#its been a rough couple of months :/ oof

[kyo-hiki]

thinking about him... <3

[kinich-kaax]

I just really miss my best friend something extra tonight ya know

[hawnks]

coincide pt. ii

previous

hawks (takami keigo) x reader

pg13 (this chapter)

word count: 5,500

Guess only love could hurt this bad.

[soulmate au, avian keigo, slow burn, good and bad coping mechanisms, pining & pining, slight scent kink…., oh oof ouch]

Warnings: alcohol mention, slight stalking, allusions to sexual activity

beta’d by the marvelous @keilemlucent

............................................................................

You don’t see each other for twenty eight days. It’s another iteration of The Incident, but this one leaves your chest feeling all caved in, all empty. It makes you want to cry.

You don’t, of course. You’re so far beyond crying over crushes. At peace with your place in the world. Kind of. 

Part of you is mad. Furious, even. You were not the initiator. You just let how nice he felt between your thighs cloud your judgment for a few minutes. And now this. The radio silence. 

You both should have known better. 

But the anger and blame is secondary. The ache is what overwhelms you. 

Back in highschool when you went through your desperate google binge, searching for a miracle cure for marklessness, you came across the concept of Soulmate Withdrawal. Being apart for too long is like suffocating, losing a piece of yourself. It hurts, physically as well as mentally. At its peak viciousness it can put a soulmate in the hospital, nearly comatose. Mostly it just feels like a bloodless limb. Pins and needles. Unscratched itch. 

Even that you craved. Wanted it so bad, to be able to be hurt in this special, sacred way. And you know you can’t, that pain is forever foreign to you, but—

You think this might be close. You can’t help it, what he does to you, how you miss him like a rib, like a lung. Something so intrinsic snuffed out of your life so simply. You wish you could take it back. It all felt so good, seemed so right. But if it meant having Keigo here, eating greasy breakfast food with you on the floor, chatting about stupid things, laughing so hard you cry… you’d do anything. Maybe. Probably. 

You start the text several times.

I’m sorry

Can we just 

I saw a pretty bird today and it reminded me of you

I saw a couple kissing and it reminded me of you

I’m not

I wish

Please

Fuck

It’s all meaningless, anyway. There aren’t any words that will fix it, that can suture the two of you back together, to that tender thing you were. There aren’t any that will make you feel better.

And what if...he doesn’t want that, anyway. What if he realized this thing you have—had—was unsustainable? When he meets his soulmate are they going to be okay with him winding up at yours five nights out of the week? Would they be okay with it if they knew what happened in his bed that afternoon?

Things were bound to change. You keep telling yourself that. 

Surface level, everything is average. You go to work, shoot shit with your coworkers, sneak snickerdoodles from the jar beside the register. You laugh, a few times even. You keep your hands clasped at your waist as you take orders at the counter, pretending you aren’t substituting his warmth for your own, like you don’t miss the sheer benevolence and goodness of someone simply holding onto you. 

More unsent texts. 

I got take out from that place you wanted to try 

Every fucking thing reminds me of you

Are you okay

Please tell me you’re okay

You feel like an animal softened and rounded out for the cold, on the verge of sleeping for six months straight. Part of you wishes you could. The other part wishes you could just call him up:

Rough day? 

Yeah. 

Everything? Rough. Maybe you’ll just go to bed for the rest of winter, wake up when the sun comes back. 

…

He knows it’s fucked up. He’s fucked up. But he can’t help it, needs—

You. 

It felt like he’s been dragging his body through day after day. He’s exhausted all the time. His handlers have quietly suggested that maybe he should report to medical, and he quietly snapped that maybe they should mind their own business, he’s fine.

He’s trying to be. Everyday he wakes and tells himself that he’ll ask you, that you’ll have an open discussion about all of it. Clearly you want something from him— time, friendship, orgasms. Whatever it is, however much of him you’ll accept, he’ll give it to you, gladly and gratefully. He just needs to know. Why won’t you tell him? 

Why can’t he just pick up the fucking phone and call you?

There’s an idea brewing in the back of his mind, so mean and painful he can’t even touch it directly. It just lingers at the edge of everything, looming. 

And if that’s it— if this big cruel thing is the truth and not just something his stress-addled brain made up… 

He can’t think about it. He won’t. 

Instead he gives into his baser instincts. 

He perches on the rooftop of some complex, watching as you trudge through a foot of snow toward the coffee shop. You’re all bundled up but he can tell from your gait, the pace of your steps. He can feel it’s you, as cliche as it sounds. 

And just being this close is enough to soothe the anxiousness in his gut, like coming up for air finally, like letting go after holding on too long. 

Like something necessary. 

He follows you all the way to work, the snow muffling the beating of his wings. He feels heavy as he glides. Almost like he’s being dragged down toward you. He has to correct his trajectory more than once, the gravity of your bond making him dip and swerve. 

Twice he falls into your line of sight. He holds his breath, clenches his fists as he waits for you to call out to him. He’s almost thirsty for it, for you to look up at him, all pretty and wide and raging, for you to yell at him for being such a creep. 

At least he would get to hear your voice. 

But you don’t look up and you don’t notice him. You make it to the coffee shop and are unlocking the door when his comm chimes in his ear. A robbery, two blocks East. Just ahead. 

He tucks his wings and picks up speed, knowing that you won’t be able to miss him as he passes, that you’ll see him. 

He tells himself not to, but—

He glances back. Just for a second. Just to sate the hungry clawing in his chest. 

And you’re standing there in the cool light of dawn, gloved hands linked against your stomach. You’re looking back at him. 

…

You need a change of pace. All of this? Unhealthy. Killing you a little. 

You redecorate your apartment, pick up some throw blankets from the Goodwill, buy some stools from a woman off craigslist. 

You toss out your old, ratty sneakers. You buy better fitting bras. 

And, drunk on fruit wine at two am, you make the choice to be something other than a barista. 

Not that you hate your job. Quite the opposite actually. You can come in everyday in your jeans and oversized sweater, bask in long-lived running jokes. You know your fellow opener's favorite song and where she buys her books. It all feels a little too like a home. 

You don’t want a job that’s diametrically cruel. Just something that will look at you and your sleepless eyes and twice-worn sweater and say do better. 

You send out several resumes with your paltry skill stack on them, the locations and job titles vast and indiscriminate. To your surprise, one of them sticks. 

You have no real affection for the hero game. When you applied for the job it had been a bit of a personal joke. “Would be something interesting to talk about at parties,” you tell your friends. 

You never expect to actually get it. 

But you do, and you’re honestly a little dazed as your new manager gives you the tour on your first day. It’s not that you’re unqualified—it’s entry level data entry—but these positions usually get snatched up by starry eyed fans, people with some stake in this. Your cover letter could best be described as a docile shrug.

It all happens so fast. 

Red Riot’s agency is small and tight knit. It’s a single floor of a high rise, with big windows and a hundred comfy places to sit, couches and bean bags, lawn chairs and floor cushions. There are several TVs around, each of them on hero news outlets, creating a quiet, constant buzz. 

Everyone smiles at you, especially the man giving you the tour. It ends in an office, the largest one here. Red Riot is waiting for you. 

He’s just as big and bright as you imagined him. He greets you with unabashed enthusiasm, shaking your hand for just a little too long. 

“It’s good to meet you. Real nice to have some fresh meat around here, yeah?”

He tells you the MO of the organization, about what your position would entail. The agency is in its infancy and they’re still learning what kind of staff they need, so you’ll be making most of the decisions about what your job entails. 

“I thought I was supposed to be working in the intelligence department,” you say, eyeing the empty desk on the other side of the office. 

He rubs the back of his neck. “It is a kind of intelligence, right? Just slightly to the left of stats analysis.”

You chat for the rest of the day. And Red Riot (“Call me Kirishima. No, for real.”) is… fun. Goofy in a way that puts you at ease, drags your personality out without censure or judgement. You missed that. Being yourself. 

At the end of your shift he insists on walking you out. He’s stopped by a staff member and as they chat you loiter next to one of the TVs. A breaking news story makes your breath catch. 

On the big screen you watch Keigo— Hawks, as he swoops and darts, quick as a blink. In two strikes he has the villain incapacated, ready to be taken in for processing. Then he’s airborne again. 

In the light his wings seem to glow, shining like struck flint as they expand and send a flurry of feathers after trapped civilians.

“Twenty two lives saved in less than a minute,” the reporter is saying. Her voice is slightly breathless, a little awestruck. You don’t blame her. “This is what a hero looks like, folks. Sheer competency; the man is cool and collected as he navigates the battlefield and the aftermath. Unrivaled talent—and just look at that smile.”

Hawks had caught sight of the camera and flashed a crowd pleasing grin. Just long enough for his PR to grab a shot for his socials, then he’s touching off again, leaving the scene. He’s so quick he hardly looks like anything as he flies. Just an arc of bright red, gone so fast you might think he was never there to begin with. 

“Yeah, he’s something,” Kirishima comes up behind you, hands on hips, smile dashing and bright. “That’s a real man right there.” 

Your heart is thrumming in your chest. You’re already thinking up excuses for why you might be crying in front of your new boss. But when you turn to pay him an answering nod you find that your throat doesn’t burn, your eyes don’t water. You’re just numb. That’s relieving and not. 

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s really great.”

...

He’s at the end of his rope. Assignments are piling up, missed press briefings and interviews. His assistants revamp his schedule on the daily. 

He’s always two seconds from lashing out, and no one on his staff deserves that, or any of his other bizarre mood swings. He’s only around people when it’s absolutely necessary, and even then he tries to keep interactions short. He hasn’t been eating well. Or sleeping. That little niggling of doubt and dread, the looming nastiness pokes at him like a caged animal. 

No one asks him what’s wrong. He wouldn’t tell them, anyway. 

And now they’re sending him away. A covert mission that will take a few weeks, at least. There’s been a rash of attacks on heroes, mainly targeting families and significant others; his job is to gather intel. He tries not to think of it as a punishment, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knows there’s a cause and effect. 

He leaves in sixteen hours. 

He can’t sleep. 

This isn’t new. At night he lays awake for hours at a time, vaguely uncomfortable in a hundred different ways. If the sleeplessness doesn’t kill him, the dreams might. 

They’re all about you. Of course. 

Sometimes they’re wet. He wakes shaking and misted with sweat, rutting against the mattress until he cums with a cry of your name, your face tearing through his memory

He’s familiar with the aftermath of those. He’d had enough of them during his younger years in the barracks, before he’d understood his sexuality, what he liked, what to do about it. Some faceless person, beautiful and kind. A precursor, a suggestion of you. The clean up is a bizarre ritual, but it’s nothing new.

Not like the other dreams are.

In them, you arrive home, or he does. It’s a space you share, live in equally. You’re both exhausted, too tired to say anything. He bundles you up in his arms, wings wrapped around you both. He carries you to bed. He tucks you both in. He kisses you on the forehead. 

Then he wakes up.

It’s one of those mornings, rolling around in the sheets, trying to get back to sleep. But without something to hold on to, every position feels wrong, uncomfy. He keeps turning instinctively, trying to find another source of heat. But there is none. 

He gives up on sleeping. 

He wanders his apartment, pacing, pausing every few steps to rearrange something, adjust angles, order. 

His penthouse is fairly minimal. Comfortable, but sparse. His time with the Commission had rid him of sentimentality. He likes things for their practical application; a good meal, a plush couch, a pair of warm, serviceable gloves. He enjoys his home, but has no real attachment to it. If it all went up in flames tomorrow, he might briefly mourn the leftovers in the fridge, the time he would have to spend replacing things. He wouldn’t be devastated, though. He could live anywhere. 

But you— you hold onto things. You love them not for what they can give you, just for what they are. Birthday cards and sweaters with tears in them, potted plants and miss-matched silverware. Visiting your apartment tapped into some previously untouched part of Keigo’s brain. Where the avian and soul-bonded meet. 

It’s instinctual—people with soulmates will always want to insinuate the other into their space. Genre-mixing, the psychologists call it. The compulsion to combine lives. 

For Keigo there’s another piece. 

The urge to nest was unstoppable. He didn’t even try. Ever since he met you he’s been collecting things. Soft blankets and a second toothbrush. Little nicknacks that reminded him of you. Under his bed he has a box of trinkets, little shiny things, gum ball machine keychains and diamond rings, silver gold and painted plastic. All of it is for you. Everything is. 

He managed to tuck most of it away when you were coming over regularly, just to avoid overwhelming you. Now there’s nothing holding him back. The penthouse is cozier, these days. A home rather than a stopping place. He loves it and he hates it. 

Deep down he has the craving to show you he can be a good mate, a provider. He can take care of you better than anyone. 

It breaks him. 

He shouldn’t. It’s crossing a line. But the sun has started to rise and he knows you’ll be on your way to work, and without much thought at all he takes to the air. 

It’s a quick thing to get inside your apartment. You leave the balcony unlocked, a habit you’d formed when his visits started getting frequent.

He cracks the door, careful to be absolutely silent, though he knows you’re not here. The lights aren’t even on. He feels disgusting as he slips in, such a slave to his own impulses. Then his knees buckle. 

The smell of you overwhelms him, so wholesome and good, so perfect. He wants to roll in it like a dog, bottle it up and take it with him so he never has to go without again. 

He lets himself have a minute. Two. Just closes his eyes and breathes. Then he rises, stretches and ruffles his feathers. He continues on with his mission.

He knows exactly the spot, had it pictured in his mind the whole way over. It’s something you wouldn’t notice, a little shiny earring, part of a set he’d bought months ago. He leaves in behind one of your big houseplants. 

He feels infinitesimally better. It will probably be enough to prop him up until he gets back.

That’s supposed to be the end of this foray into insanity. Satisfy his primordial mind, then hit the road. 

But his eyes find the sweater draped over your armchair. It’s your favorite, the one you crawl into almost every evening after work. Your scent must be so strong on it. 

He doesn’t realize he’s grabbed it until he’s already back at his place, shoving his face into the worn fabric, letting out a shuddering groan. So good. So good. 

He lets himself have a minute. Two. 

He shoves the thing into his small duffle bag, zips it closed so he can’t see it anymore. His heart is pounding as he calls his handler and confirms the logistics of his departure. 

...

Weeks go by. 

You’ve settled in at the agency, found your rhythm. Kirishima insists on walking you home now. The attacks have gotten more brazen, and while they’re mainly centered around the significant others of heroes, your boss isn’t taking chances. 

Secretly you’re glad. You’ve been more out of it lately, just coasting through it all. Having Kirishima beside you, loud and large is grounding in some ways. Not getting murdered is a plus. 

You haven’t seen Hawks in two months. You don’t expect to see him waiting outside your door. 

He looks absolutely ragged. 

He must have come directly from work because his clothes are skewed and his hair is mussed. As you draw nearer you catch the smell of a fight in him, sweat and concrete. 

His wings twitch the longer you stare, puffing up and retracting, but the gaze isn’t returned. He’s looking at Kirishima. He looks — dazed. Slightly stupified. Like he doesn’t recognize either one of you. 

“Ke—Hawks,” you murmur. “Are you okay?”

His voice is barely there, all from the throat, all whisper. “Yeah. Just peachy.” 

You glance at Kirishima, who shrugs. 

You want me to stay? his expression asks. He’s familiar with that worn down hero stupor. If the No. 2 hero is showing up at your door looking like that, he probably doesn’t want an audience. 

You shake your head, just the tiniest bit. Kirishima catches it. 

“Well, I best be hitting the road,” he says. And with another meaningful look, call me if there’s trouble, he’s wandering back the way you came.  

And you’re alone with Hawks. 

“You’re not at the coffee shop anymore,” he says. “I went there. First. They said you…”

“I’m working for Red Riots agency now,” you finish for him. “A whole real person job.”

It’s the kind of statement that should elicit a polite congrats, but you’re not expecting one, and he doesn’t give it. 

“Is he looking after you now?” he asks. 

If you were in your right mind, you might have heard the vulnerability, the insecurity behind the words. But all you hear is an accusation. 

It’s a mean little stereotype, that markless people tend to sleep around. You heard it enough, growing up. Of course, Hawks would never say something like that to you, or to anyone. But then again, there’s a lot of things you thought he’d never do. 

The hurt must show on your face because he’s instantly reaching for you, then pulling away when you gasp. 

“It’s not like that,” he says, trying to backtrack, to keep you from flinching again. 

“Like what?” you demand.

But there’s no answer. They were just words thrown out to slow you down. Meaningless. 

You start toward the building again. 

“Wait,” he chokes out. 

You turn to him, one hand already on the door. 

His animal brain is spitting and snapping. You found someone else. Someone capable of providing better. Someone capable of protecting you better. 

“No,” he says. 

“Excuse me?” 

His chest is heaving with each breath, gloved hands clenched at his sides. “You can’t—“

It’s not like him to stutter, to be so incapable of finding the words. But there’s so many emotions clogging his throat, his analytical mind is all gummed up with them. 

And what the fuck does he want, just showing up after so long? What are you supposed to do?

His eyes are begging.

You come away from the door, stand directly before him. You grab the side of his coat, tugging. It ends up a strange sort of half-hug, precarious and one armed, so tight your knuckles are white where they dig into the fabric at his back. 

Keigo lets out a breath that’s more of a wheeze, stilted and shuddering, all the air inside him rushing out. He’s empty. He’s healed. 

And he feels like a rabbit in the trap, cornered from every angle by relief. How could he have survived so long without your presence? Without your hands and your eyes and your soft, rapid pants against his throat? 

What happens if he has to go without again?

He lets himself have one second. Two. Then he’s pulling out of your embrace, his face pale, steeped in sweat. He looks rabid in this moment, a heartbeat from grabbing you and pulling you back in, from bolting. 

The second instinct wins out. His eyes pinned to you as he spreads his wings for flight. They’re so large, so intimidating. Weapons made from soft, red quills—they could kill you in an instant. 

But as he lifts off the ground, he looks so incredibly lost that it makes your throat squeeze. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

Then he’s gone. 

...

Those eyes, glowing with tears haunt your night. You think about them as you cook dinner and as you take your bath. As you tuck yourself in for bed and as you lay awake. 

It’s with no real purpose. Your thoughts aren’t investigative, not even curious. It’s just the image hovering over you and all around. Whatever is inside you reflected back. 

Please don’t be sorry (Read 3:34)

Ok (Sent 5:46)

...

Ok

Can we talk?

Are you alright?

sent: Just saw a bird carrying a whole bagel

received: is that a hint?

sent: No, what?

sent: You Did Not have to send a bagel to the agency for me. 

sent: But thanks 

…

sent: Heroes need to stop destroying entire buildings. The infrastructure of this city must be the consistency of a Pocky stick at this point

received: ok but consider this

received: I look really cool emerging from the rubble 

...

received: link

received: It’s that cat you like 

sent: !!!

...

sent: link 

sent: Song I think you’ll appreciate ^^

received: listening to it on repeat 💫👊

...

You’re drunk when you call him. It’s late, you had to stay after hours at the agency. You’ve just finished off a bottle of red. You don’t really think about it, he’s just the first person that comes to mind, the one you want the most. 

Your best friend just met her soulmate. The two of you were so close, bonded by your perpetual singleness. It was kind of a running joke between the two of you. “Maybe I’ll never meet them,” she’d said so many times. “Then it will just be us forever. That’s all we need.” She’s been your lodestar the past few weeks. 

You shouldn’t feel so terrible about something so wonderful. She’s happy, overjoyed. You tried to be too. But your loneliness outweighs everything else. You want Keigo.

“Angel?” He was asleep, it sounds like. But he still answered.

The softness in his voice, the carefulness, is what breaks you. You don’t say anything for a minute or two, crying softly into the receiver. Keigo flies into a panic, asking where you are, if you’re hurt, if you’re alone.

You assure him, in stilted, hiccupping sentences, that you’re fine, everything is fine, you’re just having a bad day. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have called you. No, really, it’s okay. You don’t have to come.”

He’s there in three minutes.

Upon opening the door, he bundles you up in his arms, tucks his face into your neck. His hold is fierce, almost painful, but it’s so good and warm and you let yourself fall against him, let him take your weight. 

You can feel his breath, hot and humid, coming in rapid pants against your skin. You can feel his delicate trembling.

Or maybe that’s you. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, clinging to each other. Keigo is the first to pull away, but just barely. 

“Hi,” he says. 

And you smile, despite yourself. 

He doesn’t ask you if you want to talk about it, not yet. He leads you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet as he turns on the shower, checking the temperature every few moments. Occasionally he turns and runs a hand down your knotted hair, or gives your hand a squeeze. 

He stands before you, grasps your hands in his. “Poor dove,” he says. “It’s alright, everything’s okay.” His eyes are molten and bright, as if they’re lit from within. 

He urges you to take a long shower, assuring you he’d be here when you get out. And he is. Leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door, arms and legs crossed. He looks surprised when you open the door and step out into the cool air. Like you might have disappeared again in those few minutes you were out of sight. 

He’s laid out your comfiest pjs, made a cup of tea for you, and brought several blankets into the living room, promptly wrapping you up after you take a seat. You feel infinitely better. You’re glad he’s here. 

Kneeling before you, he takes your hands. “Tell me what’s the matter?”

So you do. You tell him about how sad you are that your bestie has someone new, more important in her life. How you feel bad about feeling bad. 

And your best kept secret: how scared of being alone you are.

You don’t expect his reaction. He stands abruptly, pacing away from you, then back. He runs a hand through his hair. He looks slightly unhinged. “There’s something more, right? You’re not doing this just to fuck with me. You’re not cruel.”

Your mind is addled by the wine, the stress of the day, the emotional dumping you just did. You can’t figure out what he wants. You just tell him the truth.

“I don’t have a soulmate.”

His face-- it’s all shock, confusion. You almost laugh. Better than pity.

“It’s rare, but it happens,” you grouse. “Lucky me, I guess.”

He’s back beside you, sitting so close your legs are pressed up against each other, his chest against the side of your breast. “Are you sure? You checked everywhere?” His tone is frantic, clipped. 

His hands are raised as if he’s about to strip you and search you himself. You push them back into his lap. “Doctor confirmed.” You sigh. “No quirk. No mark. I’m the product of a failed evolutionary line. Me and the fucking dodo, brothers in arms.”

The silence drags on for too long. Then—

“Ah,” he says. It’s a long, drawn out syllable. He somehow pulls you even closer. You’re almost in his lap at this point. “Ok. Alright. I get it.”

Both his arms come around you, his hold firm. You’d think his wings would be cumbersome in a moment like this, but the closer one wraps around your shoulders, so warm, amazingly warm. You burrow further into him, out of energy to resist the feeling simmering in your chest. It’s so good to be like this with him, like homecoming, like right and right and right.

He nuzzles into your hairline, lips gentle in the filaments. You feel moisture against your skin, smell something like brine in the air. Your fuzzy mind tells you: tears. Someone is crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “Missed you.”

 “Don’t be sorry, Angel,” he returns. His voice is so soft. Barely there. “Go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

…

He wakes curled around you. He’d moved the two of you to the bed last night, when he could finally move his lead-heavy limbs. Then he lay there with you, arms around your middle, your head tucked into his neck.

It was the kind of intimacy he’d dreamt of all his life. Simply being in another’s presence, no artifice or guile, no shields up. He stayed up as long as he could, wanting to hold onto this sensation for as long as he could, wanting it to fill him up, overrun everything bad he’d been storing up inside him. He wanted to drown himself in you.

He’s trying to let you sleep in, especially after last night. He eases you off him as carefully as possible. He places a butterfly kiss on your forehead. Pauses in the doorway for a long minute to just watch you. Then he makes breakfast.

He recalls the way you like your eggs, how you take your hashbrowns slightly burnt. He makes a lot. Good hangover food. The smell wakes you, and you creep into the kitchen, scrubbing at your tired eyes, fixing him with a wary stare.

For a moment the two of you stand in the kitchen, not moving, barely breathing. 

He breaks first. “Morning, beautiful.”

The look on your face -- pure relief. So grateful, and why? He’d do anything for you, don’t you know that? But of course not, you don’t know any of it. You don’t know about him.

He lays out the food and his hands are trembling. You’re not looking at them, anyway. Just at his face, the serene mask he wears. His training takes over, sends him into autopilot as he sits across from you and picks up his fork.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asks. His cadence has that signature insouciance to it, careless and dry.

You perk up at it, smiling. Your expression is so open. Tired but glowing. “The best,” you say.

You could have it all the time, he thinks. Always.

But you don’t know. You don’t know.

“That’s good. Great,” he says. His hands are shaking so hard his fork rattles against the plate. He pulls back, only to let it slip from his grip. 

Guilt grips him, closes in on him from all directions. He’s swallowed up in it. Devoured by it. He’s panting, can’t get enough air. His wings curl and retract, twitching, sharpening.

You don’t know you don’t know you don’t know.

He doesn’t realize he���s crying until you insinuate yourself into the dangerous arc of his body, careful of his wings, careful not to startle him. You ease his head against your chest and he feels the moisture soak your shirt. 

He’s slow to return the embrace, his mind foggy with fear, hurt. He wraps his arms around your middle and squeezes and squeezes, aware of the soft wheeze you let out but not able to let you go. You don’t care. 

All you can think about is running your hands through his hair, over the tense muscles of his neck, the hardened planes of his wings. Slowly, under your touch, they soften again, until you can finger the fine bristles of them, until his breathing evens out against your collar bone. 

You’re cooing at him, gentle nonsense words. Things that don’t mean anything. Got you. You’re okay. We’re gonna be alright. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.

And as he calms down, relaxing in your arms, the mantra in his mind is Liar. I love you. I missed you. You’re such a liar.

Because he’s yours.

And you’re not his.

an: my bad ʕ·ᴥ·˵　ʔ

[feminaexlux]

Underneath (Pt. 1 / 2?)

Okay so just to clarify I'm pinning Kotallo's age down at 27 and yes I know Aloy is 20 but she carries the weight of the entire world on her shoulders and acts as if she's twice her age a lot of the time so she's a Cougar in spirit in this fic. Girl can get it from her local sassy beefcake sweetheart yanno what I'm sayin'

Quick shoutout to my beta @vanorablogs​ 🧡

This is largely the same snippet as before but there's more text underneath I swear

Read on AO3

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"By the Ten," he breathed out. Kotallo grabbed onto Aloy's proffered arm and hauled himself behind her on the Sunwing with her assistance. "You sure this... machine won't attempt to shake us off when we are in flight?"

She snorted. "You've got nothing to worry about, Marshal. I've got it. I thought you trusted me?"

"With my life. It is why I'm on here," he said, his voice low.

"Good. Hold onto me. The takeoff is a bit rough but that's the price we pay for air travel. Chief Hekarro!" Aloy called out, performing a tiny salute to the Tenakth chieftain atop her Sunwing. "I'll have to borrow your best Marshal again, sorry!"

"He is no longer mine to lend, Aloy," Hekarro said back in his deep dulcet voice, smiling up at them. "I borrow him from you, Champion."

"What is he talking about?" Aloy asked Kotallo under her breath. She didn't need to speak above a whisper since Kotallo was right behind her.

"Hmm," Kotallo answered in his usual way, non-committal. It almost sounded embarrassed, but Aloy doubted the grumbly Marshal behind her knew anything of embarrassment.

"O... kay then," Aloy chuckled. "Let's go!" The Sunwing reared onto its legs and Aloy hunched forward to brace and keep her head level, but she wasn't expecting that a man easily twice her weight was using her as a brace on their ride. "Oof," she grunted, feeling the air get squeezed out of her as his arm pressed into her midsection.

"Sorry," Kotallo gritted out. She could feel his legs strain trying to wrap harder around the Sunwing's plated exterior and easing off some of the pressure he was putting on her with his single arm by grabbing at the Sunwing plates in front of her. He managed to grab the ridge of plate right in front of her crotch. "Sorry," he said again, half-chuckling.

"It's fine," she hissed out, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Just... need... to--" Finally the Sunwing got enough lift. It beat its wings down and after a couple of intense seconds climbing at a steep incline Aloy leveled out the beast. "Whew," she breathed out, Kotallo's arm settling more comfortably against her stomach. "I didn't expect how hard that was. I need to get used to how additional passengers affect takeoff."

"You... have not done this with the others?"

"No, you're the first. I thought you might enjoy it," Aloy grinned, though she wasn't certain Kotallo could see. "Seeing as you were inspired the last time I flew one?"

"It is an honor," he said, his voice sounding awed. Aloy's smile widened. It was too bad she couldn't see his expression, she thought. His little smile would have been a treat.

"And now that we're alone, you mind telling me what the Chief meant?" She knew she had him as a captive audience and he knew she never backed down. It wasn't a surprise when she felt more than heard him sigh behind her. Several months with the terse Tenakth Marshal had allowed her to understand and enjoy these wordless exchanges more than she thought she would. He was expressive in his own quiet way.

It meant he didn't choose his words lightly. "Chief Hekarro understands your mission to save the world. It is no easy task to take on by a single warrior. Even if you won't ask for it, you need all the help you can get," Kotallo said, lightly teasing. "So I am here. With you. Until the end."

She smiled again, still hidden from him. "So you are." Aloy banked the Sunwing around a mountain range, taking on more altitude. Going too high would make the air harder to breathe and skimming too close to the land would only attract trouble, so she had to balance the reach of any cannon shots and human comfort. It felt wonderful to fly without worries and have the wind pass through her hair, though she idly worried that her hair would be buffeting Kotallo in the face. "Are you alright back there?"

"It is... more than acceptable," he said simply. She rolled her eyes. "Thank you. For bringing me with you. For letting me fly." He sounded sincere. He always sounded sincere because he was, when he wasn't teasing her. It was his best trait. She loved that.

And ultimately she didn't mind the teasing either.

"We'll see if you're still thankful after we get to Meridian," Aloy mused. "I get sore after riding for a couple of hours." She felt a soft snort behind her. What was funny about that? "But thank you, Kotallo. Establishing the embassy was important for Tenakth and Carja both. And now it should be easier since Regalla won't be there to interrupt."

"And I will be meeting this Sun-King Avad himself?"

"More or less. Me and Erend have already vouched for you since you're Hekarro's envoy, and one that was at the original embassy. You'll need to talk official things with Avad but I think that's it."

"I won't be held captive for five years, will I? I remember Marshal Fashav had agreed to those terms."

"I don't think so... but if that does happen we still have the Sunwing to make our escape. If I never have to step foot in Meridian again it will be too soon. But try not to have any diplomatic incidents."

"Hmm," he grunted, sounding amused. Aloy was continually surprised at how much Kotallo could convey with just one hum. "For you I will try." Aloy smiled to herself again. "I should ask, this has nothing to do with Nemesis, does it?"

It was her turn to sigh. "No. But this is a problem that can be solved."

He didn't say anything for a few heartbeats. "Of course." He hugged her a little tighter and relaxed his hold. A comforting gesture, Aloy thought. It was nice. They fell into a comfortable silence.

Aloy wasn't sure when it started but her little squad at the base had given her the gift of touch. Varl had rested his hand on her shoulder. Zo had embraced her. Erend had drawn her up in his crushing hug. Alva had sometimes reached out to grab Aloy's hands when she was excitedly explaining things. Beta herself had run up to give Aloy a hug after she was freed from the launch tower.

Far Zenith were gone forever. But so too was Varl.

The remaining squad had each other and they reminded Aloy through their touches. Except for Kotallo, who gave his touches more sparingly than his words. That made it more meaningful in a way. She was soaking up what she could get with his arm against her stomach and his chest against her back. He was warm and solid and here and those experiences meant more to her than she knew.

She tried not to think about how much she was enjoying this.

And she tried not to think about how she could have just taught him the override to get his own Sunwing. A tide of guilt rose up in her and she put it on her mental to-do list. He'd get his own. She owed him that for all that he'd done. She'll help him catch one when they got back to the base.

She got a notice on her Focus that the Sunwing's battery was running low. Oh. Right. Extra weight meant extra load on the battery. And there was 3 times the usual riding weight. Whoops. She spotted a nearby fire pit with a basic shelter and turned toward it. "Sunwing's running low on power, we'll need to camp for the night."

Kotallo gave a grunt of acknowledgement. As they were coming down and the Sunwing reared up to land on its legs, Kotallo grabbed the ridge plate in front of Aloy again. Again she blushed at how close his hand was to... a place, but wasn't like he had much choice in the matter and she didn't have to think about it too long.

Aloy landed the Sunwing and tapped on her focus, connecting out to Erend. "Hey, slight delay, we ran down the battery on the Sunwing. It should be recharged tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, hey Aloy. Alright," said Erend, sounding slightly surprised. "Still faster than on foot so no worries. We'll see you when we see you, then."

"What was your original estimate for reaching Meridian?" Kotallo asked after dismounting from the Sunwing. He reached out his arm in an offer to help Aloy down.

She smiled a little and grabbed his arm, letting him guide her to her feet. "I figured it was half a day of riding. We'll only be late by one day." There was a distant clap of thunder and Aloy sensed the change in air pressure of incoming rain. "And it sounds like we got to shelter in time. I hate flying through storms."

"To travel by sky and soar over mountains, crossing vast distances in a single day. I have lived as one of the Ten. I will never stop feeling blessed." He chuckled softly. "Tonight I'll hunt for dinner. Will you set camp?" Kotallo asked.

Belatedly Aloy realized she was still holding onto his arm. She let go immediately. What was wrong with her? "Yeah, sounds good, thanks," she said, feeling mildly embarrassed. Aloy took their bags and placed down the bedrolls under the shelter. She lit a fire with blaze and foraged nearby, filling their water-skins with fresh water from a nearby stream.

Kotallo was already there when Aloy came back to camp. They sat down next to each other in front of the fire, having a simple meal together with the turkey he caught and the fruits she found in their comfortable silence. The rain came in soon after and the fire sputtered but blaze kept it lit.

"What is Meridian like?" Kotallo asked after they finished cleaning up, surprising Aloy a little. She assumed he hadn't really cared at all with it being the Carja capital.

"It's… crowded," she replied, feeling the chill settling in around her as the rain came down around their shelter. "It's a big city. I guess it's pretty? There are people everywhere, mostly Carja but also a lot of Oseram. And too many petty Carja nobles who think they're better than you."

"You saved their kingdom and they still think they're better than you?"

"Some Nora girl stopping Deathbringers and Corruptors from razing their city doesn't fundamentally change how they look at outlanders."

He frowned. "I suppose I understand that. Perhaps there's some similarities with the Tenakth."

"All tribes are like that," Aloy shrugged. "And that's why I need this embassy to happen. We'll need everyone working together to have a chance against Nemesis." She sighed and hung her head, feeling exhausted.

"I will be on my best behavior," Kotallo said, adding a little humor and nudging her with his shoulder. "Be charming. Witty. Noble."

Aloy looked back up at him with a smirk. "I need you to talk with Avad, not sleep with him."

"What a union that would make. The esteemed Sun-King Avad taking a Tenakth barbarian to bed? Bawdy drinking songs would be sung for generations to come."

"Stop that," she laughed, slapping his right shoulder. "And you're no barbarian."

"I may be charismatic but I doubt I'd be appealing to the Sun-King nonetheless."

"Well, he does seem to like people who could snap him in half," Aloy said absently.

"You know of his interests?" Kotallo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He uh… was in love with Ersa, Erend's sister. She led the Freebooter mercenaries that helped him overthrow his father. He also asked me to stay with him," she answered, feeling awkward. "I didn't want that, or him," she added a little hastily, watching as Kotallo's brows ticked down in... annoyance? Concern? Maybe... jealousy? Aloy's heart strangely soared at the idea that it could be jealousy.

But for the love of GAIA, she didn't want Kotallo thinking she was interested in Avad.

Kotallo smiled sadly. "Ah, I think I understand him. A single person making the difference in your people's survival. Appreciation turning into something more…" he said, trailing off. Aloy's heart fluttered in sudden despair. If Kotallo liked her, saw her, only because she saved his people?

She needed a partner, not an admirer.

It took a lot to admit she needed a partner.

"You would have been trapped by duty to a single land," Kotallo said, solemn. Aloy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "It would be suffocating."

She scoffed bitterly. "Yeah. But what's one more problem to add to the pile? I'm only trying to save the entire world from total annihilation because I'm one of only two people who can unless there's more surprise clones of Elisabet out there."

"It is my belief that you and Beta will save the world," he said simply, choosing to ignore the comment about more clones.

Aloy felt a different kind of despair. "How do you even know?"

"I don't, but you've shown me things I'd never even dreamed before. I've witnessed countless miracles in the time I've known you." He shrugged. "I know it won't be easy. It is why I intend on knocking down whatever obstacles we come across that would impede you, much like your actions for me at the Bulwark."

She buried her face against his shoulder. "Thank you," Aloy said softly, slightly muffled. He drew her in closer, putting his arm around her shoulders. Aloy got shifted in to rest her head against the crook of his neck. "I'm so fucking terrified, Kotallo."

"The wisest warriors are, when faced with uncertainty."

She groaned. "I could use a little less rhetorical goatshit."

"My apologies. Yes, it's fucking terrifying," he chuckled, ending it with a weary sigh. "I'm scared too. We've survived such incredible adversity and overwhelming swarms of enemies, each time pulling through with your - and your sister's - knowledge and ingenuity. But I wonder, how much of that was... luck?"

Aloy closed her eyes and stayed quiet for a bit, replaying over the events of the past 2 years. Life was so damn simple back before the Proving, when all Aloy wanted was to know who her mother was. "Not all of it was luck, but... but maybe some of it was," Aloy admitted.

She felt so lost.

As her teacher, Rost had made her focus on her goal of becoming the best at the Proving, honing her mind and her skills to the sharpest edge, driving her to the very brink of her capabilities... and then letting her realize for herself that she was more capable than she believed. Aloy knew that Rost had loved her in his own way, but there was no denying she had felt alone and unwanted for most of her life. He had been her father. But she had not been his real daughter.

Aloy knew she was needed by the world. She'd been created by a dying GAIA, given a dire purpose to unlock hidden mysteries with her genetic code serving as key.

People like Petra and Avad wanted her… for her skills and fighting prowess and symbolism to bolster their own tribes.

She was no longer alone in her role now that she had Beta, but Beta was still fragile, learning to be part of this world after being isolated for so long.

Where could Aloy feel safe when the Earth was dying?

"Aloy?"

A voice, both distant and yet so close. She half remembered she was having a conversation but she must have been falling asleep. "Mmm sorry," Aloy breathed. The fire was still going and the meal she had was filling, satisfying, lulling her closer to slumber. There was someone? incredibly warm next to her, holding her, touching her skin. The heat suffused through her, easing the bone-deep weariness of her thoughts.

There was a low hum by her ear, a familiar rumble. "Rest well," Kotallo said softly.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Dating Seo Changbin

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long!!! i hope you like it <3 oof its been a while since I've done this style so here we go

Requested: @mrsunshine999

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoee @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999 @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc @multi-net​

Warnings: cussing, changbin being best boi, 

First of all....reader you are one lucky bitch.

Dating THE changbin

damn

Changbin is definitely one of the more domestic boys

He thriiiives with being a cuddly soft boyfriend

You probably met his parents on like your fourth date

But it was like a surprise thing 

He was like “Stop by my place because I’ve got to take care of somethings before we go out”

and you were like sure whatever so you get there like twenty minutes early and knock on the door

changbin opens and says you can wait in the living room while he is grabbing some things

first of all you notice his house is super fuckin nice

you’re like “mental note to ask who his decorated is” 

so he goes off and you walk in the living room and there are his parents just looking at you with kind expectant smiles

and you’re like “ummmm.........hello........changbin’s parents....”

changbin is like walking in and out of the room completely unaware that you are lowkey shitting your pants because omg his parents are right there and you were not prepared for this you were just promised food

its then you realize this is his parents house and he freaking tricked you into meeting them

by the time he sits down next to you on the couch you’ve practically sweated through your nice outfit and answered a billion questions

“I told you, I pick good ones mom- OW!” 

you pinched him really hard and made a nervous look towards the door. 

He laugh and got the message

the two of you said goodbye and you proceeded to whack him very hard the second the door closed behind you

loves to spoil you

anytime you're mad at him the next day you find a very expensive flower arrangement as well as a nice piece of jewelry on your desk or doorstep

he never lets you pay for anything

in fact the most common argument you have is about him spending too much money on you or not letting you pay

one time after a really big fight he secretly paid your rent for the month (which led to you yelling at him again)

“CHANGBIN YOU PAID FOR MY RENT?!”

“I thought I was doing a nice thing!”

“Yes it was very nice but I want to do things for myself!”

“But you’re so....baby....my baby....I wanna take care of you.”

“I AM NOT BABY!”

he thinks you look really cute when you’re mad so you never really end up getting anywhere with arguments like that

changbin is definitely a huge cuddler

likes being both little and big spoon

his favorite sleeping position is probably you sleeping on top of his chest so he can hug you like a teddy bear (you have replaced Munchlax haha)

probably takes you on the most aesthetic dates

he loves being your personal photographer

he can’t show you off on the skz insta so he probably has like a separate private account just to post really cute pictures of the you and him

changbin is a huge fan of couple clothes 

like any kind

his favorite is finding couple shoes like sneakers. 

he likes knowing that he could wear them onstage and bring a piece of you into the public view but its like his lil secret

changbin is like super no no about scandals so after a few months he probably announces the relationship before the press even think he is in one

changbin is like the pinterest boyfriend 

like he strives to be pinterest worthy

the boys give him so much shit about it but like lowkey he doesn’t care he just steals their coffee or something in revenge

he probably keeps like special products for you in his apartment

he always has the coffee or tea you like stocked in his kitchen

changbin is definitely the type to love hard and love fast so once this boy has you locked down in a relationship he just goes all in

you two probably move in together pretty quickly because this boy is just so anxious to be around you all the time

lowkey whiny once you move in 

“y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”

“changbin you've said my name like 18 times what the hell do you want”

“i wanna hug.”

tries to use aegyo to get out of chores and housework

“I love dark my ass.” you say shoving a laundry basket in his arms and watching him pout 

late night gym dates at like two in the morning

the boys lowkey getting jealous of how much time he spends with you

Felix and Hyunjin basically live at your apartment

you don’t know how they got keys but somehow they are always there 

you’ll wake up one morning and felix will be randomly asleep on your couch for no reason

your dates are often crash by one of the boys but you honestly don’t mind because they are so much fun

changbin is actually the most caring and empathetic boyfriend

he always seems to know when you have a bad day or are just feeling bad about yourself

sometimes you don't even understand how he knows 

you’ll just be laying in bed on your phone after a really rough day and wanting to cry and changbin will just come up and give you the warmest gentlest bear hug 

he won’t say anything but he’ll just hold you until you want to talk or just cry it out

lets be honest changbin hugs would be the best tho

like he hugs with his whole being

in a relationship i feel like he is super affectionate so hugs are pretty common but he probably hugs differently for different circumstances

like he gives really gentle hugs when your sad and strokes your hair, kissing the top of your head

probably a big fan of quick side hugs when you're in public or with the boys

big cuddly hugs when you’re alone where he can rock you side to side or flop onto the couch with you

so ‘i love you’

again changbin falls fast and hard so he would for sure be the first one to fall in love

but he wants you to say it first because he knows sometimes he can move too quickly and he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable

the first time you say it changbin is just so happy 

before you can even finish the sentence he’s already saying it back

“I love you-”

“I love you more.”

he never forgets an anniversary even if he is on tour

during one of their breaks he flew you out so you could celebrate together 

he loves traveling with you

even if its just a road trip or the two of you randomly decide to spend the weekend at a hotel that's thirty minutes from your house

changbin definitely knows what he wants in life so the second he decides you are the one for him he starts planning how he wants to spend his life with you

he loves having serious conversations with you about the future

changbin loves when the two of you invite all the boys over for dinner and it turns into a fancy dinner party and he cant help but picture you doing this five or six years from now and you have kids and are throwing dinner parties like this on the weekends

you too throw a HUGE Christmas party every year

like inviting lots of staff from the company and a bunch of family and friends 

so like one second you are talking to changbin’s sister and your mom then the next thing you know you are accidently bumping shoulders with fuckin BamBam from Got7 or Tzuyu from Twice and Jae is singing with Jisung in your living room

its like a huge fancy event that you and changbin throw at your place that you spend like a month planning for

everyone is dressed very nice and your house is spotless and flawlessly decorated with a brightly lit tree that you and changbin spent four hours decorating

by 9pm everyone is drunk on egg nog and opening presents from secret Santa 

changbin also never lets a Christmas go by without kissing you under the mistletoe 

the boys stay the night mostly because no one is sober enough to drag Jisung out of your house. 

So Christmas morning is always spent with the boys 

changbin always puts you first 

he is really considerate and always considers how his decisions will affect you (unless he’s trying to pay for something)

all in all changbin would just be the best boyfriend

congrat reader you landed an angel

Masterlist

[galacticgraffiti]

2021 fic review!

thank you so much, my darling @cyarbika for the tag! This was so much fun to do and definitely helped me be proud of what I accomplished.

now... alright alright alright buckle in my darlings, this will be a RIDE

total number of completed works: okay so. there are a couple ways to count this. If I count each individual thing I put out (including requests and celebrations) it's something batshit insane, 79 works, which is just crazy to me. total word count: oof. this gave me the motivation i needed to make backups of all my works so i could get the wordcount, so thank you hehe. so I came out to a rough total of 302,563 words not including some WIPs I have not yet published. Almost half of those are just Veman'alor which is just... damn. looking back did you write more, less, or the expected amount of fic this year? I wrote so much more than I ever thought I would. I was not planning on writing at all, actually, and I never thought I would publish anything! It's been a journey, friends.

your own favorite story of this year? By far Veman'alor. I never planned to make that story even half as long as it is now, and I never thought I would get so invested in this little world and its characters, but I am so glad I did. did you take any writing risks this year? I don't know? I think starting to write and publish at all was what felt riskiest to me. I am so glad to have found this, because I am having tons of fun. And it's nice to read that I make people happy, and to feel like I'm giving something back to the community. do you have any fanfic goals for the new year? I don't like setting goals for writing, really, at least not quite so long-term. It puts pressure on myself and I write because I want to, and I need to, and I find great fun and pleasure in it. My only real goal might be to get a bit better at answering requests faster (I'm so sorry to everyone who is still waiting for their request from a month ago to be answered) most popular story of the year? If we're talking multichapter only, it's Veman'alor. But the fic I posted with the most notes is a Boba Oneshot called Talk To Me. story most under-appreciated? I wrote a very yearn-y quick oneshot about growing old with Leia. I almost never write for anyone outside of the TCW/Mandalorian era, but that story is so dear to my heart and barely got any attention. most fun story to write? On the one side, I want to say Veman'alor because I get to dive into all the characters, but that can also be insanely frustrating. So I'm gonna go with Dope & Smoke, a Jango request I got and that was just sooo much fun to write, just flowed out of me. most unintentionally telling story? Probably my most recent Fennec fic. That was very personal to me for many reasons. biggest disappointment? I think aside from seing many creators leave because of anon hate - which, I may add, is never justified - it is that interaction is way down, which is very frustrating. When you pour your heart and soul into something and it barely gets any attention, it gets discouraging very fast. I'd love to write more WLW but those fics, compared to my others, barely get any attention. Also oneshots tend to do much better on here than multichapter works, so as much as I love Veman'alor and Mirde Be Mand'alor, and as much as the longtime readers are dedicated to it, it's just... yeah. Just always a bit disappointing when I post a new chapter and it barely gets interaction compared to my quick oneshots.

biggest surprise? The growth my blog has experienced within such a short span of time, and the kindness with which other creators have treated me and included me. I was so afraid, felt a bit like the new kid at school standing there with their lunch tray not knowing where to sit, but the responses to my fics have been so overwhelmingly kind and sweet and positive. my favorite part of fandom this year? Definitely meeting other creators and getting to talk about everything from writing to important themes like whitewashing, diversity, trying to be inclusive... And my most favourite part only just started, so I don't know if it can really be counted toward 2021 but I'll mention it still because it makes me so happy - and, of course, it's my collab with my most favourite artist, my cherished love @maygalodon. I'm having so much fun coming up with plot and dialogue and little snippets together with them and then weaving it all into a story, it's just wonderful.

gently tagging @book-of-baba-fett @fivesarctrooper @ahoeformando @maybege and @rowansparrow ♡

[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...

[mrs-dr-reid]

She Used to Be Mine

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Summary: The reader finally left her scum of the earth boyfriend of a year and a half, and she finds out she’s pregnant with his baby when the team gets done with a case. She lets out her frustrations about the whole situation during an open mic night at a bar, not knowing the rest of the team is there, too, and has to explain what’s been going on with her.

Genre: Oof, this is some painful stuff here, buddy. Maybe a little fluff at the end? I dunno.

Warnings: Minor language, mentions of abuse, mentions of an unhealthy relationship, brief allusions to doing the do, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, slight mentions of normal Criminal Minds stuff

A/N: I’m gonna apologize in advance for this one, guys. I’ve had “She Used to be Mine” from Waitress stuck in my head for like two days, and this came to me in a dream last night, so allow me to write out my brain vomit and slap it on the internet. Enjoy. Just a note, I have never seen or listened to Waitress in its entirety, I just know what this song is about and am writing this solely based on that one song. (Also, Y/S/N means “Your Sister’s Name”. If you don’t have a sister, make one up if you’d like)

Word Count: 3514

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Y/N didn’t know how she let this happen. She kept telling herself that she was going to leave him. That their situation was only going to get worse. That if she didn’t get out of there soon she could potentially die, and she never did. She had gradually been transitioning more and more of her stuff out of the apartment and into the trunk of her car to make leaving easier, and she had packed up all her things of value into a suitcase and kept it stashed in the hall closet ready to go just in case, because the Lord knows he never even gave it a second glance. Then finally after two months of delaying the inevitable, a blow-out argument and a handful of shattered beer bottles finally gave her the push she needed, and she slammed the door of his apartment behind her and never looked back once while dragging her suitcase down the stairs and out the door of his building to her car.

Luckily Y/N’s older sister Y/S/N also lived in D.C., and she was more than happy to let Y/N stay at her place until she found somewhere for herself. Y/N didn’t even know how to tell the rest of the team about the breakup, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to cover up bruises with makeup and lackluster excuses anymore. Y/N decided to let them profile it out for themselves because she didn’t want to waste anymore time, energy, or thoughts on her ex ever again.

The next day at work, the entire team immediately picked up on a change in Y/N’s demeanor, but none of them acknowledged it and let Penelope present their latest case in Madison, Wisconsin without so much as a questioning glance towards her. Well, everyone but Spencer, that is. He had his head cocked like a confused puppy while squinting at Y/N the entire meeting. Emily had to snap her fingers in front of his face at least twice to get him to pay attention again, which made Y/N a little nervous, because she really didn’t want him to confront her, mainly because she knows it’s impossible for her to lie to him.

They got on the jet, and once they were in the air, Y/N suddenly felt really nauseous and made a mad dash for the bathroom, making everyone turn to shoot a confused and worried look in that direction. Once she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her, she threw open the lid of the toilet and had at it. After she had finished, she flushed away the vomit and reasoned that she probably had something past its date for breakfast that morning and brushed it off.

Throughout the whole case, Y/N had random bouts of nausea and had to excuse herself during really important stuff to go and find the bathroom. She even had to run out during a suspect interrogation leaving Emily to talk to the perp, and had to leave while they delivered the profile to avoid losing her lunch and crappy bullpen coffee all over the suspect and the local cops. The whole team was worried for her, but she insisted she was fine and kept working, much to Spencer’s chagrin, but he just let her do what she had to do, because he’d learned to not mess with Y/N when she’s on a roll the hard way.

After they had caught the unsub and saved the would-have-been victim, Y/N found herself fighting back her own tears as she comforted the poor, traumatized girl, which was weird because that had never happened before. Once the team had packed up and got in the SUVs to head to the airfield, they had to stop at a gas station right before they left the town. Y/N grabbed her wallet and said, “I gotta take a bathroom break before we get out of here,” and both JJ and Emily nodded before she got out of the car and went into the store. 

Y/N went straight for the pregnancy tests and grabbed a box of three before heading to the counter and paying, because she had a hunch she needed to prove. She went to the bathroom, and took all three once she locked herself in a stall. She set them on top of the toilet paper dispenser thing and timed two minutes on her watch. Once the two minutes were up, she took a deep breath and grabbed the tests. Y/N almost passed out when she saw that all three read “positive”, but that’s when she realized her period was a couple of weeks late.

After that realization, she smacked her head against the wall of the stall, because she knew exactly how she’d gotten pregnant: Her stupid, lowkey abusive, borderline alcoholic ex had somehow convinced her to go with him to a sports bar to meet his stupid, annoying, borderline alcoholic friends and watch some sports game three weeks ago, they’d both gotten decently drunk, and she woke up the next morning with a killer hangover and without clothes.

Y/N took a picture of the tests on her phone in case someone on the team profiled it out of her and she needed receipts, then threw them in the little stall trash can before getting out of the stall, washing her hands, and going back out to the SUVs. JJ and Emily shot her looks as she climbed into the car because she was gone for a while, but they just assumed it was #1 and #2 and didn’t say anything.

She was silent and stared out the window the entire flight back, which didn’t go unnoticed by Spencer, who left his beloved jet couch to plop down across from her at the single seater table. She stopped looking out the window and saw him doing his signature awkward smile, which made a small smile spread across her face before she said, “Hey, Spence. What’s up?”, so he said, “Are you okay, Y/N/N? You’ve been throwing up all week, and I don’t think that’s all that healthy.”

Y/N sighed and said, “I’m fine, Spence. I probably just haven’t been eating as much as my body would like me to, and the bullpen coffee agitated my stomach. I’m totally fine,” then reached across the table and grabbed his hand before saying, “Thank you for worrying, though. I appreciate you a ton. You know that, right?”, making him smile and say, “Yeah, I know. You’re welcome,” before getting up and going back to his couch, Y/N’s smile growing a little wider as she watched him go.

Once the team was back at Quantico, Y/N plopped down at her desk and started doing her paperwork, but Hotch came out of his office and said, “That was a rough case, everyone. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow, call it a night for now,” so Y/N shrugged and grabbed her bag off the floor and headed to the elevator, holding it open for everyone as the team piled in while expressing their relief at the early night.

Flash forward to the weekend, and Y/N is hanging out with Y/S/N (who is the only person who knows she’s pregnant) at their favorite bar in Logan Circle. It was open mic night, and Y/N decided that the best way to get her emotions out was to do a song. There was a piano, and she’d thankfully memorized how to play “She Used to Be Mine” from Waitress when she went on a musical theater kick. So she calmly sipped on a Shirley Temple and talked with her sister while she waited for her name to be called.

After about four people did what they wanted to do, the lady running the show called out, “Up next, Miss Y/N L/N who will be playing the piano and singing a song for us!”, so Y/N stood up and walked onto the stage before sitting down at the piano and adjusting the mic. She said, “This song is called ‘She Used to Be Mine’ from Waitress,” before playing the interlude and starting to sing:

“It's not simple to say

That most days I don't recognize me

That these shoes and this apron

That place and its patrons

Have taken more than I gave them

It's not easy to know

I'm not anything like I used be, although it's true

I was never attention's sweet center

I still remember that girl”

What Y/N didn’t know is that the team get-together Penelope organized she declined attending to hang out with Y/S/N was taking place at that exact bar, and they were at a booth right near the stage watching her performance. Penelope had instantly grabbed Derek’s arm in worry when Y/N had announced the title of the song, and when questioned about it, she said, “That’s probably the saddest song in the whole musical! In the show, the main character Jenna’s abusive husband takes all the money she’d been saving for the baby she didn’t want to have, and she sings this song because she feels like she’s lost complete control of her life and doesn’t know who she is anymore,” making everyone exchange looks before looking back at the stage to watch Y/N perform:

“She's imperfect, but she tries

She is good, but she lies

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

She is messy, but she's kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone, but she used to be mine”

Y/N kept singing, and as she did, she felt just like Jenna did in the musical: critical of herself for allowing a person like her ex to keep her locked in their relationship for way longer than she should have, and scared because she was going to be a mother, and no way was she allowing her scumbag ex to be a part of her son or daughter’s life.

“It's not what I asked for

Sometimes life just slips in through a back door

And carves out a person and makes you believe it's all true

And now I've got you

And you're not what I asked for

If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back

For a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two”

Spencer could hardly believe what he was hearing. If he had an inkling that she might be pregnant before, this all but confirmed his mind that she was, but she’d have given anything to not be, which broke his heart a little. He took another sip of club soda (designated driver), and kept watching Y/N as she sang her heart out:

“For that girl that I knew

Who’d be reckless, just enough

Who gets hurt, but who learns how to toughen up

When she's bruised and gets used by a man who can't love

And then she'll get stuck

And be scared of the life that's inside her

Growing stronger each day 'til it finally reminds her

To fight just a little, to bring back the fire in her eyes

That's been gone, but used to be mine

Used to be mine”

JJ let out a tiny gasp at the “man who can’t love” line, and she whispered, “I knew she was covering bruises up. Why didn’t she tell us?”, but nobody had an answer for her. As Y/N sang the last part, all of her emotions came crashing down on her, and she barely made it through without bursting into tears:

“She is messy, but she’s kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone, but she used to be mine”

Y/N was met with a standing ovation, and when she stood up to take a bow, her blood went cold when she saw the team sitting at their booth with heartbroken looks on their faces. She pretended she didn’t notice, then went to sit down with Y/S/N again, doing her best to avoid making eye contact with any of them, especially Spencer.

Y/S/N noticed the team staring at them, and she said, “Hey, Y/N/N. I think your friends from work want to talk to you,” which made Y/N let out a tiny groan before saying, “Fine,” and getting up to go over to the team’s booth. She put on a fake smile and said, “Hey, guys! I didn’t expect to see you here! How’s your night been?”, but she could tell her attempt at dodging the bullet didn’t work because Penelope was still about three seconds away from crying.

Y/N let out a sigh, then said, “Okay, fine. I can explain everything. I broke up with my awful boyfriend, apparently I’m pregnant with his kid, yes I’m keeping it, and no I am not allowing him to be a part of this baby’s life because he was horrible to me and that wouldn’t change if he had a child,” leaving the entire team speechless.

Emily said, “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have done something to help you!”, so Y/N burst out, “Because I was embarrassed, Em! I was embarrassed that I let it get that far, and I didn’t want anybody to know. The only person I told about any of this is my sister because I’m living with her right now until I can find my own place, because I used to live with my ex,” making a single tear fall down Penelope’s cheek, and Spencer look at her with an emotion in his eyes Y/N had never seen before.

Everyone else shot her looks of both sadness and encouragement, so she nodded before going back over to her sister and saying, “Can we go home now? I think I’m all partied out,” so Y/S/N said, “Yeah, sure! I’ll pay our bill, you can go wait in the car,” making her nod and grab her coat before walking out the door, doing her best to avoid eye contact.

A few hours later, Y/N was hanging out on the couch at the apartment catching up on paperwork after her sister had gone in for a shift at the hospital when her phone started ringing. She picked it up to see that it was Spencer, which confused her because he’s more of a text kind of guy. She answered and said, “Hey, Spence. What’s up?”, so he said, “Hey, Y/N/N. Can I come over?”, which made her say, “Yeah, sure! I’ll text you my sister’s address and apartment number, and I’ll stay close to the door to buzz you in,” before they bid their goodbyes and hung up.

About fifteen minutes later, the buzzer went off, so Y/N got up and pressed the button before saying, “Spencer?”, earning his reply of, “Yeah, it’s me,” so she said, “Come on up. The door’s unlocked,” before letting him into the building. Spencer came in the door, and before Y/N could even say anything, he snatched her into a tight hug and buried his face in her shoulder. Y/N didn’t really know how to react at first, but she accepted the hug and nestled her face into Spencer’s neck.

Spencer said, “I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you,” so Y/N released her grip on him and said, “No, I’m sorry I didn’t let you guys be there for me. I let my pride get in the way, and I definitely paid the price. I promise I won’t hide things from you guys anymore. It helps no one if I’m not honest with you,” which made Spencer smile at her.

Y/N said, “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”, so Spencer said, “Yeah, coffee sounds great,” making Y/N smile before saying, “You take your cream and sugar with a little coffee, right?”, and she heard him let out a slight chuckle as she went into the kitchen. She put on a pot of boiling water, then grabbed out everything she needed to make Spencer a cup of coffee as well as her favorite green tea, because she knew that she’d receive a lecture about drinking coffee while pregnant from her favorite boy genius and she didn’t want to deal.

Y/N got two mugs out of her cupboard, and after she fixed everything up, she brought the mugs into the living room where Spencer was sitting on the couch. They sat and talked about life for a while until Spencer finally said, “So... when did you find out?”, so Y/N said, “When we stopped at that gas station for a pitstop in Madison. I bought three tests, then took them in the bathroom. All three of them were positive, and while it shouldn’t have shocked me, it did,” making Spencer nod in understanding.

He was silent for a little bit, then he said, “Are you sure you’re gonna keep the baby?”, so Y/N took a long sip of tea before saying, “Yes. At the end of the day, this baby is still 50% me, and I want to give them the best life I can when he or she arrives. It may be the byproduct of one of the worst periods of time in my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna take this little blessing in disguise for granted,” and rubbing her tummy.

Spencer smiled and said, “Henry’s gonna be really excited about having a playmate,” making Y/n say, “I don’t doubt it,” before chuckling slightly. There was a comfortable silence for a moment or two, then Spencer cleared his throat before saying, “This is probably the last thing you want to hear after everything you’ve been through, but... I love you. I think I’ve loved you since May 21, 2009,” making Y/N’s eyes widen before she said, “That’s a week after I joined the team.”

Spencer said, “I know. I know, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. If I had, you wouldn’t have ended up with... him, and you wouldn’t be pregnant with his kid, and you wouldn’t have had to suffer at his hand for all that time without any of us realizing it, and...,” but Y/N put her hand over his mouth and said, “Spence, I’m gonna need you to shut up and listen to me for a minute, okay?”, making him nod and say, “Okay,” slightly muffled by her hand.

Y/N removed her hand, then said, “Spencer Reid, if you’ve loved me since May 21, 2009, I have to admit that I’ve loved you since May 22, 2009. The only reason I ever said yes to that... douche nozzle is because I didn’t think there was any chance in hell you’d be into me. Now that I know you have feelings for me, the only thing I’d want to change is instead of my ex being this baby’s father, I’d want it to be the scrawny boy genius I was lucky enough to be desk neighbors with,” making Spencer’s eyes well up with tears.

He scooted closer, and brought a hand up to Y/N’s cheek before whispering, “Can I...? Would it be alright if I kissed you?”, so Y/N whispered back, “Yes,” and Spencer leaned in before gently touching his lips to hers in one of the softest kisses she’d ever been given. Y/N’s hands found their way into Spencer’s hair, and she held him closer while scooting into his lap, making him smile against her lips and wrap his other arm around her waist.

When Y/N pulled her lips away, she rested her forehead against his and said, “When this baby arrives... If I asked you to be their father figure, would you do it?”, so Spencer’s eyes welled up again before he said, “You can ask me right now,” making Y/N smile. She said, “Will you be this child’s father figure?”, and Spencer said, “Absolutely,” before kissing her forehead and pulling her closer to him.

When Y/S/N got home, she stopped in the living room and had to pull out her phone, because Y/N and Spencer were fast asleep on the couch. Y/N was sprawled over Spencer’s chest and her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, and Spencer’s arms were draped loosely over her back to keep her close. Y/S/N took a picture of the adorable scene, then grabbed a blanket from the wicker basket they kept by the couch to drape it over their sleeping forms. As she walked to her room, she whispered, “Sweet dreams, Lovebirds,” a smile on her face as she did.

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Tag List: @agenthotchner​, @hurricanejjareau​, @xgoldentigerlilyx​, @therestisconfettis​, @less-intelligent-spencerreid​, @aryaarathornson​, @thomasgibsonfan01​

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[ritualslaughter]

do you have any fic recommendations? anything that's your favourite?

absolutely I do!! here's a couple of my favourites in alphabetical order (under a cut cause I'm about to go wild):

attempts at earning love | T | 9.1k

pairing(s): shigaraki/dabi, bakugou/todoroki

Dabi: hey

Dabi: this is

Dabi: me

Dabi: touya

Dabi: fuck, don’t call me that

Dabi: or do, it’s fine

Dabi: maybe i’ll get used to it

Shouto: how did you get this number

Dabi: don’t worry about it

Dabi: you won’t like the answer

Shouto: well that’s reassuring

---

A year after the war ends, Dabi and Shouto reconnect.

I will never stop raving about this fic - it's SO good, the characterization is beautiful, dabi plays the piano, I cried, it's just great

-

Blindside | T | 98k

pairing(s): bakugou/kirishima

“You’re the first guy friend I’ve had that I can just like, be friends with. You’re either the most unthirstiest boy ever...” Camie shrugged and made another wobbly illusion appear between her hands. It looked like a sparkly rainbow with the word ‘friendship’ beneath it, accompanied by what Bakugou assumed was supposed to be a twinkling sound effect, but it had a tinny quality to it and sounded far away. “...or I just ain’t got the kinda straw you like to ssssip.”

Carefully, Bakugou considered the strange turn this conversation had taken.

He had never been asked, point blank, if he was gay before. And he honestly had never thought about how he would respond. Lying about himself didn’t sit right with him. But he’d always wanted to wait until he was the number one hero - when he stood above everyone else - before coming out. Though he’d had times when he’d thought about doing it before then and had almost gone through with it once. But being the number one hero came first. It wouldn’t matter what people would say about it then as long as he’d risen to the top.

Bakugou knew his lack of a response would give Camie all the answers she needed.

THIS !!!!!!! such a good slow burn, the action sequences are AWESOME, plus it features bakugou/camie friendship which is my ultimate kryptonite

-

body of years (take it to your grave) | T | 3.7k

pairing(s): shigaraki/dabi

”Someone’s gotta make sure I stay on the straight and narrow, or whatever,” Tenko says, leaning down to detangle the laces of his sneakers. ”Since you aren’t doing the job.”

Touya scoffs from his seat at the table, soles of his feet balanced carefully against the edge of his chair. ”As if you were ever going to be on the straight and narrow.”

(or; the semi-ordinary lives of Dabi and Shigaraki, years after the end of the world).

I know I've raved about this fic before but it CONTINUES to blow me away - I reread it earlier this week and OOF. touya reads t. s. Eliot, tenko and izuku get lunch, once again I am crying

-

Candy Canes And Christmas Crackers | T | 104k

pairing(s): bakugou/todoroki

“So….your huge family somehow all think that you have a long term boyfriend and are insisting that you bring him to your week long Christmas family reunion?” Despite his efforts the end of his question raised in pitch as Kirishma swallowed down a giggle.

“How does that even happen?” Kaminari added popping some of the hashbrowns Bakugou made into his mouth.

-

OR your classic holiday romcom where Bakugou needs a fake boyfriend to bring home for Christmas and Todoroki is willing to take that bullet.

listen... I don't even like christmas fics but this one SERIOUSLY made me reconsider that opinion. it's got all the good fluffy family fun, fireworks, and fake dating you could ever want!

-

Hate Is a Strong Word | E | 5.1k

pairing(s): shigaraki/dabi

Shigaraki hates Dabi. That's why he wants to fuck him. But if he fucks him too hard, Dabi will break. Maybe if he gets creative, he can break Dabi in a less literal way.

AKA, Shigadabi can't have rough sex because of Shigaraki's quirk and Dabi's scars, so they proceed to have the most gentle hate sex known to man. But maybe hate is too strong of a word...

😃😃😃

-

history has its eyes on you | T | 16.6k

pairing(s): midoriya/todoroki, bakugou/kirishima, momo/jirou

Midoriya looked over the occupants of the room with butter soft eyes. “We should do this again. Seeing everyone in one place … it’s like we’re back in school again.”

Todoroki said, “It feels like a family reunion.”

-

(Social media fic, counting down the five months to Class 1-A's ten year reunion.)

SOCIAL MEDIA FICS MY BELOVED 💖 also, I've been following aloneintherain's stuff for years and they never disappoint - their writing is just incredible omg

-

Just Fucking Kill Me | E | 3.9k

pairing(s): shigaraki/dabi

“Gods I fucking h- hate you,” Tomura thrashes, entire body drawing taut like a bowstring as Dabi curls his fingers inside him. It’s good, it’s so good, and he’s not sure how he’s still breathing.

Dabi, on the other hand, looks as calm as can be, posture lazy and expression lazier. He’s not even looking at Tomura, eyes cast to the screen of the latest phone he’d ‘borrowed’ and scrolling through some pointless website. Tomura doesn’t give a fuck what he’s looking at, really, or if he’s talking to anyone, what he does care about is the fact that Dabi’s fingering him and not paying attention.

I have absolutely no excuse for this other than that it makes me Feel Things

-

safe & sound | T | 5.8k

pairing(s): bakugou/kirishima

“I don’t need a friendly face,” Bakugou says, purposefully sitting in the seat furthest from Kirishima.

“Okay, maybe not,” Kirishima says. He smiles. “But I made tea.”

protective kirishima owns my heart and soul <3

-

too much at stake but too late to change | T | 6k

pairing(s): bakugou/midoriya

After a sudden shift in weather turns a wilderness rescue test into a real emergency, Katsuki and Izuku take on a rainstorm, a mountain, and their own worse natures to make it out alive.

---

Katsuki let out another unsteady breath, but it was a laugh rather than a sob. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“A piece of shit that you carried down a mountain!” Izuku shot back cheerfully.

this is so short and yet I was sitting on the edge of my seat the whole time I was reading it omggg whump fic my beloved 💖

[thepoppypress]

The Battleline Between Good and Evil (Runs Through the Heart of Every Man)

Chapter 1: 

The sounds of hard bone hitting flesh made Peter wince as he furiously scrubbed at the now non-existent stains on the hard, polished wood of the bar. His eyes were down cast as he tried to ignore the massacre in front of him with every fiber of his being. Despite it being early in the afternoon, his shift had already started off quite eventfully, with a barroom brawl. Even now, he found it hard on himself not to intervene. However, he knew he couldn’t draw attention to himself. In this type of environment, attention was either bad or worse with no better or inbetween. It was something he couldn’t afford.

A thump in front of him drew him out of his musings, his Spidey Sense starting to tingle quite annoyingly. Whoever was in front of him was dangerous. A deep voice started to speak.

“Old fashioned,” came the demand. Peter nodded silently, willing his face to be impassive as he concentrated on making the drink for the man. When he was done, he slid the drink over to the bar counter.

“Here you go sir,” he uttered politely, glancing up and taking note of the patron. He was an older man who wore a black, fitted T-shirt that displayed his assets clearly, biceps bulging as he leaned leisurely against the counter. White hair covered his head, cut recently as the smell of fresh shampoo came off of him to reach Peter’s sensitive nose. He could also clearly see little hairs clinging to the black of his shirt. The man had an eye patch over his right eye and was huge as well.

When he finished his drink, he slid it back over to him, and stood up at his full height, towering well over Peter and the rest of the patrons in the bar. The man’s one eye glanced at him, appraising him and Peter couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked away, but not before noticing the slight twitch of the man’s mouth as he did.

‘Fuck,’ he thought and to avoid more embarrassment, Peter glanced around the large man to look at where the brawl had gotten to now.

“You new here?” Peter’s large eyes came back up to meet the other man’s and he nodded shyly.

“Yeah, a little over a month.” Eye-Patch (as Peter has now affectionately nicknamed him) hummed and stared at Peter for a little while longer, who fidgeted uncomfortably. Even though there was plenty of noise within the mostly empty club, the silence between both men was getting to Peter, which prompted him to ask a question. “Do you come here often?” The man grinned.

“Not before.” That made Peter blink. He tilted his head in confusion. He was obviously missing something here.

“Huh?” Eye-Patch laughed, gaining the attention of several people around them.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Peter bristled a bit at the nickname, “just that you should probably expect me more.” Reaching into his pocket, Eye-Patch pulled out several hundred dollar bills and threw them towards Peter, whose eyes widened at the sight. “Just for you. Keep the change.” And he walked out the door without another word. Peter gaped at the door for a long while before looking at the neat bills on the counter.

“Weirdos,” he grumbled underneath his breath but not before pocketing the money. Another low thrum sang at the back of his head and he felt a presence sidle up beside him. He knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey Petey Boy!” Peter grabbed the glass that Eye-Patch just drank out of and began washing it.

“Hey Harley. What’s up?” The woman squealed happily, popping the gum in her mouth obnoxiously. Peter found that he quite liked Harleen Quinzel, after he worked past his first impression of her.

“Nothin’ much,” she drawled out teasingly, her blonde pigtails bouncing around her, “just wonderin’ when ya’ became such good friends with Deathstroke over there.” Peter grabbed a rag hanging on the bottom countertop and started to wipe down the glass in his hands.

“Who?” Harley giggled loudly, toying with the hem of Peter’s T-shirt as she grabbed onto one of his arms. He glanced down at her with a soft, curious look and she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Y’know, hunky Eye-Patch guy? Guy who just left?”

“Ah,” Peter realized before questioning, “his name is Deathstroke?” Harley rolled her eyes again.

“No, silly! His real name is Slade Wilson. He’s a mercenary for hire.”

‘Guess that answers that question.’ Harley blew a bubble and popped it again, winking suggestively at him, “and he was so interested in you!” Peter snorted.

“Nah. I’m new here so he was just asking. Besides, he’s a bit too old for me.” The look on Harley’s face was dubious.

“Uh-huh. Sure, honey. I’m just saying, he’s pretty hot. Also,” he felt a squeeze on his bicep, “have you been working out? You’re ripped!” Her smile became mischievous. “Trying to impress someone? Ooh! Ooh! Is it me?” Peter gave a small laugh, his curly hair bouncing as he shook his head.

“I’m always trying to impress you, Harls.” The blonde giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before swiping her thumb across it, wiping away the lipstick.

“Aww, you sweetie. If I didn’t have my puddin’, I would be with you in a heartbeat.” Peter forced a smile as Harley made heart eyes at the mention of her on-again-off-again boyfriend. Right now, it was decidedly on. If you asked Peter, he would say he knew the signs of an abusive relationship when he saw them. “Anyway. I just came ta tell ya’ that your shift for this afternoon ends right now and I’ll see you in a few hours!”

“Okay, thanks.” She kissed his cheek once more, not bothering to wipe away the residual lipstick before flouncing out of the bar. Peter wished she could see that she could do so much better than a man nicknamed ‘The Joker.’ Somewhere among the brawl that still had not stopped, the sound of glass shattering grabbed his attention. Peter sighed.

‘I better clean that up before I leave.’

-----

Peter walked the few blocks that it took to get to the homeless shelter where he stayed. He opened the door that housed the tens of people that wandered the streets, and closed it softly behind him. Setting towards his cot, he noticed that people were bustling around like crazy, and a nice smell was coming from the kitchen. His stomach grumbled but he willed it to stop. He needed the money to get a new place and he was a few hundred away from achieving his goal for the upfront portion. He was lucky that Harley decided to help him out and aid him in forming a bank account here. Peter reached his cot and sat down, noting that, luckily, no one had tried to steal his stuff. Again. Settling back against the pillows, Peter thought about the past couple of months.

He had first come to this world so unfamiliar to him through some sort of magical portal. God, he fucking hated magic sometimes. Mr. Stark had let him go into his lab unsupervised for the first time since the incident involving the toaster, pink glitter, and the flamethrower.

It was nice.

He was sitting at one of the tables, tinkering around with one of his web shooters, Led Zeppelin (“For the sake of America’s Ass™, Peter, it’s ACDC!”) booming in his ears when suddenly, he felt himself being pulled back, a cold feeling settling across the back of his neck and making its way to the rest of his body. Then, a weird expression came over his face as another feeling came over him, like he was being stretched thin, but it didn’t hurt. There’s a quick flash of a blinding light, causing him to shut his eyes (his overly reactive senses are a blessing and a curse) tightly and the next thing he knows, Peter hits the ground hard, his body making a soft thudding noise.

The first thing to register is the sight. It wasn’t overly bright, like the light was. In fact, it was rather dark. Brick walls surrounded him from two sides, indicating that he was in an alleyway of some sort. It wasn’t too spacious and various bags of trash were littered all over the place. Doors were lined along the brick walls, all closed and looking uninviting. Then came the smell. It was horribly pungent, probably even to the regular nose.

To Peter’s nose, however, it was hell. He could practically feel his olfactory glands swelling from the amount of stink he was admitting into his body. Gagging, he tried to stand up to get away from the smell only to stumble and nearly eat the gravel under him.

‘Parker Luck fucking sucks,’ he thinks as he collapses against one of the doors on the brick walls, then thinks groggily, ‘hey, that rhymed.’

He rested his head against the cool metal for a moment before his Spidey Sense, sensitive and overly reactive at the moment, blares a warning, making him shoot backwards. He lays on the ground for less than a second when the door he had previously rested on opened with a bang. His head pounded more than it ever did before, and the added sound of the metal banging against the brick and a high pitched voice screeching didn't help either. Peter squinted at the rather tall female figure standing in the doorway screaming obscenities into the lit room.

She screamed her last words, no response following her, and stepped outside with a huff, slamming the door behind her. Peter closed his eyes again, and laid his head against the concrete sullenly, fully expecting her to leave him. If he was a woman in a city at night, he would do that too.

“Oof, yer’ lookin’ kinda rough there buddy.” Peter’s eyes popped open in surprise. The woman was standing over him, a look of sympathy and concern displayed on her pale face. She crouched down and the closer she got, the more clearly he could see her features. She was pretty, with alabaster skin and platinum blonde hair pulled into pigtails, the ends dyed red and blue. Her bright blue eyes blinked curiously at him as he laid unmoving for a second.

“I fe’l rough’,” he croaked, his hands rubbing at his throat in an effort to ease the pain he felt as he spoke. The woman clicked her tongue and reached for his wrists, bringing them away from his neck.

“Alright, sweetie, I need you to answer every question as best as you can okay? I’m a doctor, I can help you.” Peter groaned and pointed to her, his arm bending at the elbow to raise his finger in the air.

“Wha’s yur’ name?” He managed to slur out. ‘Stranger danger Parker,’ he reminded himself in lieu of Mr. Stark. If he were here, he would be shaking his head in disappointment, Peter was sure of it.

“Ah, how rude of me! Ma names Dr. Harleen, but ya’ can call me Harley!” The hand pointing at her turned into a wave, greeting her.

“Hey,” he replied weakly, “my name’s Peter. Peter Parker.” He could hear the grin in Harley’s voice.

“Well, Peter Parker, tell me. Are ya feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

“Yes.”

“Any ringing in the ears?”

“No.”

“A headache? Are ya feeling really tired?”

“Not that bad of a headache. Tired, yes,” he sighed, fatigue heavy in his voice, “look, Doctor, I don’t have a concussion. Just feeling weird right now.”

“Ya drink before you came here or eat something weird?”

“No, I’m just weird like this.” Harley was silent for a moment.

“Do ya want me to help get you home?” Peter sighed again, pushing his arms up to help himself lift his torso so he was sitting upright.

“I, uh, don’t have a home,” he looked around the alley, his senses starting to clear (though his nose still throbbed at the smell), “where am I, by the way?” Harley leaned into his vision, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

“You don’t know where you are?” Peter shook his head, happy his headache was now subsiding. The disbelieving expression didn’t disappear from Harley’s face. “Well, you, puppy, are in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in the world.” Peter sent Harley a weird glance.

“Gotham? Like Gotham City, Batman’s Gotham City?” The second the sentence went out of his mouth, Harley covered his lips with her hand.

“Never say that name unless you’re looking for a death wish!” She hissed at him, her eyes hard. “Promise me!” Wide eyed, Peter nodded reluctantly and he was let go. It wasn’t like he read the comics or anything. He didn’t really know much about Batman. Just that he had a sidekick named Robin and they fought the Joker on a regular basis. Harley straightened, causing him to look up at her. She extended her hand which he took and he slowly stood up with her help. She dusted him off, her hands sweeping across the back of his jacket and the front of his shirt for him. He nodded in thanks.

“Do ya have your phone on ya?” He reached into his back pocket and felt that, yes, thankfully, his phone was still in his pocket. He tugged it out and unlocked it, tapping on the call icon. He goes straight to Tony’s number. A ring doesn’t even make it onto his phone before the screen says that there’s no service for his phone. He sighs forlornly. There goes trying to contact home.

“Sorry Harley, I don’t have service here.”

“So ya don’t have service, no way to contact home, and ya have no idea where ya are?” Peter shook his head. It was Harley’s turn to sigh. “Alright, puppy, yer' comin’ with me. I know a nicer homeless shelter than any of the ones they got on Grand.” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the alleyway onto the nearly empty street. He should’ve probably been concerned that he was heading somewhere with a random woman, granted one who had tried to help him. There was still a low thrum of danger at the back of his head, but all he could focus on was that ridiculous nickname.

“Puppy?” The blonde haired woman paused, turning back with a teasing smirk on her pretty face.

“‘Cause yer’ so cute like a puppy, with those puppy dog eyes and pouty frown. Yer’ even smaller than me!” At that point, he had taken note that she was, in fact, a full four inches taller than him. He looked at her with somewhat genuine offense.

“Hey! I’m 5’6! You’re only so much taller because you’re wearing heels!” He pointed towards the pumps that adorned her feet. Harley scoffed and took off her heel for a second, showing both of them that, even without the heels, she was still an inch taller than him. He groaned. This night was just getting worse and worse. First, he’s in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar woman who was taller than him. Hearing Harley’s laugh though, as they walked through the streets arguing about who was really taller, made him feel at least a little better. It wasn’t much, but every little bit counts.

All that eventually led to where Peter was now, laying on a cot in the same homeless shelter that Harley had introduced him to. He had gotten a couple of jobs with the help of Harley’s shadier connections. He had realized early on that this dimension was not the same world that the comics had shown. This was somehow different. There was no one with super powers, though the monikers were still real. Batman was real, but Harley (the only person he trusted up to this point) hadn’t told him anything, and by the fifth time that he asked, he realized he wouldn’t be getting anything out of her so he stopped. He had wondered who Batman was here, and if he and Robin were still partn-

The sound of an alarm pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter hurriedly grabbed his phone and turned it off. He saw the time and sighed.

“Time to head to work,” he muttered.

-----

“Hey Puppy!” Harley squealed as he entered the club that was now flooding with people, the lighting dim save for a few spotlights that roved over the sea of people. Peter straightened his clothes, a white button down paired with some slacks. They had been the Joker’s but, according to Harley, they didn’t fit him anymore. Peter shivered at the thought of taking something of the Joker’s, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped.

“Harley!” He yelled back in greeting and both walked over the bar. Peter quickly clocked in and set off to work, one of his coworkers behind the counter already. From there, it was quite the busy time, people requesting drinks all over the place. Peter and Harley talked from time to time as he prepared other’s drinks. It was a fairly smooth evening so far.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble had to come, brewing in all its toxicity. When he had first started as a bartender for the club, he had been warned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, just so the club doesn’t get hit with another lawsuit. Harley was fiddling with her phone in one corner of the bar, and at this point, Peter was used to the loud noise of the club, having inconspicuously stuffed his ears with ear plugs earlier. However, it didn’t completely cancel out the noise as his super hearing still noted everything within his vicinity. In the opposite corner of the bar, away from him and Harley, Peter somehow heard the soft sounds of paper being ripped, a drop of something hitting the water, and a soft fizzing noise.

His head imperceptibly turned to watch as a rather handsome man handed a tall glass of something to a beautiful blonde accompanied by a taller, equally beautiful redhead. ‘Taller than me too,’ he thought bitterly. The blonde accepted the drink as it was slid over to her and was about to lift it when Peter quickly rushed over. He leaned over the counter and subtly pressed a finger down onto the base of the glass, which was widened, using his strength to keep the glass down. He made subtle eye contact with one of the bouncers next to the door, and the man got the message pretty quickly. He started toward the bar while Peter distracted the patrons.

“Sir!” His voice still sounded somewhat soft and high pitched over the bass of the music. “I think there’s someone outside looking for you! You match the description I think!” At the odd look given to him, he continued trying to convince him, “what’s your name?!” The man’s glassy eyes roamed over Peter’s face before answering,

“Trevor!” Peter squinted, trying to sell his lie.

“Last name?!”

“McConnelly!” Peter nodded and waved over the bouncer, who lumbered over.

“Is this the Trevor McConnelly the person outside is looking for?!” A quick once over of Trevor told Peter all he needed to know about him. “Wasn’t it his girlfriend?!” Without question, the bouncer nodded. Trevor suddenly paled and rushed past the bouncer, a man named Gus, who followed him. Peter shot him a thankful look and then turned back to the two women, glancing about them awkwardly.

“Sorry, but I wouldn’t drink this if I were you. He slipped something into it.” The women, shockingly, didn’t look surprised. They only glanced at each other before turning to him with twin smiles, an unheard conversion passing between their eyes that Peter didn’t know how to interpret.

“Thanks for the assist. I really appreciate it,” the blonde purred over the music. Peter could’ve sworn the grin on her face turned sharp for a split second before it flitted away and an almost natural smile came over her face once more. Almost being the key word. A shiver crawled up Peter’s back and the thrum of Spidey Sense became nearly haywire as he stared at the expressions of the two women. They were a lot more dangerous than they appeared.

“I don’t mean to condescend, and I’m sure you’re both able to protect yourselves, but please be careful. No one deserves that to happen to them,” he said as earnestly as possible, using his large brown eyes to his advantage. That seemed to soften at least the red head as her smile started to turn a little bit more gentle. The blonde seemed a bit thrown by his honesty, but quickly recovered, and her smile too seemed a little tender.

“I appreciate it! Not a lot of people can make that statement sound nice!” He gave them a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bar and continuing with other orders. Harley was suddenly gone from her spot, and Peter furrowed his brows. ‘I hope she’s okay,’ he thinks as he starts on another drink for another patron. He quickly shoots a text in between requests and then shuts off his phone. At one point, he’s done with all his requested drinks and takes a bit of a break. He turns around again only to see the two women from earlier still at the bar, conversing quietly. They’re quite perceptive, he notes because the instant his attention turns to them, their attention turns to him and they’re locked in a staring contest. He shyly wanders over to their spots, nearly missing the slight amusement that flashed between both of their eyes.

“What’s your name?” The redhead asks as he nears them. Peter smiles innocently, trying to keep posture loose as his Spidey Sense reacts again. His hands pull at each other, something he can’t help, and something that both women definitely notice.

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker. And you?” He’s as polite as possible. Always be polite to a customer, he remembers his manager saying. The redhead speaks again.

“I’m Barbara Gordon, but my friends call me Babs. You can too.” Peter nodded, his curly down hair bouncing as he did so. The women’s eyes crinkled as they smiled, their expressions now a hundred times more genuine than before.

“Stephanie Brown, Steph. But you can call me ‘Mine,’” the blonde winked with a small and suggestive smile. Peter’s cheeks turned red at this, his pale skin flushing. Barbara and Stephanie could tell too, as they chuckled a bit at his face and Peter turned his head away in embarrassment. When he turns back a few moments later, they’re still laughing, and he pouts a bit. ‘I never know how to respond to those comments,’ he thought. As their laughter subsided, they started asking more questions. With the danger at a small vibration at the back of his mind, he felt like he was in an interrogation.

“Have you worked here long?” Stephanie asked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck and cleavage. Peter made a huge point to himself to look straight into her eyes or over her shoulder under the guise of watching someone else.

“Not really,” he replied, “Just over a month. I work at The Captain’s Bar too.” Both women perked up in interest.

“Really? We frequent but we’ve never seen you.”

“Well, I work in the mornings and afternoons on Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You guys should come by sometime when I work! It’s quieter then if you guys want to talk!” They smile at him and he feels the vibration of danger slowly slip away until it’s nearly nothing. Peter guesses he won them over.

“Sure thing! We’re free next Wednesday so expect us then!” Peter nods, his fluffy hair bouncing again. Sudden, dual beeps enter his ear canal as he hears both women’s phones go off at the same time. They glance at the texts and curse and Peter suddenly realizes he shouldn’t hear those sounds and he’s staring so he turns away, trying to find interest in something else.

Stephanie talks again, “do you have a napkin and a pen?” He searches around the bar for a pen and he grabs a napkin from the neat stack in the corner. He gives them to her and she quickly writes down two sets of numbers. “These are our numbers! Keep in touch!” With that, they’re gone. Peter takes the napkin delicately into his hand, observing Stephanie’s writing style before pocketing it carefully. He resumes his job, but it’s not five minutes later that he remembers, the thought irking him. Damn pet peeves.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, “she took the damn pen!”

-----

It was a week later that he encountered Barbara and Stephanie again. In the meanwhile, he was added into a chat between the two women, their conversations ranging from everyday, talking-about-the-weather to absolutely ridiculous. Peter knew not to draw attention to himself but he reasoned that two more friends couldn't hurt. He rather enjoyed having more people to talk to, not that Harley was an unsatisfying friend to be around. Speaking of, he had found that Harley had left because her “puddin’” needed her. When he had called her later that night, concerned, the excuse rushed out of her lips, leaving him less than convinced, but he let it go.

She arrived at the barroom the next day with her usual smile and a bouncing ponytail and everything was back to normal. Eye-Patch came in more often, Peter noticed, leaving more and more hundred dollar bills on the counter. Peter had tried to get him to stop, only to receive a smug smile and a goodbye of ‘sweetheart,’ before he was on his way. He found that Deathstroke, Slade Wilson Peter recalled as his name, was a man of little words, but that didn’t stop him from making small conversation with Peter when he could. Harley thought that he wanted to impress Peter. Peter disagreed completely.

“I think he might be making fun of me.” Harley rolled her eyes.

“Not true. I know guys like him. He’s trying to impress you, Puppy. Don’t doubt me.” Peter, knowing that arguing with her would be fruitless, just shrugged.

“Whatever you say, Harls.”

Wednesday came, and just like they said, Stephanie and Barbara entered The Captain’s Bar near the end of his shift with dazzling smiles on their faces as they shifted the backpacks on their shoulders. Peter greeted them happily.

“Hey Babs! Hey Steph!” They greeted him, waving jovially and walked towards the bar, sitting on seats right in front of him. “How are you guys doing?” Now closer, he had more of a view to observe the two women. They had slight bags under their eyes and their skin was paler than usual. “Are you guys okay? You look tired,” Peter asked with genuine concern. Stephanie leaned forward onto her elbows, which she settled on the counter. Her neck dropped a bit and he could suddenly see the back of her collar, a small, nearly inconspicuous red stain on there. It was freshly made, the texture under the lighting still looking wet. It looked like blood, he realized. With that conclusion, the thrum of danger returned and another shiver was forced down his back. The women noticed.

Stephanie raised her eyebrow, “The question is, are you okay?” Babs’ look was no less concerned. Peter nodded shakily.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. It’s just, you got a little bit of blood on the back of your shirt. Are you hurt? Do you need first aid?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit before her small hand clutched the back of her collar, Peter still looking at her in worry. Barbara’s jaw clenched and she plastered a fake smile onto her face.

“Steph’s fine, she just had a bit of a rough night. We’re both okay, so you don’t have to worry Peter.” He nodded reluctantly, still worried but content to take them at their word.

“Then what can I get you guys?” They rattled off their drinks and he rushed to make them, vaguely aware of the door opening to let another customer in. It wasn’t until he slid the girls’ drinks over to them did he realize that Slade had walked in. The one eyed man grinned predatorily at him before sitting down at the nearest end of the bar. Peter muttered a “be right back” to Babs and Steph before wandering over to the mercenary.

“Hey Slade.”

“Sweetheart,” the older man rumbled his greeting.

“The usual?” A short nod from the man sent Peter on his way to making an old fashioned drink for him. As he gave the man his requested beverage, Slade pointed over to the two women who were conversing softly with themselves, his one eye narrowed.

“Those two your friends?” Peter glanced at Babs and Steph and looked back at Slade, confused.

“Yeah? I mean we met like a week ago, but I guess you could call us that. Why?” Another body slumped into the chair next to Slade, slurring an order. Slade took that as a distraction for Peter and stood up.

“Because you have interesting taste in people, sweetheart.” He sauntered towards the women, his shoulders drawn tighter than Peter’s ever seen them. He watches Slade interact with the two women, watches their reactions to each other. He notices that, oddly enough, Slade is the one in the submissive position, while Stephanie and Barbara are dominant, despite their dispositions. Slade was stiff, in a combative stance while the other two were completely open, smirking and tilting their heads up at the older man. A hand snapping in front of his face brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“Hey, twink!” The man who slumped next to Slade sneered up at Peter from his position over the counter, “I told you to get me a fuckin’ drink,” he slurred loudly enough to catch the attention of those nearby. Slade, Steph and Babs turn their attention towards them.

“I’m right on it, Mr. Stanley,” Peter said politely, his hands starting to sweat, “can you repeat your order again?” The man squinted up at him for a moment, straightened up in this seat, lifted his hand and slapped Peter straight across the face. Being Spider Man, he saw it coming straight away, but had the forethought to remember not to draw much attention to himself. He tried to make it seem like the hit actually affected him a bit. So he stumbled off to the side, falling down in the process and watched as Slade stormed over to the man and proceeded to punch the drunk, living daylights out of the man. Steph and Babs went to the side of the bar where the small door separating the bar and the rest of the room was and rushed over to Peter, helping to straighten him up.

“You good Petey?” Babs voice was soft as if afraid he would spook like a cornered animal. He nodded distractedly, focusing on Slade who was now shaking the drunk man. He was knocked out instantly by the punch. He pushed himself up, looking at the other two who stood up with him. Slade noticed movement in his peripheral vision, his gaze snapping over to Peter in an instant.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The look of Peter’s reddened cheek made Slade clench his teeth.

“I’m fine, Slade,” he replied before pointing at the man that was limp in the mercenary’s arms, “let him go.” Slade blinked and looked at the man, sneering and releasing him, letting him hit the floor with a loud thump.

“With pleasure,” he smirked as Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'Typical Slade,' Peter thought. Only God knows how many fights that man gets into.

“Just,” Peter leaned over the counter and took note of the unconscious male, his eye well on its way to swelling to the size of a golf ball, “wait here while I go get my manager.” The brown haired boy sighed in suffering as he headed toward the back of the bar to get his manager who would no doubt fire him soon for this.

‘Fucking Parker Luck,’ he thought bitterly.

Unawares to Peter, Stephanie and Barbara joined Slade in watching over the knocked out patron, looking down at him as if he were scum underneath their shoes. Stephanie glanced at Slade, who, even though he wasn’t looking at her, knew that she required his attention. Fully aware that he was listening, Steph said,

“I assume that you won’t struggle to say yes to this mission?” He knew exactly what she was talking about.

“No problems here, blondie. I’ll even take this case pro bono if I get first shot at him.” Slade grinned at the blonde, a ruthless intent behind his expression. Steph, who mirrored this, then turned to Babs to gage her reaction.

“Count me in,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. She was quite disgusted by the display that negatively affected their new favorite bartender, “but you do know Dick and Tim are gonna want to know why we’re doing this.” Slade stilled at the mention of his ex, and whether or not the two women noticed it, they didn’t comment. Instead, Steph hummed.

“That may be, but I think they’ll quite like Petey.” The blonde sent Babs a knowing smirk, which Babs rolled her eyes at. Secretly, however, she agreed with her friend.

‘Yeah,’ she thought as Peter came back out, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with every step and his doe brown eyes wide, ‘they’ll definitely like him. A lot.’

Previous: Synopsis 

Next: Part 2 

[beenjen]

You ever see something in your house, that you have overlooked, and then can’t believe you did that? Yeah, all the time here. I swear. I was in the kitchen earlier. Straightening up. Looked over, and the coffee maker/pot, looked a HOT MESS. As in, I know you are supposed to clean and wipe it down from time to time, but I cannot remember the last time I did and it was all splashed along the front and top, the pot handle looked rough from dried grounds, just yuck.

So it started me on this cleaning rampage. I wiped it down, then all the appliances. Then the granite base wrap around, then I moved all the stuff, cleaned under and behind it. Wiped down the cabinets. Cleaned out the fridge. Arranged the magnets on the outside and pics so it doesn’t look willy nilly. I’m not sure what came over me!

Too, and this is an oof moment, I had lit a candle in the kids bathroom, it melted through the side, ran down the wall and into the tub. What. The. Fuck. I think one of the kids slammed a door, and it knocked it off balance or something. I’ve had a candle there for years and no issue. What a damn mess. I just pretended like I didn’t see it last night, I completely blocked it out lol

I somehow conned my kids into playing ‘clean up’ in the bathroom and look at this cheap labor in action!

We scrubbed that bathroom within an inch of its life. It’s probably cleaner than when we moved in eons back 💪🏼 as in I scrubbed the sliders for the glass door with a toothbrush folks. I don’t know where the spurt of energy came from.

It felt so good though. Cleaning, the kids just happy, music in the background. It was such a simple thing, helpful even, funny how it improved my mood.

Then we did Js decorate a gingerbread man art project and homework. He has one more week of school until his Christmas break. It seems insane that Christmas is already almost here. Cannot believe it. We closed the night with a dance party.

All in all, it’s been a good weekend. The weather was beautiful. We really didn’t get anything done? Aside from the cleaning frenzy I rustled up. Tomorrow will be the day to finish up the laundry, grocery shop, pick up everything for Christmas cooking....

I’m making a labor intensive lasagna. I do this long cooking sauce with many moving parts, all from scratch, it takes a couple hours to simmer and flavor up, but hubs loves it. I’m also making a Black Forest layer cake, that is maybe 8 layers, it’ll be beautiful, taste good, be fancy. We are keeping it smaller, I’m wanting to make it more distinctive and detailed a meal. I usually reserve these richer type feasts for special occasions and it’ll be fun to cook up.

I’m starting to feel the bug to get back to the task of fitness. I’ve lost a good chunk of weight, it’s more about toning up at this point, I was talking with a girlfriend, and I don’t really ever care to be in a string bikini or have a six pack, but I wouldn’t mind some definition and tighter midriff and thighs. It’s not really a New Years resolution, just that I’ve taken a nice break after getting to this point and I’m getting motivated again.

I’ve done mostly yoga for months, and now that the training is finished, some HIITs, running and weights sound really good. Still keeping with the 16/8. Still filling up with the 50% veg. I’m looking at a collagen supplement for some firming up (you really can tell a difference with the amount of weight I’ve lost, that I’m not 20 anymore and don’t have the same elasticity.... we’ll leave it at that) - any recommendations?

Momentum, progress, I’ll take it all 💪🏼

[supertransural]

supernatural made me realize a bunch of shit about myself, specifically identity and it’s part of the reasons why i think it’s an inherently queer story.

allow me to clarify. once upon a time, 6 years ago, i found supernatural. back then i was mostly in the closet, even to myself. i’d gotten to that point of “hah wouldn’t it be nice to be like guys on tv and kiss the pretty girls” but not much further than that, because in most of the movies i had watched with my parents, the personality of the guy wasn’t really explored in the way supernatural (mostly unintentionally ngl) does with its characters.

so picture a teen, finding my first tv show to watch alone, being able to think my very own comments about it and not fear any repercussions from those thoughts because hey, i’m alone in my room i can think what i like about what i’m seeing. and feeling.

and here enters dean. complicated, comes from a rough childhood, parental expectations weighing so heavy on him it’s bleeding through his smiles, has a brother he feels is his duty to protect, is stuck in a loop of denial repression depression sublimation denial repression depression sublimation den-

you get the gist. i related to that guy. and then here he goes getting bi-coded (didn’t know what that was at the time but looking back, i could sure as hell feel it) and then kissing girls on screen, despite his wavering self-confidence. little ol’ gay me was like “yoooo i relate to this character on most of his character points, do i also relate to like..... wanting to do what he does??? do i wanna kiss other girls????”. fast forward one season and i’ve already figured out i was maybe bi. literally thanks to season 1 dean.

so, having figured out this “minor” aspect of myself, i went on youtube to find some other people like me and try to see if i was right to be homophobic towards myself or not. figured out, hey uh, definitely not. so you can also add “it ended up making me try to put a stop to my internalized homophobia” on the list of things that shitpost of a show helped me with.

i went back to the show for another season, relating even more to dean, and “blah blah blah queer coded character blah blah blah gay me could feel it before i knew what it was blah blah blah happy gay stuff”. several seasons passed by before anything new came up on my “hm this show rly out here bringing out all the queer aspects of myself huh” journey, but anyways i was still slowly but surely thinking holy shit i wanna be this goddamn man i want to be dean.

then comes season 4, walzing into my questioning little heart. oof ok, this season hit ALL the right spots for me. because i could feel what was going on between cas and dean and even though everything was still blurry as fuck, the parallel between sam/ruby and dean/cas was clear as day. and i was like “oh so you’re saying there’s a love here and it’s like that tarnished love between sam and ruby and it’s forbidden so that’s why we’re not seeing it and it’s like... gay”. so it made me realize “holy shit, i wanna see more gay content, and it’s ok to want that.”

then cas became another extremely relatable character, because i just kept thinking “he doesn’t really have a gender the same way other humans do” and i shit you not, he started me questioning my own gender. because again, a relatable character that you somewhat identify with that makes you ask questions about their identity INEVITABLY makes you ask questions about yourself. queue me going on youtube yet again to understand this shit a little better. i went through a few months of thinking “maybe i’m nb”, joined a few more gay communities on the internet, started learning about lgbtq+ things, watched a few more gay shows, and basically just grew a little more into my queerness.

fasforward several seasons, a couple gap years where i stopped watching it, and you’ll get to me a year ago. i thought i was a gay woman, fairly happy in that mental space and identity. but then. the whole “i wanna be dean” thing came up a lot again. because he just kept on being more and more visibly queer coded as i kept on learning more about this shit.

lo and behold, i jumped straight into the idea i was trans. and wouldya look at dat, i was right. quarantine happened, so i had to get even more of my interactions through online platforms, and quite obviously hovered around the gayer ones, or at least the lgbtq+ sides of them. and as i kept watching the show on and off, binging the first seasons for the 4th time, i kept learning more and more about myself. and those acts of gay frenzy were always started by seeing something relatable or strange in that show and looking it up. like, legitimately every time.

i found this community on tumblr a few weeks ago because i was tired of having my own little hypotheticals in my head and not knowing if anyone agreed, and the more i’ve been here the more i’ve learned about myself. the more i’ve let go of a lot of internalized hatred. the more i’ve been really ok with myself, as a trans guy. BUT ITS NOT FINISHED YET.

because, as we all know, it is common understanding here that dean is bi. WELL, i’ve been re-binging the show with that mindset finally clear in my head, and the “haha dean relatable lol” thing came up again, except it was really a “haha dean (who is bi) super relatable lol” thing now. so i paused, yet again, to think about that a little more. AND FIGURED OUT I WASNT STRAIGHT, IM BI AS FUCK.

that happened 1 month ago. i thought i’d grown fully into my queer self, that i’d gone through enough realizations and coming outs (to friends only, god forbid i come out to my parents (unfortunately quite literally god forbid lmao) before i’m out of here) for a lifetime. but apparently not. AND IT WAS STILL BECAUSE OF SUPERNATURAL. destiel and trans!dean fics helped with my internalized transphobia and homophobia, they helped with acceptance of those parts of myself. something that helped was also seeing the fact that shipping two guys in a tv show wasn’t just “being greedy with my grubby little gay hands” and wanting to think of a character as trans wasn’t just “being delusional and ridiculous”. and reading fics wasn’t cringy, it was nice and comforting.

so to try and sum up this unhinged gay rant, what i meant by my initial statement is this.

looking back on this entire self-discovery journey that i went on, it really felt like i was in the impala with the boys, except i was on a different kind of route (just picture this giant road painted in rainbow colors with baby driving at 80mph on it, that’s what it felt like). i grew with those characters, but most importantly i grew THANKS to those characters. their story was queer enough to make me, a fairly homophobic, traditional, conservative kid into a lib trans bi dude. and not in a “i got converted by the fandoms” way. i found the fandom waaaaayyyyyyyy later. i stumbled upon the fandoms looking for answers about this gayass goddamn show that i could FEEL was like me but couldn’t verbalize yet.

their story felt like a queer self discovery story and i could already see that before i went on it myself. no other shows have ever done that for me, and i’ve watched shows that had lgbtq+ characters in them, scripted gay scenes, not just subtext but text. and they still didn’t do that for me.

so this is why this show is so meaningful to be, and incidentally so very gay. like genuinely.

[tokyoghoulaspecs]

Like I said in my last post, I’ve been putting more and more aspecs into my writing lately. This fic in particular is being written extremely scattered, so i have no idea when it’ll be posted, if at all. But I wanted to at least share the aspec bits I have written!

This time, it’s Hide’s segments!

(Word Count: 2200)

(Warnings for a brief scene of romance and lots of internalized aphobia/amisia)

[This takes place shortly after Dragon, while the ghouls are all still staying at the CCG]

“Um, Hide? Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course!”

“So, um, I was thinking about what you said...” Kaneki began.

“Which one?” Hide asked. So much had happened over the past few weeks, Kaneki could have been referring to literally anything.

“A-about... you liking me.”

“Oh.” Hide could feel his face heating up. He’d almost forgotten about his confession.

“And, I think I’d like to try? As long as that’s okay with you?”

Hide lunged and hugged him. “Of course it is!”

Kaneki hummed contentedly and hugged him back.

-

It was 3am, and Hide was awake staring at the ceiling.

He had forgotten the reason why he stopped dating in high school, why all of his relationships ended badly. Something was different about him — about his sexuality. Kaneki had just confessed and they became a couple, and already Hide could feel his feelings changing. Most people would write it off as anxiety, but Hide knew better. He’d felt this feeling before, and he knew what was happening. His romantic feelings were fading.

Hide groaned and ducked his head into his knees. “I was hoping I would be fixed by now.”

He had given up dating after he broke two people’s hearts. Two people that he had loved romantically, and even when his romantic feelings faded he still cared about, but the relationship became too much for him. Too many expectations, too many things he didn’t understand, and he had to end it. After not even a few months, going from passionate to repulsed, he unintentionally broke their hearts. And then they broke his when they screamed at him, accusing him of never loving them in the first place.

He had hoped that taking a long break from dating would fix whatever was wrong with his sexuality. He had loved Kaneki for so many years, with none of it fading, even when Kaneki went missing time and time again. Hide thought it would stay forever. But now that they were in a relationship, it was fading.

“Maybe I can hold on, and it’ll come back.” Hide said, trying to ignore the fact that he said the same thing in his prior relationships, and it had never worked before.

-

“I love you.” Kaneki whispered, nuzzling him before kissing him on the cheek.

Hide pulled away. “I can’t.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Hide shook his head. “It’s not you. It’s me.” He grimaced. “I know that sounds cliché, but its true.”

“What’s wrong? I can fix it.” Kaneki reached out to take his hand.

“It’s nothing you can fix!” Hide snapped, yanking his hand away.

“Hide…?”

Hide stepped back. “S-sorry!”

“Wait, Hide!”

“I’m so sorry.” Hide ran off.

-

Hide tried to busy himself with CCG work, which Marude was more than happy to provide. It was boring, but gave him time to think, which he really needed. And after a while, he needed someone to talk about it with.

“Hey, Marude-san…” Hide began. “What are your thoughts on queer people?”

Marude laughed.

Hide winced and continued on his work. Maybe they could just pretend he never said anything.

“So you’re saying you’re queer too, huh?” Marude asked. “I guess I shoulda known, the way you talk about that one eyed bastard.”

Hide perked up. “Too?”

“Hm?” Marude looked at him. “Yeah. You’re far from the only queer person I know.”

“Really?”

Marude gave him a look. “Nagachika, you really think everyone is straight, in the entire CCG, all these years I’ve worked here?”

“Well, no, but…” Hide trailed off.

“So what are ya, then?” Marude asked. “I noticed you said queer and not gay.”

“I’m pansexual.”

“Which one is that?”

“It’s kinda like bisexual. Usually people use it to mean more gender-blind, whereas with bisexual there’s usually some internal difference with attraction to each gender. But not all people use it that way.”

Marude hummed and nodded. Hide was glad he accepted it at face value and didn’t try to pick it apart.

“But the past few days, I’m beginning to think I’m something else…”

“What, like you’re just gay or just straight?”

“Not like that.” Hide shook his head. “Like, an additional label.”

“Transgender?” Marude guessed.

“Not trans, but you’re on the right track on how trans is an additional label on a different axis.”

“Then what label are you thinking about adding? I’m at my limit of vocab here!”

“Aromantic.” Hide said, deciding to keep it as simple as possible.

“And that is?”

Here it comes…

“Not experiencing romantic attraction.”

There was silence. Hide braced himself.

“Romantic?” Marude asked. “So, wait. Separate from sexual stuff?”

“For me, yeah. But some other aros don’t experience sexual attraction either.”

Marude hummed. He seemed to accept it, but Hide couldn’t tell what he was thinking beyond that.

“So what’s the issue?” Marude asked.

“I can’t love.” Hide whispered. “And that’s scary.”

“Eh, love’s overrated.” Marude waved him off.

Hide sighed. He was glad Marude was being so accepting, and it was really nice to hear someone not put romance on a pedestal for once, but at the same time Hide wanted some validation for his fears.

“For so long now I’ve prided myself on being loving. And now knowing that I can’t… What am I now?”

“So was everything fake?”

“No. Yes? It’s complicated.” Hide groaned.

“Look, kid. You feel how you feel. You can’t force it or change it. And that goes for everything, not just sexualities.”

“I know.”

“You’re a sweet kid. It’s overbearing to me, but I appreciate that in a world so cruel, people like you exist. And from what I’ve seen, the care you show isn’t fake.”

“The non-romantic love? That’s not fake. But the romance? The crushes and flirting? It’s not fake but… it disappears. Way sooner than it should.”

“Disappears?”

“I think I’m, like, a subset of aromantic? I get crushes but they fade after I’m in a relationship. Way sooner than it should. I’ve been in love with Kaneki for years, but now that we’re a couple, that romantic attraction is gone.”

“That’s certainly a dilemma.”

Hide scoffed. That was an understatement.

“So what do you wanna do about it?” Marude asked.

“Huh?”

“Break up, or keep it up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then just talk to him.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t give you any advice on the romance aspect, but you two have been through things much worse than relationship drama. Just talk to the guy. Can’t be any scarier than what you’ve gone through.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Hide muttered.

Marude rolled his eyes. “Even I know he’s not gonna get pissed and eat you.”

“Of course not! That’s not what I’m afraid of!”

“Then what are you afraid of?”

“I don’t want to hurt him.” Hide whispered. “Or make him think I hate him.”

“Just communicate with him. You can’t work it out all alone. You both need to work together, or else how do you even expect your relationship to work?”

Hide sighed. “...I guess you’re right.”

-

Akira huffed as she sat down next to him. “How do people deal with it?”

Hide gave her a look. “Deal with what?”

“Crushes!” Akira said, as if it was obvious. “They’re so distracting.”

Hide chuckled. They certainly were.

“I thought one was bad enough, but now I have two! Ugh!”

“Oof. That’s rough. I’ve been there.”

“Hey, you’re allo-romantic, right? How do you deal with crushes?”

“Huh? Allo-romantic?” Hide asked. He thought he was pretty well-versed in sexuality terms, but he hadn’t heard that one before.

“It means people who aren’t on the aromantic spectrum.”

“You’re aromantic?” Hide asked. He had known she was asexual for years, but he never knew what her romantic orientation was.

“Demi-romantic.” Akira explained with a nod. “Got my first crush at 20 on a friend, and now a double-whammy of crushes #2 and #3 at 25.”

“Huh.” Hide whispered. He was 22, and it was pretty incredible to imagine only having a single crush in that much time.

Akira-san is aromantic…

“Do you know a lot about aromantic terminology?” Hide decided to ask.

“I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, but I have been researching it these past few weeks. Why? What do you want to know?”

“I’ve been wondering if I fall somewhere on there…” Hide said.

“Really?”

“I’ve actually been wondering since high school, but its come back full force now.”

“What makes you think you are?”

“I get a regular amount of crushes, I think. But they, like… fade…?”

Akira hummed in understanding and nodded. “I do recall seeing a few terms like that.”

Hide’s eyes widened. “Really? More than one? Like what?”

“Um, off the top of my head I remember Aroflux, that fluctuates. Hold on.” She pulled out her phone and typed into it.

“Maybe, but that’s a bit vague…” Hide said.

“I know Grey-romantic can be used as an umbrella term.” Akira added. “Ah, here we go! Fray-romantic means you’re only romantically attracted to strangers, and it fades as you get to know them!”

“That’s close, but it’s not that quick. Well, maybe I can use it anyway.” He knew that a lot of queer terms had a lot of grey area to them.

“Oh, and there’s also Lithromantic, that fades at reciprocation!”

“Reciprocation...?” Hide asked, his eyes widening. “That’s… That’s it…”

“Ha, really? That’s awesome!”

“I got crushes and tried to date them, but once I was in a relationship my feelings would disappear. I tried to push on and fake it, but it didn’t work out and we had to break up. Eventually I just gave up dating entirely.”

Hide sighed and held his head in his hands.

Akira frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kaneki.”

“Kaneki?”

“We just confessed to each other and started officially dating, and I can already feel it fading.”

Akira frowned, not sure what to say.

Hide laid down. “Who’d want to date me? A person who can’t love them back.”

Akira scoffed, laying back to join him. “What about me, huh? Someone who takes forever to like you back, and even then isn’t capable of sexual attraction.”

“You like Amon-san and Takizawa-san, right?” Hide guessed.

“Yeah. So what?”

Hide turned on his side to face her. “Well, Amon-san doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to care about that. And I don’t think Takizawa-san does either. If they really love you, then I’m sure they’d be willing to find a way to meet in the middle.”

Akira sighed, considering his words. Then she gave some of her own, “You know, you and Kaneki are really close. We can all tell. And I know Kaneki, too, and how he is. I’m sure he’d accept your aromanticism. Maybe you could even be in a non-romantic relationship with him.”

Hide blinked. Akira chewed her lip. They were both silent, thinking on each other’s words.

“You really think someone would be okay having a relationship without sex?” Akira asked.

“Of course.” Hide replied. “Do you really think someone would be okay with having a committed relationship that’s not romantic?”

“Of course.” Akira replied.

-

As he talked, Hide walked around the room, taking in the tiniest of details. And then he came across small pride pins, clipped to her bag laid in the corner.

“Is that what I think it is?!” Hide cried out.

“Huh? What is what you think it is?” Kimi asked, turning around.

“That!” Hide pointed to the pin that had gradients of greens and blacks. “Is that an aromantic pin?”

Kimi’s eyes widened. No one had ever recognized it before. Hardly anyone even recognized her bisexual one. “Yeah. I’m aromantic.”

“Wow.” Hide muttered. “And I know the bi one, but… what’s this other one?” He pointed to the one on the other side of the aromantic pin, the one with stripes making a gradient from pink to green.

“It’s aroflux.” Kimi said. “I fall in the grey area of the aromantic spectrum.”

Hide untensed his shoulders. “You know… I think I do, too.”

“Really?”

“I’m Lith-romantic, I’m pretty sure.”

“Neat! It’s always exciting to meet more aromantics!”

“You know others?”

“Nishiki-kun is arospec too. And I’ve helped a few other people question.”

“Nishio-senpai is too?! You’re in a relationship with another aromantic?! That’s amazing!”

“Tell me about it! It was just a coincidence! He didn’t know he was aromantic before I told him about aromanticism! Although, in hindsight I guess it explains why we fit so well together. We both have very complicated feelings on romance, that our previous partners never were able to grasp.”

Hide felt warm and happy, a sense of comfort and kinship coming over him. He often had a lot of internalized dislike of his aromanticism, but it was really nice to talk to someone who was similar — someone else who was on the aromantic spectrum.

Whenever he talked to other people — other allo-romantics, was the term Akira had used — they never grasped what he was trying to explain and always blew it off. As much as he liked people and socialized, he always felt a heavy disconnect from them.

And it suddenly dawned on him. He knew three arospecs so far, and Kimi had implied more.

[mortior]

Ask answers below! Some are heckin’ old. As always, I sometimes forget which ones I’ve already answered, so if I missed any, please feel free to send me a reminder poke!

Anonymous said: Do you still like dirkhal? And are you still planning on putting out a sequel to endangered?

I tell you what, DirkHal is my Homestuck perma-ship. I think every fandom I’ve ever had comes with that one ship I will forever love. I’ve been a Link/Sheik shipper since childhood. ANYways yes the sequel, which is basically a bridge to the actual novel-length sequel, will happen one way or another. If not a VN then as a text adventure thing, because it wasn’t designed to be a fic, if that makes sense. Like I’ve mentioned before, if I ever give up on it, you’ll see me post a synopsis of the plot.

Anonymous said: Read Endangered and honestly my mind is blown! It fun to read stories like this one that was so vastly interesting and stand out. I really hope to read more of your work in the future.

Oh wow, it blows my mind that folks are still reading it for the first time! :0c Thank you!!

Anonymous said: Hi. Thank you for sharing your amazing writing with us, they are providing me with needed distraction right now. Good luck with your program :)

Thank you v much =u= honestly it’s been super rough lately and I’m barely keeping my life together atm, but I realized that taking a hiatus from fandom stuff wasn’t doing me any favors. If all goes well I’ll be graduating at the end of the year tho!

Anonymous said: Hey, weird question but do you know what happened to RedLament? They were one of the more active DirkDave artists for awhile and I come back to tumblr and they're gone?

Ooh that username looked familiar and then I looked up their art and I THINK they actually moved to pillowfort. Looks like the site is down r/n tho, but if you remind me later and/or message me off anon I can try to get that link for you. They might be on twitter too but I’ve recently repurposed mine into a mostly non-fandom nsfw space.

bloominghearts said: Sorry to add to the message count, but it's good to hear from you. ♡ I'm working through my thesis atm as well and it's pretty rough and time consuming, so I totally get that. Take care, Mort! 🤘🏻

Ahh thank you, yeah I’m in that final year and it’s a real beast. Gotta keep remembering that I chose this / did this to myself. :’)

cryptid-with-no-forest said: Hey man you do what you gotta do Hope life is goin well Ngl i did miss ya

Ngl I missed y’all too ;-; thank u for the kind message.

Anonymous said: I may or may not have made fanart of Endangered fairly recently but I think Tumblr is hiding it from you :y

Oooh I’ll look for it, yeah occasionally things just don’t show up in my searched tags / notifications, tumblr is a rotten old potato sometimes.

Anonymous said: im so happy to hear youre still working on the endangered vn, kudos for sticking it out!! i dont think ive ever finished a vn before lol. you and a couple other ao3 writers are whats kept me in the fandom this long, and endangered is genuinely one of my favorite fanworks of all time (i love murderbots So Much.) are you still using renpy for the vn? pls send help if so its hard to get the hang of ;n;

Hhh thank you ;u; oof YEAH there was a big learning curve with renpy, I think I spent most of the first month in the forums trying to troubleshoot and figure out how to do stuff. The functions are so complicated I don’t know what 75% of the code does now, despite writing it myself. orz But if I can do it, anyone can do it! I had never touched a line of code in my life before learning the basics of renpy which is like code lite but still!

[sneezedarling]

Worried (MacCready/m!Sole Sneezefic)

It’s me again. I hope you guys like this little fic I wrote with photic!MacCready. There isn’t too much sneezing but its kinda sweet and very fluffy.

MacCready’s finger taps incessantly against his thigh as he skims through the Grognak comic in his lap and sips his warm beer, not really reading anything. It’s hard to focus on anything when his mind is busy racing with thoughts of Sole. Two days, he said, he’ll only be gone for two days. That was a week ago. Every night Sole doesn’t return home, the worry chews harder at his stomach. Was he dead? Captured? Bleeding out in a ditch somewhere?

He’s admittedly teetering on the edge of a downward spiral into horrible theories about where Sole was when he heard Hancock’s distinctive voice floating through the settlement. He thinks he’s imagined it at first until he hears it again, closer this time. Dread pools in his stomach as he strains to hear Sole’s voice as well but finds nothing.

He’s folding the comic, about to jump out of bed and search, working hard to keep his mind quiet when the door to the small metal shack swings open. Sole pads through the doorway, tossing his bag and guns beside the bed before kicking his boots off.

Relief floods through MacCready as he struggles to resist the urge to forget he’s angry and jump into Sole’s arms. “Where the hell have you been? Two days, you said two days. It’s been a week!”

“Detour to avoid super mutant compound then we were helping a settlement,” Sole runs a hand over his face, and he speaks as if that sentence was the most difficult task he’s had to do that day.

“Of course you were, I was wo- oof!”

Sole saunters over to the bed and flops down on top of MacCready whose sitting up against the wall. He wraps his arms around MacCready’s neck and becomes dead weight on top of him then buries his face in his neck. At first, MacCready thinks he’s going for sex, and as much as he’d love that, he’s not sure its ethical to do that with Sole when he looks like he’s one sentence away from passing out, but after a few seconds when nothing happens he glances down at Sole.

His eyes are nearly closed, and he looks peaceful. MacCready smiles fondly. They weren’t an overly “lovey-dovey” couple, an arm around the shoulder when they sit down for a drink, occasionally Mac would wake up with Sole’s arm across his middle or vice versa. They were more of a drunk shove against the wall, thrown against the bed, rough hands kind of couple. But after the worst kind of day or just a long, long day when they’re exhausted Sole would be all over him, trying to touch MacCready as much as possible. The first time it had scared the crap out of him, but he didn’t mind, the opposite actually, that night was the best sleep he’d had in a long time.

“I was worried about you, asshole,” MacCready says softly.

“M’sorry,” Sole mumbles against MacCready’s neck, barely loud enough to hear.

MacCready sighs and throws his comic on the floor before wrapping his arms around Sole. If someone had told him he’d be in this position a few months ago, he would have either laughed in their faced or threatened to shoot them, but now there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t even know if you were freaking alive, Sole. This whole week, all I could think about was you dying in a ditch somewhere,” MacCready knows he’s rambling now but once he starts, he can’t stop, emotion seeping into his voice as he tightens his grip on Sole.

Sole pushes his face further into MacCready’s neck, “M’sorry, Mac.”

The exhaustion clinging to his words makes them sound heavy. MacCready doesn’t say anything just listens to Sole’s breathing as it slowly steadies, and his consciousness slips away. He grabs his comic and takes a swig of beer before settling down to read it, in a much better state of mind to actually read it. Occasionally, Sole shifts, makes a noise or mumbles something in his sleep but other than that and the turning of the pages, the room is quiet.

As the sun begins to set, it filters through the dingy window Sole had installed. MacCready makes an annoyed sound and uses the Grognak comic to shield his eyes as it falls to an awkward angle, right in his eyes. The familiar prickle of a sneeze begins in the back of his nose as the sun attacks his eyes. MacCready screws his eyes shut and scrubs at his nose, trying not to jostle Sole. As the buzzing itch grows, he tries to lean away from Sole and use press his nose into his shoulder but Sole mumbles in his sleep and wraps himself tighter around MacCready.

He sniffs hard to get rid of the itch but when he opens his eyes to glance down at Sole, he’s blinded by the sunlight streaming through the window. MacCready turns to avoid head-butting Sole as he lurches forward.

“Ehk’tchoo…ahh…Act’choo!”

“Mac?” Sole’s sleepy voice asks from below him.

“S-sorry I-ihhh…Itschoo!”

Sole groans softly as he repositions himself, resting his head on MacCready’s shoulder, “Bless you.”

“Ehh…Ehk’tshoo!” MacCready sneezes harshly into his shoulder then rubs his nose aggressively.

Sole yawns, eyes beginning to fall closed again, “Bless you. You alright?”

“Snff! Yeah m’fine, go back to sleep.”

Sole mumbles something MacCready doesn’t quite catch before he begins to drift off again. MacCready gets through one more page of his comic when he realises his blinks are getting longer and longer. He sets it down on the floor and finishes his beer before gently pulling Sole onto his chest and sliding down the wall until he’s lying down.

Sole’s putty in MacCready’s hand as Mac repositions him so he’s laying beside him, head on his chest with his arms around Mac’s middle. Sole mumbles something again and twists his fingers in MacCready’s shirt.

“What?” MacCready wraps his arms around him.

“Was worried about you too,” he’s nearly asleep again.

“‘Course you were,” Mac pushes some loose strands of hair of Sole’s forehead.

Suddenly, the words are tumbling out of MacCready’s mouth before he could stop them, “I love you.”

Mac’s eyes widen comically as he realises what he’s just said. His eyes dart down to Sole whose so close to sleep words are long out of his reach, but a sleepy smile is plastered on his face. The sight can’t help but coax a similar smile out of MacCready as he drifts to sleep.

[tacticalchokehold]

After Ever After

Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/F

Fandom:

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

Relationship:

Adora/Catra (She-Ra)

Read Here on AO3

Summary: Post-Finale fluff, restoring magic to the universe, Catra and Adora exploring their relationship, other characters appear. Etheria healing from Horde Prime's occupation, dealing with the planet's magic being restored. Is anyone going to put Hordak on trial for his war crimes? Yes, no? Ok.

How do you discover what normal is when all you've known your entire life is war and conflict?

Chapter 1: One Week Later

For the first time in a very long time, Adora awoke peacefully .

A week after defeating Horde Prime, the Best Friend Squad and the Princess Alliance had elected to take a vacation of sorts -- time off now that their largest threat any of them had ever could have even conceived in their lifetimes had been vanquished. Glimmer was taking this time to reacquaint herself and catch up with Micah; they had a lot to discuss. The other princesses returned to their kingdoms to rebuild and recoup, Entrapta accompanying Scorpia back to the Fright Zone to tackle the idea of rebuilding her kingdom. Not a prospect anyone thought Hordak would conform with, but the fact that he hadn’t been met with the same fate as Horde Prime, all things considered, he wasn’t in much position to object to the will of the Princesses without fear of obliteration.

Bow had left for the Whispering Woods after a couple of days to help his dads restore the library, their home, and move their supplies and equipment back out of the First Ones ruins they’d been hiding out in. Brightmoon Castle was… quiet, as of late, a stark contrast to the chaos that had been engulfing all of Etheria not even a month prior.

Laying on her back, Adora’s eyes fluttered open to stare up at the ceiling of her room in the castle. Sometimes even now, it still never felt exactly like home. But right then, she couldn’t have felt more at home, the sound of soft purring reaching her ears, a comforting weight on her chest and shoulder, a soft arm draped across her middle underneath the blankets. Groggy with sleep, she lifted a hand, arm half asleep with Catra’s head on the crook between her shoulder and left bicep. She started to card her fingers through Catra’s hair, nails gently scraping along her scalp, causing the relaxed rumbling coming from the other girl to kick up like a motor starting.

She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, and lifted her head to look down at the foot of the bed, Melog curled up and downsized to its smaller blue form, still snoozing away just as its master was. Adora let her head fall back down onto her pillow with a soft sigh, taking a few more minutes just to… enjoy this. No battles to fight. No armies to dismantle. No interstellar conquerors to defeat. Just the early morning light filtering through the purple curtains, the smell of morning dew drifting to her nose from the partially open window.

Mornings in Brightmoon were so different from mornings in the Fright Zone. For starters, you wouldn’t even be able to see the sun through the industrial smog covering the skyline. The only way to tell time would be the digital clocks dotted over the doors of the barracks, mess hall, locker room, and nearly every other door down every other corridor. The Horde wanted to make sure you knew that time was a very precious commodity, and yours was limited if one didn’t bend to Hordak’s will. Nearly every morning started in the barracks with a CO hollering at the top of his lungs to wake the cadets up.

Adora recalled scrambling for her clothes, tying her hair up and shoveling a morning protein bar in her mouth, all while jogging to get to training. More often than not she’d have to stop to really make sure Catra woke up, shaking the girl at the foot of her bed by her shoulders and near-dragging her out the door.

But here? Now? They didn’t have to go anywhere. They didn’t have to answer to anyone. They had sort of just saved all of Etheria, and freed the entire universe from Horde Prime’s tyranny. They could afford to take a little break for the first time in their lives.

Adora was pulled from her thoughts by a stirring at her side. Her hand in Catra’s hair stilled, watching as she opened her mouth and yawned wide, brow furrowing and closed eyes scrunching up further. Sharp fangs gleamed, her ears twitching under Adora’s fingers. Catra blinked open her eyes, bleary and searching, landing on Adora’s face. They went wide for a moment, and she could feel her tense up, the arm around her middle tightening, claws pricking her skin through her tank top, the fur along her shoulders rising before Adora smiled wide.

“You’ve got awful morning breath, you know that?” Adora asked with a laugh, settling her arm around Catra’s shoulders and drawing her back in, hoping the touch would soothe her gut-reaction of fleeing. Seemed they both still couldn’t quite… believe it. Almost immediately Catra’s disbelief melted away, and she lifted a hand, pushing a palm into Adora’s cheek and shoving her face away.

“You’re one to talk,” she grumbled back, her voice rough with sleep as Melog got up from the foot of the bed and wandered up the bed towards the two of them. He laid across Catra’s hip as she rolled up onto her side, retrieving her arm from around Adora’s middle to prop herself up on her elbow. Adora mirrored her posture, pulling her arm back to rest her head in her palm, rolling onto her side to bring herself closer to her again, bumping their foreheads together briefly.

“Sleep okay?” she asked, letting blue eyes close to simply feel the peace in the air around them, quiet and tucked away from the rest of the world in their own little corner of paradise. A small smile curved Catra’s lips, and she leaned up, brushing the tip of her nose against hers, humming a simple affirmative response. Adora felt her heart leap when her face got closer, a modicum of disbelief still present every day that Catra loved her.

“You? You didn’t wake up thrashing at all,” Catra noted. Normally she woke up long before Adora did due to her tossing and turning, even occasionally on the receiving end of an unlucky swing in the dead of night.

“Yeah, actually. I feel… really well rested, actually,” Adora admitted with a short laugh, dropping her free hand between them. Catra’s touch reached for hers at the same time, their fingers finding each other on the mattress between them, folding her hand over the back of Adora’s and interlacing their fingers together. Adora lifted her hand to her mouth, letting her lips brush over Catra’s knuckles without much thought to it, glancing up at her face in time to see her blush at the motion, ears dropping back against her head.

“Ugh, you’re so gross,” Catra scoffed, pulling her hand away and giving her a light shove in the shoulder back before she sat up. Adroa grinned, sitting up behind her and getting up on her knees, draping her arms around Catra’s middle and resting her chin on her shoulder. She let her body rest against her back, leaning her weight onto Catra’s frame.

“This coming from the girl who licks stuff to claim it as hers?” Adora countered, giving her a light squeeze as Melog dropped from Catra’s lap onto the floor to wander over to the window and get a look outside. Catra was quiet for a moment, before she turned her head, licking the side of Adora’s face with an indignant noise.

“Catra!” Adora yelped, falling back slightly in her shock; but really, she should’ve seen that one coming. She wiped at her cheek with her arm, laughing, as Catra turned around and leapt on her, pushing her onto her back further. They devolved into tickling each other between Adora’s attempts to shove Catra’s face with her tongue sticking out away from her own, rolling back and forth. They only stopped when their wrestling landed them on the floor, breaking apart with a light “oof” before they both laughed it off.

“C’mon,” Adora said, getting to her feet, extending a hand down to Catra,”Let’s go grab breakfast.”

- - -

The large double doors to the dining room opened with a shove. Cleaned up and dressed, Adora was happy to see Glimmer and Micah already at the table, talking excitedly over full plates of breakfast. Micah straightened when the doors opened, and gave a light wave to the two as they entered, a warm smile on his face. He had taken to tying his long hair back rather than cutting it, dressed in relaxed regalia considering his daughter was officially the Queen. The Queen in question turned when he waved, and Glimmer grinned, a burst of glitter and light popping as she teleported over between Catra and Adora. Slinging her arms around their shoulders, she pulled them down slightly as she was shorter, saying,”Good morning sleepyheads! Come and sit, there’s lots to eat!”

Catra bristled, slipping back out of the hold with a huff, Adora grinning at her predictable reaction. Glimmer had never been a morning person before; it was usually Bow’s job to wake them up and get them moving, but ever since she’d been reunited with Micah, Glimmer seemed to be bursting with energy. As they took their seats beside each other and started loading up their plates with the veritable buffet spread on the table, Glimmer teleported back over to her seat beside her father.

“You’re just in time,” Micah said, taking a sip from his cup of coffee,”We were just talking about the idea you had to bring magic back to the universe.”

Adora paused, halfway lifting a large bite of breakfast sausage to her mouth. She set her fork back down, her eyes drawn to Catra seated at her side. She was watching her, waiting for her reply just as intently as Micah and Glimmer seemed to be, but otherwise her expression didn’t betray her feelings on the idea. Under the table however, Adora felt Catra’s hand rest on her knee, giving a reassuring squeeze.

Taking a breath, Adora said,”Right. The thing is, when I said that, I didn’t exactly have any idea how to do that. She-Ra was only able to restore Etheria’s magic because it already had magic reserves, dormant deep beneath the surface. If a planet has been completely sapped of magical energy, I’m not sure she’d be able to do it. I don’t want to give the people of those planets false hope, promising something I’m not sure I can accomplish.”

“You defeated Horde Prime!” Glimmer reminded her,”I’m sure even if for some reason you can’t restore a planet’s magic, the people living there won’t stop being grateful for that ! I was already thinking we could visit the Star Siblings’ planet. They knew what magic was, and those stories must have come from somewhere. Not to mention they probably have more experience with interstellar travel than we do, and could probably provide a better idea of where to start than just running off in a random direction and hoping for the best.”

“Isn’t that what you guys normally do though?” Catra asked with an arched brow, grin on her face showing the jab was in good humor. Glimmer stuck her tongue out at her in response, earning a chuckle from Micah at the gesture perhaps unbecoming of the Queen of Brightmoon.

“It always worked out for us before,” Adora said with a shrug,”Besides, even when we did try to make a plan, they usually fell apart within the first ten minutes.” For all her tactical and strategic planning skills learned from the Horde, when applied on actual missions with the Rebellion, the ideas never seemed to stick. An unexpected circumstance always seemed to pop up and throw everything out of whack. The hand on her knee gave another squeeze, and she was pleasantly surprised to find Catra looking at her with earnest, open encouragement.

“You didn’t have me before,” she said,”I said I’d be coming with you. If… when we go, I’ll make sure your plans stay on track.”

Adora felt her chest swell with warmth, and she laid her hand over Catra’s, unable to fight the smile on her face.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great! That just leaves us Bow,” Glimmer said, pushing her now empty plate forward,”I’ll have to check in with the other Princesses too. See how everyone’s doing before we start mapping this out. This is so exciting!”

She stood, and with another burst of magic, teleported out of the room. Micah smiled into his cup of coffee, before setting the now empty mug down. He leaned back in his seat, sighing contentedly,”It’s good to be home.”

Catra nudged Adora in the side, nodding at their food then tipping her head towards the door. Adora blinked once then stood, picking up her plate and saying,”Uhh, King Micah-- your Highness-- we’re uh, going to take our breakfast outside.”

He seemed a bit surprised, mostly by the fact that she’d inform him, sounding as if she were asking permission. She was She-Ra after all. And after liberating all of Etheria from the magical constraints the First Ones had put in place and defeating Horde Prime, it’s not as if anyone would really object to her taking her breakfast outside with her girlfriend.

Catra gathered up her own plate, Melog winding back and forth between their legs as they ducked out of the dining hall and down through the castle corridors to one of the gardens outside. They bumped into each other purposefully along the way, trying to get the other to drop their food, until they found a nice shaded spot underneath a fruit tree, plopping down in a heap to eat, leaning against each other while Melog chased butterflies back and forth through the courtyard.

The rest of the castle seemed to still be asleep, and it was these quiet moments together, Adora resting her head on Catra’s shoulder while they leaned back against the trunk of the tree together, shoveling food into their mouths, not saying a word while they ate; she was really happy . Honestly and truly happy.

And that made her nervous.

She knew it made Catra nervous, too. The way they both would keep looking over their shoulders for the next threat, the next danger. Listening for sounds of conflict late into the night before sleep took them, needing to distract each other by staying up and whispering about whatever , and up until last night, Adora still waking up ready to fight, heart thudding and adrenaline lancing through her veins. She still had a knife under her pillow. Catra had her claws, of course, so she didn’t need a knife, but the way she bristled at nearly every little sound was obvious. Melog would have to lay on her chest while she took deep breaths to calm herself down, Adora stroking her hair back and reassuring her they were safe. Reassuring herself they were safe, that the fight was over.

How were they supposed to live normal lives now, never knowing a normal other than conflict and war? It was exhausting, to say the least, so the prospect of pursuing another mission brought a strange sense of calm. Having a task to complete, with a clear line drawn for success or failure, a goal to accomplish… that they could work with. Brightmoon forces had their hands full reestablishing trade routes, and Glimmer had insisted they stay out of it, and take the time to relax and recuperate. It was driving them both a little stir-crazy, itching to get into the war room and sit in on meetings, even if it was difficult to concentrate on the map of Etheria when they kept distracting each other.

Little touches, the brush of Catra’s tail over her leg, arms bumping where they sat next to one another. It didn’t make anyone else in attendance uncomfortable, long used to Spinerella and Netossa flirting over planning sessions, just not quite as hopelessly obvious as the two former Horde members. Netossa had teased them, calling them lovebirds, asking if the meeting was distracting them, if they needed some “alone time”, and they had had the wherewithal to be embarrassed at least but not at all ashamed otherwise when Catra seated herself square in Adora’s lap to listen to Glimmer talk about sending an emissary to Dryll to help reopen the kingdom in Entrapta’s absence to the Fright Zone.

Adora smirked at the memory just as she felt Catra shift, turning her head to press an absent kiss to the top of her head. She lifted her face in response, brushing her lips over hers in a casual display of affection, leaning up after a moment to kiss her fully. She was still ecstatic that she could just do that now, no fear or uncertainty freezing her heart in her chest. When she pulled away, she found Catra looking down to meet her gaze, heterochromic eyes alight with this soft expression that she didn’t think she could ever get tired of seeing on her face.

“Hey Catra,” Adora giggled, giggled , their food finished and set aside. She was warm and sleepy again from a full stomach, but with just one kiss her energy had been refreshed once more, restless and eager for some sort of action. Catra’s laugh in response was like music to her ears, a clawed hand lifting to cup her jaw with the utmost care, other arm sliding around her middle to pull her back in.

The sound of wingbeats and a greeting whinny made Catra startle, head whipping skyward to the sound. Adora reached a hand up to soothe her thumb over her cheek, saying,”Hey! Hey, it’s okay, it’s just Swift Wind.”

Sure enough, the pegasus was touching down in the clearing moments later, Melog darting out from the grass and racing to stand in front of Catra as his form shifted, large and red and hissing, hackles raised. Adora peeled herself away to stand up, stepping forward to greet her steed and hopefully placate the ruffled felines behind her. Swift Wind folded his wings back, shuffling his hooves nervously in place at the hostility behind his bonded partner.

Catra smoothed a hand back through her bristling hair, taking a deep breath in through her nose. Adora had turned, hand outstretched to her and Melog, her other patting Swift Wind’s neck.

“I’m not scary,” Swift Wind insisted, lowering his head, though the sunlight catching on the long, very pointy horn on his head potentially betrayed that statement. Melog’s “fur” shifted slowly back to blue, and Catra stood up from where she had been glued to the spot. She took a few tentative steps forward, before placing her hand in Adora’s, only to yelp as she grinned and yanked her forward. She put Catra’s hand on Swift Wind’s nose, the both of them startling, but Adora’s hand on his neck and hold over Catra’s hand seemed to calm them both.

The first friendly meeting between Catra and Swift Wind had been less than ideal. His loud, bombastic energy had been very sudden and surprising to the standoffish and aloof girl, and his oddly charming jealousy at her relationship with Adora had led to an amusing argument between them about his and Adora’s “sacred bond” as She-Ra and noble steed. Adora hadn’t been able to help but burst into laughter at the display, and since then a sort of truce had been found at least. But Swift Wind being Swift Wind still meant he was loud and energetic and didn’t often make his entrances subtle enough not to spook her and Melog, meaning most of the time Adora had to play mediator for a couple of minutes to calm things back down again.

He huffed out hot breath from his nose on Catra’s hand, and she pulled it back with a light hiss, wiping it off on her pants. Adora smiled, shaking her head before saying,”Think you two can play nice long enough to make it to Mystacor?” To get away from the castle and further enjoy their vacation of sorts, they’d decided to spend the day at Mystacor. The beach had been incredibly relaxing when Glimmer and Bow had taken her, and it being made of clouds rather than ocean, she hoped it would help Catra find some peace as well.

Castaspella had insisted they were all welcome any time, and Adora planned on using that to her advantage. They had packed for the trip the night before, bags waiting up in her-- their room, ready to go.

“As long as he doesn’t drop me,” Catra grumbled, folding her arms across her chest, tail flicking back and forth as she glared up at Swift Wind. He puffed out his chest, drawing his head back up to his full height, saying,”I would never!” Adora rolled her eyes and patted his flank once, before taking Catra’s hand in hers, saying,”We’re just gonna go grab our stuff, ok Swifty?” He gave a salute with one of his wings, before settling down to eat some grass during the wait for their return.

“Isn’t there another way to get to Mystacor?” Catra groaned as she let Adora walk her back up through the castle halls, passing a few guards along the way with a nod. Adora arched a brow back over her shoulder at her, replying,”If you’d like, I could ask Glimmer to teleport us there…”

Catra frowned at that, not a fan of the Queen’s teleportation magic. In that short moment of transdimensional relocation, her righting reflex was thrown off by the second of there not being an up or down sense. Just the memory pitched her stomach, and she swallowed down the nauseous sensation with a shake of her head. Swift Wind knew the way, and it would cut their travel time down by more than half.

“No-- ugh, fine, whatever,” Catra conceded with a shake of her head, before falling quiet again. Her eyes drifted down to their linked hands, smiling softly to herself after a moment, only letting go once they were at their room doors.

“You’ll be fine,” Adora insisted, going to where she had two packed bags waiting packed by the wardrobe. “I’ll be with you the whole time, and Swift Wind really won’t drop you. I promise.” She slung one bag over her shoulder, and turned around to hold the other out to Catra, who approached with a huff and slipped her arms through the straps. She gripped them tight to ground herself, still pouting at the prospect of riding around on that thing .

“Seriously, it can’t be much different than when you ride on Melog’s back,” Adora said, circling around in front of her, a reassuring smile on her face. Her hands went to cup Catra’s face, gently at first before her grin turned teasing and she squished her cheeks between her palms. Catra slapped her hands away with a snort, only for Adora to catch her wrist before she could pull away completely.

“Hey. I mean it. You’ll be alright,” Adora reassured her, much less teasing this time as she took her hand in both of hers, squeezing gently. She took a step closer, cradling her touch to her chest like a precious gem between them. Catra bumped her forehead to hers with a low sigh, taking a deep breath after to further steel her nerves.

“Ok. I trust you,” Catra exhaled, before guiding her closer with her hand in hers, her free arm draping around her waist. Even as her eyes closed, she could practically feel Adora’s smile, especially so when they both closed the gap further.

Catra was always wary of her fangs when they kissed, worried they would catch on Adora’s soft mouth. She would be tentative, not wanting to hurt her more than she already had in the past. Adora didn’t seem to have any such qualms, sighing happily into the embrace and leaning fully into it. Her lips were insistent against Catra’s, seeking out her warmth and comfort, grinning still.

“Mmmh…”

Catra’s ears fluttered at the noise from the other girl’s throat, feeling a pitch in her stomach completely unrelated to any memory of teleportation. Carefully, carefully, she opened her mouth slowly, inviting Adora to deepen the kiss if she desired. An offer that was quickly snatched up, though she didn’t know why she bothered being surprised anymore. Adora was reckless and impulsive and often acted without thinking, but at long last she finally seemed to be thinking about what she wanted. It just so happened to be Catra, a fact that had her heart soaring.

“C-Careful,” Catra gasped, muffled, feeling her tongue skirt along her lower lip,”S’sharp--”

“I know,” Adora hummed, pulling back just enough to reply before tipping her head and diving back in. Heat flared up the back of Catra’s neck, and her hand around Adora’s middle clung onto the material of her shirt, getting lost in the sensation of Adora’s tongue in her mouth, her lips on hers, dizzying and overwhelming almost all of her senses from a kiss alone.

Her knees were just starting to go weak when they separated, a goofy smile on Adora’s face when Catra’s eyes opened to look at her in still mild disbelief. Hand still in hers, Catra could feel how sweaty Adora’s palms had gotten, and it was a small comfort to know they were both still getting used to this, together.

“Come on, better not keep Swift Wind waiting too long.”

- - -

Adora didn’t do anything to try and loosen Catra’s death grip. Turned out, riding on Melog’s back on the ground was very different from soaring through the air on a winged horse. She had both arms wrapped crushingly tight around Adora’s middle, pressing her face into her back, her claws nearly tearing through her top where she clung to her shirt. Touching down along the coastal edge of Mystacor’s floating island was a godsend, but she still didn’t move, clinging to Adora like a cat stuck in a tree clinging to a branch.

“Catra, we’re here,” Adora said tentatively, reaching a hand down to pat one of her arms squeezing around her waist. When Catra didn’t lift her head up, hissing, Adora sighed and slid down off Swift Wind’s back. She looped her hands under Catra’s thighs as she hopped down, holding her on her back, Catra quickly adjusting her hold to go up around her neck and shoulders, yanking her off-balance a moment before Adora righted herself with a grunt. Between their bags and Catra hanging off of her, it was a bit difficult to maneuver, but taking a second to reaffirm her grip made it relatively simple enough to start the walk towards the beach.

Castaspella normally would have greeted them at the runway, on any other day, but since Horde Prime’s occupation, everyone seemed to be busy with rebuilding efforts. Hopefully that meant they could enjoy their beach day relatively uninterrupted. It was hard to fight the desire to go and check in and ask if they needed any help, but today was supposed to be a day for her and Catra to spend together and relax. About halfway through the walk, Catra finally lifted her head up, looking around them in surprise. On the one side, the secret magical college of Mystacor; spires reaching even further to the heavens they floated above, and on the other, rolling tides of clouds as the grass under foot turned to pure white sand.

“Whoa…” she breathed, her tensed shoulders relaxing a bit as she stared out at the pink and white waves. Adora smiled, breathing coming a bit harder, a loose strand of hair falling in front of her face as she found a good spot to set up. Well, as good a spot as any. This was really only her second time coming to the beach, so she wouldn’t consider herself an expert.

When she stopped, Catra hesitated before finally loosening her grip and sliding off Adora’s back. The sand beneath her feet felt so strange, curling clawed toes in the grains experimentally as she crouched down. Melog hopped out of her bag, returning to his full size now that they were no longer in transit. He shoved his snout into the sand, only to pull back with a start and sneeze, parroting one of Catra’s sneezes before shaking his head rapidly. Adora smiled to herself, laying out a large beach towel from her bag before she sat down on it, kicking off her boots and stuffing her socks in them. She pushed her feet into the cool sand, peeling off her jacket and loosely hugging her knees halfway to her chest, rolling up her shirt sleeves to better feel the warm sun and cool breeze on her skin.

Feeling Catra’s eyes on her, she turned her head to confirm she was indeed staring, and shifted slightly where she sat, blush coloring her cheeks. Adora reached up and tucked that stray lock of blond hair behind her ear, shoulders curving upward as she looked away, asking,”W-What?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing, I just-- you--” Catra started, stumbling over her words, having been caught being very obviously transfixed. Normally Adora couldn’t relax to save her life, but here she was reclining on a beach, enjoying the sun and fresh air, seeming at peace and calm and it… it looked good on her, ok? Catra wouldn’t mind seeing more of it. Seeing her happy, a soft smile on her face. Blushing herself, Catra scratched the back of her neck lightly, before she slunk over from her crouch to join her on the large beach towel, obviously brought with the intent for them to share. She bumped Adora’s shoulder with her own, stretching her legs out in front of herself, one crossed over the other as she leaned back on her arms.

“... This is nice,” Catra said, feeling Adora relaxing again at her side now that she had joined her. Adora sat up, only to lean back on her arms and mirror Catra’s posture, placing her hand on top of hers. Catra tilted her head, resting it on Adora’s shoulder as they both watched the clouds roll in and out, lapping at the shore lazily. Adora hummed her agreement, tipping her own head to rest atop Catra’s, basking in the moment.

It was a good way to spend the day.