#and criminally low numbers of fics on ao3

[stabble]

"Did you know Monk has old man yaoi?" I say.

"Who is Old Man Yaoi?" my brother asks. There are many ways I can respond, and they are all funny. Unfortunately, I'm too busy laughing in his face.

[homehauntsyou]

sam & azazel's conversation in 02x21 fucks me up for so many reasons but i was just rewatching it and sam's body language might one of the most awful parts like. he keeps staring at azazel’s hand (which is pointed out in front and towards) and backing up slowly, and when azazel actually touches him he flinches backwards and doesn’t stop watching his hand and AUGH. especially combined with the moment right after this in sam’s nursery & the use of language associated with csa, it’s a bit sickening to watch - the obvious fear of azazel and the clear dislike and avoidance of even the small contact between them. and azazel just keeps walking towards him and reaching for him anyways and i think it’s just such a good scene.

[peachsukii]

Hollow Heart { chapter 1 - hurricane }

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-heroes au | friends to lovers ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: The dynamic duo of Dynamight and Deku are unstoppable, climbing the hero charts like they always dreamed of as kids. Their journeys were tough, but offered them the world - fame, fortune, protection of their family and friends, a comfortable hero life. The recent increase in crime around Tokyo kept their entire sector busy, sending heroes out non-stop, desperate to keep the statistics as low as possible to maintain a clean reputation. When a nearby sector is requesting assistance, the boys are tasked with a mission to inspect a villain’s lair in a deserted area outside of the city. Reports have noted people going missing, specifically with rare quirks. With plenty of other heroes being unavailable, you’re chosen to tag along with the duo for the night operation. Everything is going according to plan until the villain lands a surprise attack, resulting in the your kidnapping and whisking you away through a mysterious portal. It’s been a month since your disappearance with no help of the hero agency. Bakugo and Midoriya take it into their own hands and are determined to get you back - no matter how long or what it takes. tags & warnings: mentions of blood/violence, eventual & mild smut, kidnapping/abduction, experimentation, physical & psychological torture, PTSD, implied/referenced self harm, cursing, talks of trauma | angst with happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, regret, mutual pining, friends to lovers, insomnia, eventual romance a/n: Prepare for the heartbreaking journey of Bakugo battling with his feelings when it’s too late…or is it? :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; ~20.6k as of ch.4 ꒱ Chapter 1 | Hurricane [5k] Chapter 2 | The Ghost of You [4.7k] Chapter 3 | Choke [3.9k] Chapter 4 | The Grey [6.7k] Chapter 5 | The Good Left Undone [4.7k] Chapter 6 | Tourniquet Chapter 7 | There is Fear in Letting Go 『♡』 this fic has a playlist! ✩

CHAPTER ONE: HURRICANE

A beautiful summer morning, rays of tangerine light poured into the living room of your apartment as you sleepily make your way to the kitchen, desperate for that first cup of coffee. The clock on the stove read 8:35AM - the latest you’ve overslept in the last month. It was another long night in the office, writing reports for your previous week’s hero patrols that you’d put off for far too long. You'd think someone else would be responsible for inputting notes into the agency's system, but no - anyone below rank 10 was tasked with entering in their own data. 

Criminal activity in the area had increased significantly within the last 3 months, calling heroes of all ranks out nonstop, especially lower ranked heroes. Was it annoying? Sure, being awoken in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep to go stop a small robbery at the local late-night supermarket wasn't ideal. Especially when you dreamed of dealing with bigger threats, akin to crime syndicates and large scale villain organizations. As a hero, you’re taught to tune out the small details and focus on what’s in front of you - keeping the citizens of your ward safe and sound, even if it's helping a granny cross the street in the middle of the afternoon.

The agency accepted you with open arms right out of UA High, over the moon to have a hero with a quirk like yours in their roster. Psionic energy manipulation was shockingly uncommon amongst the 80% of the population of quirk users. The kinetic hero, Y/H/N, ranked number 37 - high enough to earn respect from your peers and low enough to not have to worry about being followed by paparazzi and negotiating brand deals. Cities were full of billboards with ads sponsored by heroes, heavily focused on those in the top 10 for allure to their product. Deku and Dynamight’s athletic wear collaboration, Uravity’s mochi bites, Shouto’s fire and ice energy drinks - it was impossible to avoid. Did you wish you had the smallest bit of spotlight? Sometimes, but being able to walk the streets off-duty and not be bothered was a luxury you'd like to keep. On the counter, your phone buzzed and flashed awake, shaking you out of the sleepy stupor.

Incoming Call: Katsuki Bakugo 

A picture of you and Bakugo appeared on to the caller ID screen - one of your favorite pictures with him. It was from a concert in Shibuya you'd attended a few months back. His arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he flipped off the camera, wearing his infamous toothy smirk as you leaned against him with a small peace sign and a warm smile. 

It's unfair how effortlessly attractive he was. Admittedly, you'd had a crush on him since high school and drank up every ounce of affection he threw your way over the years. Even though you've known him and Midoriya since childhood, your friendship didn't truly blossom until your first year in UA. Thanks to your tenacity and fighting spirit, he respected you after a long six months. That broke down his walls just enough to tolerate you and continue to be friends ever since. 

You, Midoriya, and Bakugo became three peas in pod, a strong bond established to last a lifetime. Post-UA life wasn’t as easy to see each other, but you made it work - trainings, missions, conflicting work schedules, and general life couldn’t get in between the three of you, even if it was just over texts, phone calls and late-night movie marathons. It helped that you all lived in Tokyo, at least. Midoriya, of course, was extremely special and essential to your life. He’s like the little brother you always wanted and a constant ray of sunshine, always there for whatever you need. There was just something different and special about your bond with Bakugo - a spark, without sounding cliche. And after all these years later, he's still your favorite person and one of your best friends. 

You wouldn't trade it for the world. Oh shit, I forgot we planned to go for a run this morning. You answer hesitantly, knowing full well you’re about to get an earful about being late. 

“Yo, Y/N, you plan on showin' up anytime soon?” There was shockingly no annoyance in his tone. “It’s almost 9.”

“Sorry Kat! I overslept. Had a long night writing reports in the office. I’ll be there in 10,” you say, not making any excuses. You hear a loud tch in response - ah, there’s the annoyance.

“I was about to bust down your door and give you a personal wake up call,” he teases, laughing to himself. “Get your ass to the park. See ya, lite-brite.” The line ended with a click. 

He'd never let that nickname go, one that followed you all the way back from high school. You'd grown used to it as he typically reserved it to get under your skin or light a fire under your ass. Most of the time? It worked - and you liked it.

Setting the coffee cup in the sink, you jog back into your room down the hallway and change into a clean set of workout clothes. You'd just gotten the PR package from Midoriya last week with his new sports wear collaboration with Bakugo, saving you time by not having to dig through your laundry pile. He would have scolded you for slacking on chores if he were to have woken you up in person, and then folded it himself to prove a point. He’d often harp on you for not keeping up with basic shit around your place, but in the same breath, start cleaning up for you - it was one of his love languages. 

The company they collaborated with nailed the designs perfectly. It was minimalistic, but still paid homage to their hero costumes. You grab Bakugo's set - a cropped black sleeveless hoodie with an orange 'X' across the front, a forest green band with a drawstring around the midsection, and an orange hood. The matching shorts were all black with a simple orange stripe down the sides. The neoprene material allowed for the set to breathe in any weather condition.

Thankfully, the park you were meeting him at was only a couple minute walk from your apartment building. Not long after pulling your hair into a ponytail, splashing your face with water and brushing your teeth, you're kicking on your sneakers by the door and shuffling out of the apartment. A few minutes to spare, you duck into the convenience store along the way, grabbing two sports drinks and a bag of his favorite spicy-flavored chips. God, you hated the taste of them and never understood why he liked them so much. Some part of you jokingly thought it fueled his already explosive personality, literally heating him up from the inside.

───

"You wear that on purpose?" Bakugo snickers over his phone as you skip toward him, pointing to your workout gear. 

"What can I say? It's comfortable. Happy to be a walking ad for the number four hero," you say, elbowing him in the arm. He rolls his eyes, snatching the sports drink you've outstretched to him and mutters a thanks. 

"You should model our next set," he pats you on the back. "You're the perfect fit." 

You scoff, waving a hand at him. "Yeah, like I'm model material."

"I literally just said you were, dumbass. Take a damn compliment!" 

He peers over your shoulder to see the chips in your bag. "Damn, you're really kissing up to me today. What's the occasion?" He's beaming over the attention you're showering him with - he'd never admit how much he loved it.

You shake your head playfully. "What, I can't spoil my favorite person?" 

Bakugo barks out a laugh while opening the sports drink and chugging half of it in one go. Again, it was stupid how attractive he was, no matter what he did. The summer breeze made his blonde locks dance lazily in the morning sun, a sheen on his flawless skin as some of the liquid spilled out of the corner of his mouth, trickling down his jawline. A sadistic part of you thought he did this shit on purpose to rile you up, testing the boundaries of your friendship. 

If only you had the nerve to just scream from the rooftops - Katsuki, I fucking love you.

“You good, Y/N?” He's waving a hand in front of your face. “Space case much?”

“Yeah! Sorry, apparently still waking up,” you apologize while stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s go!”

───

An hour later, you and Bakugo finish your run in the park, completely drenched in sweat. The two of you plop under a nearby tree in the shade, the humidity adding a layer of exhaustion to your depleted stamina. Lazily slouching over onto your shoulder, he steals the sports drink out of your hand and downs the rest of it himself with a satisfied hah. Somehow, you always forget that he smells like caramel and burnt sugar after a run, invading your senses with that sweet essence that you loved. His bangs stuck to the sweat on his forehead as he dropped his head back against the tree, eyes closed as he caught his breath. 

God, he’s so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, almost afraid he'd somehow hear you.

"I'm free the rest of the day," he comments between shallow breaths, lazily opening one eye and elbowing your side. "Down for a movie day? Been awhile."

"Hell yeah. Junk food, too?" Your eyes light up with excitement.

"Like you gotta ask. I didn't run three fuckin' miles just to look good," he quips. "Cool if I shower at your place?"

That catches you off guard, sending a flutter of butterflies off in your stomach. Why the hell are you so riled up today? Sure, you've had a massive crush on your best friend for ages, but its usually not this intense. Must be the scent of his sweat deluding your thoughts...or maybe it’s the potential scene of watching him walk out into your living room, shirtless - excess water cascading down his hourglass figure, tracing his abs and settling into the hem of his sweatpants.

Stop it! Calm the fuck down.

"S-sure. I have a pair of your sweats, I think…maybe Izuku’s? It’s like you guys leave your shit at my place so I do your laundry for free." 

He shoves you jokingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Hah! Knew it was you who stole my favorite pair. I’ve got shit with me, no worries.”

Bakugo climbs to his feet, extending a hand back to you. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving and dying to do nothing the rest of the day.”

───

The sunset’s sorbet-colored afterglow flooded the living room as the fourth movie’s credits rolled on the TV screen, a faint warm breeze coming through the open balcony door. The two of you had settled in after your run, marathoning through a collection of films you'd be wanting to watch, surrounded by a buffet of comfort food - taiyaki, meat buns, spicy fried chicken bites, mabo tofu, yakitori, and a box full of various flavors of dango. The cashier at the convenience store must have thought you two were hosting an insane party with how much food you bought, cleaning out their entire hot foods section in minutes. 

Bakugo stretched out like a cat, his abs flexing as his black tank top moved up his midsection. It was impossible not to stare, especially when he wore cropped shirts, showing off his hard earned muscles. You found it ironic how you mentioned once - and only once - how crop tops on guys are attractive as hell, and a few weeks later? He had a handful of them that he’d rotate wearing during the summer, claiming he only wears them for “regulating his temperature for his quirk.” You knew that was a bold-faced lie, but never called him on it. Why would you risk making him change his mind when they looked so good on him? 

He let out a satisfactory groan, putting his feet up on the coffee table and hands behind his head. You stretch as well, throwing your feet in his lap like always. Bakugo looked comfortable, like he was at home. You were home to him.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” He jokes, lolling his head to face you. 

Lost in thought, you have no time to stop the words falling from your mouth.

“No, just admiring you.”

Bakugo quirks an eyebrow, surprised by your flattery. You see a faint pink blush begin to make it’s way across his cheeks, an extremely rare sight.

“Th-thanks,” is all he can muster to say in a low voice. 

“Is that so weird to say? You’re gorgeous, Katsuki,” you blurt out, shocked by your own words. Where the hell is this coming from? You normally weren't so...forward. Not that you were lying in any capacity. You've complimented him plenty times before, why is now different? 

Right?

You pause, realizing you could be overwhelming him. He'd always been adamant on how much he hates when "fans" view him as just a sex object rather than respect him as a heroic figure. 

“I know you hate being objectified. I’m sorry -,”

“Don’t be, y’didn't.” 

The static of the TV hummed through the lull in your conversation, the credits of the last movie approaching the end of its sequence. You nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Thank fuck he can't hear your thoughts.

Bakugo notices your nervous tick and grins. That damn shit-eating grin. 

"Relax, Y/N. I didn't say I didn't like it. Big difference between you and a fan girl sayin' shit like that." 

As he’s about to continue the conversation, both of your phones ring simultaneously. That’s weird…it’s 8:30PM on a Tuesday night. Neither of you were scheduled for patrol and all sectors had coverage from the last e-mail update. You pull your phone out to check the caller ID and sigh in annoyance.

Incoming Call: AGENCY - EMERGENCY LINE

“The fuck?” Bakugo huffs, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

───

After 15 minutes, you're debriefed with a new mission, and strangely, you’re assigned with none other than Bakugo and Midoriya. This was extremely uncommon for heroes of top 10 rank to work with those below rank 25 and only happened when other top 10 heroes are too busy. Emergency calls were normally automated messages, but this was a personal conference call from the board of directors.

We are in need of Y/H/N to assist Dynamight and Deku’s mission to stake out a villain’s laboratory tonight in Sector 42. We’ve received reports of civilians going missing near the area over the last few weeks, specifically those with uncommon and rare quirks. There is a probability that hostages are being using for the development of a secret serum, to which is unknown at this time. Report to the agency by 11:30PM for further instruction.

Man, you were really looking forward to more time with Bakugo. Granted, you’ll still be with him, but now you’ll be stalking around for work, not stuffing your face on the couch together.

“Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I…I have a really weird feeling about this stake out,” you admit, unsure of where this anxiety is coming from. This isn’t the first time you’ve been assigned to a mission like this, and certainly won’t be the last, there was just something odd in the air surrounding this one. 

“Yeah. Go grab your suit, I’ll call Izuku to meet us here and we'll go over together,” Bakugo says hesitantly, already dialing Midoriya and bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hey, yeah just got the call. Y/N and I are at her apartment, swing by and we'll go to the agency together.”

───

By 11:45PM, the three of you are suited up and stationed in Sector 42. The area was very…barren? It was confusing to you how people would wander out here and disappear. It was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the city limits, an open field surrounded by a spotty tree line. Something still felt off about this entire set up - a gut feeling, but it was enough to keep you on edge.

“Y/N?” Midoriya called to you, blinking with concern. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

You rub your temple, desperately trying to push the feeling down. 

“Sorry, Izu. I’ve had a gut feeling something was wrong since the phone call.”

“What do you mean?” His interest is peaked, both out of curiosity and concern. 

“Can’t place it, but I feel it, too. Something’s not right,” Bakugo chimed in, surveying the field for any signs of…whatever the hell it was they’re looking for. An entrance to a lab? Masked minions abducting people? The agency was extremely vague in their details. That didn’t sit well with you, and Bakugo now, too. 

“You’re not wrong. This is an open area in the middle of nowhere. Why would anyone wander out here alone?” Midoriya muttered, continuing a conversation with his own thoughts aloud. “It's not a common road for travel, by foot or by vehicle. And how would the agency know what this villain is making without having the location of the lab in question?”

The abrupt sound of creaking metal echoed around you, a sense of danger spiking in your nerves. You place a hand on the shoulder of both Midoriya and Bakugo to halt them in their tracks.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a door was opening…close by,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Whoosh!

You didn’t register there was another presence amongst you until the dart made contact with your skin. A warming sensation flowed through your right shoulder as you let out a cry, stumbling to your knee. What the fuck? Your hero suit was designed to prevent piercing damage to a degree, but this dart cut right through it. The dart resembled a syringe, automatically activating the injection mechanism as it pierced your skin.

“Y/N!” Midoriya shouted, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist to whisk you away from another potential attack. Bakugo whipped his head around, looking for any sign of where the dart came from. Was someone hiding, or was it a device hidden out of sight? Maybe in a nearby tree? That's not possible, these trees don't have enough leaves for coverage like that.

“Hold still, I’m going to pull it out,” Midoriya warned. You braced for the pain as he yanked the dart from your shoulder, tossing it out of reach. You wince, the sting slowly fading a few seconds later. “Are you feeling okay?”

Things were starting to feel fuzzy, the ache spreading rapidly through the rest of your body. Everything felt warm and cold simultaneously, as if your body was at war over what temperature to settle on. 

“I’m alright, just…dizzy,” you mumble, slurring as you attempt to reassure him.

Midoriya helps you to your feet, offering to let you use him as support. You wave a hand, muttering over and over again I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s a pulsing sensation starting to build in your shoulder, creeping its way through your right arm. It’s tingling, crawling - uncomfortable, but not painful. What the hell was in that dart? 

A flash of black invades your vision, throwing you off balance as things pixelate and sharpen repeatedly before completely disappearing. Things are spinning and your senses are dulling. You notice that you don’t hear Bakugo or Midoriya anymore…did they wander off? You should be able to hear explosions, gusts of wind, crackling energy - something.

A force knocks you on your back, slamming you to the ground. You don’t feel a damn thing, just a vague numbness as your body, what you presume, hits the ground. You can’t make out whatever, or whoever, it is that is attacking you. I still can’t hear anything! Can you speak? Can anyone hear you even if you could?

…Y…N! …Y/N!

A voice? It’s muffled, but you hear someone calling for you. Was that Midoriya?

“Let her go, jackass!”

Oh no, that’s Bakugo. 

His booming voice reverberates through your head, sending your thoughts whirling in a vortex more than they already were. A vision of the battlefield was starting coming into focus, hazy, but a semblance of scenery was making its way back to you. When did I get up from the ground? Didn't I get knocked down? 

The field before you was littered with debris.

…Branches and broken stumps of dead trees.

…Craters in the ground.

…are those broken pieces of Bakugo’s gauntlets? 

…patchy trails and puddles of blood soaking into the dirt.

The sights sent a chill up your spine - your gut instinct was right. 

To your right, Midoriya panted with force as he held onto his thigh, blood seeping through his suit and staining around the wound. He was close enough that you could see the detailing of his tendons exposed from the impact, frayed pieces of skin hanging from the damage. His hair was slicked back, matted with a mix of, what you think, is dirt and blood. The rest of his suit had a variety of slashes and cuts, the material tattered and torn all over his body.

To your left, Bakugo’s on the ground, battered and bruised as he’s struggling to get to his feet. His gauntlets were missing, along with the glove underneath on his right hand. His exposed forearm was beat red, what looked like hand prints blistering the area. Blood trickled from his forehead and pooled under his mask. He’s shouting again…you can’t quite make out what he’s saying as he’s extending his bare arm in your direction.

What the fuck happened?! 

Something inside you clicks abruptly, adrenaline surging, urging you to fight. It’s competing with the numbness in your muscles. How much damage have you taken if you can’t feel a damn thing?

Fuck. Come on, dammit. Move, fight - do something! Help them!

In your peripheral vision, a man appears beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn on your heel, ready to activate your quirk and blast this guy into oblivion. Your hand meets his clothed chest with a thump.

Nothing happens. 

Your quirk doesn’t activate.

Another swing, focusing all the energy you have into a concentrated blast.

Nothing.

Panic sets in as you study your hand, mortified that you’ve been rendered useless. Your mind is racing faster than you can keep up with. Is this the serum they talked about earlier? How long was I unconscious...was I even unconscious? 

And then it dawns on you - it’s a quirk suppressant. 

The serum they’re using to abduct people nullifies their quirks to make them a willing target.

The mystery man cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your vision tunnels on his face, the rest of your body shutting back down. You feel your arms flop to their sides as your knees begin to buckle - the adrenaline being zapped from your muscles at his touch. 

“Good, it’s setting in. You’ll be a decent specimen. We’ve been waiting for a psionics user like you to add to our roster.”

A giant swirl of matter begins to manifest in front of you, a gentle force sucking you closer to it’s entry point. You can't help but think about how helpless you look in this moment, confused as hell that this scrawny man could take down three heroes with ease. You fucking hated the feeling, never wanting to be the damsel in distress. It pissed you off beyond belief.

“It’s time.” The man, in what you can now see is a white lab coat, turns you around to face the boys sprawled on the battlefield. “We’ll be going now.”

Every inch of your body is screaming run. But you can’t. You can’t move, paralyzed by all the conflicting effects of the serum running rampant through your veins. Your vision is dimming once more, your eyes threaten to close as Bakugo’s voice drags you back to reality. Your eyes snap open as he appears in front of you, digging his heels into the dirt. 

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!” 

He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, pleading for you to hear him as he clutches your forearm, attempting to pull you to him. You can’t feel it, but by the strain shown in his bicep, he’s using all of his strength to hold onto you. His eyes are full of panic, wide and bloodshot, crimson irises aflame.

"Let her fucking go!" he roars a second time. His hand is slipping down your forearm, now desperately gripping onto your hand. You attempt to grasp it to no avail, your strength failing you. You hear him let out an anxious grunt, struggling against the force of whatever is pulling you away behind you.

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes, an exchange of unspoken words between you two. A sense of dread begins to flood through your body as you see tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

He's terrified. 

You remember a thought from earlier in the day, if only I could scream "I love you."

There will never be a perfect moment, never a time and place for you to say it. You have to create the moment yourself.

A steady breath escapes you, softly gazing at Bakugo as you see his fingers slipping through your own.

"Katsuki," you mouth, barely able to hear the sound of your own voice.

"I love you."

The last thing you see is Bakugo frantically scrambling toward you before darkness envelops your sight.

- - - BAKUGO POV - - -

Everything happened in the blink of a fucking eye.

Ambushed, both him and Midoriya were hazed with a mysterious smoke, rendering their quirks useless. His explosions fizzled out as he fought the onslaught of henchmen surrounding them, armed with various weapons. The two of them blitzed through a good number of them before quickly becoming overwhelmed - 25 on 2 wasn't ideal odds.

Their hero suits were ripped, equipment shattered as they were punched, kicked, stabbed at, battered, and thrown around.

"I don't need my fuckin' quirk to kick your asses!" Bakugo threatened as he swiped at a nameless henchmen, nailing a right hook to his jaw. Midoriya was holding his own behind him until he let out an agonizing yelp, falling to the ground audibly.

"Deku!" Bakugo called out, spinning in the direction of his cry as someone socked him from the left side. He skid onto the ground, particles of dirt trailing behind him.

Regaining his composure, he looked around to see that all of the henchmen had swiftly disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there in the first place. What the fuck?

He saw her body standing still, some man in a lab coat behind her. She resembled a lifeless puppet, the light from her eyes dim and limbs loosely at her sides. It looked as though she could collapse at any moment.

"Let her go, jackass!" Bakugo shouted, unable to get to his feet.

The unknown man gripped her shoulder as a large black mass appeared behind them. 

Is that a portal? That looks like Kurogiri's quirk from years ago, he thought to himself, willing every fiber of his being to get to his fucking feet.

He's able to muster enough strength get one knee off the ground, enough to launch in range of her and wildly grasp for her hand. 

“Hey, wake up! I’m not letting you go!” 

Bakugo doesn't realize he's screaming, he's acting on impulse and adrenaline - desperation to save her. His hand is slipping at an agonizingly slow pace, moving from forearm to her hand, hardly able to keep his hand clasped with hers. He's cursing internally, hoping that she can't see the terror in his eyes, the anxiety filling him to the brim. That's when he hears her speak, her voice hauntingly quiet.

"Katsuki, I love you."

His hand slips away, watching her disappear into the portal. It closes in an instant as he's hopelessly dashing to it, not noticing that Midoriya is charging from behind him. They briefly collide, stumbling from the impact before they both steady themselves. 

The silence surrounding them is deafening.

"Kacchan," Midoriya snivels, head hung low. "I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough to help." His voice was breaking, clenching his fists at his side.

Bakugo stares at his hand, collapsing to his knees. He felt nauseous, the crippling realization churning in his stomach.

I love you.

Her voice ricocheted through his head, bouncing around as it tugged hard at his heartstrings. An overwhelming sensation of loss fills his heart, refusing to come to terms with the current reality. 

A brief memory flooded into Bakugo's mind, reminding him of a feeling he'd long shoved away. One night - years ago - at his brand new apartment in Tokyo, they'd been up all night talking after the long day of moving his shit into the place. It was 3AM, boxes piled everywhere as they laid in his bed, bullshitting the night away with random talks of life. She started a vulnerable conversation of mental health amongst heroes, ranging from her own family issues and medicated struggles as examples of not knowing what people deal with beneath the surface. He'd been listening, watching as she poured her heart out next to him, able to smile through it all. It was in that moment that struck him like lightning - he'd fallen madly and irrevocably in love with her. He had convinced himself there was no way she would have felt the same, forcing himself to suffocate that feeling for years.

And he was wrong.

Midoriya crouched down beside him as he's lost in the memory, a hand on his shoulder. 

"We'll find her, Kacchan, don't worry," he attempts to declare confidently as his own tears are staining his cheeks. "She's strong, she'll be -,"

"She said she loved me." Bakugo's facade was shattering before his eyes as he watched his best friend crumble onto the ground, clutching his chest. He couldn't control the wail that escaped him, tears pouring from his eyes like the downpour of a rainstorm. 

Midoriya pulled him close, Bakugo falling limply into him, curling into a ball as they sobbed together.

and thus begins the traumatic story of bakugo and midoriya losing their best friend to a mystery portal to nowhere!

Divider by : @/saradika

[multifandomfanficss]

A Classic Sick Fic

Hughie Campbell x sick!supe!reader

Prompt: You’re sick and Hughie forces you to let him take care of you.

Warnings: vomit, other general cold and flu symptoms, inability to breathe

A/N: I’m sick and I just want Hughie to hold me and for some reason I’m unable to figure out why there is a criminally low number of fics for Hughie. I think he’s really neat. He is so special to me. Being the change I want to see in the world or whatever. Please don’t judge any typos I’m so ill. I envisioned this sometime during season 2. Let’s pretend Annie isn’t there for a sec. (I love her tho she is my girlfriend and he is my boyfriend and we are all happy and in love in my silly little head.) Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hughie asked again, while you coughed for probably the millionth time.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You weren’t fine. In truth your cough and endless runny nose were driving you insane. You hated being sick. You couldn’t stand your body not feeling the way it usually does.

“You look miserable- well not to say you look bad, well you do look bad, but not in the way that- I’m gonna just stop talking before I dig myself into a bigger whole.” He shifts awkwardly.

“It’s okay, Hughie. I feel like shit.” You sigh, well as much of as sigh as your body can let out while your nose is this stuffy.

“Can I do anything to help?” He asks.

A hug. You really wanted a hug, but you didn’t want to get him sick. You also didn’t know how to ask without making it awkward. You didn’t really know what you and Hughie were. You felt like more than just friends, but you’d never talked about it. It was hard when you were on the run from Vought. If you were being honest you couldn’t really even afford to be sick right now. If you were sick, you couldn’t use your powers and Butcher wouldn’t want to keep around a useless supe. It’s already pretty useless enough that you can even get sick. Other supes are bulletproof.

“No, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” You fake a smile, coughing again.

“No can do. I never stop worrying about you.” He smiles, but his tone is very serious. A blush creeps up on your face, but it’s easy to mistake your cheeks heating up for a fever.

You start to cough again, but this time it doesn’t stop. You have a coughing fit that leaves you gasping for air. You reflexively reach out for Hughie’s arm. He takes your hand in his, rubbing your back with his other hand.

“It’s okay. Just breathe. Let me help you for once.” He gives your hand a light squeeze. You nod, tears coming to your eyes.

“Trash can!” You yell between coughs. Hughie acts quickly, bringing the trash can to your lap.

“Woah, hey it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He holds your hair back, continuing to rub circles on your back. “Just breathe. Take your time.”

“I’m- so- sorry!” You struggle to get out the words while your hurl into the can.

“Don’t be sorry. You can’t control it. Just let it out. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying to help you through this. I lost count a long time ago of the amount of times you saved my ass. Let me help you. I promise you, I’ve had to deal with much grosser substances for this team than a little vomit.” His calming voice talks you through it, yapping along like this is a totally normal position to be in. Maybe it was. You didn’t know. You weren’t used to anyone caring this much.

“I’ll be right back.” He got up and quickly went to get you some water. You hated being alone, even for a minute, but you gladly took the water. It felt cool on your irritated throat.

“Drink it slowly.” He lets out a soft chuckle, seeing you start to gulp down the water. You slow down at his advice. You know if you drink it too fast you’ll get sick again.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Once you’ve recovered Hughie starts to pull you down into the bed.

“That’s okay. Just rest.” He attempts.

“I can’t. There’s too much going on.” You try to fight your fatigue. Hughie lays down pulling you into his arms. “I don’t wanna get you sick.”

“I’ve got a pretty good immune system. I’m not worried about getting sick. I know our entire world is like kinda imploding, but if you don’t rest you won’t be able to help anyone.” He tries to bargain. You also can’t deny how warm he is, or how your body just melts into his. He’s so comfortable. Laying with him is probably the calmest your brain has felt in weeks. “It’s okay to take a break, (Y/N). Even when the world is falling a part around you, if you don’t stop to take a break you’ll fall a part with it. Trust me. I learned that the hard way. Just relax. Close your eyes. I’m going to stay here and make sure things stay okay as long as we need them to for you to get better.”

You finally stop fighting it and close your eyes. You’re drifting in and out of sleep when you feel Hughie place a kiss on your forehead. Everything will be okay. It has to be.

[cheese-in-space]

Criminally low number of fics on the lesbian Annie Edison tag on ao3 😒

[atonalginger]

Hoist the Colors

The plan was for the remaining pirates of the true Crimson Fleet was to lay low, fill their coffers, and rebuild under a new name in a few years time. Let the dust settle from Naeva's rebellion and cull the numbers of her stragglers. Plenty of time for Delgado, Bella, and Rokov to build their family without the dangers and stresses of before. An uninvited guest reveals a plot that throws their original plans out the window, forcing them to accelerate their plans and hoist the colors once more.

The first two (2) chapters of Hoist the Colors, the first part of the Rise of Libertatia series is now live on ao3. It's rated E for violence that shows up later in the fic. You can find the chapters by clicking HERE

A preview from chapter 1

Things were a mess. One would think someone like Delgado would be used to things falling to shit when he least wanted it to and yet there he was, pacing the floor of his office searching for a solution to the dead man in the middle of his front yard.   The farmhouse was supposed to be a quiet refuge for their growing family. A place for Sophie to play and Bella to raise her fancy chickens with their extravagant crests and dramatic plumage. Where the headaches and drama of stabilizing a criminal enterprise wouldn’t reach. A place where there definitely shouldn't be any dead men face down in the grass.   He just wanted a few months of peace. Bella had been ordered by her doctors to rest and take it easy for the remainder of her pregnancy and it was everything Rokov and he could do to convince her to relax. Shinya and Jazz were temporarily in charge of their still unnamed crew, under orders to only come to him if things took a complete nosedive. When Bella went into labor two nights before he even locked the property down to all but a very short list of guests and it was to remain that way until their family had fully adjusted to their newest member. Yet now that damn goon from Neon rested on the grass, feeding the dry soil his worthless blood.   The good news, if one squinted really hard at it, was that Fox witnessed the shooting and, as a ranger, could theoretically clear Delgado and Rokov as neither of them were the gunmen. The bad news was the dead man was Rodney Jenkins, one of Benjamin Bayu’s personal guard, sent to the farmhouse by Bayu. Shot in the back of the head by another of the personal guard, Curtis Crawford. Why Curtis felt he needed to wait until they were on Delgado’s property, they still didn’t know. But the ranger was getting to the bottom of it with his deputy in the barn while Delgado and Rokov were forced to wait inside.

[blouisparadise]

Today’s rec list is filled with bottom Louis fics where Louis and/or Harry are agents, police officers, or spies. There are a ton of amazing fics on this list that you’ll want to check out. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Fuck The Police | Mature | 2349 words

"It's been a while, Louis. I bet you haven't changed at all. I bet you still think about all the things we've done. I bet you still get off to that thing I used to do to you in bed...you remember that?" Louis blanched, face turning white as a ghost.

"You can't talk to me like that anymore, Harry. It's not okay." Louis spoke up, although his voice wavered as Harry guided his body so that his back was flush against the wall, facing the younger lad.

"Talk to you like what? Like the dirty whore you are? You know you still want me, Lou. Admit it." Harry murmured lowly, eyes taunting.

2) Bleeding Love. | Mature | 2414 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry is a cop, Louis is his boyfriend. Harry wants to marry his boy.

3) If We Catch A Criminal | Not Rated | 2759 words

The one where Harry is a policeman and Louis will do just about anything to avoid going to jail.

4) I’ve Been A Bad Girl, Officer | Mature | 3425 words

Louis has done something mildly bad, and Harry is a cop.

5) Are You Fucking Kidding Me? | Explicit | 4760 words

Louis barks up the wrong tree, so Harry punishes him for it.

6) Moles Before Hoes (Which In This Case Does Not Apply) | Explicit | 5201 words

A Criminal Minds AU where Louis is a technical analysis for the FBI, and Harry is the agent who cant control himself, not even while looking at a murder scene.

7) I’d Make Wine From Your Tears | Explicit | 6731 words

He's the one Forbes writes about, who has bank accounts all over the world, a gold ring on each finger, and a tiger of his own in his huge mansion in the heart of California. Harry Styles, a devilishly rich stockbroker, is accused of a number of financial crimes. And Louis Tomlinson, the FBI agent leading the investigation, finally gets hold of evidence against Styles and shows up at his party to arrest the broker.

“Your body is the only form of currency in this world.”

8) Brown Hair And A Golden Boot | Mature | 12995 words

Harry is mistaken for a secret agent, he wears one golden boot, and Louis is in charge of getting information out of him.

9) The Blood Is Rare (And Sweet As Cherry Wine) | Explicit | 14270 words | Sequel

"Officer, I see you're giving away my secrets already," Harry said as he entered the room.

"It's hardly a secret," Louis accepted the delicate glass, cutting a glance at the man when the underlying scent hit him, "A little early to indulge in such things, isn't it?"

"You've had a long morning, I'm sure. Merely looking after your health, Officer," Harry smiled.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that."

"Someone has to."

10) Don’t Call Me Angel | Mature | 16648 words

Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.

11) Angel Of Small Death And The Murder Scene | Explicit | 20634 words

Ever since Louis read about the new up and coming Detective in town, he had immediately disliked the man, despite never having met him. So, naturally, it can only be the worst thing that could have happened to Louis when he gets stuck with Detective Styles trying to solve a murder during his supposed to be relaxing vacation over the seas.

12) You're The Smell Before Rain, You're The Blood In My Veins | Explicit | 21945 words

“It was him you talked about, when you used to call me late at night, saying you were missing your ex? Was it him, your important five-year long story? Was it him the person you had thought about proposing, one day?” Nick asks with a low voice, almost inaudible, almost like he’s talking to himself “He’s my boyfriend…” he whispers again, without looking up.

“I know! And you shouldn’t worry, because you don’t have a single reason to do so. He’s yours now, he’s with you. I really don’t understand why you came here, honestly” Harry says defending himself out of instinct, even if he has no reason to react like that. He just- just wishes for Nick to leave his room and go back home to Louis. Because at this point Nick has Louis and fuck, why can’t he just go fuck off for once? Doesn’t he have enough shit do deal with already? Does he really need to get into this as well? Right now?

13) Sunflowers, Sunshine, And You | Explicit | 28778 words

Sunshine county is small but mighty and Harry takes pride in knowing nearly each and every person that lives inside of it. For nearly eleven years now he’s been sheriff, and not one of them he’s ever regretted settling down here.

He knows the road names like the back of his hand, knows the people and the animals and the way the world works here. In all of the time he’s been here, not a thing has changed.

So, all things considered, when he starts seeing a beat up pickup truck roaming through town with plates he’s never seen before, Harry, to be frank, jumps on that like a fly on fresh dog shit.

14) You Fill My Lungs With Sweetness (Can I Be Close to You?) | Explicit | 29884 words

Busy picturing Harry’s stupid face on the stupid dummy, Louis goes through a series of kicks before returning to a low guard and cycling through punches. Harry’s still talking, gesturing with his hands as he rounds Louis, standing to his back. “You do a few butt-shaping exercises, tighten this up a little bit,” he smacks Louis’ arse and the omega freezes while Harry cheerfully continues, “you could pull this off.”

“You know what?” Louis snaps, lifting on his tiptoes to get the leverage so he can wrap his arm around the alpha’s neck, forcing him to bend in half while Louis locks him in a chokehold. “Pull this off,” he snarls. They stagger over a few steps, Louis gritting his teeth as Harry tries to break free. “Is it because Payne hates me?” he complains, voice edging on an annoyed whine, “Or is it, like, an omega thing?”

Too late, Louis realizes that Harry has got a grip on his leg and this time as he pulls against Louis’ hold, it loosens, the alpha lifting him in the air before slamming his back into the mat, breaking Louis’ grip completely. Harry kneels on the mat, hovering over him with a sneer, “Don’t kid yourself. Nobody thinks of you that way.”

15) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

16) A Matter Of Uniforms | Not Rated | 36606 words

In Birmingham, just after the Great War, veteran Harry Shelby leads his gang, the Peaky Blinders, making money from illegal betting and the black market. Inspector Campbell, charged by Winston Churchill to arrest the man, plants Louis Burgess to spy on Harry's activities.

Soon enough, it becomes hard for the gangster to pretend he's heartless, and even harder for the spy to pretend he loathes it all.

17) Falling Without Caution | Explicit | 50350 words

Louis Tomlinson, a wanted criminal, was captured by the FBI after years of chasing. Instead of being locked up in a high-security prison, he was offered a deal. What was supposed to be the end of a decade long chase turned into a morally grey circumstance for Agent Styles.

18) Rookie | Not Rated | 54352 words

Louis is the youngest candidate to be selected for the police academy in ten years. At nineteen he has a hard time fitting in, especially with how Agent Styles and the other training sergeants treat him. He’s been nicknamed Rookie and has to put up with it for the rest of his training.

What happens when Louis graduates and things become personal, he’s lost everything before...will it happen again.

19) Never Let Me Go | Explicit | 55949 words

Harry and Louis have been friends forever, but they couldn't be more different. One night, with a little too much alcohol, they make a pact to marry in ten years if they're both still single.

Now, one month before the deadline, Louis is willing to do whatever it takes to avoid ending up with his best friend. But is he, really?

20) Somethin’ Bout You | Explicit | 59855 words

Of all the government agents in the world, Louis had to go and land the most charming one.

21) Derail The Mind Of Me | Explicit | 77323 words

The Behavioral Analysis Unit gets called in to help a small town police department find the killer leaving behind a string of victims with a particularly jarring signature. FBI profiler Harry Styles must work with his team to uncover the unsub responsible for a slew of gruesome murders and just might discover his own hidden feelings for BAU Technical Analyst Louis Tomlinson along the way.

22) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

23) Morality | Explicit | 82857 words

An AU where the boys all work for the FBI in Washington, D.C., working together to catch an unsub who's closer than they ever thought. In the process, Louis uncovers Harry's deepest secret, forcing the two enemies to live a life together to ensure their safety.

24) The Rose Of Whitechapel | Mature | 100182 words

Jack the Ripper AU - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended...

A darkness is brewing, and it's finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

25) Shadow Dances | Mature | 101591 words

Louis Tomlinson has a begrudging gift, he’s able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. Often against his will, and almost always at the most inconvenient of times.

He and his partner, Zayn Malik, work for a covert division of the New Haven Federal Bureau of Investigations. They aid in all kinds of cases, though their talents lie in the obscure and unsolvable.

It’s when a strange new case falls onto their desks that they’re left questioning the extent of their abilities, and whether they were ever truly alone.

Harry Styles was brought into the FBI for not only his skills, but his ability to mitigate the influx of spirits surrounding the elusive and obnoxiously infuriating sharp-tongued medium he’d been assigned to. Louis gets under his skin, he’s impulsive and a risk to the team according to Harry.

They do however have to find a way to set aside their sordid history, and their reluctant attraction, to track down the murderer plaguing their coastal city.

26) Halfway Home | Mature | 103158 words

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were improbable childhood friends, much to Harry's dismay. They were thrown together each summer when Harry was forced to visit Louis' grandfathers' ranch in Black Hills, South Dakota. With each passing year their friendship blossomed into something more. When trail rides turned to stolen kisses, and tragedies turned to confessions, until they could no longer deny the inevitable draw they felt for one another.

Though life and their future plans soon set them on different paths.

Ten years later, Louis is the proud owner of Halfway Home Wildlife Refuge. Harry returns to the ranch to escape the perils of his past in London, and though their memories still haunt Louis, he won't let that deter him from his goals. However, someone has been keeping a close eye on the refuge, and possibly Louis specifically, and Harry's return may have unleashed more that just old passions. There's a hunter lurking in the Hills, someone who's decided they've bided their time long enough.

27) Beautiful War | Mature | 103379 words

Five years ago, Louis was nearly the next victim in a string of murders plaguing Portland, Oregon. He managed to escape and the Angel Killer was apprehended and sent to prison. Now, Louis' a best-selling author that assists state police with minor cases. He still suffers from the events of the days he'd been held hostage, but he's found ways to cope.

That is, until the killings start up again. A body was found in the woods. A body that bared the same signature the media had dubbed: The Angel of Death.

Special Agent Harry Styles leads the case, and he doesn't buy into the clairvoyant bullshit that Louis spewed to save face five years ago. He's certain that Louis Tomlinson was involved.

Until they meet, and they're both left questioning everything they'd thought to be true.

28) ROUGE | Not Rated | 117624 words

Submissive Louis Tomlinson is a misjudged criminal who is accused of beating his own Dominant until unconciousness. But the truth is not like that. In fact, Louis has been a victim of severe abuse by his Dom, he only fought back to defend his own life. One could imagine how many times the Dom has raped the Sub, how many scars from canes and whips are there to litter across his body, how many times his flesh has been split open, how many nightmares he has endured that leaves him lose all hope in life.

Sent to the BDSM prison for "behavioural correction", Louis meets the warden there, Dominant Harry Styles. Dominant above all Dominants, Harry is cold and harsh on the outside, but secretly a lonely man in the inside.

Louis supposes he could find his solace here in prison, a time for his scars to heal, both physical and mental ones. But what if Harry starts befriending the Sub, seeing through all the false accusations? What if Harry wants to seek justice? Does Louis even want his name cleared anyways? But the most important question is,

Will Harry be able to give Louis the love he deserves?

If only Louis could tell him the truth.

29) Drops Of Jupiter | Mature | 121821 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with.

But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills?

And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

30) Life And Love Finds A Way | Explicit | 165244 words

Post-apocalyptic world after a plague had taken out more than half of the world’s population. In the midst of the pandemonium caused by so many people passing away, the population that was left had turned greedy and started attacking each other for food and resources now that there weren’t enough people to farm or work essential jobs. After being shot by a looter while he was on patrol, Harry had decided to leave the police department and move away to find somewhere remote to live. What he didn’t expect was for an omega to weasel his way into Harry’s heart.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[ninjaaa-go]

Are there seriously only ten fics for Bubble on ao3?? That’s criminally low and I might need to write something to help out the numbers…

[homehauntsyou]

personally. I think there should be more fics about azazel being a creep. as a treat.

[myrrhmaidwrites]

I’ve been CRAVING Mason/Trevor for the last few days. Can you believe there’s only 13 fics of them on ao3, one of which is my threesome fic? Criminally low numbers for such a good ship!!

If you want to send a prompt or an idea for them, I’ll talk about it or write it up in 400-1000 words :) f/f, m/f, m/m, or any other gender setup you want to give them

[cameronsactivities]

there is a criminally low number of great gatsby fics on ao3. it’s around 800 last i checked and it is my life’s goal to make that number not even remotely close to the number of fics for avatar

[jacensolodjo]

Cait/Vi fic, 1498 words, no smut | also read on Ao3

------

Vi and Caitlyn had managed to snag a guy in the Markets (located almost smack dab in the middle between Piltover and the Undercity) who was selling stolen HexTech (not weapons). They had been working together for quite a number of months and had their interrogation technique down to a science: Vi was the bad Enforcer and Caitlyn the good, as it were. Even though they weren't actually Enforcers, more like vigilantes. But Caitlyn had pull as a Kiramman and friend to Councilor Jayce Talis.

Vi paced back and forth on one side of the table while every once in a while casting a glance at the handcuffed man seated on the other side of the table. Caitlyn had ducked out of the room under a false pretense of checking the records on their current criminal. 

“C’mon, do you really want me to get rough? Make you lie to the nice lady who just left about how you’re suddenly sporting a black eye?” Vi asked. 

“You’re not getting anything from me,” the man insisted, glaring up at the one who had captured him after a long foot chase. 

Vi slammed their hands down on the tabletop with a bang, making the man jump badly then cower away as far as he could. 

“C’mon Maddoc, I want to wrap this up. Don’t you? I bet your gal is going to miss you if you don’t come home from work soon, huh?” Vi asked, leaning in until her nose was almost touching his. 

“Piss off! I’m not telling you or your Piltie girlfriend a damn thing!” Maddoc sneered. 

Rage flooded Vi’s visage and they let off a snarl before grabbing Maddoc by the front of his shirt then slammed him up against the wall nearest the table. 

“You fucking waste of space! You don’t get to talk about her, do you hear me?!” Vi shouted in his face. “You’re lucky I don’t have my gauntlets on for this!” 

She shoved her forearm up against his throat, making him gag and scrabble at her arm, trying to loosen her grip. But she held fast and in fact pressed her arm against his throat that much harder. 

“Vi! What are you doing?!” Caitlyn’s voice filtered through the audio system in the interrogation room. 

“What does it fucking look like? Just having a chat with our friend here!” Vi explained, needlessly. Cait knew exactly what her partner was up to. They had done this song and dance at least a dozen times before, always with good results. 

“Ma’am, ya gotta help me. Your partner’s a rabid dog!” Maddoc called out, panic in his face which was also sweating madly now. A couple seconds later the door to the room slammed open and Cait rushed in. 

“Let him go, Vi,” Cait said, indeed sounding for all the world like she was speaking to a misbehaving dog. 

“His boss has had us chasing geese for months, Cait!” Vi growled out, glaring into Maddoc’s wide eyes.

Cait settled a hand on Vi’s shoulder, breaking Vi’s concentration. She released the man, and he landed on one knee with a heavy thump. 

“Thank you! Thank you, Miss Kiramman,” Maddoc mumbled as he climbed back up to his feet. 

Rolling her eyes, she shoved him to sit back down at the table. “Shut up. I didn’t do it for you!”  

Vi glowered, fists clenching then unclenching as she stared at Maddoc. Cait gently cupped Vi’s cheek and forced her head to turn so their eyes could meet. 

“We’re not on a time limit. Go easy. Actually, you know what, let me give it a go,” Cait said, voice low enough that Maddoc couldn’t hear. 

“Aw, c’mon, Cupcake. You know I can do this!” Vi whined, voice just as low. 

“So can I. The brute force option won’t work here. He’s scared of you, just not scared enough.”

“Exactly, just give me a little more time to make him actually afraid.” 

Cait made a face that screamed doubt. She knew that Vi was used to being considered scary and people who weren’t afraid annoyed them. 

“Let me try at least once to get the intel my way,” Cait insisted. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats then Vi gave a defeated sigh. 

“You better behave like a gentleman, Maddoc,” Vi called out before heading out the door, leaving their lover and prisoner in the same room together. They hung a sharp left to enter the observation room for the interrogation cell. Their arms folded after turning on the comms. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing with that brute as a coworker?” Maddoc asked. Vi rolled their eyes. 

“That brute is my partner and very good at her job,” Cait said matter-of-factly before taking a seat opposite the man and spreading out the paperwork that his file consisted of.

“Psh. My boss pays me three times what you make. I could treat you right,” Maddoc said, offering a crooked smile. 

“I don’t associate with criminals.” 

“Yeah? Your partner was in deep back in the day.” 

“Present day criminals.”

Vi growled to herself. She wanted to defenestrate the man right here and now. 

“And speaking of your boss, where exactly is he?” 

“Nice try, Kiramman. Like I’d fall for that!”

“As soon as you tell us that and where you’re getting your HexTech to sell, you can go. And if you’re a good boy you’ll never have to see me or my partner again.” 

“My boss’d do worse to me than you two could.” 

“I don’t know, Vi has ever twisted someone into a pretzel before. You ever been a pretzel, Maddoc?” 

“Being one is a far sight better than having nubs for fingers. Cause my boss would take all 10 of mine if I talked.”

“You have to give me something, Maddoc, otherwise Vi is coming right back in to see if they can beat it out of you.”

Maddoc gave a big, ugly grin and slightly stood up from the table. Cait stood as well, glaring. 

“Maybe if you sucked my dick I’d be a little more... amenable,” Maddoc said, barely more than a whisper. 

“Shit,” Cait muttered, making Maddoc stare at her in confusion. 

“Wh--” he began but wasn’t given a chance to finish as Vi barged into the interrogation room and grabbed him by the neck to slam him down into the floor. He cried out in pain. 

“I’ll have your job for this!” he said, partially mumbled thanks to his face sporting a couple nice bruises from Vi’s rush attack.  

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t get to talk about her like that, I warned you!”

Behind Vi, Cait was rubbing her temples. Vi was especially cranky that day, if only because Maddoc's boss had started taunting them like some serial killer with letters sent to Cait's apartment (that she had moved into because living at home had become untenable given how often Vi dropped by and refused to use the front door). 

"I'll give up one clue. But only to Kiramman," Maddoc said after a couple minutes of his face being ground into the concrete.

"No."

"Okay." The pair said at the same time. They shared a glance, Vi shaking her head vehemently while Cait was nodding. She could handle it.

“If this is just another ploy to be disgusting--” Vi warned.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll throw me through a wall,” Maddoc mumbled.

Sighing, Vi yanked him up to his feet then forced him to sit back down at the table. She left the room again but stayed by the door this time. Eyes closed and arms folded while she leaned up against the wall. 

“Seriously, rich girl, your partner is deranged,” Maddoc said. 

“Please shut up unless the next words out of your mouth are how to find your boss or where you got the HexTech,” Caitlyn said, sounding extremely exasperated. 

“The only thing I can tell you is where I was supposed to drop the HexTech off. It’s on the Northeast outskirts of Piltover.”

“When?”

“What time is it?”

“Quarter until 9.”

“Supposed to be there at 9:51, on the button.”

“Fine. Keys?”

“What? No!”

Caitlyn rummaged in the pocket of the man’s jacket for a moment then yanked out a set of keys.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” she said, wiggling the keys in front of the man’s face. He gave a groan and a roll of his eyes. 

“My boss is gonna kill you and your partner. You both reek like Enforcers.”

“Hm. Well, I used to be but Vi definitely never was. I’m sure she’ll bluff us into the meeting point.” 

“Yeah. Good luck with that.”

Vi opened her eyes when the door opened and Cait stepped through the doorway. She handed the keys off to her partner, who nodded and started off to the motor pool. She was dressed for an illicit rendezvous, but Cait wasn’t. Cait would have to change clothes while Vi prepped Maddoc’s cart. 

[rafael-silva]

steady me with your touch: a tarlos fic

A call brings the 126 crew, APD and the Texas Rangers together. When Carlos gets hurt on said scene, Gabriel bears witness to TK working through his worry as he takes care of Carlos, the love and deep connection between them evident as clear as the sun shines. In the aftermath, TK is there for his boyfriend, in more ways than one.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + arm in a sling 

hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, paramedic tk, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, kisses, whump, comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft boyfriends 

5.7k | rated T | on ao3

*****

Walking into the precinct that morning, the air heavy with tension and stress, Carlos had an inkling about the day that lied ahead. And in retrospect, Carlos’s gut was proven right.

*****

Switching off the siren and hopping out of the patrol car, Carlos and Mitchell quickly stride towards their captain, who is wearing a grim look as he speaks to a couple of other officers. Carlos looks around, noticing a perimeter already being set by his colleagues as bystanders start to gather across the street.

Captain Kendricks turns in their direction as they approach him.

“Reyes, Mitchell, good that you got here so quick,” he says.

“Captain,” Carlos nods as he slips on his vest. “We were a few blocks over when the call came in.”

Before the captain can reply, the echo of more sirens grab their attentions. Turning in the direction of the incoming sounds, Carlos immediately finds the bold 126 numbers painted on the side of the firetruck, followed by the ambulance.

His eyes remain fixed on the vehicles as the firefighters disembark, watching as Owen searches the crowd for the person in command of the scene before even his boots hit the ground.

The fire captain’s eyes quickly find Carlos and Captain Kendricks and he says something to Judd before hurrying over to the police officers.

“Captain Kendricks,” Owen greets, extending his hand.

“Captain Strand,” Kendricks replies, shaking Owen’s extended hand.

“Officer Reyes, Officer Mitchell.”

“Captain Strand,” Carlos responds next.

“What’s the situation?”

“I was just about to brief Officers Reyes and Mitchell. We have a hostage situation, it was called in about ten minutes ago. The daughter made the call, she and her parents had come home and according to her, she had gone to her bedroom straight away, and a few moments later she heard arguing and strange voices coming from the living room. She discovered three men in black ski masks, armed, and yelling at her parents. She ran back to her room and called 911. And it appears to have started out as a robbery.”

Owen nods. “So, at least three robbers.”

Captain Kendricks nods. “We’re still trying to establish communication with the intruders, and in the meantime, the daughter is still on the line with 911,” the captain continues. “Where is she hiding?”

“Her bedroom, north-east side of the building.”

“Any updates, Captain Kendricks?” Another voice pops up, approaching the group.

At hearing the familiar voice, Carlos turns to see his father making his way towards them and gets a nod from Gabriel when their eyes meet.

“No new updates yet, Major.”

“Sir,” Carlos greets his father.

“Captain Strand,” Gabriel extends his hand.

“Major Reyes,” Owen reciprocates, shaking the offered palm.

“Captain Strand, I’ll need you and your crew close and on stand by,” Kendricks states, then turning to Carlos and Mitchell, “Reyes, Mitchell, I want you to cover the back door, along with Banks and Carter. Keep your eyes open and watch each other’s backs, report any movement.”

“Yes, sir,” Carlos responds.

Looking back in the direction of the firetruck, Carlos sees the 126 crew standing near, talking together and looking at the building. He quickly finds TK, and unlike everyone else, the paramedic is looking straight at him, also having sought out his boyfriend amid the crowd.

They start a wordless conversation, declarations spoken through brown and green gates as they connect on a deeper level, the world around them momentarily fading away. A wave of understanding sways between them, an invisible string extending and bridging them together; they both know what the other is expressing, speaking through their hearts, the words echoing in their eyes, seeing into each other’s souls. Carlos gives TK a nod, which the paramedic replies to with a small smile.

Turning back, Carlos shares a look with his father.

Gabriel’s hand moves to Carlos’s face, gently patting his cheek then his shoulder.

“Be careful, son,” Gabriel pleads.

“Will do, sir,” Carlos replies, giving his dad a smile.

Gabriel watches as his son glances over his shoulder one more time before walking into the opposite direction and towards the back of the building, his partner on his heels.

Gabriel turns to glimpse in the direction Carlos had just looked in and easily finds TK, the younger man’s eyes trailed on Carlos. The Ranger’s movement then catches TK’s eyes and they share a look. Gabriel gives him a smile and nod, which TK swiftly return.

*****

They found the daughter, TK had overheard Captain Kendricks telling Owen and Gabriel.

The atmosphere is tense and the air thick as PD and the Rangers work to establish communication with the assailants, which still hasn’t proven manageable. And now without the daughter on the line with dispatch anymore, they are blind to what is happening inside the apartment.

A couple of other officers were assigned to the back of the building along with Carlos and the others, but it’s also been radio silence on their end.

TK is pacing back and forth in front of the truck and ambulance, his shoulders squared and face tight, rubbing his hands together, busying himself.

He can hear his father, Gabriel and Captain Kendricks nearby, discussing what the best course of action would be if it remains radio silence for another few minutes.

He stops moving when the radio comes to life with Carlos’s voice.

“This is 363-H-20,” Carlos’s voice is low and hushed. “Possible movement in the back.”

TK holds his breath, waiting, and then his heart promptly plummets into his stomach at the next transmission, his eyes going wide with fear at the words.

“Shots fired, I repeat, shots fired,” Carlos yells, his voice loud now. “Requesting back up!”

TK swallows against his dry throat when his ears catch the harsh sound of bullets hitting steel and brick in the background of Carlos’s message.

The sun watching over them and the heat engulfing them is suddenly too much for TK, his entire body sizzling from the inside out as his heart beats fiercely against his rib cage.

“Four suspects fleeing north, in pursuit on foot,” Carlos continues a few moments later.

“Hey, hang on, brother,” a close voice pierces TK’s ears. He turns to find Judd’s hand on his shoulder. “They’ll radio if they need EMS. He’s okay.”

He’s okay? TK wants to scoff. He just got rained on by a shower of bullets, he thinks.

TK then looks down and realizes he’d taken a few steps forward, unconsciously trying to get to Carlos. All possibilities of what could go wrong start to rush through his mind; what if Carlos got hit but the adrenaline is masking the pain? What if he collapses while he’s chasing the criminals?

And as if Judd had spoken it into the universe, the radio chirps to life, an unfamiliar voice to TK calling for medical assistance.

The foreign voice alone gets TK’s heart racing some more, his mind immediately jumping to the conclusion that Carlos is the one hurt now that he’s not on the radio. It’s not a given, of course, TK knows, but his mind can’t be convinced otherwise in the moment, his fear of losing Carlos bigger than logic.

TK lifts his head towards the group of officers just in time to see a bunch of them joined by a few Rangers, including Gabriel, rush to their vehicles.

A few other officers make their way towards the paramedics, and lead them to where they’re needed, towards the fallen officer. TK’s legs move on their own accord, he needs to know.

TK feels the sweat roll down his neck and back as they get closer to the officers, he tightens his hold on the medkit, repeating please be okay, Carlos, please be okay, over and over in his head.

He gets a proper view of the officer on the ground and his shoulders sag a little, a sigh escaping him when he sees it’s not Carlos. He drops the medkid and kneels next to the cop, his partner speaking on his behalf.

“He took a round to his vest, it didn’t go through but he said it hurts to breathe a little.”

The paramedics work in unison to get the officer assessed and stable. TK had seen both of the cops at Carlos’s precinct a couple of times but he hasn’t spoken to them before.

A question over the radio grabs his attention then.

“What’s your location, Reyes?” Kendricks speaks into his radio.

“Just passed Brazos and East 4th,” comes Carlos’s quick reply around his pants.

“Copy, back up is in en route.”

TK takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, gathering his nerves. Carlos is going to be okay.

A few blocks away, Carlos watches as the four suspects break into two group, each going in opposite directions.

“They’ve split up,” Carlos relays. “Banks and Carter, go East, Mitchell and I will stay on them heading north.”

Sirens fill the air around Carlos as he pushes his muscles and wills his legs to keep running, the suspects just ahead of him as he sees them turn a corner.

“Suspects have turned a corner, heading West on 5th,” Carlos speaks into his radio, slowing to a jog and eventually stopping.

“Reyes?” Mitchell questions as she slows next to her partner.

“We can cut them off before they reach West Avenue,” Carlos tells Mitchell, gathering his breath. “There’s a shortcut to West 5th,” he explains, pointing to a nearby alley. “Through there.”

Mitchell nods and follows Carlos into the alley. They quickly make their way between the buildings, eventually reaching the main street. They slow down when they’re almost at West 5th street, staying close against the wall to conceal their movements. Carlos carefully peaks his head out, his heart hammering in his chest as he searches for any signs of the suspects.

“Anything?” Mitchell whispers.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies. “They’re heading this way, almost half a block behind.”

Thankfully, the street isn’t busy and there are no bystanders in close vicinity of the robbers. When Carlos gives the signal, he and Mitchell jump out from the alley and into the path of the men, their guns drawn.

The two men freeze, their own guns in their grip and Carlos can instantly read them like an open book.

“Don’t move and don’t even think about it. Lower your weapons and the duffel bags, slowly,” Carlos orders.

“Do it,” Mitchell adds with a stern tone.

The two men don’t move for a few moments before they follow the orders, lowering their guns to the asphalt along with the bags. With her gun still drawn, Mitchell carefully moves forward and kicks the guns away. Then she and Carlos return their own guns to their holsters and move to cuff the suspects.

In a quick move, the man Carlos is holding flicks his head back, and Carlos would have ended up with a broken nose if it weren’t for his quick reflexes, jerking his head backwards and out of the way of the oncoming assault. Carlos’s grip, however, loosens on the man, giving him just enough leverage to slip a little from his hold.

Carlos recovers quickly, locking the man’s wrists to keep him in place as he reaches for his cuffs, but the man continues at his attempt to break free from the officer’s hold.

Carlos is also aware that Mitchell is having her own go with the other suspect, trying to secure him in the same way, too.

The man in Carlos’s grasp sharply and suddenly leans forward, his arms still behind him as he wiggles some more, swaying his body to the side and tipping Carlos’s balance. The man, in another strong tug forward, manages to escape Carlos’s hold when the officer tries to regain his balance. He only reaches the end of the block before Carlos is tackling him to the ground, but not without injury, though. Carlos hears a sickening crack coming from his shoulder when he thuds harshly on his side, his arm and shoulder colliding with the asphalt, his other going around the man to keep him in place.

White, hot pain surges through his nerves and body, and he wants to scream out in agony. He manages to keep the man in place just long enough for Mitchell to run over, having cuffed the other guy and handed him to the back up that arrived moments ago, and takes over using Carlos’s cuffs on the man on the ground.

Carlos breathes out a throaty groan, his good arm free now to cradle his injured shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to regulate his breathing.

“Reyes?” He hears Mitchell call out but he doesn’t reply, the pain clouding his head and preventing him from doing anything except breathe through the continuous throbbing.

He’s vague aware of the sirens around them now, blaring and ear-piercing and he can see the red and blue lights dancing across beyond his closed eyelids.

Carlos’s focus leaves his surroundings and travel to the aching pain and shocks running up and down his arm. But soon, another voice filters through, getting closer. At first, the voice seems so far away, as if Carlos were underwater and the voice above. That voice is one he replies to.

“Carlos?”

“Dad…” Carlos mumbles through clenched teeth.

“What happened?” He hears Gabriel ask.

“Carlos tackled him to the ground, but I didn’t see it happen. I looked up after cuffing the other guy and Carlos was on the ground with him,” Mitchell explains.

“Can you open your eyes for me, son?”

Carlos takes a deep breath through his nose and wills his eyes to open. He finds his father’s concerned face through the momentary blur, and he shakes his head to clear his vision. It seems that wasn’t the best of choices because the action sends a sharp sting running through his head but it fades after a few moments.

“There you are,” Gabriel visibly relaxes a little at seeing Carlos awake. “What hurts?”

“Shoulder,” Carlos pants. “Fell on it.”

Gabriel’s eyes go to Carlos’s shoulder and he grimaces at the unnatural angle the joint is in.

“It’s dislocated,” Gabriel sighs.

Carlos groans again, moving his body to the side, as if he wanted to curl into himself and will the discomfort away. However, all he ends up doing is hissing in pain.

“Stay still, Carlos,” Gabriel warns and then turns to Mitchell. “Radio for EMS.”

She nods, getting to her feet and hauls the cuffed man away, pressing down on her radio to request medical and reports their location.

Gabriel then kneels next to his son and gently settles a hand behind his uninjured shoulder.

“Here, let me help you sit up,” Gabriel says, and receives a nod from Carlos.

Carlos lifts his good arm and wraps his fingers around his father’s wrist for leverage, and mostly using Gabriel’s strength and with the Ranger’s support on his back, they manage to get Carlos up and sitting in a swift but careful motion, but even the slight jostling sends sharp stabbing like pains through Carlos’s arm and shoulder that have him groaning again.

“You okay?” Gabriel asks, his voice coated with worry, hating to see his son in pain.

“Yeah,” Carlos replies a few moments after collecting his breath, his voice shakier than he intended.

His good arm goes back to holding his other, and Gabriel keeps his hand on Carlos’s back, supporting Carlos both literally and figuratively. A part of Gabriel knows that Carlos can very well tumble backwards if it weren’t for his support and it’s also to remind for Carlos that he isn’t alone.

Gabriel looks up when he senses quick movement approaching and sees the paramedics jogging towards them.

“Major Reyes,” TK is the first to speak, his grip on the medkit strap tightening.

Gabriel can pin point the moment TK realizes it’s Carlos who is injured, by the way the young paramedic’s breath hitches and eyes go wide. But he also quickly observes how TK is doing his best to keep himself composed, focused and professional, and to not let his emotions cloud him or cause him to freeze.

“He tackled the suspect and hit his shoulder and arm on the ground,” Gabriel tells them, his eyes moving back to Carlos.

“Hi babe,” TK meets Carlos’s eyes as he kneels next to him, his green irises radiating worry.

The officer gives him the best smile he could muster in hopes of easing the panic he can see drawn on TK’s face.

“How are you doing?”

Carlos swallows. “Okay.”

“How’s your pain?” Tommy asks next, her voice calm and motherly.

Gabriel notices how TK’s eyes keep moving  from unpacking the equipment they need to Carlos, emitting fear and worry. He can see how TK takes some comfort from the fact that Carlos is sitting up, awake and alert, but Gabriel can also tell it’s still not quite enough to completely relieve the young man’s anxiety at seeing Carlos injured, judging by the strain in his shoulders as he works.

“Uh…the pain is maybe a seven? Eight?”

TK’s eyes roam over Carlos’s face, studying him and finds sweat collecting on Carlos’s forehead. His eyes then move down to his middle, where Carlos is holding himself a little unnaturally and taking shallow breaths, TK creasing his eyebrows at the realization.

“Carlos, does anything else hurt?” TK asks, worry evident in his voice.

“My back and down my side,” Carlos winces around a breath. “Breathing hurts a little. It’s like…every breath echoes into my back and it’s like a stabbing pain.”

TK nods and with the help of Gabriel, they gently remove Carlos’s kevlar vest and then TK moves to lift Carlos’s uniform shirt.

He knew to expect a bruise there, Carlos’s momentum when he hit the ground enough to cause that, but he still can’t help the sharp breath he draws in when his eyes land on the dark red bruise already formed down his boyfriend’s back and side.

TK sees Gabriel have the same reaction from the corner of his eye. He gently starts examining the bruise, lightly pressing down on the skin around it and Carlos lets out a low groan.

“I’m sorry, babe.”

Carlos nods, it’s okay.

As he lowers the shirt, TK shares a look with the Ranger and sees the same concern surging through his own body mirrored back at him.

“Cap, back and side are heavily bruised.”

Tommy nods in acknowledgment and then turns to Nancy when she speaks.

“Vitals are holding, Cap, a little low, but they’re stable,” Nancy reports.

Tommy nods again. “Lets see what we can do about that pain now, yeah, Carlos?”

Tommy tells Nancy to administer pain medication through the IV line she just inserted and secured. Carlos lets out a steady breath a few moments later.

“Better?” TK asks.

Carlos nods.

“That’s good,” TK gives him a smile.

“Okay, Carlos, we have to slip your shoulder back into the joint. It won’t be pleasant, the pain will only last for a few seconds though and the meds we gave you will help,” Tommy says.

Carlos nods. “Had a dislocated shoulder before.”

“Alright, then, you know the drill.”

TK moves to Carlos’s uninjured side as Gabriel gets up and steps back, giving them space to work. Tommy now opposite TK, together they get ready, positioning Carlos and TK takes Carlos’s uninjured hand into his own, giving it a squeeze.

After a moment or two, Tommy starts counting and in between the second and third count, she expertly reduces the dislocation and Carlos’s shoulder pops back into the socket.

Carlos’s knuckles go white as his grip on TK’s hand tightens, the seconds of pain causing him to squeeze TK’s hand with everything he’s got. He feels TK run his thumb over his skin as the wave of pain begins to wash away.

“All done,” Tommy smiles at Carlos. “It’s going to be tender and sore for a few days, so take it easy,” she gives him a pointed look.

“Reminds me of an exact same conversation we had a few years ago, that time he sprained his ankle and wanted to walk around the ranch to fix some holes in the fence,” Gabriel says, his tone playful and a little teasing. “We told him to take it easy and yet I found him limping down the stairs less than ten minutes later.”

“I just…like to be helpful and I hate it when an injury gets in the way of that.”

“I hear you, Carlos. But don’t push yourself or you might end up doing more damage. And in this case, it means complete minimal movement of your shoulder, and it’s best if you don’t use it at all for a few days,” Tommy says.

Carlos drops his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t forget, I know your boy really well,” Tommy turns to look at TK. “I’ve learned how to deal with a certain version of the phrase taking it easy.”

Gabriel chuckles again at Tommy’s comment, getting the sense that the two young men have more in common than he initially thought.

TK doesn’t argue, instead he reaches for the arm sling and Gabriel watches as he carefully helps Carlos put it on, securing his arm against his chest and tightening the strap so his arm is properly supported.

“There,” TK says. “And take it easy,” he winks at Carlos.

Carlos chuckles and nods.

Gabriel himself relaxes a little more after watching the exchange, seeing how both Carlos and TK were a little more at ease now that the officer was a little better. He can still see concern at the edges of TK’s eyes and on his face, but he supposes it will be a few days until the remnants of worry are completely gone.

“Can you walk to the ambulance?” Tommy asks.

Carlos frowns, eyes going to his father and then TK. “I thought we were done.”

TK shakes his head. “We still need to take you to the hospital, get some x rays to make sure everything is okay and to check on your muscles and ligaments, too. It’s precautionary, just to make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be and nothing on the inside has been injured in the fall.”

Carlos sighs and nods.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Gabriel says once they get Carlos inside to rig and TK hops in after him.

“Dad, it’s okay,” Carlos starts from where he’s lying upright on the gurney.

Gabriel’s shake of his head stops the officer. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he repeats.

“Okay, sir,” Carlos gives him a grateful smile.

Carlos is pretty exhausted and sleeps during the ride to the hospital, TK keeping a steady hold on his hand the whole way, grounding him and giving him comfort.

Carlos is taken to an exam room upon arrival, the nurses allow TK to stay with him while Tommy and Nancy are told to stay in the waiting area, which is where Gabriel finds them ten minutes after their arrival.

“Major Reyes,” Tommy says once she spots him. “Carlos is being examined right now, TK is with him and he’ll come with updates.”

Gabriel nods and takes a seat in one of plastic chairs, fishing his phone from his pocket to call his wife.

After reassuring Andrea that Carlos is okay and he’s being checked over and promising Carlos will call her as soon as he can, he hangs up in time to see TK walk over to them.

“The doctor’s initial exam shows that everything is fine, but they’re taking him to get an x ray to make certain,” TK explains.

“That’s good to hear,” Gabriel smiles, patting TK on the shoulder.

TK nods, returning the smile.

Carlos is back in the exam room shortly after, TK and Gabriel with him. Carlos is speaking to his father after finishing his call with Andrea when TK’s radio comes to life.

“It’s okay,” Carlos says before TK can apologize. “I’m fine, and the x ray is going to show just that.”

“I’ll take him home,” Gabriel nods.

“Oh,” Carlos frowns a little at a realization. “My car is at the precinct.”

“I can have dad take me there after shift and I’ll get it home,” TK says.

“Okay,” Carlos nods. “The keys are in my locker.”

TK nods, moving closer to Carlos. “I’ll see you at home,” he takes Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I’ll see you at home, babe,” Carlos squeezes back. “Go save lives.”

“Bye, Mr. Reyes,” TK waves as he walks towards the door.

“Bye, TK. Stay safe,” Gabriel replies.

TK nods again and with one last look at Carlos, who is still smiling and gives him a nod himself, TK turns on his heels and walks through the hospital, meeting his team outside.

*****

“Babe, I’m home,” TK calls out as he walks through the door, dropping the keys into the bowl sitting on the table next to the door.

He immediately spots Carlos in the kitchen by the fridge, who smiles widely upon seeing TK.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos replies, closing the fridge door. “How was the rest of shift?”

“You should be resting,” TK raises his eyebrows as he walks over to Carlos. “It was fine, a little slow towards the end.”

“I am, resting that is, I was just getting some orange juice,” Carlos replies. “Welcome home,” he whispers before returning the soft kiss TK leans in for.

TK sighs into the kiss, a hand going to cup Carlos’s cheek. He pulls back slightly to plant another kiss to Carlos’s lips, both of them pouring their everything into it, feeling each other, reassuring each other.

“Hi,” TK whispers when they pull apart, resting his forehead against Carlos’s.

“Hi yourself,” Carlos whispers back, a small smile spreading on his face.

“How are you feeling?” TK asks, a thumb caressing Carlos’s cheek.

“Okay,” Carlos replies. “Me and dad ordered pizza. You know, one of the easier things to eat with…” he trails off, gesturing to his sling.

TK nods.

“Definitely easier than changing out of your uniform with a sore shoulder,” Carlos shakes his head. “And showering.”

TK frowns, eyes turning sad at the thought of Carlos in pain, but Carlos quickly goes to reassure TK.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle though,” Carlos says. “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know, I just…I hate that you got hurt,” TK sighs, face falling and eyes going to Carlos’s injured arm.

It’s Carlos’s turn to gently cup TK’s face and guide him to look into his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos soft calls. “I’ll be good as new in no time. A couple of weeks and I go for a check up and we take it from there.”

TK nods, eyes not leave Carlos’s, almost afraid that Carlos would somehow disappear if he looks away.

“Okay,” Carlos says as he closes the gap between them with another kiss.

Before either of them say anything else, TK’s stomach rumbles and reminds him that he’s very hungry. Carlos lifts an eyebrow, making TK chuckle.

“I ordered a pizza for you too, I put it in the oven to keep it warm,” Carlos adds.

“My savior,” TK brushes a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“Hm, if I recall correctly, you saved me today,” Carlos responds.

“Well, call it even,” TK smiles. “I’ll go take a quick shower then I can eat and we can carefully cuddle and watch a movie.”

“Exactly what I need.”

TK, however, doesn’t move and keeps watching Carlos.

“TK?” Carlos questions, his face turning into one of confusion.

“I’m not going until I’m sure you’re sitting safely on the couch,” TK shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Taking it easy, remember? I don’t want you hurting your shoulder again, and your parents hearing about it…I do not want to receive that phone call.”

Carlos playfully rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Okay, I’m going.”

He grabs the full glass of orange juice off the counter and walks over the couch, setting the cup down on the table and then lowering himself down on the fluffy cushion.

“Safe and sound. Now go shower,” Carlos gestures towards the bathroom. “I miss you and your cuddles.”

“Give me ten minutes,” TK smiles as he walks over to Carlos, dropping a kiss to the top of his head and then to his injured shoulder.

As promised, they’re cuddling thirty minutes later. TK had finished eating and went to grab a couple of water bottles before gently sitting on Carlos’s unhurt side. He lifts his arm for Carlos to come closer and TK carefully places his hand over Carlos’s injured shoulder, mindful not to add any pressure there.

Carlos snuggles against his boyfriend, pressing a light kiss to TK’s neck and then resting his head there. He closes his eyes as he breaths TK in, his mint scented body wash fresh and captivating. That’s what home smells like to Carlos now.

Carlos hums happily when TK starts carding his fingers through his loose soft curls, and TK smiles, knowing very well how that gesture calms the officer and relaxes him.

“How’s your back, baby? I know the doctor said the bruising isn’t as bad as we thought but are you in pain?”

“It’s okay, as long as I don’t move too much, I’m not in a lot of pain. And the doctor prescribed a gel that should make it better.”

TK sighs.

“Baby, it’s just cause it’s only been a few hours since…and sleep is going to help. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll ice it for you and apply the gel before we sleep. Is there anything you need right now?”

Carlos looks up at TK from his position. “I’ve got everything I need right here. You’re all I need, Ty, anytime, anywhere.”

“You’ve got me, ‘Los, always.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead, his lips lingering there for a few extra moments. He needs to know that Carlos is really, truly okay, he needs to feel Carlos, and Carlos understands. So he tries to move even closer to TK without pain flaring up across his body.

“My dad was impressed by you, you know,” Carlos says after a few minutes of them watching the movie in silence.

“Me?”

Carlos nods. “With how you handled everything and stayed calm.”

“Oh, no, I was freaking out,” TK replies.

“I mean, he told me he could see how you were shaken up when you realized it was me, but you didn’t let that cloud you or get in the way. You stayed calm through the panic, stayed professional and held your ground even though you were freaking out on the inside. You controlled it, and he told me he’s rarely seen people be able to do that,” Carlos explains.

“Well, I had to make sure you come out of it okay.”

“And he’s also very grateful for that. My mom, too. I could hear it in her voice, she felt better when I told her you took care of me,” Carlos continues.

TK feels his heart warm at the knowledge of Gabriel and Andrea’s support and appreciation. It uplifts him and makes him incredibly happy, and he’s even happier knowing how much their approval of him means to Carlos.

“I was honestly just too focused on the pain so I wasn’t paying much attention to anything around, I hate that you had to see me hurt, but I’m also glad it was you at the scene. Because once I knew it was you next to me, I felt safe. I knew I was safe,” Carlos expresses.

“I’ll be here, always,” TK vows. “Through it all, I’ll always be right by your side.”

“And I will always be right by yours,” Carlos vows back.

“Just, let me take care of you, please. You’ve always taken great care of me, and of everyone really, it’s who you are and I know how important it is to you. But remember, baby, it’s okay to rely on others too, to get help when you need it,” TK says.

Carlos stays silent for a few moments, brushing his fingers over the material of his sweats. “It’s not…the easiest thing for me, doing that,” he eventually replies.

“I know and that’s okay, babe,” TK reassures him. “It starts with small steps. Besides, I always want to pamper my wonderful boyfriend.”

That makes Carlos smile and he nods. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”

They seal their promises with a passionate kiss, each of them giving as well as they’re receiving, immersed in each other in every possible way.

“That also wasn’t the first time I freaked out on that call,” TK admits when they separate.

Carlos sits up, facing TK and frowns a little.

“They called for medical after you reported shots were fired and it was another officer who requested EMS and…I freaked out. I was heard the call and I terrified you were hurt,” TK sighs.

“Oh, babe,” Carlos says softly. “That’s completely understandable. It all happened so quickly, the shots, Ryan getting hit in the vest…next thing I knew, I could hear Robert call for medical and I was already after the suspects. But hey, if I were hurt then, you would have taken great care of me, like you always do,” he strokes over TK’s hand with his thumb. “Like you did.”

TK nods, but his eyes glisten with unshed tears, making the green of his irises even brighter than normal.

“It just scares me,” TK sniffs.

“I know, and I’m scared for you, too. I can’t promise I won’t get hurt again, but what I can promise, is that I will always fight to come home to you,” Carlos replies.

“I promise the same,” TK reciprocates. “Always.”

Carlos leans in, touching his forehead to TK’s and closes his eyes, taking comfort in the way TK gravitates towards him and his touch. “I’m okay, you’re okay…we’re okay, baby.”

TK closes his eyes as well, and they breathe together, anchoring each other, hearts beating as one.

“So,” TK starts when they separate, intertwining his fingers with Carlos’s. “What’s that story about you trying to walk around to fix the ranch fence with a sprained ankle?”

Carlos chuckles and settles back against TK’s chest, resting his head against his shoulder.

“Well, I was eighteen and I had taken a bad tackle during a football game the day before…”

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 13/14)

The penultimate chapter of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage fic. In a return to form, this chapter is entirely SFW. (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3, chapter 6 tumblr | AO3, chapter 7 tumblr | AO3, chapter 8 tumblr | AO3, chapter 9 tumblr | AO3, chapter 10 tumblr | AO3, chapter 11 tumblr | AO3, chapter 12 tumblr | AO3)

When this Author picked up the mantle left behind by the previous Lady Whistledown, it was with the intention of bringing a little levity to the otherwise long and sometimes dull proceedings that encompass the season, and to provide some color commentary that pokes fun at those otherwise generally unwilling to make light of themselves.

To that end, this Author has remarked upon and highlighted the general scandals that accompany this season as every season, the kind that serve to provide some drama to otherwise dull lives, but risk very little in terms of lasting damage.

This Author has never intended for this to cause actual harm, and as such, owes an apology to the Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire. This Author does not dabble in morals, or legality; the sole concern of this column has been amusement, and the ruin of two gentlemen otherwise described by most who have met them as good men is something this Author cannot and will not be a part of any longer. While this Author cannot overstate that there was no prior knowledge of the truth behind the Marquess’s marriage, nonetheless the extra attention shone on it by and through this paper has brought harm, and for that, this Author is truly sorry.

While no promises can be made in regards to accidentally reporting similar in the future, this Author will certainly make every attempt to better vet sources before publishing rumor and innuendo. And the promise this Author does make is that the only additional mention of the Marquess of Enjolras or Mr. Grantaire in this paper will be for happy tidings, with best hopes for whatever they may face in the future. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 6 JUNE 1831

The summons did not arrive with the usual fanfare, so much so that Enjolras almost missed them entirely.

No gilded envelope hand stamped with the King’s own seal, no scarlet-clad guard from the palace delivering it. Just a small, plain parchment envelope instructing Enjolras to attend to His Majesty the King the following day.

In truth, he very nearly almost missed it entirely, since Porter, who normally would have brought him such things, was confined to bed for the immediate future as he recovered – and the surgeon had been quite strict in his instructions. But Grantaire, far less used to having the number of servants Enjolras did, had seen it sitting on the table in the foyer and brought it into the dining room with him when he came in for breakfast.

“This is good news,” he told Grantaire after scanning through the note, though Grantaire didn’t look convinced.

“To be summoned in front of those with the power to strip you of your titles and lands and throw you in the Tower for the rest of your days, unless they decide to chop off your head instead?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Better a meeting with the King and Queen than the constable,” he pointed out. “Besides, there’s a limit to what they can do, and if they’re intervening now, it will serve to prevent the worst from happening.” He stood to leave the breakfast table before pausing and bending to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “In any case, the usual death in this situation would be by hanging, not beheading.”

“Because that’s so comforting a thought,” Grantaire said sourly.

“It should be.”

Grantaire stared at him. “The thought of you being hanged instead of beheaded?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “No, that the King wants to meet with me. I’m not fool enough to think my death by anything other than old age would bring you any comfort.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “Going out in a blaze of glory as you attempt to bring the whole damned system to its knees might.”

“Only if you are by my side as proof that I have won you over in the end.”

Grantaire’s expression softened for a moment. “I would die by your side in an instant, but I don’t think that’s proof of anything.” He kissed Enjolras before returning to the subject at hand. “In any case, why should the King wanting to meet with you bring me any comfort whatsoever?”

“Because it means the Crown wants this handled quickly and quietly,” Enjolras said. “Meaning very likely no public trial, and almost certainly no public execution.”

“That would be more comforting without the qualifiers ‘very likely’ and ‘almost certainly’.”

Enjolras sighed. “There is very little in life that is absolutely certain besides death and taxes.”

Grantaire smirked. “And as I have heard you rail about numerous times, the certainty of taxes is not always applied evenly.”

“Do you know, that may be the most romantic thing you have ever said to me,” Enjolras said, grinning at him.

“Oh, hush,” Grantaire said, but he was laughing, and seemed, for the moment at least, to forget his concerns about Enjolras’s impending appointment with the Crown.

They resurfaced in full force the following day as Enjolras adjusted his cravat while waiting for the carriage to pull around. “How do I look?” he asked, and Grantaire cast a baleful eye at him.

“Dressed well enough for a meeting with the King and Queen, and not at all like you’re headed to imprisonment or worse.”

Enjolras managed not to roll his eyes, mostly because he did not think it would help the situation. “Luckily for both us, I highly doubt the latter options will come to pass.”

But Grantaire didn’t smile, just reaching out to take Enjolras’s hand. “Just come back to me,” he whispered.

“I have every intention of doing so,” Enjolras told him, his voice low.

Grantaire sighed. “You know I’m going to be a nervous wreck until you do,” he said. “Just like I am every time you’re in danger, even if normally you’re the idiot who’s put yourself there.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Arguably I’ve put myself in this danger as well.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “We’ve had this argument before,” he said evenly.

“Yes, and I still refuse to cast any blame on you.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “An argument we’ll have to continue another time, it seems.”

Now Enjolras managed a real smile. “Yes, and all the more reason for me to return. You know I hate to leave a fight unfinished.”

“No, you hate to leave a fight unwon,” Grantaire said pointedly, but for the first time all morning, he looked a little less miserable, and Enjolras took that as a small win in and of itself.

“Are they not one and the same?” he asked innocently, leaning in to kiss Grantaire, who stopped him, his face falling again.

“Enjolras—” he started, and Enjolras frowned.

“What?”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment before blurting, “I have never once wished you to be less than who you are, and I do not wish it now. The man I love does not back down from a challenge, and his tongue is sharper than any sword.” He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. “But I beg of you, tread lightly. I will not love you less for holding back if it means you survive to fight another day.”

Enjolras did kiss him then, a slow, heated kiss that said hopefully everything he couldn’t bring himself. “I cannot promise my mouth will not get me in trouble. But I do promise I will not deliberately seek it out.” Grantaire made a face and Enjolras gave him a pointed look. “It’s as good a promise as you will get from me.”

“I know.”

“And yet you don’t seem satisfied.”

Grantaire sighed. “I will be satisfied when you are home with me again.”

“And with luck, that will be before you know it,” Enjolras told him bracingly, so convincingly that he almost believed it himself, enough to get him out the door and into the carriage before finally allowing himself to feel the nerves he’d been trying to swallow all morning.

What he had told Grantaire was the truth: this meeting almost certainly meant no real punishment was in store for him.

But he had very little idea of what was in store for him. And that worried him most of all.

----------

Enjolras slowly closed the door behind him, unsurprised when Grantaire immediately appeared from the drawing room, a glass of whiskey in hand, which, judging by the glassiness of his eyes, wasn’t the first he’d had. “Are you ruined?” he asked.

“Define ruined,” Enjolras said, a little grimly.

Grantaire scowled. “Perhaps now is not the time to be glib.”

Enjolras just shook his head as he crossed to him, dropping a kiss on his lips and grabbing the glass of whiskey from his hand, downing it in one gulp. “I wasn’t,” he rasped, handing the glass back to Grantaire and making his way into the drawing room. “The fact is that there is a limit to the punishment I can receive, barring criminal conviction and without an Act of Parliament.” He collapsed onto the couch, reaching up automatically to loosen his cravat. “The Crown has taken what actions it can, which is to say, I am no longer the Viscount of Digne.”

He delivered the words solemnly, but Grantaire just blinked in response. “I did not realize that you were.”

“It is a customary title bestowed upon the current Marquess of Enjolras, with some associated lands,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “Both will be given to more deserving peers, I’m sure.” He hesitated before adding, “Also, none of our issue will be eligible to inherit my title or any lands, save for that which I own outright.”

Grantaire stared blankly at him. “Any of our issue?” he repeated. “As in children?”

Enjolras made a face. “Well, technically my issue. I don’t think the Crown cares so much about yours.” He cleared his throat. “But if I were to remarry and sire children, none of those children would inherit.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “And what are the chances of that?”

“Absolutely none,” Enjolras said, barking a dry laugh. “The King has also told me that my services to his Court will no longer be necessary, meaning my various ceremonial duties will doled out to others and my power at Court, so to speak, is diminished. Beyond that, I retain my title of Marquess and associated lands and riches, which means I will lead a very comfortable life.” He reached out for Grantaire’s hand, lacing their fingers together before raising his hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “With you at my side, and without having to hide. So to answer your question, no, I don’t consider that ruin. I consider that a gift.”

Grantaire looked relieved, but he still hesitated. “Even though I will be almost certainly landless and penniless?” he asked, and when Enjolras just frowned at him, he sighed and elaborated, “I doubt highly my father will continue to grant me my allowance and use of the houses when he receives Le Cabuc’s letter.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “The Enjolras purse has sustained this family for generations. There’s more than enough left to take care of the man I love.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a moment. “Yet you don’t seem completely satisfied. What else did the King say?”

“Well—”

Before Enjolras could elaborate further, someone cleared her throat from the doorway, and they both turned to look at Enjolras’s mother, who looked unusually somber. “Am I interrupting?”

On instinct alone, Enjolras started to pull his hand away from Grantaire’s, but Grantaire held tight, squaring his shoulders as he met Enjolras’s mother’s expression coolly. “As a matter of fact, you are. Your son and I are having a private conversation.”

He turned back to Enjolras, who tried not to laugh at the look on his mother’s face. But to his surprise, his mother did not immediately snap some dismissive rebuttal, instead inclining her head slightly. “And you have my apologies for intruding, especially at this trying time. But I need to speak to my son, alone, especially in light of his recent visit to the palace.”

Enjolras wasn’t surprised that she had somehow heard about his summons. “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me,” Grantaire said firmly. “Your son and I are sharing our lives, and that includes dealing with whatever family affairs you’ve brought with you.” He again turned to look at her. “And need I remind you, your part in our deception has not yet been revealed, but I will be more than happy to tell anyone and everyone who will listen what drove your son to the desperation of a fake marriage in the first place. I doubt highly your friends among the nobility will be impressed by what they learn.”

Enjolras’s mother’s lips pursed, but again, Enjolras was completely thrown by her response. “Thank you,” she said simply, and Grantaire’s cold expression slipped as he glanced over at Enjolras, who just shrugged. “I can see that you are protective of my son, and while I may not appreciate your tone, I do appreciate knowing that my son has found someone who loves him as...vigorously as you clearly do.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed, but Enjolras cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he told Grantaire, squeezing his hand once more. “I trust her enough to have a conversation with her, and I can fight my own battles as needed.”

“Are you certain?” Grantaire asked in an undertone, eyeing Enjolras’s mother warily. “I believe you can fight your own battles, but it’s her I don’t trust…”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. “I have managed this long,” he assured him. 

“Fine.” Grantaire stood, but before leaving, he bent and kissed Enjolras, a long, slow kiss that Enjolras was fairly certain was for his mother’s benefit more than his own.

Not that he minded, since getting to kiss Grantaire and enrage his mother in the same blow was as close to perfection as Enjolras was likely to see in his lifetime.

Then Grantaire straightened again and winked at Enjolras before finally leaving, sidling past his mother with little more than a second glance. For her part, his mother looked mostly impassive at the display she had just witnessed, and she finally fully entered the room, perching imperiously on the armchair. “I suppose it’s too much to hope for tea,” she said with a sniff. 

Enjolras barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. “You might have heard that my butler was attacked,” he said sourly. “I’m sorry if him being laid up recovering from being shot is inconvenient to you.”

“I did hear about Porter, yes, but that’s not to what I was referring,” she said. “Have the servants started fleeing en masse?”

“None have yet offered their resignations, if that’s what you mean,” Enjolras said.

“Of course it’s what I mean,” she snapped. “This is a tainted household now – I doubt most will want to stay. Especially as they’ve no way to ingratiate themselves with whomever the next Marquess will be.” Her lips pursed again. “Do you even know which distant relative is your heir, now that you will almost certainly never sire children of your own?”

Enjolras shrugged unconcernedly. “A third cousin, isn’t it? Lives somewhere out in the west, if memory serves.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“You once told me all about him when I threatened to abdicate after Father died,” Enjolras said mildly. “You seemed to think it would convince me to think otherwise.”

“Clearly it did.”

Enjolras laughed dryly. “I hate to tell you, Mother, but that actually played a very small part in my decision.”

She scowled. “Perhaps you should have abdicated back then. It may have made for an easier transition for all involved.”

“Perhaps so,” Enjolras said honestly, as it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. “But we are well past that point now.”

“In more ways than one.” She paused, giving him a searching look. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in trying to convince you to reconsider.”

Enjolras shook his head. “None.”

His mother nodded, her expression unreadable. “Then that’s the end of it.”

Enjolras hesitated, before saying, as casually as he could manage, “You seem…decidedly less surprised by this whole situation than I would expect.”

“What precisely is there to be surprised about?” she asked.

There were any number of things that Enjolras had expected her to be either shocked or scandalized by, let alone surprised, but the look on her face stopped him. “You mean…you knew?”

“That you were…otherwise inclined?” she provided delicately. “Of course I knew. A mother always knows.” Her expression twisted. “Though I rather hoped you would grow out of it, or at least do the sensible thing and marry a woman while seeking your amusement elsewhere.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I’m not certain I see that as the sensible thing.”

She considered it for a moment before shrugging. “Perhaps not,” she said. “But more sensible than being stripped of your lands and titles.”

“Not all my lands, or all my titles,” Enjolras told her. “The Viscount of Digne is the only major one.”

She made a face. “No real loss there, the bishop in that area rules it with an iron fist and will probably be glad to see the backside of our family.”

Enjolras trusted her to know more about it than he did or frankly cared to. “And there’s a few minor lands that will be redistributed but for the most part, Grantaire and I have made it out unscathed.”

Again his mother made a face. “I don’t know that I would go that far—”

“I imagine you wouldn’t,” Enjolras muttered.

“—But all things considered, it could have been much worse.”

On that, at least, she was correct. “And I’m certain you’ll be glad to know that your own holdings will not be affected, nor your allowance,” he told her. “And Grantaire is letting you keep the dowry.”

That seemed to surprise her. “That is...generous of him,” she allowed, before frowning at her son. “But you speak as if all you think I care about is money.”

Enjolras just arched an eyebrow. “You have given me little evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“Caring about the well-being of my only son isn’t evidence enough?”

He managed not to roll his eyes, but just barely. “Faux sincerity isn’t your strong suit, Mother,” he informed her. “If you wish to convince me, you’ll have to try a different tack.”

To his surprise, she laughed lightly. “Maybe I will, when all the dust has settled,” she said, standing and brushing invisible dust from her skirt before telling him, “I will be leaving the city for the near future, and possibly even the country for a bit. I need my friends and allies at court to think that I was not party to this.”

“You weren’t,” Enjolras said, his brow furrowed. “And you are certainly at liberty to tell anyone you need to as such.”

“I have, and I will,” she said. “But I will also not outwardly condemn you the way they would wish, and that to some is enough to make them think otherwise.”

For the first time in what Enjolras was certain was his entire life, he was speechless. He had frankly expected her to do exactly that in order to maintain her social standing. “You could,” he blurted, ignoring the raised eyebrow she gave him. “Condemn us, I mean. I would not hold it against you if you did.”

“You and I both know that you absolutely would,” she said dryly. “But more than that, you are my son. For all your faults and all our disagreements, public and otherwise, that has never changed. And it will not change now.”

Enjolras was again taken aback by what she said. “Thank you,” he managed, before adding, a little wryly, “I think.”

A small smile crossed her face. “You’re welcome, I think. And now I should leave you to the start of your new life.”

She turned to head to the door, clearly deeming her role in this complete for the time being, but Enjolras stopped her, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What do you think of Grantaire?” he asked. “Now that you know what he is to me.”

She looked back at him, surprised. “You have never sought my approval before.”

“And I’m not seeking it now,” Enjolras said. “Just curious what you think.”

She nodded slowly. “He is not who I would have chosen for you,” she said after a long moment. “But then again, this life is not what I would have chosen for you.”

It was no more than what Enjolras had expected, but before he could say anything, she continued, “I know what you think of me, that you think me cold, and vain, and cruel. And there is certainly more than a little truth to that.” He looked up at her sharply, surprised by this most of all. “I know I shall always play the role of villain in your story. But despite what you may think, I have only ever wanted you to be happy.” She hesitated. “And it makes me terribly sad to know you have chosen a path where the world very well may never let you be happy.”

Enjolras just shook his head slowly. “The difference between you and I, Mother, is that I have never needed the approval of the world to be happy.” He gave her a sharp smile. “Hang what anyone else thinks. So long as I have Grantaire, we will make our own happiness.”

She returned his smile. “I do not doubt that you will. As I said before, you two make quite the pair, and whatever else you may think, I am glad that you two found each other.”

With that, she left, and Enjolras sat where he was for a long moment, digesting everything that had transpired. This had been a day of surprises, from his meeting with the King and Queen to now his conversation with his mother, and he shook his head slowly before standing to go find Grantaire.

He found him in the library, sitting sideways in an oversized armchair, his legs draped over the arm of the chair as he skimmed through a book with seemingly little interest. He brightened when he saw Enjolras come in, tipping his head up automatically for a kiss. “Is she gone?” he asked as Enjolras settled onto the sofa across from him.

“For now, yes.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “But not forever?”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not even this scandal was enough to be rid of her forever. But I am...strangely not as bothered by that thought as I once would have been.”

Grantaire blinked. “Did she hit you on the head while she was in there with you?”

“Something like that, anyway,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “But enough about my mother. Where were we?”

He eyed Grantaire appreciatively, mentally trying to determine the mechanics of what they could do with him in that position, and Grantaire scowled. “Certainly not doing that,” he informed him, sitting upright. “You were finishing telling me about your audience with the King and Queen.”

“Oh. Right.” Enjolras shrugged and looked away. “Well, the Archbishop is apparently pushing for us to be excommunicated.”

Grantaire snorted. “Does that mean I no longer have to go to church?” he asked idly. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Well, among other things. But there’s an issue.”

“What’s that?”

“We could be imprisoned if we’re excommunicated, for a start.”

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “Just as we could be imprisoned for sodomy?”

Enjolras made a face. “The Crown has no intention of pursuing those charges,” he said. “But getting excommunicated could lend credence to future attempts at levying those charges, at likely the least opportune time.”

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “Well. We’ve faced worse prospects.”

Enjolras frowned. “You seem remarkably blasé about the prospect of excommunication, considering how concerned you’ve been about the possibility of imprisonment or worse for the other charges.”

“Mostly because you don’t seem particularly worried about it, and I imagine if this were an actual threat, you’d be somewhat less calm,” Grantaire said evenly. “Besides, I had several glasses of whiskey while you were out so it will take quite a bit for me to get riled at this point.”

“You didn’t seem to have any difficulty getting riled at my mother,” Enjolras pointed out.

Grantaire smiled grimly. “That was a more immediate danger.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Well, you’re not wrong about this not being an actual threat, I suppose. The Monarchy has little desire to create a public spectacle via excommunication and as the Head of the Church, I imagine that’s the end of the matter.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Does that mean you’re actually going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Excommunication isn’t enough?” Enjolras asked, mostly rhetorically, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he sighed. “Fine… I need to get word to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. We have much to discuss ahead of our next meeting.”

“Are you purposefully avoiding the question, or…?”

“I promise I am not,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “But they need to know, because this concerns all of us.” He paused, trying to figure out how to word what he needed to tell both Grantaire and his closest lieutenants. “I was...as surprised as any that the King did not wish to pursue any additional punitive matters. As a whole, the punishment dealt to me is mild, to say the least. And what troubles me is the reason he gave for why.”

Grantaire frowned. “He gave you a reason?”

Enjolras barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, he gave me many. Most were mere platitudes, that out of respect for the service of my father, he would take no additional measures, etcetera, but he also alluded to his hope that our...situation would not inconvenience my political work.” He cleared his throat before adding sardonically, “That he hoped our allies would not abandon us with my public declaration of depravity.”

“And you suspect he actually hopes the opposite,” Grantaire said slowly.

Enjolras nodded. “I’m not going to pretend that my political sympathies are or have ever been well-received at court, and I think most were content to look the other way and pretend that the protests and political actions were the fun side project of an otherwise bored noble. Something I would grow out of in time. But now…”

He trailed off, and Grantaire’s expression turned grim. “Now they might not be so content to look the other way.”

“No,” Enjolras agreed. “And if I or any of our number were to get arrested—”

“Arrested again, you mean,” Grantaire said with the hint of a smile that Enjolras did not return.

“—My position is no longer enough to stave off any significant consequences.” 

Grantaire went very still. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning I may not be ruined. We may not be ruined. But Les Amis may be.”

----------

In lieu of coming over to Enjolras’s to discuss the situation, Combeferre suggested via return message that they call a special meeting of Les Amis. “That seems unusual,” Grantaire murmured, his brow furrowed as he read over the brief message. “Why would they not just come here?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t want to be seen entering a den of sin,” he said, more blithely than he remotely felt.

“Jest all you wish, but you cannot pretend the thought hasn’t entered your mind,” Grantaire said. “Not that I believe any of our friends will turn on us entirely, but they are all trying to make marriages of their own, and to be tainted by association…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras just shook his head. “That is their prerogative, and I will not hold it against any man to abide by his conscience.”

“Or by the prospect of increasing his purse?” Grantaire asked sourly.

Enjolras shrugged again. “If that is truly their reasoning, I doubt highly we would be associates for much longer in any case.”

Still, it was with an unusual amount of trepidation that they approached the Musain, and Enjolras hesitated before instructing his driver to drop them off at the back of the building by the worker’s entrance. “I do not doubt they would still receive us at the front entrance,” he told Grantaire. “I am, after all, still a marquess and a certain amount of respect must be paid. But I would rather not put them in that position all the same.”

Grantaire managed a wan smile. “You need not explain yourself to me,” he said. “I understand as well as any that the situation is complicated.”

Enjolras glanced at him. “Speaking of,” he said carefully, “have you heard yet from your father?”

“No.” Grantaire’s tone was clipped as he avoided meeting Enjolras’s eyes, looking out the carriage window instead. “I have not heard from him one way or another, so I have no indication if he has yet received Le Cabuc’s letter.”

“Could Le Cabuc have been bluffing?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but I doubt it,” he said. “He always did prefer my father to me.” He hesitated before adding, “I thought I might make a preemptive trip back to the house and gather some belongings. Just some personal effects, and things from my mother and sister that I would rather not lose to my father’s whims.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “That is probably not a terrible idea.” He hesitated before asking, “Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

“I suspect that would cause more problems than it’s worth,” Grantaire said. “If I go by myself, I can hopefully slip in and out mostly unnoticed.”

Enjolras had expected that answer, but he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t sting, just a little. “Of course.”

Something of what he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, but Grantaire’s expression softened as he added, “Which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love for you to return with me, or that I won’t miss you dreadfully while I’m gone.”

“But this is the reality of the life we’ve chosen,” Enjolras said heavily. “Going in the servants’ entrance to avoid being seen. Travelling incognito to not cause a scene. Less visitors or invitations to visit because people won’t wish to be associated with us.”

Grantaire eyed him warily. “I feel as though you are trying to make a point.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Just that I do not care about any of those things. But I would understand if you did, and if the reality of our life together does not align with what you may otherwise have expected.”

To his surprise, Grantaire laughed. “How many times must you and I have this conversation?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wish that you had chosen a better life for yourself than one stuck with me, who was always titleless and is about to be in short order landless and penniless to boot, just as you wish I had chosen a better life for myself,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “But you and I both know that the best choice, the only choice, is each other and whatever accompanies that.”

Enjolras laughed as well, feeling a little relieved that they were on the same page in terms of what mattered. “You’re right.”

“I usually am,” Grantaire said smugly before reaching for Enjolras’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Une vie et un amour, remember?”

“Fidelitas usque ad mortem,” Enjolras said, his voice low, and Grantaire smiled.

“And I still aim to be.”

Together, they stepped down from the carriage and made their way into the Musain through the backdoor. The workers they passed barely gave them second glances, though Enjolras assumed that was likely because they recognized them as frequent patrons, and knew better than to stop or question them.

But despite arriving almost a half hour before the meeting Combeferre had called was set to begin, when they reached the backroom, they could hear the buzz of voices through the closed door. Grantaire gave him a startled look. “Has the meeting already begun?”

“It certainly appears that way,” Enjolras said, feeling inexplicably nervous as he stared at the closed door, straining to hear what was being said beyond it.

“Did Combeferre not say that it would start at 9?”

Enjolras nodded. “He did, but…” He trailed off, not willing to vocalize his doubts. Instead, he squared his shoulders and opened the door, walking in with Grantaire at his side. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood at the front of the room, the rest of their number assembled, all looking unusually somber, and all conversation stalled as soon as they looked back at Enjolras. “Forgive the interruption,” Enjolras said coolly, closing the door behind him. “I did not realize the hour of our meeting had changed.”

“It didn’t,” Combeferre said, his expression impassive. “But there was certain business we felt we should attend to before your arrival.”

“What sort of business?” Grantaire asked with a frown.

Combeferre did not seem deterred by his tone. “The business of determining if your continued membership amongst our association is beneficial or a detriment, mostly.”

“I see,” Enjolras said, his heart sinking in his chest. “Well, don’t let us impede your discussion.”

“We have nothing left to discuss,” Courfeyrac interjected. “All that remains is to vote.”

Grantaire reached out and took Enjolras’s hand, lacing their fingers together firmly. Combeferre cleared his throat. “All those in favor of expelling Enjolras and Grantaire from our number due to their sexual deviance and the threat that it poses to Les Amis and our efforts?”

Not a single hand rose in the air, and Grantaire squeezed Enjolras’s hand.

“And all those opposed?”

As one, all of their friends raised their hands before standing and applauding. Joly and Bossuet were positively beaming, Courfeyrac wolf-whistled, and Combeferre stepped forward to embrace Enjolras. “There was never any doubt which way the vote would go,” he told Enjolras, “but I knew you would not be satisfied if there was no vote at all.”

“Besides, if we start exiling people for buggery, there are more than a few of us who would be in trouble,” Courfeyrac said cheerfully as he embraced Enjolras as well.

“Hear, hear,” Bahorel chortled.

Joly took Bossuet’s hand and squeezed it. “Grantaire helped us avoid a scandal of our own, and we owe him our loyalty,” he said. “Besides which, I swore to go through fire for you, and I would not forsake that oath lightly.”

“Thank you, my friends,” Enjolras said quietly, his chest tight with emotion.

Grantaire squeezed his hand once more before leaning in and whispering in his ear, “It appears I am not the only one who understands the meaning of loyalty until death.” Enjolras wordlessly squeezed his hand in return and Grantaire smiled at him before asking Courfeyrac, “But one of our number is missing, is he not? Where is your erstwhile roommate this evening?”

“Oh, he has found the girl he was looking for,” Courfeyrac said airily. “It turns out your little announcement was good for more than one thing – she was the one who swooned in his arms!”

Much laughter greeted that announcement and Enjolras shook his head. “Leave it to Marius…” he started before trailing off, glancing around the room at the smiling faces of each of his friends, all those whom he loved most in this world. “Thank you all,” he said softly. “I know this will not be easy, but I appreciate your continued faith and love.”

“Our goal has always been to fight against oppressive powers in whatever form,” Combeferre told him. “And condemning men based on consensual acts in their bed chamber would be playing into that oppression.”

“Just promise us one thing,” Bossuet interjected.

Enjolras raised both eyebrows. “What’s what?”

“No funny business,” Bossuet said, mock-sternly. “No suddenly agreeing with everything the other says just because it’s your lover saying it.”

Again everyone laughed and Enjolras shook his head good-naturedly. “I don’t think we’re in much danger of that.”

“After all,” Grantaire added slyly, “what I love far more than him agreeing with me is that delightful shade of red he gets when he so vehemently disagrees with me. Who am I to give that up now?”

“In truth,” Enjolras said when the laughter again died down, “we aim to keep things as much the same as we can.” 

“And we’ll be relying on you lot to keep it that way,” Grantaire said. 

“There’s one other promise we would ask,” Feuilly said, glancing around. “Or at least, that I would ask.”

Enjolras’s smile faded, just slightly, at Feuilly’s far more serious tone. “If it is in our power to grant it, we will.”

“No more lies.” There were a few murmurs of agreement that Feuilly waited to die down before continuing, “There is not a man among us who does not understand the reason for your deception, but we in this room are brothers, and we deserve the truth no matter what consequence it may bring.”

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand once more and squeezed it before affirming, “No more lies. We owe not just you the truth from here on out, but each other as well. And it’s the very least that we can give in return for your generosity and personal sacrifices.”

“In that case, let us open the wine and get the celebration started,” Jehan called, standing up on his chair to be seen. “To Enjolras and Grantaire!”

“To Enjolras and Grantaire!” everyone repeated, whatever glasses they had in hand, and Enjolras rolled his eyes with obvious affection before leaning in and kissing Grantaire as everyone cheered.

Grantaire was grinning as he pulled away, and that sight alone was enough to make everything they had endured and everything that they had left to endure absolutely worth it in Enjolras’s opinion. But before he could say anything to that effect to Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet grabbed Grantaire by both arms, tugging him away. “You owe us more than mere truth,” Joly said, with an almost evil grin. “You owe us details.”

“Exactly,” Bossuet said, wearing a matching smile. “And we want to hear all about your first time bedding Enjolras.”

“We promised the truth, not all the gory details,” Grantaire protested, making a pleading face at Enjolras, who just laughed. 

Before he could rescue him, Combeferre pulled him aside. “I wanted a moment, if it is not too much of an imposition.”

Enjolras clapped him on the shoulder. “For you, my friend, never. Especially as I believe I owe you especially an apology for our deceit.”

Combeferre shook his head. “I understand it more now,” he said. “And honestly, I’m surprised I did not put the pieces together earlier.”

“Grantaire said he was always a little obvious, even if I never noticed either,” Enjolras said good-naturedly.

But Combeferre just shook his head. “Grantaire may have been, but it’s you I should have noticed.”

“Me?”

Combeferre shrugged. “Looking back on it, all the clues were there, least of all how you allowed Grantaire to stay, not just for meetings, but well into the night when you were ostensibly working, a privilege bestowed on no one else. And I cannot help but think that if I had noticed sooner, we would have had more time to plan, to minimize the fallout.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “My friend, you could have told me until you were blue in the face that I was completely and obviously in love with Grantaire, and I would never have believed you,” he said. “It was something I needed to figure out with him.” He made a face. “Though you are right that I should have told you sooner, before we made our announcement, so that plans could have been made in advance, and for that, I do owe you an apology.”

“One that I readily accept,” Combeferre told him. “And the only recompense I ask from you is the answer to this: are you happy?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, without even needing to consider it. “More so than I thought was possible, or at least probable.”

Combeferre gave him a wide, genuine smile. “Then the rest we will deal with when or if the time comes.”

Again, Enjolras’s chest felt tight with emotion, with the weight of how much his friends cared for him and Grantaire. “I truly do not know how to thank you, how to thank everyone, for what you have given Grantaire and myself.”

“There is no need to thank us,” Combeferre said. “Especially since you have given us something equally precious.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are free,” Combeferre said simply. “And that gives the rest of us hope.”

----------

Enjolras let out a sigh of relief mingled with happiness as he sat down in the waiting carriage. Grantaire clambered in after him, and sat down on the bench next to him instead of sitting across from him. “That went well.”

“That went far better than well,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “Surely you did not expect Combeferre or Courfeyrac to abandon you, or honestly any of our friends.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “In truth, I did not know what to expect.” He nudged Grantaire gently. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Whatever for?”

“For making my life complete,” Enjolras said honestly. “And so completely happy.”

Grantaire smiled at him, his eyes shining even in the dim light of the carriage, but he promptly ruined the moment by asking, “How much wine did you drink?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I had half a glass at best,” he protested. “Not nearly enough to undermine my sincerity. Nor my conviction that somehow, against all odds and, frankly, against our own efforts to the contrary, everything for us is turning out better than I ever could have imagined, let alone hoped.”

Grantaire rested his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “We have been extraordinarily lucky,” he murmured.

“We have been,” Enjolras agreed, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “We have our friends, and we have each other. Whatever else comes our way, so long as we still have that, we will be fine.”

“More than fine,” Grantaire corrected, raising Enjolras’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Our future will be happy. Of that, I am as certain as anything.”

“Being in love really has changed you if you suddenly start espousing convictions,” Enjolras teased.

But Grantaire just smiled at him. “It’s changed us both.”

“For the better?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire kissed him, a gentle, sweet kiss that was a promise of more to come. “For the best.”

[cafffine]

Hey guys, I’ve decided to stop publishing Saltcoats for a number of reasons. I'm aware that many of you are going to initially be let down or confused, but hopefully once you’ve read through this post you’ll understand why this had to stop. I’ll try to hit all my points, but of course if you have any questions pls feel free to dm me or reply to this post.

DISCLAIMER: Ending this fic was a decision I came to by myself! No one asked me to do this, though many did help, and if you have something to add please do not bring other tumblr or ao3 users into the conversation unless they’ve explicitly said they’re ok with that. It’s a draining and heavy topic (not to me, but for those affected) and I don’t want to cause anymore unneeded distress.

Also, I’m the only author, all the problems with this story were created by me, and were biases I should have recognized and acted on much sooner. I’m very thankful to all the people that have reached out to me about the negative impacts on this fic, but it really does come down to: I wrote and published a story that was fundamentally ignorant of its setting and racist. So now I have to do my part to apologize and educate myself/take accountability.

First off, this was a flawed concept to begin with because I was trying to do a low fantasy setting with aliens in period clothes and a work of historical fiction at the same time, and those are not things you can go halfway on.

Historical fiction that centers around people of color has a long history of simply going race-blind and faking diversity by giving poc the roles of white people in Eurocentric stories and erasing their identities. (This article about Bridgerton explains the problem better than I could.) And it was something I tried to avoid by still having the Fetts written as immigrants from Aotearoa (NZ), but completely missed the execution on because I didn’t commit to full historical accuracy in all characters and aspects of the story. Meaning, I might as well have gone race-blind because you can’t pick and choose what to include, it’s just as racist.

This creates situations like the Fetts being immigrants facing real life oppression while the Organas, also people of color, are unaffected by the social climate and living as members of the British upper class. That’s not accurate to any version of history and ends up wiping clean any point I was trying to make about race and oppression. That also extends beyond the Fetts, I was not addressing how the american characters come from a country that still allows for the ownership of slaves, the British oppression of Scottish people and their culture, or even an in-depth look at real Queer communities of that era. (and more)

Given the real life historical climate in the 1850s, a multi-racial story like this one is not successful, and is racist in its ignorance of the struggles of poc, immigrants, and the intersectionality that had with class and crime.

In addition, the Fetts being written as criminals, even if it is framed as a morally correct choice*, is still playing into negative racial stereotypes that shouldn’t have been ignored.

* I should add, I don’t mean to make it sound like i’m creating excuses for myself when I give explanations for some of these choices such as “but it was framed as morally correct”, that doesn’t lessen the damage being done, it’s still racist, I guess I'm just trying to show why so many of these things went overlooked for as long as they did, and how easy it is for white/privileged people to find mental loopholes around racism when you’re not being sufficiently critical of yourself.

On another note, the Fetts being indigenous immigrants to Britain in the 1800s is not something I should have tried to tackle in fanfiction - a medium that often lacks nuance and can easily end up romanticizing or glossing over most heavy topics. This goes for period typical homophobia, addiction, and class struggles as well.

That being said! I’m not implying that any of those things should be completely ignored in fanfiction. Addiction, for example, is something very close to me that I do still want to explore in fanfic for the purposes of education and normalization, I’m not telling anyone what not to write, just checking myself. Because in a story like this where literally everything is so heavily dramatized and also applied to characters of color by me, a white person? It’s only going to end up being out of place, lacking in historical accuracy, and wholly disrespectful.

Another major problem I wanted to address is the relationship between a rich white person and a poverty stricken poc. That's a bad stereotype to begin with, but then I tried and failed to frame Obi-Wan as ignorant and biased to a point where his social status plays into the theme of class critique. But, if he’s still being written as Cody’s love interest, all his negative characteristics are ultimately going to be ignored and excused by the narrative (by me).

I’m not trying to end this conversation, I’ll always be willing to talk about this to anyone who’d want to say/hear more, but I don’t want run the point into the ground with over-explanation.

So, in conclusion, this fic had to stop and be broken down into the problem that it was. All white authors who write for the clones need to be hyper-vigilant about the fact that we are creating narratives for poc, and that our inherent racism is always in threat of being baked into in the stories we publish and spread to an audience. I was in the wrong when I wrote this story, and it should never have gone on for this long. I apologize for both my actions, and to anyone I may have hurt along the way.

This is getting posted on ao3 in the fic, and then, for now anyway, the fic is going to be deleted after a week. I’ll leave this post up and answer everyone unless it's someone trying to change my mind. Also, if I ignore an ask please send it again, tumblr might just have deleted it. I don’t want to try and bury this or run from my mistakes, I just don’t think that leaving the fic up where it can still find an audience will do anyone any good. Thank you for reading

If you're interested here's some resources I've been using to educate myself further:

What caused the New Zealand Wars? - An excerpt of the book by Vincent O'Malley of the same title. It gives a good summary of the violent colonization and oppression of Māori people and their culture by the British empire.

NZ Wars: Stories of Waitara (video) - Very educational documentary about the NZ wars and British colonialism. There are some historical recreations that get violent so pls watch with caution.

Historical American Fiction without the Racism - Tumblr post by @/writingwithcolor that talks specifically about Black people in the 1920's, but makes a good point about race and historical fiction in general. I'd recommend any post from this blog, especially their navigation page just a lot of great resources

Who Gave You the Right to Tell That Story? - An article about writing outside of your race that includes a diverse series of testimonials

History of Scottish Independence - Details the colonization of Scotland by the British empire, sort of long, can cntrl + f to "The Acts of Union" for a more direct explanation.

The best books on Racism and How to Write History - A list of well written and diverse works of historical fiction and why they are good examples of representation

I have a lot more that I can share if you're interested (x x x x) but this post is getting a bit too long.

[naktergalen]

Rivamika Fic Suggestions List 2

Hey there again! It’s been a while since my last rivamika post and I apologies for that. I caught the reading bug and have just been hitting book after book. I might be doing a book of the month suggestion starting in March. I’m still thinking about it but if that is something your interested in let me know. Or if you just want book suggestions just message or ask me. But for now, I’m back with my second Rivamika Fic Suggestions List.

First of all, I want to thank you for all the comments and messages I received from my first list! I think it has over 150 notes now which is crazy for me. I was going to be ecstatic if it got like 10 likes or something hahaha! I’ve enjoyed talking to some of you about fics and other snk stuff. Feel free to do the same after this post! I know I take awhile to respond but swear I get there eventually.

Same rules as last time. I’ve split this list up into four categories. I wanted to let people know the status of some of these fics in case they did not want to start an incomplete or in progress story. All of these fics can be found on AO3. I’m going to try to link them but we will see how tumblr acts today. If you have any fic suggestions for me, feel free to message me with them and I can add them on to the next list. If any author sees their story on here and wants me to take it off the list, please let me know I don’t wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Also, last thing, I highly recommend leaving comments and kudos to the authors. I know that they greatly appreciate it and it helps them with improving their writing through feedback. Okay shutting up now, ON WITH THE LIST!

DISCLAIMER: I know that not all of these stories are not for everyone, these are just my opinions and suggestions.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Completed:

- Thunder Clouds

Author: K_Lionheart

Rating: Mature

Sometimes I like to go to the very back of the Rivamika archive on AO3 and look for fics that have gotten buried over time. Low and behold what I have found lol! I enjoyed the emotional roller coaster when I was reading this fic, though sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out. Set after the titans are gone, humanity has to repopulate so arranged couples by the monarch are made to be wed. While this new order is being enforced, Mikasa and Levi are trying to work out their strained relationship. A slow burn with angst that will have you staying up till 3am dying to know what happens next. I know that there is a sequel to this fic called Nimbus and I’m slowly working my way through that one. Honestly, it will probably go on my next list.

- Red is the Only Colour

Author: mongoose_bite

Rating: Mature

A cute fic that was a quick but wild ride. A Little Red Riding Hood type of AU where Mikasa is a hunter of some sorts traveling through a town. I don’t want to say how Levi plays into all of this since it gets border line spoilers but just know that he is there. It is an opening ending fic for the author to come back if they plan on doing so but it can be interpreted in different ways. All in all, a fic worth of the quick read.

- Sing Me a Song

Author: LazyTrash

Rating: Mature

First I have to get this off my chest, I love the author’s name hahaha! I freakin wished I would have thought of that for mine! Anyway, this fic is wonderful but I will warn you that its a gut punch. If you like hurt and angst put together, then this is the story for you. I love these types of fics because I adore them so much but they hurt me in my soul. I don’t know what that says about me but whatever. I don’t want to delve into the story too much for spoilers but I would suggest rivamika fans to check this one out.

- Midnight Musings

Author: Raewyll

Rating: Teen

I just started to read Raewyll’s fics so I’m slowly working my way through all her works. This one caught my eye and I had to read it. This is a cute take on a chance meeting through texting the wrong number. I love the way Levi and Mikasa’s relationship blossoms into something more serious after causally texting back and forth. It’s one of those stories that I can only describe as being cute as shit! I’m definitely going to be checking out more of Raewyll’s fic in the future.

Ongoing:

- Beyond the Walls

Author: helena3190

Rating: Matue

If you love RIvamika angst, then look no further than this baby right here. This is currently my favorite ongoing fic. It was supposed to be a shorter story, but the author keeps adding more chapters so I’m not complaining hahaha! This fic is pretty much how I would *personally* picture canon Mikasa on how she would deal with realizing that she’s falling in love with someone. Its mostly told in the perspective of Mikasa as she is dealing with the after effects of war and trying to figure out what should she do with her life now that she is no longer a solider. Her feeling for Levi come with a lot of confusion as she’s discovering emotions that she has never felt before. She has a hard time pinpointing on what exactly describes her relationship with him. I’m anxiously waiting for the final chapter for this fic and dying to see how it will end for Mikasa and Levi.

- After the War

Author: loneackerman

Rating: Mature

I am loving this rivamika slow burn fic right here. Its similar to Beyond the Walls but I think the author adds their own taste of the 1920s into it. Set after the war is over (obviously), Mikasa and Levi have to figure out what they are going to do the rest of their lives. It has great tension, a perfectly paced gradual romance and just the right amount of humor to combat the emotional turmoil it puts you through. Again in my opinion, this is close to how I would realistically perceive Levi and Mikasa’s relationship evolving. I’m really enjoying this story and I’m looking forward to more updates to come!

- The Sound of Lightning

Author: LycheeGreenTea

Rating: Mature

A new fic that is just getting started but I can tell that what the author has in store is going to be interesting. Set several years after the end of the war, Levi and Mikasa are loving parents to a single child. Their peaceful life comes to an end when the family has a threat against them. There are not many long fics about Mikasa and Levi being parent so I was very happy when this one popped up on the AO3 feed. An exciting adventure awaits the Ackerman family now and I can’t wait to see where this fic goes in the future. There are three chapters as of now so head over there and check it out.

Incomplete:

- Home

Author: MissErikaCourt

Rating: Mature

One of the gems I found when diving back into the Rivamika archive. Ugh I HATE that this fic is incomplete!!! Its a good long fic but I’m greedy and I need more! I will give a warning first that this fic does contain heavy themes. Mikasa and Levi are in the underground to fight against a criminal ring. This story is a slow burn with action and emotional trauma. There is a wonderfully written OC that you easily get attached to its not even funny. Even though its not completed, I would highly recommend checking it out. I still have three more chapters to finish but I had to put it on this list. I know that I’m going to be pissed once I reach the last chapter written. If someone know MissErikaCourt, let her know that she needs to comeback to finish this masterpiece!

- Shiver

Author: bornsinner

Rating: Mature

Another one that I DISPISE its incomplete!!! Ugh such a great Office AU. It’s everything that I would want in an Office AU setting. Mikasa struggles between her committed long term relationship and her growing attraction (which starts to develop into some feelings) to her boss, Levi. Its hot, sexy and intriguing and it pisses me off that its not finished! The author writes each chapter as a one-shot but collectively together they tell the whole story. Highly recommend even though its so short. BORNSINNER where ever you are in the universe I hope you come back to finish this!!!

- Two Lines

Author: Crejhov

Rating: Mature

When this was getting updated it was my favorite on-going Rivamika fic. I would find myself checking to see if the author updated with a new chapter every week! The unplanned pregnancy trope is a classic one, but Crejhov does a fantastic job on keeping readers enthralled with soo many anticipated character meet up that are bound to cause hurdles for our expecting parents. This story is told from the perspectives of Mikasa and Levi in order for us to understand where their mindsets are as they plan for their expecting child and deal with their relationship. AHHHHH I want more of this!!! I was soo excited to see where this awkward journey was going to take Mikasa and Levi. CREJHOV COME BACK PLEASE I KNOW YOU HAVE WORK BUT PLEAAASEEEE! I NEEEEEEDDDD!!!

- Cabin Fever

Author: AmayaOkami

Rating: Mature

All I should have to say about this is that its written by AmayaOkami and that should explain it. Amaya is the one that gave us the beautiful incomplete rivamika fic Romance and Rivalry. I just adore her writing. Levi and Mikasa relationship evolves as they are standing guard over the arrested Kenny Ackerman. Secrets are discover about the Ackermans and it gets pretty steamy between our two favs. Great fluff and great sexual tension that leaves you wanting more chapters! Again AmayaOkami where ever you went I hope for some miracle that you come back and complete this one too!

One-Shot:

- Jade

Author: shulkie

Rating: Mature

This one-shot feels like I read a novel, it has such a great storyline. An arranged marriage between Mikasa and Levi leaves the relationship strained in the beginning. Their relationship evolves over time as Levi patiently brings down Mikasa’s wall. With smut added for all of your one-shot needs. Definitely worth the read in my opinion.

- What Remains

Author: Mirime

Rating: Mature

This one-shot gives us a glimpse into the secret relationship that Levi and Mikasa have been having while there are still scouts. This fic is sad but I would say it has a bittersweet ending. I think this was supposed to be part of a collection but I can’t find the rest of them. Still a great read by itself.

- Agape

Author: alienheartattack (Sanneke)

Rating: Mature

This fic is cute as shit! A College AU where Mikasa and Levi are childhood friends. Levi has to deal with Mikasa being at the same college as him while he is struggling with his changing feelings towards a grown up Mikasa. Worth the read as I said cute as shit, leaves you all warm and fuzzy lol!

- As Seen in Shadows

Author: MoraLeeWright

Rating: Explicit

FUCKING MORA! LEE! WRIGHT! UFFFFGGHHH Fuck I’m in love with her writing style. I really have nothing to say more that just go read it! Its hot and sexy and the sexual tension is off the fucking charts in this one. Its just MoraLeeWright smut thats all I can say. It’s great! JUST READ IT LMAO!

- Remedy

Author: NSummer

Rating: Mature

Another hot smut one-shot coming your way! Levi and Mikasa have had an ongoing affair and this just recounts their first time together. Its just some good ol’ Rivamika smut that I think that everyone in this community would enjoy.

- Nutty: Drunk in Love

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Mature

A fun smut to read about Mikasa getting “revenge” on her asshole boss, Levi. Things don’t go the way she plans as things get a little heated in the sexy way. A quick smut that I think is perfect for a little Rivamika crave.

- Spicy: Jalapeno

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Explicit

Another fun smut to read by Hallow17. Levi has been stressed out at work and Mikasa finds a way to help him get his mind off it (if you know what i mean). Again perfect for a Rivamika quick fix.