#I don’t like the fact that they are sleeping in their ceremonial robes

[and-claudia]

His Heir pt. 39 (Darth Maul x pregnant! reader)

word count: 1900+

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“Do you think you and Maul will work everything out?” Dasar asked as we got our snacks ready for our movie. 

“I really hope so. Because don’t get me wrong, I love my son and will always love him no matter what happens between me and Maul, but I am not putting myself through this just to co-parent with him. I will do it if that’s what’s best for him,” I nodded down to my stomach, “But I wanted him to have a real family that Maul and I never got.” 

Dasar nodded, “I believe in the two of you. Really, I do. I think you two will work it out.” 

“I hope we do… come on, let’s just watch our movie.” I said as I settled down in the plush loveseat. 

I managed to make it through two movies before deciding to turn in for the night. Dasar escorted me to my room. The room reminded me of the rooms back on Mandalore. Everything here reminded me more of Mandalore than Dathomir ever has. Not in a bad way. There was just a lot more color here, I had become so accustomed to the reds, blacks, and greys of Dathomir that it was all just a bit of a shock to me. 

“Sorry if the colors are a bit loud, we like to pull our color scheme from the surrounding coral reefs.” 

“No, no, I love it. Very you.” I complimented. 

“Well thank you. Get some rest. I have something fun planned for tomorrow… but I am afraid your… standard attire won’t quite do, I will have something brought to you.” He winked and then quickly left, not giving me the chance to question it. 

I was a little skeptical as to what he meant by that but didn’t dwell on it too much. Instead, I got ready for bed and laid down. The bed was quite comfortable and once I got the pillows adjusted right I was able to slowly drift off to sleep. 

The next morning I woke up to the sun casting its rays over my eyes. I got up slowly and let the warmth wash over me before getting ready for the day. I had just gotten out of the shower and wrapped a robe around myself when there was a knock on the door. 

“Who is it?” I called. 

“It’s me I have your dress!” Dasar called. 

I let him and nearly choked on air when I saw the yellow sundress he was carrying. 

“I am not wearing that.” I said. 

“Yes, you are. Come on.” 

“Fine, bring it here.” I sighed. 

He did and I changed into it. It was way out of my usual attire but I had to admit it looked really cute. I swayed slightly, looking in the mirror as the fabric flowed, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, look at you.” Dasar teased from where he stood off to the side watching me look at myself in the mirror. 

“Okay, okay, fine. I look good in it. Okay, so what is the plan for the day?” I asked after I slipped on some shoes. 

“Well, first we’re going to go have breakfast with Totin and then I will fill you in for the rest of the day. Sound good?” He asked, offering me his arm. 

“Sounds wonderful.” I said taking his arm. 

When we made it to the private dining area Totin was waiting for us. I let go of Dasar’s arm and went to give him a hug. 

“How are you darling?” He said, giving me a sympathetic look which told me he obviously knew about what happened between Maul and me. 

“I’m okay. Honestly, I am just happy to be here. I’m not sure what the plan is for the day but I am excited to see more of your lovely home. It’s stunning.” 

“Well, thank you. Eat up, we’re going to give you a proper tour of the palace. I figured we could end with the ballroom and the outside ceremony area.” Dasar said. 

“Sounds great.” I smiled before walking over to take my seat. 

Some servant droids brought out platters of food for us. All of it tasted absolutely amazing. Despite the fact that I wanted to try everything, I knew I would regret feeling too full later, so I made a mental note of what I tried and what I didn’t try so I would know what to pick the next day. Once we were done, we chatted for a bit as plates were cleared then we got up and began touring the palace. It wasn’t as big as the one back on Mandalore but equally as impressive. We came up to a bare wall in one of the main halls. 

“Tragic isn’t it?” Dasar said. 

“What?” 

“The wall, it’s blank.” Totin added. 

“If only we knew someone who could paint us a beautiful piece that showed us getting married. Of course, there’s no rush, whoever does it could take their time with personal matters, like their children… if they had any.” Dasar hinted bluntly. 

“Are you asking me to paint you a picture of your wedding?” I asked with a smile. 

“Oh, I would never ask that of you know what you have coming up. But if you wanted to and were offering out of the kindness of your own heart… well I couldn’t say no.” 

I laughed before saying, “Make sure I get in touch with the photographer so I can get some reference photos to use.” 

“Thank you. And really there is no rush at all. You can honestly wait until he’s born and everything if you wanted to.” Dasar said with a soft tone proving to me that he was serious about not caring if it took a while. 

“I’ll see how my leave goes.” 

Dasar smiled. He finished showing me around and even showed me where the wedding would be in the coming days. Then we walked to where we would be getting ready for the wedding where he had multiple dresses hanging up on display. 

“I know it’s a lot.” He began upon seeing the look on my face. 

“Again, you didn’t have to do this.” I said. 

“Well, I did and you’re going to look great in them. But I wanted you to try them on today and then let me fix up your hair and makeup to make sure you like it all.” He said. 

“Dasar, this is your big day, it doesn’t matter what I look like.” 

“I don’t care. My bestie came all this way to be a part of my wedding I am going to make sure she looks drop-dead gorgeous. Now come on let’s try on the first one!” He said excitedly. 

“Fine, but why are there three dresses?” I asked. 

“One for rehearsal dinner night, one for the ceremony, and one for the celebration of course.” 

I just smiled and shook my head at his over-the-top antics. He helped me into the first one and it fit perfectly. It was a simple black dress, very similar to the nicer ones I wore back on Dathomir. 

“What shoes?” I asked, looking over myself in the mirror and running a hand over my belly. 

“I wasn’t sure honestly.” He said. 

“I have black heels I can wear. How long will rehearsal dinner be?” I asked wanting to gauge if I’d be able to last that long in heels. 

“Not too long. The rehearsal part itself shouldn’t be too long since the ceremony won’t be long. You can always take them off once we get to the dinner portion and we’re all sitting down.” He said. 

“Okay, so that covers this one…” 

I tried on the other two and we discussed shoe options for those as well. After that, I changed back into the sundress I had been wearing originally. Then he had me sit down at the vanity as he began to style my hair and do some light makeup. When he was done he let me see and I loved it. 

“I think it looks perfect.” I said to him. 

“Good. Shall we go get some lunch?” He asked. 

“That sounds like a great idea.” I said before he helped me up and we walked back to the dining hall. 

After lunch, we ended up relaxing in the lounge and discussing other details for the days to come. Soon, Totin was coming to get us to take us out on the water. We walked down to their private docking area. Before we got on, Totin turned to me and handed me a small device. 

“Place this behind your ear, it’ll help you to not get seasick.” He said. 

I nodded and attached it where he told me to. Dasar helped me carefully step onto the boat. The bottom was made of transparisteel allowing us to see the below us. It threw me for a slight loop but I quickly got used to it. 

“I am going to take you over to the coral reef on the northern side of the island.” Totin said as he walked over to the controls. 

“Sounds great!” “Come stand with me.” Dasar said, offering me his arm I took it knowing that when we began to move I would need someone or something to hold onto so I didn’t lose my balance. 

“I’ll take it slow so it’s not too rough of a ride.” Totin vowed as the boat powered up. 

True to his word, he did take it slower than I had expected to go, but I wasn’t mad about it in the slightest. When we got to the coral reef I felt like a kid on Life Day. I couldn’t stop smiling. There were so many beautiful fish bellow us. All the colors flashed around in the turquoise water around them. 

“It’s beautiful.” I said smiling. 

“It’s even better up close. Next time don’t get knocked up and we can dive down and see them better.” Dasar said, teasing me. 

“I’ll definitely bring him out here when he’s older and show him.” I said turning to Dasar as I placed a hand on my stomach.

“I look forward to it.” He said with a smile. 

We carefully cruised around the coral reef until the sun began to set. Then we began to head back. I had such a fun time. I only wish Maul could have been there too. Although I was still pissed off at him for not coming I had to admit I was missing him a whole lot. 

“Oh Totin, why don’t we doc at the other side? Show her the hidden cove?” I heard Dasar ask. 

Totin nodded but had a weird look on his face as if he were up to something. I shrugged it off and just continued to look around me at all the beautiful sites. I saw the doc as we began to approach it. This one was much smaller than the one we had left from. There was also someone standing on it. We were too far for me to see who it was, but it’s not like I knew very many people here. It could honestly be a droid. So instead of watching us approach the doc, I turned my attention to the cove. 

“Alright, and that will conclude our coral reef tour.” Totin said dramatically as if he were a tour guide. 

I laughed and went to turn around to thank him but stopped short. It hadn’t been a droid on the doc. It was Maul and he was holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. 

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[nitewrighter]

Ball’s in Your Court

Some more King and Queen Prequel Shenanigans.

If you haven’t, you can check out its predecessor, Smoky Tea.

---

None of it felt quite real. The journey back was, at first, a stumbling trip through several different camps as Mynah conferred with her subordinates and established a chain of command to maintain order when she crossed the border. She was dazzlingly in her element in that time, the loyalty of her men unquestioning to the point of knee-jerk, and even she seemed to become increasingly confident as her generals and other men as well as a solid number of civilians came forward with their own ideas with regard to relief. In between these camp stops were long days of riding--he knew he should be more exhausted by so much riding so soon after his captivity, and yet the exhilaration of riding with her was incomparable. Every night, sleep, even on the hard ground, dropped on him like a ton of bricks, but then the sun would rise, and it wouldn’t feel like waking so much as a second wind, and they would ride, and there would be a new camp, and there would be children handing her flowers and tugging at his coattails and sleeves because they’d never felt fabric so soft, and she’d confer with her officers and civilian leaders again and she would be so confident, and then they’d ride, and then they’d sleep, and then they’d ride, and then... they met his own rescue party.

 After a very tense confrontation in which he had to feverishly assure him Mynah was not, in fact, his captor, the two of them were pretty much trundled up into a carriage with entirely too many guards on all sides and from there the two of them were whisked back to the capital. Here was when he hit his wall. Here, with the knowledge that his most beloved bed was a few hallways and flights of stairs away, made that seemingly endless burst of adrenaline sputter out like a whoopee cushion. Exhaustion was deep in his bones--it was the kind of tiredness that made you want to curl up and cry if you thought about it too long. And yet... there had to be a party celebrating the safe return of the Kingdom’s most beloved trueborn son and heir. And, of course, his rescuer. And they had worried so much about him, and certainly they had many questions for her--who was he to deny them that?

He rapped his knuckles on the door. “How’s it going in there?”

There was silence on the other side.

He rapped his knuckles again. “Mynah?”

“This isn’t going to work,” her voice was muffled by the wood. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said with an easy fold of his arms.

“I look like an idiot.”

“You’re not wearing anything too far off from what anyone else in court’s wearing, and I don’t think they’ll take well to being called idiots,” he shrugged, “Look, I know it’s a bit... involved, and certainly not as practical as you have back home--but this is just to indicate to people that you’re willing to talk to them as a peer. You and your men have their uniforms and we have...” he fidgeted with his own sleeves honestly stunned to be wearing such fine clothes after their days of traveling together, “...a frankly embarrassing amount of lace.” those last words came out as a quiet murmur. 

“It’s too--it’s light, and its tight--it won’t crack and stretch like leather, it’ll just--pop and rip--”

“Well it’s not as if you’re going to be turning cartwheels in it! We’re talking like, a quadrille or a Polonaise at most! Look, the whole point is--are you decent? Let me take a look.”

“Yes,” she answered on reflex before going, “Wait--No--NO!” as he opened the door.

She really was decent, just.. in a dress. One maid was backing off from her just-done hair, piled in an impressive updo with face-framing ringlets. 

And she looked fine, apart from the ‘miserably slumping and also somehow doing an angry hunch’ part. 

“I haven’t been put in anything like this since I was 14,” she huffed, fidgeting with her sleeves.

“Well, if you really don’t like it, you do still have the ceremonial robes and headdress of your homeland--” 

“No.”

“I mean, if you’re worried about how those look, I can assure you they are rather beautiful in their distinctness--”

“No.”

“Understood.”

She looked at her own reflection in the mirror, gently tracing the edges of one of her scars that was made all the more prominent by the dress’s neckline. “I have to tell these people that miles beyond their comfortable estates, people are dying, and I have to ask them to care about that.”

“But it’s not just your people, it’s all our people. It just starts with your people--Granted, it is unfathomably difficult to convince people to help people who need help most urgently first but...” he gestured helplessly to the air for a few seconds, before catching himself, “Wait--I’ve seen you take down three men with no backup, how is this more intimidating?”

“Well the former I’ve done a lot more recently, for one,” she was turning around, looking over one shoulder, trying to get a better look at how the dress hung in the back. There was another, larger scar, stretching out from her right shoulder blade, and she was trying to assess how visible it was with all this fucking lace.

“Look--” he touched her upper-arm lightly and she stopped in her Sisyphean spin, “I’m bringing you here as my rescuer, as a hero--You knew how to use that with your men, right?” 

She swallowed and looked down. “It never felt right,” her voice came to her stilted, he could hear the coarser edges of her accent peeking through, “They’d cheer me on and it would be like... they never knew how lucky we were--how easily everything could have gone wrong.”

“But when people believe in something--it’s different, it works,” he stared up into her eyes. She was a bit taller than him, wearing the fashionable shoes of the court, the height difference further emphasized by the updo. He paused. “Tell me something--If you woke up one morning, and your whole camp was empty--you’d keep fighting anyway, wouldn’t you?”

“I--It’s--there are some things that are personal--” she looked off, feeling his steady look on her. Not judging, not confused, but quietly piecing things together. After so many years of knowing people were only seeing what they wanted, or needed to see in her, it was terrifying to see someone actively trying to understand her. When anyone’s alone that long, all aspects of vulnerability that come with the alternative gradually become terrifying. “...it’s easier to fight if you don’t have to worry about someone else.” she added, and then realized that didn’t clear things up so much as made things sadder.

“And what about the people who worry about you?” he asked.

“They don’t--” she started and then caught herself, realizing she was speaking more out of assumption than anything. “Wasn’t this about your court?” she spoke a bit more tensely.

He made a visible ‘backing off’ motion, casting his eyes downward. “I guess, what I’m trying to say is, you’re not alone,” he offered her an elbow, “And--I don’t want to rush you, but they are waiting for us.”

She pressed her lips together before huffing and taking his arm. The two of them walked out of the room.

“I don’t want to be following you around like a lost puppy all evening just because I don’t know anyone here,” she said stiffly, “And--and--and what if I lose it and--punch someone in the face?!”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit here--They’re going to love you, just... remember what we talked about on the way over.” 

“Right--” she squeezed his arm, not really aware of how strong her grip was, her eyes straight forward, “I’m the valiant hero--I’m the rescuer. I’m the resilient and beautiful wild rose that blooms in adversity--that part’s stupid. I’m not going to say that. You can say that.”

“Mm-hmm!” he winced out an agreement in thin-lipped pain at her grip. 

“Oh... sorry...” her grip loosened. They were both quiet as they walked through the halls, flanked by several servants. “...how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m--I’m good. Fine. It’s good to be back home,” he answered automatically.

He still felt her eyes on him.

“They won’t understand,” she said gently.

“What?”

“For them, it’s just going to be a--a harrowing adventure--and you need it to be a harrowing adventure, because otherwise they won’t listen.”

“Look, you don’t need to worry about me--” he started but she abruptly stopped walking and he nearly tripped, his elbow caught on her arm, with her still as a pillar.

“I just... I know... how bad the fear gets. You don’t need to hide it from me,” she said awkwardly, that accent peeking through again, “The fear... is still going to be there when this is all over, but--but I’m going to be here, too. I don’t know for how long--until we figure things out, I suppose.”

That made his stomach flinch. She would have to leave--he knew she would have to leave, he saw the way her men looked to her, and he knew, logically, she would have to go back, but seeing her here, even in the dress she could barely stand, hearing her say she was still going to be there, gave him a hard sting of longing. You don’t have to, you don’t have to--he wanted to say, but she did. And he knew he wouldn’t feel that same longing if she would drop all of that just for him and polonaises and all of this silly lace.

“But...” Her jaw tightened. “You’re strong. You’re clever. You’ll get better at carrying it.”

He felt his face burning then, and focused on walking forward. 

“Thank you,” he said, quietly as they reached the door. “Well... here goes--are you ready?”

“No,” she said, “But.. it doesn’t really matter does it?”

“So long as you’ve got the right friend by your side?” he offered with a slightly parodic bounciness.

“...sure,” she said with an unconvinced, lopsided grin.

 The door opened and the brightness of the foyer’s chandelier and the kaleidoscope of bright colors of courtiers’ clothing flooding the foyer below.

She flinched as the court herald announced their arrival.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Hans Igelson III, and the Lady Mynah DiVerzaken of--” the court herald squinted at his scroll for a second, “House Foesblood of the Skullshatter Peaks.”

“...of all the times to switch to a literal translation--” she muttered between gritted teeth.

“You’re fine--You’re doing fine--” he reassured her as they descended the stairs together. He looked to her, and saw that she had gone sheet white, her mouth pressed to a thin, panicked line. But then they reached the bottom of the stairs and he had to cut himself off, and that was when the courtiers surged up around them.

“Oh your highness! I hope those savages didn’t hurt you too terribly?”

He felt her fingers tense on his arm at the word ‘savages.’

“Lady Mynah, how is it you command such military respect as a woman--?” a male courtier started and he felt her fingers tense harder.

“All apologies, my dear lords and ladies, but I’m afraid your questions will have to wait until after the first dance,” was all he said, airily, “Which, of course, I have reserved for my rescuer.”

“Yeah--buh--?” were the only sounds that fell out of her as the orchestra in the ballroom started and she felt herself being swept out, forearm in forearm, to the dance floor, before being twirled out and standing face to face with the prince.

“...you didn’t need to do that,” she muttered at him as he bowed and extended a hand to her in the opening of a dance. Her head jerked to the side to see all the other couples--couples--of the ball assuming position. Shit, what was this one? Polonaise? She rapidly scanned their positions. Quadrille. She could quadrille, right? It was just... stepping and swapping--was there swapping? Oh god they were twirling--quadrilles didn’t have this much twirling, did they? God she had taken too long with the fucking dress when she should have been reviewing this shit. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle when he spoke up again.

“You saved me, so let me help you the way I know how,” he said, sidestepping her.  

“It’s just--” she said on reflex but then flushed as she felt his hand on the small of her back, guiding her around in a nearly floating semi-circle before easily taking her hand and waist. She could fence and slash circles around any man in her army and every adversary she came against, but to this day she could not tell you how he managed to take her hand so easily. 

“...if you would have me,” he said, as if she didn’t already.

A part of her felt she could have fried an egg on her face, or bacon for that matter. But she just pinched her mouth, assumed position, and danced.

[justanotherfanfolks]

Twisted Wonderland Main Story Scattered Thoughts (Prologue Chapter 1-2)

Let's take it from the top, I need a refresher!

Okay first things first, uh, Grim? Buddy. Our beloved arsonist. How were you planning on getting the robes off of Yuu? How were you planning on WEARING human sized robes? Also, yes Grim, weasel. Reason 1: tiny gremlin. I think it was ferret in Japanese. Reason 2: I believe in Yuu choosing violence in the dialogue options. Peace was never an option. And again I ask, how is he planning to fit those robes? LOL the chase sequence, that’s one way to get a grand tour! GRIM, NO FIRE IN THE LIBRARY, THINK OF THE BOOKS! Omg, it’s Crowley! How- how did he know to come here? Did he just see the open coffin and go “...ooooooooo… I should check on what that is.” You know, people always think Grim is Yuu’s familiar, I want to know more about how familiars work in Twisted Wonderland. Wait, I just realized Grim doesn’t have his stone, NO, HE LOOKS WEIRD WITHOUT IT! TWST PUT IT BACK! I really want to see how the beginning of the ceremony looks when everyone gets out of the coffins, since they aren’t supposed to get out themselves. I wanna see the full orientation. Dang it Ramshackle Duo, I wanted to see that! Hope the anime shows us. Hm. So Crowley opens them himself. I imagine he does it with magic, but imagine this man opening 200 coffins by hand. Nah, Crowley would never. He doesn’t do anything. Well, except make me suspicious, but that’s a conversation for another day. Wait, hang on I think I should’ve picked the other dialogue option, that might answer some questions. I'll do that later. You know, when I first played the prologue, I tried reading it with a translation next to me (as everyone insisted it was superior), but I got a headache going back and forth so I bit the bullet and just read the ENG version. Ah, who dis be or where I be? Both logical questions. I’ll ask who dis be, I don’t remeber what I picked the first time. He’s truly shooketh at the idea of Yuu not knowing who he is. “My magnamity is boundless” ah here come the cracks! There’s the Crowley we know and… know. Hold on, there’s a CHAIRMAN!? I forgot about that, who is this chairman? And why pick Crowley? Magic or academy. Well, if it was me I’d be more interested in the magic aspect than the academy aspect. Like Yuu, we gotta ask the real questions here, why be shocked at the idea of school? I also want to know more about this carriage thing- I know in the manga and I’m pretty sure the novel too the Yuus get isekaied by Carriage-kun Truck-kun style, does Yuu get isekaied by Carriage-kun in the game? To me it sounds like you’re supposed to climb into a coffin in a carriage, I hope the others students were informed of how this works. Also, how the heck did this coffin appear in Not Twisted Wonderland, I have so many questions. “So this carriage dragged me here against my will?” yes, this is the Yuu I am here for! Okay that was the first Chapter of the Prologue, I forgot how much I liked that! I can’t wait for the novel to drop in English, I really want to read it in book form! I am holding that thing to the standard of Yuurei20’s translations, I expect nothing less!

Omg, hello Twistune! The whiplash I had of the first 3 Prologue twistunes with the fairy gala twistunes was crazy. RIDDLE! RIDDLE! THAT’S MY BOY, HI BUDDY! Oh no, the pre-character development whiplash is gonna hurt! Did Leona sleep through the whole orientation? Azul is boy with glasses, what an observation Yuu. Also, how close was Yuu to be able to notice Leona had ears? They’re under his hood? And that Vil is handsome, I know what you are, Yuu! Well, either Yuu is that or I’m just too ace to notice when someone is handsome. I mean it’s a literal fact about Vil… anyway! Crowley really just dipped in the middle of the ceremony! Wait, does that mean Grim was chasing Yuu that long? Yuu has stamina for days, Yuu should have joined the track club! Couldn’t be me, I would’ve died by the second location. Also does that mean they called Yuu’s name and Yuu not showing up tipped Crowley off? Oh, that explains it. Yuu last name reveal then? Anyone? Voice from tablet, heh. Hm, but no one else knew why he left… Oh gosh, he just barged in. Guess he doesn’t like being accused of a tummyache. Even he thinks he’s a weasel. Okay let’s settle this: Weasel, Cat, or Ferret, place your votes now! I don’t actually have a poll. Hello Dark Mirror! Oh that’s the mirror bgm! Well, I mean no duh it’s the bgm music, I guess I just never realized DM had a theme song. Can I call you DM? I’m calling you DM. “I’m Yuu…” Yuu WHAT, Yuu? You can’t hide that last name forever! The squint! “Unclear to me… soundless, colorless, shapeless, utterly vacant” POV, you have no soul! Honestly, if I got teleported to a school for mages only to find out I had no magic, I would be utterly devastated. I’d love to be magical! One century, is that saying the system has been around for 100 years or that the school has been around for 100 years? Yuu just showed up and broke the streak, good on Yuu! I really want to know Grim’s backstory, like what is his deal? He’s got magic, but he’s mistaken for a familiar and isn’t allowed to be a whole student? I wonder what would have happened if he went up to the DM? Being honest, he doesn’t seem like a fit anywhere, but I’m curious. Someone, give him a Buzzfeed quiz! HE SET KALIM ON FIRE, GRIM NOOOO! Save the arson for later! Leona: “Can I go now, orrrrr…” no but he was ready to lead, the Ramshackle Duo is interrupting his nap time. Azuuuul! Your smiles are sus! Chill out pal! He just breathes in manipulation, wild. Yes Idia, that is participation credit. When I’m participating, I’m the type to just look around to see if anyone else has their hand up before volunteering. HE’S STILL ON FIRE, HELP HIM! Where is Jamil, aren’t the vice housewardens here? Is it just me, or does Kalim sound a little different? Actually, good point Leona, this is Crowley’s first installment of his Not Doing Anything Helpful World Tour. The first of many. Yay, Riddle! Ooo, Twistune time! … gosh it’s so SLOW OMG! I have a question for the class. Apparently, the story within the twistune varies based on whether or not we reach the designated score threshold. Does anyone know what it looks like if you don’t get there? The perfectionist in me refuses to fail to find out.

[dexrm]

kare no hime | 彼の姫

This story will contain mature themes.  Read at your own risk.

Grieving over Sukuna’s death led to a a new beginning in your life.  Slowly recovering from what happened, you decide to move out of that village.    

Chapter eight - New beginning

Previous chapter

Next chapter

-

The first thing you experienced when waking up was a headache.  Your head felt like something was pounding it from the inside.  Like someone set fire in there.

It was your shared room with Sukuna.  You could tell.

Except, multiple things were missing.  Sukuna’s old robes, his mattress, and his small drawer where he keeps hidden stashes of confectionaries.  You spotted two dust bunnies and a small spider web on the ceiling.  The pot of flowers you left by the window have withered and died from the lack of water.  

You attempt to stand up.  And you did.  Successfully.

Looking at your hands, you were startled by how ugly they were.  The tip of your fingers were swollen and dry to the point bits of skin started to fall off.  

You stumble back onto your mattress in disbelief of how hideous your hands look now.  You started to shake, covering yourself with the blanket, which wasn’t enough.  

The sound of a you bawling echoes.  It never happened before when you talked.  It just happens, you were alone. 

He is gone.

Unable to stand the pain of losing your beloved, you cry into your pillow, unbothered even if the neighbours could hear you.  The man you trusted the most was gone.  He wasn’t coming back.  Whether you screamed or cried, it didn’t matter, you couldn’t even tell at this point.

Footsteps approached your bedroom.

“May I come in?” Aoi’s voice asked.  She slid open the door.

Aoi was wearing an all white kimono.  Anju was next to her, wearing the same colours.  Her face had heavy dark circles and has gotten skinnier.

“Fushiguro, the children and I will be leaving this village,” Aoi weakly whispered.  “The villagers think Tsuku is Ryomen Sukuna.” she didn’t make eye contact.  She just stared at the floor.  “You may come with us, but we won’t help you find his body.”

“I’ll do it,” you scramble up and grab Aoi’s hand.  “I know where he was last,” you cry.  

Aoi gently holds your hand.

“For sixteen days, you have been nonstop waking up from a nightmare and then falling back to sleep.  Your injuries have not recovered properly, Fushiguro,” Aoi still didn’t dare look at you in the eye.  You weren’t sure if she was sad, or just purely tired from caring for you.  She took a deep breath.  “We will move somewhere near the capital, I have already informed my husband.  Tomorrow morning is when we’ll depart.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper.  “How is Anfuku doing?”

“In the kitchen.  He’s gotten angrier,” Aoi gaze darkened.  “His obsession has only gotten worse.  He’s especially angry with the fact there was no cremation ceremony.”

Aoi grabs Anju’s hand, slowly walking away from your room.

You take one step out of room you were confined in for sixteen days.  The hallways were the same.  Just dirtier.

Steadily, you make sure you don’t fall or trip on the slightly painful journey to the kitchen.  

Anfuku was sitting with his legs curled, arms wrapped around his head.  He looked up at you when the door slid open.  His eyes weren’t red or filled with tears.  Just puffy.

“H-hey Anfuku, how are you doing?” you ask, entering the room.

“Why didn’t you bring his body back?” Anfuku yelled.

The silence only made you feel worse.

“I couldn’t, Anfuku,” you stutter.  “My body was weak from the cold. Tsuku was too big and heavy for me,” you begin to swallow your agony.  “He wasn’t going to make it, Anfuku.”

The child glared at you.

“If there is no body to prove he’s dead, he’s still alive!” Anfuku shrieked and begins bawling.  Not in a bratty way.  He was genuinely so heartbroken to see Sukuna gone.  “We need to search for him!”

You kneel and wrap your arms around him.

“It’s going to be okay,” you hush him.

-

The following day was quiet.

Until Toji Zenin appeared at the house again.

“I heard you guys are moving?” he asked Aoi, sitting in the living room with her.

“Yes,” Aoi replied, her voice was now toneless.  “We cannot stay here anymore.”

“Not yet!” Anfuku begged.  “We don’t know if he’s actually dead!”

“Anfuku,” Aoi’s voice was stern for the first time.  “Tsuku’s body has probably been taken by the wolves by now.  It’s not worth going back in the forest.”

“I’ll look for Tsukus body if that makes you happy, Anfuku!” Toji smiled.  

Your eyes widen at his sentence.

“Oh no, please don’t.  It is too cold for you to do that,” Aoi quickly retorted.  “Anfuku is just a child, he will get over it in a while.”

“I have thick clothing suitable for the cold Japanese winters, Aoi,” Toji then looked at you.  “If I can confirm his body isn’t there, Anfuku can’t do much after that, can he?” his gaze flickers with the uneasy, but flirtatious kind of fire.  “Fushiguro can lead the way.”

They all looked at you.

“I-I can,” you pushed yourself to speak.

“In fact, we can leave right now,” Toji stands up.

-

The path to that exact forest haunted you.

Even in your nightmares.

“Now we’re out of the village,” Toji’s tone transitioned quick.  “Who is that man?” he looks down at you with an empty stare.  “Why aren’t you with Ryomen Sukuna?”

“The man was my fiancee,” you reply, careful with how your face reacted to his words.  “I do not know where Ryomen Sukuna is.”

“Bullshit,” Toji laughed quietly to himself.  “Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t let his slaves go that easily, he either eats them or kills them.” he continued to laugh to himself about how ridiculous it was you managed to escape.  

“Why was I the bait?” you ask.

He stops laughing.

“What bait?” he asked.

“You placed me near the village he was massacring, why?” 

“I wanted you to cook for him and stay by his side, I guess I wanted to see how he reacted,” Toji casually replies, as if you could’ve died.  

“What about my family?” you lash out.  “Did he kill them?”

“Woman, I didn’t contact them ever since the wedding night,” Toji seemed relatively calm seeing you stressed.

You felt the pain inside you working up again.  You shut your eyes tightly to avoid crying in front of that man.

“Let’s go,” Toji nudged you.  Not even a drop of sympathy.

You took one step, and then another.  The snow was not as heavy this time.  But you had trouble remembering what directions you took.  After all, it’s been a couple of days.

“Why do you want to know where his body is?” you ask.  He was behind you.

“It’s not anywhere you can find a four armed beast roaming this forest,” Toji smiled.  You felt your entire body freeze once again.  Toji wasn’t stupid.  He never was.  A man like him calculates every move and doesn’t spare a detail.  “Who knows if your fiancee was slaughtered by Ryomen Sukuna, he wouldn’t allow you to be married.”

“I don’t think Sukuna would care about my marital status,” you continue walking.  You tried as hard as you could to remember where you went.  All you knew was you went straight, no turns.

“You’re right,” Toji was now beside you, laughing.  “The fact you even survived a day with him is impressive, Fushiguro,” his oddly casual voice made you shiver.  

It was that hill.

You recognized it despite the lighter snow.

There were no traces of blood or dead man.  It was nothing but sticks and dead grass.  Slowly approaching the spot where he passed, you felt your stomach drop.  

Nothing.  Whatever took him didn’t spare a single bone.

“Are you sure it was here?” Toji asked.

“I’m sure.”

Toji takes a closer look, leaning in his head.

You swear you saw a smile just flash upon his face.

“I guess Ryomen Sukuna didn’t spare your husband,” Toji immediately walked away.

“How do you know he killed him?” you didn’t move.  You then sat down.

“What else could have happened?” Toji turned around to see you sitting.  “Your husband know’s nothing of jujutsu,” he bended down to stare at the almost crying you.

You put your arms around your knees.

“You.. “ Toji stopped at that word to close his eyes for a moment.  “You should get over it.” his sharp, cold tone made you snap.

“You never loved your fiancee,” you whisper is a rather aggressive manner.  Standing up and quickly storming back onto the path back to the village.

You knew that Toji was behind you.  You felt so many emotions, unable to describe them.  But what made you feel horrible was the fact Toji never felt sympathy.  Both Sukuna and Toji were heartless monsters who manipulate vulnerable people for their own gain.

Walking faster wasn’t an option.  He would catch up.

“Why did you use me as a bait for Sukuna?” you firmly asked.  “Why did you use me as a bait while knowing I will probably die?”

The sound of Toji’s footsteps stopped.

It was silent for a moment.

Toji frowns, walking past you.

“There’s a reason why I chose you over your sister,” 

-

You spotted Anfuku in front of the house, sitting.  He had his little hands on his cheeks, patiently waiting for you.

“Anfuku,” you call out.

“Did you find him?” he practically jumped from the staircase racing towards you.  

You bend down to meet the young boy’s face.

“We couldn’t find his remains.  I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Anfuku pushes you onto the ground.  You didn’t realize how strong and rough a little boy could be until now.  His eyes teared up as he punched you in the arm.

“Tsuku is the strongest man alive, he would never die!” he screamed, running back into the house.  Anfuku left a bad bruise on you, and yes, it hurt.  But he was a child.  A child who couldn’t accept reality.  You couldn’t blame him.

You feel a sharp presence behind you.

“What a brat,” Toji laughed.

Unphased by Toji’s comment, you don’t reply.  Instead, you head back inside the house.  Only a few hours, you were tired.  You wanted to sleep.  Sleep for a long time.  Preferably not wake up until you see him again.

The bed you went to sleep in was comfy that evening.

-

You find yourself on a bridge.  A stone bridge, carefully carved.  There was a pond underneath with lily pads.  White water lilies laid on the pads.  A beautiful, slender crane stood on the edge of the pond.  The crane just stood there.

Walking towards the crane, you still keep a decent distance between you and the animal.  You notice something else.

Sukuna.

He now was on the opposite side of the pond.

Rushing back to the bridge, he glares at you.

You stop.

That was not your fiancee.  That is Ryomen Sukuna.

-

It was quite chilly in the middle of the night, you still managed to have a panic attack from the dream.  You missed him.  You missed his touch.  You missed everything about him.

Sliding the room door open, you walk past Aoi and Anfuku’s room while putting on a warm robe.

The moonlight was bright tonight.

You remember your conversation with Sukuna on a full moon night.  Then it all washed upon you.  Sobbing started again.  That imaginary fox you met in Kyoto told you you’d bring misfortune to the men around you.  It was unclear if it’s an actual god, or jujutsu tricks.  But in the end, what the fox said was true.  You were the reason why Tsuku was dead.

“You should shut up,” a pissed off voice from on top of the roof yelled.

You knew it was Toji, but you couldn’t stop.  It just made you even sadder.  He wouldn’t understand.  He would never.

Spotting his face peeking from the roof, you see his pink face and drowsy expression stare at you.  

“Why are you crying?  Shut up!” he held up a big brown jug and poured clear liquid into his mouth.  Even with the chilly air, you could smell the alcoholic beverage; sake.

You wipe the tears, sniffing.

“Y-you should go back inside, it’s cold inside,” you avoid eye contact, walking back to the front door.

Toji’s hand suddenly flew down the shingles, hanging from the roof, just inches away from your forehead.

He grabbed your wrist and lifted it.  Feeling a few seconds of elevation, your entire body flew onto the roof with his strength.

“What do you want?” you snap, standing up on top of the shingles.  The view was indeed nice.  You could see the forest from the top.

“Do you want to know why I used you?” Toji whispered, pouring even more sake into his mouth.  He laid down.  “I hate you.  I really hate you.”

You feel your entire body ache.

He looked at you with furious, yet calm eyes.

“Women like you irritate me,” Toji continued with his rant.  His widened eyes were now slightly red.  “Women like you..  I hate you.” Toji’s tone sharpened. 

 Feeling slightly hurt, you choose to ignore his words.  You look up at the sky.  You knew you were someone with proper morales.  Toji had no valid reason to hate you.  Right?

“Do not ignore me,” Toji drowsily said.  He reached for your hand and squeezed it.  Thank god he didn’t have nails.  “Don’t you think I’m handsome?” he laughed.

He stared at you.

You shake off his hard grip.

“I didn’t know someone like you drinks,” you finally reply.

“You’re right,” he lifts the pot sized jug as if it they were feathers.  “I hate the taste of alcohol,” he continues to pour the liquid into his mouth, wide open.  “Fushiguro, do you want to know why I hate alcohol?” he didn’t even give you time to respond.  “When I was little, my uncle used to force me to chug down alcohol as a punishment.  Good thing is, you can’t feel anything after drinking!”

You then thought of your own life.

You were the youngest of three.  There was your older sister and brother, and you.  The favoritism was inevitable.  Your older brother was obviously the golden child--because he was a man.  Men could work.  Men could study.  But thankfully, he was a kind man, but didn’t speak to you very often.  Between you and your sister was much more complicated.  Your sister was elegant and intelligent, to a degree where you thought she was smarter than your brother, who has a teacher.  She was the one who taught you calligraphy and reading.  You still weren’t sure why your parent’s chose you over her to marry Toji.  Not only was she older, her beauty and skill in the arts could not be compared to you. 

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” you bluntly asked.

“You have pale skin, red lips, I don’t know the standards..” Toji replied.

You turn to directly face him.

“My sister has always been considered more beautiful than me,” you smile while speaking.  

“Do you know what she doesn’t have?” Toji’s voice deepens.

“What?”

“She doesn’t have the aptitude to deal with Ryomen Sukuna,” 

You feel your hands clenching. 

“And I do?” you ask, clearly pissed.

“Sukuna doesn’t want a woman who can sing and dance all day,” Toji laughs.  “Any women can do that.”

“And what can I do?  Cook?” you sarcastically laugh back.

“No,” he responds.  “You look like a women he cherished in the past.”

-

You woke up on that roof that morning.

“Why are you two on the roof?” Aoi shouted, her things packed onto a cart.

“Sorry Aoi, she was sad last night, so I had to comfort her,” Toji almost immediately replied enthusiastically.

He casually jumps down and reaches his hand out for you to jump down.

“Are you ready to leave?” Aoi asked you.

“Y-yes,” you reply.  

You go onto the cart as the man in charge of the horses starts whipping them to start running.

-

The new village was supposedly near Kyoto.

Not only was it much smaller than the previous village, but the people there were much more humble and welcoming.

This time, you and Aoi had to share a room.  So did Anju and Anfuku.  It was supposed to be temporary, according to Aoi.

“Have you heard what’s happening?  We are so glad you guys moved to a smaller village like ours,” a lady dressed rather poorly commented as you head out of the new house.

“What happened?” you ask.

“There is this beast massacring villages,” the lady said.  “Ryomen Sukuna.  Have you heard of him?  He’s currently in this area.”

You freeze at her words.

“R-Ryomen Sukuna is dead,” your voice stuttered.  “He’s dead.”

“Nonsense!  My cousin who works in the south said his friend was killed by that beast,” the woman went on.  “That was just a few days ago.”

[captain-lessship]

Dark and Cold Pt. 2

You woke up to a noise, you looked at the small ray of light coming out from under your tent: it was bright. It made you wonder about the time.

You quickly got out of bed, pulled on your thick bed robe, tied it closed and walked to your door, opening and seeing a group of soldiers walking by.

“Excuse me, sorry to disrupt but what time is it?”

The told you it was a quarter past noon, you thanked them as you internally groaned: you over slept through the planned breakfast. You walked back in to the tent and drug your most beautiful dress to get ready in. It was slightly difficult to get dressed in the many layers without help but you’d done it during all your trips as to not bring your personal servant, Meja, along. 

You also needed to do your hair and make up. Ice blue eye shadow, shining skin and sharp eyeliner was your staple look. You released your hair from the sleep band it was tied in. You combed through it slightly. Looking in the mirror, you looked perfect for the occasion. 

You stood and walked you to go find him so you could apologize for missing breakfast with him. 

Earlier in the morning, Aleksander had come to your tent and saw how deep you were in sleep that he hadn’t the heart to wake you. He had watched small snowflakes float around you, moving like a circus carousel as you gently snored. He gently pushed hair from your face and turned to leave as to prepare for the send off. 

He was now in his tent, triple checking the map when he heard your footsteps. He turned quickly to look at you. To anyone else, the temperature would have seemed to drop but the heat of happiness filled him. He walked to you and extended a hand.

“Love, did you sleep well?” 

“I did,” you laughed lightly, “way past the time I was supposed to. I’m sorry I missed our breakfast, Aleksander.” 

He smiled, he let only you address him by his name, “It’s alright. Traveling does that to people Are you hungry? I am sure we could get you a small something for our now brunch.”

“Did you not eat?” Concern in your voice.

“I didn’t. I got caught up in planning and I’m kind of glad you didn’t wake up cause then you might’ve had to eat alone.”

You sighed, “You shouldn’t have waited for me.” Your eyes drifted to the map, “Is this the planned route? Are those the markers?” You pointed to small flag shaped drawings.

“Yes, I have charted it myself, this seems to be the most successful path for previous trips.”

“Have any made it back on other routes?”

“Not many, that’s why we chose this one. Of course if something goes wrong, the fold seems to change so we have to get this right or we’ll need to replan the next trips.” 

You watched his face grow slightly annoyed. You gently raised a hand to his shoulder, “I am sure it will work.”

He placed his opposite hand on top of yours. “I hope so. Stakes are high this go around.” A smile coming to his face.

“I have faith in this. Even so I have started preparing.” You were talking about the handmade scarf. 

“Really? Then I hope even more that it works out.” He looked at your other hand where he could see the marks of spinning the thread, weaving the base scarf and the pin pricks from embroidering. “I would hate it to be all for nothing.”

“It isn’t all for nothing. I will throw a sort of fit if I have to.” You joked. 

He laughed, “I know you would but wouldn’t it be embarrassing to marry a man who failed?”

“Failed?” You laughed, “You are the furthest thing from a failure to me.” 

He sighed, “I know, I just worry.”

“Don’t.” You moved to hug him, “There’s nothing to worry about. It’ll work. I might as well go ahead and ask them to move the ceremony to this camp.” 

“That would be something. I don’t think your mother would approve.” 

“My mother barely approves of the fact I can dress myself.” You rolled your eyes. “Now my father would think it would be funny.”

Aleksander smiled as he thought of the juxtaposition that was your parents. You  father was short, cheery and was an entertainer at heart. Your mother was a willowy, stern and confident woman. 

Only when they were together did your mother let loose and your father took more responsibility. You were their  perfect combination.

Aleksander looked at you. He saw so much; he saw your intelligence, your strength, your loving heart and caring hands. In the three years of your relationship, he had seen all of this and loved all of it. 

The moment was interrupted by someone entering the tent. You both turned to look at the Grisha soldier.

“General Kirigan, we need you. We are about to send off.” He then saw you and kneeled slightly, “Lady Eismantel, good morning.”

“Good morning.” You said, letting Aleksander slip from your hold. You followed them out of the tent and walked to the docking station to watch. 

[italoniponic]

My twst MC/Yuu - Yulia!

This is not my first time commenting on my personal "yuusona" bc I kinda already did that on an ask reply a while ago (very briefly), but here is where I'll show you my general concepts for her!

So I decided a long time ago that I would go pull the “I died and reincarnated into my favorite game” move. Why? Whenever I do an “alternative universe” out of something, I always do some twist just so it will be fun to write (and this is a actually fun concept too). And I should have done this... earlier... but I kept delaying it anyway lol

I made my MC be named Yulia because that’s an actual name + is very similar to my own irl name. And its cute too!

Yulia official appearance was actually made by my friend @angelizs in a Jack fic for my birthday. She's the one that knows the most about Yulia out of the few people I already talked to about it and to my surprise, she grasped quite mostly of her personality. Plus she made a very cute drawing at the end <3

tumblr always mess up with my long hcs bullet points so I tried to improve here a bit

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

✦Anyway… Yulia died. Of lack of sleep. Which is a proper dumb way of dying for this type of isekai. And as her soul was being conducted to the gates of death, she was summoned by this creepy hand out of the darkness and it actually just pulled her off to go into this weird coffin. Death would be like that… one would suppose?;

✦But then, Yulia tried to break free from the coffin once she realized she wasn't dead. Like, she was still breathing, her heart beats and she doesn't want to be buried alive! To her surprise, she wasn’t the only one trying to open the coffin;

✦Grim appeared in front of her and Yulia was like “Grim???” to which he looks confused to her bc how the heck does this human girl know his name? But Grim being Grim, he just assumes his fame is already spreading up on campus. They fight for the ceremonial robes, Yulia wins and as she runs away, things seems awfully familiar;

✦“I’m on NRC? But how? Why? This is a dream? I should be dead! But I’m alive!” and as Yulia was having this existential crisis, she bumps into Crowley. And it hurts. She got scared and fell on the floor. Yep, it feels like reality;

✦Everything just folds pretty much like the game prologue. Every little word and detail mentioned by this huge crow-man (who looks bigger and gaudy personally) screams the fact that she was, in fact, inside Disney Twisted Wonderland™;

              ✧(Because I like crows, I think Yulia felt this huge urge to caress his wings but she contained herself.)

✦Crowley brings Yulia to the Mirror Chamber, Grim causes havoc and the Magic Mirror dismisses her as a magicless human that doesn't belong anywhere (“that hurts, you piece of glass”). She tries to recognize some of her favorite characters there. She was so happy to see Riddle angrily running after Grim and Azul just doing his usual small talk. The boys are just so pretty up close…;

              ✧And that’s when she also realized that death may get her reincarnated into a game for whatever reason but she still needs glasses, dammit. “The first thing I will ask this stupid crow is a pair of glasses”;

✦From that on, it happens pretty much all the things that need to complete the prologue. The difference is that the ghosts and confrontations with the notion of being homeless three times don’t impress her. The first, because she can’t see shit and the latter bc she knows what’s gonna happen… and as someone that moves around from home to home irl, yep Yulia got used to it everyone is concerned for her;

✦Crowley puts Grim and Yulia to clean the Great Seven Statues for a while. She just sits on Maleficent's statue base, knowing soon or later Ace Trappola will appear and Grim will accidentally burns the Queen of Heart’s statue… and everything after all that;

✦Now that Yulia had a good night of sleep, she was able to remember a important detail in all this isekai’d situation: twst was released until the Ignihyde Chapter, which means that she know everything that’s going to happen in the next months but after VDC and Isle of Lamentation, not anything much. Can she do something to change things? Does she have this power? What’s her mission as a magicless protagonist?;

              ✧And more importantly: what the hell is she going to do in the middle of a overblot?!

✦“Hey, you!” Ace calls Yulia out. (“Oh, shit. I know what this means...”). So she play dumb and Ace kindly explains her all these seven statues she’s (not) cleaning:

“The Queen of Hearts! She ruled her kingdom with discipline and valued order above anything. Everyone swore royalty to her.” Queen of Hearts. She was crazy, oppressive and tyrannical. And tried to behead a little British girl once. 

“The King of Beasts! Ruler of the savannah, he wasn’t born to the throne so he made his way there with hard work and good schemes.” Scar. He killed his brother, tried to kill his nephew and the animals almost died because he disrupted the circle of nature. Awesome villain song.

“The Sea Witch! She was compassionate with the merfolk and often helped them with her magic potions.” Ursula. Tricked her enemy’s daughter to have her soul and power over the sea, very psycho eyes. 

“The Sorcerer of the Desert! He was a genius that saved his land from a crisis.” Jafar. Backstabber, curly beard and hysterical laughter, tried to kill a random street guy, his sultan and the princess. 

“The Beautiful Queen! She was the most beautiful of them all.” Evil Queen. Reduced her step-daughter to mere cleaner, tried to kill her and keep her heart. Very iconic lines. (When I was little, I actually repeated her lines)

“The King of the Underworld! He was diligent and even monsters swear their allegiance to him.” Hades. Underrated myth icon, very funny but tried to kill his himbo nephew, he’s pretty much a psycho as well.

“The Fairy of the Thorns! She was elegant and lived in the mystical mountains.” Maleficent. Cursed a baby just because everyone hates her — with some reason — and didn’t invite her to parties. But I think she’s neat.

✦Ace does what he does best and piss Grim off. The statue is burned. Chaos. “Yeah, this only gets better and better…,” Yulia and Grim follow Ace who just runs away to not be a culprit of the crime, they bump into Deuce (“Deuce~~”, Yulia mutters lovingly) and he pulls off a cauldron out of his leave… that hits hard. Yulia feels sorry for Ace for a minute. A solid minute;

✦And another series of events. Get to the cafeteria, they break the chandelier, Crowley makes them go get new gems, a monster attacks them, they almost made it barely alive… Yulia completes the “prologue” and finally goes back to sleep. But wait. Oh, crap, Heartslabyul chapter is coming!;

✦Crowley finally attended her prayers by giving her a uniform and glasses. Since they realized Yulia was a girl, the staff dragged her to the Headmaster office so they could decide what she would wear. She chose Trein’s uniform idea just because the skirt was longer and she got to pet Lucius so everything was going well~;

✦Yulia's first year on NRC was just beginning and she couldn’t wait to finally be able to talk to all her favorite boys! And all things that would come along. Well... maybe not anxiously waiting for all the things...

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

And that's the basics of Yulia in Twisted Wonderland. I'll make more posts about her in the future, especially since I already thought of two wips in which she's the main character.

We'll have a part 2 for this post with more details about her knowing things in-game + her profile and more!! probably some day along the week. But until there, thanks for your attention <3

[nullians]

For some reason this picture feels ominous..

[dreamersdreamloud]

Coming Home To You

Lena Luthor x U.S Marine Reader 

You’re excited for more than one reason. After an unexpected accident during a secret top mission that had you bedridden for almost a year, you finally get to go home. The military has given you the clearance to fly back to National City and reunite with family and friends for a couple months. 

Your captain was nice enough to convince the higher ups to reconnect and relax before duty calls again. You tried to tell your captain that it wasn’t necessary but you didn’t win the argument and just accepted it. 

“You did good work, Ace. Take the leave. You deserve it.” 

Ace. The nickname your captain gave you. You liked it. The reason he calls you Ace is because you’re one of very few good shooters out there in the Marines. You didn’t believe it yourself but you tend to prove it all the time. From shotguns, rifles, handguns, and arrows. You are a sharp shooter with any weapon you handle. 

“Thank you, Captain.” 

You touched down in National City. The feeling of finally being home is glowing. You play with a small engagement ring attached to your dog tags and look out to the window as the plane makes its way to an unoccupied gate. 

Lena Luthor. Your genius, beautiful loving rich girlfriend is who you want to see first we you get back to the city. The woman you��re planning to propose very soon. Just the thought of making Lena your wife made you smile. 

“Are you married, dear?” 

An elderly woman who was sitting a few seats next to you asked with a sweet caring smile. She caught you playing with the ring with your fingertips. 

“Oh no, ma’am. I’m planning to get married though. Hoping it turns out alright.” You said respectfully 

“The person must be lucky to have you. Her patiences will pay off once you pop the question.” 

You chuckled, “thank you, ma’am. But it seems like I’m the lucky one. She’s the most precious treasure that I have found in my lifetime. I just can’t believe that she’s still with me.” 

“So sweet. I wish you luck on the next chapter of your life.”  

Everyone was getting up from their seats and collecting their luggage. You quickly offered your help to the elderly woman and talked to her a bit more until you parted ways. 

You stopped by your hotel room first to drop off your belongings and take a quick shower to freshen up. You switched to a fresh new pair of your uniform and made yourself look more presentable. You made sure to hide any new war scars you have collected from the past months. 

Next, you stopped at a flower shop and bought Lena’s favorite flowers before heading to her penthouse. You know for a fact that she’s there since it’s a Sunday. She shouldn’t be in L-Corp working. 

You were getting nervous yet eager as the elevator pulled you up to her floor. You pop in a few mints and rapidly chew on them, leaving your mouth extra minty. You don't know how you got off the elevator and made it in front of your girlfriend's door but here you are. Flowers in hand and ready to give Lena a very long passionate kiss. 

You knocked on the door and waited for the woman to answer. The minutes passed we’re feeling extra long. You thought about how she could still be sleeping. You checked your watch before you got here. It remembered that it was already 10AM, she shouldn’t be sleeping in any longer. 

You knocked again. 

After a couple of minutes, you heard her moving towards the door. Lena finally opened it with just half of her body sticking out. 

She looked out of breath but totally shocked once she saw you. You see that she was just wearing one of her thin silk robes. She looks flushed and finds a couple of love bites on her neckline. 

Your feelings of happiness and nervous energy drain out of you. The two of you didn’t utter a word. 

“Hey, honey. Who’s at the door?” A very familiar voice ruined the moment. 

You know that voice. You know who it belongs to. You adjust your eyes behind Lena and find your youngest sister, Kara. She was just wearing sleep shorts and a loose t-shirt. Clearly, she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath since the impression of her hardened nipples could be seen. 

Kara stopped where she stood and gave the same reaction as Lena. 

“(Y/N), I can explain.” Kara spoke out first. 

You produce a dark chuckle. Your world around you is falling apart and burning fast as your anger is building up. 

“Darling, please. Hear me out.” 

You dropped the flowers and looked at the lovers dead in the eye. 

“My girlfriend is cheating on me. . . .” 

“(Y/N).  .” Kara reaches out. 

“NO!” You bark out. “I don’t need your damn explanation. It’s very clear what’s going on here. I can’t believe you two. I know that I was gone for a very long time. Yes I didn’t message you. Yeah I couldn’t tell you that I was caught in an accident and that I was fighting to keep myself alive! . . . I was keeping myself alive because I knew deep down that I wanted to come home to you. . .”

Tears were starting to fall. You felt so vulnerable. Moments of you and your team clinging on to your life while the helicopter crashes down flashes in your mind. Anger was boiling inside you. You hated how that accident happened. You hated that you couldn’t write to your family, friends, and girlfriend that you were in recovery mode. You hated knowing that they possibly thought you were dead to them. 

What you hated the most at the moment was finding your girlfriend cheating with your very own sister. 

“I just can’t believe you two. Lena, my own fucking girlfriend cheating on me. . . What’s very worse is that you’re cheating with my damn sister! My own fucking sister, Lena!” 

You shook your head in disapproval and started to walk away. Lena quickly grabs onto your wrist to stop you from leaving. You turn to her. Looking like a mess with tears running down her face. The look of guilt and disappointment was written all over her. You yank your arm out of her grasp. 

“Don’t bother. I wish both of you good luck with your new loving relationship.” 

Your last words sting your shattered heart. You speed walk to the elevator, ignoring Lena’s pleading cries. When the metal doors were closing, you last saw Kara trying to comfort your ex-girlfriend on the floor but the woman was desperately trying to break away. Kara was stopping her from running after you. 

When the doors finally closed. You broke down even more. Moments of you and Lena spent together flashes within you. You remember your first kiss with her. Your first time having sex together. The time was when she attended your award ceremony. The time where the two of you and your sisters spent the holidays in Midvale. 

Moment after moment adds nails to your heart. You punched and kicked the metal doors as hard as you could. Not caring that you’re damaging private property. You couldn’t feel the pain you were doing to yourself. You just felt numb. 

Tomorrow you’ll feel the pain you have physically brought upon yourself. In all honesty, you rather feel that than your aching heart that’s falling apart. 

You didn’t want to call any of your family members or friends. You wanted to be alone in your hotel room. You open a new bottle of whiskey and drink straight from it. You got out your untraceable cell phone and called one person you like to talk to. 

“Ace?” 

“I want to shorten my leave time.”

[x-childish-x]

hello, i noticed there’s been a growth of obi wan requests on your page. if you don’t mind, may i also request an obi wan x reader fanfic (preferably a female reader)? my idea is that the reader is related to qui gon, maybe a niece of his that he looks after since her parents passed. after qui gon’s death, reader decides to become a jedi and she and obi wan grow closer over the years, and finally confess their love for each other after they both become masters?

Long Time Coming

Pairing: Obi-Wan x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: ansgt?, fluff, mentions to multiple character deaths, mentions of a funeral

Word Count: 2,417

A/N: This is quite long! I'm sorry if that's not something you like! Firstly, thank you for the request and support! I appreciate it so much and feedback is always more than welcome and appreciated!! This request was super unique and I had a fun time writing it despite feeling the need to absolutely perfect it, lol. Anyways, I really hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy it!

P.S. I am out of surgery and now starting recovery. Everything’s gone well so far, but I probably won’t be posting much. Check my page for a form to send in some questions for me to answer!!

Summary: Obi-Wan's been trying to catch your attention for years and after your uncle Qui-Gon Jinn's death, you find comfort in Obi-Wan like never before.

(gif not mine!)

"(Y/n), we're making another stop. We don't have enough fuel to make it back to Coruscant. We're landing on Tattooine," Your uncle, Qui-Gon, spoke softly through the holopad.

"I found the planet," Obi-Wan beamed at you, hoping this fact would impress you.

You smiled widely, nodding to Obi-Wan, "Keep this old man out of trouble for me, won't you Obi-Wan?"

The young boy nodded vigorously as your uncle rolled his eyes, "You're getting quite old yourself (y/n). I urge you to rethink your choice of not becoming a Jedi before you're using a cane."

"We could train together!" Obi-Wan cheered, his eyes glinting with hope as he looked up at his master, "I would do well at bringing her up to speed!"

There seemed to be something that happened off the holopad that you couldn't see. Both men turned their heads before looking back at you with nearly identical looks of remorse.

"We're landing soon. I must leave," Qui-Gon frowned, "Stay out of trouble. I'll return soon."

Over the next few days, Obi-Wan and your uncle did their best to keep in contact with you. Though it wasn't much, barely once a day, it was still something, and that very much made you smile. Each call was a relief because they were both alive. They were okay. They would be home soon. 

"A boy?" You questioned Obi-Wan.

"Yes, his name is Anakin Skywalker," He frowned slightly before leaning more towards his holopad, whispering, "I'm beginning to think Qui-Gon likes him better than me."

"Nonsense!" You laughed, "Qui-Gon loves you! It's impossible to not love you!"

Immediately realizing what you said, your cheeks flushed with heat, Obi-Wan's reaction mocking yours. You missed Obi-Wan, he was your best friend after all, and it wasn't often that Qui-Gon and he left on such long missions. 

"There was this thing," Obi-Wan spoke up, "He wielded a red lightsaber."

"That doesn't sound good," You frowned, wishing Obi-Wan was more than just a hologram before you.

He nodded before his attention was stolen off-screen, and he huffed, "I have to go. We'll be home soon!"

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

"What is this about you being attacked!" You yelped, jogging up to Qui-Gon.

He smiled at your concern, "I am fine. He escaped. We believe he's a sith, that they've returned. The good news is the boy we found will be my new Padawan."

"I don't care about the boy," You hissed, glaring up at your uncle, "I care about you being safe, about not losing you!"

Unexpectedly, Qui-Gon pulled you into his chest. Tears welled in your eyes at the action he so rarely did, your arms wrapping as tight as they could around his torso. You felt a kiss pressed to the top of your head and immediately squeezed tighter, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Please... I can't lose you too, Uncle."

Qui-Gon winced at your words, knowing how dangerous it was to form attachments, yet it'd been impossible with you. From the moment you'd come under his care, you'd immediately bonded. There was no way you wouldn't have formed an attachment with him and he with you.

You'd showed up on his doorstep fourteen years ago when you were only nine. You had clutched your stuffed bantha to your chest with tears running down your cheeks, mumbling all about how 'mommy and daddy were gone' and 'I need you, uncle Qui-Gon'. His heart immediately shattered. The passing of his brother had reached him a few hours before your arrival, and the nanny behind you gave the older man a soft smile before nudging you forward.

You bounded forward, slamming into Qui-Gon's legs with a loud sob that had the older man lifting you into his arms instantly. You'd been destroyed by the sudden and mysterious loss of your parents. You sought comfort in your uncle Qui-Gon and his young Padawan. You'd spent years denying the chance to become a Jedi, afraid you were too imbalanced in your emotions.

You pulled back from Qui-Gon, allowing him to wipe your tears before he kissed your head once more. He moved, walking over to Obi-Wan, and you watched as the two talked before separating. Obi-Wan walked towards you, but your eyes locked on a small boy behind him who stood next to what looked like an R2 droid.

"We're leaving again," Obi-Wan sighed, frowning at your slightly red cheeks and glassy eyes.

You nodded, biting your lip before finally locking eyes with Obi-Wan, "Please take care of him... I have a terrible feeling Obi-Wan."

"I will," Obi-Wan smiled, gently reaching out and allowing you to place your hands in his before pulling you closer, "I'll make sure he stays out of trouble. He has a new Padawan to train, after all. But besides that..." Obi-Wan's voice dropped, his gaze growing softer as he squeezed your hands, "You know I'd do anything for you."

You nodded, listening as Qui-Gon ordered Obi-Wan to head to the ship, and with one last playful goodbye, you watched him leave, followed soon by everyone else. You stood on the pad, watching as the ship rose and left, the terrible feeling in your stomach growing with each second.

Nobody called you. For the next few days, nobody called you, and it only worsened the terrible feeling, making you nauseous as you waited patiently for the ship to arrive. You'd been told briefly by Yoda that they were returning, yet the pain on his face confirmed your thoughts. Something was wrong, and you weren't sure what, but you'd felt the pain and dread that filled you yesterday, and now Yoda was looking at you with remorse as he watched you waiting from his tower.

You couldn't maintain your focus as the ship landed, frozen still as you waited. You watched each person that exited, waiting for the two familiar faces you wanted to see so badly. Obi-Wan descended the ramp, his eyes lifting from the ground to lock with yours. Instantly tears filled your eyes, a hand flying to your mouth as Obi-Wan rushed to you.

"No..."

You collapsed into Obi-Wan's chest without a second thought, throwing your arms around him as sobs racked through your body. He attempted calming you, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and the other stroking your hair. Obi-Wan panicked slightly, feeling immediately it was all his fault. Your pain was his fault. If he'd just been slightly faster he could've saved his master, your uncle.

"Please... Obi-Wan... tell me no," You cried, burying your head into his chest as his grip tightened.

"It was a sith, the same who attacked him previously," Obi-Wan whispered, not caring about the looks anyone gave you, "I killed him. I killed the sith right after. I... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't faster."

Nobody could remove you from Obi-Wan's side, not even Yoda, who was forced to allow you to sit in while he spoke to Obi-Wan about Anakin. You were distraught and terrified at the idea of seeing your uncle's body later. Obi-Wan comforted you, an arm around you the entire day until the ceremony rolled around.

You'd separated from Obi-Wan briefly, and when you returned to Qui-Gon's funeral, Yoda himself almost cried. You stood over Qui-Gon's body, a hand gently brushing his cheek, your mother's Jedi robe caressing your body. Just for a second, Yoda believed he was seeing your mother's spirit. You looked so identical, and the soft click of Yoda's cane startled you, forcing you away from your uncle's body.

"Determination within you, I sense. Made a decision, you have," Yoda hummed, coming to your side.

You nodded curtly, your gaze on Qui-Gon, "I wish to become a Jedi, Master Yoda."

"Agree to your request, the council does. My Padawan, you will be," Yoda nodded, not needing to speak to any other members to know there would be no defiance. 

Yoda retreated to the back, watching your reaction as people filtered in, most not catching your attention until Obi-Wan walked in. You seemed to escape his gaze for a few moments, certainly because of the robe, before he rushed to your side. Yoda knew this was a potential problem, the connection the two of you held, but that was a problem for the future.

The future seemed to bring many problems for you. Your days quickly molded into becoming nothing but training. You barely spent time sleeping. Both you and Master Yoda determined to bring you up to speed. Despite everyone in the council loving your decision to become a Jedi (especially Obi-Wan), they had all disagreed with the idea of you becoming a Jedi-Knight within five short years. 

However, Yoda insisted you were ready, and you passed the trials with such ease it'd seemed like you'd been training for years. Which of course, lead to many Jedi accusing you of training illegally under Qui-Gon. But it wasn't anything like that. Yoda and Obi-Wan were amazing when it came to training you. They were patient and worked with you consistently, over and over. You knew there was no way you would've become a Jedi-Knight had you not had their help.

"So?" Obi-Wan asked when you returned to your shared apartment, "Did you pass?"

Slowly, you lifted the hair on your right side to reveal that your Padawan braid was no more. He smiled widely, leaping up and pulling you into his chest. You smiled back, squeezing Obi-Wan as he spun you around gently. 

You still weren't used to everything. Obi-Wan and you had decided to get an apartment together after Qui-Gon's passing, insisting that living together helped your coping. Of course, it was a two-bedroom, and you stayed in separate rooms, and just Obi-Wan's presence truly did help you.

Once Obi-Wan sat you down and pulled back, a huge smile on his face as you stared up at him. A moment passed as you struggled to get a grip on your thoughts. You gulped, eyes flicking around the room as you kept your hands linked at the back of Obi-Wan's growing hair. You liked it longer. You felt it suited him, not that you didn't like it short.

"Obi-Wan?" Your voice was small, fragile in the air as the slightly older boy stared at you.

"Yes?"

"Do you think he's proud of me?" 

Obi-Wan's heart melted at the worry in your eyes, the worry that your uncle wouldn't be proud of you after everything you'd done. His hands drifted from your waist and up to cup your cheeks, pulling your face just slightly closer as he leaned down. He wanted nothing more than to wipe your ever-growing tears, but that could wait. The most important thing for Obi-Wan right now was to make sure you understood that there was no possible way for Qui-Gon to be even the slightest bit disappointed in you.

"(Y/n), I have not a single doubt that he's proud of you. He was before he passed, and I'm sure he's proud now," Obi-Wan reassured you, his smile growing as you nodded, "I know Master Qui-Gon wishes he was here with us, to see you become a Jedi Knight, but regardless he is incredibly proud."

You giggled softly, leaning forward just the slightest bit, so your nose touched Obi-Wan's, "I just worry sometimes, that maybe I'm not doing enough," You paused, gasping a quiet breath when Obi-Wan nudged your nose with his again, "Thank you Obi-Wan... I... I couldn't have done any of this without you. I'd be lost, truly."

Your gaze flicked down to your connected noses and back up to Obi-Wan's blue eyes. Yet, it felt like it was the first time you ever looked at Obi-Wan. You felt like you were a small kid again, peeking out from under your uncle's robe to see two big blue eyes looking at you with a huge smile. Blue eyes and a smile that promised to be your best friend, promised to stay by your side... 'as a loyal Jedi should'. And now, as you stared into those same eyes, you felt the urge to be so much more than what he promised.

You tilted your head up, mushing your lips against Obi-Wan's and leading the kiss as he froze in shock. Was he dreaming again? Was he about to wake up alone in his bed once more? The squeeze you gave to the back of his neck told him otherwise... that this most definitely wasn't a dream. Suddenly, he was dropping his hands from your cheeks, looping them around your waist and pulling you flush against him as he took control of the kiss.

It became a dance of lips and tongue, mumbling in an attempt to convey all the years of unsaid feelings even though no real words were being formed. It felt perfect. It felt like the force was exploding through the two of you, screaming that nothing could've been more right. There was no thought of the Jedi Code, no thought of the possibility of losing your titles. The only thought being formed was how not only your lips but your mind and soul seemed to connect at that moment together.

"I... that... we..."

"I've wanted to do that for so long," You laughed breathlessly, cutting off Obi-Wan.

He smiled, nodding in agreement as he placed a kiss on your forehead, "I adore you so much (y/n). I always have."

You mocked Obi-Wan's actions, nodding your confirmation as he placed another kiss closer to your temple now. It felt perfect. The life force flowing around the two of you was bursting with light, harmonious, and balanced perfectly. There was no need for words. You could feel one another projecting all the unsaid emotions. You were one, and suddenly a large smile broke onto your face as Obi-Wan continued to press light kisses all over your face.

You weren't worried about the possibility of losing your title. You didn't care what the Jedi Code had to say, and you certainly didn't care what the council thought. You felt complete, whole. And it was the first time you'd felt that way since losing your parents. You'd deal with the consequences later, when they made themselves truly known on their own accord and when it was time for Obi-Wan and you to make a decision.

"Do you think he's still proud of me?" 

Obi-Wan chuckled, kissing your nose before pulling back, "I think he'd want to kill me."

"It was a long time coming," You teased, making Obi-Wan nod.

"That, it was."

[hobidreams]

march 1867.

she is beautiful in ways you could never be.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama, angst words: 1.3k contains: longing.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 18. start from the beginning?

Her name is Beom-su.

Her carriage arrives just as the sun reaches its highest peak in the sky, two measly days after Yoongi becomes king. The sole, precious daughter of the Minister of Taxation, as you will learn that evening from Jin-young over a dinner that is tasteless on your tongue. And because fate seems to have it out for you, you are witness to Beom-su’s welcoming procession. Castle ladies and eunuchs alike bow to her as she is helped out of her opulent gama by the servants that carried her all the way here. You hate the twisting in your stomach when you realize for the first time that she is beautiful, and then you can’t seem to stop.

She is beautiful in the corridors, practically gliding down them in her elaborate skirt with steps kept delicate and elegant, befitting her high status.

She is beautiful when she smiles at you whenever you happen to pass by each other, acknowledging you with a polite “su-uinyeo-nim” that makes you feel ugly and small when you can only muster a meager, fake grin in return.

But she is perhaps the most beautiful on certain afternoons when, with her makeup carefully done and perfect, she is escorted to the royal tea room to meet the king, her betrothed for a proper, private break. There is always an entire throng of excited maids who accompany her there, chatting merrily about the prepared menu and tea selection of the day. You are horribly aware that it is a far cry from the brief pockets of time you stole with the prince before he became too far for even your greedy reach.

You haven’t seen the king since his coronation. That is to be expected, of course. It’s not like you had much time with him before the ceremony either; the frenzy following his father’s death in early January had swept Yoongi up in its wake. A royal death so soon after the French invasion threatened to create mass panic among the people, and a strong leadership had to be presented to quell the fears. Thankfully, Queen Jeonghui was able to help with that front, standing strong beside her son with her ever-steady smile, giving him advice on the decisions now left up to him. And with news of the royal marriage to take place mid-May, things have settled even more, which perhaps had been the late king’s intentions when he arranged the match.

Wonderful. Just… wonderful.

You miss him.

You have no right to miss him, especially now since he is promised to another in a match that will do so much for the country, but you do.

You don’t want to admit how many times you’ve gone to the private library at your usual time and found it locked, empty. The hidden key hasn’t been moved from its hiding spot though, meaning you are still the sole other person to have free access to this space, whenever you please. You take that fact and all the hope it swirls up in you, and hold it somewhere near your heart. (He just hasn’t had the time to move it yet, says some irritating part of your mind that won’t shut up, especially at night when you’re trying to sleep.) The most pathetic thing is that even though you can, you haven’t mustered the courage to actually step inside the library in a long time, afraid the loneliness might really overwhelm you if you do. Afraid you won’t read and absorb a single word, and instead just wait for him to push open the door even though you know better. Or at least you should know better.

(You think he might even be purposefully avoiding you, which is the only conclusion you can extrapolate from the three separate times he meets your eyes by chance on the palace grounds only to snatch his gaze away and take the longer way around.)

But today, you have decided you are stronger than this. Today, you manage to enter the sunlit room and leave without much hesitation with The Myth of Flowers hugged close to your chest. The well-worn book’s weight is familiar and comforting, and you already foresee a late night poring over the words you have half memorized, perhaps with some yakgwa cookies and a cup of hot tea. The thought pulls a small smile on your face. After all, you cannot spend your entire life pining after a man who has never been, and could never have been, yours. It’s time you take care of yourself, even if that is more easily thought than done. Even if you are already feeling the absence of the bracelet you hesitantly left behind today, tucked inside a drawer with mother’s gifts of hairpins.

Caught in these thoughts, you should have been paying more attention to reality.

“Oh!”

A flash of scarlet robes. Too close, you leap back and your eyes swing up to see who you almost just bumped into so you can apologize and—

The king.

Your king.

Yoongi.

These last thoughts, you banish from your head as soon as they come.

“Jeonha!” You voice is surprised, but automatically too warm and too fond. Thinking back on it later, you will smack your forehead and sorely regret how palpable your delight at seeing him was. “I am very sorry. I almost hurt you.”

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, his hand slipping up to the back of his neck briefly before he lets it drop to his side. “It is of no consequence. Nothing happened.” He sounds formal, so detached it makes a discomfort rear its head in your stomach.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. Good afternoon,” comes a voice from beside him, and you realize that he is not alone. Beom-su smiles at you, her hands gathered politely in front of her skirt. You see that Eunuch Kim trails behind them too, though a little way off as is his habit.

“Good afternoon.” You force yourself to bow, and not quiver all the way through. “Please enjoy your walk.” You have to leave here. “Please excuse me.” You cannot let yourself be trapped in this conversation when nothing good can come of it.

You’ve taken maybe five steps past them when the king says something that sounds a lot like the first syllable of your name before he cuts himself off. “Su-uinyeo-nim,” he says instead, and you grit your teeth before slowly turning around.

“Yes, jeonha?”

Be strong. Be strong.

Wordlessly, his stare holds yours and you think that you can see something in his eyes so reminiscent of that day he came to you in the infirmary, confused and heavy with a loss he had yet to admit. The day he let a few more walls crumble down, only to rebuild them all mere days after.

“… Never mind. Good day.”

You swallow disappointment and nod, bowing deeply so that he can’t see your face as you hear him turn. Still, despite yourself, damned by your curiosity or maybe just stupidity, you can’t help but see them off when you come back upright. They walk side by side, pace matched down the length of the garden, soon to disappear among the lush trees.

The worst thing is, you know too well the expression on Beom-su’s face as she looks at him. It’s the one you’re certain you’ve mirrored for so many years, right down to the nervous smile and the subtle tucking of hair behind your ear because you want to look perfect for the man you’ve fallen for.

She does lovestruck better than you.

She has the privilege to give him those soft, longing glances. You can only stare at his back as he walks further and further away.

[she-sails-below]

The child is very young.

The child is so young, in fact, that it is difficult to distinguish color from sound, warmth from texture, voice from heartbeat. The world is a distorted thing, it expands and narrows - is at once small and so very large. The child cannot track night and day, dark and light, moon and sun - indeed, can hardly focus its eyes to tell. But the child can well remember.

There are things from before that used to take up all the space in this child’s world which now have ceased to be. A deep, gentle voice which once rumbled through the child’s body in a calming wave - large, warm hands against its face. Gold like sunlight. A speck of red. Dark, adoring eyes.

The child remembers another voice, soft and happy like the birdsong from the gardens, the chiming of the bell gripped in its tiny fist. The smell of flowers in bloom. The warmth of spring. The child had known then, deep in its bones - its being - that this was Mother. The child knows now, in its tiny fledgling heart, that Mother is gone.

The world shifts and spins, and the child drifts in its tide - a new voice every time it wakes, a new hand, a new face. The child aches for what it has lost. It does not understand why its world has changed so quickly and so completely. The sounds are all wrong, the shapes all blending together. The child wails for large warm hands, screams for what was Mother.

And then, relief.

The world slows. Large warm hands hold the child close. A low voice hums from beneath, and the smell of spring once again fills the child's nose, with a touch of rain. The rain tastes bitter, like salt.

It is not perfect. It is not what was lost. But it is close. A soft voice lulls the child to sleep. Large warm hands hold the child close and never let go.

~.~

The child's name is A-Ling, and A-Ling is three.

The colors of Lotus Pier’s vibrant summer blur around him as he runs, painted under a blanket of sunlight, bright and blinding in his dark eyes. It is A-Ling’s second summer in the birthplace of Mother, but it is the earliest one he will remember in the distant years to come.

His little feet ring hollow across the pale warm wood of the bridges and walkways which piece Lotus Pier together, bouncing off the rippling water below and echoing across a river in bloom. He does not know where he is going, only that anywhere he goes he will be okay - because Jiu-Jiu lives here, and wherever Jiu-Jiu is, A-Ling is always safe.

As the summer sun glints across the water, shifting and flashing amongst the lotuses, A-Ling slows to a stop and turns his face away, gazing instead to the very end of the pier. There, beneath the shelter of a pale wood pavilion stands a familiar shadow, spine straight and shoulders tense, staring out across the river as the lavender silk drapes twist and brush against his robes in the breeze. The pavilion is far removed from the rest of Lotus Pier, quiet and isolated - the perfect place to sit and watch the lotuses bloom.

A-Ling has been here many times himself, to sit and play alone in the shade when the duties of the day take up the attention of his caregivers and the child is left to himself. They scold him for wandering so far, when they find him. He keeps going back.

A-Ling has never seen his Jiu-Jiu here before.

Heart overflowing with excitement, A-Ling thinks perhaps his Jiu-Jiu has come to play with him, and scampers across the wood with a wide grin. He does not stop until he has collided with the solid pillar of his uncle’s leg, wrapping his little arms around it and pressing his face into layers of violet silk.

But A-Ling’s Jiu-Jiu does not move. Confused, he lifts his head, gripping violet robes tightly in his fists. His Jiu-Jiu stares out across the river, unmoving, and even as young as he is, A-Ling has long learned to recognize the weight in his expression, as if the world was pressing down on him - unheard and unseen, but so very heavy.

‘Jiu-Jiu is raining,’ he thinks. After a moment, he feels gentle hands on his head, running through his hair. Long into the afternoon, A-Ling will hug his uncle tight, and never let go.

~.~

The child’s name is Jin Ling, and Jin Ling is twelve.

The forest is calm in the hushing dusk, but the quiet is a tense creature, deadly still. Three feet away lies his father’s sword, two feet away is the creature which had nearly killed him, and gripping his arm hard enough to bruise is his uncle.

Jiang Cheng stands as still as a statue, his eyes narrowed into deadly focus. There’s a wild look to him - in the way his hair frames his face, in the pinch of his brow - something almost desperate. Jin Ling dips his head, shame coiling in his gut. The gash on his leg from the creature’s claws stings, but he ignores it.

He swallows thickly. “Uncle,” he begins, “I’m so-“

“Stupid boy,” Jiang Cheng hisses, jerking his arm once, twice. “Don’t you realize what could have - ”

“Sorry,” Jin Ling says again, staring at the ground.

Slowly, the fingers digging into his arm loosen, become nearly soft. Then they pull, urging him up. “Come on, then,” Jiang Cheng says, gruff and unpleasant, but not unkind. “Let’s get a healer to look at that.”

As Jin Ling stands unsteadily, his uncle’s arm winds around him in support, strong and immovable as a stubborn old tree, it’s roots anchored deep. Jin Ling clutches back, leans against his shoulder just enough to notice their slight tremble, and lets himself relax into his hold. He never lets go.

~.~

The child’s name is Jin-Zongzhu, and at just sixteen, the title weighs upon his shoulders alongside heavy ornate robes much too large for his small frame to fill.

The world has tossed and heaved once more, pulled out from under him in one sharp tug he hadn’t been able to foresee. All at once, he’d lost an uncle he thought had loved him, had gained an uncle who loved him all along, and had an entire sect in turmoil thrust into his inexperienced hands.

Amongst it all, the uncle he’s always known drifts, as if lost. It is humbling, Jin Ling thinks, to know he’s not the only one who’s entire world has been thrown off center in past weeks. Sandu Shengshou, always the piller, always so tall and proud and unstoppable, could not stand fast against the tide of truth.

His uncle stands before him now, having watched as he was ceremoniously given the title which chains him down, gray eyes deep and unreadable. Jin Ling thinks he’s never seen his severe face look so raw, so full of emotion. Not since they had stood and watched as Wei Wuxian walked away, disappearing into the world as suddenly as he had entered it.

Jin Ling stands up straighter - wants to be strong, steady, something his uncle can be proud of. With a deep, steadying breath, he bows, as perfect as he can manage in all the heavy finery of his robes. “Jiang-Zongzhu - ”

He breaks off with a sharp gasp as he is roughly pulled into a bone crushing hug. Suddenly, he is not Jin Ling, nor is he Jin-Zongzhu. Suddenly, he is -

“A-Ling,” his uncle says quietly into his hair, gripping the back of his neck to hold him in place. A long moment passes wherein Jin Ling can hardly bring himself to breathe in fear of ruining the moment, can hardly blink for fear that it will have been in his head all along. He cannot remember the last time his uncle hugged him.

“Your mother would be proud,” his uncle says, and just like that, Jin Ling’s careful diligence melts away.

With a half-choked sob, he throws his arms around his uncle, gripping the back of his robes as tightly as he can and burying his face into a violet shoulder. “Jiu-Jiu,” he gasps, and finds he is unable to say anything else.

The child is young and fragile, but strong arms hold him tight.

The child is three and naive, but the man he clings to will always be there for him.

The child is twelve and careless, and the hands who hold him up will always protect him.

The child is sixteen, is a man, is just three again, and his uncle will be there - has been there - for all of it, always.

“I’m proud of you.” Just four words, whispered into his hair, and Jin Ling’s world stops spinning, slowly rights itself again.

“I know,” he says, and breathes.

Soon, this will end. Soon, his uncle will leave, and Jin Ling will be left to Lanling alone. But for now… for now, he holds him tightly, holds him close, and never lets go.

~.~

My drabble Never Let Go, originally from Ao3.

[inessencedevided]

There is another missive waiting for him on his bed in the inn he has booked for this week. Wei Wuxian is a busy man, resident rogue cultivator and vanquisher of restless spirits (In truth he just politely sends them on their way but ‘vanquisher’ just sound so much more competent).

He has been travelling from the area of Yiling over Lanling to Yunmeng, getting paid for keeping quiet while cleaning up the resentful energy Sunshot has left behind. So many deaths. Some of them frightfully young.

He has heard of the ransacking of Lotus Pier, its clan staying alive by the skin of their teeth, of the razing of the Cloud Recesses, the burning of buildings that have stood for more than a century. Of the brave sacrifice they all keep whispering about. Of Jin Guangshan stretching his greedy hands towards the seat of Chief Cultivator before Wen Ruohan was even cold. Of the Dafan Wens, simple healers and farmers who were taken in by the Jiangs to help rebuild their home.

The missive is still on his bed, patiently waiting but something about it makes him uneasy. The scroll is of a high quality and sealed with the symbol of the Gusu Lan sect. ZewuJun himself is asking him to come to Caiyi and visit the Cloud Recesses. Not hushed, not hidden away, right there with a seal and everything. It must be important. So he packs his bags and goes, apprehensive and curious both. Their sect was one of those who lost a lot, who lost many capable cultivators.

As he arrives in the town, it is still rebuilding, still mourning its losses. It is quiet, contemplative. Children look at him with wide eyes, a little girl is clutching a rabbit made from colourful cloth to her chest and sticking to her brother’s robe but they don’t say anything, they just watch him as he approaches the mountain and its austere monastery. The steps make his legs ache despite his high cultivation and as he reaches the top, he leans against a pillar to pant for breath.

ZewuJun meets him there, still young but looking like he aged twenty years in the last less than two, a white mourning sash around his waist. He leads Wei Wuxian up the last flight of steps, his back straight but the corners of his mouth downturned.

As they arrive in what seems to be his home, he serves them tea and refreshments, takes a deep breath and steels himself. “I sent for you because I know of your line of work. You know what happened to us, to my sect. There is a lot of pain in the soil and in the walls but I…”

He takes a fortifying breath. “You must know. Surely you must know what happened. They…they came. Wen Xu and his men. They set the buildings alight, tried to burn our whole sect down. Most of us fled to a hidden cave, carrying what we could.”

As he pours himself another cup, his hands shake but he drains it quickly and gets up. “I need to show you something,” he says and walks ahead, Wei Wuxian trailing behind. Of course he heard of the terrible tragedy, the loss and the sects banding together in their grief, felling Wen Ruohan. But what ZewuJun (“please, call me Lan Xichen or Sect Leader if you must”) wants to present to him still is a mystery.

“What I am about to show you has been kept secret ever since the end of Sunshot so I expect you to keep your silence as well, Young Master Wei,” Lan Xichen says and opens the doors of the Underworld Chamber with a glowing sigil. There, placed on a table made of some pale material is a body swathed in white tied right over left, black hair a river of ink around their face. A very beautiful face in fact, still and serene, headband carefully tied in place, looking as if carved from the finest jade. The man looks as if he was just sleeping.

“Wangji, he…” Sect Leader Lan’s voice trembles as he approaches the body of his younger brother. Because this is his younger brother Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian realises with a start, one of the reasons the sects rallied together. “Our father refused to leave seclusion to help us. Uncle was too weak and I was already too injured. He sacrificed himself, stood between the entrance of our sacred cave and a horde of Wen soldiers. I… I know he was able to kill almost all of them before they broke his leg. He felled Wen Xu himself, riddled with arrows. They… they had to stab a sword into his unwavering, endlessly brave heart to make him stop fighting.”

He looks up at Wei Wuxian, his dark eyes unfathomable and utterly sad. “Master Wei. There is something else you need to know. Wangji has been dead for over a year. His body refuses to rot. He has gone through soul calming ceremonies knowing that he might die one day. But…”, he trails off and looks towards what is presumably his brother’s sword in its stand next to the body, the guqin resting on a table. “He has not left. He is still here. And I want to know why.”

- 🍄 anon

🍄 anon!!!! How dare ... you can't just leave this like that??? 😭😭😭😭😭

U know i love rogue cultivator wwx and even though lwj being dead from the start is heartbreaking I adore the imagery of this!! Yoz always sent me ficlets that make me wish I could draw 🥺

please don't leave me hanging though i need a happy end 😭💔

[robininthelabyrinth]

- [x] Post canon Jiang Cheng accidentally died and went back in time to his Gusu Days, de-aged. Plot twist, the him in this dimension died, like 3 months ago, in Caiyi Town. Everyone thinks he is a fierce corpse because everyone attended his funeral and all the ceremonies that followed. The Nie sabers dont want to hurt him though?! The talismans in calming vengeful and restless spirits dont work?! Chaos, utter chaos happens.Give Jiang Cheng some love AncientChina-20forever. I’m one of the 8 sibs

Nie Mingjue trusted Baxia more than he trusted himself, which was probably a stupid decision – according to sect lore, it was definitely a stupid decision – but when he raised his saber to strike down the fierce corpse that had risen up from the Jiang sect heir’s untimely grave, Baxia said Hey cool we get to kill people now? 

So he stopped.

(He said he trusted her, not that he listened to her. He wasn’t that stupid.)

Jiang Cheng was panting for breath, shaking in terror but too exhausted to continue running. Now that Nie Mingjue had a moment of calm to study him, he observed that his pupils were blown wide from the effort of escaping, but they were still there; his eyes were neither full white nor full black, and thus unlike those of most resentful spirits. His fingers were red and raw and the nails all broken, as if he’d had to dig himself out of his tomb or something, but they were a human length, not elongated.

“Are you alive?” Nie Mingjue asked him.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “Like I’ve been trying to tell everyone, but no one believes me –”

“Your death was witnessed by many people,” Nie Mingjue told him. “No less than the two Jades of Lan testified regarding your heroism in preventing the Wen sect from using the Waterborne Abyss they unleashed as a pretext for conquering the Cloud Recesses.”

“The Wen sect?” Jiang Cheng said. “The Waterborne Abyss – what?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No, I do remember, that’s just not how it happened. The Wen sect didn’t come to burn the Cloud Recesses for another two years after the incident with the Waterborne Abyss –”

Nie Mingjue could feel his eyebrows going up – we’re back to not killing humans again aren’t we, Baxia grumbled, figuring out that she wasn’t getting blood today, stupid rules, do you know how many evil humans there are – and he frowned, considering the possibilities provoked by that sentence. “Did you get a glimpse of the future when you died?” he asked. “Or – something else?”

“I have no idea,” Jiang Cheng confessed, looking over his shoulder at where there were still shouts of anger from the ones who had been hunting him. “I can tell you, only – the others –”

They were still trying to kill him, he meant, and were being most unreasonable about it.

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue said, and drew Baxia again. “Hold her.”

“What?”

“Stop complaining, they’re almost here.”

Jiang Cheng took Baxia by the hilt – she growled at him lest he think too much of himself, and he twitched like a startled rabbit – and stood still as a statute. Nie Mingjue draped a spare set of robes over his shoulders to hide the glaring purple that screamed Jiang sect and turned towards the door, hands behind his back.

“Sect Leader Nie, Sect Leader Nie –” the pursuers chanted as they ran towards him, clutching calming talismans and other spiritual weapons in their hands, seeking his aid in pursuing the abomination that perverted the honorable Jiang Cheng’s body.

Not one of them looked in the direction of Baxia for more than a split second.

She had that effect on people, Nie Mingjue had found. 

After a while, Nie Mingjue chased them off, giving them incorrect directions in the hope they’d wear themselves out on their wild goose hunt, and maybe in the process find something useful to hunt on the mountain.

“I’ll take you to the Lotus Pier,” he told a still-frozen Jiang Cheng, and removed Baxia from his hands. “Do you require rest first?”

“Your sword is the scariest thing I have ever met,” Jiang Cheng said, voice dazed.

“Saber,” Nie Mingjue corrected. “My saber is the scariest thing you’ve ever met.”

“…right.”

“Your family will be happy to see you,” Nie Mingjue said. “They have not taken your death well.”

Jiang Cheng scrubbed his face. “I hadn’t even thought about that. Mother must be furious, and jiejie’s probably crying…who even knows how Wei Wuxian is taking it. Probably figuring out a way to blow things up to vent his feelings or something, what a disaster.”

Wei Wuxian had in fact lapsed into something not unlike a comatose state, capable of little more than eating and sleeping and responding to direct commands; he stirred only when Jiang Cheng’s name was mentioned, and even then the only change was that tears dripped down his face – he had been there when Jiang Cheng had sacrificed his life for him, for the Lan sect, for the world, and Nie Mingjue had been unsure if he would recover from the blow.

Madame Yu had been little better, though Jiang Cheng had correctly identified her primary emotional response as rage – Nie Mingjue thought that she didn’t know of any other ways to communicate, a situation he sympathized with – and Jiang Yanli was, in fact, inconsolable.

“Your father is upset as well,” Nie Mingjue said, because Jiang Cheng hadn’t mentioned him, and the surprise on Jiang Cheng’s face was – unexpected, hitting him like a jab to the gut that knocked out all his breath. “Did you not think he would be? You’re his son.”

“If I’m gone, Wei Wuxian can inherit the sect,” Jiang Cheng said as if a sentence like that made any sense at all. “He understands the motto better, Father likes him better –”

“Your father is a fool,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s the one who has mangled your sect motto beyond all recognition, not you – he allows his heart to guide him anywhere he wishes to go, without any burden, and that is not how righteous men live. If he thought you did not understand, it was his duty as a father to teach you; if he did not naturally love you, it was his duty as your kin to value you regardless. That he has failed in those duties is his failing, not yours.”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth opened and closed, shocked by Nie Mingjue’s rudeness.

“He is a fool,” Nie Mingjue said again. “But even fools can be taught, even if only in the harshest of circumstances. Your father has declared war against the Wen sect, regardless of the recklessness of his actions, and says he will not rest until your memorial tablet is drenched with the blood of your killers; they say he aged twenty years in a day, that he visits your room and your grave every day, that he can barely look at the water around the Lotus Pier without flinching in memory of you –”

“None of that happened,” Jiang Cheng said desperately. “None of that –”

“My brother will be happy to see you as well,” Nie Mingjue continued. “He was rather distraught, to say the least. You should speak with him on the way to the Lotus Pier; he can help you come up with a coherent cover story.”

That this wasn’t the Jiang Cheng that had died, he already knew, but Nie Mingjue trusted Baxia when she said that this was a human, and anyway it seemed fairly clear that it was a Jiang Cheng, who loved his family, and that was good enough for him.

The Jiang sect’s declaration of war was messy, liable to lead to their destruction rather than anything else; the Wen sect would focus in on them and everyone else would stay out of it, thinking it some private affair. He was of course willing to help, but two Great Sects weren’t enough - they needed more than that. If they were to survive what happened next, if the entire cultivation world were to survive, they would need all their wits about them.

They were going to need Jiang Cheng.

[blobbyclouds]

Hello There! I hope you are doing well while the quarantine does not end. . . So, I was reading your Link and Sidon HC's with an Oracle S/O and I was wondering if you could write for the other champions with the same. . . Theme, for the lack of a better word. I will completely understand if you do not wish to take my little request. Have a good day! p.s: I love your stories and HC's btw.

Yeah, I’m doing well! Hope you’re alright too <3 I really liked the oracle idea, and writing for the champions is always fun :)

For those of you who are curious or uncertain, an oracle is a person in a church who has a connection to the gods. They are often given prophecies or advice, and are considered very wise and powerful. Generally speaking, they’re peaceful and kind and help people however they can 

Warnings: mentioned violence

-Urbosa-

At first your interactions were purely professional. You’d reach out to the goddesses on Urbosa’s behalf, give advice, and help with important ceremonies, the usual

And while Urbosa can be very formal, she’s usually more laidback, and it was that warm friendliness that made you come out of your shell with her

Urbosa would “call upon your advice” more and more, to the point that neither of you even bothered pretending you were together for any real reason aside from the fact you liked one another’s company 

Your long, white robes aren’t exactly ideal for long treks through the desert, so she tends to keep dates either in the safety of the city or in a well shaded oasis 

Urbosa often teases you a little or is purposefully flirty to make you blush

She often brings you exotic gifts, like rare flowers or expensive jewels

She once got you one of those sand seal stuffed toys <3 

You originally wanted to keep your relationship completely private given the nature of your professional connection, but that was difficult in such a crowded city with so many guards around

But don’t worry, the women of the city are very pleased with who their chief is courting 

There’s something so ethereal and lovely about you, you’re hard to dislike

The children especially like you because your robes are so magic like 

Plus you’re really nice and give them sweets and stories :) so when you walk into the city, it isn’t uncommon for the children to reach you before Urbosa does, so you’re basically mobbed by a bunch of adoring little ones

Urbosa is very protective of you because of the Yiga Clan. She knows better than anyone how much they’d love to have an oracle at their disposal

She just doesn’t want anything to happen to someone so kind and gentle 

So whenever you’re wandering about Hyrule, especially in the desert, she insists that you bring guards with 

Any threats to you, Yiga or not, are dealt with swiftly. You’re an oracle, a peacemaker. The last thing Urbosa wants you to deal with is violence 

-Revali-

He knows how important an oracle is, for both their connection to the goddesses and their own wisdom. Considering that you often lead important ceremonies (such as coronations, knightings, etc) Revali figured it would be smart to be on your good side

But then he caught feelings for you oops

You’re always patient and kind with him, even if he’s being an arrogant show off

He appreciates someone genuinely caring about him more than he lets on, trust me, since making friends isn’t exactly one of his strengths 

Whenever you came to visit the Rito, your billowing white robes and large group of guards allowed him to spot you from miles away, and he always makes sure to patrol the sky when you’re coming to visit 

He’d swoop down beside you and start chatting, saying he had “happened to be in the area” and figured he might as well join your escort 

Obviously, you went from friends to significant others soon enough 

On dates he’ll take you to beautiful places high up in the mountain where the both of you can get away from your duties 

You’re one of the few people he’ll take flying, so it means a lot 

Teases you often because you’re naive and gullible and it’s fun seeing you flustered, but he never goes overboard 

You often fall asleep in his hammock full of pillows and blankets because it’s so comfy and safe. His heart did very funny things when he saw you fast asleep there, somehow looking divine and delicate as you sleep

While he isn’t a worrywart, he will scold you for not putting on enough warm layers when you visit colder areas and will insist you take his scarf

Don’t bother making any excuses because Revali is very stubborn when it comes to your safety 

He’s protective and won’t let anyone treat you badly because you’re literally a saint. You don’t have much backbone, but Revali has more than enough to stand up for you, like he’ll straight up fight someone for you

-Mipha-

The two of you got along very well right away because you both have very kind and gentle demeanors

You both tend to be soft spoken and have a talent for helping and healing others 

Must be fate, right? You’re quite certain the goddesses lined this one for you, your girls got your back ;)

Safe to say being “just friends” didn’t last long

Your long white robes are kind of annoying when they get wet, so she does her best to keep dates in dry places. There are still plenty of options in the Zora Domain and Mipha never fails to find a nice spot 

You always feel super safe and comfortable with her, and she feels the same. You two tell each other everything and are always ready to protect the other 

It’s just such a pure fluffy relationship, you’re both angels <3

She often gives you beautiful things from the water like shells, pearls, and coral 

You stay at the Zora Domain so often that they just permanently keep a Hylian bed and Hylian food on hand 

All the Zora and Hylians would absolutely throw hands if anyone tried to mess with your relationship 

Zelda and Link have “dealt with” suitors coming for you, same as Mipha’s father has “dealt with” suitors coming for her

And the best part is y’all are oblivious to the suitors

And although Mipha seems all cute and innocent, she can absolutely kick some butt if someone tries to hurt you 

Baby Sidon grew attached to you quite quickly and once blurted out, “when’s the wedding?” because he thinks it’d be so cool to have you as a sibling in law! 

You were both blushing for a solid week because of that one 

-Daruk-

He and all the other Gorons were thrilled when you came to visit 

They did everything they could to make sure you, the ever revered oracle, would be safe and comfortable so close to the volcano 

When you arrived, Daruk and all the other Gorons were practically falling over one another to meet you 

You were so unlike them in the most wonderful ways. You were soft and light while they were rough and heavy, and the wise, delicate aura around you just added to the mystery

You and Daruk grew close very quickly because of his friendliness and dorky chivalry 

Sure, the volcano was scary sometimes, but Daruk promised he’d always keep you safe

He made a lot of jokes just to see you laugh, and he’s quite certain it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard 

He’s not nearly as poetic with words as you are, and tends to stumble over his words when your wide, innocent eyes are staring up at him so expectantly 

All the other Gorons were lowkey shocked when you actually agreed to go on a date with Daruk

Like yeah they all knew Daruk was a great guy but??? He’s dating an absolute angel now?? How???

He always has a plethora of funny stories when you need something to take your mind off serious matters

He’ll use his shielding ability at the drop of a hat to keep you safe

Like all there’d have to be is a small rustle in the bushs behind you and he’s activating his shield and pushing you behind him 

Goron food is a bit spicy for your tastes, so the chefs always make sure to go extra, extra light on the spices for your sake. They all know you’re too polite to say anything yourself and that much spice doesn’t settle well with little Hylians like yourself 

[tennessoui]

omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

[dalamjisung]

queen of the night ❁ lee minho

genre: angst and fluff (a mess of emotions)

word count: 9717

pairing: reader x lee minho

description: the king needs you. but what he doesn’t know is that you need him, too.

“The preparations are underway, my King.”

He doesn’t spare a glance at his servant, waving her away with a wave as his eyes quickly scan the maps laid out in front of him. His Royal Secretary, Hwang Hyunjin, stands next to him, nodding in silent agreement as they move pieces around, mumbling unintelligible words that even if you tried, you couldn’t understand. Their low voices is a form of defense, protecting both you and themselves.

Being the Queen makes it so there are obvious downsides to a life of riches and power. After the first assassination attempt, Minho made a point of always having his eyes on you. You could still remember his angry words, the shouts echoing in the cold stoned walls of his castle.

“They dare to try and kill my wife under my roof?! Who the fuck do they think they are?” His crazed gaze lands on you, your hands clutching your robes shut as you try to control your ragged breathing. He frowns, and although it takes some time, you think he finally notices your discomfort in being in a room full of armed men after what happened. Gathering them all near his working desk, Minho quickly mumbles out orders. “Bang Chan, Changbin, take him to the dungeons, I’ll deal with him later. Felix and Jeongin, I want a through check of my grounds, use everyone available. Seungmin and Hyunjin will stay with Y/N–“

“What about you?” You ask, and you hate to admit that Lee Minho is your only source of comfort at the moment. “Where will you go?”

“I have things to deal with, my Queen,” The formality to which he responds to you is what ticks you off, and you are marching out of his room before he can even process it. Of course, his men are quick to follow you down the hall, all the way back to the Queen’s Chambers, but you lock the door before they can enter after you.

You need to be alone for what follows.

“Y/N,” Someone touches your shoulder and you’re quick to react, pulling away clumsily. You flinch, the sudden movement having your ribs throbbing in pain. “Oh… are you okay, Y/N?”

Chan’s worried eyes find your and you can’t help but smile at your best friend. He lived next to you growing up, his family relying on the crop yours maintained, and yours, relying on the protection of his father’s army. His father had been a loyal commander of the royal guard, serving the King and the Royal Family for years until he passed away in combat; and, having been trained since a young age, Chan was quick to follow his dad’s footsteps. You would’ve too, if the army allowed for female warriors. Instead, you found another way into the royal life, and, unfortunately, it came with a lot of weight to falls onto your shoulders.

“Y-Yeah,” You smile, a bit shaken up still. “I’m fine, don’t worry, Channie.”

He frowns, not believing a single word that leaves your mouth, but nodding nonetheless.

“Can I help you with anything?” You sigh, hands unconsciously moving to cover your ribs, uncomfortable with the pressure that your corset applies to the wounds.

“No, you just looked… lost,” He shrugs, looking around the room as the others busy themselves with strategies and tactical conversation. “It must be incredibly boring to have to sit through these.”

“You know I am not bored by talks of war,” You smirk, remembering back at fond memories of sitting in Chan’s living room with him and his father as you two played with his maps and two wooden swords he’d carved as toys. “I am, however, suffocated in a room too small for such big egos.”

The snort that escapes him makes you giggle, and you straighten your back at the realization that you two are being observed.

“My King,” You voice out, slowly raising up to your feet in the most composed way you can manage. “I am sorry to interrupt such urgent matters, but I wonder if it is okay for me to take a walk in the gardens…? It is such a beautiful day out and–“

“Commander,” Minho nods at Chan, face twisted into something that you can’t read. “Please escort the Queen outside.”

“Yes, my King,” Chan politely bows before following you out.

The noise of the door closing behind both of you is enough to have you both running down the hall, laughing in the most manic of ways as you race each other to the castle’s gardens. Upon your wedding, Minho had all your favorite flowers spread through the grounds, making a safe place for you to collect your thoughts and enjoy the sun, as he put it. You hold that space sacred, adoring what it means for you and what it could’ve meant for the King, even though you’ve never seen him out there, not even once.

“Oh, my Queen!” One of the maid steps out of the way as you run past her. “Be careful!”

“I will, Dorothea,” You shout back, smiling widely as you push the heavy doors open. The sun makes you squint, but you soon get used to it, quick enough to watch Chan pant, hands holding his body up by the knees. “Getting old, Bang?”

“Ha!” He wheezes out, but his nose crinkles in a oh so familiar way that is enough to have you laughing again. “You wish, Y/L/N… or should I say, my Queen?”

“Ew, no,” Your hands touch the white petals that surround you, finding comfort in the smoothness of their beings. “I hate it when you call me that, Commander.”

“You suck,” Chan grumbles, poking his tongue out at you.

“You are probably the only one that can tell me that without suffering the consequences,” You joke, sitting down on the wooden bench that faces the pond. Before sitting next to you, Chan looks around, wanting to make sure no one would witness such comfort casualty from a royal guard towards the Queen.

“Oh yes,” He chuckles. “The King would definitely send me after them.”

“It is not you that my enemies should fear,” You smile, hands once agains seeking the white flowers, almost as if honing their energy to yourself. “They are my enemies, after all.”

“Close your eyes,” He says once again, and is that a hint of a smile you hear in his voice? “It’s a surprise, my Queen.”

“They are closed,” You muse, chuckling at the uncharacteristically youthful behavior. Your hands are stretched in front of you, careful not to hit anything as your husband guides you through the halls of your new home.

You hear a loud, creaking noise and suddenly there is wind, blowing against you, caressing your skin with gentle nips of cold air. His hand is firm on your waist, and you dare to blush at the touch you’ve been craving for for so long, basking in the feeling of his breath hitting your cheek as he chuckles once you almost trip over an unannounced step.

“I got you,” He mumbles, voice low and raspy. “I got you, Y/N.”

“T-Thank you,” You whisper back, allowing your hands to fall on top of his as he keeps guiding you, turning you right, right, left, right, left, and stop. “Are… are we here?”

“We are,” He slowly withdrawals from you. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Your answer comes out more excited than you intended and he laughs at your enthusiasm.

“Open you eyes.”

Blinking, you focus on the rich bushes surrounding you, and where before there was simple foliage, beautiful, big white flowers have bloomed, their smell enveloping you in a trance of amazement and wonder.

“They are called Queens of the Night,” Minho explains, slowly walking besides you. “I thought it was fitting for you… with how they open up slowly, only at night; how they are careful with their surroundings, looking so rough at first, and then so, so soft at the touch.”

“Minho…” You whisper, holding tears back. This is the most beautiful thing he’s done for you ever since your wedding.

“My Queen,” His eyes are looking at you– only you– but he still misses the way your smile fades as you process his words, a pang of sadness washing away all the remnants of the momentary glee he was able to offer you. “My life.”

Nights in the castle are quiet, Minho being a kind enough master to give his servants the dark hours to rest. He cares for those who care for him and you know it; for him, however, it seems that you are the only exception.

Your windows is open, much to your husband’s dismay, but you simply shrug at his disapproving eyes, set on the ideal that if he won’t sleep in this room, he won’t command this room. A queen must sleep in her own chambers, is what he told you after the ceremony was done. He was courteous enough to call the maids to help you out of your wedding gown, but you would only see him again the next morning, understandably so. You knew why he married you then, and you know why he still keeps you close now; nothing about you is enough to allure the almighty King Lee Minho– no beauty, no riches, no titles. But what you give your husband is something beyond the shallow eyes of those who wondered what did their King see in a woman like you, a woman with no prowesses. What he did see, however, is something that only few do, and even fewer dare to recognize it– especially in a woman– but he did. He saw you for what you are, and that is the main, if not the only, reason you accepted his proposal. Minho saw pure, and unadulterated power.

Chan is the one to pick you up. He doesn’t dare to contest or question his orders, this is not up to him, but he worries; it’s clear in his eyes, in his face, in the way his mouth turns slightly downwards. He doesn’t find you in your family’s home and if that’s not where you are, then there is only one other place you could be.

He finds you in his house, laughing merrily with his mother as you enjoyed a warm cup of tea and wild strawberries from the forest in the back of his house. His mother sees him first, leaping to her feet and running to her son, excited to have her boy in her arms even if for a small moment. It is the fact that he doesn’t laugh or smile that has you both worrying, his mother pulling away from him, hands trembling and heart racing, and you behind her, hands on her shoulder in support.

That’s always been you– the silent support.

The strongest pillar of both your families.

“Y/N,” Chan’s voice is thick with worry, and you frown, wondering if he was once again hiding his tears from both of you. “The King requests your presence.”

“Oh my!” His mother gasps, turning to face you. “What does he want with her?”

“He saw you.”

You nod. You nod because you know– because you saw him too. It was during an attack to the village, an unexpected ambush from the prince of a neighboring kingdom as he visited to sign a trade treaty; from the carriages and nearby mountains, waves of men poured into the centre of your home, killing, destroying, burning. You remember hiding your parents and Ms. Bang in the forest, and almost like you’ve been possessed by an avenging spirit, you take a deep breath, you calm your racing heart, your focus, and you move. Years of training rush back to you, living next to the most skilled fighter and swordsman of the kingdom suddenly paying off, as one after the other, enemies fall to the ground under your merciless arrows.

In your defense, you didn’t know it was him– you didn’t know it was the King– but it wouldn’t matter even if you did. He is surrounded, twin blades in each hand, and all you see from under his dark hood is a smirk. The skill one needs to wield twin blades is immense, but even relying on his experience and obvious mastery of his weapons, this man would die by end of today… if you didn’t do something about it. Unlike him, you rely on your stealth and speed. You have a long distance weapon, and only a couple of arrows left– missing is not an option.

“Missing is never an option,” You whisper to yourself , and once again you take a deep breath. Hold it. And release.

The first arrow crosses his neck, and before their eyes can find you, the second one strikes another in the shoulder. With two down, you have enough time to throw your bow to the side, pulling two knives from your boots.

Some may say you fight dirty, arriving unannounced, secretly, quietly. It’s not good form, it is not noble. You, on the other hand, say you fight to survive. You don’t care about dignity as long as you get live. As long as those you are protecting get to live. That is all that matters, you think, as you approach another two, ducking away from the uncontrolled swords clanking against each other.

“Three,” You whisper, swiftly moving away as you slice his neck open. His body falls loudly, and now all eyes are on you, but that  only buys you time. Another knife finds another man’s knees, and you let the twin blade’s finish the job. “Four.”

You pull away in time to see the other two enemies fall dead on the ground, and you don’t dare to look up at the curious eyes that watch you walk away.

“You saved my life,” He shouts as he sheaths his swords.

“I know,” You pick up your bow, quickly putting your knives away.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You frown, not even bothering to look back at him. You don’t stop walking, but he follows you.

“You must know who I am,” He chuckles, and you can hear him jogging to catch up with you. “So tell me… how can I repay you?”

“No need for that, your Majesty,” You keep your eyes down. “I did only what anyone would.”

“No,” He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. Not even my best commander could do what you did.”

You frown, not quite content with the dismissal of your best friend’s talents.

“I am sorry, your Majesty,” You bow down. “But everything I know is because of your commander. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check in on my family.”

One final bow and you are gone.

You remain unmoving as you hear shuffling from your window, your blinds fluttering with both the wind and the intruder. Another assassination attempt… could it be? It had been less than a month since you dealt with the last one. Who could be so desperate to have your King dead as to send multiple assailants in such a short period of time?

Don’t they know?, you think, regulating your breath to not give yourself away. One of them is bound to talk…

You move slowly, almost dreamily, slipping your hand under your pillow, where a familiar knife lays. This one was specially made for you with the best steel available in the kingdom, handle garnished with the brightest rubies in the land– Minho was particularly proud of himself with that one gift. Your thumb laces through the whole in the handle, steading your grip for when you inevitably ‘wake up.’

“Ah,” You hear the low voice mumble, a man. The deep breath he takes, nose bumping against your forehead, makes your stomach knot, and you stop yourself from giving into the nausea that threatens to take over. “Such a pretty Queen… all alone at night, unprotected, unloved. You must be craving some attention aren’t you, your highness?”

The cold drag of his blade on the exposed skin of chest is all you need to snap, one leg pushing him into the bed and one hand on his shoulder to hold him down, knife perfectly placed on his throat. Your breathing is harsh, visibly disgruntled, but he is too busy trying to regain control to notice. No one ever notices.

“Wha–“

“Who dares to trespass into the royal residence?” You practically growl, hair escaping your braid and falling over your eyes. You are aware of how you look– nightgown exposing the top your heaving breasts, eyes dark, hair wild; you see how his eyes leave your for a second, taking in the whole picture, and you really want to get this over with. But you need information first.

“Well, well, well, the Queen has some surprises up her sleeve,” He wheezes as you press your knife down harder.

“Who are you?”

“Does it matter?” He mumbles, smirking.

“No,” You chuckle. “I have no use for such an insignificant name. I do, however, need to know who hired you.”

“Ah, I believe you know that information will never reach you, your Majesty,” He winces, feeling the sharp blade shallowly cut through his skin.

“You see, I don’t believe you,” You click your tongue, and with another swift motion, you two are standing, his arm twisted against his back and your knife still in place. “But I understand… I am merely a woman, why would you tell me anything? Maybe an audience with the King will suit you better.”

Your feet are cold against the polished stones, but everything is secondary to the task in hand. You push the man forward, and it’s only when you’re in front of his door that you notice it is already ajar. It’s almost like your heart stops beating and your hostage notices, using the moment in his favor. He knocks you back with his head, and you feel blood dripping from your brow where he hit you. He has no weapon, so he is quick to try and escape. You can’t let that happen; you need to know who wants Minho dead– that’s the only reason you are there to begin with. You can’t disappoint him. Whatever happens next, it happens in seconds; with your mind split in between you current situation and your husband, you cuss the gods above and throw your knife, and before you hear the loud thump of the man’s lifeless body hitting the floor, you feel all the air in your lugs escape you.

“Stupid bitch,” You hear, as you fall on the ground. Another person, another woman, stands over you, feet pressing down next to where a small blade is lodged on your side, blood staining the floors the more you stay there.

The pain you feel has nothing to do with the weapon intruding your body, and you push away any emotional turmoil, forcing your blurry vision to focus, and all you need is one hit to the back of her knee. She falls forward, arms stretched to cushion her fall, and your elbow meets her face before she can even touch the ground. Adrenaline is rushing through you and you rely on that, knowing that you don’t have long until it starts to wear off and you lose all consciousness.

“Respect your Queen,” You snarl, getting into a fighting stance as she raises to her feet. “Girl.”

One of your hands puts pressure on your lower stomach, stupidly trying to stop the bleeding– you know you can’t pull the knife out, but it might just be the only weapon you have available. You have no other choice as she advances, another blade pulled out from her back– it’s messy and full of rage, completely unlike you, but it’s the best you can do. You barely feel the cuts she makes on your arms, and you don’t really register the loud steps approaching from the south entrance; all you can think about is Minho and the fact that she came out of his room.

Your body is getting slower by the second, and your opponent is quick to use that to her advantage, widely striking whatever she can reach. She doesn’t kill you, though, and you wonder if she might just need you alive.

“Y/N!”

Chan’s voice is the last push you need, and the knife on your hands, one coated with your own blood and sweat, finds itself a home in her shoulder. The guards are quick to grab her, and you waste no time, pushing Chan away to run into the King’s room.

Minho has his wrists tied to the bed, and he is unconscious. A large gash in his chest, from his collarbone all the way down, is bleeding and you cry out in surprise, tears threatening to fall. It’s your voice, really, that wakes him up with a flinch, and his eyes open quick enough to watch you, all bloodies and bruised, crying, fall on his commander’s arms.

“I have a proposal for you.”

You don’t respond, still on your knees in front of your ruler. It is only once he tells you to rise that you do, looking at him in confusion.

“I have a proposal for you, Lady Y/N,” He repeats, getting from his throne. With suspicious eyes, he is quick to command everyone outside, wanting privacy for what is next.

“Whatever it is, my King,” You respectfully nod. “I am honored.”

“Marry me.”

Your gasp travels through the walls, and that is the first time you learn that the castle’s walls talk back, echoing your words as if confirming your decision.

“E-Excuse me?!” You mumble.

“Marry me,” He repeats, and with his hand, he guides you to his throne, sitting you down and moving to grab you a cup of water. “I know this is sudden, but you must be aware of the pressure I’ve been under to find a queen.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” You look at him with wide eyes. “But I-I don’t understand–“

“If you are aware of the pressure bestowed upon me,” He chuckles, and nothing but misery comes out through his voice. “Then you must also be aware of the attempts on my life.”

“I’ve heard of them,” You mutter, looking down at your hands. You hear shuffling, and you see the King kneeling in front of you. His hands cover yours, and he carefully examines your palms, looking for something. “I thought they were rumors…”

“Not rumors, unfortunately,” He sighs, closing his eyes, and just now you notice how exhausted he looks, almost like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “And it’s becoming impossibly harder to deal with those. Few of my men are capable enough to deal with hired assassins, but they are still soldiers– they rely on force and brute strength. That is not what I need, Lady Y/N, to deal with these threats.”

“W-What do you need, my King?” You frown.

“I need someone observant,” He says, eyes intense on you. “I need someone careful and stealthy. I need an assassin of my own.”

“Your M–“

“I need you.”

You quickly raise to your feet, putting some distance in between you and him, as if that would allow you breath, to think.

“Your Majesty,” You cry out, not being able to deal with his ludicrous offer. “I am not an assassin. I am not half as capable as your men, I am just a–“

“Woman?” He finishes the sentence and it burns; your skin burns with the way he looks at you, your heart burns with how fast it’s beating, your cheeks burn with the blush that takes over as you nod. “Even better. No one will expect this from you. You can hide from everyone, Y/N, but you can’t hide from me. Not anymore.”

“Why marry me, then?” You whisper, hands shaking. You want to scream… you want to cry and hit something. Why is this happening to you?

“Putting you in my army will just give away your potential,” He sighs. “And marrying you is the best way possible to always have you close without raising suspicion. You’ll always be by my side– my Queen. My life will be in your hands should you accept this, Y/N; but by marrying you I can at least make sure that your life here is comfortable. I can take care of your family, protect them. That’s why I can offer you in return.”

Your breathing stops. “You are asking for my life, your Majesty, not my hand.”

“I am,” He breathes out, frowning. “I am, indeed.”

“Do I really have a choice?” He doesn’t answer. “I thought so.”

“Everything I can do to guarantee your safety, I will,” He argues, closing in on you. His hands find your cheek, and his voice is as fierce as his eyes. “I’ll care for you. I’ll watch over you.”

You nod. This is your fate.

So face it.

“Okay,” You say, softly. “I’ll marry you.”

According to Chan, it took you four days to regain consciousness. The kingdom has been in distress, and your parents have not left the castle, Minho having provided them with comfortable rooms and service. Your husband stayed by your side until you opened your eyes, and only when you cried out, shaking your head, only then he left.

Everything hurt, and Seungmin has been more than attentive to your wounds, making sure to treat them at least thrice a day. He was able to stop the bleeding as soon as you were left to his care, but he still worried that you lost too much blood.

“You scared us,” He tells you every morning, when Minho and Hyunjin accompany him to your chambers to check on you. “You are lucky that the Commander got to you quickly, my Queen, or else who know what those people would’ve done to you.”

Who knows what those people would’ve done to you.

Such a pretty Queen… all alone at night, unprotected, unloved.

You must be craving some attention aren’t you, your highness?

“I-I, oh my god, I– Seungmin, I’m going; I need a bowl,” A familiar feeling creeps up to you, and you know what is about to happen. Your lungs tighten, and the more your try to take in gulps of air, the more you seem to be out of it; hands furiously searching for anything to grasp– the sheets, your hair, another hand– and you whimper, tears starting to stream down your face. “I’m gonna–“

There is no time– you throw up all over your bed, and you feel hands moving quickly to pull your hair back, another drawing circles on your back, but you need it to stop, you need distance, you need quiet.

“No, no no no,” You say weakly, pushing the hands away and shutting your eyes tight. “No, don’t touch me, don’t– please, please don’t touch me.”

You can still her that man’s voice on your ear, his tone, his suggestions. The disgust that hits you is enough to drive you out of your mind, hands rubbing your skin furiously, wanting all traces of him gone, all traces of her gone.

“Hold her!” Seungmin screams, grabbing one of your arms. “My Queen, you’ll open your wounds! Don’t–“

“Y/N!” Minho’s voice is the only one that makes past the cloudy haze tainting your mind. “My love, Y/N, what is happening?”

You freeze. This is the first time Minho says that; love. And as much as you want to enjoy it, to bask in the moment of hearing that word you’ve been waiting to hear for so long from him, all you can think is her. And her leaving his room. And if he said those words to her, too.

“Get out,” You whisper, pushing yourself away from both of them. “Call Chan. And leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving you unattended,” Minho says, and the voice he uses, the one he uses on everyone else when he orders them around, is enough to have you glaring at him. “I’m your husband. I’m staying with you.”

“I don’t need a husband right now,” You hiss at him. “I need my family.” “I am your family!”

“No, you are not!” You bite back, sobbing. “Wait here if you must, my King, but only until the Commander arrives. And then leave. Please.”

“W-What do you mean…?” He frowns.

“Minho.”

The sharp intake of breath is enough to have shivers running up and down your spine.

“My family would never ask me to die for them,” You sniffle, and when you look at him all you see is hurt. “They would die for me instead.”

Chan comes in right after, and only after the door closes you allow yourself to mourn. You cry for the love you gave away so freely to a man that wanted nothing but your willingness to die for him, and you cry for your fragile heart that breaks in two. You cry for the life you didn’t live; one that you might’ve found another love, one that loved you back, and you cry for the family that you’ll never have, that you refuse to have. You cry, but it’s too late now.

This is your fate.

So face it.

“You’re really marrying him,” Chan muses, guarding the door as your maids finish garnishing your hair. Everyone’s fixation is on your appearance, so much so that they miss the small daggers on your thigh. They have to make you pretty for the King, they say; he needs to finds you absolutely ravishing for the nuptial night. Just the thought of it makes your palms sweat.

“I really am,” You answer, offering him a small smile. “Can you believe it? You promise you’d always protect me when we were five, and now it is your official duty to see that you carry that promise to the grave.”

“And to the grave I will carry it,” His smile is true and dimpled and you heart aches at the thought of having to watch your best friend possibly go into battle. “My Queen.”

“Oh, god, no,” You crinkle your nose in disgust. “Don’t call me that when it’s just us, Chan. We are family.”

“As you wish,” He jokingly bow to you. “Your Majesty.”

“Oh god…” You laugh, and for the rest of the afternoon, Chan takes it upon himself to make you laugh as much as possible; to remind you of a time when everything was merry, and easy, and free.

It’s a beautiful sound, your laugh; and Minho closes his eyes as he washes himself in the sound, on the other side of the door.

“What’s going on with you?” Chan murmurs. For the first time in forever you see him without his official royal uniform. He is wearing an old shirt, and you recognize it from the stain– it was his dad’s old shirt, the one you dropped grape juice on when you were just three. You didn’t know he held on that all this time, but just the sight of it makes your eyes water. “Hm? What is going on, Y/N?”

“He doesn’t love me,” You murmur, quietly crying like you’ve done ever since you moved to the castle months ago.

“What do you mean?” Chan frowns, and gets up, moving to go sit next to you on the bed. Your hands grab the hem os his shirt, playing with it was you finally allow yourself to rid your body of the raging frustration trapped within. “He married you, Y/N. Out of all the ladies in the kingdom, he chose you. I think that says a lot.”

“It says he wanted something from me,” You say, rolling your eyes. His hands are gentle on your cheeks, wiping away the tears even though his efforts are futile– you can’t stop crying. 

“And what did he want from you?” The intonation of his voice is enough to know he is suspicious.

“Protection,” You whisper, and only then you gather enough courage to look him in the eyes. “Minho was in danger, and… and I helped him. And he called me the next week, remember? He called me to the castle, you were the one that came to fetch me and he needed protection. There were many attempts on his life, Chan, and although he has a whole army, he needed someone more discreet. And he thought I could be that someone.”

“I- no, that’s not… what?”

It hurts you to see him like that, eyes wide, mouth hanging, but he needs to know. You could’ve died and he would never know why, but this can’t happen again; he needs to know.

“The assassin that went after the King last month,” You gulp. “I was the one that… dealt with it. He is capable, but he can’t put himself in danger like that– Chan! Where are you going?”

“And you can?!” He shouts. You expected this. You expected anger and frustration, but you really need him right now, you can’t be alone. “You can risk your life for a man you don’t even love?”

“I do love him.”

This is the only thing that appeases him.

“I… I love him very much, actually,” You whisper, too ashamed to look up from your hands. “It started a couple of months ago, and… I am not certain why, Chan, but he is a very good king– he treats the servants well, and-and he truly is loved by his people, and he is good. He is good and I just– I just wish he’d be good like that to me, too.”

“Things can change,” Chan breathes out. “He can change. You… you didn’t see him when you were unconscious, but I did. Y/N, I do think he loves you, I truly do but… I think he hasn’t realized it yet. Things haven’t been easy for the King. He’s protected himself as long as I can remember, always deploying the army to protect his people.”

“Chan–“

“I believe he loves you,” Your friend says. “But I also believe he doesn’t know how to love you.”

“My wife at last,” Minho smiles, guiding you across the dance floor. With him, things are easy– his smile make it so everything is easy.

“Indeed I am,” You smile back, and for the night, just for your wedding night, you’ll allow yourself to pretend. To pretend you’re in love; to pretend you are loved. “Can’t back out now, my King.”

“Wouldn’t dare even if I wanted to,” He snort, and you love these moments, the ones that he allows himself the casualness of life. “You are lethal, my dear wife.”

“So are you, my dear husband,” You raise your brows. “I believe I remember certain twin blades on these same hands that hold me, right now.”

“I am sure you must’ve been confused,” He laughs. His eyes disappear under the giddiness of his smile and you enjoy the moment to caress his face. “I am helpless without my Queen.”

Minho finds you in the gardens. You are dressed in strange clothes, men clothes, and something inside twists. The way you move your hands graciously through the large flowers is enough to have him walking to you, making himself announced with his heavy steps. The sun shines particularly bright on your face once you turn around to look at him, and he swears you look angelic, everything about you screaming innocence.

“Okay, that is enough Y/N,” Minho breaths out, frustration driving him over the edge. He moves from where he is standing to kneel in front of you, and, oddly enough, it bring you back to a fond memory of him in this same position, sitting you on his throne. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but you are my wife. We are bound together by sacred matrimony, in which I vowed to take care of you, to protect and love you–“

“Love me?” You mumble, and there is something wrong once your eyes meet his. It’s almost like you don’t see him; like he is a ghost which you look straight past. “Love me, Minho? Do you love me?”

“Of cour–”

“That woman in your room,” You interrupt him, and you are very aware of your position; if you had not married the King, uttering a word in his direction could mean death. But as his wife, you have the power to interrupt him, to argue with him, to ask things of him– and yet, you still can’t gather the courage to simply talk to him. “If she had sneaked in, I would’ve noticed. I would’ve heard her, especially considering how you keep your windows closed at night. They creak, you know? Loudly. That’s why, usually, invaders will look for an easier entrance… like an open in the room next door.”

“Is… Is that why you leave you room’s window open?” He gasps. “To reroute them to an easier entrance?”

“Not an easier entrance,” You shake your head, and you finally focus on him, eyes on fire with anger, with rage. “Me. I manipulate their way towards me, so that if there is an attempt to someone’s life, it will be mine.”

“Y/N–“

“Tell me,” The way your voice wavers is enough to have him in high alert, desperately scrambling to try and get closer to you. “How did she get in your room? If not sneaking through the obvious entrance, how would she get in, my King… unless. Unless you invited her yourself?”

“No, that’s… I mean–“

“On our wedding day, I signed my life away,” You tell him, voice growing louder by the word. “I gave myself to you– body and soul– and all I asked back was your loyalty. You remember that? You remember the promise you made me, Lee Minho?”

“I do. I promised you I would never humiliate you,” He recites, frowning at the memory of you in a wedding gown, eyes wide as you listened to his words carefully. The kingdom was unaware, but you two signed the contract in front of them all. “I would never displease you, and I would never betray you. I would protect, love, cherish and care for you. I would do my best.”

“So now I ask, is this your best?”

“No.”

“Then did you lie to me?” You walk to him, finger poking his chest persistently. “Did you lie?!”

“No!” He shouts, taking a step closer, and you don’t feel fear– you could never fear him. Not him, with the hands that held you so close during your wedding; not him, with the mouth that smiles down at you in the most random of times; not him, that promised you the world, even if just for appearances. “I would never lie to you!”

“Then how did she–“

“I invited her!”

You had a hunch, but the confession is practically a slap to your face.

“Her name… her name is Adeline,” He sighs, eyes watery and full of regret. “We grew up together, much like you and Chan. She is the daughter of one of the old cooks; my parents allowed their children on the grounds so that I would have friends, you know? Her and I were really close, until I hit a certain age, and my training begun. Father had big plans for me, so he had to be harsh, I understand that but… he pulled me away from everyone. Adeline did not take well to the news and she– she was only trying to help, but she talked to Mother and the next thing I know they are being sent away and–“

Minho rubs his face with his hands, breathing deeply to regulate himself.

“The war hit and it was time for me to take over. I got used to how things were, so I just carried on like that, but it… it was hard. I was practically a kid, I was desperate and alone, so I reached out to her. Her words were familiar and comforting and it became a habit– whenever rough times were ahed, I’d rely on her. She knows be better than anyone, and I think she might’ve misunderstood my intentions. I got a letter… on our wedding day. She was angry and disappointed and I felt guilty and so I just kept writing.”

“What would you two talk about?” Jealousy is a foreign feeling for you, considering you’ve never had much to be jealous over. Yet you feel it as if it has been born with you, as if it controlled you whole. You hate a woman you never met and not for the right reasons– not for an attempt to your life, but for an attempt to seduce your husband.

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N, we–“

“It matters to me!” You cry out. Surprised with yourself, you cover your mouth with your hands, looking away from him. But he heard you– loud and clear– and he is not about to let this go.

“Why?” Minho questions, taking another step closer, until he can feel the warmth from your body touching his. “Why would you care?”

“Because you won’t let me in your chambers, but you invited her in,” Defeated, you let your hands fall down. Everything that’s been bothering you, suddenly race to the front, and all the nights you spent crying, all the injuries you’ve received in his stead, all the comments about who you are… it’s all too much. “You barely talk to me, but you write to her constantly! You push me away just to pull to her closer– should I continue?!”

It’s another cold night in the castle. Another lonely, dark night in which the wind blows so violently that the trees whispers secrets that weren’t for the random ear; the windows rattled and the doors creaked, and it all sounded much like a song– on a that you would never dance to. In your room, the candle is still lit, and you shiver under your covers, pulling them up past your neck and just above your nose. Once again, your husband refused to join you in sleep, as much as you tried to change his mind, and you have to brave the night by yourself.

The darkness is not your friend– someone like you doesn’t get to enjoy nighttime. You have more than enough training and enemies to be aware of what lurks in the shadows. People don’t take kindly to your abilities, and with the years, you’ve gathered a fair amount of people who might want to hurt you, but ever since you’ve became Queen, those people might just as well kill you. Your husband’s façade protectiveness is a curse in disguise, and anyone that might attempt an attack against you personally will have to be lethal, as to not leave any personal traces behind.

The windows rattle again and you whimper, scared. Your heart is racing with the just thought of an invasion. Even though you have absolute confidence in your skills and you know that you can protect yourself if need be, you don’t want to live looking over your shoulder; you want to be able to sleep in peace, without staying half awake in case of emergencies.

The wind sings again and this time, you cry over this sad, sad song.

“We talked about you.”

“You are a proper bastard, Lee Minho,” You feel sick. Your stomach turns and churns and you feel like you’re about to faint. “You truly are–“

“I told her I’m in love with you.”

Once you bring your hand up, you can’t bring it down– no matter how much you argue with yourself. You just can’t.

“I told her about us,” He closes his eyes, expecting to fuel you with enough anger to have you strike him across the face. You need this, and he deserves it. “That we keep each other at arm’s length, that we barely talk, that we–

“And how did that result in her entering you sleeping quarters?” If you hear one more fault in your relationship, you think you’ll break. You’ll give up. And you can’t give up, not now, not when you two are finally talking.

“She wrote to me saying she was passing through the village on her way East. I told her to come visit.”

“At night?!”

“It’s the only time that you are not next to me,” He mumbles, hands behind himself, holding back the want to reach out and bring you closer and closer and closer until you are practically one. “And I didn’t want her next to you. I know about her feelings for me, she makes them plenty obvious, and I did not want her to shred the little trust you have in me.”

“And how do you think that is working for you, my King?” Your voice is pure venom. “How do you think that shred of trust is dealing?”

“It is not, I know that, okay?!”

“Do you, Minho?” You cry out, and you fist finds his chest. And then again. And again. And you hit him until you con’t have the energy to do so anymore, but it doesn’t help; you don’t feel better, you just feel tired. “How could you do this to me? She almost killed me! She almost killed you! Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t leave you,” Minho whispers, frowning as the image of your bloody gown comes back to mind. “And because I wouldn’t take her as my lover. Adeline was under the false belief that once the time came, I would take her as my Queen. That I was in love with her.”

“Wasn’t you?”

“I loved her,” He explains. “Like you love Chan. Like family love each other… or at least like I thought family was supposed to love each other. I don’t have much experience in the area, but that is what I imagined having a sister was like. Adeline, on the other hand, had envisioned us a future.”

“You love her,” You nod, and this is the first time you two reach an understanding. “But you are not in love with her.”

“Yes…” A puff of air escapes him and you feel it in your face, and you reach a point in which you are not sure if it is rage that still bubbled inside you, or desire. “I am sorry, Y/N. I truly am– all your injuries, all your pain… it is all because of me.”

“No–“

“Yes!” The hold on your shoulders only bring you closer and you close your eyes, feeling his lips brush yours as he speaks. “It is! I– she barely hurt me, but you; God, Y/N, you were stabbed! You had blood all over you! You were unconscious for days and all I could do was sit by you and cry, begging whatever is out there to wake you up! I… I never felt so powerless in my life.”

“Don’t be foolish,” You frown, hand moving to cradle his face. “You’re the most powerful man I know, Lee Minho.”

“Not when it comes to you,” Your husband whispers. “When it comes to you, I’m as powerless at the next man… I am simply at your service, my Queen.”

You hold your breath as he leans closer, and, when he kisses you, it is all very familiar.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Those words will haunt you for the rest of your life. The way Minho’s eyes bulge slightly in surprise, since he’s clearly forgotten about this step in the confirmation of your union, so you take the lead. With a rehearsed giggle, you offer him a gentle pull, hand gripping his so harshly that you would not be surprise if it stopped his blood flow.

“Are you ready?” He whispers, nosing your cheek in a false adoring motion. The kingdom is watching, you remind yourself, and you raise your hand to back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair that escapes his heavy crown.

“Yes, my King,” You whisper back, and for the first time, you notice you’re shaking.

When his lips touch yours for the first time, it’s simple. It’s a light touch, and you’ve heard about this kind of kiss; the ones the maidens in the village talk about when they tell tales of their escapades. The Teasing Kiss, they called it, and you’ve never really understood what they meant until that moment. Until he pulled away, your mouth chasing his and wanting more. And then he kisses you again, coming right back, and the cheers and screams from the thousands of people watching you two gets drowned out by the increased pressure, the increased need. His lips are faster, more desperate, and it’s almost like they search for something within you, coaching an answer out of you, and the best way you can give him what he want is to give him what he wants. You follow his lead, and you are not sure for how long the two of you push, and pull, and give, and take, and it’s only when the priest coughs uncomfortably that you focus enough to pull away.

“Now please,” Minho says, even though he is still breathless and shocked. “Bow down to my Queen.”

His hand is in yours, guiding you through the hallways you’ve gotten so used to walk alone. You don’t know how to feel; you don’t know what to do. You’ve never imagined this possible, but he seems to be in such a hurry that you barely have time to gather you thoughts before you’re being led inside his chambers; before you are being sat down in his bed and he is moving quickly around the spacious quarters. Your eyes follow him, the sun shining through the window and hitting his back, and you can see his muscles through his shirt. You are distracted for a second, but once he opens the doors of his wardrobes you feel your heart stop– your eyes prickle with tears at the sight of an almost empty space. Only a few shirts and britches in view, and you start to wonder if he truly sleeps in this room.

“Wha–“

“Here you go, my Queen,” Minho mumbles shyly, face tainted red. His hands give you a set of clothes to change, and you frown at him, confused. “You can dress in mine instead… if you’d like, of course.”

“Thank you,” You mumble, blinking up at him. Your hands are slow, and you even dare to smile at him, now blushing yourself.

In hopes to escape from his intense gaze, you look around, and everything seems normal; desk full of unsigned decrees, a couple of painting by his wall, a small pile of dirty laundry to be taken by the maids. Typical to men’s fashion, he seems truly embarrassed by his lack of royal behavior in the privacy of his own chambers, and you her him muttering something as he quickly moves around, hiding his dirty clothes in the empty wardrobe and moving to tidy his bed. His large, wide bed. With only one messy side.

“Do you even sleep here?” You joke, getting up from where you sit.

“O-Of course!” His nervous stammering is endearing to you. “Where else would I sleep?”

“It’s just… only one side seems slept on,” You feel as ridiculous as you probably sound, standing next to him while hugging his clothes and pointing to his bed. You feel almost childish.

“Ah, yes, well,” Long ago you’ve learned that your husband and the King are two distinct people. It was obvious from the way he behaved, sometimes, and you might’ve been biased, but you preferred your husband. You love your husband. “That’s my side of the bed. The other side is… well, is yours.”

“But you never let me sleep in here,” You worry that you are whining, pouting, and you straighten your back, composing yourself.

“I didn’t want to force you into a loveless marriage,” His hands move to grabs yours, pulling you closer to him. The way he looks at your clothes is enough to have him sighing in frustration and you chuckle, amused at this new found behavior of his. “Didn’t want to disgrace you by making you lay next to a man you don’t love.”

“But I do love you,” You say, and the way his head shoots up, eyes searching yours and then simply staring, is enough to make your knees buckle. Thankfully he has his hands around your waist now, body pushing against yours until your back is on the wall, shivering in contact with the cold surface. “I’ve asked to sleep here before, I’ve asked to–“

“I thought you were simply trying to appease me,” He shakes his head, desperately trying to argue in your defense. His hair falls over his eyes and you really, really want to reach out and push it away– you want him to see you, you want his to see all of you. “I thought… I thought you were trying to keep up appearances.”

“The night terrifies me,” You whisper as your head cocks to the side, voice wavering as tears roll down under the relief of finally dragging this out of your chest. “The dark a-and the silent, and b-being alone, it’s all too much, Minho. I’m scared all the time! I never know when someone will appear in front of me with a knife or attempt to poison my food! I never know when will be the last time I see Chan, or my parents, or– or you! I know you married me in search for personal protection and I am confident in my abilities, I swear I am, but I am so, so scared.”

“Why did you never mention this to me?” His voice breaks and you can’t believe how hurt he looks. “I’m your husband, my love, I am here to soothe you and calm you. I am here to protect you even if that costs me my life.”

“Then what would be your use for me?” You shrug, looking down in shame. “Why would you need me?”

“Because I love you,” His mouth covers your gently, giving you a quick kiss. “Because I need you,” Another one. “Because you are my Queen and I am your King.”

“I love you,” You tell him again, holding his face in your hands. “I love you so much.”

“Let me protect you,” He but begs, eyes pouring out more emotion than you’ve ever seen. “You don’t have to watch over your shoulder anymore; you don’t have to fear the dark, my love, because I will be laying right next to you, and I’ll hold you in my arms until you feel safe enough to sleep. I… I was an idiot, and for that I apologize. For that and so much more, but I am sorry for putting you in such position, I should’ve never done that. I should’ve been a better husband– a proper husband.”

You say nothing, too overwhelmed by his sudden change.

“But I’ll make it up to you,” The smile that blooms in his lips has you sighing in happiness. “Starting now.”

“Welcome to the family, my darling,” Minho’s mother smiles as he introduces her to you. It is the first time you meet the former Queen, and you see parts of your husband in her face– you see his smile in hers, and hints of the way his eyes disappear under such smile, just like hers.

“Thank you, my Queen,” You bow down respectfully, afraid to look into her eyes in case there is a mistaken understanding of defiance. You know how the power succession happens, and you know the resentment that can linger once it’s gone– all that power, all those riches. And the last thing you want is to cross your new mother-in-law.

“Look at me, my Queen,” Her voice is cold like ice, and once her fingers touch your chin, you feel as if it almost burns. “Ah. Just as I thought…”

“I–“

“You’ll do well,” She whispers. “You’re strong. He needs someone strong… he’s been strong by himself for too long, now.”

Waking up next to your husband is everything you’ve imagined it would be. His arms, tight and secure around your waist, reminds you that from now on, you won’t be alone. You won’t be alone during the day, and you won’t be alone during the nights, because now you truly have a husband; one that loves you, and adores you, and one that you love and care for back.

The night went by too fast, is what you conclude as you notice him stirring awake; you could still hear him whispering all about the days he felt he had to keep you at arms length, and you just now realize how much attention he payed while you were in your own world, floating around in your head. He tells you about the day you wore the deep red dress, and how beautiful you looked; he talks about the week he spent getting your garden ready, hoping to not ruin the surprise; he talks about how sometimes he used to– and still does– gets jealous of Chan, and of all the memories he has with you, and all the intimacy you two share, and all the laughs, the smiles, the hugs. He wanted it all– he still wants it all.

And now he can finally have it.

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aaaaahhh I’ve had this saved on my computer for so long now and I finally decided to post it :D King!Minho really does it for me 🤡❤️ what do you think of this one my lovelies? Let me know! Share, comment, help a struggling writer lol as always, thank you so much for your support <3 means the world!!!