything to have him be how he was before. He sighed out.

Or perhaps it was Sunghoon. He’d been practicing ice-skating lately and would send the group chat updates of his routines. He was happier now Jungwon noted. He smiled at the thought.

Pushing the cart into a darkened closet, he whipped out his phone. His face was illuminated by the blue glow.

It was neither.

It was Jay.

FYI Jake’s not home.

Well, shit.

“Stop digging through my head,” Sunghoon commented, the tone like a little sibling annoying his older sibling.

He passed by Heeseung without even a glance, walking from one room to the next. It nearly looked like he was floating. Too smooth and far too ethereal to look human. But then, the illusion was broken as Sunghoon’s hand rose to rub at his eye, blinking against the bright lights blearily. His glasses (yes, he was the only immortal with prescription glasses) were shifted up the bridge of his nose. He looked this way and that for his charger.

He had an essay to write, and his laptop died. You’d think with all the money Jungwon had they’d have chargers everywhere, but nope. Like any family, they’d borrow chargers and forget to give them back or move them while cleaning or have them fall behind cushions or couches.

Heeseung followed quickly behind the other man. His gaze firm as he stared down the back of Sunghoon’s head.

“You know something,” Heeseung bit out, less with venom and more with frustration.

Sunghoon had this strange ability that was nothing otherworldly, but ever-annoying for the vampire who could know anything and everything with a little mind-reading. Sunghoon was able to just babble in his brain. This and that, science ramble from his classes, his routines for ice skating, sometimes just ‘Heeseung, stop snooping’ on repeat. Anything and everything except the information Heeseung wanted to know.

“Yeah, I know something. Me, not you,” Sunghoon almost sing-songed, blank faced as he continued his search.

Sunghoon hated when Heeseung tried to look inside his brain. He’d gotten so good at avoiding his blood-brother’s skill out of pure hard-work and spite. He liked his privacy. It was hard enough to get any with six forever-roommates.

“Jake’s been acting weird since class, and he’s now nowhere around the house, and you talked to him last. I saw that,” Heeseung ranted.

That was the flicker of a memory Heeseung latched onto. Jake and Sunghoon talking only a short time ago (there was a hint of ‘I need to do my homework’ in the background of Sunghoon’s mind). Jake looked frazzled as he spoke quickly, eyes darting this way and that before he turned and walked out the door.

Meanwhile, in the present, Sunghoon focused on looking for his charger. Visualizing his charger, its white boxy form. The prongs. The twisted cord. The clear initials written in black ink.

“Stop thinking about the charger,” Heeseung complained, head tilting back in exasperation. “How are you so good at hiding your real thoughts?”

“Just to bug you, hyung,” Sunghoon said as he checked behind a pillow on the sofa. Nope, not there.

Jay, who sat on the opposite side of the sofa, raised a brow at the pair. Heeseung huffed.

“C’mon, where did he go? It’s for his safety!” Heeseung argued.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. Jake didn’t look unsafe when he had come to him with the bribe of silence in exchange of his portion of blood. He looked restless. Mussed dark hair, his eyes glowing in the bright lights of the mansion. He even could smell fire in his hair. He’s just worked up. Sunghoon knew where he’d go when it came to frustration – the ice rink. Surely, Jake had his own place he went. It was his business. And it’d stay his business.

“He’ll be fine. He can’t hurt a fly,” Sunghoon argued, waving a hand in nonchalance before checking behind another pillow.

Jay stood, and glanced behind the pillow he had been squishing. Nope, nothing. Sunghoon ran a tongue over his fangs, restlessly. God, where did he put his charger? Did someone move it?

“Jay, tell him that it’s for the safety of the flock for him to tell me where Jake went,” Heeseung looked towards the other for support.

Jay glanced over the vampire men; their emotions easy to read like the aroma of scented candles. Frustration, deep and nutty, filled his senses; concern that tasted like too-strong brewed tea burned in the back of his throat; doubt that was icy cool like chewing gum hit like a wave.

Sunghoon gave Jay a look; one that was half pleading, half annoyed.

“He’s not gonna do anything,” Sunghoon sighed out, trying to defend Jake.

“Jay,” Heeseung huffed again. His chin tilted as he looked over at his blood-brother despairingly.

There wasn’t any deception. Jay knew the taste of that; salty as sorrow but with the bitter bite of sulfur. Guilt. Deception. Whatever you’d call it. It was vacant.

“He’s telling the truth, Seungie,” Jay conceded, returning to his seat, and swinging his laptop over his knees. “He really doesn’t think there is any danger.”

“He’s a kid,” Heeseung cried out.

“Really can’t keep playing that card,” Sunghoon sighed out, plopping down besides Jay. “We’re over a hundred years old now, you know?”

“Niki,” Heeseung called out instead, turning towards the stairwell.

“I didn’t take his charger!” It was immediately yelled back. Almost too quick.

Jay could smell the salty, volcanic ash of a lie. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

“You did steal it!” Sunghoon complained. “Give it back now. What the heck, Riki?”

“No, come here,” Heeseung demanded instead. “I need you to go get Jake.”

“Is that necessary?” Jay asked tentatively.

Jay’s face was one of concern now, a grimace falling over his face as he was once again pulled from his computer science assignment. He pushed his laptop onto the coffee table.

“Sunghoon would’ve stopped him; this is a little… much,” Jay commented.

Heeseung raised a brow, questioningly. It was for their safety…right? Jungwon would agree if he was here. He would! Besides… Riki loved a good game of hide and go seek.

There was a soft lulling in Heeseung’s veins, something that said everything was fine. Everything was fine. Deep breath, lavender haze.

“Jay!” he exclaimed out; anger fizzing over Jay’s tongue at Heeseung’s rapid shift in emotions. “Don’t use your powers against me.”

“Don’t use them against them,” Jay warned, brows raised. He looked at Sunghoon as if he was example A.

There was a sag in Heeseung’s shoulders before he turned to face the youngest of them, leaning over the stairs’ banister. A sharp smile bit at Riki’s face.

“Jake is hiding?” he wiggled his brows.

Sighing at the youngest’s excitement sweet on his tongue, Jay turned back to his coding. With Riki intrigued, they’d never be able to stop him now. He loved his freedom too much.

“You think you’ll be able to find him?” Heeseung asked, but when he spoke to Riki, there was a change in tone.

A challenge. Playful. Less like an older brother and more like a friend.

“Give me a few hours and he’ll be back here,” Riki promised.

“Hours don’t mean anything to a boy who can stop time,” Sunghoon commented. He made a grabby hand towards Riki who tossed the lost-stolen-borrowed charger his way.

“You want to take up the challenge instead, tracker?” Heeseung retorted.

Sunghoon’s hands raised in defense. He hated being defined by his ‘skills’, and Heeseung knew it. “Have fun, Riki.”

The youngest laughed out, a mouth full of fangs as he grinned. He never got to do anything fun nowadays. This will be a good hunt.

“Go find him and bring him back before Jungwon gets home.”

Riki offered the three vampires a salute before, in a flash, he was gone.

As night fell, a storm crawled into the city. Rolling clouds of thunder and lightning crashed over the tall skyscrapers and stacked-upon-stacked buildings. The smell of petrichor engulfed the streets as rain poured and trickled down the pavement in rivulets. Even amongst the heavy downpour, Jake could still smell her, hear her, feel her. His hand rose to press against his chest, tugging at his hoodie to feel his heart race. It was like something he had never felt before. Amazed and bewildered, he stared at her from his spot in the woods.

Her heart pulsed in a quick beat, but the melody was becoming familiar to him. Why could he hear her so well? He had no idea. But what he did know was that there was a rush of calm seeing her safe and dry beneath the bus stop’s awning. Her heart was racing, but it wasn’t from fear. All she was doing now was scrolling through her phone, shifting to glance up and down the street every so often. Aware. But even then, she didn’t see him, hidden in the brush.

Dark overgrown bushes and thick pine-tree trunks kept him covered and hidden from her watchful gaze. The rain pitter-pattered, making the dirt beneath his feet muddy. His hoodie had been pulled up over his head (despite the umbrella in his hand that he had taken from the foyer of the mansion.) but he still felt droplets of water hit his face.

He didn’t want her to see him. He didn’t want to scare her. He just wanted to admire. To observe? He didn’t know. He just had to see her.

Jake’s head lulled to rest against a nearby tree as he felt the breath of life tumble through him. Sweat had dried on his neck earlier, and now it tingled in the cool humid air. When was the last time he got chills from the air? His mouth watered at the tempting smell of her, but the hunger always clawed in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t new. Yes, their Heartbeat was a new addition but… he could admire not obsess. He’d ignore his hunger, the Beast, the bite of his fangs. He didn’t want to bite her. He did, but… he didn’t. It didn’t make sense in his head. He felt dizzy. The streetlights flickered.

Her siren-heart calmed him into a whirl, losing his thoughts. Her heart was pretty, he decided. Was it delirium? Was he being driven mad by the thu-thump-thu-thumping that hadn’t left his eardrums since she was introduced to him that evening? Obsession? Fascination? Insanity? Jake didn’t know.

“I knew it was a crush,” a voice whispered into Jake’s ear.

Jolting out of his state, the brush around them rustled. Riki let out a laugh as he stumbled back. His fangs gleamed in the glow of the streetlights. His hair and clothes were just a smidge wet; the faint staining of raindrops on is broad shoulders as he giggled jovially at his blood-brother. He looked at him with a knowing, prideful look.

After all, Riki had won the game. He found Jake.

“Wait – what?” Jake processed Riki’s words. “No, no, it's not a crush.”

It was something different. He didn’t have a word for it. Something animalistic. Uncontrollable. A pull in his gut. His heart?

Besides, the vampire flock didn’t do crushes. How was a mortal supposed to mingle with immortals? It was a fool’s errand. Jungwon had always warned against it.

“You’re literally stalking her, bro,” Riki commented, his laughter dying down as he took a few steps forward.

“I’m not! I’m just—” Jake reached out to stop the younger from going any further, not wanting her to spot them. “- curious.”

“Uh-huh.” Riki replied, unconvinced as he sidestepped Jake’s grasp. “Relax! She can’t see us.”

It’s only then Jake processed that the world had quieted, zapping away all sound (except for her heart beat, because, of course, it defied even their strange powers). Thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump, it kept him company as he glanced around.

Droplets of water sparkled, frozen still in the air like a million diamonds. The approaching bus down the street was stagnant as it froze through a puddle, a snapshot of a splash erupting from its wheels. He hadn’t been sucked into one of Riki’s time freezes in a long time. They hadn’t needed them, and Riki was often exhausted by them, no matter how good he got at his trick.

“Why are you even here?” Jake asked, confused and a flash of worry curdled through him. “Are you good? Around her?”

That annoyed Riki, his lips curling up into a sneer. He felt like he will never escape the title of baby, of wild, of ‘bloodthirsty.’ Even now, Jake was looking after him – when Riki was the one on the search for him! Jake was the one that was supposedly not good right now. Yet still… they asked if he was okay. It annoyed him.

Pushing past the bushes and bramble, Riki flashed Jake a smile, too mischievous to feel comfortable. Jake was quick to follow, getting thwapped by stray ferns Riki had just pushed aside.

“Wait—Riki,” Jake called out.

Prowling closer to her, Riki glanced over her features. Frozen perfectly in place, YN had been scrolling through her phone, glassy eyes unseeing in the time freeze. The younger vampire squatted to meet her eyeline. Hooded eyes examined her. The glow of the phone lit up her face in a blue glow. Pretty eyes, he thought.

“Cute,” Riki commented to Jake. A hand reached out to fiddle with her hair, watching it bounce back into its place as soon as he stopped touching it. He pushed it aside to glance at the column of her throat. “Pretty neck.”

Riki sent a look at Jake, his tongue flicking to touch one fang. Teasingly.

“Stop it,” Jake commanded, his brows furrowing as he walked closer.

Her heart hadn’t accelerated; the thu-thump melody steady as beating drum. But his anxiety rose. He didn’t like Riki so close. The way his fangs peeked out as he smiled up at her.

Riki hadn’t taken to vampirism with kindness. He’d tried to drain one of their own after all – he had drained countless humans throughout the years. Whether it was for control or lack of thereof, his violence peaked while with Heeseung. Alone in their little shabby apartment, he had become something akin to a nightmare. Humans dropped like flies in the city they terrorized; mystery animal attacks some said. Rumors of myths and legends bloomed. Jake didn’t think Riki ever really evolved past that. (Not like himself, of course. He had been good. He had never drained another human like the night of his turning. He refused. He had control. Riki didn’t.)

That control edged and tickled at the back of his brain as he saw Riki’s fingers stroke over her neck, tauntingly. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he glanced over his shoulder at the other. A curl of a smirk on his fangs. Jake let out a low chitter, the sound animalistic in his throat. A warning to the other to stop.

Riki’s gaze fell into crescent moons. His cheeks softening as he let out a laugh, his hand fell away and he stepped back. Rising to his full height, he let out a laugh.

“I’m kidding,” he stressed.

Jake didn’t find it funny. His eyes flickered back to her. Her heart thudded in his chest. He sighed.

“She is pretty, though. What’s up with you two if it’s not a crush?” Riki’s chin rose towards Jake in acknowledgement.

It wasn’t a crush, Jake insisted.

“We’re nothing,” Jake insisted. “She’s just weird. I—”

The vampire faltered looking over her once more. It was strange to see no breath tumble from her mouth and yet the growing-familiar heart beat remained. He swallowed.

“I can hear her heart. Loudly. I heard it from class; I heard it walking home; I heard it at home. No matter how far I go, it’s there. She’s there. Even now, it’s beating fast.”

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

She stared onwards at the potential danger in front of her. Jake huffed through his nose, glancing away from her innocent face.

Riki tilted his head at his blood-brother, almost puppy like. That was weird. His bloody-red eyes flashed to the human once more. She looked normal. He had seen plenty of pretty girls. Plenty of human girls that he bit into without a care in the world. They bled all the same. Their hearts teased and tempted. A constant fight in his soul. One that he oftentimes lost.

But now that he was staring at her – Riki felt something. Or really, he felt nothing. The rage that often shadowed him was absent, leaving him feeling breathless. His stomach wasn’t cramping; there wasn’t the constant itching in his veins to bite, bite, bite, drink, drink, drink. It was just… gone. Paused in the presence of this weird mortal.

His smolder, the heavied lidded look and taunting raise of his brows that often was tacked onto Riki’s face, dropped. A youthful look of surprise, of relief, and of confusion flickered over his face in a kaleidoscope. Parted pout, raised brows, and large eyes, he looked an image of the same little boy who had entered the orphanage and couldn’t say his own name without stuttering.

It felt so freeing to not be bounded by the Beast he realized. But also, dreadfully grounding because… he had committed so many beastly things. Drained so many humans without a second thought, all in the name of that hunger. A hunger gorged by the simple presence of this human girl.

Weird. Bad. Bad. Bad.

He didn’t know what was bad – the situation, the woman… or himself.

Riki took an uncertain step back. Throat tight, a horrible maelstrom of upset tumbled up his throat. Was he going to be sick? Everything felt overwhelming.

“Riki?” Jake asked, sensing the sudden combustion of something within the younger.

Was he going to pounce on the girl, his Heart? No. No. He wouldn’t let that happen. (If anyone was going to taste her blood, it’d be him – a Beast within Jake’s mind growled out).

His hand went to Riki’s shoulder, only for the younger to pull away with vigor. Stumbling back, his electrified eyes met Jake’s. Fright riddled his features as he felt himself fall away into a flurry of bats. His fingers holding their world in a pause unraveled with his composure. And the world rushed into a bloom of life.

The downpour resumed in a flood; the bus down the street honked to life as it slammed through a puddle. A wave of dirtied water splashed onto the pavement. Cars, electricity, the chitter of the light beside the bus-stop all joined the ever-present melody of their fast-beating heart.

Jake stumbled back from her, back hitting the bus stop’s support with a metal thunk.

YN’s head snapped to the side as she let out a small yelp. Wide eyes met his. Her body curled into herself as she jumped, startled.

“Woah, when did you get here?” she exclaimed.

He was like a ghost! She hadn’t heard anyone approaching; it was scary to know she could be snuck up on so suddenly. Her heart had jittered even faster. Jake fell into its warmth – his cheeks hot, his neck hot around her.

“Just now,” he lied, flashing a charming smile as his hand rose to rub that back of his neck.

He hadn’t planned on this – he wasn’t going to approach her. He just had wanted to see her, examine her. What was special about her? Something had to be if even Riki ran away from her.

Jake stepped out of the rain and under the cover of the bus stop, damp from the rain now.

“Sorry for scaring you,” he bumbled out, his tone gentle and kind. The lamp-glow made his skin golden and warm. The raindrops clinging to his skin looked like sparkling gems.

Taking in his soft features, she nodded slowly. “Its fine,” she acquiesced. “I’ve got to pay more attention,” she instead lamented, trying to ease him.

His – or was it hers – heart bloomed, fluttering at a butterfly’s wings pace.

Swallowing down his burning throat, he smiled.

“Jake, right?” she clarified.

As if she’d forget him. The pretty boy who had helped give her notes but also ran out like she was some plague.

“Yeah, yeah.”

As if he’d forget her. The bite of her name in between his jaw was so tasty.

Their hearts beat in tandem, and he couldn’t help but breath out in wonder. With a wet splash, the bus pulled up to the bus stop.

“Oh, this is my bus; is it yours?” she asked, nudging her thumb towards it.

Jake could get lost in her heartbeat- the tantalizing newness of it, the melody that was siren-like and yet soothing in his veins.

“Uh, huh,” he replied, blood-struck staring at her. He blink, blink, blinked. “Yeah.”

No, it wasn’t. But he couldn’t help but accept, couldn’t help but want to be around her. Like the seas being controlled by the moon, she was a magnetic force. It was something so new, so strange. So addictive.

YN fiddled with the strap of her bag as she stood. He didn’t move to go ahead of her and, so, she walked ahead, climbing the steps of the bus with familiarity. A cool rush of air-conditioned air kissed her skin and made him shiver. He actually shivered! When was the last time he felt cold? She swiped her bus pass; he paid the few dollars with a flash of his (read: Jungwon’s) credit card.

The bus was full - a blurred symphony of heart beats. All supporting the main melody of his Heart; her Heart. He didn’t even care for them; she was the focus. There were only two spots left, tucked into the back of the bus. YN took her spot, closest to the rain dropped window. The warmth of the engine radiated through the seat and made her feel safe and cozy.

Jake paused in the middle of the walkway as he looked side to side. There weren’t any other spots. Was it okay if he joined her? Was it creepy or stalking like Riki had said? Before he could contemplate his morals or if he was too much of this or that, she patted the seat beside her.

YN’s gaze locked with his, with blushed cheeks that he wanted to bite, kiss, soothe, feel. Jake swallowed but his feet moved on demand, tugged by the invisible string on his slow-beating heart. He settled in beside her. Hot. Cold. There was the clash, crawling over his skin and into his cells. He took a small breath in, hoping it didn’t sound too shuddering as it felt. His lungs burned, but he wanted more His hands rubbed over his jeaned knees before one hand combed through his lightly-damp locks.

The bus shivered and jolted as it began its route once more. Well, now he was stuck on a bus. All he had wanted to do was see her. He glanced her way, looking at her from the corner of his eye. Everyone else on the bus were on their phones. Should he be? Her hand still held her phone, limp in her lap as she looked out the foggy window.

He felt out-of-place. Like a fish out of water. Like a bat in daylight.

“What’s your major?” She asked after a while, glancing his way.

Her smile was sweet and dull.

“Lit,” he replied with a grin of his own. His smile was sharp and sincere. “You?”

“Still figuring it out,” she admitted, stretching her limbs and glancing away in thought. “Thinking about nursing, maybe.”

There was a soft huff in her tone as she looked his way once more. “Mom was a nurse. Dad was a doctor. His dad was a doctor. And his dad was a doctor. And her mom was nurse. Blah, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes lightly. “It’s been pushed on me since I could walk.” She laughed.

It mingled with her heartbeat so beautifully, he thought. He chuckled out, echoing her soft laughter.

“What do you want to do with lit? Write? Or teach?”

He didn’t know. Jake couldn’t focus. Or was it the heat in his cheeks that made his head feel lopsided? His stomach clenched, but it wasn’t from hunger. His heart raced and raced. Everything felt more, more than it already did. He used to be able to see the world in microscopic sense, but now it all seemed hazy, haloing her. He could just see her, high definition.

She was looking at him, not too worrisome thankfully. He felt like he looked crazy but, in her eyes, he was just bumbling, shy, sweet. His hands rubbed his knees gently, nervous. Long fingers fiddling over the fabric clumsily. It was cute.

“Not sure yet,” he admitted, soft voiced. “I just liked reading.”

He swallowed. She swallowed. He could see the pulse of her heart in her throat. The Beast itched under his skin. Just a taste, just a little bit. No.

He glanced away.

“I-Are you from around here?” he asked.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “I’m from Riverfield. In the country. I have an apartment in the city while I’m in school. What about you?”

Jake nodded, focusing on her words. “I share a home with some friends.” The fib has rolled off his tongue before; it was second-nature. “Over on the west end of the city.”

“That’s, uh, in the completely opposite direction,” she noted. This bus was going towards the east, deeper into the city’s depths.

Her uncertainty tinkled out; her finger fiddled with the side of her phone.

“I’m visiting a friend,” he made up.

“Oh.”

Before another silence could crash over them, Jake added. “My friend is a nursing major. He’s in the same class as us.”

“Oh, cool,” she replied with a smile. “Maybe I’ll see if he likes the program next class.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

The lull that followed felt like forever. Jake felt like a live-wire. His body buzzed. His heart raced. Her closeness only made him feel hotter and hotter. The bus lights flickered. His eyes flashed to them; the fluorescents burning brighter at his gaze. His breath shuddered. Was that because of him? He needed to control himself. Why did he feel so different? Alive? It was scary. Jake’s teeth nibbled into his cheek; the lights shuddered.

The bus braked harshly, suddenly. His arm immediately reached out across her, protecting her as they jerked forward. Her body slammed into his long arm, and he kept her steady. He swore his heart skyrocketed. Dilated eyes met hers. Her own eyes looked startled as she let go of his arm. When had she grasped onto him? Did she feel this pull too? He let out a soft breath.

“Thanks,” YN replied as she leaned back into her chair; the bus had moved normally, driving through the streets once more.

“No problem,” he breathed. He finally lowered his arm.

His ears felt burning. Jake scratched at the back of his neck. He probably seemed so strange… He had to not be so weird. How? How?

“Did you decipher my notes?” he wondered.

Blush. She blushed. Blush, blush, blush. Her cheeks hot and red and bite-able like a red apple. He felt his throat burn but he only fell more into his racing heart as she smiled. Her smile was so pretty.

“Not all of them,” she admitted with a chuckle.

“Let me help.” He offered. “We’re both here.”

She adjusted her phone, raising it, and swiping through it with ease. “I guess.”

He scooted closer, his cologne flooding her senses. There was a hint of rainwater in his hair that dripped onto her; it felt like it sizzled on her bare skin. Jake pointed at words here and there, helping breakdown his writing.

“You’d think with having doctors as parents I’d be able to decipher any sort of handwriting,” she joked.

“Nah; mine looks ancient,” he replied cooly. “I don’t blame you. It’s my fault. Here – that says ‘would be promising’.” He sounded a bit uncertain, but his gaze flickered back to her with a wide-eyed innocence. He was sweet. Helpful. Even if he felt like he was burning up inside, she felt the same thing. Her arms tingled. Her heart thudded fast.

The rest of the bus drive was spent huddled closer. Their arms brushed against one another; their breaths shared as they slide through picture after picture, analyzing their notes together. The bus rolled to a stop, and she glanced up.

“This is my stop,” she announced, gathering her bag from the ground.

Standing, she goes to slide her phone into her pocket before pausing. “Can we exchange numbers?” she asked, looking down at him.

His heart was pounding. Or was it her heart? He couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t help but feel the buzz; the hum of excitement. That’s what this was. He wanted to keep talking. Learning more about this strange woman. Why did her heart sing for him? Why did it feel like it was their heart? He wanted to know why she was so special?

“Just in case I need more deciphering expertise,” she teased, her hand outstretched her phone his way and he took it carefully.

Rain poured harder as he typed his name and number into her contacts. There was a grumble from the bus driver, impatient, but, at this point in the night, there were few passengers on board. The bus was coming to its last few stops. The rain thudded against the metal roof of the bus in a downpour, fogging the view of the apartment complex.

Jake nudged her with his umbrella, getting her attention once more. He looked up at her with such a kind smile, his cheeks sweet and soft despite the sharpness of his lips and teeth. Her phone was outstretched her way, as well as the handle to an umbrella.

“Here. And take my umbrella,” he encouraged.

“Seriously?” she exclaimed, taking her phone back. His name ‘Jake’ stared back simply… she was going to add an emoji later (maybe a beating heart since her heart seemed to act up around him.) Her heart was pounding even now. All he was doing was being sweet, and yet she felt like she was going to pass out.

“Its pouring, YN,” he glanced out the nearby window. “Please.”

He nudged the umbrella her way again. Their fingers brushed, and electricity flared between them. Skin-to-skin contact, it made his cells burn bright and vibrant. So bright that the bus’s lights went out in a pop. Startling the passengers, even Jake jumped in his spot.

“Goddammit,” the bus driver cursed out.

The pair had jumped apart. YN was a few steps back; Jake was pressed deep into his seat, hand pressed to his chest. It tingled still.

“This bus is like a danger-zone,” YN joked, glancing upward at the sizzling lights. “Thank you. For the umbrella… I’ll give it back in class?”

He let out a laugh, airy and disbelieving.

“Yeah. No worries really. Yeah.” He sounded flustered.

“Yeah,” she smiled as she continued walking backwards. “Be safe.”

She waved lightly as she exited the bus. A soft goodnight on her tongue to the befuddled bus driver before she walked through the downpour. His umbrella shielding her from the rain as she rushed towards the complex.

He watched all along. The lights of the bus flickered on again, slowly at the rhythm of their heart beat.

She was something special.

Once her apartment door closed behind her, YN screeched.

Her hands going to hide her face. He is so cute! Her heart was about to explode. Jake had been drooled over by all the girls at school. He looked like a model, acting aloof, was probably rich. But here… oh he was just a kind guy. He was sweet and helpful. He lent her his umbrella. She squealed again.

Sighing out dream-struck, she walked through her apartment, shedding her jacket and tossing it on the nearby couch. Dinner first – maybe a shower to warm her up. But, she was so warm now, her body buzzing with butterflies. She couldn’t help but dance about as she prepared a simple dinner of left overs, making sure to pour out her pills out onto a napkin, so she wouldn’t forget to take them… again.

Jake had escaped the bus finally at the next stop, wriggling past the last few passengers before walking through an unfamiliar cityscape before finding the forest’s edge. It was then he disappeared into the skies in a flurry of bats.

He whooshed into human form at the front door of their home. Riki leaned up against the doorway. He looked disheveled.

“Where did you go?” Jake exclaimed. “You totally ditched me.”

Riki’s face turned red as he glanced aside. “You were the one that wanted to see her so badly. So, you got to.” His retort was childish, defensive as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I scared her,” Jake retorted.

“You were stalking her,” Riki said blankly.

“We were,” Jake argued. That wasn’t any better. He shook his head lightly, damp hair flicking water onto the younger. Riki flinched and made a fuss. “You were the one to get so close.” Jake said simply.

Riki tried to shrug nonchalantly as he turned on his heel to unlock the front door and walk inside.

“You got to talk to her, didn’t you? Do you have her number now?” Riki teased.

Their brotherly back and forth was cut short at the sight of the flock all gathered in the nearby living room. Including Jungwon.

“Where have you two been?” Jungwon bit out. His brow furrowed; a mimicry of a father scorned.

“Hey dad,” Riki teased, raising his brows at him before plopping down on the couch besides Sunoo. The pair shared a look. Riki curled his legs into his chest, arms going to lock around them.

“I’ve been texting you, calling you; I was close to emailing you,” Jungwon continued, emphasizing each option. His own fangs were flashing in the bright lights of the mansion as he crossed his arms. “Where were you?”

“No where,” Jake said, his voice trailing off as he walked further into the room. All eyes rested on him, looking him up and down.

“Jake,” Heeseung was the one to speak up, raising a brow from his spot beside Sunghoon. His tone was warning.

“She’s fine. I’m fine. Niki is fine,” Jake gestured to their youngest who flashed a peace sign. Jay looked over Riki carefully, tilting his head at what he felt.

“Everything’s fine,” Jake finished.

Jungwon sent a disapproving look at the other. This was a definite scolding and Jake’s high from being around her dulled. He sat down on the opposite side of Sunoo who squeezed his knee reassuringly.

None of them liked being scolded – it reminded them of the nurses and doctors and orphanages.

“You know what happened last time one of us had a control problem,” Jungwon lamented.

It sent a heaviness over the flock. They all looked aside. Sunoo frowned and hid into his arms. He wished he had his teddy bear in this moment.

Jungwon didn’t understand Jake. Jake out of everyone should know this. He had sworn to never hurt someone again after his change. Why was he playing with fire? Running around, chasing, stalking a human!

Jake played with a frayed edge on his jeans.

“Yeah, look at Sunoo. He’s had more problems than any of us with humans, but you’d be happy if he was out and about.” Jake muttered out dejectedly.

His words weren’t sharp but they still stung. Both Sunoo and Jungwon. Sunoo’s grimace grew.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Jungwon argued.

Sunoo’s face screwed into a displeased scowl, curling more into Riki as they spoke of his shortcomings. He had been in a good mood, and it was quickly fizzling out. He wanted to go up to his room. He was tempted to just fly there.

“I’d be careful. We know these things are delicate.” Jungwon argued.

“Jay too.” Jake pointed out, frowning and gesturing at the vampire. “He hates humans, but you encourage him to try to take classes to get used to them! What’s so different about me going to see her?” Jake argued with upturn brows.

Why was he being targeted? He’d been good. So, what if he messed up and set some lights up in a blaze earlier? He was fine with her. He sat next to her for over thirty minutes, and he didn’t bite her. He had control. He had control. Nothing went wrong!

“You purposely went after her,” Jungwon stressed. “Without telling us.”

“He told me,” Sunghoon mumbled, raising his knee to his chest casually. Heeseung slapped his arm. The glasses-wearing vampire shrugged

“What is so interesting about her, Jake?” Jungwon sighed out, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

“She’s just… different,” Jake mumbled. Riki nodded nearby.

“I’m not going to hurt her. I swear it. I just… am intrigued by her.” Jake promised.

There was a disbelieving lull in the room, but Jungwon sighed out, head tilting back and with reluctance the argument was over. Mostly at the exhaustion of fighting with them. He didn’t want to fight. His shoulders sagged.

“Fine.” He mumbled.

Jake nodded firmly, devoutly. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not his Heart.

His phone buzzed.

‘Hey Jake! It’s YN.’

His grin was blinding, and it caught the attention of every single vampire in the room.

It was the next class, and Jake was excited. His stomach was in butterflies; his heart thumping eagerly. Maybe it was her heart too. Their Heart, he had begun to think. The week had been a long one – one full of strange observations. His heart was more active than ever. It was no longer slow and steady but a constantly changing beating thing. It lit his cells alight and he felt more alive than ever.

His heart acted up more when he texted her. They spoke of his notes at first. Then the class itself but then they had already jumped to good morning and good night texts. He knew she was watching a new drama. She knew he liked hip-hop and he had made a Spotify playlist for the pair of them to add new songs for one another. It was nice. It was more than nice. Jake loved having a new friend for the first time in literally decades.

He had texted her that he was on the way to the lecture hall and to save him a seat – something he added after his stomach roiled in nerves for over five minutes.

As he opened the doors to the lecture hall, he was shellshocked to see Jungwon and Heeseung already there. And sandwiched in between them was YN. Jake flushed red, his skin turning a pleasant tawny pink. Was it embarrassment or anger or jealousy? He couldn’t tell. He felt overwhelmed and hot at the sight of YN giggling at Jungwon’s words. The flock leader smiled at her, sweet cheeks pillowing in bashfulness.

‘Why are they here!?’ Jake whined internally.

‘Jealous much?’ Heeseung raised his brows, teasingly, as he communicated telepathically with Jake.

Jake glared at the other before his eyes softened as he glanced over at YN. Her hair was so pretty, haloed in the setting sun. Everything was a pretty orange-bright in the lecture hall; the windows in the back painting the room in a sunset glow. Licking his lips and swallowing down the dryness of hunger-thirst and anxiety (both only making the scratchiness of his throat worse).

“Hey Jake,” she beamed over as he began to climb the stairs to the trio. Her desk-table had been tugged out already and her notebook splayed open.

“Hi,” he greeted, still far from their seats. “You’ve met Jungwon and Heeseung I see.” He smiled, albeit a bit forced.

Jungwon was leaned in close to YN, his elbow on the armrest closest to her. He flashed Jake a smile full of fangs. If Jake wouldn’t tell him what was so different about the human, he was determined to find out himself. That’s what Jungwon did best – investigate. Investigate and protect. He’d do anything to know things in advance so that he and his blood-brothers would never be caught off guard again. They’d never be hurt like that again.

And so, he investigated. Looked her up on social media, searched her name in search engines. And it all came back normal. A good student, a few parties on her Instagram, photos of aesthetically pleasing country sides and forests. A small town almost country girl turned big city college student.

She was debating about a nursing major. That was something she told him as she sat down, asking who was the nurse. He liked her boldness and he told her what he thought honestly. He mentioned the long hours of interning. She was empathetic, kind at his struggles. Her hand had squeezed his as if it’d comfort him and he swore there was an electric shock.

But other than that… she was normal.

‘What are you doing?’ Jake exclaimed at Heeseung.

‘Getting to know your hyperfixation,’ Heeseung argued back.

‘But-‘ there was a pettiness and possessiveness. ‘She’s mine! My Heart.’

‘You texted her nonstop, you giggle at every message – what’s so interesting? We wanted to know.’

‘Ive only known her for a week, hyung! Don’t scare her away.’

‘We aren’t! Theyre talking about nursing and doctor stuff.’

“Heeseung?”

Heeseung blinked, sound coming back into focus as her call. He had been so focused on their conversation, a telepathic effort that he hadnt heard her call his name twice. He looked to her. Her smile was sweet as she repeated the question.

“What’s your major?” she asked. “Sorry for not asking earlier. Jake had hyped up Jungwon’s major.”

“You’re okay,” he reassured her with a charming grin. “I’m a music major.”

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “That’s so cool. What’s, like, your thing? Is it more traditional music or-?” she trailed off, giving him the floor to talk.

“I started off with the piano,” he said. “We all did,” he admitted, glancing at Jake and Jungwon. “I like songwriting the most compared to instrumentals.”

He preened at her reaction, hearing how she awed and flustered at the thought of a poetic man. He smiled. There was a passing thought, did they grow up together?

Her gaze flickered to Jake as he plopped his bag down and sat down next to Heeseung. His bag hit the motorcycle visor besides Heeseung’s foot.

“What motorcycle do you have?” she asked.

“You want a ride?” he teased, staring her down. Charming, flirtatiously.

Her cheeks flushed, and he grinned. He heard Jungwon’s playful disagreement, an internal roll of his eyes. Jake’s outraged ‘What?’ But Heeseung realized… he hadn’t heard her thoughts. He swallowed. Leaning closer, he stared at her with his entrancing eyes. She giggled a bit and shifted her gaze away.

Nothing… still.

“I was just curious. Jake took the bus the other day – do you all ride motorcycles?” she asked instead, looking over at Jungwon.

Heeseung chuckled, a bit distressed as he looked over at Jake. A flash of insecurity twinkled in his eyes.

‘What’s up?’ Jake asked silently.

‘I can’t hear her thoughts.’ His telepathic freak out made Jake’s brows crinkle in confusion.

“Only Heeseung is the daredevil.” Jungwon replied.

There was a polite hum from the very man mentioned before YN’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Jake, before I forget, I have your umbrella!” she exclaimed, reaching into her bag.

As she ducked her head, Jake and Jungwon mouthed words at each other quickly. Mostly in surprise, wondering what was wrong with Heeseung. He seemed so out of it. Starstruck. When her head popped back up and her hand held a transparent umbrella, they both smiled at her, close lipped.

“That’s my umbrella,” Jungwon commented, raising a brow at Jake. “I was looking for it a few days ago and you said you didn’t know where it—"

“Whoops,” Jake charmed as he took hold of the outstretched umbrella.

“Well, thank you again – and to you too, Jungwon,” she acquiesced, glancing at him with a gentle gratefulness.

He felt a whirl in his stomach, and he couldn’t help the bright almost youthful grin from tumbling to his lips.

“Its no problem,” he replied.

‘Whipped.’ Heeseung teased even in his distress.

‘Do you want to ride?’ Jungwon teased back, his gaze hardening as he looked over at Heeseung. Heeseung raised his brows, biting his lip with a fang before looking back at his phone. Trying to process the strangeness in his head. He tried hearing her thoughts now, focusing on her. But it felt like the more he focused on her, the more distant her thought became. It was something he had never experienced before.

More students were tumbling in now, making the room louder and louder. Both with their thoughts and their conversations. Their own conversation steered towards the class, their workloads, even the weather. Normal and easy things. Every now and then, Jake would ask about something they texted like if she liked this song or that song. Heeseung continued to try to hear her thoughts, staring her down when she wasn’t looking. YN could feel his gaze still, a constant light blush on her cheeks at the attention. Jungwon observed her as well.

He observed and investigated. Looking over her phone when it buzzed, showing her texts between her and her friends. She was going to a party this weekend it looked like. A reminder to go get groceries today was set. A reoccurring alarm that read ‘take medicine (don’t turn off and think you’ll remember go take them now)’ had a pop up from earlier in the day in her notifications.

While she was cute and polite, he still didn’t quite get it. She wasn’t other-earthly. Yes, his heart seemed to thud faster around her. Which hadn’t happened before. And sure, the world slowed and seemed calm and not as overwhelming. Okay, it was strange. She was strange. But still, utterly normal.

After the class and after they packed up their bags, she said goodbye to Jungwon and Heeseung easily with a little wave, standing close to Jake. The soft fluffy haired vampire adjusted his backpack as he waited patiently for her. Jungwon noticed that. He seemed calmer now – not unhinged like last week. Maybe she was okay with him, he pondered. His head tilted as he looked at Jake.

“You’re not coming with us?”

Jake shook his head, swallowing albeit a bit nervously. “We’re going to go study.” He said.

“There’s a new coffee-shop down the street,” YN told them. “Jake saw it and said we should go there.”

‘You like her.’ Heeseung stated simply, telepathically.

Jake’s cheek burned a pretty-red, and that was his answer.

“See you later then,” Heeseung leewayed for Jungwon who despite his best efforts still clung to his worry.

There was always a hint of guilt, a hint of worry for his friends. Even now, after a hundred years. He just wanted them safe. Heeseung knew that.

Heeseung also wanted all of them to be happy. And he knew Jungwon wanted that too, deep down.

With an arm thrown around Jungwon’s shoulder, the two were off, heading up the stairs of the lecture hall to the upper exits.

“Your friends are really nice,” they heard YN say to Jake softly. “They saw me sitting by myself and joined me.”

“They didn’t bug you?” Jake asked gently.

“No way. Jungwon told me all about his nursing job and the program here. He was really helpful. He offered to give me a tour if I wanted it. Heeseung was nice too. He’s funny.”

Jungwon and Heeseung preened, hearing her even as they continued to walk further and further away.

“They’re like my brothers,” Jake chuckled. “I know they can come off strong, but they mean well.”

“They were nice. Now, come on. I owe you a coffee, right? For the umbrella last week?” she teased. Her hand tugged at his sleeve, daringly.

Jake’s low chuckle sent butterflies up her spine.

“No way,” he replied walking to catch up with her. His fingers brushed over hers but he didn’t grab her hand… yet. “I’ll buy for us. My treat.”

By then, it was harder to hear the couple. Heeseung and Jungwon were walking side by side on the street, far from the university now. It was only then they spoke.

“I get it,” Jungwon said simply. Admittingly.

“Me too,” Heeseung agreed. “I couldn’t hear her thoughts, Jungwon.”

The pair shared a look.

“We’ll talk about it at home,” Jungwon promised before they flurried into a flock of bats right as a car passed the duo.

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lgbtlunaverse · 2 months ago

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saw that qin su post and i literly dont think i could ever make out exactly WHY jgy felt he needed to kill his child or if he didnt why did he have to die? like if people found out would that really.....im not laughing but would that rly even be that bad?? like would people really care considering all about his father, their own sexual exploits, and how generally messed up powerfulrich peopls sex lives usually are anyways?? like was there something about the child like did he have a disability due to incest, but even then why would that mean he has to die lol they couldve just hidden him away and tell everyone he died! or just say hes not ~fit~ to be the heir so then he could just have another one lol?? or just have a child with a concubine and name him heir?? do you remember/know the reason or was it like paranoia or shame or

There is a big difference between jgy and his father. Jin Guangshan is the rightful Noble-born sect leader of the richest sect in the Jianghu, and Jin Guangyao is a bastard son of a whore who was thrown down a flight of stairs as a child for the crime of showing up to his father's house, and the reaction by the cultivation world at large to this news was that he had it coming and he should've known his place.

I would say that incest and cheating have a different level of taboo, yes. If it turned out Jin Guangshan had accidentally slept with his half sister that would have been more of a scandal than every single one of his previous exploits ever were, and the child would suffer most of all.

But the nobles of the jianghu don't see jgy as one of their own. They see him as fundamentally an outsider who they tolerate because he's good at his job, has access to money, and keeps his public record so clean they don't have anything to say about him except for his parentage. The moment he slips up they'll pounce on him like piranhas. Which... they do! We dont have to speculate about how they'd react, we see them do it in the story, with calls for his death and lurid glee, attributing his sexual deviancy to his mother's profession. What else could you expect form the son of a whore?

Did A-song have a disability? Maybe, we're told he was a bit slow, but it was subtle enough that no one thought anything of it (certainly not that the cause could be incest) before the news came out. But maybe it was more severe behind closed doors, and the only reason the rumours are so mild its that jgy has worked very, very hard to keep them that way. Who knows!

Why didn't jgy fake a-song's death? who knows! Too many loose ends? An actual dead child means no one to come back one day to ask his parents on why they sent him away, nor any caretakers you'd have to keep quiet.

Have another one? With who? His sister-wife?? (you name this and the concubine as different options so I can only assume)

So why not a concubine? Well, jgy has a chip on his shoulder about cheating and refuses to be unfaithful to Qin Su, even in ways that his society would condone. Especially if it would involve disinheriting his legitimate son in favor of the concubine's child which would basically be spitting directly in his wife's face.

But... A-Song was never the heir. Jin Ling was. Jin Guangyao was only ever acting sect leader until Jin Ling came of age. Jgy didn't need an heir, hence why he didn't need to have another child after A-song died.

So do I remember what this precise reasons were? no! And I never knew! Because no one does! It's left so unclear in the story on purpose, to leave us speculating just like the character are. Because mdzs is a story about how much you can, and can't, know another person. And so it deprives us of crucial information intentionally. jgy clearly feels responsible in some way, but that still leaves a wide variety of possible scenarios, which as I say in the post I love to play around with. (Maybe that other sect leader really did kill rusong but jgy had prior knowledge that that was likwly and still let it happen?) But anything confirmed? Zilch. Nada. We don't know why he did it, we don't even know if he did it. All we have is rumours.

#mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #jin rusong #asks

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geekgirles · 3 months ago

Text

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 12: An Olive Branch

Word Count: 23568

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: "Something is brewing in the World of Twelve, something that could change the course of history forever. In the meantime, Amalia, Yugo, Adamaï, and the other inhabitants of Oma Island remain none the wiser, focusing instead on their daily lives and the issues the Council of Six still faces when it comes to being accepted into their new home. Will an unexpected request and all its possible consequences be able to change that? And will it be a change for the better, or the worse?"

In all his years, he had never beheld a more beautiful sight than that of his kingdom and its forests. There was truly nothing more wondrous than the vast green canvas that extended as far as reached the eye under a cloudless blue sky. No matter the weather, be it under the sun’s generous rays or as a rainpour beat down on them, the trees’ beauty could not be sullied.

In summer, the trees would be bathed by golden light, turning their already vibrant green leaves into veritable emeralds. After a storm, the last few droplets would delicately tinkle down, twinkling like stars, and the morning dew allowed for the air entering their lungs with each breath to be delightfully crisp. Even in autumn, when the greenery usually lost its natural vibrancy and the trees lost their leafy mantles, the warm browns, reds, and yellows that would replace them felt just as comforting in that way only cosy afternoons spent huddled under a blanket in the comfort of your own home could achieve.

The only thing more beautiful than their forests, and that in itself tended to spark a heated debate amongst Sadida’s followers, were the people.

Oakheart Sheran Sharm was many things. He was a warrior, a diplomat, a man who appreciated good food even when it went against his diet, a father, as much as it pained him, a widower… But above everything else, he was the King of the Sadidas, the protector of the forests of the World of Twelve, and especially of the Tree of Life. Everything he did, he did it for his people’s sake. There was no greater honour than serving them, and no greater pride than knowing he was doing right by them.

Perhaps the only thing that could eclipse the pride he felt for his accomplishments was that of his own son’s. Even if he would be lying if he said he understood what went on inside his heir’s head as of late. He drew in a deep breath, his frown fading into resignation.

Knowing better than to dwell on matters that would only spiral down into unproductive arguments, the Sadida King set his eyes onto his kingdom once more. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the sight of his beloved subjects roaming the streets and going on about their day.

Yes, Sadida had truly blessed them with his many gifts. It was only natural that they showed him their devotion and gratefulness in return. As always, the Leafy God had yet again granted them the means to do so.

Prince Armand remained by his father’s side, watching their kingdom from the great plateau guarding the entrance to the throne room with similar stoicism. And yet, his dark brown eyes kept darting towards his father, unease creasing his eyebrows slightly so.

In all his years standing by the king’s side in preparation for his own ascension to the throne, there were still times where the Crown Prince could not for the life of him decipher what his father was thinking. And, in spite of his feigned agreement back at the summit with the other nations, the king’s current plan was no exception.

Hopefully, a certain someone’s tardiness would be enough to enlighten the stubborn king on why it was better to just give up on his latest idea.

“He has yet to come, Father.” He prodded, his expression souring when all he received was a disengaged grunt from the king. His next words held a little more bite. “How do we know his mistresses haven’t decided to go back on their word to help us?”

This time, Oakheart shot a brief side glance at his son. “Now, Armand. What have I told you about rushing to pass judgement? A good king knows how to exercise some patience.”

“A good king also knows how to anticipate himself to any setbacks.” He bit back, impatient. “And relying solely on Master Joris could very well work against—.” His father silently raising a hand was enough to put a halt in his tirade.

The Sadida Prince wanted to protest, but the words died in his throat when he registered a bright light from the corner of his eye. When he turned his head around, he had to bite his tongue at the sight of Master Joris calmly standing behind them, completely nonplussed even as he was surrounded by several guards pointing their spears down at his throat. Armand turned back to look at his father in quiet astonishment. Somehow, he had sensed the arrival of Bonta’s emissary even before the fact.

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach when he was once again reminded that he had yet a lot to learn before he could ascend to the throne.

Likewise, King Oakheart didn’t even need to turn around to face his guards as he commanded, “Rest, my warriors. Master Joris is our guest.”

Master Joris simply dusted his cloak off as the Sadida guards muttered quiet apologies and drew back their weapons. Placing his log to his side, he knelt down in respect in front of the royal family, his head hung low.

“Greetings, honourable Sadida. I sincerely apologise for my tardiness.”

At that, King Oakheart finally whirled around to greet their guest, a calm smile on his mane-covered lips. “Please, Master Joris, none of that. We understand how busy you are, we are merely thankful you could spare some of your precious time to us.”

“I gave my word, Your Majesty.” The short hero nodded solemnly, only then did he rise to his feet. His dark, sharp gaze flickered over to the prince. “Greetings, Prince Armand. It is good to see you as well.”

“Likewise, Master Joris.” His cordial tone was clipped, almost forced. Not because he didn’t respect a hero as esteemed as the Bontarian, but because he had just been forced to take back his words.

Choosing to ignore his son’s temper for the time being, the Sadida King strolled towards the large, leaf-shaped gates guarding the throne room in an almost leisurely walk, his hands behind his back. With a nod of his head, he beckoned his companions to follow him.

Once they were all inside and King Sheran Sharm had regained his rightful position in the mossy throne ruling over the room while Armand and Joris remained at his feet, separated by the small pond leading up to the symbol of his status, it was time to talk business.

“I cannot thank you enough for taking the time to fulfill my request, Master Joris.”

But the ambassador merely inclined his head further down. “There is no need to thank me, Your Majesty. I am merely doing my job.” He raised his head to stare the king in the eye. “As I said back at the assembly, I speak in the name of the Queens of Bonta when I say you can count on us for anything you might need, especially for something like this.”

Oakheart nodded curtly. “In that case, tell Queens Astra and Selene that they have my thanks.” He then fell silent, his large hands coming to rest on his lap as he considered their next course of action. After a minute or two of silent deliberation, he peeked an eye open. “Are you certain you will be able to carry out this task without issue?”

“Certainly, my King.” Joris said, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He was about to elaborate when Armand’s impatient tone broke through the conversation.

“And what about the consequences of carrying it out?” He questioned, his brow creased into a cynical glare. “It was already risky enough to invite them to Bonta, but this—.”

“Prince Armand!” King Oakheart roared, cutting the prince’s rant off and standing up from his throne as he looked down to his only son, equal parts irritation and disappointment flashing through his eyes. “We have already talked about this and we agreed it was the best course of action. I will not be accepting any sort of insubordination from you!”

“But father—!”

“Silence!”

The king’s shouted order reverberated around the room, effectively quieting the prince’s protests. After that, silence did indeed reign supreme and the air became charged with the unmistakable feeling of confrontation. As father and son entered a staring competition, the only thing that managed to break the tense quiet was their laboured breathing as they stared each other down.

At least, Prince Armand stood down with a tsk! of his tongue, stubbornly averting his gaze as his hands came to curl into fists at his sides.

Armand wanted to argue against his father’s insistence on his plan, he really did, but one glance at him, an expectant eyebrow directed straight at his son, told the prince that he was expected to let the matter go. Still, he couldn’t not voice his thoughts, not yet. He had to try to reason with his father one last time.

He glanced up at the king, hoping to convey the seriousness of his request, pleading with his father to listen to him and his contributions for once. He already knew he didn’t exactly approve of his marriage to Aurora and his plans for the future of the Sadida Kingdom, but if he could only listen to him on this…

“Please, Father. I beg you to reconsider. Are you certain of this?”

Although the earnestness in Armand’s voice compared to his previous impudence softened Oakheart’s heart, it did nothing to break his resolve. So, hardening his soul as much as his stance, his mind was made up. “Yes, my son. I am certain. Remember, this is not a decision taken on a whim, but one taken out of consideration for Sadida’s will. As his humble servants, this is the least we can do to protect his legacy.”

It was at that moment that Joris chose to speak up again. He shot a reassuring glance the prince’s way. “Rest assured, Your Highness. Even when I presented myself unannounced to investigate the matter of the Sadida woman’s sightings, they were nothing but courteous, if a little reserved.

“Likewise, it must be said that their behaviour at Bonta was faultless—barring the incident with Count Harebourg.” He admitted quietly. “I am confident we have nothing to fear.”

Knowing his father wouldn’t listen to him no matter how much he fought him on the matter, instead of trying to refute the Bontarian’s point, the Sadida Prince eased out a heavy sigh in defeat.

“Thank you, Master Joris. Let us hope you are right.”

He supposed he would have no choice but to keep an eye open just in case, he thought to himself.

Satisfied with his son's acquiescence, King Sheran Sharm shot one last resolute look at the Bontarian. “You know what to do, then.”

With one final nod, Joris finally rose to his full height from his knelt down position. “Yes, my King. I will not let you down.”

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

As God of Nature, Sadida was a creator. While Osamodas’ dragons brought life to what would then become the World of Twelve, it was thanks to his contributions that their precious, little planet was brimming with life. It was all part of a sacred cycle. Without plants, animals and humans alike couldn’t survive, and without them, life couldn’t flourish. Likewise, it was thanks to his gift to his people that the World of Twelve was overflowing with wakfu even without the presence of Eliatrope.

The Leafy God had to suppress a shudder. He dreaded even thinking about what their world would look like without his plants and the wakfu they provided.

His uneasy grimace faded into a sad frown at the memory of the Goddess of Love. Not for the first time, the Doll Master found himself wondering how much more beautiful and prosperous the World of Twelve would have been with the Great Goddess’ help, but alas, she made her choice all those years ago, leaving them no other alternative.

Whatever alternative reality where they all got to coexist together would never be anything more than that, a ‘what if.’

And yet, her people had found their way to the World of Twelve on their own. Perhaps Twelvians and Eliatropes were bound to live together, after all. Maybe sending Amalia to them had truly been for the best.

At the memory of his youngest, Sadida set his focus back on his frolicking daughters. All nine of them. Even the smile painted on his wooden mask accentuated itself a little at the sight of them.

Maminala and Dathura, always the sweet, placid ones, were engrossed in avid conversation, with the turquoise-haired doll holding her much smaller big sister in the palm of her hand. Razeriana and Ibago, coquettish as they were, lay down on the grass, letting the sun’s warm rays bathe their stitched-up skin and colour their raggedy flesh. Knowing them, they expected their natural colours to be more vibrant than ever by the time they were done.

Compared to their appearance-conscious sisters, the much more sportive Ballodana and Ladysally were dancing to the beat of the music played by Lophapharo, their hips swaying playfully from side to side. Perhaps, as a father, he should have been worried that his second eldest was using Peparava’s squishy form as a set of bongos, but the laughing doll didn’t seem to mind, so who was he to spoil their fun?

Yes, perhaps Sadida was the God of Nature and a creator by trade, but there was no denying his daughters were his true pride and joy.

He tried to ignore the pang of melancholy that resonated throughout his chest at the thought of their absent family members.

Shaking his head to rid himself of that train of thought, just as he was about to join his girls, something from behind him made Ladysally perk up in surprise and point behind him.

“Oh, Father! Look! The Great Huntress has come to grace us with her presence!”

At the sound of the well-known epithet, Sadida immediately swiveled his head around and over his shoulder. Lo and behold, there she was. With her seemingly endless cascade of platinum blond hair, flawless features, and immeasurable grace combined with the deathly precision with which she carried her mystical bow was none other than Cra herself.

A soft smile illuminated her face like her moonlight skin.

“Do forgive the intrusion, my dear friend.” Her voice rang out like bells. “I sure hope I did not interrupt anything of importance.”

Before Sadida could so much as utter a word, Yopo, who up until that point had been listening to Lophapharo’s improvised notes, scrambled to dissuade the goddess’ worries. “Oh, not at all, Your Excellency! We were just enjoying some quiet family time.” The cactus-like doll shrank in on herself when she took notice of her father’s disapproving glare for speaking out of turn.

Luckily for her, it seemed Cra found her lack of proper decorum amusing, for she simply hid a fond chuckle behind a delicate, gloved hand. “Oh, but my dear Yopo, spending time with your family is the most important thing of all!” She exclaimed with mock shame, bringing a hand to her ample bosom. “I see now I have committed a grave sin. Could you ever forgive me?”

While the more naive and irony-blind Divine Dolls scrambled to assure the Woodland Beauty that she could do no wrong in their eyes, both their more savvy sisters and their father rolled their eyes. Although in Sadida’s case, his mild exasperation was directed at his dear old friend.

“My dear Cra, please, cease your teasing.” He sighed. “In case you haven’t noticed, my daughters don’t always recognise when someone jests.”

The archer goddess giggled again. “My apologies.” She said airily, causing Sadida to narrow his eyes at her from behind his mask.

She wasn’t sorry at all.

Choosing to let it go, he simply smirked up at his old friend. “Fake contrition aside, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“I simply came to see how things were unfolding.”

Sadida knew Cra enough to be able to see through her simple, noncommittal response and immediately understand the true meaning of her words. She was asking about Amalia.

With a quiet sigh, the Leafy God beckoned for her to follow him while he instructed his other daughters to go back to what they were doing. His Divine Dolls knew better than to argue, so with a few exchanged looks and a shrug of their shoulders, they let the matter go as they tried to focus back on their activities before they spotted the elven deity.

Sadida led Cra through the lush forests of his domain, chivalrously holding a hand out to help her whenever the terrain became trickier to navigate. Had it come from any other man, mortal or god, Cra would have made the depth of her offence known and personally punish the chauvinistic pig for daring to look down on her. But coming from the Father of the Tree People, she knew he was just being considerate since no one knew his dimension (or the extent of her temper) quite like he did.

She and Sadida had always been close, but apparently, the fact that he was a willing and perfectly content ‘Girl Dad’—as mortals liked to say nowadays—had turned him into an even more considerate soul when it came to women.

The fact that he didn’t lust after them like most gods did certainly didn’t hurt either.

At long last, after guiding Cra through a particularly treacherous path while she carefully lifted her long, lime-green dress, they arrived at the portal to the Living Realm, tucked away in between a circle of sturdy oaks.

With a sweep of his mossy hand, the bright, swirling vortex at their feet gained form. The non-distinct shapes gave way to more defined images until a clear picture of Amalia, alongside Yugo and his dragon twin, appeared. They seemed to be headed somewhere outside of the palace yet within its vicinity.

Sadida couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at the sight of his daughter’s laughing face. “As you can see, she seems to be doing well. It has only been a few months, yet she is already remarkably close to King Yugo and his brother.”

“Yes, that is a most welcome development.” Cra concurred with a nod. “Especially after he seemed so adamant against having a bride.” She shot her friend a meaningful glance from the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction.

Much to her resigned frustration, the god gave nothing away. Which was quite a feat, considering his wooden mask reflected his emotions rather than hide them from view.

“It might not have been easy at first, but I believe we will be able to reap the fruits of our labour soon.”

The blonde deity smirked to herself when her keen blue eyes noticed the way he subtly tightened his hold on his crossed arms. She still vividly remembered the amount of effort it took him to downplay his offence when Yugo had the audacity to reject Amalia as his bride-to-be, only calming himself down when the Eliatrope insisted on housing her and being ‘friends.’

And when he started pulling away from her after what by all intents and purposes had been a successful escapade to the beach? The only way to calm the irate father down was to promise to have thousands of magic arrows rain down on Oma Island if the issue didn’t resolve itself soon.

Fortunately, it did. And it was all Amalia’s doing.

(Although Sadida and Xelor’s rapports had been rather frosty—pun non-intended— after Count Harebourg dared to try to pull that stunt with her).

But Osamodas’ orders had been clear. They were to stay out of things and let Amalia navigate everything on her own lest it was absolutely necessary they intervened.

Because she was only second to Sadida himself when it came to knowing his daughter’s disadventures, she had a very good idea about what the Leafy God was thinking.

“You’re worried.” She said bluntly.

“Any parent would be with their child so far away from home.”

“I’m not.” She pointed out matter-of-factly. “In fact, I think we can all agree you’re the only one of us who takes such a hands-on approach to parenting.”

Sadida chose to bite back his tongue and refrain from making a scathing remark about how his fellow gods’ approach to parenting basically amounted to letting their orphans roam the world without any kind of guidance. He knew better than to question a deity’s way of being. Their followers had been on the verge of starting enough wars in their name already.

So, instead, he just grunted with a shrug. “I suppose I will always worry about my children, especially when I can’t be there with them. Although I must admit I am immensely proud of all she has accomplished in such a short amount of time.

“She has grown extremely close to Yugo, as we expected. She has slowly but surely earned the Eliatropes’ trust and respect. Her presence has left quite an impact on our followers, as predicted… All in all, everything is going according to plan.”

“And yet, you still cannot get the image of the Turquoise dragon, Efrim, attacking her or the world’s rulers doubting our reasoning behind her presence off of your mind.” She guessed gently, her perfectly shaped brow creasing in sympathy for her friend.

Even his mask seemed to darken as he searched the words. “I will admit that that was… most troubling.” He settled on after a while.

To be perfectly frank, Sadida surprised even himself with the evenness in his voice. For all the power and wisdom his divinity granted him, even he was left powerless at the sight of his daughter in danger—at the knowledge that he couldn’t do anything for her. Couldn’t protect her.

At that moment, when the smallest Eliatrope dragon had her pinned against the dirty floor, spouting venom in her face with the clear intention of diminishing her worth, the Doll Master wanted nothing more than to summon a monstrous, carnivorous plant that would swallow him whole. But his hands were tied, much to his chagrin.

It was no longer a matter of having agreed to refrain from intervening unless absolutely necessary—because at that moment, with Amalia’s life at risk, he couldn't think of a time where it was more necessary to act—, but because if he acted on her behalf, Sadida had the feeling Efrim’s suspicions would be confirmed and his enmity towards Amalia would only increase.

With his sister as witness, they couldn’t afford the Eliatropes’ trust in Amalia being broken due to a bout of paternal protectiveness.

His rage eventually tapered off when the dragon revealed he had some level of restraint and awareness of the consequences his actions could have for his people. But the harm had already been done. If Amalia had been wary and aware of his dislike for her before, now the mere mention of her detractor put her on edge.

At first, he had wanted nothing more than to march up to his fellow gods and demand his daughter return home before it was too late, but then…

“I do not know if it is youthful foolishness and cockiness or a determination seldom seen, but Amalia’s will to surpass herself is stronger than the roots of millennium-old trees.” Cra didn’t miss the tinge of paternal pride in his voice, a small smile tugging at the corner of her plump lips.

“She is your creation.” She reminded him warmly. “There are few beings more exceptional than Sadida’s Divine Dolls; you made it so it would be so.”

“And yet, my daughters manage to surprise me with the depth of their gifts every single day.”

A soft laugh escaped the goddess in the form of a huff. Never losing her placid expression even at her friend’s modesty, she let her pools of blue wander downwards, her blonde eyebrows raising slightly at what the portal showed them. King Yugo and his dragon twin seemed to be stretching their muscles—no doubt about to partake in some kind of vigorous physical activity—, while Amalia came to lounge on top of the stairs leading up to the entrance located right next to the training grounds they found themselves in, watching intently.

The Great Huntress raised an eyebrow at that. She knew from Sadida that Yugo and Amalia had established this sort of routine early on where the Eliatrope would train just outside her balcony and she would watch. She also knew from her friend, who’d retold the events with a clear tinge of pride in his voice, that Amalia now spent her afternoons alongside the Eliatrope children and the Council members in charge of their education, honing her own skills. However, the fact that now she was apparently allowed near the Council’s personal training grounds belied the level of trust she had cultivated during her time on Oma Island.

It was truly remarkable, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, she was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of the nature god calling her name, “To tell you the truth, my dear Cra, each and every day my little Amalia floors me with her strength of will. The amount of challenges she is overcoming practically single-handedly despite her short age are nothing short of commendable!”

The elven beauty could hear the slight note of apprehension in his tone despite his best attempt at hiding it.

“But…?”

“But, you are right.” He admitted with a grunt, his eyes narrowing behind his mask as he observed the portal. “Our followers and Efrim’s suspicions of her do trouble me immensely. I worry for her safety.”

“As any good father would, my friend.” She assured him, placing a comforting, gloved hand on his bare shoulder.

Once again, Sadida wisely chose not to comment on Cra’s unexpected wisdom given her own treatment of her offspring. Instead, he took her words as the comforting balm they were meant to be.

“To answer your previous question,” he said all of a sudden, in a rare instance where the huntress was caught off guard. “There has been a most peculiar development as of late.”

That piqued her interest, even though she already had quite a good guess as to what it might be. “Oh? Do tell.”

“The Sheran Sharms, my most trusted followers, have hatched a plan. Hopefully, it will at the very least be a step in the right direction to ensuring Amalia’s safety outside of Inglorium.”

He let out a heavy sigh as the image shifted to his worshippers’ kingdom with a snap of his fingers. The entire domain was a flurry of activity. Sadida of all stations were hard at work, preparing for the upcoming event that might be the catalyst for a marked shift in their lives. The only one who seemed mostly unconcerned was that one Osamodas princess the Crown Prince had recently married, but what else was new?

In all his time overseeing his people since she arrived, he couldn’t remember a single time where she appeared to be invested in anything the Sadida were doing unless it directly affected her or her homeland.

His eyes narrowing in on her and what Amalia’s existence might have meant for her family, Sadida’s words held more than one meaning. “I sure hope King Oakheart and Prince Armand will be able to look after Amalia and help her.”

“Fear not, my friend.” Cra said suddenly, her voice dripping with confidence and the assurance of someone who knew something you didn’t. He honestly resented whenever she got not-so-unintentionally condescending with him. “Amalia will be safe—I will personally see that it is so.”

The holes in the god’s mask were as round as the moon. “Could it be? Is it possible that you are looking after my daughter as well, my dear?”

“There is much at stake.” She stated with an impassive shrug of her shoulders. It was followed shortly after by a sideway glance and a smirk directed at him. For once, the Woodland Beauty allowed herself to be candid and sincere, instead of calculatingly measuring every word that left her mouth in case it could be used against her. “She is your daughter, my dear Sadida. For that alone I am almost as adverse as you are to the mere idea of harm befalling her.” Her expression turning into a stoney mask yet again, she faced forwards. “She will be safe, you have my word.”

Sadida was touched by the goddess’ kindness and care for him. With how she carried herself most of the time—poised, aloof, and impervious to anything she considered to be beneath her (which was a lot of things)—, it was easy to forget that once you’d earned Cra’s respect and admiration, you had likewise earned a powerful and wise ally that would stop at nothing to help you.

Still, that begged the question…

“What do you intend to do?”

Her mysterious grin was both assuring and disconcerting. “Let us just say that my dear followers cannot decline a task recommended to them by none other than their goddess. And I have entrusted this one to a most special Cra.”

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

It was undeniable that Amalia watching Yugo as he trained below (and above) her balcony had become routine at that point. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it was a daily occurrence.

Right before breakfast, Yugo would arrive at her door and knock on it gently, partly to inform her of his presence, partly to wake her up in case she had fallen asleep. At the sound of his arrival, Amalia would perk up in anticipation and eagerly welcome him inside. As the two friends crossed her room, side by side, headed to her balcony, they exchanged some pleasant small talk, mostly asking about the other’s well-being and if they had anything planned for the day. And then, Yugo would come to hover over the ballastrude and with one wink that Amalia swore got cheekier by the day and a mock salute, he would throw himself backwards into the void.

And the show would begin.

By the time Yugo was done training and Amalia was done swooning, their stomachs would grumble in protest and break them out of whatever little moment they might be sharing, reminding them that they had yet to eat. And so, with a bashful laugh, the king would escort the doll out of her room and towards the dining room, where they would finally get to fill their bellies with a hearty breakfast and their hearts would swell at the pleasant conversation between them.

That day, however, they were trying something a little different.

Amalia’s face when she opened the door that morning had been one of quiet surprise. Not like he could blame her. Adamaï had presented himself alongside him at her door without so much as a warning. As a matter of fact, the dragon hadn’t even warned his twin about his intended visit to the Divine Doll.

Much to his annoyance and embarrassment, before he even had the chance to protest, Adamaï simply smirked.

“Oh, don’t get your cape into a twist, Lil’ Bro. I just want to spar a little with you and see how Amalia’s doing. I have no intention of stealing her from you.”

Yugo absolutely did not squawk in embarrassment at that. Nor when the dragon teasingly accused him of monopolising Amalia’s time.

And that was how they found themselves in front of a slightly bewildered Amalia, who could only tilt her head in curiosity as Ad explained his idea to be Yugo’s sparring partner and use the opportunity to see how far she had come in her studies with Glip. The confusion briefly returned when she gestured for them to come inside, only for Adamaï to politely decline, stating he had a different idea in mind.

All Yugo could do was shrug helplessly when the doll shot him a questioning look, silently asking him to enlighten her on his twin’s train of thought.

If only he knew…

Seeing their little interaction, the Emerald dragon rolled his eyes so far to the back of his head he could probably see his own brain.

“Relax, you too.” He scoffed. “We’re just going to the training grounds.”

While Yugo understood what he meant immediately, his face easing into a more relaxed grin as he nodded his approval, the same couldn’t be said for the doll.

“You mean the ones back at the village? Doesn’t Glip usually prepare them for class around this hour?”

“He means the ones located within the palace confines.” Yugo explained, taking pity on her confused state. “While the ones at the village are usually reserved for the children, the ones we’re going to are primarily used by our soldiers and the Council.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember something like that…” For a moment, the glimmer in her brown gaze turned dimmed as memories of the time Yugo kept his distance washed over her.

Then, the gears started turning in her head and she furrowed her brow. “That still doesn’t explain why we’re going there in the first place.”

Adamaï just shrugged. “I just figured it was high time we showed it to you.” He flashed her a challenging smirk, all his pointy teeth in full display. “That, and I for one am rather eager to see what Glip has been teaching you, Amalia. It’s not everyday that we get to see you in action.”

Yugo perked up at that, the ears on his hood standing tall and proud. He had to push down the rush of excitement he felt at the thought of seeing Amalia’s battle prowess. She already left him speechless whenever she used her powers, regardless of how mundane the utility. The mere thought of her in battle was enough to increase his blood flow and make his blood grow hot. It was a little annoying, to be perfectly honest.

He already knew he was in love with her. Did every little thing have to remind him of how utterly smitten he was?

But, much to the twins’ mutual bewilderment, all Amalia did in response was stare back and forth between the two of them, her chocolate eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Do we have to use a portal to get there?” She asked flatly.

Yugo exchanged a look with Adamaï. “Uh… No. As Ad said, it’s within palace confines. We should be there in about ten minutes by foot.”

And just like that, her whole demeanour changed.

A wide grin stretching over her face and her hands clasped before her, the Divine Doll practically dashed towards her balcony, her words trailing off behind her. “In that case, what are you waiting for?! Let’s go!”

As soon as she reached the edge, she propelled herself forwards and onto the ground, indifferent to the neck-breaking height she was plunging herself into. But just as Yugo and Adamaï were on the verge of a heart attack—the Eliatrope had already shot forward with the intention of catching her, while his dragon twin stood, horrified, with one claw outstretched after her—, her glorious mane of green hair emerged from below, slowly revealing the rest of her lovely form.

The Eliatrope King skidded to a stop when Amalia appeared riding a giant tendril, sending them a cheeky grin over her shoulder. He didn’t need to look to know that his brother was openly gawking as he came to stand by his side. They usually wore matching expressions, after all, and this was no exception.

Once their astonishment had worn off, the two of them shrugged and joined Amalia on her unorthodox means of transportation (although, considering she was a Sadida Doll, it was probably quite common for her). Only when the plant had carefully placed them on the floor beneath her room, did they resume their march and their explanation of their destination.

Amalia paid rapt attention. Apparently, the only real difference between Glip’s arena and the training grounds, apart from who used each and their locations, was that the latter was better equipped to handle more experienced Wakfung warriors. Hence why the members of the Council of Six preferred to work out there—less need to hold back lest they risked destroying something from an unchecked attack.

Upon finally reaching the place in question, it wasn’t hard to see why.

Unlike the children’s arena, there was no fighting pit, most likely because experienced Eliatropes could take a fight everywhere, including the skies, she guessed. Instead, there were many targets located several metres away from the firing zone. A few guards, with their feet planted firmly on the ground, demonstrated its use by firing wakfu beams out of their hands and straight at the white-and-blue targets. The doll’s eyes trailed upwards when a plume of smoke would billow out each time beam and hay collided.

Amalia marvelled at the obstacle course. She hadn’t seen one since they momentarily moved out of Baltazar’s class to begin with Glip’s Wakfung training. Even after seeing Yugo perform even more awe-inspiring acrobatics on a daily basis, the kind of mobility and agility the Eliatropes’ portal-making granted them was still incredible. Most Twelvians would have to find their own way of passing through the rings, especially the ones standing several metres tall, and some would have better luck than others, but not the Eliatropes. All they had to do was either jump from one portal to the next, following a turquoise-tiled path; or glide straight through the ring like it wasn’t even there.

She had to pick up her slackened jaw from the floor when Yugo called out for her to follow them to a more remote area.

“This is where the Council trains.” He gestured around him as soon as she was back by his side.

“I have to admit, this is very cool.” She looked around, smiling at the grounds they were currently standing on. They were more spacious than the rest of the camp. “So what do we do now?”

“You can go sit back and watch how I kick my brother’s butt into oblivion.” Adamaï boasted then, sliding up next to a very annoyed-looking Yugo and clasping a claw over his shoulder.

“Excuse me?!” The king sputtered, getting in his brother’s scaly, smirking face. “Did you already forget who’s the better fighter here?”

The dragon shrugged, all-too-innocently. “Why don’t you remind me? Unless you’re all talk.” He shot back, his lips parting away to reveal his very sharp canines as he, quite literally, butted heads with his brother.

Watching them get in each other’s faces like that, Amalia worried for a moment that an actual fight was about to break out. However, one glance at Yugo and she immediately relaxed. The cocky smirk he wore, and that was mirrored by Adamaï’s very own, belied the playful nature of their competitive streak.

She felt comfortable enough to make a sarcastic comment of her own.

“Do I need to grab you by the waist with my vines and separate you, or are you good?”

At her teasing threat, accentuated by her hip jutting out and the eyebrow she raised in amusement, the Emerald Twins momentarily gaped at her, blinking slowly. After a beat, though, the three of them broke down laughing. With a sigh and shake of his head, his hand coming to brush his dirty blond bangs out of his eyes, Yugo turned to point at some steps leading up to a door Amalia only now realised was there.

“You can sit over there to watch us fight, Amalia. Trust me, while they might not be actual bleachers, those steps have the best, and safest, view of the ring.”

Her brow furrowed as her eyes trailed over to where her friend was pointing at. “But I thought you guys wanted to see what I can do?” She crossed her arms pointedly. “Watching is hardly the same as fighting.”

Just as Yugo began to sputter out a nervous explanation, Adamaï came to his rescue, as always. He gently placed his tail on top of Amalia’s shoulder, her gaze darting between the limb and his face when he spoke. “That’s true. But we mostly want to see how far your powers have come.”

“Then, wouldn’t a battle between us be the best way to determine that?” She shot back, unimpressed. “Master Glip always says you never know what you’re capable of until you’re forced to react in the heat of the moment.”

“That’s true.” Yugo agreed, mimicking his brother and draping his arm around her other shoulder. He tried to ignore the way his skin tingled at the contact even through his suit. “But do you seriously think you have improved enough to be able to face off against Ad and I?”

He had her with his rhetorical question and he knew it. As proud as Amalia could be, she wasn’t stupid—she knew when she was biting more than she could chew, forcing her to begrudgingly relent in her pursuit.

His cheeky grin widened in triumph at the sigh of her reluctant pout, her brow creased in deep irritation. “I hate it when you have a point.”

Laughing heartily, the king threw his hands up. “Can’t help it if I’m right.” He only laughed harder when she poked him on the chest with an accusatory finger.

“You could keep your unquestionable logic to yourself!” She cried, trying very hard not to laugh as well. “Nobody likes a know-it-all!”

“Well, nobody likes a sore loser either, yet here you are.”

“How dare you?!” This time, she let out a sound that was a mix between a guffaw and an offended squawk.

The Eliatrope broke down laughing, throwing his head back, when her face scrunched up petulantly, her hands balled into fists at her sides. However, it was Adamaï’s turn to hide a chortle behind his claws when an impish flicker passed through Amalia’s eyes and her expression eased into mischief.

He stopped making a show of trying to contain his laughter when the Divine Doll launched herself at Yugo and began poking and pinching and tickling him as he futilely flailed his arms around in between stolen giggles and begged her to stop. After a while, their fun was cut short when the king finally managed to secure Amalia’s wrist in his grasp and bring her closer to him, so close their laboured breaths intermingled.

“Attacking me when my guard is down, huh?” He panted, his smile peeking through his lips. “That’s low.”

“Not as low as being infuriatingly right!”

He laughed, incredulous. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

The sound of someone clearing their throat broke them out of their trance. Eyes widening like saucers, the two of them slowly, very slowly, turned their heads at the same time in search of the origin of the sound. A heated wave washed over them when they finally took notice of, not just the very smug-looking Adamaï raising an eyebrow at them, but the small group of onlookers their antics had attracted as well. The small squadron of training guards peering over at them from their positions on the opposite end of the field sent forth yet another wave of heat straight to their faces.

They pried their hands off each other and jumped several metres back and away from the other as fast as if they’d been burned. Though, judging from the crimson red on their cheeks, Adamaï noted, spontaneous combustion wasn’t completely off the table.

As much as he hated breaking up their little moment—even if they refused to admit it, he had long resigned himself to the role of third wheel—, they came here for a reason, and it didn’t include those two flirting (this much).

“As nice as this all is,” he gestured at his twin and the doll, his smirk growing when that alone made them squirm. “I’m afraid I have a lesson to teach to my brother. So if you two would be so kind…”

And just like that, the fire of embarrassment coursing through Yugo’s veins had been replaced by the electric feeling only a challenge could provide. “Oh, you’re on!” Much more softly and more gently, he turned to the Sadida Doll. “Amalia, when Ad and I are done with our training, why don’t you show us what you’ve been learning with Glip these past few weeks?”

Her cheeks still a little pink from earlier, the doll couldn’t help but smile at his request, shyly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure thing, Yugo.”

As Adamaï called out to his brother to finally get started and the Eliatrope twin, between half-hearted ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m coming!’s, marched up towards him, Amalia decided to follow their earlier advice and made her way over to the steps Yugo had pointed at.

Upon reaching her destination, the doll carefully and elegantly settled into the stoney stairs, bringing her knees to her chest as she eagerly set her gaze onto the two opposing brothers. She felt a tingle of excitement run down her spine when she took in the matching determined, if a little bit cocky, expressions plastered over both Eliatrope and dragon’s faces.

One minute they were staring each other down on land, the next they had shot upwards at lightning speed, kicking up a smoke cloud after them that had Amalia shielding her face with her arms. After blinking the dirt in her eyes away a few times, the doll craned her neck up and gasped.

Even with all her practice watching Yugo, it took her an incredible amount of effort to be able to follow their movements, her eyes darting every which way as they tried to keep up with the pair of battlers zooming by. It was like trying to find a pesky moskito, one minute it would be in one corner of the room, and the next it would whoosh through the air and materialise on the opposite corner.

Even the ever familiar blue trail Yugo left after him did little to help Amalia locate him, as it blended in with the azure of the sky.

Biting the inside of her cheek in annoyance, her head resting against her palm, she couldn’t help but sarcastically wonder how they expected her to watch and learn if she couldn’t even see.

“Hey!” She called after them, cupping her hands around her mouth to better project her voice. She allowed the small feeling of triumph when she got them to halt their movements in mid-air, their eyes big and round as they stared owlishly down at her in confusion.

“As impressive as this all is,” she gestured between the two of them. “Not all of us have a Cra’s enhanced sight.” Then, her shoulders slumped forward, her voice and eyes pleading. “Could you guys slow down even a little bit, please?”

Wincing as realisation struck them, both Yugo and Adamaï rubbed the back of their necks sheepishly and wore chagrined expressions as they mumbled apologies and promises to try and control themselves for Amalia. And with a pleased ‘Thank you’ from her, they went back at it.

Only at a pace that would allow the untrained eye to actually observe their movements.

Yugo had summoned his wakfu sword and shield, his cloak rustling after him with the wind, while Adamaï had unfolded his wings, flapping once or twice every few minutes to keep himself afloat, his tail flickering in anticipation as he adopted a fighting stance.

And then, they lunged at each other.

Adamaï thrust a claw forward, straight for his twin’s abdomen, only for Yugo to block his attempts with his shield. Each time the dragon tried to connect a scratch, the Eliatrope King would follow with his shield, preventing any damage from being done to his body. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that that was exactly what Adamaï had been counting on. As the last fake attempt at clawing at him led Yugo to raise his only means of protection above eye-level, the Emerald dragon took the opening he needed to whip at his torso with his tail, sending the king back a few metres in the air.

Forcing his propelling body to stop before he flew off too far away, despite the frustration he felt with himself for falling for such an old trick, Yugo still smirked. Maybe Ad was in the lead of their imaginary score for managing to connect the first hit, but he wouldn’t be able to keep the position for long after giving his brother some much needed space.

With a swift movement, Yugo raised his weapons over his shoulders and willed the energy to shift and react to his orders. He went from wielding a sword and a shield to two matching spears in an instant. Just as the colour drained from Adamaï’s face as he realised what his twin intended to do, the Eliatrope didn’t waste a single second and hurled the lances forward and in his direction, the projectiles slicing through the air.

Cursing under his breath, the dragon was quick to flap his wings as he tried to manoeuvre around the incoming projectiles. Given his large girth compared to the size of the spears, his attempts were a little awkward. Seeing as the two energy weapons were headed straight at him at the same time, Ad tried taking advantage of the small distance between the two of them Yugo had inadvertently created with his own head and, with a beat of his wings and a twirl, miraculously sidestepped them.

He watched the retreating projectiles for a second before he sharply whirled his head around to flash his brother a successful smirk.

“Ha!” He exclaimed, but the feeling was short-lived, for his brother was no longer anywhere to be seen.

His horned head shooting up in alarm, Adamaï began frantically looking everywhere around him, fully expecting his Eliatrope twin to appear at any moment. Unfortunately, he always forgot to look down.

“Over here.” Yugo’s infuriatingly smug voice sang from underneath him. Looking down at his smirking brother, Adamaï only had a few seconds to register what happened before Yugo kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying upwards with a cheeky wink and a hastily added, “This is for the cheap tail shot.”

And Amalia was watching it all with awe in her eyes.

Now that the Emerald Twins had slowed down, she caught their every move. Adamaï shapeshifting into a white-and-blue golem-like creature as he tried to smack Yugo around. Yugo retaliating by zipping past his twin with his superior speed and shooting wakfu beams at him from all angles thanks to his portals. Adamaï changing tactics and getting his fire breath involved, forcing Yugo to retreat by diving in and out of a series of portals he summoned all around his brother, his motions like diving in and out of the sea.

It was easy to see the members of the Council were in a league of their own. Amalia had kind of always known that, thanks to watching the king’s training sessions and then studying under Glip, but actually getting to see just how badly Yugo and Adamaï outclassed their subjects blew all those other experiences out of the water.

The doll had no way of determining who would win. They seemed to be so equally matched.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Yugo had long decided there was no way he would lose against his dragon twin now that he had the chance to really show off in front of the doll.

Next thing she knew, Yugo had Adamaï pinned down against the floor, one hand pushing his head against the ground while the other held his brother’s arms to prevent him from getting away. The rest of his sculpted, athletic physique focused on keeping the dragon down.

“Now, who is the better fighter?” He asked wryly as he leered down at his twin.

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Ad grunted, trying to make one last futile attempt at wringing himself free. He plopped back down on the floor with a thud! and a sulk when it was apparent he wouldn’t have that much luck.

“Who, dear brother?”

Ad rolled his eyes with a grumble. “Fine! I yield! You’re the better fighter! Happy now?”

Oh, how he wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his pretty face. “Extremely.” And with that, he unceremoniously let his twin’s limbs drop and got up.

Beaming widely, Amalia shot up to her feet and began clapping excitedly. Her heart skipped a beat when Yugo began to exaggeratedly bow to the audience (that is to say, her) and express his thanks. That weird feeling she got around him came back full force, and she felt a strange yet powerful wave of pride wash over her at his accomplishments and battle prowess.

She didn’t know what it was, but there was something in the way Yugo fought—throwing himself head-first into battle, without hesitation; parring attacks and launching his own with so much precision it was almost graceful; exuding such confidence in his abilities it somehow managed to reach her and make her believe the battle was already won… Whatever it was, it never failed to make her swoon.

A small, coy part of herself wondered if perhaps he ever felt the same way towards her when it came to her own abilities?

For better or worse, the swooning was soon replaced by uncontrollable laughter when Adamaï took advantage of Yugo’s boasting to tackle him to the ground. Just like that, they were back at roughhousing like children.

“What was that about being the better fighter?” Adamaï teased now that he was the one on top—literally.

“Hey, you cheated!” Yugo protested. He tried to sound intimidating, but the mirth and slight whine in his voice made that nearly impossible.

The dragon pretended to consider his words for a moment, before dismissing them with a nonchalant shrug.

“Nah, that’s just combat pragmatism.” His fangs glinted as he smirked down at the Eliatrope. “Isn’t that what fighting is all about? Finding your opponent’s weakness and exploiting it?”

“I fail to see what that has got to do with tackling me to the ground while I wasn’t looking.” Yugo deadpanned.

“Not my fault you’re such a showboat.”

Their childish bickering was interrupted by the loud yelps that left their throats as the two of them found themselves being hoisted up by the waist and separated. One quick glance at their midsection revealed the strong grip around it belonged to none other than one of Amalia’s thick vines.

Once she had placed them both back down and away from each other, she sent them a knowing look, her arms crossed and her hip jutted out.

“Sorry to interrupt your bonding activities, but I seem to remember we came here for a reason?”

The Emerald Twins exchanged a glance.

“Yeah, to train?” Yugo tried, his face scrunched up in confusion. “But that’s what we’re doing…?” He trailed off, unsure.

Her patient look hardening into an exasperated scowl, Amalia groaned. Rolling her eyes so far back her head she could probably see the inside of her skull, she emphatically pointed at her face with one finger and coughed loudly to get her point across.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes yet again when realisation finally dawned on them, their lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

“Oh, yeah! We totally forgot about you!” Adamaï said bluntly, earning himself a zap to the back of his head with a small wakfu beam by his brother. “What was that for?!” He snapped.

“Ad!” Yugo hissed, screaming at him with his eyes to look over at Amalia. He didn’t miss the way the dragon loudly gulped when he finally heeded his warning.

Thank Eliatrope Amalia was Sadida’s Doll instead of Cra or Sram’s daughter, because if looks could kill, they'd both be dead enough times over to break their Dofus reincarnation cycle.

After a beat where the siblings wished their mother would put them out of their misery already, the doll’s outrage seemed to finally relent. With a resigned roll of her eyes, she huffed, her stiff posture finally relaxing as she closed the distance between them.

“Come on, you two. Let me show you what I can do.” She told them, the tiniest hint of affection tinging her words as she clasped their shoulders.

“Now we’re talking!” Adamaï hollered, clasping his hands in delight. Retaking the doll’s position on the set of stairs just in case, he asked, “So, what’d you have in mind, Amalia? How do you plan to surprise us today?”

At that, the Divine Doll’s confidence shrank into timidness. She couldn’t help but rub her arm nervously under their attentive gaze, especially Yugo’s eager one. “I… I don’t know, actually. A lot of the things I’ve learned are actually offensive, so it’s kind of pointless showing them off without a sparring partner.”

“In that case, why don’t you just show us something you’ve been working on with Glip?” Yugo offered, his expression softening in sympathy. Despite her early bravado, it was clear Amalia still wasn’t as secure in her powers to show off quite as much as he and Ad liked to indulge in. “It doesn’t have to be offensive.”

“That’s right.” Adamaï agreed with a nod. “Just something you think you have improved on.”

Bringing a hand to her chin, Amalia considered their words. It took her a moment, but the glimmer returned to her eyes as soon as the proverbial bulbshroom lit up in her head.

“Okay, I think I have just the thing.”

The two brothers kept their attentive gaze on the Divine Doll, exchanging curious glances, eager to see what she’d come up with. Said eagerness was mostly reflected by Yugo, his body subconsciously leaning forward as he waited at the edge of his seat, both metaphorically and literally. Adamaï, as usual, was more subdued, with his long tail wrapped around him as he leaned back with his arms crossed, but even he had an eyebrow raised in anticipation.

Standing several metres away from them, likewise occupying the same space they had sparred in, Amalia planted her bare feet on the ground firmly, taking the earthy feeling in as she widened her stance just the tiniest bit. Taking a deep breath, she snapped her eyes shut and brought her hands to her chest, just below her chin, facing each other while three of her fingers touched their counterpart, and concentrated.

It was a process she always found as easy as breathing, the real challenge being stretching her skills to their full potential. As such, the moment she found her centre, her energy convening at her core, the doll blinked her eyes open, her eyebrows creased in determination. Not wasting a single second, she separated her hands and brought them back together with a clasp, an orb of greenish energy materialising between her palms.

Her little audience’s eyes widened in shock when as soon as the light came, it disappeared, but she paid them no mind, her focus on the task at hand. Under Yugo and Adamaï’s awed expressions, Amalia bent her body forwards and lifted it back up, her arms high in the air, in quick succession. Immediately after, a large, thick vine erupted from underneath her, raising its summoner high above.

The Emerald Twins leaned back in their makeshift seats, slightly disappointed. They both winced as discreetly as they could and shared a glance. They didn’t want to look down on Amalia’s efforts, but summoning plants was already second nature to her, so they didn’t understand why she’d want to show them that in particular. Surely, she’d learned many new tricks with Glip?

It wouldn’t be long until they’d finally understand why summoning her vines was so important to Amalia.

They’d long learned Amalia, and they assumed by extension all Sadida, used their vines as means of transportation, or even as a makeshift harness. The doll had demonstrated as such many times. But never in a million years did they expect to witness just how agile they were on those things. Even if they couldn’t just jump from portal to portal like their people did, their technique was nothing to scoff at.

There she was, blowing them away with her control over plants. What started out as her simply summoning a bramble soon evolved into a more complicated and elaborate acrobatic display—almost like a dance.

They watched as the verdant serpent she was on twisted and curled on itself, the doll’s balance impeccable no matter how much the plant stretched and threatened to shake her off. To the untrained eye, it would all see effortless, but Yugo and Adamaï, the former especially, caught the subtle changes in her posture to better control her centre of gravity—she would bend her knees or shift her weight from one feet to the other with every twist and turn the vine took. But no matter what, Amalia stayed on top.

Eventually, the bramble began its steep ascension, its stem arching the higher it went. While the pair of siblings expected that to be the end of Amalia’s demonstration—as no amount of shifting her posture could save her from gravity—the Sadida Doll surprised them yet again when, just as the vine reached its peak, finally throwing her off, she pointed one glowing hand at the ground as she summoned yet another bramble that allowed her to harmlessly roll off until she was back on ground level.

Now that she had two ‘assistants’ at her disposal, the doll smirked. The real fun could finally begin.

Yugo could only stare, speechless, as Amalia showed off her skills, taking his breath away in the process. Now that there were two different vines, the doll could stage a pretend battle. The original plant seemed to gain a mind of its own, for it kept moving on its own accord, trying to hit a moving target; Amalia. In turn, mounted on the newly-formed plant, she easily out-maneouvred her adversary, expertly dodging each hit directed at her.

At one point, when both brambles were close enough, feeling lucky, she took a gamble that would have made an Ecaflip proud. She leapt from the vine she was currently standing on and, with an elegant twirl in mid-air, she landed right on top of the opposite plant. Incapable of helping herself, she quickly turned her head back to her gaping audience and winked coyly, the action sending a hurricane of butterflies fluttering in the king’s stomach.

“For someone who’d much rather keep her feet on the ground, she’s not half bad in the air.” Adamaï observed, his voice low as his draconic eyes followed her every movement.

“Yeah…” Yugo breathed out, his brain turned into mush at the display.

For her part, that little stunt seemed to have taken more out of Amalia than she cared to admit, so, panting slightly, she decided to call it a day. With a gesture of her hands, the vine she was on lowered her back to the training grounds, right before disappearing right alongside its counterpart.

Her breath coming out in short puffs due to the physical exertion, the doll wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her neck. And promptly pulled a face. Urgh, she hated when she got all sweaty. It was just gross.

She didn’t have much time to dwell on the inherent grossness of her bodily functions before she found herself being scooped up by two strong, caring arms she was pleased to admit she was growing quite familiar with. Her expression softened, colour blooming on her cheeks.

“That—was—awesome!” Yugo laughed, twirling the doll around and eliciting a small shriek to leave her throat. Still grinning down at her like a maniac, he gently placed her feet back on the ground, although his arms never quite freed her waist. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Amalia stared up at him, dazed, for a few more seconds, before his broad grin turned smaller and expectant and, with a start, she finally realised he was waiting for an answer.

She lowered her brown gaze in a moment of self-consciousness, brushing her bangs away for the sole purpose of giving her fingers something to do that didn’t involve squeezing his biceps in appreciation. “To be honest, neither did I… At first.” She added, finally looking back at him with a little more confidence.

“I take it Glip had a hand in helping you achieve your full potential?” Adamaï guessed, closing the distance between them with a mighty flap of his wings, before folding them back into his back.

Amalia nodded. “Yeah. My vines have always been my go-to defence mechanism, but Glip told me a few weeks back that I should diversify my rooster lest I become too repetitive. Or, worse, predictable.”

“That sounds like Glip, yes. And it is actually good advice.” Yugo noted with a nod of approval. As an experienced warrior himself, there were few lessons that were more important than keeping your enemies on their toes with an unpredictable strategy.

“Right. So while we’ve been working on expanding my repertoire, he also suggested I try to take the abilities I had already mastered to the next level. So, I’ve been working on moving alongside my vines and learning how to dodge with them.”

“Well, we’ll let our brother know you’re making great progress during the Council’s next meeting.” Adamaï promised, earning himself a giggle and a ‘Thank you’ from the doll. “Although, knowing Glip, he’ll probably tell us he already knows.” He winked down at her knowingly, causing the girl to giggle harder and admit he was probably right.

While Adamaï and Amalia talked, with the dragon sharing some tips of his own, the mention of their next Council meeting soured Yugo’s good mood suddenly, his previous proud smile fading into a thin line.

Lately, one of their most pressing matters to deal with during their meetings was finding ways of earning the Twelvians' acceptance. And to this day, it remained the one issue they made the least progress with.

Ever since the banquet at Bonta, things had been moderately peaceful—except for that elusive spy whose loyalties remained a mystery. It was as if the nations had resolved to leave them alone now that Amalia was by their side and they seemingly had their gods’ blessing, yet they still refused to fully accept them.

Yugo would be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping to hear more from Master Joris, or even the Sheran Sharms, the rulers of the Sadida Kingdom, but there had been no further attempt at communication from either. Their silence and lack of activity was beginning to become disheartening, if he was honest with himself.

While they originally believed it to be better to let the Twelvians come to them lest they risked rattling them further, as of late, the king and his siblings had resolved that maybe direct action on their part would be the best course of action. If the Twelvians didn’t come to them, then they would come to the Twelvians.

The only problem was that past experiences had taught them that may have an undesired effect. They couldn’t just present themselves in their respective kingdoms and demand their acceptance or even an audience with their leaders. They needed to find a way for their new neighbours to approach them, something that proved having the Eliatropes around would be beneficial to them.

But what?

“Yugo? Are you okay?” A sweet, melodic voice broke him out of his thoughts.

With a start, he turned to Amalia, his heart squeezing in his chest when he found her staring up at him with a furrowed brow, concern for him apparent in her depthless browns. A quick glance his way proved even Adamaï was looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah, everything is fine. Don’t worry.”

Judging from the way the confusion in her eyes gave way to annoyance, that wasn’t the answer she was expecting.

“Yugo…” She said sternly. Then, something he couldn’t quite describe flickered behind her eyes, prompting her to close them as she took a deep breath. When she opened them up again, her expression was much more understanding, encouraging even.

She took a step closer into his personal bubble and placed a deliciously warm hand against his chest. It’d be a miracle if she somehow missed the way his frenzied heart beat against her palm or how he gulped down nervously at her close proximity. All of a sudden, under her attentive gaze, for the first time since he could remember, his hood felt more oppressive than comforting. He had half the mind not to take it off.

He pointedly chose to avoid looking Adamaï in the eye. Knowing him, he’d have an insufferable smirk on his face.

“Yugo.” She repeated, this time gentler. “We promised we’d be more honest with each other from now on, remember?”

For a moment, Yugo contemplated doubling down on his insistence that everything was fine, not wanting Amalia to worry. However, her words and the memory of himself admitting he actually worried more when she wasn’t honest with him caused his throat to close up.

How could he demand total honesty and transparency from Amalia if he wasn’t willing to do the same for her?

Even if she couldn’t help him with his problem, getting it out of his system certainly couldn’t hurt.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. When he looked back at her, a small smile drew itself on his lips. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. Sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay.” She assured him. “I know what it’s like.”

The two of them shared a smile before a not-so-subtle cough coming from his dragon twin reminded the Eliatrope to get on with his explanation.

“Yeah, right. Well, you see.” He stammered, trying to find the words. “The thing is, the Council has been stuck for a while on how to foster more positive relationships with the Twelvians.”

“I thought the banquet at Bonta had been a success?”

“And it was! But, it’s also been our only success so far…” Yugo admitted sheepishly. He took the hand on his chest in his and led the doll back to sit on the stairs they had been using as bleachers, Adamaï following suit. “We kind of expected things to start looking up after that, but the other rulers haven’t exactly been reaching out to us ever since.”

“Oh.” Amalia said quietly, looking down at her lap in contemplation before her eyes flickered over to the Emerald Twins again. “And what do you have in mind to remedy that?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t really know what to do.” It was Adamaï who answered, his voice deep and monotonous. “Ideally, we could try gathering all leaders to Oma for a meeting similar to the one at Bonta, but even that poses a few logistical issues.”

The doll tilted her head in confusion. “Such as…?”

“Such as the fact that we have no way of contacting the other nations without risking our initiative being taken as an attack. Just as we don’t know what we can offer them, exactly, that will make them more receptive to our presence.” He revealed. He couldn’t help but sympathise with the way Amalia winced, he honestly felt like that too.

“Okay, so it’s definitely been hard. And the Twelvians haven’t exactly been making this any easier…” She conceded with a wince. “B-but you guys have so much to offer!”

“Thanks, Amalia. But we’re still feeling a little stumped.” Yugo appreciated her efforts to remain positive and cheer them up, but, unfortunately, they didn’t really amount to much.

The doll’s expression hardened, not in anger, but in conviction. “No, I mean it. It’s true I haven’t been able to see much of the world since I arrived, but from what little I did see, the Eliatropes are much more scientifically advanced than most races.

“In fact, from what I gathered at Bonta, some races would be much more willing to welcome you if you shared what you know. Think about all of Chibi and Grougal’s inventions! If they agree to it, you could offer to implement them on the World of Twelve, hence improving the lives of countless people! Races like the Feca or the Sufokians, in particular, would be beyond interested in the technological advances you could offer them.”

“You got all this from the banquet at Bonta?” Yugo raised an incredulous eyebrow at her, impressed.

She shrugged. “You’d be surprised by how much of my interactions with the Feca King and Prince Adale focused on them rambling on and on about their kingdoms’ latest innovations.”

“As promising as that idea sounds,” Adamaï cut in. He hated to be the voice of dissent, but he knew better than to let themselves get their hopes up for nothing. “There’s this one little problem.”

“Another?!” The doll was beginning to really hate that word.

“Afraid so. You see, as I’m sure you remember from when you helped them create the Magnolias,” the dragon couldn’t help but smirk at the small blush that dusted her features because of his praise, “Chibi and Grougal are having trouble finding suitable replacements for the materials we used back home. Even if we promised to share our technology with the Twelvians, nothing guarantees we will be able to fulfill our end of the deal soon enough so they don’t grow suspicious.”

“Not to mention the sheer danger of revealing just how advanced we are compared to them.” Yugo pointed out, his brows brought together into a despondent frown. “Instead of seeing it as an opportunity to reach a mutually beneficial agreement, they could always come to consider us an even bigger threat.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The doll let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping forward in defeat before her head came to rest on her palms. “And even if you did manage to summon them here, it’s very difficult to reach Oma Island.”

“Exactly. Especially without those recall potions Master Joris gave us.” Adamaï agreed.

Unbeknownst to them, the three of them had come to adopt similar postures—sitting on top of the same row of steps, their bodies slumped forward as their heads rested on either one or both of their hands, a despondent look on their faces.

“Which also happens to be very expensive. And seeing as we can’t exactly become part of their economic system without their approval for everything else, it’s not like we can afford to buy them either way.” Yugo reminded them, his voice resigned.

“We could always try pleading our case during one of their council meetings?” Adamaï suggested, only to flinch under his brother’s unamused look.

“After last time?” The king asked rhetorically. “No, thank you. I would like to avoid incurring their wrath to the point of being sent over a dozen warriors after my head yet again if possible.”

“It’s a pity there aren’t Zaap Portals all over the World of Twelve…” Amalia muttered wistfully. “That would make transportation so much easier and cheaper.”

Unbeknownst to the doll, while she let out a dejected sigh, Yugo and Adamaï perked up at her words, their eyes equally wide and their mouths hanging open as realisation struck them. How come they never thought of that before?

Before she even had time to register what was going on, Yugo grabbed her by the arms and turned her blinking face to his. He was beaming so widely that, besides making her heart skip a beat, he could have lit up the darkest night.

“Amalia, you’re a genius!”

“Why, thank you. I know.” She smirked, tucking some hair behind her ear coyly. Her brow then scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

“You just gave us the perfect solution to our problem!”

“I-I did?!”

“Yeah!” Yugo laughed. He was starting to sound a little deranged, if she was being honest with herself. “You’re right! The World of Twelve would benefit from our Zaaps!”

“But I thought you said you couldn’t risk the Twelvians feeling threatened over how advanced you actually are?”

“True, but this can be easily explained!” He insisted, his grin never faltering.

“Oh, great…” The doll muttered, her smile strained. She turned to look at his dragon brother over his shoulder, hoping he would clear things up for her. “Ad…?”

Taking pity on the poor doll’s confused state and wincing internally at his twin’s overly intense excitement, Adamaï placed a hand on Yugo’s shoulder, quietly telling him to ease up. “Easy, Lil’ Bro. You’re scaring her.”

“Oh.” Yugo immediately deflated. He sent an apologetic look at Amalia. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine!” She said a little too quickly, splaying her hands in front of her. “It’s fine, really. I… Uh… I would just appreciate it if you could tell me why Zaap Portals are such a great idea. That’s all.”

“Right.” The Eliatrope nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his own excitement down, before he began to explain. “The thing is, us introducing the Zaaps to the Twelvians doesn’t immediately out us as all that much more technologically advanced as them.”

“Oh?” The doll tilted her head, urging him to continue.

“Because, that’s the thing—they’re portals! They already know that’s what we Eliatropes specialise in!”

“So, in their eyes, it wouldn’t be far-fetched that we applied our magic for more practical uses.” Adamaï pointed out.

“Exactly.” Yugo agreed. “After all, isn’t that something incredibly common regardless of our race? You know, applying our natural abilities to make our daily lives easier?” His tone turned downright earnest as he took the doll’s hands in his and looked her straight in the eye. “Didn’t you say crafting magical dolls is a Sadida thing and not just something your family can do? This is the same! There’s no reason for them to suspect us for this.”

For a moment, Amalia just looked down at their clasped hands, the stitches in her head tightening. When they put it like that, it made perfect sense. It was clear the World of Twelve was lacking in safe and affordable means of transportation, the Zaaps would really be the perfect solution. He was also right to point out the natives of this world were constantly putting their natural abilities to more mundane uses. Prince Adale spent a good chunk of their conversation talking about how the Sufokians’ stasis manipulation allowed them to improve almost all aspects of their daily life—machinery, technology, architecture…

The fact that a race known specifically for being able to bend space to their will was capable of creating effective means of transportation should come as no surprise to anyone.

“There’s also the fact that your Zaaps still have a few limitations…” She mumbled, mostly to herself, after a few minutes, remembering a previous conversation she had with Yugo. She looked up at the king with questioning, but hopeful, eyes. “Wouldn’t that also make things more believable?”

Her cheeks grew warm when he smiled down at her fondly, his brown gaze soft as he regarded her with so much affection it made her heart squeeze in her chest.

“Absolutely.” He told her, his voice warm. “See, Amalia? We just found the perfect solution, and it was all thanks to you.” Her breath caught in her throat at his tenderness. “What would I ever do without you?”

His words sent a jolt down her spine. She wanted to tell him it was her who was thankful for having him in her life. He had no idea how much. She wanted to tell him how excited she felt to spend time with him, how safe she felt in his arms, how much she appreciated everything he did for her. She wanted to tell him just how happy he made her.

Whatever this feeling was whenever she was around Yugo, it only grew stronger by the day, and he didn’t even know it.

“I…” But before she had the chance to even try to find the words that were clamouring to be set free, a flash of light from the corner of her eye interrupted her.

A gasp left her throat as she, Yugo, and Adamaï turned around to identify the interruption. The doll could only blink in confusion at the sight of the familiar purple cloak covering the entirety of the person’s form except for their eyes.

An Eliatrope guard.

“What is the meaning of this, soldier?” Yugo demanded, his voice turning authoritative as it only really did in times of crisis. Immediately, his head spun with possibilities. Were they under attack? Had the spy returned? Were they in danger? What about Amalia?

“Apologies for the interruption, my King.” The guard replied, bending down on one knee with his head bowed as a sign of respect. “But I come bearing urgent news.”

Adamaï frowned. “What is it?”

The guard’s expression was resolute even behind his mask.

“Bonta’s ambassador, Master Joris, has returned and requests an audience with the Council. He awaits in the throne room.”

The three of them exchanged shocked glances. Talk about timing…

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

Not wanting to keep their unexpected guest waiting, especially when they had actually been hoping to hear more from him since the last time they saw each other, with a hasty apology to Amalia, Yugo teleported the three of them into the throne room.

Since the portal opened up right above the throne, Yugo let himself plop down on it. He waited with open arms for Amalia to come falling down as well, catching her with ease when she finally made it to the other side safely, before, with a smile that she returned, gently depositing her on the ground next to him. Adamaï, for his part, glided out of the portal and came to rest on the other side of him, tucking his wings away as soon as he made contact with the ground.

By the time they arrived, Master Joris was standing in the middle of the spacious room, just like the first time they met, and the rest of the Council was already there, each of them waiting for their king in their respective positions.

They all sent meaningful glances their brother’s way. Now that they were finally there, the meeting could begin.

“Master Joris, it has been a while.” Yugo started out politely, yet his voice still carried authority. “I trust everything is well?”

“Greetings, King Yugo. Esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council.” The little man nodded his head in acknowledgment, his eyes flickering to the king’s side. “Lady Amalia.”

She returned his greeting. “Master Joris.”

Beyond that, Amalia resolved to remain silent yet pay attention in case her input was needed. After all, even if the Bontarian had requested her presence as well, she was still just a guest, not a full-fledged member of the Council of Six. The last thing she wanted was to overstep her boundaries, no matter how much trust Yugo and his siblings placed on her.

However, she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering curiously. Even if the throne room wasn’t exactly new to her, she really hadn’t had much reason to enter since her arrival, as well as Master Joris’. Even as her eyes lit up in appraisal at the turquoise hue of the chamber, and she sent a knowing look the Ebony Twins’ way in response to the beauty of its architecture, what never failed to enrapture her was the throne.

It wasn’t a mere seat. Not even a symbol of Yugo’s position and power. But a veritable work of art—a sculpture with practical purposes. Raised majestically behind Yugo were the pair of skillfully sculpted dragon wings that, not unlike their king, oversaw the space.

Not for the first time, the doll didn’t miss the mysterious crevices that adorned the piece. Six in total, they were oval-shaped, each of them strategically located all over the throne wings. However, this time Amalia couldn’t help but squint at them, the stitches in her head tightening as she racked her brain, trying to understand why they were suddenly so familiar.

And then, it hit her.

They were the exact same shape and size as the Dofus Mina and Phaeris had wielded during the Sacred Dance Day ceremony!

“So that’s why I saw them carrying that chest out of the room that day,” she thought to herself, finally understanding. “They actually keep the Dofus hidden here.”

Then again, why did they have Dofus at all? As far as she was concerned, the Eliatropes and their dragon siblings had nothing to do with Osamodas and his Primordial Dragons. So why did they possess them in the first place? And six in total? Judging from what little she did know about the topic, it was extremely weird to find more than one Dofus, let alone be entrusted by more than one dragon to become its guardian. And most Dofus, while powerful in their own right, didn’t hold a candle to the Primordial ones. Then why and how…?

She was startled out of her thoughts by the realisation that the conversation was still going on around her, and she had barely paid any attention despite her earlier resolve. Shaking her head and stowing those questions for later, the doll returned her full attention to the conversation at hand.

While Amalia had been pondering, unbeknownst to the other occupants of the room, the Bontarian went on, “My apologies for intruding upon your territory announced yet again, Your Majesty. Worry not, everything is well.”

“Then what is the meaning behind your visit, Little One?” Efrim questioned, his lips contorted into a snarl.

As much as his people needed the natives’ approval, he couldn’t afford to lower his guard, especially not around someone who effortlessly managed to incapacitate their guards not that long ago. For all they knew, his mistresses could turn against them in the blink of an eye.

“Efrim!” Nora hissed through gritted teeth, her pink eyes narrowing into a glare at her twin. Her features softened and became apologetic as she turned her focus back to their visitor. “I apologise on behalf of our brother, Master Joris. He is a firm proponent of being cautious.”

But the little man simply shook his head. “No apologies needed, Lady Nora. I understand Master Efrim’s concerns. That is why I came here, to assuage them.”

“And we thank you for your visit.” Qilby spoke up, adjusting his glasses. “Although, I think my siblings will be in agreement with me that we need a more practical method to know of your arrival before the fact. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The way he smirked down at him shot shivers down the Bontarian’s spine, but he made sure to hide his discomfort around the enigmatic Eliatrope. Joris made it a point to keep a close eye on Qilby during the banquet at Bonta, yet he was forced to admit he failed to really understand what made him tick. He couldn’t explain it. The bespectacled Eliatrope seemed perfectly cordial and cultured at first glance, but there was something about him that was quite… unsettling.

He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“I will suggest we form a better line of communication to the Queens of Bonta, Master Qilby.” He said curtly, his face not betraying a single emotion. “I regret to inform you, however, that I wasn’t sent here solely on their behalf.”

Joris’ careful scrutiny of the eldest Eliatrope was interrupted by Yugo’s warm yet commanding voice, his posture upon his throne exuding refinement and, dare he say, cautious excitement?

Huh, perhaps his visit wouldn’t be as unwanted as they had feared.

“Then, pray tell,” the king began, polite as always. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

His dragon twin was much more blunt. “And if you’re not here just because Queens Astra and Selene sent you, who did you come here for?”

Joris raised an imperceptible eyebrow underneath his hood. Master Adamaï was as perceptive as always, it seemed. It was a good thing he wasn’t trying to hide anything. He honestly feared it would take the formidable Council of Six no time to see right through him even in spite of his many years in this line of work.

“I see nothing gets past you, Master Adamaï.”

“You’re the one who implied there’s a third party involved, Master Joris.” He pointed out, impassive. “I am simply giving you a chance to come clean.”

The Emerald dragon could sense his twin’s warning glance stare a hole in the side of his head, cautioning to weigh his words for this was the chance they had been waiting for to really mark a difference in the World of Twelve. Accusing the Bontarian and earning his mistrust would only do more harm than good.

Adamaï had to resist the urge to scoff. Out of the two of them, he wasn’t the impulsive, emotion-driven twin. Thank you very much. He was perfectly capable of treating the situation with the tact it required.

Luckily for the dragon, this time Joris had no intention of playing coy and withholding information from them.

“No need for that, Master Adamaï. I assure you, I fully intended to make my intentions clear from the very beginning.”

“Well, then, let us hear what you have to say.” Mina took a step forwards, directing attention to herself. She raised a hand in the Bontarian’s direction. “Master Joris, you have our full, undivided attention. As our King said, to what do we owe your visit?”

Although he did take a minute to send a grateful nod her way, his response was measured, yet straightforward. “I come on behalf of King Oakheart Sheran Sharm and Crown Prince Armand Sheran Sharm, from the Sadida Kingdom.”

That immediately got Amalia’s attention, who took a subconscious step closer towards the emissary, eager to hear what her father’s people wanted from the Eliatropes. And she wasn’t the only one who perked up at the mention of those names. Every single member of the Council of Six stood on alert at the news, exchanging uneasy glances and telepathic conversations as they wondered what this could be about.

Yugo’s interest in particular was second only to Amalia’s, his body leaning forward until he was quite literally on the edge of the throne. He might be a near immortal demigod, but at this rate the anticipation would kill him!

“Well? And what do the Sheran Sharm want from us?” He urged.

Every pair of eyes present in the room widened as they followed Master Joris’ own unsubtle line of sight—straight to a startled Amalia.

Feeling all eyes on her, the Divine Doll raised a trembling hand and pointed at her chest. “M-me? They want me?”

Phaeris immediately got on the defensive, smoke coming out of his nostrils. “Phaeris hopes they remember Lady Amalia was specifically entrusted to our people by the twelve gods themselves. They have no right demanding we hand her over now like some sort of possession!” He snapped, a loud growl emanating from his throat.

Yugo was about to agree just as fiercely, his eyes beginning to turn into a vibrant shade of blue, when Master Joris scrambled to explain, shaking his head profusely with his gloved palms up in surrender.

“Please, none of that, Your Excellencies! Quite the opposite, in fact!” When he sensed the hostile atmosphere returning to neutrality, the Council offering him one chance to explain himself, he went on. “King Sheran Sharm sees nothing wrong with Lady Amalia staying with you, Your Majesty, as I am sure you will remember from when you met him firsthand in Bonta.”

It was true. Although they didn’t get to interact much, Yugo especially remembered how Sadida’s followers were amongst the most welcoming Twelvians back at the banquet, especially their king. A man as kind and wise as he was large. The Eliatrope distinctly remembered thinking King Oakheart was probably centuries younger than him, yet he had the feeling he could still learn a thing or two himself.

Prince Armand, his son and heir, on the other hand, was considerably rough around the edges, although he too seemed to just be looking out for his kingdom, and he didn’t hesitate to defer to his father’s authority.

Hearing from them after so long, especially given their unique connection to Amalia, tied a knot at the pit of his stomach. From anticipation or dread, he wasn’t sure.

“That is true.” He said at last, noticing he accidentally allowed for his silence to stretch on too long. “Then, what does such an esteemed king require from us?” His eyes briefly flickered over to Amalia, but it was enough for the ambassador to understand the hidden meaning of his words.

He allowed a small smile to grace his features to show he bore them no ill will. “The Sheran Sharms cordially invite you to their kingdom for a celebration in Lady Amalia’s honour. As I am sure you will understand, her existence is of great importance to them, and they wish for their people to meet their god’s youngest child.” He turned to the doll as he said this, his smile becoming more genuine under her astonished, yet moved, brown eyes. “Naturally, even though Her Grace will be the guest of honour, they also expect you, King Yugo, to go, alongside an entourage of your choosing.”

For a moment, words failed the king. Could it be? Could they really get so lucky so as to receive such a perfect opportunity to forge a potential alliance with a nation as highly regarded as the Sadida just as they’d found the perfect way to integrate themselves into their society?

Truth be told, Yugo didn’t actually know which position the Sadida Kingdom held within the World of Twelve. However, judging from what Amalia told them about her father’s people, their ample resources by virtue of being connected to nature itself, and everything they’d already witnessed the Sadida Doll was capable of, it stood to reason that they were truly powerful allies to have.

Forgoing all protocol for a moment, he shot Amalia a delighted smile that she returned with an adorable, fanged grin of her own. One that soon softened as the love and appreciation he felt for her threatened to overwhelm his poor heart. This really was all thanks to her.

Adamaï discreetly clearing his throat saved him from accidentally getting lost in her bark-like eyes and his lovesick daydreams.

Straightening himself up, the Eliatrope King cleared his own throat behind a closed fist, willing the blush heating up his cheeks to stand down. “Yes, um, thank you, Master Joris. Please, do express our gratitude to King Sheran Sharm.”

“Should I also tell him you accept his invitation?”

It was Chibi who cut in, his voice and stance almost uncharacteristically professional as he tackled the issue at hand. “With all due respect, if it’s not much trouble, I think I speak for the Council of Six when I say it might be better if you return in a week’s time, Master Joris. As I am sure you will understand, we have much to deliberate before we can give you a definite answer.”

“Of course, I understand.” He nodded. Then, he turned back to Yugo. “I shall let the Sheran Sharms know of your decision, King Yugo. As Master Chibi suggested, I will return in seven days to hear your final decision on the matter.”

“Thank you for understanding, Master Joris.”

“No, thank you, Your Majesty.”

And with that, he fished a recall potion out of his cloak pocket, gulped the whole bottle in one go, and, in a flash of light, the little man was gone.

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

Needless to say, the moment Master Joris left them alone, the members of the Council found themselves with much to deliberate on.

After a hasty explanation and goodbye to Amalia, who returned to her chambers to rest as soon as the initial bewilderment wore out, Yugo and his siblings wasted no time making their way over to the Council Room. No sooner was everyone at their prospective seats, the impromptu meeting began.

“This is wonderful news!” Mina cheered, her hands clasped before her face as her dark eyes darted across her siblings, seeking their shared excitement. “After so long, we have finally been granted another chance to forge a strong alliance with a Twelvian nation. Oh, we absolutely must accept their invitation.”

Yugo couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t every day their level-headed, diplomatic, and composed sister showed her emotions so openly. He always knew she and Phaeris were the most vocal in their support of a peaceful coexistence between their people and the natives of this world, but for her to react like that… It was only yet another testament of how much this invitation could mean for them.

“Not so fast, Mina dear.” Qilby interjected, raising a finger. “Just because the Sheran Sharms have made the first move, that doesn’t mean they’ve shown us all their cards yet.”

“‘Shown us all their cards’?” Nora parroted with a brow arched, incredulous. She huffed. “You sound like an Ecaflip.”

Qilby just shrugged. “It is a rather fitting metaphor.”

Their incoming bickering session was cut short by Glip slamming his staff hard against the floor to gain their attention.

“I concur with Qilby. This could very well be a trap.”

Glip couldn’t help but flinch in shame under the betrayed look their king shot him, but he had to stand by what he said. While he hoped their race could live peacefully in this world and he had long accepted Amalia into their lives, that didn’t mean he had to trust her people. For all they knew, this was all part of a carefully calculated plot.

“What?!” Chibi sputtered, with Grougaloragran nodding by his side, showing his support of his twin. “Are you even hearing yourselves? Brothers, Sisters, we have just received an invitation from a native nation. We are one step closer to being able to call this world our new home at last! This alone calls for a celebration, yet you choose to focus your efforts into mistrusting our potential hosts instead?”

“Not to mention, the fact that said hosts happen to be Amalia’s people does not allow for us to freely decline either way.” Grougaloragran pointed out.

“I was under the impression that this was an invitation, not a threat?” Efrim wondered aloud. Despite his sarcastic tone, for once, he was being genuine.

Opportunity or not, they could always decline to go! Eliatrope knew the Twelvians had been declining most, if not all, of their attempts at forging political and diplomatic ties countless times since they arrived… Surely, they couldn’t expect them to just take everything they threw at them and roll over like some well-trained Bow Wow.

“It is an invitation, but it would also be extremely disrespectful of us to refuse them.” Baltazar reasoned. Seeing his youngest brother’s disbelieving sapphire orbs staring back at him, he let out a patient sigh. “Lady Amalia is their patron god’s daughter. Her mere existence is of great importance to them. Refusing them the chance to meet such an important cultural figure would essentially be like spitting on their beliefs.”

“Think of it this way,” Shinonomé chimed in, her golden eyes picking up on Efrim’s lack of conviction. “If one of us were being housed by the Sadida, our people would also like to see us, therefore, how would we take it if they were to refuse our pleas?”

“As a deep insult to our race; a direct attack against us and our goddess.” Efrim heaved a heavy sigh, understanding their point despite himself.

The dragoness smirked. “Precisely.”

“We cannot forget Amalia’s connection to the Sadida is also deeply beneficial to us.” Adamaï pointed out, finally addressing the non-Eliatrope dragon in the room. “Her connection to us should help us establish political ties with the Sadida, which at the same time could very well be the first step into being accepted by the rest of the nations.”

“But what if it is not?” Phaeris ventured, surprising everyone in the room, even his twin sister. It was safe to say they had all been expecting the Ochre Twins to be of the same mind on this issue, as they were wont to do.

In a way, even if it was in his nature, it was extremely jarring to see him remain rooted to realism and reasonable doubt when Mina was so enthused by the idea. Her stricken face was proof enough that not even she had seen it coming.

However, as much as Yugo hated to admit it, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach at the mere implication, Phaeris’ reaction wasn’t completely out of the blue. Unlike how he’d usually conduct himself, when Master Joris first brought the topic up, he didn’t wait until the Bontarian was finished saying his piece. He got straight to the point and demanded to know if King Oakheart and Prince Armand planned to take Amalia back and away from them.

A point he didn’t hesitate to reiterate.

“What if the Sheran Sharms are luring us into a fake sense of security and all they want is to whisk our ticket to acceptance away?” He questioned aloud. “What if this is all a trap to snatch Lady Amalia from us while they have the home field advantage? Phaeris can’t help but fear they might use the chance to distort everything by making it look like we attacked their kingdom and they were simply defending themselves, giving the other rulers yet another reason to distrust us—!”

His anguished spiels were cut short by his sister’s comforting hand on his claw. Her dark eyes big and tender as she pleaded for her brother to calm down and come back to her. There was no need to anguish over the ‘what ifs’ that had yet to pass. It was imperative they focused on the present.

The cyan dragon sat back down, his breathing laboured. “Phaeris apologises. He let his worries get the best of him.”

“No need.” Efrim dismissed it with a wave of his claw, leaning back in his chair with his tail thumping rhythmically against the floor. “All you did was speak the truth. To quote Qilby and his Ecafliphile ways, it is too high a gamble to just trust these people blindly.”

“That could not be any more different from what I said.” Qilby grumbled, his nose scrunched up in distaste. Given his astounding memory, he did not appreciate it when people twisted his words and presented them as fact. It was an insult to his divine gift. His scowl deepened. “And I am not an Ecafliphile!”

But his complaints went ignored.

“It is not too high a gamble because there is no gamble at all.” Mina countered resolutely, her eyes narrowed on her little brother in annoyance.

“How can you be so sure?” Nora asked. She was still a little miffed at her twin for his flippant attitude towards the entire meeting, but she didn’t say anything because she was hoping to smooth things out with him soon enough. However, that didn’t stop her from secretly enlisting their siblings' help to make him see reason.

At that, the cyan-clad Eliatrope smirked. “Because if we were truly in danger, Chibi would have had a vision of it.”

In an instant, all eyes were on the prophet, who couldn’t help but flinch under such intense scrutiny. “Truth be told, it depends…” He sputtered, fidgeting with his cloak. Sometimes he really hated his divine gift and the difficult positions it put him in. “It’s not an exact science nor do I get a significant tingle whenever danger is lurking around the corner, but…” He shrugged, humming. “Yes, I suppose if something important truly were to happen at the Sadida Kingdom, I would have had a vision about it, which I didn’t.”

As their siblings began to murmur amongst themselves, discussing the potential dangers and benefits behind paying the Sadida Kingdom a visit, Yugo exchanged a meaningful glance with Adamaï. No words were needed, not even telepathic. That very same day they had stumbled upon a possible solution to their problems and they weren’t going to let it get away. Nor were they going to keep it from the rest of the Council.

Yugo’s voice, composed yet authoritarian, cut through the rest of the Council’s conversation like a knife, demanding respect and that they focused their attention back to him from where he was, overseeing it all.

“If I may be so bold, I believe this is the perfect chance to reveal we have finally reached a possible solution to our problem with the Twelvians.”

“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?” Glip snarked, earning himself a stern nudge from Baltazar.

But Yugo just chuckled in good humour. “Of course. You’re right, I should have been more precise.” What he said next was no laughing matter. “Ad and I think we have finally found the perfect way to prove our worth to the natives and earn ourselves a place in their world.”

“What do you have in mind?” Shinonomé gasped, sharing a concerned yet discreet look with her twin.

Yugo looked as assured as ever as he leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table as he clasped his hands. “We’ll play to our strengths.”

“That’s not really an answer…” Glip pointed out again, frowning.

“All in due time.” Adamaï pacified him. “What matters now is deciding whether to accept the Sheran Sharms’ invitation or not.” He raised a claw up in the air, which was immediately followed by Yugo raising his own arm. “Those in agreement to accept, raise your hands.”

Besides the Emerald Twins, Mina, Chibi, and Grougaloragran also raised their hands, followed by Baltazar and, after a dubious look at her twin, Nora. Even though it seemed the choice had already been made, the white-and-blue dragon urged those in disagreement to vote. As expected, Efrim, Glip, Phaeris, and Qilby and Shinonomé raised their hands against going to the Sadida Kingdom. However, with seven of them for and the remaining five against it, it was clear what their next course of action would be.

“It’s settled then! In a week’s time, we will inform Master Joris that the Sadida should expect us.” Announced Yugo, clasping his hands with an air of finality.

Slouched in defeat in his seat, with his wings covering his body like a cloak, a brooding Phaeris let out a deep sigh.

“Phaeris just hopes we will not come to regret this.” He muttered in a voice so low, one would need to have an Ouginak’s sense of hearing to pick up on what he said. Or, at least, know him very well.

His sister squeezing his claw in reassurance brought the dragon back to reality. He turned to look at Mina questioningly, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. In turn, her eyes were full of empathy and comfort.

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about.” She told him softly, patting his claw affectionately. Her expression dimmed just the tiniest bit as she considered the most unfortunate possibilities. But she shook those thoughts away right after, the determined flicker he knew so well back in her alabaster eyes. “Phaeris, I understand your concerns. Better than anyone.”

“Phaeris has never doubted Mina’s ability to understand him—.” But she just interrupted him with a raised palm.

“I know. That’s not the point. The point is, Sadida himself entrusted Lady Amalia to us; that was his divine will. I highly doubt the Sadida will be impious enough to go against their god’s decision and essentially kidnap his daughter.

“Likewise, Lady Amalia has been living by our side for months, and it is clear to see she has grown quite fond of us—some more than others…” She sang knowingly, pointing subtly towards their king. Even if they didn’t share a psychic bond, Phaeris would have understood the double meaning behind her words. “It is extremely unlikely she would simply go along with an attempt at separating her from us. You can rest assured, Brother. Everything will be fine.”

The cyan dragon exhaled slowly through his nose, but he sent his sister a small smile nonetheless. “May Eliatrope hear you, Sister.”

Their heads snapped back to the sound of their king’s voice reverberating around the room. At some point, he stood up from his seat and was currently sweeping over his siblings with his eyes, his hands on his hips during his appraisal.

“Very well, in that case, all that remains is choosing who will accompany Amalia to the Sadida Kingdom.” He brought a hand to his chest to point at himself. “As King of the Eliatropes and the one Amalia’s closest to, naturally, I will be going.”

“Naturally…” Nora rolled her eyes good-naturedly, an amused smirk on her face. She let out a yelp and almost fell off her chair when her big brother entered one hand through one of his portals with the sole purpose of flicking her on the forehead from the other end.

“Jerk…” She grumbled, glaring daggers at Yugo.

But her brother just went on as if nothing had happened. “Anybody else wishes to join us?”

Adamaï let out an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh. “Well, if you’re going, then I suppose I’m coming with you.” He smirked, an excited glint in his eyes. “Somebody has to watch over you to make sure you don’t mess up, right?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Yugo deadpanned, but he was smiling.

Despite his previous objections, Qilby raised a finger. Deep down, Yugo didn’t even know why he was surprised. The eldest Eliatrope always found flaws in everything, yet he was also very quick to invite himself to any and all kinds of events that would allow him to explore and entertain his mind for a while.

“If it’s not much trouble,” he started purposefully, his hazel eyes narrowing behind his glasses at the way the king was looking at him. “I would very much like to go. This is the perfect chance to explore Sadida culture up close. As accommodating as Lady Amalia is, nothing can compare to really immersing yourself in a culture to truly understand it. That is also why getting to meet the Sheran Sharms in Bonta wasn’t enough, either.”

“Very well, Qilby. Thanks for your help.” Yugo said, trying very hard to suppress an exasperated sigh. At the same time, Adamaï addressed the eldest dragoness. “What about you, Shinonomé? Would you like to come as well?”

But the ruby-scaled woman just shook her head politely. “As much as I would love to learn more about Sadida’s worshippers, I’m afraid I must decline. Given Qilby’s inquisitive nature, somebody must remain behind and look after the clinic in case medical attention is needed while you’re away.”

“Of course. Thank you, Shinonomé. Hopefully, you will be able to accompany us soon.”

“Yes, soon.”

The king directed his focus to the Ebony Twins. They were raising their hands, clearly volunteering themselves, but, much to his chagrin, Yugo had no choice but to shoot them down. “Chibi, Grougal? I’m sorry, but we’re going to need you to stay behind.”

“What?! Why?” Chibi sputtered, shocked.

“Grougaloragran and Chibi should get to decide whether they go to the Sadida Kingdom or not.” The black dragon added, more than a little petulantly, as he crossed his arms and huffed out a puff of smoke from his nostrils.

“I know, and I am sorry for removing your autonomy on the matter. But we need you here.”

“Why?” Chibi raised an eyebrow, sceptical.

“Because we need you to help us test and develop Amalia’s idea for earning the Twelvians’ acceptance.” Adamaï answered. “If all goes well, we could pitch our plan to King Oakheart and get his help in organising a meeting with the other royals. But we need you to tell us if it would be feasible first.”

The Ebony Twins took a moment to consider his words. After a beat, they exchanged purposeful nods and gave their consent to staying behind and working on verifying the applicability of Lady Amalia’s idea.

Yugo let out a relieved sigh at their begrudging consent. He really owed them one for their sacrifice.

“Very well, who’s next?”

Not surprisingly, Baltazar, Glip, and Mina chose to remain behind, wisely pointing out that with possibly half of the Council away, the other half should stay to oversee state affairs. Nobody could find fault in their reasoning, so they simply thanked them for their dedication and for covering for their parting siblings.

However, what nobody was counting on was Phaeris volunteering himself after so adamantly refusing to go in the first place.

“Phaeris, are you sure?” Adamaï asked, unsure himself. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he awaited for an answer. “We understand if you would rather not come…”

“Phaeris would feel more uneasy if he didn’t accompany his siblings, Adamaï.” He answered gravely, his bright eyes piercing his brother’s with their conviction. “After all, two dragons are better than one, and you will need all the help you can get.”

“Thank you, Phaeris.” The king nodded gratefully, smiling kindly at the cyan dragon in an attempt at imbuing him with the confidence he felt. “But you don’t have to worry. As Mina said, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“Won’t hurt to be prepared…” Efrim muttered through his teeth. He shot a glare at his twin sister when she nudged his side in disapproval.

Nora herself jolted in her seat when her older brother addressed her.

“What about you, Nora? Would you be interested in joining us?”

A huge grin split her face in two. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t be planning on joining you from the very beginning.” She huffed a chuckle through her nose. “Eliatrope knows somebody has got to keep an eye on you boys. I could never risk Amalia suffering from testosterone poisoning.”

While his brother shot her scathing looks, unamused by her comment, Shinonomé, never to turn down an opportunity to tease her little sister, couldn't help but poke fun at her.

“Do tell, Nora. Your willingness to go to the Sadida Kingdom wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that this is the perfect chance to see how Sadida women look. Now would it?”

Nora had the decency to grimace, blushing. All around her, the members of the Council snickered. It wasn’t every day the youngest Eliatrope got this flustered. “It’s not my fault the king’s entourage was formed exclusively by men…” She grumbled, pouting.

Before Yugo had the chance to make a joke of his own, his laughter was cut short by the most unexpected sight. Even more so than Phaeris volunteering himself. Because, leaning back against his seat beside his wide-eyed twin with an almost bored expression on his face, Efrim was raising his claw.

The tense silence that soon fell over the Council Room made it clear that the rest of its occupants had taken notice too.

“Is there anything you would like to share, Efrim?” He had to make sure.

The way his sapphire eyes blinked seemed almost offended. “Uh, yes. I believe this is the part where I sign up to go to the Sadida Kingdom?” He offered sarcastically. He then made a show of shaking his arm. “I was under the impression that it was done by raising your hand?”

While the Eliatrope King’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened like saucers, actions that his own dragon twin wasted no time mimicking, an astonished Chibi managed to perfectly encapsulate what Yugo and Adamaï couldn’t express due to their gawking.

“You want to go to the Sadida Kingdom?!” He all but screeched in disbelief. “You are aware there are Twelvians there, right?” Even with his teasing tone, it was plain to see the prophet was only half-joking. And the utter surprise in his voice didn’t help matters either.

His concerns were met with a scowl. “Thanks for the heads-up.” The periwinkle dragon grumbled, annoyed.

Baltazar, well aware of his younger brother’s animosity towards Amalia, furrowed his brow and exchanged a nervous glance with Glip. One thing was Efrim being rude and dismissive of the Sadida Doll on Oma Island, and even that bordered on inexcusable, but to risk his disdain for her show in the Sadida Kingdom, where she was revered as their god’s daughter and a symbol of prosperity by his worshippers…

Things could go downhill in the blink of an eye. They could not risk letting the opportunity they had been granted go to waste by being reckless.

“Efrim, are you sure?” The beige dragon started as diplomatically as possible, his raspy voice gentle and unaccusing. “We all know of the ups and downs of your relationship with Lady Amalia.” His blue eyes narrowed in intrigue when Nora flinched at his brother’s side, her brows pinched together in worry, but the young dragon in question didn’t seem too bothered so he let it slide. For now. “But we mustn’t forget we will be the ones in an unfamiliar land. A territory where she is worshipped like a goddess. Baltazar is sure Efrim does not wish to jeopardise this opportunity…”

“Please, Baltazar, spare me the sermon.” The young dragon cut him off, his voice harsh.

He hated feeling like this. Like he was some unstable brute who knew nothing of tact and finesse and needed to be watched over in case he messed up. He hated having his siblings’ unsure eyes on him, silently wondering if they weren’t about to make some grave mistake. And he especially hated feeling Nora pulling further and further away from him, the distance between them growing bigger by the day. The trepidation he felt at the mere idea of his own twin sister turning her back on him licked away at his heart like frozen fire, making his insides churn in apprehension.

And to think this was all because of that doll…

But he couldn’t give his siblings further reasons to deny his request. He had to remind them that he could be trusted. Because if you couldn’t trust your own family, who else could you trust?

“I assure you, I have no intention of doing anything to jeopardise our people’s chances of being accepted into this world.” The blue of his eyes was downright icy when they settled on Yugo. “I trust you are not doubting my loyalty and devotion to our nation?”

The king’s brown eyes hooded over in concern, the question hurting him more than he cared to admit. Of course he trusted his little brother! He was… He was his little brother. They had all been through too much together not to; but the truth of the matter was that Efrim had changed after the war. He was all that much confrontational and quick to expect the worst of anyone who wasn’t an Eliatrope. His treatment of Amalia was a prime example of that.

Likewise, said treatment had the unfortunate side effect of sending Amalia on edge whenever the youngest dragon was near her. Sadida might not possess their wakfu vision, but you would have to be blind not to see the way the Divine Doll tensed up in Efrim’s presence. If she showed signs of discomfort towards him in the presence of her father’s people… There were a lot of things on the line and a lot of things that could go wrong.

And yet…

“Very well, Efrim.” He said at last, drawing every pair of wide eyes towards him. Even Efrim seemed to be taken aback by his decision. “You are right. You would never do anything to harm our people. You may come if you so wish.” Just then, his tone turned serious and stern, his otherwise warm brown eyes, cold and unforgiving as he took on a stance befitting of his position as monarch. “However, I do ask that you are in your best behaviour around Amalia and her people. Can I trust you will not make a mockery of the trust I have decided to place on you?”

For a moment, Efrim wanted to protest the unfair treatment he was under. He was sure Yugo would never ask his precious flower to behave in his presence. It took every ounce of self-restraint he possessed not to scoff spitefully; instead, he let out a heavy sigh, understanding despite himself that their people did indeed need this alliance, and he couldn’t risk endangering it.

His own cobalt eyes pierced Yugo’s brown ones. “You can count on me, my King.”

With a final nod from their leader, the meeting was adjourned. In a week’s time, they would inform Master Joris, and subsequently the Sheran Sharms and their subjects, of their decision.

As the Council members filed out of the room, with Efrim slithering out of the door, those who would accompany Amalia to the Sadida Kingdom discreetly agreed to keep an eye on their brother, just in case.

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

Soon after the meeting let out, Yugo made a beeline for Amalia’s room, eager to tell her the good news. The way her eyes sparkled in delight and a dazzling grin stretched over her lips sent his poor heart into a frenzy, his mind scrambling to imprint the sight onto his brain. And even that couldn’t compete with the feeling of the doll’s petite yet stunning form moulding perfectly against his when she threw herself at him in elation. There was something deeply cathartic in holding Amalia in his arms.

Despite his accelerated heartbeat, her warmth meshing into his, the sweet scent of her intoxicating his senses, and her silky, emerald strands tickling his nose all allowed him to enter a most blissful state. A state where everything was right in the world and he could relax. Amalia’s proximity was like a balm, soothing his wounds.

His heart ached when he was forced to let go and tend to his duties for the day.

As promised, within the week Master Joris presented himself back inside the throne room. In spite of his stoic demeanour, there were enough small, almost imperceptible changes—like the way his face would twitch, almost as if fighting back a smile—that betrayed his true feelings. He was just as relieved that the Council had accepted the invitation as they were of receiving it.

A pleased smile drew itself onto Yugo and Adamaï’s faces at his reaction. Turns out, Bonta’s beloved hero wasn’t made out of stone, after all.

Right as the Bontarian assured them he would share the news with the Sheran Sharms, before taking his leave he made it a point to let them know that, despite his station, King Oakheart wasn’t an avid follower of frivolities or a strict adherence to protocol. Therefore, while they were free to do as they pleased, they were in no obligation to go out of their way and sport their most extravagant garments for the occasion. The king just hoped for a pleasant evening where everyone would be comfortable in each other’s presence.

Besides, most Sadida had never seen an Eliatrope in their life. They wouldn’t be able to tell their formal clothing from their informal garments anyway.

And so, after much deliberating and pouting from a disappointed Nora, it was agreed that they would not commission new clothing for the occasion. While their little sister hadn’t taken the news well, she eventually let the matter go when Mina pointed out the true guest of honour would be Amalia. If anyone deserved to shine amongst the Sadida, that was his eleventh Divine Doll.

When the king informed her of their decision, however, much to his surprise, the doll had politely declined their offer to call forth Mr. Needlesworth to start working on a new outfit for her. When asked about it, all she said was:

“Not that I doubt Mr. Needlesworth’s expert hands, but I have something else in mind.”

It wouldn’t be until the actual day of their trip to the Sadida Kingdom that Yugo would understand what she meant by that.

It was exactly a week after they informed Master Joris of their decision. In the following days, once the Sadida royal family had received the news of their upcoming visit, following Qilby’s pointed suggestion, the Bontarian handed them the method through which Twelvians communicated with each other—a Tofu bird capable of flying great distances and transmitting a spoken message.

Even Chibi and Grougal had been impressed by its simple ingenuity. Even so, they maintained the Magnolias were a much better alternative, as Tofu messaging only allowed for one-on-one conversations and it still took the poor bird too long to relay the message.

Nevertheless, it was thanks to that piece of Twelvian innovation that they settled on a date for their visit and they let the small man know which members of the Council of Six would accompany Amalia that day. With the arrival of a set of recall potions shortly after, they were all ready to go.

When the day finally came, the members of the Council were gathered in front of the large balcony overseeing their people. Right before leaving, much like last time, they would give a speech in commemoration of the great milestone they were about to reach before bidding their subjects goodbye. All they needed was for the guest of honour to make her grand entrance.

“Don’t worry, Yugo. We promise to use this time wisely to properly test out the portals.” Chibi assured his brother, his dragon twin nodding by his side. It was funny, in a way, he and Grougal were about to spend Eliatrope knows how long locked away in their workshop, and yet he looked much more regal than his brother and king did at the moment in his usual cloak and battlesuit combo.

There was a reason why he always went with gold-plated upper armour. It never went out of style.

Yugo placed a hand on the shoulders of both of them, his smile belying just how much trust he had for his genius siblings.

“Thank you, guys. I know you will not let me down.”

The moment was interrupted by Qilby’s amused voice, his words announcing the arrival they had all been waiting for.

“My, if this isn’t a trip down memory lane!”

Followed by Amalia’s soft giggling. “Thank you, Qilby. I thought it was only fitting.”

His brow furrowed in confusion at the conversation, Yugo peeked over Chibi and Grougal’s forms as they were unintentionally obstructing his view of Amalia. The moment he saw her, he understood completely—and his mouth went a little dry.

Talking to Qilby stood Amalia, decked out in a very familiar outfit. A very familiar outfit he hadn’t seen in months, since she first arrived at Oma Island, to be precise.

“Amalia.” She perked up at the sound of her name. Her eyes left Qilby as she turned to the origin of the voice, a small smile immediately plastering itself on her face at the sight of an approaching Yugo. “I’m guessing this is what you meant when you said you had something else in mind?”

She nodded with a laugh, opening her arms wide to gesture down at herself and her outfit. It had been so long, the Eliatrope had almost forgotten about the dress made out of autumn-like leaves that exposed delicious patches of her skin—her upper and lower back, her long, toned legs, her profile… Or the way her wild mane was delicately pulled up by that horned headband of hers, her ponytail standing tall and proud like a tree’s leaves in spring while delicate strands of emerald hair perfectly framed her face and draped down around her nape. As per usual with Amalia, who apparently couldn’t go a day without accessorising, she completed the look with matching green wristbands and anklets.

“I know King Oakheart insisted we didn’t need to dress up for the occasion, but these are my father’s people. I want to present myself as the Divine Doll that I am, and that means appearing as my father created me.” The doll explained, her brown eyes steely with resolve even as her voice held an unmistakable warmth.

For a moment, Yugo could only stare at her, taken aback, before his expression softened. He saw himself and his siblings reflected in her, in her devotion to her people just as they were devoted to theirs, even if her interactions with Sadida’s worshippers had been fairly limited.

A small gasp escaped her and her eyes flicked up and down when Yugo delicately took her hands in his, without so much as a warning, and leaned down so they were face to face.

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate everything you are doing for them.” He smiled.

She smiled right back. “That’s all I ask.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Nora’s teasing voice broke the spell, sending fire to their cheeks and causing them to turn back to her. “As much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, everyone is waiting.” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder to make her point. Suddenly, the impatient murmurs coming from below the palace became much louder.

The king’s face was scrunched up in annoyance at his sister’s dedication to embarrassing him for a second. Taking one deep breath as he willed himself to let it go—though not without swearing to get back at her later—, he nodded at his siblings, signalling it was time to get this show on the road.

“Let’s go.”

They all nodded back at him and started filing out of the corridor leading to the balcony and onto the veranda.

Amalia stayed behind for a moment, her own face scrunched up in confusion as she racked her brain to understand why Nora would call her and Yugo ‘lovebirds’. But those thoughts were banished from her mind when the Eliatrope in question bowed slightly and gestured for her to do the honours and lead the way.

“Are you ready?”

“Huh?” The doll blinked. Her eyes followed the direction his hands were pointing at until they reached the large balustrade keeping people from falling off the balcony in front of her and the backs of the already congregating members of the Council. The brightness coming from the outside world was a nice contrast to the faint light inside the palace walls. “Oh! Yes! Yes, of course.”

Without another word, the departing members of the Council of Six and the Sadida Doll emerged from within the shadows and stepped into the midday sun, coming into view of their loyal Eliatrope people, who watched with starry eyes. Even so, they would not have needed to say a word, for their subjects didn’t waste any time filling the silence with cheers at the sight of them.

As expected of his position as king, Yugo stepped forward and in front of his siblings and the doll, drawing all eyes to him, and addressed his subjects first, “My people! Today we have been granted with an opportunity we would be foolish to decline. As I am sure you all already know, recently, we received yet another visit from Master Joris, Bonta’s ambassador.

“However, much to our surprise, this time he wasn’t acting exclusively on behalf of his nation. He came with a message from King Oakheart Sheran Sharm,” his eyes flickered meaningfully over to Amalia, “ruler of the Sadida Kingdom.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, a chorus of gasps could be heard from down below. Just like their leader before them, in an instant, countless hopeful gazes flicked over to the Divine Doll. She seemed to shine like a beacon of hope; she was the key to their acceptance into this world.

Meanwhile, Yugo continued. “The royal family wished to invite Amalia to their territory as their guest of honour, so their people could meet their god’s child. And, naturally, as her hosts, we were invited as well.”

Then, it was Adamaï who took a step forward, coming to stand right beside his twin. “Of course, after some deliberation, we agreed; the advantages of such an arrangement far surpassing its risks. And here we are today, presenting ourselves before you right as we are about to set out on yet another diplomatic mission for the sake of our future.”

“Much like we did before we left for Bonta, we sincerely ask of you that you pray for our safe return.” Efrim spoke up next. While his cautionary words raised some eyebrows, most of the people in attendance were far too engrossed in their own euphoria to notice. They simply cheered louder.

Next to him, Nora frowned, determined to make up for her twin’s poor wording. “And do wish us good luck, so today’s visit will be a success and the first of many more meetings between allies!”

Amidst their people’s congratulatory echoes and thunderous applause, all of which brought a warm smile to Amalia’s face, touched by the love and trust the Eliatropes felt for their leaders, she registered movement from the corner of her eyes. She looked up in surprise to find Yugo, his head slightly bent down so it would be easier to meet her gaze.

“Would you like to say some words?”

She started at his suggestion. “Wait, what? You want me to give a speech?” If possible, her bewilderment only grew when he simply nodded. “But these are your people! Won’t they prefer to hear what you have to say?”

The king just shrugged, his cloak bobbing up and down with his movements. “We’re going to be visiting your people. If anything, whatever you have to say will probably be more important than our little speech.”

The doll considered it. Normally, the last thing she would want would be to overstep her boundaries and undermine the Council’s authority in their own territory. But Yugo was right. As a Sadida Doll, her input was crucial when it came to her divine father’s followers. And the Eliatropes were beyond eager to finally establish peaceful relations with the Twelvians, so they would be keen on listening to what she had to say. Especially if it promised that, by the end of the day, the inhabitants of Oma Island would be able to call the Sadida their allies.

At last, she made up her mind, sending a resolute nod Yugo’s way before advancing across the platform until she was under the proverbial spotlight.

Truth be told, it was more than a little daunting to be addressing the Eliatropes like this, especially when she could feel their bright, brown eyes, hungry for answers, piercing through her skin. Just like she couldn’t ignore the Council staring intently at her back, intrigued by what she might say—although, knowing Efrim, he was probably glaring at her. Even so, despite her slight apprehension and the slight tremor of her hands, she took a deep breath and willed her frantic heartbeat to slow down, and her voice to remain unwavering as she uttered each and every word with an ease and conviction that shocked even her.

“My dear Eliatrope people,” she began, her voice loud and clear like a waterfall. “There are no words to express just how grateful I am for your generosity and hospitality these past few months. Even with my divine nature, I doubt if I will ever be able to repay you for everything you have done for me.

“However, I was sent here for a reason—to bridge the gap between you and the natives of this world. And what better way to do that than ensuring you and the Sadida, the Tree People of the World of Twelve, are united by more than my presence?”

As she spoke, her expression turned solemn. For a moment, she wondered if she should truly speak about this, admit her own limitations, but her principles came first. She owed it to the Eliatropes to be completely honest after everything they had done for her. Better to advise caution than to let them get their hopes up only for them to be completely dashed down the line.

“To tell you the truth, I have not had the chance to interact with my father’s worshippers, at least not since I first met the royal family at Bonta.” At her revelation, worried murmurs erupted all around the attending Eliatropes, with furrowed brows being exchanged and hands being brought to their faces as a sign of their concern. Panicking slightly at their apprehension but refusing to let it show, Amalia scrambled to assuage their worries. “Having said that, the moment I first laid my eyes on them I immediately felt a kinship. A connection so powerful it washed away all my doubts in an instant.

“The Sadida truly are the Leafy God’s people. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that we share the same values and that their devotion to Sadida is pure and unquestionable. As it is their loyalty to his will and that of me and my sisters. As such, I can confidently say that they want this alliance as much as I do. And I cross my Ogrine heart and hope to die were my vow dishonest, that I will do everything in my power to ensure it happens.”

While the Eliatropes were still hanging onto her every word, enraptured by the sincerity and solemnity in her voice, the spell was broken by something even more powerful—shock. A powerful silence fell over the entire area as the Divine Doll bowed her body ninety degrees, her deep respect and appreciation for the people gathered, regardless of social station, shining through her actions.

“Selfish as it may be,” she made sure to raise her voice so it could be heard even from her awkward position, “I sincerely hope you can place your trust on me and on the fact that I will not disappoint you.”

The moment of silence stretched into a lull, and Yugo was beginning to grow fidgety. Even though he believed, with every fiber of his being, that Amalia meant each and every word—a great wave of affection overtaking his entire being at the sight of her dedication to her role and duties—, he was beginning to dread his subjects’ reactions.

What if Amalia’s admission of not truly knowing the Sadida caused them to doubt her capabilities? What if now they were left with even less hope than when they first arrived?

The last thing his people could afford to lose was hope.

His eyes flickered over to Adamaï, seeking his comfort and wisdom, but the brisk shake of his horned head made it clear the dragon was at a loss, as well. Even as his eyes quickly scanned his siblings, trying to gouge their reactions, all he could discern was that they seemed to be evenly divided between shock at the doll’s actions and unease at their subjects’ reaction.

His eyes went back to Amalia, who remained bowed. If one looked closely, they could see the way her hands had curled into fists against her thighs as slight tremors went down her body, a clear sign of her anxiousness. Great Goddess above, if he was feeling this nervous, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what the poor doll had to be going through.

It began small and low, like a ripple before a downpour, but soon enough, the distant sound of clapping hands grew louder and louder, until it became downright thunderous and near deafening. Soon it was accompanied by Boowolf whistling and cheers, all in the Divine Doll’s name.

“Long live Lady Amalia!”

“May Eliatrope’s portals guide you!”

“Long live the Eliatropes and Sadida!”

At first, Amalia was speechless, taken aback by the overwhelming support, but, just then, her face broke into a watery smile, tears of joy and emotion welling in her eyes as she waved back at the Eliatropes and thanked them profusely for the faith they had on her.

Yugo let her be for a while, his siblings and him coming to join her as they thanked their people for the trust they’d chosen to place on them and promised to return soon with good news.

But all things must come to an end.

Bringing a round bottle to her face, he asked, “Are you ready?”

Her eyes matching the fire in his own, she nodded with a smirk and snatched the bottle from his hand. With one last look around her little entourage to signal it was time to go, they all threw their heads back and gulped down the contents of the recall potion in one go, disappearing in a flash of light.

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eddiernunson · 2 years ago

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 10k

Warnings; degradation/praise, deep throating, eating out, edging

Author's note: Hope you don't mind but I made the reader both a swifitie and team Edward this chapter. I do appreciate all the love I've gotten for this fic. Here's part 3!

The general reaction you’ve received over the last two weeks was Are you out of your mind?

While Bethany heard you out on how it happened and why it felt like a sigh of relief being with Eddie, your mom lost her damn mind. As you spoke to her, you did your best to have a civil conversation until it just ended up being her lecturing you over the speaker while you finished up cleaning the dishes.

When she realizes you haven’t responded in a while and asks if you're still there, you pick up the phone from the window ledge and unmute yourself. “Mom, seems like you’re not interested in what I have to say about this, only about how it looks. Until you’re ready to listen, I’ll let you go.” Your finger hits the red hang up button, noting the time to the call being 45 minutes. You told her the situation about five minutes in and ever since, she had spent her time venting about Eddie and how irresponsible you were, as if she hadn't listened to anything you had to say about it.

“Are you sure you really thought this through?” Skyler, your roommate asks you as she brings her bowl over to you.

You huff, grabbing it from her and soaking it in the hot soapy water. “Thought what through?”

“You and him. Long term.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “Who said anything about this being long term? What if it’s just for now?”

“Is it just for now? Because you went into it with Dylan claiming all you wanted was someone to commit to you.” She pauses, and you look her in the eyes as if to say get on with it. “When you had someone fully committed, someone willing to stay in it for the long haul, you left him.”

“I didn’t get scared of his commitment, Sky!” You exclaimed, a little thrown off by it.

“Really? Because you were so eager to introduce him to literally anyone?” Skyler throws at you, and she had a point. Your hesitation in meeting Eddie had everything to do with the fact that Dylan was more committed to your relationship than you were.

You were literally every guy you had hooked up with before Dylan, getting angry that he would act like a boyfriend except for the life long stuff.

Fuck. What a hypocrite you were.

“Fine, his commitment scared me a bit.” You admit, washing one last dish before draining the sink. “But it’s not why I left him.”

“For his dad.”

You sigh, eyebrows raised at her tone. “Yes, for his dad.”

“Have you considered that when you’re his age, he’ll be in his 60s?”

“So?” You ask her, moving to the couch in the living room.

“That’s not a relationship built to last.”

“Why can’t that be up to us to decide?” You ask her, wrapping the throw blanket around you and tucking yourself into the couch. “Look, I get your concern. I truly do. From the outside, me and Dylan were doing everything right. Having adventures, going Instagram official. Then we were meeting the families, getting comfortable.” You pause, rubbing your hair out of your face. “If I was 19/20, I would completely understand. I mean, I wouldn’t, but if that were the scenario, your concern would make sense. But I’m not. I’m 25. My frontal lobe is fully developed. I know that if I get together with Eddie then he’ll always be 20 years older than me. He’ll always have a different perspective on life than I do.”

“You’ll always be tied to Dylan.” She points out.

“We dated for six weeks.” You counter, a pinch appearing between your brows. “While we haven’t discussed our long term goals, I don’t see this being casual. It’s different with him. Nothing feels off about being with him. I’ve never felt safer.”

She pauses, assessing your face and the way you relax as you start talking about Eddie. “Fuck. You’ve never seemed this relaxed when talking about Dylan. Not once.”

“I wasn’t.”

The comfort of Eddie’s chest breathing in and out underneath you as you lie right on top of him on the living room couch was soothing as you watched Twilight together. It took some convincing, but he let you press play on it and smirked over your shoulder at the blue filter.

No one had ever told him that the soundtrack was so good, though.

It was maybe a half hour into the movie, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why every guy in her school just had to have her. The smile on your face as you settled into a comfort movie was worth the watch, though.

You had texted him a few days prior, Eddie having given you his number before dropping you off at your apartment to face the real world. He was due back at his shop, having to settle management bullshit and deal with an unhappy customer or two to settle their complaints over the new apprentice. Ownership was nice, when they knew how to do their job.

When can I see you next?

When the six words lit up his screen, Eddie wanted to tell you to drive on over to his shop. He wanted to get in his truck and drive over to wherever the hell you are so he could text back Right Now. He knew your words were calculated, something not to seem too desperate to see him next, but truth be told, even if you were desperate it wouldn’t have made any difference; he was already hooked on you. He texted back to tell you the following Saturday, a day he knew he had no plans for the following day, so you could spend the night.

He felt fucking crazy for thinking it, but now that he'd had you in his bed, it felt too big without you.

Now here you lay with him, he sat in the corner of his couch while you snuggle up to him, and he could stay like this for hours, the sweet shampoo in his nose and the sound of your breaths comforting. He feels you slowly relax into him, all your body losing its tension. Occasionally, your arm would tighten around his torso or you would dig into him deeper. He appreciates the feeling, rubbing his fingers delicately along your skin.

The front door opens, and he feels you tense up as Dylan makes his way in. “Oh, great.” He mutters, and turns around to head straight up the stairs.

Your body jerks to watch him, and your eyes catch Eddie’s for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie nods, seeing the fixed line your mouth made. He leans in to kiss you, an act of care more than anything else. You lean into it, your eyes closing automatically, breath hitching. “I’ll be here.”

The length up the stairs seemed to grow as you reached the top, this act something you have been dreading for days. Having told Bethany and Skyler about Eddie, they both felt bad for Dylan. In fact, your shitty attempt at an apology was met with a smack on the head with a nearby scrap paper by Sky. You knew Dylan deserved better. Fuck, did you know that.

Here you stand in front of his door, sounds of a tv show on in the background while he presumably plays on his computer. Dylan was more the type to create joy out of finding a new favourite hiking trail or to take an archery class, but Eddie has said he’s been cooped up in his room. He goes to work, comes home and says barely two words before retreating upstairs.

Not like you blamed him for it.

Before you could hesitate any longer, you finally knock on his door. The sounds of his keys stop, and you barely hear the footsteps towards the door over your own heartbeat. The door opens to Dylan, and the disappointment when he sees you is evident, his face hardening. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

He seems to think on this, and you hope the outfit you have chosen, jeans with an oversized sweatshirt and your hair in a messy bun helps with the psychology of it, but when it came down to it, it was his decision. “…Sure.” You light up in surprise, having expected to do the apologizing in his door frame. You follow him in, and it’s an awkward moment of silence before he goes to sit in his desk chair. “Have a seat, I guess.”

Your butt hits the edge of the bed, barely scraping the box spring. “Would it be cheesy if I recommended you listened to Speak Now, track 3?”

His eyebrows furrow, and it’s so like you to recommend a fucking Taylor song for the scenario. He has to laugh. “Taylor’s Version?”

“Of course.”

“Which is…?”

“Back To December.”

He tilts his head, this situation incredibly peculiar. “Remind me how that goes?”

A smile reaches your face, and you look at your lap sheepishly.

“She apologizes…and clearly admits she was in the wrong after a person treats her very well and didn’t deserve it.” You pause, looking up at him.

“A little bit.” He admits, but the first wall is down. The look in his eye when he sees you doesn’t scream rage.

“I can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.” You start, watching for his reaction. “First, for stringing you along… But, you were the best looking guy at that mixer, and at that moment in time I truly did want to know you. None of that was fake.” He nods, considering this. “Then it started to feel, I don’t know, comfortable. I had people telling me how lucky I was to have you, daily, and with the men out there, god they were so right.” You gulp, and he can’t seem to look you in the eye. “I felt like there must’ve been something wrong with me not to be head over heels for you, cause there wasn’t anything wrong with you.”

“When did you know you wanted to break up with me?”

“I can’t say for sure.” You tell him, and it was probably about two weeks ago, but that felt cruel. “But the moment we got back into your car I should’ve ended things.”

“You knew about him that fast, huh?” He asks you, his eyes appearing glossy. “You know, if you would’ve been honest I would have been absolutely choked, confused even, but I would have given you his number.”

You nod, because of fucking course Dylan would’ve been nice enough. “See, you’re so kind because that never occurred to me. I thought you would’ve dropped me off at home.”

“Probably.” Dylan admits, thinking about the possibilities if you’d broken up with him earlier. “Maybe not.”

“I’m so sorry for cheating on you, though. Of course, knowing your mom’s history shouldn’t have made a difference but—”

“Yeah. Kind of fucked me up.” Dylan leans back in his chair, and a smile reaches his face as he looks back to you.

��I know that if me and Eddie keep dating that I could never, ever even remotely be a parental figure, and frankly I’m not looking to be your mom, but I hope one day you can trust me again.”

“See, how do I know you won’t do the same thing to him?”

It hurt, but it was fair. “You made me feel safe. But your dad—” he cringes, “Eddie, he makes me feel free.”

Dylan turns around in his chair, considering this. “I believe that.”

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah. When I walked in today sure, I was annoyed. Seeing my ex girlfriend in a new happy relationship with the person she cheated on me with is kind of annoying. But you were never that comfortable with me. That look of…contentment. I’ve never seen it before.” He sighs, doing another turn in his chair.

“Have you and your dad spoken about it?”

“No. I’m pretty fucking mad at him. I’ll forgive him, one day. If you’re sticking around, I'll have to, because I’m not staying with my mom and her new perfect family. But we dated for six weeks. I was only starting to think I was falling in love with you. Thank god I never got there. Even then.”

“Don’t put all the blame on him.” You jump to his defense, and wow, did this sound bad. “I made the first move.”

“Good to know.” He pauses. “That’s all I want to know, for the record. No more details… I've heard enough.”

“I am sorry, though Dylan. In another universe, we date and I let you down properly and you meet your dad’s girlfriend a few weeks later who turns out to be your ex.” You laugh, just picturing it.

“Sounds like a rom com.”

“Honestly it’s an intriguing concept.” You get up from his bed, the conversation having met its end.

“I can’t forgive you, yet. But that was the fucking apology I deserved the first time.”

You cringe at it, this memory is something you can already see haunting you at 3am.

“Can we pretend like that one never happened?”

“No. It’s great material to have in a back pocket. Who apologizes to their ex with brand new hickeys on their neck?"

“Okay, point taken!” You yell at him as you walk out the door.

“Bye.” He calls out, and the door shuts behind you.

You meet Eddie back at the couch, the movie paused while he scrolls through his phone. “What are you scrolling on?” You tease him, sitting easily back where you were before.

“Oh the uh, Facebook videos.” He says off-handedly, and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“Who uses Facebook nowadays?” You joke, knowing full you still updated yours occasionally.

He chuckles, nipping at your shoulder. You grab the remote by his leg, pressing play. “How did it go?”

“Better.” You sigh, watching Bella awkwardly ask him to hang out at the beach. “Much, much better. Doesn’t scream pure hatred in his face every time he looks at me anymore.”

“Makes one of us.” Eddie jokes, and you grab his hand to place a kiss, comforting him.

The movie continues, and Eddie has never fully paid attention to the movie before, having come out in his late 20s. It was ridiculous, to say the least. The plot thickens as Bella discovers his true nature and Eddie can't help but notice a particular smile creep on your face as Edward mutters something about a lion falling in love with a lamb. Creepy.

“Do-do you have a crush on Edward?” He asks, his voice particularly bewildered.

Your eyes bug out, and you bite back the smile breaking out on your face with much failure.

“What? No.”

“Oh, you totally do.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“Shut up.”

Another five minutes pass and your stomach rumbles, prompting Eddie to get up and walk to the kitchen to make you something. “Want something with chicken, rice, spice, what do you want, baby?” He calls out, and you now stare openly at the tv as the baseball scene is showing, and you’ve always considered Edward just to be a bit extra hot in this scene.

His question takes a moment to register. “Butter chicken?” You ask him.

He peeks his head out to the music on the screen, and immediately sees the look on your face. A big smile is plastered on your face, chin resting on your fingertips as you sit cross legged. Fucking. Teenage Vampires. He rolls his eyes, rejecting the jealousy. He isn't going to be jealous over this. Nope.

He finishes the food, putting a bowl out for you, Dylan, and himself out. “Dylan! Food if you want it!” He calls out, and he brings two of the bowls for you and him, the smell of his cooking more than welcome. “Here baby.” He kisses your forehead, sitting next to you as you take a big inhale.

“Holy shit, thank you, Ed.” You tell him, and Eddie is perplexed at your ability to forget to eat a single thing until the hunger pains kick in. He supposes his food habits at 25 weren’t the greatest, either. Now that he thinks about it, he pretty much lived off energy drinks, coffee, and the occasional hot food Wayne would force down his throat.

You inhale the food, the empty bowl on the coffee table within minutes. “Want more?” You’re hypnotized by the screen, having barely heard him. Why did he want to fight a seventeen-year-old vampire? “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Want more?”

“Oh sure! Thank you.” The shine in your eyes brightens up as you look up at him, and it settles his jealousy. For the most part.

Eddie scoops himself and you another bowl, seeing Dylan hasn’t grabbed his yet. “Dylan! Food’s getting cold! Come eat!”

Dylan comes out, actually looking like he was in a better mood than he was before.

“Oh, shit, Twilight?” He comments, shaking his head. “She’s a hard Team Edward girl. Hard.”

“I’ve noticed. Here.” Eddie would’ve usually taken the win from his son joking with him but the jealousy that sat eating his gut was so fucking annoying. Why the fuck was he so annoyed at this stupid vampire?

“Oh it's not so fun now, is it?” Dylan calls out, running back up the stairs.

This makes Eddie smile, like things might go back to normal. The screaming match with him after you had left made him believe he truly severed his relationship with him, but this gave him an inch of hope.

Eddie gives you the second serving and you tear through it again, leaving the bowl in front of you empty. As Eddie finishes his own, he starts to lean into you, placing delicate kisses on the little exposed skin you provided for him today. He moves you so you’re lying on top of him.

The movie is about to end, Bella waking up in a hospital with frankly, an off-putting delivery of the lines she was given. His hands make their way up past the hem of your sweater, reaching to touch some skin as he continues. A pinch makes its way in between your eyebrows down at him. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to touch you.” You don't believe him, but you also don't mind the touches, as they were certainly doing their job as far as foreplay goes, so you lean back into him. Just when Eddie thought the end was near there’s a whole-ass prom scene and he nearly groans in frustration. Your legs intertwine with his, and he gets a sneaky idea, peering over your shoulder to move his leg over the teensiest bit.

He moves his leg as if he was lifting one leg to rest on its foot. He moves it a bit faster than necessary, aiming for where your ass sat lower than normal on his body.

As his knee jerks into your cunt, you gasp, a heat having already gathered from the movie alone, his teasing doing nothing to help.

“Shit, sorry baby. Was just trying to move my leg.” One look at his face tells you it was a bold-faced lie and you give him an exasperated look. “What?” A series of shots that didn’t make the movie at the end show and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Prick.” He mutters under his breath to an image of Edward on the screen.

“What was that?” You ask him, unsure you even heard him right. “Eddie, were you jealous?” You ask incredulously, the very idea of it is just bizarre.

“What? No!” Eddie dismisses it far too quickly, but the satisfaction as he turns the tv off is too much to deny.

“Eddie! He’s a fictional character. You do realize you share the same name, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes, slightly ticked off he let himself get caught being jealous. You crawl up to his face, the knee against your cunt having left a throb of more want. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of.” You lean in to kiss him, still lying on top of him. As you tilt your head to deepen it, Eddie feels weak as your tongue meets his own and the way you’re gasping into his open mouth is filthy. “Nothing.” You emphasize, biting on his bottom lip.

Eddie bites back a moan, his eyes rolling back as your teeth linger. You frame his face, kissing along the path of his stubble, his gorgeous jaw line, his freckled neck, the dip of his collarbone.

You pause, taking a quick pause to suck on the collarbone lightly, biting into it to make one little claim of your own. You sit back on it, admiring the way it's already started to bruise. You continue, your hand absentmindedly moving his shirt up his torso so you could kiss your way down. You lick across a nipple, and his chest stunts in response. Down his torso you go until you meet the treasure of all treasure trails. You pause, inhaling at the scent, and the musk intoxicates you so much that you can’t help yourself, licking at it. Fuck.

Finally, you get to his jean waistband, and you tug twice, making sure it's okay. Eddie moves to unbutton it for you, and you swat him away. “I wanna do it.” You tell him, picking up where he left off. You tug the jeans off, your fingers hooked meticulously so his boxers come off with them.

His cock springs free and you look up to his face. By now Eddie has lost all clear thought, and he’s sure it started the moment you started working on his collarbone. Somehow it just got better and better as you went further down, every touch of your tongue against his skin sending fucking waves through him. But the look of…elation that you give him as you free his cock, like you couldn’t believe you get to be so lucky to suck on it, had him in pure ecstasy.

You leaned in to take a long swipe on it, a slow lick from the base to the tip, and his cock is nearly down your throat before he could even register it. Relentlessly, you bob your head, fist gripping what you can't fit. You hear him swear loudly, and you let go with a popping sound. His hand finds its way to your face, framing it. You peer up at him, and his half opened eyes and a disbelieving smile gives you an unmatched sense of pride.

“Holy shit.” He mutters, his thumb crossing your bottom lip slowly.

You smile, lifting his hand from your face and into your hair, curling your fist over his so he would grip it tightly. You go back to work, mouth watering as you continue to bob up and down. Eddie slowly starts pushing on your head, forcing you to take a little bit more of him at a time. Your gag reflex fights it, and he can feel it.

“Relax your throat baby.” He whispers. “Just relax it.” You think about it, letting the tense muscles of your jaw and attempting to swallow the spit to soften. He can feel a shift, his cock still in the heat of your mouth. “Oh, good girl.”

He thrusts his hips up, and his cock finds itself down your throat, a feat you’ve never been able to accomplish before. The base of his cock meets your nose, and he stops, watching you adjust as tears come to your eyes from the stinging. “Holy shit, good fucking girl.” He mumbles, sweeping his hand through your hair. “So good.”

He pulls on your scalp so you move up and back down a few times, and you find it impossibly easy to submit yourself to him, allowing him to fuck your throat.

Eddie guides you off his cock, you look up at him for his appraisal and he frames your face to wonder how he was so lucky as he looks at your cocked-out eyes. “Oh, what a good little slut.” He mutters, pulling you up to his face.

You crawl up eagerly, and he kisses you gently, not chaste, but not quite as dirty as before. He breaks away, still connecting your foreheads. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

You nod readily; lust filled eyes staring back into his. You wait patiently for him to put his jeans back over on his cock and make your way back up the stairs to his room.

As soon as his door is shut Eddie rids himself of his clothes, and you end up watching from his bed eagerly, enjoying the show. He dives onto the bed, and a squeal of giggles involuntarily leaves your throat at the wild eyes captivating his face. He dives down to kiss you, his tongue delicious against your own and he sucks on it, luring a whimper right out of you. One of his hands rubs against your thigh, and this pair of pants wasn’t something he could feel you up through. Eddie’s thumb messaged extra rough, and the touch alone manages more whimpers.

“Touch me.” You choke out, breathing heavily, breathing him. “Please.”

Eddie grins, both his hands working down to unbutton the tight jeans you wore. A hand slips in and starts to tease along the slick of your folds and your breath hitches as Eddie focuses on making you feel good. He rubs them in small circles, the touch light but enough to give you release. You can tell he isn't necessarily driving you towards an orgasm and it drives a laugh of impatience out of you against his lips.

“Baby” You whine, “Fuck.” You couldn’t even put words to it, because somehow you knew he’d find a way to twist it.

Eddie leans into your neck, the heat of his cruel laughter closing your eyes. “Oh, you wanted me to touch you and get off? Well why didn’t you say so?”

The pressure increases, a defined difference in his touch as he rubs against your clit, and the sounds he draws from you was worth the tease. He hikes your oversized sweater up, revealing skin and your bra, and as his fingers move absentmindedly he kisses your stomach with light tongue, the wet warmth sending shivers up your body as the feeling in your tummy starts to pool.

He sits up suddenly, and you whimper from the loss. He chuckles at this, pride in how pathetic he can make you feel. “Aww, poor baby.” He mocks you, and your eyebrows furrow in slight embarrassment. “It’s okay, I know you just wanna cum…gonna get you to cum all over my face.” His hands tug on your jeans, and he barely needs any help from you to yank them off, unceremoniously throwing them onto the floor. “Oh, fuck, finally.” He mutters as he sees your pussy, prettier than he remembered when he jacked himself off in the shower this morning.

He leans in, sucking on your clit and the heat expands from it into your legs and the feeling in your stomach doubles. From no release to every bit, you could already feel the knot threatening to snap. “Holy shit, fuck.” You mutter, your thighs clamping against him.

He feels the intensity in your body shift, continuing to suck on your clit rhythmically. Your breathing increases, and Eddie slowly sucks harder, and harder, and as your heels dig in his upper back, he stops.

An audible whine leaves you, the edge just right there. “Fuck, Ed.” You whimper, somehow knowing it was on purpose.

He chuckles, watching your beautiful cunt react as well. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I was so close.”

“Imagine how good it’ll feel when you do cum, yeah?” He teases, still watching your face. Your leg muscles spasm and the kisses he trails down your thigh are no help.

You whine again, toes curling and the extra fabric of your sweater self consciously curls up around your fists. “Ed.”

“I know.” He says one last time, and goes in for the kill.

There was really no delay this time, the edge was only a step away and he pushed you over, his fingers fucking into you and tongue working over time on your clit, a heat into an explosion as your legs shake and pussy spasms. Eddie pays close attention to it, admiring the glisten of your slick coating you, dripping to your ass and on his sheets and it's a piece of art.

Eddie kisses one last time against your clit, crawling back up to you to assess. “Sweetheart?”

You smile lazily at him, the orgasm having left a smile on your face and a glow amongst your features. “Hmm?”

“Wanna fuck still?” He asks, his hand petting your face softly.

Your eyes fucking light up, nodding enthusiastically. He chuckles, moving the sweater slowly up and over your head. He moves around your torso, single handedly unhooking your bra, revealing those gorgeous tits.

He looks like heaven above you, a shadow of stubble, brown eyes darkened as he takes you in, and the lust in his eyes sends a pool of wetness between your legs. Your legs open, and he sits himself between them, kissing the nearest skin he can as he puts his cock into you.

Your legs close on the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. God, what a sight.

You sleepily look up at him as he puts his chest on yours, just drinking in the moment of him in you. He does the same, your hands framing his face.

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “So, so, good, Ed.” You manage out between them, sighing up at him.

He moves back a bit, thrusting into you lightly and you whimper into his mouth. He separates himself to get a good look as he continually fucks into you, and your mouth is open in unspoken words. Too fucking good.

“I know baby, I know.” He tells you. He kisses your neck, down your throat and down to a tit bouncing lightly from the impact of his cock fucking into you. He latches his tongue onto the nipple, your pussy tightening around him in response. He grazes his teeth lightly, mewls leaving your throat at the sheer pleasure mixed with pain and he lets go.

He leans up from you, taking one of your legs and placing it against his shoulder up towards the ceiling and you can feel him deeper, his thrusts starting to hit harder. Your moans are interrupted by each thrust. “Ed. So. Good. Fuck.”

His hand gently caresses your leg on his shoulder, focusing on the warmth of your pussy engulfing him. “Oh, tight pussy. So fuckable.”

“Yours.” You whine out.

“Oh, that’s right. My pussy.”

“All yours.” You choke out.

“Oh that’s fuckin right. You’re mine. All mine. My good fuckable slut.”

The words hit the right spot, making your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Ed. Cum in me.”

“Yeah, wanna be filled with me?"

“Mmhmm…”

“Oh fuck.” Eddie reaches his high faster than he was expecting, his hips jerking into you and the feeling of his cock pulsating while it spurts inside you is everything.

Eddie pants, lightly pushing your leg off his chest. He leans forward to give you a kiss, his body covered in sweat, the slick smell being something you need to memorize. “Holy shit, sweetheart."

You giggle, your legs holding him there. “Stay a while?”

“Love to cockwarm, huh, baby?”

“Only with you,” You mutter, a yawn leaving you. And if it was anything like the first time, you’ll be asleep within minutes. “So full.”

He chuckles, turning on the tv next to his bed. He tugs the blanket out from under you and pulls it over the two of you. You snuggle into his arms as he wraps them around you. “You know, we can cuddle without—” Eddie starts.

“No, no. That’s crazy talk.” You interrupt him, and he feels a smile up against his chest.

As you fall asleep, you hear one last thing from him, something you don’t think you were supposed to hear. “Beat that, you sparkly fucker.”

Somehow, the power of making Eddie jealous over a fictional vampire didn’t go straight to your head, but goddamn it felt good to be this wanted.

The tickle of the sheet against your abdomen comes to mind as you wake up on your side, calf in between Eddie’s legs and your face buried in his chest. His snoring is gentle but deep, his arm lazily wrapped around you. You figure he eventually got himself out of you, the subtle loss something you probably whined at.

You feel a smile creep its way onto your face, the satisfaction of waking up how you did fills your lungs with air. You peer your head back to get a look at his face, relaxed and unguarded, even from sex. Your eyes take in every detail of his handsome face, the slight hook of his nose, the stray hairs by his left eyebrow, the freckles scattered… God, he is beautiful.

You lean in to kiss his jawline, nuzzling your nose into the scratch of his stubble. The arm around your torso flexes, a snore interrupted. A huff of laughter escapes you, the simplicity of it just so mesmerizing. He shifts slightly, arm tightening around you as he adjusts himself. You cuddle yourself closer into his chest, inhaling the scent that was unmistakably him. No cologne, deodorant or aftershave disguising it. The smell alone makes you shudder in happiness.

You lay breathing him in for another thirty minutes before he finally stirs awake.

When he finally does, eyes squinting around as he blinks awake, arms flexing away as he yawns and stretches, you lay there patiently as he gets his bearings.

“Fuck.” His arms go limp, and he buries himself into your hair, breathing in the scent. “How long—” he yawns, cutting himself off. “How long have you been awake?”

Your shoulders shrug, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. He feels your stomach grumble against his. “Long enough, huh.” He kisses into your hair, giving you one last good squeeze. “Alright, let’s go get some food.”

You protest getting out of bed with him but the second growl your stomach makes, this one even more audible, has Eddie give a look to say it wasn’t debatable. Food first.

Down the stairs, you sit in a pair of shorts with the same over sized sweater at the kitchen island, chewing happily on the food Eddie prepared for you, a fucking snack tray. He put it in front of you, and you look up at him with an eyebrow raised peculiarly. “I fucking love snacks.” He says, grabbing a slice of cheese off your tray.

Dylan jogs into the kitchen, stealing a cracker off your plate as he dashes around the counter. “Going out with friends, be back later.” He looks dressed up for a bar, an outfit you knew he would wear to impress. It's a weird thought that you know him like this.

“Don’t be stupid, don’t drink and drive.” Eddie tells him, leaning forward on the island.

“Got it!”

“Was that good or bad, I couldn’t tell.” You ask him when the front door closes.

“I wouldn’t go towards either. He’s being civil for the sake of you but he’s much more pissed when you’re not here. Trust me.” Eddie answers you, eyes wide at the end of the sentence.

A pang of guilt hits you square in the chest. He sees your expression falter, giving you a soft look. “Don’t feel guilty. I deserve it. He damn well has a right to act this way when I betrayed him.”

Fuck, that was a level of emotional maturity you weren’t used to seeing in men. Threw you for a loop.

“So, sweetheart. I got a question for you.” You perk up, leaning towards him at the opposite end of the island counter. “Will you allow me to take you out on a proper date?”

The sentence drives your heart wild, your stomach turning itself inside out. You nod your head rapidly, gulping. “When?”

“Well it’s four o’clock now…if I drive you home so you can get ready we could probably make our 7 o’clock reservation.”

Now you find yourself in your bathroom, your makeup scattered across the counter as you dance to an upbeat playlist, your quick glance to the clock indicating you still have an hour before he comes to pick you up at 6:45.

You're driving yourself mad with the want to outdo yourself, you want a visual reaction from this man. He was kind enough to let you know it was more upscale, but that was all the detail he was willing to provide to you. You knew your initial reaction to wear something to rile him up wasn’t any good, and the warning he had given you had driven you to believe he knew you well enough to know you would if he hadn’t.

You hear the front door of the apartment close, Skyler getting home from day working at a cellphone carrier store. She hated the dumb customers but loved the commission she made when she sold plans. She places her things down, making her way straight to the bathroom to where the blaring music could be heard. “Going out somewhere?” She asks, slightly yelling to be heard over the music.

You reach to the Bluetooth speaker, turning down the volume a few notches. “Hot date with Eddie!” You tell her excitedly, leaning in to finish the last of the eyeliner.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had one planned!”

“Neither did I! He told me about the reservation just like an hour ago after he dropped me off.”

“Just like that?” She asks, leaning in.

You pause the movement of your brush on your face, using some setting powder for a final touch. “Just like that.”

Her eyebrows raised to her forehead quickly. “Okay, damn. That’s…that’s romantic.”

A smile lands on your face, and you close it to prevent the wider smile making its way to prevent teasing. “Mmmhmm.”

Face setting spray finishes your face before you run to your room to do the most daunting thing about getting ready…picking out your outfit.

It has to be something your ex hasn't taken off you either. There goes that hot blue little dress, and this green strappy number, and that really cute skirt…damn this might be harder than you thought. You used a lot of secret weapons from your arsenal with Dylan.

“I’m out of clothes!” You yell to your roommate, frustrated out of your mind.

“You still haven’t used that pretty dress you bought last month…the one still with a tag on it?” She calls out, referring to a dress you found that fit you perfectly but didn’t have anything to wear it for.

“That one is for special occasions!”

“Bitch, your boyfriend made spontaneous dinner date plans for your first date. It’s a special occasion, wear the damn dress!”

As it cascades down your body as you place it over your head, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Sitting in your living room while waiting to be picked up should not be this jittery, butterflies doing a little dancey-dance in your stomach as Skyler absentmindedly binge-watches Buffy. You sent Eddie your address at his request about ten minutes ago, and now it's just a waiting game.

Three knocks at the door find you standing in a second, tripping over your own feet to get to the door. You open it to him, standing there with a single red rose. He's dressed in a gorgeous leather outdoor jacket, one only a man as fine as he is could pull off as well as he does and still make it look classy. He wears a pair of slacks with a dark red button down tucked loosely into it, the first three buttons undone.

Something tells you he’ll be moving his sleeves up his arms later. Fuck. He has never looked hotter.

“Hi, gorgeous. Ready?”

You nodded frantically, picking the open jacket up from the coatrack you had placed conveniently by the door. You turn back to face to your roommate to tell her not to wait up and face her, her mouth wide open. “I see it now.” She whispers, her jaw dropping again.

Your eyebrows raise to her in response but a glare reaches as your face as you turn around, something in you stupidly angry about this. Good. Look from afar.

The drive down is filled to the brim with unbridled anticipation, neither one saying much as you watch the pretty lights pass by on the way to the unspecified restaurant.

He places his hand on your thigh, thumb caressing it gently. Your dress is just long enough for his pinky to touch your leg but the rest lay on the soft material. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” He compliments you, and you suddenly realize he’s barely watching the road.

“Hmm.” You answer, nodding at the road. “My heart stopped when I opened the door, you are unfairly handsome.”

“Unfairly?” Eddie asks, voice incredulous at your word choice.

“Mmhmm.”

He chuckles, suddenly making a left turn into a group of scattered restaurants and your breath hitches, wondering, no.

Holy fuck, it is.

He pulls up and you’re peering up at what is known as the most expensive restaurant in town, the kind of place you only went with when your parents were celebrating an anniversary or something and were paying.

The kind of place that had good ass food, but you need to be able to pay minimum, 100 per person. The wine is automatically served, and the only music is a light piano melody. “Wanted to take you out for a treat. Somewhere I know damn well men your age can’t afford.”

That sentence alone drenches the lacy panties you wore.

He walks to your side after getting out, opening the door for you. The act isn’t much, something a man or two has done before him, but from him, it was like a goddamn touch of Midas.

The low light and piano music engulfs you, the conversation low as you see everyone is dressed in their best. You find yourself intimidated but Eddie walks in like he belongs.

Cause he does.

He asks for a reservation under his last name, and the waitress finds it right away. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes light up and damn, you usually don’t describe yourself as the jealous type but when it comes to him it's hard not to be.

As you get to your booth, Eddie takes off his jacket, revealing his sleeves up to his elbows, and it’s literally mouth watering. He does it so swiftly, and before you can even sit, he holds his hand out for your jacket as well. You take it off to hand it over, which he hangs ever so gently over his jacket on the hook.

Your hostess asks for drinks, Eddie asks for the drink menu and some water, you ask for water as well, hoping to find a suitable cocktail when the menu comes along.

The low lighting is flattering on him sitting across from you, and all his attention is on you, even as his eyes roam the menu. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you finally ask Eddie for his story, something even through the lust you’ve had a desire to know.

He describes growing up in Hawkins, Indiana, a rebel without a cause with a touch for the dramatics and running a role play DnD group. He describes his struggles as he failed grade twelve twice due to a large population chalking it up to laziness when in reality no one listened to his inability to sit down long enough to learn anything. He tells you about this group of friends he made in his final and successful attempt at grade 12, the ones that eventually kicked his ass into gear and none of them he would’ve been here without, and though they were all older like him, you hoped one day you’d be lucky enough to meet them face-to-face.

His attempt at college, realizing it wasn’t for him and dropping out a semester in when a local mechanic he knew offered an apprenticeship spot at his garage.

2 years into it, he finds out he enjoys it and he made enough money to move out. At 22 he meets a woman who comes into his shop with a check engine light on, and that was how he met Dylan's mom. You fought so hard not to roll your eyes as he described building a life with her and finding out she was pregnant, but it was hard not to be jealous.

Apparently she was the perfect mom from the outside, her connection to her son was unbeatable. Eddie soon found out she was having an affair with one of her co-workers, the same one she had told him time and time again that, no, of course he didn’t have a crush on her, that’s silly.

(They were fucking the whole time.)

If anything, it was the reason he had let Dylan find out so quickly. An affair would’ve made it ten times worse.

He finishes off, describing how difficult it was to raise him after she ran off with the co-worker, eventually finding something that worked for them. All in all, he was proud of the person he had raised Dylan to become, hopeful for their relationship.

You hung onto every word he told you through that meal like he had hung the moon and the stars. As he finishes, wiping his hands on his napkin as he ate, your eyes fixated on his forearms flexing, he apologizes, claiming he felt bad for talking the whole time.

“Oh, I could listen to you for hours.” It falls out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Well I’m sick of myself. Tell me about you.” He comments, so you did.

You tell him about being raised in the small town in rural America, being a teenager in the 2010s a slight difference than in the late 90s. Your stupid first boyfriend who dumped you as soon as he slept with you, your mom who meant well but often valued the opinions of others over her daughters needs and wants, your stoner of a best friend who had an opinion that you valued most of all, and how you met your current roommate through a facebook ad but it turned out you really clicked.

Your story had no beginning and no end, just going off your life based on what you felt like you had wanted to tell him.

“Dylan is a good boyfriend, by the way.” Eddie laughed at the absurdity of your sentence, all plates in front of you containing any food long gone while you had your third cocktail and Eddie drank some whiskey. Were you a bit tipsy? Yes. That sentence couldn’t have left your mouth without it. “After the lack of commitment on a stupid amount of dudes, his willingness to go all in, as we said that’s what we had both wanted, was exceedingly refreshing.” You took another gulp of it, the sugary drink hitting nicely. “He was stable, kind, thoughtful, but something was missing. In him I felt safety.” You pause, looking at him. “In you, I feel freedom.”

The conversation moved away from Dylan, thank God. As he asks for one more before the bill you can't help yourself. “Where do you see this going?” You gulp, scratching your nose, and paying close attention to your glass. “If you say anything other than long term, I might be sick.”

To Eddie, your level of honesty was refreshing. “Baby, anything but long-term has never been an option to me.”

Eddie gives his credit card to the waitress, a moon eyed girl who he had barely paid attention to. Either because he was being courteous with his attention or he just didn’t bother when you were right in front of him, it didn’t matter, but the thing itself gave you immense satisfaction. (It was the latter, for the record. Eddie had barely noticed her.)

As he helped you back into your jacket, slipping on his own, a feeling of intense satisfaction, pure bliss invaded your entire system. There was no first date that would ever be as good as this one. The set up, picking you up, the nice ass restaurant, the easy conversation, and lastly, the knowledge that when you got to his, he would be all over you, and you him.

Nothing was ever gonna be this good.

Good. You didn’t want anyone or anything but him.

Your head found his shoulder on the way back to his place, hands intertwined on your lap on the silent ride home, soft rock playing on his radio. As his truck reaches his driveway, you notice it's empty. Eddie picked up on this as your head perks up upon the observation.

“Asked if he could crash at a friend’s place tonight.” Eddie explains, having placed the truck in park, sitting back in his seat. “We got the place to ourselves.”

You grinned giddily, and you weren’t sure if it was the three and a half drinks or the troublesome feeling of your lacy panties being thoroughly soaked, but you were out his truck door before he could even register it. He climbs out, quickly shuffling behind you and he makes a giggle pour out of you as he scares you as you wait patiently at the door for him to unlock it.

He kisses your neck as he reaches in with one hand to unlock the door, and you open it and turn to him, yanking on the collar of his leather jacket. “Need you.” You mutter in between kisses, only in the entrance of the house but if you took another step without kissing him, you were gonna lose your mind. “Want. You.”

Your need is outrageously attractive, Eddie leaning into every kiss you've given him with the same amount of fervor, his hands holding your waist and fisting at the deliciously beautiful dress you had worn. You just had this dress? Waiting around? And you hadn’t blessed anyone with the perfect sight that was you dressed in it until now? What a goddamn sin.

It’ll be a shame when it hits the floor but this dress is only second to how goddamn good you looked naked as far as Eddie's concerned. Speaking of which…

Eddie continually kisses you, pulling you in against him, your breath hitches pulling your coat off and letting it fall to the floor. He backs you up to the stairs, and your foot hits the first step up, and as you’re starting to climb backwards Eddie pushes his body on yours, forcing you to sit. He takes it a step further by leaning in to kiss your neck, and your back falls onto the steps as well, just like he was hoping. Your legs open, welcoming his hips into yours.

Eddie only starts with soft kisses, just to smell your perfume and to feel your skin beneath his lips. “This dress, baby, this dress.” He pauses, a look of lust deep within his brown eyes. “Oh, fuck, this dress.” He couldn’t seem to tell you anything else, but you were thankful the gut feeling that told you to buy it was right. You tug on his collar, pulling it down his back to take it off.

Eddie assists you, letting the jacket fall clumsily down the three steps.

“My dress? This shirt!” You gasp, gripping onto it softly. “You look so good. The buttons undone on the top were..” You sigh as he kisses his way down to your shoulder. “…a nice touch.”

His hand pushes up your dress, hands roughly smoothing up your thigh, and one gets to the lacey panties. As his hand brushes the panties to take them off he gives you a manic smile. He takes them off, slowly, head against your shoulder as he does so. As the pair is taken off your foot, he inhales sharply at the sight of them, holding them in front of your body where he can see them. You see his hands touch where you soaked it all night, playing with the slick that has already gathered. “You’re not getting these back.”

He tosses them back playfully, going back to attack your neck. Eventually he leaves kisses all down your torso, and he kisses down your clothed thigh before making a big show of lifting the dress hem up, kissing along your thigh again. Only this time, your thigh wasn’t covered, and it was towards your now uncovered and absolutely throbbing cunt. As he moves closer, you start to whine, as with each kiss he adds more wetness, more tongue. Finally his mouth is right next to your core, and with his head in your skirt, he reaches for each leg to put them on his shoulders.

He goes straight in, tongue attacking your clit, your still covered feet dig into his back and a choked out moan leaves your throat. Eddie’s lips leave your pussy, his shining eyes in your sight as he popped his head from underneath your dress. “Be loud, show me how much you love my tongue all over your pussy. C’mon. Wanna hear you. If I catch you holding back again you’ll be sorry.” He leans in without another thought, and his tongue takes no time to continue.

“Oh, fuck!” You felt slightly embarrassed by it, but you were more worried about what he meant at the end there, by you’ll be sorry. If he edged you just for the hell of it, what was he gonna do as a punishment? “Your tongue, feels so fucking good, Ed.”

“Tastes—” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Tastes like heaven. Love your sweet, perfect, beautiful pussy.” The acoustics of talking through your dress didn’t make sense, but you could hear him loud and clear. “Look how wet this pussy is already for me, just dripping, oh fuck.”

“Fuck, you look, fuck, so good Ed. So fucking hot.”

“You were wet from my appearance alone?” Eddie asks, peering up at you from behind your dress.

“Since the first time I met you.” You gasp out, leaning onto your elbows on the step but finding your head heavy on your neck to look up at him.

“Jesus christ.” You smiled down at him, hand reaching forward for him. He interlocks his with yours and keeps it there as he dives back in your dress. Something feels different…the heat concentrates on your clit as he feverishly attacks it.

“Holy shit--!” You cry out, jerking your upper body forward. “Ed, holy fuck keep doing that.” His other hand joins him, hooking into you and immediately connecting with your g-spot. As you get closer, he can feel your hand tighten on his own as your moans lose all inhibition and you whine, all high pitched, the sound echoing beautifully in the empty house. “Ed, fuck—” Your orgasm snuck up on you, the heat expanding through your thighs and legs until the edge hits you in a silent scream, and you gush all over his face and your dress and the stairs.

Thank god Eddie had hardwood.

He comes out from your dress, and you look at him in disbelief. “What—” you start, still unraveling. “I don’t even—”

“C’mon.” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You follow him up to his room, knees already weak but moving anyway.

Your bodies collide with one another, lips mashing in hot, dirty kisses. “Need to fuck you now.” Eddie breathes, his hands working at the zipper on your back. The dress drops to reveal what he already knew, and that it was you weren't wearing a bra. “Perfect fucking tits, fuck.”

He tugs at his belt and untucks his pants, making him look like a horny teenager. Maybe not horny, just a few drinks in. But when he had what he called the hottest girlfriend, he felt like anyone could hardly blame him. His pants fly off and he undoes the last few buttons on his shirt before he yanks it off by the back.

When he’s finally undressed, he pauses as he gets a good look at you, the both of you ridiculously exposed. “Fuck. Am I so goddamn lucky I get to spend my night with you?”

“Just kiss me.” You tell him, reaching out for him and he lurches forward, wrapping his hands in your hair and taking your lips in a wet kiss. He leads you to his bed, taking step by step as you fall backwards onto it, and none of it is awkward, just perfect. He crawls on top as your leg makes its way around his hips, and he can’t even bother to tease you because if he doesn’t get his cock inside you he is gonna lose it.

You didn’t expect it so soon, usually getting a tease but the shock pulls out a loud moan from you, Eddie moaning at the same time as he pushes himself into you. He puts his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Yours are too, taking in the feeling of his cock inside you. No matter how many times, it's like you forgot how fucking good it felt, every time.

“God. I didn’t know a pussy could feel this…fuck.” He mutters as his words make you tighten around him. “Fucking intoxicating.” He leans in to nip lightly against your neck, whispering into your skin. “Can’t fucking get enough of it. And when I—” he lips his hips out of yours, fucking into you slowly, “—fuck you, there’s nothing fucking better.”

His hips continue, his head remaining in your neck, his body against yours as he just feels you against him. Your hands roam the muscles of his back, nails digging in as his hips gradually fuck you harder. “You always take my cock so goddamn well, baby. Such a good whore for me.”

You whimper; all coherent thought gone as the feeling of him is pure perfection.

“Fucking love your cock in me Ed! Fuck, just like- just like that.”

“Oh, I know you love my cock. You moan like a whore for it. Let me hear you baby.”

The whines you didn’t realize you were holding back came out of your mouth and he grabbed your hair harshly, and you let out a higher one. “Don’t hold back, remember?”

You nod your head, a restricted move because of his hold on you. Eddie lets go, his hand framing your face delicately. He leans in to kiss you, fierce and protective. “God, you’re so much more…more than I had ever wanted…ever hoped for…” his voice is softer now, whispering into your neck.

“Ed. You’re so good…to me. So lucky.”

He places a hand on your clit, rubbing gently at it. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum. Cum with me?”

“What am I gonna say, no? To that?” you gasp out. He chuckles softly, the laughter hot against your neck.

“Close.” You tell him and he picks up the pace, holding back a bit for you. “Eddie I—” and a full moan leaves your lips and as you tighten around him, his hips rutting into you.

Eddie moans loudly as he cums, a sound you wouldn’t blame angels for if they had used at the gates of heaven.

His weight is heavy on you, having collapsed. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, your shoulder, collarbone, jawline, corner of your mouth before wrapping your lips in a kiss you can only describe as breathtakingly romantic.

Fuck were you falling, falling hard. And as Eddie lay on top of you for a solid ten minutes, caressing your skin and kissing you softly, still inside you while basking in the afterglow, he is thinking the exact same thing.

Also that he needs to clean the stairs before Dylan gets home.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie #older eddie munson x you

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it-was-summer · 10 months ago

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Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Y'all this chapter took so long to write. This is NOT proofread once again me and Grammarly were beefing because she doesn't understand fanfiction. Nonetheless, it is 12 am MST and here it is. Now for an overall warning, this chapter talks about so much that I was to let everyone know that I meant for this to be a dark series. That was my goal. I'm so sorry if some of these topics seem like they're too heavy for you. If you feel overwhelmed, disgusted, or just find it hard to read please remember that it is okay and you are loved. This chapter mentions miscarriages, eating disorders, gunshot wounds, suicide, etc. I love you all and stay healthy. I will try to post my 500 followers post soon! Not proofread because eepy. YOU'LL read my chapter unedited and you'll like it! (hopefully). Thanks for reading. -Love you all, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #3 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: miscarriage, eating disorder, catholic guilt, bisexuality mention??, period underwear, stalking, marital problem, divorce, sexual harassment, guns, knives, gunshot wound, This bitch shoots someone, suicide, mention of a skull, blood so much blood.

Tape Contents: We briefly dive into Heather's past. Adeline makes a call that gives the team a reason to visit the suburbs. Heather makes a decision. You see something other than pink for the first time in four days.

Word Count: 6,296

Then- January 10, 20XX

Heather had to get out of Norfolk. She felt suffocated under her father’s watchful gaze and helicopter ways. He was a hard man to love and hard to be around in general. When he drank, she used to pray that he would forget about her, so she became quiet. She didn’t have many friends here anyway, so she took you out of the equation and knew no one else would know her name.

So, with a heavy heart, she moved her life away to Richmond. She changed her major to nursing and killed that quiet girl from Norfolk. She fabricated real lies that sometimes she couldn’t separate from reality. She stared at girls silently with longing and played it off as admiration if she was ever caught. Catholic guilt stopped it from growing into anything else.

She was slow to open up about her feelings and showed people an extroverted sorority girl nursing graduate who liked to go to bars on the weekend and let men’s hands pull at her hips desperately in dark corners.

Now, at twenty-four, she only thought about one thing: how good her stomach looked in this dress. She had thinned out tremendously since the move. At first, it started due to not having enough money to eat anywhere except the shitty university cafeteria. Then, it warped into something else. During its worst moments, she would log her calories or purge food moments after eating it. She could look into mirrors afterward and feel she was achieving something remarkable. Then, sometimes, she would also look at her face and think, ‘Is that what I look like’?

But tonight, she wanted to do something different, something fun. Having told her sorority sisters this, they all jumped on board quickly, agreeing to meet at the bar around 10 p.m. that Saturday. They were thirty minutes late.

Heather was gently fiddling with the hem of her short black dress, her eyes flickering towards the entrance every so often as she waited for them to walk in. This year, she wanted to be happier, less suffering in silence, and a little more smiley. So yes, she wanted to have fun with people she called friends. Despite all her efforts, she was sure they could see right through her sometimes. She swallowed nervously as she nursed a margarita.

The next time she looked at her phone, she saw texts from her former sisters saying that work had been hectic and that they needed to reschedule for another time. So now, Heather Alexander was right back at square one: alone. She glanced down at her dress and frowned slightly at its tight material. It was the kind of dress that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable. Something always felt wrong with that. Heather always secretly knew that she felt an attraction to women and men, but she always felt guilty at the thought.

She sighed as she debated her next move when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she had ever seen. He had soft masculine features that almost looked slightly feminine, a uniform clad against his chest, and a charming boyish smile as their eyes met. Heather whispered a silent prayer that he would like her as he approached her and introduced himself as David Hernandez. How could she not fall for him instantly? Deep brown eyes, pink lips, dark skin, and a low rumble in his voice made her feel like giggling.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were getting married. They spent a few months together in domestic bliss. He got some time off from work, and she kept her last name, and they were… happy.

At least they were happy for six months, and then her world shattered around her as David was deployed to England. She cried herself to sleep the night she heard, and David stroked her back softly to calm her. Heather didn’t want him to leave her and see someone better overseas. She was sure that women would throw themselves at David’s feet, begging him to kiss them, touch them, fuck them, like whores in the street of Babylon. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him, looking at him the way she looked at him, talking to him the way she did in his ear late at night. She begged him to try and find some way out of it, scared to lose what was rightfully hers, but he couldn’t. He left that week.

At first, it was just six months, but then it stretched out into a year of deployment—a year spent being faithful to a man across the Atlantic. She called him when she had time, wrote letters to him, sent him emails, and constantly contacted him in any way she could.

When he got home, it was clear that all her efforts had gone to waste. David was distant. He would sulk in corners of their home on his phone. He would lament on and on about how England felt like his home and how he missed it. She couldn’t stand it. This house they bought together was his home, and it always had been. Why was he struggling to see that?

The more he talked of his deployment, the more Heather became frustrated with him. Then he started to go out more. At first, it was just to speak with some Army friends on base a few spread-out weekends in the month. Then it was every weekend.

Heather found that the only thing that could keep him home was sex. So they had sex constantly, like animals in heat. Disgusting and rutting against each other any moment they could. However, the second that it was over, he would withdraw again. He would get dressed and say he had to get to the base.

Then he was coming late, drunk and slurring, as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and woke her up with sensual touches and dirty talk. She took this as a good sign he was coming home to his wife. He was fucking her and no one else. But slowly, he stopped coming home. He would call her late at night to tell her he would stay with a friend for the night. The following day, he would come home smelling sweet.

Heather felt lost, searching desperately for something to save her marriage. She was devoting all of her love to a man who no longer wanted it, and she could feel him falling out of love with her.

Her saving grace was the morning that she found out she was pregnant. She called David with tears in her eyes and told him softly over the phone, and she heard him laugh for the first time in months. And just like that, he was back.

His soft touches, kisses in the grocery store, and dancing with her in the living room were all back. Her devoted and dotting husband had returned home to her. She could feel the dark cloud of the past couple of months dissipate and the sun shining on her.

That light lasted a good three months. Heather sat up straight as pain coursed through her body, thundering in her abdomen as she shook David awake with tears streaming down her face. Something was wrong with the baby; she knew it. He drove her to the hospital as fast as he could, but it was too late. She had already miscarried.

Heather took a small sabbatical from work and took time to think about her life. She would stare out of their living room window blankly for hours. David was attentive at first, coming home after work and tending to Heather’s broken spirit. But he soon became bored of that routine.

When Heather returned to the pediatric oncology unit, David was notified that he was being deployed again to Okinawa, Japan. He was packed and ready by the end of that month. She didn’t see him off at the airport, picking up an extra shift at the hospital to distract her from the fact that he was leaving her again.

David called her two months into his leave to tell her he wasn’t happy. He wanted a divorce. Then he hung up before she could get a word in. That’s when it all started. Her obsession with consuming anything romantic was almost debilitating. She would visit bookstores and attend readings at the public library, sometimes calling off from work to sit at home with her romances. That’s when she saw you again. She thought that you would have stayed in Norfolk. You had once told her that you loved the water. You liked how it could look gloomy and promising on different days, with mist rolling off the surface.

She tried not to talk to you. She did. She didn’t want to scare you away like she scared David away. No, no, no, she was sure it would all work out this time. So she loved you from a comfortable distance, watching you from her car on the weekends at night, leaving you her gifts on your windshield—a silent courting.

She couldn’t help herself on Valentine’s Day. She had slipped into Nicole Smith’s room without Adeline recognizing her, and she gave the table with Adeline’s purse on it a gentle knock with her hip. Heather apologized quickly, telling her not to worry. She promptly dropped to the floor to gather the spilled contents from Adeline’s bag, and she slipped a labeled key connected to a keychain that read ‘or die’ into her pocket. Once she had copied the key, she quickly returned the original to its owner.

She felt electric when she entered your apartment on Valentine's Day in a dark outfit, a hood covering her face, and four dozen rose petals in a container. She breathed in your perfume as she perused through your bathroom. She traced the spine of every book she could touch on your shelves. She gently dove into your dirty hamper and quickly pulled out a pair of dirty underwear, blood on the inside of them as she shamelessly slipped them into her pocket. Then she got to work spreading the petals throughout your apartment. By the end, she stared at her work, panting lightly as she lay across on your rose-covered bed.

She had to have you.

Now- March 5, 20XX

Derek and Spencer managed to get to the public library an hour before closing. They pulled your coworker, Valerie, aside. She was a pretty brunette, glasses resting on her face delicately as she stared at the two men with a soft look of disappointment. She knew that if they were here, they had yet to find you, and the thought made her feel like breaking down in a fit of tears. She fought the urge to cry as Derek asked her a question, sliding a copy of the Polaroid you had received on your windshield. “Do you happen to remember anyone coming in with a Polaroid camera?”

Valerie stared at the Polaroid with a soft frown, trying to remember something helpful. Spencer spoke quickly, “Sometime around January fourteenth, maybe?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip before the memory washed over her, “Yes! Yes, oh gosh, she was blonde, I think. I remember telling her we didn’t like flash photography in the library. I only saw the back of her head, but I remember the back of her head and the flash of a camera.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly and nodded at Valerie’s words, processing the information silently.“Are you sure it was a woman?” Spencer asked softly before Valarie enthusiastically nodded.

“Yes, it was definitely a woman who took the picture.” She confirmed in a soft voice before she looked down at the Polaroid with a gentle tenderness in her eyes. “She baked me cookies last week, you know?” She looked up at the two men with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. “My cat is sick, and she made me cookies to make me feel better.” She laughed sadly as the tears started to fall.

Derek placed a soft hand over Valerie’s and gave her a tender look, “We’re looking for her,” The words caused a shaky sigh to escape Valarie’s lips as she pulled her hand away quickly and stood up.

Her cheeks were red as she cried out a soft “Excuse me.” before she turned on her heel and hurriedly left the room.

Spencer picked up the picture and stared at you in the photo. The way your hair shined in the fluorescent light, your eyes and smile trained directly on the person you were talking to. You were personable, and the thought made his stomach turn. He looked over at Derek as Spencer handed the photo back to him.

The two men walked out of the library silently, and Derek let out a soft sigh as he watched the sun starting to settle against the horizon. Spencer walked beside him with his hand stuffed in his pockets, and his head hung a little low in thought.

Derek broke the silence first, “We should get back to the station to see if JJ and Rossi have anything,”

And then they rode back in contemplative silence after that.

March 6, 20XX

You weren’t sure if it was day or night anymore. All you knew was that you were starting to feel uneven. Every creak of wood, settling of pipes, and rumble of the house had your back straightening against the bed. You were sure that Heather would fly in at any moment and touch you.

A million options weighed heavy in your mind at the scenario; you could fight back again, but that would get you sliced again or worse. You could go with it, zone out as much as possible, let her have her way with you. That option made your head spin with nausea. You had to find a way to get out.

You licked at the gash on your lip, gently exploring the cut with your tongue until you could feel the warmth of blood again. You pushed your tongue back into your mouth and looked over at your day-old apple on the nightstand, half-eaten and brown. You tenderly took a small bite that wouldn’t require you to move your lips too much.

You didn’t have much of the day-old meal left; a half-full water and this apple was all you had. You chewed softly, fighting off the nausea that threatened to creep in due to the morphine.

You tried to remember anything that could be helpful to you. It was hard to think of high doses of morphine. You had played with the knob often; when you were ready to sleep, it would go up, and when you were up, it would turn down. But lately, you just wanted it to be turned up.

You tried to think of when Heather came into the pink room. She always stuffed her keys into her pockets. A plan was in the making: Get her out of her clothes, and you could get the keys.

You nodded a little despite your discomfort with the idea of her touching you again. You just had to seduce her a little, which should be easy considering that she was ‘in love’ with you. The only problem with that plan was that you had a mangled ankle and a body running on morphine; she didn’t. Heather’s temper was quick when you talked back, and rage followed if you did something against her liking.

Maybe begging would work. No, you tried that already. Why would begging work? Perhaps you could hurt yourself just enough to force her to take you to the hospital. But that didn’t work either; she was a nurse. She wouldn’t incriminate herself like that, would she? Maybe total submission would be the key.

Convince her that you love her back and somehow ask to be let out with her supervision, but that could take forever.

You started to cry softly as you set down the core of the apple and laid down, wishing to pull your legs to your chest, but the pain of one ankle and the chain around the other made that physically impossible.

You cried until you felt your eyelids become heavy, tears still slipping out of your eyes as you fell into a morphine-induced sleep.

March 6, 20XX

JJ paced back and forth in front of the bulletin board, occasionally flicking her eyes over to the photos pinned to it as she tried to chase what was likely to be a loose end. The number that had called yours and left a message full of sobs had been a burner.

Spencer had tried to tell her to eat something this morning, but as the clock’s hands crept towards nine a.m., she still didn’t feel hungry enough to try. She sighed out another frustrated huff as Emily appeared in front of her. “If you sigh like that one more time, I think I might have to force a croissant down your throat.”

JJ gave her another dramatic sigh before she put her hands on her hips: “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have no leads. We know it's a woman, but Adeline isn’t likely to be the unsub, and all her coworkers have alibis. It just feels like we are running around with our heads cut off.”

Emily smiled and gave her a gentle nod of understanding, “I get it, but you pacing around like this isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you a drink, coffee, or maybe something to eat.”

“People who eat breakfast consistently are twenty-five percent likely to be more productive at work,” Spencer spoke up from a desk not too far from the two women.

Emily pointed over at Spencer, “See? You’re making Spencer freak out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” Spencer frowned at the comment before looking back at a file on the desk.

JJ’s smile was slow as she let her hands fall to her side and let out a soft, “Fine.” She agreed as Emily walked over to the precinct's breakroom, JJ following her.

Derek was clicking a pen obnoxiously in an off-beat rhythm. He was about to say something when his phone started to ring on his desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Hi, uhm, is this Special Agent Morgan?” Adeline’s voice was shaky through the phone.

Derek relaxed slightly as he set down his pen. “Yeah, Adeline. Did something happen?” He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she would call the number he had left with her if nothing happened. He was too focused on the case to think of any other reason anyway.

“Yeah, maybe? I was talking to one of the nurses about something today, and I recognized one of them. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner, but it was an old friend from college. She was more Y/N’s friend than mine, but I talked to her a little.” Adeline’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “I mentioned that she was missing, and Heather had a weird reaction. She smiled for a second. I swear, she said she was sad to hear that, but she looked… well, for a second, it just seemed like maybe she was happy.”

Derek picked the pen back up again, ready to write down a name. It wasn’t much, but they could visit her. “What was her name again?”

“Gosh, it was Heather something… Heather, Heather, Heather,” She bit her lip as she tried to think back. “Alexander! Heather Alexander.”

Derek wrote it down and muttered quickly, “We'll look into it, thanks.” As a goodbye, he let Adeline quickly thank him over the phone before he hung up and called Penelope.

Penelope, quick as always, picked up on the first ring. “Center of divine intellect,” was her greeting.

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl. Listen, could you get Heather Alexander's address? Adeline Smith called saying that she had a strange reaction to hearing about our girl going missing.”

“Easy,” was her answer before Derek could hear the sounds of keys being tapped against and a soft humming sound emitting from Penelope’s lips as she pulled up the address: “4432 Lake Margaret Pl., Chesterfield, Virginia.”

“You are an angel, Garcia.”

“I always aim to please,”

“And you never fail, baby girl.”

JJ had begged Derek with her eyes to let her go with Spencer. It was just an interview, not even an interrogation, just to see if the connection between you and Heather went deeper than old college friends. So why shouldn’t she go?

Derek wasn’t one to put up a big fight, so he let her with Spencer. It was only thirty minutes away anyway, so if they needed the team it wouldn’t take too long for them to show up, right? He stayed behind on the phone with Garcia, who was doing her best to see if Heather had any criminal history on her record.

As the car rolled around the cul de sac, Spencer’s eyes struggled to look away from the plethora of plants in the fenced-in front yard. Pink anemones were scattered amongst daffodils, and what looked like daisies were blooming side by side. JJ rolled the car to a stop, parking it against the curb.

“Pretty yard,” She muttered as she took the keys out of the ignition. Spencer nodded a little; he had to admit that Spring came in a close second to Fall as the superior season in his mind. The flowers growing after frozen earth had kept them dormant, the welcomed feeling of the sun getting slightly warmer. It was still somewhat chilly at ten in the morning as he stepped out of the car with JJ, but he had to admit, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise.

His head tilted back a little as he stole a glance at the blue sky above them and smiled before stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head toward the house. JJ smiled and walked beside him, happy to be out of the precinct and in the early morning air.

Heather was washing the paring knife she had used on you in her kitchen sink, facing a large bay window in her living room. She swiped at the hardened blood and frowned a little at the memory. Why was she so upset with you? She could hardly remember herself when she got angry like that.

It was almost fitting, her flying off the handle over something so simple as you not being ready for her love. Was she no better than a man? Had she gotten so accustomed to men's vile and sharp ways that she had somehow forgotten how to be gentle?

She felt her hands shake as a voice came into her head, whispering her worst fear: She was worse than her father.

She let tears blur her vision at the thought as she rubbed the knife harder with a sponge, shaking her head quickly. No, no, no, no. She was not like that man. She was not cold like that man. She was lovable. She felt love. She felt overwhelming love for you. She had felt overwhelming love for David.

Her downward spiral was cut short as she lifted her weeping head and saw a black SUV parked in front of her yard. She quickly wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled lightly as she gently slid the knife into the dishwasher, watching two people get out of the van.

Heather’s eyes were glued to the blonde at first, pretty and fair in the morning sun before her eyes flickered to the man beside her. She recognized him immediately. She was sure it was the same man she almost ran into at the hospital yesterday.

She dried her hands as she walked around the kitchen island. As they got closer, her head arched to see how close they were. Panic was running through her veins. Her gun was in her room upstairs, loaded. She just had to get upstairs; her feet were quick to try and run upstairs and stash it somewhere close before they could ring the doorbell. Just as the idea seemed plausible enough, the bell rang through the house.

Heather let out a silent scream of panic as she smoothed out her shirt, fixed her hair, and caught a quick glance of her pretty face in the mirror near the front door before she swung it open with a pleasantly fake smile on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned both of their faces as she smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. My name is Jennifer Jareau. This is Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we were just wondering if we could ask you some questions.” JJ spoke clearly as she flashed her badge at Heather, a slight smile on her lips as she looked into Heather’s eyes. Spencer recognized her, finding it strange that he had almost run directly into the beautiful woman at the hospital just the day before.

Heather laughed softly and nodded as she stepped aside, opening the door wider to let the two agents inside. “Of course,” Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the edge of the door tightly, half tempted to slam it directly in their faces and go upstairs to shoot Catherine and herself to freedom.

They weren’t on to her yet; she was sure of that– especially given their lack of people– just two against one. She was quick to shut the door behind them before leading the two of them into her living room. “Can I get you two any water? I have some juice.”

The two agents shook their heads in a polite ‘no, thank you’ way as they sat on the sofa across from Heather. Heather sat on a chair with a soft “Okay” as she eyed them carefully. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?”

“No, We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding an old college friend of yours, Y/N L/N.”

“Well,” She smoothed out her long skirt slowly, remembering to breathe normally, “What about her?”

“Had you been in contact with her at all? Did she mention anything about someone following her?”

Heather let out a gentle laugh as she shook her head, “I haven’t really had the time to reach out to old friends lately,”

Spencer’s interest peaked as he joined the conversation, “How come?”

Heather’s gaze became a little pointed at the question. Of course, the man has to ask her, “I lost a baby recently, and my husband was deployed soon after, so forgive me for not becoming pen pals with someone I knew at eighteen.” The words were direct and vicious, but she couldn’t help herself. She blew out a soft sigh before she let out a gentle and timid, “I’m sorry,”

Spencer licked his lips nervously as he leaned back against the sofa slightly, trying to resist the urge to disappear into it. Self-isolation wasn’t uncommon for women who had recently suffered from a miscarriage. That feeling more than likely increased as her support system was ripped away from her.

JJ gently touched Spencer’s knee before she cut the tension. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Alexander. We’re just trying to piece some information together.”

Heather ran a hand through her hair before she gave JJ a tight-lipped smile. “I understand that; I’m sorry. Would it be alright if I ran upstairs for some medicine? I feel a headache coming on.” She spoke fast with a tense voice, trying her hardest to pass it off as pain with a rub of her temple. When JJ nodded, she stood up and headed upstairs as calmly as she could manage.

JJ looked over at Spencer, watching Heather walk away carefully. “She seems angrier with men than anything.” Her voice was slightly amused before Spencer frowned.

“Doesn’t mean she’s in the clear; stalking is often a form of intense infatuation, but it's also used as a way to control something. She’s struggling with two things that could be our stressors: she’s craving control or dependency. She-” The soft ringing of his phone cut off his whispered rant. He answered it, happy that at least it was just Garcia calling, hoping for a better lead than his ongoing hunch.

He stood and looked at JJ, who was mouthing for him to go outside, “Hey,” He answered as he slipped out of the front door.

“Hey, nothing is coming up anywhere on Heather’s record for criminal activity—sorority sister, wife, nurse, clean as a whistle. However, considering we don’t have much right now, I decided to see if she had any warnings at work.”

“Right,” Spencer looked over his shoulder at the front door as he walked away to stand in front of the garage.

“Well, last month, she got a write-up for stealing some morphine; her supervisor forced her to go see a therapist after Heather said that she was using it for some leftover pain she was experiencing after her miscarriage. But Heather never showed,”

Spencer was walking a little further down the driveway as he listened to Garcia talk on the phone, counting the number of windows in the house. His eyes narrowed slightly to try and block out the sun before he looked away. He licked his bottom lip gently before acting on his little hunch, “Could you check her credit report? See if there are any purchases that you can find that seem odd around March third?”

“Could I check her credit report,” Garcia repeated with a laugh, “Hold on, boy genius.”

Spencer could see the top of JJ’s head from the bay window, and he turned away slightly, finding ease in the fact that she was still there. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “She went to the store, but nothing crazy. Bought,” He could hear typing, “Bleach and rubbing alcohol.”

Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he asked, “When was her husband deployed again? Did she buy anything from a florist around Valentine’s Day?”

“Husband was deployed December first and,” she hummed gently before she sighed, “Bought some flowers on Valentine’s day, rose petals.”

Spencer felt that feeling when something connected in his brain, a rush of adrenaline as he felt his hunch slowly turn into a plausible accusation. The roses were just that, roses. But the bleach and rubbing alcohol? That’s a recipe for chloroform right there. And finally, Heather’s husband was deployed at the beginning of December, stressor number two. It made him feel slightly hopeful about walking back into the house. “Thanks, Garcia.” He said as his feet reached the end of the driveway. He hung up the phone, walking back towards the house at a fast pace when the familiar and startling 'crack' of a gun reached his ears.

His hands drew his gun out of the holster, running back towards the house. He pushed the front door open with his foot as he heard the thumping of footsteps running on the stairs. He rounded the corner to the living room before lowering his gun as he saw JJ bleeding from a bullet wound in her thigh.

“JJ!” His voice panicked as he reached her groaning side, kneeling low to the ground next to her. “What happened?”

JJ shook her head quickly, “I’m calling for backup. She ran upstairs. She didn’t even try to,” her eyes squeezed shut tightly as a sharp pain rattled through her inner thigh, “Just go!” She urged him as she reached down for the phone in her back pocket, her free hand pressing on her gushing wound to try and slow the bleeding.

Spencer’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he let out a soft, “No, I’ll stay here until everyone gets-”

“Spencer, go!”

Spencer felt his spine straighten at the second command. He gave her a grim nod as he stood up, readied his gun, and started for the stairs. His footsteps were soft and calculated as he ascended, pink light flooding the floor as he approached the top of the stairs. He could hear gentle begging in a voice too soft and thick to be Heather’s.

“Please, Heather, please, my love. Don’t, please don’t.” Repetitive cries for mercy made his legs move faster until he approached an opened door. The regular-looking bedroom door gave way to a steel one just behind it before revealing the scene of what looked like a demented love nest.

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the scene. Gun pointed carefully at Heather as he spoke, “Heather, put down the gun. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. You know that.”

Heather jumped a little at the sound, her pistol clicking softly as her sweaty palms tightened their grip. She was quick to turn her body around to face him with the gun aimed directly at him as she spoke. “Don’t pretend like you know me or her. You don’t know our relationship. She wants this just as much as I do.”

“You know she doesn’t look at her. Look at what you’re doing to her.”

Heather’s eyes drifted to you, chained to the bed, watching as you hyperventilate softly. Heather felt her bottom lip quiver before she looked back at Spencer. “She’s just scared. You’re making me do this. She knows you’re making me do this.”

Spencer’s eyes drifted to your crying form on the bed, trying to keep your sobs quiet as you stared at him with wild eyes. He glanced over at the morphine drip next to your bed before his eyes settled back on Heather. His lips parted to say something more, but she cut him off quickly, “Put your gun down, and I won’t do it.”

Heather’s body language gives her away as she motions for him to put his gun down, her eyes crazed and large, her hands shaking and rigid against her pistol. “I’m not going to-”

“Put your fucking, gun down, or she dies,” Heather yells so loud that it elicits a soft sob from your lips, your arms coming up to protect your head, ready for the shot to be administered and for your brains to be blown out in front of Spencer in that very moment.

Spencer holds up both of his hands at that; he swears he can hear the soft sounds of sirens in the distance as he lowers his gun to the floor slowly, his foot gently kicking the gun away with a soft ‘clack.’

“Now you,” his calm voice says as he raises his hands, inching closer. Tears stream down Heather’s face now as she shakes her head gently.

“I have to,” Is her tear-soaked reply as she keeps the barrel pointed at Spencer’s head, her fingers twitching lightly as they move for the trigger. Your shaking voice cuts through the scene, and Spencer is pretty sure it’s the only thing that is stopping him from diving for his gun a few feet from him.

“Heather, baby,” Your voice betrays you as you speak the pet name, coming off a little too forced, but you continue anyway. “He can help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. We can be happy, and we can get away. He can help, right?” Your arms relax around your head slowly as you look over at Spencer, who nods silently.

“I can, but you have got to put your gun down.”

Heather chokes out a strangled sob as she looks over at you, watching as you smile at her. You know it’s forced, but Heather can only view it as the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—a great parting gift.

She feels spit thick on her tongue as she evaluates her options: kill Spencer and go to jail. Kill you, and she might not have enough time to kill herself. Killing herself seems like the best plan out of the three, so she holds her gun steady at Spencer as she looks at your now bleeding smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, almost so human that you feel your heart clench in pity before that clenching feeling turns into pure anxiety as you see the movement of her arm. Spencer’s feet aren't quick enough for him to tackle her to the ground as Heather raises the gun to her temple and pulls the trigger.

Her body drops to the edge of the bed, sliding down it as you feel blood coat your legs. Your ears are ringing, and your mouth is wide open as you scream. At least you think you’re screaming. You can’t hear much but a pathetic muffle of the sound as the ringing in your ears increases.

Your hands are quick to try and wipe off chunks of what looks to be part of a skull off of your exposed stomach, and you can’t seem to stop staring at Heather’s limp body at the edge of the bed. The image of her mangled head oozing blood has you gagging softly, feeling yourself getting ready to be sick before you feel two hands cup your face.

You’re screaming or sobbing; you can’t tell anymore as Spencer Reid’s face blocks the view. He keeps your face steady in his hands as you try to read his lips, your breathing heavy as he strokes your hair gently. His voice creeps in through the ringing until you eventually hear the soft repetition of, “I got you, look at me. Just keep looking at me; you’re safe.”

You feel your breathing slow, your arms reaching up to grab him before your eyes roll back as your body slumps against Spencer’s, and everything is engulfed in black.

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