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livin-life675 · 1 year

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Light The Match, Watch It Burn

Everything was prepared. All files sent, all confessions recorded. His belonging have already been shipped and he had received confirmation that the house was set up, all of his specifications set up and even a set of chocolates thoughtfully put out along with a nice bottle of sake, even though he was much to underaged to even think about touching it. All that was left to do was light the match and watch the ensuing chaos. It would be a spectacle.

It would be the last actions of Izuku Midoriya after all.

Looking out of the window, you wouldn’t guess that this was the day that sent Japans society crashing around the citizens mulling around. You would see the bright sun and comment on how it was going to be, even as the last of the fog was burned away. Maybe you’d be one of the citizens on your way to work and pondering what to have for dinner that night and if you should stop for groceries or just order out. You certainly wouldn’t look at the green haired middle schooler, now almost high schooler, and think he was about to completely rework the corrupt system that had been in place for decades. No, the most you would think is that he’s going to be late to school and really, what is his mother feeding him, he’s skin and bones. You certainly wouldn’t anticipate seeing him on the evening news that night.

But the newly implemented Midoriya laws would make it so you would never forget again. And you may not remember seeing him on the streets, but his childish face, a picture from his middle school days, with bruises and cuts peaking over the collar of his gakuran would stand out starkly, when it hangs in most building pertaining to law. When showed at least once a year on the anniversary of when Japan went to hell, his name starting off on the long list of children and others lost due to discrimination, bullying, and abuse. When the yearly documentary played across national television to show what happens when society fails and to never let it happen again.

But that isn’t this morning. There is no national remembrance days, there are no speeches from prime ministers, UA, the HPSC, or individual heroes. All that there is is the light of the spring morning. All that there are the citizens going to work like every other day. Only for the fact that that particular match hasn’t been lit yet.

Even so, the veridian eyed boy couldn’t have anticipated the sheer spread of his message, even with all of his calculations and analysis. After all, he’s still a fiften year old boy.

***********************************************************

Izuku closes his bedroom door for the last time, the only things remaining being the less pricy All Might merchandise, his school uniforms, bar one, and a small envelope containing a small amount of cash and a note resting on the top of a laptop. It was a weird feeling, closing his child bedroom and knowing he would never return, and knowing that by the end of the day, it would most likely be torn apart by the police and maybe a few select heroes, looking for clues. Only a few would know that nothing of true importance would be found. That the room was never where Izuku Midoriya lived, where he thrived. No, that belonged to a small workroom above a ramen shop downtown, rented out without the owners knowing the true use of the room.

The apartment was the exact same, everything placed where it belonged, not a speck of dust to be found. He always kept it that way, somehow still hoping vainly that Inko would see how well he took care of the place and somehow see something worthwhile in him. He knew by the bare fridge and cabinets that she hadn’t, because why would a waste of space need to eat? What good would it do to waste perfectly good food on someone like him? He was surprised that she hadn’t noticed the last time there was food in the house was months ago and it had been months before that that she gave him any money to buy some.

But he slipped on his shoes and picked up his bag knowing that at his new home, the fridge was already stocked, the cabinets bursting with food, and later that night expecting a massive feast to be delivered to the house.

After all, it wasn’t often that your deathday and birthday were rolled into one.

He wondered if anyone remembered. He had a guess that there was a vase of spiderlilies waiting on his desk at school, it was what was waiting for him last year and the year before that. It was too bad that they would never be received. They would’ve been cut for nothing.

Izuku wondered if Bakugou and the rest of his bullies would feel vindicated, after all, he was doing exactly what they suggested, taking a swan dive off the roof. Well, not actually, but it would certainly look like it. Making his way into and then up the steps of a building to the room, he vaguely wondered how many of them would be charged and found guilty. He found he really didn’t care.

Opening the roof access door, he smiled at seeing the waiting man.

“Jin, thank you for coming. I know this job isn’t exactly typical for you,” Izuku finds himself saying, feeling confidence he didn’t know he had.

“Izuku-sama, you’re actually here. And you’re right, I’ve never made a clone this detailed before, didn’t even think about replicating internal systems,” Jin responds, voice slightly muffled through his mask.

“But you did it, right? I know its going to end up mostly squashed, but there’s a reason I sent those photos and notes. And anyway, Izuku is fine, no need for honorifics,” Izuku responds, numbly walking over to the unzipped, oversized dufflebag.

“It matches down to the last millimeter. And boss, honorifics stay. Although, you are sure you want to do this? You could maybe take it back, but its going to be a nightmare,” Jin asks, hefting the body out of the bag.

Seeing it splayed out on the roof was beyond unsettling for Izuku. It had his every scar, his every broken bone. The exact same skin tone, as well as eye and skin color. For all intent and purposes, it was Izuku Midoriya, beyond the fact that it had no actual working body systems as well as consciousness.

“Izuku Midoriya dies today, that isn’t changing, not now. It is beyond too late,” Izuku can’t help but reach up and touch his altered face, changed for a few hundred thousand yen in a backalley. With allowing for his naturally white hair to grow out, no one would know that he was once Izuku Midoriya.

“Alright, but why this place? There are much easier and more obvious places,” Jin asks, his voice remarkably clear. It seemed as if the therapist and antipsychotic medication Izuku had gotten him were helping.

“I’d call it for sentimentalities sake. This is where I nearly died for real. Lets just say when a certain someone finds out I chose this roof, and why, it’s going to be its own kind of revenge,” Izuku remarks, thinking back bitterly on the words All Might had shared.

“Alright, if you’re ready, we should probably get this over with, two people and a body on a roof is going to attract attention,” Jin says, already hefting the clone.

“You’re right,” Izuku says, reaching down for its legs.

Once again, he couldn’t help but think how much his future therapist will be making off of him, because no sane person hefts a copy of himself over the side of a building. And certainly not while both smiling manically and with tears streaming down his face as he watches the body fall, something between a sob and a laugh bursting out of his chest when he sees it pancake into a smear of red on the pavement below.

“So, whatever did you decide on for a name, boss?” Jin asks, scratching his head as the screams of the bystanders reaches their ears.

“Mikumo, Akatani Mikumo,”

“That’s a great name, but we should probably scram,” Jin notes, eyeing the access door.

“Probably,”

**************************************************

Three days later, Izuku watched the world metaphorically burn, the light of the tv casting shadows in the dark room. The two men beside him, watched as well, although they were more focused on the boy, one looking on in interest and the other following his master's lead.

“Mikumo, this is truly impressive,” The much older by centuries man comments, eyeing the pile of energy drink cans, somewhat concerned for the young boy.

“All I ever did was drag the truth out into the light. I hope I can take this as a conclusion to our deal? Both hero society and All Might are destroyed, and without a single death, beyond the present company of course,” Mikumo asks, and the older man can’t help but chuckle darkly.

“Yes, I can say that this concludes our deal. Oboro Shirakumo will be returned in whole and I will disappear without a fuss and without an attempt to return. However, I would like to add something to the deal, if I may see your hand?” The wheelchair-bound man asks and can’t help but chuckle at the distrusting gaze he receives.

“Nothing unsavory, of course. What you’ve accomplished is more than I could have imagined. I simply wish to give you a small gift in return,” The man says and Izuku can’t help the small smile on his face.

“Alright,” He says, holding his hand out.

“You won’t refuse? To have to live quirkless and then just receive a quirk?” The wheelchair-bound man asks and Izuku shrugs.

“I don’t really care, thats how all of this came about. I really didn’t care anymore. Maybe a year ago I would be offended at you thinking a quirk would ‘fix me’ but that isn’t what this is, is it? I know I can accomplish what I want without a quirk, I’ve seen what I can do, so all you giving me one of your quirks is, is showing your appreciation, which I can’t really find it in me to hate. So yeah, I’ll accept, and gladly,” Izuku finishes, shrugging.

It was true, if he thought for one moment the man was giving him a quirk because he thought he was useless without one, he might have turned him into his next project. But that wasn’t the reason. He was acknowledging what he had done already without a quirk, so it was more validating than any sort of an insult.

“You know, I made this deal to entertain myself, but I am truly impressed with what you have done. You have not only exposed the faults of society but helped expose my own. And that is no easy task. You took my reasoning, my entire ideology, and broke it down, ruthlessly. I can truly say I would never want to be your opponent,” A quick brush against his knuckles finished his speech, and Izuku felt something fundamental shift within himself.

“Even if you did not see this as the outcome, I’m glad we were able to work together, All for One. Although, you’ve seen what I can do to society, if you even think of going back on your side of the deal…” Izuku trails off, letting the threat hang.

“Of course. Oboro Shirakumo will be returned before the end of the day, and you as well as the rest of the world will not hear from me or my followers again. One quick thing before we go, I truly look forward to what you will accomplish in life, Akatani Mikumo,”

With that, Kurogiri warps them out of the room, leaving the boy alone. Izuku promptly deflates, the build-up adrenaline crashing. While able to put a somewhat brave facade up in the presence of the two men, he was severely unnerved. When he had originally decided what to do, All for One was completely unknown to him. He had no clue someone liked him existed. And yet, as he went on his mini warpath, they came across each other. If it had come to complete conflict, Izuku would have been torn to shreds, obliterated off the map before he was truely noted down.

Somehow, sleep deprivation and an unholy amount of caffeine had brought a confidence, as well as a plan, to him. Instead of arguing and fighting, he would accept the man known as All for One. Of course, not until Izuku made him realize his displaced anger. All he could think coming out of making his deal was to thank his past self for deciding to take that phycology class, and actually take in the information. But for all his bluster, if All for One decided to renege on the deal, there wasn’t a damn thing Izuku could do about it.

Deciding to melt back into his chair, he takes out the leftovers of his death day feast, wondering what exactly he was thinking when he ordered half of the restaurant menu. At least he could freeze most of the leftovers, and eat the ones that wouldn’t freeze well.

******************************************

Hours later, Izuku can say with all honesty he did not expect his phone to ring, why would he, only a few select people would have that number, and he specifically told all of them that he didn’t want to be contacted for a few weeks, minimum.

But he also knew that those who did have his number wouldn’t be calling unless there was an actual emergency. That doesn’t mean he actually speaks when he answers, letting the static fill the air around him.

“Hello? This is Akitani Mikumo, is it not?” A small, high-pitched voice rings out, causing Izuku to huff, annoyance radiating out of him in waves.

“Principal Nezu, I was wondering how long until something like this happened. What do you want with me? And if you ask me to turn myself in, the obvious answer is no,” Izuku stands, starting to pace the luxuriously sized room.

“Now why would I waste a mind like yours on prison? No, Akatani-san, I would like to extend an invite for you to visit UA, it is after all practically the only institution you left untouched,” Nezu speaks over the phone and Izuku pauses.

“And what, you want to know why? I would think you would know yourself. You hire good people, follow through on the antibullying and anti-discrimination policies, and have a stellar record of graduates, barring a few from years past. The only thing I could fault you on was the fact that All Might would have become a teacher, although I know you fought tooth and nail against that and were strong-armed into his hire. While I’m sure you have your own shortcomings, both as an individual and as a school, it isn’t a level that would warrant my…attention,” Izuku finishes, voice turning hesitant.

He knew how smart, and ruthless, Nezu was, and would really not like to play with that particular fire. Although if there was an actual problem, he would.

“You misunderstand the purpose of my call. I would like to reach out with an offer of employment. You have worked on behalf of Izuku Midoriya to truly rip apart society, ruthlessly, and yet with justice. You have not just ripped everything apart, but also have shown a path back to a brighter future. I can particularly point to the case of Bakugou Katsuki. While he will be punished, he will be granted the opportunity to change and evolve as a person. That is a rare quality I do not see often. Besides that, you have a mind like no other that I have met, some of your plans and action are similar to what I would do,” Nezu continues, causing Izuku to freeze.

This…wasn’t exactly what he was anticipating the call to be. In fact, within moments of the phone call becoming traceable, he anticipated vengeful heroes to come breaking down his door. In actuality, he was left panicking, so Izuku did what he did best while panicking, he turned to sass.

“So what, I’ll become a janitor?” Izuku asks, flopping back into his chair, and retrieving the pack of gummy worms hidden in the cushion.

“I was thinking more along the lines of vice principal, but if you would like to become a janitor, who am I to stop you?” Nezu sasses back and Izuku can’t help but smile.

“While I appreciate the offer, I just lost a close friend, as you know. It’s sort of why everything happened. But maybe in the future,” Izuku finds himself saying, playing with a stray gummy worm.

“Very well, I look forward to that meeting one day,”

“I can’t say that I do, but it will certainly be interesting,” Izuku responds and hangs up before Nezu can say anything else on that subject or any other.

The day Izuku meets Nezu is the day that world domination is achieved. Izuku would rather keep the world where it was, at least for the moment. That's not to say he has at least seventeen different ways to take over the world.

*****************************************************************

At UA, Nezu slowly hangs up the phone, drawing out the torture of Aizawa Shouta. He says nothing for a moment, electing to take slow, measured sips of his tea.

“Well? What was Akatani like? Will you be enacting your plans?” Aizawa asks, already having experience with the wrath of the rat.

“No, I will not. But you might be interested in one thing,” Nezu lets it hang there, temping Aizawa into the murder of his boss.

“And that would be?” Even though Aizawa’s voice is deadpan, it is clear he is frustrated with the chimera's antics.

“Izuku Midoriya is not as dead as everyone believes,”

“So Akatani faked his death and hid him? I can’t blame him,” Aizawa huffs and Nezu cackles.

“Not so simple,”

It took Aizawa a moment to process the rat's words, and when it finally sunk in, the only thing he could bring himself to do is mutter a quiet, “Fuck” and flees from the office.

******************************************************

A month later, and Akatani Mikumo was looking up at UA, something between terror and excitement coursing through him. Although, it would never compare to the emotions that Aizawa was desperately attempting to hide behind his capture weapon.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at prospective students like that,” Aizawa can’t help but jerk in surprise at his husbands voice.

“Zashi,” Aizawa says, voice heavy with misery, and once he’s close enough, Aizawa thunks his head onto Hizashi’s shoulders.

“What's up, baby? You look like you did back in high school, coming back from one of Nezu’s lessons,” Hizashi asks, carefully scratching Shouta’s scalp, mindful of its sensitivity.

“What would you think about me retiring early?” Shouta asks, somewhat relaxing into his husband's arms.

“I’d call your bluff. Seriously though, what happened?”

“There’s another Nezu, only he may actually be worse,” Shouta says, lazily pointing down at the now floating boy, caught no doubt by the brown-haired girl frantically waving around her arms.

“Another Nezu? And worse? I didn’t think that was possible,” Hizashi tries to joke and Aizawa groans.

“Try faking their own death and using it to systematically rearrange the social, political, judicial, and hero systems. Not to mention actually putting the plans into motion. While I am confident that Nezu had such plans, he never actually acted on them,” Shouta deadpans.

“Wha-Izuku Midoriya is down there?!” Hizashi quickly abandons his husband to fling himself at the window, face plastered to the glass in an attempt to spot the declared dead boy.

“No, Akatani Mikumo is down there. Izuku Midoriya has been declared dead and his cremated body is awaiting to be interned in a new national monument. No, Akatani Mikumo, the fifteen-year-old boy who was responsible for his death and the subsequent changes to society is down there. And he is currently on his way to take the heroics exam for the school run by Nezu!” Shouta stresses and it finally dawns on Hizashi.

“Oh, shit,”

“So, retirement?”

#izuku mydoria #akatani mikumo #character death #but not really #bnha nedzu #principal nezu #eraserhead #shouta aizawa #present mic #my hero academia hizashi #my hero academia #smart izuku midoriya

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enigmaticexplorer · 8 months

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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter III

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.7K

23 Nelona

One-hundred kilometers from Hollow’s Town, the Security Institute of Eluca was located in the heart of the capital. Kazi landed the job through Fehr’s connections. She was more than qualified for the job; however, a government application required listed experience. Experience she couldn’t admit to.

Having attended the University of Cybersecurity and Analytics on Ceaia, Kazi graduated in the top three percent of her class. Professor recommendations and near-perfect test scores earned her a position at Ceaia’s top-clearance security bureau. There, she worked as a military analyst: data collection, research, analysis, dissemination. She worked with some of the Outer Rim’s best analysts and agents.

Four years at the Bureau prepared her for the most classified military projects.

Until the Purge.

Revealing any connection to Ceaia’s government—admitting to her work experience—was a direct path to an ISB interrogation. And subsequent imprisonment. Possibly execution.

So Kazi relied on Fehr’s connections. She completed ten interviews, passed the analysis and mental tests, headed a small project, and soon found herself working for the Security Institute as a data analyst for Imperial exports. Specifically, she was tasked with tracking exports within Veridian Sector’s military bases to ascertain stolen goods.

It wasn’t until two weeks before the clones’ arrival that Kazi learned why Fehr had paid special attention to her.

The rebel network wanted people inside as many Outer Rim governments as possible. Kazi was Fehr’s—and by extension, the network’s—best chance at an Elucan spy with access to Veridian Sector confidential data.

Fehr convinced her the job was fairly safe. Expectations were simple: report any suspicious government activities, important security decisions, persons of interest, and, when able, retrieve necessary intel and/or scrub incriminating data.

The latter part of the job was the most difficult. The first time Kazi scrubbed intel she spent ten minutes retching in the ‘fresher. Endangering herself meant endangering Daria and Neyti.

Now, she regretted it. Regretted the decision to seek aid from the network in order to evade Imperial capture, and regretted the decision to scrub data from Imperial records.

Shifting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, Kazi assessed the bare office. Plain white walls. Windows to her left overlooking Canopis. Dark gray buildings built from stone. Kilometers of jungle expanding to the horizon.

The lack of intrigue inside the superior’s office shifted her attention back to her worries. She replayed the three instances in the past month she had scrubbed or stolen intel.

Bypassed security clearances, offline cams, reconfigured data to appear untampered. She was careful, methodical, in her approach.

Someone must have discovered her, though. It was the only explanation for this surprise meeting.

The door behind her swished open and Kazi stiffened. Rising to her feet, she mustered an easy smile and then froze. A human man—someone who was not her superior—strode inside.

“Ms. Kazi Lucien?” the man asked.

Over the months, she had grown accustomed to the fake last name—the name she gave the network to protect her identity. She extended a hand. “Yes, sir.”

The man smiled—a disarming smile bracketed by bright white teeth that belied the deadness in his eyes—as he accepted her hand. “Magistrate Aro.”

Dumbstruck, Kazi could only shake his hand. His palm and fingers were cold, his skin dry and smooth. Symbolic of a life behind a desk rather than the typical farm or mining work expected of most Elucans. Then again, this was Magistrate Aro, a native to Eluca Moon One.

The magistrate settled himself behind the polished wooden desk, waving for Kazi to sit. Adorned in a purple robe with black-and-white hair mussed stylishly, the magistrate was charismatic and good-looking. And yet he was commonly disliked by Eluca’s locals.

Three years ago, Eluca fell victim to a global plague. More than half of the small population died, leaving the planet vulnerable and weak. Eluca Moon One took advantage of the planet’s momentary weakness to initiate one of their own as interim magistrate. Due to government subsidies and a general inability to resist, the remaining Elucans begrudgingly accepted the term.

They hadn’t known “interim” would lead to permanency.

Skin gold and eyes pale gray, Magistrate Aro carried himself with a confident aura that bordered self-absorbed. Like a macaw—chest puffed in a show of domination and pride.

Kazi gleaned from the locals in Hollow’s Town that the magistrate’s greatest fault was his immigration status. He lacked Elucan culture and tradition. He lacked their devout loyalty. He was too brash in his political endeavors, and too impulsive in his decision-making. His refusal to sanction local holidays as paid time off convinced most of their dislike.

With a probing look, Magistrate Aro gestured to the bar behind his desk. “Would you care for a drink?”

Kazi fixed a polite smile on her face. “I’m fine, thank you.”

The magistrate poured himself a glass—recently imported wine from Alderaan, if the tag were to be believed—and then sat back in the ornate seat, crossing an ankle over his knee. He swirled his wine while regarding her.

Did the magistrate suspect her of stealing intel? If he did, why would he meet her without security?

“I reviewed your file,” the magistrate said. He arched a brow in friendly curiosity, and yet Kazi noted the subtle shrewdness in his gaze. The slight tilt of his head as he assessed her. It set her on edge. “You immigrated here back in Kelona?”

Political coyness was not her forte, but years training to be a socialite had taught her the art of masking. So Kazi forced herself to relax in her chair. “I did. Eluca is a lovely planet. I’m glad to be here.”

The magistrate nodded, taking a sip from his wine. “And how would you describe your time here? Has it met your expectations?”

It was obvious the magistrate wanted her to elaborate on the locals and her interactions with them, perhaps as a result of his paranoia. Her mind betrayed her focus, though. Her thoughts shifted to the past month and her cohabitation with the clone commanders.

Kazi thought that first day would be the last time Commander Wolffe interrupted her morning routine. She was wrong.

Sometime after her morning swim, when she was showering, Commander Wolffe appeared in the kitchen. He sat in the same stool in nearly the same outfit—white work shirt exchanged for gray or black—and was always drinking a cup of caf. A dark roast.

They never exchanged a greeting. Kazi pretended he didn’t exist while she prepared breakfast for herself and Neyti, and Commander Wolffe ignored her, opting to read his datapad as he sipped his caf. And while he was distracted, she quickly yet politely ate her porridge.

However, as she washed dishes or prepared Neyti’s lunch beside the sink, curiosity encouraged her to peek at the commander’s datapad. Each morning contained something new. Files on military strategy and battle tactics. News updates across the galaxy. Manuals on ship parts. Schematics detailing a prison. They were files she expected a soldier to read.

One morning, about four weeks ago, she snuck a glance at his ‘pad and did a double take. He was reading an article on adolescent mental development. The subject was so surprising she didn’t look away in time. Commander Wolffe lifted his face, found her blatantly staring at his ‘pad, and scowled.

That morning, he finished his caf at the wooden table in the backyard.

True to her routine, Kazi relied on the HoloNet news reports to fill the silence between her and Commander Wolffe. More often, pieces of news caught her or the commander’s attention. Whenever he found her staring intently at the flatscreen, he commented on the subject. His comments weren’t something she could ignore: blunt, cynical. He seemed to comment simply to make her respond.

And she did. Because she had to explain why his opinions were objectively inaccurate.

Their arguments vacillated between the niche and the extremes:

Would a new emperor prove a more benevolent ruler?

What qualifies as a just war?

Is the Empire’s current existence sustainable?

Does military might guarantee ultimate success?

How does morality play into lawmaking?

They spent one morning debating the merits of Empire-controlled pharmaceuticals and healthcare. The commander argued it would prove ineffective, and increase dependency on the government. He further argued the government couldn’t be trusted to provide effective healthcare to every species. Ultimately, the Inner Rim would retain priority.

It was one of the few times Kazi agreed. So she remained silent, her pride unbent.

Another morning they argued the legality of tracking. Kazi argued it an invasion of privacy. Commander Wolffe argued the placement of tracking beacons in a public space negated the law of privacy, and he further argued security a more pressing concern than protection of privacy.

Rolling her eyes, Kazi said it was an ethical dilemma, and to her surprise, the commander agreed. But it was a pointless argument. The Empire neither respected civilian privacy nor abided by ethical deliberation.

From their debates, Kazi mentally constructed a character profile of Commander Wolffe.

He…confused her.

The commander clearly didn’t like her and yet he joined her every morning.

He didn’t trust the network and yet he ran operations out of her house.

He thought rebellion was pointless and yet he rescued deserting clones from the Imperial military.

He scorned absolute authority and yet he defended the Republic’s position on the Clone War.

She wasn’t the only one forming a profile. It was clear from pointed questions and probing comments that Commander Wolffe was studying her. Testing her.

She only hoped she was as unsolvable as he was.

The other clones were less enigma and more intrigue.

Commanders Cody and Fox were civil whenever Kazi interacted with them. The former was the friendliest—in a subdued manner—and he didn’t shy from engaging Kazi or her sister in small conversation.

The latter was reserved, though his quiet was more contemplative rather than mistrustful. Kazi came across him twice in the sunroom, whittling a piece of wood into an intricate carving. He merely nodded at her but she could tell her presence unsettled him.

Most weeks the clones were gone for days at a time. They returned from their missions with only a handful of deserted soldiers. Those soldiers recuperated for a day or two and then left.

Interactions were rare. When the commanders were recovering from their missions, they kept to themselves. Most nights they played card games and drank at the outside table.

Kazi knew little of their daily habits considering her work schedule, but Daria had mentioned the clones spent little time at the house, returning from day-long hikes sweaty or from the Marketplace with groceries.

Their daily activities were odd. Normal. She thought, since they were soldiers, they would spend their recovery hours doing soldiery things.

Their habits bamboozled her, and a piece of her wondered if her perception of the clones was inaccurate. Possibly skewed. The thought troubled her, and so she paid more attention to the commanders. Analyzed them like she would her intel.

Her assessment revealed one common denominator: the clones were weary. They hid it well. Reddened eyes, lined foreheads, burdened shoulders. Small ticks most people would overlook.

But Kazi saw the strain—she recognized the hollow look in Commander Wolffe’s eyes each morning. She knew it well. It was the same look she saw every time she stood in front of a mirror.

Cohabitation was easier for her sister. Ever the kind and gentle host, Daria developed an easy rapport with the new soldiers. Neyti, on the other hand, remained shy and suspicious.

One morning, Commander Wolffe retrieved a cup from an upper cabinet, offering it to Neyti. She glared at him. And then, with a determined scowl, she climbed onto the counter and grabbed a new cup. A cup with a different color and pattern.

Child-like wariness aside, Neyti was curious. She might have glowered when the clones attempted to engage her, but she spent most interactions studying them. Gray eyes narrowed shrewdly. Nose scrunched in deep thought. Kazi wanted to pick her mind on her observations but Neyti’s refusal to speak made it impossible.

“My time here has been easy,” Kazi answered the magistrate.

The magistrate took another sip from his wine. “When you think of Eluca’s future, what do you imagine?”

Kazi frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Come now, Kazi.” She didn’t like the sound of her name on his lips, and she didn’t like his knowing smile. “Humor me.”

“I imagine a future…of peace and justice, security for the people,” she said slowly. “A future based on advancement—”

Magistrate Aro snapped his fingers. “A future based on advancement. Spectacular.” His smile widened, like a cave grinning open, eager to swallow sailors astray. “We want the same thing, you and me. We want Eluca to rival the other planets in our galaxy—we want Eluca to stand above all else. We are the future of the galaxy’s success and prominence.”

Voice rising in feverous passion, Magistrate Aro leaned across the desk. “Can you see it? The future where Eluca is no longer considered a measly backwater planet? The future where Eluca is the most advanced and well-bred planet in the Outer Rim? The future where Moff Harpy and her sycophants bow their heads to me, in reverence and respect?”

Kazi bit the inside of her cheek to hide her shock. She had heard the rumors of the magistrate’s paranoia—heard the rumors of his delusions and greed—but she hadn’t realized the severity of it. His current political position proved his cunning nature, and with too much power, he could pose a threat to the rebel network, to Eluca, at large, and even to her and her family.

The magistrate paused his speech. “Well?”

Kazi blinked. “I’m not sure—”

“Can you see it?” The question was sharp, underscored by a hint of distrust bordering suspicion.

“Yes,” she answered. The lie was smooth, buttered with a cold smile. “I can picture it easily.”

The magistrate held her gaze, body tautened from leaning so far forward, and then he exhaled, settling back into his chair. Good-natured suave replaced fervent greed.

“The future we imagine is being threatened.” Magistrate Aro set aside his wine and steepled his fingers together. “Poor leadership, rebel scum, ineffective political backstabbing. I have a vision for Eluca but this vision can shatter too easily if it’s not properly protected.”

Feigning sympathy, Kazi nodded in agreement.

Magistrate Aro eyed her. “The Elucans lack proprietary for their future. They are too localized and culturally aligned; their traditional sentiments prevent them from being assets to the Empire. Do you know what worries me?”

Before she could answer, the magistrate continued, “Local disgruntlement. Their grumblings foster rebellious behavior, and rebel existence on Eluca would hinder our desires for security and peace.”

Kazi internally scoffed. Rebel existence would ridicule the magistrate’s rule. Make him look incompetent and weak. His self-effacing behavior was a politician’s façade to disguise megalomania.

“I fear rebel sentiments have infiltrated our ranks.”

A spike of fear punctured her lungs and it took effort to remain still. To force her features into confusion and surprise.

Did he suspect her? Was this the purpose of the meeting?

“Are you certain?” Kazi asked.

“Unfortunately.” Magistrate Aro shook his head, false disappointment belied by the vexed glint in his eyes. “The Elucans are an untrustworthy bunch.”

It took a moment for Kazi to realize his unspoken intent. He didn’t suspect her. Rather, her immigration status made her desirable. Someone he believed he could trust.

Political backstabbing was rampant among Imperial ranks. Most Imperial officials maintained high-levels of secrecy to achieve greatness, and to protect their backs from their supposed allies. They were, after all, motivated by the same things: money, power, recognition.

“Have you seen anything of suspect?” the magistrate asked.

Kazi pretended to think, her eyebrows stitched together and lips pursed. She started to shake her head. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. “Rebel activity is increasing across the Outer Rim. Outright terrorism in some places. I am committed to eradicating rebellious sentiments. I can rely on you to keep your eyes open?”

One of the reasons the Empire succeeded in authoritative control and subsequent oppression of the people was its fearmongering.

Fearmongering allowed the Imps to uncover legitimate rebels more easily. And could easily turn a population against certain ideologies. It also convinced the people to turn on one another.

Rumors were ubiquitous and truth difficult to determine. People were scared, and to protect themselves and their loved ones, they turned on neighbor. Or coworker.

It was easier to betray a stranger than endanger your partner, or sibling, or parent, or child.

“I’ll do my duty,” Kazi answered. She brushed her clammy palms down her trousers, prepared for the meeting’s conclusion.

“One last thing”—the magistrate leaned back in his chair, his smile sly—“I am increasing your duties of responsibility. You will remain on your current team, tracking exports, but I want you to split your time on a separate project. A confidential project.”

Nonplussed, Kazi cocked her head to the side. “What type of new project?”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult for someone of your caliber.” The magistrate slid a datastick across the desk. “I want you to analyze the desertion of clone troopers.”

Kazi tensed.

The magistrate gestured to the datastick. “You have the necessary records there. I want you to track the locations of desertion, the timeframes. See if there are any patterns.”

“Is this sanctioned by Moff Harpy?” Kazi asked casually, pocketing the datastick.

“It’s our secret.” The magistrate winked. “Can you handle it?”

Aware of the subtle threat in the magistrate’s question, Kazi grinned. “Patterns are my specialty, Magistrate.”

Hollow’s Town boasted a population of five thousand. It was one of a dozen towns that survived the epidemic, and both population and workforce were booming.

Primarily an agricultural-based town, the community was convivial. Helpful and close-knit. Outsiders, though, were ignored. Kazi didn’t mind. The Marketplace vendors were always nice to her, and she didn’t care enough to make friends.

Her only concern was Neyti.

Hollow’s Schooling One—a primary school for younglings aged five to ten—was one of two primary schools in Hollow’s Town. Located on the west side, and therefore the closest to the house, Hollow’s Schooling One enrolled roughly 150 students. In Neyti’s class: 30 students.

School started at the beginning of the year, in Elona. Neyti arrived a month late, and, as a current six-year-old, was placed into a class full of students who spent the year prior together.

Kazi worried about Neyti: lack of friends, bullies, loneliness, schoolwork. The last point wasn’t too much of a concern. Neyti was studious, and her grades reflected her hard work.

However, there were times Neyti struggled with her homework. Instances when she threw her stylus at the table and stomped to her room. Instances where she didn’t understand a problem and her lower lip started to tremble. She never asked for help.

Kazi had two theories. One, Neyti preferred to solve problems on her own. Or, two, Neyti didn’t know how to ask for help, and/or was too afraid to do so. It left Kazi feeling incompetent.

So she made sure each evening, after dinner, to work at the kitchen table while Neyti completed her schoolwork. To help, in case the need arose.

But Kazi couldn’t help Neyti at school. She didn’t know if Neyti had friends, and any related questions were met with silence and an embarrassed shrug.

One of the most surprising, and frustrating, difficulties about being a caregiver was her inability to intervene and fix each problem through logic. Logic relied on rationalization and problem solving, and it allowed an individual to retain control over a situation. There was a reason Kazi studied analytics in school and was good at it. Logic was her strong suit.

But younglings were driven by emotions. And Kazi couldn’t force other younglings to like Neyti. She would, if she could.

Having left work early and after warning Daria she was picking up Neyti, Kazi arrived at the small school. Low-squatting and built from a mixture of dark wood and gray stone, the school sat alone on its street.

An elaborate playground bordered the school. Twirly slides, rows of swings, monkey bars (it wasn’t uncommon to find native monkeys swinging from the bars), balance beams, climbing walls, and ziplines interrupted the swath of cleared jungle. Younglings overflowed the playground. Like ants to an anthill.

Kazi scanned the area for Neyti. A few youngling girls close to her age sat in a circle beneath a shade cover, braiding one another’s hair and giggling. Neyti wasn’t with them.

Frowning, she perused the climbing walls, then the slides, then the balance beams. Finally, her gaze landed on the swings.

Seated on a swing, alone, was Neyti.

Kazi winced and quickly made her way toward the swings. She had suspected Neyti would have difficulty making friends—the little girl’s refusal to speak probably isolated her from other students—but a part of her had hoped for a better outcome.

Originally, Kazi theorized Neyti didn’t speak because she didn’t understand Basic. She theorized Neyti learned the Ceaian tongue. A language only a couple hundred people spoke, and the first language she learned.

But the first time Kazi tried to speak to Neyti in the Ceaian tongue the little girl had merely blinked in bewilderment.

It wasn’t until Neyti’s biweekly therapy sessions with a grief and trauma counselor—therapy sessions Kazi attended to make sure Neyti didn’t accidentally mention Ceaia or other incriminating information—that she learned Neyti’s silence stemmed from the trauma of losing her mother.

According to the counselor, Neyti would speak when she felt safe enough to do so. And so far, she hadn’t. It was something that bothered Kazi late at night.

“Neyti.” Kazi stopped a meter away and waved.

Neyti lifted her face, gray eyes wide in shock. Dark brown eyebrows knitted together and she glanced behind Kazi, looking for something.

“Daria isn’t here,” Kazi said. She hadn’t considered the possibility that Neyti didn’t want her here. “I decided to pick you up. I… I hope that’s okay.”

Neyti scrunched her nose in deep thought and then shrugged.

Kazi’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Are you ready—”

“Ms. Lucien?”

Tensing at the familiar voice, Kazi schooled her features into professional politeness and turned around. “Teacher Jaci. Did you need something?”

Ivory skin offset by black hair styled in soft waves, Teacher Jaci wore the same ingenuine smile she had worn the first day Kazi met her. Her smile shifted, though, into a frown of insincere confusion. “I wanted to remind you about the kids’ field trip next month.”

Bewildered, Kazi slid her eyes to Neyti. The little girl was staring at her shoes, shoulders curled inwards, cheeks darkened.

“You haven’t signed up for it,” Teacher Jaci continued. “Can we mark you as an expected absentee?”

Expected absentee.

The words echoed in her head. A taunt growing louder and stronger.

Kazi fisted her hands behind her back. “What date is the field trip?”

“The fourth of Helona.” Teacher Jaci retrieved a flimsi sheet from her satchel and handed it to her. Lowering her voice so that Neyti couldn’t hear, she said, “If you are unable to make it, perhaps Neyti’s father can.”

Kazi gripped her wrist harder. “He’s not in the picture.”

“Aw.” The teacher smiled sadly at Neyti. “That does not surprise me.”

With that, Teacher Jaci strolled away.

For a quiet minute, Kazi stared at the flimsi sheet, the words blurred and incomprehensible. When she lifted her gaze to Neyti’s face, she found the youngling scrutinizing her. The moment their eyes met, Neyti looked at the ground, toeing a patch of grass, her tiny hands clinging to a sketch Kazi hadn’t noticed before.

“So,” Kazi said softly. “A field trip, huh?”

Unmoving and unspeaking, Neyti blinked her apprehension.

Kazi looked toward the sky—afternoon blue, wooly clouds adrift—and breathed in slowly. Neyti didn’t owe her. If she didn’t want her on the field trip, then she would respect Neyti’s wishes.

Releasing her breath, Kazi took a tentative step toward the neighboring swing. The seat squeaked beneath her. Wrapping her hands around the chains, she stared at the swarming playground.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the field trip?”

Silence met her question and Kazi lowered her gaze to her neighbor. Neyti gulped, eyes rounded in guilt.

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to go—” Neyti shook her head. Adamantly. Kazi frowned. “You want me to go with you?”

Mouth opening, Neyti hesitated. She searched Kazi’s face, desperate but guarded, and with the barest dip of her chin, she nodded.

Kazi bumped her knee against Neyti’s. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

Abashed, Neyti cast her eyes downward and toed the ground again.

“Did you think I would say no?”

Another small, nearly imperceptible dip of Neyti’s chin.

Guilt thrummed beneath her skin and Kazi tapped her foot against the ground. “I want to go. If you’ll have me.”

Neyti nodded eagerly.

Smiling to herself, Kazi dropped her gaze to the sketch in Neyti’s hands, perusing the colors and shapes.

A dark blue ocean washed across the page. Tiny sailboats raced among white waves, their sails painted an assortment of bright colors. A single sun glistened in the sky. A face smiled on it. Gray clouds were reminiscent of—

“Is that…” Kazi leaned toward the sketch. “Did you draw Ceaia?”

Neyti ducked her cheek into her shoulder.

“I didn’t know you like to draw,” she remarked.

Shrugging, Neyti traced the arcs of the white waves.

Kazi leaned back in the swing, staring blankly at the small youngling beside her.

She should have known. A real parent would have known; a better caregiver would have known. Neyti had been in her care for three months—98 fucking days—and she didn’t know the little girl liked to draw.

It was a failure on her part. And she despised failure.

From a young age, Kazi worked hard to excel at everything. Difficult school courses demanded hours dedicated to studying the subject until she perfected it. Two points missed on a test earned her teasing remarks from her parents. She was expected to make top grades, and her parents were proud of her. She couldn’t disappoint them.

When she did fail, as was inevitable, it bothered her late at night. Like a terminal disease, unwilling to die and incapable of prevention.

Kazi clenched the swing’s chains until her palms grew numb and her fingers hurt.

“We can hang it on the fridge.” Her voice was lower, hoarser, and she mustered a smile when Neyti stared at her dubiously. “What do you think? Can we hang it up?”

Scratching the top of her head, Neyti considered her for a long moment. Her eyes darted to the sketch. She lifted it, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, most likely imagining the sketch placed on the fridge. Neyti smiled.

A small, toothless smile. But a smile, nonetheless.

Disgruntled voices greeted Kazi and Neyti as they stepped into the house. Shoes shucked off and backpack haphazardly tossed onto the stairs, Neyti led the way into the kitchen.

The voices quieted. Kazi eyed the card game at the kitchen table. The three clone commanders were joined by two clones Kazi hadn’t met. They gave her skeptical looks, eyes narrowing at the sight of Neyti. Kazi let her gaze wander between the commanders—Cody to Fox to Wolffe. The latter was lounged back in his chair, gaze on her face.

A pan of cooling vegetables revealed Daria’s recent departure. She was most likely in her garden.

“How was school?” Commander Cody asked. The openness on his face, and the kindness in his tone, made Kazi grimace.

For some reason, the commander tried hard to engage Neyti and gain her trust. Unfortunately for him, Neyti was too proud. She refused to bend.

Case in point, Neyti halted before the fridge, a scowl marring her features. Her nose wrinkled. The look she shot Commander Cody was both indignant and unapologetic.

Deciding the commander was undeserving of Neyti’s disdain, Kazi intervened. “Neyti has a field trip in a few weeks.”

The little girl threw her a betrayed frown. Kazi gave her a pointed look and Neyti huffed her irritation.

Easing the sketch from Neyti’s hands, Kazi grabbed a handful of magnets from a broken drawer, and slid the picture onto the larger of the fridge’s door.

“Where’s the field trip?” Commander Cody asked conversationally.

“The Museum of Nature and Science.” Kazi looked to Neyti, and with the youngling’s nod of approval, she snapped the magnets in place. “I heard they have a new exhibit about Eluca’s role during the Clone War.”

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she glanced over her shoulder. Commander Wolffe had wandered into the kitchen. He stopped at the sink to fill a glass of water.

“I wasn’t aware Eluca played a role,” Commander Cody said.

“They didn’t.” Kazi stepped back from the picture. It was crooked and she made to correct it, but Neyti’s satisfied nod convinced her to leave it. She returned her attention to the commander. “Eluca wasn’t militaristically or politically strategic. Which is why the Empire won’t establish a significant Imperial presence here.”

“You don’t think the Empire will move in soon?”

The voice behind her startled enough she recoiled. Commander Wolffe gave her an unimpressed look, leaning against the opposite counter. The space between the two counters—the sink and the bar versus the fridge and oven—seemed more cramped with his imposing frame in it.

“I don’t.” She widened her stance, crossing her arms over her chest, prepared for whatever argument the commander was sure to initiate. “Eluca provides nothing of value. The Empire can rest happy knowing Eluca is technically conquered—”

A tap on her arm drew her attention and she found Neyti holding a bag of crisps. A question wrinkled her forehead and Kazi nodded. Neyti disappeared upstairs, the crinkle of her crisps masking her silent footfalls.

“Speaking of the Empire”—Kazi lowered her voice; the game commenced and quieter arguments broke out—“I had a meeting with the magistrate. He has intel on clones deserting from military bases in the Outer Rim.”

Commander Wolffe stilled, former apathy shifting into concern and then wariness. “The magistrate told you this?”

She nodded.

“Why would he tell you that?” The commander pushed off the counter, mirroring her stance. “I thought you were a low-level analyst—”

“Who said I was low level?”

Commander Wolffe rolled his eyes. “Why would a planetary magistrate meet with you?”

Barely concealed derision laced his words together and Kazi stiffened. It didn’t matter she had asked the same question hours ago—before she learned Magistrate Aro’s intent—but the suspicion in the commander’s gaze, his clear disdain for her, incited a sharp flare of anger.

“It’s no concern to you,” she said calmly. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “I only mentioned it to give you a warning.”

“You’re helping us now, is that it?”

“If you’re caught, you could rat us out.” He scoffed and she gritted her teeth. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect Neyti and my sister.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Kazi dug her fingernails into her arms. “I know you only care about yourself, Commander, but your carelessness can endanger my—”

He scoffed. “I’m not careless. Our missions are strategized to the most minute details and—”

“I don’t care about your missions. I care about my sister and Neyti.” Her voice tightened. “I’m giving you a warning and you’re dismissing it like it’s nothing—”

“Tell me why the magistrate informed you of this,” the commander demanded. “Does he suspect you?”

“No. He wants me—” Kazi cut herself off, considering the blatant mistrust in his face. If she revealed Magistrate Aro’s project, Commander Wolffe would assume the worst of her. And she wasn’t in the mood to be questioned or ridiculed.

“I don’t care if the Empire discovers me,” she said. “But I won’t endanger Neyti and Daria.”

Something—perhaps understanding—rippled across his features.

“Be more aware of your surroundings,” she concluded. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Tugging on one of her braids to dispel her jitters, Kazi made to leave.

“Why doesn’t your kid talk?”

The question was so unexpected she froze. Commander Wolffe was staring at the sketch on the fridge, arms still crossed over his chest, his brows drawn together.

Kazi didn’t immediately respond. The answer to his question was weighted in trauma and history she preferred the clones didn’t know, and it would provide too much insight. Not only to Neyti, but also insight to her.

Commander Wolffe’s annoyed curiosity by her presence—his too-personal questions in the morning—led her to believe he was searching for a weakness. A weakness she never wanted him to discover.

His gaze flitted in her direction. He arched a brow. The simple gesture made her spine straighten.

“The therapist she sees blames it on grief,” she said. A frown marred his features. “Losing a parent is hard. Much less watching them die.”

A blink was his only sign of surprise. “You’re not her mother.”

“Her mother asked me to watch over her.” She held his gaze, her stomach coiling with unbridled tension. “She didn’t make it. Because she was shot. By one of the Empire’s clone troopers.”

His reaction was immediate. Stiffening posture. Clenching jaw. Inscrutable emotions crossing his face before settling into a hard, stony mask.

Kazi looked at the sketch. Tiny figures manned the sailboats.

In Traditionalist Ceaian culture, learning to sail was a rite of passage. Navigating a storm and returning a boat safely to harbor proved a juvenile was prepared for the trials and challenges of adulthood. Everyone in the harbor celebrated the success.

Kazi wondered if Neyti had ever sailed.

Far from land. Wind in her hair. Salty breeze in her face.

She knew the little girl would love it.

But the opportunity would never arise. Neyti would never learn to sail. And she would never see her mother again.

Kazi turned away, murmuring to the expressionless male beside her, “Good evening, Commander.”

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 4

A/N: Star Wars Time Measurements:

1 day = 24 hours 1 week = 5 days 1 month = 35 days 1 year = 10 months

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe x ofc #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfiction

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cognacdelights · 4 years

Text

steamboat springs

my outer banks masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

summary: after coming into a large sum of money, two teens in the midst of riding the wave of young love decide to blow their fortune on a once in a lifetime trip to the mountain winter resort of steamboat springs, colorado.

warnings: swearing. angst. fluff. slight indication of sexual content.

The tips of her scarlet-painted toes skimmed the lukewarm bubbles of the hot tub as her petite, bikini-clad frame perched on the varnished, wooden edge. Her rose gold, star charm anklet glistened under the dimmed, romantic fairy lights that encompassed the tall, pine wood canopy as her contemplating, chartreuse eyes observed the picturesque scenery before her; the towering, snow-topped peaks that entrapped the quaint, expensive mountain resort were breath-taking. Lined with an army of ancient, snow-sprinkled evergreens and littered with miles of meandering, frozen streams, the Colorado Mountains were truly a sight to behold. Yet, there was a relentless, incessant niggle that plagued her pensive mind - refusing to allow her peace and tranquility in possibly the most calming and serene of locations.

“What you thinking ‘bout, pretty girl?” the low, husky voice of her sandy-locked, indigo-eyed boyfriend drew her out of her pondering, wistful daze. His toned, half-naked body waded through the tepid, jet-powered waves as he demanded the attention of his long-term girlfriend. His warm, paw-like palms settled on the tops of her droplet-covered thighs - his slightly calloused thumbs tracing delicate, tender circles against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs - as he came to rest between her parted legs. He left a gentle, adoration-filled kiss against the hickey-marked skin of her inner thigh, ensuring that he had captured her whole, undivided attention.

“Maybe you should have paid off your restitution with that money, instead of blowing it all on this,” a heavily weighted exhale escaped her plump, rose-tinted lips - her glimmering, beryl eyes concentrating on his concern-laced features. Instinctively, she ran her dainty fingers through the damp, tousled tangles of his blonde, straw-like locks, pushing the unkempt waves from obstructing his chiselled face.

“What?” his anxious, sapphire orbs peered upwards through his fair, sparse eyelashes - his apprehensive heart anticipating the sickening plunge of disappointment into the deep, dark caverns of his stomach as he urged her to elaborate, “you don’t like it here?” All the fair-haired, cobalt-eyed boy yearned for was to see the beautiful, content smile - which he so very much adored - plastered across her sun-kissed features; everything he did was for the sake of her happiness - in all it’s purity, so the thought of her holding regrets towards their once-in-a-lifetime, never-be-able-to-afford-again trip pained him dearly.

“No, I do. I love it. It’s beautiful and I would give anything to leave the Outer Banks behind and stay here, forever, with you,” her voice softened at the heart-wrenching sight of anguish laced within the pearly, silver speckles of his eyes, “but I want you to be a free man more.” There was a negligible, minuscule sliver of her that resented him for taking the blame for the sinking of Topper’s boat; it had changed the course of their relationship entirely, and not particularly for the better. Not only had her strict, over-bearing parents proclaimed their disapproval of their relationship upon hearing tattling whispers of his arrest, but his selfless, fictitious confession meant that he would more than likely be sentenced to a stay in a juvenile corrections facility.

“It’s just a bit of debt, it doesn’t matter in the long run,” he half-heartedly attempted to dismiss her concerns - nonchalantly shrugging his broad, muscular shoulders as a disheartened breath escaped his nicotine-laced lungs.

“It’s a permanent charge on your record, JJ, and you could still face time in juvy for this,” she responded solemnly, “what am I supposed to do if you get locked up? Juvenile’s don’t get conjugal visits, you know?” The shaggy-haired blonde had neglected to think of the consequences of his actions upon declaring that he was the individual responsible for the Thornton’s boat shenanigans. However, the reality was, JJ Maybank had just checked off his third strike on his long, delinquency-filled wrap sheet - and the metaphorical book of justice was poised and ready to be launched in his direction as they spoke.

“And you’d rather that have been on Pope’s record, huh?” he countered opposingly - his usually loving, tender voice raised several decibels as he defended himself against his girlfriend’s disapproving tone, “it would ruin his life. Not to mention, we all know he would never survive inside. They’d fucking eat him alive.” The pleasant, endearing warmth she once felt where his wandering hands caressed the cellulite-plagued plains of her thighs dissipated into the brisk nipping of the bitter, wintry mountain breeze as he retreated from their intimate embrace.

“Pope’s the one who did it,” she mumbled in response, uncomfortable with the tone of their heated conversation. Unfortunately, this was just going to be one of those things that they would never agree on. She platonically adored Pope - truly, she did - but, of course, she loved her boyfriend more. It was inevitable that the selfish, pining sliver of her that believed Pope should take responsibility for his actions would rear it’s ill-timed head eventually. JJ didn’t deserve to be punished for a crime he, for once, had not committed - and neither did their already suffering relationship.

“Pope’s the one with the future. He’s got his scholarship, he’s got his whole life planned out, he has dreams that are actually within his reach. I couldn’t let that be taken away from him because of something I pushed him to do,” he continued to argue, his tone defensive and abrupt. As her crestfallen, veridian eyes attempted to meet with his, she recognised an unfamiliar emotion that had etched itself into the foundations of his chiselled, stubble-lined features: guilt. A conscience-eating tidal wave of remorse had overwhelmed his entire being, convincing his impressionable mind that the entirety of the situation was down to the shaggy-haired blonde. Perhaps he was right; perhaps Pope wouldn’t have acted so wildly out of character and pulled the plug from the extravagant 2019 Malibu without the misguided encouragement of his trouble-making best friend - but, simultaneously, she was right. At the end of the day, Pope was the one who ultimately committed the delinquent act, and Pope did that off his own culpable accord.

“What about your future?” she challenged him, the desperation evident within the subtle inflections of her almost pleading tone. Her tanned, petite shoulders slouched from their structured, upright position - as her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her malachite doe eyes searching for his torment-filled pools of teal. Despite her best, relenting efforts, he refused the intimacy of eye contact.

“I don’t have a future,” his voice was quiet - almost weak - and barely audible above the ceaseless, mechanical humming of the hot tub jets, “not one like that.”

“Yes you do,” she told him tenaciously - adamant in her words as her tender, dainty palms embraced the defined contours of his pronounced cheek bones, her gentle thumbs affectionately grazing over the brittle stubble, “you have a future with me. I don’t know what that entails; whether it’s opening our own surf shop down in Yucatán, or having a log cabin in the Colorado Mountains, or living on a freaking boat in the harbour back in Kildare. Whatever it is, I don’t care as long as it’s me and you. It’s me and you, forever, J. It always has been and it always will be.”

“I’m gonna pay it all off, I promise, even if I have to get a third job,” his calloused, bear-like hands encaptured hers, giving her petite fingers a gentle, adoring squeeze, “then I’m gonna give you the life you fucking deserve. A ring, a big ass wedding at one of those fancy, country estates, a whole bunch of kids, even that damned pink Volkswagen Beetle with the flowers painted on the doors - whatever you want, I’m gonna make sure that you get it all.”

“To me and you,” he toasted meaningfully - his words exuding promise and assurance as his meaty, ring-clad fingers grasped the condensation-laced neck of the lavish, half-empty champagne bottle. Expectantly, he tilted the punt of the onyx-tinted, glass bottle towards the breath-taking, brunette beauty before him.

“To me and you,” she recited his endearing words fondly, an enamored, cordial smile curving the corners of her full, luscious lips upwards. She too grasped the neck of a chilled, vintage bottle of champagne - hers significantly fuller than his - before clinking the two aged bottled together in celebration of their future together. The two, slightly tipsy, teens each took a generous swig of the fruit-fragranced beverage, concluding the ritual.

A giddy, infatuated squeal surpassed her plump, champagne-drenched lips as his soaked, paw-like palms gripped her dainty ankles, proceeding to gently tug her scantily-clad silhouette into the depths of the heated, bubbling water. His brawny, exposed back pressed against the varnished pine wood of the hot tub bench - her already bruised knees falling either side of his swimsuit-clad lower half, straddling his tamed, semi-erect length. His loving, yet ravenous, lips found hers, molding together in a beautiful, melodic synchrony as his audacious, meandering fingers fumbled to untie the loose strings of her Aztec-printed bikini bottoms.

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 5 years

Text

Whatever Happened to the Crew of the Enterprise?

James T. Kirk: He is supposedly killed during the maiden voyage of the Enterprise-B in 2293, but was actually transported into the Nexus dimension. He leaves the Nexus in 2371 to help Jean-Luc Picard prevent Soran from destroying a solar system. He dies and is buried on Veridian III.

Spock: In 2387, Romulus’ host star goes supernova. In an attempt to save the planet, he sets off the red matter device to create an artificial black hole; this fails, and he is pulled into the resulting wormhole and transported back in time to an alternate universe 2258. This universe’s version of Vulcan is destroyed, and he helps lead the diaspora to a new homeland. He dies in this version of 2263.

Leonard McCoy: He is last seen aboard the Enterprise-D in 2364, aged 137 and still kicking. Time and cause of death unknown.

Montgomery Scott: In 2294, en route to a retirement colony, his ship crashes into a Dyson sphere. Unable to escape, he stores his consciousness inside the last working transporter; his atoms are scanned, broken apart, then held in limbo, awaiting a destination that was never set. He is rescued 75 years later (2369) by the crew of the Enterprise-D. After helping them avoid a similar fate, he takes off in a shuttle craft to explore the future galaxy. Time and cause of death unknown.

Nyota Uhura: She is last seen aboard the Enterprise-A as communications officer in 2293. Time and cause of death unknown.

Hikaru Sulu: He is promoted to Captain of the USS Excelsior in 2290, and his daughter becomes a helmsman aboard the Enterprise-B in 2293. Time and cause of death unknown.

Pavel Chekov: He is last seen aboard the Enterprise-B as a guest during it’s maiden voyage in 2293. Time and cause of death unknown.

Nichelle Nichols, George Takei, and Walter Koenig are all still alive. The producers of Picard should include them in cameos, just so we can see how their lives panned out. Like, Jean-Luc stumbles across some archive recordings or is sent back to the late-23rd/early-24th century during the inevitable time travel episode (because every Star Trek series has a time travel episode; frankly, I’m surprised Scotty decided to stay in the future instead of simply going back to his time, it seems to be super easy, it happens to every ship in the Federation)

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delightfulconnoisseurgentlemen · 3 years

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Digital Thermometers Market is Anticipated to Record the Rapid Growth and Prominent Players Analysis

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martinwten001 · 4 years

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Best Video Clip Baby Display 2020

Best Budget Plan Child Screen: The Lollipop Webcam.

They can take photos as well as short clips when they discover movement, but they do not supply time-lapse video clips of whole evenings, or allow you page through hours or days of footage. Those functions are useful for recognizing burglars, yet they don't actually help you watch your youngster unless you're in a Paranormal Activity follow up. The Motorola baby monitor also offers you push-button control over your sight of your baby, with frying pan, tilt, and also zoom capabilities.

Consider this your guide to what's important to focus on in a baby screen. The Eufy's 5-inch, 720p LCD births a much stronger similarity to a modern smartphone than the Infant Optics's grainy 3.5-inch 320 Ã— 240 screen. You do not require to be an AV expert to spot the difference here. The Eufy's display screen may not be one of the most jaw-dropping display you have actually ever before seen, yet it's quickly the very best in class among RF video infant displays and is on a par with the Arlo Child's video footage checked out on a smart device.

Seeing your child is an important part of the feature of an infant monitor, and also photo high quality in monitors can vary widely. We include evening vision as part of the image top quality conversation considering that your child will oversleep a dark area, a minimum of a huge portion of the moment. This is a gadget created to transfer motions and seems that a child makes. The first baby checks just enabled sending of sound, yet recent growths have permitted them to send out and also record video clip.

Best Budget: Palermo Baby Video Screen.

Perfect for moms and dads that intend to keep track of baby as close as feasible, these specialized screens also send out video and sound video to your gadget, similar to mobile phone and also portable displays. Like many Wi-Fi-- enabled monitors, the Arlo Baby provides a number of capabilities you will not get with a simpler RF video screen like our choice. You can access the camera from another location by means of your smart device, you don't need to worry about searching for as well as charging a dedicated screen, and also you can even store video clip online if you want.

Screens are most frequently used for brand-new children, but even once your home is past the infant phase you may appreciate a simple method to examine to see to it your youngster is still asleep, still taking a breath, or still in the room in any way.

It behaves to see your children in bed, dreaming happily, oversleeping adorable new positions, snuggling with pets, and also typically doing all right.

If you require to aesthetically verify that your child is securely asleep for the night in order to leave the room and kick back, it can feel like a need.

These are terrific for parents that want to have the ability to watch on their child even when they get on the go. The new volunteer ASTM International F2951 criterion has actually been developed to deal with incidents connected with strangulations that can result from baby entanglement in the cables of infant displays. This requirement for child monitors includes needs for sound, video, and motion sensing unit monitors. It supplies needs for labeling, instructional product and product packaging and is planned to reduce injuries to kids arising from typical usage and reasonably near misuse or misuse of infant displays. From a pure imaging point ofview, evening vision is important for viewing your baby sleep from an additional space, as well as is conventional https://mathlovinmomma.com/cartographie-du-ventre/ for the majority of infant monitors. Mechanized pan as well as tilt isn't quite as typical, but is really welcome if you have a kid and also wish to scan an entire space. High-def is a great plus, yet you don't need the highest-resolution sensing unit to maintain tabs on your child-- most of the displays we check make use of 720p cams as opposed to 1080p.

There are a lot of choices available when it involves baby screens, and one of the most vital inquiry to ask is "What do you need when it comes to keeping an eye on your child? " Merely, if you remain in a smaller sized house or house and also strategy to be with your youngster full-time during the first year, you might just want to opt for an audio tracking system to alert you to when your child gets up. It's so helpful, as a matter of fact, that many people remain to use these innovative child screens as security video cameras after they are no more required for their child. Today, technology aids keep you near your infant despite where you remain in the house. Some child keeps track of supply clear photos of your kid while they sleep or fall asleep in their crib. You can shop from designs that supply precise noise and also high-resolution images via brand names such as ClearVu, Veridian, Summertime Baby, Digital Infant, Lorex, Levana, as well as Safe N' See. This video infant monitor does not have two-way communication or frying pan as well as tilt capability, but you can conserve as well as share photos as well as videos, as well as it rocks superior infrared night vision.

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The cam consequently distinguishes low light and encourages night vision so you'll have the alternative to see your kid also after bedtime. HelloBaby Video clip Infant screen is among the most outstanding gizmos for keeping an eye on the child while sleeping, playing, and also examining, or doing something else. This is really helpful for the deaf parents to judge their kids if there are no physically there to observe.

The makers of Amazon's best-selling video infant monitor since 2014, the DXR-8, Baby Optics maintains baby safety top of mind when creating technology for its innovative products. Its group of engineers is constantly making every effort to layout items that increase bench on security, integrity, convenience and also efficiency.

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 8 Easter Eggs & References

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This Star Trek: Discovery article contains spoilers for “The Sanctuary.”

After the hugely nostalgic trip to Ni’Var in “Unification III,” you’d think that Discovery might be briefly done with a ton of callbacks to previous eras of Trek. With Episode 8, “Sanctuary,” that guess is partially correct. When Burnham and Book hit-up Book’s home planet of Kwejian, the vast majority of what happens on that planet doesn’t have roots in old Trek canon, because, Kwejian — at least for Burnham — is a strange new world. That said, the rest of the episode still has more than a handful of references to the Final Frontier that came before. Here’s every Easter egg and reference we caught in Star Trek: Discovery Season 3, Episode 8, “Sanctuary.”

Prime Directive Violations

Admiral Vance tells Burnham and Sura that “The Chain has turned Prime Directive violations into an art form.” What he means is that basically, the Emerald Chain is contacting pre-warp planets, and exploiting those inhabitants for whatever they can get. In some ways, this makes the Emerald Chain kind of like the Terran Empire of the Mirror Universe. It also echoes the fight between the Kelpiens and the Ba’ul in Discovery Season 2.

A Picard-era Starfleet Badge?

When Oysraa (Janet Kidder) is revealed at the top of the episode, we see her holding an old Starfleet badge on the planet Hunhau, last seen in the episode “Scavengers.” In that episode, we saw Michael sifting through other old badges. It’s unclear which era this Starfleet badge comes from but it seems to be a version of the styles worn in Star Trek: Picard.

Janet Kidder as Osyraa

Does Janet Kidder seem familiar to you? Well, it’s not an Easter egg to notice an actress that seems familiar, but for genre fans, Janet Kidder had recurring roles in both The Man in the High Castle and the time-travel series Continuum. She also bears a striking resemblance to Lois Lane actress Margot Kidder, and that’s because Janet Kidder is Margot’s niece.

Jonathan Frakes is about to tie his TNG directorial record

This is the second episode this season to be directed by Jonathan Frakes, the previous one being “People of Earth.” Frakes is slated to direct one more episode this season, Episode 12, “The Good of the People.” That makes six episodes of Discovery directed by Frakes since 2017. If you count the two episodes he directed of Star Trek: Picard, this means Frakes has now directed the same number of episodes of “New Trek” as he directed episodes of The Next Generation. To be clear, he also directed two feature films (First Contact and Insurrection) and three episodes each of Deep Space Nine and Voyager. Still, assuming Frakes directs episodes of Discovery Season 4, Picard Season 2, and Strange New Worlds, we’re probably like a year away from him starting to overtake his ‘90s-era Trek directorial record!

Brandon Schultz and Kenneth Lin

The writers of this episode are Kenneth Lin and Brandon Schultz. This appears to be Kenneth Lin’s first Discovery episode. But, fans should already be aware of Brandom Schulz. Last year, he wrote the gorgeous Short Treks episode, “The Girl Who Made the Stars.”

“Hit It”

Saru is working on his catchphrase to give orders in a cool way and having a rough time. Having Captain Pike say “Hit it” was first introduced in Discovery Season 2’s debut episode, “Brother.” But, it should be noted that Pike said “Engage!” in the TOS pilot “The Cage.” Captain Freeman faced a similar debacle in Lower Decks earlier this year.

Verubin Nebula

Stamets and Adira have tracked the origin of the Burn to the “Verubin Nebula.” This appears to be a new Nebula in the Trek canon, but it sure sounds like an old one, doesn’t it?

Federation Distress Signal

When Saru asks Adira to isolate aspects of the music in the nebula, they find a Federation distress signal. This sound-effect sounds a little bit like a computer alert from TNG-era. (You can listen to a sample here.) But, the way in which they decipher the sound information is a little bit like the way Uhura and Spock break-down the alien probe signal in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.

What lost ship is in there? Who knows!

Boatswain’s whistle

Speaking of audio Easter eggs, when Saru enters the bridge early in the episode we hear the three-note Boatswain’s whistle. This has origins in actual naval history, but for Trek fans, this sound effect is most famously associated with The Original Series.

The Viridian/viridian

Osyraa’s warship is called “The Viridian” This could be a reference to the Star Trek Generation planet Veridian III, the place where Captain Kirk was eventually killed. That said the word “viridian” mostly refers to a certain shade of green, and the Orions are well, you know kind of…viridian in color.

Adira’s identity crisis echoes Ezri Dax

Adira tells Stamets they’re having a hard time figuring out which host’s personality is the most dominant. This echoes exactly what Ezri Dax went through in Deep Space Nine Season 7, when, like Adira, she was given a Trill symbiont on short notice.

Georgiou’s “flashback” is back

Much like we saw in “Scavengers,” Georgiou experiences her Mirror Universe flashback again. However, it should be noted that it sounds like she’s not saying “son,” like we previously thought, but instead saying “San.” This references a character mentioned in passing in a Discovery tie-in novel called Die Standing. Relevantly, this book also has Georgiou crossing paths with a previous host of Dax; Emony.

Orion slavery

As Osyraa mocks Saru and the history of Kelpien enslavement, he counters by saying, “If memory serves, the Orions were once enslaved themselves.” Using the phrase “If memory serves,” is a sideways reference to Spock, but it also references the Discovery episode of the same name from Season 2. But, is Saru right? Well, yes, from a certain point of view. In the TOS-era, it was generally assumed that the Orions dealt in “animal women” as slaves. This is where we get the famous “green Orion” dancing woman, in “The Cage.” However, the Enterprise episode “Bound,” inverted this assumption, and revealed that Orion women were using an illusion of slavery to actually control the Orion Crime Syndicate. So, although Saru was right, he was also wrong. When Oysraa says: “My ancestors knew that power is virtue and that there is no nobility in suffering,” she’s likely referring to the faux-appearance that women were enslaved, when in fact, they were the ones running the entire Orion “government.”

Photon torpedoes

Book mentions that Oysraa is using “photon torpedoes” to bombard the surface of Kwejian. Does this seem to imply the Emerald Chain has old-school tech? Shouldn’t photon torpedoes be outdated?

The Best Star Trek Holiday Gifts

By Ryan Britt

How Star Trek: Discovery Fulfills Spock’s Franchise Legacy

By Ryan Britt

Detmer manual control references…Riker?

When Detmer decides to go “full-manual control” of Book’s ship, she suddenly has a couple of nifty joysticks. This seems to be a reference to the “manual steering column” on the Enterprise from Star Trek: Insurrection. In that film, Riker flew the Enterprise much the same way Detmer flies Book’s ship here. Guess who directed both that movie and this episode? Yep, you already know; Jonathan Frakes!

“You both are empaths”

Turns out, Book and his species aren’t space wizards, but instead, as Burnham says, they are empaths. This is a wink to the TOS episode “The Empath” but also, to the most famous empath in Trek history, Deanna Troi. Burnham also mentions that the Discovery will “amplify” the empathic signals of Book and Kyheem, “just like we did on Kaminar.” This references the Discovery Season 2 episode “The Sound of Thunder.”

The Emerald Chain is running out of dilithium

Thanks to Ryn (Noah Averbach-Katz), the big revelation at the end of the episode is a pretty big game-changer. The evil Emerald Chain is low on dilithium, which means it will be harder for them to move their ships around. Because Discovery isn’t really relying on dilithium anymore, this could change everything in the rest of the season.

Ever since The Original Series, starships have needed dilithium to warp around the cosmos. If that changes by the end of Discovery Season 3, then the method for all this Star Trek-ing will be suddenly strange, new, and bold. Who knew Star Trek would end-up focused on the way we Trek?

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Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 is streaming on CBS All Access.

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monsoon-season-us · 2 years

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M4RTINI - 'GTFO' | Veridian Records Release | NEW Bass-Heavy Banger [Track Write-Up]

M4RTINI – ‘GTFO’ | Veridian Records Release | NEW Bass-Heavy Banger [Track Write-Up]

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inanotherworld5599 · 7 years

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Only You

Prompt: First Love, Sasusaku Month Day One

Summary: When Sasuke and Sakura realise who their daughters first love was and in the process find out about eachothers. (Post Gaiden)

“I think Sarada has a crush on Boruto.”

Sasuke has always taken pride in being a careful person, he’s rarely the kind to let things fall from his only hand and even if on the off chance something does, his reflexes are fast enough for him to catch the item before it hits the ground.

But when Sakura walks into their house after a long shift at the hospital to make one of the most ludicrous announcements he’s heard in a while he can’t help but drop the stirring spoon he held in his hands.

“What?”

His voice is silent and deadly. On a normal mission it’s enough to paralyze whoever is on the receiving end in terror but Sakura simply laughs it off, her husband hardly looks threatening in his his homely blue apron which matches the head band that thier daughter had helped him tie to keep the hair out of his face.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh darling I think you’re over reacting.” Sakura states as she wraps her arms around his waist and stands on her tip toes so that she can peer over his shoulders to see what he’s making (it’s Sarada’s favourite sweet dish) “I think it’s cute that he’s her first love.”

Sasuke sighs, his immediate plans of killing a certain blonde haired idiot (No, not that one, his son) subsiding.

It’s easy to give into his wife in moments like these when they are alone. He knows she’s tired, the soft yawn she tries to stiffle as she presses her cheek to his back is a testament to that.

Sasuke doesn’t have the heart to break out of her grip for he knows that at times like these when Sakura is tired, chakra depleted and cold he’s her favourite pillow.

He’d never admit it out loud but he was quite proud of that particular designation.

Plus it’s not like he’d actually be able to wriggle out of her embrace considering her ungodly strength.

Besides the more time he’s given to think, the more painful he can make that moronic brat’s death.

He suppose Sarada would be mad at him for the first couple of days but he was sure she’d get over it after he taught her a new jutsu.

Sakura hums softly as he stands there letting his brief spike of anger simmer down along with syrup he’s stirring to her soft tune. It’s a lullaby she’s humming, one that he’d sung once to her during her pregnancy days when she had trouble sleeping. It’s the same one Itachi used to sing when he was a child and it’s calming effect still holds true after all these years.

“Darling.” Sakura starts,“Who was your first love?”

Sasuke blinks, all his creative plans to kill Boruto brought to a abrupt stop by her sudden query.

“What do you mean?” Sasuke’s voice is harsher than he means it to be and while he tries to convince it’s because something is stuck in his throat he is well aware that it’s just an excuse to cover up the fact that he’s the slightest bit hurt that even after all these years the answer is still a mystery to Sakura.

“Oh!” She says jerking away from him, her hands falling away as she steps back. Wide veridian eyes stare back at him as he turns around to face her, irritated that she let go.

For a moment she stands there still before she starts stuttering out,“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to pry- I was just curious and-”

“Sakura.” He interrupts,“What are you talking about?”

She blinks,“Your first love, she was an Uchiha wasn’t she? I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“What gave you that idea?”

She blinks up at him. Even after all these years there are some insecurities she can’t shake off. It this habit of hers that bothers him the most, maybe because every time she displays her unsurity about their relationship Sasuke is overcome with a tidal wave of self loathing for he knows that all her insecurities stem from the fact that he’d treated her like crap through out the course of their childhood.

“I just thought-” she sighs breaking off,“Never mind.

“Tch. Annoying.”

She lowers her head,“You’re right that was a stupid.”

He lets his lips curve into a small smile, amused by her reaction. For some reason he never gets tired seeing her like this; embarrassed and shy.

It’s one of the more contrasting things about his wife because while she’s one of the strongest people he knows, nothing less than deadly in battle, she’s also one of the kindest. As a kid he never believed one could be both, strong and kind but in the past fifteen years of their marriage Sakura has spent everyday of it proving him wrong.

While she’s kind to everyone she meets, this side of her, the one where she’s shy and unsure is reserved only for Sasuke and he isn’t ashamed to admit that, that’s just how he likes it.

And that’s why he loves teasing her at times like these because he’s the only one who can and get away with it.

“Who was your first love?“ He asks nonchalantly.

Sakura looks up at him incredulously.

“What?” She asks,“ Is this a joke?”

Sasuke simply shrugs as he turns away from her to add the finishing touches to his dish.

Her eyes are defiant as she pokes her head into his line of sight,“I’ve loved you since we were five years old I’ll have you know. It might have been a superficial crush at first but I’ve only ever liked you.”

“Only me?” Sasuke says as he pours the contents into a bowl,“That’s hard to believe.”

Her eyes narrow,“If not you, then who? It’s only ever been you.”

“Not even Lee when he saved you during the Chunnin exams?”

“No.” She replies,“And if you recall I hugged you then and not him.”

“Not even Naruto when you kissed him?”

“That was CPR by the way.” She counters,“And you kissed him too. Twice.”

“Kakashi?”

“Are you kidding me?” She started,“That’s ridiculous.”

“Sai?”

“Where are these names even coming from?” She huffs,“ This is-”

Before she can finish, Sasuke quickly bends down and brushes his lips against hers shocking her into silence. It’s an awfully short kiss and when Sasuke pulls back he smiles as he looks down at his wife’s closed eyes and puckered lips.

“For the record you were the first and only person I’ve ever loved.” Sasuke states.

Her eyes flutter open and she stares at him confused for a moment before her mouth forms an ‘oh’. Then her questions begin,“Really? How? When? I thoug-”

“Sakura.” He cuts her off giving her a look.

“Right. I’ll shut up.”

“Good, then it’s easier to do this.” He leans down and kisses her again.The tips of his fingers graze against her skin as he cups her cheeks and lifts her face towards him his lips moving against hers effortlessly.

While Sasuke is a reserved man, there is absolutely nothing reserved about his kisses.

Sakura still remembers the first time Sasuke had kissed her she’d felt all her unsurity about their relationship melt away. While his kisses are commanding, they’re all consuming and absolutely and completely honest. He leaves no room for her to doubt his feelings for her because the way he kisses her always makes her feel like he’s laying his soul bare for her to see. Only her to see.

Because in the end for both Sasuke and Sakura it had only ever been each other since the very begining.

Sakura is about to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer to deepen their kiss but Sasuke abruptly breaks away once again leaving her hanging.

Sakura pouts as Sasuke starts walking towards the living room. She can’t see the smirk on his face but she knows that he’s thoroughly enjoying messing with her.

“You don’t play fair.” She grumbles as she follows Sasuke.

He sits on the couch and gently pats his lap. Sakura happily bounds towards him, her complains forgotten and takes her place on the couch by lying across it with her head resting on his lap.

They stay like that for a while as Sasuke reads a scroll regarding the latest details of his mission and Sakura stares up at him carefully memorizing all the details of his face for she knows that when he’s gone it’s these moments she’ll cherish the most.

“You know we both married each other’s first love.” Sakura comments offhandedly,“Do you think Sarada will do the same?”

“The brat won’t live long enough.”

Sakura snorts,“You’re not going to kill him, Naruto will never let you hear the end of it if you do.”

“I can handle the dobe.”

“You’ve been trying to get rid of him for eighteen years now, how’s that working out for you?”

“Tch.”

“If you actually consider it, it’s kind of cute really.” Sakura continues,“Naruto and Hinata’s son with our daughter. Plus Sarada is really open about her feelings too. I thought she’d be like you and be in denial about it for at least five years.”

“I was not in denial about it.”

“If I was your first love that means you must have loved me since we were genin, right?” Sakura prompts,“And you were pretty much an ice cube those days.”

“I wasn’t in denial, I just didn’t show it.”

“So you were in love with me since we were genin.”

“Sakura.”

“Okay fine, I’ll drop it.” Sakura relents,“So anyway today I heard her and Choucho talking about Boruto and that’s how I gussed. They were fawning over how his blonde hair catches the sun rays perfectly and-”

Change of plans, Sasuke was going to first torture the brat and then kill him.

“- just how mature and responsible he is-”

When did he brat become mature and responsible? Just the other day he remembered his daughter complaining how childish and careless the dobe’s son was.

“- how his blue eyes pop perfectly against his white clothes and-”

Sakura stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Sasuke’s face.

“What’s wrong?“she asks lifting herself up from his lap and turning around to face him properly.

“The brat kid only wears black.” Sasuke deadpans,“His training clothes are black and pink.”

“Then…..” Sakura trails off as realisation dawns on her.

For a moment they stare at each other, green against mismatched black and purple.

The next second Sakura is up and Sasuke is right behind her, heading for the door.

“I’m going to kill the dobe.” He mutters poisonously as he opens the door.

Sakura brushes past him,“Not if I get to him first.”

All the way across town in the Hokage’s office, Naruto sneezed. ______

I’ll be honest I really want to see Sasuke appear in the Hokage’s office with his apron and matching headband and beat the hell out of Naruto with his stirring spoon.

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