#mine DID just beat your ass but youre not THAT banged up and its not like you have any reason to relax after knowin richardsons alive

[todayisafridaynight]

GOD. Epilogue of "A Dream a Kirin Dreamed" pisses me off. This is not to say it's bad by any stretch. It just pisses me off because WHY DIDN'T KIRYU BOTHER TO TELL DAIGO ANYTHING. Why did he just say "He didn't betray you" without backing up his point at all and then fuck off entirely without checking back in.

The man just woke up and he's awake for a week before he's discharged from the hospital??? Maybe catch him up to speed on something that's clearly weighing on him??? Or on anything else that's happened in the time he was unconscious ??? Hello???????

Like. Dude. Is it not enough that you're just dead weight for the entire fucking ending. Knowing this is your son's best friend. And no way he doesn't know because even aside from Mine's monologue which (obviously) focused on his perspective, Kiryu says himself when he encounters a journalist who can't find any friends or family to interview about Mine that Daigo would know him best.

KNOWING this is your son's best friend. You LET him kill himself in front of you both because for you, sitting on your ass and going "Mine!" was good enough. You didn't think to reason with him. You didn't think to grab onto his leg or something when he was three feet away. You weren't injured. You weren't THAT exhausted. You just didn't think to do it. Even though A SUBSTORY IN Y3 ENDS THE WAY THE MAIN STORY SHOULD HAVE AND IT'S ONE OF THE LAST THINGS YOU CAN DO BEFORE HEADING TO THE HOSPITAL.

Y3 ending is literally my Y7 ending in terms of how much anger rises up within me whenever I think about it because it just Somehow, To This Day, piles more and more on top that makes it worse than it already was. Like its ONLY saving grace is that Mine didn't actually die. Allegedly. At least you can argue Ichiban and Aoki didn't have time to react, but Kiryu had all the time in the world and did nothing.

Ok I need to stop I need to stop I know I should be mad at Yokoyama and Takeuchi and not Kiryu and I literally had to run this post through an all-caps -> sentence caps converter But Anyway Point Is If Ichi Had Been The Protagonist Of Y3 Mine Would Be Alive

i cant even really blame something like kiryu's emotional ineptitude to explain why he couldnt just be open about What Mine's Business Was because the guy can CLEARLY speak from the heart and say good and honest things. like he knows how to communicate For The Most Part so its truly just. The Fuck Happened Here you dont think it wouldve been a good idea to get daigo up to speed on the past week or 👁️👁️ just saying Mine Didn't Betray You is like. a FAIR start i GUESS but ELABORATE a bit ??

not at all a 'rare' L moment just a typical kiryu L honestly （；´д｀）

#long post #snap chats #mizuki goated fr fr. highkey those two's substories are my fave theyre so fuckin bizarre..... #BUT REAL LIKE KIRYU. ILY I DO IM SORRY but i KNOW your ass can get up #mine DID just beat your ass but youre not THAT banged up and its not like you have any reason to relax after knowin richardsons alive #like there was PLENTY of time to react this some yakuza 'let him finish speaking its honorable' bullshit i PROMISE (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) #dont look down here im ranting about y7 related stuff #OK BUT NO THIS JUST REMINDED ME OF ONE OF THE MOST INFURIATING TAKES I READ ONCE #AND IT WAS BASICALLY PEOPLE BLAMING ICHI FOR AOKI DYING LIKE EXCUSE ME #how on gods green earth was ichi supposed to react in time- when its KUME of all people #what the fuck was he supposed to assume was going to happen its KUME he's a wet rag of a bitch boy #especially when all he did was praise aoki like how the fuck was he supposed to think he would stab him oh my godddd #like its not just kume showing up either ichi and aoki JUST had an intense emotional moment and they finally got a chance to breathe #like they thought they were good and in the clear and they were in a steadily-getting-better mood why would they be on guard (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) #FORGIVE ME thats been bothering me for months. i needed it off my chest #anyway im going for a walk. we got ice cream today and idk why i eat ice cream when it always makes me sad/lethargic #so heres to hoping a lil nature walk and heavy metal improves my mood a bit

[sublimecatgalaxy]

EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF EDDIE MUNSON FLUFF

PLEEEEEASE SEND ME MOREEEEE. I will literally write any of the characters for stranger things in my character list. Do it. I dare you. STRANGER THINGS PEOPLE PLEASSSEEEE I LOVE STEVE AND BILLY AND JONATHAN AND ROBIN TOO😭

I watch him with a smirk, flattening out my skirt as I sit myself down on the picnic table, my hands folding prettily in my lap as I wait. His eyes watch me as his head tilts, a coy smiling toying at his lips and my heart stops as he stalks up to me.

"How long have you been waitin' for me?" He asks, flattening his hands on the wood on either side of my thighs as he leans towards me, the wind whipping some of his curls into my view. His chocolate, doe-eyes burn into mine as I bite back an obnoxious smile, my hands sliding down my thighs as he watches me.

"Wasn't waiting for you, Munson." I whisper, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his eye line as his eyes flicker back and forth from my own to my lips. "I would've bought from any drug dealer in town but the hands of fate picked you for some reason." He chuckles sharply, shaking his head as his head hangs, hair framing around his face.

"The things I do, the bullying I endure, just to see your face, Y/L/N." My heart skips a beat as he stands up straighter, stepping between my legs as my chin tilts to look up at him.

The tension between us is unavoidable and it always has been. Between his eyes that stalk me throughout the cafeteria, the lingering glances and touches when passing back papers in class, the way he conveniently is the only weed dealer who openly deals to cheerleaders and jocks like myself.

"Well, sometimes you gotta make an ass of yourself to capture the attention of a pretty lady, huh?" My hands slide up and around his neck, listening to the stuttered gasps that leave his lips, his cocky demeanor falling as my skirt rides up.

His eyes trail along my body; my lips, the curve of my neck, the column of my throat, the v in my shirt, all the way down to my thighs. He gulps audibly, his lips parting in shock as he stutters.

"You're impossible, you know that?" He whispers, almost out of breath as his eyes find mine once more, a teasing look behind his bright orbs. "So incredibly hot but so impossible." My heart warms at the bright smile that takes over his face and his nose nudging against mine. "Did you come to make-out or buy weed?" He asks, lips brushing against mine as I gasp, fighting every instinct telling me to shut him up and swallow him whole so instead, I clear my throat as I try to speak.

"Uh, weed, at first. But now my motives have wandered a bit."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpc i@joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90@szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna@f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin @abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum @glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets @haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson @heyaitsklaudia @rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @chiyongberry @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy

#eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things season 4

[kvntsugi]

forinthry

the music was revving up for a drop as the club music was banging. the familiar girl in front of me with her hands on her knees throwing it back like no tomorrow, no care in the world when she turned her head back. eyes locked onto mine with his tongue swiping against her lips in a seductive manner that pulled me in closer.

her skirt was so hiked up her thighs you could practically see up it from the floor below, everyone was just focused on their own things. body shaped like an hourglass, hips swaying from side to side with my cock practically against her. the girl with pigtails kept grinding against my lower halves without a care in the world. dropping lower and lower and letting that thing pop with how much friction there was between her and i.

what to do and what to grab. my hands surfaced against her ass and trying to find whatever to find a shelter for my palms. with each sound of the beat her ass pushed further back into me, unable to hold in much any longer and taking the next step to pull her skirt up and above her waist. seeing a full spectacle of her plump rear and admiring how her thong disappeared between her cheeks. practically only seeing the strings that kept them connected into one.

the music got louder and so did her movements, my cock growing harder by the second and fighting to break free from the sheathe of the slacks i wore. a few smacks came about and marking her pretty skin up, things only became intensified as the bpm picked up from the surround sound.

her hands going against the railing the stood between them and falling to the lower levels, grabbing whatever deemed to be in her way. i was admiring her all evening - unable to do much any longer (with the publics eye on me), it was time to make a move. an even larger one. something to remember this by.

aiding my dominant hand with it creeping up her spine and collecting both ends of her pig-tails together in one. tugging at the silky-sweaty hair to force the girl back up. staring at her orbs with such intensity, the sexual tension rising between myself and her grow longer than my cock.

from between my legs and her suggestive looks, her delicate arms going towards my clothed core and groping it to cope a feel. it was like 'you've had your fun - now its my turn' kind of deal.

pre-cum must have leaked out of my from everything that added up. a culmination between my legs that was about to erupt but i had to keep it in. just for a bit longer. a smidge more before it got rewarded after this long night.

her actions made me feel a tad lightheaded but i wasn't unhappy. my eyes went towards her finger that she raised up, wagging it over as if i were some animal -- and you know what? i wasn't going to complain about this. mimicking the look of a banana with the corner of my cheeks couldn't go much higher and trying to hide it to a smirk. eyes forming crescents with pupils dilating into fiery balls of lust.

step by step, her bubbly ass swayed with each step she took and following her like the obedient pet i became in that moment. getting to the nearest bathroom with how rachet and grotesque it was. no line though, so no complaints there as there was with the usual clubbing activities.

sweating, attractive. and clearly horny.

without a moments rest, the girl fell to her knees in front of me and unzipped my slacks. my raging manhood had a life of its own and sprung free from its confinement. she took me into her little mouth. eyes rolling to the back of my head, groaning in surprise and in pleasure. back leaned against the door and felt myself on cloud nine with how surreal everything was. the music was muffled but still roaring like it matched the beating of my heart and fighting the urge to close my eyes. i needed to see how ideal she was being. how gorgeous the girl on her knees truly was. holding back as i wanted this night to last for an eternity.

instinctively, blame the male hormones i shoved my cock down her throat and choking her. deep throating her mouth and pulling the girl's locks. in and out, back and forth. jamming my girthy length inside of her mouth and holding it in there.

her wet muscle on the underside of my cock made me groan out more, unable to see the girl on her knees anymore as my eyes became shut. darkness enveloped over me as she was making suffocating noises as if she needed to be freed. continuing to hold for a few more knowing she could probably take it.

"oh my god -- doi…" i croaked out before my hands let out and letting the girl gasp for air. eyes shut for a few more minutes to catch my breath and before i knew it - her top was off. exposing the large bosoms she covered her large chest. two fully endowed and beautifully developed breasts. whatever she was eating and god bless her soul for having something so gorgeous.

she pressed her titties forward until they were wrapped around my cock completely. soft and tender, like another home for my cock. it was safe and soft, like they were made just for me, as if her cleavage was specifically designed as a cuddle for my groin. with her hands she pushed her boobs closer together, making her cleavage even more lush and soft and then she started to move. as if this wasn't already bliss she just added more on top of it. she was fucking me all too well.

my mouth stayed agape. not having to do much and i just looked down at her cleavage. softly panting and letting out a moan with every ministration she did. she threw herself completely into this, it all felt so natural, so absolutely necessary. his cock needed this, her tits needed this.

she kept fucking me with her titties, she was definitely enjoying feeling my shaft as she kept moving her tits up and down with a wet spot of pre-cum slipping onto her skin as if it wasn't obvious enough. like a second-hand lube.

my breathing become more and more irregular, "fuck, yes…." i mumbled out, more explicatives and whatnot following suit with my body becoming a ticking time bomb.

small kitten-like licks being incorporated in with each bob my cock came up to her mouth. "yeah? you gonna cum for me, daddy?"

my breath stopped, letting out a loud moan as i came. my voice sounded like it roared in the bathroom and resonated louder than any edm or club music could ever be. her soft and relaxing voice letting me ooze out cum and having my body tighten up with pleasure. my cum spraying all over her boobs, warm wet spots all over doi's perfect skin

doi's long and frail finger scooped up some of the white gunk i just shot out, my eyes were a waning crescent after blowing my load. the wind knocked out of me and trying to catch any semblance of breath that i had prior with her before all of this.

i forgot about how sleazy everything was. coming from a nightclub, or cumming in one - i should say. truly stupendous but never being one to stop my horniness. i was expecting the girl to change her mind and stop, but the more i came to the more she was willing to do. the real rush hit me when the girl stood up after being on her knees for so long. showing her completely shaved pussy and her fat lips from underneath ate the thin line of string from her thong. she knew from experience with whomever else that i would go crazy all night thinking about that tight little body that was barely concealed from view. but for right now - it was all on display for me. all mine to use.

the girl turned around and held onto the ceramic material of the toilet. standing behind her as she was all prepped and ready for me. all ready for the taking and mimicing the same motions we had as if we were back on the dance floor. small sways from side to side, grinding against one another. my crotch back into her soft ass. she would push back against me and rub herself up and down against my cock. slyly slipping my hand down and back up to touch her smooth bare ass, or sliding my hand over between her breasts to get a feel of how large they truly were - and they didn't disappoint. it felt all the better and like i was in a dream.

my cock slid between her luscious thighs and feeling instant wetness begin to form and lather it up, as if her lips didn't do that enough already. her pussy had left a string of aroused juices and my cock was just the next target for it to latch onto.

"ah..ahh…ahh…" she breathed out quietly, her ass bounced off from the thigh job with her hips slowly pivoting. her head turned over to me with pleading doe-like eyes as if she were begging to get fucked.

"hurry…" she whispered.

"god, fuck, doi." speaking out with exasperation. with what this was - incredibly dangerous. not knowing how loud she could be, or if the banging sounds of music could drown out the sound. not faltering no longer and immediately moving in. her soaking wet pussy was waiting for me. pressing my tip against her pussy, as soon as the first few parts of my skin entered the entire thing began to slide in with one easy push.

"mm -- " her voice felt so divine. i was like a conductor leading an orchestra and before she knew it, she quieted her voice.

my knees grew weak despite using the majority of my strength to keep it upright. inch by inch, second by second more of it disappeared like a trick. the moist warmth of her pussy felt especially amazing on my cock, and at first, i just held it inside of her and enjoyed the sensation. if her tits were made for him - her insides definitely were. molded to perfection. she turned to look back at me, all her features aside from her eyes hidden by the sweaty mask of her hair covering up those puppy eyes. you could still see through the space between them. they were wide. begging for it. my lips were agape and i could only just nod in agreement. grabbing her hips and began to thrust into her pussy.

one of her hands went up to support her strength against the wall, the other went towards her mouth and trying to cover up whatever moans trickled out from her small mouth. small sounds illiciting from her orifice with my hand reaching out for her pigtails to help support her weight. nothing like giving it a tug as a faux leash as i kept slamming into her ass and hearing that all to reminiscent clapping sound.

as the night poured on my care for secrecy went lower and lower. if i had been going slow there may have been an excuse to give some guy waiting in line. but there was no mistake to what we were doing. ramming my hips into her fat ass at full speed. luckily, and thank god for it. the music absorbing the wet, slippery noises as my cock stretched out her pussy.

"yes daddy - yes, yes yes!" her voice followed suit. her voice overcoming the makeshift muffler she had once before as her eyes kept glaring at me. her hair waving back and forth into my eyes with each thrust i did onto her. the sheer act of her doing that was enough to develop myself more into it. making myself thrust harder and harder, yanking ont oher hair harder with some animalistic instinct. each thrust made my hips crash against hers. all the while her pussy gripped onto my cock so tightly and making it feel like my very last. and it was.

quietly groaning at the rougher-than-usual thrust, as i rolled my cock into her again and again, the sensation of what felt like tons of cum came pouring out and inside of her. spurts of hot white gunk escaping my system and into hers. the warm sensation of her pussy and my cock ran through my entire body, and even if i finished i didn't want it to end. i only pulled out when there was nothing left and the strength oozed out of my system. the girl stood up straight and eased into me.

"wow.." she spoke out as she patted away some of the sweat off of her forehead. straightening her outfit and making it seem less slutty than before was quite the task but she looked less scruffy than before, i guess? despite still being alone and 'somewhat' secured. the post-nut clarity of the two of us fucking in public hit me like a wrecking ball.

grimacing my teeth and tilting my head, making do of my pants and stuffing my cock back into them and covering myself up despite everything being so sticky and wet.

the girl said nothing, but all i saw was a girl. one that was satisfied and showcasing a toothy grin to show to me.

#idol x male reader #fanatics smut #doi smut

[ithisatanytime]

TH Express - I'm On Your Side (Factory Team Remix)

 i was in a fourchan thread that was like “is belly eilllish an industry plant?” and i was interested because since her debut i always took it completely for granted that she was, one of the most obvious industry plants if not the most obvious in my opinion and surprise surprise she is, shes a jew with jew show biz parents and a grandfather or something who worked in the government and more! but in that thread an anon said he knew billie was being fucked by some black dude when she was 16 and presented a picture of a black guy sucking a white girls toe and said he knew it was her room because he had to do a 3d model of her bedroom because she has anxiety issues and wanted to have a VR version of her bedroom while she was on the road, he then produced the entire model of her bedroom lmao. heres the point of this post, should i be using this picture to try to track down and extract vengeance from this black child molester who molested billie eillish as a child? women absolutely will not understand even an iota of where im coming from here, this will seem like a thought game or some shit, i really mine it, if hes a child molester i ought to be filled with righteous indignation and should be tracking him down, yet i dont give a fuck about it at all and neither do you lying ass hos. im so done listening to women talk about the sexual mistakes of men, i just dont care. cant you see how this gives actual child molesters cover? killing child molesters used to be TOLERATED, you might not get away with it one hundred percent but you would get a slap on the wrist and be celebrated subtextually in the media for it in fact, but now child molester can mean anything from the most unimaginable kind of monster to literal just healthy normal man. it used to be that a much older man sleeping with a much younger woman was socially frowned upon and its consequences handled socially on a case by case bases, if you were dating with plans of marriage in a rural area? no one cares its cause for celebration, but if i as a 33 year old picked up someones 14 year old daughter from the mall and banged her id have been liable to get my ass beat by her dad or any male relative. statutory laws are ONLY for whte men as well, so your young highschool daughter that you cant protect yourself (because her whore mother wont let you see here anymore lol) who now is protected by the state and like all young women is enamoured by older men, shell get that older man too you cuck its just gonna be jamal instead of brad and hes a drug dealer whos gonna get her addicted to xans, shell be sucking black did for half an ounce of weed based on these cuckolded fucking sex laws. im just tired of women, im tired of being tangled in their mundane gossip im going to mars.

#youtube

[ddonovanrp]

Once again, it was nearing midnight and I wasn't home yet. Man, I could almost see the look of disappointment on my girls face in my head; I was supposed to be home an hour ago. One last stop at the gas station and I was 10 minutes from the clubhouse. The plan was the give Styx the run down on what happened on the drop and get home a.s.a.p.

I didn't like using my card unless I had to. There was nothing worse than getting busted because of your own paper trail stupidity. So this was me, walking out of the gas station from pre-paying $10 for premium unleaded, nothing but the best for my bike.

There were 4 of us all together and we took up both sides of same 2 pumps by the storefront. The other 3 guys (Rhys, Kidd and Tanner) were all standing in a circle, their voices growing louder as the "ooohhh!" "damn gurll!" "Rip her shirt off!" Left me casting them a confused glance as I headed to my bike for gas. "D. OhMyGawd D...you're going to flip shit." Rhys said to me as they all kept looking at his phone. He had his hand over his mouth that was currently gaped open as he glanced quickly from his phone to me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked as I finished setting the pump back onto its lever and screwing the gas cap back on. My best friend, and most cases Partner, came to me with his phone held out to me. The other two lowered their heads and dipped to the other side of the pumps, aside their bikes. "Check this. That hot blonde I've been banging sent me this." "Hot blonde. Classy name." I rolled my eyes at him as I took his phone and watched the screen. What I saw in a looped video caused my heart to drop to my stomach. Rian--no..

Rian had wrapped her hand around that girl's ponytail and bashed her face into the rocks before you could see the camera start to shake and you could hear Styx' voice boom her name right before the video cut off. "You're kidding me." I said bringing my hand to my forehead. "She beat that bitches ass!" Rhys yelled at me, nearly bouncing with excitement. "Oh, I seen.." I pushed delete on the video and tossed my club-brother his phone back. "Oh this just got good." Rhys said and I got on my bike before casting him a glare.

Fighting among the club was strictly prohibited. Your ol' lady represented her man in the club and was to act accordingly. No disrespect was tolerated by outsiders though and as far as I was aware the girl that mine had whooped up on wasn't claimed by anyone. But then again I hadn't exactly made a big deal of claiming Rian. Would she have been considered an outsider too? She wasn't exactly the "property of"-"do what I say" type but did the ones who mattered see us as a permanent fixture?

Though I was now dreading the 10 minute ride to the clubhouse and the ass chewing I knew would follow, I couldn't help the streak of pride I felt swelling my chest. My girl did that. Mine. What for I had no idea but she didn't take no shit and that made me happy. She had picked her place within his club and wasn't going to let anyone bully her. Oof. My dick was getting hard just thinking about her on top of the other girl, shorts and a cut off tank, looking hot as fuck.

It's going to be hard to get my ass chewed for her getting into a fight when it was so fuuckin hot. ________________________________________________ -> 5.21.2021

[slothgiirl]

the medic (keith x reader)

17k. something weird’s going on with keith, like alien weird. as the team medic, you’re concerned.

“So he is avoiding me,” you muse aloud, grabbing one of the pink alien food biscuits that were Hank’s latest experiment. Though it had been hours since Voltron had taken out the Galra Empire’s presence on this Balmera, you’d only just seen the last of your patients. Altean medical equipment did wonders.

After a battle, you were hardly surprised to find Hank in the kitchen, grounding himself as he cooked. You were surprised to run into Keith.

“Yeah,” Hank nods, “Probably trying to avoid another dental exam.”

You flush bright red, “His teeth fell out! Sorry for being concerned.” Between you and Lance, you’d managed to get a look at Keith. A fist fight with some alien species that was cooperating with the Galra had not gone Keith’s way, knocking out two of his teeth.

Shiro, predictably, had waved it off and accepted Keith’s insane explanation that his teeth would grow back on their own without question: given his hand waving of the red paladin’s eyes glowing slightly in the dark, more than any human’s should (human eyes didn’t glow at all!). Hindsight was twenty twenty.

The yellow paladin shrugs as he mixes orange noodle-esque things in a bowl.

Team Voltron was full of strong personalities. Add in Lotor and his friends dropping in, there was always something going on.

Hank just wanted to unwind from spending the past few hours destroying heavy duty mining equipment without hurting the planet. “So how are the biscuits?”

You chew on one, still bothered by Keith. Maybe Hank was right and he was trying to hide something from your keen gaze. You hoped not. Knowing the red paladin, and after two years in space, you certainly did, he’d rather suffer in silence until there was no other option than get medical attention. Back on earth with needles and scalpels, you understood, but in the Castle of Lions…

“Kind of like a rice cracker,” you tell Hank helpfully. “In a good got snacks at H-Mart way, not the sad quaker oats rice snacks.”

“Oh H-Mart,” Hunk smiles, “they don’t have those in space. They do have salt though. Found that at the last market we went to.”

“As long as alien food doesn’t poison us,” you comment. It was lucky that hadn’t happened. It was alien food. But not one negative reaction which either made humans some of the most hardy species or you were just lucky.

“Yeah,” Hunk chuckles, “I’ve gotten pretty good at recognizing what’s edible and not. I know Pidge said there’s some books, but my Altean is pretty bad.”

“Languages are hard.”

“Wish there was a space version of google translate.”

“Hunk-”

“Yeah.”

“That’s genius!” You look at the yellow paladin, wondering how a universe with speech translators never thought to do the same for written language.

“I know,” Hunk smiles while popping another tray into the oven.

—————

Lance finishes painting your toenails. It was a rare day when there were no space battles or rebel meetings. “Pidge,” the blue paladin whines, “let me paint your-”

“Don’t even think about it!”

“It’s supposed to be team bonding night,” Lance counters.

“Lance,” Allaura frowns from where she’s sitting with Shiro, “the castle’s night cycle has not started.”

“Well we can change it,” he counters, “there’s no up or down in space. OR day or night.”

“You can paint my nails,” Hunk offers. “Won’t last long though between the cooking and the vents I’ve been cleaning. This is a 10,000 year old castle. No offence,” he glances at Allura.

“No offence at all. The battles have taken their toll and I’m sure Coran appreciates the help. He is only one man.” She lets out a sigh. The only other remaining Altean was a bittersweet subject for her.

Hunk kicks off his shoes. “My pleasure. Literally. This Castle is so cool. The artificial gravity alone!”

You watch the paint dry on your toes. Only your big toes had actual drawings on them, strange alien creatures you’d all encountered over your time in space. The others were clear with green and blue swirls. “You’re a good artist Lance.”

The blue paladin winks, “I’m a regular old Michaelangelo.”

You laugh, “of course you are.”

“And I’m not just good with a brush,” he wiggles his eyebrows, more boyish flirting than anything serious.

You roll your eyes.

Pidge throws a cushion at Lance. “Oh please like you’ve got past the first date!”

“I have! Vivian Tran from Calculus.”

“Can you focus on my nails,” Hunk asks, but Lance is busy waving the thin brush in hand as he argues with Pidge.

“And Atticus from Cantonese.”

“Didn’t you drop that class,” Hank asks.

“Well, the hindi teacher was way nicer and didn’t hate me. I was good at drawing the characters though.”

“Can you speak hindi,” you ask, having taken French for your language fulfillment.

“Eh-” Lance shrugs.

“Can you flirt in Hindi is the real question,” you ask with a grin.

“He can’t even flirt in English,” Pidge points out scathingly.

“Hey!”

“My nails Lance,” Hunk grumbles.

“Right. Right,” Lance focuses back on his task, going with a yellow that matches Shay. “What language did you take Shiro?”

“English.”

“How many dialects does Earth have,” Allura asks.

“A lot,” Shiro tells the alien princess. “The Garrison pushes being multilingual in its program. Most cadets were already bilingual to start with, generally covering major languages.”

“Ah.”

“Got bored of the training room,” Pidge asks Keith as he walks in, flopping down on an empty sofa.

“It timed out.”

“Sure,” Lance immediately starts, a dog with a bone, “not like you couldn’t beat it or anything.”  

“You can’t even get past level 9!” Keith growls back, sitting up with a jolt, skin still slick from sweat and his cheeks were flushed with exertion.

Lance gets up, puffing out his chest. Oh boy, here they go again. The rivalry thing they had going on got old fast to everyone around them. While it did push them to be better paladins, it was annoying to hear. “Oh like you’re any better.”

Hunk takes the brush from Lance, finishing off his last toe on his own.

“I am,” Keith bites back, a growl still audible from his chest.

“Only because you cheat!”

“It’s not cheating!”

“How is it not-” Lance stops, furrows his brow, then grins. “You got a little something there.” And like a thirteen year old, Lance points and laughs.

Keith frowns, his hand coming up to his cheek.

Sure enough, Lance was right. Keith had a couple of angry red blemishes on his cheek.

“You have adult acne,” Lance giggles, immature as ever. He was always able to find an angle to everything. It was what made him such an excellent strategist.

“It’s not adult acne!” Keith scowls, scratching at the blemishes.

“Its been three years,” Lance retorts smugly.

You frown. “No. It’s been like two.” You look over at Pidge to confirm, “Right?” You were like ninety percent sure you were twenty.

“Two and a half,” Pidge answers.

“Ha! You’re twenty! Adult-”

“I don’t have adult acne!”

They’d fought over more meaningless things before.

If it was two and a half years, maybe you were twenty one? You frown. How old would you be before you ever saw your family again?

Stashing that depressing thought away, you focus on Keith and the red marks on his cheek like a line coming down to his jaw. “It could be a rash,” you utter thoughtfully. Pidge and you had already encountered a very itchy plant before. “Or space ringworm-ring line?”

For the first time in days, Keith looks at you, meeting your gaze. “It’s not a rash!”

You lift your hands up, “okay. Okay. Geez.” When it came to Keith, you didn’t push too hard. He was too stubborn for it to work.

Lance, however, “hey, it’s okay Keith-buddy, just use toothpaste.”

“Toothpaste makes it worse,” Hunk counters. “Not great for your skin either.”

“It always worked for me,” Lance counters. “Or a clay skin mask.”

“Clay? You mean that green mud,” Keith clarifies.

“It’s clay!”

“Clay would work,” you agree with Lance. “Hey it could be like a spa day!”

“I could go for a spa,” Hunk nods.

Pidge shakes her head, “right. I’m going to try and see if I can get a signal back home.”

Shiro looks over at you, “do you really think it could be something serious?”

You shrug. “No clue.”

Keith huffs, “Just drop it,” he states dramatically, headed for the door. He was over being the center of attention.

“So face masks?”

You nod, “want to try it Allura?”

“I would love to try the clay mask,” she smiles brightly.

——————

Te-Osh’s rebels had sent for Voltron, less fighting than rebuilding.

While you were no paladin, you had spent the majority of the day helping Allura take stock and synthesizing medicine, everything from serums to numbing gels. Just your luck the machine had overheated and given out on the last batch. It was a pretty large machine.

You stick your head inside, waving off the smoke. With your nails, you pry open the hutch and take stock. You were no Pidge or Hunk, still unsure how the thing even worked, but it was clear it needed a new regulator and starter. “Plenty of those lying around,” you utter, scrunching your face at the awful burnt hair smell. Your finger finds the ventilator button on your wrist controls, and there-the smell gets sucked out of the room.

“Is this a bad time,” Keith asks behind you.

Startled, you bang your head on the mental. “Keith,” flushing hotly when you look back and realize you were ass up in front of him.

He doesn’t even notice, grimacing, hand rubbing his nose bridge.

“What’s wrong?” You hurry to wash your hands.

Keith sits down at one of the medbay tables. “My skull feels like it’s being cracked open,” he explains flatly.

You look him over closely, standing right in front of him. “Where exactly,” you ask, frowning when you notice the blemishes had grown to a full blown rash, hot angry skin peeling and cracking like twin marks down his cheeks. You should have pressed. What if it was a parasite? Keith was half galra.

It was easily forgotten given how human he looked. Sure, the signs were there: his unhuman night vision, more strength than he should have, good ears and nose, nails that had torn through metal, but it all faded into the background.

“Does it itch,” you ask, raising your hand, fingertips hovering over the marks on his cheeks.

“Yes,” Keith nods, averting his eyes from your gaze, “mostly it’s hot. And my sinuses…all the way down to my neck. Hurt.”

“Hm,” you turn, reaching for the medical scanner. There was no way you could ever go back to being a medical officer at the galaxy garrison. Earth’s technology was ancient in comparison. “Hold still.”

“Alright,” he says seriously. Keith holds his breath.

You look up at him, in his violet eyes, and smile before laughing. “Keith!”

“You said to hold still,” he points out sincerely, before the corners of his lips turn up. Keith was an expressive guy, his smile lit up his entire being, a lightness in his eyes that made you smile wider.

“Let’s try this again,” you giggle, clicking the scanner and aiming right at his rash first. “Pew.”

He rolls his eyes, snorting. “You too?”

“Mine’s the only right one,” you wink, then look over the reading.

“Not even close.” He scratches at his cheek listlessly.

Whatever reason he had for avoiding you had worked itself out. You’d missed his company.

“Oh yeah,” you challenge, “then what’s the sound?” The readings came up clear. Keith was in perfect health. So not a parasite…space allergies? Those wouldn’t come up on the scanner.

“What is it,” Keith asks, noticing your pensive expression.

“How’s your sense of smell? Stuffy nose?”

He looks up, then takes a deep breath, “now that you mention it…I can’t smell your soap anymore.”

“What?” This was news to you. “You can smell my soap?”

“And whatever planet we’ve been on,” Keith fidgets, blushing as he ducks his head, bangs falling over his eyes, “the soil. It’s all different. But I can’t right now.”

That was worrying. But if the scanner said nothing was wrong…you had to wait and see. It might clear up on its own. You’d give it a day or two.

“Nothing came up on the scanner,” you tell him, “so it should go away on its own. It might just be allergic to something out here.”  

He nods, accepting your diagnosis.

“Let me get the medicine.”

“Mhm.”

You pass him a tube of gel and add that to the list of medication you need to synthesize once you fix the machine. Then grab a weekly supply of pain tabs. “Here.”

Keith pops one in immediately.

“Let me know if it doesn’t clear up in two days,” you tell him.

“Worried?”

“Eh, I can always set Lance on you again,” you snort. Shiro was a pushover when it came to Keith. He was no help.

Keith laughs, looking a little more himself. “I could take him.”

“You could,” you agree, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

He tilts his head, smiling. “Coming? Shay got food for us.”

“I’ve got to fix this machine first.”

“Need help?”

“Might ask Hunk or Coran,” you admit.

“I could-”

“No,” you cut him off, placing your hand on his shoulder, “go eat and rest. That’s an order.”

Keith leans into you. “Are you going to write me a doctor’s note too,” he asks, his delivery always so earnest you had to do a double take to figure out if he was joking or not.

“If I have too,” you stick your nose in the air. “I’ll even send one to Zarkon.”

Keith laughs easily. “Why didn’t Lotor think of that.”

You snort. “I’m going to check your lymph nodes,” you tell him, taking a step towards him again. “That okay?”

Keith tilts his head back, “Go for it.”

“Wow,” you chuckle, “who are you and what did you do with Keith Kogane.” You brush his hair out of his face.

“What?”

“Remember when you broke your arm,” you point out, gently pressing your fingers over the side of his throat, feeling the swelled bean shaped lymph nodes under his ears, behind his jaw. “And said nothing for like a week?” It had been your first year at the Galaxy Garrison.

“It was only a sprain,” Keith grumbles.

“Still!” You laugh, “I’m glad you asked for help.” Because this was still Keith and you didn’t want him to think you were laughing at him.

“Mm,” he closes his eyes as you trail your fingers lower, making sure it wasn’t too bad.

The fact they were inflamed at all worried you. You had no clue what was the space equivalent of antihistamines.

Keith’s breath tickles your shoulder, deepening and evening out like he’d finally relaxed. That was most of your patients once you gave them answers and they knew they’d be getting care and treatment. You liked helping people.

You pull your fingers back, ever the consummate professional. It was like the ghost of your garrison advisor was hovering over your shoulder. “They’re not too swollen if you can still eat. Can you still chew?”

“Hm?”

Keith opens his eyes. His expression is glazed and feverish.

“Keith,” you utter, worried.

“Yeah?” His gaze is heavy as it meets yours.

Your skin warms up because he wouldn’t stop looking at you like that.

“Any jaw pain,” you ask, focusing on the task at hand. You bring your hand up to his forehead. He was warm.

Keith leans into your touch, “no.”

“Good.” You bite your lip. Could it be some weird galra thing? Wouldn’t it have come up? You feel your own forehead. He was for sure warmer.

You were going to have to corner Coran about it.

Keith lets his eyes fall shut again and honest to god purrs, leaning into you.

Add cornering Lotor to your list.

You don’t pull away, figuring it was harmless. Lance, Hunk, and Allura were more prone to random hugs. You were more than happy to indulge Keith as well. He already wasn’t feeling well.

You wrap your arms around the red paladin’s shoulders, hugging him, “I’m looking forward to a break from Coran’s post mission food goo once I get done with the machine.”

“Mm.”

He was completely out of it.

His breath tickles your cheek.

“Though I’m not sure there’ll be any left if I don’t go there? Maybe I should grab a plate and then come back here,” you ramble. Keith had never sought you out for comfort. It was touching that he trusted you now. You’d been friends with the others before, with Keith and Shiro and the Alteans, you had skipped right over friendship and gone right to family.

“Oh.”

You look behind you.

Te-Osh takes a step back, “forgive my intrusion. I was unaware-”

Keith snaps out of whatever was going on with him. Bolting off the exam table. “It’s fine. We’re done here.” He hunches his shoulders and beelines for the door.

You frown, still processing.

“I can come back,” Te-Osh tells you, glancing between you and the door Keith had just escaped through.

You shrug. “No. I’ve got time. What do you need?”

“If you’re sure?”

Nodding, you smile, “yeah, what can I help you with?”

———————

“Here is where we will focus the blunt of the attack on. Keith, Lance, engage the fighters. Hunk,” Shiro explains, “you’ll be with me taking out the communications towers. We want to keep the damage to the minimum. The resistance leaders want the factory intact. Pidge-”

Pidge waves the Black Paladin off, “I’ve got the code written.”

“It really does come in handy,” Lance observes, “all those vents are Pidge size.”

The green paladin grumbles, “easy for you to say when you’re not the one crawling around in there. It’s not your knees getting banging up.”

“Well the galra are all like nine feet tall,” Hunk points out, “the vents probably aren’t that small from their perspective.”

Lance unsubtly glances over at Keith.

His rash had cleared up, but not before spreading. In its place were two purple slash marks running from his cheek to jaw, galra markings. No one had pressed…yet.

You were just glad it wasn’t some weird space parasite.

Her brother ruffles her hair, “Pidge sized! A micro pidge,” Matt jokes to himself.

She smacks his hand away, “five feet is a perfectly reasonable size.’

“She could still have a growth spurt,” you add, though it was highly unlikely.

“No,” Matt’s eyes go comically wide as he hugs his sister, “not my hobbit,” relishing in her embarrassment.

“Matt!”

“In summation,” Allura calls you all back to attention, “the paladins will take out Galra forces and Pidge will open the weapons factory up to Vexuin rebels to take over. I will be manning the Castle to ensure no fighters target the work camps and coordinating communications with the rebels.” She turns to look at you, “Matt and you will take down the sentries, freeing the people from the work camps.”

“No!”

Everyone looks over at Keith. The horror on his face is easy to read.

What had brought this on?

Shiro clears his throat.

Keith ducks his head, letting his bangs obscure his features.

“Why not,” Pidge asks grumpily, time was running out. You were all just ironing out the details, “your plans suck.”

“Pidge,” Shiro chastises.

The green paladin was right.

Keith fought the same way you played video games, caring about nothing but reducing the enemies stats to zero. He’d gotten great at teamwork, but he was hardly a strategist.

“Keith,” Allura asks, “do you have any legitimate reasons why Matt should go on his own?” And when she phrased it like that…

The red paladin crosses his arms over his shoulders.

Pidge taps her foot on the floor.

“Okay then,” Shiro takes over, “let’s get to our lions.”

“Coms. Come in earthlings!,” Coran chimes in over the system, “remember this planet’s atmosphere is toxic to breath, too much sulfur in the air, not to mention the heat will give you all a taste of the slipperies. And worse! So keep those space suits on Vol-”

“-Tron,” Lance grins back, having taken a liking to having a kooky space alien uncle.

You lock your helmet in place as Matt pilots the pod towards the work camps. They were just as grim as the first time you’d seen them. It was the same all over in many of the Empire’s work planets. They were at the bottom of the totem pole. There were some planets where the native species and Galra coexisted more or less peacefully, this was not one of them.

“So what’s up with Keith,” Matt asks you.

You shrug. “No clue. I keep waiting for Lotor or one of the Blades to drop in so I can corner them but he’s a picture of perfect health so I’m not worried.”

“But the,” he takes a hand off the wheel, motioning to his face.

You frown, arching a brow. You’d never looked at Allura quite the same after the way she had treated Keith upon learning about his heritage. It’s not like he’d been a completely different person, she’d known him for over a year.

Matt might be Pidge’s brother, but you weren’t about to let anyone get away with giving someone you loved shit. Especially not Keith who would just silently take it.

It made your chest ache, thinking about how sweet he looked when he smiled. He didn’t deserve any of it.

“What about it?” You stare back at him cooly.

Matt focuses back on landing the pod just beyond the sentires line of sight. “Nothing. Pidge figured it was nothing, didn’t even seem curious. I figured you might know, you two are pretty close.” He glances over at you meaningfully.

“We’ve known eachother since the garrison,” though you hadn’t really been friends. Keith had been kind of a loner. You’d tried to include him, having shared a couple classes with him here and there, but he’d never taken you up on any offer.

“Right.” He doesn’t sound all that convinced. “Glad to hear it’s all good. I caught the sneazles while in the work camp,” Matt makes a face.

You laugh.

“It was horrible! But also like an episode of spongebob somehow?”

“Space is weird.” You had way bigger problems and had seen stranger things by now. For fucks sake, you were saving dragon looking aliens from the Galra right now. This planet was like a silent hill game!

Thick fog obscured the rocky landscape. Even from within your suit you could smell the stench of rotten eggs. Yet this was home to the Vexuin.

Shiro gives the signal.

You take the safety off the taser gun Pidge had built for you. Anything pilfered off the Galra was too large for your small stature, just a hair shorter than Keith. The gun packed a punch, with enough voltage to take out the robots.

Matt and you get to work.

“Almost got it,” Matt mutters as you take aim and shoot.

Stupid damn biolocks.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you tell him, dodging a shot from another sentry before frying it with your own weapon. One shot, one sentry. You needed to take them down before they got close. The robots were durable and strong. You knew better than to think you could go hand to hand with one, you were a medic not a fighter.

“I am, I am,” Matt insists. “Ah there,” he grabs a taser flash bomb out of his pocket and tosses inside the sentry outpost.

You shoot again, trying to keep your hands steady. It was easy when it was just programmed machines. Nothing to feel bad about.

Matt and you rush inside, stepping over more fried sentries. You take position at the entrance, gunning down anything that makes its way towards the two of you.

“You in,” you ask him.

“Patience my young apprentice,” Matt says, laughing at his own joke, “it’ll take a moment for my worm to work its way through the software and give me complete control.”

The ground shakes as the main part of the battle takes place outside, at a monsterous factory that’s gray, chimney shooting out smoke. You can only see hints of lions shooting and Galra fighter ships lighting up the sky.

The sulfuric fog coats everything.

You taste rotten eggs on your breath.

Inside your suit, sweat runs down your back.

“Okay,” Matt chimes into the coms, “I’ve hacked the camps. Ready to open the gates.”

The rolling low grutal voices of the Vexuin rebel leaders fill your coms, “Good.”

“Go ahead Matt,” Allura gives the order, “Voltron?”

Pidge answers, “dropping in, should override their” static, “ticks.” Then an explosion reverberates in your ear where the communications device is.

“Pidge,” Keith yells out.

“Keith cover Lance,” Shiro grunts out, blasts audible from here. “Pidge?”

Nothing.

Matt’s face goes ghostly white.

“Pidge, come in Pidge?” Allura asks. “Paladins? Are you able to reach Pidge?”

“Negative,” Shiro replies, “Hunk, take the main gate! Time to land.”

“On it.”

“Guys,” Lance yells, “the shield’s down. Pidge hacked them.”

“Keith,” Shiro yells, “wait!”

“Fine.”

You decide to hope for the best. There was nothing you could do for any of the paladins all the way from here. “Turn it off,” you tell Matt.

He steals himself. “Right.”

The lights of the compound go out. Sentries power down where they stand, puppets with their strings cut. Locks disengage, and for the first time in decades, the Vexuin are free to leave the barracks free from Galra supervision.

You and Matt go out to meet them.

“I could get used to this,”  Pidge calls out as everyone meets on the planet’s surface. Rebels come in from the forest slowly, making sure this is for real, before sniffing the air and calling out to their loved ones lingering around the liberated camp complex.  Their vision worked in the infrared, all the better to see on this planet. You’d need at least three showers to get the smell out of your hair.

Keith carries Pidge, careful not to jolt the youngest member of Voltron. She holds a leg stiffly, a sprain or fracture.

Matt rushes to his sister, “Katie!”

She waves him off, “I’m fine.” Then snaps her fingers, “Down.”

There’s a small smile on Keith’s mouth as he places her down on the ground gently.

Lance comes up behind Keith, ruffling his hair, and being every bit himself as he comments with a smirk, “good boy.”

The shorter paladin smacks Lance’s hand away, but it’s too late, Lance is already smothering Keith in a hug that turns into a competition, like always with those two. Keith shoves at Lance’s face while Lance tightens his grip on Keith.

Shiro clears his throat, “paladins.”

“A dobesh in the pod,” you ask Pidge as Matt gets his turn to fuss over her.

“Yeah. Landed right as an explosion went off,” Pidge frowns. “Not my best moment, but my program still did it’s job and,” she pats her bayard, “I took them out.”

“Can’t be that bad if you can stand,” you agree. Nothing serious but you’d be keeping an eye on her all the same. The faster she got into the pod and took weight off her injury the better. You didn’t want to exacerbate the sprain.

“The jet pack helped,” Pidge points out.

“Lucky you,” you grin.

Shiro and Allura are consummate professionals as they go over the last of the logistics with the Vexuin, “It would be wise to stay until your people have situated themselves in case the Galra Empire retaliates,” Allura states, ending her sentiment in a question, “but it is ultimately up to you.”

The Vexuin chatter among themselves for a moment before one speaks up, “we would not turn down Voltron’s help. A few quintants should be enough time.”

“Then we will make ourselves of service to you,” Shiro nods. “Please, let us know anything we can help with.”

A red scaled one smiles, showing off her many sharp and jagged teeth, “our people long to see the camp destroyed.”

Hunk offers, “I could help rig a controlled explosion.”

“Very good.”

“The system inside the weapons factory is down,” Pidge tells them, “but I can reprogram it to keep the Galra out so that you can decide what to do with the place.”

“Oh no you don’t,” you cut in, “Matt can take care of that. You’re going in a pod first.”

“Pod person,” Matt mutters under his breath with a snort.

“Then let us get to work,” Allura dismisses everyone.

Pidge tries to take a step, and almost falls over.

You grab her.

Her face goes crimson from the pain.

The adrenalin must have been keeping the bulk of the pain away.

Keith picks her up.

It’s not until you’ve loaded Pidge in for three vargas that you pull off your helmet, savoring the crisp clean air of the Castleship.

“I can still smell the sulfur,” you comment, wrinkling your nose.

Keith shakes his hair out.

You look at him thoughtfully, “must be worse for you though.”

“Why,” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

“Because your nose,” you point out, then frown, “your sinuses did clear up yeah?” He never said anything about it so you figured they had and he could smell fine again, but you weren’t sure.

“Oh. Yeah. They did.”

You smile fondly, “very convincing Keith,” you tell him, reaching out to him. He lets you run your fingers right under his ears, behind his jaw. Everything was in order.

A knot of anxiety dissolves in your chest.

“Well,” he asks, “satisfied?”

“Mhm.” You look at the purple markings on his skin.

Keith’s breath hitches. His gaze is trained on you, watching carefully.

“So if not rotten eggs,” you ask, slowly bringing your fingertips over the marks on the sides of his face, giving him every opportunity to pull away, “what do you smell?” You couldn’t help it. It was that scientific curiosity. Everyone at the garrison had ended up there because they were nerdy in some way: devoting themselves to some STEM field while other kids were watching cartoons. You’d had a stutter as a kid, self conscious about it too, so instead of trying to make friends you read your textbooks under your desk, racing ahead.

Keith’s eyes meet yours. There’s a level of vulnerability in his gaze that worms its way into your chest and all of a sudden you’re incredibly aware of how close you two are, the lack of space between your bodies, your fingers caressing his skin.

You look away, focusing on the marks. They were purple, which was obvious. His skin itself had grown purple, perfectly delineated.

“Like wet soil,” Keith explains finally, “when they just added fertilizer.” You wince, remembering the smell of the horticulture center wafting through the garrison’s campus during the spring. “And garlic.”

“I like garlic. I’d kill for some,” you tell him, sounding very much like Hank. You hadn’t expected to be homesick for food. “Best food they served at the cafeteria.”

“That’s not saying much,” Keith mutters, amused.

You chuckle, pulling your hands away from his face.

He leans forward, asking for physical comfort in a very Keith way: unsubtle and wordlessly, putting the onus on you to get the hint.

Pidge must have freaked him out more than he was willing to discuss.

You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging Keith. “Pidge’ll be fine.” Sure, she was younger and short, but she was more than capable of handling herself. “I’m more concerned about how she left the other guys,” you comment lightly resting your chin on Keith’s shoulder.

His shoulders shake as he laughs easily. “They asked to surrender to her personally.”

“That’s Pidge all right.” You glance over at the pod. She’d be back on her feet in no time.

Keith’s breath against your skin feels nice. Your heart flutters in your chest and you find yourself blushing and pulling away, thoughts racing as you realize just how much you liked this boy. You pull away, unsure what to do and suddenly finding it too awkward to be around him at all.

The start of a whine escapes his throat before he smothers it, looking away, as he lets his bangs fall over his eyes, effectively hiding his easy to read features.

“Let’s go help the others,” you say, fumbling to grab a med kit and click your helmet back in place, your face too warm and it must be obvious. You didn’t want to make things weird. You didn’t. But-

“I’m going to stay here until Pidge wakes up,” Keith tells you.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod. “That’s a great idea. It’s always confusing as hell to get out of the pods.” It was akin to waking up from a midday nap: completely confused and exhausted instead of rested.

Your skills would be more useful with the Vexuim than fussing over Pidge at the moment. And having something to do would keep your mind off Keith.

—————

“You know,” Lance comments, sliding up to you as you watch Lotor strut away from you after another failed attempt to talk to him. “If we bottled up whatever galra repellant you have going on, we could defeat Zarkon with perfume.”

You look over at Lance, trying to suppress a smile. “What would you call it?”

“Starlight.”

“That’s-that’s actually pretty great,” you tell Lance.

“I know,” he grins. Then the latino boy sobers up, “trying to find out what’s going on with mullet?”

You nod. “I even tried to corner Acxa,” you admit. For an eight foot tall purple alien, boy could she make herself scarce.

Lance’s eyes widened in delight, “like could and should peg me Acxa?”

You groan. “Lance, sometimes it’s okay to keep things to yourself.”

“I’m just saying,” he laughs, “the ship’s not that big…”

“It’s designed for six thousand people.” You’d learned that fun tidbit while practicing your Altean with Pidge.

“Like for real!”

“Yeah.”

“Ay dios mio,” Lance utters, “you’re screwed.”

You finally hit the motherlode.

Lotor and his generals are in a stately room that reminds you of the socratic lecture halls at the garrison, sofa arranged in a half circle, with Shiro and Allura. The former Prince had shown up for a reason beyond making a nuisance of himself. Allura looks at her wits end with him, as he smiles like a douche, her eye twitching.

She invites you in without hesitation, “take a seat next to me,” and effectively uses you as a human shield against Lotor.

Literally since you and Shiro were the only humans here.

“Everything has been thoroughly discussed,” Lotor comments dryly, snubbing you once more. Normally, you wouldn’t have cared but you were trying to get information out of the man. “Unless either of you have further questions?”

Shiro hums, rubbing his chin, “I know saddling you with a rebel ship or two will slow you down but I don’t see another way around it. A display of size on their part will go a long way to show it is an alliance and not the Galra Empire hy another name.”

Allura nods, a small smile on her lips as she looks over at Shiro, “The black paladin is right. It will be a steep hill to climb to show that you are not the Galra Empire. Their fears would be alleviated with the presence of the rebel alliance.”

Zethrid sucks in a sharp breath, “So that’s it then. We will always be scorned and merely tolerated.”

“Time,” Shiro sighs with a look of gentle understanding at the muscular woman, “they need time. You can’t erase 10,000 years of history. It is hard to extend trust after being imprisoned and enslaved.”

“The alliance has started coordinating with you and the Blade directly have they not,” Allura asks stiltedly. It was by the necessity of time that they had stopped going through Voltron first. Lotor might be too smug for his own good, but his team was effective at sabotaging warships and infiltrating Galra ranks to liberate prisons and cities, enough to turn the tide for the rebels.

Her feelings towards Lotor and the Blade were still tinged with suspicion, her treatment of them lukewarm at best.

Still, Lotor brushed it off and continued to help. “Well then, Princess, Shiro, we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Shiro nods.

They shake hands.

You stand up, ready to corner Lotor.

“But first a word Shiro, it is a private matter.”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro leads Lotor away.

Your eye twitches.

That snake!

Zethrid and Narti walk purposefully away as Allura pushes in her chair, ignoring the last two of Lotor’s team. “Princess,” Acxa, tries. “Until next time.” She nods at you, “stay safe.”

Allura gives the woman a strained smile, hooking her arm with yours. Human shield.

“You too,” you tell her. She doesn’t wait, already halfway out the door. You sigh.

Ezor giggles, by far the friendliest and easiest to get along with of Lotor’s team. “Stashing food and water will cut down the embarrassment by half.”

“What?”

“Oh,” she shrugs, “I guess Lotor was right. Darn it! Now I owe him one hundred GAC.”

“Wait-”

But she scurries off.

“Ugh,” you kick the wall, tired of everyone being weird. The usual frustration with being caught up in a space war was just the salt on the wound.

Your toe throbs, “fuck,” you hiss.

“They are rather tiring to deal with,” Allura agrees, reading the situation wrong, “but it hardly calls for assaulting the Castle.”

“Sorry,” you flush red with embarrassment. “I just had a question for Lotor and he seems intent on never being in the same room as me.”

“Ah-,” Allura smiles easily, “Lance did mention that you were in possession of a Galra repellent.” The twinkle in her eyes lets you know she was in on the joke.

“Come, let us work our frustrations out with some introspection.” Which was just Altean for weird breathing exercises that supposedly helped you do alchemy. She had managed to rope you into practicing with her before.

“Anything to spare the wall,” you joke.

——————

You walk back from the library. It was a cozy room, especially when you dimmed the lights. The Castle was always so bright, designed with the Alteans sight needs in mind.

Sometimes you just needed some time away from everyone. You loved them, but spending years with the same people while floating through space…you had no clue how Shiro had managed it.

Getting a walk around the ship was also nice. It was easy to forget how big the Castle was when you mainly stayed on the same three floors. Just a couple months ago Coran had rediscovered the greenhouse. The plants were a little piece of Altea, and had quickly become one of Allura’s favorite spots.

The windows were wide portholes. It unnerved you still, looking out and not recognizing any star, any constellations.

A lump of homesickness lodges itself in your throat. It had been over two years, your siblings would have grown so much in that time. You certainly had. The last vestiges of childhood had gone from your face.

Acne cleared up even without Lance’s ten step routine.

You walk across the bridge, trying not to look down. The viewing platform was clear glass in space, you could lay on it. It freaked you out a little.

It was the only constantly dark place in the castle.

You still yelp when you spot Keith, his eyes luminous violet like a glow in the dark t-shirt. That should have tipped all of you off, but alien was not the first thing that came to mind when you previously believed aliens had never visited earth.

He whimpers, curling up further.

“Keith,” you gulp, focusing on him and not the glass separating you from the void of space. “What’s wrong?”

He looks up at you miserably, blinking sluggishly. “I have the worst migraine.”

“And you’re down here instead of getting painkillers?”

Keith shrugs. “It’s not as bad, quiet. Dark.”

You sit down next to him. “I can go get you something,” you offer, your cheeks warming up and it was ridiculous how you can’t even manage to act normal around him anymore.

“Coran already gave me a dose.”

“Oh.” You were hurt. You were supposed to be the medic. That was your role on Team Voltron.

You hug your knees to your chest, and look down at space. It was darker than the photographs back on earth. Not so purple and blue.

You weren’t Matt who was just as good as Pidge with technology or Allura who was the leader and a princess to boot, you’d just planned on having a late dinner with Hunk once he got over the motion sickness before Lance roped you into following Pidge. You weren’t a paladin.

Keith shuts his eyes. “You were with Allura. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother.” You swallow thickly, letting silence fall over you both.

You listen to Keith breathing, looking around the darkness of space for any familiar stars. You knew the space around Shay’s Balmerra, and Arus was at least a little familiar. But the universe was so vast and wide.

There were planets you’d only ever been to once, each with a different night sky. Some of them never even had a night, with multiple suns staving off a night cycle.

“Do you think Allura minds?”

“Mind what,” you ask.

Keith clenches his jaw, rubbing his temples. “That I look more Galra.”

Allura has always been harder on the Galra. For her, it had been such a short time since Zarkon had destroyed her world and her people. You didn’t agree, but you could understand where she was coming from, the pain still there as she continuously wore Altean mourning pink.

You look over at him, the outline of his body against the glass. “I think your marks look cool.”

“Bullshit.”

“I do,” you whisper gently, considerate of his migraine. Those were the worst. “They frame your face. You look nice,” you finish lamely, looking away. You look nice. Lance might say stupid things but at least he tried.

“What if I looked even more Galra?”

“Like completely purple and tall?” You couldn’t really wrap your head around it. It also seemed incredibly unlikely. Could his phenotype change so drastically? On earth the answer was no, but who knows how the Galra work. It was fascinating to see such a wide range of traits in one species.

He was also half human.

You worried if his body would even tolerate such a drastic change.

“Yes,” he says, not waiting for you as he rants in agitation, “the rebels hate the Blade and Allura doesn’t trust them at all and that’s not even mentioning Lotor.”

“That’s not true. Te-Osh likes Acza and Ezor. Lotor’s kind of annoying if we’re being honest, and I’m sure his being Zarkon’s son makes it a little hard to believe he’s on our side,” you try to reason. “And don’t write off the Galra who have changed sides or were in the camps right alongside other aliens.”

Keith says nothing in response, mouth a thin line as he thinks.

You wonder how long it’s been bugging him.

You want to reach out and hug him, but he isn’t Hunk. You’re not sure he’d want to if he’s not initiating the contact. So you don’t.

“Everyone knows how the last Galra paladin worked out.” A low growl in the back of his throat is enough to clue you in to how distressing this was for him.

Your heart hurts. “And everyone knows you’re not Zarkon,” you state evenly back. “We already know you’re Galra.”

Keith snorts humorlessly. You can’t see his eyes; they’re hidden by his bangs.

“The glowing eyes are not exactly subtle dude,” you point out, “not to mention your hair does the poof thing guinea pigs do when they’re eating, but not when you’re eating, more like when you get annoyed.”

“I-what!” His eyes go comically wide as he sits up. His dark hair does the thing, making him look like a character from those old Japanese kids movies.

You giggle, “you’re doing it.”

Keith tries to look at his reflection in the glass.

You blush, grateful that it’s too dark to see, and then realize that wasn’t true for him, so you look away, hoping he didn’t notice. “Yeah. I’m the medic, it’s my job to know these things. Like how Pidge has two webbed digits on her foot and Lance is allergic to flax seeds and bees.”

“That…makes sense.” Then he smiles, “still didn’t put two and two together.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Reason number three thousand Iverson had it out for him back at the harrison. “And if anyone has a problem with you I’ll kick their ass.”

“You?” Keith snorts. “You wouldn’t even flip me during self defense.”

“You remember that?” You run a hand over your face, “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” you always took forever to practice on your partner. And your weak arms didn’t help.

“That’s what the mats were for.”

“Still!”

Keith laughs at your expense.

You smile, taking delight in watching him smile and laugh and you wish it could always be like this and the war would just end.

Then you sober up. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

He doesn’t answer you right away.

“Keith-” you reach out, voice cracking. “You’re going to be okay, giant purple space cat or not, right?”

He takes your hand, squeezing it firmly. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good,” you utter, but tears bead up in your eyes anyway. It was terrifying watching someone go through something unknown that you couldn’t help them through for all your medical training. You knew how to set bones and run a pod…not whatever this was.

You trusted Keith.

He knew himself better than anyone. After all, he’d been right about his teeth growing back.

“You really are worried,” he whispers in disbelief.

“Duh.”

“I can smell it on you,” then he seems to realize what he said, and pulls away, ducking his head. Like he hadn’t meant to say so much.

“Really?” Learning about anything alien biology was pretty cool, you had to admit. Allura had once described colours that you couldn’t perceive. It was a fun talk. And then she’d made you meditate for alchemy stuff or so she claimed. It might have just been payback. “Is that new?”

“Yeah,” Keith admits, still drawn into himself. “Can we not-I already feel like enough of a freak already without,” he waves aggressively at himself.

You bite your lip, nodding. You wanted to say something, to get it through his head how you saw him, incredibly kind and fiercely loyal (to the point of taking on Zarkon by himself) and an endearing smile you never got tired of seeing.

You liked him.

The universe was lucky to have him as a paladin.

But you don’t know how to say it in a way he’d accept. And he asked you to drop it, so you do. “Right, I’ll just go then.” He’d been here first, and the glass made you nervous.

Could it withstand a hit from a galra battleship?

Keith opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but he just nods, then winces, “Argh,” he groans as he curls up on his side, covering his ears with his hands.

You rush to his side, kneeling next to him, “Keith,” you utter softly, not wanting to make it worse.

His eyes are pressed close and for all your medical know-how, you’re at a loss.

So you running your fingers through his hair soothingly and wait for the pain to pass.

He shifts, laying his head in your lap as he whimpers.

You can’t stand to watch him and do nothing. You press your com, pinging Shiro and Coran. This was beyond you. He’d trust Shiro with whatever was going on and he’d gone to Coran. You respected that even if it did sting.

Your pride meant little so long as Keith felt comfortable and sought help.

“Shh, shh,” you whisper gently.

Sweat beads on his brow.

Whines escape his throat.

“Fuck,” he grunts, clenching his teeth.

He’s warm to your touch and that rouses another bout of worries. At this temperature it’s a fever, but he didn’t have the symptoms, the flushed cheeks and chills.

Keith curls up further, muscles stiff.

You’re helpless.

After what feels like ages, Shiro and Coran finally appear.

“Number four, Number five,” Coran claps his hands.

You hold out your hand, motioning them to shut the fuck up as Keith winces at the sound.

His hair is damp near his ears.

“Keith,” Shiro utters much more gently, kneeling down on his other side, “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

He raises his head, blinking groggily at Shiro, trying to concentrate through the pain, “Shiro,” he reaches for his brother who easily pulls him against his chest. Keith buries his head in the crook of Shiro’s neck.

You sit back, trying to get out of the way. Your hands are wet.

You look down and realize it’s blood. His ears-

Oh god.

“Number five,” Coran says gently, helping you up, “I’ll take great care of our Paladin. Why don’t you go get cleaned up.”

You don’t get any sleep that night.

——————

You were always struck with cognitive dissonance walking around colonized planets like Rahiri where the natives and Galra lived side by side. This was not a planet ravaged by the empire. The flora-like aliens in all shades of green with rootish limbs and leaves and petals for hair had assimilated into the Empire, achieving citizenship over generations. 10,000 years deca-phoebs was a long time. That was a huge source of tension in the Alliance, what to do with the world who neither wanted or wished to leave the Empire.

It was also a source of dark humor that no one spared the four of you a second glance despite two paladins of Voltron walking around.

Hunk holds Shay’s hand in front of you as they point and awe and drag their feet on the way to the space port.

“You could always stay with,” Hunk says hopefully, “we could just drop you off. Personal taxi service.”

Shay smiles back kindly, “that would be wonderful but I have been away from home for too long. I am, as you say, a homebody.”

“Aw, yeah,” Hunk chuckles, “I feel that. I like the ground. And dirt. Piloting is overrated.”

“Don’t let yellow here you say that,” Keith comments so dry, you think he’s serious for a second. Allura and Pidge had gone shopping for supplies. That was an advantage of a planet that had not seen war.

Hunk glances back, clearly having forgotten we had tagged along in case anything went down. “Yeah well, she’d like a small moon. Or an asteroid. There’s colonies on those.”

“Very true,” Shay laughs. “I think my balmerra is also like a moon. A beautiful creature. We have learned how to ask for crystals so we do not need to cut them.”

“That’s impressive. Did the books from Allura help,” Hunk asks.

As much as you liked getting to stretch your legs, seeing a different planet where the threat was not imminent, you didn’t like being a third wheel, or fourth wheel if you went according to Coran’s favorite numbering pattern. That inch difference between you and Keith mocked you.

You glance over at the red paladin.

His gaze kept flickering back and forth, around the street. The occasional loud noise of crates being unloaded made him jump.

“You good,” you ask Keith, cracking a joke so he’d know you weren’t judging him. “You see la llorona or Davy Jones?”

“Hm?”

“You know…a famous ghost? Do they have ghosts in space?”

Keith snorts, cottoning on. “They don’t even have ghosts on earth.”

You pull a face, “well that’s no fun. Seriously, you okay? Or have we been made?”

He shakes his head, glancing around again just to be sure. “So much for Zarkon’s finest.”

You laugh, following Hank and Shay into the space port. Shuttles were departing pretty consistently. Everything was in orderly fashion. You especially liked how no one was shooting at you.

“It takes some getting used to.”

“What does?” You watch as Keith shakes his head, making his hair fall back from his face.

Shay and Hunk go to the ticket counter, but you decide to find somewhere off to the side, wanting to give them privacy.

“Stuff.”

You roll your eyes at Keith, “you suck.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall, looking anywhere but at you. “Lotor explained it to me and Shiro…what’s happening.”

“Oh.” You swallow, looking at Hunk and Shay hugging and saying their goodbyes yet again. They’d said them last night at dinner, this morning in the pod, and again when you’d split from Allura and Pidge. It was cute. They were adorable.

“Sorry.”

“Hm,” you glance over at Keith, not sure why he would be sorry about anything. He was the one getting screwed over by half of his heritage.

“You’re hurt.”

“You can smell that too,” you ask him, holding his deep gaze. There was an intense commitment to everything Keith did; it was reflected in the depth of his violet gaze. He didn’t do things in halves.

“Now I can.” He looks at his shoes, red dusting his cheeks. The red didn’t tinge the purple marks on his skin.

“So this is all,” you’re not sure how to put it, “nothing to worry about?”

“He said it was normal. But because I’m half there’s no way to know what to expect.” He looks away as he says it, stiff as he glances around.

The anxiety that had settled into your jaw since you’d had to wash his blood off your hands eases up. “Giant purple space cat,” you joke, nudging his side.

“Oh fuck no,” Keith grumbles. Even that furrowed expression that crossed his chiselled features made you feel all giddy inside.

Bad timing.

“I’m not hurt I-I just wish you trusted me,” you finally admit. It was silly. You felt selfish, so you tack on, “You know I’m here for you if you need me. We all are. I know Shiro’s your brother, but we’re your friends.”

“I know,” he sighs wistfully, “I do trust you…it’s just-it’s been hard. I don’t know how to feel about any of it and I’m not used to it either.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, “I’m being silly, making this about me. As long as you know I’m here for you…I’m not trying to force you to tell me anything…” you cringe internally at yourself. The galaxy garrison had been made up of nerds, so it followed everyone was a character. It hadn’t helped anyone’s social skills.

You wish you could just go, I worry about you because I love you instead of stumbling through word vomit.

“Come on,” Keith brings you out of your thoughts, grabbing your hand and pushing through the crowd of people coming and going to different boarding gates, “I think Hunk’s going to need some comfort food.”

You glance around, finding Hunk’s form making it’s way to you both. He was wiping his eyes, bittersweet smile, making no move to really hide that he was crying.

“Let’s get back to Allura yeah,” he tells you both.

“Or,” you go with Keith’s idea, “we can get something to eat. Allura gave us a good hour or so.”

“Varga,” Keith supplies.

“Yeah, that.”

Hunk nods, “that sounds nice. It’s just,” he looks back at the departing shuttle, “it’s hard. It’s war and you never know when your going to see each other again but it’s not like she can just drop everything and I wouldn’t ask her too, if anything I’d like to retire there. Nice and quiet. Maybe open a restaurant…”

“Vrepit Sal two,” Keith offers.

“Could make it a chain,” you add with a smile. Hunk, like you, was not such a gung ho pilot. You had landed the flight simulation without crashing exactly once, for your final emergency protocol exam.

“Thanks guys,” Hunk grins, “but I think I’ll bring some earth out here. Give these people a taste of traditional earthlign cuisine.”

“So your menu’s going to be as long as Cheesecake Factory’s,” you ask with a silly grin.

“Maybe not that long. A burger, ramen, scratch that, pizza instead of a burger.” Hunk rubs his chin thoughtfully sniffing the air and following his nose to a food stand. You trusted him for food. He had a knack for combining goo and exotically colored food that screamed fake and poisonous into pretty great meals.

Keith was still holding your hand, not as a loose afterthought: every now and then he’d rub his thumb against the back of your hand and it sent a thrill down your spine.

You don’t pull away, wanting to savor the feel of his skin against yours even if it wasn’t that deep. You’d hugged and napped with everyone at least once, grabbing each other’s hands in the confusing crowded hovels of swamp malls (actual swamp malls and not places Coran thought of as a swamp mall).

You nab a table outside the stand.

Everything was in Galra which none of you could read. “Damn,” you mutter looking over.

Hunk glances at Keith without subtlety.

You were starting to think only Allura and Shiro could do subtly.

Keith raises a brow.

“Nothing,” Hunk looks down at his screen.

“Point and hope for the best it is,” you shrug.

“I love a good surprise,” Hunk nods, then looks down at his hands, “we’ll see each other again right? Shay…they’re pretty safe. And well…yellow’s got thick armour.” He sighs, resting his cheek against his fist, elbows on the table.

“Shay’s a badass,” you confort Hunk, “she figured out how to communicate with the Balmera and through the Balmera. She’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty freaking amazing,” Hunk blushes.

You order from an alien that somewhat resembles Ezor, all cotton candy color, and twiddle your thumbs, enjoying the rare moment of rest and relaxation.

“I could get used to this,” Hunk comments, savoring the strange dish he’d been served.

“Get a travel food show,” you tease, “I’d watch it.”

“It could be like this all the time,” Keith muses hopefully, “aren’t planets like this proof we could all get along.” He bites into the glowing blue lotus root shaped meal, and blinks widely.

“What,” you ask, looking over at him.

Keith grabs a napkin and spits out his food. “I think I just lost another tooth.”

“You think,” Hunk raises a brow, “how could you not notice a missing tooth?”

“Smile,” you nudge Keith sitting next to you.

He rolls his eyes, before fake smiling which was always so undeniably forced when he did it. You laugh, nodding, “yup, missing tooth.”

Keith frowns for a second, before continuing to eat.

“Oh,” Hunk utters, before he kicks your leg lightly.

You look up, meeting the yellow paladin’s searching gaze.

He looks at you with a knowing smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, the tip of your nose burning hotly, you look down, shoving a questionable sticky black slice into your mouth. It was easy to chew despite the sticky-ness, the flavor starchy and nutty.

There was no way this wouldn’t get back to everyone else in the Castle. No way.

They were all so nosy.

Oh fuck.

——————

“It sure is hot in here,” Lance says with a challenging smirk at Keith.

You roll your eyes.

Lance stretches, resting his arms against the back of the sofa, his hand tapping annoyingly against your shoulder.

Keith is unmoved. Or more accurately, Keith’s mouth twists as he tries hard to ignore Lance’s latest attempts to get him to remove his hat, a lime green thing that clashed perfectly as was his fashion sense, or lack of any fashion sense.

Pidge smacks her head, then peaks curiously at Keith: at Keith’s hat.

You flick Lance’s cheek. “Hey hot shot, don’t hug me when you’ve set the thermostat to ninety degrees.”

“Ninety five actually,” he winks, hugging you towards him. Ugh, you couldn’t do it. You’d already done away with your afghan coat, tied your lavender flannel around your waist, what more could you do. You didn’t have shorts in space. The skirts stored in the castle were breezy, but made you feel at risk of tripping over the hem with each step.

“Hm,” Keith voices, taking a seat, “reminds me of home.”

Hunk snorts, “really thought that through,” he tells Lance.

Lance is undeterred. “Could go higher.”

“I don’t think your cow would like that very much,” you point out.

The blue paladin sulks, looking down at you, “you’re just saying that because you like-”

You jab your elbow into his side.

“Ow! What ever happened to do no harm?”

“Technically,” you tell Lance, “I never graduated.”

“She’s got you there,” Pidge smirks from beside Keith. She was taking apart yet another radio. The signal had yet to reach earth.

“Thank you Pidge.”

She shrugs, “It’s true.” Then turns on Keith, “The hat, explain.”

He looks like he wishes he could merge with the sofa at that, slumping in his seat.

You decide to step in, “I’m going to turn the thermo down.”

Lance is quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you back onto the sofa, “come on, relax. Like mullet said, it’s homey.”

You throw him a dirty look.

“Keith?” Pidge side-eyes her fellow paladin. He’s sat up, gripping the sofa cushion so tightly he’s ripping hole into the ten thousand year upholstery.

“You okay there buddy,” Hunk asks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

Keith sucks in a breath, and with deliberate motion, pulls the hat from his head.

Oh.

Your eyes widen.

OH.

His ears had changed.

They weren’t nearly as alien as Allura’s, but no one would mistake their shape for human. Keith’s ears tapered up and out, portrudding, but it was more than just a pointed tip, the entire shape of his ears had transformed, resembling a butterfly’s wing. It was still human in color, but…

Hunk breaks the stunned silence first, “so are you going to like to end up purple?”

Keith ducks his head, wrapping his arms around himself.

No one else gets the chance to further interrogate Keith, or hear his own thoughts, because Allura calls everyone up to the bridge.

Lotor hailed the Castle of Lions. Everyone stands around the bridge while Shiro and Allura take the lead as usual. They might as well be twins given how well they got on, communicating differing ideas without undermining the other.

“There are nine warships in the system,” Lotor acknowledges, “I would be much indebted if you would do me the favor of sending Voltron for the aerial battle.”

“The Empire’s presence is still in its early stages,” Acza explains, “but their terraforming development for the planet will cause the destruction of the Talpidae living there.”

“Then we have no choice,” Allura clenches her fist, never one to sit back while there was something she could do about it, “we will provide air support. Sent me the coordinates so that I may Teleduv there.”

Lance is still obviously eyeing Keith’s latest development. It was readily visible, and you were fighting the urge to do the same.

But you weren’t also trying to flick his ears.

Keith growls lowly.

Lance sniggers.

Pidge offers Lance a piece of paper to make paper balls with.

Hunk sighs long sufferingly, having resigned himself to the more childish side of his two friends. They were terrors. Put Pidge and Lance together, and they were gremlins out of a horror movie made for elementary school teachers.

You slip your hand into Keith’s, squeezing reassuringly. It would take some getting used to like anytime someone got a new haircut, but you would. Like his atrocious boots, they’d become an endearing part of him.

Keith squeezes your hand back.

Shiro nods, agreeing with Allura, “have the Talpidae been contacted.”

“Very much so,” Ezor chimes in, “they’re funny little people. And their sensory-”

“The point Ezor,” Lotor sighs, rubbing his nose bridge.

“They sent for help to the rebels. We were closest to their system,” Exor elaborates with a shrug, “they do not have the background to fight head on, and will evacuate most of their people into bunkers, but they have been digging under the new construction and weakening the structural integrity of the Galra outposts.”

“Very well,” Shiro accepts, “Princess Allura and our chief medic will meet with the Talpidae as a show of goodwill.”

“Our only medic,” Hunk points out.

Keith growls, his hand squeezing yours hard.

You all look over at him.

“Red Paladin,” Allura says, trying to look as professional as possible in front of her least favorite of Voltron’s allies, “is something the matter.” She shares a look with Shiro, but otherwise looks unsurprised at Keith’s less than human ears.

Or maybe she’d make a great poker played.

“Can’t you meet with the Talpidae after the battle,” Keith utters harshly.

“They may need immediate tactical support,” Allura reasons, “we should be there in person to provide it.”

“It’ll be fine Keith,” Shiro adds.

Their words do little to calm Keith down. His dark silky hair puffs up. His grip on your hand tightens and you feel miffed. You’d been on the ground working triage before. You might not be a fighter or pilot but you could look after yourself.

You pull your hand out of his. “I really don’t see what the problem is,” you tell Keith pointedly.

“I’ll watch Allura’s back and she’ll have mine.”

Allura nods. “Our chief medic is correct-”

His ears twitch, “You’re not exactly a fighter.”

Shiro covers his face with a hand.

Your brows furrow. You’re livid. “So! I won’t be fighting. We’ll be in the bunkers with the Talpidae. It’ll be safe so it doesn’t even matter.”

“If it’s perfectly safe then you don’t need to be there,” Keith’s voice breaks, a whine escaping his chest but you don’t care, done with the conversation.

“Yikes,” is Ezor’s quiet whisper.

You’re not a paladin so you don’t care, you just stalk off the bridge ready to go scream into your pillow in frustration. Or better yet, go for a swim and scream underwater.

“Wait-” Keith follows you.

You ignore him.

“I just-,” he keeps trying as you stalk down the stairs, deciding your room was better after all if only because you could lock Keith out.

“Listen-,” he whines.

“I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean what,” you round on him, hands on your hips, pissed off and maybe some of its was from being stuck on this stupid ship all the damn time but like eighty percent was earned. You might not be taking on a squad of Galra soldiers, but you could take one on if it came to it.

Keith at least has the decency to look miserable, sad chirrups in his throat as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks at the ground.

“Well?” You tap your foot on the ground.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he finally manages. “Especially if you don’t need to be there.”

“But I do,” you counter, “There’ll be people running into those bunkers having escaped soldiers and sentries and the faster they get treated the better chance they have.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Keith repeats himself. “You-you can hold your own.” He looks up at you through his bangs, still hunched in on himself.

“Obviously.” There’s no heat, the anger having deflated already. It was just white hot ache in your chest, hurt at the idea that Keith thought you would get in the way, that you had nothing of value to add to the Alliance and Voltron.

You bite your lip.

Don’t cry, you think to yourself.

You were being dumb.

He was just being plain stupid.

“I mean it,” Keith repeats, “I’m sorry. I was just looking for an excuse to make sure you were safe.”

“Right, because Allura can handle herself but I can’t.” Your voice cracks.

“No,” Keith says in a rush, “it’s not the same.”

“Because I can’t fight?”

“That’s not,” Keith runs a hand through his hair, “It’s me okay. I’m-I’ve always jumped into things without thinking, but I decided to go for it, like breaking Shiro out but now I’m doing things before I even notice and it’s all these stupid Galra instincts!”

You swallow.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you once more. “I didn’t mean to and I’m sorry. No one thinks you can’t handle yourself. That’s why Shiro paired you up with Allura, because he knows you’re capable of watching her back.”

Your smile is fragile as you look over at him, “yeah?”

“Yeah.” Keith holds your gaze, looking as skittish as a stray dog. Another whine escapes his throat.

What the heck.

You hug him, “you’re such a dumbass.” You understood why he’d worry. This was war. Pidge was on a two man campaign with Shiro to get Matt to stay on the Castle, both scared witless that Matt might die on a mission with the rebels. Ulaz had died so everyone could get away.

You’d had patients in the last decaphoebs you could do nothing but ease their pain. You’d had patients that you couldn’t even administer anything for the pain because of how torn apart they were: guts spilling out, charred people shapes that you were surprised to still find breathing.

The images would never leave you as long as you lived.

“I’m sorry.” Keith buries his head in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin sent shivers down your spine.

You hug him tightly, aware that every battle could be your last: the last time you saw him. “You’ve said that already,” you tease, memorizing the smell of him, stale sweat and something cloying that you had wanted to bottle up from the moment you’d met him and had never found on anyone else. As embarrassing as it was to admit to anyone other than yourself, Keith smelled good. Really good.

Most people smelled like nothing at all.

He stiffens.

“But it’s nice to hear again.”

Keith smothers a laugh.

You kiss his hair. Boys were so dumb.

He purrs.

You smile goofily, warmth building under your skin, and toes curling up in your shoes. You should say something. Right?

At some point?

Or maybe it shouldn’t be said under the looming threat of an upcoming battle.

Fuck.

You can’t decide, so you say nothing at all.

——————

Bombs still pelt the surface.

Your teeth chatter as the ground shakes even deep underground. Even more soil falls onto you. Your spacesuit was more oche than white at this point as you carry an injured Talpidae in your arms. It’s arm had been completely blown off. Sluggish blue blood oozed out.

Allura was last, tailing the group.

You reach the bunker.

The sentries had followed some of the feeling Talpidae into the tunnels, but they’d been sorted out.

The people here were strange, russet in fur colouring, with no discernable eye, just strange pink flagella protruding from their nose and large claws for digging. They stood at about Pidge’s height.

The bunker seals and you get to work.

Tourniquet here, pain patch there. There were so many of them banged up.

The fight continued on the surface.

The paladins had to form Voltron.

You and Allura work as a team, she takes the bruises and broken bones with no immediate risk of death. You triage the worst of the Talpidae, giving away your precious stash of painkillers to those you can’t save and are not in for a quick death, a Talpidae lies twitching, it’s nose blown off but alive. Another holds it’s hand, but shakes their head when they look at you. They weren’t going to make it.

Training kicks in and you focus on saving those you can.

Your hands stain blue from the blood.

Allura works alongside you.

You cauterize a Talpidae named Soedob’s hand, the claws on their right limb were gone, but most of it was spared.

“You smell Galra,” Soedob utters, blinking out of the pain induced haze as the painkiller kicked in.

You half hear, half don’t, so focused on the task at hand. It was easier to not stop until you were finished and could curl up and sleep and not think about blood and war and Zarkon.

“We have Galra allies,” Allura answers diplomatically, leaving the issue of the half Galra paladin alone.

It irked you.

“No, not them,” Soedob notes. “Those had a different aura.”

“Smell,” you guess, finishing off. You hoped the fighting ended soon. You supply was not unlimited. The castle had better facilities.

“Is that what you call it?”

“Our primary sense is sight,” Allura explains, giving you a long look.

You shrug. You hadn’t even seen any of Lotor and his team. There hadn’t been time. It had all been relayed over coms, over video.

“Another then?”

You swallow thickly, flushing with embarrassment because you both spent time around Keith but Soedob was only smelling him on you and it’s not like you had been doing anything intimate…well, it had felt intimate, hugging Keith, but it wasn’t anything like when cadets snuck into each others dorm room, shoving a sock on the door handle in the universal symbol of don’t bother us. “The red paladin is part Galra.” Mercifully, your voice doesn’t shake from the embarrassment, but you can’t look at Allura.

“Ah,” Soedob nods, neither outraged nor pleased.

Then there’s no more time, you have more Talpidaes waiting for medical aid. You give their own healers some of your supplies, freeing up Allura to find the clan leaders.

You can feel Allura’s questioning glance on you.

——————

“Team meeting in the mess hall,” Shiro calls over the coms system.

“Mess hall,” Pidge rolls her eyes, “it’s the dining room.”

You snort.

“I like to think of it as the dining room too,” Hunk offers. “I mean there’s only eight of us. It’s sort of like being home again.”

“Mess hall makes me think of the garrison,” you admit, falling into step besides them. “and the food.”

“Ugh,” Pidge groans. “That was the worst. Matt wasn’t kidding.”

“It does make the space packs easier to digest,” you muse, “maybe that was the point.” It took the garrison two years to get to Mars. It was funny, once you’d thought that was a long way from home.

“I liked the cheese garlic bread,” Hunk allows.

“Food goo,” Pidge grins, “or the garrison space food?”

“Food goo.” Hunk doesn’t even have to think.

“Food goo,” you agree. “Though not Coran’s paladin special.”

“You don’t even eat that,” Hunk huffs, half outraged half amused, “you’re always like well I’m not a paladin so…”

You laugh. “Seeing it is more than enough.”

The rest of the ship’s inhabitants are already there waiting for you. Lance is trying to teach Coran how to play slide, moving very slow as he claps their hands together.

Shiro and Allura are in easy conversation. Her mice scamper around her feet.

Keith looks absolutely miserable next to Shiro, folding himself into the smallest possible size, trying to disappear. It was hard to reconcile the Keith that was quiet with the Red Paladin that shot first and asked questions later.

You smile at him, excited to see him, but also figuring he could use some reassurance, whatever it was going through his head. Keith meets your gaze and the corners of his mouth turn up, before he ducks away.

You know better than to take it personally.

It was Keith.

Your toes curl inside your shoes and you bite back your smile, suddenly aware of how much you might be revealing and not wanting Lance of all people to start a meeting by commenting on it. For him, it might be all fun and games, but you weren’t sure what to do with these newfound warm and fuzzy feelings. You sure as fuck didn’t want to be called out on it.

You weren’t sure what to do about liking Keith so your current plan of action was: nothing.

“Thank you everyone for being here,” Shiro claps his hands together, his leader impression defaulted at awkward dad. He thought he always had to be on. Despite being the most trained out of us, he’d only just started his career during the Kerberos mission.

You wonder if he’d picked up his leadership style partly from Pidge’s dad.

“Where else would we be,” Pidge shrugs, never one to miss a shot.

“All the same,” the older man smiles.

“Yeah, no problem my dude, bro,” Lance flashes finger guns at Shiro.

You snort, taking a seat between him and Hunk.

“But seriously, what’s up,” Lance leans forward. “Or is this some lowkey way to keep us on our toes,” he winks at Allura who smiles indulgently.

“I await the news alongside you paladins,” Allura answers, hands resting in her lap. She looks over at Shiro.

The whole room turns to look at Shiro.

He had called the meeting.

Meetings tended to be informational in nature: updates about the expansive war, rebels hailing Voltron for intervention, the Blade passing on the rare bit of information, and the always popular distress signals. But Shiro and Allura both looked too calm for that.

Keith goes rigid, a spring wound up too tight.

Hm.

You wondered if the elephant in the room would finally be addressed.

Shiro puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder, smiling encouragingly the way a parent dropping their child off for their first day of school would, “go ahead Keith.”

The red paladin focuses his gaze on Shiro, his expression more sour than it’s been in a long time.

The past few years had done a lot to get him to open up to everyone on board, but right now, he looks exactly like the stubborn closed off cadet he had been back on Earth.

His ears twitch slightly. He manages to look even more taunt, and you wonder if he’s going to wave this off. Then, he lets out a breath.

His body is stiff, but Keith no longer pulls away from Shiro. He looks down at his hands pensively, nails cut to the quick. “Right.”

You can feel the nervous energy of the rest of the room, leaning in, waiting to see what Keith wants to say.

“Mhm, go on,” Lance says, chin in hand.

Hunk elbows him in the side.

“Hey!” Lance is about to start in on Hunk.

“Guys,” you snap, shoving Lance’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” Lance zips his mouth and throws away the key, “shutting up.”

“Looks like that didn’t work,” Pidge snarks.

“Paladins,” Allura’s clear commanding voice rings out. When everyone shuts up again, she nods at Keith, “you may continue.”

He looks up at everyone through his bangs, “I’m going through Galra settling.”

Hunk looks over at Allura, who was far more familiar with all this alien mumble jumble than anyone else.

Shiro squeezes Keith’s shoulder.

“And that is,” you prompt gently, before Keith hastily decided that was all he needed to say and left.

He meets your waiting gaze. Under the ship’s bright rooms, his eyes were obviously violet, heavy on the purple. He’s chewing his bottom lip like he isn’t sure he wants to go through with saying any of this and you wonder if he must be thinking of how weird things were between everyone when he learned of the alien part of his heritage.

Your mouth quirks up into a smile.

You were more than willing to stuff someone into a cryopod if they bothered Keith. He may be part of Voltron, tasked with defending the universe, but you’d make sure there was someone to defend him.

An embarrassing rush of heat bubbles under your skin. You look away, nervous.

“Shiro,” Keith asks.

Shiro nods, wrapping his arms fully around Keith’s shoulder. “Galra settling is when Galra,” he looked like he was trying to figure out exactly what he was talking about as he said it. Aliens were weird. “When Galra reach a certain age their appearance locks in.” Even Shiro looks a little puzzled. He was a pilot, not a biologist. You knew organisms back on earth who could manipulate their genotypes, generally sex changes with the right environmental conditions, but you weren’t sure there was anything comparable to whatever this was. “The Galra are apparently very adaptable in individuals. That’s why there’s such a range of them.”

Huh.

That explained the fur, range of tails, more reptilian looking once, and the eyes.

You wanted a Galra biology course, a full semester long one. What exactly caused such a plasticity in their phenotype? Did the trait have to be encoded in their genotype to appear or was there something freakier, Allura’s space magic, going on?

“-because he’s half human and we don’t go through anything like this it’s more painful than it would be. Lotor said the chameleonic abilities of Alteans helped him when he went through this,” Shiro finishes without a satisfying or thorough explanation.

At least Keith wasn’t dying.

Thank god.

Thank whatever freaky Altean magic existed in the universe.

“So,” Lance starts, “it’s Galra puberty.”

In a split second Keith loses any self consciousness about the situation, “it’s not Galra puberty!” His hair puffs up and you have to fight the urge to laugh, covering your face with your hands.

“There’s…” Shiro glances at Keith, before Lance and Keith could really get into it, “there’s more.”

Keith looks mullish, but ultimately gives Shiro the go ahead.

“Part of these..changes,” the black paladin explains, “have brought out some Galra instincts.” Clearly he was having as much trouble grappling with what this meant as Keith was. Your body suddenly deciding to change was no fun when you had no context for it. “Among them, the need to scent family…”

Pidge tilts her head, “is this like the most convoluted and emotionally constipated way of asking for a hug,” she asks Keith.

Keith smiles wryly, “pretty much.”

“Oh come here dude,” Hunk grins, engulfing Keith and Shiro in a hug.

“Ah number four,” Coran points up in the air, “I am now just recalling the galra that lived on Altea having explained this once, of course it didn’t occur to me because of the apparent dominance of your human genes.”

“So they’re actually co-dominant,” you muse as Lance drags Pidge along for a “group hug!”

“No.no,” Pidge makes a half-hearted effort to wiggle out, being a younger sibling herself, was used to being subjected to affection. She smiles even as she struggles.

“It would seem so,” Coran nods, “though not every gene.”

“Just these.” You wonder if there’s a space equivalent of the human genome project.

“Lance,” Keith yelps, “that’s my foot.”

“Buddy, I am not feeling the love here.”

“Is it working,” Hunk asks, peering at Keith, “are you going to turn purple now?”

“No one turns purple from hugs,” Keith replies, annoyed but makes no move to pull away.

“Thank you for trusting us with this Keith,” Allura smiles, her eyes crinkling.

“Get in on this too Princess,” Shiro motions over, before catching your gaze, “you too. Don’t think you can get out of this. You’re part of Voltron too.”

You snort, and join the group hug.

Pidge’s elbow is a bony thorn in your side and there’s the slight hum from Shiro’s prosthetic, but it’s a good mix of warmth and intimacy with the people you were closest to in the entire universe. Allura’s shoulder presses into you back and it’s sort of ballooned to ridiculous proportions, Keith somewhere in the center of it all, his hair barely visible to you.

“Add cuddling Keith to the chore wheel,” Pidge proposes.

Keith groans.

“How about we let Keith decide,” Shiro proposes.

You snort, knowing him too well. “Are you willing to take that risk? Died-from lack of hugs.”

Lance laughs.

Shiro looks convinced by your stellar argument.

“I’m not that bad,” Keith grumbles.

“You’re a terrible hugger,” Lance argues back. “You’re all stiff, like you’re enduring one of Iverson’s paradox sims. Not as bad as my abuelo but still.”

Keith lunges for Lance.

Someone topples over.

Everyone falls.

You laugh, smothered by limps and someone’s hair in your mouth…maybe Hunk’s? You don’t move, worried about kicking someone’s head.

From somewhere, Keith does that low rumbling chest noise that reminds you of a cat purring happily.

No one makes fun of him for it.

——————

“You should comb your hair before we take the pod down,” you tell Keith. You’d spent your free time before this alliance dinner scrolling through a datapad, trying to learn names, where they hailed from, species, things that may prove useful.

Half a varga ago, Keith had found you balled up on a sofa, and sat next to you, his way of asking for physical comfort. You’d obliged him readily, throwing an arm over his shoulders and spooning him as you both laid on the sofa. He was already in the paladin uniforms that Allura had dug out once the alliance became a reality instead of a loose string of rebel groups fighting the Galra empire.

You’re both short and slight, fitting together perfectly.

You squash any feelings you have, this wasn’t about you, it was about him. You’d done it a thousand times with Hunk or Lance, fallen asleep listening to Allura, why should Keith be any different? (You know why.)

He’s reading the screen with you.

“I doubt they’d notice,” he remarks as you scroll to a particularly vivid color alien race with sensory appendages sprouting from their heads.

“You have a point desert bum,” you tease, “I’d rather be a bum by a beach town. All surfer bro.”

“Can you even surf,” he asks flatly.

“No. Learned how to swim at the garrison,” you admit. “But tanning by the water has to be more appealing than roasting under the Texas sun.”

“I like the desert.”

“I know.” You were pretty sure everyone just liked their homes.

“It’s quiet,” he admits, “and watching how the sunlight transforms the landscape…”

“It’s too big and wide,” you admit, thinking of space. Flat land that went on forever…empty dark space that went on forever.

“Good for driving,” Keith smirks.

You laugh. Or course that’s where his mind went. “Sure, but it all looks the same, everywhere you turn.” It was disorienting. To be fair, you were a city girl. Your background noise was cars honking and people yelling even at four in the morning. The garrison had been a big adjustment.

“It’s really not. You just have to look.”

“I’ll trust my gps,” you counter, “not my sense of direction. I’d probably end up one of those cautionary tales about mirages and deserts.”

“You can’t really get a good signal,” Keith replies lazily, his body slack against yours, “out there. It’s best to mark a trail with chalk if you don’t know the area.”

“But you do, know it I mean?”

“Out past the Garrison? Mhm. All of it. We used to go hiking…before,” he trails off.

You press your lips to his hair lightly, before shifting, “my arms asleep.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” You sit up, “it’s nice. I used to put my sister to sleep this one year she had nightmares almost every night.”

“You miss her,” Keith states, sitting up, looking at you with his intense expression. Having someone focused one hundred percent on you was a new experience. He wasn’t thinking of a thousand other things, just you.

“I do. I miss everyone, but,” you shrug, “I’ll see them again. Meanwhile you’re stuck with me.” You smile fondly at Keith. “I’m going to change before we have to go to dinner.”

“I’d take fighting Zarkon anyday,” Keith mutters, cringing at the upcoming show of diplomacy. There was so much smiling and hand shaking. It was exhausting to be that extroverted with a roomful of strangers.

Even Lance zonked out after these things.

“Knock on wood,” you laugh.

_____________

Treaties have been signed. A wrecked Galra fleet floats in space above the planet your on today, but today’s battle is won.

One of Lotor’s General’s is here, Acza. She’s wary, and surprised at the warm reception she’d received. She might be Galra, but she’d been crucial in taking down the Galra base’s shields. Biolocks, Zarkon should really rethink those.

You sip at your thick drink, warm and flavored like cinnamon oatmeal, that chases off the chill of the night. The idea had been to sleep, your hands still ached from all the sutures and stitches you’d woven, but Allura refused to hear it, dragging you along. There would be time for sleep on the Castle, she’d claimed, joyous to have helped another besieged planet.

“My congratulations,” a Blade utters from behind their glowing mask.

You jump, not having known there was even a Blade here. They were allies, yet their anonymity that made them so useful in information gathering, created a gap between you. You had no way of knowing who this person was. Their suit obscuring any details, the mask a rank.

You couldn’t even see their eyes.

“For what,” you ask, puzzled. You hadn’t fought. Your skills made you most useful after the battle, trying to save lives and patch up wounds. It was important and emotional draining work, but you hardly won battles.

Because of the mask, you can’t get a read on their reaction. Blades. Spies. Maybe if you could see their eyes…

They nod, and walk off without explanation.

You watch them go, still confused until they disappear among the bodies loitering around, celebrating liberation.

It was a feat to disappear when you were eight feet tall.

First the Galra had avoided you like the plague, the black plague, now they were being cryptic as fuck.

You lean your head down, trying to sniff your armpits without making it too obvious. Was it the blood? Or the space bleach? That tended to linger.

You didn’t smell that bad. Certainly like bleach and rubbing alcohol…

You take another sip of your drink, looking around for a place to sit. You’d been on your feet for too long. You wanted to sleep.

Someone would find you.

You wander around. Smiling when someone notices you, and thanks you and you hurry to get away before they ask you a hundred questions. There were only eight humans in space. Well, seven and a half. You stood out.

They wanted Voltron, but you would do.

“There’s space here,” Acxa calls out.

“Thanks,” you plop down next to her, sagging into the seat. Oh, yeah, you were so freaking tired.

“Of course. You look dead.”

“Yeah,” you look around the rebel camp, “I’ve no clue how they have the energy.”

“It’s like that everywhere. This is their home,” Acza offers, “people fight hard for their homes.”

You nod, before looking over at the alien woman, “not avoiding me anymore then?”

She shrugs, not disputing the allegation. “No need anymore, now that you and Keith sorted yourselves out.” She’s so blunt about it. “Galra are so sensitive when settling. We didn’t want to cause any incidents.”

“Is this about the scenting?” You still hadn’t had time to read through the information you’d gotten your grubby little hands on.

She nods.

You put your drink down on the mossy ground. “Yeah, Keith explained it. Well, Shiro did, really. Lance is over the moon about having an excuse to bother Keith.” Now you really all were a family. You’d named it outloud.

Acxa’s brows furrow, “Lance?”

“I think he just misses his family a lot,” you offer. “We all do and while we’re family too, it’d be nice to see our family back on earth too.”

She frowns. “Keith and you are not,” she asks slowly.

“Me and Keith,” you flush, ducking away from her. “No-I, no. We’re not.” You should’ve gone back to the Castle the moment Allura turned her back. She would’ve never known.

Acxa’s frown becomes tinged with anger and worry, her hand grabs your wrist. “Galra have more than one type of scenting, between families, and between partners.”

“Oh.”

You try to connect the dots but your brain gets stuck between ideas. Scenting. Keith. You. You and Keith. It was right there but-

“Keith isn’t marking you as family,” she explains slowly, “he’s marking you as his partner.” Acxa waits until her words sink in before adding, “to do so without letting the other know…” She makes it clear what a social taboo that is.

But you’re one step behind her.

Did Keith like you?

You think back to all the times you’d been with him in the past few vargas, trying to pinpoint any hint: he’d smiled at you but he was happier now in general so it could be a coincidence…

“If you need,” Acxa offers, “I will help clarify the situation.” It’s an awfully kind gesture.

“No,” you say in a rush. “no. It’s-I think I need to go talk to Keith.” He’d known what he was doing…you could draw a thousand conclusions but nothing would be better than confronting him about it.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” you stand up, glancing around. During parties, Keith tended to find a quiet corner out of the way. He’d opened up, but he was still more of an introvert.

You find Keith lying stretched out in the shadow of a makeshift building, looking up at the stars. It’s his eyes that give him away, reflecting the light enough to be inhuman, nocturnal vision.

“We need to talk,” you wrap your arms around your body. You weren’t angry, just confused. Didn’t he know he could just come talk to you about it by now?  

Keith looks up, startled, then stands. “Alright.” He sounds resigned, a man sentenced to detention for a month which was janitorial duties at the garrison. It kept even the most smartass cadets humble.

You look around.

No one was really here. You could hear the music and people a bit further into the heart of the camp. Here was good enough.

“I talked to Acxa,” you start, “she said-” you look down at the trampled vegetation underfoot. It was embarrassing to your human preconceptions to even think, let alone say, which was why you were pretty sure Keith didn’t mean any harm. Scenting meant nothing on earth, where he’d grown up. “She said you’ve been scenting me, which like I know but not that way?” You look up at him as realization sets in and he ducks his head, looking away. “Is it true?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I-,” he takes a deep breath before ranting, the agitation and months of buried emotions flooding out, “I hate this. I hate that I can hear the conversation outside and smell which direction  Shiro’s in and how much my eyes hurt on the Castle from how bright it is but I don’t-I can’t say anything because I’m already enough of a freak. Before I was just the weird kid but now I’m just a fucking alien freak! There’s always so much going on and I don’t even know what’s next!”

You wait, wondering if there was more.

It was a lot of changes.

You couldn’t understand, there was nothing in your life comparable to your biology deciding to be a little more Galra after twenty years.

“And I tried not to-,” he admits, meeting your waiting gaze, “I tried to leave everyone alone so you wouldn’t,” Keith swallows, forcing himself to continue with an obvious disgust at himself, “you wouldn’t smell like me or whatever Lotor explained but I couldn’t-it was driving me crazy like this itch, this buzzing under my skull and seeing you guys with others-I thought I was going crazy until Lotor explained. And then when Lance would ruffle my hair or you would check that I wasn’t about to fall over and die and-,” he waves his hands in the air, “I would just zone out.”

“Oh,” you utter, recalling past events with a newfound understanding. Keith had been reaching out, all instinct even when he was trying not to be a bother. It broke your heart, how he always came from the perspective that he was an inconvenience.

“I did know,” he says in a small voice. “That-you…but I don’t know if it’s me or this, or all these things happening to me.”

Your expression wobbles. You bite your lower lip, trying to get a handle on it. How silly to worry about a crush when Keith was going through it.

“I like you, but I don’t know if I like you or if it’s just these stupid Galra instincts messing with my head.” Keith deflates, drawing into himself. “Everything

s…it’s been a lot.”

“I get it,” you utter, “maybe not the situation but I’m not mad. Though Acxa was ready to kick your ass and she totally could,” you try teasing.

But Keith flinches, looking away guiltily.

“I’m joking. I-I get why. It makes sense. It’s a lot to get used to.” You swallow, not sure what to do about anything either.

“Its a huge offence,” Keith utters, “that’s why she was pissed. Made worse because you can’t even tell…I-I couldn’t think straight and I…it took the edge off.”

“Scenting me?”

He nods.

You take a step towards him.

“I-,” Keith’s eyes meet yours, his attention entirely captivated by you. It sends a thrill down your spine. You’d seen how he could be when laser focused: on piloting, on training. “I know they say it’s wrong but you and Lance do stuff like that all the time. And I thought…I figured I could figure out how much of what I’m feeling is me and how much of it are these new instincts.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you tell him. “I-you’re right, it’s whatever to me. Like, a Blade congratulated me earlier which was weird but fuck them you know? I can ‘smile and nod’,” you smile as fakely as possible to show what you mean, “through it so long as you’re okay.” He’d bled in your lap.

Keith looks a little unsteady, unsure what to do with your lack of anger. “You don’t-”

“So is it like galra marriage then?” You were curious as to what exactly the Blades were going to gossip about you and Keith.

He makes a choked sound. “Sort of. They bond. It can be broken but that generally means someone killed the other.”

“Let me guess,” you reply, “Zarkon fucked even that up.”

Keith nods.

“That guy’s the worst.” Your voice is light.

Keith snorts, smiling for a split second. “I won’t anymore. I’ll-”

“Keith,” your voice cracks as you out your hand on his arm to keep him from rubbing off, “if its really causing you all this additional confusion in too of everything…you can…” the words were too intimate to say, too charged with a sensuality that he clearly was figuring out. You were willing to wait. For him.

He was conflicted enough without you dumping your feelings on him.

“You don’t-”

You raise your hand, caressing the side of his face with the back of your hand, ghosting over the purple mark on his cheek, “I don’t mind.” Sure, you had a crush on him, you could admit that much, but more simply, you loved him.

This was a small ask.

Your gaze flickers to the tips of his ears.

You had washed his blood off your hands.

“Besides, shit’s hard enough. My arm falling asleep is a small price to pay if I can help you.”

Keith’s mouth quirks up in a smile.

You laugh, “come here.”

It finally sinks in that you weren’t just talking bs. You meant it, as you hug Keith, wrapping your arms around his middle. He smelled good in spite of the battle he’d been through earlier.

Without really thinking, you breathe in the scent of him.

Keith hugs you back, cuddling you against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You yawn. “want to sneak back into the castle?”

“Only if you tell Allura you’re the one who wanted to leave,” he deadpans dazedly.

You laugh.

——————

“Come,” Allura motions as you stand from one of the Castle’s weapons systems, “we must meet with the rebel leadership on planet.”

The planet was a farming camp.

The slaves were overworked and underfed and they had still revolted when they learned Voltron was near. Now, they were free.

“Princess,” Coran calls out, “it appears that number four is heading back to the ship.”

A pained expression crosses Allura’s broad features, her full mouth frowning, before she decides to pick her battles for the day. “I am sure Keith has a good reason for his actions.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

You don’t want to go down there either.

This entire last week had been spent synthesizing medicine and treating thousands of people made harder by the range of species. The garrison better give you that medical degree immediately.

“I’ll go check on him,” you say automatically, “he might need me to prep a pod.”

“Fantastic idea number five,” Coran believes your excuse.

“Let us know if anything happens,” Allura says, giving you a long look, before heading for the exit.

The central Galra soldiers had been taken out, but small bands of fighters were still fighting to their last breath. It’s why Voltron has remained on the planet.

The lions had roamed the landscape answering calls for aid and hunting down the last of Zarkon’s forces here.

You meet Keith in the red lion’s hanger.

He’s popping his helmet off, running a hand through his flattened hair. “I thought you were headed out with Allura?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling awkward. “I was, but I wanted to check on you first.” That was a normal thing to do for your friends. There was no reason to overthink things.

“I’m fine.”

He sets the helmet aside, working on undoing the armor off. There was dirt and dust but thankfully no blood to speak of, his or otherwise.

“Then I’ll see you there,” you ask.

Keith looks over, a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, his smile slight when he replies, “I’m not heading there.” Blunt. Concise.

“It is depressing,” you admit. There was so much resource allocation and need planet-wide.

He raises a brow. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Keith?” Now you’re wondering what the real problem was. “What is it?”

“Does it matter. I don’t need to be there. Shiro and Allura can handle it.” He looks away, suddenly very interested in the wall. Unlike the rest of the ship, the red lion’s hanger was dim, in a permanent night cycle.

Pidge’s work.

“I think the people would like all of Voltron present.” Then you make a face, “oh god, I sound just like Allura don’t I?”

Keith laughs, “just a bit. As long as you don’t make us all meditate…”

“It’s so boring. I fall asleep.” You smile softly, “Seriously, go down for a moment. Then you can hide out here.”

“I-I’d rather not.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Four out of five is is fine.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” you agree.

“I’m sure they’ll be glad.”

“Keith-” you start, knowing he already felt hyper aware of how his appearance had changed. Before, it hadn’t really ever come up outside of the team. No one would tell and if Keith wasn’t vocal about it…now everyone in the entire universe probably knew.

There were rebel Galra, mostly in prisons and work camps. Feelings varied.

“That’s not true,” you say, not sure if it was true, “you helped free them.” You shift your weight onto your other foot, “there’s a few assholes everywhere.”

He gives you a long look. “The Galra enslaved all these people.”

“Pfft,” you wave off, “you look like one sixteenth Galra. And-”

“They stare.”

“Because you’re a paladin,” you reason. “Pidge is also cranky about the attention.”

Keith sighs.

The paladin armor lies in a discarded pile.

You step forward to him, “anyone would be lucky to have you as a pilot. And Voltron sort of lucked out when the red lion chose you.”

Keith’s eyes widen as he looks at you, pink dusting his cheeks.

In for a penny, in for a pound, you lean forward and kiss his cheek, ghosting over his skin, “face marks and all.” You can’t meet his gaze when you pull away, blushing fiercely.

Why did you do that!

God, you were so dumb-

He cups your cheeks and brushes his lips over yours.

Oh! Oh.

“Is-is this okay-,” Keith starts asking.

You feel giddy, smiling before kissing him. Yeah, it was okay.

#keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #voltron #mine #trying this agin to see if it shows up in the tags #as usual: is this any good? #was supposed to b smut but turned into fluff

[imkylotrash]

Hear Your Heart

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader

Request: There is a really big party at Hardin’s fraternity house and the reader attends. Hardin gets into a fight and the reader flees to the bathroom. Alone in the bathroom, she breaks down crying until Hardin demands that she leaves the bathroom so he can use it. As she exits the bathroom she tries to find sanctuary so she can fully break down in peace and goes into Hardin's room. Hardin is furious but seeing the reader upset, he softens and asks her what’s wrong. Anonymous.

TW: Blood, panic attack.

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @justyouraveragedorkygirl Let me know if you want to be added/removed.

You're not sure how you find yourself on the ground after having been pushed by the crowd gathering around another fight at the dumbest frat party on a Friday night. It's safe to say you regret every decision leading to you attending this party. You carefully bend your wrist feeling sore but nothing is broken.

"This is what I get for breaking the fall," you mumble continuing to gently move your wrist in a circle to loosen some of the stiffness. Seeing the fight is not what bothers you, it's the single drop of blood that's landed on your hand. You can't stop the tremor going through your body as you watch it slowly glide down your palm. It must've hit you when Hardin landed one of his punches. It's too much. You flee to the bathroom to wash it off but you can't unsee it. Your mind keeps trying to convince you that it's still there. Three rounds of handwashing later and you can't fucking breathe.

"Finish up already!" The loud banging on the door brings you back to the present but it doesn't help with your panic attack. If anything, the loud noise makes everything worse. You stumble out and push past him into the first room you find.

"Books, lamp, bed." You count them in your head trying to breathe in and out slowly.

"Music, yelling, a fly buzzing." Finally, your breathing is starting to even out allowing your body to relax.

"Wrist, fingers, ear." You keep hold of your earlobe as you continue to breathe in and out. The 3-3-3 rule has always helped you in these situations but it doesn't stop the tears from streaming down your face. Your body may have left the fight or flight stage but it always hits you the hardest once you calm down. That's when the exhaustion hits you and completely drains you.

"What are you doing in my room?" You spin around to see Hardin standing in the doorway. He's angry and if you'd known this was his room, you never would've come in here.

"I just needed a place to calm down." You can't argue with him. You saw his face when he beat up that guy downstairs, and you have no interest in pissing him off like that.

"I don't want people in my room. So get out!" He walks past you to his dresser not even bothering to look at you.

"Okay." Something in your voice must give you away because he spins around with a completely different look on his face.

"What's wrong?" He's about to reach out but you take three steps back. You can't have him touching you when his knuckles are still bruised.

"Look, just take a seat on the bed. I won't touch you." He goes to stand in the corner farthest away from you which somehow is the perfect thing to make you feel a little safer in his company.

"I hate fights," you state looking anywhere but directly at him. You don't want to sound like you're accusing him because you saw what the other guy did to make Hardin hit him in the first place, but it got too close and too real for you.

"I saw him grab that girl's ass and I like that you stepped in and told him off but it could've been done without the violence," you say rubbing your hands together.

"Guys like that won't learn unless it comes with a fist. If I had just yelled at him, he would've done it again at the next party." You know he has a point. You just hate that it has to come to that for guys to understand it. Instead of answering, you get up and walk over to his bookshelf.

"You read a lot?" It's cliché but you can't help but pull out his copy of Pride and Prejudice. You used to consider Hardin to be like Wickham, but maybe there's more to him than meets the eye.

"When I need to relax," he says taking the copy from you. His fingers graze yours, but you find that it doesn't bother you as much as you'd assumed.

"I don't like people touching what's mine," he adds carefully returning the book to its original place.

"Gee, wouldn't have pecked you for a territorial guy." It's mostly a joke, but there's something about the way his eyes dart to your lips that makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. He's a nice distraction from what just happened.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" he asks with a smirk. He's close enough for you to be able to smell his cologne.

"Would you laugh if I said yes?" A smile plays on his lips as he watches you walk towards the door.

"You're leaving?" You'd never imagined that you would ever be found flirting with Hardin Scott but he's so different when you're alone with him than when he's being pumped up by his friends. And part of you would love to stay and get to know him, but your spirit is drained. You need time to process and rest before you do anything stupid.

"Always leave them wanting more."

#hardin scott x reader #hardin scott blurb #hardin scott imagine #hardin scott gif #hardins scott #after blurb #after imagine #after #after we collided blurb #after we collided imagine #after we collided #awc imagine #awc blurb #awc gif #awc #after we fell imagine #after we fell blurb #after we fell #awf #tw panic attack #tw blood

[katsukikitten]

WARNING 18+ BIRB NOT BIRB SMUT! Band AU, harem collab. In which reader meets her favorite faceless singer. Little over 3k

Sweat trickles down your spine as your favorite song is blasted from the large speakers. Fog from the stage lingers just above your head as you feel as if you were in a dream. The setting is surreal especially since you actually managed to WIN those rare radio tickets to see a band in concert. And not just any band, your favorite fucking bad.  

TOKYO MOB

The band consisted of four people, Bakugou Katsuki, the drummer who was angrier than any person you'd ever seen wearing nothing but skinny black jeans and a perpetual frown. Jiro, so cool and sleek in anything she wore as she tore up her guitar as side vocals. Then there was Denki, funny, cute even, on the bass with his electric blonde hair and killer smile. Lastly there was "Dark Shadow", the lead vocalist. 

No one knew his real name or what he looked like, he chose to wear a headpiece in the shape of a raven or crow. You loved him, even without knowing his face. 

He was so fit, strong arms and deadly abs that could be seen from beneath his cut off band tee crop top, much like you were wearing now. His voice was soothing as a bird's song, whether he was screaming or singing. The sound so uniquely beautiful it brought tears to your eyes the first time you heard it. And standing here with nothing but a small barricade and stage separating the two of you was a dream made in heaven. 

He sings your favorite song, looking out into the crowd, body drenched in sweat from the high energy show as he jumps to the beat. He pauses to hit a long note and while the guitar riffs he looks into the VIP section. You swear you feel as if he is looking dead at you. The next few lyrics are packed full with emotion as he gets onto his knee, one hand holding the microphone while the other gently floats towards outstretched hands. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

But it's yours that his fingers brush, intertwining his fingers with yours as tears prick your eyes. 

"Mine. Forever miiinee~" 

The world stops, his silky voice smoothing over your skin before it erupts in goose flesh, he holds on to your hand as he sings the chorus again. The screaming people around you fade away as you hear nothing but his sultry voice. 

As if he were serenading you in the kitchen of your home. 

"I've been looking for youuuu, I just need to find youuuuu and when I do, when I do I'll dress you in my band teee and make youuuu~"

"Mine. Forever miiinee~"

He squeezes your hand as he finishes the note, releasing your hand slowly before starting to stand. The music begins to fade as he huffs, trying to catch his breath before looking over the band. He sees that ever might need just a second more to take in some water so he brings the mic close to his face as he shouts. 

"Are we having a good time tonight?!" 

The crowd erupts into a scream, so loud you can barely hear the one tearing up your throat. 

"I can't fucking hear you, extras!" Bakugou shouts into his own mic. The sold out stadium shakes rivaling the bass of the sound system as they all play off random notes and beats. When the deafening roar becomes a hushed, dull roar Bakugou sets the beat, Jiro and Denki join in as their most popular song begins to bump through the speakers. The song sets a heavy, hype beat that can get anyone to bang their head to. You start along with them, booze lighting up your system and causing you to ignore the charged air around you  

Some of the bystanders, some of the women especially were jealous of the fact that you were holding hands with none other than the DARK SHADOW. 

"Stupid bitch." They murmur amongst themselves, "Let's really fuck her up." 

One says before shoving her unsuspecting and overly excitable boyfriend into another guy while shouting. 

"MOSH PIT!" The crowd follows suit, putting you in the thick of it. Normally you could handle a little mosh, staying on the fringes to avoid too much damage but being in the center was beginning to spell trouble. The world spun as body after body began to slam into you, turning you this way and that before someone begins to take advantage of the situation. A sleazy guy you had hoped to avoid "falls" into you, rough palms grabbing a handful of your ass, beneath your skirt. A yelp lost to the crowd leaves your lips, tears burning in your eyes as this man set out to ruin what was possibly the highlight of your life. 

He was going to ruin it with his disgusting cigarette breath, lips sloppily kissing at your throat as he moved the two of you closer to the barricade. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading your cheeks as he shouts into your ear. 

"These fishnets for me slut?" He slurs, chuckling as he presses your back into the cool biting metal, "Love the crop top baby, do you got a bra on underneath?" 

A sob threatens to rack through your body as your elated high quickly turns into stomach churning nausea. Desperately you look up to the stage, anything to distract you from the fingers that try to venture between your thighs, while the other rips at your favorite top.

Tokoyami jumps, stopping to adjust his feet for steady ground to do the screaming part of the song, he glances down into the crowd, silently looking for you. The woman who made his heart flutter for the first time in years and when he sees your face tilted up towards him with fear and pain twisting your features he loses his cool. 

"Fucking stop!" He shouts, the lyrics gone for now as the music abruptly stops, the man holding you startles as the light follows Dark Shadow's accusing finger. He is illuminated by the stage light as bystanders rip him from you, he punches one guy and makes a run for it. 

 "Aye yo security. Get this asshole!" Dark Shadow shouts, leaning down for your now outstretched arms. Pulling you on stage with ease as his fingers flutter over your shoulders and sides for injuries.

"You okay my sparrow?" He coos softly and you nod, and he guides you towards the back of the stage, leaving the two front members to appease the excited crowd. He presses a cold water bottle to your hand before pulling up a chair a few feet from the drum kit. 

"Stay by Bakugou okay? He'll take care of you." He wipes some sweat from your face before squeezing the nape of your neck. Bakugou glares your way with mixed emotions before doing his show starting beat to get the crowd jumping. 

"Anyone else wanna act like a fucking douche?" Denki asks, walking up and down the front of the stage waiting for Tokoyami to return to the forefront. 

"NOOOOO!" The crowd shouts, Denki offers a cheeky smile before adding. 

"That's my good fans!" He blows a kiss to the crowd and the screams fly up an octave. 

"Alright let's start this shit from the top!" Jiro shouts, letting out some hypnotic notes before looking towards Tokoyami. 

"Actually, let's give them a sample of the new album. Let's give them a tease. Do you wanna be teased?" He asks the crowd aiming the mic towards them as if he needed to. 

"SHOW US! TEASE US!" The crowd chants before Tokoyami looks towards his band members. 

"I dunno do they deserve it?" Bakugou prodes and the audience lets out a dejected whine. 

"Promise to behave?" Jiro teases and the crowd collectively screams out desperately "YES!"

"Well keep your hands to yourself and listen up cause you're only gonna hear it this once til it drops!" Tokoyami shouts before Jiro starts playing that hypnotic sound, shortly after Denki joins in. Bakugou twisting his drumstick as he waits for his cue impatiently. Dark Shadow takes in a deep breath before singing the haunting first lines of their new song. 

"What do you do, when it's stalking after yoouuu? What do you say when it's just a breath awaaay~? Coming closer and you can't seem to get awaaaaay?" 

"Always watching, always loooomming-" 

Bakugou slams his sticks down hard onto the kit, foot tapping the bass drum at an alarming speed as everything seems to be hitting a climax. 

"WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN ITS COMING FROM INSIDE OF YOU? WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN IT SHARES YOUR NAAAAME? 

WHEN YOU CAN'T HIDE THE DEMON THAT'S LURKING INSIDE!" 

The last line he screams and the crowd is overcome with emotion. The height of the music and the new song that the band pours their hearts into, sends the crowd into a frenzy. Sweat dripping from everyone as their black shirts dampen around their collars. 

The song the crowd wanted to last forever comes to an end and you find yourself standing to scream, tears in your eyes.

"That was amazing!" Curling your fingers into a fist, Dark Shadow turns back to see you, out of the millions of people there tonight, in that moment he could only hear you.  

"Well I think we gave them a good show huh?" Denki asks into the mic, Bakugou drums a heavy beat as he shouts. 

"FUCK YEA WE DID!" 

"HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!!" The band members shout in unison before waving and slowly backing off stage. Tokoyami rushes towards you, hand slipping around your natural waist as he guides you into the darkened stage towards his dressing room. Your heart is racing in your ears as the silence becomes deafening. Being this close to Dark Shadow you couldn't help but notice the little cushion that keeps his helmet from damaging his throat and the intoxicating smell that rolls off of him like a cool breeze. He smells like cedar and pine at twilight while the wind brings with it the threat of snow. 

You shiver despite the warmth of his touch. Swallowing the lump in your throat you force your tongue to cooperate as he steps in front of his door politely opening it for you. His small silver chains clink from the motion.

"You must be tired, are you sure you want...company?" If you could see his face you imagined he'd be smiling. Pressing his hand at the small of your back to urge you inside. 

"I'm sure." He walks in, waiting for you to follow before he slumps onto a worn leather arm chair. Your platform converse move on their own as you cross the threshold of the room, closing the door behind you. 

"Lock it, would you sparrow?" All you can do is nod as you turn the lock until you hear a soft click. He gestures for you to sit on the couch beside him before his broad hands go towards his helmet. 

The blood rushes from your face as a moment of honor and horror wage war in your gut, pulling your heart down towards your feet. 

"Wait!" You shout, startling both of you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks and throat, "I don't want you to feel obligated to take it off. We can just...talk." 

Nervously you fidget with the hem of your skirt, thinking he was going to kick you out for being so lame. 

Boring. 

He stands and you flinch before he sits beside you on the love seat. If you could see his eyes you wondered if they were sparkling. His winter woods smell tickles your nose and you smile. 

"I'd love to just talk. But first." He must notice your ripped shirt as he stands again. Rummaging through his suitcase to find the first edition band tee ever made for TOKYO MOB.

"I couldn't!" You half shout and then squeak, "I shouldn't" 

"I insist." He says softly placing it on your lap before giving you his toned back. The cropped tee he wears shows off the dimples in his lower back that has you thinking of what it would look like while those hips piston into you. Quickly you toss your ripped shirt aside and slip his over your head, relishing the present smell, heart stirring.

"It's safe." You say softly and he turns around taking the seat beside you again. 

After a small awkward silence the two of you begin to talk, the conversation coming easy as you gushed over his voice and where you went to college when he asked. Him wanting to know more about your life and the night ended up being about you instead of him for once and it was nice. 

Nice to not have someone prying or clawing at his neck to find out just who he was and what he looked like, suddenly heat rushes to his pants. His hand comes to rest on your knee just below the hem of your skirt, ringed fingers sliding beneath the black fabric. You swallow, looking into the face of the bird mask and softly speak. 

"How- how would we kiss?" It feels stupid, embarrassing that you would even think that. He kills the light by the love seat flooding the room in total darkness before he takes off his helmet with a clatter. 

"Like this." His lips are by your ear now sending ecstacy through your body in the form of a spine tingling shudder. He kisses at your lobe working his way down your throat and then up to your jaw, avoiding your lips as he tastes every inch of you he can. His damp hair tickles your nose as he moves you to him, hovering over you as he kisses the plane of your stomach beneath his lifted shirt. 

"You look damn good in my shirt baby." He trails his tongue up your sternum causing you to moan, he smirks against the bone before sucking at the supple skin of your breast. Choosing them for his canvas to paint in blacks and blues that you would soon come to wish would last a life time. His free hand twists your nipple, pulling it as he scrapes his teeth against your other. Tongue flicking against the sensitive nub another moan escapes your lips as he plays with you for what feels like hours. He doesn't even go to touch your aching cunt until you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Begging for his hands to move lower as your vision spots in the dark from his sensual touch alone. Your own hands explore up his defined abs and torso occasionally catching the cool metal of his chains, this time you decide to pull him into a kiss. Your lips touching his for the first time all night and you feel like a live wire. Hungrily and aggressively trying to devour him as you feel music dancing through your blood, humming in your bones, he groans amplifying the feeling as his clothed hard on presses into your core. His tongue swipes over yours and the thought of not even knowing what he looks like arches your back into his touch. 

Finally he flips your skirt up, his fingers venturing between your thighs and when he finds no fabric and the satisfying sound of your slick he bucks his hips, biting at your breasts. 

"So wet sparrow…." His voice is soft breath and a little desperate causing your cunt to clench. He circles your clit until you're crying, his fingers occasionally checking for a stream of tears. When he feels the droplets on your face he chuckles shoving his fingers knuckle deep going agonizingly slow until you're fluttering around his thick curled digits. You cum hard and he whispers praises in your ear, several times as your body shakes and you think you won't be able to make it through the night. 

"Ready for my cock babe?" He asks gently swiping his thumb over your swollen and heavily abused clit. You perk right up, ready for the finale silently thanking the gods for a band members stamina. You notice him shaking as he leans down for a kiss, his stomach sweaty and sticking to yours. You fist his hair, pulling him back just a bit. 

"You'll be okay?" You can just make out the gleam of his teeth from his smirk before his voice comes out as pure sinful husk. 

"The question is, will you sweet sparrow?" 

Too stunned to answer he swallows your silence with a kiss before he sheaths himself inside you. Relishing the moan in his mouth and the fluttering of your velvet walls as they adjust to him. You were so wet, so ready for him as he slowly rocked his hips. Your half wish from earlier coming true as your hands fly to the dimples of his lower back, trying to urge him to quicken his pace but he keeps it languid, deadly. Each stroke hitting with purpose. The head of his cock hitting that cushy spot as his pelvis snapped against your clit. The sensation sends you into a never ending moan. Each gasp his stage name as he marks you as his, nails raking down your arms as he praises. 

"Such a nice pussy you have. Taking me so fucking well." He lingers by your ear, his tone the opposite of his lustful words. Your own nails claw down his back in viscous lines as he keeps you on the edge. The coil, steady and tight as you feel the pressure in your stomach growing. He can feel how tightly you're squeezing him and how your thighs are locked around his waist. He press his fingers into your stomach as his thumb swipes over your clit, his hips snapping faster and faster as he waits for what he hopes is coming. The pressure becomes too much he overstimulates your body, shaking as you cry out. 

"I can't, I can't…" 

"You can, just for me. Don't be shy, cum for me baby." His deep voice sends a chill through your body, you go rigid, quiet before your body jerks and releases a clear liquid onto his pelvis and cock. Shaking as he fucks your through it before his voice comes out strained as you milk him. 

"Imma cum baby, where do you want it?" 

"In me, I promise I have an IUD just fucking cum Dark Shadow!" You gasp and he obeys, adding to your pleasant after shocks, filling you to the brim with his hot seed with a husky grunt. He collapses onto you fixing your shirt before he gently withdraws, keeping his face to your chest as your fingers find his hair. You try not to let your thoughts wander and as if he could read your mind. 

"I promise you, you're the only one who's made me do that." He kisses your throat gently before his hand searches for your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours before he hums. Slowly singing you to sleep. You welcome the feeling as exhaustion blankets you in darkness.

"Uh miss." The voice comes as a shock as a large man tries to wake you from a distance. You startle, grabbing at blankets to cover yourself although you're fully clothed.  

"Hate to wake you miss but we're locking up. The venue is closed and the band is…" Although he looks a brute he clearly has some sort of heart. Unable to say what you know.  

"Gone." Tears burn your eyes as you think of how stupid you were. To ever think you were special enough to be anything more than a groupie. A note sits on the bedside table. 

"Should we cross paths again, Sparrow. I'll make you forever mine" 

The note blurs as you recognize the lyrics to the song. You look down at his band tee and wonder if your favorite song was more of a gimmick to pick up fans than some fated promise. 

And so life moves on.

You can only tell that time has passed from the fading color of your bruises. Slowly they melt from a cold bluish black into cool greens and warm dotted yellows. You sigh, looking in the mirror before you head towards your room for clothes.  Finally mustering up the courage to wear that stupid band tee he gave you again. It still smells faintly of him, of the winter woods suspended in forever twilight. Of musk from your sweat and his. You fight back the tears as you remind yourself you just put on mascara, finally choosing to participate in a social life after having your heart broken for being a fool. You decided to get ready sooner rather than later, otherwise you would have backed out from the plans and mopped around the house. You figured some coffee would help kill the time as you lace up your converse thinking of your favorite shop. You head out and walk leisurely to the cafe off the beaten path of downtown.  The street is full but not overly so as people browse the shopping district of the huge city you call home. Everyone fades into the background until your eye catches against a handsome man, dressed in tastefully torn black jeans, and an onyx turtleneck. You would be concerned for his attire in this weather if he wasn't so damn handsome. You must catch his eye as well as his face instantly lights up when he makes eye contact. He beats you to the cafe door, holding it open for you with ringed fingers like a gentleman waiting for you to enter. The gesture feels familiar causing your heart to squeeze in your chest, feeling trapped beneath your too small rib cage. As you walk past him you think you smell something familiar. 

Like cedar and pine, dancing on a snowy wind as the sun sets the world on fire. 

Your world on fire as you grip at the front of Dark Shadow's shirt trying not to cry. You just wanted your fucking macchiato and to move on with your life. You had lived every fan's dream of sleeping with your favorite band member. Tasting Dark Shadow's blackberry mouth. Shouldn't that be enough? 

Your aching heart said otherwise. 

Suddenly warmth is behind you, radiating off of a thick body as the handsome man bends over to put his profile to your ear. Goose flesh prickles your skin in late August as he says with a voice that drapes you in sinful black silk.

"You look damn good in my shirt, sparrow." 

#tokoyami smut #tokoyami fukimage #tokoyami x reader #tokoyami x you #bnha x reader #bnha band au #server collab #fukimage x reader

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"- "and you better not start now"

gif not mine cr. belongs to owner

Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: got nothing to say for myself really, just listened to a song, the idea hit me and i haven't written anything non science related in a decade so i gave it another go....that being said i realised i am awful at emotions lol. Side note i am from the UK so if some things seem off i apologise

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Warnings: ? mentions of skin? terrible fluff and flirting attempts

Word count: idk, it would not stop ~4k

A bop. A bop and some alcohol. That is all you needed after a long tiring week of studying for finals and cramming for your practical assessments. This week had been the last week of exam season and you were more than grateful that it had ended. You did not particularly care about how you’ve done on the assessments. That was not your present self’s problem, that was something for future you to worry about. Presently you just wanted to take a nap and head out with your girlfriends on a night out to just dance and drink all the stress away.

You weren’t a drinker, not by a long shot. You barely touched alcohol once or twice a month, and that happened mainly when you would have a get together with your friends. It was hard not to get sucked in when everything around you was so loud and chaotic it made you want to be part of the chaos not just an observer. You’ve done the whole ‘being sober whilst your friends got drunk’ and you swore to yourself it would never happen again. Funny how nights out looked disgusting and cliche when you were actually awake to witness them. From the group who ended up dancing on the tables, to the group who dispersed to hunt for one night stands, to the group who decided to pass out at the bar or in the toilets and then you, the sober one left to pick everyone up and send them back home safely and make sure than no one got into a fight. You sometimes wondered how the hell you got home alright when you ended up actually drinking on these nights out as none of your friends seemed willing to stay sober and watch over you. For once, you were not going to question your luck and just roll with it.

Before you settled for a nap though you knew you had to go downstairs to do your washing. Being a student during exam season meant you were surviving on microwavable food, lots of caffeine, sugar in all sorts of forms and that your tiny dorm room looked as if a hurricane has passed through it with dirty clothes all over the place and bedding that has been left unwashed for at least 2 weeks. You felt disgusting and unfortunately the neat freak in you kicked in, unsuppressed anymore by your pre-exam anxiety. With a sigh you started undoing your bedsheets and stashing them in a basket along with other bits and pieces of clothes. Making sure that you got your laundry detergent and your key card you started lugging the basket out of your room praying to the Gods that the lift was not broken.

Living on the 8th floor had its perks, but not when you were in a sleep deprived hurry. All you could do is check the numbers going down to the lower ground hoping that the lift would not stop at any other floor. But of course your luck would run out, on 3rd floor the lift slowed down and stopped, making you release an angry huff. ‘Of course it would’ you muttered to yourself as the doors opened only to reveal a tall men impatiently tapping his foot. Huffing he too got into the elevator making you aware of his stature. He may have not been as tall as some of the men you’ve seen but he was clearly working out as his muscles made him look way broader than his stature permitted. A gym rat, you rolled your eyes and tried to move the laundry bag and yourself into the corner, the space feeling too cramped for your liking. The dragging sound of the bag made the person turn around and give you a curious glance which you dismissed quickly. You weren’t interested in conversing with strangers on a normal basis let alone a gym rat. Nothing against them, you just had nothing in common and your tired brain did not want to make up a polite small talk.

‘Lower ground?’ the person asked you, surprisingly the voice was soft and clear, something you had not expected of him. It made you glance at him, ‘yeah’ you nodded after composing yourself. The person nodded making their long bangs fall into their eyes which prompted the next two surprises for you; in an attempt to settle his bangs out of his face he not only revealed a muscular defined arm which you’d have to admit was kind of attractive- you’d have to be blind not to notice, but also an array of random tattoos all over his arm and hand. The other surprise hit you a moment later after you realised you’ve been staring at him for a second too long and you sniffed and turned your face away. The smell of alcohol was coming off of him strongly as if he’s been drinking for a few days straight and his pores exuded it. It took you all you had to not cough. Frat boy, gym rat- this guy was ticking all the ‘no no’ boxes and so regardless of how good looking he was he did not deserve second thoughts.

Your prayers being answered, you reached lower ground quicker than expected and you prepared yourself to rush out of the lift. However, the clothes basket was heavier than you’d thought so instead of a swift exit like you’ve planned, you closely resembled Santa dragging his toy sack.

‘Would you like some help with that?’ the guy who’d turned around and observed you amusedly as you struggled extended a hand in your direction. You huffed and dropped the basket on the floor and couldn’t help but notice the basket he held in one hand and how the effort made his muscles and veiny arms that much more noticeable. Hot.

‘’S all good thanks’ however, you were not going to accept his help. You just wanted to get these damn clothes in the wash so you could go and nap away the remainder of your post exam stress. The guy held your gaze for a second too long before he raised an eyebrow and looked unconvincingly at your basket and your face, which was red by now you’d presume. Then shrugging he carried on walking towards the laundry room getting further and further out of your view, and you could have sworn there was an extra spring in his step. That fucker.

After monumental efforts you managed to drag everything to the laundry room only to notice that it had been left propped open by an empty bottle. Entering with difficulty you made your way to the closest washer available and dropped the laundry basket on the floor with a relieved sigh. Bending down to start putting your clothes in, you could definitely hear a snicker behind you. Whas that….? Of course it was, you were the only two souls in there. Everyone else was probably either enjoying some much needed sleep or partying the evening away already. Deciding to ignore him you continued to pile your clothes into the machine and soon enough you got distracted so much so that you did not realise you had started humming.

‘Nice voice you got there, but do both of us a favour, leave it for when you’re on your own will you?’ another snicker from behind. Flustered you whipped around, ‘what?’ his gaze on you held a smouldering effect making you feel as if you were pinned down by just its sheer force. His dark eyes, whilst amused, were also narrowed on your form as if commanding you to listen to what he was saying. Your breath hitched and as much as you’d tried to shrug off the feeling and the temptation to not listen to him and turn around, you found yourself unable to. Trying to hold his gaze your eyes wavered for a split second when the tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips to wet the lower one. A gesture so fleeting, done as if by habit, but paired with the intense gaze it had your throat constrict and your instincts had been to follow his moves, your own tongue coming out to lick your own suddenly dry lips.

Had you intended to do this to toy with him? No. Has it worked? Judging by the way his eyes travelled slowly and purposefully down your face towards your lips, you could swear it has. Refusing to give him more vulnerability than that you turned around with tremendous efforts and continued pilling clothes into the washer completely missing the way he stared at your ass that was now on display. Biting his lip he gave you another once over before returning to his own washing.

You couldn’t help to glance his way every time you would turn around to pick up more clothes out of the basket. He was sporting a concentrated face, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his broad shoulders and the way his arm muscles were defined by the effort were making you breathless. However, what made your head spin and your heart to skip too many beats for it to be healthy was what happened next. You blame your bad luck - or good luck- for glancing at him only to catch him grab his shirt and give it a tentative sniff and a shrug. So he knew he reeked, but your snicker turned into a hiccup as soon as he had grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Normally a situation like this wouldn’t phase you, you have seen plenty of men naked. But this one, this one was a special one. His bunny like features, defined nose bridge, jawline and floppy but rugged hair were a complete contrast to his defined jawline and...oh lord….were those six or eight abs??

‘What in the name of abs are you doing?’ sputtering you turned to fully face him. What a mistake. He did the same so now you had a full frontal view, first row, VIP seat to his naked upper body. That was definitely a six abs package. Shrugging, which by lord made everything tense up in ways you did not need to see, he threw the longsleeve into the wash and slammed it shut. All that did not take more than 5 seconds but to you, it seemed like a slowed down eternity in which your eyes got a good view of a muscular anatomy.

‘What, it’s dirty and i’m doing my washing?’ he stated as if it was plain as day and absolutely normal to get naked in the laundry room.’In the name of abs? Should i be calling you a peeping Tom?’ A slow forming smirk that made him look dangerously mischievous made its way onto his face.

‘Pffft, what? I said in the name of gods, what are you on about? Why would I be looking at you, whilst you think it’s perfectly fine to strip in a public place??’ he laughed at your clear distress but chose to not to mention your choice of words. ‘Hardly public is it? There’s just you and i in here’ he rebutted whilst turning around to scan his laundry card onto the machine and pressed start. You scoffed indignantly, ‘what am i chopped liver? I’m not goddamn blind’ you mumbled, not for his ears but instead chose to say out loud, ‘what about the poor souls who will see you in the lift back up? Is that not a public place?’

Unbeknownst to you he had clearly heard your previous statement, his smirk once again widening, so you had actually been looking. Good. Clearing his throat he put on as much of a serious face as he could ‘I think it’s unfair to call them poor, this is not cheap accommodation, if they live here it is clear that they are anything but poor’ he knew what you’d meant by poor, but just the annoyed tick in your eyebrow that appeared at his statement was worth it. Choosing to stay silent instead of taking the bait, you returned to your laundry. Only to curse out loud- you had finished it and upon scouring your belongings haphazardly you realised your card was missing. Vaguely remembering you had only taken your room card you groaned, this was not how you’d intended to spend your afternoon before the party.

Without a second’s notice, a tattooed hand with a card appeared before your eyes and the washing machine burst to life. Indignantly you whipped your head around to look at the owner of said hand, ‘what are you doing?’ only to come face to face with the end of a defined collarbone and jawline. And by all that is saintfully just, the line of his throat was just as attractive as the whole of the man. Being this close to him rendered you absolutely useless, jumbled thoughts ranging from ‘i need to pay him back’ to ‘what is he even doing’ to settle in the end to a single thought which you also voiced out loud without even thinking. ‘Your moles are pretty’. You had managed to get past the expanse of his neck to the outline of his lower lip when you noticed his mole, and to your defense- it was cute, but with the whole package, cute is the last word you had in mind. More like- it added a completeness that you would not think he needed but there it was.

He swallowed thickly, enjoying for a second too long the glazed look you had on your face as you said that. ‘And you have nice eyes’ he retaliates even though this is the first time he’s had a closeup look at them. Bright and sparkly, unknown to the both of you, a mirror of each other’s. Sparkly with a promise of something. Something which would have to wait for….if you had your way, forever, if he had his way- a second. You finally willed your legs to step aside and away from the unclothed man.

‘Uh-thanks’ you never stutter, but something about the heavy and thick air around makes it hard to take controlled breaths. ‘For the washing i mean’ you correct yourself. You will never admit to him out loud that him complimenting your eyes made your heart stumble and your brain freeze. You turned around to escape the situation, completely missing the amused expression on the man’s face. ‘You are welcome’ he extends his hand out walking to your side not missing the way you try to put some distance in between the two of you.

‘I’m Jungkook’ he smiles, a complete 180 from his appearance, his smile was warm and genuine, the type of smile that is reflected not only in his eyes but his whole face. His nose scrunches up too cutely, you think to yourself. He somehow resembles a bunny? Mustering up all the courage and bravery your heart still had, you grasp his hand. Hm, soft, odd for a gym head. You knew what he was asking for, but you would not give it to him. As cute as he is, you still tried to tell yourself you were unimpressed. ‘And i’m a poor soul who lives in this block of flats’ you mutter ‘i will pay you back for the washing’.

As soon as you reached your tiny cramped room and settled down for that nap you’ve been craving, you could not help but replay the last words he said to you, sounding way too smug for his own good. ‘Is that you telling me to put a shirt on for your sake?’

#bts #jungkook #bts jungkook #btsxreader #bts scenario #bts x reader scenario #jungkook x reader #was not intending to post this but my cat made me #bts fluff #bts x you #jungkook x you #somewhat crack #lox writings #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #fic #fluff

[averykedavra]

12. “I feel sick…so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.” intwuwogical 👀 🥺

(Hi, sorry for the delay! Thanks to @subtlereferencetomyinterests for the pun!)

Words: 2951

Logan didn’t expect any visitors.

It was always easy to slip through the cracks after an argument. Everyone was always preoccupied--with grudges, with apologies, with their own accelerated heartrates. It often took days for the situation to resolve itself, and it always went quicker when Logan was there to help.

Maybe Logan should help. But instead, he was in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

He’d taken off his tie--he couldn’t stand the feeling of it around his neck--and loosened his collar. The room was a mess of half-finished papers and crumbling corkboards. His hair was unwashed and his glasses were covered in crud.

Logan didn’t want any visitors. But when something banged loudly on the door, he took a second to answer, and the door burst open.

"Hey-hey, Isaac Ass-imov!” Remus grinned at him. He was brandishing a staff, probably the source of the banging. It seemed to be built of several bones, topped with teeth. Fascinating. Had Remus created it himself? “It’s time for dinner.”

What? Logan could have sworn it was only morning.

“Pop-Tart says you gotta come on down!” Remus shimmied his hips. “So get your booty out of bed and eat out with us!”

Logan decided against parsing every innuendo from Remus’ sentence. “And he sent you?”

“Yeah!” Remus slapped his staff cheerily. “I’m persuasive.”

Logan had no doubt of that. He rubbed his arm. He didn’t feel hungry--quite the contrary, his stomach felt rather like the ancient monster Charybdis, as if it would spit out whatever it ingested. However, he knew Patton would be upset at a refusal. More pressingly, Remus would be upset. Logan did not want to find out what Remus did when turned down.

“Who else will be there?” Logan decided to ask.

“Everyone Paternity Test and I can drag out of their rooms!” Remus’ smile, and staff, fell a bit. “Not Ro-Bro, though. Or the emo, if Jay is gonna be there.”

“Jay--” It took a second for Logan to comprehend. “Oh. Janus.”

Remus looked between Logan and the door, then closed the door.

“He--he feels really bad about what happened,” Remus finally said. “They all do. It was a whole big garbage-pile mess, I couldn’t have done it better.”

“You would have improved the situation,” Logan said with a chuckle. “You could have knocked us all out, thus forestalling any crises of morality.”

“That’s what I said!” Remus flopped bonelessly to the ground. His head lolled on the foot of Logan’s bed, his feet pushed at the carpet and the papers drifting by, and he began to fidget with the teeth on his staff. They clinked when he moved them. “Anyway, are you coming to dinner?”

“It doesn’t seem as though either of us are going anywhere,” Logan pointed out, “as you’ve just made yourself comfortable on my rug.”

“Oh.” Remus looked down. “Do you--mind?”

“No,” Logan said, surprising himself. “I don’t, as long as you don’t make a mess.”

“I don’t need to,” Remus said, waving a hand at the papers marooned on the floor. “But yeah, we are going somewhere, ‘cause our Patreon tier gives us free meals now. Nice of him.”

“You’re allowed?” Logan asked.

“Yeah! If I don’t ‘make a nuisance of myself.’” Remus leaned forward confidentially. “Think Patton just wants to have one creative Side around, to make himself feel better.”

Logan traced the edges of the ceiling with his eyes. “He seems to be warming to you.”

“Yeah!” Remus beamed. “Well, Janny likes me, and they’re two peas in a Juul pod now, so he lets me do stuff! Like banging on doors!”

Remus banged on the floor with his staff. The teeth shook.

“Where did you get that?” Logan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it made of human bones?”

Remus’ eyes lit up. “Yeah! Femur here, and then some wrist bones here, and a rib, and then a bundle of molars!”

“Where did you get them?”

“Imagination.” Remus’ voice slid into a rambling tone, as if he was gearing up for a long monologue. Logan found it rather endearing. “My side of the imagination is filled with bones. So I made this one last year! It’s a bonk stick.”

“A--” Logan blinked. “A what?”

“It bonks!” Remus raised the stick and twisted around to Logan. Logan barely had time to move before the staff came down on his head. A light tap. “Bonk!”

“Bonk,” Logan repeated, watching the staff. “What does it do?”

“It bonks people into doing stuff!” Remus pulled the staff away from Logan. “I bonk on doors and I bonk on faces and I bonk on walls! Gets people’s attention. When people are stuck in bed and being gloomy, I bonk them into doing stuff! I--used to do that for Jay, sometimes. I’m the one who gets everyone out of bed.” Remus laughed. “Perks of being a bother.”

“You’re not a bother,” Logan said, out of habit. He’d said similar things to Virgil many times.  

“If you think that, I’m not trying hard enough.” Remus flipped, knees over his head, and landed on his back on the carpet. His feet kicked up on the bed and l left smears on the quilt. His hair pooled in snarls around his face. “It’s my job, right? I’m the one who bangs pans in your brain until you do something.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“But yeah, I know, I’m not usually the ‘helpful’ one.” Remus sighed, though it sounded more like a blown raspberry. “Jay winds me up and points me fun-wards, though! And now I’ve been tugged all the way over to you!”

“Wonderful,” Logan said.

“It is, isn’t it?” Remus tugged at his mustache. “So, you coming to dinner or not?”

Logan let out a breath.

“Come on,” Remus said after a moment of silence. “You can’t just sulk in bed forever. Get moving! Go-go-go! You’ve got no excuse to stay in bed.”

Something angry twisted in Logan’s chest. “Maybe I do,” he snapped.

“Oh!” Remus blinked up at him. “What is it?”

“Um.” Logan hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m working right now.”

“You’re lying in bed.”

“I’m brainstorming,” Logan lied. “I often do my best work in silence.”

Remus scoffed. “No one works well in silence.”

“I do!”

“Your room says otherwise.” Remus gestured with his staff at the piles of paper and the dusty desk. “You haven’t been working, Specs and the City, don’t try to bluff.”

Logan bit back a pout. “Then--I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not sleep-time,” Remus said. “You can sleep later! Aren’t you all about those cicada rhythms?”

“It’s circadian rhythms,” Logan said. “And you remember that? You weren’t even there!”

“I’m always there,” Remus said. His grin would have been threatening, if he wasn’t sprawled on the rug with curls flopping over his forehead. “I hear everything. Whether you see me or--” He covered his face and splayed his hands. “You don’t!”

“Interesting,” Logan said. “So...you were there during the argument? About the wedding?”

Remus cringed. “Yeah.”

“Oh." Logan felt a bit embarrassed, which was ridiculous, because Remus was the last person who would judge him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Eh, not my jam.” Remus tossed his staff in the air and caught it. The teeth jingled. “Yadda yadda morality bogus, no fun. I don’t mind callbacks, and I don’t mind weddings if they end in orgies, so I really didn’t care. I’m not really about reflecting. You do what you do, no use getting your panties twisted after it’s over.”

“Huh,” Logan said. “So...that’s how you feel about it?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about it?” Logan asked. He didn’t know why--maybe to deflect Remus’ own questioning, maybe because he was curious, curious to see this unknown variable in action. “How do you feel? Has anyone asked you?”

“I--” Remus looked at him open-mouthed for a moment. Then his mouth slammed shut like a nutcracker’s. “I don’t care about it. Like I said. And--no, nobody has. I’m just the voice in the back of your mind, nothing to worry about.”

Remus was in the back of the mind. What did it mean, then, that he was here? Was this the back--was this the shadows? Was this where voices went when nobody listened to them?

“But you’re getting me off-track!” With a nod, Remus was back to full energy. “No getting off-track. No pileups today. I need to hear why you can’t go to dinner.”

“I don’t want to,” Logan said.

Simple. Sickeningly, achingly simple. The scabs stung around his neck.

Remus actually seemed to be considering it. “Why not?”

“I want to stay in bed,” Logan said. Simple. Truthful. No lies to summon anyone, anything. To just keep the two of them there.

Logan stared at the ceiling instead of Remus. Don’t check to see if he’s gone. That wasn’t how you dealt with intrusive thoughts--they always came back. And he wanted Remus gone.

Didn’t he?

“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. “But should you?”

“I’m done worrying about shoulds.”

“Do the others want you to?”

“I’ve spent too much time thinking about them already.”

“Is it good for you?”

Logan huffed. “You tell me. Morality is hardly my area of expertise.”

“Mine either,” Remus said, “but I’m good at being where I’m not wanted. And doing what I gotta do.”

Logan continued to look at the ceiling. Maybe Remus would leave. Maybe he wouldn’t. Schrodinger’s cat, he thought idly--dead or alive, an enigma, an unknown. Anything was possible until you checked to make sure.

“How do you feel?”

“What?” Logan jerked his head over to Remus. “What do you mean?”

“How do you feel about everything that happened?” Remus shrugged. “You just look kinda icky. And you asked me. Fair’s fair.”

“You don’t believe in fair,” Logan said.

“You do.”

Did he? If he allowed himself the possibility, something red-hot choked his chest. Fair meant everyone was listened to. Fair meant everyone’s input was valued. Fair meant he wasn’t pulled away before he got a chance to fix things--

He’d already failed, though. Wasn’t it fair that he didn’t deserve a seat at the table?

“I don’t believe in fairness,” Logan said. “And I don’t feel anything.”

Remus snickered. “Sure.”

“I don’t!”

“Look, I won’t tell anyone.” Remus winked at him and tapped his nose. “I already know, anyway. I know all your dirty little secrets.”

Logan blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, Jay might hide the secrets, but he needs somewhere to put them.” Remus spread his arms. Sprawled on the carpet, his arms outstretched, he looked like he was being pinned to a cross. “I’m where all the secrets go! All the dirty things you’d never say out loud, I hear them. I’m like your footprints! Or oil sludge--or radiation!”

Logan touched his collar. “Fascinating.”

“I think so too!” Remus bonked the staff on the floor. “Point is, my pointy Poin-dexter, is that I’m not gonna judge. You probably don’t even measure up to the freaky shit I’ve heard some of them think. Glass houses. Say whatever you want, I don’t care, brains are weird and gross sometimes.”

Logan didn’t have a brain, technically. Or he was the brain. Either way, he wasn’t supposed to be weird or gross. Or--fallible. Yet here he was, sprawled on his bed and immovable, a pile of feelings he could barely understand.

“I feel...sick,” Logan said.

Remus was quiet. Maybe he wasn’t there--Logan could monologue to himself, and no one would be the wiser, and Remus wouldn’t be there until Logan looked for him. Remus wasn’t helpful unless someone looked.

“I feel sick,” Logan repeated. “So--anxious, and sick, and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”

He could feel his pulse, pounding in his neck. Why did he need it? How was this fair? How was it fair to give him a heart to race, breath to steal, a voice to silence? Why did he have to be this?

Things he should be. Things others wanted. Things that were good.

Things he wanted.

Always tangled, always at odds, always disastrously intertwined.

“I tried to help,” Logan pleaded with no one. “I tried to help--I knew it wasn’t my place to interfere, I couldn’t help with their personal issues, but I could still--give information. Help. I needed to help, I’m--I’m the one who helps. And I failed, and it hurt--and he dragged me off and I couldn’t breathe--”

Breathe. His windpipe was closing. Logan closed his eyes and breathed in and out. Four, seven, eight. He’d taught Virgil that rhythm. Why could he fix everyone else’s problems, but not his own?

“I tried to help,” Logan said, weakly. “It wasn’t fair.”

“No,” Remus agreed. “It wasn’t.”

Logan rubbed at the scabs around his neck. Remus’ throwing stars hadn’t hurt him, so everyone assumed he couldn’t feel pain--that he was unflappable, powerful, untouchable Logic. But it was only because Remus didn’t try to hurt him. Everyone could hurt Logan if they tried. Or if they didn’t bother to stop it from happening.

“I feel sick,” Logan said, quietly, like the crook was still around his neck. “And that’s why I’m not going. That’s my excuse.”

Silence. Logan didn’t want to check if Remus had left. He wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“Chicken noodle soup,” Remus said.

“What?”

“That’s what people eat when they’re sick,” Remus continued, springing to his feet. “And, like, toast. And mushed bananas.”

“The b-r-a-t diet,” Logan agreed, still confused. “Bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast.”

“Okay!” Remus nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m more practiced at the make people sick side of things, but this is cool too.”

“What?” Logan asked, hoping that for once, Remus would explain. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, you’re sick?” Remus asked. “So I’m helping?”

“I’m not that kind of sick,” Logan started to say, but he realized that wasn’t entirely true. He did feel flushed. And his stomach churned menacingly. “Why?”

“There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do!” Remus bonked him on the leg. “You gotta eat something, so I’ll grab stuff for you.”

“But you’re eating with Patton.”

Another bonk on the leg. “I can do it another night! Plus, it’s no fun if I can’t be a nuisance.”

Logan smiled a bit, despite himself. “You can’t be a nuisance here, either.”

“Aww!” Remus pouted, sticking out his lip. “Pwease?”

“I’m not hungry,” Logan said, instead of confronting the fact that Remus’ puppy eyes were working. “Thank you, though.”

“Still gonna get you some food, I think it’s kinda necessary for survival.” Remus looked him over. “Yeah, I’ll grab you a plate, so you can eat in here!”

“You’re...” Logan still didn’t fully understand this. “Letting me stay in bed?”

“You said it yourself, you wanna be here.” Remus shrugged. “Sometimes the bonk stick doesn’t work! And sometimes you just gotta work with what you got. So you stay in bed, and I get you stuff you need, and you take a nap!”

“A nap,” Logan repeated.

“You said you were tired!”

“You said it wasn’t time to sleep yet!”

“Sick rules are different!” Remus crossed his arms. “Look, it’s me, or I sic Pat and Jay on you. And they’re gonna baby you something fierce.”

Logan knew that was true enough. “And you're...okay with this? I don’t wish to interrupt any schedules you may have--”

“I’m Intrusive Thoughts, I don’t have schedules.” Remus shimmied. “I do-do-do what I wanna do-do-do! And what I wanna do is help you out here.”

“Help me,” Logan repeated.

“I can be helpful!” Remus protested. “I have a stick!”

The staff jingled in his hand. He looked utterly convinced. And Logan knew it well enough--there was no way to force the Duke to retire a subject of conversation. Or to get rid of him. Or to stop him from trying something out.

And oddly, Logan found he didn’t mind a bit.

“Okay,” he said. “If you’d like to, you can help.”

Remus’ grin stretched almost the full way around his cheeks. “Oh! Really? Oh, this is so cool, usually I only help Jay--I’ll get you some food! Toast and brats and whatever you were saying. And like a temperature thing, stuff to help you out. You should get into some PJs while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” Logan said, after a few seconds. It was often hard to tell when Remus was finished talking. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Yes!” Remus whooped and tossed open Logan’s door. “Be right back, nerd, and I’d better see some pajamas! Or your birthday suit, if that’s what you’re into!”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Logan stared after him for a second. He wasn’t quite sure how the conversation had progressed as it did. He definitely wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. Or something he should be doing. Or what the others would want.

It was what he wanted, though. Didn’t he get that? Wasn’t that fair?

Two Sides at the back of the mind, two sides of the same coin, leaving each other’s footsteps behind.

Logan touched his collar.

He only wore his onesie when he didn’t expect visitors. But he changed into it now, curling up on the bed, waiting for Remus to come back. For some reason, despite Remus’ unpredictability, he was sure that Remus would. Intrusive Thoughts never truly went away. Like a grease stain, or a mole in a game of Whack-a-Mole. Or radiation.

Logan smiled to himself. Remus was already rubbing off on him.

And for the first time in several days, his heart rate steadied, and Logan could breathe again.

Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!

#intrulogical #sanders sides #remus sanders #logan sanders #logan sanders angst #janus negativity #like just a wee bit but it's okay #remus sanders angst #asks and answers #anon #averywrites #long post #dhgsfhj kinda proud of this one even tho i deleted the whole first half by accident #it definitely came out longer than i expected #might even rb with taglist later? maybe!

[adezahnae]

While We’re on a Little Trip (Part 5)

A/N: WOO THIS CHAPTER TOOK 20 DAMN DECADES😭😭 OKAY HERE IS PART 5!! ENJOY IT!!💕👑

Warnings: Secrets, plot twist, brutality, pistol whipping, fighting, burning, STRONG ANGST, cursing, smoking, soft smut, slight pregnancy kink, slapping, etc...

Tagged People: @ahgasearmyfan @whoreforshuaaa @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @janedukiesworld @staynctzen127 @keeach @nanascupid @winwiniee

Jaehyun’s POV

I walked into the hotel, putting my gun in the back of my pants. This bitch has gone far. I tolerate and tolerate but I’m not standing for this shit, I have to say, she has the right daughter today. Good thing I own this hotel too. The woman from the front desk remembered me. She bowed. “Mr. Jung.” She said. “Where is the room Alexa Kang stays in?” I asked. She quickly typed in the computer. “Room 754, sir.” She replied.

“Shut this place down. Now.” I ordered. She nodded. “Yes sir.” The lights shut off slightly and the doors locked. She closed the windows and blocked them in. “But sir, what about other people here sir?” She asked. “Leave them. If there’s any damage I cause, I’ll pay for it.” I said walking away. I went to the elevator and pushed the floor number. I made it there and I rushed down the halls pulling out the gun. I seen these two police men.

“Sir! Put the gun down-“ “Do you recognize me, assholes?” I asked looking it their direction. “We’re so sorry sir, our apologies.” They said bowing and taking their hats off. “Now tell everyone in here to stay in their rooms until further notice.” I growled. “Yes sir.” “Now have a nice damn day.” I said. They moved out the way and I walked down the hall. I made it to her door and I banged on it. I covered up the peephole. “Who is it?” They asked. I didn’t respond.

I heard them get up to walk to the door and unlock it. Right when he opened the door, I took the bottom of the gun and hit him in the nose with it. He fell on the floor and groaned in pain. I walked into the room more and I heard the other get up. “What the hell is wrong with-“ I cut him off with a punch to the face with the gun as well. “Man what the hell is your FUCKING PROBLEM-“ I cocked my gun back and pointed to him. “Take the base out of your fucking voice when you’re talking to me. Do you know who I am?” I growled. The man’s eyes struck with fear as he realized who I was.

“Oh shit..dude it’s Jae. L-Look man, I’m sorry we couldn’t recognize you.” One of them nervously laughed. “Who the fuck is Jae?” The other asked. The other nudged him in his side. “Shut the fuck up and watch your tone Larry, it’s Jae. The one who runs all of the mafia gangs! He’s over all bosses of all Mafia gangs. This man is serious business and will kill our asses!” I’m guessing Mike said. “I’m gonna ask you one simple question. Did you two touch my daughter?” I asked.

Larry laughed. “Which one?” He asked. I punched him in the face and slapped him with the gun. “I will and I mean will kill your ass and fucking leave you here for the dogs!” I yelled. “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!!” Larry cried as he bled out his mouth. “You’re daughter? Who is that sir?” Mike asked. I grew frustrated. “MILIA! FUCKING MILIA JAECEE JUNG! DID YOU TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!?” I yelled.

“That’s your Babygirl? I didn’t know man..congratulations-“ I cut Mike off with a slap to the face with the gun twice. “ANSWER MY QUESTION!” I yelled. “Yeah! We did! Please just let us go!” Larry cried out. “What did you do to her?” I growled. “We...We.” “SPIT IT THE FUCK OUT!” I yelled. “We beat her and put burn marks on her from our cigarettes! We pushed her around and yelled at her! We’re sorry!” Mike said. I took my gun and began to beat them with it.

They bled all over my clothes and their faces were busted. I threw the gun and stood up. I turned my hat around and breathed out. “We didn’t know she was yours! we didn’t even know that you and Alexa were a thing! She just told us to do it man..” Cried Mike. I chuckled and stomped him in his face. “So you listen to a bitch who gives you nothing but pussy left and right?” I asked. “She said that she wanted her daughter dead. We were gonna kill her but that’s when Alexa told us that you were here.” Larry explained.

I clinched my jaw and sat on the bed. “So you were gonna kill my daughter?” I asked. “Boss we-“ “BEAT AROUND THE DAMN BUSH AGAIN OR I SWEAR FOR GOD I WILL THOUGH YOU FROM THIS DAMN ROOF!” I yelled punching him. “Y-Yes..s-sir..” Larry coughed. I looked over to see a lighter and a belt. I grabbed them both and stood up. “So..since you both decided that beating my baby was an amazing choice. You will feel what she felt..” I growled. They shook their heads. I tucked in my necklace. “Who beat my daughter first?” I asked. “Larry did..” Mike said.

I snatched Larry and wrapped the belt around his neck. He began to choke. I took the lighter. “Open your mouth, bitch..” I growled. I forced his mouth open and placed the fire on his tongue. He began to scream and shout. I gripped the belt tighter around his neck and burned his tongue more. Afterwards, I buckled the belt around his neck, pulling at it. He began to choke more and I began to punch him in the face and stomach, harshly. I pushed him down on the ground and stomped him and kicked him in his stomach. I let him go and turned to Mike.

He began to shake his head. “Jae..you know me! I used to work for you man! We were partners! I was your best run man! I was!!” Mike said. I chucked and shook my head. I grabbed my gun again and hit him across the face with it. “That’s the reason why you’re getting it worse than this bitch over here.” I said nodding towards Larry. I began to punch him in the face harshly, letting out all of my anger. I grabbed his head and banged it against the wall. I picked him up and threw into another one, beating him to the ground again. I kicked his face plenty of times and then I stopped.

I took the lighter and grabbed his hand. I began to burn his fingers and he cried. I kicked him in the stomach. “Shut the fuck up.” I growled. I then burned the roof of his mouth and he cried out. I beat him again with the gun and stood up. He was now laid on the ground with Larry, both of them coughing and groaning. I threw the lit lighter at their bodies and watched them panic as they try to put it out. “Where is Alexa?” I asked. They didn’t respond.

I began to mush Mike’s head in the floor more with my shoe. “I said where is the bitch?” I growled. “AHHH SHES AT ANOTHER HOTEL! ITS ONE PINE STREET AND ITS THE ONLY ONE THERE! SHE’S THERE!” He cried. I kicked him in the head making him unconscious and did the same to Larry. I opened the door and walked out, going to find Alexa.

“Ooh! Look at that one! It’s big!!” Lia said pointing to the giraffe. “I know! That’s the Daddy giraffe.” I smiled. “He’s tall like my Daddy! He’s reall tall!” She said. I smiled. “That he is..” I said pinching her cheeks. We were now at a zoo looking at animals as the guards followed behind us. My mind was off of Jaehyun for a little bit. I’m still worried sick about chin though.

What if he’s gone? No! Y/n you can’t think that, he’s alright...I hope. “Where is Daddy?” Lia asked. “Uhh he went to go and talk to some people! Yeah..” I said. Maybe he’s just talking to some people. I then removed the bad thoughts from my head and continued to walk with Lia looking at animals. Jaehyun’s not that crazy....right?

As we were looking at the elephants, a woman tapped my shoulder. “Is that your daughter?” She asked. “O-Oh! No, it’s my boyfriend’s daughter. I’m just babysitting her while he goes and talk with others.” I smiled. “Wow..she’s is beautiful.” She smiled. “Say thank you, Lia.” I said. She hid her face in my shoulder. “Hi...” she mumbled. “I’m sorry, she’s just a little bit shy.” I smiled. “That’s fine! She’s so cute though, enjoy!” She waved.

I patted her back. “What if you were my daughter hm?” I asked. “Can you be my new mommy?” She asked. I then thought about it. I’ve always wanted to have children with Jaehyun. Lia wasn’t mines but she was close to it. She was just too cute. Hmm, maybe that won’t be bad. “Okay. But we will have to ask Daddy about this later just to be on the safe side.” I said. She perked up her head and nodded. “Okay!” I smiled. “Okay..let’s go and get a juice hm?” I said skipping to the bar at the zoo. “Yaayy!!” She cheered. The rest of the day, me and Lia enjoyed Hawaii and it was time for us to go to the house we were staying at.

It was later on that night and I was pissed. Jaehyun hasn’t even called me or texted me back! I was wondering if he was okay but he wouldn’t answer! I opened the car door and picked up Lia. She had a sucker in her mouth as she was watching cartoons. The drivers and guards helped me with my bags.

I unlocked the door and they sat the bags down. “Thank you.” I smiled. They nodded and closed the door. The house was beautiful. It was on the private beach just as said. I looked over to see that Jaehyun’s bags were here and his shoes were as well. I narrowed my eyes. “You ready to go and bathe sweetie?” I asked. “Yes mommy..” Lia mumbled. My heart fluttered at the name. I smiled and led her to the bathroom.

I ran the bath water for us and I undressed us. I pulled my hair up into a bun and I pulled hers up into one as well. She had such curly hair. We began to play with the bubbles and giggle. After a while, I began to wash her off since she was getting a little bit sleepy. I washed my off and took us from the tub.

I dried her body and put healing medicine on her bruises and bumps. I dressed her in one of Jaehyun’s shirts since she didn’t have any sleeping pajamas. I was drying her hair now and she fell asleep in my lap. I smiled softly and picked her up carefully. There was two rooms and hers was right across from me and Jaehyun’s.

I haven’t heard a peep from him this entire time. Only because the door was closed. As I was approaching it, I heard coughing and sighs of relaxation. I opened the door and scrunched my nose up at the smell. “It stinks in here..” I mumbled. I seen him on the edge of the bed, smoking something. “Yeah I know..” He replied calmly. I looked closely. “Jaehyun...is that...weed?!” I exclaimed. “Maybe..” He said taking another smoke from it.

I rushed out the room and closed Lia’s room door so the smell won’t travel in there. I came back in our room. “Jaehyun what the hell? Put that out!” I exclaimed. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t ruin this for me, I need it..” He said. “You’re the one who needs it?! I’ve been trying to call you and reach you for the longest! Yet here you are, in our bedroom, getting high! Since when did you smoke anyways?!” I ranted like angry housewife.

“Wayyy before you and your mother.” He chuckled, smoking again. “Well you’re with me! Put it out! It’s stinks!” I said. “Like I said, I need this okay? Now leave me alone and do something. Don’t ruin this..” He warned. I groaned out. “Damn you’re a piece of shit! I’m out there looking after YOUR daughter, worried sick about you and you’re sitting here getting high! Did you get high when you left to the hotel too?! I bet you fucked her too you fucking man whore!” I spat in anger. He stopped smoking and looked over at me. “What did you call me?” He asked.

“Damn you can’t hear now?! I called you a man whore! You know a man who just fucks left and right?!” I yelled. He blew out the smoke and put the blunt down. He got up and approached me. “You better watch your tone, I’m not playing.” He growled. “Like I’m scared of your ass! You’re not gonna do anything to me!” I yelled.

He pushed me against a wall and placed his hand around my neck. “You got one more fucking time before you blow my high. I said. Leave. Me. Alone...” He growled in my ear. I pushed him off of me. “GET FUCK OFF ME YOU ASSHOLE! I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU’RE A FUCKING HOE AND A DEADBEAT ASS FATHER!” I yelled. Suddenly, I felt something I’d never thought I’d feel in my life....

“BITCH!” Was all I heard him say before I fell to the ground with burn to my cheek. I gasped and began to sob. He slapped me...he just slapped me...I shook my head. His entire body changed. He began to approach me. “Y/n? Baby..Princess its a-alright..I’m sorry..” he whispered trying to hold me. I smacked his hand away and cried more. “Don’t touch me Jaehyun!!” I cried.

Tears began to flow down his eyes. “Princess, please..I’m sorry.” He whispered. I moved away from him to the corner of the room and cried. He came up to me and began to hold me. I started to kick and scream for him to let me go. “I’m sorry..I’m so so sorry..” He whispered as he picked me up.

I kicked and screamed, hitting his chest. “Let me go Jaehyun! You said you would never hit me!” I cried. He laid me on the bed and began to kiss my lips. I kept trying to push him off of me. “Get off! Get off!!” I cried. He planted kisses on my face and to my jaw. He moved my hair out of the way and went down to my neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so so so sorry..” He mumbled.

I began to hit him again. “HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!! YOU MAKE ME SICK! GET OFF OF ME!!” I yelled through tears. I kicked and punched him all over but he didn’t move. He slipped my slippers off and hurriedly undid the tie on my robe, revealing my body. He placed kisses on my collarbone down the middle of my chest. “No!! Stop it!! I hate you!!” I cried trying to push him away.

I whimpered as he placed sweet kisses on my stomach now. He made it to my heat and placed gentle kisses on it. I began to whine and cry more. “Stop this Jae! You can’t fix this! Leave me alone! I hate you!!” I cried, trying not to focus on the pleasure. “I’m sorry..” He whispered. He began to place soft licks on my heat and slipped his tongue through my folds.

I hummed and still cried silently. He hooked his arms around my thighs and held them open wider. I began to give in and whimpered his name. “Jaehyun..” I bit on my finger and closed my eyes. His tongue movements began to speed up as he swirled it. I began to let out sighs and whines. “I’m close, I’m so close..” I whispered. He sped up, bringing me to my release. He pulled away and crawled on top of me.

He placed a kiss on my lips while he took my robe off of my body. He pulled down his sweatpants and wrapped my legs around his waist. He placed a kiss on the cheek he hit, mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ over and over. He slowly pushed himself in, causing me to arch my back. He kissed away my tears as he rocked his hips back and forth at a slow and steady pace. I turned my head so I wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Look at me, please...Princess please..” He begged. I turned my head to see tears in his eyes. “I love you..” he whispered. I shed a tear. “I love you too..” I whispered back. He leaned down and buried his face in my neck, giving it bites and kisses. I gasped and grabbed onto him when he hit the right spot on my neck and in my heat. “R-Right there..please don’t stop..” I whispered through moans.

He began to speed up his thrusts and growl. My moans got louder and louder as I closed my eyes and arched my back more. He groaned and gripped my hips. “I want you to have my baby, Princess..” He whispered. He groaned as I clenched around him. “Wait- Jae-“ I was cut off by him groaning and pounding me. He reached his high and let out a loud growl. “FUCK!” He yelled. I scratched my hands down his back and screamed out his name. “JAEHYUN! IM C-CUMMM..AHHH!!!” I came over his member and hugged his body as I came down from my high. My eyes became drowsy and I closed them. He laid me down gently and wrapped his arms around my body as he hugged me close.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #jaehyun ff #nct ff #nct 127 ff #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun

[neonponders]

This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful) 

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day. 

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing - 

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already - 

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed - 

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

#are we in the present day or the 80s? who knows #harringrove #younger billy with s3+ steve #ficlet #neonponders #memes-saved-me #pondermoniums #a sprinkling of #virgin!billy #this got long lol #i wanted to write more but i like this ending #for now? #i have things I need to do lol #i'm sorry for the abrupt ending

[sillyrabbit81]

Syverson & Vixen

Summary: Captain Syverson retires from the Army and takes an extended vacation. He wasn't planning on falling in love. Then he meets Vix, an unlucky in love tattoo artist at a party. Do they have what it takes to make it?

Pairing: Syverson x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.1k

Warnings: swearing, smut

Authors note: I hope you enjoy my version of Syverson. Thanks for reading.

Masterlist

Part 9 Part 11

Part 10

Syverson

Vix arrived at my hotel in the late afternoon. I could see she'd had a rough few days. Her eyes had lost their usual spark. She had no makeup on, not even her regular eyeliner and her hair was up in a ponytail. God damn, she still took my breath away.

"Hey, pretty lady." I held the door open for Vix with my arm. She smiled at me, but the smile barely touched her eyes. She went under my arm, but instead of going into the room, she put her arms around my waist and hugged me, burying her face into my chest. Damn, it felt nice to have her hold me like that.

I walked her out of the doorway and closed the door with my foot. I hugged her back, giving her a little squeeze.

"Jeez, Sy, I can't breathe," Vix said into my chest. Her voice sounded like she was smiling.

I gave her a big squeeze and lifted her before putting her down again. Vix yelped, and I let her go. She was smiling, and I could see it in her eyes this time. My smile got bigger, and so did something else. I put my hand to her cheek and rubbed the soft skin over her cheekbone. "God damn, you're beautiful when you smile."

Vix's cheeks grew pink, but she looked me in the eyes and said, "Thank-you, Sy."

I sat down on the too-small couch in the too-small room and brought Vix down to my lap, her legs across mine. "So, you hungry?" She nodded. "Me too. Want to eat here or go out." Vix looked around the room. "I know it ain't much to look at, but I gotta wait a few more days before I get the keys to my apartment."

Vix smiled, "do you even have furniture for your new place?"

"I got one of those furnished apartments," I replied.

"How long's your lease?"

"Three months," I said. Vix nodded and looked away.

I knew the unspoken question that was there. I wasn't sure of the answer myself. I'd just thought Vix would be a girl I'd fuck and move on from. But, I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind. Maybe its because I hadn't fucked her yet though I didn't think it was that. Most of the time, I thought about her, I saw her with her head on my chest and her big hazel eyes staring up at me through her bangs. It's dangerous when you think of a girl, and it's not her tits or ass you think of first.

I missed her when she wasn't around. I missed her flirting, her eagerness. I missed her smile. I worried about her too. I wasn't used to that. I hadn't even worried about my wife when I was on deployment. Vix brought out a deep desire to protect her and take care of her. So many times, the past few days, I had wanted to call her. But I knew she would be busy with Jess and didn't want to intrude.

I had been surprised when Softy told me he confessed to Jess. I had even gone to the pub with him because I had felt a little bad for him. He clearly loved Jess, but he had fucked up and had to lay in the bed he had made. But then Robbo had shown up and started running his mouth about women and Vix, and I had to leave, or I would have beat him to a pulp. Softy had gotten pissed off and tried to get me to go back, but I was over their bullshit. I packed my stuff that day.

I put my hand under Vix's chin and brought her face back to mine. "Look, Vix, I ain't gonna lie to you. I don't know how long I'm stayin'. But I ain't going anywhere for a while, and I want to spend as much of that time with you as I can. You ok with that?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, there are no guarantees in relationships anyway. Whether you're here for three months or three decades, who knows what will happen." Vix's answer surprised me until I remembered that she had just witnessed the breakdown of a relationship she probably thought would last forever. "I just want you to promise one thing."

"And what's that, Sugar?"

"That you will say goodbye to me before you leave."

I smiled and pushed her bangs off her forehead and kissed her there before smoothing them down again. "Scouts honour," I promised.

Vix kissed me then, her plump lips open, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth. I stood her up and then brought her down on my lap again, and her legs straddled mine. I kissed her back, and she sucked my tongue. I half groaned, and half chuckled at her eagerness. I heard her do the same, and my body reacted.

Roughly I put my hand on her throat and tilted her neck, and buried my face into her. I had the urge to do something I hadn't done in years. I sucked hard on her neck. I wanted to mark her pretty skin, so everyone knew she was mine. I wanted to claim her, own her, protect her. I lifted my hips up into her as I did, wanting to feel the warmth of her sex. I wanted to be in her so badly. My teeth sunk into her neck. Vix cried out, and the noise made me stop.

What the fuck? I looked at her neck, and a huge red welt had already appeared surrounded by teeth marks. It was definitely going to bruise. It made my dick harder than steel looking at it. What in Hades was wrong with me?

"Did I hurt you?" I asked, gingerly touching her neck.

"No," Vix said. "It felt good."

Fuck. If she had said it hurt, I wouldn't do it again. I clenched my jaw and breathed deeply through my nose. Slowly I took control back, letting myself calm again.

"What's wrong?" Vix asked.

"Nothin' Sweet Pea." I gave her ass a little tap. I shook my head. I probably shouldn't have done that if I was trying to calm down. I sighed. "C'mon, let's get you fed."

We ate dinner at the pub a few blocks away. The food was good, and the beer was cold. We stayed for another drink after dinner, but as Vix's hickey started to show itself, I had only one thing on my mind.

I had to think about something else. "Are you fixin' to get a new job, or will you take a break for a while?" I asked.

"Both. I got a new job today. I'm only going to work Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Just for a while, until this shit calms down."

"Has the pussy contacted you?" I wasn't going to say his name, the piece of shit.

"No, he hasn't." There was more there. She wasn't telling me everything. I debated if I should ask her. I suppose she had a right to tell me in her own time.

"There's something you're not telling me," I said. "You don't need to tell me, but no one hurt you, did they?"

Vix shook her head. Then she smiled at me and changed the subject. "Tell me about your home, Sy."

"Ain't much to tell, Vix." I sat up in my chair. I never talked much about home. The word home didn't mean much to me. I don't think I'd ever stayed in one place for longer than 18 months in my life. Home sounded like a made-up thing I only read about in stories.

"You could tell me anything." Vix persisted. She put her hand on my knee. "Tell me something about you. I know nearly nothing."

"I moved around a lot as a kid. I was an army brat."

Her hand moved up my thigh. "Tell me more." Her eyes burned into mine. She was playing her games again. I suppressed a smile.

"My parents separated when I was in junior high, and I stayed with my Momma and sisters."

Her hand moved to the inside of my thigh, stopping shy of my balls. I opened my legs wider. "Victoria, you're playing a dangerous game."

She leaned in close to my ear, her lips caressing me as she said, "you make me so hot when you call me Victoria." She put my earlobe in her mouth, licked it and let it go. "Tell me more, Noah."

My hands balled into fists, and my balls tingled. Sweet Lord, I wanted her to touch me. When she got all flirty and aggressive like this, it made me want to dominate her even more. I wanted so badly to take her, praise her and punish her for getting me worked up in public. My thoughts ran away from me. I wanted to bend her over the table and not care who saw me fuck her. I wanted to take her to the bathroom, force her on her knees and fuck her mouth. She was such a little brat. She did it on purpose, trying to force me to take control of her. God damn, it made me so fucking horny.

"We still moved a lot, but at least it was in the same state." Vix moved her hand between my legs, cupping me, and could feel her nails through my pants. I took a deep breath and looked at Vix. She had that sly smile that made my dick twitch.

"You're in so much trouble, lil Kitten." Vix yelped as I stood up and grabbed her hand, and marched her out of the pub. I didn't stop until we made it to my room.

I opened the door, pulled her inside and kicked the door closed. I put my head on the door, and I took a breath. I needed to try and calm down, or this would be over too quickly.

Vix didn't care though, I felt her tits press into my back, and her arms came around me. Her hands were on my belt, and I watched as she undid my pants, and they fell to the floor. Her hands went under my shirt and slid over my stomach and down the top of my briefs. She slid those down too, and my dick sprang loose.

I grabbed her arm and brought her around in front of me, her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were flushed. "I can't wait anymore, Noah," she said. She lifted her skirt, dropped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them.

"Fuck." I lifted her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around me. I could feel her wet sex against my stomach. I fumbled around behind her, desperate now. Every urge I had held in check was now let loose. I grabbed my dick and slid myself deep into her. She felt like a dream, like everything I had ever wished for. I needed her to be mine.

I used my body to push her back against the door. I hooked my arms under her knees and spread her wide and leaned my hands against the door. She kissed me, her mouth not letting mine go as I drove into her kissing her back.

"Fuck, Sy." She leaned her head back into the door, and her nails dug deep into my shoulders through my shirt. I felt her legs tremble as they had before. I didn't have long, but I had to hang on and make her cum first. I had to know what that felt like on my dick. I gritted my teeth and ordered myself not to cum until she has.

"Does this feel good, Victoria?" I asked. Her head snapped forward, and her eyes focused on mine. She was biting her lip, trying to muffle her noise. Vix nodded. "Then I want to hear it, lil kitten."

Vix let her lip go, and a small cry escaped her throat with each thrust. I leaned my head against hers, our noses touching, our eyes boring into each other. Vix was still for a moment, and I could feel her walls clench around me, almost pushing me out. She cried out one last time. I kissed her and touched her tongue with mine. I growled into her mouth as my orgasm hit, and I released into her, filling her, claiming her for my own.

I dropped my head into her neck, nuzzling into her, giving myself a minute to catch my breath. I kissed her neck. Impossible as it seemed to me, I was not sated. I needed her again. If anything, it increased my desire for her. I had to have her every way I could think of.

Vix held me to her, scratching at my head until I let her on her feet. I don't let her go.

"You were right, Vix," I said to her when I could finally speak. She looked at me, confused. "I'll remember that for the rest of my fucking life."

Part 11

#captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #syverson smut #henry cavill #sand castle #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fanfiction

[livesincerely]

keepsakes

Also on Ao3

00000

Davey stops and stares, absolutely stunned.

“Jack,” he breathes.

“Hi, Davey,” Jack quietly greets, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“You...” Davey swallows around a sudden lump in his throat, a hand braced against the doorframe in an attempt to steady himself. “What are you doing here?”

“I got the address from Les,” Jack says, rocking a little on his feet. “I’m in town for the week visiting Ma and Charlie, thought I could swing by and see you for a sec.”

“Oh,” Davey says, still trying to process the fact that Jack is here, that Jack’s actually here, standing outside of Davey’s door. His hair’s a touch shorter, his skin a bit tanner, but he’s still Jack.

He’s still Jack.

“So, uh, can I come in?” Jack asks.

“Oh, right.” Davey gives himself a little shake, then takes a step back and holds the door open wider. “Yeah, sure. Please, come in.”

“You moved out of the old place,” Jack comments as his eyes rove around Davey’s modest entry and living room, and his tone is casual but the words are weighted with an unspoken question.

“It was a bit too much for just one person,” Davey says, averting his eyes. “A smaller apartment is easier to keep up with.”

He doesn’t mention that he hadn’t been able to afford the rent for their old apartment by himself, or that even if he had been, all the reminders of their life together, all the hollowed out spaces Jack had left in his wake—the places he used to be but isn’t anymore—would’ve driven him away regardless.

“Can I get you anything?” Davey asks after a brief pause. “Soda or coffee or...?”

“Coffee would be great, actually,” Jack says. “But, uh, only if it won’t put ya out.”

“It’s no trouble,” Davey says. “Here, go ahead and sit down and I’ll fix you a cup.”

He leaves Jack to pull up a stool at the counter while he pulls two mug out of the cabinet, turning on the coffee maker with a quick press of a button.

“So, how have you been?” Davey asks, careful to keep his head down and his voice light as he waits for the coffee to brew. “How’s Santa Fe been treating you?”

“‘S good,” Jack says. “It’s great, it’s got everything: clear skies, gorgeous sunsets. If you go out to the desert at the right time of day the views are unreal. So, uh, life’s pretty good.”

“And work’s going well?”

“Real well,” Jack confirms. “Now that I’ve been there a while they’re startin’ to give me my own projects to work on, which is great. Nerve racking, and I’m constantly terrified that I’m gonna fuck it all up, but great. Honestly, the studio space and the stipend I get for supplies on its own is pretty incredible, let alone all the experience and connections I’m getting too. So, yeah, things are goin’ well.”

“That’s great, Jack,” Davey says, even as his heart gives a painful little lurch. “I’m glad things are working out for you.”

“Couldn’t ask for much more,” Jack responds, and the way he says it is strange—strange enough that Davey risks a glance at his face. But Jack’s expression is flat and impassive, giving nothing away. “How’re you doin’, Davey?”

“Good,” Davey says, turning back to the coffee maker. “I’ve been good.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks. “Anythin’ interestin’ goin’ on?”

“Just the same old, same old,” Davey replies. “Nothing new to tell, honestly.”

“Nothing at all?” Davey can’t tell if Jack sounds disappointed or relieved. “Did you ever end up gettin’ that transfer you wanted?”

“I, uh, rescinded the request after you— after everything,” Davey answers, watching the the coffee bubble and drip, his chest tight. “There wasn’t really a need, and it was easier to just stay at my old branch.”

“Oh,” Jack says. 

The silence stretches between them, stiff and heavy and awkward. Instead of coming up with something to fill it, Davey busies himself with serving up their coffee, fixing one mug with his usual creamer, then the other with even more cream and a heaping spoonful of sugar, which he sets gently in front of Jack.

“Here you go,” he murmurs. 

Davey takes a small sip of his own coffee, trying to decide what’d be worse: asking Jack another question and having to listen to him talk about how wonderful and perfect his life in Santa Fe has been or just sitting there quietly and trying to pretend like this whole situation isn’t agonizing. 

He tries, “So, um, have you had the chance to—”

“What the fuck, Davey?” Jack bites out. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Davey freezes, eyes wide. Jack’s holding his mug in both hands—like he was about to take a drink and got distracted halfway there—and the look on his face is one of absolute fury. 

“Why do you still have this?” Jack demands, setting it down so hard that a bit of coffee sloshes over the side. “Why would you keep—?”

Davey looks, and then he realizes. The mug is a simple, sturdy thing, bigger than most of his other ones so he doesn’t have to refill it as often. He’d grabbed it out of habit—it’s always sitting near the front of the cabinet because of how often he uses it, and he honestly hadn’t thought anything of it.

But now he’s seeing what Jack sees: the trellis of flowers that encircle the rim, painstakingly painted by a careful hand in yellows, golds, and blues. Remembers the smell of the clay and the rainbow wall of glaze, remembers the satisfied grin that had turned so sheepish and shy when they returned a few days later to pick up their creations, remembers the flutter in his stomach as he reached out for the surprise gift, remembers the thrill of electricity when their fingers brushed…

Davey swallows.

“Why wouldn’t I keep it,” he says in as even a tone as he can manage. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Oh, so that’s where you draw the line, huh?” Jack says, and his voice his like the rumble before a storm rolls in. “That’s how it is? Knick knacks, keepsakes, sure, those you’ll keep around, but the stuff that’s actually worth having? That’s actually worth fighting for? You can just let all that go without ever sayin’ a fuckin’ word otherwise because who gives a shit—”

And suddenly Davey’s furious too.

“Right, because you were so fucking eager to stay?” he asks with a derisive scoff. “Give me a break, Jack, you couldn’t wait to leave. Just fucked off to the other side of the country and left me here to pick up the pieces—”

“You were all but pushing me out the fucking door!” Jack yells, throwing his hands up. “‘It’s a wonderful opportunity, Jackie,’ ‘You’d be an idiot not to take it, Jackie,’ ‘It’s what you’ve always dreamed of, Jackie!’ What a load of horseshit—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault for being supportive?’ Davey asks, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“I’m just sayin’, you weren’t exactly bent outta shape at the thought of me leavin’,” Jack says coldly. “Didn’t seem to bother you one fuckin’ bit. Probably relieved to finally have an excuse to get rid of me—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Davey hisses, stepping forward until they’re standing nearly chest to chest. “I’ve missed you like you wouldn’t believe, missed you every single goddamn second of the last eight months, don’t think for a moment that I didn’t, you fucking asshole.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack asks, chin lifted in challenge. “If you missed me so fucking much, then why’d we break up?”

“Because you were moving to Santa Fe!” Davey yells, completely fed up. “You were leaving, Jackie! What else was I supposed to do, except let you go and try my best to be happy for you?”

“If you really wanted me to be happy,” Jack growls, “you would’ve come with me.”

“You didn’t ask me to come with you!”

“And you didn’t ask me to stay!” Jack roars back.

“Ask you to stay? Ask you to stay?” Davey says, a wave of emotion stinging at his eyes, a note of hysteria shredding his voice, something aching and frenzied clawing at his chest. “Of course I didn’t fucking ask you to stay, I was never going to ask you to stay! It was Santa Fe, it was all you ever fucking talked about, it was your dream, Jack! It was everything that you wanted! I would never even suggest that you give that up, God, what kind of shit-ass person do you think I am, that you thought I would ever, ever try to stand between you and Santa Fe when I know how important it is to you—?”

“I’m not fucking hearing this,” Jack says, with a frantic, jerky shake of his head. “I am not fucking hearing this. I— You—“

He rakes a hand haphazardly through his hair, the other pointed accusingly at Davey’s chest, jaw clenched and eyes glittering. His throat works silently for a moment, two moments, then he turns on his heel and storms out, the apartment door slamming behind him with a thunderous bang!

And Jack’s gone, tearing right back out of Davey’s life like he’d never returned in the first place, the abandoned coffee mug the only evidence that he’d ever been there at all.

And Davey’s alone, his heart pounding a lurching, deafening beat in his ears, the churning, curdling, swirling feeling in his gut a perfect mirror to how he’d felt all those months ago, quietly, impossibly heartbroken as he watched Jack walk away.

Davey takes a shivering, shuddering breath, scrubbing a trembling hand across his mouth. Fuck.

He might’ve been standing there for thirty seconds or thirty minutes when the front door swings open again. Davey’s head whips up just in time to see Jack step inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, purposeful click. Then he can only watch as Jack stalks forward, eyes blazing, fists his hands in the front of Davey’s shirt, and drags him into a bruising, desperate kiss. 

“I love you,” Jack says. “I love you. I loved you before I got the job offer, I loved you while I was searching for apartments and planning the move, I loved you every time I talked up Santa Fe to you, tryin’ to convince you to come with me any way I could think of. I loved you when we broke up, I loved you when I left, I loved you when I landed, and it’s been eight fucking months and I’m still so fucking in love with you—”

Davey interrupts him with another heart stopping kiss, threading his fingers in Jack’s hair as he pulls him closer. They still fit together so perfectly, lips and teeth and tongues all moving together like they’d never been parted, and its so good that Davey could almost cry with it because he’d never thought he would have this again.

“I love you too, Jackie,” Davey promises. “I love you and I’ve missed you so much—”

“I missed you,” Jack says, punctuating the declaration with another kiss. “You’re it for me Davey. There’s just you. And I… I can’t give this up again. Santa Fe ain’t worth nothin’ if you’re not there with me.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Davey murmurs, and its a confession and an apology. “I thought I had to let you go.”

Jack shakes his head. 

“I wanted you to keep me,” he whispers against Davey’s lips. “And I wanted to keep you too.”

“Then keep me,” Davey says. He realizes now, that it’s as simple as that. “Keep me.”

00000

Jack’s pov here

Tag List!: @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @corbinthecowboy @stroopwafeldetective

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #this was originally supposed to be a LCTTC prompt fill... #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lluvguts]

all better // reddie

pairing: teen!richie tozier / eddie kaspbrak

genre/warnings: fluff and angst, trauma, h/c

word count: 2111

summary:  Eddie has a bad day and Richie does his best to cheer him up.

check out my ao3

It’s just Richie’s front door.  

But no amount of convincing worked for Eddie’s mind as the sight of it warped into the small door in the sewer...With the grotesque face of the leper staring back at him. As he stared at the Tozier’s oak door he swore he saw a thick trickle of blood seep from the threshold and hear the sound of sickly, rasping breath from inside the hollow door. Just a few more moments and he’d be face to face with It..

It’s dark out, he told himself. That’s why I’m seeing things. But I’m here, Richie’s here. I’m safe. No need to be scared.

But that didn’t stop the nightmares that assailed him all night long—ever since they defeated It—keeping Eddie wide awake and strangled in worry for what could be lurking in the murky blackness outside. Eddie’s mother had caught on to his insomnia since the first week, making him take all sorts of supplements and medicine claiming to be a “sleep aid.” They did nothing to keep the images at bay. The noises. He only slept well on nights when Richie snuck over, or when Eddie drove to his house.

Richie could never know.

Eddie shook his head and knocked again. His eyes searched the window with its drawn curtains. I did tell him I’m coming, right?

But then the lock swung back and the door opened, showing the face that soothed all his worries. Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm and brought him in for a hug. He was suddenly pulled into Richie’s open chest and the familiar stink of cigarettes and black tea consumed him. It was a bold and comforting smell, one that Eddie loved. It made his nerves settle and for Eddie was unmistakably Richie Tozier.

“You look like shit, Eds,” Richie held him tightly, “On the phone you said it was a bad day, right?”

Eddie nodded against his shirt and they pulled away. I’m not entirely wrong. It was a bad day. He just doesn’t need to know exactly why. And that was the great thing about Richie: he didn’t need an explanation. He was more than happy to let his boyfriend curl up in his arms, his face still burning from fearful tears while Richie whispered little jokes or Voices in his ear until Eddie wiped his eyes and laughed. Most of the time they weren’t even funny.

“That’s alright, Eds. I’ll fix us some dinner, yeah?”

“You can cook?” Eddie followed Richie into the kitchen and sat on an island chair.

Richie pouted at him, his lower lip sticking out. “Don’t be hateful, sweetheart. Of course the Trashmouth can cook.”

“What’s on the menu then, Chef Tozier?”

“You’ll see.” Richie laughed and rummaged through the pantry.

Eddie glanced around the empty kitchen, not a single sound filled the house—except of course for Richie banging around looking for a stove pot.

“No parents?"

"Nope. My folks are out of town for the weekend, some family thing.” Richie said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“And they left you alone?” Eddie asked, unable to help the smile that drifted into his voice.

“I’m seventeen. I don’t need constant supervision.” Richie growled.

Eddie pointed to him. “Yet you were about to pour marinara sauce into a pasta strainer.”  

“Okay, scratch that. I’ll always need you, Eddie my love...Plus I promised them I wouldn’t burn the house down.”

“What on Earth are you doing with all that?” Eddie caught sight of two boxes of macaroni, lettuce, and red sauce.

He tried to stifle his giggling, but it was useless. “Rich, are you trying to make spaghetti?”

“Maybe.” He replied defiantly with an embarrassed blush.

“With iceberg lettuce?”  

Richie inspected his ingredients again with his eyebrows raised, his eyes looked more doubtful now from beneath his glasses. “..That’s a thing, right?”

Eddie sighed and joined him at the counter. “You’re hopeless, Richie. Give me that ladle,” He loosely gestured to the wooden spoon next to him while putting back the lettuce.

“This is the wrong type of noodle.” Eddie held up the box of pasta while the marinara sauce simmered on the stove—the one thing Richie had done correctly.

Richie snorted and put his hands on his hips. “Not everything can be perfect like you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let Richie’s arms snake around his waist. “Okay, fine. Macaroni it is.”

He waddled over to the sink—with Richie still attached from behind—to pour water into the pot. As he let the faucet run Richie bent down and kissed his bare neck softly, his glasses poking into his skin.

Eddie stiffened. “What was that for?”

“For helping me with dinner. For being cute. Why, can’t I kiss you just because?”

“Of course you can. You’re just..distracting.”

“Oh? You mean like this?” Richie laughed and placed a trail of teasing kisses up his neck, making Eddie grip the handles of the pot tighter while he fought to breathe. He knows just where to kiss me.

“Am I distracting you now?” His mouth rested just above the space between Eddie’s jaw and earlobe, his warm lips and breath tickling him. One of Richie’s hands drifted down toward his pants and Eddie stepped on his bare foot.

“Cut it out Richie,” Eddie gasped. He realized in his daze that the pot of water was about to overflow and quickly shut it off. He carried it to the stove and set it to boil, then poured in the macaroni noodles.

He turned to him. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days.”

Richie returned his hands to his sides and smirked. “Awe, shucks. To think I have that effect on people.”

“Only me, dipshit.”

“And that’s just fine,” Richie pecked his cheek and hugged him again.

“Feeling any better, Eds?”

“After some dinner I will be.” Eddie replied while wrestling out of the bear hug to set two plates on the tile counter. Richie drained the pasta and Eddie turned off the burners.

“Like mother, like son.” Richie said philosophically at the sink.

“Be quiet,” Eddie gave his chest a playful shove and handed him the food. They sat at the table on opposite sides, and just as he was about to eat Richie stuck his fork at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you try some!” Richie pushed the fork further towards Eddie’s mouth.

“I have some right here,” He gestured to his own full plate, “And you’ve been eating off that already.”

Before he could pull his fork away a few stray pieces of macaroni slipped off the fork and fell across Eddie’s shirt, staining the front with oily red sauce. Richie’s eyes widened, and he drew the fork back guiltily.

“Gross!”

“Oh, shit. Sorry Eddie! I’ll go get one of mine!” He hopped off the chair and dashed up the stairs. Eddie took the chance to eat some of the “spaghetti” before Richie returned with a fresh shirt.

“I am not wearing that,” Eddie said firmly, picking the noodles off his lap and into his empty plate.

“Just take that off and put on mine. It’s mostly clean, don’t worry. I’ll wash yours.” Richie held his shirt out to him, waiting with closed eyes for the dirty one. Eddie diverted his eyes and pulled his shirt up over his head. He threw Richie’s on hurriedly, his face was red the whole time. God, it smells just like him.

“Okay, you’re good.” Eddie told him and he opened his eyes. Richie examined him wearing his own clothes then flashed a grin.

“Why do my clothes look better on you? And the Cutie Award goes to..”

Eddie thrust the stained shirt at him. “My ass.”

“He’s not wrong, folks!” Richie shouted into the empty hallway as he went back upstairs to the laundry room.

“You want me to clean this up?” Eddie called. Richie had left a trail of dirty dishes and stray pasta noodles in his wake as they had cooked, not caring to pick up.

“Just come up here! We’ll do it later.” came his reply. By “later,” Eddie knew he meant “tomorrow.”

Eddie headed up the stairs and sat on Richie’s bed, waiting for him. Even without him there—just for a few seconds—the thoughts came racing back, like a flip of a switch, no matter if things were happy and easygoing minutes before.

He was no longer in Richie’s room. He was on the burning asphalt with a broken arm, he was running through the yard of the Neibolt house, desperate and out of breath. He was staring directly in the face of Henry Bowers, his entire arm engulfed in flames as searing as a hot iron with Patrick’s spit stuck in his eyes. He was reliving every memory.

“...Eds? What is it? What happened?” Richie appeared in the doorway but Eddie could hardly see him through the haze; he only heard his footsteps thundering in his head as he came to his side, taking his face and forcing him to look into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Eddie? Talk to me, please,” Richie was pleading, sitting down next to Eddie and keeping his hands placed firmly on his shoulders, helping to relieve his staggered breathing.

“It hurts,” Eddie said weakly but his words got choked up in a fresh wave of tears.

“Where, baby? Where does it hurt?” He searched his face and scanned his body frantically.

“God, Richie. My head..the memories, it hurts so much. They never went away,” He cried, truly feeling every ounce of that childhood pain. Richie grabbed his sides and pulled him into his lap, his face set into a hard, serious frown that left Eddie startled.

He’s always been there for me.

“N-no,” Eddie tried moving away, “I’ve been crying..It’s gross, Rich. Let me go wash my face or something.” He sniffed loudly.

“Shhh,” Richie shook his head and held him more fiercely, Eddie could feel the beating of their hearts together against his chest. He closed his eyes and counted each rhythmic thump of Richie’s heartbeat until he could breathe again.

He brought his face to Eddie’s cheek, wet with tears, and kissed him.

“Let me make it better,” Richie whispered. He moved his lips to tenderly kiss every spot on Eddie’s face: each tear, his pink nose, his eyelids.

“It’s gone, we killed It, everything’s alright now,” He kept his lips pressed to Eddie’s temple, and as he did the ache there subsided, “You’re safe with me, Eds.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re such a sap, Richie.”

“Only for you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes with Richie running his hands through Eddie’s hair. He loved when Richie did this, when his gentle fingers sent shivers down his spine. His comforting touch made different tears slide down Eddie’s face.

“Is it still there? Did the nightmares go away?” Richie asked with another twinge of concern when he felt Eddie crying quietly again into his shoulder.

Eddie tucked his face into the crook of his neck to hide the embarrassment and mumbled, “No, they w-went away.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you still crying, Eddie?” Richie leaned against the headboard so he could see the smaller boy’s face and he cradled the back of his hair.

“I’ve never had someone be so..kind to me before. Not like this. No one would ever do the things you’re always doing for me. I-I don’t think I deserve it.”

Richie lifted Eddie’s legs up higher so he was more comfortable and the smaller boy snuggled in. He spoke with his chin resting on top of his head, “I know I’m kind of an ass most of the time, but I don’t mean to be. I’m always looking out for you Eds, even when you think I’m not...It’s cause I love you.”

Those three words silenced everything and left Eddie blissfully calm—despite his frantic heart.

He loves me?  

Eddie questioned it as soon as he said it, but after thinking it over he knew Richie wasn’t lying.

Who else would clean me up after a panic attack, or wake me from a nightmare, even if I was covered in sweat and tears and who knows what else? Who else would hold me the rest of the night, even if it meant he didn’t sleep?  

“I love you too,” Eddie said against his neck. And then, after a thoughtful pause,

“But don’t call me Eds.”  

#it movie #reddie #reddie fanfic #fluff and angst #angst fanfic #h/c prompt #emotional h/c #it fanfiction #teen reddie #whump fic #comfort #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #not canon compliant lol

[amispnrewatch]

SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

#SPN 1x06 #amispnrewatch #reclaiming spn #performing!dean #lawboy #bi!dean #dean x cassie #dean x lee #stiles stilinski #void!stiles #teen wolf #dean deserved better