anybody interested in a star wars au feat. jedi adora & pilot/smuggler catra? link is in the title!
fic title: across the stars (i’ll always find you)
summary:
“But tell me this,” Adora starts, staring boldly into the woman’s eyes, a hint of Force-suggestion in her voice. “Can you actually fly this ship through that blockade?”
Adora isn’t prepared when the captain throws her head back and laughs, completely unaffected. An agonizing moment passes before her mouth finally closes into a smirk, eyes sharp as tacks with her hands placed firmly on her hips—the epitome of cockiness.
“I can fly my way through anything, princess.”
———
or: Adora is a surviving Jedi of Order 66 who fights alongside the Rebellion to bring peace back to the galaxy. Catra is one hell of a pilot and a crafty smuggler running away from her past. When their paths cross over the years, sparks fly, until a wedge comes between them. But when Adora is taken hostage by Emperor Horde Prime in a gambit to save Queen Glimmer of the Rebellion, Catra will do whatever it takes to get her back.
using my eso oc tanila and naryu because i love naryu. this is also actually going to be a micro fic this time instead of a drabble i s w e a r
Naryu could never say she was a particular fan of libraries, particularly those belonging to the Mage’s Guild: too enclosed, too dark, too dusty for her tastes. But there’s something to be said about how the dust motes sparkle like stars in the magelight around Tanila.
She hasn’t had the chance to speak to the sorceress after parting in Mournhold but today isn’t the day for speaking either. She just wanted to check in on her favorite hero and she takes the opportunity to commit the image of Tanila surrounded by twinkling light to memory.
wellllllp, have fun with this one guys. idk how to feel about it tbh but the deed is done.
3. I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you
“Adora,” says the girl who is absolutely not dying. “Listen to me.”
“Stop”—Adora pushes harder against Catra’s stomach—“talking.” She is trying to be a dam, trying to fight the river of blood gushing between the cracks in her fingers. Only the blood doesn’t care that Catra isn’t dying; the blood just keeps pouring, and Adora’s hands aren’t enough to catch it all.
God, please let her be enough, just this once, she begs.
They’re alone in the middle of the woods and Catra has a hole in her stomach, a bloody, mangled hole from... from... she doesn’t know what, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because Catra is painting the forest floor with her insides and Adora has to stop it.
“Adora,” Catra repeats with more urgency. It’s the staggered wheeze in her voice that catches Adora’s attention.
“Less talking, more breathing.”
Catra groans, gurgling up some more blood Adora can’t stop from spilling. “You’re not listening.”
“Catra, please,” she says, voice clipped. “I’m trying to save you, so... just let me save you.” She applies more pressure and cringes when Catra’s eyes roll back into her head for a second. “You hear me? You’re not dying.”
“Adora...”
“What the hell were you thinking?” Adora snaps, with a bite behind her words she doesn’t fully understand. She’s terrified and angry but the latter has no foundation. She doesn’t know why she’s so pissed off, she just is.
“Wait, what?” There’s a flash of something in Catra’s eyes that seems oddly hopeful, like she isn’t dying—which she isn’t, for the record.
“You heard me,” Adora blurts, unsure of herself.
“Adora,” Catra says for what feels like the first and hundredth time. She tries to sit up but Adora doesn’t let her. Honestly, is she trying to be a human faucet? “What,” she hacks up a loogie of blood, “do you remember?”
“I...” Adora bites her lip. The harder she thinks, the fuzzier the edges of her memory become. The “before” isn’t processing like it should. Like, how did she get here, or the more pressing question: how did Catra end up like this?
This doesn’t feel like tunnel vision or a traumatic stress response. She just... doesn’t remember. Everything that’s happened up until now is nothing but static, a blank slate. Her mind is a vacuum and all she has is this moment. She only knows what it’s like to feel Catra’s life slowly slip through her fingers, and that feels so wrong—yet horribly familiar.
Why does it feel like she’s done this before?
“It doesn’t matter,” Adora replies, choked up. Now she wonders what’s spilling faster: Catra’s blood or her own tears. “You just have to live.”
That little spark in her eyes, that glimmer of hope, disappears. “It’s already gone, isn’t it?” Before Adora can sneak a word in, Catra slams her fist on the ground and grits out: “Every fucking time.”
“Catra, what's going on?” It wasn’t just hope in Catra’s eyes, Adora realizes, it was clarity. She knows something. “Talk to me, damn it!”
“Promise me you’ll remember this,” Catra pleads. “Promise me you won’t forget, no matter what.”
She’s at a loss for words. “Catra, I—”
“Promise,” Catra rasps, her strength already beginning to fail her. “I’m tired, Adora. Tired of remembering just to...” she trails off, and for a moment Adora panics, thinks she’s gone, but then she just coughs and finds her voice again. “Dying gets old, y’know. It never stops hurting.” She reaches out and grabs Adora’s collar, pulling her closer. “So promise me you’ll remember. Remember so I don’t have to... not like this. Not again.”
Catra’s not supposed to be dying, she isn’t dying—only she is, and Adora can’t stop it. She never stops it. Every fucking time.
“I promise,” Adora says, and it feels a lot like admitting defeat. Feels like failure. Feels like she’s said this before, like in a dream. No, a nightmare.
Catra smiles weakly like she’s thrown in the towel, too. Her hand then travels up to rest against Adora’s cheek, her thumb gently wiping away some tears. There’s something softer than hope or clarity in her eyes. Something that fills Adora’s chest with warmth and sucker punches her in the gut at the same time.
“I love you.”
The moment shatters like shards of glass exploding through time. Adora is neither here or there anymore, and Catra is... who, again? There’s a void and Adora is standing in it, lost and shrouded in darkness. Her hands feel warm and wet with something she can’t place. Her heart is freefalling into the pit of her stomach, making it hard to breathe, hard to exist in a world where something else doesn’t—a something she can’t name. She’s crying and she doesn’t know why.
Suddenly out of the void comes a voice: “You have to remember, Adora.”
“Remember what?” she asks no one.
A bell tolls.
“Again.”
The glass shards piece themselves back together into a new picture, and the darkness fades away into flashing neon lights and heavy bass. The void is gone and all there is now is a crowd of sweaty, grinding bodies out on the dance floor while Adora sits at the bar with a drink in her hand.
She doesn’t remember what matters, only what’s been given. A life she’s convinced she’s lived, is living. And this one says she’s had a particularly grueling day at work and needs one hell of a pick-me-up.
Adora downs her drink in one big swig and slams the glass back down on the counter. It’s her third one. She thinks she might order another.
“Rough day?”
Her eyes drift to the bartender she’s been admiring all night—Catra, her nametag reads. “Oh, you have no idea.”
hii!!!! i’m so excited omg ur my favorite she ra fic author. 13 + catradora?
🥺 I really hope you enjoy this, anon. I chose yours over my friends’ prompts to start with b/c you felt more important (and thank you for your kind words I’m low-key dying rn)
13. co-stars
"Are you all right, Ms. Grayskull?"
Adora takes a big swig of her fourth glass of water, silently screaming for her leg to stop bouncing. "Yes, of course! I just have bad dry mouth." Nope, try again. "I mean, I'm really excited to be here and thankful for the opportunity." Nailed it...
The casting director shoots her a look from her spot on the couch, drinking in Adora's trembling smile, and nods dismissively while jotting down some notes on her fancy iPad. She doesn't look too taken aback. No one in the room—and Adora is trying her best not to count the number of heads silently staring at her right now—seems to react; they're all like human statues, switching between looking at her and their phones.
In comparison, Adora feels like dunking her head in the fish tank to her right and never coming up for air.
She really shouldn't be this nervous. This isn't even an audition. That was weeks ago, and she already ran the callback gauntlet, pushed past her crippling fear of rejection, and got the job. Adora is officially the lead in a kickass fantasy television show that values female empowerment and queer representation—this is actually happening right now. And like Bow and Glimmer have been telling her all week: she's earned this, and she seriously needs to chill before she has a heart attack over good news, of all things.
You’ve got this, she thinks, biting her lip. This is your big break, don’t sabotage yourself.
But no pep talk can change the fact that Adora feels trapped and alone in a room full of wolves while they all wait (anxiously, in her case) for her fellow lead, antagonist, and love interest to show up for their chemistry reading.
Whoever this woman is, she seriously needs a lesson in punctuality and professionalism. She’s already twenty minutes late, whereas Adora arrived fifteen minutes early—that’s over a half hour of awkward small talk, staring contests, and Adora contemplating drinking half her weight in water that she’d like to have back.
Hell, this woman isn’t even a shoe-in for the part. Adora’s role is the only one set in stone at this point, and this chemistry read is supposed to determine who—out of the three women who made it through callbacks—has the most “spicy” romantic chemistry with her (the writer’s words, not hers). It is an enemies to friends to lovers kind of love story, after all.
Well, at the very least, this woman gets brownie points for making Adora’s blood pressure skyrocket. That’s for sure going to up the tension to antagonistic levels.
Adora nervously eyeballs her script again, going over her lines in her head. She really hopes she doesn’t look as sweaty and gross and anxious as she feels.
Then finally, the door swings open.
“Sorry I’m late,” gripes a voice Adora hasn’t heard outside her dreams in three long years. “Traffic was a bitch, and don’t even get me started on the shitty parking.”
Adora drops her script and lets it explode into a waft of scattered papers on the floor—in hindsight, she really should’ve taken Glimmer’s advice not to rely on a flimsy paper clip to hold her hopes and dreams together, but that’s the least of her worries right now.
“Catra?”
Familiar mismatched eyes finally land on her, and Adora tries not to wince outright at the way they quickly narrow in disgust.
“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” Catra groans, running her fingers through her long, curly, and still hopelessly untamed—but beautiful—hair. “You would get this part. I should’ve known better. Damn it, is there anything I’m allowed to have that you can’t ruin?”
Now that strikes a nerve.
“What the hell does that mean?” Adora challenges as she nearly jumps out of her seat. If her chair fell over in her rush to stand her ground, that wasn’t her intention, but it’s too late to swap pleasantries now.
Catra cocks out her hip dangerously, fixing her with a hard stare. “Oh, just that you’re a royal pain in my ass. Do you have any idea how many casting calls I’ve had to ignore because of you?” Adora blinks, her ire burning down to a crackle for just a moment, before Catra continues. “You’re just so goddamn predictable. I can’t catch a break to save my life, I swear.”
Adora can hardly believe what she’s hearing right now. “Wait, you’re blaming me for your acting career not taking off?” That’s what she thinks she’s hearing, at least. “How is that fair? I’m not even doing anything.” Why are you still thinking about me, anyway? she wants to tack on, but instead goes with, “You’re the one self-sabotaging!”
“Fuck you!”
Hard to believe they were once childhood best friends in this moment as they stare each other down with icy glares. Hell, hard to believe Adora was once head-over-heels in love with Catra all throughout high school and college.
Yep, once upon a time she was a lovesick puppy terrified of destroying their friendship because she was dumb enough to catch feelings (even if a small part of her thought that maybe Catra felt the same way, too). But then Catra made it very clear she wasn’t interested the second she decided to cut Adora out of her life when Adora revealed she was transferring to Brightmoon School of Dramatic Arts, and that was that. They haven’t spoken since—not until today, that is.
“I don’t think I deserve this, Catra,” she says, stepping into her old friend’s personal space, fists clenched. Two years of therapy suddenly come roaring up her throat and she can’t stop it. “You pushed me away, remember? So you don’t get to act like this is all my fault. That isn’t fair, and you know it.”
“I really can’t do this right now,” Catra groans, rubbing her fingers into her temples. “I don’t have to talk to you, fuck this.”
“No, say what’s on your mind. Tell me why, because I’ve spent these past three years in the dark wondering what I did wrong—so own up to your shit and just tell me, damn it!”
Adora can feel Catra’s nose brush against hers as she growls in her face, “You chose your career over me! You left me, Adora.”
Suddenly, it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room, leaving them in a vacuum. They’re close, too close. Adora can feel Catra’s shaky breath on her lips and it shoots a lightning bolt of conflicted feelings through her aching heart. Their eyes stay locked onto each other, filled with hurt, confusion, and a bit of a shock. For a second, Adora thinks she imagined Catra’s gaze dropping to her lips, but she can’t stop herself from licking them in response. Fuck, if she leans in even just a little... maybe it’ll be okay, maybe it won’t be a mistake, maybe Catra wants this, too.
Catra turns away from her, looking a little flushed, and Adora can’t help the way her heart freefalls into the pit of her stomach. “So there, that’s my shit. I’m sorry your precious ego was too fucking big to get that memo.”
Well, now Adora wants to scream at her again, but before she can, she’s interrupted by the sound of... thunderous applause? Both she and Catra do a double-take, surprised to find the rest of the room out of their seats and clapping at them.
“That was absolutely breathtaking!” the casting director calls out, effectively silencing the rest of the applause except her own. “Now that’s what I call spicy romantic tension.”
If Adora’s face wasn’t already red from her near-kiss with Catra, it certainly is now.
“Say what?” Catra blurts, wide-eyed.
And to echo that sentiment, Adora says breathlessly, “We didn’t even read from the script.”
The woman takes Catra’s hand and shakes it enthusiastically. “I’ve never seen such raw, explosive chemistry in all my years in this industry. Just spectacular. Like a match made in heaven. I can’t wait to see you two on screen together.”
She releases her grip on Catra’s hand and it falls like a rock back to her side. Then she beams at them, overwhelmed with an excitement Adora didn’t think she was capable of ten minutes ago. “And if the fans fall in love with you—which they will, I’m calling it now—you’ll both have at least a five season commitment on your hands. Isn’t that wonderful?”
To say Adora’s jaw hit the floor is an understatement. She can only imagine Catra isn’t doing much better, but she’s too afraid to risk a glance.
“So, what do you say?”
The question is aimed at Catra, but they both share a look so agonizing, so overtaken by a whirlwind of emotions—eyes pleading with each other for an answer that refuses to make itself clear—that it surprises them both when they say in unison:
OOOOOO oh my god I’m the anon who sent the superhero prompt and it’s everything I ever wanted so here are a couple more??? Video Games
I should be writing chapter 4 of mhiwyh, but instead I just started playing Among Us and this happened. Sorry not sorry.
For the record, Adora is not the jealous type. She feels very secure in her relationship with her girlfriend, and it helps that Catra's told her several times it's always been her—and that truth alone flutters in her belly with such finality, such warmth. She is absolutely over the moon about it.
Especially after they pined like idiots in college for over three years following several communication miscues (because apparently making out in a frat house bathroom sophomore year sober was still "platonic" in their eyes). The worst is already behind them. And now after one year of living together post-grad and post-confession, there really should be no room for jealousy. They've settled, plain and simple.
So, why the hell is Adora getting so worked up over a stupid game?
Answer: ever since Catra decided to download Among Us on her phone—just to understand all the stupid memes, she said—Adora's suddenly been demoted to second place on her girlfriend's priority list. Catra is beyond obsessed, to the point where Adora's seriously considered staging an intervention (which made Bow and Glimmer laugh in her face).
But this stupid "who-dun-it" game is putting a wedge between them. And Adora can prove it.
She's done the math, and it says that she's missed out on a whopping 50+ kisses from Catra in just a week’s time, among other things (and no matter what Glimmer says, her math is accurate and well within reason to calculate in the first place).
She is hopelessly, pathetically attention-starved. And lying in bed next to Catra naked with a flashing phone screen between them is what finally does it for her. Enough is enough.
So, instead of following Glimmer and Bow's boring, practical advice—seriously, just tell her it's bothering you, they said—Adora goes with a different approach.
She downloads the game and dives headfirst into mastering it. She logs hours upon hours of game time, determined to pick up on different strategies, whether it's a matter of gameplay settings, picking up on suspicious players, or killing as quietly as she can. Eventually, Adora catches on, and she is ready to put her plan into motion.
Catra is curled up on the couch, eyes glued to her screen, when Adora passes by behind her and—as discreetly as possible—catches her game's room code. Of course, it takes a frustrating fifteen minutes for Adora to sneak in between games, but she is officially in. And now the fun can begin.
First off, Catra is obvious to point out; her character is black with cat ears, username: catgirl. Meanwhile, Adora tries to stay on the down-low, choosing a yellow character with a sword-passing knife in its head, username: A. Okay, so not completely on the down-low, but it's just another way of messing with her girlfriend. It's strategically dumb. Catra doesn’t know she plays, anyway, so it’s actually genius, if you think about it.
Adora parks herself at the kitchen table, giving herself a perfect view of Catra on the couch, and just waits.
The game starts with ten players, one imposter, and the second someone is killed, Adora immediately pounces.
A: black did it
catgirl: what?? no i didnt!
A: black vented i saw it
catgirl: wheres body?
A: its black
catgirl: yellow is lying!
A: vote black
Adora thanks the Among Us gods that everyone seems to believe her, while Catra tries and fails to make her case. In real-time on the couch, she looks furious—face pinched in a scowl that Adora finds hopelessly endearing. She's eventually voted out by everyone else as a non-imposter, and Adora bites her lip to keep from snickering.
And from thereon, the saga continues. Adora does anything she can to sabotage Catra, imposter or not, and—to her utmost delight—the rest of the group seems to catch on.
unimposter: black sus
not blue: dont trust black
A: yeah vote black
catgirl: WTF
catgirl: no ones dead yet
A: black imposter
catgirl: i hate all of you
Catra is too stubborn to quit, dead-set on pinning all the blame on "yellow", and Adora loves that about her, especially now. Watching her squirm around on the couch and curse not-so quietly under her breath almost makes up for all the times they didn't make out because of this game. Almost.
When Catra is evicted once more as not the imposter, she finally reaches her breaking point.
"Damn it!" She jumps out of her seat and slams her phone against the couch cushion. "This is bullshit!"
Adora tucks her phone away in her pocket, careful not to exit out of the game. "What's wrong, babe?"
"This asshole is sabotaging me," she growls (and Adora tries so hard not to laugh). "And they're not even being subtle about it. Fuck, it's like they paid off the other players and everything."
"Huh. That sounds really sus."
Catra sinks back down into the couch cushions, grumbling, "I know."
Wow, and Catra calls her the idiot in this relationship. She's fallen so far down the Among Us rabbit hole, she can't even pick up on the game lingo being used in real-time. As Entrapta would say: fascinating.
Adora joins her on the couch and offers her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "I still love you, if that means anything."
Catra snorts and immediately falls into position with her head on Adora's lap. "You're such an idiot."
Look who's talking, her mind deadpans. Still, Adora runs her fingers once through Catra's short hair, getting a satisfied sigh in return, and smiles warmly down at her.
Then, the touching moment passes, and Catra's back to joining the game, holding her phone over her face. Somehow Adora fishes out her own phone without disturbing Catra and also rejoins—thankful that Catra's too focused on the game to notice how there's no way Adora's just scrolling through Twitter with her phone flipped on its side and her thumb on the touchscreen joy-stick.
The game resumes, and finally, after another kill, Adora plays her hand.
catgirl: yellow vented
Yeah, on purpose, Adora thinks smugly.
not blue: you sure?
catgirl: YES
A: just kiss me you coward
catgirl: ... what?
unimposter: you heard her
not blue: kiss kiss kiss
So, Adora might've spilled the beans during a losing round in the ghost chat, but that's not important right now.
catgirl: wtf is going on
In real-time, Catra tilts her head at the screen, eyes wide, mouthing her "wtf" with great intensity.
A: im so done
catgirl: dude wth?
A: i didn't sell my soul to this game
A: and sabotage you
A: just to get ignored AGAIN
unimposter: dang yellow tired of being ****-blocked
Okay, some gender disparity there, but red’s heart is in the right place.
catgirl: ...
Adora smirks. Hook, line, and...
A: look up idiot
Sinker.
Catra gasps and slowly drops her phone to her chest, eyes darting to find hers. "You did not—"
But she barely has time to finish that sentiment before Adora shifts her legs out from under her head and quickly jumps her, pinning her to the couch and straddling her waist.
"Pay attention to me," she mock-whines, and Catra's airy laugh is like music to her ears.
"You asshole, you said you hated Among Us!"
Adora nods. "Yep, and I still do. So, so much."
Catra blinks, and Adora can see the wheels starting to turn in her head. Finally, it clicks.
"No way," she says, voice pinched in denial. "Did you seriously get the game just to fuck with me? I know you"—her eyes narrow, then widen again—"you practiced and everything, you little shit! You can't be chill to save your life."
"Guilty as charged," Adora answers, grinning. "But fucking with you isn't what I was going for. Subtract a word."
"Oh." God, her shocked face is so kissable right now, but Adora holds on, stays strong.
"Yeah," Adora draws out the word. "Red wasn't kidding."
Catra raises a brow and looks at her phone again (making Adora pout at the blatant avoidance). She takes one good look at the chat and gives Adora the biggest shit-eating grin.
"Aw, is somebody jealous?"
"Shut up and kiss me you coward," Adora repeats, and Catra happily obliges.
unimposter: and they were roommates
not blue: lesbians for president 2020
Adora swipes off the app, thinking: mission success, while she makes up for precious lost time kiss by kiss.
Oh and maybe catradora + soulmates?? Idk it’s almost midnight and I am struggling to stay awake ahskdjd
Y’all ever hear about the one concept where your soulmate’s first words to you are tatted on your skin? Well, here’s the romcom version of that.
Adora isn’t proud to admit that she’d fallen victim to the “soulmates” craze that normally overshadows a person’s eighteenth birthday, and inevitably for the rest of their life moving forward.
She always preached that love was flexible, that no “powers” that be truly dictated the feelings of the heart. Just look at her adoptive mothers Mara and Hope: they weren’t soulmates, yet they still found each other and fell hopelessly in love. Plus, Adora is adopted. Her life could be considered the walking contradiction of soulmates. Imagine if her birth parents were soulmates and still decided to give her up—now that wouldn’t bode well for society’s soulmate agenda, and she posted just as much on her cringey blog back in high school.
Still, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Adora couldn’t help but wonder: what would her soulmate’s first words to her be?
Butterflies fluttered in her belly at the thought. Suddenly, all that big talk about “love finding a way and existing outside a soulmate vacuum” just abandoned her. She was on the edge of her seat, waiting, hoping. Maybe she’d been too harsh; maybe soulmates weren’t just an obnoxious hoax. She’d wake up, and the beginnings of her one great love story would be engraved into her skin. Against her gut instinct, Adora decided to give in to hope.
And then the universe delivered her a sign.
Watch where you’re going, dumbass! … Oh, shit.
That, Adora notes grimly, as she wraps up her morning run on a dreary Monday in October, is what she found written on the inside of her wrist on that fateful day. Five years later, and she could still scream about it.
Because, shouldn’t her soulmate’s first words to her be, you know, romantic—or at the very least, meet-cute? It didn’t have to be anything extraordinary. Hell, Adora would’ve taken a simple “Hello” or “Nice weather we’re having”, but instead she was given the asshole soulmate. She simply cannot fathom that this is the note her great love story is supposed to start on. And another thing: why the ellipses? Is the universe mocking her or something?
This must be karma for talking shit about soulmates on my blog, she thinks. It’s her only explanation.
Regardless, Adora has officially lost all faith in this soulmates business, and she has not-so proudly worn a sweatband over her tattoo ever since.
She plucks at the sweatband with a huff and turns a corner on her usual running route. No more thinking about soulmates, she decides. If anyone asks (which they won’t), she’ll blame it on that eyesore this city calls a billboard advertising customizable jewelry for your soulmate (yeah, she knows, it’s a crime against humanity. To think, she would ever engrave these words on a freakin’ ring).
Adora stops at the crosswalk, hums a little tune waiting for the signal to turn, and once it does, breaks into a little jog across the street—
—and nearly gets run over by a Range Rover, of all cars. Okay, run over is coming on a bit too strong—she didn’t even fall over—but her shins were faintly assaulted by the bumper. She still has the right to see her life flash before her eyes. And, to feel inexplicably pissed off. (Glimmer would be so proud of her).
The driver’s side door swings open, and out comes a curly-haired girl who really fills out her pantsuit nicely, Adora must admit, and gets all up in her face and—oh no she’s hot. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass!”
Adora gasps, utterly offended. “Me? You almost killed me!” In the heat of the moment, Adora digs deep and finds her inner-Glimmer and her infinite reserves of spite. “And who drives a Range Rover? Might as well paint douchebag on the hood.”
They glare at each other in the middle of the street, ignoring the insistent calls of car horns, and then… it clicks.
Their eyes grow wide, their jaws drop, and the girl blushes—Adora really hopes she’s not mirroring her right now.
Fittingly, they both say in unison: “Oh, shit.”
(As a running joke years down the line, Catra gets their first words to each other engraved on the inside of their engagement ring, and Adora is honestly too happy, too helplessly in love to care).
okay so this was a lot of fun. I don’t think I know the meaning of the phrase “short fic” but I tried my best. hope you like it rhys 😊
22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au
This isn't the first wedding reception Catra's had the pleasure of sneaking into, and she doubts it'll be her last.
Her roommate is bound to give her another lecture on why sneaking into weddings is in poor taste, but she swears her reasoning is bullet proof. She’s no wedding crasher. She isn’t bringing any of her “bad juju” into some strangers’ marriage (Scorpia’s words, not hers). If she’s being honest, this marriage is already sabotaging itself with the weirdest blend of mermaid and pirate themed decor Catra has ever seen. The open bar looks like a stranded pirate ship on fire for christ’s sake, and the bartender is even wearing an eyepatch and a fake parrot on his shoulder—she literally couldn’t make this shit up even if she tried.
But her point is: where else can she expect to get free drinks on a Saturday night after a shitty week at work?
So here she sits, alone at a table far away from the dance floor but closest to the pirate ship bar, sipping on her third whiskey sour like a lifeline. Her maroon suit is dashing and fits her figure perfectly—and normally it would serve its purpose of attracting a potential hookup like a moth to a flame, but Catra isn’t so sure she wants that kind of attention tonight. Not after the shit show she calls her job nearly buried her six feet under this past week.
Leave it to Hordak to make Catra contemplate flushing her entire marketing career down the drain.
She groans and faceplants on the table. No thinking about Hordak’s impossibly high standards, that’s the rule. Tonight is about getting wasted at a strangers’ wedding and feeling absolutely nothing.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
Catra slowly lifts up her head and feels almost blindsided by the sight of captain Blackbeard the bartender standing in front of her. “Um, yeah?”
He tentatively sets a strawberry daiquiri in front of her, looking extremely uncomfortable and borderline constipated. “This is from the gentleman at table 10. He insisted I deliver this to you... my sincerest apologies.” Then he shuffles away like any sane person who values their life would—smart man, she thinks with a small shrug. At least someone here is bright enough to realize she radiates gay energy like the sun.
Catra’s head tilts on a swivel, making eye contact with gentleman at table 10 as he waves at her, and grumbles, “Oh, fuck this shit.” He hit on the wrong girl tonight.
She downs the rest of her whiskey sour, scoops up the daiquiri, and strolls up to gentleman at table 10 like a soldier marching to war.
“Hey, asshat,” she growls, satisfied at how he cowers under her stare. “What about me screams strawberry daiquiri? I’d really like to know.”
Asswipe opens his mouth like a fish gasping for air on dry land, eyes wide and ready to choke on his own tongue, when she stops him.
“Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t give a shit about that.” In what Catra can only describe as a weird attempt at a power play, she downs the daiquiri in one big swig and slams the glass down on the table. Again, he cowers. “I just need you to know that you’re fucking light years away from being my type, dickweed. You wanna know what my type is?”
Catra makes an elaborate show out of scanning the crowd, going as far as to imitate a telescope with her hand. It’s all a performance. She’s just going to point out a decent-looking chick in the crowd and end her speech on a “I’m gay, you idiot” kind of note.
What she doesn’t expect is her “scope” landing on the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen sitting alone at a table across the room. At the sight of her, Catra’s act comes to a screeching halt—but she does comically try to “zoom in” with her hand telescope like an idiot, and wow she should’ve really eaten something before she started drinking.
Catra’s whiskey sour, daiquiri brain speaks on her behalf: “Hot damn.”
Even at a distance Catra can tell this woman could crush her head like a grape between her thighs—and yeah, she realizes the implications of that thought, but she swears it’s her only functioning brain cell’s way of saying this woman is fucking ripped. Her mind isn’t completely in the gutter... yet. But boy oh boy, do her arms look absolutely spectacular in that red dress.
“Uh,” Asswipe coughs into his fist. “Can we pretend like this never happened?”
Oh, right. He’s still here. Time for her to remedy that.
Catra’s eyes never leave the woman as she steals his drink, takes a big swig of it for good luck, and follows her liquid courage across the room without another word. The closer she gets, the more beautiful the woman becomes. Only, she seems a bit down in the dumps as she swirls her cocktail pick around in her martini, her eyes distant, sad-looking—and well, Catra can’t have that, now can she?
“Is this seat taken?”
The second their eyes meet a swarm of butterflies start fluttering around in Catra’s belly and just, wow. She hasn’t even spoken yet and Catra already feels like she’s in too deep.
“Uh, no,” she answers, a bit slow in her response, and is that a blush blossoming across her cheeks? “It’s all yours. But fair warning, I don’t think I’ll be very good company.”
Catra doesn’t hesitate in pulling out a chair. “I call bullshit.”
This is the part where Catra expects her to flinch away from her foul mouth, but instead the woman laughs.
“Don’t test me,” she says, smiling like the sun. “I’ll prove you wrong.”
“Sounds like a challenge.” God, her eyes, they’re so easy to get lost in. “I like challenges.” Catra flushes at her own boldness (which is unbelievably out of character for her, mind you, she’s usually great at flirting). But she can’t help but melt and lose her cool at the amusement twinkling in this woman’s eyes. “I’m Catra, by the way,” she blurts, hoping she doesn’t sound as stupid as she feels.
“Nice to meet you, Catra,” she answers, and Catra already loves the way her name sounds in her mouth. “I’m Adora.”
“Hey, Adora,” Catra says smoothly, and it feels so right rolling off the tip of her tongue. “What’s a pretty girl like you sitting all alone at a pirate wedding?”
Shit, her game is way off tonight. Her alcohol brain is really throwing her under the bus right now. Luckily, Adora doesn’t seem to mind.
“Hmm,” Adora hums, raising a brow at her. Her initial shyness is replaced by a confidence that Catra finds hopelessly endearing. “How many drinks have you had?”
Catra groans and rests her chin on the table. “Too many.”
“Do you think you’ll remember this?”
She can’t stop herself before saying, “God, I fucking hope so.”
Adora smiles brightly and laughs, and it’s as if that far away, dreary expression she wore earlier has been completely erased. “To answer your question, I was feeling kind of lonely before.”
“Before?” Catra echoes, voice teetering with hope.
“Yeah,” she says, taking a small sip of her drink. “Before. Now I’m in good company, even if she is kind of drunk.” Adora’s grin is contagious, Catra can feel herself mirroring her. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a pirate wedding?”
Oh thank god Adora’s gay. Catra kind of figured as much—her gaydar is pretty intuitive—but it’s nice to have confirmation, regardless.
“Uh, I wasn’t even invited,” Catra admits, shrugging. “I just snuck in for the free drinks.”
“Wait, you what?” Catra snickers at Adora’s shocked expression. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope, I’m telling the truth. You’re actually talking to a stowaway right now.”
Adora snorts. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
Catra nestles back into her seat, smug with herself as she crosses her arms over her chest. “That’s just part of my charm, princess. You’ll get used to it.”
Adora leans forward, blue eyes beckoning Catra to come closer. “Will I?”
Catra swallows what’s left of her liquid courage as she repeats, “God, I fucking hope so.”
(In the morning, Catra wakes to one of the worst hangovers she’s ever had. But a note left on her nightstand—one with a scribbled down phone number, a smiley face, and a request for a “real” dance when she’s sober—makes puking her guts out absolutely worth it.)
new chapter of my star wars au (lovingly nicknamed pew pew au) just dropped!!! jedi adora and pilot/smuggler catra are back y’all :)
here’s a lil mini summary: in which adora is taken hostage on two fronts & the question of “where the hell is catra? pick up the phone!” is finally answered.
read chapter 2 here or start from the beginning here.
