#Keith ... is not very good at this comfort thing

[pretentious-blonde]

jealous much?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

warnings: 18+ this is smut, filth with feelings, depictions of sex, p in v, fingering, manhandling, steve being a cocky little shit, lots and lots of aftercare because how could i not???

a/n: to the anon(s) that told me they wanted steve to be a bit harsher, i gotchu <3 pt. 6 but can be read as a standalone!!

series masterlist

Steve’s bedroom was always comfortably cluttered—movie tickets scattered on the nightstand, a lone shirt draped over the desk chair, and a rumpled blanket that smelled faintly of his cologne. You loved it here. Loved being with him here. The two of you were sprawled across his bed, legs tangled, currently discussing the goings-on with the people in Hawkins. 

He always had a soft spot for scandal, unable to shake his love for idle gossip. He kept up with every whisper in the school hallways—a habit that only worsened once he gained access to the town’s personal archive of movie choices. 

Dangerous information for him to have, truly. 

“You should’ve seen what Keith has been checking out lately,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes bright. “Nothing but straight rom-coms. He thinks we don’t notice—‘cause, y’know, he does it on his own time—but Rob went snooping through the store’s computer system.”

“No way. Keith?” You snorted. “I thought he was into those art-house horror flicks or those silent German ones.”

“Right?” Steve agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “We’re putting money on him having a girlfriend. That would explain why he’s been giving us both more hours lately—guy’s gotta prioritise his love-life, you know?”

“Huh,” you mused, nudging his knee with yours. “So he finally snagged a girl?”

“That’s the theory,” he affirmed, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Now we just gotta figure out who it is. Or corner him into telling us.”

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that won’t take long. Keith has never been good at subtlety.”

“Kinda jealous he’s the one who arranges the schedule, though.” He hummed, shifting closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your hair. “Means I gotta argue with him if I want a full weekend off.”

“You poor thing,” you teased, tapping his chest. “I can always come hang out if you get stuck working. Keep you company.”

He brightened. “Yeah?”

“Totally,” you said smiling. “I don’t mind. I'm very entertaining.”

“Well, does that mean when I get a weekday off, I can come crash your work?” he asked, waggling his brows. “I look great in a tie.”

You eyed him skeptically, but there was no denying he’d look downright mouthwatering in a suit. All done up, weaving through your office like he owned the place—it made your insides curl.

He’d probably climb the ladder faster than you, effortlessly charming his way to the top. It was unfair how charismatic he could be, even without trying.

“I wish you could.” You groan, getting your mind out of the gutter. “It’d make the day go so much faster.”

"I’d be the perfect intern," he agreed, "I could grab the coffee for a change—plus,” a playful smile tugs at his lips as he gazes down at you, “I already know exactly how you like it."

You laughed, then shrugged. “Actually, you wouldn’t have to run for coffee now. We got a new hire last week—Ryan, I think his name is? He’s younger, maybe by a year or so, but super eager. I’ve been showing him around, finally getting some of the stress off my plate.”

His expression changed with a touch of curiosity or perhaps just a pang of protectiveness—but it settled quickly into genuine affection. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. 

“You looking out for him, angel?”

“Yeah—well, I mean—” A flush crept up your cheeks. “I would’ve liked if someone had done that for me when I started, you know? Don’t want him to feel overwhelmed by everything.”

He almost melted as those words left your lips, loving the flustered look on your face when he praised you.

God, you’re too sweet for your own good sometimes.

You snuggled closer and let out a yawn, feeling his arm tighten around you in a gentle hug as you hid your face in his chest.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced at the clock on his desk. “Come on sleepyhead. You’ve got an early morning, gotta get some rest."

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” he offered with a warm smile, “want me to drive you? I’ve got tomorrow off so it’s really no trouble.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” You shook your head tiredly. “Have a lie-in for once, you deserve it. Besides, you’re picking me up after work anyway, right?”

A lazy, content grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you—slow and sweet. “Come on, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Steve insisted on seeing you off that morning, even when you tried to do the nice thing and let him sleep in. 

He woke up with you anyway. It baffled you how he could sleep through his own alarm but miraculously rise at the first buzz of yours. Even when you tried to turn it off and sneakily creep around his room without rousing him, your efforts were futile. 

He followed you downstairs and sipped the coffee he brewed for you both at the kitchen counter, watching while you tugged on your office blazer, making sure your hair was just right in the reflection of the hall mirror. 

It made him grin stupidly, watching you hustle around in your formal attire—his career girl. 

He couldn’t help himself. He’d pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead at his doorstep before you left, telling you to “knock ‘em dead.” Which earned him a huff from you. 

He was far too corny in the morning for your liking. 

Only when your car was out of sight did he head back inside, now all glum that he had to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

He spent his time alone doing errands—laundry, a quick trip to the grocery store, all while counting down the hours till he could swing by your office.

It wasn’t pathetic, but he’d be the first to admit he was maybe a little too eager. Then again, he’d found his person, and he figured it wasn’t a crime to want every spare minute with you.

When the time finally came, he pulled up outside the Hawkins Post, scanning the pavement for your familiar silhouette. 

He spotted you laughing with someone—the new hire, must be, he deduced as he took in the guy’s slightly younger appearance and the way he stood just a bit too close to you for his liking. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he examined him further. 

Great. Of course he’s hot.

You glanced up just then, beaming at the sight of the familiar BMW. After a quick word to your coworker—who, he noted—looked decidedly unhappy as he caught Steve’s eye.

You bounded over to the passenger seat as he gave the guy a little wave, more smug than polite, and felt a twist of satisfaction when the guy’s scowl deepened.

You slid into the seat, barely getting the door shut before he leaned in over the console to kiss you—deep and warm, with a hint of urgency that made your pulse skip. You let out a surprised hum but quickly relaxed into it, hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

“What was that for?” You pulled back, blinking at him.

He shrugged, eyes flicking past you to the figure still hovering on the pavement. 

“Nothing,” he said, casual as can be. “Just missed you, that’s all.” 

He caught your colleague staring and resisted the urge to smirk openly.

Gotcha.

You huffed a playful laugh, still a little breathless. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked, turning the key in the ignition. You nodded, and he eased the car into the street. “Oh—there are M&Ms in the glove box. Grabbed 'em for you.” He added, remembering picking them up at the store earlier. Knowing you’d appreciate it. 

“Ugh, you’re the best, you know that?” you said, popping open the compartment and grabbing the bag, eagerly tearing through the plastic.

He glanced sideways, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Holding out his hand, he waited as you handed him a few—only fair, after all.

Because, yeah, he is the best.

Damn right.

And he’s glad you think so too. 

Dinner had wrapped up at your flat, the remnants of takeaway containers still on the coffee table, but neither of you paid them much mind. You were curled up with him on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you recounted every last detail of your day—he hung onto each word like it was the most important news in the world. 

Well, more important to him than the news you printed, anyway. 

“And,” you said, voice cracking with excitement, “they’re finally letting me write my own story! The whole thing, just me.”

His grin was instant, radiant enough to outshine the lamp in the corner. Pure happiness poured from him as he watched you speak, your joy lighting up the room.

There wasn’t a trace of resentment—just pride, just excitement, just you. 

He was every bit as thrilled as you were, because he knew how hard you’d worked to get here. And now, seeing it all finally pay off, he couldn’t have been prouder of you.

“That’s incredible, honey,” he said truthfully. “Seriously, can’t wait to read it. What’s it gonna be about?”

You shrugged, flustered and thrilled all at once. “I have so many ideas—I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you choose, I’m first in line for a sneak peek.” He draped an arm behind you on the couch, giving you a playful nudge. “You gonna let me see the first draft?”

“Nope.” You snorted. “You have to wait until it’s printed, just like everyone else. No boyfriend privileges here.”

“What?” He let out a mock-offended huff. “I’m supposed to wait for the issue like the rest of town? Come on you gotta give me, like, a preview or something.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, stifling a laugh at his dramatic pout. “Let me get changed first, and then maybe we can brainstorm together, okay?”

He leaned back, playful grin returning. “But I like the corporate look.”

“Yeah, well, now you get the pajama look,” you countered, sticking your tongue out as you got up.

He watched you walk off, fondness swelling in his chest. He’d never get tired of that view—hair done up from a day at the office, blouse slightly rumpled from a long day’s work. 

You disappeared into your bedroom, leaving him alone on the couch. He let out a contented sigh, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

With a lazy flick of the remote, he turned up the volume on the TV, barely sparing it a glance. What you wore didn’t matter to him—truth be told, he loved you just as much in cosy attire as in your best dressed-up look.

Comfort suited you, and therefore suited him just fine.

Not even a minute after your departure, the phone rang—a jarring, tinny sound that made him glance over his shoulder. It only rang twice before he heard your cheerful voice answer in the bedroom. 

His ears perked up. He couldn’t help it—he was nosey.

Sue him. 

Muting the TV, he angled his head to listen, as your muffled giggle drifted through the space. 

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it,” you said. “He doesn’t need it until Monday—promise.”

He rose from the couch, moving quietly toward your slightly ajar door. He caught a glimpse of you standing by your chest of drawers, one hand on your hip, the other clutching the receiver. He couldn’t quite make out every expression with your back turned, but your tone was friendly, warm, comfortable. 

An unwelcome pang of jealousy flared in his chest, though he quickly reminded himself that you love him, you’ve talked about this, he trusts you. 

Still, he couldn’t resist sidling closer.

“Yeah, don’t listen to what he said,” you continued, your tone soothing. “He’s all talk, trust me.”

He inched into the room, sliding his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzling his face against your neck. Your skin was still warm and you let out a tiny squeak of surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him.

He inched down to whisper in your free ear, low and soft. 

“Who is it?”

Turning to him, you quickly covered the receiver with your palm. “Ryan,” you mouthed.

Ryan. Right. Great. 

He rolled his eyes a little, then brushed a slow kiss on the side of your neck. 

“Call him tomorrow, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice playful but filled with an undercurrent of impatience. 

You already spent the whole day with the guy, and now he's calling you? Even when he saw him pick you up? It didn’t take a genius to figure out you had other plans, and the thought nudged at him uncomfortably. 

You shook your head in exasperation, though you were smiling. He continued to nuzzle you, pressing you gently forward until your back arched at the contact. 

“Leave work at the door,” he teased, fingers pressing slightly into your waist.

You exhaled a soft laugh and brought the phone back to your ear. “Hey, Ryan? I’ll, uh, I’ll just swing by the office a bit earlier tomorrow if you need anything else, okay? … Yeah, no worries, meet you outside. Bye.”

You placed the handset back in the cradle and turned fully to face your boyfriend, still in your work clothes, not yet changed.

Crossing your arms, you fixed him with a look, and he couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating the playful scolding coming his way. But all he could focus on was you—standing there in your blouse and slacks, looking far too damn sweet for him to take even the slightest bit seriously.

“Feeling needy, huh?” you asked, tilting your head.

He let out an incredulous huff, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. 

“What? Couldn’t he have waited till tomorrow? I mean… come on. He could have talked to you anytime today.”

You shrugged. “I did tell him he could call if he had any questions.”

He snorted, stepping closer, fingers trailing gently along your waist. 

“Questions, huh?”

“Questions,” you confirmed, heart skipping a beat at the intent look in his eyes.

His touch lingered, a tiny spark of possessiveness flickering behind his eyes. Then the realisation seemed to strike. You saw it—the slight tightening of his jaw, the faint furrow between his brows. It made you bite your cheek to stop from letting a giggle slip. 

“Wait a second,” you said, holding back a smile. “Steve, are you… are you jealous?”

“What? No.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Absolutely not.”

“You so are,” you pressed, delighting in the way his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

“Sweetheart,” he warned, voice dipping lower, “I’m not.”

You only giggled, emboldened by the rosy flush creeping into his cheeks, wanting to push his buttons just a little. 

“Aw, you think I’d ever pick him over you?”

Something sparked in his eyes, a confident glint that made your stomach flutter. 

“Oh, honey,” he purred, “I know you wouldn’t pick him over me.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him one step further.

“Oh, well…” you sighed, letting the words trail with a mischievous lilt, “I’m not quite sure. I mean, he knows my coffee order too, you know.”

The air shifted—his hand slid up your torso in one smooth motion, fingertips barely brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone before settling at the base of your throat. 

His palm rested there, thumb gently grazing your quickening heartbeat as he angled your chin up to face him.

“You wanna finish that thought, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low enough to send a tremor through you.

You swallowed, a sudden dryness in your throat. He smirked, clearly relishing your hesitation. 

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered, brushing his lips fleetingly against the corner of your mouth before pulling back.

Your heart pounded, body already hyper-aware of each place he touched you. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse had sped up beneath his hand—because from the triumphant gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew precisely what kind of effect he had on you.

When his fingers trailed beneath your collar again, you shivered, and the reaction only seemed to spur him on. 

“Think I’m jealous, baby?” His mouth hovered just above yours, teasing, refusing to close the distance.

When you leaned in, he pushed back just enough to make you wait, to make you listen. 

"Need me to show you how well I take care of you?” His other palm slid against your lower back, holding you flush against him. “Can’t have you forgetting, can we?"

The way he was looking at you, like he dared you to argue.

His eyes were locked on yours, hungry and unapologetically smug, as he backed you against the counter. Waiting for the subtle nod of your head to tell him to continue. 

His fingers fiddled with the button of your trousers, and you could practically feel his heart racing in sync with your own.

“H-haven’t forgotten,” you managed to stutter out, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He cocked a brow as he paused his motions, leaning in until his breath fanned over your lips. 

“You sure? The way you were talking—almost like you need a reminder.” A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “And you know how much I love proving my point.”

You swallowed hard. You did know—Steve was stubborn as hell, and once he made up his mind, there was no talking him down. 

You’d learned that the very first time you hung out with him—he spent a whole hour building you that damned bookshelf that was wedged in the corner of your living room, refusing to even let you help him carry it up the stairs. All in an effort to prove himself to you.

And by the way he was acting, he was determined to prove himself again. 

“Say the word, baby, and I’ll stop.” He tells you earnestly, as his brown eyes search your face. 

He would stop in an instant if you told him to, but the way you're looking at him tells him you won’t. Something tells him that you want him to show you how good he can make you feel.

And Steve? 

Well, Steve never backed down from a challenge. 

You let out a shaky exhale, no response forming except the pleading expression you're giving him. A small, triumphant noise rumbled in his throat. Your slacks and underwear hit the floor, and in one swift motion, he coaxed you against the side of the counter, broad hands splaying over your hips.

He brushed his hand against you slowly, cautiously, fingers gliding against your core and making your knees threaten to buckle.

“Already?” His tone was low, teasing, right at your ear as his fingers entered you with a lewd, wet sound. “You’re shaking, baby. Maybe I have been neglecting you.”

“Please,” you whimpered after a moment, overwhelmed by how slow and teasing he was moving—he wasn’t normally quite so unhurried with the foreplay.

Steve usually never made you beg for anything. 

He let out a soft chuckle, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the side of your neck. Clearly, he was enjoying this—relishing the way your hands pawed at his shoulders, desperate, pleading for more. For him to stop playing and just give in.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you, alright?” His fingers moved with agonising precision. “So sensitive—so sweet for me”

Your breathing stuttered; the sensations bloomed hot and electric with every brush of his fingers. But his mouth kept going, sliding into that cocky territory he owned so well. 

“Bet he wouldn’t even know where to start with you,” he murmured, voice laced with pride. "Wouldn’t even know how fucking beautiful you sound when you—" his thumb pressed hard against your clit, dragging a desperate, wrecked moan from your lips, “—fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You could tell he was on a roll, completely caught up in the moment, but you mustered the courage to speak anyway.

Feeling bold, you forced a small smirk, even as your body threatened to betray you. You’d never seen him this pent up before—this utterly consumed—and the sheer thrill of it sent a sharp, electric spark through you.

Curiosity burned—just how far could you push him?

“O-oh, I don’t know—” you managed to choke out, stepping on dangerous territory. “He’s a keen learner…”

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?

Everything stopped—his fingers, his breath, the push of his body against yours. He stilled, letting a harsh exhale flare his nostrils. 

Then a dark, knowing laugh bubbled out of him as he lifted his head to look at you—really look at you. You caught a glimpse of his determined face, before all composure snapped. 

Now he really had something to prove.

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, voice taking on a frustrated edge. “You just don’t know when to stop—do you?”

Before you could react, he flipped you around and pushed your hips down against the dresser with a firm grip. The wood pressed into your stomach, your palms splayed on either side as he molded himself to your back.

He cupped your jaw from behind and you gasped at the harshness of his grip, every nerve alive. His teeth found your shoulder, biting just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

You let out a sharp cry, and he swallowed it with a low groan. Running his tongue against the dull ache as a gentle apology. 

“One of these days," he muttered, "that smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble—” you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, “—lucky for you, I’m the one who gets to teach it a lesson.”

His words send shivers across your skin and you tried to twist in his grip. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” he chided as you tried to squirm, pressing against you back as he stilled your movements. “Stay.”

He placed one strong palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you lower, til your chest made contact with the wooden surface. Keeping you where he wanted you.

He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t forcing—just holding you there, making sure you felt him, making sure you knew exactly how this was going to go.

Your legs stumbled as you adjusted to the position, and he just laughed, sliding his fingers inside you once more, coaxing the most desperate little noises from your lips.

“Say my name, angel,” he demanded, that infuriating confidence dripping from every syllable.

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, voice barely recognisable to your own ears.

“Good,” he praised, dipping his head to kiss along your shoulder, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside that he knew drives you wild. “Want it to be the only thing in your head, okay?”

You moaned out his name once more, and he hummed with approval. 

“That’s right." He cooed. "You're a fast learner, baby.”

He pulled away momentarily and you whined at the loss of contact, until you heard the metallic rasp of his zipper. He was right back against you, pressing his length along you with a low moan.

"You feel that?"  he murmured, voice thick with need as he pressed against you, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction sent sparks through your core, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. His grip tightened, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. "You're soaked, sweetheart."

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t wait. He needed to prove it to you, needed you to understand just how much he could give you. Just how much he deserved you. 

You tried to speak, but your voice came out ragged. Then, mercifully, he pushed inside—slow enough to let you feel every inch. The stretch pulled a drawn-out, trembling whine from your chest.

“Ah, fuck—.” His own voice cracked, hips snapping forward as though he couldn’t possibly wait another second. “That’s it—see how good that feels?—pussy was made for me. Ain't that right, angel?”

You only mewled in response as he settled into a driving rhythm, each thrust pushing you into the surface, bullying his cock deeper and deeper inside.

He wrapped a hand against the back of your neck, keeping you pinned where he could use you, pressing hot kisses along your shoulders when you cried out. It was music to his ears as he continued his relentless pace.

Normally he was gentler, but now, he was done holding back. The litany pouring from his mouth was shameless, full of desire and unfiltered possessiveness.

“Should’ve kept him on that damn phone—” he rasped against your neck, each word punctuated by a thrust. “Should’ve made him listen to how you sound—‘cause that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to having you like this—”

Your walls tightened around him as his words poured over you, and he noticed—of course he noticed. He drank in every tremor, every flutter of your pussy, letting out a breathless laugh tinged with disbelief as he felt you squeeze him deeper at his teasing remarks.

"You like that?—really?" He let out an amused chuckle at the new information. “Shit—never knew how filthy you were, baby.” 

The way you gripped his length, pulling him deeper, the sinful sounds spilling from your lips—he knew he was giving you both. Worship and destruction. 

And fuck, you loved it.

You dragged your nails across the dresser’s surface, searching for an anchor in the storm of sensation. His hand slid over yours, fingers lacing as he drove into you, relentless.

“Too fucking bad he’s never gonna see how pretty you look when you're fucked dumb,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's just for me."

You felt your composure slipping, your body teetering on the edge. Your head rolled to the side, a broken string of words escaping.

“Steve, please—” spilled from your lips, but you weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you upright just enough so he could whisper directly into your ear. The pain was delicious as you arched against him, lungs gasping for air as he continued to spill every dirty thought he had.

"It's alright sweetheart—I’ll give you what you need. Just look at you—can’t even think straight." A soft, desperate moan tore from your throat as his mouth continued to run. "Just falling apart on my cock, letting me fuck every last thought out of that pretty head of yours."

His pace quickened, your body overwhelmed with the slide of him inside your walls, the heat of his skin, the possessive timbre in every word he rasped into your ear.

"But you know what you will remember?" he purred, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Every time you see him, you’ll remember how I had you bent in half, screaming my name—not his." He let you fall back onto the dresser, firm grip returning to your shoulder. "I want this burned into you, baby. So every fucking time you even look at him, all you can think about is me stretching you open—ruining you for anyone else."

Fuck, you knew Steve was loose-lipped in bed, but this was something else entirely. 

He wasn’t making love to you—he was fucking you. Hard. Rough. Saying whatever filthy thing came to mind without a second thought. 

You wished you could throw back a sly quip, but at this pace? You could barely breathe, let alone speak. 

Not that it would matter—he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Your moans rose in pitch, matching the mounting tension in your core, and he groaned, voice unraveling into something so heady it almost vibrated through you.

"I—fuck—I want you feeling me tomorrow, sweetheart—want every step you take to remind you exactly what’s waiting for you when you come home." He thrust sharply, greeted with the cry that tore from your lips. "‘Cause, baby, I’ve got no problem bending you over like this again and again—’til the lesson sticks—"

That final promise was all you needed—you came hard, a wave of ecstasy rolling through you as your body clenched around him. Your cry echoed in the small space, and you felt his grip falter as he groaned your name, riding the crest of your climax.

“Fuck, baby—that’s it,” he choked out, thrusts turning erratic. “So good for me, taking me so—”

Then he followed you over the edge, hips snapping one last time before his body seized. You felt his breath come in ragged pants against your neck, his chest pressed to your back. Every muscle in him went taut, then slack, as he let out a deep, guttural moan of satisfaction.

Your name fell from his lips in a trembling exhale, and for a moment, neither of you moved—both lost in the aftermath, hearts hammering in sync.

He held you for a beat longer, both of you still catching your breath. Your body trembled against the wood, and as he finally pulled out, he stayed close—almost reluctant to let you go.

But as he pulled away brushing a knuckle over your spine, guilt crept into his eyes the moment he took in your shaky form.

“Ah—shit” he murmured, voice low. “Hey, sweetheart, you with me?”

You nodded weakly, turning your head and giving him the smallest smile of reassurance, but he still frowned in concern. Maybe he'd gone overboard.

“Yeah… all right. Can you stand?”

“I—I think so,” you managed breathily.

“Okay,” he whispered, guiding you upright with one gentle arm around your waist. Once he was sure you weren’t going to topple over, he bent down to scoop up your trousers and set them aside. You’d probably complain if they got creased—more creased than they were. Though, that wasn’t his number one priority right now. 

You noticed the way his forehead furrowed in worry as he led you to the bed, helping you settle against the duvet. He slid in behind you, propping himself against the headboard so you could rest in his lap.

Your hands trembled a bit from aftershocks—adrenaline still coursing through your veins. He felt it, too, and his anxious expression only deepened.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Hey, angel?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, as he sought your eyes. “Can you look at me for a sec?”

You tilted your head back to meet his worried gaze, your cheeks still flushed and eyes glazed with the rush of it all. His own eyes flickered over your messy hair, the light smudges of your makeup, and your rumpled work shirt. Guilt pinched at his features.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry if I got carried away. I just—just got caught up in everything, and you—”

You let out a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to cover his mouth gently. 

God, he’s adorable when he’s fussing over you. 

“Steve,” you said softly, watching him go silent. “You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

He still looked unconvinced. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I'm not,” you replied, smoothing your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. “I’m really, really good. Better than good.”

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing soft circles into your cheek, eyes flicking between yours as if searching for any sign of discomfort.

“Didn’t mean to be so rough,” he murmured, voice laced with concern. "Should've been more gentle with you, angel."

You were still quivering in his lap, body still sensitive. He was torn between holding you tighter against him, or letting you breathe.

You leaned forward after sensing his hesitation, brushing a soft kiss to his jaw, you make the decision for him.

“I loved it." You tell him truthfully. "I love you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, hands finding your hips and holding you there. His warmth seeped into you through the fabric of your rumpled work shirt.

You loved him.

No matter how many times the words left your lips, it still made his chest ache.

"Love you too," he murmurs, eyes avoiding yours as they dart to his lap. "Just... don't want you thinking I, like, lost control or something." He looks up at you sheepishly. "Never want to hurt you."

“I know that.” You rested your palm against his jaw, the intimacy of the moment made your heart flutter. “I trust you. And if it was too much, I’d tell you.”

He stared at you for a moment, brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A long exhale left him, relief slumping his shoulders. 

“Thank God.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead gently against yours.

“But… you’re probably right.” You managed a playful smile as his eyes snapped to yours. “I’m definitely going to feel it tomorrow.”

A rosy flush bloomed across his face, and he buried it against your neck with a half-embarrassed groan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You gave a teasing shrug, ignoring the dull ache that made itself known the second you moved your hips. “You might’ve had a point, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

A teasing grin curled your lips. “You are kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.” He winced exaggeratedly, making you laugh. “You’ll give me a complex or something.”

You laughed again, and he couldn’t help smiling back, brushing his nose against your cheek in a moment of affection.

“But, I mean, are you feeling jealous?” You asked him with full seriousness. “Because if you are, you can talk to me about it.”

He swallowed, his grip loosening slightly as his eyes softened, realisation settling deep in his chest.

You cared. So much. He thought about it for a brief moment—was he really jealous?

But then he looked at you, all concerned in his arms. The way you gazed at him, unwavering and sure, the way you had trusted him completely not five minutes ago, letting him take control, letting him have you.

It was all the answer he needed.

There was no room for doubt, no reason for insecurity. You were his—entirely his—and he knew it.

“No,” he finally said, voice gentle. “’M not jealous. Not really. I just—I don't know—wanted to make my girl feel good.” His lips quirked up in a small, sheepish grin. “And I guess I wanted to remind you who you’ve got waiting when you clock out.”

You leaned up to plant a reassuring kiss on his jaw. “Well, message received,” you teased, drawing a chuckle from him.

Steve glanced down at your blouse, still haphazardly half-done-up, and your bare legs still shaking. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? I kinda distracted you from changing.”

“You definitely did.” You smile softly as he gets up, offering you his hand to stand.

“C’mon, let’s get a bath running.” He tells you as he cocks his head towards the door.

He guides you to the bathroom, flicking on the light and starting the taps. As water rushed into the tub, he helped you out of your disheveled work shirt, eyes flicking appreciatively across your skin. Gently, he traced a thumb over a reddening mark on your neck where he’d bitten down. A pang of guilt made his eyes tighten.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss over the mark. “Got carried away.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a grin. “Hey, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Everyone to know I’m yours?”

“Yeah,” a bashful smile tugged at his lips. “I did.”

Once the bath was ready, you both climbed in. The warm water soothed the lingering tension in your muscles, and you leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh. His arms draped loosely around your middle, fingers stroking lazy shapes over your skin.

“So,” he spoke up after a moment, lips brushing your ear.  “you wanna brainstorm those ideas for your article now, Miss Journalist?”

You chuckled, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh, now you’re interested in my writing process?”

“Course I am.” He gave a soft laugh, tightening his hold on you. “I’m always interested in whatever you’ve got going on. You know that.”

“Alright,” you teased, “I have a few pitches… maybe a feature on that new charity coffee place that’s opening up on Maple Street? Or this local teacher doing after-school science programs? I’m torn—so many good leads.”

Steve made an encouraging noise. “I like the teacher one,” he mused, brow furrowing in real consideration. “I mean, c’mon, that sounds like it’d be really feel-good for the paper. Everyone loves seeing that kinda community stuff.”

“You think so?” You felt a wave of affection swell through you at how genuine he was.

“Yeah. It’s definitely the kind of story that’ll get people talking in a good way.” He paused, a grin curling his lips. “But I gotta say… I also love coffee.”

“We’ll see which one the editor likes.” You giggle.

He helped you out of the tub once the water began to cool, wrapping a towel around his waist before carefully bundling you in another. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, then led you back to the bedroom, flicking off the overhead light so you were left in a peaceful glow from the bedside lamp.

You slipped into a soft tee and lounge shorts as he grabbed his own pyjamas from your chest of drawers, blushing at what transpired on it previously. He would never look at it the same way again.

You curled up against him in the bed—his arms around you made everything feel warm and safe.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not ’til afternoon,” he said, carding his fingers through your hair.

A content sigh escaped you, eyes fluttering shut. “Nice for some, I guess.”

“But,” he continued, clearing his throat pointedly, “I’m definitely dropping you off tomorrow.”

Your brow creased, and you glanced up at him with a sleepy frown. 

“Why?”

He smirked, his hand coming to rest gently on your hip. “Because… you said you were meeting him earlier, right? The new guy?” He leaned in, voice dropping playfully. “I wanna see the look on your face when you see him—see if you remember exactly what we did tonight.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you smacked his chest lightly. “Steve!”

“What?” He chuckled, utterly delighted, pressing a mischievous kiss to your forehead. “I’m curious.”

You huffed in mock-annoyance but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he buried his nose in your hair. “That’s me,” he murmured, voice going soft again as he held you closer.

[67bottles-of-milk]

And they were roommates

You and Jason had a pretty good grocery agreement for your university dorm. 

~6k words

Part 2

—

Going to university with the explicit goal of teaching maths to high schoolers may not have been the brightest idea but you were going to see it through. Mostly out of spite. Your mother had told you the moment you told her of your career goals she didn’t think you could last even three months. So yeah, you were going to get your maths degree if it killed you. With the way the course was going so far, it very well could. If Gotham didn’t do that first.

At least you didn’t have to worry that much about affording food. See, you had managed to find the only other kid in your dorm building who wasn’t from the Bristol area of Gotham. As such, you had both worked out a pretty good deal where you’d pool money for groceries. It was cheaper than shopping separately and buying two of everything and end up having half of it go mouldy before even reaching the end. So you pooled money and bought the larger versions of things to last you both the week. It was convenient and really saved the two of you money.

In the beginning of the agreement, you had a shared grocery list in a google doc the two of you shared (they had a paper one but some other guy was putting stuff on there without even offering to pay you back for it with his allowance from his, frankly, fucking loaded parents. Stingy bastard). When you ran out of something or needed it, you’d add it to the list. Whoever went shopping next would then delete the list as items were bought. Cash was given in passing and responsibility alternated every other week as long as no one had any exams they were busy studying for or large projects that demanded large amounts of time and attention. 

But a few months in, something changed. There wasn’t a reason for it, it just seemed to happen naturally. You were cooking dinner, making just a simple pasta bake you could shove in the oven while you folded the washing that had been sitting on your bed for the past three days. Without even realising, you had pulled out two bowls and only when the serving spoon was hovering over the second bowl, already dumping pasta in, did you realise what you had done. Why two bowls? Was it homesickness? Did you subconsciously make a second bowl for your mum too? Glancing over your shoulder, Jason was sitting with his headphones in, cross legged on the sofa and typing away at his laptop. Might as well. 

Jason was startled slightly from the depths of his music by the hand placing a full bowl on the coffee table in front of him, a fork sticking out of the top of it. Was it that late already? Oh. It was 7.30pm. The last time he looked at the clock, it was only 3pm, was he really focused for that long? Well damn. 

You sank into the sofa next to him, focusing entirely on your meal. You barely heard the muttered “thanks” from the man next to you as you both sat quietly, listening to your dorm mates going about their evenings. Charlotte was late for work but couldn’t find her uniform, Keith had a paper due by midnight, Ollie was trying their damndest to make toast but still couldn’t figure out the toaster. 

“Wait guys, why isn’t it working?” Their distress was clear as the sound of the lever frantically being pushed down over and over scratched through the kitchen. A glance over the back of the sofa showed that it wasn’t even plugged into the wall. Rich kids. You and Jason shared exasperated looks across the sofa before resuming to mind your own business.

From then on, it was a sort of routine. Whenever one of you cooked dinner, if the other was in the vicinity, you would make an extra portion for each other. It was a wordless agreement with no clear reason for beginning. But it was comfortable.

But then it evolved even further. One day, Jason hadn’t come out of his room since he got back from his 9am lecture and it was now nearing 8 in the evening. Honestly, he had barely left his room outside of lectures for at least two weeks now. He definitely wasn’t eating much, you barely needed anything from the weekly grocery run. Not nearly as much as usual.

Since you had more than enough for two portions, you knocked on his door to see if he wanted any food. A non committal grunt was all you got from the other side so, taking that as an invitation, you pushed the door open to find him curled up facing the wall. And then you noticed things. 

The lights were off, the curtains pulled shut, clothes covering the floor, the desk a mess of pens and books, his laptop was sitting on his desk chair, a couple empty water bottles and wrappers were scattered across the floor. Jason didn’t seem that much better, the only visible part of him being his head, the rest of his body completely wrapped up in his heavy duvet. It was incredibly clear that Jason wasn’t doing well at the minute. Depression? Burnout? Whatever he was going through at the minute, you wanted to help.

“I was gonna cook but you wanna order take out instead? We could get a chinese?” you offered, leaning against the door. 

“Usual order.” It was mumbled, hard to hear. But you caught it and pulled your phone out with a nod. 

“Yeah, I got you. Wanna shower while we wait for it?” You didn’t know what he was going through but you knew for certain that when you feel bad? A shower. Fixes like 80% of your problems or at least pushes you in the right direction of feeling better. He grunted and rolled over onto his back, letting you see his face properly for the first time in ages. Definitely not sleeping properly. A heavy sigh (or was that a choked sob?) was released before he pushed up, moving slowly and pausing momentarily stopping to accommodate being upright for the first time in what was likely hours. “Oh, before I forget, I need to wash my work uniform but I don’t have enough for a full load, can I put some of yours in with it?” Your uniform was clean and ironed but Jason didn’t need to know that. 

“Uh. Yeah. Just.. everything on the floor I guess.” He made gestures behind him as he rummaged through his drawers for clean clothes. You nodded and moved back to your room to grab a basket to pick up the clothes with. 

As soon as the shower turned on, you were as quick as you could be to pick up the clothes, leaving them in the hall for a moment. Then it was the stray bits of rubbish, putting them in the bin before changing the bin liner and putting the full bag of rubbish in the hall next to the washing. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and take the bins out when you went to the bottom floor for the washing machine. You didn’t really want to move much around his desk in case that’s just what it normally looks like and how he likes it but you at least put his dead laptop on charge and made his bed. All in all, you had tidied his room in record speed. 

When you came back up to Jason’s room from downstairs, hot chinese food replacing the bin bag and washing basket, he was sitting back on his bed with his phone in his hand. His attention focused entirely on you when you walked in. A beat. 

“You cleaned my room.” His voice was neutral, not devoid of emotion. It carried a tinge of surprised gratitude, almost disbelieving if you read further into it. “You didn’t have to, I would’ve eventually.” 

“Nah, it wasn’t a big deal, I was going downstairs for the washing anyway, might as well take your rubbish out for you since, as you may not have realised, you are the one who’s paid for dinner tonight.” A cheeky grin spread on your face as you plonked on the end of his bed, spreading the containers out between the two of you and passing along the cheap plastic forks that came with the food. 

“Fair enough.” 

Jason supposes that was when he fell for the first time. I mean, he thought you were pretty, sure but his relationship with you was superficial and mutually beneficial. Your grocery arrangement saved him money in the long run and cooking for each other from time to time was just a way of acknowledging the ways you guys helped each other out. Camaraderie of sorts. But then you went out of your way, making it seem so effortless in the way you knew every little thing he needed without a single word from him. 

He knew your uniform was clean, he saw you ironing it after coming back from his lecture one afternoon. And yet you tried to make sure he wouldn’t feel bad about you essentially doing his washing for him, disguising it as something more convenient for you rather than an askless favour for him, all so he wouldn’t feel bad about it. He certainly hadn’t expected you to clean up the rest of his room either. And leaving his desk alone? The best part of it all, honestly. Walking out and seeing the floor clear, he was so worried his desk would be tidied away too, his papers and files all thrown out of and yet not a single pen had been so much as nudged. His laptop was even on charge, something he continuously forgot to do every time he tried to use it. You were a blessing in disguise, he swears. 

It started a small tradition of sorts. If one of you was struggling, the other would come and do small things to help like spell checking homework, cleaning bedrooms. folding clothes, the sort. 

But then started the casual closeness.

You two no longer kept to yourselves, there were invitations to the library together, going for coffee after classes, grocery shopping together rather than separate. It wasn't a sudden change, just like everything else, it was something sparked from a single event that came to be a regular part of your routine.

As you made your way from your classroom, you collided with a solid mass. Oh, it’s Jason! He seemed to be coming from his class just like you. By now, you had a vague idea of his schedule and could guess that he had nothing until his lecture in two hours’ time. 

“Hey, Jay,” that was something that came with the quiet comfort too, friendly nicknames, “I was on my way to get some coffee, did you want to join me?” He pondered the offer for a moment, nodding and pivoting to follow alongside you.

“Yeah, I could go for a drink. Might get something to eat too, did you have breakfast?” You shook your head, you had barely woken up on the third round of your alarm, there was definitely no time for anything more substantial than the cup of water sat on your bedside table from last night. “I get the food, you get the drinks?” 

“Not if you’re ordering that abominable custom order you got last time.”

“Fine, I’ll get drinks, you get the food? That seem more fair?” Much more fair, what Jason ordered barely passed as coffee after the extra milk, hazelnut syrup and caramel drizzle he got. Even if he always got at least two extra shots of espresso, the drink barely tasted like coffee. 

“Definitely. Whatcha want? Something light or actual lunch?” Another moment of thought. 

“My brother wants me to take him out when he finishes school today so I’ll just get something light. He’s definitely going to want to go out for food. He’s going through a growth spurt and, as such, seems to be ravenous these days.” That was also a new development since the event with his room a few weeks ago; he’s started opening up more about his personal life. 

“Oh, how old is he?” 

“Thirteen and an absolute menace because of it. Not only is he eating our father out of house and home, his attitude has gotten even worse which is saying something. He literally tried to stab his older brother as soon as he moved in with us.” The way he said it so flippantly 

made you do a double take. 

“Dude, no offense, what the actual fuck. I mean, yeah, I’ve kind of figured out your family is a bit odd but he tried to STAB someone? Insane.” Jason just shrugged and held the cafe door open for you. 

“Eh, family.” 

Following the increase in closeness, you eventually transitioned into hanging out in each other’s rooms regularly. Accompanying each new development in your friendship with Jason, you’ve come to learn major things about him. 

With the cooking, it was that he had awful eating habits and would often go half a day without eating anything and not even notice, other times, though, he’ll clear out half your guys’ cupboard space in just two hours. With the Room Event, it was that he often had bouts of depression that made it hard for him to do much more than drag himself to class and doom scroll on his phone when he was at the dorms. With the regular hangouts, you learned about his family and the complicated relationship he had with them. He was on rough terms with his dad, his older brother was too invasive and pushy for Jason’s tastes, he absolutely adored his grandfather. With his younger brother, he was neutral since he was abroad when he was adopted into the family. He was closest with his youngest brother, Damian, since Jason was abroad to help Damian’s mother to raise him.

So what did you learn by hanging out with him in his room? He was clingy. And a cuddler. 

Any chance he got, the second the door was closed and you guys were situated with a movie playing on his laptop, he had you tucked under his arm. You were reading a book or scrolling your phone? He’s laying across your thighs. He’s got homework to do? His legs are crossed over yours, a blanket thrown over you both so your feet don’t get cold. It soon became commonplace for you to come back from work to find him curled up in your bed, sleeping in it better than you ever did. Although, you’d be lying if you didn’t start doing the same damn thing after the first few times he did it. 

With the casual insertion of each other into your lives, the boundary between friendship and something more was being pushed further and further. Private affection became public affection. Interlocking arms in bed became interlocked fingers in hallways. Shortened names became terms of endearment. Kisses at the end of messages became kisses on the cheek. That was your favourite.

Ending every conversation with ‘xx’ was something you had done your entire life but with Jason, it felt like it carried more weight to it. When he kissed you on the cheek for the first time, he seemed to freeze immediately afterward, almost as though it was an reflex he hadn’t even realised he had. The same way as when you made that first meal for him. Something you both hadn’t even realised you were doing until it was done. Something that was so natural to the two of you, instinctual even. You didn’t acknowledge it past returning the favour with a kiss to his forehead, pushing back the white strands and standing on your toes to reach properly. Although he caught on and leant down enough for you to meet halfway. 

It was a wordless transition; you two began dating. Sure, you didn’t have a concrete date for it since it wasn’t something put into words but Jason saved the date of the first kisses shared in his phone, even if they weren’t what Dick would call ‘proper kisses’. Not that he was in much of a position to comment on other people’s relationships.

Coffee runs and lunch outings became dates rather than hangouts, you stopped turning over in bed when the other was changing, hands wandered beneath clothes when cuddling, and, arguably the best part was the kisses. 

By the gods was Jason a good kisser. He was sweet with it, always holding the back of your neck and/or waist, migrating from your lips to your cheeks, to your jaw, just absolutely peppering every part of your face with heart warming affection. He’d pout if you didn’t kiss him when greeting him, and would always insist on hugging you as tight as possible when one of you was leaving. Even with his sweetness, he was not above slapping your ass whenever you got up from bed. Fine by you since, at every opportunity, you were grabbing his pecs and biceps, giving them a good squeeze. 

To say Jason was in absolute bliss would be an understatement. He had literally the girl of his dreams. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, kind beyond belief, she also let him exist without any worry. He never had to second guess his words, never worry about being too clingy, and he certainly never had to worry about being too broken since she held every piece of him with so much care in her hands. 

At the end of your year at university, you had to reevaluate your accommodation. You could either apply to stay another year or just look for an apartment close by. Staying in the dorms would be fine except, the university preferred first years so it was only a slim chance you’d even manage to get a room. Although you didn’t have to think over it for very long. 

“Hey, which one do you prefer? I like the kitchen for this one more but this one’s got a nicer bathroom and a balcony. I’ve been through pretty much every single other apartment building in the area and chose these two so now the final choice is yours.” Jason was an absolute angel at times. 

“Oh my god, I love you, have I told you that yet? I reckon the balcony one. The kitchen isn’t that different, the other one just has an island. However… balcony.” Your verbal thought process went entirely ignored by Jason who sat utterly shell shocked. 

“No,” He said, decisiveness embedded in his tone.

“No? Alright, I guess if you’re that set on the kitchen island.” You shrugged, missing the point of his word entirely.

“No, uh, I mean you haven’t, uh, you haven’t said that before.” Now he was feeling a bit awkward, leaning back on the bed. “I love you too, though. Just… so you know.” 

“Well that’s good. I love you more though,” you replied, giving him a cheeky grin. A pillow was swung at your face, knocking you back from the force. 

“Absolutely not, I definitely love you more.” 

“Alright, whatever you say, pretty boy. Not true but I’ll let it slide since I want the balcony.” If Jason’s face went bright pink at the nickname, that was between him and the wall. 

Moving in together and adjusting to your new schedules together felt as natural as breathing. It was like nothing changed except now, you always shared a bed and cooked meals for each other. Any issues revolving around chores and other small grievances you had for each other’s habits were rational and calm discussions. 

The most heated argument you had ever had was a complete turning point in your relationship. You had caught on to Jason sneaking out at night and disappearing for hours at a time. Whenever you asked about it, he would always refuse to tell you where he was going, insisting it wasn’t any of your business and you should just stay out of it.

“I swear to the gods, are you fucking cheating on me? Is that it? You’re sneaking around with some other girl, leaving me alone all night, just using me as a live-in maid?” You were in tears by this point, your cheeks soaked and hot with fury, hands trembling even as you swung them around while making wild hand gestures to emphasise to Jason just how furious and hurt you were with him.

“What?” Jason, up to that point, was getting just as agitated, trying to stay calm even as green creeped at the edge of his vision (that was something he never wanted to happen with you). He just wanted to keep you safe out of it, you, oh so sweet and gentle, had no business dealing with the rough harsh world he slipped into in the dark of late nights spent in alleys and on roofs. But what you were saying? It broke something in him. It was a slap to the face. His face went slack with hurt. Even with how heartbroken he looked at your accusation, your disposition never faltered. Frustration pooled in your eyes, settling between the tears clouding your vision. 

“Baby. No, never in a million years, you are my love, my life. I would never do that to you.” He held your face so sweet, the words he spoke settling into stone as nothing but the truth. You believed him but you were still so hurt. You crumbled into his arms and just let it all go. “Shh, it’s okay, I’ve got you sweetheart.” 

Calming down from the rush of the argument, Jason sat with you and spilled everything. It was hard and even more emotional than the fight you just had but it was comforting now. You held each other and cried and shared pain that weighed unbearably heavy. By the morning, you were both exhausted from the talking and the emotion and the crying. Grateful it was the weekend, Jason took you to bed to lie in bed, curtains pulled to show the rain pittering against the glass, a comforting rumble of distant thunder lulling the two of you into a quiet comfort. You traced shapes on his arm as he did the same to your thigh. 

Things changed from there but only for the better. 

As it turned out, Jason’s family had no idea he was even attending university. The contact they had with him was always on his terms. If he wanted to see them, he went to them. They didn’t even know where he lived. And they wouldn’t until he told them. It wasn’t even like they could track him since only your name was on the lease. It was something he had asked of you, knowing that just because they hadn't found anything about his address yet, it didn’t mean they weren’t still looking. The only exceptions were Alfred and Damian. Alfred was told because Alfred gets told everything, he can keep a secret. Damian was told because Jason understood needing space from the Bat family sometimes and he wanted to provide Damian a safe place where he could go for that space. 

Damian and Jason were arguably the closest of the siblings. Jason had practically raised Damian afterall. Damian held a fondness for Jason because of this. He was a role model and someone he seeked the approval of in addition to his father and mother. More than that, however, Jason was someone he felt he could be the child he is around and not be judged for it. Afterall, he was in no place to judge when his favourite snack at 22 years old was animal crackers. At the end of the day, Damian had a key to Jason’s apartment and was allowed to swing by whenever he pleased. The only rules were to stay out of the bedroom and knock before entering the place. Damian was unsure why these rules were in place but he would respect them nonetheless. 

And that was how you met Damian for the first time. 

You were out of the lecture late, the lecturer running overtime a bit and your phone dying on the walk home. Unfortunate since you had barely managed to see that you had a text from Jay before the screen shut off. You brushed it off as him likely saying he would be home late. You’d find out when you got home anyway so it wasn’t a big deal. 

However, you were a bit shocked to come home to find a young teenager standing on a chair in your kitchen and raiding through your cupboards. 

“Uhm. Can I help you?” you asked, a bit skeptical. He was unlikely to be a threat to your safety, given the fuzzy socks and Jason’s stolen Wonder Woman hoodie. 

“I should be asking you that. What business do you have in this apartment? Are you a nosy neighbour? You should leave at once.” He was demanding and accusatory. 

“I will not, thank you very much. Not for as long as I’m paying rent since, y’know, this is my home.” You crossed your arms, taking an equally defiant stance. You weren’t sure if it was your tone or your words that surprised him more. 

“You live here? With Todd?” You nodded. 

“Uh, yeah, I have done for like what? Four months?”

“That is surprising. Todd has not mentioned a roommate. I was not even aware this was a two bedroom apartment.” 

“That’s probably because it’s not. We share a bed since, y’know, dating and all.” His eyebrows shot up as he stepped off the chair finally. 

“Todd has not mentioned a domestic partner. How long has this been a thing?” He was no longer accusatory and now genuinely curious. 

“You wanna sit with tea or something and hear the whole story?” you offered, gesturing towards the sofa in the living room. The teen responded with a solemn nod, unnecessarily serious for the conversation at hand. 

It wasn’t until after you finished recounting your entire relationship with Jason up to the present moment that you introduced yourselves. 

“Damian Al-Ghul Wayne.” He stuck his hand out, an offer you took gladly. 

“Oh! Jay’s talked about you a lot, this entire situation is making a lot more sense now. It’s good to finally meet you though. He mentioned like a week ago that you had some big test week? Is that over? How did it go?” The two of you spent the next two hours engaged in conversation, just overall getting to know each other, sharing stories of Jason and enjoying tea and snacks. You were enjoying your conversation so much you had completely neglected to charge your phone.

Jason wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got home. Especially since you hadn’t responded to a single one of the fifty some texts he had left you from the time your lecture finished until ten minutes ago when he finished his own. You had never met Damian and Damian didn’t even know you existed, as far as he was aware so he could only hope that either you weren’t home and were out with friends or Damian had left before you arrived. Though he definitely didn’t anticipate finding the two of you so engrossed in conversation that neither of you acknowledged him past quick greetings. 

“Welcome home, Jaylove.” 

“Greetings Todd.” 

And then you were both straight back to looking at pictures of Titus on Damian’s phone. Sighing a breath of relief that his favourite people were getting along fine, he headed to the bedroom to change into pyjamas so he could crash on the sofa and sprawl over you. Within five minutes, he was lying, head on your thighs, face buried in your stomach, an arm tucked behind your back. 

“You were not exaggerating when you said that he was rather clingy in his physical affections with you.” Damian’s tone, despite the nature of the words being judgmental, was light and teasing. 

“Shut up, Brat, you are exactly the same. You get it from me.” Jason was entirely muffled by your stomach. 

“We are not even related by blood, how is it possibly a trait inherited from you.” He wasn’t even denying the allegations which sparked an idea in your mind. 

“I raised you for like five years, dipshit, you’re gonna pick up something from me and since all your killing intent comes straight from your mother, my gift unto thee is the craving for physical touch.” As the two bickered back and forth, you moved quick and calculating as you wrapped your arm around Damian’s shoulder, trapping him in a one sided hug that left him leaning against your side. Both you and Jason had expected him to pull away, hissing like a cat or something. Against both of your expectations, he curled into your side instantly, not even missing a beat. 

And thus, Damian was your second best cuddle buddy. Even when Jason wasn’t home and wouldn’t be for a few days, Damian would find time to stop by or even stay the night on weekends just to spend time and fulfill his need for physical affection that he seemed unable to get at the manor due to his ‘image that must be upheld as the blood son’. Sure, Dick would give hugs, but those weren’t cuddles and he was not about to have to swallow his pride to ask for them when he could simply come to you and get them without any need for more than a “hello” uttered. 

Both you and Jason were incredibly endeared to see Damian acting in such a way. Come your first year anniversary, Damian was just as enthusiastic as Jason, if not more, about having you in their lives. Although something he would not admit to a single living soul besides Titus, you had quickly become almost his favourite person, never quite able to top Jason simply because of how deep their bond ran. 

With the passing of the second year came Jason’s realisation he wanted you in his life for as long as you would have him. He wasn’t going to propose, not until the two of you had finished university at the end of next year, but he was sure he wanted to introduce you to more of his family. However, he wasn’t going to just tell them he had found who was quite possibly the love of his life, his soulmate. No, they would have to prove their titles as the world’s greatest detectives. As such, he had conspired with Damian and plotted for the two of them, in addition to Alfred, to make comments in the presence of Bruce, Dick, and Tim to how long it took them to figure out about you. 

“Todd, when can I come over next? I wish to see the beloved.” Okay a bit odd, Bruce thought, but perhaps Jason has taken in a stray that Damian is fond of?

“Master Jason, I have prepared another batch of the requested brownies. Please be sure to share.” Dick thought Jason lived alone, who would he share with? Unless he meant Damian whenever he visits. 

Tim didn’t get a comment, he was given ample chance to get a look at Jason’s phone lock screen, a photo of a woman’s hands making a finger heart. Separately, the comments weren’t enough to tip them off that there was someone in Jason’s life but when Damian got in trouble at school and Alfred couldn’t pick him up, they were expecting Jason to be the one to pick him up. Tim did not expect to look out his class window to see Damian walking side by side with some random woman he had never seen. The teen looked entirely at ease talking with her, indicating a familiarity that was stronger than whatever connection Damian had with the rest of his family. 

Then came the digging. Tim confronted Dick and Bruce in the cave one evening, asking if they’d heard or seen anything odd. 

“Am I really losing that much sleep or has Jason got a girlfriend?” It had been bugging him all day. “I think he does and Damian knows. I mean I hope so otherwise some random woman picked him up from school today.” Dick and Bruce looked over, surprised at the question with it written all over their faces. 

“I mean, Damian did say something weird at the table the other morning. He was asking Jason to see ‘the beloved’. I assumed it was an unnamed stray Jason was keeping an eye on for him. Though now that you say that, I suppose that could be the case.” Bruce was thoughtful with his answer.

“Alfred told him to share the brownies he made for him the other day so if he did have a girlfriend, I guess she lives with him? Or at least goes over to Jason’s often enough.” Slowly the three of them were connecting dots in behaviours and comments made by the other three members of the household. 

They were now left with two options; investigate and snoop around Jason’s life without him knowing, or confront him and ask him directly. Out of fear of pushing him further away, Dick was the one to take on for the team and was going to ask Jason directly. 

The opportunity to ask presented itself the next day when the two found themselves alone in the kitchen. Jason was leaning on the island, attention drawn to his phone. Dick had walked in, ready to just ask. 

“So…” He was trying to be casual. He was not casual. “Got any news you want to share with the family?” Jason looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Wanna be more specific?” Dick deflated with a sigh, leaning fully on the opposite side of the island. 

“God why do I have to be the one to ask? I’m just gonna be blunt, do you have a girlfriend?” 

“Yeah. Two year anniversary was like a month and a half ago. Why?” Jason was calm. Dick was not. 

“WAIT WHAT!? You’re telling me you’ve had a girlfriend for two years and not told anyone at all? That’s cruel, man.” 

“Actually that’s a lie. I told Alfred like as soon as it happened and then Damian found out when he met her.” Jason shrugged, pocketing his phone and stretching. “Not my fault you guys literally never asked.” 

“Well how am I supposed to know to ask when you do literally nothing all day. How did you two even meet?” Dick was indignant now. Jason had literally never even hinted at being romantically involved with anyone nor had he ever shown an interest in relationships. 

“Not telling. I like my privacy, Dickie-bird, you get to know she exists. That’s it. Maybe I’ll think about letting you all meet her if you’re nice about it.” Jason then left Dick standing, utterly stunned. 

At least he had an answer for Tim and Bruce.

—

I haven't written anything to post since like 2021. This is also the first DC fic I've ever written and it was done in a six hour stint. Please be nice to me guys </3

[catsushinyakajima]

Asterika's Spring Sem fic recs!

The Promise by drschnz | 67.6k | College AU | Summer Vacation

Gets into Keith's anxiety and paranoia soooo well. You see how his problems cause problems and how his fears and actions are percieved by others and atdghdhdd. Beach house fic on top. Sooo much build up with such a satisfying confrontation. Loved it.

Bang by vanitashaze | 18.9k | Smut | Autism/ADHD

Holy shit you guys. First off, the author has the funniest language ever, they write totally the way Lance would think. Second off, this fic addresses ideas like consent, body image, capabilities of enforcing boundaries, and self-respect so well! This is fully a smut, but it's a very autistic smut (smut between autistic people, focuses more of the autism). So fucking realistic and good.

Part Time Soulmate, Full Time Problem by StillKicking/@still--kicking | 54.8k+ | Soulmate AU | Canon-Compliant

THIS FIC IS SO ARGHH! Soulmate au with both POVs?? Sign me tf up. Love seeing how they affect each other and how they think the other perceives them (only to be dead wrong). There is sooo much teamwork in this (CUZ THEY MAKE A GOOD TEAM AND THE AUTHOR KNOWS IT). This fic is beyond beautiful and I'm so excited to see where it goes.

Walk With Me by bluemantics/@bluemantics | 15.7k+ (2/3) | Post-Canon | Mutual Pining

Post canon Klance...dumbasses Klance...WHAT MORE CAN I SAY? These folks got their baggage they refuse to talk about and a bunch of unsaid romance and background adashi im dead. im dead. Im on the floor.THEY JUST GET EACH OTHER!!

love me to my bones (all this time) by ShatterinSeconds/@shatterinseconds | 8k | Post-Canon | Ace!Keith

So any ace fic at all deserves to be put in the hall of fame, but an ace fic from the allosexual POV? AUGH! It's so indulgent to see Lance talk about Keith so respectfully and love him and try his best. And he's never giving up anything to stay with Keith. Also they're dumbasses.

Grin and Bear It by loadingboy/@loadingboy | 192k+ | Brainwashing | Heavy Angst with an eventual comfort

So no list of mine is complete without a fic that induces psychological warfare on the mind. you guys. I read 10 chaps of this fic in four hours. That's how into it I got. I got sooo much tension reading this. Zack is the king of pacing a story. You always recieve snippets of information, but never the full picture, and I ALWAYS WANT MOREEEE. The parts that hurt hurt soo much and the parts that are normal somehow hurt too! I'm not a very emotional reader, but if you are, you will cry reading this EL O EL

vicodin on sunday nights by lykak | 118k | High school AU | Homophobia

You guys. This is the real enemies to lovers. Like! ARGH, Lance has sooo many issues it's not even funny and Keith's existence hurts him it's not even a rival thing. And somehow something beautiful blossoms out of it. Lots of fights, realizations, bonds being made, so much! Truly shows the ups and downs of a closeted high school jock.

been living in a lonesome galaxy by Katranga | 25.1k+ (4/5) | College AU | Friends with Benefits

If someone tells you I have over twenty rereads of this fic no I fucking don't definitely not! Ha! Haha...but fr. This is one of my FAV college aus. First off: Love autistic keith. LOVE HIM. Love Keith and Lance being good for each other. Every interaction with them is so cute. Indescribably so. And Keith, this guy is navigating through so many life issues! People do him dirty smh. I LOVE THIS FIC!!

kick at the darkness by ilgaksu | 61.2k | Dirty Dancing AU | 1960s US issues

I fucking love learning things from a fic. Actual educational fic. Love an author who knows things, so much things, to the point that the fic is deadly accurate. Also, the prose is insane. Beautiful. This fic deals with real life issues during the 1960s in US. We see issues with money, power, race, gender, sexuality, etc. It's all explored. Also...dirty dancing au!

I'd Love to See Me From Your Point of View (For All of My Pretty and All of My Ugly, Too) by mothmanavenue/@mothmanavenue | 5.9k | Fluff | Pining

So much fucking pining. Lance is so down bad. Almost as down bad as I am for this fic. God, they're so cute. They're so couple-y. We really see how Keith makes Lance feel cared for. Ykw, I'm actually about to go reread this NOW. PEACE YALL.

[pelova4president]

Shadows are to protect I

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect II, III, IV

summary~ You just moved to Arsenal and everything was unknown to you but now you had Alessia. Your situationship with Alessia was everything but perfect but at least she was there, sometimes.

this is pure angst

Alessia is your whole heart. You could tell her that a thousand times and she still wouldn’t leave her boyfriend.

He doesn’t even get her, not like you do. He doesn’t appreciate her like you do. It should be you holding her hand on the streets. It should be you kissing her in the bars of London.

You didn’t really know when you started to feel that way. You’d just moved to England, a very scary move from your comfortable and warm Spain. Spain and Barcelona was all you’ve even known. Expending your world was just as terrifying as you’d ever believed.

The welcome was cold, very cold. It was the completely opposite of what you were used to, it was quite literally what you were petrified of. You left the warm sun kissing the dark little freckles on your face and exchanged the English rain dropping down on your hair. You weren’t even sure what to call it, not in English and not in Spanish either.

But even now you weren’t sure if you’d go back and stay in Barcelona. The sun might shine there most hours of the working days but you’d always be in the shadows. In the shadows of La Reina, Alexia Putellas, your sister.

The two coloured club had offered you a contract extension where you’d get paid twice the amount you did last year. You’d driven to the club like you did most days but this time you had one thing in mind, or so you thought. Signing for another three years and being the average defender in the team for whenever one of the original starters couldn’t participate.

A red and blue pen rested between your thumb and point fingers as you listened to your manager talk about the future. But most of it fell to deaf ears. “Alexia and you would be the head of the Champions League campaign. Imagine this, the Putellas hermanas on top of Europe.” he said full excitement. It wasn’t the whole campaign that set you off but how he began his sentence, ‘Alexia and you’.

You were sitting here, ready to sign your contract, for your future. They wanted you to sign and still their first thought was Alexia.

Without saying a word you stormed off. You were not doing this again for three more years.

You had spiked interest from multiple clubs, not only Europe but America too. But when Arsenal let your agency know that they wanted you, you knew that that was it. From now on you’ll be a gunner, through and through.

You got picked up from the Airport. With a sign reading ‘Putellas’. It felt good. They didn’t have to clarify which Putellas sister they were picking up, there was only one in London now, you. The bigger man, he might’ve even be twice the height of you introduced himself. And with the little English you had in store you thanked him and told him your name.

The man you now knew as Keith was a simple man. He opened the door for you and didn’t say much. You liked it that way, the silence was fine by you. You liked that the intimidating car you were sat in had tinted windows. Not so you couldn’t be seen but because it gave you some sort of comfort. When you were younger and Alexia was a rising star she had you sit in the backseat, where nobody could see you and where you’d be safe she’d say.

The little droplets of rain were doing races and you had lost for about the twentieth time when the car came to a stop. Keith grumbled something about being there and got out. You didn’t really know what to do and what they expected of you so you opened the car door. Picking your bags up you placed your right foot outside and your left followed.

It all went too fast, Jonas showed almost all the rooms in the building and the wet pitches that were not in any state to be used. You had to film a few shots for your signing announcement, get through a few medical test and finally got to go home.

Keith drove you to your temporary apartment just a few minutes away from the training ground. You had a streak of almost one hundred days of English on Duolingo so you thanked the tall man in the few words you had learned to say and got out of the black Range Rover.

You were home. You were home, you kept repeating those words but you didn’t believe it. You were home.

This is it now. North London is your new home.

The appartement was empty except for the blank furniture, it had no personality and it was hard to think there ever would be. Four white walls, a grey couch, a black kitchen and an all white bed in the middle of your bedroom. They didn’t even tell you that the kitchen would be just as empty as the apartment.

The sound of a notification alarmed you out of your emotionless state. You forgot to put your phone on do not disturb. ‘Where are you?’ it read. Alexia knew you didn’t sign for Barca the day before but she didn’t know you’d be gone by the morning. Tapping on the do not disturb mode you traveled to your all white bed.

And that is how it went, do not disturb mode on. You we there, at the training ground and the games but not really there. You weren’t in the right mindset to talk to anyone yet and that’s why it was so goddamn frustrating when McCabe or Mead tried to get you to talk.

You sat alone at lunch, didn’t go out with your teammates and barely stayed in contact with your sister. That was until Alessia Russo came into your life.

You didn’t mean to let her in. You decided early on that you were at Arsenal for your career and career only. But she changed that, so quick. And before you knew it you were falling for her.

She came into Arsenal and everyone was a fan of her. It seemed like she was friends with everyone instantly and it made you curious.

Alessia had been a gunner for almost a week when you realised she lived across from your apartment. She came knocking on your door one evening, offering you some of het pasta since she had made too much. You knew that she’d been searching for an opportunity to get you to talk to her but you didn’t expect her to come knocking at your door like that.

You let her in and she started to talk to you. You couldn’t exactly call it a conversation since she did all the talking and you muttered out some broken English once in a while. But even though you hated to admit it, she was nice company. It made you feel less lonely, she made you feel less empty.

You’d told Alexia about your move to Arsenal before it officially came out and she wasn’t pleased, at all. She was mad, mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You told her what had happened and what was racing through your mind when you made the decision but she just couldn’t fathom out the thought of you feeling that way. And that made you feel even less understood, it felt like your life was slipping away from you and you only made it worse with every next move you made.

But Alessia made you feel like you were okay for a moment. After the first day of eating together she offered you food almost everyday and after a month it became a tradition, you would diner together every single day and she even learned you English. You didn’t really progress in your Duolingo streak and didn’t talk much either so the help was very much needed.

It wasn’t until the first half of the season had been played that you realised you had other feelings for her. You saw her as more than just a friend. It was all going very fast and the feelings intensified by the day, that may be because she was the only one you really could talk to. It hurt you to even think about living without her and that might’ve the first warning you should’ve seen but you didn’t.

It was Alessia who kissed you first. You both had been drinking and the two empty bottles of red wine next to your grey couch were the evidence of that. Alessia was a touchy person, just like everyone in Spain so you didn’t mind. She was giggly and teasing you relentlessly.

“I bet you think about me hmm?” she hummed and started to climb on top of you. Taken aback by the movement you didn’t really react to anything she had just said. “I want to kiss you.” she whispered into your ear that was tinted red by now. You didn’t answer. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay.” she leaned in, placing her pink lips on your red ones. It was sweet but turned desperate very quickly.

The blonde slept sweetly beside you that evening. The thoughts raced through your mind and none of them were making any sense. It was hard to think straight with Alessia next to you, that was what made things so complicated. But now that she was laying in your bed you couldn’t not have her there, you needed her.

Alessia started to stay over more and more, it became your new normal. Half of her closet was laying in yours and she even brought her favourite mug with her. You bought all her favourite foods so she would feel comfortable and she appreciated it, just not enough to stay with you.

You came home on a Thursday evening one day but Alessia was nowhere to be found. Normally she would be laying on your couch, watching some sappy Netflix show you refused to watch with her. A bowl of nuts in her hands she didn’t really like but it was a healthy snack so it would do. But the only thing you found on your couch was her blue hoodie. Well it was yours originally but she basically claimed it as hers now.

Putting your cold groceries away you walked towards Alessia’s front door. She had given you her spare key after leaving hers in her home, locking herself out for the second time. She had bought a keychain with it, a little Barca jersey with your name and number on it. You smiled down at the colourful jersey and opened the door.

Walking in you heard some laughter coming from the living room that you could describe in detail. It was a light living room with two big windows that were open at all times, she liked it that way. She bought a brown couch after you broke her beige one. You had gifted her a few plants to make the room a real living space but knew she didn’t really care for them so you’d come in and give them water.

The photo’s in her hallway were those of her mom, dad and brothers, who she adored so much. And even though she didn’t like to have pictures of herself in her home she had one of her and her best friend Ella after winning the Euros.

When you stepped into the living area you were a bit taken aback by the man sitting next to your Alessia. His left hand was draped over her shoulder, like it was the most normal thing. His right was resting on her thigh. Who was he?

You stood still, watching the pair until Alessia noticed you. Her eyes had gone wide. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” she asked carefully. You didn’t answer. “Luke, this is my teammate, and well, this is my boyfriend Luke.” she introduced you and stalked towards your frozen form.

Boyfriend? You thought..

Alessia gave her boyfriend some weak excuse and walked you back to your apartment. You were in your own home again, a safe place. When Alessia started to talk again you cut her off. “I- you have a boyfriend? I thought we had.. something?” you looked almost lost to her. “Well, you thought wrong. Whatever you thought we had, we didn’t.” she said without any emotion behind her eyes, like she hadn’t spent the whole of last week in your house, in your bed, wearing your hoodie.

She left your house like nothing had happened.

Were you really that stupid, did you really think she’d like you. You had created this whole other reality, one where she’d actually like you and wanted to be with you.

You kept to yourself even more now. Alessia had gotten you out of your shell to some extent but now you had crawled back in again. Every moment you weren’t training or playing football you were at home but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It wasn’t as empty as it was when it arrived but it felt like it. The life had gone away and that’s not something you can fix with a few overpriced paintings and some weird cactus.

You couldn’t eat dinner without Alessia, you couldn’t watch horrible movies without Alessia and you just couldn’t sleep in a bed without Alessia.

It was the one time you decided to go out and drink that she came over to talk to you again. She acted like nothing had ever happend, like it was back to normal again, like she had slept in your bed the day before. But you liked it, craved it even. You had longed for Alessia to come back again and save you from yourself.

So she ended up in your bed and stayed long enough for you to fall asleep. But not long enough for you to wake up to her scent or her sleepy blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

It went on like that, she came home with you for the night and you forgot about all the things she had done to you and you woke up to an empty bed. You did feel bad for the Luke guy, well you did in the beginning but somewhere along the way you started to lose that sympathy.

You were mad. Angry. He could drive her to training and hold her hand out in public. He could kiss her on the streets and wake up to her snuggled next to him. He could have all those domestic little moments and gestures you longed for. It wasn’t fair.

Alessia had prepared dinner for the both of you and you were watching a movie when you felt the need to talk to her about this whole situation. “Lessi, i really like you. I want you and i to be together because i love you.” there, you said it. Alessia didn’t look at you, she stared blankly at the movie infront of her. You reached for the distraction playing on the television and paused it but she still wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I love you.” you repeated again, hoping for a response. She sighed, “Look, i don’t know what you think we are but we aren’t that. I don’t know how many times i have to tell you this but i have a boyfriend and you’re just there for a quick fuck. That’s all. You’re not special just because your sister has won a few trophies. I can’t do anything about the fact that you’re fucking lonely but leave me out of it.” she hissed.

You just said you loved her, for the first time. You handed her your fucking heart and she stomped on it like it was nothing. Alesia knew your relationship with your sister was complicated and being in her shadows was something that hurt you the most in this world, but yet she brought it up. You’d told her everything you never dared to say out loud and she used it to damage you even more. She is your whole world but to her you’re a ‘quick fuck’.

You were hers but she’d never be yours

“Please go away.” you asked her, tears threatening to escape your tired glossy eyes.

You were left alone in your apartment and the loneliness was more torturous than ever. The fucking lasagna Alessia had made you had turned cold and you looked at the wooden table infront of you. There was a picture of you and Alexia framed, Alessia had printed it out to make you feel more like home but it only made you miss it more, especially now.

Looking at your phone you opened your chat with your sister. You hadn’t texted her in about a month, the last text being about your mothers birthday that you couldn’t attend.

You needed her, you needed you sister to protect you. You needed her to protect you from the sun and to place you in her shadows again. For once it was all you desired.

A/N let me know what you think of the fic!! Also, i don’t know if i should write a second part and if or how i should end up Alessia and R together. I could make R fall in love with someone else too??

[atiianeishaunted]

blue writing is lance's notes fyi anyway uhh character bios below !! long ass writing warning but worth it i promise chat pspsp | no notes version AND the transparent PNGS down at the end!

character bios:

Allura [???] | A lone princess who is burnt out and stressed out her mind, her only solace/stress relief being the garden she has where she can have peace and quiet, shutting her brain off while she does the tasks of tending to her precious plants and bugs. She tries her best to remain as friendly and optimistic as possible, if not for her own sanity, however thanks to the stress and pressure put on her, she has a tendency to lose her cool and sometimes shut down entirely. She has a passion for commanding and loves honing her fighting skills as that was one of the ways she bonded with her father. She more often than not can be seen in comfortable clothes, she doesnt mind dresses and does enjoy dressing up but will only do it when shes going out the castle or theres a meeting. | this gal couldve been an burnt out autistic queen DREAMWORKS, YOU COUDLVE MADE HER ICONIC .... let her be a dorky nerd whos a hater sometimes, pretty please

Takashi Shirogane | A garrison commander (no one is really sure of his job title to be honest with you..) who's insanely passionate about his job, to the point where hes willing to sacrifice it all if the garrison wills it. Anything to serve. He tries his best to fit in and be hip with the kids, he tries to come across as the 'chill' teacher, but students of his have reported that after a few months, any amount of chillness is thrown out the window. If not that, hes often not even in class, too busy doing missions he wasnt assigned to. He's intense. Very intense. Knows his way around words though for the most part, can be very convincing and a bit maniuplative, very goal driven. He means well though? Thats what he says. He always throws a quick sorry if someone brings it up with him, so that must mean something. | sorry in advance if you follow along with Sonder's story... unrelated but dreamworks wrote a banger antagonist without even realizing!

"Keith" Kogane / "Morse" | Unknown origins. He was a talented garrison pilot who could practically fly with his eyes closed, a jack of all trades, short tempered and prone to losing it but all things considered, the perfect cadet for the garrison's goals, he came out of nowhere practically, just poofed in like a ghost and wiped the floor with everyone. He really just needed a good guiding hand. No one is quite sure what gender he is, his androgynous appearance and tendency to respond to anything besides being called a girl have people baffled to say the least. He's very clearly not all there in the head either which goes hand in hand with his odd bursts of ego and then odd bursts of whining, these bursts often include talks that could only be described as cult-ish. People have their theories. Beyond those bursts, hes mostly very deadpan and quiet. But despite his strength and that intense feeling of fear and dread people get when they're around him, he's.. popular, somehow. Admired greatly for his devilish good looks. A universal appeal if you will. He doesn't seem to notice. Or perhaps doesnt care. Either way he's far too busy following Shiro around and treating him like the second coming of god to really indulge in romance for now. Lance's self proclaimed rival, Keith is also unaware of this. | also sorry in advance for this one if you follow sonder's storyline Lance McClain | A former Garrison cargo pilot who moved up in rank when Keith got kicked out. Keith is his rival and also all that Lance can talk about, even after the guy got kicked out and left for dead (Lance overheard some things while sneaking out past the teacher's lounge). He has a very noticable personality and loves to be the center of attention, hes still finding his footing and figuring out what he wants to do with his life and who he wants to be. Despite his many claims, hes not all that popular. He can't really flirt with girls all too well. His general goal is to be so well known so he won't ever be forgotten, hence why he begged his mom to let him dye his hair and get piercings (if he used Keith as an argument, thats none of your business.) (he saw keith dying his hair once or twice and instantly wanted to copy, its a bad habit.). He loves LOVES taking care of his appearance and is fairly vain, he has extensive routines and will freak out if he can't follow them. His ego and overbearing confidence is all to drown out his deep insecurities and fears. He tries his best to come across as a suave, cool, charming, awesome, any positive adjective really, person but in all reality he's a mama's boy, a dork, a loser if you will who has a love for the retro and is a huge gamer. If he must admit, he and Keith'd get along great actually, Keith ticks alot of boxes and honestly Lance deeply admires him and wants to be like him. | dreamworks dropped that lance was a gamer and loved retro stuff and then never talked about it again. sigh. Hunk Garrett | Hunk has many passions, mainly inspired by parents, he mainly specializes in cooking and mechanics, he enjoys tinkering with things, taking them apart to see how they work and working from there to see if he can rebuild it with 0 instruction, hes gotten good at it. He's Lance's childhood best friend, they're extremely close and are often seen constantly poking fun at eachother. Its all in good fun though. Hunk struggles extremely with anxiety and has a service dog back home that he left at home when heading to the Garrison as he worried he couldn't take care of it while studying. Despite his anxiety, he quite enjoys talking to people and sharing things he enjoys with them, he often tries to get over his fears by branching out and | I looked up his name from the old show because he deserves an 'actual' name, free my boy, he was done so dirty, also i remember when we all thought hunk had two moms (or was that just me ..) and i live by it tbh, two moms and a dad whos still active in his life, 3 whole parents for the greatest fella ever

Pidge Holt | Not much can be said about Pidge, they keep to themselves and don't share much about themselves. Just like Keith, their gender is often up to debate and when asked, Pidge will never give a consistent answer. They're a major tech wiz and with their talents, they're a complete menace. Pidge is prone to being mischevious and pranking others, often taking jokes a bit too far. They're egotistical and find that robots are their preferred companions in comparison to humans. | loser chronically online 13 year old who would tell you to kys, matt probably has to take away their electronics all the time LMFAO purposely made their outfit look a bit strange bc , theyre a kid whos a NERD /aff let them dress a bit stupid and let them cringe at it 5 years later ty

No notes version and PNGS below :-)

im insane about this reboot!! please reblog and im willing to elaborate if anyone wants me to <333 hrgfhrfg i really want this to take off bwaa

[coffee-flavored-mochi]

best voltron fics i've found on ao3:

(in no particular order, just ones i like)

(also most of these are klance btw)

-"Fighting the Surface" by tommino

-(klance)hurt!lance and a little hurt!keith. tw near character death and also tw drowning. super good fic, pretty emotional, not too long of a read, less than 20k words.

-"nothing's quite as sweet" by dimple for your thoughts

-(klance) literally the cutest slow burn klance fic. it's only 50k words, but its literally just a cute barista!keith and cat shelter worker!lance fic and i love it. a little bit of hurt/comfort, but nothing too bad.

-"you never stood a chance" by kagshina

-(klance) cute little college fic where lance falls for keith. only 12k words, warning for a bit of second hand embarrassment lol.

-"The Marks We Make" by wittyy_name

-(klance) another college fic, also a soulmate au! kind of a long one (over 250k words) but such a cute slowburn. also has super cute artwork by sora linked into the fic. one of my absolute faves <3<3

-"Shut Up and Dance With Me" by wittyy_name

-(klance) another amazing fic by wittyy_name (an amazing author, pls check out all their fics) a cute little enemies-to-lovers dance!au, also around 250k words. need to give this one a re-read since it's been a while, but overall an amazing fic and i love it so much!

-"Nightmares" by Trashness

-(klance) amazing little one-chapter fic abt keith and lance sharing the same bed due to nightmares (as the title suggests). only around 15k words, so a short little read, but it's a very good read!

-"call me, beep me" by orphan_account

-(klance) cute little wrong number!au where lance accidentally texts a wrong number (keith) and then they fall in love 😈 its 85k words and a bit of a slow burn, and i'm pretty sure it's the voltron fic with the most kudos on ao3!

-"O Come Let Us Adore Him" by Bandity

-(no ships) this one isn't a klance fic, but is def a heavy hurt!lance fic. tw for manipulation, hallucinations, non-con, eating issues, and some other things. i like this one a bunch because it not only shows the bad shit lance goes through, but the aftermath as well. less than 35k words but a really great story overall.

-"Looking Death in the Eye" by IcyPanther

-(no ships) okay so this one isn't a klance fic either but it is honestly an amazing one and doesn't get the recognition it deserves. it doesn't have any ships or anything, but is about lance having to save the entire team during a sick game a random villain lures them into. i love fics about torturing my favorite characters (like lance) and this one does that so so so well. pls give it a read 🙏🙏 also its only 16k words so you can read it super fast!!

[dragonhybrid456]

CAN YOU WRITE KIETH OR LANCE X MALE READER

OR, OR, OR VOLTRON X READER HEADCANONS!! DATING OR CRUSHES OR COURTING IDC BUT USE GENDER NEUTRAL READER SO EVERYONE CAN READ IT ☺️

PLEASE

I went with the dating headcannons, hope you like them :)

Warning!! I have not finished Voltron completely yet, but I do know bits and pieces so this might be a bit ooc

Voltron dating headcannons (GN reader)

Keith:

* I like to think that his love language is acts of service

* He’s very new to the whole “dating” thing and isn’t really good with his words so he relies on doing things for you

* Need help training? He’s got you. Stressed out? He’s not the best at it, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try and help his lover

* I don’t see Keith as the type of guy to use a lot of pet names

* Like dont get me wrong, I love pet names, but I personally can’t see Keith using them

* As tough and mean he is to others, you see a softer side of him

* Not in a “he’s really a big baby on the inside” crap

* More of a “he feels more calm and relaxed around you”

* After a stressful mission, he will definitely enter your room without a word and just flop either next to you or on top of you

* No words would be expressed, all he needs is some quiet and you to decompress

* In no way would he EVER let you get hurt

* This man will protect you with his life

* He can’t stand the thought of losing you, it kills him just thinking about the “what if” situations

* Not a big social person, but if you are then I think he will at least tag along for the ride

* Keith definitely worries that he’s not the “best” or “ideal” boyfriend for you

* He’s part Galra, he’s mean, he’s abrasive, he’s stubborn, what could you possibly see in him?????

* He needs a reminder now and then that he’s enough for you and that you love him

* You’ll sometimes find him late at night in the training room if he’s had a tough day

* You’ll have to physically drag him into bed and hold him down for him to sleep

Lance:

* Oh boy, he’s not called “lover boy” for no reason

* Absolutely loves to compliment you every single day

* Calls you stuff like, “mi amor” and “my girl/boy/partner”

* He likes to show you off and talks about you a lot

* Honestly the rest of the team is a little sick of it but they are also happy that he found someone like you

* Takes you on joy ride in his lion when he has some downtime

* He gets an earful from Allura

* His love language is definitely physical affection

* He loves holding your hands, your hugs, kissing you any chance he gets, and cuddling you

* Thinks he’s the big spoon but is really the little spoon most of the time

* When he gets homesick, he likes to be around you and talk to you to distract himself

* But some nights he’s crying in your arms, missing home, missing his family, and not knowing if or when he gets to see them again

* He likes to tell you stories from when he was little, what his family is like, and stories from his time at the garrison

* Will complain to you about how Keith annoyed him this time

* Overall, definitely a great lover

Shiro:

* Shiro is definitely more experienced with love than the other two

* He calls you stuff like “darling” “sweetheart” and other cute older pet names

* His love languages are quality time and acts of service

* I like to think that with all the excitement and craziness that comes with being apart of Voltron that he likes to just spend time with his lover and relax

* You two don’t even have to be doing something together

* He could be reading while your in the same room doing something completely different and he wouldn’t mind, just as long as he’s around you after such a stressful day

* Has severe PTSD and get nightmares almost every night

* He’s used to dealing with it alone but once you enter the picture he’s gonna have to get used to you waking up with him to comfort him

* Always tells you to go back to sleep and that “it’s nothing” but you know better than that

* He also has some self esteem issues about his metal arm, being disgusted by it some days and wanting nothing more than for it to disappear

* Please comfort him, space dad needs some love 🥺

* Likes to listen to you talk, your voice grounding him to reality and comforting him in times of need

* Like Keith, he is also protective of you

* After Adams death, he can’t help but have nightmares of you meeting the same fate

* Sometimes he becomes so paranoid about it that you have fights about missions you are sent on

* He knows you can take care of yourself, he trained you after all, but that won’t ease his nerves and memories about Adam

Hunk

* MY FAVORITE BOY 😍😍😍

* He’s so sweet to you, you don’t understand!

* He likes to call you “baby” “baking partner” or just a shorten version of your name if you have one

* His love languages is definitely gift giving and physical affection

* He loves cooking and baking new recipes for you to try and give him feedback

* With physical affection, he’s gonna be a bit nervous in the beginning about it, having never been in a relationship before, but he slowly starts to get more into it

* Hand holding, cuddling, hugging, there all his favorite ways to say he loves you

* He definitely one of the more nervous one when it comes to you fighting along side Voltron

* Hunk himself is more of a pacifist and is therefore already a little uneasy about even HIMSELF fighting

* So for you, his lover, to be put in the front lines with them has him very uneasy and nervous

* He just loves you so much he would never forgive himself if something happened to you 🥺

* He is always there if you have something on your mind that’s bothering you

* Whether it’s something small or large, he will always listen to you

* And vice versa, if he has something on his mind, be there for him cause he sometimes feels like he’s not listened to by the others

Pidge

* Definitely the least experienced out of the group (her and Keith are like neck and neck)

* I don’t see her using pet names, much like Keith

* Idk it just strikes me as odd for her to use pet names

* She definitely has stupid nicknames for you, but not stuff like baby or sweetheart

* If you don’t like that, sue me

* Her love language is definitely quality time

* She likes when you come around while she’s working on a new project so she can geek out about it

* You don’t even have to understand anything she says, she just likes when you’re around her when she’s working

* Also has you test some of the safer projects, she would never let you NEAR the more outrageous ones

* Unlike the others, she’s actually really open to you fighting along side her

* Don’t get me wrong, she would murder everyone if you got hurt, but she likes working with you and strategizing

* Will make you a weapon and enhanced suit if you asked

* Even if you don’t, she probably already has them in the works

[blanceyblance]

On Lance and Keith, and the water/fire and sun/moon dynamics

Saw a post talking about how Lance and Keith are actually more like the other's element and is a really interesting but I found myself disagreeing though I didn't want to argue in OPs post.

I remember there was a part that said that Keith had to mold himself for survival, and, for what I remember, Keith very much does NOT do that.

Someone who molds himself to fit better would have gone into the Garrison to become a model of a perfect cadet, instead Keith is rebellious, and is not afraid of confrontation. He challenges Iverson and fights James and doesn't care if he makes an enemy out of the rest of the other cadets. They don't like it? sucks to suck because he is that good and he knows he is good.

In that same Garrison flashback, Lance actually tells Keith that if Keith keeps messing around he will be stuck as a cargo pilot, Lance tries to follow instructions, molds himself to be a good cadet because that's what is expected for him to be a fighter pilot, only that, things don't go that way, Keith is the one becoming a fighter pilot instead.

Even in his role as Black Paladin, Keith doesn't mold himself as much as he grows into it, like a flame growing to consume space.

Keith is a very straight forward guy, and rarely if ever, tries to hide his feelings, he is very sincere in what he does and means and he does things because he thinks is the best for everyone.

Take leaving the team for the Blades, while I do think he also did it so Lance didn't have to feel left out, I think he also did it so he could go and find more about his origins and himself, making what he thought was the best decision for both the team and himself.

What i'm trying to say is that t I never got the impression that Keith was afraid of showing himself. Just like a fire that doesn't change itself to fit in one place. He can be abrasive and powerful and hurtful like a wildfire and can also be warm and comforting and protective from the harsh circumstances like a fireplace. The presentation is the same, he just needed to learn to channel it better.

And that's why I think Lance had a bone to pick with him, or at least one of the reasons.

The previous description fits Lance to a tee, he can be downright mean and bitchy when he wants but also will give you friendly words and comfort when needed. Just like water can be overpowering and traitorous like the ocean while also bringing life and cleansing.

The thing is that while Keith didn't feel the need to mold for others, Lance does it with a lot of ease.

Being either a friendly welcoming face for the aliens they encounter, an emotional support for his team, a goodball to lift spirits for his friends, or a right hand man to two different leaders.

There is a reason he was usually referred as a jack of all trades just like Blue, not the tankiest or the fastest but it will be hard to find a place he won't be able to fill.

That's also while I support the sun Keith/moon Lance dynamic.

No matter how emo or mysterious he is, Keith shines bright not caring who may end up burning on his path, he is powerful and brilliant and good luck trying to ignore that. He burns but knowing he exists gives you hope for a new day. "He is the future" just like Lance said.

While Lance is the moon, who is always the same but will take on different faces depending the situation, the fact that you can stare directly at him doesn't mean he is letting you see the full picture. He shines in the dark offering guide in hard times but also caring for his team from afar as the resident sniper. Nurturing and kind, always tied to the waters and Earth.

They are still very similar, that's why they are a duo but I still think Keith at his core is fire just like Lance's is water.

And also to spread the Sun Keith/Moon Lance agenda.

[komohine]

OK IMAGINE

james and keith are going through a rough patch in their relo when this starts. anomalies then prey on their issues as well as their own personal insecurities. also keith has a history of severe nightmares (ptsd related maybe?) as well as panic attacks which james has learned to help with. this does create a bit of a complex for both of them though. james is afraid whenever hes not with keith bcs hes worried something will happen to him and he wont be there to help (the real truth though is that james is afraid someone better will come along and woo away keith. keiths never been the super openly affectionate type whicg causes james a great deal of insecurity. does keith even love him? he sometimes questions). meanwhile keith becomes afraid of being too dependent. hed always managed his issues alone before and now that james was there to care for him he feels like he womt be equipped to deal with crises situations whenever hes alone. and considering his job, thats pretty often (but in reality, hes afraid of having his independence encroached upon. its the one thing hes known all his life and to lose it would genuinely be like drowning to him. he hates relying on others bcs theyve always failed him, and though he loves james part of him fears he’ll leave him too).

tldr really (? idk how good at horror i am this is just stuff that would unnerve me) scary version of anxious x avoidant attachment types LOL

—

its night, keith is setting up camp while james looks for usable kindling (most of its already been burnt beyond use. theyre near the wildfire’s point of origin now) and keith is suddenly very aware that something is watching him.

he slowly raises his head to lock eyes with a pale ghastly face, peeking just over a bush at the clearing’s edge. keith’s frozen immediately, and stares a little too long before ripping his eyes away and looking down. he hopes and prays that the thing will just go away.

to his utter dismay, the moment he looks down he hears movement coming from the face’s direction. rapid scurrying, snapping of twigs. he snaps his head back up just to see the thing coming at him on all fours. obviously, keith freaks out and scrambles backwards but the thing grabs his shoulders and pins him. Keith’s covering his face. His breaths come in frantic, shallow puffs. Looking at it is too much to bear, and some childish part of his brain still believes that if he doesnt see it itll just go away.

Then he hears james’ voice through his own petrified breathing. he calls out to him, and to his shock the.. thing? moves one hand from his shoulder to his wrist and tries to move his hand away from his face. james answers, from right above him. and he knows this is james’ voice.

keith builds up his courage to crack open one eye, hoping to see james, hoping that this was all just a nightmare. instead, that thing’s face fills his vision. he shuts his eye again, newly petrified. the thing shakes him lightly, like james always would do to snap him out of a nightmare. but this time its not familiar or comforting. instead he feels… trapped. no, he is trapped. by that thing. he needs to get away. and so keith screams and kicks and by some miracle gets the thing off him and armed with nothing but a multipurpose blade in his pant pocket, he books it into the dark forest.

—

james had strayed further out than he wouldve liked in finding kindling, and for his efforts he had almost nothing to show. the two of them may just have to deal with sleeping in the cold the night and eating lukewarm canned beans. All for the better— the darkness of the forest was oppressive. james swore that his flashlight was getting weaker by the minute. he turned back when he started to see shadows moving.

Something happens when James reenters the clearing where he left Keith. No, something descends upon the clearing. An energy. The shadows are a little too harsh, a little too big. And keith… Why was he looking at him like that?

James walks forward, and when keith reacts by screaming and trying to get away, he closes the distance quickly. He takes keith’s shoulders and tries to speak to him in a way that will reach his ears. He shakes him slightly, grabs his wrist and rubs his thumb along the skin where the palm meets the wrist. And it seems to be working, until it’s not.

“It’s still here” keith mutters in that panicked way that james recognized as genuine, primal fear. Befire james could ask him any questions though, keith starts to violently thrash under him, breaking away and booking it into the forest.

James dropped his flashlight long ago. Their little scuffle had knocked over the lantern that once lit the clearing. James spent a few seconds on his hands and knees finding it before pulling it out from a pile of debris and ash. It was still lot, but the light didnt seem to penetrate the darkness. At all.

When had it become so dark? So quiet?

James tried to swallow the rapidly rising panic, creeping up from the pits of his stomach and constricting around his throat.

He whipped his head around, startled by… the sheer silence, the complete lack of. The nothingness. Suddenly even his own frantic breathing sounded far too quiet.

Where was Keith?

[doc-pickles]

waking up in vegas | matthew tkachuk x hughes!sister (p. 2)

series masterlist

summary: the hughes-tkachuk family thanksgiving dinner from hell

warnings: mentions vomiting

a/n: here’s part two of my matty fic! hope y’all enjoy :)

xoxo

nina

Your parents' living room is loud and boisterous as everyone mills around for an early Thanksgiving dinner. The dinner had been a Hughes-Tkachuk tradition for as long as you could remember, but this year your stomach rolled uneasily at the thought of having to sit at a table and lie to everyone at it.

“Did the annulment go through?”

Matthew’s voice makes you jump as you turn to face him. His stubble has grown out into the beginnings of a beard and you can’t deny it’s a good look on him.

“About that,” your eyes shift down to your boots as you speak quietly. “They can’t annul it, we’re going to have to get a legal divorce.”

Matthew doesn’t say anything, simply drags you down the hall into one of the spare bedrooms before closing the door and looking at you with wide eyes.

“What do you mean we need a divorce? I thought we could get it annulled and pretend like it never happened,” Matthew's tone was incredulous as he stared at you.

“Me too but apparently when you marry someone with a multimillion-dollar hockey contract that complicates things,” you swallow down the bile trying to climb your throat as you look up at Matthew. His gaze softens and you realize you must look scared shitless right now. “Listen I’ll figure it out okay? It’s not a big deal.”

Without warning, Matthew pulls you into a hug and you breathe in his warm woodsy scent, grounding yourself in the contact. You take a shaky breath as he runs a hand down your back, “Let me know how I can help, okay? I don’t want you stressing over this and it takes two to tango anyways.”

You barely hold back the urge to laugh at his statement, Matthew not knowing how true his words are. Instead, you nod and stay there for a few more comforting seconds before he pulls away, “You okay?”

Nodding you meet Matthew's eyes, “Can we talk after dinner?”

“Sure,” Matthew nods and presses a kiss to your forehead before he gives you one last smirk and leaves the room.

When you leave a few minutes later, everyone is starting to sit down around the table. You take your spot next to Luke and across from Matthew who winks at you as you sit. He groans and you see Quinn glaring at him, assuming your brother had kicked him under the table.

“Table is getting full,” Keith chuckles as he looks between all of the kids, Emma now seated next to Brady. “Might need a bigger one next year.”

Your mother lets out a huff and as soon as you look at her you know whatever comes out of her mouth next isn’t going to be good.

“I’d say so. In fact, I think someone here has a little announcement they want to make,” as you scan the table and meet Matthew’s gaze your stomach drops, both of your faces blanching. “Who wants to share?”

You and Matthew break away from each other's stares to look around at all of your siblings. None of them look like they’re quite sure what’s happening, but they all keep flicking back to you and Matthew.

“Mom-”

“Anyone want to tell me why there was a pregnancy test in the guest bath? A positive one at that?”

Your mouth snaps shut at your moms admission and side glances immediately start flying across the table. Most eyes turn to Brady and Emma, the newlyweds shaking their heads. Emma grabs her wine and takes a hearty sip before answering your mom, “Not me, I’m very much still enjoying my wine.”

Eyes dart around the table again and you can tell the moment Luke spots your can of Coke next to his bottle of beer, a long and loud groan leaving him, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Luke Warren Hughes! Language,” your father scolds, but you can barely register his chastising as you lock eyes with your twin.

“Okay but who’s pregnant?” Jack asks cluelessly as he continues to look around the table. “If it’s not Emma it’s Taryn or- Oh my god!”

You can feel every set of eyes at the table fall onto you but you can only meet Matthew’s gaze across the table, his blue eyes wide and searching as he stares you down. You hold his gaze until Quinn and Jack both start yelling simultaneously.

“Are you kidding me? You knocked up my sister you fucking douche canoe!”

“Holy shit! Holy shit this is from Vegas? First, you marry my sister then you knock her up?!”

At Jack and Quinn’s outbursts, you push your head into your hands as all four of your parents begin to hurl questions across the table. The noise leaves your head swimming as bile begins to rise up your throat, everyone around you shouting.

“Wait, Matthew got you pregnant?”

“What the hell happened in Vegas?”

“Did he just say you're married? How long have you two been together?”

“Does this mean we’re all going to be grandparents?”

As everyone continues to yell over the table you do the only thing you can think to do. Leaning to your right you promptly throw up your meager lunch into the potted plant next to you. Everyone stops as you continue to throw up and you vaguely register your mom ushering everyone out of the room while a hand settles on your back. You’re not entirely sure who’s holding you but the hand on your back is comforting.

“S’okay, I got you,” you’re slightly shocked when Matthew’s voice sounds out as his hand rubs your back. “Fun dinner huh?”

You huff out a laugh as you finally stop retching, looking over your shoulder at Matthew, “No one got a chance to take a single bite.”

There’s a silent minute where you’re simply breathing and trying to ground yourself before Matthew asks with a small voice, “You okay?”

Nodding slightly you sit up and face him, “I’m fine. Besides single-handedly ruining Thanksgiving and not being able to keep any food besides cranberry sauce down all day.”

Matthew chuckles as he runs a hand over his face, “Hey at least we had the common sense to get married before having a baby, huh?”

You both sit in silence for a second before a bubble of laughter bursts out from you, Matthew joining in. You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I found out last night, I was going to tell you after dinner. I didn’t want to freak you out before we had to sit down and lie to everyone about being married, but here we are.”

“It’s okay. At least we don’t have to stress about telling everyone,” you’re both quiet for a second before Matthew whispers his next words. “You… Do you want to keep it?”

“Yes,” you answer quickly as you focus on your fingers. “Yes I… I hope that’s okay.”

Matthew nods, pulling you closer before speaking, “I… Yeah. We’ll figure it out, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you stop puking yet?” Luke asks as he sticks his head around the corner. Seeing you and Matthew sitting together he rolls his eyes. “Good. Can you please go into the living room before someone in there combusts? I think dad and Keith are about to start throwing punches.”

Matthew helps you up and you walk hand in hand to the living room. Keith and your dad are yelling and Quinn is trying (and failing) to explain what happened in Vegas to your mom.

“You think if we slip out they’d notice?” Matthew whispers right next to your ear and you have to stop yourself from letting out a full body shudder at the feeling.

“Unfortunately, yes. Plus I’m getting kind of hungry so I want to wrap this up and get back to dinner as soon as possible.”

Matthew chuckles behind you and everyone seems to realize you two are standing there. Your dad takes a step forward, but you put your hand up to stop him from coming any closer as you step in front of Matthew.

“Okay so we’re not going to threaten to beat up the man you’ve known since he was five,” you fix your dad with a knowing look before eyeing your brothers over his shoulder. “You three are included in that.”

“Why don’t we just let the kids explain what happened,” Chantal broaches from her spot on the couch next to your mom. “Maybe we have the story wrong.”

“Ummm so we went to Las Vegas… And then we got married,” you can’t meet anyone’s eyes as you speak but Matthew grabs your hand again and squeezes it comfortingly. “So there-“

“You got married because you were drunk and couldn’t find something better to do,” your father asked as he stared at you and Matthew.

“Jim!”

“No, Dad-“

“Well it’s fine they can just get it annulled,” Keith says from his spot across the room.

“Not if she’s pregnant,” Chantal shrieks and you can feel your heartbeat pick up. “You are pregnant, right?”

You nod, feeling tears prickling your eyes as your parents begin to speak again.

“What if it’s not even Matthew’s?”

“Well you can’t have a baby out of wedlock! Even if it’s not his-“

“You saying my daughter is a-“

“I didn’t say that! I’m just suggesting-“

“Listen I know that all of this wasn’t planned but both of us are responsible adults who can make decisions on our own,” Matthew interrupts your parents bickering and you don’t realize you're harshly squeezing his hand until he pulls you back into chest. “Can we table this conversation and eat dinner? Please?”

Everyone files back into the dining room and you cast a grateful look to Luke who’s taken the seat across from you so Matthew can sit next to you. Plates get passed around and when everyone is eating you finally breathe a sigh of relief.

“So besides the impromptu elopement, how was Vegas?” your mom asks with a small grin and a chorus of laughter sounds from the table.

Left it kind of open ended but I love writing the Hughes/Tkachuk gang so maybe another part?

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

previous | story masterlist | next

Leo Glade had officially taken up residence in Aeolia. It was, of course, a temporary arrangement, but until the proper negotiations were reached, he had essentially rendered himself a prisoner, a bargaining tool. The kingdom felt threatened and feared that there may be a greater scheme in the making, and for that reason, he was a lone man in the middle of enemy territory. It kind of made you respect him, actually. Granted, the Ciren Empire would quickly exact revenge if Leo was to be killed, but you couldn’t imagine placing your life on the line the way he was. You just hoped that everything would work out for the best.

In other news, you now had your very own knight.

Keith arrived early in the morning on his first day, and he fumbled before bowing his head, looking adorably nervous. “Lady [Name],” he greeted. “His Majesty informed me that you had requested my services as your personal knight. I am honored that you would think to choose me. I vow to protect you with my life.”

You smiled and ruffled his hair. “No need to act so formal. You did save my life, after all. I’m sure working for the Crown Prince’s fiancée will help boost your reputation, right? Though I can’t quite say that I’ve repaid my debt, I hope this arrangement also serves to your advantage.”

“Please don’t worry on my behalf,” he blushed, raising his head. “I’m just happy to be here, and to see you in good health. I heard that you were tended to by a group of mages. Have your injuries all healed, then?”

“Yes. It’s actually quite incredible. Look,” you gestured, tugging down the neckline of your dress to reveal your bare shoulder. “I was certain it would have scarred, but there’s absolutely nothing there. Magic is truly amazing.”

Keith quickly averted his gaze. “U-Um… I’m glad to hear it. Pardon me. I don’t think it’s appropriate that I should be staring…”

“What a cute reaction,” you mused, pinching his cheek. “Relax. It’s nothing. I want you to feel comfortable working here. I don’t bite.”

“Of course, but I wouldn’t dare overstep my bounds.”

“It’s funny you say that, because I recall you being quite rude the first time we met.”

He blushed again. “That was… ugh. I can’t apologize enough. The thing is… I’ve been told I have a bad temper. I was already rather irritated at the time, before I had even bumped into you. But I promise I will work on it. I don’t want to lash out at you like that ever again.”

“Don’t worry, I was just messing around,” you chuckled. “It really didn’t bother me. Things happen, I understand. Besides, thanks to that, I got to meet you, and now I have someone I can trust by my side. You don’t realize how much that means to me right now.”

“Lady [Name], you trust me?”

“Of course I do. You saved my life. Should I not?”

“No, you should,” he reaffirmed. “I’m just surprised. I’m overjoyed that you think so highly of me. I’m really no one special.”

“Wasn’t that friend of yours going on about how skilled you are? I was able to see it for myself that night, too. Those assassins didn’t stand a chance. You really were incredible.”

He smiled sadly. “So long as I can protect the people, I suppose it’s a good thing, but I don’t know how proud I should be of my ability to kill. I realized how fragile life is since I started working as a knight. In a way, it’s rather frightening.”

“Well, as long you only use your skill to protect, I think it’s something you can certainly take pride in.”

“Yes… you’re right. Thank you for saying that.”

“Here,” you said, beckoning him forward with a flick of your wrist, “let me show you around the estate. It’s nowhere near as large as the palace, but the sooner you familiarize yourself, the better.”

First impressions were definitely misleading. Ever since you’d gotten to know him, Keith had been nothing other than respectful, mild-mannered, and attentive. The fact that he apparently had a short temper was actually sort of a relief. It was nice knowing that he was human, just like everyone else. Otherwise he might have seemed a bit too perfect for your liking.

“Since you’ve been hired to guard me, I’ve had a room set up inside just for you. Personally, I would’ve liked for your room to be right next to mine, but my parents were somewhat opposed to it. I do think you’ll like it, though.”

You pushed opened the door and stepped inside, pivoting around on your heel.

“Well?” you grinned. “What do you think?”

Keith blinked repeatedly. “This is… mine?”

“Of course.”

“You mean… all of it?”

“Well, I don’t know who else would be staying here. It’s just for you, of course it’s just for you. Why?” you frowned, shoulders slumping a bit, “do you not like it?”

He quickly shook his head. “No, that’s not it at all. It looks beautiful. It’s just such a large space, and I’m used to sharing a room in the barracks along with the rest of my fellow knights. I’ve never had one all to myself before, not even when I was a child.”

“Did you have siblings you had to share with?”

“Just my parents. We were quite poor,” he recalled, looking a touch embarrassed. “All three of us slept in the same room. My mother died early on, and then it was just me and my father. It was his dream to become a knight, but he developed a serious ulcer in his leg and had to get it amputated. His handicap made it hard to find a job all his life, which is why we never had much money to go around.”

Your expression fell. Of course. You already knew this, but it hurt so much more to hear it from someone directly. You were fortunate, you were blessed. You never had to worry about having enough food in your belly, or a comfortable bed to sleep in at night. You’d been allotted luxuries all your life that most people couldn’t even dream of, and now you were even set to become the Kingdom’s future Queen. You appreciated all that you had, you really did, and at times like these you even felt guilty knowing how little others were forced to live with.

“I would like to say sorry, but I’m sure pity is the last thing you want to hear.”  

“Oh, not at all,” he reassured. “I know you are a kind person, Lady [Name]. It wasn’t my intention to try and elicit your sympathy. Sorry. I just wanted to express how truly grateful I am for all that you’ve provided me.”

“Where is your father now?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“He passed away some years ago. I believe it was from overwork. His heart had gotten weak.”

“My condolences.”

“Ah, thank you.” He forced a smile. “Well, I’m sure he’s in a better place now. He deserves to rest.”

“I’m sure your father would’ve been very proud to know what a talented knight you turned out to be.”

Keith nodded appreciatively, his cheeks tinged with pink. You tried to avoid any more personal questions for the rest of the tour. He was actually rather quiet, perhaps a bit hesitant to engage you in conversation. You appreciated how respectful he was, but you hoped that over time he would grow to become more comfortable around you.

“Well, that should cover most of it,” you said, coming to a halt. “Did you have any questions?”

Keith shook his head. “No, everything is perfect, thank you very much.”

“I’m glad to hear you think so, and I really am thankful to have you here.” You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly. “And I’m very much looking forward to getting to see more of each other.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, clasping your hand in his.

“We should celebrate,” you suggested. “I can open up a bottle of champagne.”

“That’s… I mean, are you sure it’s alright?”

“Oh, you sound just like my cute little maid,” you mused. “She’s always so hesitant to accept any favors from me. Don’t worry, there’s plenty to go around. Just one glass, to commemorate you starting your service with us.”

“In that case, I’d be happy to accept your offer, Lady [Name].”

You grinned, a bit too pleased to have an excuse to drink in the afternoon. You ushered Keith to grab a seat at one of the sofas and sent for a servant to retrieve some champagne. They brought out two glasses, already filled, alongside the bottle itself. Ah, they knew you so well.

“Cheers,” you smiled, clinking your glass against Keith’s. He chuckled sheepishly and did the same, taking a comparatively tiny sip in reference to yours. You sighed contentedly and rested your head against the sofa cushion. As expected, it felt a lot better knowing that there was a qualified knight here to guard you. Given all that had happened recently, it was difficult to feel fully safe even in your own home.

Amidst your nonchalant drinking, you could vaguely hear the front door opening, and a bit of chatter. You frowned, wondering if your parents had been expecting a delivery today.

Roughly a minute later, your mother turned the corner with a smile.

“[Name]!” she beamed. “Your tutor has just arrived. I was wondering where you were—oh. W-What exactly is going on here?”

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered aloud. Oh, fuck. Right. You were supposed to have a lesson today. Since you’d been showing Keith around the place, it had completely slipped your mind.

“Language, please!” your mother urged, looking absolutely mortified already.

Lucius was just staring at you with an amused expression. “Hello there, [Name]. I would ask how your day is going, but it seems like you’re enjoying yourself quite well. Though I can’t blame you. It’s never too early to treat yourself to a nice drink.”

You didn’t say anything, but your mother was glaring daggers in your direction with an expression that basically screamed ‘put the alcohol down before I completely lose it’.

“I-I’m terribly sorry,” Keith stammered, looking like a guilty little puppy. “I wasn’t aware that my lady was expecting any guests. I’m to blame for having taken up so much of her time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved off. “It’s my fault for forgetting. I haven't even finished off a single glass yet, I’m definitely clear-headed enough to get through the lesson. My apologies, Lucius. I hope you’ll forgive my negligence.”

“It’s alright,” he chuckled. “I was late the first time, after all.”

You stood up and gave Keith a reassuring smile. “Go ahead and finish off the rest of your drink. If you find yourself having any questions about your arrangements, my parents will be happy to answer them.”

“Okay… thank you again for everything. I’m sorry for getting in the way of your plans.”

“It’s not a big deal at all. Getting you acquainted with the place on your first day is important. I’ll be back to speak to you again later, alright?”

“Alright,” he smiled. “Have a good lesson, Lady [Name].”

“Thank you very much.”

It was actually a good thing Lucius had turned up where he had, otherwise you may have been several glasses in by now, and your mother would have been far from pleased. She was a bit bristly already, but thankfully your tutor didn’t seem to mind. He glanced over towards Keith, and for a moment they even locked eyes, but the latter quickly averted his gaze.

“Cute kid,” Lucius mused. “I presume he’s new around here?”

“Yes, it’s his first day on the job. And he’s not a kid,” you frowned. “He is the man who saved my life.”

“Ah, so that’s the notorious knight I’ve been hearing whispers of. He must be a good fellow. I meant to say this when I first saw you today, but the afternoon drinking caught me off guard a bit. I’m very sorry to hear what you’ve been through. It’s a terrible thing.”

You sighed. “Well, thank you for that. It’s been… frustrating, to say the least. Especially since the perpetrator has still not been found guilty of her crime.”

“The Tybalt girl, you mean?”

“Yes, her. But—” You quickly shook your head. “Actually, never mind. I know how silly all this must sound, especially when there’s no evidence. You probably don’t even believe me. Gossiping about it won’t get me anywhere, in any case. Just forget I brought it up. I’m all ready to go,” you said, placing your palms atop the table. “Let’s get started with the lesson.”  

Lucius didn’t make any motion to reach for his briefcase. “And why do you assume I don’t believe you?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t uncommon for people to throw out all sorts of crazy accusations, especially when they’ve recently been in a serious situation such as mine.”

“Evidence or not, your words are more than plausible.”

“They are?” you frowned. “But you weren’t even at the ball. You don’t even know the whole story.”

“It wouldn’t be unheard of for a former marriage candidate to try and kill off their rival in a fit of jealous rage. If anything, she should be the first suspect. This happened not long after your engagement went public.”

“Exactly,” you sighed. “Thank you for saying that. But this whole thing with the Ciren Empire has made the situation that much more complicated. I can’t help but wonder if it would really be that easy to hire assassins from outside the kingdom. Now it’s become more a matter of the kingdom’s security rather than an attack aimed directly at me. The King and Queen want to keep me safe, of course, but protecting everyone else must also be weighing heavily on their minds.”

He smiled gently. His amber eyes were warm and genuine. He really did believe you, and just knowing that brought a comfort you couldn’t even begin to express.

“I am sure you aren’t the type to accuse someone for no reason,” he said. “That I can tell simply from the few lessons we’ve had together. Of course, I can only imagine how afraid you must be. There are all sorts of horrible people in this world, and the good ones, like yourself, are that much more susceptible to their atrocities.”

“I appreciate you saying that you believe me.”

“Of course. It’s the truth, after all.” He smiled again and finally opened up his briefcase. “Now, onto the lesson itself. I initially had planned to quiz you on what we covered last time, but I know that you were injured and ill for a period of time, so I don’t think that’d be fair. We should review it one more time, just to be sure, and then we can move onto new material.”

You furrowed your brows. “Don’t underestimate me. I may have been bedridden, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what I learned.”

“Hm. I just don’t think your results will be an accurate reflection of your learning. There’s no need to rush. We can review it once more, and I’ll quiz you next time.”

“Quiz me now,” you argued childishly. “I remember all the material. I’ll show you.”

Lucius sighed and shook his head, but you were almost positive you noticed a little smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t blame me if you aren’t happy with your grade,” he warned. “You haven’t been in a good state recently. I don’t want this to dash your motivation.”

Perhaps you were being unnecessarily stubborn, but you knew this was an essential education for your future. Annalisa had already tried to steal that from you, and you weren’t about to get behind in your studies and allow her to win.

You did the quiz, and although you couldn’t say you had earned full marks, Lucius seemed pleasantly surprised with your results.

“I told you I remembered,” you said proudly. “Next time I’ll get a hundred percent. Just you wait.”

“Very impressive,” he laughed. “You continue to surprise me. But I wouldn’t be too sure about that one hundred percent. I don’t think my quizzes are quite so easy.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to get a hundred percent anyways. I made that a goal of mine not long ago.”

“Oh, did you? I’m honored that you’ve been thinking about me so much.”

“I’ve been thinking about the lessons,” you frowned, blushing a little, “not you.”

Lucius laughed again. He always seemed to be laughing around you. Perhaps you were funnier than you realized.

“I’m just glad you haven’t allowed recent events to dampen your spirits,” he said. “You’re probably the most hardworking student I’ve had thus far.”

“Have any other students of yours forgotten about their lessons and been caught red-handed with a bottle of champagne?”

“No. You’re one of a kind, I’m pleased to report.”

You smugly crossed your arms. “That sounds about right.”

“Oh, [Name].”

“Yes—?”

Your voice caught in your throat. He’d leaned over in an instant, close enough that you could see the way his long lashes slanted across his pretty, upturned eyes. One of his hands was combing through your hair, fingers coming together to tuck a lock behind your ear.

Lucius pulled his hand back and pinched his thumb and index finger together. “You had something in your hair. Don’t worry. I got rid of it.”

You stared pointedly at his fingers. There was nothing there.

“Um, sure. Thank you for that.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “And though I realize you find yourself in a rather unpleasant situation right now, try your best to remember what I said earlier. The bad people in this world will actively seek out and exploit those such as yourself. It may be difficult, but as long as you remain strong, the world will restore balance to the natural order of things.”

“Restore balance? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that these things have a way of working themselves out. Justice will be served to that Tybalt girl, that much I can promise you.”

More chapters are available on Quotev and Wattpad!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[sexisbetteronthemoon]

(Answering your questions in an ask cause it's so long omg >.<)

Lance's groupings have Coran in the black lion with Keith, Shiro, and Krolia, and he's a handful cause he first wants to play I Spy but his first hint is an Altean letter. Shiro tells him that none of them know the Altean alphabet, so Coran starts loudly singing the Altean alphabet song, and everyone finds it annoying (especially when Romelle joins in and they both sing it over the comms). It's also a tight space with them all crammed in the cockpit, and Coran does not help by constantly leaning into everyone's space.

Kosmo is paired with Allura and she keeps him in the hold of her lion. He starts acting up, chewing and drooling on things, and Keith tells Allura that he's lonely and that she should let him in the cockpit (Allura refuses 😢). Justice for Kosmo, especially because he could've just teleported into the cockpit but he DIDN'T, because he's a GOOD BOY!

This is ep2/s7, so I think Keith does such a 180° because he feels guilty for brushing Lance off so coldly when he reunited with the team at the end of s6. Keith is doing everything he can to make up for it, even if means agreeing to Lance's silly ideas.

(And it JUST occurred to me why it's important that Lance's groupings keep Krolia and Shiro with Keith, even though it's a tight squeeze with Coran. Lance is taking care of his man so well, knowing that Keith wouldn't want to separate from his brother so soon after he woke up and that he deserves all the time with his mom 🥰)

thank you for the answers! i very much appreciate it!

do you think Lance put Coran with Keith to keep things light for them? Coran was always kind and funny and fatherly to Lance, so maybe Lance was hoping it would be the same for Keith. especially given it's not been long (to Lance) since Keith's mother came back into his life. it would be a comfort in case things are awkward, or just to lighten them all up. just.. a thought.

Coran is so delightful (i say when i would totally not be able to deal with him either).

Allura is a cat person confirmed!!! but also! my baby boy! 🥺 he just wanted cuddles, Allura! i'm heartbroken. 💔 the baby needs enrichment! he needs play! so cruel to baby!

and ah, so Keith didn't mean to brush Lance off so harshly and is experiencing remorse. i see, i see. he should sleep on the couch for a while. ban Keith to the hold. Kosmo can drive. or pretend to. put that lion on autopilot. hitch it to another lion. space tow.

yes! Lance is keeping Keith with his family! if Lance wasn't a paladin, i wonder if he would've thrown himself in with Keith instead of Coran. 🤔 

hm. non-Paladin Lance. wait, i have a fic like this. he's pregnant in it. it's one of the fics i'm considering not pursuing tho.

[damthosefandoms]

Jumbled

(ao3 link)

Summary:

RIP Sodapop Curtis, you would’ve loved having an IEP/504 Plan.

(AKA, Soda struggles in school his whole life, and doesn’t understand why, because it’s the 1950s and 60s and getting a diagnosis for a learning disability isn’t exactly on the table. Neither is the scaffolding and support he really needs.)

Sodapop Curtis was the type of kid who sat at the kitchen table for hours on end crying over math homework until his dad got home from work and struggled to explain it to him. All that effort, and then he’d always inevitably lose it somewhere between the kitchen table that night and his teacher’s hand the next morning and all that effort would be for nothing.

Soda was five years old when he started kindergarten, at the tail-end of the summer of ‘56. He remembers his mom comforting him the night before, when he cried because he was going to miss Ponyboy who wasn’t old enough for school yet and because Darry was going into fourth grade and would be on the other side of the school all day, and Soda would never get to see him. He remembers pouting because Keith Mathews, his and his brothers’ collective best friend from down the street was going into first grade after promising Soda last year that he’d get in a lot of trouble so he could stay and do kindergarten with him (he lied).

And then Soda was just plain miserable, sitting there on the bus sandwiched between Keith and a boy a little younger than Sodapop named Johnny Cade (who lives two doors down from the Mathews’ house and Soda never sees because his parents are mean and keep him inside all day), because Darry decided he was “too cool” to sit with his horse-crazy kid brother in favor of the big kids whose mommies don’t make them wash their hair when it’s dirty and greasy and walk around with those little black switch-combs and pretend they’re the coolest kids on planet earth, ‘cause one day those combs will swap out for blades and they will be.

Probably because they are, but Sodapop doesn’t know that yet—right now he doesn’t really know or care about grease or what side of town he lives on. He is six years old and the only thing on Soda’s radar right now is that Mama promised they’d save up for him to go to horseback riding camp next summer, and that’s his biggest dream. He wants to be a rodeo legend or win the Kentucky Derby or something. He hasn’t quite decided yet. He figures he has time to parse out the specifics—he just wants to ride a horse.

They get to school, and after a particularly pushy reminder that Mama told him at the bus stop this morning to make sure Soda gets to his classroom alright, Darry points his little brother toward the Kindergarten wing. Soda takes Johnny Cade’s hand in his because he found out on the bus that Johnny is going to have the same teacher as him, and they push through the hallway of their elementary school to find Mrs. Moran’s Room Four.

Soda very quickly learns that not every kid goes into kindergarten equally. Johnny is the smallest and the youngest kid in their grade, and Soda’s the second-youngest and it only takes a few weeks for Soda to think to himself that maybe that’s why he can’t read yet. He’ll be six soon, and that’s how old Evie is. Most of the kids who live on his side of town started kindergarten when they were six, he realizes. She sits next to Soda and she’s a good reader, but she’s one of the oldest kids in their grade and so of course she’s smarter than him. Then again, Sherri Valance, who is also in his class, isn’t going to be six until next spring—kind of like Johnny, and according to the birthday chart on the wall—he asked Mrs. Moran to read it to him one day when he couldn’t sleep during nap time and she very begrudgingly agreed, so he memorized everyone’s birthdays and how old they’d be turning because why not, right?—but Sodapop finds out that she went to preschool.

He didn’t go to preschool. He doesn’t know anyone who did. He remembers Mama talking to Dad about preschool for Ponyboy this year, but Dad said something about “expensive” and Soda stopped listening ‘cause they always get sad or angry when that word comes up.

Sherri Valance can read and she’s got pretty red hair and a backpack that’s not even a hand-me-down, and she went to preschool. So did all her friends in Room Three. Soda doesn’t know anybody in Room Three but he knows that the kids his friends know in there didn’t go to preschool. Timmy Shepard was in Room Three last year with Keith. He didn’t go to preschool either; heck, neither did Keith. But they can both read now, and they went to first grade, so Sodapop figures he didn’t miss out on too much.

Until it’s the end of the year and he still can’t read. Well, you don’t need to read to go to horse camp. Soda doesn’t nap a single time that year, either. He spends his precious kindergarten naptime not-reading the book Mrs. Moran gives him to keep him busy and picking at his cot when she snaps at him to be quiet. Mrs. Moran decided the day she read his first name off the attendance sheet that she didn’t like him, and Sodapop Curtis did not like her either.

First grade is so much better and yet so, so much worse.

Soda has a very hard time on his first day, because he misses his mom, and his dad, and Ponyboy, who begged to go to school too this year but he’s still too little at only four years old and Mama’s doing her best to get him reading now. Darry is in fifth grade and seems even farther away, and Soda doesn't have recess with Keith and Tim’s grade this year, and Johnny’s in Room Seven making new friends. Evie’s in Room Eight, and Soda’s trapped alone in Room Nine. Sherri’s still in his class. On the third day of school, Soda decides her hair reminds him of cherries. She laughs, and it sticks.

The best and brightest part of first grade is his teachers. He was put in Mrs. Larkin’s room, and she’s amazing; but when he gets there on the first day, there are two teachers in the room. Miss Luft, it’s explained, is a student teacher, which means she’s learning about first grade just like they are. She’s learning how to teach and they’re learning how to learn.

Sodapop still doesn’t even know the alphabet. He doesn’t know his sounds and he can’t keep his letters straight. Mrs. Larkin has him sit with Miss Luft when he tries to write a small moment story. She draws lines in marker on his paper for him to write each word on. Every line she has to make longer than the last because he can barely fit two letters on it, and he’s pretty sure she can’t read what he wrote any more than he can.

But Miss Luft always calls him capable. She has to explain to Sodapop once a week what that word means. He does his best to remember, but he has a lot of things to remember and it gets lost in the jumble somewhere.

He hears Mrs. Larkin and Miss Luft talking, sometimes. They hide their words behind stacks of paper and turned heads but he can hear them anyway.

Reversals. Attention span. Off the wall.

“And he’s low,” he hears Mrs. Larkin say one morning. “Mrs. Bolan’s got one that low too, but at least hers is quiet.”

He has no clue what any of it means. It’s all teacher talk, he isn’t supposed to get it, and he knows they aren’t trying to hurt his feelings, but hearing it makes him feel bad anyway because they don’t talk about other kids like they do him. They don’t get those sad looks on their faces about other kids, either.

“Does your brain get jumbled sometimes, Soda?” Miss Luft asks him one day when he’s sitting at his desk, eyes red and puffy from crying because he wasn’t allowed to go to gym class unless he finished his spelling worksheet. But he can’t. He’s been sitting here for forty-five minutes, ever since they got back from recess, and he can’t. Do. It. He tries to write his letters how his teachers have shown him but they just won’t appear in the place he wanted them to, like his pencil won’t obey him when he writes. He tries to start at the top line and somehow his pencil puts itself at the bottom.

He tries to write the letters anyway, but they don’t look like he thinks they’re supposed to, and he doesn’t even know what that means because every time he looks at a b or d, or m or n or h, or—god forbid someone tells him to write the letter k. It just looks like a stick.

His numbers are just as bad. Someone’s always reminding him to put the one before the seven instead of the other way around, but he doesn’t remember writing seventy-one, he can’t even count that high!

“Jumbled?” He says in a shaky voice, still trying to calm down.

“Like mixed up. Like it’s hard to think ‘cause you got too much going on in there?” She taps his forehead and he half-heartedly giggles.

“Yeah, it gets real jumbled. All the time,” Soda says.

“I feel like that sometimes too,” Miss Luft says, and she sighs. “Like I can’t think at all some days. Like my brain shuts off without me tellin’ it to because there’s too much goin’ on and I can’t focus, and just answering one question gets overwhelming. It’s too much. But it’ll be okay, Soda, I know you got it in you. I believe in you, you hear? If I could do it, so can you.”

She doesn’t say much else, but Sodapop has never felt more seen. He cries and clings to her on her last day at their school, hating that she only got to stay for ten weeks. Mrs. Larkin is amazing and he loves being in her class, but the year just drags on and on, and towards the end of the year Soda can’t decide if school is getting harder or he’s getting dumber. Maybe it’s both.

He gets to go to horseback riding camp that summer, and he meets a kid named Dallas who he thinks was in Room Seven with Johnny. Dallas is mean. Soda finds out he’s a whole year older than him, which confuses him because Dallas is in his same grade at school.

“An’ how come I never seen you at recess or nothin’?” Soda says one day at lunch. He’s got a bologna sandwich, because his mom swears by cold cuts. Dally stole an apple out of their counselor’s lunch and doesn’t seem to have anything to eat otherwise.

“They don’t let me out much,” Dallas says. “S’what happens when you spend all your time in the principal’s office.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just feels good to get in trouble sometimes.”

Soda doesn’t get him, but he likes horses, and so they become friends anyway. He and Dally start getting into trouble together, and Soda kind of starts to feel like he belongs somewhere. It takes his mind off the upcoming school year, which is great, because whenever he thinks about school, he gets butterflies in his stomach.

Dallas is in Room Twelve with Johnny when they get to second grade. Usually Soda keeps track of what classes all his friends end up in, but this year, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because second grade changes everything.

Mrs. Foster is ancient. She taught Soda’s mom once upon a time, and she had Darry in her class a few years earlier. Soda thought she’d be a great teacher because Darry loved her, but Soda can’t bring himself to even pretend to like her. She asks him what his parents were on when they named him.

“On what?”

Mrs. Foster just rolls her eyes and tells him to take a seat in the back where he clearly belongs. She lets him know that she’ll be calling him by his middle name this year. At least “Patrick” is “dignified.” Whatever that means.

Later, Soda can’t keep his words from erupting out of his mouth like a volcano during morning meeting, and she sends him back to his seat with a glare.

Five minutes later Steve Randle gets sent back to his seat for shouting out, too. He sits next to Soda in the back. He’s hiding a little red toy car in his desk and they play together. Mrs. Foster doesn’t seem to notice or care. She doesn’t call on Soda a single time that year, even when he does know the answer.

She also doesn’t like that Sodapop writes with his left hand. By the time he gets to third grade, he flinches and corrects himself every time he goes to pick up his pencil. He hopes this’ll solve the problem, but it never does.

Soda struggles the whole year. Steve doesn’t, and when Soda asks when his birthday is—he always needs to know, he needs to be able to sing happy birthday to all of his friends—Steve tells him he was born in April, the same year as Soda. Soda tells him how he can’t find a single pattern proving why he’s dumb, ‘cause age doesn’t seem to matter. Sherri aka Cherry is younger than him but smarter. She went to preschool. Johnny’s younger too, but he didn’t. Steve’s older and smarter but he tells Soda that he didn’t do preschool either.

“I did kindergarten twice, though,” Steve tells him. “Well, the first couple weeks anyway. Mom and Dad wanted me to start school when I was five but then I had to not do the whole year ‘cause my mom got sick and we were too busy and then she died so I stayed home with Dad. I did kindergarten the next year when I was six. Now I got friends in third grade and in second grade.”

They agree that Soda’s going to be Steve’s best second-grade friend. They trade that little red car back and forth and Soda still can’t read very well but he’s better at it now—Mrs. Larkin worked extra hard with him after Miss Luft left to make sure he knew his letters and sounds.

Mrs. Foster doesn’t seem to care, because she pretends he doesn’t exist. It’s a miracle Sodapop gets to third grade.

But it doesn’t matter. School doesn’t matter. Over time Soda just starts to remind himself that he has Steve, and Steve is smart, he’ll help him. Soda will get through this. Sure, after third grade Johnny gets held back, and it’s only a matter of time until Sodapop has to repeat a grade too, but… but he’ll be okay. He will. Someday a switch will go off and his brain will work right and he’ll be able to do it. He hasn’t failed yet, that has to mean something, right?

He hasn’t failed yet but no one has noticed he struggles, not his teachers, not his friends, no one. Maybe Miss Luft, but he’ll never see her again. He hopes she still thinks he’s capable. He had written in the book their class made for her that his favorite thing about her was that she believed in him.

As he gets older, he wonders if she even remembers his name.

But then again, he spends every weeknight crying at the kitchen table, physically unable to get past the first question on his homework sheets. In fourth grade Mama starts clearing everything off the table to help him focus, but he picks at the crumbs left behind from last night’s dinner, peels up the dried finger-paint Pony splattered everywhere, sits and rocks back and forth with each tick of the clock.

And every day after about an hour of making up little songs and fiddling on his paper until it’s spotted with holes, he starts crying, because he can’t bring himself to do his homework. And then Pony’s in school, finishing his homework before him, and Pony is just as much of a daydreamer, so that kind of stings. Darry has seven different classes to do homework for, on top of football practice, but he gets all his work done before Soda’s even started. His mom tries to help but it makes him cry even harder, ‘cause she doesn’t get it, it’s not about the homework it’s about his brain. It’s about Soda’s brain not working like everyone thinks it should.

It’s about his big, dumb, broken brain.

Johnny can’t read either, but he can focus, he can control his emotions and not cry or scream or stomp his feet at every little sound or touch, or overreact to things that aren’t a big deal at all, he doesn’t start throwing throngs off his desk when he’s mad, and he always has a reason why he does things. Steve can’t control his mouth or pay attention, but he can read and always turns in his homework on time. Keith never does his homework ever but he’s practically a genius compared to Sodapop.

Ponyboy brings home his first-ever spelling test and their mom sticks it on the fridge with a magnet.

That bright-red 100% is going to haunt Soda’s dreams.

Every night Dad gets home at 6:00 to find Soda still sitting at the table, eyes red and puffy, and tears staining his homework and the table. He chides him for the new mark Soda’s left in the table’s surface from digging the eraser-end of his pencil into it. Soda deflates, he didn’t mean to do that, it’s just—what else is he supposed to do? He’s not allowed to get up until his homework’s done.

Darrel Curtis Sr. is a loving father and a very easy-going guy, until he’s standing there over Soda’s shoulder holding his hand—his left hand, which Soda’s grateful for but also it feels so wrong after his experience in third grade—forcing him to write in the answers because he just doesn’t get that writing it is only part of the problem. His dad loves him, he’s gentle with his touch but every inch of Soda’s skin feels like it’s on fire when his dad makes him write.

It’s not his dad’s fault, but Darrel Sr. is only human, and he hates yelling at his kids, but he has to raise his voice to try to get Sodapop to hear him above his scream-crying because it’s the only way to help him learn.

Sometime when Soda’s in seventh grade, Ponyboy asks him what his problem is. Homework’s not that bad.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do, Soda, but I just don’t think it’s worth crying over, you dig?”

Soda throws his pencil at his brother, slams his history book shut, and walks out the back door. Ponyboy watches in confusion. When their mom comes in to check on them, he tells her Sodapop’s overreacting again.

Dally, who had moved away after third grade to New York but came back just in time to start seventh grade with Soda, finds him at the Pershing Park playground sitting on the swings. It’s where Soda ends up when he’s hopelessly overwhelmed by homework, or when the thought of school looms over him like a cartoon anvil. Something about pumping his legs and willing the swing to take him higher and higher takes away the sick feeling that the idea of popcorn reading Shakespeare in his fifth period English class gives him. Dally asks him if he wants to find something better to do, and a few hours later they wind up back at the Curtis house with busted knuckles and the beginnings of black eyes and they pour grease into Soda’s hair and grin at each other.

When Sodapop is sixteen years old, a sophomore in high school, his father finds him sitting at that same kitchen table, staring down over an assignment that’s asking him to write a thousand-word essay and Soda turns to his dad wordlessly, his throat is closing up, and his dad tells him to breathe.

But he can’t. He can’t. He’s going to be sick, he might actually throw up. He feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest. One thousand words. Sodapop can’t even count that high. He can’t even read Dr. Seuss. He can’t do this anymore.

“Dad, I want to drop out.”

“Aw, Pepsi-Cola,” his dad says gently that night, brushing Soda’s hair back and then pulling him into a hug, “I know you do. I’ve been talkin’ to your mother about it. We got the paperwork from the school. But I think you should think about it a little longer, alright?”

Soda agrees to try and finish out the year. His dad gets it.

His dad spent ten years listening to Soda cry over homework. His dad never called him dumb. His mom did what she could. But the only person in all his years of school who Soda ever knew really believed in him was Miss Luft, and she never came back.

He thinks maybe if he had more teachers like her, who believed in him and gave him extra help and supported him along the way, if there was something—something that made it so they had to listen to him, had to help him, had to accept that it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t read right, couldn’t focus, couldn’t control his mood swings or emotions or his volcano of a mouth… maybe he could’ve done better. Maybe if Mrs. Foster had let him write with his left hand, he could’ve figured it out.

Soda hopes one day they figure out what makes kids like him tick. What makes them struggle. He hopes one day that their schools will decide to help.

A few months after he talks to his dad, Sodapop finds the signed paperwork in his dad’s desk drawer. His parents have just been buried, and Soda can’t stop crying at the drop of a pin. He’s been skipping all his classes, but none of his teachers seem to care. It’s fine. He’s dumb anyway, a lost cause. They’ll just keep passing him up to the next grade without batting an eye at the fact that he never gets higher than a D+, no matter how hard he tries.

Sodapop will always be that one student who slips through the cracks.

He looks over the form to drop out. He figures the school will take it, if he pitches it to them as a last-will kind of situation. He doesn’t even need to ask Darry to give the okay, because Dad signed it months ago, like he had already known the decision Sodapop would make.

And he did. It’s dated that same night Soda sat at the kitchen table feeling like the world was ending and like he was dying because of a goddamn required word count.

But he knows Miss Luft believes in him, and he knows what his dad wanted, so he finishes out the school year—passes Gym and Auto Shop, too.

Soda hopes he made them proud. And now, he’ll never have to worry about explaining the dried tears on his spelling homework ever again.

[still--kicking]

Hi okay I've read basically everything you've recommended except that one that u have to belong to ao3 for (still waiting on that sigh) anyway

Can I please request some hyper specific klance recs? I love either of them being crazy protective and touch starvation in any form, those are my 2 favorite tropes. Uh but rlly any additional hurt/comfort recs honestly. Any flavor/length, etc. I trust your judgement at this point!

Also like no rush or pressure I just figured I'd ask sooner rather than later. And thank you.

omg you read so fast, I'm so glad you've been enjoying the recs so much!! <3 I'll try to avoid any repeats here but I'm sorry if I do end up sending a duplicate!

Like Any Unloved Thing (i don't know if i'm real if i'm not being touched) by artimess_chimes (11,557 words, rated M) is basically touch-starved Keith: the fic. it's immaculate, no notes

the reason this took me so long to answer is because I was looking for this fic specifically:

Tunnel Vision, but Only for You by Riceisgood123 (11,683 words, rated T) on a recently allied planet, Keith notices a particular alien taking an interest in Lance, it's wonderful protective Keith content

Devour Me Whole by heavily_caffeinated (12,312 words, rated M) Keith and Lance are captured by a druid who wants to drain their quintessence, and they're both self-sacrificial/ protective idiots in love. I adore them <3

I don't remember if I included Today, Anew by MemeKonVLD (5,910 words, Rated M) in my whump recs but this one Keith is stuck in a time loop where Lance keeps dying, and Keith keeps trying to save him

another one I wanted to include in the whump post but couldn't find at the time, I want your heavens and your oceans too by mothpoem (11,610 words, Rated T) Lance is badly injured and, delirious, tries hitting on the Blade member who rescues him. I'll give you exactly one guess who that Blade member ends up being

Life After Death by TaylorTot (90,074 words, Rated T) I would be shocked if I haven't recommended this one before but I feel like maybe I actually haven't??? Lance wakes up after Allura revives him in the omega shield episode, but Lance has lost all of his memories, except that he was in love with someone named Keith

A protective Lance fic for you, I haven't read this one yet but it looks really good and has a lot of bookmarks so I feel comfortable recommending it, The Gift by greenteafiend (22,167 words, Rated M) Lance notices something's up with Keith and is determined to figure out what's wrong (spoiler from the tags, that Something is mind control)

I highly recommend looking into other works by any authors that you've liked, most of them have written other klance fics and are incredibly talented!! if you want more recs when you finish with these, feel free to let me know if there are any fics in particular you enjoyed and I can give you recs based on those too! I can't believe you've gone through them all already that's very impressive and I'm so glad you've been liking them!! I have a lot of fun making these lists so please don't hesitate to ask again if you have any other requests :)

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura LN4 SS (Animate)

Series: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! Source: Light novel volume 4, Bonus paper Store: Animate Synopsis: Geordo's POV of the scene where he hugs Katarina to comfort her after she tells him she had a nightmare. Translation: maboroshi-no

Translation below ⮟

Geordo's POV

I opened my eyes, roused by the sunlight shining from the window. When I looked at my side, the man sharing my room was still in bed. He was most likely awake since he seemed to be reacting to the sounds of my moves, but he did not show any sign of getting up. Oh well, I didn't mind it since it was a pain to have the same exchanges every single time after he got up. And he probably felt the same way.

That man from the Ministry of Magic called Sora accompanying us on this trip indeed seemed to be competent, but considering the chain of events, I just couldn't view him favorably. Why? While I couldn't firmly confirm that he was the actual kidnapper, he was a man suspected of having pushed down the kidnapped Katarina on the bed and kissed her neck. For that reason, I took some distance from him even while sharing the room.

When I turned my eyes away from Sora and looked outside the window, I could see townspeople starting to move here and there. As this sight captivated my interest, I got up from bed, hurriedly tidied my appearance, and set out.

I was planning on taking a little walk around the inn while enjoying the morning sun and the scent of the greenery, but when I stepped forward, there was a very familiar figure.

Geordo: Katarina?

When I called out to her, she turned around and greeted me with "Good morning" but… when I approached her and looked at her closely,

Geordo: What happened to your head?

There was a plant or something on her head. Many green-colored things were stuck on it.

Katarina exclaimed, "Eh?!', looking confused. I extended my hand to her head, then,

Geordo: This is stuck on your head.

I showed her the thing I took off her head. Katarina intently stared at it before touching her head.

Katarina: …Why are they… Ah!

Katarina appeared to have realized something. She started stamping her feet in a very frustrated way.

When she was like that, nothing I said reached her. I knew this from having been with her for so long. For the time being, I waited for her to come back to me.

Katarina finally seemed to calm down. I took off the things stuck on her hair. Because I couldn't bear to watch Katarina trying to remove them herself so clumsily, and also because I wanted to touch her hair after a long while.

Geordo: Here you go. I took them all off.

After I had finished taking them all off, I tapped Katarina's head.

Katarina: Thank you very much.

Geordo: Please don't mention it. By the way, what happened for you to be up so early?

Ordinarily, Katarina would always sleep until the very last minute. For her to be up so early, it was very unusual.

Katarina: Ah, yes. I had a scary dream and it kind of woke me up…

Geordo: A scary dream?

Katarina: Yes. I don't remember it well, but… It made me feel very uneasy…

After she had said this, Katarina's expression stiffened.

Geordo: …As I thought, there was no way you could not feel uneasy.

Several days after her younger brother Keith had gone missing, Katarina had remained cheerful, believing he had just run away from home and would surely return soon. But I realized there was still uneasiness deep in her heart. Katarina herself still showed a completely oblivious expression, though.

Geordo: To me, he is quite a troublesome opponent, but he is your precious family. To tell the truth, I was planning on approaching you more during this trip… But I guess I will hold back this time.

Keith Claes. My opponent who spent the most time with Katarina just because he was her brother, and on whom Katarina put her trust. To me, he was a troublesome opponent and probably my biggest rival. But he was Katarina's precious family and, I suppose, my childhood friend and friend. Just this once, I guess I would exceptionally not get ahead of him.

Geordo: Besides, you seem to have completely forgotten what you were finally aware of… So I will stop at this for now.

Katarina finally realized my feelings just a little before but she had completely forgotten about them. The feelings of loneliness that welled up inside me matched the extreme happiness I had felt then.

I extended my arms to Katarina and pulled her to my chest. Katarina's small body completely fit inside my arms.

Katarina had completely grown into an adult woman. Her body was soft and gave off a very nice fragrance. I could hardly approach my fiancée for a while due to terrible hindrances, so I would enjoy her to my heart's content. Aaah, I wanted to stay like this and never let her go. Normally, I would want to wed her immediately and make her mine alone.

But this blissful time didn't last long. Someone's arm suddenly reached us and tore me and Katarina apart.

Sora: Hello, good morning, Prince Geordo, Lady Katarina!

When I looked to my side, a smiling Sora was standing there. The offender appeared to be him.

Geordo: …Sora, I do think you can overlook this much.

When I looked at Sora with a sullen face, Sora replied with a grin.

Sora: This is just my mission.

Geordo: I have the feeling that's not the only reason, though.

Sora: That's not true.

He gave me a completely unfazed reply. I had the feeling that man would be a troublesome opponent in a different way than my current rivals. I internally breathed out a sigh over the multitude of rivals that had increased over the years.

[green-fifteen]

metaphysical, precision, collision

tags: gen, bisexual Steve Harrington, stobin fluff

word count: 1,390

not actually written for @stobinmonth but it kind of fits the crossover prompt so let's go with that!

Title from St. Elmo's Fire.

Steve said, "Rob," and then stopped. 

They were lying on his bed under the covers. The room was dark, but there was enough light coming in from the window that she could see his face if she wanted to. She didn't look at him, only hummed softly to let him know she was listening. 

"Robin..." he trailed off again. She waited, lightly scratching at the hair on the back of Steve's fingers.

"Do you ever think about it?" he finally asked. 

She knew what he meant. He didn't need to explain, because she'd been with him all week. 

She'd been there on Monday, when she'd put St. Elmo's Fire in the VCR at the video store. Neither of them had seen it and so neither of them had known about Billy. For most people, there wasn't anything at all remarkable about the character, but then most people didn't shake uncontrollably through the best parts of Little Shop of Horrors. Most people didn't add to a blacklist in a little spiral notepad every time a movie had a Russian character. Most people just weren't afraid of things like they were. 

She'd seen Steve's face when Rob Lowe's character had been introduced. She had taken in his haircut, his loose blazer, his earring. His name was the same for christssake. Then she'd looked at Steve, who was carefully watching the tape rewinder like it would stop working if he looked up. 

When she nudged him, he glanced at her and smirked, a small and tired thing. "Much better looking," he said simply, then swallowed and coughed a little awkwardly.

Robin smiled back. "And probably less likely to kill anyone," she'd quipped. It felt too early to say something like that, even though a year and a half had come and gone since Billy's death. Steve only nodded and for the next 80 minutes pretended not to watch the movie while getting absolutely no work done. Robin sighed and added St. Elmo's Fire to the blacklist. 

She'd been there on Tuesday, when Eddie had come in after school to rent some horror movie Dustin wanted to watch. She'd listened to Steve argue with him for fifteen minutes before ringing up the rental herself just to make it stop.

Eddie had scooped up the tape with a triumphant grin and swanned out of the store with his usual clumsy grace. "'Til next we meet, Harrington! Buckley!" he called.

Steve made a noise of disgust and shook his head. "He's such a nerd. And an ass. Henderson's going to get nightmares."

"He already has those," Robin reminded him. 

"He's going to get new nightmares. There's a reason those movies have age ratings, Robin." She ignored the hairy eyeball he was giving her and pulled herself up to sit on the counter. She kicked him lightly with her sneaker. 

"Okay, Mama Harrington. I'm sorry I helped corrupt your little duckie." 

They were quiet for a long time. That was the way most shifts went when they worked together. They talked a lot and about everything, but there was only so much Robin felt she could say that Steve didn't already know. So they sat in a silence that was more familiar and comfortable to her than breathing air. 

Then, out of nowhere, Steve said, "Who do you think is hotter, Eddie or Rob Lowe?" 

And Robin was Steve's best friend and a very good one at that, so she just said, "Eddie, duh," and left it there. 

They didn't have a shift together on Wednesday, so she went to his house after work to lie around and complain about Keith, among other things. 

"When I bring up your name when you're not working, he always makes this face, with the eyebrows," Robin turned to show him a pinched, sour expression. "It makes me want to punch him." 

"You should tell him we're dating, maybe he'll chill out." Steve was sorting records on the floor in front of the entertainment center. 

"There is no way he doesn't already think that. I mean, we even had a whole conversation about how out of your league I am and he still thinks I spend my entire shift pining for you."

"You don't?" he sounded hurt.

"Of course I do." She twisted her body to see him better. "Not going to disagree with me and Keith? Say I'm not out of your league?"

He snorted, putting a Hall and Oates record into a pile with Carol King. "I know the facts, Buckley. You're like, a sea monster."

"What the hell?"

"Like in that book, with the old sailors. Moby Dick? Or like the whale in Pinocchio." A cork coaster flew at his head. "I'm trying to give you a compliment!" he protested. 

"Get to the part where I'm not whale, then, genius!"

"You're like, a huge catch! Keith can definitely see it, so he's fishing in the water." He smirked at her. "I wonder what he thinks he's using for bait."

She tried not to smile. "What, you don't think Keith has anything to offer?"

"Robin. Even lesbians have eyes."

"What? I'm sure someone likes his whole... thing."

"Yeah, everyone's lining up to date the 24 year old video store manager with greasy hair and no ass."

"No ass?" she repeated, voice high with suppressed laughter. 

"Surely you've noticed! It's flat! He probably has to wear a belt with his pajamas."

Robin cracked up and Steve threw the coaster back at her face. 

On Thursday, there had been a tornado warning and Robin's parents wanted her home right after school. Steve dropped her off and then called her after dinner. 

"Holy cow," he breathed down the line. "Are you seeing this weather, Bobby?"

She flicked open the curtains in her bedroom. The light that poured in was sickly and yellow. "Yeah," she said. "I don't think I like it very much."

The sky and everything below it was tinted the wrong color. The clouds seemed to roil and tumble over one another. She pulled the curtains closed again, then pulled her knees in to her chest on top of her bed and started babbling to distract them both. 

"So, I told my parents I'm with Nancy tomorrow night. Totally sold it. They love her."

"I bought the, uh, dip you wanted. Earlier." Steve sounded distant. A little spooked. "And that movie, the Bowie one."

"The Labyrinth. You're gonna hate it, maybe. But who knows?" She smiled at his shorts draped over her desk chair. "Bowie's scenes can get pretty... interesting."

"What do you mean?" he asked. His voice was closer to the phone. 

"Do you know what a codpiece is?" she said, sweet as anything. 

"No."

"Well, neither does David Bowie."

"Am I old enough to see this?"

She barked a laugh. "Just you wait, Stevie. It's gonna rock your world."

And then the next night, earlier that day, Robin watched Steve's face as it traveled a million miles an hour, eyes never leaving the screen. 

In the dark of his room, playing with his fingers like they belonged to the both of them, she said, "Yeah. Of course I think about it."

"And... how does it feel?" he whispered. 

"Hopeless. Really, truly hopeless. I think if somebody told me to marry a man to save the planet, they'd seriously have to catch me first."

Steve was silent. He hugged her shoulders a little closer and put his nose in her hair. 

"It doesn't feel different," he said. "To me."

She smiled into his shoulder.

"To me, when I think about one and then the other, it's not, like..." he made a frustrated sound. "This is so hard to explain."

"It's not what, Steve?"

"It's not bad. Not hopeless. They both feel. Okay. Both feel right? Is that even possible?" His voice was light, like he was ready for her to argue with him, to tell him to pick one or the other like everybody else did. 

Instead, she said, "Yes, Steve. It's possible," and dug the point of her chin into his sternum to look at his night-gray face. He stared back at her with shiny eyes, expression open like a picture book. Eventually, she drew back and settled in. Stillness drew up around their shoulders and fit them both like a glove. 

"Now go the hell to sleep."