Day Five: Haunted House

How Did I Get So Lucky?

How did I get so lucky?

I ask myself this as I watch her over the waves of two computers, watch her fall asleep to the sound of my voice and my breathing and my presence. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful; never seen the human embodiment of a love song come to life before my eyes, even as she sleeps.

Pictures do her no justice; pictures never capture her soul. No – it’s too playful, too fleeting to want to be caught. Come and catch me, it sings, as her storm-across-the-waters eyes glitter at me through what can only do her half of the justice she deserves. I could stare at her image for hours, and yet still there are things I have yet to fall in love with, things I have yet to discover. Things a simple camera could not reveal to me, even if it tried.

I could wax poetic all day about her eyes, in fact I have, but this is something much bigger than just those eyes. My heart cries out with joy every time she looks my way, every time she says my name or says those three words (“I love you,”) that make me want to cry and sing and dance and scream from the roof that this is the person I have gotten.

When God knit me together in the womb, did he give me a piece of her and her a bit of me? When he had both of us in mind, did he tie our lives together, twine them through one anothers’ and set us free? Did he create her with bits of the heavens, color her eyes with the dusk sky, paint her lips with the cherubs’ song, give her smile the first mornings’ rays?

Did he borrow some of the devils’ wit, give her the tongue off a snake; smooth and delicate and oh, so intricate? He must have placed gold in her heart, given her laugh a thousand precious stones, sang her soul into being himself. The clay he shaped her body with was soft and immaculate, purposeful and gentle.

And yet, when I hold her, I cannot help but thing how perfectly my hand fits into hers, how easily our silence is, how tender and sweet her ministrations are to me. The voice she uses towards me is a thousand times more gentle than with anyone else, except maybe a puppy, and it makes my very being soar.

When she walks, all I see is grace; when she sings, all I can hear is the romantic crackle of an old record player; when she laughs, all that I hear is the joy of a thousand children; when she tells me she loves me, my heart weeps.

The pictures she takes of me are surreal - it’s almost as if she’s painted me into being with the very lense, focusing on the beautiful parts of me that I had never bothered to see before. To her, I do not only exist, I thrive.

To her, I am half her heart, I am all she sees, I am so much more than I ever thought I could be. How did someone as simple, as tainted, as broken as me get such a masterpiece as she?

As a child, I dreamed up princes that rescued me from towers and carried me off into the sunset; love that was instant and perfect and so, so unrealistic. In a way, I suppose, she did rescue me.

But it wasn’t from a tower, or from a terrible dragon, or another enemy my six year old mind conjured up. No, it was myself. When all I wanted to do was bleed, to make myself hurt, to drag my body through the mud so all it could do was feel again - she took my hand.

She was the one who pulled me from the rubble, who took all of me in - scraped knees, bleeding heart, teary eyes - brushed me off, and decided that she was going to love me. Decided she was going to stand beside me, to let this broken mess of a person lean on her and dirty her clothes and ask her for her heart.

While I went off and chased the men I decided were my princes, while I took parts of her and made her watch as I dug myself deeper and deeper into a hole, she stayed. She waited. This lovely, beautiful, saint of a woman watched, and waited, and listened.

I went off to figure myself out, only to come back to her and offer my heart, as battered as it was. I hadn’t expected her to take it; but she had smiled, pulled me to my feet, and instead offered me hers.

How did I get so lucky?

This woman, who was sculpted by Michelangelo, painted by Da Vinci, written by Shakespeare, composed by Beethoven, and breathed into by God himself - she loves me.

If she is the sun, then I am her moon; if she is the day, then I am the night; if she is the sea, then I am the sand; if she is the sky, then I am the clouds.

Never could I dream of overshadowing her, never could I hope to outshine her, never could I break her, never could I give her away, never could I think of another the way I think of her.

She is a masterpiece. Not even this could do her justice.

How did I get so lucky?

How about the ineffable husbands finding out about Beelzebub and Gabriel’s relationship? :D

This was honestly so much fun to write, I hope you like it!

*

“Are you kidding, angel?” Crowley snorts into his drink, lounging lazily on the sofa in the middle of Aziraphale’s beloved bookshop. “Beelzebub would smite him before he even got close to her.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The angel hums, shelving a couple books he had almost lost to a potential buyer that afternoon. Of course, Crowley had interfered and scared the boy away with his antics. 

“You’re out of your mind.” The demon snorts, tipping back the last of his drink and wiping a hand over his mouth. “Lord Beelzebub loves nothing and no one. Well, except maybe those damned flies.”

“I never said anything about love, my dear.” Aziraphale chuckles, shaking his head and going over. He nudges Crowley’s legs, sitting down beside him and sighing when his lover sets his gangly limbs into his lap. 

Crowley considers this. “Well… I guess they’d probably be fucking. That seems more likely. Hypocrites, the lot of them.”

“What else are you expecting, my love?” He sighs heavily, patting his legs. 

“S’pose you’re right, angel.”

*

One afternoon, Crowley comes hurtling into the bookshop like, pardon the irony, a bat out of Hell. He slams the door, jostling the poor little bell, and leans against the door. He looks as though he’d seen Jesus Christ in the flesh.

“Aziraphale!” He hisses when the angel pops his head around a bookshelf to see what the commotion was all about, a reprimand on his lips. 

“Really, Crowley, must we go over the slamming doors lecture every month?” A very put out angel sighs. 

“Forget the door, angel!” He rushes over, hovering over Aziraphale as he leans up on his tiptoes to pull a book down from the shelf. 

“How am I supposed to forget every time I have to replace a glass pane or a chipped bell?” He huffs, shaking his head and reaching for another book. 

Before he can grab it, the demon grabs him by the wrist and whirls him around. The books tumble to the floor. Aziraphale’s eyes widen as he’s pressed back against the shelves. “Really, dear, at least let me close up shop…”

“No, I- Angel! This is important!” 

“Oh, alright then, what is it?”

“I saw Gabriel kiss Beelzebub.” He hisses, his eyes glinting intensely behind the rims of his glasses, which had been knocked askew in his desperation to get his angel’s attention.

“You…” The angel takes a moment, letting this all sink in. “What?”

“In the park!” Crowley stresses, shaking him by the arms. “By the duck pond!”

“Alright, okay! I believe you, dear, you don’t need to shake the life from me.”

The demon releases him, brushing his suit off sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“Are you absolutely sure that you saw them and not another couple who looked similar to them?” Aziraphale says carefully, noting the crazed look in his lover’s eyes.

“No, I- Oh, bugger it all.” He hisses, snapping his fingers. Instantly the shop begins to close itself. “Come with me, you’ll have to see this yourself.”

Crowley whisks Aziraphale off to the park with him, back to their normal bench. “There!” He hisses, pointing to a couple a few hundred yards away. 

Sure enough, it was the infamous Archangel and the Prince of Hell herself. They were leaning against the railing, watching the ducks. 

Gabriel was bent forward slightly so he could talk to her easier, his hands shoved in his pockets and the button of his suit jacket undone. Beelzebub was lounging against the railing, peering down at the pond and talking to him. She had forgone her usual attire for one of his dark grey shirts tucked haphazardly into a pair of worn out black jeans, her hair piled onto her head and stuck through with what looked to be a thin knife.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathes, his eyes as wide as saucers. He leans forward to get a better view, but Crowley yanks him back. 

“They’ll see you!” He whispers fiercely. “We have to be sneaky…”

“Right, of course.” 

*

“Oh, look, the biggest idiots in all of Soho have finally noticed.” Gabriel snorts, setting his hand on the railing beside Beelzebub’s arm, trapping her with his body. 

She hums, sliding her gaze over to them before turning around and looking up at him, giving him a wicked smile. Her slim fingers wind around his tie, effectively wrinkling it. “Shall we give them a show.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Gabriel teases, just before he’s tugged down sharply into a surprisingly gentle kiss. Beelzebub lifts her free hand, flipping off the pair not-so-secretly watching them.

That ought to get their point across.

I know I haven't been writing a lot lately but I needed a change in pace. Depression has been kicking my ass and writing only seems to make it worse, so I'm taking a slight hiatus to get myself together and try out a new creative outlet until I get my bearings.

I thought I'd share it with you! If you guys have any experience with this I'd love to hear your thoughts or ideas! Love you guys ❤️

Okay so cutting fabric is a bitch but I’m actually really excited to start sewing?? I enlisted my mom for help but she’s… Very controlling so we’ll see.

I’m making a cloak! My girlfriend wants to do hella beadwork! Wish us luck!

Newest Edition

I’m back with another part to my omegaverse au!! This time Keith has a baby... there is baby. 

*

Keith absolutely adored his baby.

Of course, he had loved his baby from the moment they had found out he was expecting and that, for once, everything seemed to be in order. No miscarriage. No complications. Nothing at all that was worrying in any way. The doctors were a bit worried about the birth, considering that he’d had some complications in the past, but they had scheduled a C-section in order to have complete control of the situation. Which was more than fine with Keith.

He and Lance had decided to wait to see the sex of their child was at birth. Lance liked surprises, and Keith wanted to venture away from the binary-construct that came with having a baby boy or a baby girl. He’d been adamant, despite the teasing from the more traditional side of Lance’s family.

And because he loved his omega and his not yet born baby, Lance had spent an exhausting weekend painting the nursery a light shade of green and white, constructing furniture and converting the office into their baby’s new room. Keith had overseen, of course,

The more pregnant Keith got, the more fussy and emotional he became. At first, it was endearing. He was more protective of Lance, always sure to scent his alpha furiously before and after he came home from anywhere — work, the store, a friend’s house.

He was also more snuggly than usual, often curling up either in one of Lance’s shirts and a nest of blankets, or simply in his mate’s arms. He liked it when Lance touched his belly and talked to their baby. He liked being close to his source of safety and comfort.

However, there was also the downside of the hormones. Keith got upset very easily. He cried over things constantly, sending Lance into a mess of panic and concern and worry. It was often nothing more than a stubbed toe, being unable to reach something, or maybe something on the TV (he always tried to dissuade him from watching soap operas, but after a nasty fight over it, he had given up).

Not only that, but midnight cravings were serious and made him mean if he didn’t get what he wanted. Lance became a regular in the Taco Bell drive through at odd hours in the night. And Lord forbid anyone comment on his eating habits.

However difficult pregnancy was, Keith was still so happy at what was coming from all of it. He spent hours in the nursery, falling asleep in the rocking chair or reading the picture books they’d been given.

After the baby shower they’d been thrown, Lance had taken to working from home for the last couple of months until the due date. Keith was still insistent on doing things on his own, and Lance regretted buying a house with so many stairs. Although once Keith got to a place he liked, he generally stayed put. Working from home gave the omega time to unpack all of the things from the baby shower, and gave Lance peace of mind.

This doesn’t mean Keith wasn’t still his same stubborn, independent self.

One morning, Keith woke up with a funny stomach ache and a weird pain in the very low part of his back. A look at Lance told him he was still asleep, and the clock by the bed read 6:58am. It was still too early to be awake.

The omega sighs, rubbing his face and resting a hand on his belly. As usual, their baby gives a little kick, pulling a smile from its mother.

“You behave,” he whispers, “or we’ll wake up your daddy.”

He gets another little kick in reply before the baby rolls over and settles.

Keith settles in, drifting just back to the cusp of sleep, when a sharp pain cuts through his reverie and up his spine. He inhales sharply, pushing to sit up. His heart was racing, but the baby seemed okay. There was no blood between his legs, he checked first thing. Maybe it was just a weird bout of back pains.

Lance shifts beside him, just barely awake. “Wha...? S’early, baby, c’mere…”

He reaches for his omega, and Keith lets himself be pulled back down into the warmth of his alpha and the covers. Lance’s hands settle neatly on his belly, his face tucked into the back of his neck. “Okay?” He rumbles.

Keith nods, melting against him. “Okay. Just… restless.”

He gets another sleepy rumble in reply, then a soft snore. He smiles to himself, rolling his eyes, and settles back in. The pain doesn’t come back right away, and sleep comes easier tucked away in Lance’s arms.

*

The pain comes back later that morning.

He was in the kitchen, putting dishes away — because even nine months pregnant, he still insisted on being useful — when it happens.

The pain is sudden and blinding, tearing up his spine and through his hips. Keith gasps, dropping the plate in his hands and reaching for the counter. The plate shatters at his feet, but he hardly registers it, too busy focusing on not biting through his tongue. After a few seconds, the pain is gone and he’s left panting and hanging onto the counter.

A few seconds later, Lance comes skidding into the room. “What happened?!” He yelps, gingerly scooping Keith up and away from the broken ceramic, setting him carefully on a kitchen chair and kneeling to check for injury.

“I’m okay,” Keith protests when he can get his wits about him. “It was just an accident, I’m fine.”

The alpha nods, but continues checking his feet and hands to ensure that he wasn’t hurt. Satisfied, he lets out a breath and leans up to press a relieved kiss to Keith’s lips.

“You scared me.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to his forehead next, lingering.

“Sorry.” The omega offers weakly, resting his hands on Lance’s shoulders. To be honest, his heart was still pounding, but that was probably because his back was still aching.

Lance pulls away, looking up at him, blue eyes searching purple. “Are you okay?” He asks, earnest. Keith can feel his heart melt.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just got this weird sort of pain in my back. I probably just moved wrong.”

“Okay…” His mate says dubiously, the doubt in his voice reflected in his eyes. “I’m gonna go clean up the glass. You stay put.”

The omega bites back a protest, instead deciding it felt nicer to stay in the chair than it did to stand. Besides, like this, he got to see his mate bend down to pick things up, and that in itself was a treat.

*

The pains wouldn’t go away. It was starting to frustrate Keith immensely. Lance had sensed something was up after his omega had seized up and made a noise that could only be described as agonized when they were cuddling.

After fussing and ensuring he hadn’t done anything to hurt Keith or the baby, the omega had been left in a very grumpy pile of blankets and pillows, Lance at his side and on his computer.

“I feel fine.” He protests, not for the first time.

“I know,” Lance replies, also not for the first time.

“It was just indigestion, probably.”

“I know.”

“Nothing to worry about. You don’t have to hover.”

“I like hovering.”

Keith makes a dubious tch sound, settling back into the blankets. They’re quiet for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence, when the omega goes stiff and makes another noise of pain. One that sends panic and helplessness through his alpha.

“I’m calling the doctor.” He says, getting up and shutting his laptop.

“Lance!” Keith protests, or tries to. He’s cut off by another sharp pain, this one tearing the breath from his lungs and making him clench his teeth.

“I’m calling the doctor,” Lance says, kneeling in front of him as he dials the number, his gaze pleading. “Okay?”

“Okay,” He gasps when the episode passes, nodding and reaching for his hand. Lance takes it, squeezing gently. His touch is warm and grounding.

They wait in silence for a while before someone picks up. “Hi! Uh, hey, this is Lance McClain-Kogane. Can I speak to Dr. Smythe? Yes, thank you.” They wait a beat, the alpha’s thumb rubbing over the back of his hand, before anyone picks up.

“Hey, Coran, it’s Lance. I — Well, I… Keith is having some pain and I’m really worried. He’s um, well… it seems to be sudden…” He trails off, glancing at Keith for confirmation. He gets a nod before yet another searing pain tears a devastating noise from his omega.

“Yeah, uh, no it’s — it’s pretty bad. It’s happened a few times, I think..? I dunno, hold on, um. Babe,” He tilts the phone away from his mouth. “When did this start?”

“This morning,” Keith manages to hiss through his teeth.

Lance nods, his concern growing, before reporting this to the doctor. He listens a moment, then nods. “Right, yeah, I’ll— I’ll do that right now.” He gets up, squeezing his hand. “I’m gonna get you a heating pad, okay? Stay put.”

The omega nods, closing his eyes tight against another wave of pain as his alpha hurries off, still babbling to the doctor. He tries to breathe through it, tries to tell himself that this is all fine, everything is fine. It’s probably just… well, he doesn’t know what, but it sure is something.

The pain ceases abruptly, far more abruptly than before, and with it comes the tiniest popping feeling and then a rush of clear fluid. Keith goes still, understanding dawning. And then the pain hits in double.

“Lance,” He calls, his voice shrill.

No answer.

“Lance!” He shrieks, panic clawing up his throat and bleeding into his voice.

There’s the sound of thudding from upstairs, panicked alpha scent drifting into the room before Lance scrambles in, wild eyed. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I think my water just broke.” He breathes, his eyes still on the mess in his lap.

The two of them are silent, save for the tinny sound of their doctor trying to get Lance’s attention. A pained whimper from Keith sets Lance back into action. “I’m here!” He says, both to the doctor and to his mate. He rushes over, dropping down in front of him and holding tight to his hand.

“Yeah, uh, his water just broke. No, there’s no blood— I don’t… no, we won’t have time to get to the hospital, his contractions are really close together. A… About thirty seconds? Oh. Oh, shit. Yeah, I’ll… Yeah.”

His eyes widen and he sets the phone down, putting it on speakerphone. “Okay.” He says.

“Hey, Keith.” Greets Dr. Smythe. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not very good,” He wheezes, clutching his belly and kicking a leg out in restless desperation. “I think this baby hates me.”

Their doctor chuckles. “No, I don’t think so. Listen, you’re going to need to start pushing soon. I’ve sent a dispatch team and they will be there as soon as they can.”

“What?” Keith’s eyes widen, the acrid stench of pained and panicked omega blooming in the room and making Lance hover closer. “But— no. No! I’m not supposed to… we’re supposed to do a c-section, I’m not supposed to do this naturally!”

“Hey, baby, hey…” Lance takes his hand, kissing his knuckles. “We’ll be okay. The ambulance will be here soon, all we have to do is try and deliver this baby.”

“Oh, yeah!” Keith cries hysterically. “All we have to do is delivery a baby! That’s it! That’s all!”

“Keith, I need you to breathe.” Dr. Smythe says calmly. “Lance is going to be with you the whole time. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” He hisses, the word more of a whine than an actual word. As comfortable as he was going to get, anyways, with all this pain taking over his autonomy.

He spaces out when another contraction hits, missing the instructions Lance is getting from the OB. He’s more focused on not dying and not freaking out, because apparently freaking out was bad for him and the baby. Which was inconvenient if you asked him (which no one did).

When he comes to, Lance is looking up at him with his eyes filled to the brim with love and a little bit of concern. “Come on, love,” he murmurs, “let’s deliver this baby.”

*

By the time the ambulance gets there, Keith is crying and exhausted and holding the little bundle they’d been waiting years for. He cries even harder when they take her — her — away from him to check her over and put her in an incubator until they reach the hospital.

Lance is with him the whole time, holding his hand and brushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes, whispering how proud of Keith he was, how amazing it was that he’d brought that little bundle into the world. The omega doesn’t stay awake long after they’re loaded in the ambulance and on the way to the hospital. Not with his sight on the little baby and his mate’s fingers tracing over his neck and cheek.

The second time he drifts back into consciousness, he’s in a sterile hospital room. There’s an IV in his arm and he’s hooked up to a couple machines to monitor his vitals. His whole body is sore and he feels like if he moves, he might scream.

This all fades away though, when he looks over to see his alpha holding their baby girl. She was swaddled in the pale green blanket he’d picked up a couple weeks ago — Lance must’ve grabbed it before they left. She was quiet, probably sleeping, and Lance was looking down at her with an expression so tender it almost made Keith cry.

“Hi,” the omega breathes.

Lance looks up, a wide smile taking over his face. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, walking over to sit in the chair he’d pulled close to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired.” Keith’s gaze never leaves their baby.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” His mate chuckles, leaning over so Keith can see. “Look…”

The omega takes in his baby. She’s so sweet — she has Lance’s nose and darker skin, but Keith’s hair and eyes. He can’t help but smile, falling hopelessly in love with this tiny human. All the pain he’d gone through and all the fertility treatments and all of… well, everything had been so worth it.

“Can I hold her?” He whispers, emotion choking his throat enough to make it impossible to speak.

Lance gives him a soft smile before passing her over, resting her gently on Keith’s chest. She stirs, making a soft noise of annoyance before settling in, content when she smells her mother’s comforting scent.

“Hi,” the omega whispers, eyes full of tears. His fingers brush over her tiny little fist, traveling up to her downy hair. “Hi, baby…”

“You did that.” His alpha was close to his ear. A kiss was pressed to his temple, a hand combing through his hair. “I’m so proud of you, baby. She’s so beautiful.”

He can only sniff, pressing his nose to her tiny little head and closing his eyes. It takes a while to gather his thoughts, gather his words, before he realizes she needed a name.

“Can we name her Akira?”

“Yeah,” Lance breathes. “Yeah, of course. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Keith gives a wet, emotional laugh, cupping the back of Akira’s little head. He had loved this baby — their baby — since he had found out nine months ago. But having her here, holding her close, he wanted nothing more that to protect her for as long as he could. He was definitely going to be a little bit of an overbearing mom.

“I love you, Akira.” He whispers.

“Go to sleep, baby.” Lance murmurs against his temple. “I’ll be right here. I won’t go anywhere.”

As the world fades away and Keith slips back into sleep, he falls into a blissful state of contentment and security, his alpha watching over him and his little girl safe against his chest.

*

You can find me on AO3 a Renegade_Reaper <3 

Hey guys! I just want to say thank you so, so much for everything you guys have done for me. From the likes, to the reblogs, to the donations. You all contributed $70 in total and I cannot thank you enough. As much as people want to believe tumblr is a terrible place, all of you have shown me that there is such a thing as support and niceness in the world. Especially in people I’ve never even met before.

Seriously, guys. I’m sitting here crying as I write this because I can’t believe how much of a support system I’ve gained just through this crazy thing called the internet. Especially when only my girlfriend has stepped up to be my emotional support. Thank you. I cannot stress this enough.

On a more serious note, I have some news involving my writing. 

The situation at home and the tension between my mom and I has only increased and gotten worse over the past three days. I haven’t been in such a terrible emotional state in a really long time, and I don’t want it to impact my grades or get me kicked out for sure.

That being said, I’m taking a short break from writing fanfiction until I can gather myself enough. Those of you who sent in requests, thank you so much, and I promise that they will get written when I’m feeling better. There may be sporadic updates when I get bored and want to write something. 

Again, thank you all so much. I love all of you.

shidge request with the prompt: reunion. thanks!

Shidge is love. Shidge is life. 

***

Eight months. Two hundred and thirty four and a half days since Shiro had waved goodbye to his wife from the gate of the local airport. He had watched her walk away to a plane that took her half a world away from him, watched her leave and hoped that she came back safe and in one piece.

Those eight months were horrible. Even the constant skype calls and letters and ten minute phone conversations did nothing to ease his constant anxiety. Shiro waited for every second he got with his wife with baited breath. But she was coming home today and he couldn’t be more excited.

The house was clean, the bed was made, the clothes were folded and washed. Dinner was in the crockpot and Shiro was at the airport holding a dramatic glittery sign and waiting impatiently.

The plane had landed a half hour ago and he was checking his watch every couple of seconds to see if time had gone any faster. It had not. Shiro sighs, pulling out his phone and flipping through it. Checking that he was in the right terminal. Checking he got the time right. Checking that it was the right day. Everything was right - he was just so impatient.

After a few minutes of flipping through his social media, Shiro is surprised by somebody tapping on his shoulder. He clicks his phone off, looking up and blinking.

Hazel eyes sparkle up at him from underneath a mess of orange waves. “You are really easy to sneak up on.”

It takes him a moment to fit the pieces together. Then he gasps, dropping his sign and taking a step back. He stares at his wife, in all her air force uniform and combat boots, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair had been sheared off into a severe (and very attractive) undercut, hanging in her beautiful eyes. Pidge was stunning.

“Are you crying?” She asks after a moment, dropping her bag and rushing to pull him into a hug. “Please don’t cry, I’m gonna cry!”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. “I just… I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Takashi.” She mumbles into his shoulder, wrapping her legs around his waist and clinging onto him like a koala. “So much.”

“But you’re home,” he cries, rubbing his tear stained cheek on her hair. “You’re home now.”

“I’m home.” Pidge repeats, pulling back a bit when he sets her down, reaching up and cupping his face. “I’m here now.”

Shiro leans into her hands, smiling and holding onto her wrist with his own hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she grins. “You big teddy bear.”

“Dinner should be ready soon.” He pulls away, leaning down to pick up her bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go home. I wanna take you home.”

Pidge watches her husband fondly, taking his free hand and walking with him to the exit, leaning her cheek on his bicep. “Okay,” she agrees. “Take me home.”

***

Shidge is in mine and my girlfriend’s top two favorite ships. I loved writing this. 

Requests are still open!

Reblog if you are a fanfiction author and would like your readers to put one of your fic titles in your ask + questions about it

Unaware touch starved Sevika x (un)surprisingly observant Vi

Slight NSFW! I made it into a 5+1 :) hope that's okay, anon <3

~~~

One

Sevika grunts softly as she disconnects the hydraulics that connect her arm to the harness, setting it down on the kitchen table with a louder clatter than she means. She stares blankly at the limb, mouth pressed into a thin line, before she sits down heavily at the chair in front of it. 

Vi pokes her head out of the kitchen, blinking, then smiles. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi.” Sevika grunts.

“You hungry?” Vi comes over to nudge the discarded limb further on the table so it doesn’t continue its slide down toward the floor. 

Sevika grunts again, watching Vi, tense. 

Vi softens. She brushes a hand through Sevika’s hair, ignoring the initial way she tenses. Her fingers massage her scalp gently, pulling a low groan from her girlfriend. Sevika’s eyes close and she drops her head back, bumping against Vi’s chest and staying there. 

“Yeah?” Vi murmurs. 

She gets another grunt, softer this time, as Sevika relaxes into the feeling. 

~~~

Two

Sevika had little tells. She tended to loom, when she was pissed off. She grit her teeth, ground them a little each time someone pissed her off enough. It left her jaw sore and her teeth pulsing painfully, which usually led to a headache. 

She also has a habit of slamming things around a bit when she’s coming down from the dregs of anger. It’s quiet, but she’s firm and sharp with every inanimate object around her. Vi can usually hear muttering from the bedroom when Sevika argues with a dresser drawer or negotiates space with the bathroom counter.  

It isn’t until they’re settled in on the couch to watch a movie that Vi can urge her to lay down in her lap. Sevika usually goes with another little grumble, but she doesn’t bother to hide the way she shoves her face in Vi’s thigh when she finally settles. 

She grunts softly when Vi reaches down to gently massage her jaw, her thumb pressing gently to the juncture of her temple and jawbone, rubbing the pressure from it. Sevika melts, eyes slipping shut as Vi picks through their option of reruns and shitty romcoms. 

If she dozes off before Vi can pick one, nobody needed to know.

~~~

Three

Vi’s favorite thing to do was watch Sevika melt. She’d found a couple ways to do it, but her favorite way was when they were getting ready for bed. 

It was usually when Sevika was grumbling about work, or recounting a new cool fact she’d learned, or just generally listing off their schedule for the upcoming days. This was Vi’s favorite time to interrupt, turning to look at Sevika and reaching up to cup her face. 

It always made Sevika stutter a little, pause, her long eyelashes flickering. She always pressed her cheek into one of Vi’s palms, eyes slipping halfway shut. 

“Yeah?” Vi murmurs every time, her free thumb brushing over Sevika’s cheek, tilted up in offering for every affection Vi could give. 

“Mmh.” Sevika hums softly, melting, nearly purring like a happy kitten. 

Vi often stayed right there, letting Sevika cup her wrist and hold her there. 

~~~

Four

Kiss attacks were something Sevika had no knowledge of before Vi. 

It came when Vi got tipsy, and went as such; Vi squinted at her from across the bar, or beside her on the adjoining barstool, and pouts. Her cheeks were always a little flushed, her gaze bright with her alcohol of choice. 

Didn’t matter if Sevika had a full cup in hand, if Sevika was in the middle of a conversation, if Sevika was trying to appear put together in front of some visitors for work - nope. Vi got that gleam in her eyes, and Sevika was helpless to do anything but wait to catch her girlfriend in her arms and get smothered in kisses. 

Sevika liked to wrap her arms around Vi’s waist, hold her flush against her body, even if she groaned and complained and pretended to hate it. Vi liked to finish with a kiss to the tip of her nose, noisy and sweet, and lean heavily against her to steal her drink. 

Sevika was always left grinning afterwards. 

~~~

Five

The best kind of touch, in Sevika’s opinion, came when she decided to give in and let Vi do as she pleased in bed. 

Vi was so gentle with her; the cocky tendencies and teasing went right out the window the moment Sevika either gave in to Vi’s request or asked outright for it. She spent so much time pressing kisses to every inch of Sevika’s skin, murmuring soft praise against her skin, pausing to pay special attention to every scar. 

Orgasms were more intense when Sevika let Vi take her time, working her up gently and slowly, somehow following every cue Sevika gave or didn’t give, doing exactly what her body wanted or needed with hardly a breath. Sevika always melted easily, making noises she hadn’t known she was capable of before Vi. 

It always ended with tears; Sevika overwhelmed to the point of crying once she did topple over the edge into pleasure with an intensity she’d never thought was possible. Vi always curled up against her side, kissing her tears away and stroking her hair until she calmed and settled, head tucked beneath Vi’s chin. 

Sevika never returned the favor those nights, but Vi never seemed to mind. She was happy to pull the blankets around them and murmur praise until Sevika fell right to sleep against her.

~~~

Plus One

“Vi,” Sevika says one morning, while she’s sitting at the table, reading an article on her phone. 

The smell of bacon and the sound of grease popping filters from the kitchen, where Vi was making them a lazy weekend brunch. “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m reading this article,” Sevika pulls her reading glasses off. 

“Okaaay..” Vi hums, waiting for her to elaborate. 

Sevika is silent for a moment, before she clears her throat and asks, “Do you know what being touch starved is?”

There’s the sound of… maybe laughter? Before it’s choked off and Vi coughs. “I, uh - yes. Yeah. I do know. Why?”

Sevika squints suspiciously at the noise. “...I think I may be that.”

Vi chuckles this time, unable to help herself. “Yeah. Yeah, baby, I think you are. Figure it out finally?”

“You knew?” Sevika yelps, heat rising to her cheeks. 

Vi comes out of the kitchen, leaning in the doorway, fond. “Yes, love. I knew.” She goes over, smelling of bacon and coffee, pausing to kiss the top of Sevika’s head. Sevika melts, and then <em>realizes</em> she was melting, and scowls. 

“Oh.” She says instead, and Vi sighs fondly and kisses her forehead. 

“I’ll make sure you aren’t starved, Sev. Just lemme do my thing, okay?”

“Okay.” Sevika grumbles, and leans into the playful scratch to the short hairs on the back of her neck.

Fic authors deserve more credit.

Story time: I started a book about 23 hours ago and just finished it. Also in that time I slept for 10 hours, spent time with family, was at work, etc. Anyway, I enjoyed the book (Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda). But it felt like it flew by, so after I finished I looked up the word count because what are pages? Pages are meaningless. I only function in word counts anymore.

The estimate I found was 58,580. My immediate reaction was “oh, that’s why. That’s nothing!” But what a shitty response. Because no. That’s not nothing. That’s a whole. Damn. Book. An entire novel! And Fic authors regularly bust out 30k, 50k, 100k, 150k words. AND THEY DO IT FOR FREE. WHILE WORKING AND LIVING THEIR LIVES.

So anyway, thank your favorite fic author today because they deserve it. Because they’re amazing. They’re the MVPs.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how far I’ve come and how much progress I’ve made, and I have to say, I’m really proud of myself. This time last year I woke up and wondered how I was going to survive the next day. Sometimes I woke up and nearly decided I wasn’t going to and that I was tired of having to survive any days.

It’s been a long, hard road to the place I am now, and I still have so far to go. But I’ve done a pretty good job so far! I’m still here.

Today I was reminded of just how strong I am - that I’m still here, even though a year ago, I didn’t want to be and might’ve done something to ensure that I wasn’t. Sometimes I still don’t want to be here, but now I have the proper tools and the best support anyone could ever ask for.

I know I still have a long way to go and I know there are things coming up in my life that are going to try and tear down the structure in my life, but I’m pretty proud of myself.

Go me.