#she didn’t mean to hurt biscuit either

[riccissance]

taissa is so so tragic in that she literally can’t trust herself to keep her loved ones safe even though she desperately wants to… like, whenever she realizes things she’s done while sleepwalking, all she wants to do is fix it or keep it from happening again (assuring steve she won’t hurt him like biscuit while knowing she can’t actually do anything about it)… and she tries to fight off the other part of herself to keep them safe but only ever manages to make things worse (simone ending up in the icu)…

#when people act like tai doesn’t care about anyone my eye starts twitching #she cares so so much!! #it’s part of why she tries so hard to hold onto control!! #she’s terrified of the version of herself that can and does hurt the people she loves!! #the scene w/steve and biscuits head is so fucking sad when you think about it #tai is so desperate to keep him safe but has no way to make sure he is… #she didn’t mean to hurt biscuit either #and the way her first thought when she realizes he’s missing isn’t that other tai hurt him #all she can consider is that she might have let him out while sleepwalking #which i think is one of those ‘does tai actually believe that or just want to’ moments #like her saying she didn’t mean to hurt allie #yellowjackets #taissa turner #character of all time

[tired-biscuit]

Hello Biscuit 💛 it’s the same anon who’s bugged you about Obito a couple of times recently back again! Thinking about a reader who didn’t even realize she has a raging size kink until she’s in bed with Obito for the first time 😩

18+ fem!reader // cw: size kink

oh goodness, now i'm thinking that a sweet man like obi wouldn't even realize what exactly the size difference would be doing to you either.

i can just picture him quirking a confused brow at the way literal hearts form in your eyes the moment he tops you and presses you into the bed with the help of his weight. your legs are propped on top of his shoulders, bent at an angle that allows him to go so deep inside your wet warmth that it causes a blush to tint his handsome, scarred face a bright red.

he can see everything, and the mewlish little noises you keep letting out during it only make the heat travel further down his burly body; all until you swear that even his neck and chest are flushing a faint pink. he's just so flustered and cute despite being a grown man, it's to die for.

and speaking of death, you might just experience a little version of it from the way he draws his hips back slowly and pushes them right back in even slower, now. the spot where you connect is warm, hot, sticky, dripping wet. you're so attracted to him - to his immense size - that you've turned embarrassingly soaked. just the sight of his broad shoulders, his strong arms, the scars, makes your pussy flutter around his thickness. you can't help it.

and the best part of it is that he looks so mean but he fucks you so gentle. he's all messy kisses, hesitant strokes of tongue, unsure grunts and coincidental manhandling. you've been making love for so long that his midnight hair is all mussed up; there are beads of sweat sliding down his temples and jawline, and yet he still doesn't seem to be planning on stopping anytime soon.

his left hand wraps around your thigh as he readjusts to find more stability on his knees. the headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the wall as he pounds away purely on instinct and what feels good. you're already so close, but the moment he leans in and presses his other hand against your chest so that he can feel your heartbeat dance underneath his calloused fingertips; you're ready to go absolutely feral. like an animal. like an untamed beast.

and how couldn't you? his palm is so wide that it nearly covers both of your tits entirely. just the way he clumsily swipes his thumb over one nipple - if it's done on purpose or on accident, you're not sure - makes you clench. makes you hold onto him so tightly that he feels the need to hiss as he grits his teeth and tries to relish the oh, so sinfully delightful tightness without fully giving into it at the same time.

a muscle twitches in his cheek when he feels your cunt start sucking him in, clearly aiming to milk him completely dry. he swears that he's had a couple of more pumps in him, honest to god, but as he listens to the whine you let out and watches the way your fingers dig into the pillow as you throw your head back in absolute whorish bliss, is enough to make him cum on the spot.

you look absolutely dazed. fucked stupid without reason, it seems.

or at least that's what he thinks.

"fuck...! obi, you're s-so fuckin' big." your eyes squeeze shut and your upper lip quivers when he slams into you to the hilt and keeps himself there with the single, innocent purpose of keeping himself in-check. tears slide down your cheeks with the action but you don't wipe them away.

"oh, god- goddamn... sweetheart." he's just trying not to spill his load too soon, but he's balls deep in and the moan you let out after he accidentally bullies your fucking womb is shrill and piercing; it hurts his ears. makes his heart race and causes his sharingan to come out and play even if he doesn't want it to join this particular game.

the sounds of your intimacy grow louder and a ring of milky arousal gathers at the base of his dick the moment your gaze lands on the deep red that now swirls inside the eye that he doesn't keep hidden underneath the eyepatch. the shade almost glows in the dark and you clamp onto him like a vice in response, even tighter than before - if that is even humanly possible.

"i'm big?" he grits out finally when you make eye contact, his voice hoarse and terribly strained. you're so out of it that you don't even realize that what he's asking you is a genuine question.

poor man. he truly doesn't understand that his fat cock is splitting you into two and is almost becoming too much to bear with each passing second of ruthless, albeit loving, pounding. that he's so big and thick that he makes your entire body writhe, squirm, arch in desperate attempts to accommodate him properly. that he makes you sweat and cry and drool and leak warm slick. that he makes the muscles in your thighs burn from the way you have to keep your legs wide open at all times, just so that he can properly fit in-between.

even your belly throbs, now that he's inside.

"yeah... s'big... stretch me out real good," your voice wobbles and you can't offer anything else as you take his hand with both of yours and slip it between your legs. feeling the friction, your toes immediately curl; feet bumping against the sides of his head when you press his thumb against your clit and guide him into starting a slow circling motion that makes your entire body feel like it's been set on fire.

the button of nerves feels so small and delicate underneath his touch. good lord, for a man so scatterbrained and sometimes outright ditzy; he's good at following instructions when you finally get him to set his mind on it.

just like he's good at making you feel like he's fucked his way right up to your goddamn throat from how big he is.

#dw you're not bugging me!! #i rly enjoyed writing this <3 #i love me a good size kink thirst hehehe #obito uchiha #obito x reader #obito smut #naruto smut #biscuit drabbles #cw size kink

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty ch. 5

A Homelander X F! Reader and Dadlander fic.

A/N: prev. chapters available in my pin post, if ya like to be added to my taglist feel free to drop a comment with a request. I wanted to post this tomorrow but yeah am a liar with ADHD UwU.

Tags: mild gore, angsts, lots of angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance... i guess i should also say unhealthy/toxic relationship.

Chapter five

Thick lines.

Ryan and Helena were exhausted, most of the obstacle course had been partially destroyed, the walls damaged quite severely, and the ceiling was dented, Homelander had learned two things: 1) Ryan holds back too much– too afraid to harm, too afraid to break things, too afraid of his own powers as if they would come right-back around and harm him, and 2) Helena’s forcefield could take a beating, it had taken Ryan quite a bit of rage for it to start cracking, the girl continued to taunt hi, calling him inept, throwing insults without care before it cracked down.

She had learned her limits, making notes for future reference.

So here he was putting pressure on her arm, as she bled profusely.

Ryan was crying blaming himself, while Homelander took her to the labs. The girl didn’t cry much, seemingly just angry, only wincing as her father squeezed her arm with curses in her lips.

You had run out of the kitchen, guards refusing you entry to the labs, while you demanded entry Homelander had emerged and ordered them to step aside, throwing daggers at them as he took your hand.

You cried as you saw the bandages on her arm, you cried harder when she wrapped her arms around you, bawling and shaking underneath them.

Homelander calmly explained that she ended up with twenty stitches and some blood transfusion, but she was fine, no bone had been touched and her body was healing slowly.

You barely listened.

When was the last time you saw her cry? She was a quiet baby, a perfect baby, by the time she could talk, crying seemed redundant when she could simply spell it out for you.

“What did you do!?” You picked your child, retreating from him– I fucking qu–

“It was my fault…” Ryan said drying his sobs– I’m sorry.”

“It was an accident. The kids got a little heated during training… I should’ve stepped in earlier.”

Homelander took Ryan under his arm.

You stared at the kid, then back at your own.

“Helena did you–” You stroke her back– Sorry that my daughter antagonized you… It won’t happen again.”

Your voice was quiet, unable to look at either child.

“Let’s go get your stuff. My apologies, Homelander but I won’t be able to continue my work today. She won’t be a cause of future concern…” You wanted to quit and leave this tower forever.

He lets you go, no doctor tried stopping you either, but you wouldn’t let your daughter stay at Vought, a nurse informed you to come back to change the bandages in two days but you rather take her to an actual hospital.

You looked at him knowing he was going to come around.

Coffee already on the stove and biscuits on the table already waiting for him.

“How is she?” He was genuine.

“She says it's too itchy… but her arm is alright.” you scratch at your head.

“You look tired.”

“I haven’t slept for almost a decade… that’s just my face now.”

“You didn’t quit.” He sat beside you on the big round-table, turning pale as you saw him sit on his cape, his eyes reddened as he tried to look calm– are you quitting?”

“I dunno. Helena can be pretty abrasive. I’m sorry your son fell for it, she doesn’t mean it…  she just thinks that people are going to be cruel, so she’s cruel first.”

“Why?” He presses taking a quick glance at the livingroom and the misplaced toys.

“Try being in a classroom full of teenagers and be the smartest one in the whole room, they just see a smug midget who thinks she’s better than anybody else– they’re mean… kids in general are mean… but she eventually just scares them enough… there were other kids she’d hurt, nothing too severe.”

You stayed in silence not knowing if you should ask him to leave or not. If you should let him be privy of those events.

“She knows.”

“You!”

“She either figured it out or used her powers to find out.” He rested his elbow on the table stroking his tired eyes– I didn’t tell her but she would’ve noticed there was something going on.”

You yawned, taking a couple sips of coffee as he copied you. The silence unbearable and your eyes heavy and aching, gawking at him made you think of her.

“Your eyes and lips are identical.” That was an unusual smile on your face– when she was born that was the first thing I noticed, the second was that mop of hair on her head… she had so much hair and it was so long, but those were your eyes… sadly, you know I always thought your nose was your best feature but she got mine.”

You stood up asking him to follow you to the living room with a finger, taking a seat on the same sofa you refused to throw away.

“Tell me about her… Becca never had the chance… I cleaned that house and found pictures and trinkets, but without the stories I can only speculate. I don’t know his first words, the first time he walked, his first time riding a bike… I don’t know anything. She never wanted to tell me.” He leaned closer, his hand close to yours but never touching– Ryan is sorry, he was quite shaken.”

“Her first word was ‘morning’.” You spoke wanting to indulge, wanting to seem better for some reason.

You told him stories, there had been a time when you fantasized sharing all these moments with him, when you were younger and stupider. When you two began to get too serious, when he had called you baby, darling and honey with genuine affection, when you watched him sleep and caressed his hair awake. You’d dreamed of drinking wine while your kids slept by his side at one point and in this forced intimacy you could be as deluded as he was just in case he was holding something nefarious over your head.

You let him know about her silly things, about her first love… the chemistry set you bought her when she was five. About how she lived in their local library and everybody knew her by name, about how some of the kids expected her to become Brooklyn’s finest, about her hatred of pistachio and strong emotions about bird keeping.

You never expected to talk to him like this after everything, but today has been a rollercoaster and you simply hadn't been in you to fight, not now when your daughter knew, you were doing this to yourself so you couldn’t fight it, you gave him morsels and crumbs because you had no one to talk about this things.

“Is Ryan alright?” You asked leaning away from him, the night was so dark and only the kitchen in the back lit the house– it must’ve been so scary.”

“He was pretty shaken. Took me a lot to get him to stop crying…”

“Helena won’t hold any grudges… I think… I got an idea… has Ryan ever been to Coney Island? Maybe we can take the kids to the boardwalk, have hotdogs and hit the aquarium, Helena will not misbehave in there.” You put your empty cup on the coffee table– they can make up.”

He gave you a tired smile, knowing he had to head home soon but wanting to talk some more.

“Are you angry at her?” He asks weakly.

“She would’ve hurt Ryan. I figured out she was forcing him to attack when you said things got a little heated, that’s how she dealt with bullies in the past.” you looked him straight in the eyes– I am upset.”

He found a way to touch your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Don’t be… I think Ryan would like the aquarium, he’s never been.” He seemed ashamed of that statement.

“Remember when we used to sneak out to Central Park?” You said suddenly with a chirp in your voice.

“Those were long nights.” He dares give you a flirty look.

“No… those handful of times where we went during daytime… ditch the suit… more witnesses, more likely to behave.”

You tried ignoring those sharp fangs, he was so good looking still and it had been so fucking long since you got laid, being forced to remember him, to interact with him, to let him touch you… some people like to be used… Helena had said it best, and in this nice house he bought you, and the nice stuff he got you all around you, you remember what he was trying to get out of you, and that was to play a role.

At the doctor’s office, Helena cried a lot when the doctor took her stitches out, it had taken a day to heal but she was left with a gnarly scar.

“Phantasma” You sit next to her while she eats some ice cream, she really did not like getting the stitches out, the visit had reduced her to an actual little girl, even after her words were incoherent, skipping words as she cried all the way out to the ice cream shop, Helena’s skin was hard not like her fathers but it was near impossible to penetrate it with a needle, forced to proceed without real anesthesia– sounds better than ‘Ghost Girl’, no?”

She looked up.

“Sounds cool. Why?” she sniffed hard.

“Your father did ask about it…”

“Huh?”

“Honey. He told me you figured it out. How?”

She licked her ice cream cone, as you tucked her under your arm. Scooting her closer on the park bench.

“I used Elmo to break into his apartment. I turned us both invisible and I went up there.” You pulled on her ear– ouch!”

“Helena!”

“He’s been following us for weeks!” you let her go– I was curious as to what he was doing… I was suspicious of his intentions, found the paperwork in his office and played stupid for a couple days.” She handed you her slobbered cover ice cream– Is not appropriate for a grown man to be following little girls.”

“You shouldn’t use Elmo like that!”

“You aren’t mad I broke into his house?” She looked perplexed.

“Nah… I could have given you the passcode it's the first thing they gave me when I started work. Don’t involve the kid!” You took a bite– Jesus Helena! You being invisible is hard enough… I don’t want you ending up like Translucent! Guy was so mentally ill.”

“You knew translucent?” her ear perked up.

“He would walk around naked in the bathrooms– I’ll explain to you when you’re older, honey.” you handed the ice cream back, your lips tight under your teeth– I knew your father for three years… So I got to meet some of The Seven. Either way leave the kid alone and for all intents and purposes you never told me about the stalking…”

“You got something in mind?”

“We’re going to play his game. You’re his daughter… so that tower should be yours, no?”

“There’s my older brother to worry about, too.”

“He’s just a little boy, riding thru life with only nepotism as his anchor” You stroke her hair pushing her bangs away from her beautiful eyes– but he’s not you.” You leaned into her ear– you are my daughter.”

Her smile was sickly sweet.

Here you were waiting for him at the entrance of the boardwalk, when you felt a light touch on your shoulder.

He looked uncomfortable and maybe too dressed up for the occasion, you took the lapel of his suit jacket. It was the nicest fabric you’ve touched in your entire life, surprised to see his hair not as gel-up and his eyes hiding behind versace sunnies.

“Did you raid Kendall Roy’s closet? I swear I saw this jacket in season 3.”

“Is a good show.” he laughs looking painfully stiff, his eyes moving rapidly behind his lenses– and yes.”

“Wait, is this actually from the show?”

“I just said yes.”

Your mouth dropped slightly, but you did like the feel of the jacket.

“You’re more Shiv.”

“Not Logan I hope?”

You snorted in horror, your daughter pretended to be confused by his appearance trying not to look at Ryan, who looked like a deer in front of a hummer.

“Are you doing okay, little guy?” You asked, making sure to lift his hat playfully– Ever had a Nathan’s glizzy? Is an institution.”

The kid looked so shy.

“No, I never had one…” He was one bad word away from sobbing.

“Is okay. My arm is all good again” Helena's adult size hoodie had a big enough collar for her to pull down and reveal nothing but a scar– I am not mad at you. It was an accident… Besides, you can’t be a supe if you’re afraid of getting boo-boos.”

Ryan seemed more shaken than anything, but before he could do his best sad little orphan boy impression, Helena took his hand and dragged him forward, telling him that he needed to try Nathan’s before doing anything, rambling about how good they are, and that she couldn’t wait to see the Aquarium.

Both you and Homelander stood a few steps behind as your daughter gave the kid no time to rest.

“She’s always been this pushy?” He whispered into your ear.

“She just found out that’s her brother… She's a tad excited.”

“You had the talk? Without me!?” He looked upset, staring at his kids with a bit of bitterness.

“I was ambushed. I swear to god you need to figure out a weakness with her damn bubble.”

“What's the limit before she runs out of oxygen?” he asks.

“1 minute and 46 seconds is her personal best.” you whispered back.

“What did you tell Helena was happening today?” He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close.

“That it was a play-date, to try to mend the situation… after all she instigated it.” You leaned against him tugging on his jacket with a cheeky smile– not whatever you were thinking this was… now… get your hand off my ass, John.”

“I told you. I have a story to sell. Both kids are in the same school, now they can start being friends and she knows I’m her dad. Let’s just skip to the good part.”

“You want to pretend we are dating?” If your teeth could separate and let you talk with ease, you would bite his nose off before finishing your next sentence– Did you run that past your team? Sure I wouldn’t rank higher than Maeve or Starlight in the fake girlfriend department… I think even Taylor would rank better… she did make a great single out of you.”

He cringed at that comment.

“You’ll do great in the fake mother department– The team has concocted something extra juicy, a real page turner. Way above Hallmark channel christmas movies, we are talking award circuit instead.”

You both did that fake little laugh that sounded more like a growl as your kids turned around after spotting the white, green and yellow hot dog restaurant.

As Helena headed to the line, with Ryan in tow. You played your role, Helena would have what she deserves– if he wanted to force you and her into his life, you were going to wrap those chains so tight around his neck, he would forget he ever lived without it.

Your mouth met his for a brief moment, startling him enough that his hand left your hips, he was left stuck in place as you went after the kids.

The breeze tousled his hair, as you looked back at him with a saddened smile.

“I haven’t forgiven you… but I want to give you a second chance… I want to put all those things behind us… if you are going to be here for her– for us.” You whispered from afar out of your kids reach as Helena took your wallet, knowing full well he was listening attentively– I’ve missed you. Even if I don’t want to admit it.”

The seagulls squealed as he took his place beside you, wrapping his arm again around your waist just to kiss you yet again.

The moment Helena saw a fish tank it was game over. All her ‘Wednesday’ facade had melted as she became an over excited amateur marine biologist, giving his eldest no time of rest as she explained as many animals she could to the child, he had learned an awful lot about corals and kelp as they moved from exhibit to exhibit, admittedly Ryan was having fun, hanging out with other kids as school had been a bit difficult, his socialization skills were poor from years of isolation and homeschooling but this was nice.

Homelander could only see a kodak moment ruined by the myriad of The Deep billboards staring at him.

It was a bizarre game of stealth kisses happening behind the kids, he was starving for you,  a desire he had put down in the cellar and today he found again, excited to play this game with you.

Wanting to feel your comfort, happy that you took his offer, now he only had to tell Ryan.

As you left for the bathroom he was left alone with the two kids, Ryan fixated on some animals and his mind elsewhere when Helena pulled at his sleeve.

“You look like you want to rip your skin off.”

“I don’t usually wear clothes like this?” he says politely– what about you? Why are you wearing that giant hoodie again? Don’t you own other stuff?”

It was big enough for an adult, her sleeves had been rolled up quite a bit and its length still touched her knees making her appear shorter than she already was, this had been the fifth time he had seen her in this fit, she wore black hoodies most of the times on top of her normal clothes– cheap thrifted clothes and hand-me downs somethign that irked the man; But this ridiculous hoodie seemed to be a favorite. The newest and nicest thing she owned was a pair of A-T Force 1, it pissed him off to watch her wear those shoes– why worship that fat slob when her father was the fucking Homelander! he thought.

“Is really nice… found it in an old box mother had with her while we were living in one of her cousin’s garage.” She stretched her arm urging the man to have a feel of the soft cotton fabric– She didn’t wanna throw it away ‘cuz she could sell it but I ended up wearing it a lot. I like it.”

The fabric was worn down but it was evidently of good quality, he spun the little girl around as he looked at the size tag, only to see the name of the brand… Brunello, his eyes widened as he noted that this hoodie easily cost over 1000 dollars, but as the girl glared at him a light sob escaped his lips as his eyes tingled– this had been his sweater. 

Of the few items of clothes he had owned over the years, he knew this was his.

In those secret dates in central park and escapes to Paris and Seoul, where he was forced to hide who he was just so you two could hold hands without causing a scene, he had bought this, you liked it enough to steal it from him from time to time.

Homelander had become John Gillman for you, he had never needed a secret identity before he met you, not even mulling on the idea for long. He only had to be the Homelander, but he had become a mild-mannered executive named Mr. John Gillman, to be with you– forcing himself to wear strange clothes and mingle with lowborn folks, just to hold your hands and kiss you.

This stupid hoodie that he had ordered an intern to buy only to arrive a size too big, that had gone missing years prior, now stood here wrapping his daughter.

“How did you find out about me?” He asks with shaky lips.

“After you showed up at Lucci’s… thought it was weird that you showed up at my house not long before… I suspected you knew my mom, and after she told me that she worked at Vought. Well, I looked at her resume and did some math. I only really began to suspect it after you broke into my house” She raised her chin– you left the window open by two inches, not enough to matter but enough for me to notice as I always leave them close all the way… you left my hairbrush in the sink’s and not the trolley. Why would you touch my hairbrush? Wonder what you could get out of it…”

The little shit turned around to spot her brother still admiring the clover reef while they waited for you.

“I was taking a gamble when I called you a ‘deadbeat’, dad.”

Homelander's heart skipped a beat when her mouth uttered the word, unsure if she was mocking him or otherwise, from her it was hard to tell.

“You don’t want him to know about me, right?” Her voice was quiet, a knot buried itself in her throat.

“What? No!” He said in a panic, getting on one knee to see her eye-to-eye– Helena… I … I want us to be a family, Ryan will understand but I have to wait… he’s not like you or me… he’s… sweet.”

She looked away squishing her little fist, hiding her beautiful kyanite stones behind those long bangs, his hand lifted her hair, trying to peek further into those beautiful skies, feeling the creamy skin under his palm, her warmth as her cheeks turn a new shade of pink.

“You’re my daughter… my blood… I am sorry… I was… I was an asshole for what I did, but I just want to be there for you now… so If I can… you can call me ‘Dad’ if you like.”

His voice quivering as he spoke, she was frail, he could feel it under his touch, how easy it would be for him to hurt her.

Little girls were to be handled with much more care, dainty things they were, she was a peony blooming in his hands, so he had to be soft and strong for her. she rested her cheek against his hand, his so warm and soft, surprised at the way he looked at her-- there was a twinkle of desperation behind his gaze.

She rested until her eyes didn’t sting anymore.

As you left the bathroom, you spotted the curious scene, biting at your lips as your guilt finally catched up to you, you didn’t need it, you would not allow yourself to be harmed but as you saw your daughter play her role, you knew… she would be lost inside the character… She was a lonely child, deprived of you and without him ever in the picture... she had a weakness.

You let them mingle from afar as they walked around towards some river exhibition, while Ryan made his way towards the duo, their hands intertwined as he turned calling for his boy.

For a moment you saw a glimpse of the life you always wanted… Revenge was a nasty game… could you really play it? You wondered as you fixed your clothes.

Before you could say anything, your sight followed a faceless passerby.

A service dog in tow.

The passerby had simply bumped into Helena, the dog had been just close enough, you didn't worry immediately, she had gotten used to dogs and you were certain she had been good and taken her allergy meds.

You were sure.

Helena turned but it was too late.

With a single sneeze the gates had opened.

The walls rumbled, as the pale blue wave of sharp wavering light exploded out of her body.

Everybody swallowed a shared gasp, as the glass began to crack.

taglist: hope y'all like the chapter @fromforeigntofamiliarity @immyowndefender @demodemo909

#Homelander #Homelander x reader #Homelander x you #the boys oc #american royalty #personal #my fic tag #the boys fanfiction #homelander fanfic #homelander x F! Reader #I have so much energy right now and am riding the high. #barely proofread so sorry for any spellign errors

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Orchids

The Locked Tomb fanfiction, about how Mercy might have learned about the events at the Canaan House. Probably an AU since, lets be honest here, I have no idea what was going on in Harrow. Or in general.

Anyway, enjoy?

There is an orchid in Mercy’s room.

An actual, real, honest-to-god orchid, with no teeth or eyes or bodily fluids leaking out of weird places. Which meant John hadn’t grown it himself – his brief gardening hobby somewhere around their third millennium, please don't remind her – and flowers? Gifts in general?

Well, that could only mean one thing: John has done something exceptionally stupid. Again.

(It could be Augustine being stupid, too, but that fucker still hadn’t apologised for when he ate the last of her favourite biscuits four hundred and sixty six days ago. Yes, Mercy has been counting.)

Alas, John; and Mercy has no choice but to ask, god, what is going on?

She lets himself into his room without knocking; if he didn’t want her to come, he’d lock it. He knew she was coming anyway.

„Mercy,“ he greets her, and he offers her tea and biscuits, that bastard. She grits her teeth as she watches his smile grow nervous – she can almost feel the speeding heartbeat in the black hole that he is.

„Anything is the matter, Joy?“ he asks, and why, yes, everything is the matter! „Did you like my present?“

Another insufferable presence shows up by the doors; Augustine, leaning on the doorframe and smoking a cigarette. She sends him a glare just to remind him that nothing is forgiven, then she turns back to John and marshes to his desk.

She hits her hands on it, spilling the tea her beloved emperor poured for himself anyway, and for her too, and says: „My Lord, what did you do?!“

His smile grows wider and his eyes twitch as he answers: „What did I do? Mercymorn my dear, can’t I just give you flowers?“

By the door, Augustine falls into a definitely unrelated coughing fit, the effect ruined by occasional wheezing laughs.

Mercy wrinkles her nose at that and then accuses The King Undying: „You never give me flowers! Only when you did something exceptionally stupid, beyond mortal comprehension stupid – actually, you don’t give me flowers enough for that either. So, what did you do, John Gaius?“

The God mutters something about full-naming and women that Mercy chooses not to hear, and Augustine gets out in between his barely subdued coughing: „You don’t give me flowers at all!“ He even manages to sound genuinely hurt enough for John to bloody get him some, and:

„This isn’t about you, Augustine!“ Mercy scolds, „John, stop trying to divert attention, what did you do?“

„…Tea?“ he says instead.

„I’m going to skin you alive and have you wear itchy sweaters and listen to It’s Raining Man for all eternity,“ complains Mercy as she takes the tea. She is seriously tempted to dump the hot liquid into God’s face. It’s not like it would hurt him. Much.

„Augustine, tea?“

„Nah I’m good.“

„John!“

And so, God sighs, and tells her that he didn’t have a choice, and that it wasn't his fault it all went so terribly askew, and that he had no control over what happened at the Canaan House, and poor Cytherea, horrible that this happened, neither of us saw that coming, I just wish we could have helped when we had the chance–

And Mercy listens to him as he speaks, sipping her cooling mint tea. Mint, she doesn’t even like mint!

The Mithareum is quiet as a graveyard.

Finally, he stops speaking – not his fault, and a funeral, and two new Lyctors, two new baby Lyctors – and Mercymorn the First looks God in the eyes as she says: „Flowers aren’t going to fix this, my Lord.“

(Maybe nothing isn’t going to fix this – she shoots a quick look at Augustine.)

On another completely unrelated note, Mercymorn would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone about her own meticulously planned funeral, the by half-a-minute program to be found in the second drawer of her bedside table–

She doesn’t get the bloody opportunity, as John speaks again: „…You could choose which one of the new Lyctors you want to mentor. I was just going to assign you one, but, for you, you can choose.“

„I don’t want a Baby Lyctor to mentor!“ bursts out Mercymorn, „Have you considered that?!“

„Well, the first pick is still yours,“ the God smiles, ever so bloody understanding, and Mercymorn doesn’t have the nerves for this anymore.

She pushes past Augustine and towards her room, which is not nearly far away enough. She can still hear the men, feel their presence. And she would rather not.

„Well now you’re just playing favourites,“ accuses Augustine.

„I don’t have favourites,“ the God answers, and: „I need to buy her more flowers, don’t I. Help me choose some?“

Flowers.Flowers. The only flowers that had ever fixed anything were the poisonous ones, and even these are no good for her.

Flowers.

With that thought projected into the aether, Mercymorn slams the door behind herself.

She hopes God all-knowing gets the freaking message.

#the locked tomb #mercymorn the first #john gaius #augustine the first #dios apate major #tlt

[muriel-not-the-dim-one]

Journal Entry - Muriel 37th Scrivener -Ambassador to Heaven

Today I got my first assignment from Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. I’m so VERY excited! I’m supposed to help 2 humans come together.

I remember Mr. Crowley telling me about Nina and Maggie, and how he tried to get them to fall in love “Vavoom!” It didn’t seem to work. I’m not to make anyone fall in love. Just bring them together so that they can become friends. I have friends too!

“Frozen peas, check. Notepad for taking notes, check.” Hmmm, I think I need to wear a different outfit than my Inspector Constable. I don’t want anyone to think they are being arrested. *Muriel giggles remembering Mr. Crowley saying “Arrest me.” *

When I got to St. James Park, I saw Mrs. Finch sitting on the bench by the duck pond. She was dressed in a warm sweater. Complementing the color of her eyes.

I smiled at her but she didn’t smile back. I didn’t sense that she was upset, but I also didn’t sense that she saw me smile. So I waved to her. She squinted her eyes and looked at me.

“Ello? Are you waving at me?” Mrs Finch asked.

“Why yes I am. My name is Muriel. I’m going to feed the ducks. Would you like to help me? They get a little greedy when they hear my bag of peas rustling.”

“Peas? We used to feed them bread scraps.”

“Oh, bread isn’t good for them. My friend Mr. Crowley taught me ducks should only eat what is naturally in their “habitat” [Muriel was quite pleased she had learned this word] or they could have frozen peas.” 🫛

Muriel sat down on the bench next to Mrs Finch.

“I’d love to help you feed them. My name is Mrs. Finch.”

“Oh I know, Muriel smiled. Mr. Fell um, I mean Supreme Archangel Aziraphale……I mean I’m so glad you want to help me. It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Finch. Hold out your hands and I’ll give you some peas.”

The ducks gathered around the bench excited to have some peas. The smile on Mrs. Finch’s face made her look so much younger. “Look at them all! They love these peas. I’ll remember to bring some from now on when I go for my walks.”

Muriel looked up and saw Nanny Ashtoreth with baby Angelo, her newest charge. She started to call out but Nanny tipped her glasses lower on her nose, and with just a slight movement of her head, let Muriel know she should focus on her task. A little wink and she pushed her glasses up, a tiny smile crossing her lips as they slowly walked by.

They sat in a comfortable silence as the ducks gathered. Muriel started writing some notes in her book. 📕

“What’s that you’re reading Muriel?” Mrs Finch asked.

“Oh this is my notebook. For notes during my day so I don’t forget anything. It’s very important I remember everything that happens so I can report, I mean journal it once I get home.”

“I don’t write much anymore, or read either. My eyesight isn’t like it used to be. I loved reading. I read everything I could get my hands on, since I was a little girl.” The sigh that escaped her lips made Muriel touch her chest. It almost hurt. “I can’t really read anymore. I don’t watch the telly. I do listen to the radio a bit. But most of the music is so different now.”

Just then they saw Clarice coming down the path. Muriel in their excitement jumped up off the bench, peas spilling everywhere, and ducks swarming, quacking and honking in delight. “Oh my!”

Clarice was surrounded by ducks enjoying their newest feast of peas. “I’m so sorry, Muriel said. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“It’s ok, Clarice replied with a smile. We all get really hungry like that sometimes. It reminds me of my brothers when Mum used to put her homemade biscuits on the table. They looked just like this.” Muriel and Mrs Finch laughed.

“Hi, I’m Muriel and this is Mrs Finch.”

“Well, hello to you both, I’m Clarice.”

Clarice was dressed in several different colors, clothing most people might not put together, but on them it looked right. They were carrying a backpack that looked heavy.

“Would you like to sit down with us and feed the ducks……Muriel trailed off. I mean, watch the ducks eat?” Clarice smiled, removed their backpack and sat down by Mrs. Finch.

“Are you in school?” Mrs. Finch inquired of Clarice.

“Yes, English Literature is my major with a secondary of cooking.” She laughed. “My parents were not too pleased with my choices. They don’t believe I’m getting ready for the “real world.” Her smile slowly dwindling off their face.

“I’ve a bit of time to spare before I have to start looking again.” Small lines on her forehead appearing as she seemed to be thinking.

“What are you reading, my dear? Mrs Finch asked.

“Oh all the classics. I never can decide which one I want to read, so I always have at least 3 with me. Silly, I know.” Clarice blushed.

“Absolutely not! Mrs Finch chimed up. It’s very important to have a choice in reading material. I always had several books by my bedside. I never knew what I might want to read before bed.” Her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I wish my eyes hadn’t gotten bad so early.”

Clarice knew she needed to leave to look for a new flat. She only had a month left, and so far, she had found nothing she could afford. But looking at the older woman, something deep inside told her this was the right thing to do.

“Mrs Finch, would you like me to read to you while we watch the ducks?” The radiant smile she received warmed her like sunshine.

“Oh, you probably have better things to do than read to me. I know you young people are very busy now days.”

Clarice smiled, “Mrs. Finch, this is the most important thing I’m going to do today.” She pulled 3 books from her bag. Let’s see, which one would you like to hear? I have Pride and Prejudice, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Wuthering Heights.”

Mrs. Finch smiled, “I think I’d like to hear about Cathy and Heathcliff.”

Clarice settled in, opening the book, ''1801—I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with.”

Muriel slips away unnoticed as the women lean towards each other, Clarice animated as she reads, Mrs Finch closing her eyes, seeing the heather waving in the wind…..”

“I think they are going to make wonderful roommates.”

Muriel smiled as she walked back to the bookshop.

@aziraphalesdiaries

@secretdiaryofcrowley

#go rp #Muriel #Mrs Finch and Clarice #muriel not the dim one #doing good deeds

[hyperpsychomaniac]

The Curse of the Black Hound - Chapter 3

Summary: Sequel to 'Lost in the Wilderness'. Erik Ahlberg has a problem. And he’ll solve it like a man - by himself, and dragging no one he cares for needlessly into the whole confounded mess. Gerda is having none of it. She’s determined to figure out why he’s being so secretive and protect him, whether he likes it or not. But when Erik finally asks for help, he finds himself alone, with those he’d always thought would stand by him, his biggest threat.

Author's note: Okay this chapter took a bit longer to put together. It’s a bit bigger than the others, both in size and content. But I needed to fit everything in one chapter. And, yeah, this is where things start getting… traumatic. Please leave a comment if you’d like would love to hear what you think!

First Chapter

***

Once again, Erik faced Trundle, the Troll’s king, towering high above Trolberg’s wall. And yet, he was unafraid. He was Erik Ahlberg.

“Erik, you left me in charge,” said Gerda. “And I will not fire on that Troll.”

How dare she! Questioning him in front of all of Safety Patrol. She had no right. But that she had, Erik realised. This had happened before. But here, now, it hadn’t. He could fix this. “Gerda, deputy!” He reached out for her, laughing shakily, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You always had my back, didn’t you? Even when you stood up to me. But I wouldn’t listen. I won’t make that mistake again, I promise! I won’t ask you to fire on him. I won’t shoot him either.”

It was no longer Gerda before him, but Hilda. Glaring at him, fire in her eyes. “Their mother is under there. And if you attack her children, she’s going to stand up.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I am not that man any more!”

He was behind the light cannon, finger on the trigger. Trundle exploded into a million tiny pieces. It rained not stone, but blood.

“I’m not…” Erik held his hands out before him, covered in blood.

“You killed that Troll,” said Hilda.

“I had to! I had to slay a Troll! Only that would be good enough!”

Hilda’s eyes widened, and as she backed away, she grew smaller. As Erik grew, turning into a great beast. “You’re a monster.”

“I’m not! Hilda, it’s me, Erik. I’m your friend. Come back!” Erik lunged for her, desperate for her to know he had meant no harm. His big hand enveloped her and clamped closed with a resounding boom. The girl’s tiny body broke, cracking like a stale biscuit, and she drooped, twisted in his fingers. “Hi-Hilda?”

Erik fell to his knees. “Gerda!” He cried her name, voice breaking, and held Hilda out to her, like a child with a broken doll. “I didn’t mean to. Help me, please, do something.”

Gerda’s face betrayed no emotion. “Any man who could destroy Trolberg,” she said, as behind her, the Trolls’ mother rose, and the city crumbled, “is a monster.” She fired the light cannon.

Erik woke, gasping, clutching his bedsheets, drenched in sweat. “Hilda…” In that moment upon waking, when the dream blurred with reality, when he thought the thing he had done still needed fixing, he held his hands before him, searching for the broken doll he had to mend.

“Damn.” Erik wiped at his eyes. He hadn’t hurt Hilda. And Gerda would never turn on him, never destroy Trundle, him, whoever, whatever it had been. Like he had. “Just a stupid dream.” He flopped back down and threw an arm over his eyes, panting. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and went to put the coffee pot on.

Erik cleaned the few dishes he’d left in the sink overnight while he waited. That he shouldn’t have left. That was just slack. Scrubbing, like he could scrub away the image of Hilda’s broken body. Of Gerda abandoning him.

Thinking of Gerda made him think of the lecture she’d given him the evening before. Irritation flared up, and he focused on that, because it would push away the dream. He smiled, because although she had overstepped, it was only because she cared. No, he didn’t need to worry about her thinking him a monster. She knew what he’d done. She was still his friend.

And she had to be seriously confused. He’d made that poor woman’s job hard enough as it was. He wished he didn’t have to lie to her now, but it wasn’t fair to drag her into this. Good thing it was just so easy. I mean, he’d stuffed up lying about knowing Trollish. Yet she’d bought it. She was so competent. He couldn’t understand how she could be so blonde at the same time.

And Hilda. Hilda he would never hurt.

Erik dropped the plate back into the sink. “Erik, you ass!” He’d forgotten to meet her last night. Too caught up in his own problems, big as they were, that was no excuse! He paced his kitchen a few times, swinging back between rushing out the door right away, and the fact the sun had barely risen. With a snarl, he turned back to finishing the dishes, finishing his coffee and getting dressed. He should call before going over, but it was still a tad early. Besides, Johanna couldn’t forbid him from coming if he didn’t call.

Erik rushed out the door, shrugging on his coat - not his favourite leather one, which the Barghest had torn to shreds - and headed for his front gate. He almost made it.

“Is your mother coming to bingo tonight?” said a frail voice from over the neighbouring fence.

Erik groaned. The mention of his mother brought a faint tug on his chest that still hurt a little. “Dorothy, my mother’s dead. You know that.”

Dorothy looked over her spectacles at him. “Well, that’s no excuse. She should still let us know if she can’t make it.”

“Look, did you need something?” Erik snapped. He rarely minded talking to his neighbour. He’d known her since he was a child. And, he enjoyed speaking with her a lot more now he was an adult. For one, she always responded to his flirting, no matter how outrageous he made it. And, with her memory not what it was, he could reuse the same material, and she still thought him hilarious.

Today, however, he didn’t have the time. “I was supposed to meet Hilda yesterday, and well…” Erik trailed off, unsure he wanted to confide his failure in her. Even if she would forget.

“You mean the blue-haired girl? She reminds me of you when you were a child. Tell me, I know you kids don’t always like to get married nowadays, even with children involved, but does she belong to that lovely young blonde lady with the accent?”

“What? Who, Gerda?” Good lord, did Dorothy always speak this slowly?

“Ah yes. I know your mother probably wouldn’t approve of her. But I always thought she was too hard on you. I would see you out here, all alone, sitting on your little swing and looking so downcast…”

“She’s not Gerda’s,” Erik said, a little quickly. “Gerda doesn’t have any children.”

“Oh, so Hilda’s from another one of your girlfriends?” Dorothy cheekily raised an eyebrow. “Why Erik, I hope you haven’t been breaking too many hearts.”

“Another of my…” Erik had a terrible thought. “Do you think… Hilda’s mine… and…”

“Come now, Erik. You’ve had that lovely woman over here often enough.”

Erik flushed. “She was my deputy. We were doing paperwork!”

“So that’s what they’re calling it nowadays.” Dorthy winked. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I won’t tell your mother.”

“We’re not…” What had ever possessed him to move back into his mother’s cottage when she’d left it to him? “Goodbye, Mrs Ferguson,” he squeaked, as politely as possible. And then he bolted for his front gate.

***

Erik knocked on the door. Then he waited. He fidgeted. He loosened his collar. And then, reluctantly, he took off his hat and held it in front of him.

The door opened. Johanna stood before him. She was in pajamas, fluffy bunny slippers, and she held a steaming cup of tea. She glared over the cup with lowered brows. “Oh. Hello, Mr Ahlberg.”

At that moment, Erik would have rather returned to his nightmare. Or back to being chased by the Troll. Neither was an option.

“Er, good morning, Mrs…” Crap. He wasn’t twelve! Coming, hat in hand, to ask his mate’s mother if it was okay if he could please play. Erik gulped and looked at his hat, held in his hands. He scowled and slapped it back on. Bald patch covered, his confidence racked up a precarious notch. “Johanna. I came to see Hilda. I seem to have, well, it’s rather awkward. I was supposed to meet her yesterday. And I… I forgot.”

“Hilda told me.” Johanna’s voice was cold.

“Well, you see, I… something important came up and…”

“I hope you remember our conversation. I only agreed to this on certain conditions. But Hilda came home last night, and she was very upset. You had a commitment to her, and you ditched her.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll understand if you’d just let me talk to her…”

“You blew it, Erik.”

Those words hit him like a fist to the gut. “I… I know. I screwed up, okay? But it was a legitimate mistake. I only remembered this morning. That’s why I’m here. To apologise and make it up to her. With… your permission, of course.”

Johanna put down her teacup, then stepped out the door.

Erik backed up across the landing, only stopping when the banister stabbed into his spine. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow.

Had he said that out loud?

“I’ll ask her if she wants to see you. But.”

“But?”

Johanna stepped closer. Erik shifted a millimetre back, even though it pressed the banister just that bit more into his back, enough to send a twinge of pain across his shoulder. He was certain, had it not been there, he would have tumbled down the stairs.

“Hilda doesn’t have a father. That’s the only reason I can think of why she’s taken such a shine to you, of all people. It’s the only reason I let you take her on outings. But I’ll be damned if I let you hurt her, or abandon her!” Johanna’s voice rose in volume as she spoke, and she finished by stabbing her finger into his chest.

Erik might have let her get away with it too, if he wasn’t in danger of hurting himself if he backed up any farther. So he shifted his weight forward instead. Johanna didn’t back down an inch. “Look, I understand…”

Johanna huffed. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

“My mother raised me by herself as well, all right? And whatever mistakes she made, I know she’d do anything to protect me. So I get that’s what you’re doing for Hilda now.”

Johanna shifted her weight back and folded her arms.

“But, look, I made a mistake. Anyone she shows an interest in her is going to make mistakes. That’s why I want to do the right thing and make it up to her, and… and I don’t want to think I hurt her, either.” He huffed and looked away.

“Okay,” said Johanna.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I believe you. You’re right, sometimes mistakes happen. So, you can make it up to her. But this is your last chance. Because, if you hurt her, mister, I will belt you from pillar to post and then this whole arrangement will be over.”

Erik gulped. “Understood.”

“Good. Give me one minute.” Johanna disappeared back inside, and came back out, not with Hilda, but with a scrap of paper.

Erik felt his stomach dip.

“I haven't spoken to her,” Johanna said. “She’s still asleep, and I want to talk to her first. But if you come back this afternoon, and if Hilda agrees, you can make it up to her. In the meantime, you can make it up to me.” She handed him the paper.

Erik skimmed it in a second, then glared at her, brow lowered. “This is a shopping a list.”

Johanna smirked. “It is. I’m behind on a job. So, you can make yourself useful. Had nothing better to do with your Saturday, I hope?”

Nothing had happened last night, so it seemed not. Erik kept glaring.

“Good. See you this afternoon.” She shut the door on him.

Well, it’d give him time to figure out what he needed to do with Hilda. And keep him focused. So, inside Trolberg, and out of trouble with Gerda. Erik looked at the list and sighed. “There are far too many formidable women in my life.”

***

Erik returned late in the afternoon, along with his new car. Hilda had been begging him for a ride in it but she was just the kind of child to make a mess of it, so, up until now, he had refused. Rocking up with the passenger seat and the slim excuse for a backseat of the convertible packed with Johanna’s groceries spoiled the look, though.

After two trips up the stairs, which had him wheezing as Johanna hadn’t lifted a finger to help, Erik piled into the car with Hilda.

She seemed less than enthused.

“I thought we’d start with ice cream,” Erik said as he put the vehicle in drive and pulled out from the curb. “I mean, who made it a rule you have to have it after dinner, right?”

“Mum talked me into this, okay?”

“Johanna….?” Well. Erik had not expected that. “Oh. So you didn’t want to come.”

Hilda folded her arms and glared at the passing houses. “I don’t know.”

Erik found a free spot, and pulled up. “Hey…” He tapped her shoulder with his fist. “I know I screwed up. But I’ve got a lot going on and I really did forget.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better! You know I’ve been trying to tell my friends you’re not all that bad? That, out in the Wilderness, you were nice to me. You’re not making it easy.”

Erik sighed and looked away. “Well, when you think about it, I put my ego above the lives of them and their families. I don’t blame them.”

“What you did was dumb. But you were being stupid, not evil. Once you realised what you nearly did, you regretted it.”

“What if regret’s not enough?”

“Erik, you saved me from a Barghest. How bad it hurt you, that would’ve been worse for me.”

Erik’s hand absentmindedly went to his shoulder. No. He wouldn’t have wished this on Hilda. Now more than ever.

Hilda squeezed his arm and smiled up at him. “You’re just… you’re a little difficult, and it makes things hard, I guess. But you’re not a bad person.”

Erik snorted. “By who’s definition? Hilda, what I did… gods, do you know how bad that could have been? What if I can’t come back from that? What if…” He shifted in his seat, feeling cooped up, and fiddled with the steering wheel. “What if something… the universe or… I don’t know… it’s punishing me for what I did?”

Hilda frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Because I’m…” Erik huffed. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got a lot of stuff going on.”

“Like what? Would it help if you talked about it?”

Erik shook his head. This kid. He was supposed to be making her feel better! He forced a smile. “Adult stuff, Hilda. Like paying off this stupid car and other dumb decisions you don’t need to worry about. I don’t know. Maybe your friends are right about me.”

“Well then, I guess if they feel that way, they don’t get ice cream?” She smiled at him. “Come on, you owe me.”

“You’re as bad as your mother.” Despite everything, Erik grinned. Tonight, at least, he would have a bit of harmless fun. And, with the thought of Johanna and that she would very much not like him driving her daughter around erratically, Erik floored the car to Hilda’s delight.

Ice cream was right near their coffee shop. So, after getting Hilda the biggest cone she could carry, Erik decided he’d pop in and grab a coffee. Johanna had run him ragged, so he needed the pick up.

The place was winding down. Few people wanted coffee this late in the day. Erik was certain what kept it going this late was the Safety Patrol night shift. He saw a few uniforms as he and Hilda walked in but, hopefully, no one would stop him. He didn’t mind seeing his former colleagues, but always preferred to do so at the pub with Gerda. At least then, with everyone somewhat inebriated, including himself, he could pretend they weren’t remembering what a fool he’d made of himself that night.

“Well, I think you should take me to the pier,” said Hilda. “There’re rides, you know.”

“I thought you said they were boring? Unlike real adventures.”

“Sure. But I should try them at least once. And they cost money. Mum said I should make sure you do something that costs you.”

Erik huffed. “I was planning to spend money. I was going to take you to dinner. A ride would be cheap and silly. I am trying to do this properly, you know!”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Why do you have to do everything properly, anyway?”

“Because that’s the way I was brought up.” Erik folded his arms and stared sullenly ahead.

“Forget doing it properly!” Hilda dragged on his hand. “Restaurants are always so stuffy. We could just buy dinner, and go down to the beach or something? Erik? Pleeease….”

She was being annoying for kicks, Erik was sure. But, as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he remembered not a specific incident, but how he’d begged and nagged his own mother whenever she wouldn’t pay him mind.

“You’re an Ahlberg. I’ll speak to you when you stop-“ Getting poor grades. Picking on the other children. Skipping classes. Stop seeing that girl. Anything and everything; he was always doing something wrong! She was his mother, she was all he’d had, and all he’d wanted was for her to be there for him, even when he’d mucked up. Because that was all the bloody time.

Erik dropped to one knee and grasped Hilda’s shoulders. “Do you really want to just… get something cheap we can take to the beach?”

Hilda stared at him, wide eyed at his sudden movement. “I… yeah?”

Erik looked up at her, chest heaving. “Okay, as long as it makes things up. I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot. I wasn’t deliberately ignoring you.”

She smiled at him, a little confused. “It’s okay, Erik. I know.”

In front of them, the Safety Patrol officer, whom Erik had not been paying much attention to, turned around and jerked to a halt as she nearly tripped over them.

Erik rose.

Gerda stood before him, clutching a tray of coffee cups. Somehow, she held an entire pastry in her mouth. She wasn’t wearing her hat, and her hair was a little disheveled, a few wisps sticking out of her ponytail. “Efish” she said, as her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.

Sure, she’d chewed him out only yesterday, but she’d squared up to a Troll for him too. Hell, he’d worked with this woman. And now, here she stood, clutching more food than she could carry and looking up at him with that sweet, round face. Erik felt his cheeks grow warm.

“Erik,” Hilda whispered, hands full of ice cream. “Help her.”

He nearly grabbed the pastry. Damn it all, he nearly grabbed the pastry right out of Gerda’s mouth. Erik took the tray off her. “Um, here, er, let me help.” Why was he suddenly so awkward? It was just Gerda!

Gerda’s shoulders slumped and, free of her burden, she took the pastry from her mouth. “Phew. Thanks. I’ve been at it all day. I’m ravenous.”

“It’s nearly dinner time. You should eat more than a pastry.” Erik frowned. “I thought you didn’t like the jam filled ones?”

“You know how cranky you used to get when everyone took them. So, I gave specific orders they leave them for you. It… kind of just made things easier.”

“You mean you didn’t have the ones you wanted because of me?” Erik knew he’d been a jerk in his time at Safety Patrol. Gerda had done so much for him, backed him up, got all the practicalities of his stupid ideas sorted and made things happen. And the one time she’d stood up to him, as respectfully as she could, he’d shot her down and treated her like dirt. In comparison, a pastry was such a silly little thing. But that one little admission made Erik’s stomach plummet. Gods, he had to have been the biggest pain in the ass to work for.

“Erik… no.” Gerda shrugged. “I liked all the pastries.”

It was more to make up for. Properly. He should invite her to dinner with them. Except that would be weird. He only went with Gerda to the pub for drinks. And only on the days Safety Patrol often frequented there. Besides, this was Hilda’s dinner.

Hilda tugged on his sleeve.

***

Erik was one strange man. There was no doubt about that. He’d been distracted, even though he was supposed to be making things up to her. That had kind of hurt a little. Still, Hilda had been determined to make the best of it, and give him the chance, the one chance, her mother said she should.

He was certainly acting strange about Gerda all of a sudden. At least this Hilda had some inkling of what was going on. There was no way she’d let Erik muck it up, because, well, he would. So, she grasped him by the sleeve.

“Ask her to come to dinner with us,” she said, voice low. Not that that stopped anyone else hearing. Gerda’s eyes went a little wide, and she kind of froze. Meanwhile, the few Safety Patrol officers in earshot became attentive. Deputy Selby for one. And David’s mother, who had taken a more active role in Safety Patrol under Captain Gustav’s leadership, both glanced over their shoulders, then pretended they were much more interested in their respective muffins.

Erik flushed. “What? But… this was for you?”

Hilda threw the remains of her ice cream in the bin. Yes, she wanted her make up dinner, and to spend some time with him. But this was more important. Besides, she’d still get to spend time with him. The best part would be seeing how this all turned out. She took the tray off Erik and handed it to the nearest Safety Patrol officer. Then she pulled him aside. “I’ll still be there. It’ll be fun. I like Captain Gustav. Besides, so do you.”

“What are you talking about?” Erik snapped.

“Well, I meant you guys are really good friends. But now that I think about it, you talk about her a lot.”

“Because she’s my friend.”

“Well, friends can have dinner, can’t they?”

Hilda wasn’t imagining it. The nearby Safety Patrol officers were definitely interested in this turn of the conversation. Deputy Selby shifted up beside Gerda. “You know, ma’am, we’ve got things all under control here.” Not that Hilda understood what there was to control. From the looks of things, all Safety Patrol had control of was copious amounts of coffee.

Erik glanced around at everyone, then grabbed Hilda by the shoulder and pulled her in front of him. Like a shield. “You’re all being ridiculous. Besides, I don’t want Hilda to miss out.”

She looked straight up at him. “I said it was fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well, um, I…” Erik rubbed at his shoulder. Then he paled. He kept steady for a moment, then groaned and almost doubled over on himself.

Before Hilda could so much as move, Gerda darted between them and put a supporting arm around Erik’s back. “Erik, are you okay?”

“Don’t touch me!” Erik’s arms flew out to sweep a wide clearance.

If Gerda hadn’t jumped back, Hilda was sure the movement would have struck her.

“Erik, what’s wrong?” Hilda asked. She held back, staying out of swiping range.

Erik panted, and his eyes darted left to right. He swallowed hard, gritted his teeth, and straightened himself. Hilda could still see sweat on his brow. “Hilda, I’m sorry. I just… I can’t do this tonight. I’m sorry. I need to go home.”

Hilda’s fists bunched. She knew it was coming. She could handle sharing him with Gerda. Had been looking forward to it. But, or course, he had to spoil it! “What, is it your shoulder again? It can’t hurt that much! It was months ago! You’re just making it excuses. You’ve hardly spent any time with me lately. And you’re always distracted. And you’re…”

“Hilda,” said Gerda. “It’s all right. He won’t have fun if he’s in pain. Maybe we can do another night.”

“Damn it, Gerda. My shoulder is bloody fine. I don’t need you to look out for me. So back off!”

“Well, what is it?” Hilda demanded.

Erik’s voice softened. “Hilda, look, I just, I um, I remembered there was something I had to do, and…” He backed away as he spoke.

“Erik, please,” said Hilda, the anger draining from her. “I don’t mind if you don’t feel up to doing much. You don’t have to, you know, put on a show or perform. Can we just get another ice cream and hang out for a bit? Please?” Her friends had to be wrong.

Erik stared at her for a long moment, chest heaving. Then his face scrunched up. “Son of a WOFF!” He slammed a fist down on the nearest table. It bounced up under the impact and clattered over onto the ground. Erik spun on his heel, all but slammed the glass door back on its hinges and stalked outside. A few seconds later, the gutsy roar of his engine started up, tyres screeched, and his car tore away into the fading dusk.

Hilda stared at the glass door as it swung back and forth, back and forth, then squeaked to rest.

“Did he just seriously?”

“I don’t know. He’s been nicer at the pub. Maybe something’s wrong?”

“You know he’s a jerk…”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Gerda. She picked up her hat and pulled it down low. “Officer, can you take Hilda home? I need to go after Erik.”

“Ma’am,” said Deputy Selby. “You don’t need to go after him.”

“I said that’s enough.” Gerda stalked out behind Erik, throwing the door back almost as roughly.

“If one of you breaks that bloody door,” said the coffee shop owner. “It’s coming out of Safety Patrol’s budget.”

A hand squeezed Hilda’s shoulder. David’s mother sighed. “Gerda can do better. And so can you, Hilda. Come on sweetie, I’ll take you home.”

***

Erik wove between cars and through red lights. Gerda stomped her foot to the floor, drove right up behind him, and flashed her lights. He sped off. Towards Trolberg’s wall. To the Wilderness. Right where she was certain he would. But had hoped he would not. Gerda thumped a fist on the wheel. “Damn it, Erik! What are you doing?”

Within the confines of the wall, and the well-kept streets, he outpaced her in that ridiculous convertible he’d purchased after quitting Safety Patrol. Gerda’s vehicle strained, and the engine revved high. By the time she cleared the wall, she feared she’d lost him. With less traffic, she caught sight of a single pair of taillights. The roads became rougher, and it forced him to slow down. She caught up with him, just as he veered off onto the road’s shoulder, scraping his car’s low belly on the gravel.

Erik got out, vaulting right over the car door instead of opening it. He stumbled as he landed. The way he’d treated it seemed not to bother him, though Gerda was sure he had damaged the suspension when he left the road.

“Erik, wait!” She leapt out of her own car. “Where are you going?”

About to step into the woods, Erik whirled and grabbed her by the wrists. “Gerda! Why did you follow me?”

“Why did I…?” Gerda wrenched her arms down, breaking his grip. He was holding her far too tightly, anyway. “What did we just talk about last night?”

“Well, I, for one, told you to mind your own damn business!”

“And I told you that if you keep going out here and putting my people in danger…”

“I didn’t ask you to follow me. There’s simply something I need to deal with. If you would stop sticking your nose into my business, then Safety Patrol wouldn’t need to be involved at all.”

“That is not the way it works; you know that. A Troll attacked you only yesterday. He might still be out here. You’re going to get hurt.”

“I don’t care! I don’t need you. I don’t need Safety Patrol. If I want to do something dangerous, I don’t need your permission. And if the only person I’m hurting is myself, well, then that’s my business too!”

Gerda swallowed hard. “If you got hurt, that would hurt me also.”

Erik stared at her, chest heaving, then he hung his head. “Oh, Gerda…”

“What is going on?” She reached out for him. This time, he didn’t swipe her away. He felt warm, and his shirt was damp with sweat. “Your heart’s pounding. Are you hurting? Are you sick… Erik, would you just talk to me? I want to help.”

Erik stepped back, away from her touch. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I can’t. This is something I need to fix myself. So, you’re just going to have to trust me. ”

Gerda’s jaw set. “I wish I could.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wish I could, okay? But I did once and… you know, I thought you had it all together? Safety Patrol, I mean. When I started everything was such a mess, nothing got done. And then you became captain. And out of everyone, you chose me as your deputy.”

“I read your file,” Erik said. “You were efficient, and you got the job done. You had enough initiative to make decisions on your own, but you always carried out orders. You were due for it, you know.”

“Yes, and I thought you were protecting Trolberg, getting rid of outdated systems and procedures. Preparing us, so we would be ready if anything attacked.”

“Except I provoked that attack. Deliberately,” Erik said. “I get it. I’m not the man you thought I was.”

“You did it all for you! And I know you got all caught up in everything. But I tried to talk to you! When I realised you were not making sense, I tried and… you shot me down.”

“Oh, and let me guess? You’re not mad, you’re just disappointed.”

“I don’t know, okay? I gave you an out. Hilda gave you an out! That Troll was not going to attack until something was done, and you went, and you did it! You killed him. There was no reason for it. I know you made a lot of mistakes. Nearly destroyed Trolberg was an accident, but killing that Troll? That was deliberate. I can’t understand how anyone can hate a creature enough to do that.”

Erik held her gaze, but she could see tears glinting in the corner of his eyes. “Well, I’m not surprised you didn’t understand. Gods Gerda, I blathered to you what I was up to every chance I got. It’s not my fault if went right over your thick head. If you hadn’t been so good at pushing paper, you would have made a terrible deputy.”

Gerda flushed. “Don’t speak to me like I’m stupid!” With effort, she reigned in her temper, fighting down the urge to spit out every achievement she’d made that proved she was not an idiot. Even though she still did stupid things, stupid things like trust people too easily, and believe things that left her hot faced when she figured out how obvious it had been. “Don’t push my buttons. I know I’m not the sharpest crayon in the crayon box, but I know when someone is saying horrible things just to make me back off.”

“So then, back off. Seriously? After your little speech, I’m the one being a jerk for calling you daft? If I’m pushing you away, it’s only because I’m trying to protect you!”

“Safety Patrol can protect you, as can I. You asked for my help…”

“To have someone to talk to…”

“So then talk to me! Tell me what you think you need to protect me from!”

“From what? Gerda, I was hunted by a Barghest, it ripped me open. It could have done that to Hilda. All because of me. As much blood as I lost, that would’ve killed her.”

“You have every right to protect Hilda. She’s a child. But I have an entire trained safety force, weapons, and… and I’m your friend…”

“But why? Gods Gerda, why? You said it yourself, I, I killed that Troll.” He moved closer to her, towering over her. Leaned down, so his forehead touched the brim of her hat. “I enjoyed it! It was massive, but I, Erik Ahlberg, had power over it. And with the push of a button I shattered it and every little thing that ever held me back into a million pieces. You’re right not to trust me. And you shouldn’t waste your time being my friend.” And though he fought to appear the big, imposing, threatening bully, this close, Gerda saw the tremble in his jaw. “I’m a monster.”

“You are not a monster, Erik,” she said softly. “And playing the part will not make me see you so. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things, not now. But if you won’t tell me what is going on, then I don’t know what to think. But…” And she took his hand. “Look, even if you are up to something and it’s backfired, it doesn’t matter to me. I am still your friend. And I always will be. And I will be here for you and help you whether or not you feel you deserve it. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Erik’s hand tightened in hers, and he looked away. Gerda waited. Gave him that moment to catch himself, to realise that no matter what he thought of himself, what she thought of him, she was serious about this. She just had to wait. He would come back to Trolberg with her and tell her whatever mess he’d gotten himself into.

“I can’t.”

Gerda’s stomach knotted. “Okay. Either you come back to Trolberg willingly. Or I arrest you. If you won’t tell me what’s going on, then that is the easiest way for me to find out. And at least you’ll be someplace I can protect you.”

Erik shook his head, still unable to meet her gaze. “No. No, I’m sorry, Gerda.” He stepped away.

Gerda shifted her grip, clamping tightly around his wrist.

“Let go of me!”

“Don’t fight me! Erik, please. Whatever is going on, it’s okay. I mean business, but I don’t want to hurt…”

Erik dragged her towards him, then when she crashed into him, he shoved her back. Hard. It broke her grip, and she slammed back into the Safety Patrol car with such a clang, it knocked the wind right out of her. She gasped and put a hand on the bonnet, steadying herself.

“Gerda�� I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” Erik turned and ran.

Gerda hauled herself up with a grunt. “Erik, wait! I’m fine. Erik, you idiot, wait!”

Gerda ran after him. What had gotten into him? Surely he would slow. He was not particularly fit, and she could easily outrun him. But he kept going. She heard him crashing through the bush ahead, pulling away.

Gerda hauled herself over a log, panting. Now she felt she was the one who was not as fit as she should be. But she couldn’t stop. It didn’t matter what Erik was doing out here. If those Trolls, or their Barghest, found him, he’d be in great danger.

“Erik! Erik, wait…”

A scream pierced the night air.

Erik’s wail turned Gerda’s blood to ice. She ran for the sound, even as some part of her mind clamoured, no, no, no one screamed like that. Not unless it was already too late.

Gerda burst out of the trees into a clearing. She’d made it. She’d found him. Found him down on his knees, shirt torn, face twisted up in agony.

Then Erik tore in two. Where he’d knelt, a Black Hound’s grin split through his skin and rose higher and higher, until it towered over her. The beast lowered its head, panting. Jaws, fur, everything, dripping black with fresh blood.

“Erik!” Gerda crashed into the beast’s chest, gripping its slick, soaked fur. She froze, gazing up at the creature, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. Where was Erik?

Before her was the Hound. Erik was gone. The terrible beast had come upon him, torn him in two, and gulped him down. Here it stood, dripping in his blood.

It had killed him.

Gerda only snapped back to reality when she slammed into the Safety Patrol car door. She didn’t know how she’d got there. What was she doing? She had to go back and help Erik.

She scrabbled for the door handle. For some reason, it was slippery, and ripped the door open. The keys bit almost through her glove as she gripped them tight, still in the ignition, and started her up. She stomped her foot flat on the gas. The vehicle spun around, tyres spitting gravel, rear end clipping Erik’s car and sending the smaller vehicle bouncing out of the way.

The engine screamed. Gerda headed not back to Erik’s clearing, but towards the wall. Farther and farther away from Erik. She should go to help him. But she could not. All she could see was him being torn apart in a way no human could survive. But Trolberg had backup. Safety Patrol, her Safety Patrol, they could fix this.

Gerda’s gaze locked on her gloves on the rim of the steering wheel. They glistened black, soaked in blood. Her breath rasped in her throat. She could not tear her eyes away.

The wall. Gerda reefed the steering wheel sideways at the last second. The vehicle scraped along the inside of the wall’s entrance and jerked to a stop. She’d bled off most of the speed but still smacked into the steering wheel hard, not wearing her seatbelt. Steam and smoke poured from the fractured engine.

The Bell Keeper threw open the driver’s side door. “Are you okay?! Captain? Good lord, what happened? You’re… you’re covered in blood.” He pawed over her, grabbing at her jacket and shoulders, chest and arms, checking for damage. Gerda couldn’t tell him to stop, that she wasn’t hurt. Her breath came in gasps that were almost sobs.

“This isn’t your blood.” The Bell Keeper drew his hands back, then put them, gentler now, on her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. Catch yourself.”

Gerda breathed. That seemed like a very good idea right now. She should have thought of it herself. And the world around her steadied. Yes. She was covered in blood. It glistened on her Safety Patrol gloves, sticky and thick. Her hands trembled before her, her vision narrowed. She could not look away.

“Captain? Gustav, look at me.” The man’s voice, firm but gentle, snapped her back to reality. “You’re alright. What happened? How is there all this blood?”

“It’s… it’s Erik’s. Erik’s dead. A Barghest killed him. And I let it. Oh gods, I let it.” Gerda choked off and doubled over. Then the Bell Keeper’s arms were around her, pulling her into his embrace, bloodied and all.

#hilda #hilda netflix #hilda fanfiction #erik ahlberg #gerda gustav #hilda johanna #fanfic #fanfiction

[motownfiction]

disharmony

Carrie and Sam meet at a McDonald’s a few suburbs over. They’re having breakfast in the back of the restaurant where no one will recognize them. Sam devours two sausage biscuits while Carrie cautiously sips her coffee. Sam points to the cup.

“I don’t know how you drink that,” he says.

“Pretty easy,” Carrie says.

“Not for me. I think McDonald’s coffee tastes like meat.”

Carrie laughs around a sip.

“You don’t even like other types of coffee,” she says. “You’re biased.”

“Sure, maybe a little,” Sam says. “But I know other coffee doesn’t taste like meat.”

Carrie smiles. She picks at the hashbrown patty she ordered out of obligation. Initially, she didn’t want to eat anything – wasn’t sure she could hold it down on a day like this. But Sam insisted. And if he was paying, like this was a proper date (which, of course, it could never be) … Carrie really couldn’t say no.

She didn’t really want to say no, either.

Sam bites the bullet first.

“So,” he says, “you and Charlie got back together.”

Carrie nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “Like two days ago.”

“I heard. Saw, too. You really do not care who catches you kissing, do you?”

Carrie looks down at her mashed-up hashbrown. She’s pretty sure Sam isn’t trying to make her feel bad … or guilty. He’s just … hurt.

And she is, too.

“It’s not that,” she tries to explain. “It’s just … now that we’re back together, it’s like Charlie doesn’t want to waste any time.”

Sam tries to nod, but he ends up wincing.

“Fucking dammit,” he says. “Carrie, I’m sorry. I love my brother, but why did you go back to him? And why did you back to him like this?”

Carrie shrugs.

“It’s not that easy,” she says. “I just … when I think about my life without Charlie … it’s so much worse than a life with him, no matter how shitty he can be.”

“That’s not how this is supposed to work!” Sam says, much more impassioned than Carrie ever would have expected. “That’s not … you wanna be the lovers who are always insecure? You wanna love him knowing he could always change his mind?”

“Everybody can change their minds.”

“Not like Charlie can, and you know it.”

Carrie pokes at her hashbrown patty again.

“I realize there’s been a lot of disharmony between Charlie and me, especially since the end of this summer,” she says. “But when I say I love him … I mean I love him enough that I can’t let him go. I just can’t.”

Sam bites down on his tongue. It feels like three years before he speaks again.

“You don’t deserve that,” he says. “You don’t deserve to punish yourself. You could be … you could be happy, you know? You could be happy with someone who gets you.”

“Sure,” Carrie says. “But you don’t deserve to lose your little brother over this. When you think about who’d lose more … Sam, I hate to put it this way, considering the circumstances, but … it’s not me. It’s you.”

Sam almost laughs a little at that one.

“You’ll see,” he says.

“I’ll see what?”

“Dunno yet. But you’ll see it.”

Carrie waits and waits for whatever it is to come around, but she’s not so sure it can.

#drabble #writeblr #food #ch: carrie sullivan #ch: sam doyle #ship: tiny dancer #year: 1987 #asks #buddyaldridges #thank you!

[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

[arizona2004]

Heeey,I love love love your writing, just wanted to ask if you would want to write for adult nyx, can you write a fluff nyx × reader fic that she is working as a baker in a pastry shop and nyx sees her working when he is strolling in town, and he is captivated by her, a cute flirting ensues?

Hope you can write for him, thanks😘😘

Honestly, this is far from my best work, sorry. It’s also draft 2; draft 1 strayed a bit too far from the request so I had to rewrite it. I’ll be posting draft 1 soon, though.

Nyx x fem!reader

Word count: 1697

Walking down one of the many streets in the bustling city of Velaris I take a deep breath and glance at the skies, hoping my uncle Cas won’t come looking for me just because I skipped one early morning training. I don’t have the capacity to try and fight this morning. I just need a break. Maybe a cup of coffee or something yummy for breakfast will help.

As I continue my walk along The Sidra, into the city, looking for somewhere to eat I spot the most beautiful female. I stop in my tracks, unable to move as my mouth falls open. Her beautiful hair blows slightly in the wind. I take a minute to swallow the lump in my throat and look for the shop she had been returning to.

I see her through a large window of a small little pastry shop. She’s holding a tray of biscuits in her hand and as she sets the tray down in front of the customers she looks up and makes eye contact with me.

I winnow immediately and notice the look of shock and confusion on her face as I stand before the door to her shop and push it open. Her look of shock grows when she looks up at the sound of the bells on the door jingling. She starts to say something, perhaps welcoming me in, but stops and nearly drops the pot of coffee she’s holding.

I jump forward slightly and catch the pot before it hits the ground. My hands burn as I hold the pot from the glass and metal and struggle to adjust my grip, so I'm holding the heat-safe handle. I wince when I finally have the pot held safely in my hands and look up to the beautiful female running the pastry shop.

“I am so so so sorry,” she says frantically, taking the pot of coffee from me.

“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I didn’t mean to; I’m sorry.”

She offers me a small smile and nods before touching my arm slightly, guiding me toward the counter. “Let me help you. Your hands probably hurt; I have bandages in the back.”

A nod is my only response as she walks me behind the counter and leaves me there for a moment. She goes through a doorway into the back and returns a moment later with a box marked for first aid.

Taking bandages and a salve out of the box, she sets it on the counter and gently grabs my hands, bringing them to her for better viewing. I stare at her, my breath caught in my throat as she opens the tin of salve.

“My name’s Nyx,” I say quietly, unsure what else to say.

“I’m y/n,” she replies, only glancing up at me for a second.

“That’s a very beautiful name, y/n.” I smile, quirking one side of my lips up slightly more, trying to smirk the way my father always does at my mother. “It's fitting for a very beautiful female.”

Y/N smiles but quickly returns her gaze to my hands and continues applying the salve. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “Did you come here for breakfast, Nyx?”

“Yes!” I speak without thinking, “I’ve heard raving reviews.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I lie. I’m not sure I have heard about this particular place, but I don’t usually listen when people talk either.

“What do you like to eat?”

“Everything,” I answer, not lying this time.Y/N laughs at that response, and I can’t help the grin that blooms on my face in response.

“Alright. I suppose I can whip a little bit of everything for you.”

“Yes! Do you have to-go boxes, though? I may need to take some home and share with my family.”

“Yes, I have to-go boxes. What’s your family like?” she asks, taking the bandages and wrapping them around my hands once.

“Big. Noisy and crowded. They can be a lot sometimes.”

“That sounds nice,” she whispers, not looking at me again. And I hate it. I hate it because all I want is to see her beautiful y/e/c eyes.

“What’s your family like?”

“I wouldn’t know; I’ve never had one. I’m an orphan.”

“Oh,” I say, not knowing how to respond.

She laughs then. “It’s fine. I’m over it- I just like making people uncomfortable by bringing it up; it’s funny.”

I smile and look at her again, seeing the truth in her eyes, but also the hint of pain. And I know even though she’s telling the truth, she’s not entirely over it.

“How long have you worked here?” I ask, gently brushing my fingers along her hand.

“Since I bought the place about a year ago. I’m the owner, manager, and head baker.”

“Really?” I know I sound like a toddler that’s just discovered cake for the first time. My eyes are wide and I can’t help but feel a little jealous. “My parents never give me any responsibility. And I know it must be quite difficult to work as you do, but sometimes I just wish I could experience it just once.”

“I’m hiring,” she says, a smile blooming on her face beside mischievous eyes. “Mostly you would just do menial tasks, but if it’s the experience you want, then I can give you that.” Her eyes twinkle again in a way that makes me think work isn’t the only thing she’s talking about.

I blush in response before nodding vigorously. “I can start immediately!”

Another wicked smile appears, and she hands me a tray of biscuits to deliver to a table for cleaning up the first aid kit.

Hours later, I collapse into a chair for my lunch break. Which wasn’t always mandatory. I hate any of my ancestors that were against the labor laws. This is exhausting.

“Feeling alright?” Y/n’s soft voice startles me as she places a cup of water before me.

“I’m more tired than a 7-year-old Illyrian after accepting my uncle Cassian’s challenge to run through his entire workout for cookies. And trust me, I’ve been in that position.”

Y/N immediately cracks up laughing, and I can’t help the smile it brings to my face in response. “I finished making you a little bit of everything,” she says quietly. “Then, when you’re done, you’re off the hook.”

I nod, not knowing what I would say in response. So I let her pile the food onto a table and scarf down as much of the delicious food as possible before packing the rest up.

When I stand and go to her to pay for the food, she just shakes her head. “You paid for your food by working today. I don’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe me.”

My brow furrows in thought for a second, but then I pull out the bills again, and before she can start protesting again I speak up, “I volunteered to help. For the experience, not money. So I still need to pay.”

Y/N doesn’t protest again as I set the money down on the counter and pick up my boxes, winnowing away with a light wave and smile.

I can’t help my thoughts from straying to her for the rest of the day and training, and even when my father scolds me slightly for skipping training, I'm not really listening; I’m thinking about her.

When I go to sleep at night, I close my eyes and see her smiling back at me. When sleep finally takes me, my dreams are filled with her: sitting across from me in a restaurant, dancing with me, meeting my family, enjoying my family.

Thinking about the way her eyes changed whenever I mentioned my family, I just know she would love being a part of it. I can’t help the smile that blooms on my face as soon as I wake. I need to ask her out on a date as soon as possible, so I climb out of bed with no intention of donning my gear for training. Instead, I put on some of my “regular” clothes and rush out the front door before anyone can say anything to keep me in the house.

As soon as I’m standing before her shop I still and wait. It’s dark inside, so she must not be opened yet. I decide to think over everything we talked about yesterday to distract myself. Surely it won’t come as a surprise that I’m asking her out; I tried flirting yesterday and smirked as much as possible. Dad says his signature smirk is a sure-fire way to get a girl, and even though I’ll never tell him, I dropped some of uncle Cassian’s smooth lines that he taught me. Then I tried that cold brooding thing that Az does, but it wasn’t something I could pull off.

When a light flicks on inside, I lift my head immediately and spot Y/N behind the counter. Her gaze lifts a second later as I move to the door, and her eyes lock with mine. For a split second, a look of fear crosses her face, but it’s gone in a second, a look of relief replacing it.

She comes to the door quickly and unlocks it, letting me inside. “Here for more experience?” her voice finds my ears as soon as the door is opened.

“No,” I say with a sigh and without hesitation. “I mean, I can, but that’s not why I came.”

“Oh? Why did you come?”

“To ask you out on a date,” I say without thinking it through again.

“Okay.”

“Okay..?”

“If you want to ask me out on a date, then ask.”

A huge grin makes use of my mouth muscles as she explains the meaning behind her answer. I swallow thickly and speak. “Will, you, the most beautiful female I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on- Y/F/N- go out to dinner with me?”

“Mother above Nyx, for a second there it sounded like you were going to propose.”

“Trust me, Y/N, if I’m proposing, you’ll be sure of it.”

#nyx archeron #nyx acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #nyx x reader #nyx fluff #adult nyx #nyx x female reader #nyx x you #nyx x y/n

[taiey]

Melanie has this self-image that she's—not just angry but dangerous, a hairsbreadth from violence. We hear it in 131 when she talks about her past:

Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a very long time. Years. Maybe since… oh, I, I don’t know. ... Angry at being passed over, being disrespected, ignored. That sort of anger, it – it powers you. Right up until it slips out and hurts someone.

and in 190 when she talks about how she feels about the cult:

If I didn’t have Georgie, I think I might just snap and beat them all to death. ... I swear, if it’s another hymn I am going to break something!

But look at how she actually reacts to Arun:

MELANIE: [Awkward] Oh, okay, um… Right, so… Arun, I just think that the… GEORGIE: I don’t think either of us is particularly comfortable with your use of the word “redeemers”. MELANIE: That’s… that’s not how it works. Is it? John? ARCHIVIST: Oh? No. That’s not how it works.

John and Georgie are included to demonstrate what "person being distinctly less gentle with Arun than Melanie is" looks like. Actually, ‘gentle’ is a bit of an understatement—I might be better to say ‘timid’.

And it’s not like this is the product of the therapy or, idk, Georgie. This entire post is inspired by pronouncingitwang’s post pointing this out—rewind to her first appearance:

I waited for another five minutes, but when Sarah still hadn’t returned I started to get a bit worried. I should have woken the others, but if it turned out she’d just gone to the bathroom, I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone. In that case she should have got one of us up to take over watching, anyway, but she’d hardly been the most professional while she was working with us, so it wouldn’t have surprised me if she hadn’t. After another five minutes, I decided to go look for her.

Like, Sarah is not fulfilling her responsibilities that she agreed to carry out. (and in a kinda dangerous way) But Melanie’s worried about embarrassing her.

In the end it was actually Toni that asked we not work with Sarah Baldwin again. Apparently she’d gotten “weird vibes” and didn’t feel comfortable around her. I agreed, though I didn’t share my reasons. 

She doesn’t even speak up first to say “let’s not work with her again”—again, this is kinda crossing the line from 'gentle' to 'timid'. Like, you can react to things that negatively affect you without over-reacting? (This is something she works on in therapy! Speaking up that she doesn't like 'Mel'; work-stoppage at her evil work: constructive responses.) (the apocalypse, uh, derails this a tad. :| )

What effect does the Slaughter have on this? Well, the next example is while she's got the bullet in her.

In episode 100, she's already tired and frustrated when Brian comes in. (let’s get this over with. I just don’t hold out a lot of hope for… coherence.) She does not get coherence. Instead she gets a panic attack. (Admittedly kinda her fault, because she said that the archives couldn't help with his spider problem. But like, that's more about the circumstances being objectively panic-inducing, she wasn’t being Mean or anything.) And... she's gentle.

I… Please, just… There’s, there’s tea there. Okay. Right. Yes. Okay, breathe. Yeah… well… Drink, drink the tea.

I’ll, I’ll get you some biscuits. I’ll get you, I’ll get you, I’ll get you… something… Just breathe! Breathe for me… [BRIAN TAKES SOME CALMING DEEP BREATHS] Okay, yes. Good. Good.

She's not confident or practiced or comfortable at it. She's out of her depth and kinda at the end of her rope and... gentle. Trying.

I think the through-thread is—people she has power over. She feels that anger and chokes it down because she could hurt them.

It’s difficult to strike the right balance, when you’re doing that.

(There’s another bucket of just—equals. Basira’s always there; John is for the rest of season 4 after 125; Helen :| ; Martin at least in season 5; etc. She has casual, unguarded conversations, too; and ones that are mostly focused on some goal, and ones where she’s getting what she wants, and all sorts of things.)

Towards people with power over her (the guy with the steady office job and authority over whether her experience counts as genuine; apparent boys’ club; evil mindreading murder boss; etc) she bites back. The difference is it's safe to do that because—one part she can't hurt them, and one part it'd be deserved. (Melanie as a comedian who always punches up.)

Except, you know... there's this bit in where 106 Basira and Melanie discuss how she 'literally' made Tim and Martin cry, and... while you can construct reasons they could 'have power over her'—seniority, gender—Basira's only been around since 092. Since that point, it's obvious that those aren't real power here. That's what the Slaughter is doing to her with her; validating seeing the world as more and more against her, handing her power and encouraging her to see herself as a put-upon victim, free to fight back guiltlessly.

And then she wakes up to a numb, wounded leg and stabs John. I wonder—what if "Right up until it slips out and hurts someone. I hurt someone." & "It didn’t stay in my leg because of some ghostly master plan. It stayed because I wanted it." in 131 are saying that - like - it wasn't taking out the bullet that de-Slaughtered her? That it was the wake-up call that she hurt John, someone who was trying to help her, and she didn't want to do that.

Didn’t want to be that.

@melaniemonth I don’t know if this is Platonic, or Health: therapy&recovery, or simply Self, but it is very, very Melanie.

#Melanie King #the magnus archives #melamonth2021 #tma #tma meta #meta #mine #characterisation

[juuuuliee]

Broken promises

A/N: so... this is my first story I'm posting, so please don't be so hard on me hahaha... Constructive criticism is of course welcome! I'm working on a masterlist and other stories, so stay tuned if you'd like. I'm sorry if there are some logic and/or grammar mistakes - as I said, this is my first story. I hope you like it, have fun reading! See you soon :)

Pairing:young!Sirius Black x Reader

Genre:a lot of angst, a bit of fluff

Warnings:angst, family problems, relationship problems, jealousy.

Y/N felt bad. Not the kind of bad that makes you want to throw up, more like your stomach was knotting up and that queasy, uncomfortable feeling was getting bigger.

The common room had long been pitch black and only the fire, which was slowly dying away, gave off a small pleasant glow, but it barely reached the sofa where she was curled up.

He had promised. He had promised to be there and yet she had not seen him since lunch in the Great Hall.

Anger and disappointment kept bubbling up inside her, but she tried to ignore those feelings as worry about him grew and slowly took over.

What if something really happened to him?

Before she could think any more about it, she heard a creak and pulled up. The portrait door swung open and the fat lady could be heard cursing behind Sirius, who came stumbling into the common room, but stopped abruptly when he saw his steady girlfriend on the sofa.

"Y/N?" he asked, startled, looking at her with his eyebrows drawn together.

"Damn it, Sirius, where have you been?" she started, realising that the worry was just giving way to the anger that was rising at the sight of him.

"I was at the lake...well...it was someone's birthday from Hufflepuff and I thought...I could go...what did I do wrong, Love?" he told her hesitantly.

"What did you do wrong, Mister? I don't know, everything I think!" Y/N scolded back, theatrically throwing her hands in the air to express her frustration more.

"You said you were coming, Sirius! Hell, YOU even suggested we meet and still said, you’d had a ,,plan’’…I don't know if that was part of your plan, but if it was, I'm sorry, it's a shitty plan! I thought you would have hurt yourself or made it back to Filch's office."

"Y/N, I'm sorry, okay? I forgot, yeah? What do you want me to do? Invent a time reverser just so our ONE date can still happen?!" sneered Sirius, raising his own voice

"The ONE time?! Sirius I don't know if you've been counting, but this is the fourth time in a row you've forgotten or missed it!" now Y/N shouted too, at which Sirius took a step towards her, but she dodged him right back.

,,I know I'm probably overreacting, but I feel like I'm fighting for our relationship all by myself, Sirius. I'm tired of waiting for you all the time, even though I know you won't come and you probably don't even care. It just hurts, okay?" She had started crying completely now and pulled her jumper closer to her.

"Maybe it has something to do with your family problems," he interrupted angrily and raised his hand, which Y/N only looked at defiantly.

"I am who I am and that is how you should accept me, Y/N! I have apologised, what more can I do?!"

Silence.

Grey, angry eyes met e/c, staring at him with anger and disappointment.

,, "Maybe you should change your priorities if some Hufflepuff chick's party is more important than your own girlfriend, Sirius!"

,, "And maybe you should lower your expectations. You're not the most important person to me damn it!"

Ouch. It felt like Sirius had stuck a knife in your back and was very, very slowly turning it around.

"I didn't mean it, Y/N," Sirius said with a roll of his eyes, avoiding Y/N's hurt gaze and focusing more on her shoes.

,, "Yes you did and you know it very well!"

Sirius groaned and you could literally feel the anger bubbling up inside him again and he had to pull himself together very hard not to yell at her again. In the end, however, his temper won out: "You know what? I'm leaving! I'm tired of this kindergarten and this... this kind of you, Y/N."

"Fine!"

"Great!"

,,Fantastic!" sobbed Y/N, but Sirius barely heard it as he stomped up the stairs to his dorm.

Y/N sat back on the couch, exactly in the place where she had been sitting twenty minutes ago and everything was still "fine".

Had he broken up with her?

She didn't know, but she knew it hurt..., it hurt like hell. There was a hole in her heart and it felt like she was losing her boyfriend, who was moving further and further away from her into the mist, so that all she could see was his outline, not even looking back at her. She wanted to reach out to him, to run after him, but something that must have been her own pride pulled her back and tried to convince her that it wasn't her fault.

But she didn't trust that voice. If only she had stayed calmer... Maybe she could have talked to Sirius calmly about her feelings and thoughts....

——————————————————

"Y/N, wake up!" a voice called at her ear and Y/N slowly opened her eyes. Lily.

,, Lily, please! Let me sleep..." she muttered and turned around to avoid the red-haired witch.

"Forget it! It's Saturday...Hogsmead day," Lily purred excitedly.

"No!"

„Oh come on, Y/NN. We're going to Honeyduks and stock up on chocolate! James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are coming too, it'll be fun!", Lily tried to convince her, but Y/N just shook her head.

"I don't want to see him." "Who?" "Sirius." Lily furrowed her eyebrows questioningly, but quickly understood, "Did you two have a fight?" Y/N merely nodded her head and buried her face in her pillow.

"What was it about?" asked Lily, stroking soothing circles on Y/N's back to get the young witch to speak.

"He missed another date and was at some Hufflepuff party. I was so mad at him...I said things I didn't mean and so did he...His temper won of course...I don't know, it all just escalated. I don't think he wants to see me either." Y/N reported as she sat up and Lily nodded understandingly.

"That's bullshit. He knows he messed up, Y/N. Sirius isn't that stupid... and of course he wants to see you! Besides, it's Saturday, so if you two don't get along, you'll need some frustration food, Y/NN... chocolate! It'll be alright." Lily tried to persuade Y/N and she had to grin.

"Maybe you're right..." said Y/N hesitantly, "Of course I am!" laughed Lily and started to push Y/N into the bathroom.

,"I'm sure he'll be pleased." Repeated Lily, giving her friend a cheery smile.

Once in the Great Hall, the two girls headed for the Gryffendor table where all the Marauders were already seated. Lily gave Y/N's hand an encouraging squeeze before greeting the boys: "Hey!" she called and sat down next to James, who greeted her with a kiss. Y/N stood next to them a little indecisively before squeezing in between Peter and Remus, who greeted her with a quiet,, Hi."

She could literally feel the looks of the others lingering between her and Sirius and lowered her gaze to her plate to avoid the looks from the others and especially Sirius... unsuccessfully. She couldn't help but squint over at the black-haired boy. He had bags under his eyes and was also keeping his eyes on his plate, which was full.

Instead of chatting to the others, she followed James and Lily's relationship banter, which made her wrinkle her nose more than once... Cheesy as hell!

Fortunately, breakfast was over quickly and the group set off for Hogsmead. Sirius and Y/N were mostly quiet and only said something when asked. They all went to Honeyduks together first, where Y/N stocked up on lots of chocolate, at which Sirius just raised his eyebrows, but she avoided his questioning gaze and slipped unobtrusively over to Lily, who was sneaking a caramel into her mouth.

Are you okay?" she asked with her mouth full, eyeing her friend who was standing in front of her a little indecisively.

"He's not even looking at me, Lils... What if he broke up with me yesterday and I haven't even noticed?" whispered Y/N in panic and Lily quickly shook her head.

"He didn't break up with you... Sirius, even though this sounds weird, loves you... Even Peter can see that! Just go up to him and talk to him. But stop blaming yourself: HE messed up and stood you up, not you." She said urgently, piercing Y/N with her green eyes.

„It's okay, Lily," Y/N said, and moved away from her friend, again walking to the biscuit shelf, which was very close to her boyfriend. She looked over at him cautiously and noticed that he was peering over at her too, whereupon she quickly averted her gaze from Sirius again and pretended to analyse the biscuits on the shelf with interest.

After the group had paid for their things, they went into the Three Broomsticks. By the time they entered the pub, it was busy and noisy, making it difficult to find a table to seat them all. After a few minutes, Sirius waved the friends over, who had apparently found room at a table where two Hufflepuff girls were still sitting, giggling as Sirius sat down next to them as he grinned charmingly at them.

A wave of jealousy and frustration erupted in Y/N and she had to pull herself together not to flee the pub immediately. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and sat down next to Remus and James, opposite Sirius and Hannah, who probably considered Sirius's forearm her own. She batted her eyelashes and obviously(!) flirted with Sirius, who happily joined in her game.

Y/N quickly looked away, unable to afford to put up with this fuss any longer. Remus unobtrusively squeezed her hand under the table and, Y/N smiled at him gratefully.

Y/N sat awkwardly at the table, not knowing what to do or say next at the sight of her steady boyfriend apparently having already found a new one. Sighing, Y/N stood up and muttered: "I'm going to get us butterbeers, okay?"

Without waiting for the others to reply, she hurried away from the table. She noticed tears forming in her eyes but immediately wiped them away and made her way to the bar where many teenagers were gathered. Desperately, she tried to make her way through the crowd and eventually managed to do so.

She didn't notice someone squeezing up behind her and pushing in next to her until that person snapped at her.

„Y/N?"

Startled, she pulled up to look into the friendly face of Amos Digorry, who was looking down at her.

Oh! Hey, Amos," she greeted her seatmate in Divination and smiled at him.

"Is everything okay with you?" he asked with his eyebrows drawn together and Y/N nodded quickly as she wiped a few remaining tears from her cheeks.

‚,Everything is great, yes," she replied and was glad when Rosmerta put the buttebeer on the counter. Y/N smiled at her in thanks before turning to Amos, "See you around, Amos." She said goodbye and hurried away.

Arriving back at the table, her eyes immediately fell on Sirius and Hannah, who were still talking to each other. Hannah giggled and Sirius seemed to be perfectly comfortable in the company of the beautiful brunette too.

Y/N knew her, she was her seatmate in Potions. As she took a closer look at her, a wave of insecurity gripped her. She had everything one imagines as 'perfect'. She was tall and thin, with a small waist and an elegant posture. She just fitted into the toxic beauty ideals that existed and Y/N hated so much. And the worst part was that there was actually nothing to not like about her. She was sweet and helpful and super nice.

Even though Y/N knew that your weight, your smile, your general appearance, how many friends you have and whether you get good grades doesn't change your worth as a person, she suddenly felt so small and superfluous that she couldn't take it anymore.

She noticed tears welling up in her eyes and stood up abruptly, causing her to bang her knee against the table.

Pained, she screwed up her face and looked at the questioning faces sitting at the table, staring at her. Great... Embarrassed, she brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear and smiled consumingly, but it looked more like a 'I'm going to cry' smile.

"I- I think I forgot my... uh my- something in Honeyduks, I think... I have- so yeah... I'll go..." she stuttered awkwardly, though she realised all her friends knew she was lying.

She quickly hurried away from the table and Sirius, unable to suppress the tears in her eyes. Hastily she wiped them away, but more kept coming. She didn't notice how Lily called after her in vain and Remus got up from his seat and tried to run after her, but James pushed him back into the chair, looking hauntingly at Sirius who sat frozen. When she got to the crowded alleyway, Y/N just stumbled through the crowd and was glad when she got behind Honeydukes, where there was a path that led to the howling hut. The path was snowed in and would have been beautiful if Y/N had paid more attention. She trudged along the path until she finally arrived at the howling hut. She just stared at it and stopped in front of it. She focused on the small cracks in the wall that looked like small branches of trees moving in the wind.

She heard footsteps coming closer and closer and turned around. Sirius. His black hair was a mess and he hadn't even zipped up his jacket. He was panting and apparently out of breath when he started to speak: "I'm sorry. I'm so incredibly sorry, yeah? You have to believe me when I say I'm sorry... Please Y/N, you have to believe me."

She said nothing and just looked at him urgently until he began to speak again: "Please say something. You can yell at me too, you can yell at me all year and the years after, but please say something." He pleaded, looking at her pleadingly as he wiped his face.

"You don't know anything, Sirius." , she started and he nodded to get her to talk further.

"You don't know how much it hurts to wait for a person that you- that you seem to love. You do know what it's like to not feel loved and- and to feel insecure... you know exactly what that feels like. And I always get so mad at the person who makes you feel that way because they hurt you! And I think I can say that I'm there for you then!" she gulped and Sirius nodded to agree with her, "But you're never there..." she sobbed, letting her tears fall again.

"I know you love me and I can't compare your family to our relationship. I feel good in your presence and- and that's how it should be... - that's how it should be! But- but it always hurts so much when you stand me up or ignore me and I don't even know what I- what I did wrong...I wasn't the one who stood you up, Sirius. It was you...and so many times!" she continued in exasperation and Sirius wasn't sure whether to let her finish or give her a hug. But before he could make a decision for himself, Y/N continued: "And today was even worse! Lily told me all the time that it wasn't my fault and now I know that it wasn't or isn't mine either. But then when you were flirting with Hannah and you-you were having such a good time, I was so sad! Why can you talk to her and have fun but not with me?! Why are you happy to see her but not me?!" asked Y/N desperately and Sirius opened his mouth to stop her from having those thoughts but she continued with a sad look: "You once promised me you would never make me feel small or insecure. You once promised to always be there for me. You once promised me that I was the "only one" and that you loved me. You promised to be there for me so many times, Sirius. But somehow you broke them all and I don't know what to do with these broken promises. I love you and that's not going to change, but I- I just don't know what to do with it when you- you hurt me so much and make me feel so insecure... So actually, you do know what that feels like...just differently." She confessed to him and completely burst into tears.

Sirius, who had tears in his own eyes, looked at her with a pained smile, which made her cry even more. He broke the distance between them and took her in his arms. He pressed her tightly against him and had to bend down to put his face in the crook of her neck. She clung to his shoulders and pressed her face into his chest to breathe in his familiar scent.

They stood like that for a while. Both crying, holding each other as close as possible. After a few minutes, Sirius slowly detached himself so he could look into her eyes.

"You don't know how sorry I am, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you! Merlin, when I think about the fact that I did it, I want to hurt myself. You're- you're- Damn, I'm not good with words!" he laughed and even Y/N had to smile a little.

,,I love you. For everything you do and for everything you say. I love you for who you are and for those little things you do for others. And I will- will never stand you up or break the promises I made to you ever again. I swear I will do my best, Y/N....and I am so grateful that you love me because I never wanted anything else in my life! You don't have to forgive me now...I understand if you don't, honestly." He said softly so she could just hear.

She smiled slightly at him and said laughing: "So if you kiss me now, it'll make things a bit better."

Sirius grinned and closed the distance between them, placing his warm lips on hers. He kissed her softly and lovingly, as if afraid to scare her away, but she didn't go. She deepened their kiss a little and sighed into his mouth.

As they kissed there like that, in front of the howling hut with dried tears on their cheeks, Y/N knew that everything would be allright again....

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #young sirius imagine #sirius x reader #young sirius black #young sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders x y/n #sirius x you #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x y/n #Harry Potter x Reader #harry potter imagine #sirius orion black #hp #hp marauders #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fic #x reader #x y/n #x you #angst #oneshot #sirius black one shot #sirius black angst #marauders x reader #harry potter angst #marauders angst

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #stayed up to write this #totes worth it

[fific7]

Evil Twins - Part 2

Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

The mutual staring contest went on between the three of you for some moments longer.

Then the one in the suit (character name - Billy Russo) cleared his throat and said, “Uh… hi.” He held his hands up, palms out, as if trying to calm you down although you hadn’t even uttered a sound.

“Don’t start screaming or nothin’, we’re not gonna hurt you.” “Speak for yourself,” muttered the other one, eyes still drinking in every inch of you. Billy shot him a dirty look, before turning back to you, “Now, sweetheart, I guess you’re wonderin’ why we’re here.”

Nodding, you felt as if you’d temporarily lost the ability to speak.

And you still weren’t quite sure if you were stoned or not.

“You are not the only one, moi krasivyy,” said the guy in black (character name - The Darkling or General Kirigan) managing to look you in the eyes for once, “we are wondering that too!”

“Ha! That’s rich, comin’ from you. This is all your mother’s fault!” snapped Billy. “OUR mother!” yelled the General. The two of them squared up to each other, glaring into each other’s identical eyes.

Oh this is ridiculous, you thought. You jumped up - praying your dizziness had gone - and clapped your hands loudly once. Their heads turned towards you immediately.

“Okay, that’s enough. Sit down please.”

To your surprise, they did as you asked. Side by side on your other sofa, looking up at you - they really were identical, hairstyles differing a little but apart from that - two peas in a pod.

“Here’s what I do know, although it isn’t much. I was watching two TV series tonight, and you are in one of them and you’re in the other,” you pointed at each of them in turn, “..you are Billy Russo and you are The Darkling. Well, that was in the book, you’re called General Kirigan in the TV series. And now you’re both here. In my flat.” You’d noticed Billy eye-rolling as you were speaking, and now he snorted, turning to the General, “The Darkling? What kind of fucking stupid-ass name is that?!”

The General jumped up off the sofa and so did Billy, and they were back to staring each other out, nose to nose.

You sighed, and folded your arms across your chest. That’s when you remembered you really were too scantily clad to be standing in front of two strangers like this, so without a word you stalked off into your bedroom to get your dressing gown. Putting one arm into a sleeve and pulling it round your shoulders to pull the other sleeve on, you turned to leave and found the two of them standing in the doorway, watching while you were putting on your robe.

“Out!” you shooed them in front of you, and they reluctantly walked back down the short hallway and into your living room. You waved them back onto the sofa, tying your robe, and they both sat down again.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes. How on earth did two TV characters end up in my flat? And why do you look like each other - I thought the two characters were played by the same actor. But there are two of you!”

They exchanged a glance, and Billy replied, “We’ve only just discovered that we’re twins. And I’ll tell you what we know but it won’t make sense. It doesn’t even make sense to us.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

About an hour later, the two of them were just staring at you again and you were staring back. You’d introduced yourself by now, filled them in on exactly where they’d arrived at, and made tea. They’d sat there on your sofa sipping from their cups, telling you their frankly unbelievable stories.

You’d listened patiently as they explained why they’d ended up in your living room, and when Billy had mentioned the part about his apartment being sealed so they couldn’t get out, you’d raced over to your front door. Heart sinking, you pulled uselessly at the door handle. It wouldn’t budge.

Sitting back down and giving a huge sigh, you sank back into the cushions and managed to calmly say, “You realise I still can’t get my head round this? You. Two. Are. Fictional. Characters! Do you understand? You’re not supposed to be real! But now it seems you are, and you’re sitting on my sofa!”

That’s when the staring had recommenced. Then Billy had simply said, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You burst out laughing, and Billy grinned at you. The General looked annoyed and you heard him mutter, “He’s not that amusing.” Turning towards him, you said, “Now now, General, is that some sibling rivalry right there?” His dark eyes met yours, “Call me Aleksander. And no - we’ve not been ‘siblings’ long enough to feel any rivalry.” “Are you sure about that, Aleksander?” you asked.

Billy smirked at him, and Aleksander literally snarled, “He’s nothing compared to me!”

You sighed. You could guess what was going to happen next. Yes, there they go…..

They’d both leapt up and were doing their facing off thing, snarking and bitching at each other.

You did your hand-clapping thing and like good puppies they stopped and sat down, both still huffing though. “Billy,” you said, and he looked over at you, “Did you ask Baghra which Small Science you specialised in? Aleksander is a Shadow Summoner.” “The Shadow Summoner,” you heard Aleksander mutter, but you ignored him and carried on. “What is yours? You must be Grisha too, right?”

“Not necessarily!” Aleksander butted in, sulky look on his face, “he could be Otkazat'sya,” he looked over at you, “…that’s people without Grisha capabilities.” Billy glowered at him. “Was your father Grisha too?” you asked Aleksander. His face became stern and closed off, “Yes. A Heartrender. I don’t know anything else about him.”

Oh, you thought, think I touched a nerve there. “You said Baghra is a Shadow Summoner too, right? So is it not more likely that Billy would also have Grisha powers?” He sighed, admitting, “Yes, he probably does.” “I didn’t get a chance to ask,” said Billy, with a triumphant smirk aimed at Aleksander appearing on his face. You got the distinct feeling that he’d really wanted to stick his tongue out at his twin, but somehow he’d managed not to. Aleksander was glaring back at him, looking like he wanted to strangle Billy.

How long were these two going to be here? you silently thought. It was like you’d suddenly adopted two sulky teenage boys. Or two large toddlers. Either description would fit.

It was exhausting.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Earlier on, when their hostess had left them alone while she made tea, Aleksander had leant into Billy’s face and stated, “She is going to be mine. Just to make things crystal clear.” Billy had shaken his head, laughing, “Oh you think? Nah. She’s definitely going to go for me, given the choice.” “Ha! She needs a real man, not some…” he looked Billy over, “…pathetic idiot who dresses in suits. And as I haven’t had sex in decades, it’s only fair that I get the woman.”

Billy had been laughing out loud at this and was just about to reply when she’d returned with three cups of tea and some biscuits on a plate. She’d given them a strange look as she’d placed these on the coffee table, but Billy had quietened down almost immediately and both of them now had innocent smiles on their faces.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You were yawning by now, informing them that you were going to bed and that they’d need to sleep on the two small sofas.

They’d exchanged glances, and Aleksander had smirked, “That’s a very big bed you’ve got in your room.” You nodded, stating firmly, “Yes, a king-size bed. It’s got a lot of space… and it’s all for me. I’ll get some blankets and pillows for you two.”

Noting their disappointed looks, you walked through to your bedroom and pulled some blankets out of the ottoman chest at the foot of your bed. You were in a bit of a temper. If they thought for one second that just because you were all stuck in here for however long you were going to open your legs for them, they would soon find out in a very painful manner that sex wasn’t on the menu. You weren’t dumb, you’d seen how the two of them - Aleksander in particular - had been looking at you like you were a snack.

Just as you were rummaging right down to the bottom of the ottoman for the spare pillows, you were suddenly aware of a figure next to you. You grabbed the pillows and stood up, scowling at Aleksander who was once again devouring you with his eyes. “I don’t need any help, thank you,” you snapped at him. However he moved even closer to you, “I was thinking more along the lines of you helping me, moi krasivyy.” “Moi what? What’s that mean?” you asked, sidetracked by curiosity getting the better of you. He grinned at you, “Moi krasivyy. It means ‘my beautiful one’. Because you are. Very beautiful.”

You suddenly heard Billy’s voice, “He’s just trying to talk himself into your bed.”

Aleksander whipped round, scowling at Billy. “Shut up!” he yelled at him.

“Ooh, touchy!”

“I meant every word I said. She is very beautiful!”

“Yes, of course she is, just like you said! But she doesn’t need you to tell her that.”

“Why shouldn’t I tell her she’s beautiful?”

“Because you’ve got a hidden agenda!”

“And you don’t?!”

“We both want to fuck her and you know it! You’re just being more obvious about it!”

They both froze as soon as those words came out of Billy’s mouth and their heads swung towards you, two sets of worried eyes meeting yours. You had your arms crossed again, and boy were you pissed.

“Firstly, I’m right here, you know. Standing right here listening to you argue about who’s going to fuck me.” They both looked somewhat ashamed. “Well, let me tell you…. that will be neither of you! The arrogance of the two of you! Not only do you land in my flat totally uninvited but you act as if I’ve been provided as your personal fucktoy. Not gonna happen! Have we got that clear?”

They both nodded, and you heard mumbled ‘Sorry’s’ as you stomped out past them to the living room. Both followed behind you, now silent. Dumping the blankets and pillows onto one of the sofas, you huffed a ‘Goodnight’ to them and returned to your room, firmly closing the door. Pity it didn’t lock, you thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was squirming about under his blanket, his long legs hanging off the edge of the too-short sofa. Across from him on the other sofa, Aleksander was doing exactly the same.

“This is your fault,” grumbled Aleksander, “…if you hadn’t inserted yourself into the conversation, I could’ve been sharing that lovely bed with that lovely woman.” “Dream on, jerk,” laughed Billy, “you don’t stand a chance.” “Of course I stand a chance! More than you do…. jerk!” replied Aleksander, adding, “Whatever that means.” “A jerk perfectly describes you…. a very annoyin’ stupid prick!” “It describes you perfectly too!” Voices rising, both getting ready to jump up yet again and really get into it. Which was rapidly becoming a thing with the twins.

“It perfectly describes both of you!” came a shout from behind the closed bedroom door. “Now just shut up and go to sleep!”

They exchanged guilty looks and settled uncomfortably back down on their respective sofas.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Emerging into the living room the next morning, you saw two dark heads peeking out from underneath their blankets and heard two sets of soft snores. Their feet were dangling off the ends of the sofas, and you momentarily felt sorry for them. Your furniture was not intended for six-foot males to sleep on.

Heading to your kitchen, you filled and switched on the kettle, then took a loaf of bread out of a cupboard and popped four slices into the toaster. Hmm… you didn’t have a huge amount of food in your fridge and cupboards. Before all… this had happened, you’d intended picking some more up today. How were you going to get more supplies? And what about your store! Everyone would wonder why it was closed. The store was only usually shut on Sundays, and today was Saturday.

This was a complete disaster. Sighing, you took out another two slices of bread to await toasting and as you closed up the wrapping, suddenly noticed that the loaf didn’t feel as if had got any smaller. You opened it up again and double-checked. You had previously only used a couple of slices, and no way was this loaf now 6 slices lighter, it was exactly the same as it had been. “Oh fuck off,” you muttered. What was this? Narnia? Alice in Fucking Wonderland? Oh well - maybe this meant you and your two ‘guests’ wouldn’t starve.

You jumped, startled, as you heard Billy’s voice behind you, “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?” He was leaning against the doorframe, wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs. Your jaw dropped as you took in this vision of masculine beauty. His smirk at you was totally self-satisfied, and you closed your mouth immediately. “Can’t you put some clothes on!” you snapped, and his grin got wider. “Only got my suit and it ain’t that comfortable for loungin’ around in.”

The toaster popped up at that point and you jumped again. “Am I makin’ you nervous, sweetheart?” he grinned. You turned away and took out the butter from the fridge. Placing the remaining two slices in the toaster, you began to spread the butter on the other 4 slices. “No, you are not,” you denied, looking defiantly at him, knowing it wasn’t true. The two of them were really hot guys, no denying that, but you absolutely couldn’t let them know that’s what you were thinking.

Aleksander now appeared behind him, likewise clad in just his underwear - black boxer shorts - and leant on the other side of the door, arms crossed on his chest. “You’re very kind, making tea for us,” he commented.

Oh good lord! your man-starved mind screeched, this is just too much first thing in the morning! Two male thirst traps, looking like they were currently shooting a Calvin Klein ad.

You hastily turned away and said, “Can one of you make yourself useful, please? Put three teabags into the teapot and fill it up with the hot water.” You hid a grin as they both tried to come into the kitchen at the same time and got jammed in the door. “Okay - Billy, you do it,” you said, “you’ve probably got more experience...” He chuckled, “Yes I have, angel. More than him, that’s for sure!” just as you added, “…of making tea.” Now it was Aleksander’s turn to laugh, “Yes… in tea-making only. Other people usually make my tea.”

“Now don’t you two start arguing again!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You brought the teapot, cups and plate of toast into the living room and put it down on the coffee table, noting that they’d folded up their blankets and piled them on top of their pillows on one of the sofas. Must be the military training, you thought. They were sitting on one of the sofas again, both still in their underwear. That was disturbing.

Now you were the one having to stop your eyes roaming over their bodies. Both of which happened to be lean, athletic and very nicely toned, commented your mind. Okay! Enough of that. Did you have any men’s clothes still lying around anywhere, you wondered? Quite possibly, and you decided you’d have a good look once you’d had your tea and toast.

Later on, you came out of your bedroom having found two pairs of grey tracksuit bottoms and a couple of black t-shirts, left behind by your previous boyfriend. You’d laundered them, intending to give them back to him but he’d moved out of the area so that never happened, and they’d lived in one of your drawers ever since. And just as well they had, you thought - I’ve got to get them into some clothes or else I won’t be responsible for my actions.

Handing them over, you remarked, “Hopefully these fit you.” Billy looked at them, nose wrinkling, “Whose are these?” “An ex of mine. Don’t worry! They’ve been washed.” They both stood up and pulled on the jogging bottoms, maybe a tiny bit short for them but not by too much. You smiled to yourself as you noticed one’s movements often mirrored the other’s. They really were twins in every way, although you were sure they’d argue with you on that point.

Both shook out the t-shirts and looked at the band logos on each. “Led Zeppelin?” queried Aleksander. “An old school rock band,” you replied. He looked none the wiser, shrugging but pulling the t-shirt on over his head nevertheless. “Queen!!?” howled Billy, “I’m not wearin’ that!” “Why not, Billy? I love Queen!” you said, offended. He glanced over at you, “Oh, do you? Well… alright then,” and on it went without further argument. The two of them stood there, looking each other over and arguing about which of them looked better in their new outfits.

This really is like getting the children ready for school, you smirked to yourself. Secretly you found it rather amusing that these two alpha males kept challenging each other. But it was just as well you were around to act as referee before they came to actual blows.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After having put the TV on for the ‘kids’, you began to gather the tea cups, tea pot and plates back onto the tray, fervently hoping that your dishwasher was still working. You noticed that in the few short moments they’d been sitting on the sofas, Aleksander’s eyes were beginning to close. You called his name softly and when he opened his eyes again, told him he could go and take a nap in your bed if he liked. His eyes sparkling, he was off the sofa and sprinting through to your bedroom before you’d properly finished your sentence. The bedroom door slammed.

Billy huffed, “You know he was just doing that ‘dozing off because I’m so tired’ thing just so he could sleep in your bed?” You picked up the tray, “Really? Now, don’t be jealous Billy, you can join him if you like.” Predictably, as you turned to head to the kitchen, you heard, “I’m not sharing a bed with him!”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy followed on your heels into the kitchen, and you jumped as you put down the tray and realised he was so close behind you.

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “I just wanted to say - while my delightful twin is out of the way for once - that I’m really truly sorry about what I said last night. About… you know, you and me and him, and.. uhh.. well, you know.” “Yes, Billy, I do know. Apology accepted.” You took the lid off the teapot and turned back to the sink.

He continued, “I really do wanna fuck you but I shoulda told you that in private.”

The teapot lid clattered into the sink, “Billy! Do you have to be so… so direct!” you yelled, while he just stood there, looking down at you with those liquid dark chocolate eyes, trademark smirk on his face.

“We keep movin’ universes, sweetheart! -so carpe diem, as they say.”

He moved his body forwards, pushing you against the sink and a big hand was pulling your head towards his. You were still both maintaining eye contact up to this point; long fingers slid along your jawline and you felt his lips on yours in what quickly became a heated kiss. You saw his eyes close, and allowed yours to slowly close too.

This is such a bad idea!!!

….screeched that nagging little voice at the back of your mind.

But oh my lord, did it feel so very, very good…..

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@aleksanderwh0r3 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @s1xthirty @tartiflvtte @slythvoid @edithsvoice @paracosmenthusiast

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#billy russo #the darkling #ben barnes #general kirigan #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #the punisher 💀 #billy russo & aleksander morozova x reader #billy russo and aleksander morozova fanfiction #billy russo and aleksander morozova imagine #billy russo and aleksander morozova fanfic

[malereader-inserts]

Even Though it Hurts

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: Remus Lupin & Son!Reader Summary: You have a will power than no other. Word Count: 2,032 Request: “ Hi, I love your writing so much. Can you do dad!Remus Lupin x son!reader, where the reader is in secret relationship with Seamus and Remus find out? Just some super angsty story, cuz I live for angst (I knew Remus will be supporting parent). Thank you✨” A/n: Okay, I tried my best to make it angsty. WARNING: homophobia, homophobic slur, anxiety 

It’s not like you wanted your dad to know. 

You didn’t really know what was going through your mind, really, because you know your old man. Your dad was a loving father, he supported you in anything you had interested in. If you were into potions, he would try and get to a little chemistry set - muggle kind that wouldn’t end up exploding the house. If you were into muggle history, he would take you to the museums wherever you lived at that moment. 

If you were interested in quidditch, he would give you books about the history of quidditch and the rule book. He even tried to get to a broom with his own money, but he had to dip into your mother’s money (which was reserved for you and anything you wanted, it was open to Remus as well because before she died she really loved Remus.) 

But, you weren’t sure if he would support you in a new revelation of yourself.

That included kissing pretty boys in the corners late at night. 

Granted, when you spent a summer with Remus and Sirius, they talked about how they had a relationship before Remus got with your mother and Sirius whored about.

Still, it was something you were terribly scared of. Your best friends have tried convincing you and settle your racing mind that you were overthinking it and that Remus would love you no matter what you were or have done.

“You take your time, babe, but I don’t know why you’re stressin’. Your dad is sound and he’ll take the news fine!” Your boyfriend says as you sighed, closing your book. 

“Everyone is saying that Seamus, but that doesn’t eliminate the slight possibility that he wouldn’t approve.”

“I think it does, (Y/n),” Seamus replied, giving you a pointed look, “Why are you so afraid?”

You stare at your boyfriend, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Wha-?”

“Night.”

Seamus watches you tuck yourself in bed, moving the pillows around you so that your boyfriend could slip into bed with you. You flick your wand to turn off the lights as Seamus watches you dumbfounded.

You rubbed your hand as you make it to your next class, which was transfiguration, you smiled at your boyfriend - managing to give him a kiss on the cheek as he flushed red. You moved to stand with Ron and Harry as Dean teases Seamus.

“A minute to the hour, what took you so long?” Ron asked you as you shrugged your shoulder.

“Caught up in the library, sorry,” You replied as you sat down.

Harry was next to Ron as you sat down next to Seamus, who was jabbing you in the side trying to get your attention. McGonagall starts the lesson and Hermione randomly appearing out of nowhere. No one batted an eye throughout that lesson, it was a double before the end of the day.

So, when the lesson finishes, McGonagall calls you to stay behind. You tell Harry, Ron and Hermione not to fuss over you as you held Seamus’ hand a bit longer. Seamus was the last to leave, giving you a supportive look because as much as McGonagall was lovely - she sure can be intimidating.

“Mr Lupin,” she says, calling you over to her desk as you meekly pulled your shoulder bag further onto your shoulder as you walk towards her, “Have a biscuit.”

“I’m okay, Professor,” you replied.

She narrows her eyes, “What was the punishment she gave you.”

Of course, your head of the house would clock on. She had seen how happy you were at the end of the fourth year, how you were so comfortable with showing off that Seamus was yours. She could tell there was a behaviour change in you because as the fifth year started - she knew you weren’t stressed about the subjects.

You were a smart kid, but this was something concerning. You avoided being seen with Seamus unless it was in the privacy of the common room and the bedroom.

“Let me see your hand,” She held her hand out and you knew you had to comply because she wouldn’t let you out of the room.

You gave her your non-dominate hand as she examines the injury. She didn’t like how it was still red, it told her that it was a fresh open wound as bruises started to surround the vile words.

“(Y/n)...”

She looks up at you and you already had started to sob, it was almost her motherly instinct that kicked in as she abruptly stood up and beckoned you to sit down as she soothes your back. 

“It wasn’t bad at first, you know?” You started to explain, “At first they were about dad and how he was a werewolf.”

McGonagall could see the scarring of the old sentence you had to write, “WEREWOLVES ARE VILE MONSTERS.”

She watches you cry harder as you started to hiccup, with a flick of her wand, a glass of water was starting to make way towards you.

“Catch your breathing, darling,” She says to you, rubbing your back, “I guess the wench found out about you and-?”

You chuckled, surprising her because honestly you hadn’t expected so much venom from a well-kept woman like Professor McGonagall and you weren’t expecting her to comfortably call Umbridge names. 

“Yes, she called me in first, gave me the option to either take the punishment or let Seamus. I couldn’t let him do that, and then she told me not to say a word to dad because if she found out, she- she...”

McGonagall could and would throw her shit if she could. No-one should be able to harm the students at all cost, Hogwarts was a place of safety and inducing fear in the students was the last thing she wanted. 

You hiccupped, “She would find where dad would be and make sure he would pay for his actions - I don’t know what she would charge my dad with, but, I can’t lose my dad like I have with my mother. He’s all I have left. I can’t hurt my dad, I can’t hurt my boyfriend, even if it kills me.”

She stares at you in silence, because a young teenager shouldn’t have to think like that.

“Alright, I’ll write you off for the rest of the week, and let me bandage your hand.”

Perhaps you were terrified to tell your dad about the punishment you have to endure, perhaps you were terrified how your dad would react that you rather endure pain and homophobia than tell him. You know that your dad would lose his cool.

McGonagall tends to your wound, she doesn’t want to see the nasty words on your hand and she knows full well you didn’t want to either. 

You leave her classroom to go back to bed, luckily, it was nearing Christmas so Christmas break was soon to come. 

You spent many days talking to McGonagall, she couldn’t stop you from going to detention, so no matter how many bandages you go through, you could feel the pain of two sentences branded on you.

“WEREWOLVES ARE VILES MONSTERS.”

“I AM A DISGUSTING FAGGOT.”

You managed to go home early due to the attack on the Wesley family, as you were considered part of their family as well as Hermione and Harry, they allowed you to go home - home as in the base of the Order. 

You weren’t sure how to confront your dad as you tried spending your time sending letters to Seamus. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You slammed your hand down on the desk as your head the voice before meekly turning around to see your dad, raising a concerned eyebrow.

“You scared me,” You sighed out, putting your feather down into the ink, “Announce your presence at least dad!”

Your dad chuckled, “I apologise, next time I will knock before speaking.”

You smiled as you turn yourself to look at him as he slowly enters the room, he wonders why you were cooped up in the room. Hermione was often seen downstairs reading a book whilst Ron and Harry was busy with themselves. But, you, you rather stay in your room.

“Are you ill?”

“Partly,” You responded far too quickly, you were nervous for some reason - the same nerves that ran down your back when you were in Umbridge’s office. 

When you were in “detention” she would rather have you answer quickly, you feared too much that you would reprimand. You pulled your sleeves down just to cover your hands.

“Running a bit of a fever, I’ll just sleep it off, dad.”

“(Y/n),” Remus narrowed his eyes at you, his chilled son that was much more of an anxious mess, “What’s going on? I’ve noticed that you’re sporting the same bandage as the twins and Harry.”

“Well-”

“And they told me it was because of Umbridge,” Remus continues, not meaning to interrupt you, “Son, what did she make you write?”

Remus hated the woman after she was the one to put up the suggestion on the law of werewolves, he would hate himself, but the tears confirmed his fears.

“I’m sorry!” You cried, looking down to cover your face with your hands.

“Shh, my boy,” Remus strides to give you a hug, he kneels in front of you as he lightly grabbed your hand, “May I?”

You sniffled and slightly nodded, you allowed your dad to wrap the greyish bandage. He didn’t know what he was expected, but the words that were scarred into you was worst than he thought. He wanted to throw up, he could understand the werewolf one - you are paying for his condition.

“Can you explain to me the other-?”

“Please don’t hate me!” That was your immediate response.

It wasn’t the confident response that Remus has in mind, he didn’t care if you were gay - you were still his son and he wouldn’t see you any differently. After all, he was a werewolf and you didn’t care at all - and he was considered a threat. 

He hoped that if you ever had the need to come out to him, he was expecting you to send him a letter that you were bringing home your boyfriend to meet him because you were so confident that your dad would welcome him with open arms. But, not this.

“(Y/n), I would never hate you for being gay,” Remus spoke firmly, “I love you with all my heart and you liking boys wouldn’t change the fact.”

“But-”

“My darling boy,” He says softly, “Were you afraid of my reaction because of the fear that Umbridge had instilled in you?”

You didn’t respond but that was enough for him to understand the situation as he sighs, rubbing his thumb on your forehead before bringing it close to his lips, placing a family peck upon your temple.

“I’m not mad nor will ever be mad, okay?” You nodded, it doesn’t settle the anxiety in you and Remus knows that, “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

Remus changes the topic, get you to relax first before forwarding the situation with you and the fear you had. You looked at him confused at the sudden change of topic before softly smiling to yourself at the thought of your boyfriend.

“It’s Seamus.”

“Seamus?” Remus says, narrowing his eyes, “The pyromantic maniac?”

You nod.

“Well, I guess it’s not Draco,” Remus says as you smiled at your dad, who gives you the same loving smile, “Though, when we’re able to have visitors - we’re not allowing Seamus to use magic. I cannot risk having someone blowing up the house!”

“I mean, that is fair,” You agreed with him, Remus chuckles, “You promise you’re not mad?”

“There’s nothing to be mad about, son, now are you more comfortable to talk about your hand?”

You looked at him, it was now or later and you didn’t want to experience the dread of that conversation. You take a deep inhale and exhale before giving Remus a nod. Your dad perched himself on your bed, preparing to hear your story. 

“I want to hear how you and Seamus got together first, actually.” 

“Really dad?”

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus lupin x male reader #x male reader #platonic

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: sorry for the wait yall this month really kicked my ass,, but also we reached part 20!!

tw infertility discussion

***

Gwyn: isn’t he beautiful <3

In the freezing February air outside the tea house, Nesta clicks on the picture attached to Gwyn’s text. It’s a distant shot of a man in his mid-thirties hunched over a library desk while working, unaware that there’s a camera on him. She’ll give it to Gwyn, though—he is a little handsome.

Emerie: the stalker levels are through the roof, gwyneth. seek help.

Gwyn: no i’m gonna marry him

Nesta doesn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned, but she types out a brief response before her thumbs fall off from the cold: Will give my opinion on him later. Got to go.

Gwyn’s crush will have to wait, Nesta thinks as she finally puts her phone away and pushes her way inside the exquisite tea house. Immediately, blasting heat thaws her frozen fingers and toes, and farther inside she spots the table she reserved for three. Right now, only one person sits at it.

Nesta grits her teeth and approaches the round table, heels clicking softly on the parquet floors. Elain doesn’t look up from the menu she’s reading. “This place would be nicer to visit in the spring,” is her only acknowledgment of Nesta.

“I like the winter,” Nesta answers simply, taking her seat across from Elain. She likes how the ice creeps over the garden outside until everything looks frozen in time, and she likes how the colorful flowers and trees become dulled by white snow. Not that her sister would understand or care.

“Of course you do,” Elain mutters, setting down the menu with all the careful elegance of a debutante. “I’m only here for Feyre, anyway.”

It almost saddens Nesta that she doesn’t feel hurt or offense at the words. She thought she would care more about Elain’s opinion than she actually does. “Where is Feyre, then?” she says, looking pointedly at the empty seat between them. “I thought she was coming with you.”

“I’m right here,” a breathless voice says, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps. Feyre appears, looking flushed from exertion and the cold. She sets her bag down and joins them at the table, scooting her seat all the way in. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Nesta bites. “I was just about to order.”

“So was I.” Elain smiles breezily.

Feyre glances between the two of them, clear concern on her face, but she covers it up and says, “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

It was Feyre’s idea, of course. After Nesta told her off for never being interested in what she wanted to do, Feyre actually listened. She asked if Nesta wanted to hang out, and then let Nesta fill in the rest of the details on her own terms.

Which brings them to the tea house. Unfortunately for her sisters, however, Nesta doesn’t really know where to go from ordering tea and biscuits.

“How is school going?” Feyre asks her after their drinks arrive.

Nesta sips from her tea, already bored. “It’s been fifteen minutes and you have yet to say anything of substance, Feyre. It makes me miss being alone with Elain and her mood.”

Feyre looks taken aback, and Elain levels a glare at Nesta. An unsurprised, of course you have to ruin everything like this glare.

So Nesta clarifies, “That wasn’t an attack. I just hoped that after driving out here, I would get something better than shallow small talk.”

“And how do you know it was shallow?” Elain steps in harshly. “How do you know she isn’t actually interested in how you’re doing at school?”

Nesta slides blunt blue eyes to Feyre. “If that’s the case, then I commend you. Personally, I wouldn’t give a shit if I was in your position.”

To her surprise, Feyre snorts. She looks resigned when she says, “No, you’re right. I don’t care about what’s going on at school, not if you don’t. What would you rather we talk about then, Nesta?”

Without hesitation, Nesta says, “Ask me something you really care to hear the answer to.”

Elain shuts her mouth and sits back at that. Feyre twists her lips, thinking her next words over carefully. “How is your therapy going?” she finally asks in a cautious tone. “What do you talk about there?”

Remembering that she’s in a formal setting, Nesta stops herself from crossing her arms. She settles on wrapping her fingers delicately around her teacup instead. “We talk about whatever I feel like talking about,” she answers honestly. Although lately her conversations with Lana feel more restrained than usual.

“And what’s that?” Feyre urges.

Nesta shrugs, fitting apathy onto her face like an old mask. “Recently? Childbearing.” But it isn’t her favorite topic of discussion, not at all.

“You’re pregnant?” Elain jumps in, leading Nesta to throw her an unamused look.

“No, idiot,” she says. “My therapist just has the idea that if I end up being infertile it’ll screw me up, mentally and emotionally and whatever. She thinks I should deal with that baggage now instead of saving it for later.” She rolls her eyes thinking about it. How many times does she have to repeat that she doesn’t care about her body’s reproductive abilities until Lana gets it?

Feyre chuckles, confused. “Why would you be infertile?”

Nesta forgot—she didn’t want her sisters knowing anything that has to do with her health. She even made Cassian keep her doctor visits secret from Feyre. But that was months ago, and the sisters are… not exactly in a better place now, but looking for the way there. Nesta thinks she can tell them without any severe regrets. “I have endometriosis.”

When she’s met with silence, she adds, “You know, with the tissue growing on my ovaries and stuff. It might affect all the babies I don’t care to have in the future.”

Elain is the first to speak. “You always wanted to be a mother.” Her voice is soft, almost mourning. It irritates the hell out of Nesta.

“No, I didn’t,” she snaps back.

“You did,” Elain insists. Feyre still hasn’t said anything. “You took care of our cat, Mittens, until the day she died. You taught Feyre her alphabet. You raised me when Mama and Papa were too busy to do it. You never carried dolls around in strollers or anything, but you loved being a mother.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” Feyre says, blinking. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the endometriosis part?”

Nesta sips from her tea, the bitter taste a welcome distraction from Elain’s words. “What about it?”

“How long have you known?” Feyre demands.

“It isn’t cancer. And I’m getting treated, obviously. I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Nesta sighs, setting her cup down. “October. Cassian made me go to the doctor because he was worried about my periods, we had a big fight about health insurance, and now I use my salary from your boyfriend to afford medication so I don’t feel like dying every month. Is that everything you wanted to hear?”

Feyre only stares at her, for once revealing no emotion. “I keep forgetting,” she says finally, “that we’re not at a place to share things like that with each other. I keep being surprised every time I realize how much of your life you keep from us.”

“I don’t,” Elain huffs under her breath while she tears a croissant in half.

Nesta is still watching Feyre. “You remember how bad my cycles were? I would cry loud enough at night to wake the house.”

Feyre flinches at the memory, and Elain goes still.

“But no one ever woke up,” Nesta says. They never talked about it before, and she has no desire to keep speaking about it now. If they start to tally all the hurts they’ve dealt to each other, Nesta fears they’ll be here for hours. Worse, she fears she will lose.

She reaches for a lavender macaron and delicately pulls it apart, studying the cream filling inside. “Did you know they make these using the lavender flowers from the garden outside?”

“I hate lavender,” Elain says.

Spying her chance to shift the subject off herself, Nesta goes for it. “Because Azriel smells like lavender?” She pushes one half of the dainty cookie past her lips, chewing. “It’s an interesting cologne choice, I agree.”

“Wait, what are we talking about now?” Feyre looks around, unaware that they’ve moved onto another topic.

Elain’s innocent brown eyes turn into daggers pointed at Nesta, betrayal written across her face. Nesta feels no pity for her—especially not if they’re going to sit around judging each other for keeping secrets.

Feyre’s eyes widen and she turns to Elain. “Is it about your,” she lowers her voice and whispers, “crush?”

Nesta raises a skeptical brow. She doubts whatever Az and Elain have stops at just a crush.

“No, it’s not,” Elain answers determinedly. “God, do you have to bring men into everything, Nesta?”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Quit it,” Feyre snaps at the both of them. “Or I’ll grab my things and leave.”

Do it, Nesta almost dares. But she has a feeling that Feyre means it, that she won’t submit to being taunted, so Nesta reins the words back from the tip of her tongue. After all, this tea is expensive.

The sisters take a moment to settle, and Feyre is the one to restart the conversation. “Either way,” she tells Nesta, “it looks like counseling is going really well for you. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, it really gives your skin a certain glow,” Elain drawls.

Nesta doesn’t rise to meet her sarcasm. In all seriousness, Elain and Feyre could probably use a therapist themselves. It might make Nesta’s interactions with them less headache-inducing.

“You should visit one day,” she throws the suggestion out without thinking.

“What, like a therapy session?” Feyre says.

Realizing the implications of her terrible idea, Nesta forces herself not to backpedal. “Yes,” she makes herself grit out. “If you’re interested, that is.”

Elain and Feyre share a glance of hesitation and concern. It’s a glance that grates on Nesta’s nerves, but she keeps her mouth shut and waits for a response.

Feyre answers first: “We’ll do it.”

Elain looks more doubtful, but seems to realize that refusing to go would paint her in a negative light. We can’t have that, can we? Nesta thinks wryly. She reaches for some macarons and starts stuffing them into her purse. “Sounds good. Great.” It is not at all great. Having her sisters in the same room as her and Lana might just be terrible enough to ruin Nesta’s next month or two.

“I’ll text you the details whenever I feel like it,” she tells Feyre and Elain as she rises out of her seat. Likely not for as long as possible.

“Where are you going?” Elain demands.

“I’m leaving.” Nesta pointedly drapes her coat over her shoulders, picking up her purse. “I have plans for the rest of the day, sorry.” Plans to get home and rate Gwyn’s work crush on a scale of one to ten. Maybe she’ll rewatch a sitcom if she has time.

“But it’s only been an hour,” Feyre protests.

Did Feyre think they would be spending the whole day together? Nesta wants to shudder at the mere idea of it, but she somehow… feels bad for her sister. “Maybe another time,” she promises vaguely. To provide some sort of reassurance, she adds, “I had fun today. Thanks for pulling this together.” The words are hollow, fake, and she’s probably a hypocrite for not being able to return the same sincerity she demanded from Feyre. But honesty isn’t going to get Nesta very far today, so this false politeness is the best she can manage.

Elain looks somewhat relieved, and Feyre looks disappointed but unsurprised. “Alright.” The girls nod at her. “Get home safe.”

She turns and leaves as soon as she’s given the green light.

A stale scent greets Nesta when she enters her apartment, reminding her that she hasn’t been around in days. In her defense, the winter months are easier to bear in Cassian’s heated cabin than in a poorly insulated basement.

Flicking the lights on, Nesta books it to the thermostat, her teeth nearly chattering out of her body. After turning the heat as high as it can go, she climbs beneath the covers of her bed without bothering to take her coat off. She doesn’t take out her phone to text the groupchat like she promised she would. She doesn’t even get her laptop to turn Netflix on. Rather, her focus is caught on the framed picture of her and Cassian sitting atop the dresser.

Everything was okay as she stepped out of the tea house. It wasn’t until she was inside her car that it came upon her: the whirlwind of emotions that had stayed so carefully hidden while she chatted with her sisters. All throughout the drive home, her mind kept returning to that one topic. Children.

Elain said that Nesta used to genuinely enjoy playing substitute mother when they were children, and she was right. But that was all fun and games, like playing teacher. What Elain left out was what happened after their actual mother died and their father went into debt, leaving all three girls in need of a parent figure. Nesta wasn’t a mother then—or at least, not a good one.

Now, she stares at the picture full of smiley cheeks and windblown hair, remembering the night that she realized she wanted to hold Cassian’s hand in hers.

She can’t imagine Cassian not wanting kids. They’ve never discussed it, but it’s so obvious to anyone who’s ever met him: he has too much love to give away to not one day end up with a whole brood of children. The thought makes Nesta’s stomach churn.

***

“Thanks again, guys.” Cassian shakes hands with his team as they file out of the conference room, all of them dressed professionally while he lingers in his hoodie. As soon as the last worker is out the door, he pulls out his phone, ready to shoot Nesta a message. She met up with her sisters alone today for the first time in a year, and he can’t wait any longer to find out if their brunch ended in a fight or not.

He clicks on his phone to find two texts from his brother, sent not too long ago.

Rhys: You’re in the office today for the monthly check-in, right?

Rhys: Don’t leave after the meeting is over. I’ll be there in an hour to introduce you to the new guy heading the Milan project.

Cassian frowns, confused. Rhys and the new guy are coming all the way up here to meet him? He didn’t know he was that important to the project.

While he waits for his unexpected guests, Cassian texts Nesta twice, and only receives a single short response saying she got home safe. Resolving to call and have a real conversation with her later, he gets up to change into the spare buttondown and pressed slacks he keeps in a locker in his office. If Rhys wants him to play the part of company boss, then he might as well look the part.

He’s adjusting the cuffs of his dark-colored shirt when the door to his office opens without warning, and Rhysand strides in followed by a stiff-looking young man.

Cassian eyes the stranger up and down first, trying to get a read on him the way he’s seen Nesta and Rhys read others. He doesn’t come up with a single thing, as usual, but he hopes he achieved his goal of looking intimidating.

“Cass,” Rhys greets him with a subdued nod, in full CEO mode. “This is our new hire, Keith O’Connell. I snagged him from right under Vanserra & Co.’s noses.” His near-violet eyes gleam with pride. “He’s going to be working out of Milan for us starting this summer.”

“Sounds good to me.” Cassian smiles lazily, and this is something he doesn’t need to fake—confidence. He reaches out to shake Keith’s hand. “Hi. I’m Cassian Madani.”

“Good to meet you.” The other man shakes back, but his grip is too tight, like he’s trying to break Cassian’s hand. Try-hard, a voice that sounds like Nesta tells him. Uses arrogance to cover up his insecurity.

Cassian takes it all into account as he pulls his hand away, seeing Keith through clearer eyes. His dark brown hair is slicked back with copious amounts of hair product, and a shrewd black gaze takes in every detail of the office. He stands like he’s attempting to seem taller than he actually is.

A typical white-collar worker looking for a way up the corporate ladder, Cassian concludes. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but there must be a reason Rhys is so excited about him.

“Keith is starting here at your branch next week,” Rhys is saying when Cassian refocuses.

He blinks, unsure if he heard correctly. “What, all the way out here?” Away from Velaris in this modest mountain town?

“We agreed it was best if you two work together as closely as possible while preparing for the summer launch. Since you can’t come to Velaris, that means Keith comes here.”

Cassian looks at Rhys in astonishment. He thought that once he rejected the Milan position, he’d cleaned his hands of the job for good. Clearly he was wrong. “Just how involved am I going to be on this project?”

Rhys grins back at him. “You’ll lead from home base, of course.”

Cassian glares. Rhys responds with a look that says they’ll talk about this later.

Keith seems to find the idea of working alongside another person as distasteful as Cassian finds it unexpected, but he says anyway, “I can’t wait to start working together. I have a lot of ideas for the Italian outpost that I think you’ll appreciate.”

“I’m sure I will,” Cassian hums. “When do you start again?”

“Next Monday.”

“Then we should talk then.” Cassian gestures out the door. Keith looks taken aback, likely having expected more out of this meeting. But Cassian can’t meet with this guy until he gets a hold of what the fuck is going on. After shepherding Keith out of the office and shutting the door after him, he turns to Rhys with a raised brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rhys warns. “Your role in this project is serious.”

“This project isn’t even part of my job description. What am I supposed to know about international business conductions?”

“You know enough to keep an eye on that O’Connell kid for me.” Rhys leans against Cassian’s desk as if it’s his own and crosses his feet. “He’s an asset to the company, but he also worked for our competitors up to a couple of months ago. I can’t trust him to manage this thing on his own, and I don’t have the time or resources right now to watch over him myself. That’s why the duty falls to you.”

“I manage security,” Cassian states, in case it wasn’t obvious. “What about Az?”

“Az has his own things to handle.” Rhys waves him off. “Just do what I tell you to, will you? Pay attention to O’Connell for the duration of the Italy venture and make sure he doesn’t steer our ship off course. You’ll get paid triple for the extra hours.”

“I don’t need triple,” Cassian grumbles, but Rhys is no longer listening. He’s typing on his phone and already heading for the door.

“Feyre and I are having dinner here before heading back home,” he calls over his shoulder. “See you later; I believe in you!” The door shuts after him, leaving Cassian alone.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies to the empty room.

Cassian leaves not long after Rhysand does, having no excuse to linger. Outside, he’s greeted with a surprise leaning against the hood of his truck.

Nesta pushes off the hood as soon as he catches notice of her. “Long day?” she asks.

He laughs for the first time all afternoon, the sound surprised and genuine. “I was just thinking about you.”

“That’s why I’m here. I heard your thoughts.” There’s a light in her pale eyes that only burns whenever she looks at him. It’s the same light that powers her ability to make jokes and let her guard down around him in a way she can’t with most others, and Cassian is especially grateful for it today.

Nesta reaches out and takes his hand into hers. He watches the way their palms fit together in endless fascination, his brown fingers a stark contrast against her white ones. He squeezes once and looks back up at her. “How did meeting your sisters go? You never told me.”

The light flickers so briefly Cassian wonders if it’s a trick of his eyes. But then Nesta is there again, at full brightness. She squeezes his hand back. “Take me home. I’ll tell you all about it.”

***

a/n: i love writing stuff related to cassian’s job i’ll just be throwing random words in there and calling it business jargon

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

[motownfiction]

picnic and an outdoor movie

Lucy doesn’t know what her perfect date looks like, but Will’s pretty sure he knows it for her.

He gets her in the car, and they drive to the other end of town. They’ve been married for almost two years, they have a baby at home, and Lucy is still working double overtime to play it cool in love. Will could scream. She’s too cute. She’s too cute, and she’ll never even know it.

“I mean, I’m not trying to say I’m not like other girls,” Lucy says. “I don’t even know what that means. All girls are like other girls, and all girls are different from each other. What I am saying is … I just didn’t think I’d ever go on a date, so I didn’t let myself have that dream, you know? And now I’m a teen wife with a teen husband and a baby … I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, so I just take every day as it comes, like someone who’s OK with going to an R-2 institution in Ohio.”

Will fiddles with the car radio and laughs. He stops on Roy Orbison, “Crying,” which Lucy pretends not to love. She has too much coolness in her, but Will doesn’t care. It’s cute to watch her fight it.

“I’m not sure that’s the best comparison, but I’ll take it,” Will says.

“You’re damn right,” Lucy says. “Are we almost to wherever we’re going? I feel like I’ve been sitting forever, and my old hamstring injury is acting up.”

“We’re almost there.”

A few minutes later, Will pulls into the drive-in movie theater. He’s taken Lucy there before, but he’s never taken her there to see Back to the Future, a movie she’s seen three times already and pretends to be neutral about. He’s never taken her there with a picnic of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, even if they are just from the Kentucky Fried Chicken up the road. He made the biscuits from a Jiffy mix all by himself, and he’s pretty sure that counts for something.

Lucy seems to think it does, anyway. When they spread the red-and-white checkered blanket out on the lawn, she paws at him like she hasn’t in … Will’s not sure how long, but he knows he loves it.

“This is it,” Lucy says.

“Is what?” Will asks.

“This is it. This is the dream I wouldn’t let myself have. A picnic and an outdoor movie. I didn’t think anyone would like me enough to give it to me.”

“Lucy. We are married.”

“And sometimes, I think I’m going to wake up from that one, too. Of course, I’ll wake up in a dorm room at Harvard, but I think … God, I know I’d rather have this. You.”

Will smiles a little too much. He knows because his face is beginning to really hurt.

“Good,” he says.

It’s not enough to say, but nothing ever could be. Lucy rests her head on his chest, and that’s all either of them will need for a little while longer.

#drabble #food #ch: will o'connor #ch: lucy callaghan #ship: c'est la vie say the old folks #year: 1985 #asks #pelopides #thank you!