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formulawolff · 5 months ago

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xviii. separation - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, toto being down bad, james being a dick (yet again), some angst, sexual innuendos, mentions of divorce, mentions of slut-shaming, addressing cheating allegations, yearning (lots of it!), yadayadayada

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“fuck!”

your voice carries through the garage as your helmet meets the floor, thudding against the concrete surface. ripping at your face covering, you suck in a breath of fresh air, in a vain attempt to cool down.

yet, your heart still races, thumping against your rib-cage as james approaches you, disappointment painting his features. his lips are wound in a tight frown, brows knitted together, arms folded across his chest.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“what was that?” the inquiry is more like a demand, rough and coarse.

“i don’t know,” you hiss, jaw clenching as you throw your hands up in the air, “the car was fucking slow, that’s what!”

“oh,” james scoffs, rolling his eyes, “like we haven’t poured millions upon millions of dollars into these cars. like we haven’t spent hours upon hours tinkering with them, making the necessary adjustments and upgrades so that we can compete. have you paused your little tantrum for a minute to stop and think about what happened? or are you going to act like a fucking child for the next twenty minutes?”

“the weather conditions aren’t helping,” a new voice cuts in.

to your left, a tender hand envelops your shoulder, massaging it.

the voice is so familiar. one you have become acquainted with over the last year or so.

alex.

“maybe you can talk some sense into our little drama queen over here,” james shakes his head, pointing a finger at you, “that was a shitty lap and you know it. i don’t even know what mercedes sees in you with a drive like that. i suggest you stop fantasizing about mr. wolff for two seconds and focus on racing for just one minute. maybe then you would have earned the pole position.”

the words are like venom-laced daggers, stabbing you in the chest with a fiery, searing pain.

tears well up, heat billowing into your cheeks.

“f-fuck you,” you manage to sputter out, alex’s arms instinctively wrapping around your frame, protecting you from the nosy glances now flooding your way from all directions.

“we’ll meet again later tonight,” james’ tone is hollow, nearly emotionless, “alex, good job on your qualifying time. see you soon.”

“thank you,” alex inhales a sharp breath, tugging on your suit, “come on, we should go cool down somewhere else. people are staring.”

“i can’t fucking stand this,” you mutter, sniffling slightly, “this is getting out of hand.”

“no shit,” alex leads you out of the garage and into the paddock, ensuring that you’re behind him, “what the fuck was that all about?”

ever since you arrived in montreal, the once loving, supportive bond you shared with james was deteriorating by the second, the team principal failing to hide his disapproval of your relationship with toto.

james was like an adoptive father to you, as he was the one who convinced williams to sign you in the first place. he was the one who risked his reputation and position just so that you could sit behind the wheel of a formula one car. there were so many memories created, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. and well, since you spent more time with him traveling the world than your own family, you became very close.

he would share his advice, and you would listen attentively. if he gave you pointers, you accepted them graciously. if he advocated for your rightful place in the sport, you would thank him, both in front of and behind cameras.

there was even an episode dedicated to you on the latest season of drive to survive, where it covered the irreplaceable friendship that blossomed between you and the team principal. there were so many scenes of you laughing or joking with him, alex included. there was even a moment where he held onto you so tightly, murmuring endless strands of praise in your ear. that happened after your first race where you finished in the top ten, scoring points for the team.

now, there was no more laughter. lately, you could barely get the hint of a smile.

there was simply coldness. icy and unforgiving, constantly blanketing you with anxiety every time you interacted with him.

and god, there was only so much more you could take.

“do you want to text george?” alex’s voice brings you back to the present, “i can have him corral lewis, lando, and oscar. they can come over here for a bit. after all, we don’t have any obligations till later tonight.”

he’s led you to his designated space within the paddock, sitting you on one of the plush couches. his switch lays on the table, charging as he fiddles with his phone, scrolling absentmindedly.

“i don’t know how i would feel about hanging out with mercedes drivers in the williams paddock,” you let out an exasperated sigh, burying your head in your hands, “james may think i’m getting intel about toto.”

that was yet another dreadful aspect of the weekend. since you were so accustomed to toto’s presence, holding you oh so tightly against his chest, you weren’t sleeping as well as throughout the night. the delicate patches of skin underneath your eyes were a little puffy, from the exhaustion and the stress.

so much for a successful weekend in canada.

you could say goodbye to your hopes of a grand prix victory, especially with a position like fourteen.

managing a podium position would take a miracle, as you would have to overtake at least eleven of the drivers.

and with your current situation, you truly were in need of some sort of wish on a star. a miraculous event in which james would cast aside his disappointment for just one minute. where the pr teams didn’t dictate your every move. where you could do the impossible, fighting your way on the grid to the podium.

where you could reunite with toto, burying your head in his chest as his brassy voice filled your ears.

“oh,” alex clears his throat, tossing a rectangular device in your direction, “here’s your phone girlypop.”

since you were a little paranoid about james confiscating your phone for the weekend, you had alex hide it in his space, somewhere out of sight. it was a little bit silly, but you were just afraid of how far the team principal would go to keep you in line, solely dedicated to competing.

however, you wondered if james recalled that you were a human, someone who had feelings and did not need to be paraded around like some sort of exhibit or attraction. an adult who was completely capable of making her own decisions and doing as she pleased.

after all, your relationship with toto was not affecting your racing.

well, until now, when the two of you were forced into isolation from one another.

and god only knew how much longer the two of you would be separated.

only one more day to go.

not like you were keeping track or anything.

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“should we call her?”

“i don’t know mate,” a figure whistles, “he’s going absolutely ballistic over there.”

merely a dozen feet away from the pair stood toto wolff, his foot tapping against the concrete, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as engineers, mechanics, and crew mill about, mingling with one another. on his wrist, there’s a rubber band. which happened to be snapped against his skin numerous times throughout the course of the day.

that was something lewis picked up the moment he walked into the garage hours ago, how the team principal was wound up tightly, seconds away from crumbling to pieces.

to prevent any sort or irritability or lashing out, the team principal donned the band, fidgeting with it constantly. it wasn’t so much that he was snapping it, just the fact that nearly every minute, lewis could sense his distress, the way his fingers wrapped around the band.

although there was much to celebrate from this qualifying session, as george landed the pole position, lewis only six cars behind him, the team principal barely displayed any positive emotions. the only thing was the cracking of a quaint smile after the laps. he did congratulate the two, but there were few words.

the team principal’s state was understandable, as his beloved was near the bottom of the grid. additionally, there was the added pressure to maintain his distance, to remain separated for the duration of the weekend.

to lewis, it seemed that separating the two only stressed toto out more, his mood significantly diminished, his aura exuding pure desperation as he yearned to catch a glimpse of his golden girl. the british driver even caught him staring forlornly at the screens whenever she appeared, shifting uneasily in his seat.

it was pitiful, really.

and quite shitty on the pr team’s part. their relationship did not take away from his ability to lead the team, nor tend to his duties. that blazing determination to crush their rivals was still there, just burning slightly dimmer than usual.

however, lewis knew the reality of the situation.

the team principal and american driver needed to maintain their distance for the sake of the teams. it was not a good look on the team’s end to allow a fifty-two year old man and twenty-two year old woman to frolic around the paddocks, their hands entwined. it was not favorable for their reputations to let them kiss in front of the cameras. the public was still leery of their relationship, so they would remain separated for the time being, just so that the pr teams could let it all blow over.

for a minute, the british driver considered spreading some hot gossip, something so insane that it was almost believable. just so that toto and his american girl could reunite, shielded from the spotlight.

“not doing too hot over there, loverboy?” a chuckle flows from his lips as toto approaches them, a pout apparent, “oh come on, that was funny. it’s okay to laugh, you know.”

the team principal’s right eye twitches, “i think one of you just needs to take me out back and–”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” george sticks out his hands, “we are not doing any of that! none of the sort!”

“jesus christ, toto,” lewis shakes his head, exhaling, “it hasn’t been that long.”

the team principal’s shoulders droop, darkened rings apparent under his eyes, “i haven’t been sleeping well. i haven’t been able to focus on the team. it sucks, it fucking sucks. all i can think about is her. she’s like a little damn parasite invading my brain.”

“well she does suck–” lewis begins, but is swiftly cut off by george.

“lewis.”

“i assume none of you have spoken with the media yet about the grid tomorrow?” for just a second, toto reverts back to his normal state, “we probably should. i do not want the press under the impression that i’ve been avoiding them.”

toto did have a point there.

“let’s go then,” lewis shrugs, “i’m sure they’ll all be swarming around the paddocks.”

the trio wave their goodbyes to the crew, toto announcing the time in which he would be returning to briefly go over any last minute modifications or adjustments. there are chirps in response, the team clearly more relaxed now that their team principal was seemingly back in business.

it was not long before they were approached by none other than rachel brookes, her blonde locks bouncing as she strolls up to them, microphone in hand. her sky sports f1 badge sways as a breeze rolls through, strands of hair following in suit.

“mr. wolff! just a moment!”

of course she wished to speak with toto.

this was going to be good.

the team principal runs a hand through his hair, the words barely audible under his breath, “perhaps this was a mistake. fuck, fuck, fuck–”

yet, he straightens his posture as she flashes a radiant smile, bringing the mic to her lips, “i just have a few questions! it won’t be long!”

george and lewis take a step back, watching eagerly as the cameraman hoists the ginormous device on his shoulder, adjusting it so that it is balanced perfectly. rachel clears her throat, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“good evening! we are here with none other than toto wolff, team principal of mercedes-amg petronas. for a couple of weeks now, we’ve been following the developing story of his intimate relationship with the williams driver.”

oh shit.

lewis’ eyes widen as his lips part, shock coursing through his veins.

this was not going to end well.

toto remains still, almost frozen as rachel continues, “so, mr. wolff, tell us what we have been dying to know. who was the one who initiated the relationship? how did it begin? was the divorce finalized?”

as the microphone shifts, hovering by his mouth, blood roars in the team principal’s ears, his mind scrambling, desperate to formulate some sort of coherent response that would satisfy rachel’s inquiry.

it was almost as if he was a deer in headlights, completely and utterly beside himself as the car barreled closer and closer.

briefly, the image of her flashes in mind. the way her plush lips curved into that stunning smile, the grin brighter than the sun. the way her eyes shone as they looked up at him, glittering just like the stars above. the way her voice was enough to make him weak, his knees buckling nearly every time she spoke.

how she was effortlessly divine yet despicable. an angel in front of the world, her laughter ringing like bells, her light illuminating any room she entered. a siren behind closed doors, batting those lashes, her moans melodic and enticing, pulling him in deeper and deeper.

fuck, was she perfect. so fucking perfect.

and he missed her, oh so dearly.

she was only a few paddocks away, the distance between them measurable with some tape.

well, if the mercedes pr team didn’t want him interacting with his sweet girl, the least he could do to fill that void was talk about her.

fuck it.

the world already was aware of their illicit relationship.

why not give the people what they wanted?

“i initiated our relationship,” he starts, feeling a grin form as rachel’s eyes gleam, “i approached her a few months ago in bahrain. if we’re being honest here, i had been crushing on her for quite some time. since the news broke of her signing to williams in december of 2022.”

“wait,” rachel pauses, “you were attracted to her for over a year before initiating the relationship?”

“yes,” he shrugs his shoulder, head swiveling so that he was staring directly into the camera lens, “i am quite aware of the disapproval and rumors surrounding our relationship. but i am going to squash the whispers for good. to all of the naysayers who believe that i cheated on susie, you all are wrong. we separated almost three years ago, in july of 2021. i still have a deep respect and admiration for susie.

she is not my scornful ex-wife. she is suzanne stoddart, an independent, strong woman who is the brains and brawn behind the f1 academy. she is the mother of our children, who works tirelessly so that she can give them the world. we are on good terms, have an amicable friendship, and co-parent our children together. of course, you all do not have to believe me but that is the truth.

i love that american girl. rather than referring to her as a slut or homewrecker, perhaps you need to be reminded of who she is. she is the only woman in the history of the sport to ever win a grand prix. she is the first woman to win five grand prixes. she continues to shatter records, all of which are her own. she is the momentum that williams has been searching for all along.

she is going to the 2024 world driver’s champion. i just know it.”

as he finishes, toto shrinks in his stature, unaware of how passionate his sentiment was. his cheeks burn, tinged with a crimson hue, heat flushing down his neck as rachel blinks. there’s a beat of silence before she speaks up once more.

“wow, toto. that is quite the strong statement.”

“well,” he licks his lips, “that is all i have to say. no further questions, please.”

the team principal shifts his body, starting to face lewis and george.

their expression is unreadable, eyes blown open, jaws hanging low.

“wait!” rachel clicks her tongue, “one last question!”

“and that is?” toto tuts, “i said no more further questions–”

“you said that you loved that american driver. do you mind elaborating on that?”

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taglist: @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @statuewoman @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @msbyjackal @annaaepf1 @paigelouise @bborra @bblouifford @s-awturn @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @gisellesprettylies @wonderwolffs @xxforeverinadayxx @theseerbetweenus @simply-the-best23 @ringdingdingdingx @leilanixx @marknolee @rylieverstappen-sargent @whoisss @ajthefujoshi @m-1234 @ihateyougunthersteiner @racecardilfs @nicaeno @5sospenguinqueen @hookhausenschips @ashy-kit

as always, thank you all so much for the endless support! if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! i love you all so much! <3

three chapters left!

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #formula one #f1 #formula 1 #alkaline #alkaline: female driver! x toto wolff #alkaline series #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #alex albon #george russell #james vowles #williams racing #mercedes amg petronas

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mymoodwriting · 1 month ago

Text

Royal Blood

Female!Reader x Alpha!Seonghwa

Genre: A/B/O, Royalty

Warning: Minor Self-Harm, Starvation, Depression, Anxiety, Isolation, Loneliness, Frustration, A/B/O Dynamics, Suppressants, Scent Blockers, Trespassing, Abuse, Gossip, Rumors

Words: 6.6K

Chapter Two

(Prev//Next) (@starillusion13 @yizhou-time @hannahdinse8)

Prompt: You were a princess in name alone. Unable to perform any of the duties that come with the title. It seemed to be your destiny to live a quiet life. That is until you met someone who refused to see you silenced. Perhaps your fate was wrong all along.

A/N: A second chapter so soon, to properly set up the story...

“That insolent little girl!”

Yunho was heading to his library one morning when he heard his mother’s voice. It didn’t sound good, and soon enough he saw his mother with her entourage storming in a familiar direction. Yunho quickly moved to intervene, stopping his mother in her tracks.

“Mother, what’s wrong? It’s far too early in the day for you to be upset like this.”

“The princess is being difficult this morning. She’s refusing to take her medicine.” The Queen sighed. “This is a first for her, but unacceptable nonetheless.”

“Mother, take a deep breath. I will go speak to my sister and take care of this, alright?”

“No, I should do it myself. You shouldn’t be bothered with such trivial matters.”

“It’s alright, mother. I haven’t paid her a visit in a while, so this is the perfect opportunity. Consider the matter resolved.”

“Alright, but do let me know if she causes trouble.”

“Of course, mother.”

Yunho bowed before making his way to his sister’s quarters. He stood outside for a moment. It really had been a while since he last came to visit. In that time things had changed, but at the center of it all the princess was still his younger sister. His arrival was announced and he entered to find a rather unique sight before him. You were lying in bed, hidden under the covers, your breakfast untouched, as was the medicine on your table. Yunho carefully moved it all aside, kneeling next to you and gently pulling back the covers. He could see you were actually fully dressed, and your eyes were red and puffy from crying.

“Y/n, what happened? What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing…”

“I don’t believe that.”

Yunho pulled you up, but he could soon see that you were avoiding his gaze. You looked awful, and he had to know why. This need to make things better for you was rooted deep inside him, and he’s had it all his life.

“Mother was on her way here when she heard you were refusing to take your medicine, why is that?”

“I don’t want it… there’s no point…”

“What are you talking about? I know I haven’t seen you much lately but…”

The situation suddenly dawned on Yunho. Your room was untouched despite you being present, bits of dust starting to build up. Not to mention your clothes weren’t just from this morning, but the smell they gave off revealed you hadn’t changed for at least a day. Bits of your actual scent were seeping through and he had to calm himself. Now that he was really getting a good look at you he could see just how dreadful you truly looked. Yunho reached up to grab your chin, gently encouraging you to meet his gaze. Despite being familiar with your eyes, he could clearly notice the lack of a spark in them now.

“Y/n, what is going on here?”

“I’m-”

“Do not lie to me… please.”

“… I’m not hungry… that’s all… and I-”

“Y/n.”

You closed your eyes, unable to face Yunho. “The Queen has forbidden me from leaving my quarters unless summoned… since I’m not allowed to leave… I see no reason in bothering with food… or my medicine… I’m very much dead to the world… things would be better off if I truly was…”

“That is enough. Do not talk like that.”

“Yunho, just go.” You pleaded, opening your eyes. “You have more important things to worry about right now.”

“Do you think you’re not important to me? You’re my sister, you’re my responsibility.”

“I’m just a burden to everyone in the palace. You’d surely be studying right now if not for me… I’m sorry…”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’ll speak with mother about-”

“Don’t!” You grabbed Yunho’s hand. “Not a word about this to the Queen.”

“Y/n-”

“You’ll make things worse… Yunho, please…”

“There’s no reason for you to be locked up here.”

“Yes there is… I keep causing trouble… and the last thing I should be is a concern of yours… you’re going to be king someday soon, you need to focus on that…”

“How could I possibly do that knowing my sister is unhappy and not looking after herself? Hm?”

“I… I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing. If you really want me to stop worrying about you, I need to know you’re okay.”

Yunho brought over your breakfast, grabbing the utensils and holding out some food for you. He gestured for you to eat, and after a moment you caved. He fed you until everything was gone, bringing over your medicine.

“You told me you wanted to live long enough to see me marry and become king, and I want you to live much longer than that. Neither of us can keep our word if you don’t take your medicine and look after your health. So please, drink.”

You met Yunho’s gaze for a moment before taking the medicine. A familiar bitter taste landed on your tongue, but you drank every last drop. Yunho reached over to pet your head, happy to see you doing the right thing.

“You’re not gonna cause any more trouble are you?”

“No! No, not-”

Yunho quickly realized his poor choice of words, placing his hands on your shoulders and hushing you, offering you a smile.

“I meant, you won’t make me worry again, right? You’ll eat and take your medicine, promise?”

“I promise.” You stated. “Just… please don’t question the Queen about my situation… I have plenty to do in my quarters… I’ll be fine… and I won’t worry you anymore…”

“Y/n-”

“Please… I don’t want to be a burden to you…”

Yunho sighed. “You’re not a burden, and I shall let this go for now. I’ll come see you again later today.”

“Thank you. I’ll await your visit then.”

Yunho felt better about the whole situation, petting your head one last time before getting up. Although he lingered for a moment longer.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“When I’m king… things will be different… I promise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have some faith, and trust me.”

“I always trust you.”

“Thank you.”

♦♦♥♦♦

You honestly felt awful for having worried your brother. You should have known word would spread to him eventually, and he would surely come by to see you. Making him worry about you really was the last thing you wanted to do, so that meant you had to get up. You had to live properly in order for him to focus on the important things. You couldn’t be a reason why he struggled to be king.

For the last few days you had just been rotting away in bed. Slowly losing your appetite, but it was rather amusing it all came back to you with a simple visit from your brother. You opened up your window, letting the sunlight and fresh air in. The day was a bit gloomy, but you couldn’t let your emotions mimic it. After cleaning up and getting dressed you stepped out into your little garden, along with some paper and paints. It would have been nice if the sun was out, but it was better to take things slow.

Just because this place was your prison, it didn’t mean you had to be a prisoner. You still had some freedom and Yunho’s words really ignited something inside of you. Despite being the Crown Prince you knew he was still at the mercy of the King and Queen, so he couldn’t do much for you. Yet he expressed to you his desire for change and that was enough to give you hope. So you told yourself to do your best and live well, for his sake.

♦♦♥♦♦

“Jongho.”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Ask Yeosang to stop by princess’ quarters today. I want him to examine her to make sure she’s alright. Then find out why she’s locked up. This is ridiculous, even by mothers’ standards.”

“Of course, your highness.”

After visiting his sister, Yunho continued to his original destination. When he wasn’t in his own quarters, he moved around the palace only with his royal guard, Mingi, and his long time scholar friend, Jongho. He didn’t need anyone else, especially now that he would be spending most of his time in his library. Although Yunho had found himself struggling to study. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would learn from the books in his secret library, but what he had discovered so far was disheartening. His father wanted him to remain silent on the matter and truly think things over. The longer that went on the worse he felt.

It was clear many generations have kept this secret, and they all surely had good reason to. Then again, this particular secret didn’t affect them, it affected him. His father had made his choice and would defend it to the end. Now all Yunho could do was consider why, and try to understand. He wanted change, but he couldn’t just do things impulsively. He had to see the bigger picture and keep in mind what was best for the nation. This frustrated Yunho to no end, making him feel like he was already failing as a king.

“Your highness.”

Yunho heard Jongho call for him from the library entrance. He made his way out of his secret room, shutting the door behind him and meeting up with his friend.

“Back already?”

“Yes, your highness. Yeosang assured me he would stop by to see the princess before dinner.”

“And the other matter?”

“I spoke with some of the court ladies, and the whole situation seems to be the topic of conversation among them and others in the palace.”

“What happened?”

“You know the Queen does not favor the princess, and would rather she remain hidden. Unfortunately a new lord in the palace, unaware of such things, approached the princess on more than one occasion. When the Queen heard about this she reprimanded the princess and ultimately confined her to her quarters.”

“All because a lord spoke to her?”

Yunho remembered hearing about a lord approaching his sister. He thought it was a joyous thing, not realizing you’d suffer for something out of your hands. Now he understood your reluctance to talk about the incident. This was upsetting news, but he had already promised you that he would not bring this up with mother. The idea of you being locked up in your quarters over something so trivial was cruelly unfair, but he couldn’t do anything about it. At least for now. He could probably find a way to change things if he set his mind to it.

“Who was the lord that approached my sister?”

“Lord Park Seonghwa.”

“Park Seonghwa… the name sounds familiar.”

“He is the son of Minister Park. He has returned to the palace to study under his father, likely to one day take his place.”

“Hm, I suppose we should become acquainted. Would you know where he is at the moment?”

“Many new palace officials attend lectures, it’s likely he will be there.”

“Let’s go. I should make a visit as the Crown Prince.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Yunho had vague memories of meeting Seonghwa back when they were children. Considering he was Minister Park’s son he thought the two would become friends and grow up together, but instead the boy was sent away to study elsewhere. He had to admit he was a bit upset Seonghwa hadn’t made an effort to see him first. Perhaps he was too busy with classes, or didn’t think the two knew each other well enough for such things. Then again Seonghwa had made time to see his sister. Although that was a little more understandable.

Upon arriving at the class area Yunho remained silent as he watched, not wanting to interrupt. He scanned the crowd, seeing all these new faces, but even with many years passing Yunho could still recognize one. When the class ended everyone was dismissed, and Yunho approached Lord Park. He called out his title, getting the young officials’ attention, along with the other next to him, likely a friend. Before Yunho could properly introduce himself the two bowed. His attire did speak for itself.

“Your highness, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Park Seonghwa, and this is my friend, Choi San.”

“It’s been a long time, Seonghwa. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise, you’ve become a great Crown Prince, and I believe you’ll be an even greater King.”

“I would hope so. My associates told me you had returned to the palace a few days ago. If I had known I would have welcomed you sooner.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. It would have been better for me to seek you out, but I found it difficult to find an appropriate time. You shouldn’t have gone out of your way to greet me, I would have figured out a way to you eventually.”

“I’m sure you would. At least you found time to see my sister.”

“The princess, yes. She was very shy and quiet, I hope I didn’t frighten her.”

“She’s alright. There’s no need to worry.”

“Good. Although I haven’t seen her around as of late.”

“She’s busy with her own things.” Yunho smiled. “I have somethings to get back to, but I hope we’ll see more of each other.”

“I’m sure we will.”

With that said Yunho excused himself, wishing Seonghwa and his friend well with their studies. It was nearing the lunch hour so he needed to get back to his library before his court ladies came by and saw he wasn’t there.

“Do you intend to become friends with Lord Park?” Jongho questioned.

“Given who our fathers are, it’s likely we’ll be working together in the future. It’s best we get to know each other now before we find ourselves dealing with a serious matter. Besides, I always thought we’d be friends. There’s no reason why we can’t now.”

“I see.”

“Are you worried? Or perhaps jealous?”

“One more person to accompany you doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

♦♦♥♦♦

“I had no idea you knew the Crown Prince.”

“My father is Minister Park. As you can imagine the Park’s have always been close to the royal Jeong family.”

“Yeah. No wonder you approached the princess.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you not know?”

“Know what?”

“The unspoken rule. Everyone who works in the palace knows of it.”

“Well I’ve been more focused on my studies than gossip. Now, what are you talking about?”

“No one is supposed to approach the princess. They say she’s sick but the Queen doesn’t like her and doesn’t want anyone drawing attention to her. The princess doesn’t even socialize with others. She always stays in her quarters. Except for her walks of course.”

“She hasn’t been on those walks in a while now…”

“Huh?”

“Where did you hear all this?”

“It’s just information that goes around among the people of the palace. Everyone knows, from the court ladies and eunuchs, to the guards and scholars, even the officials know of this.”

“Hm…”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Seonghwa really had no idea about this supposed rule, but he already didn’t like it. He never knew you when you were a kid, but he didn’t recall you ever being ill. All this new information intrigued him, and he wanted to know more. He parted ways with San after class, meeting up with Hongjoong, his personal guard. The two had met as children, but were separated when Seonghwa was sent away. Ever since he was set to return to the palace he was reunited with his old friend, being told the two would remain together going forward. Seonghwa didn’t see the need for a personal guard, but he understood his fathers’ concerns over his safety. If anything, he saw Hongjoong as a friend to keep him company rather than a guard.

“Did you know about the unspoken rule regarding the princess?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me anything when I approached her?”

“You did not know of her identity the first time, so I believed it to be an honest mistake.”

“I knew who she was, Hongjoong, but that doesn’t explain why you said nothing about the matter the second time.”

“Well, considering who your father is, I thought such a thing might not apply to you.” Hongjoong explained. “Apologies. I should have confirmed such things with you first before making assumptions.”

“Hm… do you know where she is? I haven’t seen her in quite a while.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know about the princess’ whereabouts. Besides the unspoken rule, not much else is said about her.”

“Then I suppose I should ask around myself.”

“What?”

“Let’s go speak to some of the court ladies.”

“Lord Park, you can’t just-”

“I’ve told you it’s alright to call me Seonghwa, Lord Park is too formal for us.”

“I still work under your father, it’s my job-”

“You should work for me directly, don’t you think?”

“I…”

“Come on, we’re wasting daylight.”

Seonghwa began walking and Hongjoong was soon to follow. He really did consider the lord his friend, but while in the palace he wasn’t so sure he could act as anything but his trusted guard. The two made their way over to where the court ladies gathered. Of course they drew attention, not necessarily cause they stood out, but because of their good looks. Seonghwa was well aware he had a beautiful face, one he could use to his advantage. He smiled at the ladies and approached, making a few a bit flustered.

“Good afternoon, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Of course not, how can we help you?”

“I was curious about something, and I figured you lovely ladies could assist me with it.”

“We will do our best.”

“I appreciate that. You see I’m still new to the palace but I’ve heard this rumor, and I’m not so sure about it.”

“Many rumors go around the palace. Which one are you referring to?”

“I’ve been told to stay away from the princess. That no one should be interacting with her, and she should be left alone.”

“Ah, that one. Yes, it’s true. The princess has poor health, so it’s best to keep your distance.”

“I see, although I don’t really know how to distinguish her from any other beautiful lady in the palace.”

“That won’t be a problem though as she is confined to her quarters indefinitely.”

“Pardon?”

The lady gestured for Seonghwa to come closer, intending to whisper something into his ear. Seonghwa smiled and complied, leaning in.

“The truth is the Queen doesn’t favor the princess. When some lord spoke to her a few days ago the Queen got upset and locked her up. So you don’t have to worry about running into her. I’ll be sure to let you know if things change, but that’s highly unlikely.”

“Ah, I see.” Seonghwa stepped away. “Well, at least the princess has her court ladies to keep her company.”

“They only attend to her for daily duties, other than that the princess is alone all day.”

“Interesting. Thank you for the information.”

“Of course. Please let us know if we can help you with anything else.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

Seonghwa excused himself, heading back the way he came and Hongjoong coming to his side. The lord was lost in thought, and Hongjoong could see the gears turning.

“You seem bothered by the information given to you.”

“I am. The princess of this nation is left alone without anyone to care for her, does that sound right? She’s being punished for no reason.”

“You’re forgetting about the situation here, Seonghwa.”

“What situation?”

“You’ve lived outside the palace for years, have you ever heard anyone speak of the princess?”

“What do you…”

As Seonghwa thought things over he began to see what Hongjoong meant. He knew of the princess because of his family, but outside the palace it was a different story. Many people would speak of the King, praising him or criticizing him. The same could be said of the Queen. Her elegance and beauty known all over. Most spoke of the Crown Prince in high regard, looking forward to the things he would do once he ascended the throne. Although not once, not even a whisper, was anything ever said about the princess. The people did not know one existed, and even in the palace walls she was a ghost. Forsaken by those who knew her face and name.

“So the princess is ill, and kept away from everyone for her own health. That’s the surface level reason, but everyone knows the truth. The Queen doesn’t care for her own child, and everyone follows suit. That is still no excuse for any of this.”

“Things are different in the palace, Seonghwa. You of all people understand the history of the royal family. For the princess to be ill, it’s shameful.”

“Only because they make it out to be that way. Who says she isn’t strong? How can she be strong when she has no one to support her? She’s alone in the most dangerous place on Earth.”

“The Crown Prince does tend to her, although not as often now given his studies for the throne and upcoming marriage.”

“Precisely. Tell me, does the princess have guards watching over her quarters?”

“No. She’s not a flight risk, nor a target for anyone. Why?”

“I need to pay her a visit.”

“Lord Park!”

“I told you to call me Seonghwa.”

“I forbid you from going anywhere near the princess! You’ve caused her enough trouble as is.”

“Exactly! This is my fault, the least I can do is apologize to her. Properly.”

“Lord-”

“Seonghwa. Call me Lord Park again and I really will start treating you as my guard.”

“I’m supposed to protect you in this dangerous place. Your father entrusted me with your care. If you go near the princess and get caught-”

“I won’t. If I get caught she’ll suffer greater consequences than me. I just don’t want her hating me over an honest mistake.”

“Then write her a letter. Ask one of her court ladies to give it to her.”

“No, an apology like this needs to be done in person. I’ll visit her tonight.”

“Tonight? Are you intending to-”

“You be my look out. I promise I won’t take long.”

“Seonghwa, you can’t be serious!”

“I am. So be ready.”

♦♦♥♦♦

You spent your whole day out in your garden, passing the time by painting. You’d focus on certain flowers and paint them as best you could. Your lunch was served to you out there, and you shared a few pieces with a bunny that had been around. It wasn’t until late in the evening that you had a guest. One you had been expecting since morning.

“Hello, princess.”

“Doctor Yeosang, what a surprise. I figured my brother would send you eventually.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’ve already been by for my weekly check-up, and my brother was here earlier worrying about me. It’s only natural he’d send you.” You offered a smile. “I’m fine though.”

“If you’re so certain then I can do a quick examination and be on my way.”

“Sure.”

Yeosang settled down next to you in the garden, holding your attention for a moment while he went about his usual duties.

“You shouldn’t skip meals. Or your medicine.”

“I know. It was foolish to throw a tantrum at my age.”

“Perhaps, but I understand why you did it. This is unfair but you shouldn’t do something that only hurts you.”

“Even if that was my intention… my brother was still affected by my actions. I didn’t want to cause him trouble and yet here I am doing exactly that.”

“You know he doesn’t see you as troublesome.”

“But I certainly can be at times. Especially when I don’t think about how my actions affect others…”

“I doubt he’s mad at you for any of this. So don’t beat yourself up over it either. It’s in the past, and I’m sure you’ll do better going forward.”

“I’ll certainly do my best.”

“That’s the attitude you should have.”

“My ears are burning, so you two must be talking about me.”

You and Yeosang looked over to see Yunho entering the garden. A smile appeared on your lips and you got up to greet your brother. He pulled you into a hug, which you thought was very strange, until he made a comment on your scent.

“You smell clean.”

“Ya! Of course I bathed!”

“Just making sure.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Not at all.” Yunho chuckled. “How is she, Yeosang?”

“In good health, your highness. I wouldn’t recommend skipping meals again.”

“Did you hear the doctor?”

“Loud and clear. I won’t do that again.”

“Good. Since it’s already late, why don’t we have dinner together?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you have things-”

“I’ve set aside time for you. There is nowhere else I have to be.”

“Ah, in that case, I’d love for you to join me for dinner.”

“Excellent. You should stay too, Yeosang.”

“I would love to, but I do have another patient to see tonight.”

“Very well, if you’re all done here, I won’t keep you.”

“Thank you. Have a good evening, your highness.”

Yeosang bowed and excused himself. You would have liked to enjoy dinner outside, but you certainly shouldn’t make the Crown Prince look strange as you knew word of tonight would go around the next morning. You both went inside, dinner being brought over a while later. You told Yunho about your day in the garden. It was all exciting to him as he spent his whole day in his library.

“If you’d like, I could come visit you everyday.” Yunho suggested. “Keep you company since you can’t take your walks anymore.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to keep you from your studies. I’ll be alright, Yunho.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Speaking of, how have you been with your studies? Anything interesting?”

“I’d say so… but it’s mostly family history, and rather boring.”

“You need to study all that to be king?”

“I need to know about the previous kings to better understand what is expected of me.”

“Everyone knows you’ll be a great king. You’ll do well with your studies too. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“As long as you take care of yourself, that’s the biggest help for me.” Yunho reached over to pet your head. “Likewise, if you need anything from me, just let me know. You can always send a message to Jongho if you can’t reach me.”

“I know, thanks.”

After dinner Yunho stuck around a little while longer, but eventually it was time for him to leave. He was well aware you were tired, and wanted you to get some rest.

“Will you be going to bed too?”

“Unfortunately I still have some things to do.” Yunho mentioned. “But don’t worry, I won’t be up too late. So you sleep well.”

“Alright, good night.’

“Good night, y/n.”

You saw Yunho off before getting ready for bed. Even if the day had started off a little rough, it could end on a better note. Perhaps better than you originally thought.

♦♦♥♦♦

Seonghwa wasn’t kidding when he said he would visit the princess. The whole ordeal had been driving Hongjoong insane, and once night fell he knew where to find his ward. Of course he didn’t come alone.

“Wooyoung?” Seonghwa questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“If you insist on doing such a thing.” Hongjoong explained. “I figured two look-outs would be better than one.”

“Ah, see, that’s the spirit. Thank you, Hongjoong.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Are you really going to sneak into the princess’ quarters?” Wooyoung asked. “Are you two secret lovers?”

“I won’t be too long, hold this.”

Seonghwa handed Hongjoong a bouquet of flowers and then began scaling the wall. Of course there may not have been any guards present, but the entrance had been sealed. It was late in the night that most in the palace were asleep, but a locked door wasn’t going to stop him. Once he was at the top he asked Hongjoong to pass him the flowers.

“Alright. I’ll be back.”

With a smile Seonghwa jumped down into the princess’ quarters. It may have been night, but the light of the moon illuminated his path. He took a moment to look at his surroundings, rather amazed by the beautiful garden he found himself in. There weren’t just flowers, but there also seemed to be some vegetables. He certainly wouldn’t except this of the princess, but it was a welcomed surprise. He carefully made his way over to the little house. It wasn’t his idea to break in, so he looked for a window. He quickly discovered none of them were locked, so he carefully pushed them open to see inside. Then he found his target.

As he opened a window he could see a sleeping form in the room. For a moment he watched the blanket rise and fall peacefully, seeing that the princess was asleep. He almost felt bad waking her, but he was here for a reason. Seonghwa began whispering to the princess, trying to coax her to wake up. After a while he saw movement, getting excited. He continued with his coaxing and set the flowers down by the window. He saw the princess sit up, looking around before spotting the open window. It seemed she was still half-asleep as she crawled over to the window, not having noticed him.

“Huh… why are there- AH!”

For some reason you had woken up at night, and then noticed a chill in the air. You looked over to see your window open and crawled to it. That’s when you noticed the flowers, and then someone right outside your window. You screamed, now wide awake. The person outside was quickly apologizing, trying to get you to quiet down. It took a moment but then you actually recognized them.

“You!”

“Ah, you remember me, that’s good.”

“How did you get in here!? What are you doing here!? I’m going to-”

“Princess, I’m here to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“Yes. I know I’ve done it so many times already but… I didn’t realize you’d suffer so harshly for my words.”

“It’s not your fault…”

“It is, princess. You can blame me for this. I didn’t know there were rules pertaining to you, if I had I would have been more careful.”

“Like sneaking into my quarters at night?”

“Perhaps… I truly am sorry, I didn’t think this would happen.”

“Well, I’m sure the Queen would have found a reason to do this eventually.”

“Is your mother really not kind to you?”

“What reason would she have to be?”

“Because you’re her daughter. That’s reason enough, isn’t it?”

“She wishes I wasn’t… things would have been better that way too…”

“Don’t say such things. You are a princess.”

“In name alone. I can’t really do much.”

“I’m sure there are many things you can do. I saw your garden, I presume you tend to it yourself?”

“I do.”

“It’s quite beautiful. More beautiful than the royal garden.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would. You see the royal garden is taken care of by many out of necessity, but yours, you tend to this garden here with love and care. That’s what makes it so beautiful. Which makes me feel like the flowers I brought are inadequate to give you, but will you still accept them?”

The lord picked up the bouquet and held out the flowers to you, a big smile on his face. You stared at them for a moment, a little in awe at the situation before you. This was likely the first time anyone had given you flowers. You returned the smile and reached for the bouquet.

“Lord Park, was it?”

“Seonghwa, you can call me Seonghwa. Although I must ask, I don’t believe I ever had the pleasure of knowing your name.”

“Ah, it’s y/n.”

“Hm, just as beautiful as I imagined.”

You chuckled. “Tell me then, Seonghwa, how is the palace? Now that you’ve returned from the outside world.”

“Honestly, it’s not quite what I thought. As I walk the halls and take it all in I certainly feel something is missing.”

“What would that be?”

“The presence of a beautiful princess.”

“Oh please, you don’t need to say such things. You just sound foolish.”

“Perhaps I am, but I will say such things regardless. It really would be nice to see you around the palace more often.”

“Don’t hold your breath. If the Queen found out I was roaming around I’d be scolded immediately. I really have no reason to be in the palace, so it’s best if I just stay here.”

“Then perhaps… would you allow me to visit you again sometime?”

“Do you intend to scale my walls again in the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only way to see you without getting you in trouble, so yes, with your permission of course.”

“…”

“Think it over. I’ll come by in a few days. Good night, y/n.”

“Good night, lord- I mean, Seonghwa.”

“Sleep well.”

Seonghwa took the initiative and shut your windows for you. Although you could still hear him sneaking away, giggling to yourself. You stared at the flowers in your hand, still in disbelief these were for you, and all the effort Seonghwa went through just to deliver them along with his apology. Besides that you realized how nice it was to hear your name spoken by someone who wasn’t your brother. It sounded sweet. You weren’t so sure you’d mind if he made more midnight visits, the little bit of company could replace your walk, perhaps even make you happier than before. You laid back down in bed and set the flowers down at your side, staring at them again. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being confined to your quarters after all.

♦♦♥♦♦

Seonghwa stole a flower from the garden before making his escape. He hadn’t heard anything from his guards so he figured everything was alright. Once he landed on the outside he saw Hongjoong approaching him.

“Everything went well, so-”

It didn’t take long to realize Hongjoong wasn’t alone. Right behind him was Wooyoung and a gentleman he recognized to be his father’s guard.

“Ah… let me guess… my father wants to see me?” Hongjoong nodded his head. “Well, let’s not keep him waiting much longer.”

Seonghwa could just imagine the earful that was awaiting him. When he arrived at his father’s chambers he announced himself before entering. It was just the two of them in the room. After bowing Seonghwa took a seat, choosing not to start with an apology for his actions. He wanted to see where this went first. For a moment things were silent as his father stared down at a book, then he put it down and looked up at his son.

“How are you adjusting to the palace?”

“It’s not difficult to navigate. All my classes are simple, and I don’t think there will be an issue with getting used to the atmosphere. I won’t cause you any problems, father.”

“Is that so? Then what were you doing in the princess’ quarters at this hour?”

“I was merely paying a visit in order to apologize for my actions.”

“Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough trouble?”

“So you’re aware of what I’ve done.”

“Everyone in the palace knows of a lord approaching the princess and making a fool of themselves. Twice. Only a handful know it was actually you, and understand the honest mistake. You are a Park after all, socializing with the royal family isn’t unheard of. Although I don’t understand why you’d go out of your way to see her once more.”

“As a gentleman I should apologize properly for my mistakes. She wound up confined to her quarters because of my actions, she should know I didn’t mean her harm.”

“That’s irrelevant. You won’t be seeing much of her anyway, so don’t waste your time. If you get caught anywhere near her again-”

“She will suffer more than I, and I have no intention of making things worse for her.”

“Good. Then the matter is settled. Focus on your studies, and when the time comes I’ll have you working with-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve returned to the palace with my own goals, father. I don’t really intend to follow in your footsteps.”

“What are you talking about? The Park family have been advisors to the royal family for generations. It’s an honor.”

“It’s a disservice. We study about matters regarding the nation just as much, if not more, than those who take on the throne. Yet we are nothing but advisors? I’ve actually lived outside the palace and have come to know more about the people and the nation than the King.”

“That’s enough! Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”

“You’ve given your whole life to the King, our family has for generations, and I have no plans of doing the same. We are owed so much for what we’ve done for this nation.”

“And what exactly do you think you are owed?”

“You know what I speak of father.”

“Do I? Is this why you keep bothering the princess? You intend to court her and become the King’s son-in-law?”

“You underestimate me.”

Minister Park laughed. “You are quite ambitious my son, I am glad to see that, but we both know this desire for the throne is a delusion. Is this what you’ve learned outside the palace? That anyone can be King?”

“Perhaps I’d share in your ideals if I had been raised in the palace by your side, but that is not the case.”

“If you think the princess is a means to attain the throne, you really have learned nothing. She is ill, her time in this world will likely be short. She cannot help you.”

“All she has to do is bear a child. A prince favorably, but even a princess would do.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Any child birthed by the princess is a direct descendant of the King, and thus has a claim to the throne. If something were to happen to the Crown Prince then-”

“Silence! What you so boldly dare to imply is treason. I will not allow you to embark on such a dangerous and fruitless endeavor over something you have no claim over.”

“You misunderstand me, father. I do not tell you this to ask for assistance. I’m telling you to stay out of my way.”

“If I discover you go anywhere near the princess again, if you get brought to the King for any matter concerning the princess, I will disown you.”

“I’d expect nothing less of you, father. You care more for the Park family reputation than your own son. I shall take my leave now.”

Seonghwa stood and offered his father a bow. He was certain his father would not rest easy for the next few days, but that wasn’t his concern. As he was about to step out he stopped to admire the walls.

“You know, when I was little I thought the palace would be my home. I wasn’t happy that you sent me away, saying it was for my own good. I didn’t really understand it then, nor do I understand it now.” Seonghwa sighed. “I’m well aware I’d have to take matters into my own hands to get what I deserve. This place was always supposed to be my home, and I will make it so. Good night, father.”

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fallstaticexit · 2 months ago

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Two fabulous queens spend a night out together...even though it's way past someone's bedtime.

prev / next

Bartender: Looking snazzy. Special night, Silas?

Silas: Yep! I’m hanging out with my nephew. He insisted on throwing me a bachelor party. I told him we can have a lowkey, uncle-nephew bonding moment over a cold one. Then I’m in my bed by 10:30 sharp, yes sir.

Bartender: [chuckles] Guess those party boy days are over, huh?

Silas: I wouldn’t say that. You know what, I may just stay out until 11:30, get a little crazy.

Bartender: Yeeaahh...a lowkey night, you said right?

Silas: Mhm! Lowkey. Just me and my nephew.

Amir: Heyyy Uncle Silas!

Silas: [chokes]

Amir: Uncle Silas? You ok?

Silas: [coughing] Who- who are they?

Amir: My pack, they wanted to help celebrate your upcoming nuptials with us.

Silas: I thought it would be just the two of us?

Amir: It was but then they found out I was going out with my favorite Uncle, so they wanted to come. They know how much fun you are. Is that ok?

Silas: [between teeth] No, that’s.. fantastic! The more the merrier.

Amir: Period. Let’s get some shots going.

Silas: Some what?

Amir: Don’t worry, Unc. We’re going to make this a night to remember.

[insert montage of shenanigans here]

Jacob: I know you’re having fun babe but, did you check on your uncle?

Amir: What do you mean? He’s having a ball. He loves a good night out.

Jacob: I don’t know...I think you should make sure he still has a pulse. You know, he’s older. Things are different.

Amir: Uncle Silas? Are you...alive?

Silas: [jumps awake] HUH? Wha??

Amir: Let me help you up.

Silas: No, no! I’m all good! Ready to party [yawns] allll night!

Amir: Oh I bet, Unc. Up and attem.

Silas: Sorry for smelling up the vibes, or whatever you kids say. Can’t keep up with you youngins like I used too.

Amir: No, I’m sorry. You said you wanted a lowkey night and I ruined it. I should have listened to what you wanted. This is your night!

Silas: [chuckles] Well, I’m an old fart now. My idea of fun is my massage chair, a glass of chardonnay and my telenovelas.

Amir: I never saw you as old or out of style. I looked up to you my whole life, Uncle Silas. I just wanted to share another moment with you before you...

Silas: Well, I ain’t that old!

Amir: No! [laughs] I mean before you settled down and got married.

Amir: Marriage feels like some serious shit at any age.

Silas: When I was a young queen, things like marriage and settling down and getting old terrified me too. I associated it with giving up my youth and well, I wanted to be young forever. You can’t be afraid to live and grow and change.

Amir: I hear you but...I loved how things are. Or were. I wish we could stay like this forever. No one gets old or leaves or...

Silas: Aww, come here! Look, my body may be aging but my spirit is still 25. I may not be able to drop it like it’s hot but I’m still a baddie, as you kids say.

Amir: [sniffles] I know that’s right. Love ya, Unc.

Silas: Love you too, Nephew.

#missing moments #the briar legacy #gif warning #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #ts4 simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 legacy

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ms0milk · 10 months ago

Text

𝟏𝟒 | 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"He does not notice because you are a distraction, the tumult stirring in the castle behind you. He cannot understand his heart’s frustration at your warm fingers against his own."

no cw talking never works for the two of you, will a sparring match? bruises, grappling, unsubtle admiration (with a live studio audience). heartstopping smiles. the arrival of a new and dreadful ghost that reader tries to kill on instinct. 4.5k

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The Queen of Takoba cracks open her bedroom door just as early as you suspected. Threats and growling stop in the face of her beauty, gulps and pulses start up when she yawns. You lower your head to the floor. You kneel beside her chamber door with three glaives pressed sharp to the back of your neck and three dull guards insistent on spoiling your apology.

“Go play,” she murmurs and turns back inside, disinterested.

“It was cute.”

“It was unnecessary,” Bakugou growls.

Princess Fuyumi hikes up her skirts in her floury fists and jogs to keep pace beside her sous chef, “You’re chronic Katsuki, this is ridiculous,” and smiles when he bares his teeth.

“She should be resting.”

“She is not your soldier.”

“She’s a soldier! She is ridiculous, not me!” The two twist in sync through frosty hallways towards Aizawa’s training pit. The castle is teeming with staff and lords this morning so they take back passageways. Morning meetings be dammed– party planning, flower arranging, appetizer testing, inseam measuring get fucked.

You have spent your morning hunting down queens and princesses and completely disregarding the one thing asked of you. You are not so dense as you pretend and as Bakugou storms to find you, he can’t help but be impressed by your dedication to being an uncontainable menace– finding all the places he might hide in Takoba not for his protection, but so you can avoid him when it serves you.

You should have been more careful, Bakugou sneers as he erupts onto the gallery, because where he underestimated you, you underestimated Half n’half and his propensity to be a fucking airhead.

“She looked well this morning.” Todoroki sat on a bench in the kitchen, eyes bleary and nursing a tankard of coffee. His sister and friend hunched over their latest attempt to recreate Alderan biscuits and both jolted when he spoke. Fuyumi sent every telepathic message she could to her brother who just kept talking. Bakugou’s stare melted holes in the table.

“She’s looking for you too Fumi,” the prince yawned. Deku was wandering around somewhere with eye bags just like his and they both looked exactly like a stubborn guard had woken them up at dawn, “said she had an errand in the soldiers’ quarters so I gave her the address of your dressfitting in town tonight.”

Bakugou grips the gallery railing above the training pit and the metal in his fist starts to squeal as his magic slips out, because of course you’re there. Striking the training sword your opponent holds over their head desperately, over and over until it cracks and your weapon thunks their shoulder. Of course you’re smiling.

“Kirishima’ll worry,” Fuyumi wheezes and plants a hand on Bakugou’s back to steady herself. Bakugou doesn’t take his eyes off the ring.

“Let him.”

You’ve overpowered two guisarmier by the time your prince winds through back passageways onto the floor of the pit because you are an Alderan halberdier and Takoba does not train much in polearms. You have also just cracked a middle-ranked sabreur over the head because you are a decorated fencer and your opponent didn’t prepare for melee combat before agreeing to duel.

Your cheeks are red with exertion and excitement. Half-armored soldiers lounge at the edges of the arena laughing and hydrating. Some play cards. Uraraka is among them eating snacks and she nudges Shinsou forward with her foot, “You promised.”

“You promised,” you parrot and bounce a few paces into the center of the room because apparently you are well enough to fight Takoba’s future Armorer. Uraraka, the beast of melee and master-in-the-making, snorts and reclines on a pile of pads.

Bakugou steps forward before truly thinking and then Aizawa booms from the office above, “Halberds!” The doom spreading in your prince’s gut doesn’t know whether to multiply or dissipate. You still do not see him. You grin.

Two soldiers pass you the weapons their master ordered and you take your place eagerly while Shinsou finishes dusting himself off. The weapon twirls like a dancer between your hands.

As much as he berates him for it, Bakugou thinks just as much as Deku does.

Did Master Aizawa give you halberds for your advantage or Shinsou’s? Was it meant to embolden you– trick you? Did he predict how cocky you get when you think you have the advantage? Is Shinsou proficient? Is this to humble you?

He is thinking until the second the match bell rings and then gawks. Shinsou readies his weapon gracefully and crouches in position. You flourish the polearm once more in a figure-8 around your chest and shoulders and then abandon it entirely, spear thrust into the ground, to launch and tackle your opponent.

Aizawa wasn’t trying to embarrass you. It wasn't revenge for defeating his soldiers or discharging your weapon into a crowd of dinner guests. Shinsou grunts. He doesn’t drop his weapon but you are obviously too close to use it and his shoulders are already flat on the ground in defeat, “Shiny toys only help if you’re faster than me, weaponmaster.”

Shinsou erupts into laughter underneath you and nods in concession. Aizawa rumbles from his office, “You will learn creativity from Aldera or she will kill you,” clearly smiling as he speaks. Dread evaporates. It looks like they’re running a pin-drill, non-lethal, adaptive, against an unfamiliar fighting style. It’s just training. You’re not being held hostage by an army with a grudge. Takoba is not afraid to demean guests and it wouldn’t be the first time Bakugou picked a fight to defend the dignity of an Alderan. At home you are well respected and intimidating, but everywhere you are odd.

“s’not like we’re going to war,” Shinsou grumbles as you help him to his feet and dust off your knees.

The sabreur cackles under his bag of ice on the sideline, “Lucky us.”

“Royal contender!” Uraraka suddenly sings because she’s bored and has spotted entertainment from across the room, “An exotic prince wishes to challenge our victor.”

Your eyes shift from shared apprentice smiles to the place Uraraka gestures with her chin, the place where Bakugou has forgotten, momentarily, that he has a body.

He shakes his head without taking his eyes off of you.

“What? Does the prince not spar with his soldiers in Aldera?” Uraraka stops short of booing. He only knows she is mocking him because he has known her so long. Your face goes slack like his. “Shoto trains with us all the time.”

“I’m not fighting an outpatient.”

“Right, of course. Worried three days of coma made her too strong?”

Bakugou scowls knives in her direction. When Master Aizawa descends from his office there is obviously no way out of his apprentice’s instigation.

“Would you consider showing my recruits an Alderan combat exercise?”

He knows you well enough, he has known you all your lives, and when Bakugou looks to you for a response he knows what you’re going to say before your lips part. “Yes sir.”

“Weapon?”

“Unarmed sir.”

Aizawa nods, “Alderan hand-to-hand then. Takoba relies too much on magic anyway.”

Warmth drains first from Bakugou’s fingers and then his feet as the Master disables his magic and tips his head toward you, standing sure in the center of the arena under sunshine.

“Good morning, Highness” you murmur as your prince skulks into the light and takes his begrudging place in front of you.

“You’ve been fucking busy.”

He is skilled enough not to hurt you, and so this show will be simple. That’s all it is. A performance for the incompetence of Takoba. Aizawa takes a seat beside his apprentices to keep dust far away from his eyes, “Learn something, the lot of you.” His battalion falls silent.

Aldera excels in two things, combat and cultivation. Fruits richer than any on the planet. Warriors fiercer than you could find in hell. Bakugou is a culmination of his parents’ perfect magic and his mother’s aptitude for violence. He can speak the languages of the continent, he has trained under her men and has chosen his own champion. What are you made of?

Right now it’s something like apprehension as he extends his fist towards you and your open palm to him. Jeanist’s defensive stance, a wide open hand ready to swing, grab, or close. You assume he’ll attack first. Your eyes are bright and focused, muscles warm, and usual braids tied back high with a length ribbon Fuyumi snuck into your dressers. Of course you would recover from a three-day coma overnight. Worry falls from him like a bucket with a hole.

He steps forward in a crouch. Your wrists cross.

“She’s not made of glass, Kats!”

There’s a grunt and he can only assume Aizawa thwacked his apprentice over the head but it’s enough for him to harden his stance because any warrior would dream of the opportunity to catch him in disorganized anger, even for a moment. You don’t flinch.

He wasn’t wasn’t wrong, apprehension fills you and now his worry drips higher. You are no blank unreadable foe and your own worry is written all across your eyes. Jeanist taught a terrible poker face.

“Any day,” Aizawa grumbles this time. You have spent the morning cracking the skulls of Takoba’s guards and now Bakugou is the one who appears apprehensive to a room full of strangers. He looks to you one more time and ducks forward to strike with his fist.

He meant to hit a rib, durable, flexible, and send you to the ground without the danger of a drawn out grapple but you step carefully out of his way. You’re fast, which he knew, but when he readies himself for retaliation you take the beat to solidify your footing and don’t make a single move towards him. It’s just your open palm and a crouch in his direction. The crowd hums.

Fine, one more. This time Bakugou skips forward with his arms drawn high at his side and dips in close to feign a strike to your chest. His kick to your ankles is well timed and serves to surprise onlookers but you only pounce with your feet together, then land beside him where you should have had every instinct to knock him prone. Instead you slip back two more steps out of range and ready yourself again.

Oh, Bakugou rolls his eyes as he stands again on two feet. He’s overcomplicating the obvious, “You’re permitted to fight me.”

Your ears perk like hound.

“Wouldn’t you like a real opponent after a morning of,” he gestures to the lounging soldiers, “this?” They suck their teeth but do not clamor. Your eyebrows raise in thought because you really do have a terrible poker face. Was that it? Apprehension at hurting your prince? “Cmon then.”

You do not make him wait when, lightfooted, you prance back into striking range. He plants one foot and swings forward to leave an obvious opening, it’s simple and always has been. You will dive into his fake opening and he will pin both your elbows in one arm to drop you on your back with the other.

You do not take the bait or a strike against him. You jump and tuck your head close to your chest to roll across his shoulders when he is still stuck in the motion of his faux swing. Bakugou growls and reaches behind himself to catch you where you land, which you somehow do not, hooking one leg around his waist to sling yourself back where you started. His heart pumps a little faster.

Where he punches, you duck, where he knees, you dodge, where he reaches, you redirect until you have danced your way around the ring a full rotation and still not exchanged a blow.

Are you really this useless without a weapon? Only able to defend? Bakugou spits and dives for your stomach in a full body attack. His heart pumps faster. You fall to your knees and bend far enough to slip under him and back upright on the other side.

He’s seen you fight and knows you’re capable of more than just taunting. Why will you spar with these useless fucks in a foreign kingdom and not him? Prince Bakugou does train with his soldiers at home but never with Jeanist’s precious Second. Everything but gratuitous hardships, a waste of time. Beneath you.

“Does this coward serve my kingdom?!” He roars, heart snapping, and spins when he lands on his palms like a cat to charge. Still like a hound, your ears pull back with his words.

“Take note,” Aizawa mutters.

Now your poker face– a bronze mirror really, channeled through your heart– blazes white hot, perfect. Two more steps. Bakugou was trained by Jeanist too and so you cannot hide from him.

Not that you’re trying to. Not that anything Jeanist taught would help him anticipate your dropped shoulder and open palms coming for him in a head on collision. You’re just as hot-headed as he is if a little shit talk riled you up this much.

Before Bakugou can tackle, you have dove flat underneath of him and grabbed his bicep with those ever-ready fists Jeanist tried to teach him to use. He’s thrown through the air with his own momentum and over your head faster than his heart can beat again. With your fists you pull, with your knees you push, and with two feet planted firm you sling him over your shoulder and sprawled onto the ground a few paces away. You are at his throat before he can blink.

“I am not a coward,” you hiss and hold a hand across his neck in clear victory.

Your prince watches the shape your lips make when you’re biting your cheek like he’s never seen anyone do it before. And the forest fire behind dark lashes. “No,” he breathes.

Aizawa’s knees crack when he stands and normally a few men would giggle, but every eye is on the foreign prince and his secret weapon. “Most deaths on the battlefield happen through carelessness.” The Master is probably pointing and lecturing but all Bakugou hears is the pulse in your chest and the crackle sand makes when sweat drips from the soft parts of your body. You blink to the crowd for a second.

“You should all remember your lessons from Aldera today on the element of surprise.”

“Rematch,” your prince grins. His arms fly above his head and he brings them down faster than you can get away, trapping your limbs against you and flipping you onto your back, much to the entertainment of the audience who, along with startled Aizawa, have forgone the lesson.

He pins your wrists above your head to keep them from gouging his eyes out and pushes hard on your thighs with his hips. A full body hold.

“Cheater!” Uraraka boos.

You think so too because you send a knees straight up between his legs. With your speed he can only dodge one strike at a time so when he shifts to block, you pull your arms back in tight. He’s lost fights before, spars against Kirishima and the rest, but he’s only lost to unmatched brute force or poor magic pairings.

When he falls forward, you bow away and wrap an arm around his neck to trap him flat against you with a grunt. Cradle his back with your hips. Lock your arms tight around his throat and taunt him with easy breath over the shell of his ear. It’s been an awfully long time since he’s had to think in a fight. If either of you could hear over the blood in your heads you’d be charmed by the excitement of Aizawa’s men.

“Three out of five,” your prince wheezes and before you can utter your huh, he leverages his weight to roll onto his knees and without any of the gentleness he cautioned before, jerks forward to throw you over his head.

Your grip does soften but not because he’s caught you by surprise. It’s so you can lock your legs around his neck instead of your arms and twist him, writhing, back onto the ground beneath you. His weight won’t help him here. Magic might not make a difference either.

Bakugou has tucked a hand beside his neck to keep you from knocking him out and grunts with two squeezed cheeks between your thighs. The tighter you lock, the slower he moves because you’re not the only one with tricks. Think about the body like armor. He snakes his hand through the sand to hide the noise and grabs at the crease where your thigh meets your hip with thick vicegrip fingers. You shudder around him instead of yelping and his heart swells, half at the sound, and half at the opening he’s made.

Slipping out of your hold and back onto his feet where you no longer have the advantage in flexibility or wrestling, he spits sand and gravel. “Ticklish?”

You’re already on your feet just two strikes’ distance away and Bakugou’s heart does something different than beat this time, because you wipe the blood from your split lip and grin. Big and cheesy. Your eyes crinkle like he always imagined they might.

“Four out of seven?”

“Count to ten,” his mother instructed fifteen years ago. “Katsuki, don’t let go of her.”

“Mm.”

She hoisted her beautiful cape over your shoulders beside one another and promised to be right back with clean clothes. The king and Jeanist had scattered in search of the doctor.

“What’s your name?”

You didn’t answer. A gash in your eyebrow had started to swell.

He squeezed your little hand tighter, “You’re at my house.”

“is my mother okay?”

He never could have guessed what the bloodsoaked puppy in his carriage would turn into. That your eyes would go as big as the moon under his magic or that you would love his library and chat with the wind through open windows instead of eating with everyone in the Hall.

This time he is flat on chest and you have both his arms bent behind him tight at the elbow. Aldera doesn’t excel in shit, you excel, in everything. You protect his kingdom on a whim like a brooding dragon.

“I’m unarmed,” Bakugou winces, smiling.

You huff lightheartedly, “me too,” and thumb over the callouses magic made in his palms.

He does not notice because you are a distraction, the tumult stirring in the castle behind you. He cannot understand his heart’s frustration at your warm fingers against his own.

Others notice before he does. You certainly beat him to it. “What was that?”

“What? Tired already?” He coos and snaps his biceps away from you like he probably could have done this whole time. Your prince is too distracted by everything that makes you– his odd little dragon– neatly trimmed nails and shiny scars like lace sprinkled across every part of your body. The thin line in your eyebrow. The cursed smell of the sea that still clings to your hair and the sweet sour of sparring all morning. He rolls back and bursts to his feet to coax you into another round.

You’re not quite paying attention. For the first time this morning you take your eyes off of him and pebbles drop in his chest because maybe not even a dragon can heal overnight, but you are not in the same daze as yesterday. Your fingers twitch like you’re remembering how to hold something as you rise to face him again– facing but glaring at something through him.

“Down Highness,”

Which is, all in all, a terrible omen because you only look the way you do now when you’re preparing to kill someone you are certainly not supposed to.

Bakugou snaps around when the doors of the soldier’s quarters explode from their hinges in hellfire.

If the flames had been blue, they might not have been able to stop you. An intruder looms in the smoke of his destruction in the seconds before charging but you are already between Bakugou’s legs and out the other side before he can finish the syllables of your name, diving for a discarded handaxe from earlier duels and leaping– arms crossed over your face to shield from fire– as guard and executioner.

“Wait!”

“Majesty?!”

“Y/n!” With her half suit of armor and two biceps braced at her shoulder, Uraraka crashes into you and destroys your momentum before you can get one good step off the ground. Two guards collide. You're both smashed flat across the training room floor.

The intruder does not stop and wouldn’t have flinched if you took his head; he is the most despicable man after all, undeterred by evil or the stench of death.

“Attention whore,” Bakugou growls as Enji Todoroki clears the floor in a wake of screaming flames his soldiers can barely escape. Magic from Aizawa doesn’t refill your prince’s veins fast enough to stop the immolating man from knocking him four good lengths and picking him up again by the front of his tunic in his giant stride. He’s huge. And he’s set himself on fire in his fury.

“Majesty, stand down!”

“Which Alderan rat set fire in the North Wing?!” He roars as the prince shakes sand from his hair.

Bakugou bares his teeth so sharp the crowd worries he might bite. He’s close enough to. “You can’t even do absentee father right.”

You are struggling in a poor match between Aldera’s strongest soldier and Takoba’s lightest. No matter what hold or jerk you attempt, trying to escape from Uraraka is like screaming underwater. “I’m sorry!” She groans, mostly at the pin she uses to hold you but also at the fire that hops just out of reach of her greaves. No one remembers the might of the mellow apprentice until she stops smiling. Before you hit the ground your ax soared into the air with a life of its own– it’s still there now. It spins rapidly in its trapped momentum but still floats, harmless, up towards the glass ceiling.

“Highness!” You grunt and Uraraka apologizes again, and again after you try to break her nose with a weightless headbutt.

“I’ll put down your yapping dog and light up every rat infesting my castle,” the king is almost foaming. Bakugou itches at the prospect of a fight.

“Declaration of war, old man?”

“Enough!”

It’s not an accident that you escape– that Uraraka softens– as the princess appears in the arena. The intruder tosses your prince away before sparks can ignite his hellish beard and swings hard at the new voice. You barrel into her. You like a shield and poised in seconds to take his arrogant hand with a shortsword.

You couldn’t possibly know who this is. No one could have guessed he would return, today or at all. Bakugou could only pray that he died at sea long ago.

Mountains of soldiers ready at your back, archers trained on the new man’s neck, hesitant faces twisted with contradiction in every flow of movement– drawing weapons, dashing to the scene, racing to protect their princess and still somehow hesitating– before the giant hand freezes, and you with it, before your sword can cleave it off at the wrist. The flames disappear.

“She said, enough,” Aizawa barks. It’s not a shout, it’s something much more terrible, something like poison. It’s horrible enough to back away with the princess kept tight between your shoulders as the Master approaches. The intruder is not less intimidating without fire. They both glare. Four dozen soldiers watch.

Fuyumi hollers, “I gave the North Wing order!” over your arm when you won’t let her push forward and then your skin prickles at the grating of a voice you hoped was knocked unconscious, safe but out of the way, on the other side of the room.

“No she fucking didn’t,” Bakugou spits, and it’s everything you can manage to keep a hotheaded princess and a live grenade behind the cover of your back. Your prince presses forward, “I’ll burn down this whole fuckass seashell to keep my people warm.”

“Not helping!” Uraraka hisses with a group of her men racing to pat out pockets of flame before they catch on piles of padding. It wasn’t meant to.

The pit is an echo of heartbeats and rapid breathing. Half of the soldiers frozen in their attempt to stop you from killing their king and the other half frozen, now with fear, in their attempt to help. Fuyumi stares at her father through the adjoined shoulders of the Alderan prince and his captain.

The king looms over the Master with his hands set in fists. No matter how intimidating he tries to be, he is still extinguished. “It was your job to protect my kingdom.”

Aizawa bristles at the insinuation.

“I have been rotting at sea for the sake of this kingdom and you can’t keep a single rat away from–”

“We weren’t expecting you, Majesty.”

“Would you have done a better job if I penned you a letter? Like a yearning fucking maiden.”

“It’s been eleven years.”

Bakugou knows what he’s doing. Keeping the king from exploding again, but it’s everything he can do to stay beside you on the sidelines and listen without exploding himself. Enji Todoroki looks like shit now that the fire has died down. Expensive shit. A thousand yards of now-ruined silk wrapped and spooled around and over his open chest. Blue and silver as far as the eye can see. What has he been doing for a decade? The belt at his hips drools with obscene wealth. A decorative sword Bakugou would like to see buried in his guts.

What do you think of him? This king. He’s half-giant and half-sea mad already, a waste of muscle and trimmed always in fire. His hair and beard, even the ridges of his fingertips singed round shapes into the collar of Bakugou's tunic. The prince makes a note to ask you about it later, if not just for an excuse to poison another Alderan against him. Not that it would take much push. When he looks down at you, the torchlight behind your eyes flickers furiously with thought.

The king takes one more look around the room when he decides he can’t win in a staring match with Aizawa. “Your Masters never taught you to kneel?” He seeths at his jumbled soldiers and the room immediately scrambles to the ground. You don’t flinch. Shinsou crosses his arms beside his master and Uraraka lays flat on her back in exhaustion some ways off. The king takes his satisfaction with a suck of his teeth and storms back across the room through the doors he destroyed. Fires still hop in the hallway beyond.

You don’t take your eyes off his shape even after it’s gone, “Was that..”

“My father,” Fuyumi answers quickly and equally as distant as you.

“Forgive me, princess.”

“Better luck next time.”

Bakugou watches you both somewhat frozen together, staring after fire, and moves before he’s thought out the action. Your knuckles are white on the sword you still raise.

“Stand down,” he murmurs as his hand wraps around yours. You are so strange. You both know too much. At his touch your weapon drops immediately through your fingers to the floor.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @dreamingoftomorrow @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @king-dynamight @sky-angel101 @rosiejacklyn

could not tag for some reason :,(

#ch 15 will be out soon as well <3 sister chapters #it just got too long to publish as one and the content of each section was too different to try and keep together #a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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quitealotofsodapop · 14 days ago

Note

I'm just imagining DBK holding Bai He up to every person he meets to present his daughter- even if they've already met.

It hits him when he's showing her off to Nezha that he has no idea the date and time of her birth and feels like the worst parent ever. No, it doesn't matter he can rattle off Red Son's birthdate and time, he needs to know both!

"Father. Daddy, please, it's fine. My birthday isn't until summer, you have time. Daddy, blame Uncle Sun, it's not your fault you were under a mountain."

Prev.

In Jttw DBK literally prides himself on remembering the exact time and date of his son's birth - so to miss out on his daughters is like a punch in the gut.

He's nearly crying. How could he have been away for so long!?

PIF is able to provide the date (I feel Bai He is a mid-summer baby), but honestly can't remember the exact time of day since she was in a lot of pain.

Thankfully, Red Son pops in with the same level of enthusiasm as his father;

Red Son: "She was born the Hour of the Tiger! Just as the witching hour came to a close!" PIF, recalling: "Oh yes! It was very early morning! I can't believe I had forgotten. Guanyin even gave us a felt tiger to commemorate the birth." DBK, nuzzling PIF: "It is fine, my love. You were busy with a much more important task." DBK, addresses Red with surprise: "And you made sure to document it?" Red Son, excited: "Yes! You always spoke of my exact time of birth, so I made sure to add time keeping devices to all of the bull clones in the months leading to Bai He's arrival. She was born exactly at 3:58am!" Bai He: "Spooky hour!" Red Son, puts Bai He on his back: "Indeed! I had to yell Stop! at the nearest Bull Clone to freeze it's clock. Then it tried to corral me back to bed!" (*Red runs around in a mock-charge with Bai He on his back, the little girl giggling with joy. Red Son vows never to unable to give his baby sister a piggyback ride.*) DBK & PIF: (*watching their kids with love and pride*) DBK: "He has taken upon many responsibilities in my absence." PIF: "He has." DBK, uncertain: "Do you think... I could ever have such a strong bond with our daughter as he has? Or I with him once more?" PIF: (*flies up to look into DBK's eyes*) PIF: "You are their father. Red Son has built his education and career around you. Bai He has marked the days leading to your release for as long as she could count. They would have not done that if they thought less of you." DBK, leans into PIF's hands: "Thank you, my queen. You always know what to say to quell my worries." PIF, kisses snout: "I am your wife, I know you very well. And as their mother, I know our children very well too. And I know that our children adore their father." (*PIF & DBK melt into each other's gazes. They are about to kiss when a disgusted noise interrupts them*) Bai He, seeing this: "EWW!!" Red Son: "Don't eww them! We should feel so lucky to have parents who love each other so deeply!" PIF, teasing: "I do not believe you had the same sentiments when you were her age, son." Red Son, flustered: "I do not recall." DBK, chuckle: "I do! To quote a fiery scamp; I will never ever ever get married if I have to kiss them!" Red Son, defensive: "I was five! Aversion to public displays of affection is normal for that age!" Bai He: "But gege! You said you'd kiss-" Red Son, quickly covers sister's mouth: "WELL!! Let get back to our plans for world domination, shall we?"

I love writing for this little family. Good Big Brother!Red Son is really cute to write, as is DBK being a dramatic papa.

DBK's reaction to learning that he has a daughter is like that one joke from "How it Should of Ended: Star Wars"

youtube

Completely forgets his villainous plans to show off his baby girl.

Nezha sighs with a smile: "Yes I know. I've been babysitting for PIF. Hello baby lotus!" Bai He, waving from DBK's shoulder: "Hi biǎogē!"

#bull princess au #fire lily au #lmk demon bull family #lmk bai he #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull king #lmk red son #lmk pif #lmk princess iron fan #lmk ironbull #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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murmel-malt · 5 months ago

Text

Hedaera Targaryen - 97 AC

Viserys Targaryen x Hedaera Targaryen (OFC) prev / next wordcount: <1k summery: my answer to the question: what if Viserys and Daemon had a little sister? canon divergent dance of the dragons au featuring canon and original characters.

chapter summery: Four years after her own wedding, Hedaera attends her cousin Aemma’s wedding to her brother Daemon and ruminates on what has happened since she married Viserys.

A/N: note that english is not my first language so there will probably be some grammar mistakes.

97 AC - Kingslanding

Daemon and Aemma’s wedding is nearly as grand as her Viserys’ had been. Once again the great hall is filled to the brim with decorations and guests and music and conversation, and the long table for the royal family at the foot of the Iron Throne to preside over the masses. The tables are laden with the finest food and Aemma is decked out in white and light blue and the silver circlet holding her veil in place, is matching the one on Daemon’s head. She looks happy Daera thinks; a far happier bride than she had been four years ago.

They are older now; Aemma being five and ten and Daera three and ten. She doesn’t feel very different, but everyone is telling her that she is now almost a woman, grown and ready to fulfill her wifely duties. She has yet to be pushed into the marriage bed, despite having flowered and plans to avoid it for as long as possible. Which probably isn’t for that much longer. The King is getting impatient, according to her Lord Father. But they will have to force her if they want her to share Viserys’ bed. There’s not a bone left in her that wishes to please any of her grandparents or father anymore. Instead they should be pleased that she has not run off or thrown herself from some tower. She has thought about it on occasion. Both about running away and throwing herself from the highest tower of the Red Keep. About the latter only in her darkest moments though and only twice.

The Queen and her Lord Father seem to have finally understood the consequences of their actions. No longer is Daera referring to them as Grandmother or Father, Alysanne is ‘her Grace, the Queen’ and she had flinched as if struck the first time Daera had addressed her this way. Her Father simply is ‘Prince Baelon’ and there is always a distance between them now, physically and emotionally. Everytime Daera looks into their eyes and sees the pain her behavior inflicts on them all she can think is: “Good. I hope this hurts you as much as you have hurt me.” She no longer feels guilt over these thoughts. It was them that hurt her first, now they simply reap the fruits of their hard labor.

The King is the only one who doesn’t care and Hedaera now thinks that he never cared to begin with. Not about her or about any of his daughters. She barely knows any of them but she has heard stories about them. How Viserra had been so desperate to avoid being sent North that she had tried to seduce Hedaera’s father. Baelon hadn’t helped her either. He had stood by his father’s decision, a loyal son to King Jaehaerys at the expense of his sister.

Viserys will be different when he is King, Hedaera decides. For one, she cannot imagine him ever being as scary as Jaehaerys; the thought is so ridiculous it nearly makes her laugh. Her brother just doesn’t have that air about him. Not now and not ever, she is afraid. Daemon even at four years younger can be scarier than Viserys; and Rhaenys, too. It is a very unfortunate thing that only the future king does not. Perhaps she as his Queen will have to make up for it. She puts the thought aside. She will not let her brother’s shortcomings ruin her mood.

From her seat beside Viserys she gazes across the hall instead, making note of the attendants and testing herself if she can remember all the names belonging to the faces and sigils on display. Many of the guests are Vale Lords, which is not a surprise given Aemma’s father Rodrick was Lord Paramount of the Vale. She imagines his recent death is still weighing on her cousin but the celebrations seem to have lifted her spirit. Not even Daemon seems able to dampen it, and apparently he hasn’t even tried. On the contrary, he looks almost happy, if Daera is to judge.

He has generally been more agreeable ever since he had claimed Caraxes last year. He is the only one of them that has a dragon now after Balerion’s death only a year after Viserys had claimed him. Some had taken it as a bad omen and that Viserys might turn out to be a bad king or something ridiculous like that. The dragon had been old, simple as that; and eventually even dragons died. It was only a matter of time. And honestly, Hedaera doesn’t need the death of a dragon to know that Viserys might not be a good king, she simply knows her brother.

Daera hadn’t even been allowed to try to claim a dragon. Four years ago they had told her that she was too young, now they pretended that as the future Queen and mother it was too dangerous for her. It was a weak excuse but she had no power to argue or contest it. Another reminded how powerless she was. Viserys of all people had comforted her, telling her that not having a dragon wasn’t so terrible and that perhaps it simply wasn’t her time yet. It had been a nice gesture and had actually helped a little bit but it still stung whenever Daemon talked about Caraxes.

It made her feel less than and that was infuriating because she knew she wasn’t. She was a Targaryen, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and if she did not get to have a dragon, well, then she would have to become the dragon.

a/n: this is a short one. sorry people.

#my writing #oc: hedaera targaryen #fic: hedaera-verse #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon oc #hotd oc #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #fyeahhotdocs #fyeahgotocs #short but... sweet?

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nanaminokanojo · 7 months ago

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THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 109)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 109 next>>

A/N: Contains prose. | cw: family angst and i didn't proofread yet so...

Deep breaths. You took them one at a time, hand hesitating on the doorbell. With each one, you composed yourself, calming the erratic beating of your heart and the way your hands trembled. Satoru was watching you, and after assuring him that you will be alright, you didn't want him to doubt that. Quelling your hesitation, you finally pressed the doorbell, turning slightly to wave haphazardly at your boyfriend who stood by the open door of the driver's side of his car. He waved back with an encouraging smile, and just then, the door opened.

"Miss L/N," your father's secretary greeted you with a bow, then his eyes strayed to Satoru. "Mr. Gojo can stay in the drawing room while you speak to your father."

You nodded, wondering if your dad finally decided on a change of tune or if it was yet another trick up his sleeves. Eyeing the man in earnest – both a plea and a threat – you said, "You may go ahead and ask him if he wishes to come in. If not, don't press it."

The response you got was a succinct nod and the secretary was opening the door wider for you, only leaving to go towards Satoru when you were already inside the house. Without waiting for the outcome of the ensuing conversation, you found your way to your father's study where he will most likely be.

How did it ever get to this? You couldn't help but think about all of the events that culminated to that single moment when you found yourself standing on the opposite side of the line from your father. The two of you had become as good as strangers, foes even, and you thought back on what you could have done to deserve the way he treated you for the better of your younger years to the present.

Then, at the back of your mind, you heard Sukuna's words to you, telling you that you were never at fault. Did you capitalize too much on that? Have you been a disappointment all along? At the end of the day, he was still your father, and maybe he had the right to decide on your life, you acknowledged that, but to what extent was it reasonable, fault or not?

The heavy oak doors stood before you. Several memories came to mind as you stood there, from how you would sneak in as a child, curious about all the things you saw inside the place that served as his refuge, particularly a glass paperweight that you marveled about. You later learned your mother gave it to him. After your mother died, you remembered his quiet sobs as you stood outside the door, and from there, the distance grew.

"Come in," you heard him from the other side of the door, and you did as you were told, slowly but deliberately opening and closing the door behind you. You remained standing there, the distance, ever growing between you, becoming even more palpable with each second that passed. After what happened, you didn't think you should be acting all familiar by taking a seat and invading his personal space. Despite it all, you still held respect for him, if not as a parent, then as a person.

He sighed, looking up from the papers he was signing. He motioned towards one of the couches, silently telling you to sit. He looked tired, older, but the sharpness of those eyes didn't dull in the least, observant as always. You admired the intelligence that shone in his eyes, what you detested was the cool detachment that came with it as if it would kill him to show warmth even just a little.

Acceding, you made your way to the seat he indicated, placing the file you were holding on the center table. It might have been a trivial gesture, but in your heart, it was a way to show you still considered an alternative to permanently cutting ties with him.

"I heard Gojo Satoru came with you," he began, somehow managing to look both smug and irritated at the thought. He chuckled. "I have to hand it to him. He knows how to play his cards well. Perhaps the board of directors at Gojo Group should watch their backs. Even I wasn't expecting that."

You merely nodded.

"He loves you, I can see that."

You smiled ever so slightly at that. "I don't doubt it. He doesn't exactly like working, much less taking over a company."

He put his pen down, standing up to his full height. Your father is an impressive man, commanding and confident. You've seen him in court, too, and he is a formidable force in his industry. You aspired to be like him no matter how many times you denied ever wanting to have anything to do with him and turning out to be like him.

He stood there, silently observing you while you just looked down at the table, unable to meet his gaze, but unable to endure it, you said, "I kept my end of our deal."

"I know that. Your friends –"

"– aren't the useless bunch you thought I run with –"

"And they'll protect you with everything they've got even if it means going against me," he supplied. "I know that now, Y/N."

"Merely knowing doesn't change a thing." You finally met his eyes, the animosity seeming to dissipate as you strengthened your resolve to decide without his influence, and just consider how you felt for once.

"But it does." He walked towards the shelf, fetching the decanter of his favorite whiskey, silently offering some to you but you declined, shaking your head. "What do you mean?"

"I see a great deal of myself in Gojo Satoru." At that, he smirked as if he was reliving a bittersweet memory. "I know that look of determination, that profound urge to protect you just to keep you by his side by all means regardless of who he has to go against.

I recognized that look on his face when he looked at you with so much longing when we met him at your university; the triumph and affection when he pulled you to his side along with the war he waged against me for making you unhappy..."

"That one thinks he'll win in anything."

"So did I, and that's all I've ever done." He shrugged. "I do not discount the fact that he has the means to do whatever he wanted, but what's so profound about it is his drive and single-mindedness to have you

I don't know if your aunt told you, but your grandfather hated me enough to want to kill me." He scoffed but it was without its usual edge. "Gangsters."

That was a surprise. "Grandpa seems to like you," you countered, sure that memory serves you right. You didn't hate your dad because old man Itadori asked you to understand him more. You didn't say that out loud.

Your dad shook his head. "Not always. He always threatened me every chance he got. Behind your mom's back, of course. He acted all nicely when he knows she's around.

I had to fight tooth and nail to gain his approval, perhaps even his affection. He didn't like me even when your mother already decided to marry me, even when she was pregnant with you."

"What changed?"

He smiled at you then, and you could see just why your mom fell for him. "You were born." He sat down across you, legs crossing as he took a sip from his drink. "And you're her spitting image, Itadori Wasuke's favorite daughter. You should have seen the look on his face when he first saw you. He looked at me as if I gave him the greatest gift in the world."

The thought of it hurt you even more, causing you to stand enraged. What was the point of telling you? Everyone else in your family showed you just how important you are to them, it didn't have to come from him. He didn't have any right. "But you hate me," you lashed out, tears falling from your eyes.

"No, honey, I don't –"

"Yes, you do! I know mom died because she got sick after giving birth to me. And you blamed me for it enough to send me away! You don't even want to see me. You think I didn't hear your conversations with Aunt? The way you treat my cousins as if they're dirt under your shoes? And then what? You suddenly decided you wanna be my dad? Make that make sense!"

You were shaking from all the yelling you did, but oddly enough, it felt cathartic, your pain ebbing away with each word you uttered. It made you realize you still held him dear to you in spite of the anger; that you still craved his attention, affection and approval. Because in your heart of hearts, he is still your only family and it hurt you that he didn't want you.

"I don't hate you and neither do I harbor the same emotion for your aunt and your cousins, especially Sukuna," he stated, reaching out to you to placate you, pulling you into his arms except you refused. Still, he held you tight, soothing your back. "What have I done to you?"

"You hate me," you whispered through sobs.

"Forgive me. I loved your mother so much that I couldn't bear the thought of destroying you, too, in the process of me falling apart. I didn't give you away. I thought...I thought you'd be better off with people who can give you all the love you deserved, but I ended up doing just that.

Forgive me for not having the courage to look you and your cousins in the eye because you all have so much of your mom in all of you, and instead of reveling in it, it only reminded me of my loss."

"You weren't the only one who lost her."

"I know. I see it now." He breathed in deeply. "Forgive me for my groundless fear when I learned you were seeing Satoru, thinking so much ahead of myself, afraid you will end up like your mom and that I'll lose you, too. I'm so sorry. I'm a shitty father, I know that."

You scoffed, looking at him. "You were."

"I don't hate you, Y/N. You're all that I've left of your mother. How can I?" Tears shone in his eyes, but he tried his best not to cry, but the agony showed in his eyes, a spark of tje warmth you've always craved for finally there for you to see. He sighed. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I don't..." You calmed down a tad, your sobs reducing to sniffles, suddenly preoccupied about what he said about Satoru. "What about Satoru? Why did you bother enough to do..." You stepped back, a little exasperated. "...all of this..."

For the first time, your dad looked ashamed of himself. "I guess I was going through every father's nightmare. I understood your grandfather when Sukuna said you were different around Satoru."

"I didn't realize that either until you showed up in Hokkaido." You shivered inwardly at the way you treated Satoru back then upon reflecting on them. "You don't like him."

He flashed you a rueful smile, but that dissipated into annoyance. "I did a background check on him. He's a playboy and I only had Sukuna's words to vouch for him where your wellbeing was concerned."

You couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up in your throat. "I'm not proud of it, but if you should know, I was the asshole in our relationship."

He frowned, both at your choice of words and the thought of you being the bad guy. "That doesn't sound right."

"But it's true. I put him through too much."

"Do you love him?"

You nodded, motioning to pick up the document you brought with you. "Enough to fight you in court for absolute emancipation, Atty. L/N." You waved the file in front of you. "Glad we didn't have to go there."

Your father regarded the file with sorrow in his eyes and finally, his tears fell. "You're so much like your mother."

You shook your head. "No, dad. I'm a lot more like you." You shrugged, tossing the file back on the table, composing yourself despite the emotions overflowing in you, and your dad did the same. You got your emotional constipation for him for sure. Your mom had too big of a heart not to show affection, or so you remembered.

"So...Gojo Satoru..."

"Yes."

He scrunched his nose. "You couldn't have fallen for Nanami Kento instead?"

"Dad!" You snickered. "Ken is a very good friend. He's a bit scary though. Very much like a father."

"I wouldn't have disapproved of him."

"Satoru isn't bad at all."

"He's too pretty for a boy."

"I know right?" You flashed him a worried look. "Can I please introduce him to you formally now?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No. Be nice."

"Fine. As long as he doesn't call me father-in-law just yet."

You fell into easy laughter, finally having the kind of conversation you wish you've always had with him. And it felt good even if you missed all those years you should have spent that way with him. There's more to look forward to.

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smilesrobotlover · 4 months ago

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First|| <-prev next->

AO3

Chapter 9: Why Are You Here?

Hoz’s horse did well taking the three to Castle town in a short time, and before Kori knew it, they were at the gates. Colin hopped off and helped the other two down, and he led Penelope through the empty town. She was still fidgety over what happened in Faron woods, and Colin was clearly struggling to keep her under control. Meanwhile, Kori stuck to Rela’s side, staring at the ground, struggling to comprehend what had all happened. It was dark, and Kori was exhausted, but he had to drag his feet wherever Colin was going.Finally, he was able to drag Penelope to an empty stable, putting her in a stall and turning away with a huff. His brows were furrowed, he had bags under his eyes, and he overall looked distressed.

“Hopefully they won’t mind that I’m leaving her here,” he muttered, while Kori and Rela only stared. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a sigh, staring back at them. They continued to stare, waiting for him to do something. Colin sighed again and glanced at the castle, his hand repeatedly going through his hair. Kori looked in his direction and spotted the large building. He’s rarely been to Castle town, and he’s never noticed the giant castle in the town. He wondered if a princess lived there.

“Well, I should go try to talk to the queen, huh?” He muttered, and he glanced back at the kids. “But you two should go to pa and Link, find a place to stay. If they’re still here.”

“My papa is here?” Kori asked, an ache for his father forming in his chest. Colin shrugged.

“Best case scenario, they are. They won’t be happy to see us… but we need to talk to them,” he turned to the castle. “But I need to deliver a message to the queen, as soon as possible.”

Rela walked up to Colin and leaned against him. “I’m tired, big brother.”

Colin sighed and patted his sister’s back. “I know, Rela.” He gave the castle one more look, then sighed, disappointed. “Let’s head to the bar. I’m sure pa and Link are there.”

Kori and Rela followed Colin as they walked through the empty town. Doors and windows were boarded up, lights were off leaving the town dark, and it was eerily quiet. Colin seemed to notice it too, looking around nervously as if something were to pop out and attack them. The group walked past a large fountain that filled the empty silence with its water, and they walked through an alleyway with many shops lined up and closed down. The darkness was getting to be too much for Kori, and he felt his throat tighten as tears once again threatened to escape him. What if that black beast was here? If it was, how would he be able to spot it? He remembered it being so dark it seemed to absorb all light; if it were here, it would’ve blended in with the black surroundings so much it’d be practically invisible. A chill ran up Kori’s spine as they walked, and he found himself staring too long at a black void in a corner. He shuddered as memories of the terrible monster flooded in from the sight of the pitch blackness—the way it snarled at him, the way it chased after him, the way it held the soldiers in its terrible grip. He whimpered again. Was Hoz ok? Did that monster hurt him? Or…. kill him? The thought of the monster devouring Hoz made him grow nauseous, and he felt himself beginning to shake, his stomach sinking further and further to his feet. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, he wanted his papa here to protect him, he wanted to be back at home with his family and his toys. The fear caused him to hug himself and he shuffled his feet, trying to keep the tears from forming. Colin moved slowly as well, clearly tense with the darkness and silence. They passed by a dark alleyway, and Kori made the mistake in looking down it. It was just a void of blackness, with nothing to be seen, yet black shapes that represented the silhouettes of the homes and lamps swirled into the shape of the monster from Faron the longer he stared, and though Kori knew it couldn’t be it, he froze in fear. He heard his uncle and aunt move further away from him, but he couldn’t follow them, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t think.

He suddenly saw the silhouettes begin to move, and he felt faint. It wasn’t a trick, it wasn’t him thinking too hard—it was here, the monster was here. He whimpered again, staring wide-eyed at the darkness in front of him, wanting to disappear, to hide.

Hide. Hide. He needed to hide. He needed to hide but how? Where? Where?

Kori felt himself move; he felt himself move to somewhere he could hide. He felt himself fall through the ground, and he was curled up in a ball, staring up at the sky. Something wasn’t right.

“Hey!”

Kori flinched at the booming voice, and he strained his head to see. His whole body shifted up and saw what the shadows were from before. Three Hylian guards marched towards Colin and Rela, who looked terrified.

“What are you two doing out?” One of them asked, one hand on his hip and the other holding a spear. “We’re on high alert! No one is allowed out during the night!”

“S-sorry!” Colin began to stammer, holding Rela close. “I was sent by captain Hoz to deliver a message to queen Zelda—”

“Quiet you!” The guard snapped, he walked closer to Colin, looking up at him with a disgusted look on his face. “Psh, just a bunch of Ordonians. You don’t belong here, kid.”

Colin huffed and straightened his back, staring down at the guard. “I was sent here to deliver a message on Hoz’s behalf! He’s in danger, and this is vital for the queen to know!” Colin turned to Rela and gestured to her. “I just need to get to my pa so my sister and my nephew can get rest, but I…” Colin trailed off as he searched the alley-way, and his fair skin turned paler as his eyes widened with realization. “Kori… oh no… Kori!” Colin began to frantically search around him, with Rela following his lead. The guards glanced at each other and shook their heads in disbelief.

“Kid, you need to head inside–”

“No! Not without my nephew! He was right here!” Colin cried, and Kori frowned. He was right in front of him, wasn’t he? He waved his hand in an attempt to catch Colin’s attention, but even when his uncle looked right at him, he seemingly didn’t notice him. Kori frowned again, feeling his throat begin to tickle with his voice trying to call out for Colin, but he didn’t find it. He only remained silent. Why couldn’t he see him? Kori looked down at himself and gasped at the strange and new sight. His normal pale blue and black skin was replaced by a translucent, black shadow. It was spread across the floor and the ground thanks to the hint of moonlight, and it connected to the other shadows also being cast by the moon. Kori… was a shadow. No, he was inside a shadow. He was hiding behind it as if he were hiding behind one of the boxes in the shops. So that’s why Colin couldn’t see him…

Colin was having a meltdown at this point, desperately trying to spot Kori, but the young twilian couldn’t figure out how to step out of the shadows. How could he? How did he even step inside the shadows in the first place?

“Alright, listen kid, we can take you to the castle where you can get help… or something,” one of the soldiers offered, clearly growing worried over him.

“No, no no no I have to find my nephew!” Colin shouted, sobbing at this point. The tough soldier also began to grow worried and he rested a hand on Colin’s shoulder.

“Easy now, let’s just…. Get you kids inside, alright?” The soldiers began to lead the two down the alleyway towards the castle despite Colin’s protests. Kori attempted to step out of the shadows as they passed by, but instead he slipped into one of the soldier’s shadows. He wanted to let Colin know he was alright, but he couldn’t find his voice, and he didn’t know how to reveal himself. He was stuck, and he began to panic. What if he was like this forever, never to see his family ever again because he couldn’t escape the shadows?

The group made it to the castle, one of the soldiers giving the others orders, and they along with his aunt and uncle walked away, with Kori staying with the remaining soldier. The soldier huffed and marched through the castle, passing by many pillars, paintings, and tapestries that caught Kori’s eyes. He only saw the ceiling and the walls, but they were huge. His entire house could probably fit in here. The soldier reached a door and gave it a knock, entering inside when he heard a muffled “come in”.

“King Edmund,” the soldier greeted, bowing towards a desk. Kori attempted to step outside the shadow again, but he once again slipped into a different one, remaining hidden. He was able to get a better view, however; being in a shadow on the wall, he spotted a tall and thin man with unruly red hair, hunched over papers. His curly mustache shifted as he pursed his lips, and he glanced up at the soldier.

“What is it?”

“We just found these two hysterical kids outside in Castle town. My soldiers are taking them to the maids to be taken care of.”

The man stared for a long moment, his thin eyebrows practically resting on his eyes. He sighed and nodded. “Very well, I’ll take care of them in the morning. Thank you.”

The soldier bowed and left the room, and the man sighed, resting his head in his hands. “Labryn… these blasted Hylians,” he mumbled as he rubbed his face. He glanced out the window, the dark sky beginning to lighten with the sunrise. The night had already passed? But Kori didn’t even get to sleep! He huffed and decided to try stepping out of the shadows again, imagining them as a box he was stepping out of. He nearly lost his balance as he left the wall, and he looked down himself. To his relief, he was back to normal, but he realized how trapped he was. He was in a messy room with papers scattered everywhere, different trinkets and clocks decorating the walls and the desk, and the man seemed to have not noticed him as he stared at the paper.

“An all-nighter,” he mumbled again, sniffing as he straightened his back. “Great…”

Kori stepped closer to him, fear taking hold of his throat once again. He didn’t know if he should say something, or if he should run to the door, or if he should go back inside a shadow. But he was once again frozen with fear. The man sniffed again and glanced over at Kori. He looked away but did a double take, flinching when he comprehended another person’s presence. The man yelped as he toppled out of his chair, and Kori jumped back, pressing himself against the wall. The man scrambled to his feet, his green eyes wide as he stared at him.

“Holy sh—wha—what are you doing here? Who are you? What are you? Good goddesses, you gave me a heart attack!” He yelled, holding his chest as he breathed heavily. Kori couldn’t hold it in anymore, and the tears began pouring once again. The man’s fearful and angry expression quickly melted away into a concerned and guilty one. “Oh… no no no, don’t cry, I’m sorry for yelling,” the man’s harsh voice softened as he raised his hands defensively. Kori continued to sob uncontrollably, the stress from the past day finally getting to him. The man got on his knees and rested his hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you.”

Kori sniffled and finally took in a shaky breath. The man’s voice and demeanor reminded him of his papa, and his lower lip jutted out in a pout. His heart ached for his parents.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I’m sorry I frightened you. I was just… uh… frightened myself,” the man said with a light chuckle. Kori sniffed again and stared at the ground. “What are you doing here, little one?”

Kori’s voice was once again taken away from him. Why couldn’t he speak? The man stared for a long moment, then sighed.

“It’s alright. My name is Edmund. What’s yours?”

Kori bit his lip, staring hard at the ground as he struggled to find his voice. “K—K—K…” He swallowed and let out a breath. “Kori.”

Edmund nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Kori. Why are you here in my office? And Uh… how’d you get in here?”

Kori glanced at the shadows slowly changing with the sunrise. He swallowed again and looked down. “Captain… Hoz… um…” his voice was quiet, and Edmund leaned in.

“Sorry, I don’t have good hearing, what did you say?”

Kori sucked in a breath and tried again. “C-captain Hoz… he… um… my aunt and uncle were uh…. Um…” Kori clamped his mouth shut, his voice leaving him once again. Edmund’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced at the wall.

“Captain Hoz you say? What happened? Where is he?”

Kori looked down, his voice still gone. Edmund watched him for a moment, then he sighed.

“Where’s your aunt and uncle?”

No matter how hard he tried, his voice couldn’t escape him. His eyes started to tear up again and he hugged himself. Edmund sighed and stood up, towering over Kori’s little frame.

“Well, you’re safe now, little one,” he said, patting his head. “Perhaps when you’re able, you can tell me where your aunt and uncle are?”

They were taken by the soldiers, Kori wanted to say. They were the ones the main soldier told you about. Please, they're here, just take me to them.

It was uncomfortably silent as emotions ran rampant through Kori, until a knock came at the door. He and Edmund turned to it as it opened, and to Kori’s surprise, a young girl about his age peeked her head through.

“Father?” She asked, and she froze when she made eye contact with Kori, her gray eyes widening.

“Amber! What in Labryn’s name are you doing up so early?”

Amber shifted, her eyes never leaving Kori’s. “Who is that?” She asked, pointing her finger at him.

Edmund glanced at Kori, his mustache curling up in a smile. “This is Kori, Amber,” he nudged him towards her, and Amber loosened up slightly. She stepped through the door, her hands clasped politely in front of her. She was wearing a simple, pink dress with a little bird plushie in one of her arms. Her head bowed in greeting, her brown curls with hints of red bouncing as her head moved.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kori,” she said, and Kori only stared with his mouth hanging open. Amber glanced up at Edmund, a confused look on her face. Edmund looked down at him and smiled again.

“Amber, my dear, Kori is a little scared right now,” he began to explain, kneeling on the ground to be on Amber and Kori’s level. “He’s separated from his aunt and uncle and could use some comfort. Could you take him to your room?”

Amber blinked. “But what about my studies?”

“Oh, you can miss them for the day. I want you to take care of him for now.”

Amber’s eyes lightened up and she grinned.

“Ok father! Come on!” She grabbed his arm and started to drag him out of the room. Kori looked back at Edmund who had a pleasant smile on his face, his fear for his aunt and uncle leaving him as he was pulled through the castle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the two kids disappeared, Edmund collapsed in his chair. Gods above, he was too tired to think clearly. He should’ve taken care of Kori better, like searching for his missing family or something, but he couldn’t think clearly from his late nights. Despite how many times he chastised Zelda for neglecting herself, he was no better than her when it came to neglecting his own needs. He laid there for a moment, his eyes threatening to close shut as the sun beat through his window, feeling like a blanket wrapping around him. A harsh knock on the door shook him out of it, however, and he groaned as he stood up.

The soldier from before was on the other side with an awkward look on his face. “U-uh, your highness, I would’ve waited much longer to come to you for this but…. the kids we brought in last night….”

“Yes yes, I’ll take care of it,” Edmund mumbled, walking past him and marching to the quarters where the homeless and poor took refuge. As he walked, he thought about the little boy that somehow snuck into his office. He wondered how he would find his parents, or his aunt and uncle. Kori was a race that he never recognized; he could’ve been part zora or something, but Edmund figured since Hyrule was filled with all sorts of races, that he was probably a race he simply didn’t know. He hoped that his daughter could coax some information out of him, especially information about Hoz. Zelda sent a mysterious letter to him, telling him that everyone must stay inside at night, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Hoz had something to do with this. As he got closer to the rooms where the two kids were, he heard shouts and spotted a blond human yelling at the maids.

“Let me out! I need to find him!” He yelled, and the maids pushed him back.

“Sir, we cannot let you out until sunrise! That is by order of the queen!”

“The sun is up! You can’t keep us here anymore!”

“Sir, please—” The maids turned to Edmund and quickly bowed, the young human’s eyes widening as he spotted him, shrinking away.

“What’s going on here?” Edmund asked, staring down the young man.

“King Edmund, he was just—”

“I need to find my nephew!” He blurted out, and Edmund frowned, his mind instantly thinking about Kori. But he quickly pushed that out of his mind; this young man looked nothing like Kori.

“Alright, just take a deep breath,” he said, nudging the man back into the room. He spotted a little girl on a bed, glaring at him as he pushed him inside. “Now, what’s your name?”

The young man glanced at the little girl, then back at Edmund. “I—I’m uh… Well I—”

“Your name?” Edmund pressed, his patience growing thin. The boy looked down and took a deep breath.

“Sorry. I’m Colin, and my little sister over there is Rela,” he gestured to the girl on the bed.

Edmund glanced over at Rela who was still glaring. He could certainly see the resemblance. “And where are you two from?” He asked, turning back to Colin. Colin pursed his lips and stared at a corner in the room.

“O-Ordon.”

Edmund frowned. “Isn’t that the human village to the south?”

Colin nodded. “Yes.”

“And what are two Ordonians doing here at Castle town in the middle of the night?” He glanced at the window. “Or… in the morning to be more accurate.”

“Well—w-we have to… uh…” Colin sighed. “We need to speak to Queen Zelda. Captain Hoz sent us.”

Edmund’s breath hitched at the mention of Hoz. It was the second time he’s heard his name, so that must mean….

“Is Kori your nephew?” He blurted out, and Colin’s eyes widened.

“You’ve seen Kori? Is he ok? Where is he?” Colin asked, grabbing onto Edmund. The king peeled his grip off of him and he huffed.

“Gods above, you Hylians have no respect for royals!” he grumbled, dusting off his arm. Colin hopped back and bowed apologetically.

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been so worried about Kori.”

Edmund’s anger quickly fizzled away and he sighed. If his Amber went missing, or heaven forbid any of his nephews, he’d be desperate as well.

“Kori’s fine. He’s with my daughter. He wasn’t speaking and I hoped that she could help him feel better,” Edmund explained gently, and Colin practically crumpled onto the bed parallel with Rela’s with relief, his hand running through his hair as tears formed in his eyes.

“Thank you Ordona, thank you,” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly. Edmund looked down and pursed his lips. He should get Kori, but his curiosity on why Hoz sent Ordonians to relay a message in his stead ate at him. Edmund decided to talk to him first, and he sat next to Colin, resting his back against the wall. Colin stiffened and stared at him, his big blue eyes holding a hint of fear.

“Colin, you and Kori both mentioned Hoz,” he started, not turning his head, but his eyes meeting Colin’s. “What happened?”

Colin glanced at Rela for a moment, the gears in his head turning. “I… I need to talk to Queen Zelda—”

“Zelda isn’t here right now,” Edmund cut in. “I’m taking care of things for her right now. So you will tell me what Hoz needed to tell her.”

Colin still seemed hesitant. “And Kori is ok?”

“Of course. My daughter is taking good care of him. I can grab him after you tell me everything.”

Colin’s brows were drawn together, but he finally submitted.

“Alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kori remained silent as he was dragged through the castle with Amber talking excitedly about things he didn’t understand. The castle was huge, much bigger than what he realized, and it made Kori feel much smaller inside it. When they reached Amber’s room, he couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer size of it. Her room seemed to be the same size as Gramma Uli’s house, with a large bed in the middle and a chest right in front of it. A window that practically reached the ceiling led onto a balcony, and there were several doors on each wall; whatever they led to, he had no idea. Amber stopped by the large chest, her hands clutched in front of her.

“It’ll be a while until my maids come by to get me ready, so…” she glanced at the box, then back at Kori. “We can do whatever you’d like.”

Kori stared blankly at her, not daring to move a muscle. Amber’s eyes looked around the room, her lips pursed as she traced the chest, Kori’s eyes following.

“It was Kori, right?” She asked, and he nodded. “I am princess Amber Zelda Hyrule, daughter of Nebula Zelda Hyrule and Edmund James Labrynna. You may call me Amber.”

Kori nodded, barely understanding what she meant.

“How old are you?” She asked, her voice high and sweet, which put Kori more at ease. He shifted slightly and stared at the ground.

“Ten,” he mumbled, and Amber gasped.

“Ten? H-how?”

Kori looked up at her with a confused look.

“You’re so small! You can’t be ten!” She continued, an even more confused look on her face. Kori frowned. He was pretty small but he wasn’t that small. He was much smaller than Rela but that was because she was eleven. Amber seemed to be bigger than Kori as well, so how old was she?

“My birthday was a while ago,” Kori mumbled, his hands waving around. “I’m ten.”

“B-but…” Amber huffed and crossed her arms. “But I’m nine!”

Kori’s eyes widened. He was older than her? He giggled and pointed at her. “I’m older than you!”

Amber glared and turned away with a huff. “How is that even possible? What are you?”

Kori withdrew, his hand returning to his side. “I… I’m a twilian, I guess.

Amber’s anger went away and she tilted her head. “What’s a twilian?”

Kori shrugged. “I guess I’m part Twili and Hylian.”

“What’s a Twili?”

Kori shrugged again. “I dunno, it’s what my mommy is.”

It grew silent between the two, until Amber stepped up to him.

“I’m part human and Hylian,” she said. “So… I know what it’s like to not be something exactly.”

“Human and Hylian… I guess that makes you a humian?” Kori commented, and Amber raised an eyebrow with an amused look.

“Or a Hyman.”

Kori giggled and Amber joined it, and it grew silent again. Kori stared at the large chest, and finally curiosity got the better of him.

“What’s in there?” He asked, walking closer to the chest. Amber hummed and opened it, causing Kori to gasp at the sight. Hundreds, possibly thousands of toys laid before him. He didn’t know it was even possible to have this many!

“These are all my toys,” she explained, reaching in for a doll and grinning at him. Kori continued to stare with wide eyes.

“You have so many!”

Amber giggled. “Yes well… I get a lot of gifts for my birthdays!”

A lot of gifts… Kori would be lucky if he even got one. The amount of toys he could’ve gotten if he’d gotten presents every birthday… Spirits, it sounded incredible!

“That’s amazing! I only have two toys, Billy and Jasper…” Kori said glumly, jealous of Amber’s large inventory.

“Billy and Jasper?”

“My goat stuffie! And my cat stuffie! I got Jasper for my birthday,” he explained, and Amber’s eyes widened as she hugged her bird stuffie closer.

“I love stuffed animals…” she mumbled, her face in her bird’s head. “I never get them though. Everyone believes I’m too old for them.”

“What?!” Too old? Kori was older than her, yet he didn’t feel like he was too old for plushies. He couldn’t imagine not being able to get them! “That’s so sad!”

Amber nodded. “I’m not too old for dolls though,” she muttered, staring at all the many dolls in her chest. She didn’t seem to like them all that much. Rela didn’t like dolls either, and instead opted for toy soldiers and swords. But Kori liked the dolls that could be dressed up, so he grabbed one with a blue dress on. Several dresses missing from dolls laid in the chest and he reached for a small hat and brown shoes. He stared at the doll and put the two accessories on while Amber watched.

“Do you like dolls, Kori?” She asked, her head tilted. Kori giggled nervously and shrugged.

“I’ve never had one. But I like the clothes on them.” He stared at the doll and handed it to Amber who took it hesitantly.

“This hat doesn’t belong to her,” she commented, and Kori shrugged.

“It looks good.”

Amber observed the doll and nodded. “I guess so.”

Kori looked back into the chest and gasped at wooden soldiers on top of different doll dresses. He grabbed one and pulled it out, observing the delicate carvings.

“You have everything!” He exclaimed.

Amber smiled and shrugged.

“If I had this many toys, I would never be bored ever again!” Kori exclaimed.

Amber’s smile faded and she looked down, still hugging her bird. “Toys are great, but they grow tiring when you have no one to play with.”

Kori turned his head at her, his brows drawn together.

“You have no one to play with?”

“I-I… I have my father… he sometimes plays but,” Amber’s expression grew sad. “He’s been pretty busy.”

“What about your mommy?”

Amber looked up at him, her expression growing more sad. “I never see her.”

Kori’s stomach sank a little, and he looked back at the soldier.

“I am happy that my father is here,” she continued, “but… sometimes I…I…”

“You want your mommy too?” Kori finished for her, giving her a knowing look. Amber looked up at him, her brows pinched together. “My mommy is gone all the time too. I don’t know when she will come or how long she’ll stay, but she has other stuff she needs to do at her home.” He sighed and sat down, his back against the chest. “I miss her when she’s not here. I have my papa, but I feel… happier when my mommy and papa are with me.”

Amber joined him on the floor, a look of understanding on her face. “Yeah! My mother has been gone for so long and…” She paused, her eyes staring at the floor distantly. “I just never see her. Sometimes I wonder if she loves me.”

Kori’s heart hurt for her. Though his mommy was gone a lot, she always spent her time with him. He knew for a doubt that she loved him. The thought of not knowing if she really cared for him was almost too painful to think about. He scooted closer to her and put an arm around her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she leaned into the hug, her bird plushie still in her face as she hugged it close. They stayed there for a short moment before Amber began to stir, and she returned to her chest of toys.

“Anyways… I’m not sure how long you’ll be here but… do you… want to play with me?”

She seemed almost bashful as she asked Kori; her eyes were avoiding his, her voice soft and quiet, and her bird plush still remaining clutched at her chest. Kori smiled and nodded enthusiastically, looking into the chest again.

“What do you want to play?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Release the princess you old creep!” Kori shouted while waving the toy soldier around. Amber planted her dress-up doll in front of the soldier, cackling maniacally.

“You’ll never save her!” She shouted back, the toy moving around violently as if she were casting a spell. “I’ll turn you into a spider and you’ll have to be crawling around for the rest of your life!”

“Noooo!” Kori’s toy dodged out of the way in a dramatic fashion, and he began to smack Amber’s toy as if he were fighting her. “Die die die!”

Amber seemed surprised at the sudden violence, but she played into it, making noises of pain as the evil witch died.

“Nooooo! It can’t end like thiiiiiiis!” She wailed, making dramatic dying noises. Kori watched as she put her whole body into it, laying down with the toy and sticking her tongue out. He let out a giggle when she finally went silent, and she looked over at him, a smile on her face. She shot up and pulled out her princess doll, shoving it towards Kori. “My hero! You saved me! Now we can get married!”

Kori’s nose scrunched up. “‘Married?’”

Amber nodded, giving Kori a look as if he was stupid. “Yeah! Every time a knight saves a princess they get married! Obviously.”

“But… they barely know each other!”

“So?”

“So it’s… it’s… weird.” Kori glanced down at his toy soldier, fiddling with his sword.

“It’s not weird! It’s romantic,” Amber sighed dreamily, her eyes staring at the ceiling with her toy clutched to her chest. Kori stuck his tongue out in disgust and turned away. Amber suddenly snatched his toy soldier out of his hands and pressed the princess and knight together, making kissing noises. Kori squealed and cringed away, giggles escaping him as Amber got louder with the teasing. Soon the two kids burst out laughing and laid out on the floor, holding their tummies as they grew sore from the laughter.

“You’re so weird,” Kori laughed, and Amber grinned widely at him. The two laid there in silence, a few giggles escaping one or the other. Kori sat up and was about to say something, but the silence was interrupted by a knock on the door. Amber scrambled to her feet, with Kori following as the door opened, and Edmund entered, his eyes widening at the room.

“Good gods, what have you two been doing in here?”

Kori glanced around at the room. The two had certainly made a mess with it, with different toys scattered everywhere and blankets being used as forts. He looked at Amber who had a guilty look on her face, and she quickly got to tidying up the toys.

“The princess got kidnapped and Kori had to save her,” she explained simply, throwing one of the dolls into her chest, and Edmund’s face softened.

“Alright. Well I’m glad you two had fun, but the maids will have much work to do,” he turned to Kori and gestured to him to follow with his head. “Come with me, I’m going to take you to your uncle.”

Kori gasped at the mention of Colin, and he walked across the room to where Edmund stood, but he stopped. He turned back to look at Amber, who had a sad look on her face.

“He’s leaving?” She asked in a quiet voice, and Edmund sighed.

“Kori needs to return to his aunt and uncle, my dear. Say goodbye, now.”

Kori glanced up at him and walked over to Amber, pulling her into a hug. She reciprocated immediately, her head falling onto his shoulder.

“I hope I can play with you again,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Me too! You were fun to play with!” Kori gave her one last squeeze and pulled away. Amber’s eyes had grown watery and she sniffed slightly.

“Could we… write to each other?” She asked, and Kori shrugged.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how it works. But I’d like to!”

Amber smiled and put her toy soldier in his hand. “Write to the castle, and I’ll be sure to respond. I’ll… see you later?”

Kori stared at the toy soldier for a moment, and looked up at her with a smile. “Yeah! I hope so.” He began to back up towards Edmund, who watched silently. He waved at Amber as he walked out of the room, and Edmund closed the door behind them. It was silent as Kori followed the man, feeling like a mouse compared to him, and the discomfort to go with it. He already missed Amber as he fiddled with her toy soldier, the silence growing uncomfortable for him. Eventually, Kori heard talking, and he spotted a familiar blond whose eyes lit up when they made eye contact.

“KORI!” Colin shouted, running to him. Kori felt a weight lift off his shoulders as his uncle ran to him, and he quickly melted into his embrace, tears streaming down his face. “Oh thank the spirits,” his uncle mumbled, giving Kori a squeeze. Rela came up behind him and joined in the hug, sighs of relief coming from the family.

“Goddesses, Kori,” Colin started after pulling away. His hands rested on his arms and he looked him over. “What the heck happened? Where were you?”

Kori looked down, not knowing how to explain his situation. “I was… in the shadows?” He answered, shrugging his shoulders. Colin stared for a moment, confusion apparent on his face, but he pulled Kori in, not caring what he meant.

“I’m just glad you’re alright. You had me worried, kid,” he muttered, and Kori smiled.

“I was worried about y’all too,” he replied. Rela stepped up and put her hands on her hips, pointing at herself.

“Well I knew he was going to be ok!” she cut in, giving Kori a proud look. “I taught him how to take care of himself!”

Colin gave Rela an unamused look and stood up. He turned to Edmund who remained silent and bowed.

“Thank you for taking care of him, Your Highness,” he said, and Edmund nodded.

“Of course. It was my pleasure,” he said with a smile. “And thank you for telling me about Hoz. This information is vital to the safety and protection of Hyrule.”

Colin nodded back at him. “Of course. Just… make sure Zelda gets the information, ok?”

“Zelda will get it, I assure you,” Edmund replied with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Though just because she isn’t here doesn’t mean things won’t get done.”

“R-right, sorry…” Colin turned to Rela and Kori and sighed.

“Do you have a place to stay?” Edmund asked. “If not, you may stay here until it’s safe to travel.”

“No no, we have a place to stay, don’t worry,” Colin assured with a smile. “Thank you though, you’re very kind.”

Edmund glanced between the group and nodded. “Then it’s best for you to leave. I’ll escort you out.”

The king began walking towards the larger doors with the rest following him, and Kori squinted at the sunlight that shone through the frame. Edmund walked them across the courtyard and stopped at the gate, turning to Colin and gesturing to the town with his head.

“I take it, you can make it on your own now?”

“Yes, your highness. Thank you.”

Edmund nodded one last time and watched as Colin, Rela, and Kori crossed the gate, but he stopped them before the gate door closed.

“Hold on,” he called out, and Kori turned around. “Kori, you’re from Ordon, right?”

Kori glanced at Colin who looked confused, and he nodded. Edmund smiled and glanced back at the castle.

“I’m just making sure. Thank you… for playing with my daughter. I’m sure she had fun.”

Kori’s eyes widened and he grinned. “Yeah, I had fun too!”

Edmund chuckled slightly and bowed his head before finally leaving the gate, it shutting closed behind him. Colin turned to Kori with an eyebrow raised.

“Spirits, did you play with the princess, Kori?” He asked, and Kori frowned.

“No, I just played with a nice girl,” he explained simply.

“Kori, you do know that we talked to King Edmund. His daughter is the princess. You played with her!”

Kori paused. Amber was the princess? He knew Edmund was the king, but he didn’t even think about Amber being a princess. Was that why she had so many toys and such a big room? But… she seemed like a normal girl, not at all like how he expected a princess to act. Colin burst out laughing and ruffled his hair, turning to the town.

“You made friends with the princess of all people, kid. That’s somethin’ not even your pa could do.”

Kori followed, his hand holding onto Rela’s. He didn’t know why that was such a big deal, but he figured it was just adult things that he’d understand when he got older. The town was drastically different from how it was last night when the group finally reached it. People were running into each other, zipping from place to place, chatting at the fountain, and listening to singers by the front gates. It was less scary than before, and Kori grew fascinated at all the different characters running past him. Some ignored the little boy, others gave him weird looks, but overall, they minded their own business as he, his aunt and uncle walked through the crowd. Rela’s hand tightened around Kori’s and he moved closer to her, hugging Amber’s toy soldier to his chest. He still didn’t understand why she had given it to him, but he knew he had to ask his papa if he could see her again. Kori didn’t have many friends besides Rela; it would be nice to have one closer to his age who liked to play with the toys the way he wanted to. As the group wandered through the town, all he could think about was the game he and Amber played, and how much fun he had. Rela was great and all, but she was older than Kori, and a lot more rough. She preferred to play with swords and pretended to kill monsters. Plus, being his aunt, it also felt less like a friendship since she was family. Though, the way she protectively kept him close as they walked through the town, he was grateful Rela was there for him like a friend. Regardless, Kori longed for a friend outside of his family, one who he could play fun games with. Just like Amber…

The three finally reached a staircase that led into an empty area of the town, and Colin confidently went down the stairs, marching straight towards a door. Colin reached for the handle but paused, staring at it for a long moment.

“What is it?” Rela asked after a while of staring. Colin sighed and looked at her and Kori.

“It’s nothin’, I just… Pa is gonna kill us, that’s all,” he muttered, and he finally opened the door. Kori’s eyes slammed shut at the sudden stench inside. He didn’t know what he was smelling, but his fingers squeezed his nostrils shut, his eyes watering from the awful smell. His ears drooped as well, the loud shouts and laughter of drunk men assaulting his long ears. He huddled closer to Rela, staring at the sweaty men drinking a foaming liquid that poured out of their mouths. This place was awful! As Kori looked around, he spotted a group of people across the room, and he quickly recognized his grandpa standing at a table. His brows were pinched together as he stared at the table, but his blue eyes glanced up to see the group of kids walking towards him. His serious expression turned to horror, and Kori saw his own papa turn around to see him. Tears escaped from Kori and he broke away from Rela, sprinting across the room to his papa. His papa was out of his chair, a confused expression on his face, and Kori rammed into his chest, wrapping his little arms around him as he sobbed into his shirt. He quickly reciprocated, rubbing his back as he cried.

“Kori, what the heck are you doing here?” His papa asked in his gentle voice, which made Kori cry harder. Spirits above, he missed him so much. He missed him so much and he didn’t want to let him go. Kori heard talking from his uncle and grandpa, but he didn’t listen as he clung on desperately to his father. His worries melted away, and all that was there for Kori was him and his papa.

#love at twilight #Kori #twilight princess #smiles wtites #yayyyy update!!!!#not a big fan of this one hoenstly but I hope you guys like it anyways #beloveds #no one is having a good time here

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blueishspace · 1 day ago

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Hero, Villain, God 4

(Prev) (Next) (First)

Hotguyisnumberone @/Hotguy44629.

I don't get why everyone is so fixated on that faceplanted meme, It's so dumb yet I see it everywhere.

💬23 ❤️689 🔄45

|Transfemswag @/Surroundedbyidiots. Because It's funny lmao. You don't need to read too much into it. ||Hotguyisnumberone @/Hotguy44629. But It's not! It's so annoying! And It's everywhere! |||Transfemswag @/Surroundedbyidiots. Maybe It's a you problem. Have you thought about that?

Hotguydaily @/HGupdates

Resident Hero HotGuy has been spotted kissing the ground passionately.

💬246 ❤️61K 🔄4K

|Skyblue @/Skyblueness33. Nooo, not the update account joining in too. ||Hotguyfan @/HGforevah33. It is kinda funny but I feel a little bad about it... Could you imagine becoming a meme like this?

|Thissucks @/Youcansuckmydk3. Is this really the most important thing to be talking about? ||Skyblue @/Skyblueness33. Mate, this is an HotGuy updates account, what else should they talk about? The fucking weather?

|Sausage☑️ @/blessedbythesaint. Lmao, kissing the ground. ||What. @/askingteliling23. Aren't you the leader of a church??? Why are you here??? |||Sausage☑️ @/blessedbythesaint. Why not? ||||What. @/askingteliling23. Why though?

OceanQueen☑️ @/AnarmyofAxolotls. Was someone going to tell me that there's a new poultry themed vigilante or was I supposed to find out from a bunch of memes?

💬27K ❤️3.1M 🔄733K

|Hotguy☑️ @/HGofficial. Ocean queen? Not you too! This is so embarassing. ||Sheriff☑️ @/Canarywthagun. Well...Look at the bright side! |||Hotguy☑️ @/HGofficial. ... What bright side? ||||Sheriff☑️ @/Canarywthagun. I don't know... That's why I said to look for it.

Poultryguy @/shipper4321

Am I the only one to notice the severe sexual tension between HG and Poultryman?

💬2 ❤️109 🔄16

|Real @/Reallyreal4. Yes, yes you are. ||Transfemswag @/Surroundedbyidiots. Shhh, let them cook.

PoultryMan @/poultrymanfanblog.

Hello people this is now a poultryman fanblog. He's just so fun.

💬1 ❤️4 🔄1

|Nomnom @/hgtime9. How are there already so many poultryman fanblogs? He has existed for less then a week.

Bluish @/Blueishspace.

Well now I need to know...

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#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #Hero villain god au #lizzie ldshadowlady #sausage #poultry man #jimmy solidarity

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katyspersonal · 22 days ago

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nobody:

Kood: Oh, so, you "like" Messmer? Say the exact amount of strength applied which it took him to impale every single Dancing Lion that he hunted. Name the day he finished reforging his spear for it to become throwable and how many times did he have to throw it. Say the exact timing, down to tens of second, which it took him to cu-

Queelign: I am literally lurking in the cemetery waiting for those graceless Hornsents to visit the graves of their killed ones to ambush and kill them too, Queen Marika would be so proud of me! :D

Wego: Man I wish I had friends, too bad I literally have no one, I am so lonely I'll have to resort to resurrecting dead people :( *spoken literally nearby fellow Knights, including his literal pupil*

Salza: Hey just because I take #1 place amongst everyone else in the Crusade in terms of how many villages and houses I've obliterated doesn't mean I am no longer an intellectual elite. I am the most civilised, cultured and intelligent person here.

Hilde: These idiots do not understand that even the Erdtree itself stand on cultural appropriation! How can we fight in the name of Marika and uh... I think that guy literally named Whore at some point, with that big lion...? if we ignore how much was stolen from the Storm Lord and Godskin Apostles? I swear I am the only one who truly gets it smh. Can't wait to get rid of all Hornsent already so we can use their knowledge to build our OWN Divine Spiral, it will be sick af 👀

Messmer: Hahah no one loves my mother as much as I do, I understand what is better for her Order more than she does herself *mood swing* I hate that bitch, why she never loved me?! *crashes a head off a statue of her* *mood swing* Oh god I am the worst being I am more of a curse upon her than any of these graceless barbarians were ever, disowning me was not enough, she should have killed me... *mood swing* I should have burnt her and her Erdtree instead while I had the chance to do so, only in death we could stand equal *mood swing* I love her so much I can at least find comfort in destroying everyone who doesn't fit her world, it is the least I can do to atone for being born graceless myself *mood swing*

Rellana: Pledge to the Golden Order was a weird era but now we are so back, Stars/Moon and Fire have always been together, since the times of Fire Giants and Astrologers! But to think of it, does the 'Fire' that swears to exterminate everything spurned of the grace of the Erdtree count, if it was Erdtree's enemy? Strange, how the very thing that existed as its enemy got tamed to serve it instead? Dammit, my flawless brilliant logic got a crack in it all because of Messmer's mommy issues!!! (still love him and will die for him tho 🥺💙)

Andreas: I can excuse fascism and genocide, but I draw the line at being a SNAKE!

Huw: <prev so real, had I known my bestie was a snake I'd definitely not go and have sooooo much fun hunting Divine Beasts. I am so deceived.

Edredd: To think of it, more soldiers got executed here for no longer wanting to do genocide than fell from the blades of Hornsents, but idk a job is a job 🤷‍♂️

Garrew: *has the most fucking questionable Crucible aspect ever seen except no one wants to actually question it*

#elden ring #shitposting #messmer the impaler #fire knights #elden ring enemies #fire knight queelign #messmer's black knights #kood captain of the fire knights #wego fire knight elder #salza fire knight sage #fire knight hilde #rellana twin moon knight #this is what they are XD

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distortionbobble · 6 months ago

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Royal Flowers Chapter 12

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pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni. masturbation scene (m), but other than that nothing too spicy.

a/n: come get y'alls juice. also i can't find the gif i was using of anakin so just like. remember what he looks like i guess. he's pretty if that helps

When you wake up, you feel like you’ve swallowed a stone. You remember everything— every excruciating detail, each moment that his skin was pressed against yours. You try your best to recollect everything that was said yesterday, but it feels fruitless. Your mind has already rewritten each word ten times, translating and shifting and switching until the meaning is entirely different. Did Anakin say “I need you” or “I need this”? If he had said “you”, did he mean anything by it, or were you the first person that he could trust with this? The only? Something strange and all-too familiar crawls out from your stomach.

Guilt. You’re not even sure if Anakin wanted you the way you wanted him, and the words he first spoke to you scream themselves loudly in your head. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die. You were just a means to an end, and you’re sure that you should have known that as you took pleasure from his touch on your body. You’re no stranger to desire, to the heat of another’s body, but it’s never been someone you’ve wanted as much as Anakin.

And at the same time, you understand fully that it wasn’t just you. What you and Anakin have is bigger than just what happened last night; it’s been working up for months, an ocean of desire eroding your reasons to resist until you caved, gave into the sweetness of his mouth on yours, sweeter and softer than you could have ever imagined. The way that fell in the force of his desperation to something all-consuming, something that carved away a piece of your soul and kept it in the confines of the night, sacrificed at the altar of your memory. Your self-indulgence feels rotting, pushing unease into your throat and you can no longer lay here with your tattered dress cocooning your body. No matter what it is, you’ve never been faithful to the driving force within you. It’s a foreign feeling, one that you don’t like. You never thought that doing what you wanted would inspire such guilt.

You push yourself out of bed, turning to look over your shoulder at Anakin’s peaceful form, allowing yourself another moment of indulgence as your heart weeps. Your movement has shifted the blanket away from his shoulders, and as quietly as you can, you reach over to adjust it back over his shoulders. Your heart’s corruption rules you for only a moment longer when your hand skates over his jaw. Not quite touching him, no; you can’t allow that in the bright clarity of the morning. It was just sex, you remind yourself. Then you’re gone, swept away in the mirrors and meticulousness of your morning routine.

The peace allows you to sit with your thoughts for a moment longer— to remember your purpose, to remember your role in a story that is so much greater than the microcosm of you and Anakin. You’re here because you’re the queen of Naboo, and you have a responsibility to your people. For just a moment longer, you loathe what has become of your life. All you are now is a vessel for the needs of others, and it hurts to know that you’ll have to give and give until there is nothing left of you, until you can fade into nothingness with no one having truly known you, and yet having been so largely involved in the universe’s fate. You swallow your bitterness, resting your chin on your hand as you stare at the mirror before you, steam clouding the surface. The reflection that looks back at you feels otherworldly, a woman that you’re not sure you’ve ever been and yet one that you know you must be. Your face crafts a perfect smile, the hollowness within invisible to even you. Don’t forget your role, your reflection whispers at you.

Your fingers drum against the surface of the counters as you collect yourself, carefully calculating every diplomatic advantage. Naboo is economically powerful at this time, putting you at a position where you can safeguard from famine with the right connections. Lothal, you should corner the representatives of Lothal. They’re just a backwater, in essence; a backwater planet that you’re positive you can strike the right deals with. Agricultural aid in exchange for a hefty deal, put them in a good position with the economic boost Naboo could get.

Your mind starts to wander as you get dressed. You feel a sense of clarity that’s been absent from you for some time— your guilt sharpens itself into a weapon, holding you at its blade to force you to think deeper, think clearer. Why hadn’t the Separatists told you of their plan? Why did you need to find out from elsewhere? All paths lead to one singular conclusion; they want to get rid of you. It makes total sense, doesn’t it? Install a puppet ruler to get away with whatever you want, and at the right moment, cut the strings. They’d step into the void of power, gaining total control of the planet and thus, giving the Separatists a new stronghold.

But at the same time, you understand the injustice caused by the Republic to many. Its neglect of many systems is not unknown to you, you’re not so foolish to think this is a one sided coin. By pushing the Separatists into a coerced acceptance of the Republic’s governance with militant force, the galaxy is only further polarized by loss. Perhaps… Perhaps the only solution is to allow self-determination. That may not filter out the splinter sections of Separatists, but at least it would be a start.

All you know now is nothingness. You don’t know the solution, but you suppose it doesn’t matter; not if you’re going to end up dead at the end of this all. And doesn’t it make sense? For them to kill you now, blame it on something else and drive Anakin into further madness and desperation? The ultimate form of control. Even if you live, you are leverage against the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. You hate thinking of Anakin like that, but it’s true; even you, removed as you are from the Jedi Order, understand that he is the chosen one.

Your fated doom lingers on your being, shadowlike, but you won’t let this keep you here. For however long you’re in this life, you’ll serve your purpose as best you can. You push the thoughts of your inevitable self sacrifice into action, an agenda spinning into order: you’ll talk to the Lothal representatives, strike up a deal. You’ll have food shipped to Naboo’s moon, allowing safe transport of the food to Naboo so that it doesn’t get blown up on arrival. It feels more like bandaids than a solution, but you’ll figure it out. A solution, that’s something that you’ll have to talk to Padme about. The way you see it, she’s the galaxy’s out— under her leadership, she could bring clarity, a new direction. Which means if you’re aware, so is Palpatine. Or Sidious. You don’t know what to call him now, really.

She’s in danger. But maybe she always was.

~~~

When Anakin wakes up, the only thing he feels is hunger. Clawing out from inside of him, stretching and breaking from his skin; a beast that he had buried, now awakened, that only desires you. He feels it eating at his skin, a certain kind of pain that he almost delights in as he thinks of last night. The hedonistic indulgence of giving in, Dionysian in its call, had only served to fuel his thirst, not quench it. And you’re not here, why aren’t you here?

He thinks back to every moment from last night. Had he pushed you too far? He hadn’t meant to, he hopes he didn’t, but the pain was messing with his head. He couldn’t think clearly with his entirety ripping at the seams. Anakin wants to make it better, wants to kneel at your side and take your hand like it’s a lifeline, but that option isn’t his to take. He doesn’t belong there. Anakin is the Chosen One— something that he would have understood in another lifetime, but now it’s just a label with constraints that he’ll never understand. He can’t have you, and yet… now that he’s given in to the Dark Side, things are different. It’s not quite the same story that he was used to. Now, he’s constantly fighting himself. He wants to pursue you openly, fully, yet he can’t. Why can’t he? Because of some arbitrary rules? But those rules are the ones that have dictated his entire way of thinking. He doesn’t want to give it up so soon. He swings between two extremes, a pendulum of moral inconsistency, hearing the voice of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan, Shmi, encouraging him to let go of his hunger; Sidious, to feed it.

Anakin knows he has to look past what he wants right now. You’re counting on him for something bigger, and he knows that he needs to figure out what exactly would happen if he exposed Sidious. It’s something you’ve brought to his life: the rationality that he was always expected to have. As a spy, though, you’ve shown him that the guns-blazing approach sometimes will not work, that he has to take his time, collect his information. How deep is the Chancellor’s control? What is the endgame, if he’s already the Chancellor? None of it makes sense to him.

Long, slender limbs are forced out of bed as Anakin stretches, gritting his teeth at the thought of having to face the day. He winces slightly at the sticky feel of sweat on his skin. He needs to wash up, he realizes, and the quick jump to why he has to wash up has his face flushed. He grips himself tightly, eager for some relief from the aching in his cock as he thinks of you. You, with your warm body, your eager responsiveness to his touch, the taste of you on his tongue. Anakin wrenches his hand away in shame, feeling much like a dog panting for a bone as he salivates over you. He mourns the fact that he didn’t take his time and get you fully naked, rather than tearing the clothes from your body, as he pulls his own garments fully off. He wants to give you a better experience, he realizes; he wants to worship your body with his hands, then his tongue, spend hours with his head buried between your thighs as you grind on his face in pursuit of pleasure. Anakin wants more than the quickness that came from sinking to the hilt into your heat brought the night prior— no, he wants the aching, the throbbing in his loins as he makes you see stars.

Cool water pelting across his back isn’t enough to deter his fixation on all the filth he hopes to cause to you. Anakin’s cock still stands at half mast, and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to wrap his fist around it, fucking his tight grip as moans escape. His metal hand claws at the wall as his flesh unites in a perfect pursuit of pleasure. He wants you to hear this, fantasizes about you walking through the bathroom door, sinking to your knees, and sucking the soul out of him. He’d grab your tits, squeeze them, play with them. Anakin doesn’t think he could fuck your pretty face, wants to treat you far too gently for that to happen but he thinks of your hands under his, guiding you to stroke him just how he likes it. It doesn’t take long after that for him to cum, sticky pearls collecting on the bathroom tiling before it washes away.

Anakin gets dressed in an afterglow that’s still focused on you, imagining what it would like to get ready with you. He’s never really done that, has he? Not like this, not in the morning, not with this gentle sweetness blooming in his chest. But his blood turns to ice when he catches his eyes in the mirror, flashing that shade of yellow that he knows to be true to the Sith.

He needs to find Palpatine.

~~~

Anakin finds Palpatine after an assembly, towering over the rush of senators that flow past him. He locks eyes with Palpatine easily, the deceptively meek-statured man smiling at Anakin from where he waits at the doorway. Anakin feels sick at the mere sight, swallowing down his bitter fury to walk towards him. Padme had told him about a myth, a mere story, really, from Naboo; a legend that detailed a king who had put his trust in a bastard son, defending him against any opposition, but finding his life cut short at the end of that very son’s blade. And you, Brutus? He’d said. Anakin feels that way when he looks at Palpatine: that painful, bitter betrayal. It wasn’t fair. But nobody said it ever would be.

“Master,” Anakin calls him quietly. A false name, one that should only have ever belonged to Obi-Wan, or Qui Gonn. Palpatine is nothing to him, a snake laid in wait only to strike at his most vulnerable. “You said you’d help me save my wife.” The din of the crowd is loud enough to diminish the volume of his words, but not the urgency. Palpatine, however, just smiles in response.

“Anakin,” Palpatine says, clasping two hands behind his back. From this angle, he almost looks paternal, like the perfect replacement for an empty slot that Anakin’s had for so long in his life. “I see the concern you have for her. Of course, it is natural. But…”

“But what?”

“I fear you’re simply not strong enough yet. Not ready, you see.”

“Tell me how to be strong enough, then.” Anakin isn’t fooled by his own rationality. He knows that he can pretend this is somehow linked to his infiltration, but he knows it’s his own indulgence in you that drives him. He wants to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

“It’ll cost you,” Palpatine says, walking into an empty sideroom. One that’s often used for business discussions, Anakin recognizes. From in front of him, Palpatine tugs his hood on, and by the time he turns back to Anakin, the physical change is apparent. Instantaneous. The lines on his face are deeper-set, the glow in his eyes inhumane. Sharp, piercing, they see right through him. For a moment, Anakin is fearful that his own treachery will be uncovered. But his fear of losing you drives him further, lets him keep going. Anakin thinks he understands the cost when he sees this.

But he’s wrong.

“Every single member of the Jedi Order are what stands in the way of your realization, your… enlightenment. All the Jedi, padawan or master, including your friend Obi-Wan. They are a threat to the Republic, to peace in the galaxy.”

Anakin feels his heart fall. And he thinks of Obi-Wan, of the warmth of his hug, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles. The pride, however restrained it may have been, would make his face glow whenever Anakin defeated him in sparring, or when he would laugh at Anakin’s struggles with Ahsoka, telling him they mirrored his own experiences. Sidious was wrong. Obi-Wan wasn’t just his friend, he was greater than that— he was like a brother, like a father, like a part of Anakin that he hadn’t realized had been so significant until he had every single belief he had of right, wrong, of morality itself, put into question. Killing Obi-Wan would be akin to losing the only arm he had left. He isn’t clouded by lust, by love, to even think of the idea.

But then…

He thinks of you. The nightmares of your breath leaving your body, the warmth leaving your physical form. Of the beauty of your laughter, the way you fit his soul so perfectly, pushing him, challenging him and everything he thought he knew. And you did it so sweet, so addictive, making him something else. Making him something that he recognized in himself only once before.

Only when he loved Padme.

And this side of him, the only part of him that Darth Vader hadn’t killed in order to exist, wants nothing more to listen to Sidious. To watch his brother, his Jedi master, die at the end of his saber. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? The very man he created would bring forth his doom. He’d make it painless, he promises. He wouldn’t dream of bringing him pain. All he wants… is to save you.

It’s not as though the Jedi Order is indestructible, either. Nor is it without its flaws. He’s seen countless villages ravaged by the battle between the Separatists and the Republic. Anakin knows the Jedi are not innocent in the crime of staining the ground they fight for with innocent blood.

Anakin himself, he hadn’t felt free until he was with you. For the first time in his life, away from the Order, away from the dictation of what was wrong, what was right, how to think, eat, dress, breathe, he had a choice now. And you let him have that choice. Wouldn’t it be wrong to pull away? Wouldn’t it be wrong to let you fall, when you had done so much for him?

He loves you. He had told Padme, what feels to him a lifetime ago, that love is what drives a Jedi, to hold compassion that is rooted in none other than love. His loyalty is with you, not Sidious— his religion, his worship, with you also. This is what’s good, what’s right. This is what the Force wants him to do. Anakin understands now, doesn’t he? His whole life, he’s been pulled towards this. Towards you, to love you, to keep you safe.

No matter the cost.

~~~

Lothal’s representatives are easy to find after the general assembly. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but they look lost, like they’re playing a game that they hardly know the rules to. You approach them with poise and grace, your head held high as you zero in on them.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, your grace,” One of them stammers out. He’s handsome, you think, but not nearly as much as Anakin. Comparing the two is like comparing a candle to the brightness of a sun, anyways. You smile gently, unfazed as you tilt your head in acknowledgement of their greeting.

“As it is for me to be in yours, representatives of Lothal.”

“Denon, milady. I am the senior-most representative of our planet. I assume you do not stop by purely for the purpose of making our acquaintance,” Denon replies. Senior-most. You almost want to laugh at the declaration. He seems boyish still, the innocence in his eyes betraying his youth. You flick your eyes around, assessing your audience quickly before you offer your arm to Denon.

“Not here,” you murmur, strolling arm-in-arm to the nearest room. You’re quick to step away from him once the doors are shut, taking a seat at a table as he mirrors you awkwardly. You’ve done your research, you have no reason to feel nervous, and yet your hands still tremble before you lay them flat on the table.

“Denon, I’ve done my research. The financial sector of Lothal has expressed its frustration at the insufficient funding of the planet— simply put, your planet is not… prosperous. I do not need to explain the subsequent effect of this: how this insufficiency results in a multitude of disasters. The workers on your planet work diligently, and yet the imports to the planet are, by-and-large, inaccessible. Why? I believe, Denon, that your planet’s work is undervalued, understated, and Naboo has a simple answer to your question.”

You sigh quietly, a crafted noise, meant to draw their attention in further. They’re watching you attentively, they know you’re their saving grace and Maker, they’re ready to take it.

Good.

“Naboo will outbid your current agricultural contracts in order to be the primary recipient of your crop. I offer billions of units to your planet, with few caveats; Naboo will maintain anonymity until the length of our contract is finished, and the delivery will be to our moons, not to our direct ports. In the meantime, this will leave fewer supply for the remainder of your contracts. It’s simple economics; your supply will diminish, but the demand will remain the same. I offer nothing but a fair compensation for the labor of your peoples, and a promise that my actions will drive others to do much of the same.”

Denon looks at you, looks to his fellow representatives, then to you again. Then he blinks, opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something, and closes it again.

“Any questions?” You ask, drumming your hands on the table. You need them to take this, but you can’t show how desperate you are. They might be naive, but anyone knows desperation is a flaw to be exploited, even representatives from an outskirts-planet like Lothal. You still hold power, and that will not be mistaken.

“Why? Why now?” One man pipes up from next to Denon.

“Naboo wishes to establish strong diplomantic ties with supporters, like Lothal. This is as much a political move as it is economic, Representative.”

“We’ll take it,” Denon says. He seems starstruck, like it’s too good to be true. Denon stands from the table and offers his hand to you, which you take as you stand up.

“Brilliant. I’ll draft up the terms and have my Ministers send the plans to you.”

“Milady, your offer is most gracious. If there’s anything we can do…”

“I’ll let you know, Representative Denon. Thank you.” Denon drops to a bow, kissing the back of your hand as you hold back your discomfort. You’ve never really been great with all of this pageantry, but you’ll put up with it well enough.

But timing is not on your side. The door swings open to reveal Anakin, whose face betrays his rage as he sees your hand in Denon’s.

“What business do you have with my wife?” He demands callously, striding closer to Denon as his emotions escape his control. You’re careful to watch him, seeing the glint of yellow in his eyes as he sizes up Denon, ready for a fight.

“My love, we were—”

“I did not ask you. I asked the man who dared to touch my wife,” Anakin seethes. You scoff at his arrogance, grabbing his chin to tear his gaze away from Denon.

“Representative Denon, you may take your leave. I will continue my communications with the planet of Lothal at a later time.” You keep your eyes locked on Anakin, watching his form visibly relax as they shuffle out of the room awkwardly. It only angers you further.

As the door shuts, Anakin reaches his hand to your wrist, calling your name softly.

“No. That was unacceptable, Anakin. That might have been acceptable with Padme, but certainly not with me. Do not forget our arrangement, General Skywalker,” you bite out. You see hurt flash in his eyes as you refer to him by his title, but you’re infuriated, and Anakin is the reason why. “Don’t ever barge into my diplomatic meetings and question me or anyone else what our intentions are. We are nothing other than allies to each other, Skywalker, do not let a night of passion delude you.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Anakin asks. You’re unable to look at him, so you allow yourself to let go of his chin, but he keeps his hand on your wrist. “Answer me. Is that all I am to you?”

Anakin’s heart is in his throat. No. He’s seen this before, he knows how it plays out, and he isn’t the victor. In any scenario, he loses you. He can’t lose you. He’s given up so much for you, hasn’t he? Why would you abandon him? You couldn’t. He’s sure you’re bluffing, but there’s still that dryness in his mouth, that dizziness as he looks at you.

Please, let him be more to you.

“That’s all we are to one another,” you whisper.

Anakin lets go of your hand.

#my writing #distortionbobble's fics #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #reader insert #anakin x reader #star wars fic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin #angst #anakin skywalker fanfic #royal flowers #royal flowers series

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lovebaela · 7 months ago

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THE DRAGON OF THE NORTH

Chapter 3: Beginning of War

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Pairing: °❆⋆Bran Stark x Targaryen OC .ೃ࿔*:･

CW: fem!oc, mostly fluff, and mentions of murder.꙳·❅°*˖

Rating: Mature audiences - The mature moments will happen later on. In the beginning, it will mostly just be cute fluff.⋆⁺₊❅.

(a/n) helloooo, sooo I recently decided to make a Wattpad account and I’ll also be posting the story on there hehe. So if you don’t like all of the cutesy symbols and the aesthetic on here, you can also read the story on Wattpad without all that stuff :) also I’m making minor changes to the previous chapters so uhhh don’t mind me lol

One night, Rhaella and Lady Stark were with Bran, by his side. It's been a month since she woke up.

Now, they had to wait for Bran's turn to awaken.

He's not dead, I know it, she always told herself.

Rhaella read aloud a book about the history of Winterfell as Lady Stark was making a protective craft. She said that only a mother could make one.

Robb decided to stay to look after his mother. She never once left Bran's side. To the point where Rickon was following Robb around. Robb walked in complaining about it, until he noticed something wrong outside.

"Is there something wrong?" Rhaella asked.

"Both of you stay in here," he said. He quickly ran out of the chamber, leaving them confused. They both rose up from their chairs to look out the window. There was a lot of commotion going on out there. The door opened, making them turn around swiftly. A man they've never seen before.

"You're not supposed to be here," the man said.

"None of you are supposed to be here." They both looked at each other wondering what he meant.

He turned to Bran, "it's mercy for him, really." He drew out his dagger.

"NO!" They both yelled.

Lady Stark ran to the man, preventing him from getting any closer to her son as Rhaella jumped on the bed, throwing herself on Bran. She grabbed the blade, squeezing it so hard that her hands were bleeding.

Rhaella, not knowing what to do, could only think to herself. She didn't know what came over her to use herself as a shield. In truth, they haven't known each other for that long, but he was the closest thing to family, they all were. No, this won't be the day he dies. It can't be. I won't let him, even if it kills me! That led herself to ask the question, would he have done the same for me?

The man threw her off of him and made his way to the bed.

"No!" Rhaella shouted. "Leave us alone!"

Before the man could stab her, Bran's dire wolf bolted in the room, quickly biting at the man's hand. They watched in awe and horror as the wolf dug its teeth into his neck, killing him instantly.

"Thank you," Rhaella whispered to the wolf. He let out a little whine and laid down. At that moment, they knew Bran would be protected, especially now that Summer was huge.

The next day, Rhaella showed Lady Stark where they both fell. They entered inside and went to the top floor. There wasn't really anything in the room. Just a lot of moss, vines, and leaves growing in there. "I found something," Lady Stark said. She showed Rhaella a long strand of golden, blonde hair. Rhaella gasped, remembering the day the king arrived and the feast. The Queen. Her hair was that color. But why would she be in here? And who was she with? "We have to tell Robb," Rhaella said.

They called for a meeting with Robb, Theon, Maester Luwin, and Ser Rodrick in the godswood.

"Pushed?" Robb asked them. "Are you certain?"

"Bran never falls." Theon added.

"We found a strand of blonde hair in that tower," Lady Stark said. "Bran must of saw something he wasn't supposed to see."

"Which led him to get pushed." Luwin said, putting the pieces together.

"What should we do my lady?" Ser Rodrick asked.

"I'll ride to king's landing," she replied. "It had to have been the Lannisters. I must tell Ned."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" The maester asked her. She gave a nod.

"They think they can just hurt the people I love and get away with it?" Robb asked. "And then send an assassin? They will pay for this."

That made Rhaella blush. He loves me!

Lady Stark turned to Rhaella, "I need you to stay by Bran's side. To watch over him while I'm gone.

He's lucky to have a friend like you. I know this is scary, but I need you to stay strong for me." She gave her a kiss on her forehead.

"Yes, my lady," Rhaella said determinedly. "I will."

After she left Winterfell with Ser Rodrick, Rhaella did exactly what she asked her to do. She never left Bran's side. She was very concerned for Bran's health. Since he was in a coma, he couldn't eat properly, only honey and water. His body was growing more frail by the day. Nearly becoming just bones and skin. Rhaella prayed every single day for Bran to wake up, hoping one day any gods out there would hear her.

After feeding Bran one night, Maester Luwin said there was a gift for Rhaella. It was a fancy looking chest.

"It says it's from Majester Illyrio from Pentos," he told her. "Also, Lord Stark sent the both of you gifts." He placed Bran's gift at the side of his bed.

From what she could tell, it looked like a sword wrapped up. Then he gave her gift, it was small and wrapped up. She unwrapped it and smiled. It was a doll.

The doll was quite creepy, but she cherished the thoughtful gift anyway.

After Luwin left the room, she opened the chest.

She let out a small gasp, inspecting the gift. It was a dragon egg! Next to it was a letter, from Daenerys!

Dear Rhaella,

I hope you are doing well my sister. I'm afraid I have some news. I was married off in trade for a Dothraki army. His name is Khal Drogo, and he looks big and scary. We are about to leave with the Khalaasar. I didn't want to marry him, or anyone. I just want to go home. To finally see you! Sometimes when I get scared...I say that I am the blood of the dragon. Dragon's are fearless and brave which is what I should be. You are the only person in this world that brings me happiness. I hope you enjoy the gift I sent you.

Love, Daenerys.

Poor Daenerys, I guess we both have to be brave right now. More than ever.

"Look Bran, I have a dragon egg! Too bad Arya isn't here to see it." Rhaella told him. She liked talking to Bran while he slept. Deep down, it felt like he could hear her. "Bran, please wake up," she whispered, holding his motionless hand. "I need you."

A few tears fell from her eyes onto the furs of the bed. She hesitated at first, but then gave him a peck on the cheek before leaving. She reached for the door knob until she heard a groan. Startled, she turned back to the bed.

"Rhaella?" He asked weakly.

"Bran!" She shouted. She jumped onto the bed and gave him a big hug, "You're awake, finally awake!"

Rhaella told the others about the great news. She could tell Robb wanted to cry, but knowing him, he didn't, at least not in front of her. Rickon, of course, did.

"You shouldn't try walking," Maester Luwin told him. "At least, not yet. Your body is extremely weak and thin because of the coma. If you slept longer, you likely would have been dead."

"If Bran needs to go somewhere, what will he do?" Rhaella asked the Maester. "We will have Hodor carry him," he replied.

"I had a strange dream," Bran said, as he was eating some pigeon pie. "I was falling. Falling the whole time, without hitting the ground. There was a raven there too. It had three eyes. It told me 'fly or die.'"

"Don't think about it too much, it was only a dream child," Luwin said.

Rhaella wanted to tell them about her strange dream, but maybe the Maester was right. Perhaps it was only a dream.

— DAENERYS ೃ࿔*:･

"I hit him," Daenerys said, panicking. "I hit the dragon."

Dany couldn't take Viserys' tantrums anymore. He hurt one of her handmaidens, Doreah, because she told him Dany wanted him to come to supper. He took it as a command. He tried to strike Dany down, but something woke inside of her and she fought back.

"Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon," Ser Jorah Mormont explained. He had met Dany during her wedding, where he swore his loyalty to House Targaryen. "Viserys is less than a shadow of a snake."

"He is still the true king," She reminded him.

"The Magister told the three of us that the common people were praying for his return."

"Three?" The man asked.

"Forgive me," she said. "It wasn't just me and my brother living with Illyrio, our cousin was there with us. My sister, Rhaella."

"I believe I never heard of her." Jorah admitted.

"She was good," Daenerys said with a smile. "A good, sweet, intelligent, and beautiful girl. She was the only thing that I cared about in this world." Her smile faded away, "and he sold her away from me."

"Where is she now?"

"In Winterfell, with the Starks. The people that betrayed my family."

"Forgive me Khalessi, but the Starks are an honorable house. Trust me when I say this, she is in good hands."

"I will get her back one day, I swear it." Daenerys said. "I pray everyday that she is okay, what do you pray for Ser Jorah?"

"Home."

"So do I," she said. I hope she received her gift and the letter.

— RHAELLA ೃ࿔*:･

Rhaella and Bran listened to Old Nan tell her crazy stories. A lot of them were quite strange and boring most of the time. Bran stroked the fur of his dire wolf. He decided to name him Summer. Summer grew so big that soon they would be able to ride on his back. What Rhaella loved about Summer was his beautiful features. He had fire-like brown eyes and fur on his back.

Bran's eleventh name day came and went quickly, but the boy was too depressed to celebrate. He said he'd rather die than be crippled for life, which broke Rhaella's heart. Soon after her eleventh name day passed, but all she requested for was lemon cakes to eat while by Bran's bedside.

Both of them could hear the shouts and screams of Rickon playing with Shaggydog and Greywind outside. "I want to be out there," Bran mumbled. His eyes stung. She could see in his eyes he wanted to cry.

"Would you like to hear a story about a knight?" Old Nan asked as she sowed. "Ser Duncan the Tall perhaps?"

"I don't want to listen to that," Bran said, his voice petulant. The topic of knights seemed to bother him. Rhaella didn't blame his bitterness. The one thing he ever wanted was taken away from him. "Yeah, you already told Ser Duncan's stories many times," Rhaella sighed.

She loved the adventures of Dunc and Egg, but she heard the story so many times, she thought she would pull her hair out.

"It's the scary ones I like." Bran said lowly.

"Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods."

The children were deeply invested in the story. It was something Rhaella never heard about before, true or not, it intrigued her.

They continued to listen until Theon opened the door, making them snap out of the trance and jump.

"I don't wish to see anyone!" Bran said, coldly.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Theon said.

"Lord Tyrion wants to see you. Hodor!" The tall giant waltzed in the room, "Hodor?"

"Take Bran to the Great Hall," he commanded.

Hodor did as he said, picking Bran up and left the room. Theon and Rhaella followed behind.

"What does he want from Bran?" She asked the Greyjoy. "I'm not sure, he wanted to see you too."

Once we walked in, she could hear Lord Tyrion say, "so it's true . . ."

Hodor stood before Tyrion with Bran in his arms.

"Hello Bran," he said to the child. He turned his attention to Rhaella, "and hello to you too, Rhaella. Do either of you remember what happened?"

"They barely have any memory of what happened before the accident," Luwin answered for them as he sat at the main table with Robb. With Lord Stark gone, Robb had to take on the role as Lord of Winterfell.

"That's unfortunate," the Lannister said.

"Why are you here?" Robb asked.

"Would you be as kind to ask your charming companion to neil? I'm afraid my neck is starting to hurt," Tyrion asked Bran. He was different from his siblings. He was an "imp" Arya said. He was as tall as Rhaella, and can't grow anymore than that. Hodor obeyed Bran's request to neil.

"Do the both of you like to ride?" He asked them.

Both of the children answered yes. Bran added,

"well, I did like to." Luwin wasn't sure if Bran could ever walk again, but he said they still needed to give Bran more time to heal.

"Lucky for you, I have brought the finest horses for you and blueprints of a special saddle that can even let cripples ride," he told him. "I'm not a cripple." Bran said. "I'm not sure yet."

"Well in case you are, the saddle will still work perfectly for you." Tyrion gave Bran the blueprints of the saddle. It made Rhaella feel warm inside to see Bran's eyes light up as he looked at the paper.

"And for you," Tyrion said, turning to her. " have something else as well. I'm afraid it's not blueprints, but I assure you that you will love it."

Rhaella's eyes brightened up as Tyrion opened a small case. Inside of it was a beautiful golden ring with the Targaryen sigil on it. "I found this where we have the Targaryen artifacts kept. I thought you should have it," he explained. "It is believed to be one of the many jewelry that Daemon Targaryen gave his niece, Rhaenerya."

"Wow," Rhaella exclaimed. "Thank you . . ."

"Is this some kind of trick?" Robb asked, confused and defensive.

"I have a special place in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things," Tyrion replied, smiling at the children. They both gave a smile back.

"You have done them a kindness," Robb said.

"Winterfell is welcomed to you."

"No need for the false loyalties, Stark," Tyrion said. "For I will be leaving shortly."

Before he could ride off, Rhaella ran outside to the courtyard. He noticed her approaching him, "ah, it's you again. I had the both of your horses placed in the stables. May the gods bless the both of you."

"I . . .I thought your family hated me," Rhaella admitted. "You are a kind person, I thank you again."

Tyrion smiled, "I am not like my family, unlike them, I have a heart. Take this as advice, young girl. As someone who is not only Targaryen, but a foreigner as well, you will face hardships. Take what makes you different, and be proud of it. That way, no one can bring you down."

Rhaella nodded and watched as he rode off with his men. She went over to the stables to see the horses. Her horse had a beautiful white coat with wavy mane so light, it almost looks white instead of blonde. Bran's horse was a beautiful jet black color with black mane. They complimented each other beautifully, like the stars and the night sky.

Bran spent the rest of the morning getting sigil lessons with Maester Luwin. Rhaella practiced her archery with Theon Greyjoy while she waited for the lessons to be over. Lord Tyrion’s gift lifted Bran’s spirits, but only ever so slightly. He was always a cheerful boy, a sweet Summer child. Now, he was as cold as winter.

Afterwards, Rhaella and Bran spent the afternoon sitting in the godswood under the weirwood tree. He laid on the ground, resting his head on Rhaella's thigh as she read the history book. "Arya would be furious if she found out we finished the Dance of the Dragons," Rhae chuckled.

"Maybe she should have stayed with us." Bran said, bitterly.

She continued to read, "when Rhaenerya's last alive son was crowned king, the small folk came up with many names. Aegon the Unlucky, Aegon the Unhappy, or Dragonbane. Grand Maester Munkun called him the Broken King."

"Aegon the Broken," Bran said. He sighed. "Bran the Broken."

Rhaella slammed the book shut. "You are not broken, Bran!"

"What do you call a boy who can barely walk properly anymore? Broken, that's what." He said coldly. "Now, I can't even be a knight at all! That's all I ever wanted . . ."

"Well, then," Rhaella said, standing back up. "I guess I'll just have to help you walk better again!"

"What do you mean?" He asked cocking his head.

"How about this, everyday, we come here and practice your walking," she said. "Maester Luwin did say you can walk, just not as much as you used to."

"You'd really help me?" He asked. She was shocked he would even ask that.

"Of course!" She said taking his hand to help him up. "Not only are you my betrothed, you are my dearest friend. All I could ever want is for you to be happy." She wrapped his arm around her shoulder, "I'd also like for my egg to hatch, so one day we can fly on dragon back and eat nothing but desserts!"

"I'm glad that we met." He smiled. She smiled back at the Stark boy, "so am I."

Taglist: @lover-of-books-and-tea

#bran stark #bran stark x reader #bran stark imagine #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #fanfic #house of the dragon #arya stark #a song of ice and fire #sansa stark #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf

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saetgvia · 4 months ago

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spark | wriothesley

in which you and wriothesley find an unlikely spark.

CHAPTER TWO: ARRANGED

prince!wrio x fem!noble!reader, invented country au

✧ genre: fluff, angst...? maybe...? if you squint...?, arranged marriage trope

✧ tw: usage of damn, if you see anything else lmk <3

✧ word count: 456 words (i'm SO SORRY EWOIHSFOSDL)

✧ playlist: spark - taeyeon, radio - lana del rey, deja vu - txt, darl+ing - seventeen, invu - taeyeon, agora hills - doja cat, killin' me good - jihyo, i like you (a happier song) - doja cat & post malone, fever - enhypen, eleven - ive, hype boy - newjeans, hard to love - rose, sour grapes - le sserafim, oh my god - adele, my head & my heart - ava max, nonsense - sabrina carpenter, the feels - twice, might as well - wayv

✧ pre-reading note: yo uh there might be inconsistencies between this chapter and the last one, the idea for some of this came AFTER the publishing of the prev chapter so uh yeah!

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ii. arranged

He strides in, holding a pot of tea on an ornate silver tray that gleams in the warm light.

'Oh, no!' the queen chuckles. 'He's our teaboy. He quite likes to dress up, my ladies in waiting tell me he's quite the charmer.' You let out a shaky breath. You like the queen, she's sweet and seems to have an excellent relationship with her people. The king, too, is nothing but jovial. If you're to marry Wriothesley, at least his family is nice, and the rumours say he is too.

'No, that's Wriothesley.'

He's more ethereal than you ever could have thought. Ebony hair streaked through with silver and wearing a grey suit accented with a crimson tie, he was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. His smile, radiant enough to light up the whole kingdom, and his sweet dimples that just made him seem all the more handsome. Black studs glinted in both of his ears, giving off the impression of someone tough, but with that grin you couldn't see him as anything other than the sweetheart everyone said he was. And he's walking over to you. Uh-oh.

He takes a seat next to you on the couch, chuckling softly and aplogising for being late. He looks even more ravishing from here, and as he turns to you, you quickly turn around, suddenly very interested in your tea.

'Hello darling. Thought I was going to have to remind you to close your mouth.'

The side eye you give him was devastating. He snickers quietly at your switch up, then speaks in a rich, deep tone.

'Mother, Father, Queen Eliana, King Richard. May I take me bride-to-be on a little walk?'

Your mother giggles daintily, and your father nods his approval. As quickly as he sat down, Wriothesley stands back up and offers you a gloved hand. You take it, and your mother shoots you a glance that's both a warning and a knowing smirk at the same time.

'Shall we?'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The garden is absolutely dreary. Winter has hit Emeia hard, and the leaves have abandoned the fingers of the trees which arch longingly for summer. Icy white roses still bloom in early winter, and you admire their sweet aroma as you stroll around the path with Wriothesley. He's surprisingly easy to talk to, and you find yourself laughing a lot more than you thought you would, ladylike manners and covering your mouth be damned. It starts getting dark and the cold caress of the breeze makes you shiver. Wriothesley, being the gentleman he is, notices, and offers you his coat.

'No, I'm okay thanks. I think we should head inside then. And... thanks for tonight, Wrio.'

He smiles.

'Wrio, huh? I like that name.'

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a/n: i am so so sorry that this is insanely short but i'm running low on motivation :/ i promise i'll get more out soon even if there's a bunch of short parts pls don't hate me :P

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taglist: @reimiiko, @whiskey-19

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please like and reblog my work! tumblr relies on reblogs to function, so help my work be seen by more people <3 my spark taglist and overall is now open, drop an ask if you want to be added! just specify which one.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #spark | wriothesley

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glitcheslikeslego · 5 months ago

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Show Me Your Moves! (Chapter 22)

AO3 STORY

Chapter 21 : Defend Order

Defend Order is a non-damaging Bug-type move that increases the users defence and special defence stat by one. It is one of the signature moves of Vespiquen.

After Pigsy and Mei argued against MK for allowing Red Son to tag along, we somehow ended up with having to go to the Celestial Realm.

As Red Son readied the portal, he was muttering about the semantics of travelling between realms, you barely listened to him about it.

Red Son finished the mark he was drawing on the floor of the ship, and after lots of yelling and discourse, Red Son activated the portal, and the ship zoomed through. Everyone was screaming and hanging onto each other, and at some point, you swore it was going on forever until Red Son stood before the pile you all collapsed onto.

“I did say it'll melt your brains.” He said snarkily, and everyone got up and was in awe.

The show really didn’t do this place justice, it was ethereally gorgeous, and you were only snapped out of your stupor when Tang began explaining the ingredients for the antidote and where they were.

Mei and Red Son ended up teaming together to get a peach of immortality. Pigsy and Tang teamed up to get the pills of immortality, and MK went on his own to go and find the Trigram Furnace. Leaving you and Sandy alone on the Dronecopter.

“...I hope they’ll be okay.” You say worriedly. “I should have gone with them.”

Sandy placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “They’ll be fine, remember what I said about trust?”

You nod sheepishly, and Sandy smiled. “Good. Trust them to handle it. In the meantime, you can help me check up on the Dronecopter to make sure nothing was jumbled up. How’s that sound?”

You agree and Sandy immediately hands you his toolbox. The two of you spend the majority of the time with Sandy performing maintenance, and you were handing him the necessary tools.

“Can you hand me the wrench?” Sandy held his hand out and you gave it to him, you continued sitting in silence before Sandy spoke up.

“Everyone is powerful in their own right.” He began, and you looked at him curiously. “I know that your first reaction is to worry about everything, but you gotta have more faith in your friends.”

“I know, I know.” You say in exasperation.

“I know, I just thought you’d need to hear it again, considering how much of a worry wart you are.” Sandy said with a smile, and you nod slightly. Now beaming, Sandy returns the wrench to the toolbox.

Before he could ask for anything else, there was a shout from the distance. “SANDYYYYY! START THE SHIP!” It was Pigsy! Him and Tang were running from one of Spider Queen’s goons, holding a fancy looking glass bottle.

“What about MK and the others?” He asked as you and him helped the two onto the ship.

“SANDYYY!!!!!!” That was Mei, carrying a screaming, flaming Red Son. “START THE SHIP!!!” She tossed Red Son onto the ship before jumping on.

“What about MK?” Sandy asked again.

“SANDYYYYYYYYYYYY!” Okay… this is just getting ridiculous. “START THE SHIPPPPPPPP!”

At this point, Sandy started up the ship. It began flying, making MK have to jump onto the ship, the Trigram Furnace rattling the Dronecopter.

“Go Sandy!” You yell, noticing how the Spider Demons and the Celestial Guard Dogs began getting closer. The Dronecopter took off, leaving the Guard Dogs to attack the trespassing spiders.

“Okay, where now? We need to find somewhere safe.” You say.

MK hummed and thought for a moment before a lightbulb went on in his brain. “I got it! Sandy, set course for Flower Fruit Mountain.”

~~~

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ms0milk · 1 year ago

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𝟏𝟎 | 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Trembling tears, a fit of chill against the garden ground and a hold so tight on your prince’s arm you wouldn’t blame him for striking you. A golden hand keeps the cry quiet and the other presses gently into your cheek, tangled in loose hair, to try and soothe you, worried red eyes so like the Champion."

cw (I) another impressive attempt on your life and a haunted seaside garden. much blood, a dislocated joint, nasty (does not even being to describe it) dabi skin descriptors: melting ripping bleeding blehk, and one major burn wound. reader reminds the group that murder is her job description but does also get her shit rocked. some long awaited tenderness and a loss of faith (II) bkg gets desperate. admit that you want to live, please. 5.3k

PREV | M.LIST | TAGLIST | NEXT

You suppose you should be used to this by now. When have you ever been allowed to live for yourself? Bakugou charges as you do, as you drop your sword from him entirely and race together to the flame mage.

You grunt and land first in attack range. There aren't enough soldiers in this haunted castle for you to expect any backup to come towards the sound of a fight.

With a heft of your shoulder you swing your halberd from your back and across the man’s head, but he sidesteps faster than any fighter should be able and leaps over your prince’s back when he aims an explosion through the trellis. The sound of the blast could deafen alone but the frustrated cry that follows chills you. Bloodthirsty. Flower petals shower the battleground-garden and perfume mingles with gunsmoke.

It’s him. You knew he was here. The man wears the dark cloak you remember and everything about him that you hoped was a nightmare, scars and rotting flesh, shines outright under the moonlight. His hair glows, his smiling teeth glow, and he drops a blue flower from between his fingers. Bakugou catapults forward with his longsword as you’re thrown back with a kick and narrowly miss getting skewered on the garden gate.

“Thought I might find ya here Highness.”

The shock of his appearance from the shadows only dulls your reaction for a second because when you drop to the ground between the mage’s legs you know that he won’t be able to dodge both you and your prince. Your prince who is bracing his forearm with another range-demolishing blast.

Why is he here– how is he here? Why does he only dodge and flutter and grin? Where is the fire? He might really be a ghost.

“Show me those flames you blue bitch!”

“Don’t need fire to kill you, princeling.”

You see what’s going to happen before Bakugou does. From your spot poised on the ground you shoot up, halberd falling from your hands, and leap into the mage’s arms to contain the knife he pulls from a holster. It cuts you shallow down the arm like you knew it would and he grabs hold of you exactly like you feared. No matter how badly you want to be rid of him, no matter how deeply it pains you to keep him and tend him, your queen would never forgive you for Bakugou’s death.

The mage’s hand is calloused when it grasps the back of your neck and Bakugou’s warcry sounds off. It dies as a growl though, when an arm wraps around your throat. Keeping you tight in the crook of his elbow, the mage, so much taller, straightens up and lifts you to tippy toes and clawing hands as you try to keep the rotting arm from choking.

“Pause lovebirds,” he grins. He smolders. He lifts his hidden knife beside your head and twirls it delicately in the free air before leaning down to speak to you. “Are you the little monkey?” Bakugou vibrates where he’s forced to stand still just a few yards away when the mage presses both his temple and his knife to your cheek, “The little monkey from the forest?”

The ghost is too familiar when he touches you but you don’t seem to be the object of his entertainment. Why does he want your prince? His nonchalance burns you with rage hotter than any part of his body now that he doesn’t quite feel like using his flames. Where are they? You’re no bargaining piece, why does he bother toying with you?

“Fight me, coward!”

“No can do.” A rough knuckle, purple with scars and stitches, tickles down your cheek to your lips, “I suspect this one doesn’t fight that fair.”

His arm tightens around your neck and it’s impossible not to gasp and try to raise your head higher. Every time you so much as struggle, Bakugou jerks toward your captor and freezes again like he’s playing a game of statues. This wasn’t supposed to be your evening. If your stupid fucking prince could focus in a fight you wouldn’t be wracking your brain for escape routes right now, and you certainly aren’t going to die before you find his bedchambers.

“Relax,” the ghost whispers to your prince with lips at the shell of your ear, “Killing her couldn’t start a food fight.” And then with every chilling stretch of his cheeks, he grins again, “You’re the only one that needs to die.”

One flick of the knife and two of the stupid blue ribbons that tie your tunic closed, fly away in pieces on the sea wind. Bakugou very nearly explodes. Boots literally sparking where he stands, the glass beneath him splinters. The arm against your throat pulls closer.

How dare they– two boys in a pissing contest. You can land ten heartstopping shots from the back of a saddleless horse. You can cut through a man’s neck with a chipped sword in one blow. Fires in a rainstorm, poison and perfect bullseyes, broken bones, blood in your eyes, only death will stop you.

“Just step off the balcony or something,” the flame mage sighs. He flourishes his little blade and hooks his rotting arm so tight against your jaw that the flesh brushes your lips. It’s getting too hard to breathe and the garden is locked in deadly stalemate. “I just need you dead, I don’t have to be the one to do it.”

Bakugou, who doesn’t dare press forward with the knife to your temple, seethes. Barely still and entirely vibrating, he can’t contain his explosive magic and the heat sparkles around his figure like vengeful fairies.

This ghost isn’t using magic for a reason. The blood in your prince’s eyes is too thick for him to see and the mage is too excited to torture him to register you as a threat. He’s smiling, “What happened to ‘you’re mine’ huh? You gonna–”

The next sound out of the mage’s mouth is a scream to shatter heaven.

Blood fills your mouth– behind your tongue and down your throat– past your lips and gushes hot down the front of your perfect white tunic. The flame mage tastes like ash and you’re biting him hard enough to break teeth. You’ll get him to use his flames. You won’t let go until you break clean through. You’ll eat him alive before he lays a finger on your jackass princeling.

The rotting flesh pulls apart at jagged seams in your teeth and you know you’ve caught live nerves from the way he rushes to drop you. Black scars pull away from red meat and blood smears your face like a smile. War is where you flourish, war is where the world slows.

The ghost drops you as you free a chunk of flesh from his arm, spitting, grinning, and his knife takes aim for your back. Bakugou has hardly processed you enough to move. The only sign of life from your prince are his ember eyes and the pinpoints of light roaring to life behind them as he leans forward into a silent charge. You can only imagine the sight, his guard painted in blood and from the feel of it– smiling. Wildly, victoriously. Is that why his eyes are so wide?

You drop heavy onto your feet and breathe a great gasp of free air as you pivot to catch the mage’s knifehand, but what catches you is a sunstone. A hot iron, molten glass.

You were going to disarm him, twist between his too-long legs and bury his own blade in his throat, but you aren’t the only person war slowed the world for.

The ghost snatches your bicep before Bakugou can even take a full step and immediately his fingers burn through fabric. His hand is big enough to wrap around your arm entirely and two things happen at the same time. “You want flames?!” He gasps. He grasps you with his ironhot hand and instead of escaping him all you can do is scream as he brands you.

There are few things in the world you can compare to the pain. To the sear that consumes the entire left half of your body– the way your body panics and pours sweat from every pore at a loss for what to do. The only breathes you can gather are between screams, soundless some, and tearful gasps from your spot held against the ground.

“Y/n!” Bakugou is airborne now and your body scrambles to flee without your permission, but the ghost uses all that desperate momentum to pull up hard on your scorched arm, face pressed to the ground– back curling– running out of– crack– until your shoulder breaks from its socket.

Your prince explodes on impact.

What you wouldn’t give to be five years old again. In a golden field, getting checked by your mother for ticks. Eight, with the queen’s hands cupping your cheeks. Eleven, pitching your own tent beside your master’s on a camping trip and falling asleep to the patter of rain. Something soft like that. Sixteen, winning your first tournament with one wooden polearm and skipping out on your own victory feast for fear of crowds. Twenty-one, above the library, under the oak. Six years old in a velvet carriage with Bakugou’s hands in yours.

Smoke consumes the garden and moving is hardly an option.

A golden flash leaps and crackles between short bursts of blue shield and even with your ringing ears you know that Bakugou howls as he fights. He bursts through his own smoke clouds like rainbow fury when the mage cuts the air with a short burst of flame, and skids sparkling to a crouch beside you. He’s waiting for something. Veins popping, fists screaming, pressed brows like he could kill with a blink. He keeps your dazed body under his own like a prey animal when the mage emerges from the black plumes. Glowing from the inside, a searing skeletal blue.

“Kacchan back!”

An unseen force throttles the ground from behind you and black lighting is unleashed from the sky. Bakugou collects you in his arms. War slows time for him too.

As the mage charges forward your prince lifts you carefully into his hold, a hand so strong against your back and another wrapped behind your head. His bicep and a flat open palm cover both of your ears and you only realize what’s going to happen as you’re blasted into the air.

Like being carried to bed, flying feels like sleep in your prince’s arms. Your shoulder is numb and your eyes are heavy until the weight of landing rockets through your fragile body and again you’re screaming like a nightmare.

You and Bakugou crash through a trellis on the far side of the garden where smoke doesn’t conceal demons, but your prince can only do so much to keep your arm from moving in what you now realize was an emergency landing.

“Where’re my little monkeys?”

On your back behind blue flowers, it’s clear now– so much easier to see, and your adrenaline is finally lending a hand in survival– Deku and the mage across the garden. Fire licks the ghost’s white hair but doesn’t burst from his fingers. Is he hiding? Is he trying to conceal himself? He could have this whole castle in seashell ashes if he wanted to but obviously he needs something else.

“Fuck– Y/n awake, stay awake–”

Hands. Cool hands on your cheeks and chest, squeezing and pulling. Numbness doesn’t last long though when Bakugou rips your burnt sleeve from your body and as you shout again, agitated blue flames burst to life a few feet away. He squeezes his palm over your mouth and when fire ignites in the flowers above you, presses the weight of his body down onto your chest.

Chest to chest on the garden floor you say a silent prayer. A scream sheaths itself in your throat so that the fire without eyes cannot find you and when heat dies down, Bakugou is the first to move. Just a tilt of his neck down to look at you. His expression– what he must be looking at–

Your wide eyes, both cheeks painted with mageblood and tears rolling like waterwheels between the fingers he holds against your face.

Before the prince can pull himself away like he seems so desperate to do, you jerk your good arm across your body and press his hand harder against your mouth. Don’t move, you glare through tears and begin to reach with your other.

There isn’t a moment that your arm feels free of the fire; if only dislocation severed nerves. Prince Bakugou hovers above you on his knees exactly where you keep him and for the first time it’s not a scowl that greets you but something so much more upsetting. Shock? Awe? You reach higher. His golden face and sooted tunic place him in a painting that his mother would wear. Higher. His touch doesn’t hurt, in this second only his hands are not a threat to you. You can’t reach any further.

The riotous ache against your collarbone crescendos when you seize your limp arm above your head and snatch it back into its socket, only then allowing a dreadful sound out of your chest. Trembling tears, a fit of chill against the garden ground and a hold so tight on your prince’s arm you wouldn’t blame him for striking you. Fire doesn’t find you. A golden hand keeps the cry quiet and the other presses gently into your cheek, tangled in loose hair, to try and soothe you, worried red eyes so much like the champion.

A fight is still happening off in the distance and every now and then ‘Alderan’ echoes through the scorched flowers. Deku’s black lighting crackles– if that’s even his magic– if the gods didn’t open up night skies to save you. His gentle voice bellows, calling for the castle guards as he fights.

When Bakugou finally pulls away, blood and saliva string between his fingers from your face and you’re heaving with the realization that you couldn’t breathe at all. It’s disgusting, your panting and bruised body. A royal guard still conscious should be ready to fight not kept hidden by her prince, held together by his strong hands like the strings on a child's toy. How long has the mage been hiding in Takoba? You should have known– you did know– and now you need to fix this.

“–told you so,” you rasp between gasps and the prince immediately covers your mouth again. An anxious red climbs the column of Bakugou’s throat to his ears.

The prince is thinking too hard. Darting eyes and unsteady fingers assessing you. Too much attention. He keeps you hidden exactly behind the thickest parts of the climbing flowers and the undulating furrow of his brows tells you he doesn’t plan on letting you up. Gods, again and again you wish you knew what that look meant and of all the times you’ve been too close today he picks right now to be noble. As the battle churns up storms behind you, as Deku tries to keep the mage from stealing your prince away.

“Keep that smart mouth shut and stay here,” he growls, finally collecting the words. The shocking sore of your shoulder weighs it like lead when you shoot up to grab him, but Bakugou pushes you down as he rises and steps back into the smoky garden exactly fast and far enough away that you can’t catch him when you reach with your good arm.

He’s in a hurry to get away from you and for the first time you cannot stop him.

You can only watch as your prince bolts across the destroyed garden, over dead flowers and smoldering soil, to leap above the mage’s blindspot. While sidestepping the crackling black whips that Deku slings from his hands, the flame mage can’t find your prince in time. He’s too busy rupturing blood from the wound on his arm and dripping steaming puddles across the clearing. Why doesn’t Bakugou question the lack of flames? You don’t dare scream out to him, and give away your prince’s position. Bakugou vaults over a gate and into the air, pointing his open palms directly down and loosing a terrible twinkling explosion over the mage’s head before launching to Deku’s side to charge another blast into the bellflower dust bowl. Your halberd catches blue light on the ground twenty meters away, dead between your hiding place and the fight.

At the same time as blue flickers in the settling dust storm, thunder begins to churn somewhere deep inside the castle. If you weren’t at the edge of the garden you might mistake it for the distant sound of ocean waves. But high tide is silent tonight. Clicking teeth and the scent of ignition, the rotten taste of the mage on your lips, and not a peep from the sea. What is coming to life inside the lifeless castle?

You prince does not notice the great bellied rumbling, does not strike again to ensure the mage is dead, Deku does not pull him from the battlefield– you have to get back out there. Your pride as a guard screams to you yes, but worse than that, so much worse than that, your prince and the little champion can’t taste murder. They wait at the edge of the dustbowl safely for the mage to collapse or emerge like proper sparring soldiers. They don’t know how to kill. They need to strike, strike and strike, until their opponent is retching blood, but they are just a prince and a champion. Princes should be pretty and should not lose. Champions protect like shiny trophies– guards kill. You kill. Kirishima hardly fights outright for fear of breaking jaws and ribs, murder is your job. Shinsou and Uraraka’s job– where are they? Your prince can’t smell what you can and it is going to kill him.

Up, up fuck, get up. Adrenaline will keep you steady if you can just fucking stand. Your body does not fight you but it does not comply. It wont move the way you need it to, it won’t stop trembling from the touch of seabreeze on your raw and bleeding arm so you’ll have to beat it into shape. Two legs standing, a proper shape to save your prince. Something is heating up the air of the cursed blue garden. You bring a fist down on your thigh to feel life in your nerves, to remind your body it needs feeling– not to hoard it in your shoulder, not to hoard it in your burn. Bakugou and Deku, green golden shapes in the distance, prepare to attack as dust settles. You don’t have time. Another beating fist at your kneeside.

From the sound of it, a storm has come to life inside the castle. A squawk here or a series of thumps there, like an animal in a box. Is it backup? Soldiers? Something deep inside, louder than the mage’s laughter and your heartbeat and the stars of your prince’s magic, is fighting to escape.

As you drop your first foot flat to the ground, the rancid air from a sudden pillar of fire propels you to standing in its periphery. It’s almost soothing. It’s almost like letting your full weight into bedding until you open two eyes to half of the blue bellflower prison up, very much, in flames. The mage alone stands in its center and every meaty part of him radiates blue. The gums between his too-big smile glow. The castle groans ahead.

“Stay back!” Your prince barks somewhere in the new smoke before you can even worry about his being maimed or mauled or burned to a crisp. Curse it all, right? You won’t waste this momentum. The rock in your ribs shifts like a hiccup and for one second– relief, rage, grief – you know that your legs will carry you at least ten good paces as you tear forward in a sprint. Curse everything. Bursting bruised from the place your prince meant to hide you, you hope it all burns and that this wretched place falls into the sea. Even as you kick your halberd to life, toe of your boot kicking the polearm from the ground into your right hand, even as you cross the burning threshold of mage’s last attack into hell, even as Bakugou drops from the sky where Deku floated them both to avoid the fire–

“Y/n don’t–!”

What pushed the mage to use his flames again? What is it that keeps your heart pumping? What was he holding back? Who do you live for? There’s no time. Your white-haired ghost takes one crackling step towards the castle and your prince, and heat swells thick around the garden while you flutter light footed, weapon raised, to strike him from behind. Bakugou’s hands come to you again even in a time like this because the flex of your fingers reminds you of the dance of his. Horrible creature. As time slows, it dawns on you that war might not be what does it.

Fire is upon you. Deku pushes forward as if he’s fireproof and your prince has both hands raised but not enough time to charge his magic. You can feel him looking at you. The mage has unhinged his jaw like a hunched and bleeding serpent to do the sun’s job and burn you all alive. Blue spills from him, in every direction it begins to flow and eat the pathetic flowers alive. It heats up iron flower beds and trellises, it warms your face at first and reminds the bubbling skin of your arm to sear. It all happens in the span of one foot lifting in your stride and the other landing in your charge and in the second you ready the halberd’s spear at your good shoulder, the second the flames explode from the dead star in the center of the garden, the simple castle doors fly open.

The mage’s glowing smile drops. His flames blink out like birthday candles and the clearing is cold again.

Spidersilk and shoreline, and the lone flushed face of the Takoban Queen. She hovers panting in the doorway, arms still up from throwing open the doors and she is so hauntingly beautiful not even your prince knows what to do with his attention for a moment.

You remember though, you know what to do, for the first rule of hunting with your Master is mercy. Kill swiftly greedy human, be thankful. The second is ruthlessness. Fire dies around you so quickly you’re lightheaded when you leap with your last thundering step, no longer silent– when the mage remembers his Alderan plaything and spins much too-late to face you.

Doused of flames like a wet cat, he catches the shaft of your weapon before your good arm and sanguinary pierce his heart, but you don’t need the spear to land. The weight of your body forces it through his shoulder as you land and you only need the momentum, because when you release your polearm the rotting man cannot stop you from riding it like a zipline to his chest and plunging a dagger up to the hilt. Bones crack.

He wants a monkey? Fine.

Before he remembers fire you hoist your body onto the halberd shaft wedged tight through his collarbone and tip yourself over his shoulder onto his back while the wheeze of his collapsing lung plays you on.

It’s almost soft, the way you press your ear to his spine and listen to the heartbeat there while securing your legs around his hips. It’s too slow to even count as living, but then a glass slipper clicks once in the haunted garden and this rotting heart comes to life for a moment. The queen takes one wide-eyed step forward and you wrap your mangled arm around the ghost’s head, driving the dagger to his throat from behind. Light glows at the back of that long empty hallway behind her. Soldiers presumably, her guards. Just how fast was she running to create such a delay? You can’t even imagine her seafoam fragility sprinting through smooth stone halls, tripping, desperate– sweating, sick– and for what?

Ragged breath now, the flame mage wheezes back a step in his effort to keep your blade from making good on its threat and slitting his throat. Your body weight, halberd and grabbing murdering fingers pull on his eye sockets and jaw, driving him another step and another step backwards. He uses both hands to keep your good arm from killing him, but there are no hands left to pry you from his back or your weapon from his shoulder and suddenly there is no more garden to back through. It’s almost terrifying how suddenly you realize that your plan tonight is to die.

If your body wasn’t completely out of adrenaline and heartache, depleted and locked in place around a furnace like the shell of a dying beetle, you would be more upset about it. You would give more time to thoughts of Takoba and your Mitsuki. You would have eaten dinner.

If you were still alive, would you have found Bakugou’s bedchambers? Sat with him there? Is he capable of conversation? Would you have found out?

The salty wind is at your back again and there is still enough life in you to buckle under the pain of your shoulder and to taste the cookies from Uraraka’s first aid kit. Guided by autumn air, over the mage’s pierced collar and your beautiful polearm and through his shaggy white hair, he drops one of his hands from you and reaches ahead for something at a great distance. What good is longing in death? Fool.

He’s not quite fighting anymore. He leans backwards away from your blade but knows that he cannot dislodge you. He does not use his flames. The mage reaches silently, your eyes following the line from his long beautiful fingers, to the seashell queen. He reaches out to her as Deku dives at a sprint and your prince propels himself through the air to reach you.

The white castle finally purges itself of thunder and the first of the Takoban guards catch up with their queen as you and the flame mage tip backwards, exhausted, over the lip of the garden and into the sea.

Bakugou will never be free of you. Not when you dropped your dagger poised to kill and reached your bloody hand out for him, right alongside the mage grasping for the frozen queen. Your eyes, pleading for help, before slipping silently off the edge of the cliff. Did you even realize?

Takoban guards trip over themselves like children but when the rocket thrusters at his hands sputter out he knows that the Takoban master is among them. The queen is swarmed by a hundred soldiers and medics who pour out of the tiny little doors into a garden half of them didn’t know existed. At their generals’ orders, some stumble through the melted flower beds to secure their Alderan guest.

“Izuku!” Bakugou wails as his momentum dies halfway to the cliff. He tears forward without magic as Deku races ahead, gaining speed, and hurdles himself off the garden after you, hiding from Aizawa’s eyes. One black whip straight up into Bakugou’s awaiting arms and the other flashing through the air to reach you before high tide can.

The rotting man at your chest does not ignite or try to slow your shared fall. You don’t cry or flail and you hate to admit it’s because you’re losing the fight with your body to stay conscious. What they don’t tell you about falling to your death is that you cannot breathe in freefall, and that your stomach screams the whole way down, and that dying is not peaceful.

You are not awake to feel relief at the little champion’s magic wrapping round your chest and hips and you don’t feel the pain in your arm when he whips you back into the air like the arc of a pendulum for his friend to catch. No one sees the mage hit the water.

Your prince screams with determination when the weight of the whip seems almost tight enough to snap the limbs he’s wrapped it around, and at their breaking point a lurch drops all the tension from his fingers and sends both you and the champion soaring back up over the edge of the clearing and into the air. Deku can figure out his own landing because the prince is already peeling back and rioting through incoming guards, rushing forward to try and stay underneath you.

“Don’t you drop her!” He bellows. Not after he waxed so fucking poetic about his responsibilities and certainly not after you asked him, so quietly, to save you.

Your consciousness returns when you crash squarely on a group of guards all throwing their bodies atop one another for cushion and any multitude of clashing armor and broken bones, grunts and screams, ringing out, your voice among them. When you’re falling to your death they don’t tell you that landing is your reward. That surviving is the real punishment, to feel your brain hit the side of your skull and test the flexibility of longbones meant to walk, not crumble.

Grit of dirt and ash grate your raw wounds terribly in the sea of armor and hands and you don’t think you’re the one screaming until a fit of cough seizes your lungs and for a moment you’re no longer able to.

“Y/n– Move– Y/n, look at me.”

Where you expect too-warm golden hands, Aizawa’s wild hair frames your rapidly deteriorating vision. He wades through the rubble to reach you and something pink like Uraraka hovers behind him. The queen is lost somewhere under a pile of desperate guards. Where is Bakugou?

“Your arm–”

“I’m okay!” You flinch when the old guard lowers himself to you.

“Your– Y/n listen–”

“I’m okay!”

For some reason you can’t think of anything else to say or bring yourself to picture the state of your body. Rare and genuine worry for your prince keeps your heart beating but you can’t quite remember how to make the sounds of his name to ask for him. The old guard doesn’t move in the chaos. Does he look broken from lack of sleep or because he’s looking at you?

“I’m okay,” you murmur again.

He watches for a moment with unsettlingly wide eyes, both hands flat on the ground, and then nods. “You’re okay.”

Another voice above asks, “Can you walk?”

“No,” you respond too truthfully and too quickly to filter your answer. Where is your prince? Bakugou– you need him. You need the relief of your hands over his beating heart. You crane from your spot in the dirt littered with groaning guards.

“Then sleep.”

Shinsou carries you on his back through the disarray, back into the castle. You aren’t awake to witness the terrified air of Takoba or the group of soldiers tasked with restraining Bakugou against the ground while they wait for Aizawa to complete his questioning.

Caught and trapped, roaring under the weight of ten bodies, blond hair plastered across his forehead as his eyes bare bloody holes into Shinsou who carries you away past him without a glance. The prince screams for you and for treachery and still you don’t open your eyes for him.

As the young guard takes you through the little doors, he steps cautiously past the half and half Takoban prince laid out beautifully and peacefully unconscious among guards on the ground directly inside.

Shinsou breathes deep for the first time in an hour and slumps with relief as he walks through the once-empty hallway that is now filled, at every corner, with jagged towering ice.

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