#either its broke or no one has posted anything in nearly two hours

[sourpatchys]

Tea Prompts, Tomura Shigaraki

You can find the original prompt post here!

Let me know if there are any other characters you’d like to see any of these prompts for! This was really fun!

Warning: some adult themes are thrown in here! This isn’t a NSFW piece but I did include some references to sexual activity, please read with caution if that’s not your cup of tea <3 (most of these are completely SFW)

A/n: these were written with a F!Reader in mind, most of them can be read either way! Though occasionally she/her pronouns are used<3

Masterlist Guidelines

Lemon Tea; What are Mornings like with them?

Tomura isn’t much of a sleeper— so mornings together tend to be rare and far between— but when he actually manages to sleep a full eight hours, the mornings you have together are very peaceful.

He isn’t a morning person by any means. He’s groggy, grumpy and completely nonverbal for the first hour or more. With you he can loosen up a bit, sliding his cold hands and feet into your general space, switching fingers every few minutes just to make sure they’re all warming up properly.

Some mornings he’ll wrap you in a bear hug that your absolutely positive could crack a few ribs— though you love it all the same.

This is the time you two have just to yourselves— no league, no missions, no plans for world domination— just two people laying in bed waiting for the sun to fully rise.

—

Peppermint tea; What do they get excited about?

A pretty obvious answer would be video games, but in all honesty, Tomura loves to talk.

To speak and be heard, to engage in conversation and bounce ideas back and forth— that’s what really gets him going. He loves to plot, to scheme and gossip about anything and everything.

Outwardly it’ll be nearly impossible to tell, he really isn’t the kind of guy who would let anyone know something this personal (so vulnerable), though everyone notices the spark in his eyes when he really gets going on a topic he’s passionate about.

If you were to ask follow up questions, to engage yourself fully in his monologues and spiels, it’s just like giving a kid a candy bar.

And if you were to get angry for him?? To enrage yourself over anything he may say, to become furious at the same situation or person he hates so much— it’s almost enough to fully break his cover.

It’s one thing for him to be elated over the prospect of another person feeling his rage, but it’s another entirely if he starts to feel yours. Stupid highschool bully stories, that one girl in band class that broke your flute— it doesn’t matter— he’ll start eating it up as if he hasn’t had a meal in years.

—

Chamomile tea; What is their sleep schedule like? Does it change around their s/o?

To put it bluntly, Tomura doesn’t have a sleep schedule— he sleeps when his body gives out.

Even before his memories had re-emerged, blotchy nightmares plagued him. Every morning he’d wake up sick to his stomach, the itch under his skin growing by the millisecond. So— he learned to adapt.

2-3 hour power naps kept the nightmares at bay and gave him enough stamina for whatever was to come. His lack of sleep was a large driving force in his erratic behavior early on, grumpy and irritable.

With you though, he finds the nightmares to be less oppressive. He still doesn’t sleep enough, but he finds that taking a couple days out of the week to rest fully isn’t so bad.

If he has a nightmare, the cycle will break back to its bare bones and it’ll take awhile to resurface. As long as you’re patient and as long as he’s willing, he’ll be back to sleeping properly.

Though as a whole, it could take years before he’s ready to sleep regularly again.

—

Earl grey tea; How did they court their s/o?

He didn’t. He isn’t a romantic— he honestly hated you when he started to feel more than just average companionship towards you.

Not a single bushel of roses were bought, no dates were had— hell— you didn’t even know you were together until about a month in when he got pissed at you for getting injured!

“If you ever do that again we’re breaking up.”

Any confusion would only piss him off more— giving you the silent treatment for a few days before he’d finally cave in with some very dead and very wilted wild flowers in hand.

“What is this??”

“Shut the fuck up and take them.”

He honestly just decides that you’re the one he wants— it doesn’t really matter to him how you feel about it.

—

Milk tea; What are their kisses like?

At first, Tomura’s kisses are gentle, childlike and timid— like he isn’t sure what exactly he’s supposed to be doing.

Then— they become untamed— sloppy and harsh. He bites and slobbers, prods and maims, anything to get as close to you as possible.

He won’t kiss you unless you’re completely alone, far away from any prying eyes and peaked interests. He’s not going to show that part of himself to anyone but you.

Teeth and tongue, cracked lips that— if chapped enough— can cut into your own. Kissing is a frenzy, very rarely will you ever get a soft peck or a loving press of his lips onto yours.

—

Coffee; Do they get jealous easily? How do they show it?

Absolutely. Tomura— even as a rising symbol of fear— is extremely self conscious.

He’d never let you leave— as stated above— he didn’t even really give you a choice when it came to being together in the first place.

But even so, the insecurity of you looking away from him, finding someone better or more handsome— it makes his blood run cold.

If there’s someone who touches you and lingers a little too long, if there’s someone you smile at a little too brightly, he’s not above taking their life. Of course it always starts with a threat, either to them or to you.

He wants you to tell him you’ll never leave, he wants you to crumble and cry and tell him everything is exactly as it should be. He is not a kind man, and in times like these it becomes ever apparent that he never will be.

Tomura protects what’s his, and even with free will, you belong to him whether you like it or not.

—

Rosehip tea; How romantic are they? How do they show affection?

Tomura isn’t romantic. At least not in the traditional sense. You can tell he cares by the look in his eyes or his apprehensive nature towards your roll in whatever the league may be doing next.

He keeps you away from danger, even though he, himself, is the biggest danger to you.

If you were to ask for something— anything— he would get it for you. He’s very straight forward, and he wants the people he cares about to able to do, and have whatever they want.

His love language is physical touch, and even though he keeps all the affection he has for you behind closed doors— as soon as those doors are closed, he’s all over you.

Running his hands up and down your stomach, gripping at the squish on your thighs, shoving his head into the crook of your neck, palming your breasts just to remember the feel of them.

He treats you like a fragile porcelain doll.

—

Black tea; What do they look for in a person?

Honestly he wasn’t looking. The concept of romance was completely uninteresting to him— he didn’t want anyone and he didn’t need anyone— he was completely fine on his own.

Though, he wouldn’t date a fellow villain— at least not one notable enough to be a threat. Tomura doesn’t do well with competition, he loathes the thought of racing to the top, he just wants to be there.

Finding a person who he can corrupt, who he can make his own— is something he’d enjoy greatly. That’s not to say he couldn’t fall for a league member, but it wouldn’t be someone worth his time— at least not in the beginning.

He wants a person he can talk to, touch, and unload upon. Someone who will remain consistent and stick by his side no matter what the cost may be.

Although romance isn’t his forte, and finding someone to love wasn’t something he had ever envisioned, he wants someone he can be with for life.

—

Pomegranate tea; At what point did they know they loved their s/o?

Truth be told Tomura was wrapped around your finger from the moment he decided he wanted you— though it didn’t fully kick in until a few months into your relationship.

You were in a fight— it was over something stupid that any other couple could’ve resolved within the day— looking back neither of you could even remember what it was about.

He was pissed, stomping around, seething and destroying anything he could get his hands on. He wanted to yell at you, to scream in your face and make sure you know this was your fault. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Gradually, as the days passed and he became less and less bothered by whatever the two of you had disagreed on— he realized he wasn’t itchy.

He still had those rising tingles under his skin and he still had to rub away his discomfort from day to day life— but this argument, the infuriating way you had made him feel— it did nothing to his sensitive skin.

Slowly it became apparent that he hadn’t needed to dig into his skin at all. He was angry, he was upset and borderline furious with you— but he was comfortable.

For the first time in his life he was able to feel negativity without the pull of fire ants under his skin. That’s when he realized for sure— that he was absolutely, without a doubt, in love with you.

—

Matcha tea; How and when do they propose to their s/o?

The villain life has no room for any sort of eloping or marriage— so he doesn’t ever really propose.

Sooner or later you just start to feel like a married couple.

You bicker and fight, you sleep together and sneak away to have alone time. The love he has for you starts seeping out more, he becomes a new version of himself just for you.

Then, once the Paranormal Liberation Front is active, Re-Destro asks about your partnership. It’s a simple question, curious and wide eyed.

“Who is this girl to you?”

It makes sense given the environment— you were not nominated as a lieutenant, though you stood by Tomura’s side like a shadow, waiting and watching— clearly in the ranks but with no flashy title to show for it.

And then, as if it were as simple as breathing, Tomura calls you his wife. Telling anyone who was around that he was the King, and by default you were the Queen.

—

Chai Tea; How do they spice up their relationship?

All in all, Tomura is a pretty boring guy. He drinks straight black coffee, plays video games and broods in silence 90% of the time.

Though, when it comes to you, he does try to make an effort. He’ll try out the games you like or your hobbies, and he’ll introduce you to his own in return.

He’ll teach you how to play chess, and that will inevitably turn into tradition. Once a week (if time will allow) you’ll sit down together, play a few games and just talk.

In the underworld, romance never will be easy to manage, and even though you make his days a little brighter, you’ll never be his top priority. World destruction won’t happen on its own, and nothing in his life will override his goals.

But these special little moments between the two of you are by far the best part of anything he’s ever going to accomplish.

—

Hibiscus tea; What’s their favorite place to take their s/o?

The bedroom. As stated, Tomura isn’t a very outgoing person— he won’t take you out on dates or walks in the park.

But he will sit with you in a dark room, watch movies and eat junk. (Bonus points if there’s a blow job thrown in)

His favorite place to be with you, is when you’re alone and secluded. He wants to touch you freely, to run his lips down your throat and hold you close to his chest.

He wants to grab you, to hold and be held. To feel the warmth of your body completely engulfing his own.

Truly, his favorite place to be, is wherever you’ll allow.

—

Green tea; How do they comfort their s/o?

He really doesn’t. Tomura has absolutely no idea how to deal with you when you’re upset.

If you’re angry he’ll get angry with you! He’ll wind you up and let you take it all out on whatever you so please. (as long as it isn’t him)

Expect absolutely nothing in regard to his comforting abilities. He might take you to the side and ask you what’s wrong, he may even give you an awkward hug! But that’s really all he’ll be able to do.

If you ask for space he’ll give it to you, if you ask for cuddles he’ll do his best! But overall, you’re the one who has to call the shots, and depending on what’s going on, he may just leave you to deal with it yourself. Because as stated above— regardless of how wonderful you are— you are not his top priority.

—

Russian caravan tea; How experienced are they with relationships?

NOT AT ALL. You are his first (and final) attempt at love. You’re going to get all of his fuck ups, all of his learning curves and all of his shitty disposition.

He has no idea what he’s doing, and even years down the line he still won’t fully understand. Caring for another person isn’t the most insane thing in the world— he cares for the league and it works out fine!

But loving someone?? It’s just too overwhelming at times. Taking your needs into consideration without being asked, figuring out what you enjoy and how he can add that into his already insane schedule— it’s maddening.

You’re his first everything, and you’re just going to have to be okay with that— because you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not!

—

English breakfast tea; Would they want a family?

Tomura wasn’t even looking for love when he found it— let alone a family.

I really doubt he ever thinks about it at all, he’s never been someone who cared much about what the future would bring.

That isn’t to say if you wanted a family he wouldn’t cave. He wants the people he cares about to have and do whatever they want— if for you that means starting a family with him— he’s not opposed to it.

It wouldn’t be cut and dry though, and if you never pipe up with the interest he isn’t going to either.

If you do bring it up, he’d ask a lot of follow up questions. Such as,

“Why?”

Or

“What’s the point?”

He really wouldn’t know what to do if that situation occurred, but he wouldn’t say no— he may just need to think on it for a while.

If you were to become pregnant, be it a broken condom or failed birth control— he wouldn’t ask you to terminate. You belong to him— yes— but part of being in his grasp is being able to live your life any way you want. Aside from hero work or leaving him there aren’t many restrictions.

If push comes to shove he’d enjoy having a little family of his own! Seeing himself mixed with you in a smaller, separate, body— creating something after destroying so much. It would be one of the steepest learning curves he’s ever experienced, and he wouldn’t be the most present father in the early days of vomit and diapers— but he’d be there all the same.

—

Rooibos tea; What’s their favorite thing to do with their s/o?

Cuddling. He loves to touch and be touched. He doesn’t care if you play games with him, he doesn’t care if you kill and destroy— all he cares about is the fact that you’re there with him.

He loves when you run your fingers through his tangled hair, slowly separating any knots you find. He loves the feel of his hands rubbing against your soft skin. He craves your presence and he craved the feel of you.

It’s not always sexual— but those times when he can claim you, to mark you inside and out, he truly feels like he’s the most powerful man in the world.

He’s terrified of feeling vulnerable, so he pushes you away any chance he gets, refusing to do anything with you if there’s even a chance of someone else seeing. (And sometimes that person is you)

[lumpofwhump]

Cold Comfort

Content: Lab whump, carewhumperee, reluctant whumper, reluctant caretaker, henchman whumper, cold whump, comfort… sort of.

(Continued from this post)

—

Your subject needs to start giving us more, the Director had told Barclay. Do whatever it takes to make that happen.

Easier said than done, the young Lead Technician thought as he headed for Varin’s cell. These days, the process of extracting the valuable substance from the subject’s frail body hadn’t gotten him much more than a trickle. The only thing it accomplished was nearly killing Varin, leaving him it emaciated, its skin ghostly pale.

Still, saying that wouldn’t have ended well for Barclay. He was already on thin ice with the Director.

He opened the door to the cell with a loud clang, causing Varin to startle awake with a gasp. But in its eyes, Barclay could see something like… was that relief?

“Don’t look so excited,” he told it curtly. “Today’s not going to be fun for either of us.”

As he approached, though, he saw that Varin’s day hadn’t been going well to begin with. It was sopping wet and shivering uncontrollably.

Really…?!

He’d check who was on cleaning duty last night. It looked like they needed a reminder that they would be easier to replace than this subject.

“Hang on,” he told it, shaking his head with annoyance as he closed the door and headed for the nearest supply closet.

Despite his earlier warning, the subject’s face lit all the way up when he came back with a couple towels and a fresh gown.

“Here,” Barclay said, dumping the items on the floor between them.

Varin made no move to take them though, still huddled in on itself for warmth and staring up at Barclay with wide, pleading eyes. “C-can you…” it ventured shakily. “Please, I… I’m so cold.”

The towel’s right there, dumbass, now get moving, Barclay almost snapped. He stopped himself, though, if only barely. The more stressed the subject was, the harder it was going to be to get anything from it.

“Alright,” he grumbled, picking up the towels and approaching Varin. He wrapped one of them around its thin body, and then set to drying off its face. The hosing-off had unsurprisingly done absolutely nothing about the numerous mats and tangles in Varin’s hair, nor about its smell. He worked quickly and efficiently, trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

Even so, Varin leaned into his touch.

He stopped short. He wasn’t supposed to allow this sort of thing. Touch was supposed to be on staff’s terms alone. The policy for dealing with an overly affectionate subject was to physically discipline it and then leave it in isolation for at least 48 hours.

But he needed something to show for himself today. He’d barely survived the last time he’d disappointed the Director.

“Just, don’t get used to this,” he finally conceded.

Varin nodded, but still its eyes shone with gratitude as it stared up at him, daring to lean in closer against him.

Barclay went rigid and broke off eye contact as he finished drying it off and reluctantly helped it change into the fresh gown. He pulled away before it could try to cling to him again, turning away to open his bag of medical equipment.

“Let’s get this over with.”

—

I needed to finally write something for Barclay, as the guy has been taking up an inordinate amount of brainspace for the past two months.

Varin and the Director, meanwhile, are @skinofafish’s characters.

[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[phoebe-delia]

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

1.

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

2.

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

3.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

4.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

5.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[ahjustroza]

Do you have any hcs abt Last Legacy modern au?

Sorry for the wait! I just write very slow 🥺😭 btw I am still writing other requests! I'll post them as soon as I finish writing ✨😌😏 And YES I still take requests😏😏😏

Lol btw I haven't played the catboy Felix tale yet but found his delicious CG. Also, there might be typos etc. My dyslexia was a hoe for the last couple of days (･_･

Last Legacy Modern Au Headcanons

Sage

Lmao the first time you went to his place you faced with an ancient-looking old computer that he found in a garage sale

"It still works"

"Sage with its monitor alone you can heat your entire house in winter"

"Aye, but I don't have to use that to get heated if you catch my drift."

Let me give you a concept: thrift store dates

You took him to a thrift store once and thought it might be fun

But at the moment you entered the store Sage found a damn fake fur jacket and gold sunglasses

He will buy anything with a famous brand logo and say it is original and is an antique

But he'll only do that to annoy people

Mostly.

Sage cares about his looks but doesn't go crazy about it

Before dating you he just lived his life like a street kid like in cyberpunk 2077

Sage and Tulsi grew up in slums and then Sage got an apartment so that Tulsi could grow up in a safe environment

He didn't go to college but made sure that Tulsi did

Sage basically works as a mercenary in the modern au as well

He travels a lot and has to disappear for a looong long time

Tulsi is used to it but you aren't

Once you two are in a relationship and he feels ready to settle down he might get a job closeby to your shared house

You made him realize that he needs his family around him

And now he is not alone to carry all the burden by himself

He knows that if he can't make it in time you will be there to help out Tulsi or take care of all the work for him

He feels lighter around you

Also, he makes many people jealous on the streets lol

Whenever you two are on a date no one can believe that you, a literal divine being, could look at a Boku no pico catboy maid-sama man like him.

He is also jealous of you

But never possessive

He likes to send you out of context memes in the worst possible times ever

Like you got Luigi and Mario animations, doing the waltz, with the Britney Spears' Toxic song during the busiest hour of your shift

He also texted "This us"

The audacity

Sage would also LOVE video games

Especially Final Fantasy games

But he suck at playing them so he makes you play instead

And he'll give instructions too

"I saw a checkpoint in the other room babe,"

"Love, I gotta run away from the boss right now."

"It's not the boss, bosses have their boss rooms. This is an obstacle"

Sage also suck at filing taxes

So good luck with that

I can see Sage having PTSD treatments because of his traumatized childhood and the life he had to live until now after settling down with you

You convinced him to go to therapy and Tulsi backed you up

So he will take medications every day

At first, you had to remind him a lot, but then he just made it an addiction and now doesn't need reminders

He was never happier and finally had a taste of a healthy and caring relationship with you

He is also not so terrible with putting the IKEA furniture together.

Felix

He got expelled from Harvard.

Then his rich father had to convince the headmaster to reconsider the decision and Felix ended up with suspension instead smh

Felix's grades are great but he has disciplinary issues

I can see him majoring in criminal justice and mortuary science

Or maybe just mortuary science

Escell was very disappointed in him.

He is also famous for dating with the valedictorian among Harvard graduates

Then they broke up and you yeeted yourself in his life

Or he yeeted himself to your arms

He literally dramatically fell one day and you happened to be close to catch him

Then the Titanic music played in the background with the slow summer rain fell down to your heads

You are hot so he was flustered

Like he internally screamed when he fell in your arms

Or shall I say fell in love?

You two then started as friends since not too later he found out that he might actually have a chance with you after you mentioned your love of video games and romance books

After starting to date he confessed that he has an AO3 account asddgf

Rime was a burden too

He was the one who broke Felix's heart

But still wanted him to only love him and him alone

Then you were like

"Hoe listen to me..."

Rime hot

But no

Felix cried until morning the day you fist fought Rime in the grocery store parking lot

AAHGDHFA

Scylla secretly approved your determination that day and watched the fight afar

Escell got drunk and Florian came home the day after for everyone's explanations

The deeper your relationship got the more a part of his family you become

I mean every Friday it was now a routine that Felix and you attended family dinner

No one even asks anymore they just put your plate down and Escell hides his most expensive wine bottles from everyone

Felix is not good to live in his own house though

He always lived with someone in the house so he wasn't alone

Ever.

When you moved into the same house with him Felix was relieved

You two will be emos together and watch fifty shades of grey movies during the quarantine

Please ask Felix if he thinks the movie is interesting, he will avoid you all day long

Then become a blanket burrito at night lmao

Oh btw he might tell you random facts about mortuary

Like you are in the shower and he comes in to brush his teeth

Then he'll tell you a fact you didn't have to know then leave

"Truly fascinating, if you ask me."

He is also the type to text you from the other side of the room

Or call you from the other room to ask you if you can bring him something to eat

Felix would also love to go to the farmers' market too

"Finally some quality food."

Whenever you two go on a vacation together

lmao someone ALWAYS takes his hand and reads his palm

Only to be ended up getting scolded and getting a proper palm reading from Felix

Anisa

Call her and ask if she wants drive tru

"Love, it is thREE IN THE MORNING, I have work tomorrow-"

"So two? Or nah?"

"Get a coffee."

Actually, she wants a cookie but won't admit it

She knows you'll get her a cookie

You always get her a cookie with coffee

Anisa might be a great investigator if you ask me

If not a detective or a police chief or lieutenant

But I think she would work in law enforcement

Or she might also start her own company and rise as well

Unlike Sage and Felix, Anisa will not live in the same house with you before she decides to settle down for good

It's not because she doesn't want you around her

But because she is always at work and doesn't want to leave everything to you to handle at home

But she is always with you on her day offs

Will call you once a day at least

Text you during her breaks or whenever she can

If you can show up at her workplace during the lunch break she will take you to the nearest coffee shop

"Their coffee is not nearly as good as yours, but among other shops, this is the most drinkable one."

She will spoil you during your dates!

She likes to see you smile and will do anything for you to have a good time with her

So expect sweets, movie nights, amusement park dates, or just traveling during both of your yearly week/month offs/breaks

She won't admit it but likes it when you try to match your clothes with hers

She will know your favorite everythings lol

Take her to a dinner date and she will be so happy and feel spoiled

She will let you paint her nails

Let you get all the hot water in the shower

Will let you wear her clothes

Pillow fights are allowed every now and then

When she gets sick she'll try to power through but likes it when you baby her

Whenever you get sick she will try to not fuss over you but every 15 minutes she'll ask to take you to see a doctor

She is a cereal gal

You might have to drag her to bed many nights because she will take work at home

Oh my god, do play dungeons and dragons with her

If you visited somewhere she has never been she will ask a lot of questions about your trip

Likes to binge a tv series you two found online

Also enjoys just silent but comfortable moments with you

When you read your book she will gaze at you

All heart eyes

Will put her favorite picture of you two as her profile picture in her social media accounts

Will like your every post

ALWAYS TEXTS BACK TO YOU. ALWAYS.

Never leaves you on read/seen

She will either give you a proper text or just let you know that she is busy at the moment

Also if you come home later than her she will ask if you want her to prepare anything special you want for dinner

otherwise, she'll do dishes that you both like anyway

If she is late, she'll call you to ask if you need anything from the grocery store, etc.

[detroit-smash-my-ass]

Yandere Alphabet - All For One

Masterlist

Yes, technically this isn’t NSFW per se, but it gets into topics racy enough that I’m posting it here. And c’mon, who doesn’t enjoy delving into the twisted maze that is AFO? He’s neck-and-neck with All Might as the scariest yandere in this series anyway, but that’s another can of worms.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He’s very generous with the affection, but only if you’ve kept in his good graces. He’s not picky about doling out punishments if you act out. He keeps it fairly innocent unless the mood strikes, and even then he doesn’t care who’s in the room when he decides to seduce you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He’s the single most dangerous villain in the history of Quirks and has no hesitation to take what he wants when he wants. I feel like that should answer itself fairly well.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He’s gentle with you, but firm. His first priority is to make you dependent on him, and comforting you even as you demand answers. Depending on how violent/aggressive you get, however, he’s not above leaving you alone by yourself in a locked room for a while to stamp out that temper. As soon as you start acting nice, he treats you kindly again.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Not in the classic physical sense. He’s manipulative, yes, but he’s not going to force you into anything -- at least, not yet. He wants your will to bend and break before he truly starts doing things with you that you might otherwise say no to. Patience is key - and lucky for him,  he’s got a lot.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He tells you very little about himself other than the basics you already know: all-powerful villain who can take and give any Quirk he gets his hands on. He might liken you to his little brother once or twice, and perhaps if in a good enough mood he’ll tell you stories of when they were both young, but otherwise he’s a mystery to you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Amused. There’s literally nothing you can do to him that hurts, and for a while he’s content to let you think you’re gaining back control, only to crush that determination at the most heated moment. If you continue to act out, however, he will start to lose his patience and will treat you harsher and harsher, outright abandoning you in a locked room with food and water delivered once a day until he feels you’ve learnt your lesson.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It doesn’t matter if it is or isn’t; chances are, he’s already won. He does enjoy watching you go about, thinking you’re being sneaky when he’s already figured out your entire plan to escape. At the very last moment when you think you’re going to get out, he enjoys seeing the hope fade from your face as you realize you’ve failed. It gives him a lot of pleasure breaking you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being locked in a cell, alone, with nobody to talk to until he arrives to bring you food. He only wants to isolate you like that when you’re being stubborn; otherwise, you’re locked in your shared bedroom.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

First and foremost, he wants to rule his new empire with you at his side as his loving spouse. Your Quirk is deemed helpful enough that, should you be able to, he would like a few children sired with you to see what kind of Quirks they would get (or not, in which case he’d be delighted to share one of his with them and train them to use it).

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He’s not exactly jealous, but rather paranoid. His way of coping with that is to keep you locked away. You’re his, not anyone else’s, and he wants you to accept that.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He’s very affectionate. Loves holding you in his lap as he caresses your hair, maybe a kiss or two on your forehead. He’s very charming, too; likes to joke around with you and is quite playful when you’re in his good graces.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He met you while you were briefly in Kamino Ward and afterwards desired to have you for himself. He found out where you lived and worked and started sending anonymous gifts (along with a cell number) in the guise of a ‘secret admirer’ until you agreed to meet him over text. When you did meet, you were a bit intimidated by his size, but after a few successful dates you were already falling head over heels.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely. Most of the time, he acts charming and enigmatic, but when you piss him off, everyone knows it. The sheer weight of his aura is enough to even make All Might shake in his boots, and for good reason. He prefers not to let his charismatic mask slip, though. It’s much easier to manipulate others when they believe you to be weaker than you are and think they have the upper hand at all times.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Depends on what you did. If he thinks you’re just being bratty, he may spank you, chiding you the whole time. If you piss him off? Total isolation. 24/7, 365-366 days a year. At least, until he believes you’ve learnt a lesson. You’re locked in a cell with only a cot, toilet, and shower, and he himself delivers food to you once a day as your only form of human communication. Cameras are trained on you at all hours that only he can access. He doesn’t fuck around.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

At first, he’s quite generous. He allows monitored correspondence between you and your family. He allows you to go places only with either him or Kurogiri present at all times. He allows you near sharp objects only with supervision (like when you cook dinner together). But if you piss him off, he takes everything away, including privacy. Get sick? Need an exam? He gets Garaki to check you out, and he watches the whole time.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He can be exceedingly patient. His thinking is that you’re just a petulant child who needs to learn their place, and if he has to dole out a few punishments along the way he will. He just wants you to realize that he won’t let anything happen to you and that he just wants the best for you (that issue is subjective).

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

You know how he (presumably) reacted to his beloved little brother dying? That. Again. And this time, he would be less lenient on those he deemed responsible. He rules with an iron grip.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Doesn’t feel guilty at all, and absolutely won’t let you go. It’s partially his Quirk to blame; when he sees something (or someone) he desires, he just has to have it/them. He considers you to be totally his, and he won’t stand for anything else taking you away.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

As stated above, it’s partially his Quirk, partially due to being born in a turbulent time of history. Quirks were still becoming more common at the time, and he was already protective of his brother due to his perceived Quirklessness and because he was using his Quirk for good. He made too many enemies that wanted to hurt those close to him, and due to his paranoia (as well as his possessive nature), force of habit dictates that he isolate those he deems his.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Condescending pity. He dealt with that kind of behavior once, with his younger brother, and it nearly broke him then trying to get him to see how much he loved him. Now he’s older and more patient, and all he can do is try and comfort you by petting your hair and telling you that it has to be this way, he just wants the best for you, why can’t you just understand?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

When he does lose it, he doesn’t ‘go mad’ in the classic sense -- rather, his resolve hardens and he retains his temper. His is more of a tranquil fury - it’s not immediately obvious unless he chooses to show you. He wouldn’t physically hurt you either -- well, not enough to wound you. He would consider spanking, but he wouldn’t break your legs.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Oh, honey. You really think he won’t see what you’re doing and shut it down when you think you’ve gotten free? He’s All For One. There’s not a weakness he hasn’t already thought through.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Aside from light things like spanks, no. Mentally, though? He’s a manipulative, gaslighting monster. He will not hesitate to turn you against everyone you’ve ever loved if it meant you were more dependent on him alone.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He goes the traditional gentleman route: wooing you slowly enough that you don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. He reveres your body in all of its beauty when you get intimate, but he rather wants you to worship him devotedly.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

If anything were to make him snap, it would be you (against all odds) escaping his grip. Maybe one of his underlings somehow slipped you out under his nose. Maybe another decided to just dump you somewhere. Either way, he’s going full lockdown mode and will not stop until he finds you. And believe me, he will find you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

That’s probably the first thing he does if you’re stubborn/defiant enough. If you prove to be totally into it and are willing to be totally dependent on him, congrats! You get to escape with your will mostly unharmed!

[starshine583]

For the soulmate thing, can you do k or b for felinette?

(Okay I have Too Many Thoughts for b- like, a whole fic long thoughts -so I’m just gonna do k for now lol hope you like it!)

Everyone has a soulmate. Everyone. No exceptions. It may be a romantic soulmate or it may be a platonic soulmate or it may be some other type of soulmate entirely, but everyone has at least one type of soulmate. However, finding a single soulmate in a world full of billions of people can be tricky. That’s why the gods bestowed mankind with a most thoughtful gift: the lock and key.

When a person is born, they are provided with a lock or a key that’s wrapped around a chain. Sometimes it is on the wrist, sometimes the neck, sometimes it wraps around one’s entire torso, and it is said that, once on, the chain cannot and will not be released until that person finds their other half. When they do find their other half, though, the person with the key will open the other’s lock with a satisfying *click* that will release their chains, and they will be newly free together.

At first, the idea sounds ludicrous. People with keys would be frantically running to try every lock, while people with locks would be trying to frantically find other keys to get the chains off. There would ultimately be more chaos than before when the world was trying to find soulmates without help.

Except there’s a catch.

When two soulmates start to get near each other, their lock and key will begin to act as magnets. The closer they get, the stronger the pull, and eventually, they’ll be running towards each other until one’s key slides perfectly into the other’s lock. Some rumors even talked about a few people getting dragged down the street by the force of the magnets.

Unfortunately, a certain Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng couldn’t attest to whether those rumors were true, because she hadn’t found her soulmate yet.

Oh, she’s tried everything. She’s worked overtime at the bakery to meet new customers, she’s idly walked around Paris for hours to see if the key would pull in a certain direction, and she’s tried forming deep bonds with everyone she knows in case that was a factor she didn’t know about. And yet, despite her desperate attempts, nothing’s worked. Her key continued to lay across her chest, unmoving and mocking. Was there something she was missing? Something she was doing wrong? Why couldn’t these things come with proper instructions?

Her parents told her to wait, that she would find her soulmate eventually, and perhaps that advice would be easier to follow.. had most of her classmates not found their soulmates already. Mylene found Ivan in kindergarten, Juleka and Rose found each other in first grade, Max found his soulmate at a tech lab, Alix and Kim found both of their soulmates around the same time during dares, Chloe found hers at a gala, and even Sabrina found hers a few years back. That left herself, Nathaniel, and Nino still waiting on soulmates, which she took a bit of comfort in. If she must wait endlessly for her other half, at least she wasn’t waiting alone.

But then Alya came along.

And Marc.

And Marinette suddenly felt much more isolated than before.

Everyone around her was happy and in love, and yet her key still refused to move. Her only solace at that point was the fact that Adrien hadn’t found his soulmate either.

Unfortunately, that also gave her another form of torture: hope. Hope that they would be soulmates somehow, that her key and his lock were simply lagging in action, and that someday Marinette would be able to be linked to that beautiful, sweet, sunshine boy for the rest of her life. 

Sadly, a hope like that only crushed her more when nothing ever happened between them. He sat in front of her everyday in class and talked with her all of the time, but her key continued to dangle around her neck. No tugging. No dragging. Just dangling.

One day she tried to throw it away, so frustrated and bitter towards the whole thing, but the chain didn’t break no matter what she did, which was honestly expected. The locks and keys wouldn’t be considered nearly as mystical if their chains could break off at the slightest bit of force. 

Annoyed and confused and worried, Marinette resigned herself to the fate she’d been given and went on with life, telling herself that her soulmate would come even though she didn’t quite believe it. She continued to speak with Adrien on the whim that her key would decide to work and busied herself with friends and work and Ladybug duties to avoid feeling the weight of the chain around her neck, and after a while, she started to feel okay. She didn’t think of her soulmate as much, or where or who they could possibly be. She simply lived her life and consciously ignored Chloe’s teasing towards her being “soulmate-less” or anything else related to soulmates. If life wouldn’t give her her other half, then that clearly wasn’t what she needed.. or at least that’s what she told herself. 

It was a few weeks into this mindset that her heart truly shattered from the pressure, but it wasn’t because of anything Chloe had said.

Adrien Agreste, the boy she’d been uselessly pining after for over a year, her supposed last string of hope, had found his soulmate, and it wasn’t her. It was another girl that Marinette didn’t even know, someone by the name of Kagami.

Marinette broke down that day. She’d managed to slip out of the classroom during the cheers and cries of congratulations and hide in the bathroom, and even now her chest ached from how hard she’d cried. A part of her felt guilty over it, since this was supposed to be a happy day for Adrien, but all Marinette could see was a cruel sentence suddenly pushed further onto her than before. A life without a soulmate, alone. She’d figured that if Adrien, the embodiment of perfection, could still be searching for his soulmate, then she had nothing to worry about. Now that he’s found his, though, she’s not sure what to do or where to go. Should she try to meet more people again? Or get used to a life of solitude? Why couldn’t her soulmate be close to her like everyone else? Why couldn’t her key just work!

It’s been about a week and a half since Adrien found his soulmate, and Marinette, still “soulmate-less”, found herself sitting in their usual classroom once again. The weight in her chest had gotten noticeably heavier, along with the chain around her neck, but she made an effort to ignore it, idly rubbing the key that was the source of her troubles as she waited for her other classmates to arrive.

“Did you see Adrien’s posts about London?” Alya asked excitedly next to her. She’d done her best to comfort Marinette in the last few days- as any good friend should -but in the end, they both realized that a conscious ignorance towards the matter would probably be best.

“No.” Marinette muttered. She hasn’t touched her phone in a while, specifically since Adrien mentioned taking Kagami to London to meet the rest of his family. “Why, did something happen?”

“Only him showing us how great the country is!” 

Alya slid her phone over to Marinette to show her a few pictures. Most of them were landscapes such as the Big Ben, the House of Parliament, and what she assumed was St. Paul’s Cathedral, but one had people in them, people that Marinette didn’t recognize. There was a girl on the left of Adrien with raven hair and brown eyes, clearly Kagami- and wasn’t it cruel irony that they both had the exact same hair color? So close, yet so far! -and then there was a boy on the right of Adrien. He had pale, blond hair that was combed to the side and pale eyes that almost appeared to be silver. His neutral expression highly contrasted the bright smiles on the faces of the couple next to him.

A sense of curiosity pricked in the back of Marinette’s mind, and she straightened to get a better look at the picture. “Who’s-”

The question caught in her throat no sooner than she started it as something lightly tugged on her neck. Her body tensed up, her mind reeling with the possibilities as she glanced down at her key. Did it really just move on its own? Or did the key simply shift on her chain as it had done a million times before? 

“Marinette?” Alya asked, concerned.

Marinette shook herself from her thoughts, mentally scolding herself for being silly. The key couldn’t have moved, because everyone in this class had their soulmates already and she was certain none of the other students at Dupont were her soulmate. The key probably shifted on the chain again, like usual.

“Sorry, I’m fine-”

Another tug, and Marinette gasped as she saw the key actually lift into the air. What was happening? Why was it moving now? She didn’t see anyone new around.

“Yo, Adrien!”

The girls’ attention turned to Nino- who was waving towards the door of the classroom -then to the doorway, where Adrien Agreste himself had just entered. Marinette had forgotten that he was returning today, but that was the farthest thing from her mind right now. She was much more engrossed in the fact that her key was tugging on her neck again, this time harder, more insistent. Whoever her soulmate was must be getting closer, but who could it be? Was someone new to the school? She didn’t hear about anyone transferring.

“How was your trip, man?” Nino asked as he met the blond at the door.

Adrien flashed him a bright smile. “It was great! Aunt Bridgette really like Kagami, and I actually brought someone back for you guys to mee-”

Marinette let out a yelp, accidentally interrupting Adrien’s story as the key abruptly jerked on her neck. It pulled her to her feet and almost dragged her over the desks as well, but she managed to gain enough control and follow the magnetic pull down the stairs.

Alya, along with a few other classmates, gasped and got to their feet as well. “Woah, Marinette! You’re about to find your soulmate, girl!”

Marinette let out an anxious squeak as she stumbled towards the door. She was about to find her soulmate? But how? Who would it be? It almost looked like the key was pulling her towards Adrien, but that wasn’t possible! Adrien already had a soulmate. Unless something really strange was happening-

The key practically flew forward now, taking Marinette with it, and poor Adrien didn’t look like he was going to have time to move. She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face, already blurting out apologies for the collateral damage she was about to cause.

Her hands landed on someone’s chest, both parties grunting from the hit, and a distinct sound reached her ears, one she’d memorized from listening to too many youtube videos at night.

*Click*

Marinette’s eyes snapped open, her jaw dropping with shock. Was that what she thought it was?

She didn’t see the signature black shirt and white jacket of Adrien Agreste- the person she’d originally assumed running into -in front of her, but instead found her fists curled into the dark grey material of a vest.  It took a second more to realize that Adrien was actually standing next to her now, his eyes just as wide as hers. 

At the center of the mystery person’s chest was a lock, clear as day, and inside that lock was her key, fitting comfortably in the socket that it had forced itself into. This was… this was it. This was the miracle that people had told her about for fifteen years. Her soulmate was here. 

The chains slipped off of her neck, bringing a strange sense of weightlessness to that area, and tentatively, Marinette’s gaze trailed up to the face of the partner that fate had given her. 

Immediately, she was struck with recognition. The pale, blond hair sweeping across his features, the grey-ish eyes that she could now pinpoint as an icy, steely blue, the sharp eyebrows and facial features- this was the exact same person from Adrien’s pictures of London that she’d seen only a moment prior.

But who was he?

Alya grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her with an enormous squeal. “Girl!! You’ve done it! You’ve found your soulmate!!”

“I..” Marinette trailed off, at a loss for words. She had. She had done it. She’d found her soulmate at last. It’d been so long since she gave up on having one that the experience felt surreal, like a dream that was too good to be true. Please don’t be too good to be true.

“Adrien, are you going to introduce them or what! You said you brought this guy here to meet us, right?”

At Alya’s insistence, Adrien snapped out of his trance, and so did the boy in front of her, apparently, because he extended a hand to Marinette.

“Apologies, I.. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle.” He said sincerely, his voice soft yet steady.

A blush exploded across Marinette’s cheeks, and she couldn’t help flailing slightly before she took his hand. “O-Oh, uhm, yes. Nice to.. to meet you too.”

“Everyone,” Adrien spoke up, an ear-splitting grin now on his face, “This is my cousin, Felix Culpa. Felix, this is my wonderful friend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Marinette..” Felix muttered, as if he were testing the name on his tongue. Then he smiled. It was a small, quiet thing, not nearly as bright as Adrien’s, but it melted her heart faster than Adrien’s smile ever could. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“T-Thanks!” She squeaked out. “Y-You’re really beautiful too- er, I mean- wait, no-”

A chuckle tumbled from his lips, and she caught the faintest blush tinting his cheeks as he lifted her knuckles to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to them. “Thank you, but I’m surely nothing compared to you.”

Marinette’s blush deepened, but before she could decide whether to argue his pure radiance as a human being or thank him for his second compliment, the bell cut into their conversation.

“Oh!” Alya said. “You guys are totally sitting together. I’ll sit in the back if I have to.”

“Oh, Alya, you don’t have to-”

“Nope!” Alya insisted, already jumping up the stairs. “This is the greatest moment of your lives! You’re taking time to enjoy each other.”

Marinette supposed she could fix the seats herself by sitting with Alya in the back, but.. she really didn’t want to, especially when Felix slid his hand fully into hers as he stood next to her. Besides, if everyone was fine with it, why should she fight it?

“Mind if I join you for class?” Felix asked, a light note to his voice.

Marinette offered him a warm smile and squeezed his hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

Fifteen years just to get a look at Felix Culpa..

It was definitely worth the wait.

(Send me a letter ask and I’ll do a thing!)

[captainkirbypunch]

My love has left tumblr once again.

As many of you may know, the account under the name MDZADR, has left tumblr. They felt unsafe in their fandom, and as such have deleted their tumblr and AO3 account due to the bad memories linked to them.

As a part of their departure, they have asked me to post something in their name, as follows.

If you want more details about how I came to this realization, continue to read. If not, here is your summary:

TL;DR: For the safety and health of this fandom, I wanted to spread the word that Mooping-10 is filled with people who absolutely cannot be trusted, creating a very hazardous environment for the zadr community, and MelodyoftheVoid is connected to all of those people, living a double life amongst those of us that don’t “ship zadr correctly.” She has plenty of friends her inner circle knows nothing about, and nobody on either side knows who she really is. 

Full story below.

I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. Nobody did anything to me today, but this just wasn’t worth it.

My AO3 and tumblr are both gone. I didn’t say goodbye because I didn’t want to look like an attention seeker.

Here’s the thing. I wasn’t going to name drop, but you guys need to know the truth. I’m instructing my boyfriend (hi y’all) to turn asks off for his own safety after this because this is going to be a nightmare, but... allow me to tell you the full story. I’ll try to break up the text so it’s less difficult to read, but this is important. I’m sorry to air discourse so publicly, but please... I need you to listen to me.

I’ll start from the beginning, without being vague anymore about who “she” is. I request that you please read the whole thing and not skip parts of it. The whole story matters.

I finally returned to the fandom about two months or so ago. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t do well in my thoughts while left alone too long, so I posted saying I would stop messaging people I knew because I didn’t want to bother them. There were only two people I was talking to at the time, but one of them is famous so I didn’t want to message her directly saying that. Doing so would have put her in a position of feeling obligated to say “you’re not bothering me” rather than just simply being able to sigh with relief from no longer being contacted. 

But the first person to contact me was the famous person, and she asked if I was okay, and told me she liked talking to me.

God, I actually cried.

But, that’s just her. Melodyofthevoid is the type of person to talk to people in the fandom, totally unaware of her demigod status. She comments on stories, interacts on posts, messages first... a pillar of kindness, so it seemed.

But let the story continue.

Over time, we were talking more often. 

Mostly sending memes (cause everyone I knew, myself included, aren’t exactly great at holding conversations. No shade. Memes are a love language). I was still in the hero worship stage of our relationship, so my view of her was that that was perfect.

Now, let me bridge a connection with a new story idea I got around December 28th or so, and my thinking she was perfect.

I had recently finished watching Madoka and questioned “If I had magical powers, what would they be?” It then turned into its own story idea, basing creators’ powers around the strengths and weaknesses in creations. I actually realized “oh fuck. My stuff is incoherent. My friends’ works aren’t too different...”

Thus spawned the name “Incoherent” for the project.

What does that have to do with this? Well, here’s the thing that really fucked everything up quickly. 

This was not on purpose, because originally the project (which I had told nobody of yet at the time) was all about improving your works, making platonic friends, dressing our personas in cute outfits, and writing fun magic.

While listening to music and thinking of the story one day, my brain accidentally shipped my persona with hers, and I couldn’t unsee it. And I’m lousy at keeping my own secrets (other’s are different) so she found out on probably day one or two about my weird crush because of an ask meme of all things. 

She didn’t try to put me off any, which was another problem for future things to come, and so I decided that since Incoherent was finally making me feel alive again and feeling the euphoric feelings of love wouldn’t hurt anything (I figured they’d mellow out on their own eventually because that’s how infatuation works) since they helped fuel my inspiration, and then we would just continue from friends to better friends one day and this part of our lives would be over.

Besides, the forbidden is attractive somehow, and makes stories more entertaining. She’s aro/ace, so I had no chance anyway. Someone safe to crush on, in her own way.

This isn’t a story of a love betrayal however. There was no such thing. But it’s important to the story because Incoherent is where my mistakes were made, and hers brought to light.

By this time, I had a handful of people I was talking to, and I created a discord server for the project. Only my boyfriend (hi!) and I were in it at the time. I was not-so-subtly asking my friends what they’d look like if they were a magical person, what their names would be... I thought I would have had to lure Melody in to make her want to join us, but I managed to get her in very easily. Everyone was happy and excited! It was a no obligation, no time limit thing for us to enjoy, a little sandbox to play around in. 

Sure there were plans to make it bigger and I was working on art to the best of my ability, but it was gonna be a fun thing mostly. No pressure on anyone.

And how things started becoming a problem was that the rest of us posted publicly about the project and interacted with each other’s posts relating to the story, but she had started to interact publicly less and less with our things, and everyone noticed it.

It wasn’t because we were greedy and wanted the popular girl to reblog our things. It’s because we had a feeling she was ashamed of being seen publicly with us. The reason we were worried before then and started making that connection was because I mentioned I was going to ask another user if they were interested in joining Incoherent. Melody was the only one that seemed uncomfortable, and I messaged her asking about it. We agreed I wouldn’t invite that person but I knew things were off about it.

That person is like me. How long until Melody didn’t want to talk to me anymore? A few days ago, the other shoe finally dropped. A member of our little group and I were talking and (let’s call them Friend for simplicity. They asked to not be name dropped here) Friend was worried they had made Melody upset by tagging her in a meme picture they drew of her persona, and the two had agreed that Friend remove the tag. This spawned an anxiety-filled conversation where Friend and I expressed our concerns about Melody not interacting with the project, or us.

So since I wanted reassurance that that wasn’t the case, I messaged Melody with my concerns. I told her I had the feeling she was ashamed of being seen in public with us because of her friends, and she didn’t refute me. She simply told me to go get some rest. I messaged back with “I’m right.”

I deleted Discord off my phone for hours and nearly deleted my Tumblr, AO3, and the server after my boyfriend helped pass messages between us. Melody confessed that was the case because her friends expressed discomfort with my works, and she was playing both sides.

Her words, not mine.

Melody told me she would be withdrawing from the Incoherent project because it wasn’t fair to us if her heart wasn’t in it.

She didn’t stand up on my behalf when they said things about me. Her friends are the type who talk behind creators’ backs for shipping zadr “incorrectly.” Worse than antis because they actually participate in the “pro-shipping” side of the fandom. I broke that day and messaged her at 3 am.

We finally spoke at 3pm. We both missed each other. I tried to understand more. I wanted it to be more like a conversation rather than an interrogation. It was only one-sided however, and she never opened up further. And I made some mistakes and poor choices of words, and we ended up parting ways permanently right there. 

I nearly deleted everything, but much like a coma patient attached to many machines on a hospital bed, my blog was kept alive a little longer by people sending kind words in droves. I was briefly fuelled by spite, wishing to watch the world burn by making everyone on the "correct" side of the fandom upset by posting the worst, most vile content this fandom has ever seen.

I was also welcomed with open arms by a very kind server with fellow degenerates, all of them screaming and crying and partying when they managed to get me in their server. It was so heartwarming...

But as I spoke to others about my situation, I realized something. A disturbing pattern.

People telling me horror stories about how Mooping-10 was cult-like. How the people running it were antis. I was even told once that they have a secondary server where they go to have their talks and do their work, likely the place where the real bashing is held.

The server itself has rules against such behavior, but I suppose it's different when they do it.

One person (and this is the most unnerving part for me, personally) told me Melody actually set off alarm bells in their head without having even done anything yet, and the most disturbing part of the story was that one of the moderators was afraid and upset because they got Covid, and received basically no moral support at all. Only getting told "spoiler that. Sorry you got Covid".

I was horrified. That server has 100 people in it. How many of them are the same? They act like popular kids in school who picked up an unpopular main character and then bash others, and the main character joined in because they don't want to be left behind by their new "friends".

To put it short, back to my point:

TL;DR: I simply only wanted to spread the word that: Mooping-10 is filled with people who absolutely cannot be trusted, creating a very hazardous environment for the zadr community, and Melodyofthevoid is connected to all of those people, living a double life amongst those of us that don't "ship zadr correctly". She has plenty of friends her inner circle knows nothing about, and nobody on either side knows who she really is.

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 17: The Resolution

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,424

Chapter Summary: Now that the truth is out, Teki and Loki navigate their way through the aftermath.

A/N: I can’t believe we’re on the second to last chapter! It blows my mind that this has gone by so quickly-- I feel like I just started posting a few weeks ago. Also, sorry this is going up about an hour later than usual-- my classes got cancelled today, so I decided to sleep in XD

Thanks for reading!

TW: Violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass @sophlubbwriting

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

Teki stood in the center of the Throne Room, struggling not to wilt under the scrutiny of over a dozen pairs of eyes. She had always known that someday in the future she’d have to attend the King’s council meetings, but never had she thought that she would ever be the focus. The old men of Odin’s courtroom seemed to glower down at her like she was an insect they had accidentally stepped on as they bickered over what was to be done with her. Luckily, the friendly faces in the crowd were almost enough to drown out the tension.

Loki smiled encouragingly from his place at the base of Odin’s throne, rolling his eyes whenever someone said something particularly hurtful. Frigga too supported her with a warm grin. Even Thor seemed to shoot her a sympathetic glance every now and then.

Still, the council continued arguing.

“The marriage engagement is in writing. We cannot change it—”

“That writing is in blood. Would we have the daughter of a murderer as Queen?”

“We should not hold the girl accountable for the sins of her mother—”

“But what of Asgard’s reputation? What will other realms think when they learn how easy it is to cheat their way into royalty—”

“The circumstances are irrelevant. The agreement was made. To go back on it now would be to sully the word of the king—”

The last few days had been a whirlwind. Teki felt as if she had repeated the same story over and over again at least a thousand times, to a thousand different people. At first, there had been the scramble for evidence, gathering anything and everything that might be used to prove her word—the vials from her mother’s liquor cabinet, the document of dissolution that her father had been forced to write moments before his death, written statements from Völundr and Asta (the real one this time). They had even taken her father’s journal, although that had been returned to her after they decided that the unfinished letter he had written to her mother was all they needed.

But once Áslaug signed a full confession, the focus shifted. Now that she was good and caught, everyone could concentrate on capturing Osvald. He had been gone when Frigga’s guards arrived at their apartment to arrest him and hadn’t been seen since. It seemed he had caught wind that the game was up and made a run for it, a thought which terrified Teki to no end.

“Don’t worry,” Loki assured her one night, in the new rooms in the royal wing that she and Brant now occupied. “They’ll catch him before long.”

Teki only nodded as she stared out into the inky blackness beyond her window, praying to the Norns he was right.

There were also the questions popping up now, everywhere she turned. Was she still engaged to Thor? Did the marriage agreement stand if it was made under false pretenses? No one seemed to know.

Some felt that since Steinn had opposed it, and since Áslaug very clearly did not have Teki’s best interests in mind when she agreed to it, that it should not be allowed to stand. Others were quite adamant that the agreement had been signed and that it must be followed through, for better or for worse.

Of course, nobody had asked Teki what she thought should happen.

Well... that wasn't entirely true. Queen Frigga had approached her the day after her mother was arrested to talk about the whole situation, and while she didn't ask for her opinion either, the topic of her engagement had come up.

"The AllFather is not one to go back on his word," she told her. "I doubt the betrothal will be drastically changed."

Her tone was encouraging, but Teki couldn't bring herself to mirror her optimistic smile. Of course she'd still have to marry Thor. The actions of her mother would have no bearing on something that had been set in stone for nearly her entire life. She knew this. Still, a part of her, the small, hopeful part that had dared to dream of someone else in place of Thor's hand, withered at the return to reality.

The ache in her chest must have been reflected on her face because Frigga frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Teki shook her head, forcing her features back to familiar neutrality. "Of course not, Your Majesty," she said with the same artificial cheeriness. "As always, I will be honored to wed your son."

For a moment, the Queen only studied her, as if searching for something hidden behind her eyes. "Yes," she finally said, voice distant. "My son."

It didn’t even matter anymore. They’d all been going round and round in circles for what seemed like an eternity, and Teki was tired of standing there bearing the brunt of their speculation. She wished they would just sentence her to life with Thor and just end it already. It took everything in her to keep from picking at the sash of her dress in front of everyone.

But then Frigga stood, and the voices fell silent. “If I may, my King?”

Odin nodded at his wife, and Teki couldn’t help but think that he looked as exhausted with this as she was. “Please.”

She stepped forward, addressing the council directly. “If I am correct in understanding, the conflict here surrounds the question of whether Lady Tekla is suited to be Queen in light of what we now know of her mother and stepfather, yes?” A chorus of affirmative hums answered her.

The Queen smiled broadly. “Well, I believe there is a way to honor the agreement without jeopardizing the queenship.” She turned back to Odin with a respectful bow of her head. “My King, you have two sons. If Lady Tekla were to marry Prince Loki instead of Prince Thor, she’d still gain royalty, but not the throne.”

A flurry of whispers broke out across the Throne Room. For a moment, Teki thought she had misheard her. Wait, did she mean…

She whipped to Loki, who was staring at his mother with eyes were so wide they were almost bugging out of his head. When his gaze returned to Teki’s, there was a stunned sort of hope in his smile.

The King cocked his head to the side, seemingly lost in thought. He turned to his son. “Would you be willing to pursue such a course of action, Loki?” he asked.

The prince sprang up. “Yes, I would, my King. That is —” he looked back at Teki nervously. “If Lady Tekla was willing.”

The collective stare of the council flipped back once more to her.

Teki inhaled. “I—I’m willing, sire.”

“Very well.” The King motioned towards Loki, who stepped purposefully off the platform and down to her side. “Prince Loki, you will take the hand of Lady Tekla in marriage. Prince Thor, you are released from your betrothal.” He sighed. “Perhaps now we can finally lay this matter to rest.”

Teki didn’t hear the rest of what he said. Loki lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“My lady,” he whispered with a breathless smile. She beamed, heart soaring higher than any wings could ever carry her.

…

Going back to their apartment was strange.

It had been decided that Teki and Brant would permanently move into the royal wing of the palace, sharing a suite until Teki married and moved into Loki’s rooms (although Frigga assured her that wouldn’t be for quite some time). Their old apartment was gutted of all items of importance to be transferred to their new rooms, leaving only its skeletal remains when Teki and Loki returned for one last look through.

There were several things Teki wanted to be sure to get. Brant’s reading notes, for one, and his unfinished map of the tunnels of the Nine Realms. She wouldn’t be giving him reading lessons anymore—he had already begun to attend proper class and was doing quite well—but he had confided in her that he still preferred her lessons. The music books gifted to her by the Queen—she was particularly excited about those, because Frigga had ordered a piano constructed just for Teki’s new sitting room.

“I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t ask you first,” she had said, almost apologetically. “I just you’d enjoy being able to play at your own discretion, without having to rely on me.”

Teki could’ve cried.

And then there was a dagger. Teki nearly had a heart attack when she checked under her mattress and found it wasn’t there, only to remember that she had shoved it in her nightstand that time her mother walked into the room.

Loki grinned when she slid it out of its sheath.

“I had wondered what you did with that,” he said. “I never saw it when I would come over.”

She laughed. “Well, I couldn’t exactly hang it from the wall.” Now that she thought of it though, it was probably a blessing that she had been forced to move the dagger to her drawer. As furious as her stepfather had been upon discovering she had taken her father’s journal, it would’ve been infinitely worse if he had realized she was also keeping a weapon under her mattress. The image of Osvald advancing towards her flashed before her eyes, this time waving a blade instead of a leather book. Teki shivered. She sheathed the dagger, placing it in the box with her other items.

They combed the apartment one last time, a cursory look-through to make sure that Teki had gotten everything she wanted to save. There really wasn’t much. It was a bit startling—this place had been her home her entire life, and yet she felt practically nothing upon saying goodbye to it forever. If anything, it was relieving, like coming to the surface to breathe after being underwater for far too long. She was ready to leave this bad dream behind.

Teki only hesitated at the downstairs table, staring at the same chair in which her father died. Loki came besides her, squeezing her hand in comfort.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She struggled to find the right words. “I ate here every single day,” she said finally. “My whole life. And I never knew what happened right next to me.” Had her father been watching in frustration from the realm beyond? Had he been begging her to ask questions, to look for him, to discover the truth as she munched on her morning toast?

Tears were pooling in her eyes once more. Teki swallowed shakily. “I should’ve done something sooner,” she whispered. “I never did anything. I just let it all happen.”

“You were a child,” Loki said softly. “What could you have done? You’ve brought justice for your father, and for you. That’s all that matters now.”

She sighed. Maybe he was right. What she did or didn’t do in the past wasn’t important. Now, her father could rest easy knowing his killer would rot in prison, her plans in tatters.

Teki hoisted her box up with one last glance about the room. “I think I’ve got everything,” she said as she headed towards the door. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he smiled, rushing to hold the door for her. “It seems that—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

Osvald barged his way through the doorway like a living battering ram, smacking the prince into the wooden door. Her stepfather didn’t even spare a second glance as Loki crashed to the floor. Teki barely had the chance to scream before his fist caught her in her sternum. The box flew from her hands, contents clattering across the floorboards as she fell backwards.

No sooner had her head hit the ground than Osvald was on top of her, eyes as frenzied as wildfire.

“You thought I’d let it go?” he snarled, holding her down by her shoulders with his forearm as she struggled. “You thought I’d let you fuck everything up?”

She almost didn’t see the glint of the blade in his free hand.

Norns!

Teki jerked just as the knife came down, cold metal grazing her cheek as he buried it into the floor beside her head. She grabbed for the hilt as her stepfather spat curses in her face.

Get it away from him!

He smacked her away, ripping the knife from the floorboards and stabbing towards her again. Teki braced her arms against his wrist, pushing against him with all her might, her eyes tearing up. Come on, please! Still, the tip of the blade inched forward, closer and closer and closer…

Something crashed into the two of them. One moment, her stepfather was on top of her, pinning her to the ground, the next he was on the floor next to her, thrashing wildly as Loki fought to rip the blade from his grasp. Teki rolled to her stomach, trembling as she gasped for air.

“Get help!” Loki yelled at her as the two wrestled on the ground. Osvald landed a kick to his stomach, and he hissed in pain.

Teki struggled to her feet and tried to make a run for the door. Her foot slipped on one of the papers strewn about from the box and she tripped, slamming against the floor.

Behind her, Osvald’s knife clattered to the ground. Still, they struggled.

Her legs were shaking too badly to stand. Teki crawled towards the door across the mess, unable to hear anything else over the pounding of her heart.

Without meaning to, her hand closed around the hilt of her own dagger.

Loki cried out, a short, quick gasp of pain.  Her stepfather’s footsteps vibrated deep in her stomach as he approached.

He yanked her to her feet by her collar and whipped her around, his fingers at her throat, grin wide and demented.

“Now—”

Teki buried the blade in his chest.

For a moment they just stared at it, gasping, the golden hilt crowning the fast-growing stain of crimson across his chest. He glanced up at her, icy eyes having lost their chill. Teki gaped back at him, frozen.

On the other side of the room, Loki pulled himself to his feet, eyes wide.

Her stepfather collapsed, a marionette with its strings cut, his blood splattering across the same floor he had so often beaten her against.

[jacksgreysays]

For fake title: still waters (run deep) character: Shisui and or theme: Uzushio

The fisherman doesn't look surprised when Shisui arrives, not by the suddenness of his appearance or his age or the fact that, excepting the crow on his shoulder, he is entirely alone. No, the fisherman is not surprised, but that doesn't mean he's relaxed either: a large man, nearly two heads taller than Shisui with muscle honed through hard work. But it is a civilian level strength. For all that the fisherman is accustomed to shinobi, he is no match for one.

"You're headed to Uzushio, huh?" the fisherman says, less a question than an accusation without any heat.

"Yes, I am" Shisui answers anyway with a polite sort of cheer; there is a reason why he's the one being sent to Uzushio and not one of his cousins. "Tazuna-san said you're the best at navigating the whirlpools."

The fisherman gives him a skeptical glance which is fair. What Tazuna actually said was that if Shisui was fool enough to go to Uzushio, then this particular fisherman would at least make sure Shisui's fool head didn't get dashed on the rocks of the shore.

But the fisherman shrugs, accepting enough, and tilts his head at a small wooden boat tied to the dock with nets bulging with fish. "That one's mine. Are you in a rush? Because I have to get these to the monger first."

"No, I can wait," Shisui says, because that's the polite thing to do and if this fisherman is his best way to Uzushio then its worth waiting for... except, as Kansoku reminds him with a sharp tug on his hair, he is actually kind of in a rush. Shisui is a shinobi, so of course he's smelled worse, and so he doesn't wrinkle his nose at all when he offers, "Would you like some help? Four hands are faster than two."

"Alright, kid, I'll take you up on that." The fisherman's expression lightens into a wide, friendly smile and Shisui who can't help himself, returns it with one of his own. The fisherman introduces himself, "You can call me Kaiza."

---

A few weeks ago, Hidden Rain broke their decades-long silence with increasingly concerning news:

Hanzo the Salamander long dead.

A heretofore unknown organization leading the village.

Active recruitment and retainment of various S-rank shinobi.

A grudge against one Shimura Danzo, former council member of Hidden Leaf.

One year--maybe even as little as a month or two previous--would have made this the most momentous occasion in international shinobi politics since the last world war.

Unfortunately, it only just barely makes top three in the past year.

---

"So, kid," Kaiza says as they're coasting over the waves at a clip much faster than Shisui would have thought possible for the small wooden boat, "You're from Leaf, right?"

"Yes." It's literally on his forehead and more straightforward than some of the other villages' symbols, but Shisui gives him the benefit of the doubt. Kaiza is a civilian, after all. And to be fair, some of the Uchiha elders were considering changing it to match the new regime, but Fugaku-san--sorry, Hokage-sama, Shisui's still getting use to it--felt it would be best to at least try to maintain a semblance of stability.

He doesn't know if news of Konoha's turmoil has reached this far. Or if the people of Wave even care. They certainly didn't bat an eye at Shisui's questions of their new neighbor--old neighbor? returned neighbor?--all incurious shrugs and silence or entertaining but unhelpful tall tales.

"Have you ever met another shinobi?" Shisui asks conversationally, though he already knows the answer to that question. "Am I your first shinobi passenger?"

"I've seen a few Mist ninja from a distance. A very far distance, thankfully," Kaiza responds, casual and earnest; Shisui sees no reason to doubt him. "Never had a ninja join me sailing on my boat before, though. Not one that helped me unload my haul. You're a good kid." 

Shisui has killed more men than there had been fish wriggling in those nets. He appreciates the sentiment anyway. Kaiza is an honest sort of man, Shisui is glad to have met him.

He could use more straightforwardness in his life.

---

The Mist Rebellion overthrew the Yondaime Mizukage after an almost tidy public assassination and thirty six hours of civil war with minimal casualties.

Terumi Mei, newly coronated Godaime Mizukage, only mentions the "grace and goodwill of allies." Neither of those words particularly apply to the surly looking Momochi Zabuza standing two steps back and one step to the right of her, but if there is another ally in the works they're not claiming the limelight.

Hidden Mist has always been a tumultuous village. Tidiness aside, nothing was surprising about it.

---

It's strange.

When Shisui pictured Land of Whirlpools, he had a vague idea mostly cobbled together from the grey, cloudy skies of Mist, or the eternal deluge of Rain, or even the foggy, sepia tones of Wave.

He was not expecting clear skies almost impossibly blue and lush treetops tall enough to rival the forests of Konoha. The beach is pink.

It's vibrant. It's strange. There's a giant chakra turtle monster happily splashing in the shallows, waving tendrils in their direction as a greeting.

The sharp jagged rocks and erratic whirlpools between them and the shore are real, at least, so Shisui hasn't been completely fooled, but from the wry, almost apologetic smile on Kaiza's face, Shisui's not great at hiding his hurt.

Kaiza pulls out a decorative coin--what Shisui had thought was some kind of superstitious fisherman charm that he'd touched before they set sail from Wave--and passes his thumb along the surface. After a moment or two, the swirling slows, the water calms, and the passage is traversable. A small figure appears on the pink beach. The giant chakra turtle monster reaches a gentle tendril out and is metaphorically met half way by an arm absolutely minuscule in comparison.

"Don't worry, kid," Kaiza says reassuringly. It's the kind of statement that would be accompanied with a clap on the shoulder, but whether the fisherman can sense Shisui's betrayal or, more likely, he's been around more shinobi and knows better, he keeps his distance. "Tazuna vouched for you and you didn't even get mad when the monger threw a fish at you and said it was a cultural tradition."

Kansoku had been less than pleased and Shisui's shirt still smells like fish. 

"You'll be fine. She'll like you."

---

There is an oasis in Land of Wind. An earthquake in Land of Hot Springs caused the controlled collapse of a temple and new arrangements of the surrounding town's infrastructure. A dilapidated and forgotten shrine in the outskirts of Land of Fire was completely relocated across the ocean. Only the first has any sort of influence on shinobi politics and even that has more to do with the Yondaime Kazekage's sudden attitude adjustment than anything else.

But the revival of a nation thought long dead with the power to back it up?

Well, even if Konoha is still struggling to cobble together a government, it's the sort of occasion to send one of their best and brightest as an ambassador even if there's no firm idea what might be on the other end of the journey.

---

"Hello, Uchiha Shisui of Hidden Leaf," says the girl on the shores of Land of Whirlpools. Somehow, even with the grown man twice his size and the giant chakra turtle monster, she's the scarest thing on the beach.

Which is still bafflingly, vibrantly pink.

"I heard you were asking questions about Uzushio," she says, with a smile as dangerous and beautiful as the land she's made her home. "Let's talk."

~

A/N: Sometimes, you’re in a writer’s block and a prompt just punches you into the right headspace. Thank you, damnsmartblueboxes. (You know I have so many Uzushio feelings, how dare you! :D)

If anyone wants to ask me questions about this, please do. Please.

Oh, but I should clarify here: this was written intending to be in a post-Split Gardens!verse. But if you’re reading this you probably have already read some of the Gardens!verse stuff so...

Also, yes, Kaiza is the fisherman who would’ve been killed by Gato and now kinda works for Shikako as a more active and less suspicious Sazanami from the Land of Stone Arc. I mean, kinda all of Wave works for Shikako? But in a much more benevolent way than that might imply. They’re fond of their weird neighbor with her giant chakra turtle monster.

(Also, also, yes, Tetsuki Kaiza does get her name from this Kaiza though in the Naruto world she actually never has the name Kaiza. She goes from orphan Tetsuki no-family-name to either Tetsuki Utsugi or Agent Shu. Depending on how fucked her situation is)

Also, also, also: Ask Box Advent Calendar 2020!

[henry-cavill-baby]

Mark of the Witcher ┃2

 Chapter 2: Djinnefer

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Original Female Character

Length: 3k

Warnings: Some smut

Taglist: @lowkeyofsassguard (it’s not letting me tag you, sorry!)

Summary: Bottled Appetites and Carnal Desires

Sleep, it seemed, was an unattainable star in the vast night sky.

And this assumption was proved by one Geralt of Rivia; a Witcher who hadn’t been blessed with a good nights rest in… how long had it been? Two weeks now?

And this wasn’t to go without saying that Geralt had tried hours of peaceful meditation aside Roach, honing in on the wafting breeze through the loose fall leaves ready to fall to the forest floor. The birds in the nearby bushes tittering to one another did nothing but irritate Geralt.

It seemed everything annoyed the Witcher these days.

Monsters seemed to be far and few as of late and the lack of villagers screaming for help and tossing him their coin left him nearly penniless. The utter silence and animal chatter of the forest was no good for Geralt, it took his mind to the memories of his youth in Kaer Morhen—ones he could live without reliving.

Huffs from under the large wicker tree had Geralt turning to Roach, golden eyes squinting with sleep at the companion. “Can’t sleep either.” His voice is gruff and caked with drowsiness, his legs nearly weary as he hefts to stand.

The sun had cleared the misty sky and it burned his eyes.

The ground is muddy near the water bank as Geralt tries to plant his steps and stalk by the river, golden net tight in his fists. Creatures and Demons—the occasional horde of Drowners pried on livestock, and killing a one of them was more work than worth the coin. There were no sounds that would give way to a hiding spot for a scrounging demon to try to take him by surprise.

“Lovely ladies from Nilfgaard… and their ladies can kiss my—Geralt?”

Geralt almost stumbled in his step as a voice known all to well permeated through the air, a frowned expression overcoming his tired face. Of all the things he did not need, this would be the second.

Geralt turns and sees Jaskier—the bard is dressed in a blue and white tunic better fit for a court bard, with that cursed lute still cradled in his arms, pants puffy around the thighs in an obnoxiously fashionable manner—and turns back to the river with a low growl.

“What’s it been? Years? Months?” Jaskier pondered aloud, smiling at the sight of his friend, Geralt. “Does time even matter anymore, really.”

Geralt grunts as Jaskier goes on, still following like an overgrown pup. “I heard you were in town, you know, and while I have missed you dearly—I do think it’s time you got a hobby. You know, get out and see the world.” A thought popped into the Bards head. “Speaking of seeing the world, have you stopped by Cintra?”

The name Cintra nearly chills Geralt’s bones, but he just grunts out a hard, “No.” Continuing on the path along the riverbank, Geralt listens as Jaskier talks to himself.

“How am I, I hear you ask; I’m good, thanks for asking.” Jaskier huffed as his shoes sank slid on a patch of dry mud. “You see, I recently bedded the sweetest Countess and then, right after our fifth round of passionate love making, she sends me away. Can you believe that, Geralt?”

Geralt ignored him in favor of throwing his net in the water… and pulling it back empty. Fuck, he thought, and continued.

“Still a man of few words,” Jaskier hums, taking a swig of watered down ale that seemed a to be on the hotter side. The taste nearly turned his tongue.

“What are you doing, Geralt?” Jaskier nods to the empty net, finally deciding give in to his curiosity.

“Fishing?” He speculated with a frown. “You may be good at many things but I doubt that fishing is your forte. That is unless you catch one and are willing to share with an old friend?”

Geralt grunts and continues along the water line, next in hand as mud cakes everything up to his ankles. Shaking his head, Geralt throws the net again.

“You are still a Witcher right?” Jaskier hums. “I see you haven’t changed your outfit… or hair… or anything really. Why—What are you fishing for, exactly?”

“Is it carp? Is that your favorite?”

No answer.

“Or trout, do you like trout?”

No answer.

“Pike?”

Still no answer.

“Zander? I’m just listing fish now—is that a fish?”

Geralt sighs deeply in his chest, turning to Jaskier with the empty net in hand. “I’m not fishing.” The net is tossed back into the river. “I can’t sleep.”

“Ah.” Jaskier mutters. “That makes complete sense in the sense that it… makes none.” Jaskier stepped as close to the Witcher as was comfortable. “Geralt, talk to me.” Finally, a hint of concern etches into the Bards voice. “What’s happened? Is it about…you know.”

“No.” Geralt snaps. “She has nothing to do with this.” He spits with venom, eyes blazing with unadulterated rage. “I’m looking for a djinn and it’s somewhere in this lake, and I can’t fucking sleep!” He spits before stomping farther down and throws the net, trying to relax his shoulders.

“A djinn—a floating djinn—like a genie?” Jaskier questioned while ignoring the outburst.

“The bad tempered fellas who trick you with the three wish nonsense.” Jaskier nodded to himself, “And pray tell, how will this djinn help with your little problem?”

Jaskier answered himself: “And I’m not one to tell you how to live your life, Geralt, believe me, I don’t want to know what you get up to in your free time. But have you even considered that maybe this has to do with what you’ve been avoiding since last I saw you, currently still are?”

The words were unspoken between them: Child Surprise—Law of Surprise; destiny and what have you.

“No,” Geralt grunts. “It’s not about that. Not everything has to do with her, Jaskier.”

It was a lie he’d been telling himself for all these years now. The dreams never stopped, the cravings never quelled, and the urge to run to Cintra and take what was his boiled beneath the surface, like a pot of stew on the brink of spillage.

“Well, you could be right.” Jaskier hummed, leaning against a shady oak, watching Geralt hock the net back into the murky waters. “But you could be wrong. How old is she now, ten? Twelve?” Jaskier took a sour tone, “Do you even care, Geralt?”

“You know, a lovely Countess told me that Destiny only works harder when those enthralled by it resist its call. And that the harder you run away, the more desperate you become.”

Geralt moves closer to the water and throws in the net again, bending down to see if he’d caught anything and turning to raise a judgmental eyebrow at Jaskier. “Did you sing to her before she sent you away?” He grunted, glaring at the empty net.

“Yes I did.” Jaskier proudly answered then paused, stomping to his friend and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me something, Geralt?”

Chucking the next into the water once more, Geralt turned to Jaskier, raising one white brow with lips in a thin line. The voice of the bard is only making his agitation worse, and he prays for Roach to chase him away.

“No, really—Geralt, be honest with me,” Jaskier bellows into the empty forest. “How is my singing?”

The trees are silent and the bird flutter in anticipation, watching with beady eyes as the Witcher stands tall with a wet empty net, throwing it back into the watery depths once more.

“It’s like eating a pie and finding it has no filling.”

Jaskier stumbles back in shock at his friend’s horrendous insult, sputtering, “You—need a nap!”

Hands planted firmly on his hips and a scowl deeply etched on his soft face, Jaskier waited for his lug of a friend to turn and apologize for being rude. Instead—

“Hm.” Geralt hummed as he pulled the net from the waters, finally having caught his treasure. It was the size of a jug of ale, corked tightly with the symbol of the wizard who’d sealed it away. There was no certainty as to how long it had been down there, and djinns tended to veer towards to malevolent side the longer they were trapped.

Jaskier had been right in that they tended to play tricks when tempted by the faults of men, but Geralt was no man.

“What is—is that it? You found it?” Jaskier asked whilst coming to stand before Geralt. “Can I just—“

“Jaskier—“

They were in a standoff; Jaskier grasping the handle as Geralt refused his hold on the seal, staring at the bard with his deadly gaze. Neither was willing to let go.

Geralt’s attempts at tugging were moot, “Let go.”

But Jaskier was adamant in his grip, “Take back that bit about my filling less pie, and then you can have your sleepy little djinn.”

The urge to simply rip it from Jaskier was more tempting as the seconds passed. But at least the djinn was finally found and he could wish for a batch of well needed rest, though as long as Jaskier was around it wouldn’t be a peaceful sleep.

The Wizards seal popped off the top of the djinn’s previously captive state, and with that, all hell broke loose.

Aleira huffed from her windowsill, looking down at the children playing down below in the streets. None of them had nice clothes, clean faces or fussed up hair. They had no cares in the world outside of games and survival within the protected walls of Cintra. It was such an easy life to live. Guards stand posted by any door leading into the castle making it nearly impossible for anyone to sneak in or out.

The sky was cloudy above the looming Castle, and she prayed for the rains to fall.

“Princess?” the druid Mousesack calls from outside the door, his head poking in to see the eldest child in the line of the throne.

Everything in the young girls room is beyond cleanliness, aside from the stacks of parchment on the wooden desk, a dried up ink quill abandoned. Frown lines mar his face as she turns, showing off her defeated face. “And pray tell, what is the cause of your unhappiness?”

Aleira sighed, palm holding her cheek as she gazed out the window once more. “Nothing, Mousesack.”

He hmm’s and steps into the room, shutting the door behind and falling to his knees before the small princess. “I can’t fix what you won’t tell me.” Baby blue eyes watered before him, and he reached up to cup her cheek, “Please, Aleira.”

Her voice trembled, “Why can’t I go outside like Cirilla?” One finger pointed outside the window, smashing against the glass. “I hate being inside these walls everyday. I despise the lessons at every hour and having dinner with Grandmother every single night. I want to be out there with everyone else, Mousesack. I want…”

I want to be like everyone else

Mousesack let forth a deflated sigh, patting the silk clothed knee of the princess. “Believe me when I say that I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Aleira.” Unspoken words lay lodged in his throat, as he stands tall looking down upon her.

“Grandmother wants to keep me locked away.” Aleira let the words flow. “And I’m beginning to think you would have it that way as well. “

Mousesack shakes his head, grey hairs flying. “That isn’t true and you know it. Every choice the Queen makes is to protect you—“

“Protect me from what?” Aleira demands, standing up and glaring up at the Castle Druid. Her eyes are ablaze with fury and her hands clench at her sides, nails digging into soft skin.

“Our Kingdom is well protected and there hasn’t been an attempt on any of us in years. There’s no reason that a child like Cirilla can prance around with the other children but I’m locked away in here like a monster!” Her voice is trembling with anger, staring up at the man who raised her more than her parents.

Yes, they’d died two years ago, but even then, Mousesack was the closest she had to a father; Calanthe was no mother.

“You’ll understand one day, I swear to it.” Mousesack tries to reasons, moving to leave the girl to her juvenile rage.

“Is it about Geralt?” The name slipped through her lips like a curse. “Is he the cause of all this? Is he to blame for my suffering?”

Aleira wrenched back as Mousesack darted forwards, pulling her close and staring with pursed lips and dark eyes, “Who told you that name?”

His reaction is enough to cause a tendril of fear to flutter up her spine. “No one.” She mutters, trying to move away.

“Aleira,” Mousesack murmurs, trying to calm his racing heart. “This is a matter of your safety, as well as this Kingdom.” She can feel the Druid’s magic haphazardly swirling in the air.” I need you to tell me who told you that name.”

Regret boils in her veins; she should’ve kept it to herself.

That name had sounded like a curse on the tongue of Calanthe, and truly, Aleira had no clue whom this Geralt even was. She’d tried to hear more of the conversation from the hallway, but it had taken a turn to plans concerning the invasion of a foreign forest, and those plans were of no importance to her. The memory of lying in bed and wondering why the name Geralt sparked something deep in her was still a mystery.

“Grandmother.” She muttered while meeting Mousesack’s eyes. “I was eavesdropping and I heard it, I swear.”

That seemed to be enough for the Druid to pull back whilst nodding to himself, hands wringing and eyes darting about the room. Uncertainty whirled around his mussed hair, and she barely had a moment to watch him flee the room.

Subconsciously, she reached back and rubbed the tender skim on the back of her left shoulder, eyeing the salve gifted to her by Mousesack. It was cold on her skin but the aching fled easily, and Aleira collapsed on her bed, listening to the sounds of the children below.

Sunlight poured in through the cracked windows lining the near decimated castle walls. The floors were scattered with crumbled pieces of granite walls and mountains of pillows littered the floor.

The grunts and moans of Yennefer of Vengerberg—one of the strongest witches known to come from Aretuza with a proclivity for chaos and self mischief—echoed around the room as Geralt hefted her hips up higher in his grasp, bottoming out in her wet cunt.

He hadn’t come in to help her expecting a fuck, hadn’t intended for her to try and be a host for the djinn like a madwoman, and the strange desire to not see her die had cost him a wish. This third wish had nearly involved the Witch. Kindness was not a Witcher’s strength. But she had saved Jaskier—even if for her own preposterous reasons—and though kindness was not his forte, paying back favors was.

A life for a life, something along those lines.

Wet slaps of skin echoed as Geralt shut his eyes, nails digging into the soft flesh of her tanned thigh. His pace grew erratic and punishing as the walls of her cunt deliciously drew him in, his own moans joining hers. Ecstasy flooded his veins—carnal desire rising to the surface of his warm flesh.

It had too long since he’d felt a woman’s flesh. It was all too intoxicating for him to bear. When Geralt opened his eyes, expecting to gaze into the lilacs of Yennefer, he saw the ocean blue of his child Surprise.

The girl from his dreams was bare under his naked body; her full round tits bounced with each thrust and he could not resist the eager desire to take one into his mouth and suck like a newborn babe, biting the sensitive flesh. She still smelled of peaches, ones fresh enough to kill a man for, and he would—kill a man for her, that is.

Geralt would burn worlds for this girl, and he didn’t even know her name.

His curls fanned out on the surroundings pillows, and he longed to kiss the full lips that begged for his attention. His thrusts grew erratic and his hold grew tight, wishing this were real.

The mirage of her was gone all too fast and Yennefer screamed to the high heavens and flopped back onto the pillows, cunt walls fluttering around the cock buried deep inside. She was limp as he pulled his soft wet cock slowly out, collapsing next to her. There was no sound but the chattering outside from Jaskier, who’d definitely gotten an eyeful.

“If I’d known Witchers fucked like that, I would have gotten one myself a long time ago.” Yennefer turned and smirked, reaching forward to pin a piece of his white hair behind his ear.

“I’m sure my brothers would make a fine harem.” He grunted, keeping his hands to himself. It felt wrong to want to caress her, so he didn’t.

“Do you have a lover, Geralt of Rivia?” She asked with a raised brow. “I won’t be jealous, promise.”

He grunted but shook his head, “Having a lover would take time away from hunting monsters.”

“I find that hard to believe.” She hummed while twirling a piece of white hair. “I will admit that you are not as scary as you think.”

“Really?” A chuckled rumbled in Geralt’s chest. “You would be surprised how many people throw me out of their town once I’ve done their bidding.”

“Humans are dull, Geralt. Never get entangled with one, they will only disappoint you.” She laughed, “Or die, or get sick.”

“None of us are immune to death, Yennefer.”

Chuckling, Yennefer sat up and stretched. “You would be surprised what tricks a mage like myself can do.” A look of curiosity overcame her beautiful face, “Who were you thinking of? When you were rutting into me like a dog, Geralt?”

There’s no chance to deny it, “I know you saw someone else.”

Telling her about his Child Surprise feels… wrong, so he doesn’t.

“A woman I knew in Blaviken who didn’t see me as a monster.” He recalled, turning to look into her wide lilac orbs. “She was kinder than any man I’ve ever know.”

The two of them laid back and basked in the days sun, not touching but not far apart. They both knew they would need to rise soon and face whatever was to come, but this moment of peace was too good to pass up. And Jaskier singing much to loud outside would be best avoided.

“Aleira.” Yennefer declared, not looking away from the sun. “You called me Aleira; was that her name?”

Chapter 3... eventually, don’t rush me plz

Hope you enjoyed!

[quarantineddreamer]

@zutaraweek 2020 Day 1: Reunion

This is my first Zutara week since I am new to the ATLA fandom. For some reason I am very nervous to post this (I think because I spent my morning scrolling through the tag and OMG THE TALENT!!) but anyways, here it is! 

Also posted on my AO3

Rating: G

Summary: “I’ll save you from the pirates” -Zuko Katara

Katara picked nervously at the corner of the scroll she bent over, eyes passing over the familiar handwriting for the hundredth time in the past hour alone. We’re boarding the ship shortly… meeting went really well, I think that any additional negotiations will… I’ve been counting down the days till I get to hold you in my arms again... by the time this messenger hawk reaches you it should only be two more nights spent apart... Love always, Zuko. The letter, detailing the success of the Fire Lord’s diplomatic visit to the city of Omashu where a few restless rebellions had arisen had reached Katara over a week ago.

The waterbender frowned as she reached for her tea -a soothing blend that Iroh had promised would help her sleep despite her worry. Still squinting at Zuko’s hurried penmanship, Katara’s fingertips found the steaming liquid instead of the sides of the porcelain teacup, and she cursed as she flinched, knocking the beverage all over her reading material.

“No, no, no!” she cried, waving her hands, pulling the water from the page rapidly so as to keep the ink from running. When at last she was certain she had managed to save the precious material, she collapsed into her chair with a heavy sigh. As she watched the shadows from the candle on her desk play across the walls of her office, she tried desperately to calm herself.

He’s probably just hit bad weather. An image of Zuko thrashing about in the merciless waves of a storm flashed in her mind. Nope! Nope! He’s, uh, just not caught the right wind. But of course, the Fire Nation vessel Zuko had boarded did not rely on a breeze and they couldn’t have run out of power, not with firebenders like Zuko to provide fuel. Not for the first time, she wished that her friends were not scattered across the globe -wished that, at minimum, Aang had been traveling with Zuko, both of them flying safely on Appa’s soft back. But Aang was with Sokka and Suki in the South Pole at the moment helping with restoration work, and Toph was in Ba Sing Se training a special force of Earth Benders to help take down the remnants of the Dai Li.

The last time Katara had felt anything close to this level of worry for Zuko, he had been lying on the ground motionless, remnants of his sister’s lightning dancing across his body. At least she had been with him then, to look after him. Now, she didn’t know where he was or what condition he was in, but she knew him, and she knew it was not nothing that would keep him from her -not with all they had fought through before...

Katara had never felt so alone, but it was Zuko who had asked that she remain behind. “It’ll only be a month!” She remembered his hand on her shoulder as he gave her a pleading look. “Please... While I am gone Uncle will need help keeping everything in check here. You’re the only person in the world I would trust.” When she had finally reluctantly agreed, the kiss he had given her had banished all sadness at the thought of his absence. What was a month apart when they had a lifetime to look forward to now that the war was over? But he was not here now to erase her fear and dispel the hard knot lodged in her stomach.

The month had gone by fast with plenty of ‘Fire Lady’ duties to take care of, but the days that had passed since his estimated date of arrival had dragged with agonizing slowness as though time itself were taunting her… Her fingers itched to drag the scroll towards her again, to scour its surface for clues. He wouldn’t just disappear, he would tell them if he was going to be late.

A soft knock on the door broke the typhoon of anxiousness tearing through her mind. “Yes?” she called.

Iroh’s face, normally so jovial, was grave as it peered into the room. “A soldier from Zuko’s guard just arrived at the palace.”

“Where is he?” She nearly choked on the question, sensing her worst fears were about to be confirmed.

“Their ship was ambushed by a group of pirates. Zuko has been taken hostage and is being held unless the Fire Nation delivers a significant sum to his captors.”

She barely heard the rest, the where, when, and how. All she knew was she was done waiting, fussing over words on paper as though that could bring him back. She should have trusted her instinct, the tightness in her chest, that had told her something was wrong. Should’ve gone with him to Omashu to begin with... She pushed her chair back and stood. “I’m going after him.”

“Katara, please, we have identified the particular ship that has him, we can send a fleet after him.” Iroh fiddled with the teacup and papers on her desk nervously.

“I can handle some lousy pirates. He’s been gone too long, Iroh! And we can’t have the Fire Nation knowing their ruler has been taken...” Already her heart was racing. She’d never admit it, but a dangerous, secretive, part of her missed this. The raw rush of adrenaline from imminent conflict was intoxicating, addictive. Diplomatic meetings had taken her all over the world, but paperwork and debate had nothing on this.

Iroh hung his head. “Peace is fragile. I am aware…” He hesitated, observing her expression intently before saying, “I suppose no one is better suited to chase down pirates, than the greatest Master Water Bender…”

“Hardly,” she quipped humbly, but he always knew how to make her smile. “I appreciate the compliment.” Already at the door she turned to ask, “May I borrow a small ship from the Fire Nation Fleet?”

“The girlfriend of the Fire Lord can have whatever she wishes.” His tone managed to be light, joking, but his eyes still held great sadness and concern.

Katara stepped towards the older man to give him a brief, strong hug, leaning back afterwards to fix him with an earnest gaze. “I promise I’ll bring him home.”

“Stay safe, brave, Katara. I will handle things here.”

“I know you will.”

Moments later she raced through the palace out into the humid night. She did not stop to catch her breath even as she stole past the guards onto the docks and untied the first boat she saw with sails -one she knew she could manage alone.

Yue watched over her and gave her strength as she furiously bent the ocean around her. Spirits help those damn pirates if they’ve so much as given him a papercut...

-----

Zuko groaned as he came to, vaguely aware of a swaying sensation as though he were about to fall, which he figured had something to do with the massive lump at the back of his head. Or maybe it was the movement of the ship he was on. He blinked, his mind slowly focusing and gaining awareness -and along with it an awful dose of pain. How long had he been out? A fog was beginning to lift inside him, but the lingering grogginess suggested he had potentially been drugged for quite some time.

His most recent memories were of chaos, arrows whistling through the air, latching onto the deck of their ship. He had tried to incinerate most of them, and had been successful, until something had struck him hard across the back and sent him instantly into the void.  

Rope rubbed at his wrists and clutched at his chest as he struggled. He tried to bend, but found his movement to be too restricted and clumsy -disoriented as he was. A string of curses tumbled from his lips.

“Tsk, tsk. Not language very fitting of His Highness is it?” a voice called from the shadows of the ship’s hold.

Zuko recognized the voice… One of the advisors that had been traveling with him, Jian… Despite the remnants of drugs in his system it was beginning to become clear how their ship had just happened to fall victim to pirates and who had managed to catch Zuko from behind unexpectedly. “What do you want, Jian?” he asked sharply, glaring as the advisor drew closer.

“You are the last person our great nation should be led by,” he hissed.

Zuko’s lips curled in disgust at the man’s hot breath on his face, his nostrils flared as he exhaled smoke and frustration, pleased when Jian backed away, clearly fighting an undignified cough. “I trusted you. I thought you were helping us work to rebuild… The past year… and last week in Omashu. What changed?”

Jian laughed coldly. “This was always the plan. Your naivety will be the end of you young Fire Lord.”

“To hope for something better is not naive,” Zuko replied fiercely.

The former advisor scanned him for a moment then smirked, eyes shining with mania. “Look at where you are.” He lifted arms clad in elegant red silk to gesture at their dingy surroundings. “You will either die here, or in a cell in a Fire Nation prison unless a ransom is paid.”

Zuko snorted, a small flame escaping his nose. He wished, not for the first time in his life, that he had managed to master more fire breathing than that -something that would be useful in his current predicament- but that had always been more Azula’s specialty despite all of Uncle’s efforts. “Money? That’s what this is about?”

“That is only the beginning,” he whispered conspiratorially. Beady black eyes danced in lantern light as he regarded Zuko with intense hatred. “One day soon, the rightful Fire Lord will return to the Fire Nation throne and he will make you pay for your treasonous actions.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. Great, another Ozai loyalist. Just his luck that one had been insidious enough to work his way to this point. Maybe he was naive, though if Katara and the rest of his friends had taught him anything, it was that trying to find the good in others would never be a bad thing. He had everything to thank for their belief in that. Katara… He shut his eyes for a moment as a wave of longing washed over him. Arguably he had been in worse situations than this, but it had been years since he had faced them without her by his side. If only he had let her come along…but he had been so afraid to leave the Fire Nation unattended with all its troubles placed solely on his uncle’s shoulders.

A knock at the door interrupted Zuko’s thoughts of the Water Bender and the ache that he felt burying itself in his chest knowing she would be worried at his delay. He regretted the stress he would put her through. While Jian went to open the door Zuko tried to subtly tug at his bindings again. If he could just get enough motion in his fingers to firebend and weaken the rope… With Jian distracted he frantically tried to summon enough of the element, fighting the last of the drug’s haze...

“Yes?” Jian asked impatiently of the visitor to the hold, a short, skinny pirate with a large, floppy hat that Zuko could see extended beyond even the width of Jian’s frame that blocked the doorway.

Almost there… Zuko wiggled his wrists in small circles, wincing when a small jet of fire nearly set his pants aflame, missing the ropes entirely. Fortunately the hold’s wood was damp enough that the floor remained unlit. The firebender took a deep breath and tried again, thankful that Jian was still busy discussing something with the pirate at the door.

An image of Katara practicing her bending came to mind. He recalled the graceful, delicate, intention with which she waved every muscle in her hands. On his second attempt to burn the ropes he was careful to control his digits more precisely, and his efforts were rewarded when he felt a small heat pass along his palms and hit the rope.

The sounds of Jian bidding the pirate farewell and closing the door encouraged Zuko to rush his final pass at burning the ropes off. He fought back a hiss of pain as he felt flame pass over the delicate flesh on the inside of his lower arms. Seconds later when he gave the bonds one last tug and felt them fall away his injury was forgotten. He remained carefully still as Jian turned back to him, waiting for the perfect moment.

When the advisor strayed within arm’s reach Zuko suddenly lunged, seizing him by the shoulders and spinning the man, head-first, into the nearest wall. Jian collapsed with a soft, surprised exclamation and a solid thunk of skull colliding with wood, and Zuko, breathed a sigh of relief.

Wasting no time he rushed for the door, throwing himself through the opening and shooting glances down the short hallway. Luckily, it was clear. Quietly, he sealed Jian in the cell and padded softly towards a set of stairs illuminated with pale moonlight. He had no idea what awaited him on the deck. Whatever it was he would handle it then, though he had to shake Iroh’s admonishing tone from his head, ‘You never think these things through!’

When he emerged from the belly of the ship he was prepared for an immediate onslaught of pirate swords and other weaponry, but despite what he was sure were Jian’s desires, these were not Fire Nation soldiers. The crew was gathered around a makeshift table and their drunken cackles and bickering carried loudly above even the sea breeze and persistent slapping of water against the hull.

Zuko crouched behind a wooden crate and scanned the deck. There were more than a dozen pirates playing cards in the moonlight and who knew how many more aboard the ship. With the moon shining brightly in the sky Zuko knew Katara would have been a force to be reckoned with, but he could not say the same for his firebending, and he was disappointed in how weak he felt -from hunger, thirst, likely concussion, and not to mention residual effects of whatever Jian had been using to keep him unconscious.

He was contemplating the slim likelihood of stealing away unnoticed with one of the small boats tied to the side of the ship when the gull-rat squawked at him. At first, he ignored it -at any given moment any seaside town or boat was always under the assault of the persistent creature and its horrible fecal habits- but when it continued to tilt its head at him in curiosity he recalled the companions the pirates he had met several years ago kept…The gull-rat’s call was louder the second time and Zuko swore as its owner, walking away from the card table with a fistful of coins and a drunken grin, blinked at the sight of the prisoner wandering freely.

It was really not his day. Zuko sprinted for the boat he had been eyeing early, bending a blast of flame at the ropes that held it to the main ship and hoping he would not be far behind the vessel as it crashed loudly into the ocean below. The gambling crew were all armed now, and though a few teetered from the effects of what was decidedly not the calming tea Iroh was always drinking, many looked formidable opponents. A circle was already closing around Zuko who searched desperately for an opening.

The Fire Lord managed to dodge two pirates who swung rusty blades at him and pushed back three more with a ball of flame. Seeing an opening in the ranks, he dashed wildly for the side of the ship, glancing back only once when an arrow whizzed past his shoulder.

Once was one time too many. He crashed right into the short, skinny pirate that had stopped by his cell to speak with Jian and they collapsed to the deck in a painful twist of limbs. Before Zuko could roll away the short pirate had pinned him and grabbed both his wrists.

-----

“I’ll save you from the pirates,” she whispered, grinning as the confusion on his handsome face turned to joy when she removed the ridiculous hat she wore so he could see her. His smile was everything, she hadn’t realized just how much she had missed it -instantly warming her from the inside out.  

“Katara!” He sat up and pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the smell of her hair.

She was disappointed when he broke away to stand. It was understandable though. The pirates were racing towards them -even the gull-rat was giving chase.

“I knocked a boat into the water, if we can just swim to it…” Zuko eyed the railings of the ship unhappily, no doubt imagining the long drop.

“And then what?” Katara asked, drawing water from the ocean and forming two whips over both her arms.

“We, uh, we go?” Zuko offered.

She fought back a bubble of laughter. “You really don’t think things through. Zuko, they can just chase us! They’d catch us in no time in this larger ship. Was that really your plan?”

He fumbled for words, cheeks flushing furiously with embarrassment.

Katara lashed out at the first wave of pirates, tripping them with one long tendril of water. “Zuko, you’re a firebender, set the ship on fire!” She looked away as a stray pirate broke rank to try and shoot them with his bow. A jet of water aimed sharply by Katara eliminated that immediate problem. “You are the Fire Lord, how did you not think of this?” This time the laughter escaped her, his befuddled expression too cute to take.

“I, uh.. Okay, I’m pretty sure I have a concussion... and potentially still some drugs in my system?” he admitted, punching the air with his fists, sending fire at the pirates and the sails of the ship. Soon the entire deck was dancing with the dangerous orange glow.

“That’s our cue!” Katara declared, and grabbed his hand. “Ready?” She stepped up onto the railing of the ship and he followed.

They balanced precariously for a moment, her hair spinning wildly in the wind, before jumping into the air, stomachs dropping for a brief exhilarating second before Katara froze a wave to slide them towards the empty boat bobbing in the waves. A miscalculation on her part landed them in frigid ocean water that stole both their breaths away.

Katara was first to pull herself into the boat, flopping wetly into the wooden hull. She giggled at the sight of Zuko, hair spiked every which way by the ocean, arms flung desperately over the side of the boat kicking furiously to pull himself into the raft. Taking mercy on a Fire Bender out of his element, she helped him aboard. Together they looked back at the burning pirate ship, observing the frantic shadows of the crew moving about with buckets of water. Still, Katara did not wait long to begin moving their vessel to the small cove nearby where she had anchored her Fire Nation ship.

Only when they were confident that no one had pursued them to the sandy shores and were safely sailing towards home aboard her borrowed ship did they rest, allowing the wind to do the work for them. They collapsed, laying on the deck, staring skyward at a ceiling of stars, and Zuko gently pulled Katara against him. She reveled in the familiar beat of his heart beneath her as she settled her head on his chest.

She felt him shake as he laughed quietly. “I still can’t believe I didn’t think, to... Burn the ship?”

Katara reached for a small bit of water and it glowed as she reached a hand back to touch the side of his head. “Better?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah, much. Thank you…” he sighed and leaned his scarred face into her healing palm. “I can’t say this was the reunion I was imagining.”

“I don’t know…” She looked up at him, the beginnings of a soft smile tugging at her lips. “We’re even now,” she teased, bumping him playfully. “And it was kind of fun... Reminds me of how far we’ve come.” How different things were since the last time they had encountered pirates -and not just his hair, though thank the spirits for that.

“Just another day in the life of the Fire Lord I guess,” Zuko replied wistfully, a hand playing with the end of one of her curls.

“I mean, I’m not saying you should do it again… ”

“Not without you... “Never without you,” he promised -and to Katara’s delight, sealed the oath by placing his lips against hers.

[ri-ahhh]

idk if you’ve heard the song toxic by kehlani but maybe you could write something based off that song where a tipsy y/n calls up her on and off ex (grayson) to come over 👀 i love your writing btw

It’s already late when your best friend Fallon knocks sharply on the front door of your apartment. You had texted her not even half an hour ago, all up in your feels after you saw Grayson’s Snapchat story of him and some friends at the beach, an unfamiliar and pretty blonde girl tucked under his arm in one of the photos. She had responded immediately, letting you know she was on her way.

Feet clad in your fuzzy pink slippers, the strings of Grayson’s old hoodie keeping the hood cinched around your face tightly, you heave yourself off your comfy couch and trudge over to the front door to let her in. When you swing it open, she’s standing there with her hands full with her purse in one and an obvious brown paper bag in the other.

You stand aside silently, letting her pass the threshold and dump her shit on the kitchen island. “You didn’t have to bring alcohol, Fal, you know I don’t drink like that anymore.”

“Exactly,” Fallon deadpans, whipping out the bottle from the bag. “You stopped drinking because of Grayson Dolan. I think you owe it to yourself to let yourself start drinking because of him, too.”

You push the hood off your head and take the blue bottle from her when she offers it to you. Your brows raise. “You bought me Don Julio to cry over my ex? Isn't this, like, $50 for a bottle?”

Fallon waves a hand dismissively. “That’s exactly why I got it; you’re not gonna cry over your ex. Wine of any kind is crying juice. Vodka makes you a dumb bitch, and bottom shelf tequila makes you cry, a dumb bitch, and a ho. You need the good stuff, so we can bring out the bad bitch. Who can talk about her ex, get it all out, without crying again, or texting him, or posting a thirst trap.”

You roll your eyes. “That was only one time I accidentally sent you that nude instead of Grayson. And we were still together, so it didn't count as being a ho. I was just giving my boyfriend good spank bank material.”

Fallon is already rummaging through your cabinets, in search of the nearly-forgotten shot glasses. “Babe, you know I support every woman’s right to be a ho as much as she wants, especially after a breakup, but this is Grayson we’re talking about. You two were so into each other, it was toxic. You fought all the time, and by your own admission fixed everything with sex. You’re addicted, and as your best friend, I’m inserting myself here to keep you from talking to him anymore.”

She turns around, two little glasses in hand, and looks at you then the bottle in your hands pointedly. You give in and pull out the stopper and the Don Julio Blanco to her. 

“Now, I’m not gonna get you drunk. But we’re gonna get enough in you to loosen up that tongue, you’re gonna get all your Grayson shit out before I leave, and we’re gonna go to bed happy and feeling better,” she says matter-of-factly, pouring the clear liquid into the glasses. She hands one of them to you. “Cheers, bitch.”

Right before you clink and tap, Fallon’s phone buzzes. She leans over to check it where it’s resting on the counter, and her eyes widen. “Shit...”

“What?” you ask concernedly. Fallon puts down her glass and starts typing madly.

“It’s my downstairs neighbor. She said Roxy’s been barking for nearly an hour straight and she’s gonna file another noise complaint if I don’t get there to let her out.” She stops for a moment and looks at you. “Shit. I’ll get evicted if I get another one. Like actually evicted.”

Fallon’s dog Roxy has serious attachment issues, which is usually extremely annoying, but right now you're thanking her. You love Fallon to death, but this isn’t exactly the friend therapy you needed or expected when you called her up to come over. 

“Dude, go! I promise I’m fine. I don’t need to worry about you being homeless on top of my shit.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, babe, I promise I’ll FaceTime you as soon as I’m home.” She’s gathering her things, leaving the tequila open on the counter. “Make good choices, please. Love you!”

“Love you!” you call out behind her as she rushes through the door.

The door slams, and it leaves a ringing silence almost as loud as your best friend. You look around at your suddenly empty apartment, your eyes landing on the still-full shot glasses.

What the hell? You snatch one of them off the counter and down it with a grimace. Admittedly, it was the best tequila you’ve ever had, but it’s still tequila. The burn travels down your esophagus and settles in your near-empty belly. The sensation reminds you that you’ve hardly eaten today, and one shot was probably more than enough considering your lack of food and the fact that you’ve probably reverted to being an extreme lightweight after not drinking for so long. 

You and Grayson have barely been broken up for a month, and despite how hard it’s been, you haven't been tempted to touch more than a glass of wine or an occasional Whiteclaw if the stress of the day was too much. But it never felt right to have more. Grayson is still a part of you, even though that’s part of the reason you broke up to begin with. The two of you were becoming codependent on each other, which was turning into jealousy and neediness that built up into huge, explosive fights and ended with you fucking on whatever surface was nearest.

It was, indeed, a vicious, toxic cycle. Even though you tell yourself it’s for the best, you also can’t shake the feeling that the two of you aren’t done. That there’s still hope for your relationship, especially now that you’ve spent time apart.

Fallon’s tactics have backfired as you stomp back to the couch and snatch your phone off the cushion. Julio has given you the liquid courage you need to do exactly what Fallon told you not to.

I miss u

A classic. You wish you had it in you to be more creative, but the simple truth of it is: you do miss him. You miss his laugh. You miss his smell. You miss coming home to him, either here or at his house, after a long day. You miss his kisses. You miss his dick. 

There’s little shame for yourself in admitting that. You used it to solve your problems, but you were blind to that before the breakup. Everything is more clear now, especially the fact that you still love him deeply. 

Suddenly, your phone starts buzzing. You don’t even look at the caller ID, assuming it’s Fallon calling impatiently from her car. 

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

The deep voice on the other end of the phone startles you, and you hold it away from your face to see his name in big, white letters. No longer ‘Gray’ with some heart emojis, but ‘Grayson Dolan.’

You swallow hard and put the phone back to your ear. “Uh, hi, Hey.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “I, uh, got your text.”

You don’t say anything, picking at a piece of fluff on your slipper.

“I miss you too. Like, a lot. Too much.”

You bite your lip tightly, chewing it nervously. You hadn’t expected him to fucking call. Calling and texting had two very different vibes. Over text, you would probably say something cute and calm and ask if the two of you could get coffee tomorrow.

But a call? You can hear his voice for the first time in weeks. It makes you want to jump through the phone and wrap him in your arms, to cry in his chest -- from happiness or sadness, you’re not sure. Either way, this is the closest you’ve felt to him in so long, and it makes you weak.

Grayson may be loud, but he’s good at shutting up when he wants an answer. It’s one of the things that drove you most crazy when you fought. He’d yell his piece, then stare at you until you had a retort. Sometimes you did, sometimes you didn't; you were always both at fault, for the most part. 

You take a deep breath and find your voice at last. “Me too. I...I haven’t been doing so great. Without you.”

She hears him sigh. “Me neither.” He pauses, and you wait anxiously. “Look, I’ll be honest. I was with Ethan when I got your text and he...well, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea that I called you. Or that we’re talking to each other, period.”

He leaves his sentence hanging, almost like an open-ended question without phrasing it as such. You can't stop the laugh from bubbling past your lips as you shake your head. “Fallon was just over at my place and said the same thing. So that either makes us really fucking stupid, or our best friends just don’t understand.”

“Famous last words, either way,” Grayson chuckled with you. You can hear crickets chirping in the background, and imagine he’s sitting outside by the pool. The two of you used to like to do that together.

You decide to follow his example and head out to your balcony, plopping down in one of the plastic chairs with your knees tucked to your chest. “What do you think about us talking, then?”

He doesn't miss a beat. “I think I miss you. And I love you. And I know I fucked up a lot, but I’ve been actually reflecting on everything that was wrong with us and I think I know now what I can do better. This time apart has been really fucking hard, but I think it was a good thing. For me, anyways.”

Your lip finds its way between your teeth again. You clamp it hard to hold back the shake in your voice. “Me too, Gray. I wasn’t perfect by any means, either. But as long as we both know what we need to work on, I want to try again if you do.”

“I do want that,” Grayson sighs, relief flooding his voice. He laughs that laugh you missed so much. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve been driving E crazy having these meltdowns all the time thinking about how I fucked up so bad that I wouldn’t ever get you back.”

You smile into your knees, and decide in that moment to risk it for the sake of your biscuit, which throbs at the mere thought and sound of him. “Is it too early to mention that I miss all of you?”

“Careful, or I might think you only want me back for my body.”

“I mean, I definitely had to use my imagination a few times without the real thing. I only had to think of you, though. How good you fuck me.”

This right here is probably where the tequila is coming in to play. Fallon was wrong again; you’re about to go Full Ho, having phone sex with your kind-of ex.

His breath picks up nearly imperceptibly, but you can also hear the smirk in his voice. “How many times did I make you squirt in the tiny house shed that one time, baby? That was so hot.”

“Mm, it was so good, Gray. I remember you had to carry me inside to your bed because I couldn’t walk. And then you fucked me nice and hard on your bed.” A rush of wetness floods your panties, and you squeeze your thighs together. “You came all in my mouth that night. I miss how your cum tastes.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Can I come over?”

You hesitate. You think of Fallon, of Ethan, of Don Julio. Of Grayson.

“Yes. Please.”

[skdubbs]

Let Love Find You

Chapter 1: An Awkward Introduction

Summary: Love has a funny way of finding you when you’re not looking for it. Commander Fox discovered this the hard way when a box arrived on base and pique his interest. 

Here it is. I can’t believe I'm finally doing this. A huge huge HUGE shoutout and thank you to @detroitbydark​ for all of the encouragement, feedback, and listening to my ramblings about this story. You’re the best. 

This story will be the first in a collection of three interconnected stories taking place at the same time. I hope you all enjoy! 

It all started with a box.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard stared at the parcel currently sitting on his desk amidst piles of carefully cataloged holopads. The contents of said package laid innocently next to the box. He’d had part of it scanned and tested, twice. Absolutely nothing alarming to be found. And yet Fox was still unsettled.

In the year since taking up his post, he’d never been rendered speechless. Well, today the boys could mark it down in the books. Truly, the commander didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or do. The mental conundrum Fox found himself in was beyond exasperating. Sighing, Fox shook his head, then glanced at the flimsi note he held. Once more, he read the delicately written script.

To: Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard

Dear Sir,

I’m sure this package and its contents might cause alarm and confusion. Please don’t allow it to do either. This is simply a token to express my thanks to the troopers involved with the skirmish in the market district on Level 3 nearly four rotations ago. Their actions saved my life and that of my daughter. When we expressed our gratitude, my daughter felt the shock trooper didn’t think we were sincere. Hence, this small gift. I ask that you please see to it that the troopers involved receive this token and understand how grateful we were for their timely arrival. For there are citizens on this planet who are aware of the services the Guard provides to ensure our continued safety and peace. Thank you for your help in this matter.

Sincerely,

Arissa Blunt

Fox knew without looking it up what skirmish Ms. Blunt referred to, as well as the troopers involved. Reach’s report had made mention of the two citizens he’d pulled away from the fire fight, a young woman and child. Interestingly enough, Fox had also heard through the guard barrack’s grapevine that Reach spent most of that night crowing about a civvie thanking him and how pretty she’d been. According to Reach, her body was a man’s wet dream.

At the time Fox had scoffed and pushed the matter out of his mind. He had far more important matters to contend with than one of his trooper’s infatuations. All of the men would have one at some point or other. It was a natural result with overexposure to civilians after a lifetime of social isolation. Fox was one of the few he knew to never fall to such an affliction. That didn’t mean he hadn’t dabbled and explored his options. The commander had simply never experienced the magic of someone capturing his attention for more than a moment of a little physical pleasure. Until now.

Commander Fox was intrigued, all because of a box of homemade ginger spice cookies, a short note, and an infatuated trooper’s embellished description. Again, Fox sighed. Maker, he needed a drink. And it wasn’t even 1200 yet.

He commed Captain Stone, the squad leader there on the day in question.

“This is Stone,” came the greeting.

“Captain, round up the troopers involved in the skirmish on Level 3, I’m sure you remember the one,” Fox instructed. “They’ve got a gift waiting for them in my office. Apparently Reach’s story wasn’t completely fabricated.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. It was brief, but Fox knew it for what it was. Shock. “Right away, sir,” Stone replied.

Fox disconnected, then turned to inspect the baked goods still sitting on his desk. Ginger spice cookies. Homemade, no less. Damn, they smelled good.

Fox smirked. What the men didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He plucked one cookie from the pile, taking a small bite to test the flavor. A groan of delight broke past his lips. This was one of the best frekkin’ things he’d ever had the pleasure of eating, and that's saying something. After all, the position of Commander of the Coruscant Guard afforded certain luxuries and privileges that few other clones were allowed.

The commander took another bite, savoring the taste. What he wouldn’t give to have something this good to eat every day. His eyes found the note again, sitting on his desk in stark contrast to everything else. Arissa Blunt. One has to wonder what kind of woman she was. Fox had every intention of finding out.

-----

After giving the boys their gift (the looks of shock and delight on their faces had caused a grin on his), Fox decided to investigate. It took little effort to find the information he needed. Another perk to his position.

Arissa Blunt, single human female aged 22 standard years. Currently a member of the Republic military’s research and development division located here on base. His brows had raised at that. He merely needed to leave his office and walk across the facility in order to find her. Her focus was prototype military-grade weapons. So, she worked on creating better ways for his brothers on the front to do their job. While he didn’t know her, Fox felt a swell of appreciation for this woman.

He was shocked and intrigued to find she held her position with no formal training. Instead, Ms. Blunt came into the program through the recommendation of a member of the board. It was highly irregular. Perhaps some nepotism was involved? But that made no sense either. According to her file, Ms. Blunt had no living relatives, only a young daughter named Gemma. Cute name, he’d thought.

Out of curiosity, Fox looked her up too. Gemma Blunt, single human female aged 5 standard years. Currently enrolled on scholarship at a school for gifted young children located noooo in a more well-to-do area of the upper levels. So, the kid was smart.

A part of Fox was impressed. And even more intrigued, especially as he gazed at Ms. Blunt’s photo. Reach hadn’t exaggerated, she was quite pretty. Not in the glamour model sort of way. But you could see the potential lying underneath her cute veneer should she ever try to be one. And those eyes….well, they’d surprised him too. Most humans didn’t have violet colored eyes, at least not naturally. But on her they were stunning. They drew you in and spoke volumes. As if the secrets they held were more than just her own. She could know yours without you evening realizing. A fanciful thought perhaps, but there all the same.

And that is why Commander Fox found himself making the long trek to the R&D division on base a few hours later. Amazingly, he had an hour free. Plenty of time to pay Ms. Blunt a visit. He could convey the men’s appreciation and slake his curiosity.

He’d found a technician by the name of A’tron Rogers when he arrived. The man had the audacity to scoff at him when he stated who he was looking for. Fox wisely kept his helmet on, knowing full well what kind of person he was dealing with. It was rather obvious what Mr. Rogers thought of clones and about doing anything for them. One had to wonder why he was in a position that required him to help create weapons that helped said clones.

“Yeah, she’s back here,” he’d snapped. “Follow me.”

Resisting the urge to call the man on his insubordination, Fox followed. They made their way further back into the lab and came to a stop at what looked to be some kind of long range canon. However, the weapon wasn’t what caught Fox’s attention.

Fox froze, his brain gone blank. Before his eyes, bent over at just the right angle, was perhaps the most perfectly shaped ass he’d ever seen. His mouth watered while his blood rushed south. Mentally, he cursed. This was not a good way to start an introduction.

“Blunt!” Rogers practically screeched, trying to get the technician's attention. It certainly did the trick, albeit in a painful way. Arissa’s head shot up, caught by surprise, only to have it collide with the paneling of the prototype she’d been working on. A string of low muttered curses followed the loud clang. Fox winced in sympathy.

After a moment or two, Arissa straightened, seemed to take a steadying breath, then turned to face them. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when they landed on him. However, she recovered quickly, her face becoming unreadable as she turned to her coworker.

Fox wished he could say the same. That beautiful shebs he’d been staring at not long ago should have warned him at what else he’d see. Because, by the maker, Reach hadn’t exaggerated. Not one bit. Arissa Blunt truly was a man’s wet dream. Her hair was up and covered, but he didn’t need to see the dark brown wavy locks again to know how it finished the masterpiece that stood before him. Even wearing coveralls covered in grease splotches couldn’t detract from that hourglass figure or the small waist. And her breasts. By Fett, they were a handful and more. So much more. Again, Fox was grateful he’d chosen to keep his bucket on. He’d have looked like a gaping fool otherwise.

Arissa addressed Rogers, her voice even and devoid of emotion. “Did you need something, Rogers?”

The shorter man huffed, obviously put out by her lack of response to him. Fox made a mental note of that. Maybe it wasn’t just clones the man had a problem with. “You’ve got a visitor. Commander Fox here needs to speak with you.”

The technician’s gaze swung over to him, that violet gaze holding him captive. Again, he noticed a moment of trepidation, as if she feared his presence. Fox scowled, annoyance flaring. Her reaction was classic for a citizen. They either looked at him and his brothers with fear or disdain. He wasn’t sure which pissed him off more.

“I see,” she replied. “Well, I’m due a fifteen anyway. If you need me, we’ll be in the conference room.”

Rogers snorted, then left. Yup, that chakaaryc really didn’t like Arissa Blunt. Fox focused his attention on the woman before him. As he looked closer, her nerves became more obvious. What did she have to be nervous about?

“Ms. Blunt,” he greeted, his voice stiff and formal.

“Commander Fox,” she greeted in return. Grabbing a rag, she wiped her hands off, then motioned for him to follow her. “Whatever you need to tell me, it’d be best said in the conference room. Otherwise, everyone else in the department will know about it before the end of the day. You wouldn’t think it, but the lot here are as bad as a bunch of gossiping housewives.”

Nodding, he followed. As they left the lab and made their way down the hallway, Fox couldn’t help his eyes from looking. The sway of those hips were going to haunt him. Another curse ran through his mind.

Soon enough they reached their destination, Arissa gesturing him inside. He took up a position further in, standing at attention while he waited for her to shut the door.

“Would you rather sit, Commander?”

“No thank you, miss. But please don’t stand on my account. Have a seat.”

He patiently waited while Arissa got comfortable. Once she seemed settled, he dove right in. “I assume you know why I’m here?”

That flash of trepidation was back. It was gone immediately, but still, he saw it.

“I think so,” she quietly answered. Her tongue came out to wet her lips. Despite himself, Fox felt a knee jerk reaction to the tiny movement. Maker, this needed to stop. Now.  

“Then explain yourself,” he ordered.

That got her attention. Arissa straightened, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Explain myself? I thought the note I left was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “However, your reaction to my appearance here would say otherwise. I thought you appreciated what the guard does for the citizens of Coruscant. Someone who is appreciative doesn’t respond with fear in their eyes.”

Arissa’s eyes widened, first in shock, then in anger. However, when she next spoke, her voice remained even. “From my point of view, your sudden appearance here is rather suspect. Troopers, let alone commanders, don’t make random visits to this part of the base. Any fear you saw was my worry that I’d done something wrong.”

That made Fox pause, considering. Her words in the note had sounded sincere. And someone who feared or hated clones wouldn't have sent something in the first place, not without it having some sort of repercussion. Perhaps she had a point. Finally, Fox relaxed his stance.

“I suppose your reaction would make sense then,” he conceded. “I apologize for alarming you, Ms. Blunt.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known. I’m sorry I gave you the impression I was like all those ungrateful idiots out there.”

Fox stared at her. Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. Apparently Ms.Blunt lived up to her name. He cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, would you mind explaining to me why you felt the need to do such a thing?”

Arissa started fiddling with a loose thread of her coveralls. A nervous tick. “I already told you in the note I sent with the package. My daughter thought the trooper who helped us didn’t believe we meant what we said. I was helping to make him see otherwise.”

A scoff escaped him. “Forgive my own cynicism then. I’m used to people having ulterior motives. It’s my job to find them.” He shrugged. “So, it’s a little hard to believe there wasn’t something else behind your actions, appreciated as they are.”

While he knew he was being something of a di’kut, Fox needed to know. He wasn’t lying. Any civilian he’d ever met had some sort of ulterior motive, most often to the detriment of his men.

She didn’t speak for a while, sitting there in quiet contemplation. Then, those violet orbs caught the gaze of his visor and held it. She wanted to get this right, he realized. She wanted him to believe her. “Maybe because men who didn’t have a choice in choosing this life deserve something good once in a while.”

Speechless, that’s what he was. She said it so plainly and without artifice. Fox knew she meant it, every word.

“I see,” he replied, voice quiet and low. “Well, allow me to express my gratitude and that of my men. It may not seem like much, but those sweets were the first gift any of those men have ever received. It might be the only one.”

“You’re very welcome, Commander Fox.” Her voice was quiet too, her eyes soft and understanding. How Fox wished he could get lost in them for more than just a few minutes. It was time to go. Now.

“You’ll excuse me then, Ms. Blunt, for taking up your time. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I’ll see myself out.” Fox made to do just that, not leaving her a chance to say anything in return. He was almost to the door when-----

“Commander, could I ask a favor?”

Fox stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Here it comes. “What is it?”

Arissa gulped, her nerves showing once more. Fox smirked. Already in such a short amount of time, Fox knew he’d enjoy setting her on edge on a regular basis. It was a shame their paths likely wouldn’t cross again.

“I know this may seem silly, but would you be willing to write a short note to my daughter? I know it’d mean the world to her to hear how much the troopers that helped us enjoyed the cookies.”

“Can’t you just tell her?”

“I could,” she allowed. “But she might think I’m lying. Sometimes she has a hard time believing things if she doesn’t have evidence. Finding out you came to tell me yourself just how much the gift was appreciated will be suspect without some kind of proof.”

“Is your daughter really that cynical?”

Arissa laughed, shaking her head. Fox had to admit she had a lovely laugh. Fett, he was going soft. “No, not cynical, commander. Just a child who needs encouragement that something is real when she’s had so many other disappointments.”

While Fox was curious as to what she meant by that statement, he didn’t ask. Honestly, what was the harm in writing the kid something? There was none. Besides, he was more than happy to do it.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

The smile she gave him made an answering one pull at his lips. Thankfully, his helmet hid the sight. Yeah, this was definitely not good.

------

“Mommy! You’re home!” Gemma squealed in happiness as Arissa stepped through the door. Arissa was barely inside before her five-year-old daughter wrapped her tiny arms around her torso and squeezed.

Arissa paused, soaking the moment in. A smile pulled at her lips while the hint of tears teased her eyes. This right here made everything worth it. The ridiculously long days. The demeaning remarks and catty behavior from her coworkers. This was her why, the reason she kept putting up with everything.

She wrapped her arms around Gemma and squeezed back. “Hello to you too, Gemma. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Gemma pulled back, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing in her excitement. “Did you miss me?”

Arissa chuckled, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “Yes, sweetie.”

“Welcome home, Arissa. Long day?”

Arissa glanced up, making eye contact with the teenager lounging on the lumpy pale green couch in the apartment space that served as a living room. She barely withheld a grimace, thinking back over her day. “Just the usual, Trix.”

Although it really hadn’t been. Not when a certain unsettling clone commander decided to pop in and pay an unexpected visit. Gods, she’d thought for a moment there she’d done something wrong, that somehow the gift Gemma had practically begged her to make was illegal. Panic had filled Arissa, assuming the worst. But then he’d thanked her. Thanked her. Like a box of ginger spice cookies was the best gift his men had ever received. That wasn’t really too far off the mark, though, was it? And that black visor. When he’d held her gaze, Arissa had felt as if she were naked. She couldn’t remember anyone ever making her fell that way. Definitely not something one wants to feel upon meeting a commanding officer of the GAR. 

Shaking her head, Arissa focused back in on the present. “Did the two of you eat yet?”

Trix suddenly appeared uncomfortable, a look of guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah, we did. I, um, thought it’d be nice to treat Gemma to something. We went to Dex’s Diner and had the works. Saved some for you, too.”

While she knew why Trix might feel guilty, Arissa couldn’t fault the teenager for spending the money instead of eating the leftovers in the fridge. A year of being homeless and dodging traffickers and drug dealers had done a number on Trix. The kid’s useless father had abandoned her just days after her mother passed away. And the lower levels of Coruscant were not kind to the young and innocent. Arissa knew this fact quite well. Trix was finally getting back on her feet, working at a local bakery to make some money while attending school at night to finish her primary education. She lived in the third bedroom and watched Gemma when Arissa had to work late. And Trix positively adored her. So if Trix wanted to spoil Gemma with a night of burgers and shakes, Arissa wasn’t going to complain. She was far too grateful for the help to even think of chastising the teenager for splurging.

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Thanks for thinking of me,” She smiled at Trix, hoping the teenager understood she wasn’t mad. “I can’t remember the last time I had Dex’s. Is it as good as I remember?”

Gemma giggled. “Even better! Oh, and we got to meet Dex. Did you know he’s a besalisk? I’ve never seen one before. He answered all my questions, too. Didn’t act like I was a bother or anything.”

“Of course he wouldn’t. Because he realized right away what a bright and inquisitive mind you have, sweetie.” Arissa’s heart warmed at the kindness the diner owner had unknowingly extended her daughter. Gemma truly was inquisitive, wanting to know anything and everything. And amazingly she remembered it all. However, there were some people who found the girl’s nearly constant questions an annoyance and something to discourage. It was why she’d done so poorly in school until transferring into a private academy. Thank the maker for that scholarship. She bent over and lifted Gemma up, holding the young girl as she made her way to their small kitchen table. “Now spill. How was your day?”

Asking Gemma that question was all the kiddo needed to start regaling her mother with the events of the day. Arissa listened attentively as she went about putting her dinner together. She laughed when Gemma explained how a boy in her class had water come out of his nose during lunch and praised her when told how she’d received perfect marks on yesterday’s exam. Trix stayed with them for a while, interjecting comments here and there before retreating to her room to start on her school work. They wished the sixteen-year-old good night as mother and daughter both knew they likely wouldn’t see the teenager again until morning. Arissa was done with her dinner and working on a mostly thawed nerf milkshake by the time Gemma asked how her day went.

Arissa had thought long and hard how she wanted to present her surprise. She pulled the note from her back pocket and slid it across the table’s surface. “I had an unexpected visitor today. He asked me to give you this.”

Curious, Gemma carefully unfolded the note. Even at such a young age she handled everything with a great deal of care. Violet eyes scanned the note, then widened in shock. When Gemma finally looked back up she was smiling from ear to ear. “He wrote a note. He really wrote a thank you note!”

The smile breaking across Arissa’s face almost hurt. Seeing her daughter’s happiness at something so small was beyond precious. Mentally, she filed the image away to remember when the moody teenager years hit. “I was told not to read it. That it was top secret until your eyes saw what was inside. Think you could read it to me?”

Gemma nodded enthusiastically.

“It says: Dear Miss Gemma. Thank you for the lovely gift of ginger spiced cookies. I have shared your present with the troopers involved in the skirmish four rotations ago in the market. They were very surprised and grateful for your thoughtfulness. They rarely get a thank you for their work. Your mother tells me you are a bright student and love to learn new things. Did you know that members of the guard love uj cake? I highly recommend trying it. Please continue to do your part as a good and loyal citizen of the Republic.

Sincerely,

Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard.”

The excitement radiating off of Gemma was contagious. She truly was happy from Commander Fox’s words. Arissa sent a silent thank you to the commander for taking the time to fulfil her request. Maybe she could find a way to let him know how much his note meant. But he must be very busy. Why would he care about any of this?

If he didn’t care, why would he bother in the first place? He could have said no.

“Do you think I could write a reply, mommy?” Gemma asked. “Maybe we could make them some uj cake since they like it so much and leave a note with it like before.”

That made Arissa pause. “Perhaps. But don’t you think the rest of the guard might get jealous when only a few of them get to have some?”

Gemma’s brow furrowed as she contemplated that possibility. “I guess you’re right. I know I wouldn’t like it if only a few of my classmates kept getting something and I didn’t.” Then her face brightened. “Maybe we could make some for everyone! That way no one felt left out. Oh but,” Gemma frowned as she realized something. “That wouldn’t work either. There’s so many of them, aren't there?”

Arissa hmmed, feeling her heart squeeze with regret as her daughter’s face fell. For someone so young, she truly had a compassionate and giving nature. She wanted everyone to be happy. “I’m not sure how many there are, but yes, there are a lot of men in the guard. Far too many for us to make enough for everyone. I’m sorry sweetie.”

The evening wore on, the hours passing as the world outside transitioned from day to night. Despite her disappointment, Gemma managed to recover. They played a few games, took care of Gemma’s bath, and cuddled on the couch to watch a silly holomovie before Arissa announced it was time for bed. Arissa read a story of her daughter’s choosing, sang her a song, and kissed her good night. Once Arissa left the room, she’d make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a book, losing herself in the passionate romance of her current novel before heading to bed as well. It was like so many other night’s, this ritual their evenings had become. But tonight would be different.

“Mommy?”

Arissa paused, turning back to face her daughter. Only the top of her head and her eyes were visible above the fuzzy purple comforter she’d cocooned into. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Will you please tell Commander Fox thank you for writing me that note? I really did like it. And I think he’d like to know that, too.”

The breath whooshed out of Arissa’s lungs. She hadn’t expected this. But how could she refuse? “Of course, Gemma. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Now, get some sleep. You have a big day at school in the morning.”

“Can you make rainbow berry pancakes for breakfast?”

Arissa couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, Gemma’s tone was just too hopeful. “I think I can manage that. Now, sleep little one.”

Gemma giggled, happy at her mother’s answer. “Okay, okay. Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Gemma.”

Arissa closed the door and made her way to the kitchen. She tinkered around the small space, getting things ready for the morning while her tea water boiled, then steeped. Once finished, she grabbed the old and worn romance novel off her caf table, the flimsi pages yellowed with age. She happily made herself comfortable on the couch as she dove into the world of high passion…..

Five minutes later, Arissa was back in the kitchen, a notepad open to a clean page while her holopad came to life. She scrubbed a hand over her face, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” As soon as the piece of technology was up and running, she began bringing up Republic military records, trying to get an accurate head count of how many men filled the ranks of the Coruscant Guard.

------

Now, while Arissa was toiling away at the kitchen table trying to work out a plan to fulfill her daughter’s wish, said daughter was busy working on another matter instead of sleeping.

Gemma waited for her holopad to boot up, reading the note from Commander Fox almost obsessively. She’d never thought in a million years her mother would come home with any kind of news about the gift she’d begged her to make. Instead, she’d brought home a note. A note! Gemma very quietly giggled, pressing her face into her pillow to better muffle the noise. She was in the next star system from how happy that little piece of flimsi had made her. The five-year-old sent a desperate plea to the gods, asking them for the chance to meet this Commander Fox. Yes, she’d asked her mom to thank him, but she wanted the chance to tell him herself how much his note meant to her. And she wanted to show him just how much she could learn when she set her mind to it.  

Finally the holopad came on and Gemma brought up a search engine. Adults were always so surprised when they saw how well she could navigate tech at her age. For whatever reason, it was astonishing. Gemma didn’t pretend to understand why. Carefully, she typed in uj cake, then hit search. She skimmed over a promising article. It did sound rather yummy. Perhaps she could convince her mom to help her make some after school tomorrow and she could share it with the class. The kids would probably like that. Maybe it’d help her make a few friends.

The article said the recipe came from Mandalore. Intrigued, Gemma decided to search the planet, not knowing what she was getting herself into. What she read fascinated her. Hours went by and Gemma refused to sleep, far too invested in learning more about this old creed of warriors. She had only nodded off when her mother came to wake her, far earlier than usual.

Gemma’s groggy eyes met her mother’s. “What is it, mommy? Is something wrong?”

Arissa shook her head, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. “No, sweetie. I just needed your help with something. How would you like to help me make some uj cake this morning? I think a certain clone commander would appreciate it.”

It took a moment for Gemma’s sleepy brain to understand exactly what her mother was saying. When she did, she shot out of bed so fast she almost knocked her mother over. Excitement took care of the exhaustion she’d felt just moments ago.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, then dashed out the door to the kitchen, her mother’s laughter following after her.

What neither realized then was how their actions that morning would come to shape the rest of their lives.....and those throughout the galaxy.