#it was literally my emotional support fic during a very rough year last year!!

[tunemyart]

I'm so close, I have two more lines to write, ahhhhh

[shoutogepi]

Spring Pollen

Takami Keigo

word count : 5.0k

[ ✘ (nsfw 18+) ]  

genre : edging, gagging (glove use), sex pollen, public sex

bio: You and your coworker Hawks are caught off guard by a villain’s naughty quirk while on the middle of patrol.

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “sex pollen” slot ;) also pls go soft on me if this is rough as it’s my first hawks fic <3 TT

tags : @hawks-senseis​ @queensynderella​ @knifeewifee​ @prismaroyal​

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Working beside the number two hero had its ups and downs. For one, you were insanely attracted to him, and you absolutely refused to admit it— to him, yourself, really anyone who asked. Not that it came up in conversation often, of course. You made sure of that.

The blonde was known for his go-with-the-flow, playful attitude, and you were not discluded from such a privilege, despite your many complaints. Deep down, you didn’t really mind his flirtatious behavior. Being a hero, even if you were only a sidekick at the moment, was tiring work. You did not have much time for yourself, let alone time to find men who you could flirt with or even go on dates with. Or even find a fuck buddy. 

God, it had been so long since you last received affection from a man. Work was your entire life now, and while you found comfort in knowing you were changing the world for the better— cleaning away the stain of evil on your city— you found yourself feeling lonely when you would return to your empty apartment each night.

So perhaps Hawks’ borderline suggestive comments were nice, welcome even. Not that you would ever tell him that. You would rather die than live with knowing he was privy to your thoughts; the mortification would simply be too much for you.

Little did you know, there was much desire and intention behind his seemingly meaningless flirting— for he, too, found you more than attractive. A walking, talking, gorgeous and independent woman who apparently wanted nothing to do with him— you were more than enough to catch his eye. But alas, you were years younger than the already-youthful hero himself, and you made it very clear to him that you did not want to do anything that could jeopardize your career at the agency the two of you were slaves to.

So the attraction went unspoken between the pair of you. Hawks would make a comment just a little too cheeky and you would roll your eyes or swat at him, and that would be the end of it. It would go on and on like this for months, and before you knew it, it had been almost a year of supporting the ever-popular winged hero. And everything was fine and good…

Until the red string on fate had to show its ugly face. And everything as you knew it was turned upside down on the head— the tall, prison-like walls you’d constructed to keep your feelings locked away all came tumbling down, right before your very eyes.

It had been a rather uneventful day of hero work, if you could recall correctly. Hawks had commented on your winged eyeliner that morning, saying how it made your eyes sparkle and give you an “avian edge”, which he found highly commendable. You had brushed him off, as usual, and the two of you had taken off to start your patrol, much like any other morning.

The sun was high in the sky, hanging cheerfully over the skyscrapers of the bustling city. The spring heat had not yet scorched the asphalt of the winding roads, a cool breeze tickling your skin as you walked beside the blonde hero. His large, scarlet wings were relaxed behind his shoulder blades, the very tips of his feathers brushing against your waist as you were pressed close to him on the busy sidewalk. It was all rather ordinary, looking back at it— you had just thrown away the wrappings from your on-the-go breakfast, feeling strengthened enough to take on whatever the day could possibly throw at you, when she appeared from what seemed like nowhere.

Hawks sprang into action immediately, recognizing the wicked glint in her eye much sooner than you. You were on a dull sideroad, almost an alleyway to be honest— a small street tucked away in the midst of the hasty city, sandwiched behind a few large buildings and the backs of restaurants. It was really the perfect place for a crime to occur, for there were few passerbys and no security cameras.

In just an instant, the number two hero was on his ass, nearly hacking up a lung as the offender sprayed a noxious cloud of pink spores directly into his face. The woman sported a vicious grin as she turned to you, and though Hawks tried his best to warn you of her attack, he found he could not speak— instead crumpling over to hold his stomach as his body seized with violent coughs. Just like that, you had fallen victim to her as well, your knees folding beneath you as your mind clouded over in a haze. You didn’t even register Hawks throwing her into the brick wall behind you, your brian too foggy to recognize anything before you. He was struggling to cuff the woman when he first began to sweat, his body beginning to tremble first in his chest, then spreading to his limbs and rushing into his veins, like the venom from a deadly serpent.

Your body felt hot— god, so hot— it was like liquid fire had been poured into your bloodstream, every cell of your body igniting into an all-consuming inferno. Sweat began to bead along your temple, the valley between your breasts, and the backs of your knees. You slumped onto the concrete beneath you, clammy palms scraping the rough pavement as you gasped for breath. But with each intake the symptoms only seemed to worsen, limbs growing weak and an intense pressure forming in your stomach, like an intruder attempting to burst through a barricaded door.

Hawks was busy fighting his own internal battle— the same feelings bubbling up inside of him as he clicked the quirk-canceling cuffs onto the assailant’s wrists, perhaps a notch or two too tight. He could feel himself coming to life underneath his trousers, fanning the growing fire in the pit of his stomach. “What did you do to us?” he bellowed, a mix between a groan and a growl. The tip of a ruby feather pointed itself at the base of her throat, a slight tremor shaking through the quill as his knees began to tremble.

The woman only laughed, amused by his blatant discomfort. Her eyes traveled over to your figure, curled into a tight ball on the ground. Hawks followed her gaze, distress panging through him as he realized the pained expression twisting your face.

“Reverse it,” he snarled, fists seizing the front of her shirt and pulling her body to sit upright.

But the villain only smirked, her busted lip not seeming to bother her as her eyes twinkled with malice. “Sorry, can’t do that,” she chuckled, though it came out sounding more like a wheeze, “no takesies-backsies.”

Hawks bared his teeth at her, his ferality getting the better of him as he slammed her against the brick wall another time. Her eyes fell closed and her body went limp, signalling she was out of commission for at least the time being.

“Damn it,” he groaned as her clothes slipped from his fingers, the digits opting to push into his wild tawny locks instead. Whatever quirk this woman had used on him was working too fast, and its effects were too strong. His cock was rock hard, straining against the confining material of his pants, and his body was becoming much too strung out from restraining his amplifying desire.

Chills rolled down his spine as you called out to him, your voice breathy and rough. His gloved hands clamped into fists as he shut his eyes, praying to whatever god there was to lend him the strength necessary to keep himself from tackling you and ripping off your clothes. He had never felt so desperate for you before— never had he needed to touch and taste every inch of you like he did right now. Whatever longing he had harbored for you before this morning was nothing in comparison to the emotions clobbering his sense of self-control at the moment— god, if you even called out for him one more time, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from taking you, right here and now.

Little did he know, that was the one thing you wanted— needed, even— more than anything.

Your arms were crossed atop your chest, your knees tucking in to bend in front of them as you literally held yourself together. You could feel yourself leaking from between your legs, pussy twitching and itchy for any kind of attention you could get. “P-Please, Keigo,” you whimpered, your hands slowly trailing down your biceps, a palm clutching your own breast, thumb rubbing over the stiff nipple that stood out from beneath your hero suit.

Hawks couldn’t stand still for another second— the sound of his name from your lips too arousing, too intimate— he was on his knees before you in a flash. Both of you moaned as his lips slotted over yours, not a moment to spare as your body unfurled and wrapped around his frame, pulling him flush against yourself. His tongue pushed into your mouth, the tip twirling with yours and gliding against the back of your teeth.

Lost in the pleasure of his mouth on yours, your hands wandered over his shoulders, his chest, one taking root in his silky, fine hair. You could smell his aftershave wafting off his cheeks, the stubble on his chin tickling you as he began to kiss and nip at your jaw. He was insatiable, and so were you— your hands groping and wandering all over each other. Neither of you could get enough. 

You couldn’t believe that this was really happening, in the middle of this secluded, public alleyway, during your patrol as heroes— figures that the citizens of your city looked up to, no less. Yet you couldn’t find a shit to give, and Hawks had abandoned all sense of rationality the moment you dared to cry out for him. He didn’t seem to mind the public setting, for he didn’t harbor a shred of hesitance as he swatted your hand away from your chest. His own palm squeezed your breast as he suckled on your throat, making his first of many marks that would grace your skin.

It wasn’t long before he had you against the brick wall, your body snug between his firm torso and the roughness of the bricks at your back. His face trailed further south, his absence at your neck leaving your saliva-covered skin to prickle with cold. But you weren’t left pining for more long— his teeth gripping onto your nipple through your shirt, kissing and sucking at your covered chest as his hands careened down your waist, cupping your ass and lifting you off your feet just enough for your toes to drag across the pavement.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Hawks sunk to his knees, folding your legs over his shoulders and pressing his face into the apex between your thighs. His strong arms flexed as he held you up against the wall, your legs twitching as he pressed a line of kisses into your skin. Somehow you managed to wriggle out of your bottoms, your soaked panties now on full display for the winged hero, who only groaned at the sight before his tongue began to lather at the front of the material, right over your aching slit.

You felt itchy, itchier than you’d ever been before, your cunt pulsing and squeezing around nothing as you tried to wiggle your hips closer to his mouth. “H-Hawks,” you gasped as his teeth pinched the cloth, pulling it back and letting go, just to watch it snap against your drooling center.

“No, no, little bird,” he murmured sinisterly, taking a second to rub his nose along your slit, smirking at the clearly visible line of wetness that had soaked through the material. The teasing was torture, your body screaming for him to touch you again, for even more this time.

You cut him off, too impatient for his games. “Please touch me,” you begged, breath ragged in your chest.

Golden eyes turned to slits as he grit his teeth, fighting himself not to just whip out his cock and thrust into you right then and there. “If you’re gonna beg, do it properly. I wanna hear my name, dove.”

You couldn’t handle another second of agony; everything felt like it was on fire, every inch of you ready to be used, destroyed at his disposal. “Please fuck me— I— please Keigo, I need you so bad, I can’t stand it anymore!”

Hawks grinned as he ripped your panties off your body, the splitting of the seams shocking you into looking down at him. If anything, the ferocious action only turned you on even more than before, and you screamed out as his tongue immediately wove into your tight little hole. Your entire body shook as his hot muscle slithered in and out of you, alternating between tracing your entrance and rubbing against your slick, gummy walls.

There was nothing you could do but bask in the euphoria he was giving you, your jaw falling open as his tongue retracted and he wrapped his lips around your clit instead. Your eyes slammed shut, moans escaping you as your fingers delved into those bronze locks, fisting them as you ground against his face. His chin rubbed against your weeping entrance, and Hawks found himself wishing he had two tongues, so he could lap up the delicious slick that poured out of your gushing hole.

But it stopped all too soon, a sob choking out of you when he stopped satiating you with his mouth. His hand guided one of your thighs off his shoulder, placing your foot on the pavement and giving your shaking limb an encouraging squeeze before he took his hand away. His slanted eyes locked with yours as he brought his hand to his mouth, teeth securing the edge of his glove and ripping the accessory off, revealing his long, slender fingers to your lustful gaze. The hero then crumpled the leather into a tight ball, extending his arm up to your face and pressing it against your lips.

“Can’t have my dove making too much noise now, can I?” he mumbled, a feathered brow quirking up to give him a classic, mischievous look. “Too noisy and we’ll have to cut our fun short.”

At that you shyly opened your mouth, allowing him to press the glove past your lips. Once it was secure, his thumb brushed over your cheek as he grinned, his fingers then sliding down to pinch at your nipples. You moaned at the sensation, the leather glove in your mouth muffling the noise almost completely.

Hawks’ smile only broadened at that, leaning forward to take your clit into his mouth again. Your hips bucked against him, the thigh over his shoulder curling tighter and pressing him closer to you. It felt good— so incredibly good to have his tongue entertaining your pearl of nerves, lathering and swirling it, even using his teeth to graze against it. Your head fell back onto the wall behind you, eyelids fluttering shut as his fingers around your leg dug into your flesh, his other hand squishing at your chest before trailing down your waist, then down your thigh.

Suddenly his fingers were toying with your entrance, your slick stringing as he spread his fingers, golden gaze eagerly drinking up the sight of your arousal. Oh, how he’d longed for the day he could finally do this to his sweet little sidekick— to be able to lick and kiss and nip at your most sensitive parts, only to hear you moan and whine his name, gasping for more. It was even better that his glove was shoved into your mouth, muting your saccharine voice just enough so that no one else could hear you— your noises of pleasure were his and only his to hear, to soak up, and indulge in.

You cried out as two digits slipped inside of you, your wetness never having been so overt in your life. The extra slick dripped down the tops of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly slobbering for the man currently knelt between your legs. Your velvet walls sucked his fingers deeper inside, milking them as your cunt clenched uncontrollably, his tongue relentlessly lashing against your swollen clit. Hawks’ fingers pumped into you steadily, sheathing and pulling out just the first two knuckles into your waiting hole time and time again. The movements initially were slow, as if testing the waters. But after a few exploratory thrusts, he pushed the digits inside of you as far as he could, curling them toward himself and prodding your spongy walls.

He wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop— you tasted too damn delicious, and his cock was leaking into his briefs at the premise of being inside you, your stifled sounds only adding fuel to the fire in his stomach. Your body was beginning to show signs of near-orgasm, and it only made him more excited to see you so reactive for him. Your eyes were shut tight, fingers pulling on his golden tresses so tightly he could feel his mind practically spinning. And your legs were trembling, almost so badly that he wondered if you were going to collapse on top of him at any moment.

You whimpered as his hand switched angles, the very tips of his fingers rubbing right against the most sensitive spot inside of you. Hawks noticed your body twitch, even though you tried your best to keep your reaction a secret to him, ashamed to already be so close to cumming. But the winged hero was feeling anything but shame— pressing his fingers into that spot again and again, savoring how your cries became louder underneath his glove in your mouth, your limbs quivering against his skin. You tried to warn him, your thigh squeezing tight around his shoulder, your fingers lacing even tighter into his hair, spine stiffening.

Hawks seemed to know what was coming, for his fingers began flicking back and forth inside of you, stimulating that soft, spongy spot that made stars blur at the corners of your vision. Your toes curled tight inside your boots, tears pooling between your eyelashes, your body feeling as though it was trapped inside an elevator surging toward the thousandth floor of a skyscraper. The tension was building, building, oh it was so close— you could practically see the heavenly, orgasmic light shining just before you, and then—

He pulled back.

Had his glove not been occupying your mouth, your whine of anguish would have echoed off the stone walls of the alleyway, your body slumping into his arms in complete dejection. Your brows were furrowed in torment, wondering how in the world Hawks had the strength to pull away from you when you were in such a state— you were practically imploring for his attention, body so hot and willing that you’d let him do anything he could possibly want to you.

You were too lost mourning the lost orgasm to notice Hawks haphazardly shoving his pants down, pulling his black, tight shirt halfway up his abs. His cock sprang up from its confines, his eyes just slits as he focused his gaze on your dripping cunt, still twitching in misery from his teasing torture. You only realized you were being maneuvered once it was too late— he had dropped the leg that had previously rested on his shoulder, instead taking the other and pushing it to press up against the wall, his fingers digging into your thigh. He was upright now, teeth taking the tip of your ear hostage as he rutted his heavy cock against your saturated slit.

Fresh waves of lust rippled through your body, your bones turning cold with white-hot anticipation. You could feel everything— his member sliding against your entrance, gliding against you from head to base, even the veins decorating his shaft as they brushed against your aching core.

Hawks’ breath was heavy in your ear, but that only made you want him more. It was the only physical sign that he was just as affected as you; the soft groan falling from his lips as you bucked against him was proof enough of that. Yet somehow he staved off from thrusting into you, despite your pussy coating his whole length in your slippery love syrup.

You tried to complain, but the glove between your lips jumbled any words into a muted mess.

He seemed to be amused by your efforts, his honey gaze seizing yours. “If I take that out for you, do you promise you’ll be a good little dove for me? Can’t have you singing too loud, alright?” His words were music to your ears, and you quickly nodded your head, eager to prove yourself to him. But he didn’t move a muscle; only his tongue wandered out to swipe across his bottom lip, which then disappeared between his teeth. His eyes darted south, and before yours could follow suit, he pushed inside you to the hilt.

You screamed as he forced your elastic walls to stretch around him, the thickness of his cock taking you by surprise. Intense pleasure burst into your body as he pulled out halfway, sheathing himself back inside almost immediately. Hawks’ eyes were shut tight, savoring the way your cunt hugged him so perfectly. Already you were milking him, and he knew there was no way he could last.

It didn’t matter, really, because the instant his hand slid down your pelvis and his fingers began to toy with your clit, you were gone. Instantly that intense pressure built just like it had before, for a split second it was all you could feel. And then you were crashing through your orgasm, his name the only thing on your brain. You called it out again and again, ecstasy zipping through your veins and toward the intense heat that the villain’s quirk had produced. The sensations clashed in a fiery explosion, your entire body straining as you did your best to handle the pleasure, your pussy wringing tight around Hawks’ cock.

Hawks gasped, his head falling to your shoulder at the intensity— at the snugness of your cunt like a vice around him, at the sound of your muffled cries for him, at the way your body trembled in his hands. He didn’t wait long, though, for after the initial shock of your orgasm arriving, his hips began to ruthlessly smack against yours. His grip was now tight on your body, fingernails digging little crescents into the skin of your thigh and your asscheek, which he pulled back to slide himself even deeper inside of you.

Your head smacked against the brick as it fell backwards, the pleasure flowing endlessly through your entire body. It was only then that Hawks bothered to take his glove from between your lips, and you immediately gasped for the sweet rush of air that filled your mouth. Small noises of content slithered out of you with every crash of his hips against you, impossible for you to silence the constant “hah” and “yes”’es. Not that Hawks seemed to really mind— in fact, he was eating up every sweet noise that left your throat, cherishing the cute, dazed look on your face as he pummeled your tight little cunt with his fat cock.

It was wrong to be this attracted to his sidekick, he knew. But maybe that was why it felt so fucking good, too— the forbidden, unspoken attraction that hung between the pair of you like a heavy shadow whenever you were together. The line had been crossed, and god, was the grass greener on the other side. If this was what being with you felt like, he didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t— he’d tasted your sweet ambrosia and he could never push you away again. You were pouring life into him as you took his cock so perfectly, and he could feel nothing but euphoria as he slammed your cunt onto himself again and again.

His release was building, but goddamn it, he was gonna hold out for as long as he could. He was gonna make you feel as good as he possibly could, and hopefully it was something that could mirror the intense bliss that you were giving him. From the way your irises rolled back in your skull, your nails gripping into his muscles tightly as your jaw hung ajar, his name slipping through your lips every other thrust— he guessed he was doing a pretty good job.

Meanwhile your brain was nearly liquefying in your skull, the aftershocks of your orgasm still stinging your bones with pleasure. Hawks never let you come down from your high, and he was doing a damn good job at keeping you on cloud nine— his hand holding up your thigh so he had a better angle to continue drilling into that sweet, springy spot inside of you. His wings began to flutter and stretch behind him, flapping gently with each swing of his hips. It felt so good that you could barely keep yourself from screaming for him, from letting the entire city know that it was him who was fucking you so good.

“K-Keigo,” you choked, a tear sliding down your cheek. Hawks moaned at the sound of his name on your voice, leaning forward to lick up the saline bead before he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, a shocking contrast to how hard he was pounding into you just a short distance south. “Feels so— agh! fuck— good, oh my goddd.”

Hawks nipped at your throat, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became more shallow, his pace beginning to falter. “You like my cock, dove?” he growled, chest heaving as that intense pressure started to build in his stomach. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ wet for me— T-Tight! Hah, shit— s’too fuckin’ good baby.”

You could only moan at his words, cunt clenching down on him on its own accord. Hawks gasped at the feeling, teeth sinking into your throat as the heat of the quirk clashed with the heightened tension in his abdomen. The collision of the two sensations proved to be too much for the winged hero to handle, a groan rumbling his throat as he painted your insides white with ribbons of cum, his wings unfurling and each individual feather quivering in sheer ecstasy. His body shook, muscles taut as he emptied himself into your dripping cunt, arms wrapping tight around your waist as he gasped for breath.

The heat from your bodies began to dwindle, the villain’s quirk exiting your systems and rendering the two of you boneless, breathless, and satisfied like never before. It suddenly dawned on you that you were in the middle of an alleyway, the cool spring breeze touseling Hawks’ blonde hair before your eyes. He was still wrapped around you, trying to catch his breath as his cock continued to throb against your silken walls. The pair of you stood still against the brick wall, the fact that you’d just crossed such a serious line with your closest coworker setting in. There was a sense of dread that began to bloom in your chest, your suppressed feelings for the hero unleashed and thriving, now more than ever.

Before you could overthink for another second, Hawks pulled back, warm golden eyes peering into yours. “I gotta say, dove,” he murmured, a hand coming to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your skin, “that was definitely the best quirk I’ve ever been hit with on the job.”

You chuckled at that, the weight of the situation instantly lightening up as you gave him a slow nod of agreement. Your heart began to beat quickly as you gathered the courage to take it a step further than his confession. “I’m glad it was with you,” you replied quietly, meekly averting your gaze to the side.

Hawks hummed, thumbing over your cheek again as a smile rose to his lips. He pressed his mouth to yours again, fingers creeping into your hair as he pulled your face close to his. This kiss was unlike any you shared before, conveying only a sweetness, fondness even— a comforting reciprocation. You smiled against his lips, too, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back, your fear dissipating as fast as it had come.

“I’m glad, too,” Hawks mumbled between your kisses, pulling away to quirk a brow at you playfully. “Can you imagine if I was with Endeavor instead?” he made the both of you laugh before leaning in to press his lips against yours again, the image of the serious, number one hero and your coworker in such a situation too hilarious not to laugh. But just as you started to deepen the kiss, he couldn’t resist throwing in the punchline he’d set up.

“I’d be a damn rotisserie chicken by now.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

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sdfghj i never know how to end these and also why do i use this many dashes i am sORRY  if you enjoyed pls make sure to lemme know~~ 💕

➥ masterlist

➥ BINGO masterlist

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!! I was wondering if you knew of any really long fics (like 25k or more) that are only one chapter, I travel a lot sometimes and some places don't really have good enough internet for multi chapter fics. So yeah, any really long one chapter fics about John and Sherlock would be appreciated. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!!

LOL OKAY FUNNY STORY. I almost replied to this with “oof I’ll have to read EVERYTHING so I’m sorry.... and then... I remembered.......

I put chapter counts on everything 🙃😐 

I’m not the brightest crayon in the box. 🖍 

Anyway, so yes, I can definitely rec you some fics! BUT I should also offer you two suggestions you can totally do to read ANY fic!

On Ao3, you can click on the “Entire Work” button to load ALL chapters of a fic (it’s the very first button along the top) and in turn you can then just read it all there! 

And the very last button along the top, you can Download copies of the fic to your phone or computer with eBook file types (AZw3 for Kindle, ePub for iPhone’s Books app, and MOBI is for other mobile devices and e-readers), the HTML if you want to read it as-is in a web-browser, or the PDF format which is a universal file format that is supported by everything, even web browsers, so it’s a good one to download if you don’t know what format you need :) If you read on an eReader, though, I can’t recommend enough just downloading the format for your device. You get to keep a copy of the fic AND the eReader keeps it nicely formatted. It’s a BRILLIANT, BEAUTIFUL feature that Ao3 gave us, because I like downloading all my fics and read them later in iBooks. Once you start that, Nonny, you can’t do it any other way. AND at the VERY END of the fics, it links BACK to the original post so you can bookmark, kudos, and comment on it!! <3

So yeah, two options you can do to solve your poopy internet and still read long fics hee hee! <3

ANYWAY EXCUSE FOR A NEW LIST LOL. 

ALSO, side note, check out @silentauroriamthereal; a large chunk of her fics are both long AND one chapter, so it’s a good place to go and she’s a brilliant author so I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! <3 Plus a lot of her fics are on this list, so I am sorry hahah.

AND I wanted to make the list a bit longer than I had, so I picked fics over 20K, if that’s alright :) As always, if you wrote a 20k+ single chapter fic, let us know!

SINGLE CHAPTER FICS OVER 20K WORDS

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

26 Pieces by Lanning (E, 28,236 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Torture, First Time, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Past Abuse) – Mycroft gives Sherlock the apparently simple task of solving a puzzle box containing a stolen microchip. It isn't simple.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

Shallow Grave by SilentAuror (E, 31,672 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, HLV Fix It, Infidelity, Pining Sherlock, First Person POV Sherlock) – Starts as Sherlock's plane is taking off at the end of His Last Vow. When he finds out that Moriarty is alive and that he's being recalled from his mission, Sherlock decides that he should have told John how he felt before he left. So he walks off the plane and kisses him.

The Midas Touch by flawedamythyst (E, 32,231 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism || John has a Magical Cock, Dub Con, Healer John) – John Watson has a medical condition that means everyone he sleeps with is instantly healed of all illness and injury. This causes complications when Sherlock breaks his arm, and even more complications when Sherlock falls in love with him. Yes, this is a story where John has a literal magic healing cock. It's a lot less cracky than you're probably imagining. Warning: Contains complex issues of sexual consent, although not between Sherlock and John.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w., 1 Ch. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John's POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe

The Yellow Poppies by SilentAuror (E, 34,952 w., 1 Ch. || H/C, Nightmares, HLV Fix-It, PTSD, Trauma, POV Sherlock, Doctor John) – Sherlock is threatened and assaulted in the hospital immediately after having been shot in the heart, first by Mary, then by Magnussen. As he recovers at Baker Street with John and plans the attack on Appledore with Mycroft, he fights to work through the trauma caused by these two visits. Set during His Last Vow.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

Act IV by SilentAuror (E, 39,707 w., 1 Ch. || First Person POV Sherlock, HLV Fix-It, Infidelity, Angst, Drama) – After Sherlock is shot, John moves back into Baker Street. They spend the autumn together as John tries to make sense of his life and make some important decisions about both Mary and Sherlock. Canon-compliant, excerpts from His Last Vow.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

[elmidol]

PSA: Being Damaged Doesn’t Excuse Hurting Others

For the longest time I said nothing at all in regards to the harassment and stalking I received by an author I met in person. To my knowledge they have left the fandom, however maybe they just changed their penname. Seeing the post by @wayward-rose​ and the rest who were wronged by Mrs. Z and the reactions from others who have been uncomfortable with her behavior, it sort of made me reevaluate things. Not only the behavior of the author who wronged me, but my own actions subsequent to this. The excuse given by Mrs. Z in regards to multiple hate asks and such have led to her reactions… I get it but I do not condone it. For so long I did not name the author save to a few friends. Some know the author’s name solely because I have since admitted that it was the former co-author of the “This Isn’t In My Programming” fic that was discontinued. I’ve been asked even recently for the author’s name as well as what exactly happened.

This may be long-winded, I don’t know. I am not excusing negative behavior from my end on here that I will be disclosing. This is, in a way, something I should have spoken about much sooner. When certain readers at the time could tell there was an extreme difference in my attitude. Where I became very intolerant of some things. This is how I was not completely the victim, but at times the one in the wrong. And it is due to my experience that I can understand some of Mrs. Z’s bitterness but not her acceptance of it and the argument that she is in the right. This is not making it about me either. This is at last coming forward after having been asked to do so for close to two years.

 The author, MeganD1, and I met in person a few times. We had connected over instagram, and after she learned we lived in neighboring states she had said it would be cool to meet. I agreed but was not quite ready. She persisted. Pushed. I agreed. Upon agreeing, she had posted on her fandom instagram that she was meeting me along with the location of where I lived. I told her I was NOT okay with that. She deleted, apologized, but also said she did not know why it was a big deal. I let that slide since she had deleted it. During that first meeting, we had a great time. I told her how one of my favorite Lucasfilm artists, Eric Maell, had reached out to me one time when I was going through a very rough period. It had meant the world. I told Megan of my dream to meet him one day at a convention. She hadn’t known the artists aside from one piece he had done. She had had no interest in him.

 While together, we went shopping at a mall and talked. She did admit to contacting me to begin with because I had been one of the bigger author names for Kylo/Reader and Hux/Reader fics at the time. She also admitted to talking shit about me with another author. And I regret not listening to those warning bells. Megan and I discussed triggers and tropes in fanfics (which we did again on our second meeting). We had fun.

 The second time she visited, I had invited her and she stayed a few days at my house. We again went shopping and also sat down at a restaurant to talk. I opened up about my sexual assault to her. It was the first time I had spoken about details to someone in person like that. I kept having to look away from her face. I felt ashamed. I was shaking a bit. Trying to not panic. I thought it was a relief, believed she was understanding.

 We went to my house afterwards. On the way, Megan told me some plans she had for a fic of hers that she was writing and I was reading. I mentioned having triggers with those issues. So she elaborated on it, explained it differently. There was 0 way I'd have known that it was going to trigger me as it did. I'd NEVER been triggered like that. this was after she had gone back home. That’s what I’ll touch upon in a minute. We watched The Office together. Pitched the idea to co-write a story, and that is how This Isn’t In My Programming was born. Side note that during her visiting, I have endometriosis so have issues with that. I was doubled over the entire time but learned later it was due to having colitis; she did not help at all, so I essentially took out all her trash, took all her dishes, had to cook for her..which some of this is fine. I'm willing to do it. But being literally doubled over....it was a sore thing that I didn't address with her until later

 Fast forward to her returning home, writing the chapter, and posting it. Okay so I was triggered by the scene, privately told her on chat in instagram that she needed to include a trigger warning because it was a pretty intense scene and also told her that I couldn't read the fic anymore. Which I didn't think was an issue since she had stopped reading mine for similar reasons or else because she just didn't like them. She reacted by posting an a/n on her fic stating how she never meant to offend anyone, how she should give up writing. She didn't mention my name but basically got a ton of the readers to shittalk me for being triggered. It was one of the most hurtful and fucked up things for me. To read those comments from people who read my fics, who chatted with me. Talking about me like that; and me wondering if they would still believe that if they knew all the details. So here is where some bitterness and resentment started in me. Why some of my notes became venomous and hard.

 It was not okay for me to say certain things, to bash others. It was hypocritical. So this is where I understand Mrs. Z when she says that about the hate comments. But we’re adults and should take that step back. I regret many of the things I said. Which, again, I will get to in a bit.

 Megan posted on her fandom ig and personal ig how she was going to delete her ig. Told me in chat how she was going to give up writing. Where I was begging her to not, telling her I did love her writing, I just couldn't read this specific fic. Mind you, during the panic attack I was in the bathroom on the floor with a towel shoved into my mouth and screaming and crying. Struggling to breathe. I had my phone with me and was chatting with Juulna between breaths when I could. She was trying to help me calm, to get me through it. I didn’t share that with Megan because I had not wanted her to feel so bad. I did not give her the details of my panic attack, but she still reacted so severely.

 When she calmed down, I tried to get her to understand why that had hurt me. She couldn't understand so I said that we should end communications. She said she was open to discussing things if I felt differently. So I thought on it and wrote up an email explaining how she had hurt me and also my part in having let a few emotions fester such as not addressing her behavior when I was doubled over in pain.  I am going to show the email. There is a name of another author that will be omitted. First I have to speak of another thing, how MeganD1 would tell me in chat how she wished she had endometriosis or something else to better understand others. I did not know at the time that she was asking Juulna for information on my health conditions and playing it off as someone else. This Juulna and I pieced together after the post-stalking fic got put on ao3 by putting together portions of conversation with keywords/phrases/situations. So this alone was a violation to me. Especially with how open I am about my conditions because I want to spread awareness. I’m mentioning this behavior since it is addressed in the email.

She countered by saying she could never put herself in my shoes for being triggered because she is an only child, doesn't have to "wait to buy things when they're on sale" (due to my medical conditions, I live with my parents and can't hold a job). Threw my family dynamics at me. Then started to go through how she was bullied since a young age. And it isn't like I didn't empathize. I thanked her for being honest with me. I’m going to show a small portion here that does not include her personal information or anything like that.

So a disclaimer that the only people I have directly told I cannot continue reading their fic are friends with whom I chat with off of ao3 and largely due to them asking me what I think of the latest chapter. Otherwise I wouldn’t say a thing. They, likewise, have done the same with me. I thought it was so we could respect boundaries/triggers and support one another with other fics we could read. Cheering them on with those we can’t. I have worked on this since everything happened. I’m not perfect. Back to the issue...

After this email and taking time to digest it, I restated my position that we were parting ways.

Not long later I went onto the Kylo/Reader page and a summary of a new fic caught my eye. That was my hometown. That was not a Star Wars planet being named. Those tags were all my triggers and some of them were things she had openly bashed to my face. I had another panic attack, this one where I called up Juulna to talk in with voice. She couldn’t even understand me.Nor could my mother, who had heard me from downstairs and came up to check on me. I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop feeling so violated and like the biggest fucking idiot for ever trusting her. I opened the fic because I was in doubt. But it was there. Details that others wouldn’t catch but that I did. She has since deleted the fic and even admitted that she did it to spite me. But this was the fic that changed so much. That made it to where I could not go onto the Kylo/Reader page for years.

This was the fic that prompted me to make a note on instagram a few times bashing people who romanticize rape and other triggering content. Where I stated if someone read those fics they were disgusting and I didn’t want them near me. So can I understand Mrs. Z being harsh? I fucking can, but it does not make it right just like my notes were not right and I deleted them. I reached out to a few people and apologized for them too.

This is the fic where when @kylosbrickhousebody​ mentioned I inspired them with Three Blind Tooke to write Mercurial...this is the fic that made me think it was a sick joke that they mentioned me. Why I thought it was malicious. I hadn’t known her, and I did apologize to her for my accusations. She understood where I was coming from when I told her why I thought that. Understood but equally held me accountable for my reaction. That I lashed out instead of coming to her. Because, at the end of the day, I AM accountable for MY actions. Even if we can empathize with them, it does NOT make them right.

I’ve been asked why I didn’t report the fic by MeganD1 to ao3. I was fucking terrified. I was scared to admit that this was me, that that was my home. I was scared they wouldn’t believe me. I was dealing with my sexual assault, dealing with the fact that I was in denial over it in part because I’d been told to “get over it”. Dealing with the colitis and an impending hysterectomy. My Grammy’s recently diagnosed breast cancer. I was so broken down with hurt and fear. I just watched the comments and kudos roll in for a fic that violated me to the core. I let the resentment build. And how was that fair to any of the individuals who would have avoided it if they had known what the fuck it was about?

While she was updating the fic, MeganD1 was also cyberstalking me on instagram, possibly tumblr as well. I privated my personal account from her. My fandom account I knew she was stalking with hers because she accidentally liked then unliked things. She had multiple accounts. Then she would view my story posts. I am guilty of checking on her fandom account once or twice, and she had made vague references to me in her captions. I deleted that fandom account. Made a new one. Followed my favorite Lucasfilm artist. Suddenly she was commenting on his posts. Talking about how much fun she had meeting him at a convention. My fucking dream that she stole with an artist she didn’t care about until I had mentioned him. I’ve never been able to go onto his page since. She found me though. Found that new account...so after months of not being stalked it started up. I deleted that fandom account. I stopped participating much at all.

The point is that throughout all of this, I was still and am still accountable for my own actions, for how I respond to others. I still get hate comments on fics. Do i want to lash out? Yeah. But I don’t. Sometimes I can take that step back and just ignore it. Other times I reach out to a friend for advice. Because no matter what, no matter just how bad things are, there are behaviors that are absolutely inexcusable. It doesn’t matter how hurt or broken we are. Saying something that hurts and possibly breaks someone else doesn’t fix anything. It creates more chaos. And I know that I hurt some readers I no longer interact with. Some who didn’t and don’t know any of this behind the scenes stuff. My hurt, however, does not justify hurting them.

So with the bravery of @wayward-rose​ and @callmehopeless​ and so many others, and with those who reached out and asked to hear what happened to me... I’m answering what happened to the best of my ability. While also, I hope, showing that those who empathize with Mrs. Z, it��s not bad to work to understand her hurt at times when she receives shit in her inbox. But that cannot and should not ever justify her hurting others. Especially when she then sits back and is PROUD of doing that.

[mayday-phanade]

ARAMAKI YOSHIHIKO 08/08/18 BLOG POST TRANSLATION - Looking Back on Tousute: Hiden Yui no Me no Hototogisu

VERY VERY ROUGH TL ;; MASSIVE SPOILERS AHEAD!

so many typos (?) and i took liberties with most… anyway we got a very relatable boy right here… the best mknb fic ive ever had the pleasure of reading.. from the man himself. we don’t deserve him.

Read under the cut! 

Tousute Hiden ended 10 days ago.

How is everyone doing?

I am currently doing Sengoku Night Blood’s rehearsals

And in other days I do a lot of other work too.

Two months

No, when you add the practice time

I did Tousute for three months

A few days after the final performance,

Somehow, there’s a suffocating, wrong, and murky feeling

I did the Nico Nico broadcast,

I was able to share even just a little of my own thoughts to everyone

That calmed [the wrong feelings] down.

Because Senbura Live has ended,

I thought I should write a looking-back blog post.

I have so many feelings over Tousute

So this might become a bit incoherent but,

Please pardon me.

And it will probably be long.

When you have the time, I would be happy if you could read it.

Then–

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

Stage play Touken Ranbu Hiden Yui no Me no Hototogisu

Tousute Kyouden was two years ago.

From then

Kyouden Saien (replay)

Giden

Gaiden

Jyoden

Hiden

I have performed in them all.

I have always worked in all of the Tousute’s up until now Because I was allowed to appear.

Hiden is my 6th work [in the series].

If you count all of the performances together, a total of 178.

For a really long time, I have been in Tousute

It’s a really great honor.

By the time of Kyouden’s premiere

I have been decided to appear as Yamanbagiri Kunihiro

From there,

Mikazuki and Yamanbagiri’s story begun.

Hiroki-kun and I,

Since the rehearsals for Saien

This Tousute’s story, what kind of concept would it be

From Suemitsu-san I was allowed to hear just a little bit.

Eventually, Mikazuki and Yamanbagiri will fight.

When I heard that

“I want to do that scene already!!

But before I could do that scene, I had to do so much more first

First, I had to look ahead.

But I want to do it already!“

I had those fluttering thoughts.

I didn’t think that the ending

would turn out to be like that.

I was played. (or literally: he got me there.)

I was really surprised.

When I heard that Yamanbagiri would fight Mikazuki,

That Yamanbagiri would surpass Mikazuki,

Maybe it was a story that would show his growth

Is what I thought!

To think that he would lose.

And with a farewell, at that!!

Suemitsu-san really played [me] there.

If this ending has been planned from the very beginning of Tousute’s story,

I would like to take a look in Suemitsu-san’s head.

Just what is going on in there?

I had those thoughts while I was in rehearsals,

The real thing

The first performance in Meijiza Theater

From the stage where we practiced,

It’s a play that really exhausts your energy Is what I thought but

The amount of passion the audience has shown Further exceeded my expectations.

The people who saw it too, In such a fast pace,

Surprised,

then saddened,

I wonder if you were all tired after the performances?

I think that would be a given if you were to see something like Hiden

The citadel was attacked. Mikazuki cut Shokudaikiri down.

Our Master made an appearance.

Hasebe and Fudou came back

Mikazuki left the citadel

And lastly, Mikazuki and Yamanbagiri fought And it ends there.

I’m sure it was a story that no one saw coming.

A painful story.

Every after performance, I felt varying levels of tiredness.

One of the reasons why I felt absolutely knackered

Was because of the scene with Mikazuki.

The story’s ending,

The scene of parting with Mikazuki

I didn’t want to cry but my tears came out anyway.

Before me,

When I see the Mikazuki that is disappearing

A lot of memories will come up to me

No matter what, my tears will come up.

There were performances where I silently cried,

and performances where I was wailing and sobbing

I entrusted all of my emotions to that single moment.

A play.

No,

it was no longer just a play anymore.

I was really mourning.

In the first performance(s),

I was merely sad to be fighting Mikazuki,

But after repeatedly performing,

“I will definitely save you.”

Is what I was thinking,

while fighting and crying with my heart out.

I fought with those feelings,

Losing was saddening,

I was frustrated with my weak self

And after I bid farewell to Mikazuki,

It was also hard to part there*

I always cried in that place.

But I wasn’t allowed to cry,

so I cried backstage**

There,

The Touken Danshi and the staff will greet me,

They will pat my back and say,

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Although there was only Mikazuki, Yamanbagiri, and Kogarasumaru on stage,

We fought together in every performance,

And got better in every performance.

But you know,

I myself was waiting for Yamanbagiri’s awakened form.

Thank god…

When will Manba-chan awaken…

Not yet? Not yet? I was waiting impatiently.

It was in the end of all ends, huh.

And now is different from the past

Awakened in slow motion

I was really happy to be able to awaken in such a strong and impactful highlight

And,

To be honest, I seriously pulled up my muscles

Even in the scenes where I was normally moving,

Slowly, in the slow-motion, I used my muscles in using the sword

But during those times the slow-motion really shines through

That slow motion with awakened form,

I personally loved it.

And to the people who waited for Manba-chan’s awakened form too, I’ll be happy if you are satisfied.

With that Manba-chan who’s awakened, I won against Mikazuki.

A promise with Yamanbagiri,

Mikazuki in another loop of time.

Mikazuki Munechika who is trapped in the loop,

Just how many times have you repeated the same thing?

The same with the number of our performances?

No,

Even more?

This is only my thinking but,

Since the very first time,

Mikazuki himself is trying to change his fate and,

He might have resisted and struggled with different ones.

But

Whatever he does

No matter how much he struggles

It all seems to end the same way.

In the end, he has to become enemy to the Touken Danshi

But there is one hope found somewhere in that repeating loop

The sun that illuminates the moon.

Mikazuki said so in the performances,

susuketa taiyou. (“You’re quite the sooty sun.”)

I wonder if that was referring to Manba-chan.

That’s why in Kyouden

He tutored Manba-chan in that short time.

Inside the endless loop,

Over and over, making mistakes, amidst trials and errors

He guided Manba-chan.

To a one-on-one talk with Manba-chan, and a last farewell

Time and time again, over and over, he called for Manba-chan

He wished for a ray of sunlight.

That was probably what Mikazuki was thinking

While he suffered.

However.

The long number of performances has passed

And in the final performance,

Yamanbagiri managed to win against Mikazuki.

A divergence from the initial endings

This place too shows that Suemitsu-san is amazing.

Only,

In that final performance’s fighting scene,

I don’t remember much.

The fighting scene which was a one-off sword fight.

I wanted to show off carefully in the real thing.

But in that moment,

I lost myself in the feeling of my victory

When I came to notice, Mikazuki has already withdrawn his sword.

Together since the rehearsals

No, together since Kyouden

With Hiroki-kun, who I crossed swords with for several years

It may just be my one-sided belief

With one another,

I’ve learned to understand my partner’s breathing patterns too,

Because it was with Hiroki-kun who I’ve been through so much with,

From that, the final performance’s fighting scene was born.

That’s what I think.

I want to watch it in DVD soon.

That fighting scene.

The farewell with Mikazuki.

Mikazuki’s unbelievable fate.

The Manba-chan who has carried this burden.

Even Mikazuki is looking to the future.

Looking forward to that someday when Yamanbagiri can once again be reunited with Mikazuki.

Walking together towards Tousute’s citadel

For sure, someday.

To laugh together again with Mikazuki

For the day when that will arrive,

I’m wishing for it.

Truthfully,

For the time that the sun can illuminate the moon.

For the time that his existence can become a guiding light.

Yamanbagiri can smile then.

Will that day come, I wonder?

To appear in this production,

I,

On a crossroad, decided on my right knee’s ligament’s (ACL) surgery.

After the surgery, to not let my ligament rupture again

I paid utmost attention

I challenged the real thing

Supported by the staff and cast,

All 53 performances.

I was able to finish them all without injury.

But the fight with rehabilitation and weight training is not yet over.

In order to shine even more.

So I can give my fans much bigger dreams

I will devote myself to that.

Uguisumaru.

An elusive and philosophical person***

He loves Ookanehira too much.

Kogarasumaru.

Father.

Thank you for watching over everything.

Ookanehira.

Your upright heart encouraged us everyday.

Tsurumaru.

Day by day, with lies and surprises.

Someday, a moment will come when that will become reliable.

Kasen.

Fellow starter sword.

I’m glad I was able to fight with you in this show for so many times.

Shokudaikiri.

You’re good in cooking.

And good in singing too.

Fudou.

You’ve been kiwame’d.

You’ve gained a mantle.

You’ve grown, huh.

Hasebe.

A fellow comrade.

The Hasebe who has always silently supported Manba-chan and wished for his success.

Thank you.

Honebami.

We didn’t have much scenes together this time but

The scene where Honebami cried was a great scene too.

Daihannya.

Cool.

Really cool.

The figure who watched over Honebami was cool.

Nue.

Hototogisu.

You too, We are both fighting to protect our Masters.

Although we stand on different grounds,

You’re an excellent

Sword.

Mikazuki…

Because of you…****

Awakened Manba-chan.

The state of my repairs. Lol

Filling the trashcan up with ice water

In all the ends of performances,

I’d cool down my leg with this.

It’s very effective!

Then,

Thank you for reading up to this

I apologize for such a long and hasty writing.

The letters I received for these performances,

Presents,

Colored papers.

Thank you so much, everyone

I’ll gladly cherish and treasure all the presents

The letters and colored papers too

I’ll read them all carefully

It always brightens me up when I receive stuff from you guys

That energy

I wish I can return it to everyone

I’ll devote myself [to that] even more and more so,

From here on too

I’m looking forward to your support for Aramaki Yoshihiko.

Lastly.

From Kyouden

to Hiden’s story

Yamanbagiri Kunihiro has grown so much

I myself grew through this Tousute

Alongside Yamanbagiri Kunihiro I’m thinking I want to grow even more as him.

Through This participation in Stage play “Touken Ranbu”

I met Yamanbagiri Kunihiro

I’m really thankful.

The things that I could obtain from here Piece by piece

I’ve received the best and most important things in my life.

Thank you.

Touken Ranbu.

Touken Ranbu.

Someday,

Let’s start again.

Source: (x)

NOTES:

*円環 is literally a circle, or a ring.. but i translated it as The “loop” as implied in the play. 

** literally “the wing of the stage”, but to make the flow better i used “backstage”. the wing is the place where the actors exit from the stage, so like... almost backstage (lol) 

** ハケ not sure what this is meant to mean at all omg… i tried using “back” meaning backstage which would fit but idk man maybe he means entirely something else ;; it means brush as i recall but… was he brushing off his tears? i didnt think this could be used as a verb in that sense tho,, literally means like brush as in paintbrush or hairbrush? Sorry about this line!!

*** Not really sure if I read this right but it’s this 達観した物事の捉え方

**** Not sure how I wanted to translate it but it’s あんたのおかげで。。。if anyone is wondering hehe 

[clementineviolet]

(rachelcmber) god, i'm sorry for being a downer in your ask box, & please feel free to ignore this if it's too much (also u can publish this ask) but like. i really rediscovered my passion for creating with this season again. i've been here since twdg S1 and i can't believe it's ending. like, this year has been very difficult, and this summer especially, w/ depression n everything, & this just felt like such a good thing. hoping the fandom continues thriving after, and i've loved being here ❤ ty

;__________; THIS HAS MADE ME SO EMOTIONAL, NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR HAVING FEELINGS IN MY ASK BOX (THATS WHAT ITS FOR NOW). THANK YOU FOR SHARING AND FOR BEING WITH US THROUGH THIS ROUGH TIME 

I’m also gonna get a bit personal here and just say that I can completely relate with what you said. I literally said when TWDG S4 and TWAU S2 were announced that knowing these 2 projects would be happening made me so set on living to see them be finished. I was in a really bad place last year and I’ve struggled a lot with feelings of inadequacy and fear over what I want to do in the future, but TWDG and Telltale Games have been a constant in my life for 6 years and their games made me want to create things, whether it be fics or gifs or headcanons. I gained so many friends and mutuals and amazing followers from just the first episode of season 4 alone that I really felt so encouraged to start writing again and to start reaching out to fans via Discord and to return to the forums and really interact with people again after being relatively quiet and introverted during s3 and s2. I am so happy that Telltale provided an outlet for both of us and I hope that this fandom continues to create beautiful stuff and continues to be so supportive!

[falloutwritings]

Genuine Happiness

Characters: Yes Man/Seven (OC)

Summary:  After the events of New Vegas, Seven has finally pulled the strings and called in the favors from her adventure through the Mojave to get Yes Man a body. Though she’s happy to give her companion a chance to live a life without being shackled by his strict personality programming, Seven worries if Yes Man will still feel the same about her afterwards--will he still care about her like she cares about him?

Note: This fic was written as a commission for @crownandantler​, and I had a bunch of fun writing Seven, especially since I’ve been eager to see/write more Yes Man content for the fandom. If you’re interested in commissioning me, check out my commissions page!

You wanna support my writing? Buy me a Ko-fi! ☕

There was something to be said about being the queen of New Vegas in all but name. Names, after all, had a certain level of power over those who heard them, used them, and believed in them wholly. It was one of the reasons that Caesar might have been as feared as he was during his conquest of the states to the east--until he was rightfully killed, that is.

Suffice to say, names are powerful, but Seven herself cares little about them. Useless bunches of letters, a hollow mask to hide away the person behind it--actions, after all, mattered more than words and titles. The only exception that Seven had ever made to that belief was ensuring nobody called her anything than what she was: a courier. New Vegas, Freeside, all of the surrounding lands of the sinful city; to them, she was simply ‘The Courier’.

Still, while she didn’t care for the names people called her, Seven couldn’t deny that she had a distinct level of power and influence with New Vegas and all of the factions connected to it. The NCR saw her as a hero, the Families saw her as a savior, and all the others saw her as she had been in the beginning of her time in the Mojave--a courier.

There were plenty of benefits to being so influential. Seven didn’t hide them, didn’t reject them, but took advantage of the resources when she genuinely needed. It was good to have a favor, a trick up the sleeve. After all, nobody could predict what would happen in life, and Seven herself had learned it was good to have friends and resources when things got tough.

But there was one friend, one companion, that she had a debt to--and it was a debt she was keen to pay back.

Helping Yes Man get himself a body, a more humanoid form, was certainly one of those moments of need for Seven as the not-really leader of New Vegas. It was only fair, after all, considering all he had done to help get her where she was, offering companionship and level thoughts when she needed them most in her darkest moments. He was….important to her. Deeply important: Seven wanted to do something worth the happiness he had and still continued to give her.

It took months to get the resources, and months more to have them moved from the east coast all the way to the Mojave, though Seven certainly didn’t lack for caps or favors to call upon in order to get the job done.

Nobody knew where she had procured the technology or the knowledge; even those closest to her had only a vague understanding of some sort of ‘Institute’ and a people called ‘Synths’. That’s all she’d ever let slip, and people knew well enough not to pry her for more information beyond that.

Seven was a good person, but nobody was ready to test the patience and mercy for the woman who freed New Vegas from Mr. House’s grasp and helped defeat Caesar’s Legion.

It took over a week to complete. Nine days of the unknown, each one bringing forth new layers of worry that nipped and gnawed at the back of Seven’s mind. Though she had managed to get the best resources, hire the best doctor, ensure the highest probability of success in the transfer--it was still a worry she couldn’t simply set aside and forget about.

The Lucky 38, after all, was just too quiet without Yes Man’s voice.

When Seven finally got to see him, she almost couldn’t believe he was the same securitron she’d met all those months ago. He stood before her, this lanky, tall man, clad in a set of loose pants and a shirt--he wore glasses that seemed to slip from their spot on his face every time his head shifted.

But despite it all, he looked at Seven with gentle eyes and a wide, unbroken smile.

“Yes Man?” The name had long since blurred into one word on Seven’s lips as she speaks it, moreso as her eyes glance up at the man, face foreign but smile all too familiar. “Is that….you?”

Nine days. Nine whole days of worry and stress--but seeing him at last, seeing him standing in front of her in a body, a human body, was beyond what Seven thought she was ready to see.

It took a moment for the man to speak, opening his mouth and letting a noise fall out, then hurriedly trying again; it was almost like a child trying to find their voice, say their first words, all of the awkward mouth motions, but from a being with mountains of knowledge and years of experience being anything but a child.

“S….Seven?” The sound was a little rough, but it was his voice. His voice . The woman couldn’t begin to understand the complicated technology behind giving him a voice that sounded exactly as it had before, down to the same tone and energy behind each word. The man blinked his wide, almost owlish eyes, and brightened considerably. “Can you believe this? I’m--I’m alive!”

He took a moment and blinked, raising a finger to tap at his lips, correcting himself before Seven had the moment to come up with a response.

“Well, I was arguably alive before the transfer, but now I’m even more alive!” Yes Man then threw his arms to the air in a simple show of his joy.

The woman before him took a breath, watching him with an expression that balanced precariously between awe and joy--though that only lasted for a few seconds before she hurried forward and threw her arms around Yes Man.

He felt warm . His body was soft, it responded to how she hugged him close and tight. Too tight, as she’d quickly realize by the man’s wheezing.

“Shit, I’m sorry--” Seven said in a hurry, but Yes Man quickly hushed the apology away with a wave of a hand.

“Oh goodness no, you’re fine!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his chest. “It would appear that I will have to get used to things like….breathing. But that’s alright, quite exciting actually! I wonder how long I could hold my breath if I wanted?”

Seven was not ready for him to start tossing around curiosities, especially not when he was still getting used to a very fleshy, very fragile, very mortal body. She thrust forward to grab his hands and attention alike.

“Please don’t try to test something that would get you killed,” She said, squeezing his hands in her own. “The last thing I need is you accidentally suffocating yourself.”

Yes Man nodded in a rare moment of silence, but his eyes never moved from Seven’s face, his attention never wavering from her eyes and joy and the dozen other emotions that were moving about her thoughts. Truth be told, Seven had planned quite exceptionally well for the process in getting to that point, but she hadn’t spared all that many thoughts in what she would do, how she would feel after it was all said and done. There was only so much she could ignore and hide, simply pretend it didn’t exist until she was literally face-to-face with a being--a man now--who had been one of her few supporters as she adventured across the Mojave.

And she felt fear.

It wasn’t a fear for betrayal or anything of that sort, nothing something any normal survivor of the wasteland would care or think about, though Seven was in a very unique situation herself.

Did Yes Man still care about her as he had before?

The question was inherently a bit selfish, despite how much Seven had done her best to ignore and outright reject the wavering fear that clung to the notion. As a securitron, Yes Man had been shackled, restrained to his rigid programming of being helpful.

‘It’s not my fault I can’t say no!’

She could remember how unnerved it sounded coming from him all those months ago, when they had first met one another. How it stung whenever she remembered it, the notion that perhaps the bonding between the two of them over all the time she’d gotten to know Yes Man was simply part of that very same programming--the inability to say no, to reject, to not return the feelings that had blossomed deep in Seven’s chest whenever he greeted her upon entering the Lucky 38.

Whether Yes Man took note of the fear in her eyes or simply that she was lost in thought, Seven wasn’t entirely sure--but she was brought back to current events when she heard his voice ring sweetly in her ears.

“Sev?”

The woman blinked as she focused on the current moment, of the fact she was still clutching his hands (warm, soft) in her own. Yes Man was so tall in his new body, surpassing Seven by at least a few inches, if not half a foot. It wasn’t anything new--his former body towered over here, and she had gotten used to looking up a slight in order to look at his screen while speaking to him.

It was sweet to finally watch Yes Man’s smile widen, see his expression shift from one thing to another--he had yet to learn how to cover them up, though hell would sooner freeze over before Seven cared if Yes Man ever got himself a poker face. She liked seeing him happy.

“I want to test something; is that alright?”

His head tilted slightly to one side in a motion of almost childish curiosity. Seven nodded, only slightly cautious for what Yes Man was eager to test first in his new form. Would it be pain? Hunger? Complex thought processes? The possibilities mounted in the back of her thoughts, with each one a careful notion of how she’d respond.

“I want you to tell me not to kiss you!”

….But that was not one that she had considered. Seven blinked rapidly, taken back by the words despite the fact that was certainly something she’d thought about for a long while--it would have been one hell of a lie to say she hadn’t considered at least once what it would be like to kiss him (especially with a body quite capable of kissing).

“Ex….use me?”

The confusion was merely reactive--his request rang loud and plenty clear a half-second after she opened her mouth.

“I apologize--that was too forward of me wasn’t it?” Yes Man looked sheepish after a breath. “I suppose I--er. Perhaps that wasn’t….right for me to ask. I simply thought it was a perfect opportunity to test if I am still restricted by my hardware issues of my previous body!”

Did he mean that in the sense that he wouldn’t want to kiss her otherwise? It was very hard to tell, pick out the honesty from the man’s flustered words.

“Don’t...kiss me?” Seven finally said in a bumbling breath.

Yes Man huffed, brows furrowing for a moment as he thought it over.

“You mean that only for purposes of this test, right?” He pursed his lips, and Seven thought idly how cute it looked on him. “I ask because I respect your boundaries, and if you are otherwise honestly telling me that you wouldn’t want me to kiss you, I want to make sure that’s distinctly stated between us.”

God, it made her head hurt.

“Fuck,” She groaned, pulled a hand out of Yes Man’s so she could rub it over her eyes and look back at him. “Okay. If you are….able to bypass or….make your own decisions, I would--” Seven took a quick breath so she wouldn’t stumble over herself. “--I would love for you to kiss me right now. But--But don’t kiss me. Don’t even think about kissing me. You are not allowed to kiss me at all and--”

But then he kissed her. Sweetly, quickly, without a breath of hesitation from the moment that he heard she genuinely wanted him to.

The kiss itself was sloppy, obviously due to the fact that Yes Man was still learning how to use his mouth for speaking, let alone anything else. But what the kiss lacked in tact and experience it sure as hell made up for in passion. Seven could feel Yes Man’s hands leaving hers, but moving up to touch her face, cup her cheeks while his thumbs swept over her skin.

Though it felt like the kiss lasted for centuries, it was only a few heartbeats later that the man gently pulled his face back, though just enough that he could speak clearly.

“....I’ve been….wondering what that would feel like,” he murmured. “To kiss you, I mean.”

“Is it everything you dreamed it’d be, loverbot?” Seven said with a chuckle, trying desperately to ignore the way her heart hammered away against the inside of her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so light on her feet, so genuinely happy about much of anything.

Not when she fought in the second battle for Hoover Dam, not when she killed Caesar with Boone, not even when she saw the lights of Freeside flickering to life after routing the power from Helios One. For all that she had accomplished in her life, Seven could not compare the feeling of warmth and joy that rushed through her veins.

Yes Man cleared his throat. His cheeks were warm and red, his eyes barely able to meet Seven’s own as he tried to sputter out some semblance of a come-on.

“So uh, I think this is the moment that I’m supposed to say that I like you? A lot. A whole lot. No programming making me say that either! I--I want to protect you, Seven.”

And so the woman felt a smile on her face, wide to the point it almost hurt, as she looked at him. She reached her hands up to cup Yes Man’s face in kind and pressed her lips to his in a soft, slower kiss, the gesture wordless but rife with meaning of love and sweet, genuine happiness.

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Stutter

Word Count: 1,530

Summary: They’ve both struggled to connect with people for a majority of their lives, but when it comes to each other, it’s the most natural thing in the world.

*Author’s Note*: Another sweet confession fic for @bad-blue-moon-rising! I’ll never stop loving getting to write these kinds of scenarios T^T I hope you enjoy!

It’d been a rough week, but at least they’d managed to survive. That was a good sign in and of itself, the fact that they were still alive and relatively unscathed. Well, physically they were doing alright. Mentally, it was going to take months, years, maybe even a lifetime for everyone to process and accept the experiences they’d shared over the past few days. How does one go about understanding and making peace with the nightmare of facing aliens who’ve come to use Earth as a hunting ground? Alexys didn’t know, and none of the men seemed to have any idea of where to start, either.

The timid young woman had something else to come to terms with alongside all of that, something that was equally confusing and frustrating and scary; sometimes it felt even worse. Such a mindset may not have made sense to others, but she knew her way of thinking wasn’t always sensible. Mysteries of the universe and mysteries of the heart were equally complex, cryptic, and elusive in her eyes.

Part of her wished she could dedicate all of her time and attention to such a problem, but part of her was also relieved she didn’t have to. Sometimes her thoughts were just as overbearing and intense as the fear of knowing her life was on the line. Her feelings were in jeopardy, too, although she knew not in any literal sense. When facing the alien threat, she and the men understood that they could lose their lives at any moment; all it would take was one mistake. But when it came to confronting her budding affections, she also felt like she couldn’t make any mistakes, that one wrong move would leave her with a shattered heart.

Luckily, she wasn’t alone in her internal struggle. The downside was that she wasn’t exactly aware of this fact, and the person who was sharing her struggle was stalemated with the same concerns about her. It had been an interesting development, but they’d been inexplicably drawn to one another from the moment they’d been introduced.

That wasn’t such a bad thing, since the solace they’d been able to find in each other had undoubtedly helped them make it through this trying time. It was also obvious to those around them that something inexplicably existed between them, binding them together, linking both their minds and their hearts. It was invisible, but it was powerful, and that only made the prospect of facing the truth of their feelings more terrifying. But if things continued the way they were now, inevitably there’d come a time when everything spiraled out of control.

That was the conclusion Baxley came to, and it was starting to drive him up the wall. He was already so conflicted, so on edge, so troubled by his past and his own insecurities that he’d talked himself out of admitting how he felt more than once. Each time he did it just made him feel worse, turning into a session where he’d berate and demean the cowardice that he couldn’t seem to overcome no matter how hard he tried. It was just like the many ticks and phrases he had little to no influence on, that would take over him in times of both stress and excitement as if to remind him and those around him just how broken he was.

Alexys had never seen him that way, though, and she understood exactly what it was like. Being plagued by her own form of mental disparity, she struggled to manage the parts of life that many people found completely natural. Being stuck in large crowds, interacting with a lot of people at once, keeping a grip on her emotions despite the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that could be stirred up in one’s mind in such settings…she’d couldn’t remember the last time she’d known the luxury of such ease and control, but Baxley had never belittled her for any of that.

On the contrary, they seemed to be each other’s biggest supporters. When Alexys was feeling anxious, overwhelmed by her thoughts or reactions or the sensation of suffocating in both her body and mind, Baxley was there for her. The first time he’d done it out of reflex, having recognized the signs that something was wrong, and that she needed some form of comfort. He still needed that kind of reassurance, too, but he hated to ask for it. He hated that he needed it at all. He knew it made him weak, made him useless…that’d been proven to him enough times throughout his life.

But when he was with Alexys, he never felt that way. When he blurted something out or started shaking due to stress, she’d simply give him a warm smile, hold his hand, or even pull him into a comforting embrace. She did it all without having to be asked, and she never had to ask him for that kind of support, either. It was so natural, so calming, so pleasant to share each other’s company; they’d formed an orbit around one another without even realizing such sentiments were mutual.

The two were currently taking the afternoon to recover at Emily’s house. They’d been granted temporary leave, a day off to regroup and recharge while their strategists outlined a new plan of action. It’d been a long, wild week, and they were both relieved to be able to walk around a normal house, eat normal food, and just be normal for at least a few hours before they were forced to leave it all behind again.

Baxley had been showing signs of anxiety all afternoon. Alexys figured it was to be expected; she was worried herself, unsure if she’d ever be able to completely shake the anxieties that’d been plaguing her ever since she got wrapped up in this mess. Spending time around one another seemed to help a little, but Alexys still noticed when Baxley hid his unmistakably shaky hands in his pockets, or let more expletives slip than usual for the kind of conversations they had.

“Here you go,” Alexys offered as she sat next to him on the couch, passing him a fresh, warm cup of tea. They’d determined that said beverage helped them relax even during the tensest of times, but it didn’t seem to help them shake the uneasy feeling lingering in the air around them now.

“Thank you…” Baxley took the cup carefully, setting it down before any could spill out as a result of his trembling. He cursed under his breath, this time on purpose, and reminded himself that this was the perfect time to bite the bullet. They could settle this now, and whatever the fall out was, they’d be back to their hazardous work tomorrow. They could focus on that disaster and forget all about whatever catastrophe took place today, if that was how things ended up playing out.

“Alexys…thank you,” he said it again, and the girl looked up, opening her mouth to ask him what he was referring to. He continued before she had the chance. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. It may not seem significant to you, but…I’ve been living with this condition my whole life. And I’ve suffered plenty of consequences for it. But those consequences seem so small when I’m with you.”

His hands were trembling even more severely now, and he spit out another expletive, taking a breath to try and pull himself together enough to deliver his confession coherently. “I feel better when I’m with you. In every way. It’s like everything feels lighter and looks brighter when you’re around. I don’t know how we all got wrapped up in this godforsaken shitshow, but meeting you was worth it.”

Alexys was frozen, teacup still pressed to her lips as she listened to his words in stunned silence. “I love you, Alexys. I really love you, and not just because you’ve done a lot for me. I mean, I’m grateful for that, but I’ve always felt connected to you, ever since the day we met. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but just sitting beside you that first day…I wanted to protect you, I just wanted to be near you. And I’ve felt that way ever since—”

His eyes became blurry with tears, and he cursed again. Letting himself fall apart over something like this, letting his worries get the best of him…how stupid. But Alexys didn’t think it was. Snapping out of her astonished daze just enough that she could move, she set her teacup down and scooted against him. He glanced at her and she wiped his eyes, waiting for them to close due before she kissed him. It was gentle, and wonderful, and it made them both feel whole. Alexys caressed his cheeks and rested her forehead against his, happy tears rolling down her own cheeks as she did so.

“Bax…” she murmured, voice cracking a bit. “I want you to know that I love you. I really love you, too. And I’ll never stop loving you, all of you, because I know you’re perfect just the way you are.”

[rey-skywalkin-away]

Kanera Fix-It Fic I was Talking About

Y’all thought I was joking when I said I had 3000 words of a fic all lined up to fix this, right? GUESS AGAIN. 4117 WORDS. I had to delete 90% of my original 3000 words and re-write it just now to conform to what happened in the midseason premiere, and it took me four hours, but I did it! Anyway, I put myself into the queue to make an archiveofourown account, but that’ll take a month to activate, so until then, I’ll just post this chapter-by-chapter on here. I got part 1 done tonight, and it might be a few days before chapter 2: I have college life and work that’s going to be occupying my time this week. But I’m not abandoning this. I am FUELED BY PAIN. 

@secrettunnelyeah you’ve been losing your shit with me, so I hope this helps. @fluffyapplecat thanks for all your support! @commoner64 because you said “please””.  @blueboxdrifter you expressed support for this a few weeks ago, so here you go! @brickhawk you gotta help read this shit before the next chapter. I can’t post again without a second opinion.

Um, I hope you all enjoy.

Fair warning to everyone else: this is my first time posting any kind of story online, and it’s as rough as any story can be. I normally spend time editing my chapters, as any writer should, but I was just hammering it out as fast as I could to a) get it done before I fell asleep and b) to give you all a little hope after this agonizing premiere. So I’m sorry if it’s full of errors that I’m too tired to edit right now, and that the format under the cut is kind of wonky. I’m not entirely happy with the content, either–it’s kind of melodramatic and rushed for my taste, but I’m running off pure emotion right now. Hopefully I’ll find time to edit it before I before I post it on Archive. The chapter and some explanations for various things are down below. Happy readings, and everyone be okay out there!

*Writer’s Notes*

First off, I had literally 20 ideas for how Kanan would survive this premiere, and I had “explosion” down for two of them. Here, he survives by basically copying Ahsoka during her fight with the Inquisitors and Force-clapping backwards into Hera’s arms. He gets burned up and spends 3 weeks recovering in a bacta tank. No one’s going into much detail about it in the story, because they don’t want to re-imagine it all over again, but that’s what I was envisioning happening.

Second, Kanan is still blind: him getting to see Hera before he died was painful and sweet, but I honestly felt he had a lot of growth because of his injury, and it needed to stay. (And disability representation is important).

Third, I can’t start calling him “Caleb Dume”, guys, I’m sorry! I’ve spent four years calling him Kanan, and I can’t get into the habit of calling him Caleb.

Fourth, his beard and ponytail are coming back.

Fifth, I have a very large, multi-fandom, decades-long (in-universe) fanfiction world that I’m always playing with and developing to further my own writing prowess, character development, and storytelling skills. I’m going to make references to that multi-fandom work in this story (not a lot, but if there are moments where you’re thinking “where did that come from? I don’t remember that in the show or comics”, well, it might be from the multi-fandom). I’m including this story in my collection of works, and I don’t feel like editing it all over again just to include references to it. So you should all be able to follow what’s going on, but there might be a few odd moments. 

————————————–

Chapter 1

         Hera checked her calendar again, counting down days and weeks and making notes as she went. Nine weeks ago…captured. Eight-and-a-half weeks ago…rescued. Five weeks ago, we…and four weeks ago…well, I’m now very late. I should’ve started another cycle by now. And on a regular diet for over eight weeks, with additional nutritional supplements to get back to full strength after confinement. And we’re hardier than humans; we don’t get so out of sync after missing a few meals and getting a few electric shocks. So that shouldn’t explain why I’m late. She then checked her star charts for any habitable systems nearby, and winced when there weren’t any. Should I divert our flight path to go to the nearest star system just to buy a test? No, we’re fine on other supplies, and everyone will ask questions as to why I think we need to make a stop. She would’ve killed for a certified medical droid onboard her ship in that moment, but she was out of luck. They’d left the medical system on that nameless little asteroid five weeks ago now, and they were back to their own devices out in space. Great. Just great. Gonna have to go on instinct this time. And she wasn’t liking what she was coming up with.

           Hera opened her mouth to say the word out loud, but couldn’t do it. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You’re four weeks late, and your idiot self didn’t want to think about protection after you were saved by Kanan and the others. And after what nearly happened to Kanan…

           After her rescue, after telling Kanan that she loved him, after he nearly died and had to spend three weeks in a bacta tank, the minute he’d showered off and went to his own bunk to be alone, she’d slipped into his room and reiterated her love for him. Free of drugs and pain, she’d finally broken down for once in her karking life and loved him, not as a general, or a pilot, or a freedom fighter. Just him and her, together, as it should always be. To remind herself that he’d been blasted back into her arms instead of dying in the fuel explosion, that he’d survived three flatlines before they could find him a bacta tank. That he’d eventually woken up and immediately began to listen for the sound of her voice. And afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms, she’d whispered that, now that his beard had grown back and his hair was beginning to return, he’d better keep it that way. Kanan had laughed, but they’d clutched each other in the semidarkess and just listened to each other breathe. No, of course you weren’t thinking clearly. He needed you, and you needed him. But look what came of it.

           Hera rubbed the corners of her eyes and tried to think past the rising panic in her gut. What am I going to do about this? Pills? A clinic visit? Which is cheapest? What’s safest and gets me back into the pilot’s seat without anyone noticing something was wrong? She thought back to the pamphlets and medical texts she’d memorized when she’d left Ryloth to strike out on her own in the galaxy. Twi’leks were always targeted anywhere one went in the galaxy, and she’d prepared herself for what to do if she was attacked and how to handle any possible outcome. But thinking about the next few steps right now made Hera’s heart hurt. A few years ago, this would’ve been an easy decision for her. Three months ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated. Today…

           Hera knew why she was conflicted. Will there ever be a tomorrow? We got lucky this time—will I be next? Or will the Force finally decide to call Kanan back to wherever it is Jedi go when they die? Will there ever be a second chance for us to conceive? She hadn’t given much thought to the end of the war, to her future, but sitting next to Kanan’s bacta tank and listening to his pulse monitor for several hours a day had broken something inside her, and she’d begun to think. A mild, deserted little planet. Not dry and harsh like Ryloth. Someplace cool and wet and green. A little home, with rooms for the rest of the family. Sabine can paint the family room with murals of our adventures. Maybe little tookas frolicking on the baby’s nursery walls. Zeb can carve us furniture with all the designs of Lasat that he’s lost. Whatever he can remember. Ezra…he can have a real bed, not a bunk. And a home-cooked meal that didn’t come out of a ration pack. When was the last time he had one of those? Chopper can have a nice oil bath and shut down without worrying that we’ll wake him up for an emergency. And our baby will run in the grass and will never know war, and…

           Hera swallowed back tears and controlled her emotions. You’re dreaming again, Hera Syndulla. It’s one thing to admit your feelings for Kanan and finally be open in your relationship, and it’s another thing to abandon the rest of the galaxy to pursue your selfish dream. How many people want the same dream as you? How many people have the skills and resources to make that dream come true for everyone else that can’t help themselves? Your little fantasy will have to wait. Get rid of this and get back to work.

           Her heart broke as she made up her mind, and a sudden fatigue overcame her. Raw emotion? Something related to the pregnancy? She knew nothing about pregnancy, come to think of it. Or how to be a mother. What makes you think you have time to learn? Especially now? You aren’t ready for this. You know what you have to do.

           Hera wearily glanced at her chrono. A few hours until your shift. When I’m back in the pilot’s seat, I can tell the others I’ve got nerve damage from torture, and that I need to see a specialist somewhere. Maybe I could say we all deserve a treat after what we’ve all been through. She shuffled to her dresser and opened the secret panel on the side to check how many credits she had left in her emergency fund. Enough for the procedure and a little left over for the others. This could work. Damn it. This’ll have to do. There will be other opportunities, Hera. Just have hope.

           But it could wait. The fatigue was seeping throughout her body, fogging up her mind and turning her limbs to jelly. A few hours to nap, and then it’ll be time to call everyone. In twenty-four hours, this will all be over. A few tears blurred her eyes, and she roughly wiped them away. Either get out all the sorrow now, or sleep and cry afterwards. Hera chose the latter, and she barely made it to her bunk before she collapsed on top of the covers and sank into a deep, misery-filled slumber.

———————————-

           It only felt like a few minutes had passed before Hera was startled out of her uneasy sleep. “Who is it?” She rasped. She groggily sat up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

           “Hera? It’s me.” Hera shivered at the sound of his voice. Every word that he spoke seemed like a precious gift after what nearly happened. But now, after what she’d finally admitted to herself, he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Or, maybe she needed him most. Can he feel it? In the Force? Does he already know? Does he know what I’m planning to do?

           “Kanan.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t keep going.

           “Can I come in? Please?”

           Hera hesitated. Either you don’t tell him now, and you don’t involve him at all, or he knows what you’re planning to do. Could she do it alone? Without him? She didn’t know if it would be more painful to involve him, or to never let him know what could have been.

           But Hera had made a commitment to Kanan when she’d told him she loved him, and there was no backing out of that commitment now, no matter how she’d chosen to handle her pregnancy. “Come in,” she whispered.

           Kanan was framed in the light of the hall for only a second before he shut the door and crossed the distance to her bunk. He sat down next to her, his hands automatically wrapping around her shoulders; he froze when his hands met the rough fabric of her blanket. “Hera? What’s going on? Are you ill?”

           Not in the way that you’re thinking, but yes. “What makes you say that?”

           “Well, I…” He hesitated. “I know it’s getting pretty old for me to say it, but I feel a…disturbance in the Force. Around you.”

           Hera tensed up. Oh karabast. He knows. “Tell me what you feel.” In their first years together on the Ghost, if they had time to rest, they’d park the ship in the first meadow they could find. Stretched out on the hull, in the light of the stars above, Kanan would describe the world to her as he felt it in the Force. A web connecting all living things, from the deadly dance of predator and prey in the grasses below them, the cries of the plants as they cried out for rain, jostled to and fro by the silent paws of some canid beast, to the needy, incessant hunger of newborn chicks in the trees at the edge of the meadow…

           This time, she couldn’t control her tears, and Kanan’s fingers were immediately brushing them away from the corners of her eyes as soon as she sucked in a strangled breath of air. “I feel…you’re so unhappy. You’re full of…pain, and despair. Hera, I don’t understand. Why do you feel like you’re losing something?”

           He doesn’t know. Oh stars, if there was only another way…But there wasn’t. She gently took one of his hands away from her face and held it in her own. “You can’t understand because you’re looking in the wrong place.”

           Kanan cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

           “You’re looking into my mind…” She held his hand up, paused, and pressed his fingers against the still-flat skin of her lower torso. “Try feeling here, and you’ll know why I’m so conflicted.”

           Hera wasn’t sure if he felt something in the Force or if he immediately understood her implication. “Hera–!”

           “Only five weeks,” she whispered. “I wasn’t assaulted in prison, so I definitely know it’s yours. And I know the date of conception. But only five weeks. Not that far along, really…” She trailed off as she noticed Kanan’s face shutting down, closing off all emotion. Oh no. She waited a few moments to allow him to process the news, to say something, anything, but he didn’t. “Kanan? Luv? Tell me—what’s going through your head right now?”

           He coughed. “Do you have any water?”

           “I—uh—yes. There’s a pitcher and some cups on the dresser. To the left of my ‘fresher.” He nearly banged his head on the top of the bunk as he stood up and held out his hand to feel his way along. “No, your left.”

           He bumped against the edge of the dresser and winced. “Do you want any?”

           This was definitely not the reaction she was expecting. “…sure. I guess.”

           Kanan poured two cups of water, spilling what seemed like half the jug before he was done. Hera took the cup from him so he could have a free hand to feel his way back to her side without hurting himself further. She sipped her water while he chugged his straight down and tossed the cup aside. “Kanan. Please. Talk to me.”

           He sighed. “I don’t…I don’t know where to begin.”

           “I don’t either. But we have to start somewhere.”

           “Well then…I suppose…did you ever want to be a mother?”

           Hera sat down her cup and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that I hadn’t given much thought about my future after the war. But I started thinking about it when you nearly died.”

           Kanan’s breath came in a soft, weak gasp, and he pulled Hera into his arms. She melted into his embrace and felt his trembling. At least he doesn’t hate me. And he knows me well enough to know what my feelings are on this. Somehow, she allowed herself to speak about her dream life after the war: their quiet home together, the rooms for the rest of the family, their child playing in the yard outside. She felt his tears begin to run down his cheeks and drip on top of her lekku, and she knew that he could feel her sorrow in the Force.

           “You know,” he said slowly. “I hadn’t thought much about kids, either. But I started thinking about them more when we found the others. Especially Ezra. We’re like their parents already, aren’t we?”

           Hera chuckled, in spite of her pain. “We definitely are.”

           “And I started to think…it wouldn’t be so bad, to do it all over again. But with a baby of our own…”

           Hera closed her eyes and pressed herself against his chest. “But…?”

           Kanan swallowed; she could feel the effort it took him. “But I know you. And whatever you choose to do, no matter my feelings…I’ll support your decision. You’re the pregnant one, after all. You’re the one at risk. Its—it’s up to you.”

           “What are your feelings, Kanan?”

           “They don’t matter.”

           Hera sat back and cupped his face in her hands. “Yes, they do. I love you Kanan, and I wouldn’t have told you about this if I didn’t want to involve you, no matter what. So please, tell me your honest, true feelings.”

           “Honestly…I’d love nothing more than to have a baby with you. I don’t know when we’d get another chance, with the war…”

           Hera sobbed, half with relief and love, half with pain. “This damn war. It poisons everything it touches, including us. Our futures…”

           Kanan started to cry again. “I know you. And I know what you want to do. I know it already.”

           “I want this baby, too, but I don’t know how we’d make time. We can’t have a baby here, on the Ghost. It would be cruel just to bring it into the world and have it blow up with us in battle. Or die from some sickness.” Everyone knew babies didn’t thrive in prolonged periods in space. “And we can’t send it to my father; you know how dangerous it is on Ryloth.” She’d told him about her brother before, and he nodded. She started to cry again, and they held each other for long, painful minutes. Stang, I don’t want to do this. But I have to. What other choice do I have? I can’t leave the war. Not while others suffer. But at least I won’t have to do this alone.

           But, for some reason, she felt tension in Kanan’s arms. Hera pulled back again. “What is it?” Why do you look so…guilty?

           “We could leave the Rebellion and raise the baby together. Or get an abortion.” Hera made a sound of assent in the back of her throat. “Or…there’s another option.”

           “What are you talking about?”

           “What if I were to leave the Rebellion, maybe with Ezra, and the two of us raise the baby while you and the others keep fighting?”

           Hera gasped. “Leave? Are you serious?” Was he so upset about what happened at the fuel depot that he wants to run away?

           “I don’t know how to put this into words. When I was in the bacta tank, in the coma, I remembered something. Something from…right after Master Billaba died. I’d forgotten it until I was at the edge of death. I don’t remember what happened, but… I woke up with the sense that I was supposed to die at the fuel depot.” He choked on the last few words, and Hera couldn’t have spoken if she tried. “And I feel that, whatever happened in that blank in my memory as I was running away from her body, it saved me. Not…oh karabast, I don’t know how to explain it. But whatever it was, it gave me a feeling: that I needed to leave the conflict, or else I wouldn’t get a second chance to live. For some reason, Ezra’s been getting a weird feeling, too. Not quite the same as me, I don’t think, but he’s been hinting that we need to leave and do more Jedi work away from the rest of the group. Maybe something similar happened to him when he was younger. I don’t know. I haven’t been able to ask. But…”

           Hera stood up. “After everything that happened, you were just going to leave us?” Leave me? She couldn’t fault him for listening to his visions, but it stung, especially after she’d finally opened up and bared her soul to him for the first time in years. I give you my love and you leave. “Whatever happened to being careful about listening your visions? Or was that all just a bunch of Jedi nonsense you were feeding to Ezra? Hmm?”

           “Absolutely not. This feels completely different from a Force vision. Like…someone physically told me these things and blocked my memory. Not the Force. Not some cosmic energy. A person.”

           “So you’re going to run away because of some half-remembered whispers?”

           He felt for her hand and pulled her back onto the bunk. “Hera Syndulla, I love you. I love you more than I ever knew I was capable of loving someone. And I wouldn’t leave you and the others unless I was absolutely certain that this vision was something I needed to listen to. It’s going to kill me inside to do it, but I believe it’s what must be done if we want to survive. What if there are other Inquisitors out there? And what if Vader decides to end us once and for all, especially with what happened at the fuel depot? I’m stronger now, Ezra and I both are, but we couldn’t defeat him. And I couldn’t let the rest of you be put in jeopardy because you’ve got two Force-users leaving a trail for a Sith Lord to follow.”

           Hera squeezed his hand. Just a bit. “So…you’d leave? And raise the baby? Are you sure you could do it? With your blindness?”

           “Ezra could be my eyes and help out. And think about it: we could keep the house while you’re all away, and you could visit whenever you wanted, and keep fighting. And you’d know that there’d always be a home for you to return to, and the minute you wanted out of the fight, we’d be there, waiting for you.”

           Hera turned away. “Could you really do that? Wait at home while we risked our lives out on the battlefield?”

           Kanan sighed. “I’d be happiest if you were home with us. And I want to keep fighting, same as you. But if we could make some of your dream come true this way…I’d bow out.” His voice caught, and Hera suddenly realized how hard this all was for him. “Just…promise me one thing. Could you do that?”

           Hera took his hands again. “Ask me first.”

           “If this war keeps dragging on…will you consider finding a window of opportunity to leave? And be with us?”

           Could you do that? Leave the fight, even if it wasn’t over? But Kanan was sacrificing part of his happiness, too. He’d be worrying every day, watching their child, waiting for her to come home. And if she never did, all he’d have was their baby to remind himself of how happy they could’ve been. Hera reached over and cupped his cheek in her hand, her heart bursting with love for him. “Yes. I will consider it, Kanan, knowing that you’re waiting for me. You’re the only one who could make me leave this fight. You…and the baby.”

           Kanan sobbed with joy and pulled her into a crushing hug. They cried together again, but Hera’s joy was bittersweet. Why can’t I get to fully enjoy my dream? I want to be at home with Kanan and the baby. But I can’t. Not just yet.

           But this way, there was a chance to have that future, when there otherwise wouldn’t be. And Hera Syndulla’s life was never fair from the moment she was born; she knew it, and wasn’t one to dwell on it for long. Besides, there were much more wonderful things to think about. A baby. We’re having a baby. “If I don’t miscarry, that is,” she muttered to herself.

           Kanan frowned. “What was that?”

           Hera wiped her eyes and looked around to find some tissues for them both. “Sorry, thinking out loud.”

           “About miscarrying?”

           Hera found some tissues and grabbed them. She passed a few to Kanan and blew her nose. “Just…it would be awful for us to go to all this trouble just for me to miscarry after the stress of a fight.”

           “Hmm. You’re right. Maybe we could hang back for a while and do some logistics work. At least until you’re further along.”

           “I’m going to have to find a way to hide this pregnancy, Kanan. If Inquisitors are still out there, hunting down Force-sensitive children, they’ll come for our baby, I’m sure of it.” She paused. “Is there a chance the baby could be Force-sensitive?”

           Kanan blew his nose and she took it from him to throw in the trash. “I don’t know. There was a pretty big taboo about getting pregnant at the Temple, if you could imagine that. But I guess there’s a strong possibility of it.”

           “Then we’ll have to hide my pregnancy. No one can know about it. Well…maybe Mon Mothma. But she’s it, outside of the crew.”

           “I…oh damn, I think that means that I’ll have to fake my death. Ezra, too, if he comes along to help out.”

           Hera banged her head on the top of her bunk. “Ow! What?!”

           “Careful, careful—the baby—“

           “A bruised lek won’t kill the baby, Kanan. But faking your death—“

           “Well, that’s what we’ll have to do if we want to make sure we’re not tracked down. If everyone believes without a shadow of a doubt that we’re gone, no one will come looking for us. And your “grief” will give you an excuse to pull back for a few months, while you need to hide the bump.” Kanan suddenly moved off the bed and ran to the tiny ‘fresher.

           “Kanan!” But he waved her away, and she hung back, waiting until he was done vomiting. Then, she found a rag and wet it from the remaining water in the jug. She went over to Kanan, who was still slumped over the toilet. She pulled him away from the bowl and gently began wiping his face. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be getting morning sickness, remember?”

           He snorted, but let her keep tending him. “It’s just…we’re going to have to make sure everyone thinks, beyond a doubt, that we’re dead. And that means leaving no body— ” He turned around to retch again, but nothing came up. “And that means—fire, and explosions—“

           “Oh, Kanan…” She held him until the panic attack—or flashback, whatever it was—subsided, and he’d calmed down again. “We’ll find a way to make it work. A safe way. If there’s anyone who could do it, it would be Sabine.”

           “And how could I do that to Ezra? Put him at risk like that?”

           “Well, we have to tell him about the baby, first. We’ll have to tell everyone. But, for right now, let’s just go lie down.” She helped him to his feet and into her bed. They crawled under the covers together, and Hera settled comfortably into his arms. I don’t know how I lived without this for so long. This feels so right, to be here with him.

           Kanan’s eyes were drooping. “Don’t you have a shift soon?”

           Hera’s fatigue was setting in again. “I’ll just tell one of the others that I have a call to take from someone in Rebel command. They’ll understand. Or Chopper can take the shift.” She yawned and couldn’t keep her eyes open. “I’ll deal with it later.”

           They fell asleep, wary about the future, but both full to the brim with love for each other and the life beginning in Hera’s body.

—————————-

Okay, so I promise that this story is going to get happier, okay? There’s just a lot of depressing stuff that needs to be ironed out in this first chapter. It’s not going to be all sunshine and roses, but it will have a happy ending.

I also was originally going to have Kanan and Ezra faking their deaths by pretending to blow up when the rebels attacked a weapons supply store. They were going to dig tunnels underneath and be well-away before the explosion happened, but were going to pretend to be killed by the fire/explosion/falling debris. It hits so close to home in light of the midseason premiere that I don’t know if I can do it.

Or maybe I will. Because I’m kind of sadistic.

Also, the reference to Kanan being “warned” to escape is the reference to my multi-fandom story. There’s some Prisoner of Azkaban-level time travel shenanigans that go on, but it’s not “adult Kanan visits ‘lil Caleb”. It’s a lot more complicated and I don’t feel comfortable explaining it.

[chokememrstark]

Requiem Of Memories // Part 10

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2434 (Chapter 10 / 15)

Fic Summary: After their kiss, Sam feels very strange and goes to sleep. Still, he returns to Lucifer during the night and they have a rather interesting and nice chat. He can't help but wanting to be near Lucifer it seems.

angst, hurt & comfort, alternative universe, au!lucifer, mourning, depression, blood and gore, nightmares, loneliness

Note: I highly recommend to read Nightmares Become Reality before this, otherwise the premise of the story and the setting might not make much sense.

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart  @spnyoucantkeepmedown   @brieflymaximumprincess  @kajuned @archingangel @this-darkness-light @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @humongouscandycoffee

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

It felt like an eternity that they kissed, but for Sam it couldn’t have been long enough, especially when Lucifer relaxed and actually kissed him back. For this short period of time, Sam felt like crying from the sheer intensity of emotions. There was something so painfully familiar about their touch that Sam’s heart ached when Lucifer eventually pulled away. It was like he lost something precious that he might never get back.

For two whole minutes the two simply looked at each other, Lucifer visibly shocked from what had just happened between them. The longer Sam looked at him, the more he succumbed to the creeping up horror and fear inside of him. His face felt incredibly hot while the rest of his body was freezing cold and his chest tightened so much that he could barely breathe.

“I’m so sorry, oh god....” even Sam’s voice was just a shadow of itself, crackling and pleading desperately. “I didn’t… I mean I did, but I didn’t mean to… I…”

“Sam, breathe,” Lucifer said forcibly calm. “It’s all good, really.”

“No… no no no!” Sam gasped breathlessly. “I… I shouldn’t have done that! I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I didn’t think at all… that was so uncalled for!”

“You didn’t stab me, Sam.” This time, Lucifer sounded much calmer and even smiled at the hunter softly. “It was a kiss, not attempted murder.”

“But it wasn’t right !” Sam insisted, running a hand through his hair desperately. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. How could this have happened? And why now, in this completely impossible situation? Sam felt so awful he thought he would throw up at any given moment.

“It’s all good, I promise,” Lucifer assured the brunet and laid a hand on his cheek. Sam looked up almost panicking, his eyes wild and wide and completely out of himself. Lucifer’s expression softened when he looked at him. “Maybe it’s the blood loss, but that was actually very nice. I already feel a bit better now. Apparently your saying to ‘kiss it better’ actually works.”

Sam could feel his heartbeat in his ears, his hands tingling and as much as he tried to concentrate, the humming sound in his head was overwhelming. A part of him wanted to kiss Lucifer again, but another part wanted to run away as fast as he could and hide in a hole somewhere for the rest of his life. This was surely the most embarrassing thing he had ever done in his life.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Lucifer continued, his thumb gently stroking over the stubbled skin on Sam’s cheek. “You had a very eventful and rough day, maybe it’s best if you go to bed now.”

In lack of a verbal response, Sam just nodded. He could barely fight the urge to lean into Lucifer’s touch and it got more and more difficult with each passing second. When Lucifer stood up, Sam followed him immediately, the angel’s hand still on his cheek and his eyes still looking into Sam’s own, making it unable for the hunter to break eye contact. He could have stayed like this for the rest of his life and he wouldn’t have complained, even if the mere thought was hideous.

“You were really amazing today,” Lucifer said and, much to Sam’s surprise, leaned forward for another kiss. It was short and gentle, almost like a piece of satin brushing over Sam’s lips, but it had a very similar effect as the first. Sam’s knees became weak and he only managed to support himself by holding onto the other’s arm. He hadn’t felt like this in so many years, he couldn’t understand what was going on. When Lucifer broke the kiss, a faint smile decorated his lips. “Go and get some rest, we can talk tomorrow if you want to.”

Sam couldn’t answer. Again he was reduced to a weak nod when Lucifer retreated his hand. For a moment he wished that the angel wouldn’t go, that he would stay with him and that they’d talk now, but he knew this was a bad idea. He was exhausted and conflicted, his shaking hands alone were proof for that. So, instead of asking Lucifer to stay, as his first urge had been, he walked over to the bed and laid down.

Despite not thinking he would find any rest for a long time, Sam was out within a few minutes already. In the end, it had been a rough day, even if he wanted to deny it. Between the worry about Lucifer and their kiss, he had also met this world’s version of Meg and probably lost some of his mind on the way too, while he was at it. After all, he had just kissed Lucifer! Lucifer, the literal freaking Devil of this world and the reason it was in ruins. And still, it had felt so amazing, hadn’t it? Sam couldn’t explain why he felt so much bliss during the short touch of their lips, or even more when Lucifer had done it again . He should feel scared and awful, but he didn’t.

Sam fell asleep, but his mind couldn’t forget what had happened before during the whole time. He kept thinking, kept wondering what had happened that he suddenly felt the urge to do something stupid like this. Maybe it was just his sheer exhaustion and unstable state in the end, it could be. But why did it feel so good then? Was he really so lonely that he did something like this just to feel a little better? Or was he so relieved that Lucifer would survive and so touched by his words that he forgot everything else around them? When Sam woke up a few hours later, he still had no answer. His head hurt and he still had a hot knot in his stomach that made him want to scream, but he didn’t know what on earth had gotten into him to do something like this.

After laying there and staring at the ceiling for a few minutes - which was difficult because it was still dark outside - Sam slid off the bed. He stood there for a whole five minutes to decide what to do next and what he came to do was probably even crazier than their kiss. For the first time since he was here, Sam walked over to the door that Lucifer had said led to his own bedroom and knocked on it. There was no reaction at first and Sam was about to give up already when a faint ‘Come in!’ reached his ears. Slowly he pushed the door open and peeked into the room.

“Lucifer?” Sam knew he acted very intrusive right now, but he couldn’t help it. “Is everything okay? Do you need something?”

It took a moment before the darkness was lightened up by a lamp next to the bed, but when it did, Sam saw Lucifer sitting on it and looking at him.

“I am fine, thank you,” Lucifer said with a warm smile. “What about you? Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, a little,” Sam awkwardly scratched his neck and looked up. “Hey, can we talk for a moment? I mean, if you have time of course.”

“I always have time for you, Sam;” Lucifer said and patted on the big spot next to him on the bed. “Come inside. I hope you’re not surprised, this room isn’t very luxurious sadly.”

Sam nodded and followed Lucifer’s invitation. He didn’t bother to look around much, even though he noticed that the room was indeed rather shabby and empty.

“About last night,” Sam began when he sat down, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry, really. I shouldn’t have kissed you, that was very inappropriate and rude.”

“I told you already that it’s okay and I meant it,” Lucifer insisted, still smiling. “You forgot yourself for a moment, nothing to be ashamed about.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have done this.” Sam shook his head. “I don’t know what got into me, it just… happened.”

“And?” Lucifer asked, drawing Sam’s gaze up to him. “You could have done worse, Sam. What you did was worry about my health and you did everything in your power to help me, which I am very thankful for.”

“And I kissed you without your consent.”

“So did I after that,” Lucifer smirked. “We’re even. And now stop blaming yourself for every step you make, it’s not going to help you in any way.”

Sam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was glad that Lucifer wasn’t mad at him, but how could he stop being mad at himself for doing something stupid like this? It wasn’t as if this had been the first time, really, and all because of some flowery and charming words?

“In case you are worrying,” Lucifer continued after a moment of silence. “You are a good kisser, so I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You… what?” Sam’s voice died in his throat and he felt his cheeks becoming hot again.

“I think you heard me,” Lucifer chuckled. “It’s all good, I am not mad at you and I am glad you were here to help me when I came back. This fight was awful and I don’t know if I would have made it if it weren’t for you tending to my wounds.”

“But… you’re an archangel,” Sam mumbled, a little confused. “Couldn’t you have just… healed yourself?”

“Of course,” Lucifer smiled. “But even an archangel can have a hard time recovering when they were attacked by three dozen angels at the same time. Our power is like a battery and if we use too much of it, we have to recharge.”

That made sense, but it was hard to believe for Sam that he had actually helped Lucifer. Maybe he assisted him a little, but he had freaked out basically while doing it.

“I’m glad you are okay now,” Sam eventually said, looking down at his hands. “Meg was really worried too.”

“Ah yes, Meg.” Lucifer leaned back into his pillow. “She’s a very loyal one, but a little reckless at times. I hope she wasn’t too mean to you.”

“No,” Sam quickly shook his head. “She was actually rather nice! I mean, after a while. Just like our Meg, kinda…”

“Your Meg?” Lucifer asked and Sam turned around with a smile.

“Are you that surprised?” he asked. “I mean, she was different and all, but their personalities are rather similar.”

“So, your Meg is a little annoying demon too?”

Sam had to laugh at this, as it was a kind of fitting description of the Meg he had known. The most fitting part being annoying, especially when she had possessed him.

“She was… unique,” he eventually answered. “At first she was really nasty and even possessed me, but she… kind of turned? I don’t know why, but she changed. After the apocalypse she was different.”

“What happened?” Lucifer wanted to know amused. “Maybe I can use it to help with mine too.”

Sam’s gaze turned a little sadder and his smile vanished.

“It ended,” he simply said. “She was on our Lucifer’s side when the apocalypse was going on, that didn’t help her after we jumped. Another demon took over hell and everyone who was loyal to Lucifer had a very bad time after that.”

“She’s very loyal indeed,” Lucifer said. “Mine is too. She can be annoying, but she is still young. Out of all my demons, she is the one who stayed most human.”

“Why that? Do you have any idea?”

“I assume you know how demons become demons? Souls being tortured and corrupted in hell, the whole ordeal?”

“Yeah, I heard of it,” Sam huffed.

“Well, Meg wasn’t like that. She died when she was only eighteen, suicide.” Lucifer shrugged at Sam’s surprised glare. “She didn’t even get tortured much. It only took a week until she changed and became a demon. I think that’s why she is still very human inside, there was not enough punishment to fully get rid of it.”

“Wow, that would answer some questions,” Sam mumbled. “Our Meg was able to show compassion by the end.”

“Yes, she can do that here too. But mostly it’s directed at me, don’t ask why. I have no idea.” Lucifer laughed awkwardly, something that made Sam’s stomach tingle slightly. “She’s a good one though, very reliable and strong.”

“She’s nice, yeah,” Sam smirked. “I like her.”

“I think you’re the first human she likes too, in a long time at least,” Lucifer nodded. “She told me what you told her about my other demons too, how they treat you.”

“Oh,” Sam’s face flushed even worse than before now. “I… I didn’t mean to complain or anything, really. It just came up…”

“No, it’s okay,” Lucifer raised a hand to prevent Sam from interrupting. “I’m glad I know and it will not happen again. You are not a threat, you are not a spy either. You are my guest and they will treat you with respect or suffer the consequences. My home is yours now, Sam.” Lucifer gave the hunter the most affectionate and gentle smile he had seen until now. It made his whole body feel warm somehow. “No harm will come to you here and this is not their decision, it’s mine and mine alone.”

“I’m flattered,” Sam said honestly. He was a little embarrassed, but that Lucifer actually cared for this matter was very moving. The angel was full of surprises it seemed, but most of them turned out to be very nice ones in the end.

“I am very content with you being here, Sam,” Lucifer suddenly said, which pulled Sam out of the strange mesmerized state that he had slipped into. “You are special and you are unique to this dying world and having you by my side is a new experience that I enjoy very much.”

“But, I’m just me…” Sam muttered.

“And ‘just you’ is what this world has never seen before - what I have never seen before,” Lucifer smiled. “You told me you were never born in this world and now look what it has come to. Your world is different, you saved it countless of times. Your world is alive because of you.”

Sam had never thought about it this way before, after all it was very narcissistic to claim that he was the savior of the world and mankind. The world wasn’t alive because of him, or not?