#I would let him take care of all national affairs

[sinnerista]

Jannik santo subito

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Switch!Reader, Crassus Snow x Younger!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole, but he's a hot asshole... Stepcest, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, secrets, cussing, secret love child, Coryo is a bit selfish and too ambitious, Crassus decides to try and be a better husband/father

Part 5:

Crassus' secretary was nervous as he wracked his brain for what to tell his boss. Where should he start when it comes to giving the cold, stern, and very imposing man advice about the little things he should do for his wife. Leo doesn't want to overstep. He doesn't know anything about Crassus' marriage to you, so he's afraid to give any advice.

But as Leo felt his boss’ stare pinning him into his desk chair he decides to give the imposing platinum blonde some simple, but vital advice of, “If you really want to make your wife smile then just ask her about her day.”

Crassus nods, only to say, “But I already know how her day is, she takes care of the baby all day.”

“I didn't know that you have a baby, General Snow.”

“Yes.” The stern man with slicked back platinum hair proudly grins. “He's a week old.”

Leo nods, feeling a bit awkward with the conversation he's having with his boss. How is it that Crassus has a week old baby with his wife, but is seeking advice on how to make his wife happy? He made the miracle of life with her, shouldn't he know how to interact with her? Or is it an arranged marriage full of surface level interaction?

Yea, it must be an arrangement lacking social interactions past the expected ones in the marriage bed.

“Well, Sir, I don't want to overstep, but I think that your wife would appreciate you asking about her day with the baby even if you assume you know how it went.” Leo told Crassus, hoping that he wouldn't offend his boss since he really needed his job. He has bills to pay, you know.

“Hmm…” Crassus nods.

“Oh, and don't interrupt her even if what she's talking about sounds mundane and boring. Just nod and wait for an opening to compliment her story with a ‘that’s nice’, or an ‘oh, really’.” Leo adds in, figuring that Crassus seems like the type that needs the reminder.

“And this’ll work, make my wife happy?” Crassus asks, his voice as hard as stone.

“Most women like feeling important and letting them talk about their day uninterrupted does that.” Leo Davis explained what all husbands should know. But, as it turns out, Crassus is the exception to the rule.

“Ah.” The imposing war hero half-nods. “My first wife and I didn't live together for more than a few weeks at a time; I was deployed in 12 as the Commander during that marriage, so I'll take your word for it when it comes to communicating with my current wife.” Crassus remarks before turning his back to his secretary and returning to his office to work on something vital to Panem's national security’s budget proposal that's due to be sent to President Ravenstill for review soon.

Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of Dr. Gaul’s lab that's housed in the Citadel…

Coriolanus followed Dr. Gaul inside of the sterilized white room, bright fluorescent lights revealing that the test subject wasn't a rat or even a new mutt, but a human. A girl to be exact.

The blonde boy's baby blue eyes widened slightly at the girl, who was all skin and bones, that was tied to a metal lab table with 4-point restraints. Looking between the girl and his mentor, Coriolanus curiously asks, “What're we going to do to her?”

“Bibity, bobity, Snow’s first lobotomy.” The mad scientist sing-songed, gesturing towards an instructional guide, a drill, and a tool that looked like an ice pick that was on the surgical tray table by the subject’s mental bed.

Coriolanus was a bit confused. He learned in psychology class that the lobotomy procedure is controversial and banned. “But I thought that medical practice was banned by Panem's founding fathers?” He asks his mentor, wondering why she was going to have him perform it

“Yes, the procedure has been banned on civilized humans, such as the people residing in this very city, but your test subject today is nothing more than a lab rab- a rebellious little girl that was caught rummaging in the woods outside of District 12 like an animal.” Dr. Gaul told Coriolanus while going over to a cabinet on the other side of the room and grabbing a pair of blood red latex gloves for her protege to perform the operation on.

“The sooner you realize that the people of the districts are no better than animals the better equipped at ruling and controlling them you'll be.” The salt and pepper frizzy haired woman told her pupil while walking over to him, red gloves in hand. “I see a greatness in you, Young Snow. A greatness to be even more successful in ruling over others then your father, Crassus.” Dr. Gaul tells Coriolanus while stopping in front of him and handing him over the gloves.

“You think I could be greater than my father?” Coriolanus asks, taking the gloves from his mentor.

“Oh, I know so, Coriolanus Snow. In fact, I believe that you'll make Panem proud with all the wonderful things you're capable of.” Dr. Gaul told Coriolanus, inflating his ego. “I'll be leaving you alone with the test subject to perform the procedure. I’ve left instructions; I'm sure you can handle this on your own.”

“Of course I can, Dr. Gaul.” The ambitious young blonde assured the mad scientist. Even if the thought of performing a lobotomy on a little girl turned his stomach, he'd do it to prove himself to his mentor.

His mentor who thought he'd be a greater man than his father, the war hero General Crassus Snow.

“Make sure to keep your rest subject talking during the procedure; if she stops talking then you either drilled in too far or cut out too much brain matter. But either way, if she's damaged I'll have you dispose of her.” Dr. Gaul told Coriolanus, acting as if she was giving him instructions on how to remove an ingrown toenail, before walking out of the room and leaving her protege alone with the little girl from 12- the poor test subject doomed to be a lab rat because she wasn't viewed as a human in the mad scientist eyes.

“Please, stop, it hurts! It hurts!” The girl, whose golden pigtails were tangled and matted against the metal examining table, screamed at the top of her lungs as Coriolanus was drilling a hole into her skull.

“Shut up or else I could kill you, fucking animal.” Coriolanus snapped at his test subject while continuing to drill thru her skull.

“The things by my eye and it hurts.” The little girl cried as the drill moved right next to her eyeball, breaking thru the skull bone in her eye socket.

“Damnit, you cry more than my son does and he's a baby.” Coriolanus grumbled as the bit of the drill hit a small piece of the test subject’s brain while breaking all the way thru her skull.

Meanwhile on the Corso in the Snow family 12th floor penthouse…

You're sitting in the main room of your penthouse, watching Grandma'am rocking Cassian in her arms while cooing at the baby. The sight of your mother-in-law holding your son puts a smile on your melancholy face. It made you feel like you weren't alone in taking care of your baby; made you realize that you had support during your motherhood journey.

“I’m glad that you're a hands-on grandmother, Grandma'am.” You honestly tell the old woman as your son's icy blue eyes start to flutter heavily from being rocked.

“Oh, my sweet dear, I must admit that I'm happy to have a new baby in the house to breathe fresh life into it.” Grandma'am told you while gesturing that she wanted to pass the baby back to you. Since you're sitting next to each other on the sofa, it'll be easy to take the baby back from her. As you extend your arms for your mother-in-law to place the baby into, she tells you, “Cassian Xandros is just what you and Crassus’ marriage needs to grow and evolve into something more than a surface level bond.”

Cassian blinks his icy eyes at you and smiles before closing them. Your son reminds you so much of his father; your lover- Coriolanus. You can't help, but feel a hollow feeling inside of your soul as you think about how Coriolanus seems too worried about himself then you and the baby. That his studies and internship seem to mean more to him than the family he created with you.

A family he begged you to have.

Honestly, you and Crassus never discussed the possibility of having children. You got married shortly after graduating the Academy and he usually pulled out whenever he did fuck you. And since the subject of children never came up, you just assumed that your marriage would be childless. You even told Coryo that once or twice, which is why he was so desperate to give you a baby. Coriolanus wanted to give you something he knew that only he could give; something to tie you and him together forever.

But now that you're home with Grandma'am and the baby all day with a lack of support from both your husband and your lover, well…

Let's just say that you'll be talking to your doctor about birth control options during your 6-weeks postpartum check up.

“I don't think Cassian's going to fix my loveless marriage with your son." You bluntly tell your mother-in-law while gently rocking your son in your arms. “I doubt he truly even wanted to become a father again either.”

“Oh, Y/N, don't say that.” Grandma'am firmly tells you. “Crassus comes across as if he doesn't care, but he does. He's just a stern man, my dear.” She assures you while patting your shoulder in a motherly fashion.

“He threatened to get rid of Cassian if he was born a girl instead of a boy, Grandma'am.” You remind the old woman, who's bejeweled turbin shines like a disco ball in the bright light of the sun. “Cassian’s just a spare male heir for Crassus, nothing more and nothing less.”

And now you wonder if Coriolanus even loves your son. He rarely spends time with your baby, always using his studies as an excuse not to help with diaper changes or settling the baby down. Hell, it seems like Coryo spends more time at the University’s library than he does in Cassian's nursery.

“Y/N, dear, you have to understand that Crassus' first wife, Demeter, died in premature labor brought on by the first rebel bombings. That along with Demeter, their daughter Calla was too tiny to survive and died less than an hour after being born.”

“I'm not Demeter and my baby's not hers either, Grandma'am. I think Crassus is smart enough to know that considering he works for the Ministry of War as the Minister of National Security.” You state with a slight edge to your voice. Rising from the sofa, you announce, “I'm going to put him down; then I'll make some cucumber sandwiches for our tea time.”

“Despite looking like your mother you act awfully a lot like your father, so I hope you won't write off my son because he thinks he doesn't deserve an ounce of happiness in his life due to his previous failures.” Grandma'am tells you as you begin to walk away from the sofa and towards the hallway.

You don't respond to her, just keep walking away. Honestly, you don't want to think about let alone talk about her last words to you. You can't because they give a plausible reason for your husband's cold and indifferent attitude.

Crassus walks inside of his penthouse determined to put the advice Leo gave him to good use. He even came home at a decent hour instead of right when dinner’s being served. The sound of your husband's loafers echoing on the marble floor makes you furrow your brow. Crassus never comes home before 7 and it's nearly 6:30, so you're a bit startled.

You're watching your son as he sits in his swing when your husband comes in, briefcase clutched in his hand. But, instead of taking his briefcase to his office he places it on the glass coffee table and takes a seat on his sitting chair, which is caddy cornered to the sofa you're on. The stoic platinum blonde looks around, only to ask, “Where's mother and Coriolanus?”

“Grandma'am's visiting Pluribus; I'm sure she'll be home within the next 15 minutes.” You tell Crassus, earning a nod from him. “And Coriolanus never came home, so I assume he's in the University library burning the midnight oil in preparation for his upcoming finals.” You add in, since he did inquire about his firstborn son after all.

“I imagine once he graduates and officially becomes an Assistant Gamemaker under Dr. Gaul that he'll be keeping odd hours since the scientist practically lives in her lab.” Crassus knowingly remarks. But before you could make a reply, he gives you a thin smile and asks, “So, Petal, how was your day?”

What? Did he just ask you how your day was? What's wrong with him? He never asks you that? In fact he rarely talks to you at all if it isn't about something mundane, something that needs discussing.

“Um, I talked to Grandma’am and tended to the baby.” You tentatively answer your husband. In a way, you think it's a trick and Crassus is just going to chuckle and leave the room. It's not like he sits around chatting with you, far from it.

‘What did you and Grandma'am talk about?” Crassus pries, hoping that you'll smile or something if you relay to him what you and his mother spoke about.

But you just wave him off with a simple, “Ladies things, nothing you need to worry about.”

And then Crassus remembers that a mother's joy is her child, so he asks, “Well, how was our son today?”

“Oh, Cassian’s been good today.” You answer with a smile. A smile that your cold, unfeeling husband can't help, but wants to see permanently painted on your face. “But he's always a good baby.”

The fact that your husband was now showing an interest in your week old son had your head spinning. You're taken aback that he seems concerned about Cassian. You thought that the baby was just a spare heir to Crassus, so him asking about the baby made you wonder what was up with him. Did he suddenly decide to step up as a father or did he get abducted by aliens?

You hope it's the former. You really do. “Do you want to hold him?” You ask Crassus before you can think better of it.

“I'll get him from the swing, just sit down and tell me about what you and our boy got up to today.” Crassus told you, rising to his feet.

Watching him walk the few yards to collect your son from his baby swing, you begin to tell your husband about your day with the baby. Albeit, you think you'll probably bore him out of his mind, but you tell him anyway.

And a few minutes later when Grandma'am comes home from visiting Pluribus, she sees Crassus sitting on his sitting chair, cradling Cassian while you're telling your husband about being peed on while changing a shitty diaper. Crassus was laughing, causing you to tell him that it wasn't funny before bursting into a giggle fit of your own.

And the sight made Grandma'am hopeful that you and her son would work things out. She doesn't interrupt the family moment, instead she goes to the kitchen to inquire about dinner from the cook.

But your family moment with Crassus and Cassian does get interrupted by Coriolanus when he storms into the main room. He's got a hauntes look in his icy eyes as he scoffs, “Oh, father, I see you're acting like you suddenly care about mommy and the baby. How nice of you to act like a family man for once.”

“Coriolanus, unless you want me to cut off your allowance I advise you to watch your tongue.” Crassus scolds his firstborn, his icy eyes narrowed in warning.

“Dinner should be ready soon, I better put Cassian down.” You announce, cutting the tension in the air like a knife, as you bolt up from the sofa and rush over to Crassus.

“Mommy, can I see him before you put him down?” Coriolanus asks, watching as his father hands his son over to you.

“If you wanted to see him then you shouldn't have spent the entire afternoon in the library. It's dinner time; he needs a nap.” You tell Coryo before walking by him and going to the nursery.

“That’s not fair, Y/N-” Coriolanus begins to shout while starting to follow you, only to be cut off by Crassus jumping up to his feet and stopping him with a firm hand around his arm and the order of, “Leave my wife alone, Coriolanus. If you want to see your brother so badly then see him after dinner.”

Coriolanus yanks his arm out of his father's hold, only to give him a pissy look and storm off towards the dining room. The younger Snow thinks it's ridiculous how he has to bow down to his father when it comes to you and the baby. He hates how he has to watch his family be claimed by his father, who in his opinion doesn't deserve you or the baby.

Coriolanus swears that once he becomes successful he's going to take you and the baby away from his father. In fact, the young man with the light blonde curls is certain that he'll be successful sooner rather than later given how well his first lab experiment went. He successfully did the procedure without any harm to the lab rat and since he did so well, Dr. Gaul has agreed to let him monitor the vitals on it; to conduct more experiments as well.

As long as he keeps impressing the mad scientist and soaking in her beliefs like a sponge he's certain that he'll become a bigger success than his father. That he'll have the power to make you his and to claim your son as his.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @nayveetbhh

[dragon-ascent]

The Conspiracist

Someone claims Rex Lapis has returned, and tries to con you and Zhongli into giving offerings…obviously, it doesn’t work.

★彡 just you and zhongli low-key bullying a scammer

It’s meant to be a normal evening, just you and your husband Zhongli shopping for incense for your home, when a mousey-looking man traipsing along the marketplace holding out an offering basket draws your attention. Zhongli, ever the curious man when it comes to affairs of his nation, suggests approaching him to see what his deal is. You oblige, but almost immediately regret it.

“Rex Lapis has returned to us!” the man says, firmly shaking his fist up in the air.

For a moment you wonder if Zhongli’s secret has finally been found out, but when you turn to him you see your husband smiling warmly. “Could you please elaborate, good sir?”

He wastes no time in doing so. “Rex Lapis has re-descended from Celestia, reborn! He is currently taking some rest within a cavern deep in the Chasm, and hopes that his people will worship Him with more fervour than before!” Ah. A conspiracist.

“Yeah, well it’s more likely that I spend every night in bed with Rex Lapis,” you retort with an eye-roll, and you just faintly hear the chuckle that escapes Zhongli’s lips.

The conspiracist, however, draws in a sharp gasp. “Excuse me!” he exclaims, “that’s utter — utter blasphemy! Rex Lapis would punish you for saying such a thing!”

“What kind of punishment?” you ask, grinning, and beside you Zhongli clamps a hand over his mouth so as not to laugh even more.

Looking even more scandalised, the conspiracist quickly shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “At any rate, I will ask Him to keep you and your husband safe – as long as you drop some offerings into this basket here.” He holds out the basket, rattling it impatiently.

Zhongli, having composed himself once more, ignores the basket and rubs his chin thoughtfully. “But if Rex Lapis has truly returned, how have we not been informed of this matter?”

The conspiracist puffs his chest out authoritatively. “He has personally selected myself as His humble messenger of truth and prosperity.” Once more, he rattles the basket. “I accept - I mean, He accepts both items and Mora.”

“Might you kindly take us to Him?” Zhongli asks, still not caring about the basket. “I would love to converse with Him face to face.”

“He wishes not to be seen by many mortal eyes just yet!” cries the conspiracist, his moustache twitching. “And besides, the road to His cavern is dangerous and can only be crossed by those blessed by Him!”

Zhongli holds up his Geo vision, a small twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Then it would please you to know that we are allogenes of the very element he holds reign over.”

Now it’s your turn to giggle as you see the mousy man’s face redden like a Jueyun chili. He stumbles back. “Would you look at that, the moon is rising!” he says hurriedly, “I must return to His side lest He lose patience with me.”

“Ah. A shame. Well then, give my regards to Rex Lapis.” Not even bothered with hiding his smile, Zhongli also peers into the so-called offering basket. “Ah, and let it be known that He prefers Cor Lapis over Noctilucous Jade. Also, seafood is a definite no-go, unless you plan on finely chopping the fish.”

Casting a glare, the conspiracist declares that perhaps Zhongli must know nothing about the Geo Archon, and with a huff, he struts off – perhaps on his way to swindle someone more malleable to his tastes.

You snicker, looping your arm with Zhongli’s as you two return home for the day. “So, apparently you don’t know anything about the Geo Archon?”

Zhongli chuckles in return as he pulls you closer. “Oh dear, it appears so. How unfortunate. Whatever will I do now?”

“Let’s wallow in our misery all evening with a nice book and our new sandalwood and jasmine incense,” you bemoan mockingly.

“And after that, you shall lay in bed with Rex Lapis, hm?” He only laughs as you playfully punch his arm, all of a sudden feeling slightly bashful in front of your own husband.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: At Arm's Length.

Pairing: Yandere!Capitano x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships.

You’re not completely sure that you’ve ever heard your husband speak.

Which, to be completely fair, isn’t quite as surprising as it should’ve been, considering how long you’ve been married. You corresponded solely through letters for the entirety of your prolonged engagement, and your wedding was a rushed affair – the ceremony brief and the reception nonexistent. There'd been vows, but his had been written as a sentimental (albeit, misplaced) reminder of your bethrothal, and your wedding night had been cut short by a sudden need for his presence in Fontaine. It’d been a relief, in the moment, a gentle mercy to punctuate your floral-adorned death sentence. You'd thanked not just the Tsaritsa, but all the many Archons for their clemency, and resolved that your relationship with Capitano would not be an affectionate one.

Now, you can only worry that he’d considered it a mercy, as well.

It’s a needless anxiety, really. Why should you care whether or not he loves you? You certainly don’t love him, and you’ve always known that Harbingers only marry out of convenience, that you’re more of an asset to him than a proper companion. He needs someone to take care of his household while he’s away, fighting for Snezhnaya in some distant nation, not a true partner, not someone it would affect him at all to leave for months at a time. He doesn't need to love you.

You shouldn’t be as nervous as you are, shouldn’t have to keep your hands balled so tightly around your sheets as you wait for Capitano. He’d returned to your estate earlier that evening, his armor dusted with ash and gore and his men visibly exhausted. You’d been there to receive him, but your sole greeting had come in the form of a hand on your shoulder, a light hum of approval before he left you, once again, to tend to matters that he genuinely cared for. Only minutes later, you’d asked a maid to fetch him for you, but that was hours ago, and you’re starting to think that he simply hadn't deemed it worth his time. Capitano is a lot of things, but you’d never known him to be careless. He couldn’t have forgotten, unless he genuinely cared so little for you that he paid you no mind at all.

You square your shoulders, gritting your teeth in frustration, but no sooner than you’d begun to curse yourself for being so naïve, the door to your chambers slowly creaks open, forming an entrance just wide enough to allow your husband through. Immediately, you do what you can to regain your composure, but if he senses your distress, if he cares about your faltering posture, the dark circles under your eyes, his concern is hidden by his ever-present mask. You can’t remember ever seeing him without the damned thing.

For a long moment, he only stands in front of you, silent and apathetic. You sigh, resigning yourself to a very lengthy, very one-sided conversation. “My lord,” You started, bowing your head slightly. “I… If you have a few spare minutes, I’d like to speak to you.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. Again, you do what you can to bite back your irritation, gesturing towards the remaining space on the foot of your bed. “I'd also like you to sit down, my lord.”

He hesitates, but ultimetly abides you, lowering himself onto the mattress by your side. During his frequent absences, it could be easy to forget how large he is, how imposing he looks in his armor, how effortlessly he’s able to tower over you. You’d always known he was a soldier, a Harbinger, but still. He seems more like a monster, when the two of you are alone together.

You purse your lips, but force yourself to speak. “I’ve been dutiful to you, haven’t I?”

A stilted nod, but little else. Honestly, it’s already more than you expected.

“Have I disappointed you in some way? Failed to satisfy the responsibilities you've left for me?”

He shakes his head, as you had assumed he would.

“I… I just feel like I’ve let you down. You’re preoccupied, and I’m only here to care for your estate. I understand that. I know you don’t love me, but I can’t help but feel that you’ve been… distant, recently.” You pause, letting out a breathy laugh. Hands folded over your lap, your eyes set solidly on the floor, it's hard not to feel a little childish. Like you're playing house with someone who never had an interest in indulging you, let alone playing along. “I mean, I can’t even remember the sound of your voice. That’s not something I’d like to say about my own husband, no matter how superficial our marriage might be.”

He doesn’t react, not immediately. You wait, your patience well-trained to accommodate his reserved nature.

Then, he raises a hand to the bottom of his mask. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, more out of anticipation than anything else, and for a moment, just a moment, you think you might be allowed a glimpse of his face. You want to see his face. You want to be able to turn your husband into something other than a dark, foreboding shadow – present only in his letters, when there's a nation's worth of land between you and him.

But, your heart falls as quickly as it'd started to flutter. There is no face, no features you can assign to your dearly beloved. Instead, a thin line forms across the center of his mask, the metallic surface splitting apart into two jagged, organic pieces; revealing an endless void interrupted only by rows upon rows of pointed, razor-like teeth. All as white as snow, and so, so much sharper than they should’ve been, if he was anything remotely human.

The shock leaves you in a stupor as a long, black, tapered tongue curls out of the nothingness. The flat of it runs over your neck, your cheek, and you don’t have time to shudder before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap with no hint of strain. “Love,” He says, but the word is more purred than spoken, stifled and distorted and twisted into something only barely recognizable. It nearly hurts to listen to. “My love.”

He goes silent, after that. His tongue retreats, his mask (mask? face?) sealing back into its idle state, but he continues to hold you, to trace little patterns into your sides with the pointed claws that you'd once believed belonged to his gloves. You only remain still. It’s all you can do to tell yourself to breathe. It's all you can do to remind yourself that he’s still a soldier, that he’s still a Harbinger, and it would be best not to struggle against him.

It’s all you can do to be thankful that your husband chooses to speak so rarely.

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

11. The Missing Songbird

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

(Y/n) (l/n) lay frozen in that chamber for centuries. Stuck in a dreamland where everything was perfect. He should’ve left her there. She had peace in a sleep filled with dreams that would never come true.

But he was bored. He wanted a life, and a family, and no one was letting her out on their own accord. So why not him? He already knew everything about her. He could praise her and provide a good life for her here in the Vaults.

Henry, now commonly known as Hank MacLean wanders to Vault 31. Searching row after row of frozen chambers until he came across what he was looking for. Posted up in the seat, blue lips, and frosted lashes (y/n) (l/n) lay undisturbed. He smiles, pressing all the needed codes for her release. He injects her with a syringe. Just a little memory wipe to make the process easier on his part. He transports her to Vault 33, setting her up on the metal examination table and hooking an IV into her arm. All he could do was wait. He wouldn’t be so bored anymore with her around.

~

I open my eyes but quickly close them again due to the bright white light. I reach out into the air, my body weak. “Help,” I whisper with the little energy I have in my bones. My throat was dry and my lips were numb. My vision comes soon after the feeling in my fingertips. I look down at myself, seeing a blue suit lined with yellow. I choak out a sob, not entirely sure of why I’m sad. I was so confused. I couldn’t remember anything. The overwhelming feeling of fear taking root.

I look around quickly through tear-soaked eyes. I’m lying on a table, an IV drip in my arm. I start to breathe heavily. Was I sick? Did I pass out? Where was everyone? Where was I?

Who am I?

Then I heard it, “You’re alright. Would you like some help sitting up?” A single voice that calmed the nerves. I looked up to see a man. A small, weak man, with a wide friendly smile, “My name, is Hank. Everything is okay. Do you remember where you were before you fainted? Why you were running?” I stare at him in confusion. I shake my head, covering my eyes. “I… I don’t remember anything.” Hank pressed a smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re safe now. I’ll grab a tray of food and some water and be right back. You must be starving.” I feel my anxiety rising as he steps away. The fear of being alone again with unanswered questions claws at my brain. “Wait…” I reach for him, this stranger. “Would you stay? Please?” Hanks's smile spreads over his cheeks, “of course I will.”

Day after day Hank would arrive with breakfast, spending the hours of the day teaching me about the Vaults and how the community functions. It sounded like a dream. “I have your file from the Overseer of 31,” Hank excitedly says as he types away on his Pip-Boy. “So soon? I thought you said it would take them a week.” Hank smiles down at his screen. “It has your name.” A smile grows on my face.

A real name. My name! Something factual I could hold onto in this sea of uncertainty. I grab his arm tugging him close, looking down at the screen. I read the name slowly, the information warming my chest. “Melody Richards.” Hank smiles at me, “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

I sit with a grin, content with being Melody. Content with being someone.

“Everyone will love you, Melody,” Hank reassured me as he walked us down the corridor, arm in arm. Vault 33 had put together an entire function just for me. To welcome me into their community.

Life was good. I felt right at home in Vault 33 with Hank. He took care of me. He made sure I was always happy. It was hard for me to believe sadness was still an emotion I could have. We married soon after, and my days were happy. I was assigned to teaching, which I was surprisingly good at. Maybe I was a teacher in my past life. It had been a year and Hank and I were just so happy. The daily routine is memorized by my brain. Every day just like the last. A predictable happy day. Until one individual day when everything changed.

“Girls, is there something you’d like to say,” I ask politely as a group of 3 girls. The bell has rung, and class is over, but yet they remain in their seats. They giggle as they look at me. I feel myself shrink. Was something on my face?

Becca, a 13-year-old girl with long blonde hair smiles at me. “You look just like Mary from that movie we just saw last night. She’s so pretty.” I tilt my head, “I didn’t know I missed movie night! I wish I had known.” The girls jump in excitement, “We’re about to go watch it again! Do you want to come? We need a chaperone anyway.”

It was only 3:00, I didn’t have to make dinner for another hour or so. I could use a little break. I shrug my shoulders, “Sure, why not? Lead the way, girls.”

They skipped down the hall telling me all I needed to know about the film. “So Mary is a singer and she works for this bad guy who owns the club. Bill, the detective is trying to catch the club owner but falls for the singer in the process. He saves her and then she tells him off! And he chases her in the rain! They are so cute! Ugh! I wish I could meet someone like that.”

We take our seats in the theater, waiting for the picture to roll. The screen lights up, and a nightclub scene appears. The picture drifts to a stage where a stunning young woman walks through the curtain. She begins to sing. Her voice swims through the room beautifully. I watch in amazement as she belts the song. I wish I could sing like that.

A man enters to club and is instantly taken by Mary. She sings to him, reaching out. He trails from table to table until he takes a seat in the very front. She walks down sits on his table and finishes her song. The man smiles at her. It warms my chest to see a new love.

I did look similar, but in no way was I more than a resembling face to the old actress.

At the dock Bill pulls her away from gunfire, shielding her in the street. “You have to go, Mary.” She shakes her head, “I told you. I can handle myself.” He turns to her, cups her cheeks, and brings her in close for a passionate kiss. “I know you can, but if you get hurt. I won’t be able to handle myself.” He stroked her cheek lightly.

In such focus, I don’t think twice about the cold ghostly touch on my own cheek. I watch in a trance as they express their feelings. I run my fingertips over my lips, feeling a light tingling. What a reaction! This film was something else. The two actors sold the roles. They acted just like they really loved each other. The film finished and I was hooked.

The next few days I rented every film and every record by (y/n) (l/n). I danced in the kitchen as I made dinner. Spinning around I place the meal into the oven.

Hank walks in, a confused look present. I giggle and grab his hands. “Dance with me.” I hum lightly to the song as I attempt to get him to join. He doesn’t. Instead, he walks over to the radio and turns the record off. I watch him, and an unfamiliar clench in my chest rises. His eyes bore into mine. “Melody, where did you get that?” His stare is lined with a nervous smile. “The library. They’ve started renting out movies and records now.” He nods as he watches me. I return to cooking dinner silently. I turn my head to look at Hank. He reads the back of the record case with furrowed brows.

The cover stands out. She really was beautiful. Clad in a silky red dress, her hair done nicely, and makeup to perfection. “Some of my students said I look like her.” I smile at the thought of being that stunning. Hank looks at me, no expression on his face. “I don’t see it.” He gathers up the films and records into a pile. “I’m not a big fan of this type of thing. You’re so much better, Melody. I don’t want you to get a complex." Hank exits the vault without another word.

The right thing to do would be to listen to him. he was my husband and the voice of reason in the dynamic. However, I can hear someone. Someone deep down calling out. Begging me to sing those songs. I lay in the bed staring blankly at the wall. Someone won’t let me rest. Someone is clawing at my skin from the inside out begging to escape. I look at Hank. The man I had come to know seemed like a stranger. Such an out-of-character act for him. He loved music, any type.

I feel the haunting pull. Forcing me to get out of bed and slowly creep down the illuminated hall. I wonder, feeling my feet carry their way. I stop at the doors to the theater. The invisible tug pulls me into the room. The only light was upon the stage. A ghostly smile grows on my face as I advance to the stage. I stand on the elevated wooden floor, looking out over the rows of seats.

I can’t explain why or how, but I began to sing. A song I had never known or heard begins rolling out of my mouth. Emotion taking over my body. This lost soul pulling their way to the light.

“I can hear you but I won't

Some look for trouble while others don't

There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day

And ignore your whispers, which I wish would go away”

I see the mist of a figure seated in the middle. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide. He feels so familiar. Something inside myself was wrong. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a singer. I wasn’t a performer.

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear

And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear

Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls

I'm sorry, secret siren but I'm blocking out your calls

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new

I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The figure is closer now, allowing the light to bleed into their frame. He stands from his seat, taking slow steps towards the stage. I fall to my keens awaiting him. It was the only thing that felt right.

“What do you want? 'Cause you've been keeping me awake

Are you here to distract me so I make a big mistake?

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

It’s him. The man from the films. He pulls himself onto the stage, cupping my face in his palms. The warmth of his hands has me believing he’s real. He’s here with me.

“Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Into the unknown

Into the unknown

Into the unknown”

I cling to him as I sing. His smile couldn’t widen anymore. His eyes dazzling as he watches me. His touch pulled the lost soul to the surface. Pulling her out and tossing Melody inside the cage.

This has been an entire trick. I see my entire past in his orbs. The movie, the secret meetings, the months of sadness, the party, the divorce, the engagement, Barb, and Vault Tech…

I breathe heavily as I finish the song. I stare at my hands I allow a tearful laugh to escape. I'm back... I'm me... The heavy weight of the unknown universe is gone.

It's just Cooper and I. I look up expecting to see him, but I'm alone. "Cooper?" I call out only to be met with my echo. The doors in the back open swiftly. I smile watching his figure walk down the dark path.

"Cooper." I go to run into his arms, but I stop at the sound of the voice, "You just couldn't leave it alone. Could you?" Hank advances the stage, stalking me with his eyes. "Henry." I back away with each step he takes.

"Where is he?" He shrugs, "Probably dead." He extends a hand, "Why don't you just come back with me? We have a good life." I shake my head, my back hitting the lush red curtains. "You tricked me!" Henry tosses his head back with a dark laugh. "I saved YOU!"

He lunged at me, grabbing my frame in his grasp. I scream as I struggle against him. "No!" I kick against him, "I'm not going back!" Tears fall from my eyes, "COOPER!" I ball as I violently thrash against Henry. He pulls out a syringe from his pocket. Shaking his head he holds me down. "I've got an idea on how to make you more... compliant." He stabs the needle into my neck. Second after second, I feel my limbs weaken. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I lost. Falling into my death that was disguised as a restful slumber.

~

Hank MacLean buzzed around the lab, watching the machine craft such a perfect specimen. “She’s beautiful.” He whispers lowly, in shock, he had never seen such an astonishing creation.

Fastened in a tube lay a newly built machine, recreated from past generations, but was lost, until he reconstructed it… reconstruccted her. He recreated her from the ruins she once was. Sitting in the dark storage unit, rotting away in the grave of all the failed experiments and equipment. Where the past had failed the future will succeed.

The young Hank overlooked the newly finished machine. She was sparkly. Her skin was smooth, her lashes long, her cheeks the color of rose, her lips plump, makeup drew on to perfection. She looked just like she did in the movies.

With one finger he types a single code into the computer system with haste. As the shield opens fog rolls out of the tube, kissing the floor. Her eyes open, knitting her brows together. A calmness washed over her. She steps out of the chamber completely nude. She smiles at the small madman. “Hi there, I’m, Melody. How can I be of assistance, Mr. MacLean?”

She was easier to… control. Hank had an easy life in the vaults, mostly because his synthetic humanoid wife listened to his every command without question She cooked his favorite meals, and cleaned until the home was spic can span. She was the perfect wife. What else could he want?

Short answer? He wanted Rose. One of the newcomers in a trade with Vault 32. He had become obsessed with her. Her beauty was impeccable. Not fake like Melody’s drawn-on liner. She was the sweetest creature he had ever come to know. Rose was made for him. Unlike Melody who Hank crafted to fit his narrative. However, this had to be fate. No one had made his heart beat like Rose. That night as he returned home for dinner. He had a plan. One final act and he would be free to woo Rose. To have and to hold her forever. He just had to get rid of Melody first.

He hauled her mechanical body to the top floor, disposing of her and all of the remaining items. Her belongings, movies, albums, clothes. Anything Hank had hidden away to shield the truth from her. It worked for some time. He wanted more. He had the perfect wife, but he wanted real raw emotions. Yes, she has a real brain and a heart, but it never truly belonged to him. She would forever feel the attachment to the old actor long gone with the land.

He set everything down with a huff. He took one glance at her cold emotionless face before looking down at his wrist to input the codes. The codes to shut her off, to put her to death once and for all.

Just as he brings his finger down to hit the last number, his finger curls around his hand, and forcefully turns it upwards. The synthetic copy of (y/n) holds Hanks's wrist with a bone-crushing grip. She leans in, dark eyes as she bends his wrist to look at the screen.

“You were going to shut me off?” She twitches her head. An internal battle raged in her mind. Two lives battle for dominance, but clash together in a confusing mixture. Hank yelps as he tries to hit the last number, but she is faster. She quickly breaks his other wrist. He screams in agony, glaring at her. “You bitch!” He grits his teeth as he tries to grab ahold of her. She kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

She twitches as she grabs the box in her hands.

Run.

Run.

RUN!

The internal voice screams the commands. She swiftly opens the vault door, the sunlight shining in blinding her. She doesn’t look back at the sorry excuse of the man who had created such a machine. She left in search of something unknown.

[foccaccia]

listen. im not saying the Avatar Yangchen duology is the most serious, heartbreaking, well-written, or adult story ive ever read. it isnt. but it also took me by fucking surprise. the torture scene? yangchen's successive breakdowns? jetsun's death and fate? all the deaths?? that one dead kid? (and all the other dead tortured child army kids??) the slow endless horror of the avatar cycle? being literally haunted and fucking lost in the countless incarnations of yourself and the knowledge that you have to dirty yourself for eternity with guilt, failure, death, and sin to save a bare few in the face of a world that will never stop trying to kill itself? having to make peace with that?

yangchen is so compelling to me. everyone loved her brief moment in the Avatar show, because of her stark "You have to abandon your own spiritual needs for the betterment of the world". but the novels drive that home in an interesting way.

yangchen is faced with greed on an unparalleled scale, and it is tearing the world apart. she is so desperate to do some good - shes so haunted by her countless past lives and desperate to at least not have regrets the same way they all do. she builds a spy network from nothing before she's even a teenager because she cant trust anyone, and at every step she is betrayed over and over by literally everyone she cares about, every choice she makes hurts or kills people, she spends almost the entirety of the second novel hopped up on enough drugs to would kill an ordinary person just so she can stay awake bc shes so terrified of hesitating for a single second. i cant figure out if haunted or chronically ill is a better term for whatever is happening in her brain but its. its fucked.

in a lot of ways she is objectively terrible at both avatarhood and being a spy, but she is exactly what the world needs. she so desperately loves her people, her culture, mercy, pacifism, and systematically cuts every tie to these things, no matter how much it hurts. she gets her hands so fucking dirty, she abandons her principles in every circumstance but one (the last Unanimity), she lets murderers and torturers go free and takes immediate economic control of half a world to abuse it.

and its the right decision. i know she gets flak because of how hard kuruk had to invisibly work the next cycle to fight the spirits yangchen pissed off, but yangchen's whole character is about balance, even more than aang's ever was, imo. aang gets a nearly perfect happy ending (which is good! there were good morals and a great story about culture and peace and genocide in the show, im not criticizing it) but yangchen's story really is wholly about balancing the world and the sacrifices you make to keep it even. for all that shes not a great avatar, shes actually a perfect avatar. she fixed it.

alao, kavik is fascinating. im putting him in a terrarium and shaking it. and the stark criticism of the white lotus the entire time... the implication they caused the platinum affair... ayunerak and do flatly admitting they will let (and even help along) the nations crash and burn in an apocalyptic war without fighting to stop it if it means they have control and can pop out of a bunker at the end to reshape society.... augh.

[vonev]

Sweets

MW2, Simon “Ghost” RileyxReader fanfiction

A one-shot I dedicated a full night's rest to, amen.

Self-insert, AFAB, she/her pronouns.

Word count, 6230

—”Sweets.”

Everyone in the room turned to Ghost, his word taking a while to register in everyone’s mind.

“Why?” Gaz was the first to bring up the question everyone wanted to ask—he looked at Ghost and tilted his head. 

“She likes sweets,” Ghost muttered.

OR

You slowly fall in love with your first lieutenant in command.

______________________________________________________________

Love was always complicated: one-sided, reciprocated, or none at all.

You recall elementary school days; you had your eyes on a particular boy that sat beside you during classes. You two would always exchange shy glances, and both hands would always be so close yet far. The two of you had been young and naive to the true concept of love. But it had been nice; he would always wave at you after school before being sent home and shared the same table as you during lunch—sharing his food with you as well.

It was the purest form of love, yet so far from the truth of it.

You were transferred to a different school only a month after—something about your mother having an affair with the school principal, and your father had found out. You remember the argument your parents shared at the principal’s office; a couple of other teachers had peaked into the office to get an earful to fuel their gossip later, leaving you awkwardly standing to the side as you held your head down low.

When your father clasped his large palm around your small one and dragged you out of the office, you saw the boy walking around the corner—the two of you shared glances, and without knowing, it would've been the last time you ever saw him again.

He merely waved you an enthusiastic goodbye; the promise of sharing lunches the next day hung on his lips as he watched you leave through the front door with your father in hand.

You had no idea how much it meant to you, not until you recalled the memory years later, whilst enjoying a romance book—the evening dawn basking your figure as you sat in your chair on the balcony. 

“If you remember me, then I don’t care if everyone else forgets.”

For the whole evening that day, you wondered if the boy had ever thought of you, too.

It hadn’t taken long for you to find your next love; it was during secondary school when you were a freshman. 

A surge of gossip circled around a particular sophomore student who won the national basketball championship with his team. It was a big deal, apparently—not to you, but even so, you could applaud his effort to achieve such a feat. 

The way you two met was nothing short of cliche.

You were rushing down the empty school hallway; with a stack of paper sandwiched in a folder, clutched in your arms as you practically flew across the hallway. You rounded a sharp corner, and the next few seconds were a blur—you felt the file filled with papers flying out of your grasp as you landed on your butt, head hitting the corner of the wall; pain started blooming in your temple at the harsh impact.

You let out a string of curses as you registered your situation. 

You bumped into someone, or rather, he bumped into you. 

Your eyes squeezed open as they trailed toward the boy on the floor across from you. He was rubbing the back of his head as he slowly propped himself back up with his elbow; hisses spilt out of him as his eyes shot open. “Hey, you—” his irritated gaze landed on you, and as he took in the imagery in front of him, his eyes softened tenfold.

You tilted your head, hand reaching up to soothe the nagging headache. You were stunned—before remembering the purpose of running down the hallway in the first place.

You were late for class.

Panic ensued—you were totally screwed if you couldn’t attend Mrs Fellot’s class in time. Your arms reached out as you picked up the fallen file and scrambled to retrieve the scattered papers across the ground. You mumbled incoherent ‘oh nos’ and ‘fucks’ under your breath, so busy with collecting the sheets that you hadn’t noticed another hand reaching out, bumping into yours.

Your eyes flickered from the papers to the boy in front of you. His eyes shone a bright green as they pierced deep into your skin, and his lips hung open as though he had words to say. But you only cocked an eyebrow at him and went back to gathering the layer and layer of written scripts from the floor. The boy’s hand froze in place, unknowing of what to do. You stood back up a minute later, and all the papers were now comfortably seated in your file. 

Before you leave the scene, your eyes trail his hunched-over form, and you both share glances at each other as you soon dart away down the hallway. 

You had been late to class that morning.

Mrs Fellot gave you detention for being a minute late to her class, and as a student, you had no choice but to glue your butt to your seat and accept your fate as your classmates gave you looks of pity.

Around lunchtime, the boy from earlier approached your table as you were seen picking and prodding at your food—you had no appetite for the food they provided at school. He invited himself into the seat across from you; you hadn’t even noticed his presence until you heard a snap of his fingers in front of your face. You perked up at the noise, your cautious gaze recognising the pair of bright green ones that faced you. 

Your lips pulled into a sneer as you looked at him, displeased at the event that unfolded that morning. And for that entire lunchtime, you both bantered with each other, throwing light-hearted insults—that wasn’t to say you have forgiven him for the detention you received because of him, but your mood was no longer soured for the rest of the day.

You both found out later that he had gotten detention from his teacher for being late, too.

Detention that day was blissful because he had been there by your side. 

And so, your 9th-grade love story unfolded. 

He would meet you for lunch every day and walk you home from school so he could wave you goodbye at your front door. Once, he had gotten into trouble with his coach because he abandoned his practice just to meet you in the school’s backyard and spend leisure time with you as you both chatted about everything and anything.

It wasn’t until he had confessed his feelings to you one day when you noticed the little things he did—He looked at you with such fondness in his eyes and would become a puddle of gush at your shoulder brushing against his, or whenever you’d lock gaze with him, his eyes would trail toward your lips as you rambled his ears away.

You had your first kiss that day of the confession, behind the school, tucked away in the corner of the backyard that no one knew of—except for the two of you.

After that day, he would frequently drag you to his basketball practice; it was as if he was showing you off to the entire school—putting you on the throne as his one and only queen and he, the king. 

You both were known as the high school sweethearts—many would come to tell the stories of whenever they’d find you huddled away, whispering sweet nothings to each other and giggling at one another’s jokes. 

It had felt like a dream; you both spoke of goals to achieve whilst your fingers would lock together, invading each other’s personal space—but it felt right, and to be honest? It felt as though you both could conquer the world with your love.

The feelings lasted for what felt like an eternity.

As passionate as the love had been—it was fragile. 

Rumours would fly around school about him hanging out with another girl, but you brushed them away and took them as that—rumours.

You had all your trust in him to not betray the love you two shared so intimately.

To be frank, you wore rose-tinted glasses whenever you were around him.

And it wasn’t until one day in your junior year when your best friend pulled you into the restroom and looked at you with worry that swarmed her eyes. 

“He’s cheating on you.”

You almost couldn’t believe it. After all, you both had been together for years by then—2, to be exact. So why would someone, especially him, throw his love for you down the drain? So naturally, your best friend grew frustrated with you, but she never gave up on proving you wrong. Unfortunately for her, your boyfriend at the time had been a slimy bastard. He would be seen with another girl one second and be alone the other—it was difficult to catch him in the act, to say the least.

But it hadn’t taken her long before she thought of a fool-proof plan.

The school’s backyard.

She teamed up with a friend of hers—and it took much convincing to get the other girl involved. First, it took a few days of the girl reaching out to your boyfriend through his social media, then his personal phone number and a couple of sly glances shared with each other in the school’s hallway before he agreed to meet up with her in the backyard.

Specifically, the corner you and him shared over the years.

Your best friend had been delirious when she approached you one day at school; she took your hand before abruptly dragging you along the school hallways and toward the infamous backyard. Of course, you were angry at her; admittedly, you had no idea why she had been trying to prove to you the things that never happened: your boyfriend cheating being the case.

It didn’t take long for your clouded conscience to be shattered.

As it took a quick glance at the little corner of heaven you had been building with your boyfriend over the years to see one of the worst things you had laid your eyes on.

Your boyfriend hunched over another small frame of a girl as he took her in for a kiss.

You were deaf to the gasp that the girl let out. At that moment, it felt like all your senses had been stolen—buried away somewhere you could barely reach with your fingertips. He had turned around at the surprised yelp the girl beneath him let out; following her gaze, it landed on you: the love of his life.

You looked devoided of life, and the pang of hurt he experienced was nothing short of minuscule—it hurt .

It hurt to see you glance into his eyes, the love and tenderness your glances held gone in an instant. It hurt to see you pick up your feet and walk away from the scene, your best friend throwing him dirty looks as she tugged your arm in hers and took you away from him.

He had been angry, had tried chasing after you—but your friend dragged you into the nurse’s office and lost him in the crowd of students in the hall.

For the first time in your friend’s life, she saw you break down. Not with tears, but the mere image of your sunken, depressing gaze and you barely holding your head up high made her almost regret she had shown you anything, almost .

She knew it was the right thing to do, and if the shoes were switched, you would’ve done the same. She loved you, and it pained her to see you losing your spirit for the next month. You barely ate, conversed with others and hadn’t had a good night’s rest for a whole month.

Heartbreak was a bitch.

Throughout the first few months, your ex would attempt to find ways to talk to you: whether it would be during breakfast hours, lunchtime, or even the house parties you attended. He would always be there, stalking your steps and watching your every move. 

It wasn’t until he graduated before you that he stopped bothering you.

And you?

You had hardly shed a tear during post-breakup, and it only took you another half a month before you were back to being, well, you.

Just without the pep in your steps you had when you were in love.

The school years passed by in a blink of an eye, and soon, you were graduating.

You found yourself submitting an application to be enlisted in the military: you wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps, as he had been nothing short of the perfect father figure you could ever ask for. It only had taken a few months before you were mailed a letter from the military: you had been accepted.

The grin you wore as you rushed downstairs and flashed your father the letter you received; he had been so happy that he gave you the tightest hug he could muster. 

You told your best friend, of course. 

You two had stuck through thick and thin during and after secondary school—and even whilst she was in another state studying for college, you both never failed to send each other silly texts; your private messaging app served as a placeholder for her notes, whether it’d be school or just love letters she received from girls over the years.

She was an endearing presence to you, and you swore to her that you would never leave her side as you both grew old.

The love you both shared differed from the previous— whilst passionate and exciting, it had been overwhelming. No, the love you shared with your best friend was one of endearment, respect and understanding. You learnt that love wasn’t only exclusive to one between two significant others but also between those that mattered to you. 

It had been half a decade since you last contacted your best friend.

You two grew apart gradually due to the difficulty of your busy schedules; you both weren’t always able to take the time out of your stressful days to sit down and chat with each other—catch up and whatnot.

The military had been way more stress-inducing than you realised; you worked your ass off to be where you are today—second lieutenant in command.

The first droplet of tears you had was when you were being put through a brutal in-action training course.

You had been sent out to the field with a task force to take care of a local drug ring and were told to eliminate possible threats before they spiral into something worse. That was when you first rode a helicopter, too.

Action sprung into life when the aircraft landed on American soil before your feet had even touched the ground. 

Bullets were flying through the air above you, one barely grazing the skin of your arms as it punctured through the fabric of your uniform. Your captain at the time pulled your team away to a safe spot tucked inside a house that sheltered all of you— most of you.

One of your comrades had gotten caught in the crossfire and died an unfortunate death upon entering the field: bleeding to death. None of you had the time to mourn over her death and hurried away as your captain led you all to an advantageous ground. You were situated on the roof of the building, prone as you teased the trigger of your rifle with your fingertip, your crosshair hovered over an enemy’s head—the perfect shot. 

Whilst you were focused on taking down your target with the precision of a falcon, your team had been ambushed. To none of your knowledge, one of the enemies managed to slip into the building without being spotted and picked you all off one at a time. Although he was soon killed by your captain, more had swarmed the building and overwhelmed your team.

Yet, despite the odds, your team came out on top—skillfully eliminating them a wave at a time. 

You placed a bullet through what you assumed was the last enemy’s head before you turned to your captain—only the two of you remained during the whole combat, the others K.I.A. Though as devastated as you were, you carried out the mission beautifully with the aid of your captain. 

He had his hand on your slumped shoulder, his face prideful as he gave you one of the brightest smiles you’d ever seen.

One moment, you watched as he ruffled your head and gave you a hearty chuckle.

The next, you saw red painted the front of his uniform—right where his heart would be.

You still remembered the weight of his large body as he fell on you like a heavy sack of potatoes, the quiet murmurs you voiced as you let your mind soak the situation. Your captain, dead, with a bullet through his heart. 

His blood, your red-tinted hands as you pushed him to the side and pressed against his wound, the red you saw in your eyes when you felt the shaky barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head. The red you felt in you when you tackled the enemy to the ground, of the enemy’s blood spilt on the floor, and the red that decorated the child’s head.

The child.

To say you were horrified was a mere understatement.

When you came to your senses, you were beyond mortified .

You murdered a child.

The ache you felt in your heart constantly stabbed at you like a mother’s anguish; you couldn’t imagine your future child suffering the same fate. It pained you; it did.

That night, you mourned over the lives deserving of death—and those that were not.

You recall how you picked up a discarded shovel found on the side of the road, how you carried the body of the child and walked to the garden you found tucked away behind the building, how you worked to dig up the dirt and buried the child. You had taken a look at the child, and from what you could see, he seemed like a sweet one. Your heart had been torn apart at the thought of having to bury a child soldier.

The child soldier you murdered.

You remember calling in for extraction as you sat in the garden near where you had buried the child and sobbed away. The extraction team struggled to find you—and assumed you died whilst calling for them, but one had stumbled upon you, hunched over with your arms hugging your knees, wailing.

You couldn’t stomach food for the next few weeks, only consuming water and sweetened drinks for nutrition—or the lack thereof. Everyone back at the base had said you were cold and distant and would actively refrain from joining fun base activities.

You had even turned down the invitation to go to a bar with others, which, if you had been yourself, you would’ve accepted the invitation in a heartbeat. 

It was a surprise you lasted for weeks without food and still had the energy to be deployed for more missions. And even more surprising when you returned from every task, and all of it had been successful despite the odds you were given.

The news of your spectacular performance reached the ears of many; the higher-ups had gotten a few words of your feat and decided to promote you gradually as you kept on attending missions and completing demanding tasks.

It was how you ended up in Task Force-141.

This force was a strange bunch; you had never seen a team with this many varying personalities collide at many times of the day yet work so well with each other.

When you were told Captain Price wanted to recruit you into his task force, you politely declined the offer at first—not willing to deal with the heavy-hitting tasks they were usually assigned. The news of your rejection had broken out within the base—rumours had flown from ear to ear. It had felt like being back in 9th grade again when most students would engage in gossip in the school’s hallway.

Many had approached you during your free time in pursuit of hurling question after question at you; some of the questions threatened your right to privacy. 

“How’d Captain Price approach you?” 

You had no clue yourself. He asked for your presence in his office one day and offered you the chance.

“Why’d you decline it?”

Because you wanted less of the mental torment and even less of the bloodshed you would have to endure.

“I would’ve taken the chance in a heartbeat if I was you.”

That question felt like a jab at your choice, more than just a simple question.

“Did you think you weren’t good enough?”

You remembered the red mark you left on his face after he had said that to you, feeling the stinging pain in your palm as he rubbed his cheek and cursed at you before lunging forward. But there were eyes, and the eyes moved—he was dragged away soon after before he was able to land a hit on you. 

You hadn’t missed the dirty glances some people stole at you when they thought you weren’t looking.

The second time you had been summoned to Captain Price’s office, his offer to recruit you into his task force was one of desperation. They had been struggling with an ongoing operation, and he explained how your help would greatly benefit the two parties involved: you and the task force.

He even went as far as to drag you to the briefing with his squad the following day; irritation gnawed at your mood as the day would’ve been an off-day for you if it wasn’t for the briefing. 

You had been a few minutes late, but as you placed your hand on the large door, you exhaled and pushed it open.

Eyes immediately fell on you.

Unfamiliar faces stared you down.

You felt like you had barged into the wrong briefing for a second as silence dangled in the air, your eyes searched for Captain Price’s, and it wasn’t long before you found his gaze. Relief washed over you, thanking the heaven above that you were saved from potential embarrassment and greeted Captain Price before taking an unoccupied seat for yourself.

“Hey, that seat’s reserved.” you heard a monotonous tone from your right, and you turned to him. You held his gaze in yours as you bore into him with your staring. He broke away soon after—you noticed his adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open. 

You adjusted your sight, eyes trailing toward the person that had just entered. 

He was tall, standing at 6’4 in height from what you saw, well-built, and kept to himself as he chose to lean against the wall to his left instead of picking a seat. The whole time you had your eyes on him—his never left yours. And when you caught his gaze in yours, it felt like those sunken, dark eyes of his spoke to you. 

For once in your time, you communicated with someone without spilling a word. 

“Ghost, you’re late.” Price’s voice had severed the tension between you two.

Ghost, huh.

As your eyes found him again, you could understand the meaning behind the callsign.

Those eyes of his never left your mind for quite a while.

It was hard to avoid; you weren’t able to if you had wanted. You had accepted Price’s recruitment offer when he extended it to you once more after the briefing, you agreed with what they had planned, and you promised to carry it out.

Sweets were the callsign they had given to you within the first week of you all working together. You had a keen liking for sweets—and the task force members would occasionally catch you with your hand in a sweets jar more often than not.

You all had a conversation over what your callsign would be, and everyone racked their exhausted brain for ideas until a husky, deep voice put down a suggestion—

—”Sweets.”

Everyone in the room turned to Ghost, his word taking a while to register in everyone’s mind.

“Why?” Gaz was the first to bring up the question everyone wanted to ask—he looked at Ghost and tilted his head. 

“She likes sweets,” Ghost muttered, his eyes lingering on your face before he continued, “Caught her sneaking around the kitchen at midnight looking for sweets more than once this week.” 

Heat flooded your face, and you were sure you resembled the colour of a tomato at how embarrassed you felt being exposed to your comrades. 

“You do, too!” In a poor attempt at biting back, you also called Ghost out on his bullcrap. “You were in the kitchen yesterday night with your head in the sweets cabinet,” you narrowed your eyes at him as he stared at you, almost dumbfounded.

“Because you have been dwindling our sweets supply—” before he could resume, you cut him off. “ You had your hand shoved deep in the choco pie boxes,” you scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, lieutenant.” 

Ghost shrugged at your words, “Gotta finish the sweets before you do—” At that, you stood up from your seat, hand slammed onto the table as you shoved the accusation back at him. “You finished a whole jar of the Cadbury picnic bars. I was saving those for myself, asshole.” 

“Should’ve finished it yourself before I had my hands on them, love.”

“I’ll fucking finish you first—”

“Enough,” Soap had gotten up from his seat at the table, his choice of liquor in his hand as he shook his head at the two of you. “Aye, I’m done with listening to them flirt with each other. Gaz, let’s head out yea?” his words slurred, you were sure whilst you and ghost argued back and forth—he had been taking way too many sips from his bottle. Gaz held his hands up in defeat, then followed Soap out of the kitchen.

Price sat at the end of the table, his head in his hand as he observed the situation in front of him. And when both your gazes fell on him, he felt an immense pressure to get away from the table and escape the kitchen. 

From then on, you started labelling your jars with your callsign—yet as time had proven you right again and again, you could never catch Ghost in the act of stealing from your sweets jar. 

And the time you did—

It rained cats and dogs that night, thunderstruck loud and hard. You always had a difficult time being embraced by sleep, and when it did come, you usually would wake up sweating from a rough nightmare.

Tonight was no exception, and before you knew it, you found yourself walking down the stairs and toward the kitchen. You could use some nice Cadbury chocolate in your mouth right about now. 

But as you steadily approached the kitchen, you noticed the lights were on—and you immediately cling to the wall beside you as you glide along the textured surface. Your head peeked around the corner, eyes searching for any signs of a potential break-in. As you neared the kitchen, however, you spotted a large man sitting at the kitchen bar. He had his back turned to you, and you noticed his exposed hair.

He had no mask on.

You tilt your head at the strange view and clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He lightly jolted at the noise and shot his hand out to collect his balaclava before pulling it over his head. 

Weird.

Usually, he would’ve been able to sense you even if you had been miles away from where he sat. But tonight, something seemed off. You shrugged and walked into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the sweets cabinet and pulling out one of your favourites: Maltesers. You hummed in glee and grabbed a few more into your hands. 

You turned around and could feel the stress emitting off him like strong tides.

For some reason, the sight of Ghost being sad shot a pang through your chest—as if it had been personal to you.

“Can I sit next to you?” your voice quiet, not wanting to startle the burly man that seemed deep in his thoughts, his head hung low.

You took his silence as a response and sat beside him at the kitchen bar. You tore open the packaging of your sweets and nibbled on it, savouring the taste. You glanced quickly at the man beside you and jumped when you saw that he had been staring at you, having a go at it with the sweets. You didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes flickered from your face to the chocolate in your hand and back to your face.

Amusement flashed across your eyes, and you reached your hand out, offering him the sweets.

It took him a while to react, but after a few more alternating glances, he took the bar from your hand and stared at you. 

“What?” you cocked your eyebrow at his odd reaction.

“Look away, sweetheart.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not gonna bite if you take your mask off in front of me,” you decided to push his buttons further—to fish a reaction out of the man. “Why,” you leaned in, your face now halfway from where you sat. “You’re ugly?”

He chuckled.

Love has a way of finding you.

Wherever you are—whenever you were.

You just hadn’t expected it to manifest in the form of a tough, bulky man who had his heart closed to the world. 

You knew Ghost was a man that preferred to be left alone, but on the occasions, his walls would be down, letting you get a glimpse of who he was. 

And that night, as you both shared bars of chocolate over the kitchen bar, you knew he was worth getting to know about. 

It would happen again and again.

Nights where you both would find yourselves in each other’s company, enjoying the comfortable silence that lingered around. Nights where you both talked about your favourite sweets, music, show—favourite person. 

He had said he didn’t exactly have one, but you had a suspicion you knew who he treasured the most—because it wasn’t a person, it was the entire task force.

You recalled the memories you had with your best friend— ex , best friend. You weren’t sure if she had remembered you still after years of no calls, texts, or wind of each other. But you cherished the sweet moments during the times you needed them. 

Ghost wouldn’t admit it, but when he was with you, he wasn’t Ghost—no, he was Simon whenever you would share trinkets of your memories with each other. His usual uptight demeanour progressively softened over the many nights at the kitchen bar; his eyes would drink in your face as you told your stories. Making mental notes of the way your smile would tug at your lips, the way your eyes would water at the emotional talks, how you seemed to know ways to comfort him with just your presence. 

And whenever each of you felt down, you would seek each other’s company.

You sneezed; the sudden cold air blow sent chills to your core. Ghost’s head snapped toward you, his gaze visibly concerned, and he watched as you cowered underneath the thick blanket you both were sharing. 

You two had been in his room, watching the reruns of Modern Family, when you suddenly felt under the weather. You hadn’t had time to take care of yourself recently—between the assignments you were deployed for and the countless paperwork you had to finish by a tight deadline, you barely had 5 hours of sleep every night for the past weeks.

Ghost had seen it coming from miles away: the darkening eyebags around your eyes, your usual casual nature now dissipated, leaving only a shell of you that operated on a routine.

He let out a long exhale, his arms reaching out to tuck you into the blanket even more. 

But as you peered at him with those fluttering lashes, he groaned and moved to sit behind you. He adjusted his position and laid you down on top of him, your head flushed against his chest—and you refrained from fidgeting as you felt his toned yet soft muscles underneath you.

Your head was screaming.

Yet as he cradled your smaller frame into his larger one, you felt safe—like you belonged. 

You sighed, letting yourself completely relax against him. He placed a hand on your head, rubbing comfort into your temple in the motion of circles. 

Yeah, you could get used to this.

The noises coming from the TV soon gradually muffled as your eyes threatened to close every passing second. The deadly combination of Ghost rubbing all the right spots on your head and his warm, large arms around your figure coarse you into a deep, peaceful slumber.

And ever since then, you’d find yourself in similar positions with Ghost—in his room, him with his arms around you and giving you the comfort you so desperately needed. 

So, here you were.

You and Ghost were wrapped around the two of you underneath the thick blanket. Reruns of the show you were watching had been long forgotten; instead, the two of you looked into each other’s gaze. 

Your hand rubbed small, comforting circles into his cheek—he practically melted under you. It had been about half a year since you joined Task Force-141; after the first mission, you had ultimately decided to stick with the team—strangely enough, they all accepted you as though you were family. 

Sure, missions hadn’t gotten easy over time, but the bonds you managed to kindle made up for all of it. The countless nights all of you would spend losing your minds at a local bar—the constant lighthearted bantering that never seemed to cease. You lost count of how many times you had to drag Soap out of a bar before he went and flirted with anything that moved, the numerous times when you had to pull Gaz out of a dangerous situation during high-risk missions—not to mention whenever Price would go off and try to get himself killed just to save one of you. When you had him seated at the debriefing, you made sure to give him an earful anytime he attempted something idiotic for the lives of others, even if it had been for his team.

But, you would never take one thing for granted—

—Ghost stirred in his position, changing the angle of his body so he could get the optimised comfort. You watched as he nudged your hand with his face; amid your daydreaming, you had stopped caressing his cheek.

You feel the nervousness churning in your stomach, thoroughly giving your following words more thought.

You knew that you had grown feelings for the man for quite a while now—from the joking banter down to the bold flirting you both shared, it was as though every time you were with each other, you had your own bubble.

One that you would be too afraid to pop.

“Ghost–”

“Simon.”

Huh?

Did you hear that right?

Staring into the eyes of the man whose heart had been closed off to everyone—you were in shock. The sight of him finally opening up to you had been unfathomable since you first thought about it—he was a tough man to crack and an even tougher man to understand. 

“My name’s Simon, love.”

His voice was soft as silk, with the undeniable hint of tenderness he reserved only for you as he continued to gaze into your eyes with such a yearning that you couldn’t believe it had been for you. 

Your other hand shakily reached up to cup his face into both hands, feeling the smooth texture of the balaclava he still wore under your fingertips. Your eyes scanned his feature for any deceit—there were none.

He was as genuine as is. 

And you couldn’t help the tear that slipped your eye; you had waited for this moment for quite a while now— 

“Simon,” you took a fleeting breath, “I like you.”

Simon sighed, and for a moment, your calm facade was slowly falling apart—did he change his mind? Had he been lying all this time? But your doubts were short-lived as Simon reached his hand up and lifted his skull-printed balaclava off.

It was him.

The man you adored so much in blood and flesh,

You felt his rough skin with your fingers as you explored every nook and cranny of his face with all that you could. Your finger brushed his lips; they were surprisingly soft and very kissable.

As though he could read your mind, he closed the little distance you both had, and the next thing you know: he had his lips on yours.

Love was always complicated: one-sided, reciprocated, or none at all.

But as you shared an intimate, passionate kiss with Simon.

You knew you had found the one to share your never-ending love with.

And you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

[cr3sswellsgf]

miss you terribly - maiko week '24 day 2

prompt - separation. in which zuko (accidentally) sends mai a bunch of letters while traveling. still pathetically in love.

Spending time away from Mai was hard. That was, Zuko thought, a universal truth.

Needless to say, Zuko hated spending time away from her, but, much to his dismay, with him being the newly appointed Firelord (with a mission of uniting the four nations and bringing peace, no less), he had a lot of political affairs to take care of, which included far too much traveling and time away from his darling. So, to combat the pure, unfathomable agony that was having to sleep in a bed all lonely and alone and in his lonesome—he deserved massive compensation and many pats on the back for surviving these trying times, truly— he’d taken to writing letters.

At first, he had started writing them as a way to fill his time and cope with the boredom of traveling alone, and he would just keep them in a small pocket in his luggage— that is, he was too shy to send them to her. He knew that, rationally, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was normal to send letters to your significant other when you were away, dammit! But he still couldn’t let go of that small part of him that was afraid she would, worst case scenario, think it was weird and corny, or, best case scenario, wouldn’t care much for the notion altogether.

He knew that that, too, was completely irrational. Irrational to an embarrassing extent, even.

Mai loved and accepted him. She’d shown that time and time again. She’d supported him and stood by him through the worst times of his life. Times when, he thought, he absolutely did not deserve that unconditional love from her. He still thought he didn’t deserve that, sometimes. So thinking she would judge him for writing letters was just plain stupid honestly, but for now, he was satisfied keeping them hidden.

“Firelord Zuko,” his personal assistant called out, interrupting his train of thought. He sighed and put away the piece of parchment he’d just finished signing off; it was another letter. The fourth or fifth one this week, if he had to guess. Not that he was setting aside time daily to write them or anything. Or that he’d started that ritual months ago, and by now had probably accumulated over a thousand letters. Totally not that whatsoever. Absolutely not.

“Come in.”

“Sir, you are required in the meeting hall.”

He held back the urge to snort. Yeah, sure, require him in the meeting hall, why don’t you?

He shoved the letter among a small stack of papers on his desk, official documents he’d have to send out and such. It was frustrating when fellow nation leaders treated him like a child. Sure, he was only eighteen, but it seemed that everyone conveniently forgot that he practically saved the world with the Avatar.

“I will be right with you,” he replied tightly, effectively dismissing his assistant.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Mai was in her chambers when she got a knock on the door, and Ty Lee, who was hanging out with her that day and had stepped out momentarily to retrieve a package that had just arrived in the mail, told her that something had arrived for her.

A stack of letters.

“From Zuko?” she asked, repeating what her friend had just said in confusion.

“Yup!” Ty Lee grinned and tossed the large stack of envelopes onto her friend’s bed. “Boyfie’s clearly been missing you then.”

Mai smiled, huffing out an amused breath. She’d wondered if he’d ever get the courage to send her those letters.

She’d stumbled upon some letters a while back, when Zuko had asked her to retrieve something from his room, and she ended up accidentally looking through the wrong set of drawers. She didn’t read them of course, though she’d noticed they were all addressed to her and dated over something like seven months’ time, out of respect for him.

So it was safe to say she was at least a little happy that he’d sent her some. Mai excitedly grabbed the letters, unable to hold back the giddy grin on her face. She had really missed him. “I’m so glad,” she said truthfully, counting the envelopes in her hand.

“Oh, my God, this must be, like, a letter for everyday he’s been gone,” Ty Lee said in amazement, having been counting along with her friend. “See? I told you you had nothing to worry about!”

Mai smiled, blush rising on her cheeks. Ty Lee was referring to a concern Mai had brought up to her earlier. She was talking about how it kind of upset her when Zuko would go on trips without her and they’d have to go so long without any form of contact. She knew he enjoyed writing letters, and that to him, it wasn’t just one of those things he did out of necessity. He appreciated the intimacy of exchanging handwritten letters, said there was something special about getting to see the little ink splotches, the differences in penmanship, the scratched out words and phrases when someone has a change of mind, the misspelled words, even the different type of paper everyone used said so much about them.

“So then why doesn’t he send me any?” she’d complained to Ty Lee, burying her face in her pillow, frustrated.

Mai was the type to bottle her feelings, and she wasn’t really much for having heart-to-hearts. Of course, she was always willing to lend a listening ear to her friends, and was very empathetic and caring, contrary to what people might think, but she rarely talked about her own feelings. She’d always been that way, never really knew how to articulate her feelings well, and felt weird doing it, too, so at some point she’d just stopped trying altogether.

So for her to be telling Ty Lee about this right now really spoke to how hurt she must’ve been feeling, even if she wanted to play it off as some casual thought that had occurred to her.

Ty Lee had told her that she was probably just overthinking it and that there was nothing to worry about, but she’d felt incredibly for her friend.

“Well, I’ll leave you to read those.” Ty Lee winked at Mai, grinning. “I need to head back now anyway.”

Mai frowned, not wanting her friend to leave so soon, but Ty Lee insisted that she really did need to go, so Mai begrudgingly walked her out. Once back in her room, though, Mai shut the door and jumped onto her bed, grabbing for the letters again.

She gingerly opened the first one and started reading.

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

Mai,

How are you, my love?

I trust that everything is well over at the Fire Nation, mostly because no one has sent me any concerning correspondences, but more than that, I trust you wholeheartedly. More importantly, though, I hope you’re doing well.

I, for one, am not.

I miss you terribly. This trip so far has been unbearable, and I wish very badly that you were here. At least then these meetings wouldn’t be as utterly boring. Did you know that they wish to impose sanctions on cabbage selling here? I thought it was quite the odd thing to take issue with, at first, but apparently there is a ‘bigger picture’ or something.

Anyway, today is our half-anniversary. And I know you don’t get the concept of half-anniversaries, because ‘why celebrate prematurely?’—yes, I am still salty about that— but I still think it is worth celebrating. I think love is always worth celebrating, especially ours. This is why I thought of sending over a gift anyway, but I was afraid it would get lost on the way.

Regardless, happy half-anniversary. I love you and I miss you and I cannot wait to get home so I can look at your pretty face.

Yours always,

Zuko

˗ ♡ ˗

Mai,

Did you know that some turtleducks can live up to thousands of years? I learnt that from a particularly riveting trivia book I found in our library, years ago. It was back when we had broken up, that one time. I was so miserable I filled my time with reading through the palace’s collection of books. Some were admittedly a lot more entertaining than others, but I ended up amassing a lot of random facts about wholly unrelated topics, so I wouldn’t say it was a complete waste.

For example, did you know that kissing someone you love prolongs your lifetime exponentially? As in, the more kisses the better.

Okay, I totally just made that up as an excuse to get more kisses, but you believed it for a second there, didn’t you? It sounds believable enough, if you ask me. (And hey, better safe than sorry, right?)

There’s really no purpose for this letter, if I’m completely honest. There’s nothing for me to report on, and there’s nothing specific on my mind I want to share with you or anything, but I believe there is something to be said about the beauty in the mundane; something about being able to appreciate the ordinary things with the people you love most. Something about those meaningless conversations where the sound of a lover’s voice matters more than what they’re actually saying. Something about listening for the sake of listening. Loving for the sake of loving. Ceaselessly and unconditionally.

I don’t think I could ever tire of hearing you talk.

Yours always,

Zuko

˗ ♡ ˗

Mai,

I suspect this will be a shorter letter, because I really only have one thing to tell you. I don’t think I say it enough, and even though I don’t presently plan on showing you these letters, I think I’d like to say it anyway.

Thank you.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for staying. Thank you for not giving up on me even when you had every right to. Thank you for loving me, even when I don’t deserve it. Thank you for allowing me to love you. Thank you for accepting my love. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for showing me time and time again that I don’t need to constantly try so hard around you, but still unintentionally pushing me to be my best regardless. Thank you for putting me in my place when I’m an asshole. Thank you for calling me out on my shortcomings, but always being impossibly loving about it. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for laughing at my jokes. Thank you for staying up to talk on those nights I can’t sleep. Thank you for soothing my worries away when they get too suffocating. Thank you for listening. Thank you for talking.

I could go on, but I probably don’t have enough paper on me right now, so I’ll settle for saying this: Thank you for existing. You’re my favourite person, by a long shot. I love you. I’m glad you exist.

Yours always,

Zuko

˗ ♡ ˗

Mai,

What do you think about marriage?

I know we’ve talked about this before, but it always seemed like a faraway possibility. We were so young then, but now, we’re, well… older..?

God, I suck at this.

What I’m trying to say is: Are you still open to the idea of marrying me?

This is not me proposing, of course, but it has admittedly been on my mind a lot lately. To clarify, I know we’re in it for the long haul. I am absolutely and utterly and hopelessly devoted to you, marriage or not. I don’t care about titles, for I don’t think any official title could add to or take away from the brilliance of our love. I am yours as long as you will have me.

But sometimes I worry I am depriving you of something you might long for. So, please, answer me this. Would you do me the honour of marrying me, someday? It could be extravagant, full of big, fancy fruit tarts or whatever it is you may desire, or it could be a private affair with just us. Whatever it is, I am at your service. That is, of course, only if you want to. I don’t think I need an official document to prove what I feel for you (though I think it may be beneficial for you on a political front, too, with me being Firelord and all?), but if it is something you desire, I would be more than happy to oblige.

This letter is weird, and I suppose this is me saying that I want so desperately to marry you. I love loving you, and I want to be able to do it until my last breath, if you’ll allow me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m glad you exist. I am forever and always—

Yours,

Zuko

⁎⁺˳ ✧༚ ˎˊ˗ ♡ ˗ˏˋയ ✩

And so the letters went on. They varied in length and content. Some had her laughing and blushing, while others had her heart aching.

She concluded that these letters were probably sent mistakenly, but she realised she didn’t really mind. He was bound to have noticed this by now, so it was only a matter of time before he sent some indication of that. Either in the form of another letter, or just him coming home and them having a conversation about this.

It would probably be the latter, though, if she was honest.

Unless… A thought occurred to her.

She was going to write a letter of her own.

She let out a quiet giggle, he was so not gonna see this coming.

Pulling out a piece of her really special letter paper (the kind she only saved for really special occasions), she sighed, her mind already constructing and reconstructing the letter she was going to write. When she began writing, she realised why Zuko liked exchanging letters so much. It was much more special than she’d anticipated.

Maybe—hopefully—they’d make this a habit. She really loved this boy, didn’t she?

----

@/kvohru on twt & ao3!

[lovehypegirl]

ִֶָ ⊹ ִֶָ INFRUNAMI

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"GIRL, YOU'RE THE ONE I WANT" "YOU'RE THE ONE I NEED"

pairing: miyuki x f! reader synopsis: you're miyuki's girlfriend from new york city, a former baseball player, and a manager for seidou notes: kinda connects to REAL HOT GIRL SHIT. and yes, I'm from the city warnings: i would say none but y/n talks about nyc's crime so thats the warning. nyc. all the cute kissy stuff is toward the end wc: 0.6k

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infrunami reminds me of him. as well as blame by bryson tiller and family affair by mary j. blige but oh well

you began to date at the end of your first year

tbh he might have been a little intimidated by you since you're an American and the Japanese are known for their etiquette and decorum and the US is known for well...guns (and expensive health care)

his mental stereotypes kinda went away when he realized you weren't going to whip out a glock 19 whenever you got mad

he did admire how you always spoke your mind even if it meant you ending up saying the national anthem in English to prove your patriotism. you can take a man out of America but you can't take the America out of a man (i deadass do this like i've got that shit memorized down PAT)

"for the land of the freeeeeeeeee....and the home of the...braveeeeeeeeeee" you concluded your serenade of Star Spangled Banner as you two sat in his dorm

"kinda impressive that you know that by heart" Miyuki mused

"go to enough sports events and sit through enough graduations and you'll get the hang of it"

he's probably asked you a bunch of questions about what growing up in nyc was like

he was confused when you said your parents let you ride on the subway with friends at age 11 (you had said the subway was dangerous like 14 seconds ago)

he was mortified when you said you saw 2 girls get stabbed in Grand Central Station while you were eating your food in the Dining Concourse (real life events)

but he still doesn't really understand why people are so rowdy during baseball games and why you hate it that Japanese baseball games are quiet

"You're saying people get drunk at baseball games?" he asked you one night during an evening jog "Yeah, and it won't even be four pm yet and the guy next to you is fucking buzzed. Some get drunk even before they get to the stadium" "Why do people get drunk at games?" "Cause it's a sports game. people get drunk at all kinds of games. probably makes the experience better. Not that I've got experience" "Wouldn't that distract the players if the stadium was loud?" he asked as you rounded a bend in the track "Not really. when I was on the mound and everyone was cheering after I shut the opposing team out, three up three down, it's kinda uplifting. like an adrenaline rush almost. like you've got hundreds of people in the stadium and around the country watching you play so well and be proud of you. it's the American spirit" you huffed with a grin "What if a player gets booed at?" he asked, facing you slightly "hmm, well if hundreds are booing you, that's worse than your coach screaming at you in the parking lot" you shrugged and handed him his water bottle as you two took a break by the benches "I think I'd prefer getting booed at than Coach Kataoka screaming at me in the parking lot" he said, accepting the water bottle you handed to him "See? You do get it. Although I do prefer baseball games in the states tho, 'cause security won't come up to you and take the homer you caught" "You know there's a section you can sit at to catch homers and foul balls?" "Yeah but I ain't payin' an extra like, 20% to catch a goddamn ball" "Fair enough"

PLEASEEE PUT HIM ONTO WESTERN MUSICCCCC OH MY GODDDD

I think he'd like TYLER, THE CREATOR and KENDRICK LAMAR for runs/light workout (he's kinda invested in the kendrick vs drake saga)

Even the THE NEIGHBORHOOD he would like, along with STEVE LACY for anytime of the day

BOSSA NOVA, HOUSE MUSIC, and JAZZ while he reviews baseball scorebooks and you do your homework, your legs in his lap and you're trying with every cell in your body to not rip apart your homework 'cause trig makes no sense

And you guys watch MLB highlights together (cause he might join the MLB after college)

He really likes it when you are at his games (you go anyways ‘cause you’re the manager) but he just likes it when you watch him and when you smile at him when he walks into the dugout from your desk where you're scoring the games He gives your hand a little squeeze when he passes you, a quick kiss on your neck after you help him with his catchers gear, or a kiss to your cheek when you help him with his batter helmet

He always wants to know about what nyc was like for you and what baseball was like for you

Sometimes you both go out to the fields after practice in the evenings and you give him pointers on batting (not that he needs it) but you teach him what you've learned from the states

Or in the evenings when the sunset is pretty and the weather is perfect and there's a warm breeze you're on a field and he's practicing his swings and you've got your legs up on the fence with your back on the grass with this playlist playing in the background (pink & white ESPECIALLY GODDD)

He's probably more quality time based but add quality time and mix it with making something together to swap for a gift giving aspect and it's perfect

Take him to a make and paint your own pottery studio and I think he'll love it a lot

You're both sitting at a table together while you focus on a rectangular box (for him to keep the new MLB cards you'll be gifting him for his birthday) and he's sitting across from you, expertly shaping a bowl

He's oddly good at this (he watched videos on it after you brought it up)

In the end, he got a navy blue box with baseballs painted on it and you got a pink bowl with strawberries and little while flowers scattered around on it (I made a bowl like this today!!)

This one is kinda broad but let's say on off-season, students have their break and you take him to nyc (this happened in character ai last year erm...I HAVEN'T TOUCHED THE APP IN MONTHSSS)

I think he'd like the city though (probably SoHo)

And you guys go to central park and watch the little league games and he's got this super stupid grin on his face 'cause that used to be him

"What're you grinning about?" you ask him as you two leaned on the fence. Parents of the little kids stood around you, cheering their little baseball players on "I dunno, but feels like I'm watching myself when I was little" "AWWW I bet little Kazuya was so cute!" You grinned as you poked his cheek "Quiet" He playfully shoved your finger away "You know, I'll tell you what, that's gonna be a little Kazuya and y/n in the future" he pointed to the little girl playing as a catcher who turned to look at her parents with a sweet sweet grin after she had caught the ball "You bitchhhhh! Stop changin' the damn subject!!" You burst out at him in embarrassment and he cackled at your red cheeks "If there's gonna be a little us than it's gonna be a little girl" you said after you calmed down "A little girl sounds nice..." Miyuki mused

Take him to a Yankees game and he'll get shock from the sheer volume and you screaming in his ear as you and the other people in the stands dance to YMCA dance after the seventh inning during the field refresh

(Make sure you bring him to a Mets game so he knows the Yankees are better)

Your chest is practically puffing with pride as the stadium sings the Star Spangled Banner before the game beings with your Yankees cap over your chest. Nothing is better than patriotism. And Miyuki knows the lyrics cause you've sung it so many times (I have an issue where I'll randomly sing it. When I graduated eighth grade, my homeroom teacher practically drilled it into our heads so it's stuck there forever)

I think he'd appreciate Japan Village in Industry City. A little slice of home in a foreign land. So make sure to take him there

You hit up all the tourist spots with him starting with The Edge (he'd be kinda freaked out by the glass floor section in the center)

"C'mon you'll be fine" you beckoned him over to the small triangle glass section of the huge balcony rising 1,131 feet from the ground "Nuh uh that does NOT look safe" he refused, a few feet away from you "You'll be fine I'll hold your hand. Plus you can take a picture and send it to Kuramochi to boast or whatever. You seriously can't beat this one" "....Fine" he slowly walked over and held your hand as you took a picture of your feet standing on the glass with the view of the city streets 1,131 feet below you

You take him to One World Trade, Empire State, Rockefeller, The MET (he'd like this one), The High Line, Grand Central (which you end up going through anyways to see the Yanks)

Take him to Brooklyn Bridge park in the evening for a picnic or to Roosevelt Island for biking and food trucks

For Godssakes bring him to the Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn while you're hitting up Dumbo and heading up the borough

Anyways

On his side, I think he'd enjoy introducing you into Japanese culture. He'd bring you to festivals and teach you what to do at shrines

He cooks Japanese food for you so you're able to adjust your palate to it

HE COOKS FOR YOU

If there's a food from home that you're missing and can't get in Japan, he'd find the recipe and cook it for you. Now you can only eat his food cause nothing else tastes as good (he secretly enjoys that)

During break he'll take you around Japan and visit all kinda of places with you during the winter up to the northren parts of Japan or Okinawa during the summer

I think that he enjoys it when you watch him practice baseball LAWRDD

You do the tiktok trend with the lipstick kisses all over his face and he refuses to wash them off until baseball practice begins

AND AND he goes with you to makeup stores and let's you test lip products on his hand

STHAPPP when he hugs you he runs his hand up and down your back and since he wears like sweatshirts n shit, his hugs are probably really comfy too nd he kisses the top of your head

Either his kisses are short and quick or slow and soft and for someone who's never been in a relationship he sure knows how to kiss

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[bullet-prooflove]

Good Lookin Prompt List

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

There's something 'bout the way you look in my eyes

Like a starry night, you light up my sky

You lean in closer and my heart starts to pound

I heard you sigh, you know I love that sound

You break me, then I break my rules

I can hardly breathe when he's pumping deep inside

That if I can't be close to you I'll settle for the ghost of you

I still haven't heard from your family But you said your mom always loved me

Man, that boy so damn good looking

Thought you'd see it coming, but you never could

I miss your touch on nights when I'm hollow

We made love and then he kissed me, I don't want it to end

You'd be the love of my life when I was young

Every day we spend together, I fall more into him

Wanna give myself to you

Yeah, 'cause I tossed and turned the covers

Outside of the party, smokin' in the car with you

You're more than the sunshine in my eyes

I'm sorry if you blame me, if I were you I would

Yeah, we're driving down the freeway at night

You can kiss a hundred boys in bars Shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

I miss you more than life 

That boy he takes my breath away, I can't find the words to say

I see the look in your eye and I'm biting my tongue

So I wrote this little note, kiss it, seal it, so you know

Small talk and you tell me that you're on fire

With your head in your hands, you're nothing more than his wife

Last time was the last time too

I made a mistake and I'll tell you I'm sorry

You can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth

Almost tried to call you, don't know if I should

I'm tryna find you in a crowd again You were there then you were gone

Your memory is ecstasy

You've been on my mind baby, let me remind you while I lay you down

I can't get enough, I'm stuck in your love

I'm cliché, who cares?

You got me stuck on the thought of you

When you wake up next to him in the middle of the night

It's a sexually explicit kind of love affair

Seven Nation Army, fightin' at the bar with you

You can be my king, no, this ain't just a fling

Now take 'em off and let's get down to business

When the night is over Don't call me up

With her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof

You are exactly what I want, kinda cool and kinda not

I don't wanna call it off But you don't wanna call it love

You turn around and fuck out all my brains

'Cause I couldn't leave you if I tried

Just because you're hurting doesn't mean I'm not

I get a little bit alone sometimes and I miss you again

You only wanna be the one that I call "baby"

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz has done more for our veterans than Donald Trump, JD Vance, Tom Cotton, and all of Trump’s despicable enablers put together.  Yet we’ve seen these people—led by  Vance—smear Walz’s dedication to our country with lies like he “abandoned” his fellow National Guard members when they were about to serve in Iraq. In reality, Walz may have stopped serving in the National Guard in 2005, but he never stopped serving our nation and the women and men of our armed services. In an effort to correct the record, let’s start with the headline that should appear in corporate media. Tim Walz did go to a war zone in Iraq. He also went to a war zone in Afghanistan. If you are asking: “What am I talking about?!,” it’s because the sheep of the corporate media all tell the same story without challenging the lie fueling it. In his first term in Congress, Walz travelled to a war zone in Iraq as well as Afghanistan to speak to our troops and find out what more they needed in terms of support. As the headline of the Minnesota Tribune article from January 16, 2008 reads, “Walz visits war zones to study veterans' care system.”  

Another local Minnesota paper wrote at the time, “Walz said the trip gave him a renewed sense of urgency to improve access to soldiers' medical records.”  Walz—who is pictured in the article in both Iraq and Afghanistan speaking and dining with our troops—talked of the need to streamline databases so that active duty soldiers in these combat zones can get the care they need as well as making it easier for them to continue the care when back stateside.

Walz did not have to go, he chose to go to a war zone. In future years he would visit Syria and other places in the Middle East in times of tensions. From there, Walz would continue for his entire time in Congress--from 2007 until he was elected Governor in 2018--being a champion for the members of the military and our veterans.  Walz co-chaired the National Guard and Reserves Caucus, ran leadership outreach roundtables for veterans service organizations, was applauded by veterans affairs groups for his work on the VA panel, especially for focusing on mental health care issues. One of Walz’s biggest legislative achievement in Congress was championing a bipartisan veterans’ suicide prevention legislation that became law in 2015. Through his work, Walz rose to become the ranking Democrat on the House Veterans’ Affairs Committee and served multiple stints on the Armed Services Committee. Walz’s record of service to our nation, however, began well before running for Congress in 2006. Walz enlisted in the Nebraska National Guard on April 8, 1981, two days after his 17th birthday.  Not long after, Walz was off to basic training in Georgia, on the first stop in a military career that would take him to Arkansas, Texas, the Arctic Circle and other places in the world. As Walz told a Minnesota radio station in 2018, "You go where you're told to go."

[...] Walz could’ve retired at the 20-year mark. In fact, he probably would’ve. But then came 9/11. That attack on our nation inspired him to re-enlist. In August  2003, Walz was deployed to Italy, Turkey, Belgium and Britain to support U.S. operations in Afghanistan under Operation Enduring Freedom--where he would remain for nearly 10 months. But his time in an artillery unit came at a cost to his health. The deafening booms and shock waves from howitzer barrels left Walz with hearing loss in both ears. In 2005, he underwent stapedectomy surgery to alleviate the problem-- a procedure in which damaged bones inside the ear are replaced with a prosthesis. That was the year he decided to retire at 41 years of age and after serving for 24 years in the National Guard. That is the American patriot JD Vance, Trump and their allies are smearing with lies. Obviously, Trump is man devoid of honor. His entire life has been in service of himself.  When Trump had an opportunity to serve our nation in the military, he refused—instead choosing to fabricate the medical condition of bone spurs. As a reminder, in 2018 the daughters of a Queens foot doctor say their late father diagnosed Trump with bone spurs to help him avoid the Vietnam War draft as a “favor” to his father Fred Trump.

[...] When it comes to Vance, he did serve in the US Marines as a combat reporter from Sept. 2003 to Sept 2007.  He didn’t re-enlist. Instead, he went to Yale law school. And while Walz was fighting for veterans in Congress, Vance was hobnobbing with tech billionaires in Silicon Valley—who would later bankroll his run for US Senate.

Dean Obeidallah has an excellent column spotlighting Tim Walz’s military service and how he actually supports the troops, compared to weirdo JD Vance.

[malk1ns]

Potential AU - Sid is Canadian ambassador to Russia / Geno is Russian ambassador to Canada. (Russian homophobic policies exist but the war does not in my imaginary sandpit that I'm building sandcastles in.)

ask game here

ohhhh an absolute classic. i am happily joining you in your sandpit, thank u for making room for me this is one of my very favorites!

okay...

geno got his job as ambassador through connections. he's smart as hell, obviously, but he slacked off and had fun all throughout his school years, and he spent more time thinking about hockey than he did about international affairs. when you're best frenemies with nationally beloved sportsman alex ovechkin, though, you can find yourself in high-placed roles as part of favors handed out to keep said sportsman happy with the regime he represents. and maybe your best frenemy is aware that you like men and wants to give you an escape while still letting you do your motherland proud, which is very important to you.

so maybe canada's royal family isn't super impressed with the caliber of ambassador they've been sent. nepo hires are sort of an insult, after all. but he's charming as hell and smart as a tack, so they warm up to him quickly. especially their oldest son and heir, the crown jewel in the royal family, prince sidney.

flirting with sidney gets him VERY flustered, which geno figures out almost right away because when he sees a handsome man with a juicy ass, it's essentially second nature for him to flirt. guys who are straight usually brush it off like it's a joke, and guys who maybe aren't see it for what it really is, which usually ends up very pleasantly for them both. sid, though? he gets PINK and STUTTERS and runs away. it's very funny. naturally geno flirts harder.

there are a lot of gay bars in canada and not a lot of people care about him here. geno takes full advantage. he's here to do a job, of course, but diplomacy with canada is not exactly the most taxing or time-consuming job on the planet, so he's got a lot of time to revel in his freedom and indulge.

one time his favorite bar is populated by a lot of very serious-looking men who, while dressed the part, do NOT fit in. they remind geno of security. but who would be at the gay bar who needs that level of personal protection........

oh. hi sid.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   QUEEN'S OFFICE, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Beatriz, like her grandmother before her, lived by the belief that Uspana was her true firstborn. When her daughter’s mourning period concluded, she returned to work on its behalf. She was not a simple figurehead. Her job was not to pose for pictures, to fundraise money for good causes, to lift the spirits of the weary with a benevolent smile. She did the work of a statesman, and she did it well. She was a politician. On any given day, her attention divided in a thousand directions—domestic versus foreign affairs, diplomacy and economics, tempestuously petty interpersonal dynamics on which national matters of life and death too often depended. Staff abounded to keep it all in order, but Beatriz had always been a hands-on executive. She knew what skeletons lurked in the closets of allies and adversaries alike, and she knew the details of bills and proposals less careful eyes overlooked. She enjoyed sparring with representatives. She harangued her ministers for sport. It wasn’t ideology that drove her so much as the desire to win. More than merely dedicated, the queen thrived in the high-stakes, head-spinning world of governance. It was one in which her weaknesses were strengths. The people of Uspana knew her reputation, but most of them credited it with the long era of stability that she seemed to have held together, almost single-handedly, through sheer force of will.

❧ TAKE TWO FUCK TUMBLR i took the screenshots for this ages ago, and !!!!! i wish that i’d had the time and energy to redo it, but :/ fine enough to just post. i wish i could say beatriz gets better, but ... idk, man, this is just who she is, which sucks sdkfshj

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

{Conversation}

[L] She canceled again, didn’t she?

[B] Not quite. It’s business as usual, is all. They’re taking a coffee break in a moment, so she’ll see you for a few minutes then. [L] {scoffs} Of course.

[B] Look at you. Such a tired trio.

[B] I’m glad to see your faces. These last several weeks have been difficult for everyone. Time to come together.

[B] That’s what I wanted to share with you. Everything is the same for us—well, except for you three. How can we have orphans in a family so large? That’s how you feel, I presume.

[B] You don’t know this, but he had all sorts of inquiries about Safya’s estate within mere days of … Well. Mourning is over, and there is a definitive, sweeping answer. An eviction, in fact. That was her home, and I intend to preserve it as such indefinitely.

[L] I don’t understand. What about Gil and Mateo? [B] You would understand if you let me finish, Leonor. Anyway, this is hardly your concern. You wanted to live alone.

[B] Boys, you will take up residence at Nakawe Palace. Damian and Julian are there, Arnaut’s pair will be around … You will be with me, with your grandfather—right where you ought to be. [G] Mother Beatriz, will Papa be there?

[B] These apartments are for those who belong to the Crown. You belong. Some others do not. [G] Can he visit? [M] We’ll still see him, Gil.

[B] Before you get any ideas: don’t mistake this for a discussion. I was just going to send a moving van to pick you up, but your grandfather was convinced that would be somehow cruel.

[B] Leonor, give me a moment. I have something to say.

[B] Why would you go out like this? They’ll notice. [L] Who will? [B] Come on now. The papers, obviously.

[B] You look awful. To start, go home and wash your hair. These things matter.

[B] They’re going to eat you alive. Do you hear me? They will because they can, and there’s little I can do about it. [L] {softly} They already are …

[B] Exactly. This is my one warning. Let’s not disappoint.

[M] Why didn’t you say anything? [L] Why didn’t you? [M] That’s not fair.

[L] Don’t call him. He should hear everything from her people. It’ll be easier for everyone that way.

[M] Easier? You know that’s not true.

[M] Wait—where are you going? We have plans!

[M] Leonor!

[spaceless-vacuum]

It's the same anon that send in the previous royal! Reader ask with reader being betrothed. I saw that your requests were open and I wanted to see if you could write headcanons regarding that same topic. I didn't want to put it in the previous ask because it got a bit too long.

The whole royalty reader idea gets more interesting depending on which zelda/link you're with. 

Give me a duo who had an arranged marriage with you before the calamity. Spending so much time with their sweet bride and refusing to let you even think about helping out in the war. You can try to fight them about how you're capable and able to do more to defend their country and cry you might but they refuse to let you do anything about it. To them you're so much better suited to waiting the war out while they take care of it. Zelda often takes you to the springs with her, just knowing you're there while she prays alleviates her anxiety. The goddess has to hear her cries when youre by her side. Who could ignore such a sweet soul?

Link likes this as well. Being able to watch both of you helps him relax. Having you away from him not knowing if any yiga rats might hurt you tears him apart. It is his duty to protect you and his princess. Keeping you close by is the best way to make sure you're safe. Even if the lack of privacy may hurt your feelings it is absolutely necessary. Tying the knot between you and Zelda helped with relations between your two nations. The extra help with the war was sweet but having you as her prize was the real victory- even if no one ever heard how badly she wanted to just have you.

Zelda loves it when you help with the guardians. She can't spend all of her time studying them so having you do it and talking about it over tea and while travelling really makes her happy. Listening to your sweet voice go over the numbers and talk about how her plans are going along well just sounds so much sweeter when coming from your lips. The extra help with her other more mundane tasks like hair braiding and just the slow sweet domestic moments are her greatest pleasure. The way you help with domestic affairs was the whole point of the marriage after all.

Link feels a bit off while witnessing those moments but the way Zelda smiles when she looks at you makes up for all of it. He loves seeing the two of you being so happy. He smiles and finds that even your aura is enough to bring out the best in him. It's hard for him to keep such a cold demeanour when you're breaking down all of his walls.

. . .

Post calamity these two would be a handful. For multiple reasons. I didn't mention it much before but you are always at Zelda’s side or in a location they are ok with you being at, such as the castle. After the calamity it's hard to keep you pent up in one house all the time and even travelling with them isn't safe. Plus it's been one hundred years and they're not the same people they once were.

Flora lost you once and was convinced as she sent Link to the shrine of resurrection and as the two of you were separated that you were dead. She used the memory of who she was fighting for to help fuel her energy in the fight against holding the calamity back. Fighting the years away she awoke and found the most beautiful sight waiting to greet her. Her heart was so over flowing it felt like everything that happened up to this point was all worth it. Losing you was too much to remember most days. Yet here you were. Wild taking up the mantle of guardian you again. 

The new hero is certainly different. That much is easy to tell. He doesn't really remember you and his tendencies to always have to keep you in his line of sight are gone the first time you meet. He truly doesn't remember you. After such a long time, who can blame him but it still hurts you a bit. All Wild can recall is that you were a visiting royal who stayed at the castle. How you managed to live for so long, you explained it was all simple luck (magic, being put in the shrine of resurrection with link, Purahs anti aging device, idk maybe love or the calamity did it in hopes you would fall to the malice but you never did).

You spent your time adventuring and travelling with Wild. Hoping to rescue the princess and put an end to the calamity that you witnessed destroy everything ages ago. The dynamic changes a lot. You and Wild have spent a lot of time together and even after rescuing Flora he isn't willing to let go of you. The Link who died had to stand by because he couldn't mess with the royal wedding but there's no need to keep himself away anymore.

There was a time seeing the two of you being so close would have made her jealous, now however? She found seeing the two of you quite calming. Wild's yandere tendencies make her feel secure. She doesn't have to worry about your safety as Wild has obviously gotten ground rules set down that you follow. They're both so overprotective of you but it's clear to see why. Flora can get a bit jealous of the two of you; but who wouldn't be after seeing the way you smile? The jealousy never lingers but it does make her feel sorry about what happened. The life she promised you, the kingdom she was going to rule with you, and all of the plans for the future. It's all gone. She can no longer give you what she once was going to.

As the two of you spend more time together and rekindle what was there it only fuels her love for you. It cements the fact that you married her for her. Not for her title, not for the kingdom, not any of it. For her. You want her. You went so far as to help Wild save her. All for love. She considers the two of you still married and would love to redo your vows.

. . .

Age of calamity Fauna and Calamity. This link is far more stern. There's a literal war going on. He can't spend his time always on the lookout for you. He needs you to stay put as far away from the front line as possible. Fauna lets Calamity do the stern talking but she gets in on it as well when you start to pull the royalty card to try and regain some of your freedom. It's not like you're going far, but it's still so dangerous and they can't bear to lose you. Once Fauna unlocks her powers she gets an aura around her, in truth though she couldn't care less about unlocking her powers. All she wants is for this war to be over a day sooner. She can't wait until this war is behind her so she can just live a normal life with you.

Keeping you by her side all the time and spending her days in the castle while you share stories with her is all she truly wants. Calamity’s goal is the same. He just wants to put this all behind him so he can finally figure out who he is without all of this hero business. Fauna has no issues with sharing you between the two as they have spent so much time together that there's really nothing he can hide from her, and her from him. Your life after the war is much like it was before just with two very needy yanderes who have to have your attention at all times.

. . .

Time would love for nothing more than to take you away. He loves to have you visit him at work when hes with the knights or at the farm. Seeing your down to earth and kind personality as a royal makes him feel secure in the kingdom's future. Due to this part of the timeline being the one where he was sent back to a kid before Ganon betrayed Hyrule. The hero wasn't needed and Zelda never let Ganon into the sacred realm so he feels… sort of odd. He enjoys your company and adores being able to talk about being a hero around you without feeling strange about the whole ordeal. You're so hypnotising he's always at such a loss for words around you. In a sense he knows he's the one who should be treating you like royalty but there is one small issue. You Are to be wed to Lullaby.  He knows you're more than friends but he can't just take you away because to do so would upset your marriage; and he can't stretch the truth to Malon and say he kidnapped the princess. That's what Ganon did; but he can't live in this fantasy world while wishing you were his. He lets this eat him up inside until he eventually talks to his Zelda about it but it's a hard topic.

Lullaby seems loyal and regal and in royal gossip there is this air of her being holier than thou but it's all air. An aura. She doesn't do anything like that at all. In fact part of what drew you to her was how down to earth she is. She's a very multilayered person. She works day and night both as princes but mostly as a sheikah warrior. While exposing Ganon as a traitor she can't be sure his influence is fully gone. She needs stability and power and she has about ten different jobs to get down and they all need to be done by now. She needs someone all the time. Someone who can help her. To comfort her when she cries, to rub her back when she's sick, to be there with her when she prays, she needs a friend and ally and someone to help her spar. She sees how willing you are to help and she latches onto that. The love of her life just showed up out of the blue and now everything feels so much easier. The problems fade away as the hours pass when you're by her side.

Once you've started to help her she's already planning to get her claws in you and never let go. Deals and money exchanges hands all the time and if she gets her own a bit dirty who can prove it was really her and not Sheik? Lullaby is the type to not realise how far gone she is in her obsession with you until she's already planning on how others might need to die and realises “oh, this wasn't on my schedule yesterday.” and she snaps out of it for a moment and it hits her like a ton of bricks. She LOVES loves you. It hits her how much she can't stand to lose you. The light of her life is not even the gods could keep her from you now. As long as you're married your bond will be eternal but she can't help but want more to do with you. She lets Time in to help protect you and watch over you, and to keep you busy when she's not around- but she has to come first in the relationship. She can share but not when she wants you, only when she can't be there right now. She’ll let him in when she's not there and sees it as thanks for keeping you safe but Lullaby can't bear to see how close you are if you two haven't done something together yet. She can't stand to feel like second best.

. . .

Artemis is a troublemaker. Not because she is by heart but because she wants a domestic life but she just cant afford it. She is wealthy enough, but her kingdom just suffered from a war. Your marriage was chosen just as much for political gain as it was her hope for a loving partner. She is a hopeless romantic and often vents to Link and Impa and has them weigh in on who they think would be a good choice. She is very picky and settles on you after a few tests and invites you over only to realise you have such a good heart. You don't act like those other nobles and you care a lot for the people. Is it meant to try and test you by setting up scenarios to fall into your hands? Even as she does so she watches from the corner as a spy does it for her and she just prays seeing you prove yourself time and time again.

Although Artemis wants the picture perfect life nothing in her Hyrule is picture perfect right now. No matter how hard she works there is always something else that needs to be done. TWhen she meets you she's caught off guard. It all seems too soon for the perfect person ever to walk in while she's still trying to recover. She built up her walls so much that when she meets you and you're perfect she realises she's now a major red flag. More so as she starts to plan on how to trap you into marrying her. Suddenly she's nervous and wiping sweat off of her hands and trying so hard to act casual but she cant be after seeing how your eyes look and you're so gorgeous, is it too soon to take a bite out of you? Handling her is handling seven different bombs that are all going to go off at different times and cause six different sized explosions. A lot of fun for people who enjoy that type of chaos but unfortunately she makes peace with the fact that you two will never have a picture perfect relationship on the inside. She craves you too badly to play nice.

Warrior is just as bad as Artemis is sometimes. He has seen far too much war to feel ok and the thoughts and feelings of everything he saw and went through weigh heavy on him. He needs comfort and finds so much of it in you. When on his late night walks he finds himself at your door. Having walked to you without even realising it. Artemis is jealous of him at first but she softens as soon as she sees the way he relaxes around you. She can't be mad at him; she just can't stand to see the two of you alone. As long as she's there to comfort him as well she doesn't mind, although Link would like some alone time he can't push her on this. The two of them both want you but can't stand to let the other just have you without a fight, and neither of them are up for anymore fighting.

. . .

Ok that's all the ones I have for now, I wish I could have written more because there so many small details that I think would really shine in a long form writing or a one shot but I don't have the time for that my lunch break is almost over... I loved this so much I hope it makes sense. I focused more on how the dynamic plays between the two rather than them both sharing you, but that's because I think its so much more interesting! I would love to write more about this soon

[hellcheer-heaven]

Precious Pup

Short story from my old Eddie Munson account that’s getting the Hellcheer treatment.

Another quiet night at Castle Munson, Chrissy rested her head on Eddie’s chest while they watched the 7 o’clock news. Same old, same old: Updates regarding the economy, the continuous divide between those with wealth and those that were struggling, and Reagan talking about the state of national security and international affairs. They more or less paid attention, but really the television was kept on as background noise until they decided to shut it off. The two of them would usually spend their evenings listening to music, cooking, and going for a quick evening stroll. Tonight however they preferred to just turn in early and do nothing. They already finished a quick meal of leftover pizza rolls and beer. Well the one beer bottle was for Eddie, Chrissy gave it a sip and opted for juice instead.

“Okay that’s enough tv for tonight,” Eddie noted as he reached out and pressed the button.

Chrissy got up, stretched out her back, and yawned, “What time is it?”

Before Eddie could utter another word, a loud crash came from outside. They stood frozen in place, not even so much as breathing when all was quiet. The silence was broken by the sound of rustling and so they hurried to snatch whatever they could grab within arm’s reach. Chrissy was prepared with the table side lamp and Eddie clutched on to the 10 pound dumbbell. Of all the nights Uncle Wayne didn’t have any bullets, it had to be tonight. Eddie stood in front of Chrissy, hand on the doorknob and ready to pulverize whoever or whatever was out there.

Chrissy stood at his side, she looked at the door and then to him, “On three: One, two, three!”

Nothing. Nothing was out there. The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was a nearby trash can that had tipped over. Still they had to be cautious. As they slowly approached the knocked over container, they noticed the pile of garbage rustling about. Hopefully it was just a raccoon, at least let it be a raccoon.

The two of them crept closer, stopping when the trash moved again. Suddenly they heard something different. Small, whimpering, and frightened. Eddie hurried to move everything out of the way until he found the source. A little pit bull puppy with the sweetest pair of eyes anybody could ever look into. The poor thing was tired, cold, and hungry. No collar was spotted, the little dear emitted the saddest cries that could make a soldier tear up. Chrissy removed her varsity jacket and wrapped up the lost puppy, sweetly cooing that she was safe.

Chrissy drew a lukewarm bath for the tiny bundle, using whatever was left in her shampoo bottle to scrub her clean. Meanwhile Eddie was searching through the cabinets and fridge to find something for the pup to chow down on. A mixture of sliced lunch meats and a boiled egg would have to do. They sat beside her as she scarfed down the freshest meal that she’s had in hours, probably even days.

“Poor thing. How long do you think she’s been out there?” Chrissy asked as she watched the mini canine eat.

Eddie sighed, “I don’t know. Where do you think she came from?”

She reached her hand out slowly, she felt her heart break as the puppy retreated and cowered in the corner, “She’s so scared.”

He pecked Chrissy’s forehead, “Hey it’s okay, she’s safe now.” He reached out his hand, gently clicking his tongue, “Come here. Come here, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, baby.”

The puppy refused, staying as far away as possible. The two of them would never know her history. All they knew was that she could start again in a family that would cherish her. Care for her. Take her out for walks. And give her the kind of love that was missing in her life.

[magerightsmagefights]

On Ferelden Love

So I just found out that Arl Eamon had two dads, and as I’m replaying the games I’m getting the sense that Ferelden just has no stigmas around relationships that other nations seem to have. Like certainly LGBTQ+ people exist everywhere, and nowhere in Thedas do they seem to be actively persecuted/harmed on account of sexuality, but most places seem to treat same-sex attraction as more of a “character quirk” than anything. Tevinter and Orlais seem to be in the same boat that a person, especially in the higher classes, is to marry an opposite-sex partner first and then take care of “personal tastes” on the side. Orlais also seems to have the Social Status of “mistress,” i.e., “officially recognized extramarital female lover of a wealthy/titled man,” but it seems unclear if there is an official equivalent for the lovers of wealthy/titled women. In any case, Orlais certainly has Rules for How Things Are Done, even extramarital affairs; the role of a mistress has a certain set of behaviors and expectations associated with it.

Then, Ferelden. Kingdom of Dogs. At the very least, we know that exclusive, monogamous same-sex partnerships are not strange enough to remark upon; i.e., Wade and Herren in DA:O. Are they married under Chantry law? I don’t think it’s ever confirmed, but I don’t think they couldn’t be. I think it’s notable that Sera, being the only same-sex romance option you can explicitly marry, is Ferelden.

Back to Arl Eamon tho. So yeah he had one mom and two dads, who seemed to all be mutually involved, and he referred to both men as “Father.” The non-nobility father, btw, was named Connor and is the person after whom Arl Eamon named his son. All this leads me to believe that this poly triad was common knowledge, and, like Wade and Herren, was something no one considered strange because Fereldens just Don’t Care About People’s Business. There is even some evidence that King Calenhad, the one who made Ferelden into Ferelden, had a “special friendship” with his advisor Aldenon the Wise. So “special,” in fact, that Calenhad ended up abandoning his life as king and going off into the wilds to search for Aldenon, never to be seen again.

And let’s also note that Bann Teagan, Eamon’s brother, has the option to flirt with a female Warden regardless of origin. The way it’s worded seems to imply he is, at the very least, not opposed to the idea of marriage -- even with a non-human, even with a mage. While we tragically cannot pursue any romance, it does tell us something about the world: while Ferelden royalty is bound by obligation to marry opposite-sex humans of appropriate social caste, it seems that middle-nobility is a bit more flexible.

Since society is still society, and heads of government in a monarchy are expected to produce more heads of government, I would guess that Bann Teagan is expected/required to marry a human woman to carry on the noble line. I would also expect him to be fully aware of this, and so I believe that his flirting with a female Warden, even the playful inquiry about marriage, does not interfere with Teagan’s duty to marry someone else. He was, after all, raised by three parents just like his brother; the remarkable thing here is not the implication of a possible triad, but the implication a possible triad where the word “marriage” applies to multiple partners. Coming from a Bann. Coming from someone in line to be the Arl of Redcliffe.

Could Bann Teagan and his family be outliers? I mean, I guess it’s possible. But also consider, nobility is ALWAYS held to a higher standard than commoners when it comes to “official” relationships. They are expected to keep producing heads of state, after all; they tend to get married younger, have less control over who they marry, and their behavior reflects more on their family. Also consider that the Guerrin bloodlineis highly influential -- the previous Queen of Ferelden was Eamon and Teagan’s sister! While they certainly have the influence to sleep with whoever they like in private, Eamon and Teagan must absolutely marry within acceptable the acceptable social norms of Ferelden. And if the nobility can form triads, including common-knowledge same-sex relationships, that means commoners can probably do all that and more besides.

All this together leads me to believe that the Ferelden definition of love, and even of family, is much more flexible than most nations. While hetero, monogamous marriage is what we see the most of, I’d guess that it’s not the normal relationship type so much as the most common one. I’d go so far as to wonder if maybe there just isn’t such thing as a “normal relationship” in Ferelden; that there are just relationships, and that’s that.