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the-californicationist · 11 months ago

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Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)

Soap/Reader

TW: sex

MDNI/18+

AO3 LINK

I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!

CHRISTMAS EVE

The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.

You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91.

The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him.

He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable.

But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon.

He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it.

You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji.

It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task.

So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely.

You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow.

There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt.

He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam.

If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”

You pointed up to the sprawling slide,

“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”

You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.

It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,

“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”

“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”

The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.

“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential.

It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk.

“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”

He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”

You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide:

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.

“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”

Johnny shrugged,

“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”

You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,

“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”

You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge.

Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,

“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”

Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way,

“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”

“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”

There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas.

Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator.

You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture.

His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue.

Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands.

He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,

“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”

You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,

“You were right.”

Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,

“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”

“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”

“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”

He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.

Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.

“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.

A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.

“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”

You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.

Then, it was the big one.

“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release.

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”

“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded.

“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.

“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”

“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”

You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride.

Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,

“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”

Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,

“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”

You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold.

Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,

“Especially that one. What number?”

“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.

Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying,

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”

Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,

“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”

“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes.

You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,

“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”

Gaz scoffed,

“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”

Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.

“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.

As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,

“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”

Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke,

“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”

The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer.

He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet.

You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed.

“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her.

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”

“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”

He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff.

“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit.

Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.

You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you.

“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”

“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him.

The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes.

“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting.

He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right.

“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”

Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind.

You sighed,

“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”

“But, you think they willnae last?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”

He furrowed his brow,

“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated.

Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,

“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”

You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive.

“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it.

“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving.

You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none.

He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose.

Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other.

All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed.

He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you.

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”

“Not yet, hen.”

You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture.

“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.

“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”

His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit.

You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor.

Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat.

“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”

Suck, lick, kiss…

“How many nights…”

Suck.

“...in the sand…”

Lick.

“...in the bloody dark…”

Kiss.

“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”

Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…

“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”

“And when Gaz told me…”

Suck.

“...I didnae believe him.”

Lick.

“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”

Kiss.

“...that you were really mine…”

Suuuuckkkk.

“...mo mèirleach…”

Liiickkkk.

“...mo ghràdh.”

You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm.

Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward.

“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.

He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,

“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”

You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous.

You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,

“Too much for you, thief?”

You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,

“Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”

“No, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple.

Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”

His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager.

“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…”

“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”

You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws.

“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.

Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly,

“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”

You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure.

He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction.

Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours,

“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…”

He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again.

“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”

Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality.

“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”

As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it.

20 MINUTES LATER

You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure.

The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.

“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat.

Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.

“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you.

“Sounds like it,” you agreed.

Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger.

When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well.

The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,

“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”

The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you,

“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”

Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,

“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while.

By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines.

“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”

He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post.

Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:

Mo Chridhe: miss you

You: i miss you too

Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock

You: why

Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine

You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.

Mo Chridhe: promise

You: promise

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings.

All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday.

Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly.

“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge.

“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box.

Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away.

“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”

You shrugged,

“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”

Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing,

“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”

You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,

“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”

For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you.

“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”

“I love you too, Pidge.”

“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”

You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it.

“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”

You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight,

“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”

Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,

“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”

You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike.

“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.

“Open them,” you urged him.

They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price,

“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”

You laughed,

“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”

“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it.

Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could,

“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”

You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,

“Don’t be naughty.”

Johnny laughed,

“No, no. I’m serious.”

“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”

CHRISTMAS NIGHT

You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home.

You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.

“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him.

“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”

Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours.

You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:

O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC

“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”

It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label.

“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”

“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”

He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape.

“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”

You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given.

“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy.

You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow.

“Mo mèirleach…”

“Mo chridhe.”

As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight.

BEFORE DAWN

That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #guile and guilt #soap mactavish #cod soap #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

Text

parts one two three four

———

Lance wants to bolt the second they step out of the castle, but he knows better than that. So he waits, watching them carefully from the windshield (he’s got no better word for it, okay) of the bridge until they’re itty bitty specks. Then he throws on his backpack, grabs his scanner, waves to his pets, and runs in the direction the beast was last seen.

He keeps up a pretty quick pace for a while, not bothering to muffle his footsteps — he doesn’t want to startle the poor thing — and keeps his ears peeled for the sounds of a large animal making its merry way through the woods.

By ‘large’, he means ‘unfathomably gigantic’, because everything on this planet seems to be. Every tree is as wide as four Hunks, and taller than the castle. The various small woodland critters he’s seen running around have been at least the size of Pidge. Idly he wonders how the hell the evolution on this planet even worked, because all the flora and fauna seems to be gigantic, but the people here aren’t much bigger than humans.

He eventually starts to hear the sound of running water, and wastes no time following it. If he’s correct — and he truly thinks he is, as does Coran — this beast will be sitting carefully by the river’s bank, waiting for fish to swim close to it.

See, Lance is almost sure this beast is the planet’s equivalent to a grizzly bear.

And he’s positive it’s injured.

It’s the only thing that makes sense! He did some light research last night, and discovered that the planet is right in the midst of their springtime. He also discovered that, over the winter months, the planet’s city limits had expanded pretty dramatically, cutting into a large chunk of the forest. Lance believes the new city limits bled into the bear’s hunting grounds, and when the bear woke from hibernation in the spring and went looking for food, it ran into the new neighbourhoods. Startled, of course, it got defensive, only further terrorizing the people. Lance thinks that the bear was dazed enough to be hurt by the city’s armies, and now the bear is in pain and full of anger towards the new animals in its territory.

Of course it’s attacking.

Now, if only the team stopped a goddamn second to listen, and I wouldn’t have this problem, Lance thinks to himself, but pushes the thought away just as quickly, scowling to himself.

He forces himself to pause the reflection and save it for later, because it’s not the right time. He’s on a mission. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, let alone have time to be mad at the team.

It’s just as well that Lance pulled himself out of his thoughts, because straight ahead, looking at him warily, is the bear.

And oh, what a beast it is.

The dignitary — not to give him any goddamn credit, the bastard — was barely exaggerating. The bear is huge. It’s definitely not bigger than a castle, sure, but it’s big enough that Lance knows to keep a respectful distance, and right now the bear is sitting. He can’t imagine how scary it would be on a rampage.

For the first time, a tiny tendril of guilt crawls up his spine. The dignitary might be a pompous dick, but Lance is starting to realise that’s coming from a place of genuine fear, for themself and for the people they represented.

(Lance is still not going to kill the bear, obviously. It’s not the bear’s fault that it’s scary. But Lance is willing to admit that he did not handle the situation with the dignitary like an adult, and especially not like a paladin, and probably owes them a bit of an apology.)

“Hey, there,” Lance says softly, slowly swinging off his backpack and setting it down in front of him.

The bear growls in warning.

“I know, I know, you like your space. I’ll stay over here for now.”

Without looking away, Lance crouches down, blindly searching around the bag until his hand wraps around the two objects he’s looking for. He slowly takes them out and carefully sets one of them — a back of Altean-style dehydrated wild berries — on the ground in front of the bag. With his other hand, he pours a steady stream of water on the pouch, and he and the bear both watch as the pile of berries gradually grows in size until it’s the size of Lance himself.

Lance sits next to them, criss-cross-applesauce, with his backpack on his lap.

“These are for you,” he says, tone even. “I figured it might be pretty hard for you to forage or hunt right now. You must be hungry.”

Logically, it should be impossible for the bear to understand him. But it must like his tone, because slowly — ever so slowly — it uncurls, keeping a careful eye on Lance as it limps over to him and the berries next to him.

Its legs are the size of Earthen tree trunks. Its head alone is bigger than Lance. Its teeth —visible now that its mouth is open, tongue hanging out, salivating in anticipation of the wonderfully juicy berries — are sharper than any razor.

Lance should be afraid.

He’s not.

“Oh, you’re a beautiful thing,” he coos as the bear leans forward and takes a tentative bite from the pile.

The bear side-eyes him — a look that so clearly says ‘bitch, please’ that Lance can’t help his laugh.

“And you take no shit, huh?”

The bear grunts, apparently deciding the berries are safe, and then digs the hell in. It devours the pile so quickly that it’s there in one second and gone in the next.

Once the pile is finished, the bear turns to look at Lance expectantly.

Lance holds his hands up. “I got nothing!”

The bear huffs — no, really — and ambles closer to Lance. It lowers its great head down, and with a nose bigger than Lance’s head, starts sniffing Lance’s backpack for more.

Lance laughs again. “There’s nothing in there, you silly creature. No food, anyway.”

The bear finally decides he’s telling the truth — or, more likely, doesn’t smell any more food — and flops to the ground, looking to Lance in what he can only describe as petulance.

“I have no more food,” Lance says again. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly, and carefully rests his hand in between the bear's cute little ears when it makes no move to stop him. “But I might have more help for you, though.”

The bear rumbles. Lance takes this as an indication to continue.

“I noticed you were limping. Your front right leg. You’ve got some matted blood on there, too. If you’ll let me, I can clean that wound, stitch it right up, and you’ll be as good as new. That sound okay?”

The bear doesn’t make any more noise, but it does flop over on its side, leaving its right side up for access.

Lance takes a deep breath.

“Okay, big guy. Let me fix you up.”

He gathers up his bag and walks over to the wounded leg in question. He inspects it, but can’t really see the wound under all the blood.

“I’m going to clean it first, okay? I’ll get some river water first. That’ll be better than antiseptic.”

The bear grunts.

Lance grabs a clean cloth out of his bag — really, it’s a queen-sized sheet, but in comparison to the bear looks as small as the tiniest of rags — and soaks it in the frigid river, ringing it out as best as he can with his tiny human hands.

He walks back over to the bear and begins gently wiping away the nasty, coagulated blood from matted fur. It takes a while, but he’s eventually able to see the wound.

He does not like what he sees.

The wound starts cleanly, like it was a cut, but then looks torn, like the flesh was ripped. Lance isn’t sure what weapon may have caused it — that’s more of Keith’s thing — but knows it was certainly no natural cause.

“I’m going to need to apply quite a bit of antiseptic,” he tells the bear, even though the bear most certainly does not know what that is. “It’s going to hurt, but I need to do it, because it already looks a little bit infected.”

He opens his massive tub of antiseptic and holds it out for the bear to sniff. Its giant nose wrinkles, and then it looks pained, but it carefully lays its head back down on the ground and tenses its muscles.

Lance takes that as permission.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” Lance babbles as he pours the horrible chemical over the wound and the bear roars in agony. “I know, I know. I know. It’s okay. Let it out. It’s done, now, once the sting fades.”

The sting must fade eventually, because the bear quiets, although it breathes heavily and remains tense.

“It’s okay,” Lance whispers, petting the first patch of uninjured fur he can reach. “It’s alright. The worst part is over, okay? That hurt so bad that you’ll barely even feel the stitches, okay? Just the smallest pinch.”

The bear whines, high and long, and Lance bites back tears.

This could all be avoided if people just used some compassion, for fuck’s sake.

He closes his eyes and swallows roughly. That’s not fair. It’s unlikely that anyone meant for this to happen, and it’s unfair for Lance to blame people. Sometimes life just sucks.

But it’s his job as a paladin to make it suck marginally less, and by God, he is going to do his job.

“Ready for the stitches, big guy? It’s the second-to-last step.”

Lance reaches into his back again and digs out the absolutely giant suture needle, so big it’s basically a weapon, and the beast-sized sutures. He gets to work carefully stitching up the wound, applying every ounce of Abuela’s sewing lessons into his furrowed brow and steady hands.

It takes a while, but eventually the wound is closed up neatly.

“Almost done,” Lance assures the bear. It makes an almost purring noise in response, which makes Lance beam in delight.

He takes two last things from his pack — some Altean antibiotic numbing ointment, and a mummy’s amount of bandages.

“This’ll be cold,” he warns, before spreading a generous amount of the ointment onto the wound. The bear audibly sighs in relief, slumping further into the ground as its muscles finally un-tense.

Lastly, Lance carefully wraps the wound in the bandages until it’s completely covered, then stands back, hands on his hips, to access his patch job.

“I think you look okay!” he says with a grin. “Try standing.”

The bear gets up using its three unharmed legs, then gingerly applies weight to the injured one once it’s balanced.

It blinks.

It applies more weight.

Suddenly it roars, in delight this time, and ducks its head to nudge Lance gently in thanks. Lance laughs, petting the creature everywhere he can reach.

“You’re welcome!” The bear makes that almost-purr noise again, and Lance sighs. “Now all we gotta do is convince this whole damn planet that you’re a big, giant softie.”

The bear pulls its head away, making Lance pout, and stares at him for a moment.

“What? You have any bright ideas? I, unfortunately, did not plan this far. I kinda thought something would come to me on the way.”

The bear grunts. Then it opens its great jaw, reaching for Lance, but it doesn’t eat him — it carefully hooks Lance’s hoodie in its teeth, lifts him up, and tosses him gently on its back.

Lance blinks.

“Well this is a — development.”

The bear grunts again, pawing at the ground. It starts off down the river, but not in the direction where Lance assumed its cave to be.

It’s headed to the city.

“What’re you — oh,” Lance cries, and is a little embarrassed to be outfoxed by a bear.

“That’s a great idea! If the people see you treating me gently, then won’t be so scared, and I’ll be able to explain. You’re so smart!”

If Lance didn’t know better, he’d think the bear seemed smug.

But he does know better, so he gets comfortable, organizes his pack, and starts planning what he’s going to say to make this whole crisis blow over.

#INTRODUCINF THE BEAST #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #original animal character #team as family #lance is good with animals #langst #smart lance #bamf lance #longpost #my writing #lance is a disney princess #fic

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keithkog · 19 days ago

Note

Sorry about your honeymoon getting cut sh-HEWNBUCHEIBCUWIJEBCVHUKEJSBCSIEJDB [gets suffocated by a fish, dies, gets reincarnated to a cricket] chirp chirp chirp [gets married and works a 9-5] chirp chorp

How do you get suffocated by a fish? Like- Does it go in your throat and get st- You know what. I don’t even want to know. I shouldn’t ask. I’m not the curious one, Pidge is.

I think me and Lance are both fine with it being cut short, we can go into space again another time. My mom’s health and being there for her feels incredibly more important. We’ll be on Earth soon, and then I’ll have to make sure mom is being taken care of.

Galra aren’t treated great on Earth still, and if she becomes seriously ill most hospitals will not just take her in. So I have to make sure she has a ride to the Garrison’s medbay if needed.

-Keith

#derails the convo #askkeithkog #krolia voltron #keith kogane #voltron legendary defender #vld keith #vld #klance #keith voltron #voltron headcanons #voltron #voltron krolia #vld krolia #krolia

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pidges-lost-robot · 1 year ago

Text

Allura explaining that the theory behind why Alteans are able to manipulate and sense quintessence to a far higher degree than most other lifeforms is that when they evolved as a species, Altea was a planet that was near irradiated with quintessence so it became a necessity for their bodies to be able to sense, tolerate and manipulate it to survive and Pidge just stares at her and then looks to Lance and Hunk and goes ".... alteans are the three eyed fish from the simpsons...." And coran and Allura don't know whether to be insulted or flattered. Keith says flattered and Shiro says insulted

#voltron #vld #voltron: legendary defender #allura #princess allura #pidge holt #hunk garrett #lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe #pidge #hunk #keith #lance #shiro #coran

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maemaemania · 19 days ago

Text

rushing water

little short story about pidge that takes place in the same timeline as my main pidge fic just a bit beforehand. i hc that pidge couldnt swim when they all first went up in space and they figured it wouldnt be any problem,,,, until it was.

CW drowning

---

Pidge hated nature.

Ok hate was a strong word. They really really didn't like it. Sure they were the paladin of the green lion guardian of the forest and blah blah blah but that doesn't mean they had to like trees or dirt or mud or water. Especially mud and water. Mud was sticky and wet and itchy. It would get inside their armor and they felt like they were losing it whenever it touched their skin. Then the water. If it isn't in the shower, pidge hates getting wet. It makes their clothes heavy and cling to them and weigh them down then all the water in space isn't exactly clean and some of it makes them itchy when it touches their skin. They had sensory issues and mud and water were their biggest enemies because of it. They didn't understand why Keith never had this problem after all he was autistic too why didn't it affect him? It's not like they wanted their teammate to be uncomfortable too but it would make them feel better knowing they were not the only one. So as the team trudged through an uninhabited planet full of thick forests and layers of mud lets just say pidge was not having a good time. At least the air was breathable and they didn't need their helmets.

“This sucks,” they said as they swatted another giant leaf away from their face only for it to swing right back around and knock them over which earned a giggle from the team.

“Aren't you supposed to be in tune with nature and all that jazz?” Lance asked as he helped the younger paladin up off the ground, “I mean this should be your element.”

Pidge fished their glasses out of the mud with a huff and gave them a good shake to get the mud off before putting them back on, “this is not my element. My element is space and science and computers not nature. Nature can suck my di-”

“Pidge!” Shiro interrupted before they could finish, “language.”

Pidge threw their arms up in mock defeat, “I don't even have one of those, how am i not allowed to even say it?” they asked and Lance snorted while Keith rolled his eyes at the two of them.

“No you can't,” Shiro told her. “Where did you get such a pottymouth?”

Pidge chuckled at that. “Potty mouth?”

“Shiro nobody has said that in like years.”

“Except for old people.”

“Yeah I gotta agree with them on that one shiro.”

“I don't need you to agree with me.”

“Oh shut up lance.”

“You shut up, mullet!”

“Guys!” Pidge yelled to get their attention, “as much as i find entertainment in Lance and Keith’s useless gay pining-”

“That's not-”

“What we're looking for should be just over there.” they pointed past a valley to the other side where a large patch of trees filled to the brim with fruits stood.

“Perfect. Good work pidge.” Shiro ruffled their hair which Pidge pretends to be annoyed by but internally they’re beaming at the praise. Shiro did remind them of Matt afterall so it was the closest they could get to their brother’s praise in space.

“Thanks shiro! Though I still don't think any of this was worth it for some alien fruit.” They said as they rubbed at the collar of their suit where some mud slipped in, “I've got mud in places mud should not be and desperately need a shower.”

“Wow you're actually willingly taking a shower? We’ve prayed for days like this.” hunk said as he made his way down the hill side with the others. Pidge would have thrown something at him if it wouldn't cause him to fall. If he had his helmet on they would have. Instead they followed the rest of their team down and felt better seeing it was dry dirt at the bottom of the valley instead of more mud.

“Weird,” they commented as they bent down to look closer at the ground, “everything else is covered in mud and water but this part is bone dry. Feels kinda hollow too." Pidge stood back up and as if on cue a loud crack went through the ground beneath them and they froze as the others turned to them at the sound.

Lance, who was the closest to them, reached out first. “Walk over to me and go slow,” he said as he held a hand out to them while the others kept a close eye on the ground ready to grab their fellow paladin if need be.

Pidge took a deep breath then made the first step. There weren't any cracks so that was a good sign. They took two more and the ground still made no move to give away anymore so they figured they could move a little quicker. That was a mistake. They were nearly about to grab Lance's hand when the ground finally gave way beneath their feet and they felt themselves falling and heard someone yelling their name.

Pidge could hear the sound of the water before they hit it, loud and rushing fast. An underground river. Just great. The main reason pidge hated water was because they couldn’t swim. Yes it was embarrassing a paladin of voltron and former garrison cadet couldn't swim but they just never saw the point. They explore space not the ocean in fact they majorly prefer vastness of space over, as they would put it, the horrors of the ocean or any body of water for that matter. The family had tried to teach the youngest Holt to swim plenty of times when they were little but nothing ever stuck. Not to mention little katie would cling to their brother and refuse to let go even in pools. He would always just laugh and tell them that they were safe with him and he wouldn't let them go. They wished he was here now as the water dragged them down and forced its way into their lungs when they could no longer hold their breath anymore. It burned. It burned down their nose and throat and exploded in their chest. Is this what drowning feels like? They thought. God it's awful. It hurts so bad. I can't breathe. Then it all went dark.

•••

It was like it happened in slow motion watching the ground give way beneath pidge’s feet then seeing them disappear below the surface. Lance tried to reach out for them but it was too late. They were gone.

“PIDGE!” he yelled as he peered over the edge and watched their body disappear into the water. “Shit! They can't swim!” He looked up to the others and already saw Hunk taking out the spare rope he brought.

“Lance you're the second lightest-” Shiro started but Lance was already tying the rope around himself and getting his helmet on.

“I'll get them back.” he said before jumping down the hole after them.

Lance hit the water far more gracefully than Pidge did and turned on his light looking for that familiar hint of green. Finally he saw them floating in the water and swam over. The closer he got the more panic set in when he noticed they weren’t moving besides the small spasms their body gave to show the water was already filling their lungs. He wasted no time in grabbing them and heading towards the surface, making sure they got up first. When he got back above water he tugged on the rope and held onto pidge tight as they both started getting lifted out the water and back up to the hole. They still hung limp in his arms.

They got back up and Lance handed Pidge off to Keith while Shiro and Hunk helped him out. Keith quickly took pidge to a more stable part of the ground and laid them down.

“They're not breathing,” he said, taking their chest piece of their armor off to start CPR. The rest of the team gathered and watched as Keith did compressions on a body that was way too small to no longer be moving. “Come on, pidge. Come on,” Keith muttered under his breath as he continued to try and revive the kids he's come to know as a little sister. Their face was pale and their lips blue and cold but Keith was not stopping for anything. They heard a loud, mechanical roar in the distance, no doubt the green lion wondering what the problem was with her paladin and that only aided Keith to keep going. If the green lion was still going then Pidge was alive. Finally their eyes shot open and their chest shook as they started to cough up the water that had once invaded their lungs. Keith and Shiro were helping them sit up and Shiro gave their back a firm pat so the rest of the water would come back up too. When it was all finally gone they took a gasping breath and slumped onto Keith's shoulder. Shiro continued to rub their back.

“Easy there Katie,” he spoke softly. “Deep breaths just like that.”

Pidge tried to do as he said and take deep slow breaths until finally their breathing evened out. Their nose and throat still burned but at least they were alive. Suddenly their body lunged forward and they threw up a mix of water and mud onto the ground. Tears threatened to spill over just from the pain alone but pidge refused to let them fall. They didn't like crying. A hand touched their cheek and gently tilted their head up so the others could see them.

“You with us Pidge?”

Pidge blinked a few times and squinted in an attempt to see who was talking to them. Finally they realized it was Lance and gave a small smile. “I'm ok. My lungs burn and I can't see for shit but I'm ok.” They were slowly helped up off the ground and braced from the side when their legs nearly gave out on them. They tried to shake it off knowing they just needed a few minutes to recuperate.

“We should get them back to the ship and into a cryopod.” Hunk tried to whisper it so Pidge wouldn't hear but they did.

“No. No cryopods. I hate them. Theyre cold and disorienting. I'm not going on one.” as much as Pidge admired Altean technology they hated those pods. How could they be capable of healing the body from injuries yet absolutely suck to be in? Granted Pidge just wasn't a fan of the cold seeing as they were anemic but still. They didn't like things messing with their head and they always came out of the cryopods confused and their brain would feel fuzzy for a bit after. Coran and Allura always assured them that it was just an after effect of them waking up out of a deep sleep but Pidge still didn't like it. Trying to get them into a pod was a fight every time and Hunk had the bite marks on his arms to prove it.

No one said anything in response so Pidge took that as a win (it wasn't) and was sure that meant they wouldn't get put in a pod (they will). They did let Keith give them a piggy back ride back to the castle. Sometimes they did like to enjoy just being a kid.

#voltron #pidge gunderson #pidge holt #katie holt #lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #hunk garrett #princess allura #allura #coran #coran voltron

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takashi-tuesday · 6 months ago

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takashi tuesday #4

(check the end for notes)

MerMay x Incorrect Quotes If you were wondering about species: Pidge is a greeneye fish, Lance is blue shark, Keith is an electric eel, Hunk is a pufferfish, and Shiro is a silvertip Shark. －

Shiro: That's the one place I told you not to go Keith (Scoffing): Just last week you told me not to go out into the cove Shiro (Unamused): You know what I meant, Keith Keith: Clearly I didn't －

Lance: Shiro, I need your help! Come quick! Shiro: What? What happened!? Lance: Pidge is stuck in a fisherman's net! Shiro (Worried): How'd that happen? Lance: Well I told her I'd let her experiment on me if she could manage to snag me that interesting shell that was caught in it. Shiro (In Shock): I don't know how you guys are still alive. Lance (Shrugging): Dumb luck. －

Keith (Worried): I just don't know what to get him. Shiro (Thoughtful): I found the prettiest shell I could and turned it into a necklace for Adam when I courted him. Keith (Embarrassed): ..I was talking about for his birthday. Shiro (Shrugs): It could still work. －

Pidge: Hey, Shiro! Can you help me out with this project? Shiro: Oh Hey, Pidge! I don't see why not. Pidge (Grins): Cool, thanks! Just go sit on that rock over there. Shiro (Notices something behind the rock): Hey, what is.. (Squints at it) Lance (Tied up behind the rock, squirming): (Muffled) Save yourself, Shiro! Shiro (Sweating): What did I just sign up for. － Shiro (Sighing): I just feel like he's a good kid and no one takes the time to see it.. Adam: Takashi, he let loose 20 electrically-charged crabs into the communal reef in the middle of the night. Shiro (Frowning): But all that effort takes dedication! Adam (Thinking): I'm pretty sure spite was the only dedication he had and the only motivation he needed. － Shiro (Basking on a rock, eyes closed): It's so warm out today. Shiro: Really quiet too.. Shiro (Eyes snap open): Really quiet. －

(If anyone was wondering, Pidge was experimenting with Shark cartilage.) I know you guys were looking forward to a part 3 to the little Curtashi thing I've been writing but I didn't have the time nor idea to get a decent chunk of it done and ready to be posted today, sorry! I hope this MerMay content can suffice, but trust I will have another part for you guys out next week, I'll even try to have a double upload for it. Hopefully I have more time next week, but as always thank you for tuning in, until next time. Happy Takashi Tuesday!

#voltron #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #mermay 2024 #voltron incorrect quotes #takashi tuesday

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soulreapin · 8 months ago

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changing hands

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Teen&Up

Archive Warnings: none 😁

WC: 1544

Tags: canon compliant, card games, keith knows every card game in the universe, pre-voltron lion swap, orphan keith, wow thats a real tag, keith-centric, socially awkward keith, because he has AUTISM, autistic keith

Summary:

“I’m sorry you’re bad at Go Fish,” Keith offers blandly as he picks up the cards and begins to shuffle, not sounding at all like he’s remotely sorry, “But I’m not, and you just have to live with it.”

Hunk frowns at him.

“Are we sure his cards aren’t rigged?” Lance comments, leaning towards Pidge for support.

Keith’s nose wrinkles, “How am I gonna rig a fucking deck of cards, genius? I can barely shuffle them without the corners ripping clean off.”

“I–I don’t know, maybe you carved symbols and shit into them!”

or, that time Keith tells the paladins why he’s so good at cards.

#vld #voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith voltron #lance mcclain #klance #vld lance #klance fanfiction #originally an ask from soph @seypia #fanfic #voltron fanfic

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spaceaces00 · 7 months ago

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Animal Crossing Headcanons

(Bc I can’t play rn 😢)

Pidge is into Big Turnip stocks™️

Lance dives/fishes (trying so hard to complete the museum)

Hunk cooks every recipe ever and is a farming/ flowering champion

Half the time Keith is making outfits so his character can match his irl fit

Everyone chats and plays at the same time but Lance and Pidge mail like blackmail and evidence to everyone else for “fun”

#vld headcanons #animal crossing au #keith kogane #lance mcclain #pidge holt #hunk garrett #voltron headcanons #vld #voltron legendary defender

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yandere-voltron · 1 year ago

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Strange Things

Summary: You are forced to go underwater to fix a hole in the bottom of the ship, but your eye catches sight of some strange things Translations at the end

You felt ridiculous. The people on the Cruise Ship were partying and relaxing, not knowing the potential danger they could be in. The captain had told you to go fix a massive hole under the ship and to do that you needed to assess the damage underwater.

You jumped in, with the ridiculous outfit, and began to swim under the moving boat. You were quick to spot torn metal and quickly swam over to it. When you got closer, you realized that it looked very much like claw marks.

You frowned, examining the damage before pulling out your camera to take pictures.

"Everything okay, Y/n?"

"There is some minor damage to the ship's lower deck, but it's an easy fix."

There was a loud banging sound causing you to freeze and look below you. It was dark, but you could see a fish-like thing moving. You clicked the light headset and started to swim lower. It was a bad idea, but not like you wanted to fix the ship to be honest.

You catch the sight of something blue, but before you can investigate your headset goes off again.

"What's taking you so long, Y/n? I thought you assessed the damage?"

You froze, before shaking your head, "Yeah, I'm coming up now..."

---

"That was close," Lance sighed, hiding behind a rock. He watched as you swam away, doing whatever you humans do. He knew Allura would be mad at him for watching the humans and getting way to close, but he couldn't help himself, and it seemed he wasn't the only one.

"Lance."

"It's not what it looks like," Lance held up his hands, trying to defend himself. But ultimately sighed when he saw that the Princess wasn't amused.

Pidge and Hunk hid behind Allura as she scolded the brown haired male. "What if she had seen you, Lance? You would be putting us ALL in danger." She gestures to the other merpeople who had been drawn by the commotion.

He groaned, looking away from her. "What are you so scared of? They're just humans." He crossed his arms and everyone gasped at his tone towards the princess.

She straightened her back and held her self high, "Exactly, they're humans. Selfish, Greedy, No good humans. They'll kill us all."

"You're just being dramatic," He remarks as he swims away, Allura watching him in anger.

----

You shook your head before heaving the tools behind you. You groaned, rubbing your head. You hated being on cruises when you were working, so many people on one tiny boat. It gave you shivers thinking about it.

You looked out one of the windows when you see a red tail and quickly rub your eyes before going out the window again.

"Mon Dieu! J'ai cru voir une grosse queue de poisson¹!" You shook your head, before heading off again. You go toward the engine room, and begin to work on the damages. "Ugh ça va être une longue nuit²..."

Keith hold his breath as he waited for the girl to leave. He had almost been caught and he knows he'd be a hypocrite if anyone found out what he was doing.

He looked back through the window to see that she was gone. He sighed and quickly swam away before he really did get caught.

----

Lance sighs, turning a fork over in his hands. He didn't know what the problem was, he loved the humans. They were so interesting and had such funny stories. He leaned his body onto a rock, not noticing the eyes on him.

"Lance..."

Lance quickly whipped around to glare at the perpetrators. It was his so called friends Pidge and Hunk.

"What are you traitors doing here?"

They both rubbed the back of their heads and sighed. They looked at each other, before swimming towards an angry Lance.

"We didn't mean to make you take the blame for you."

"yeah, we were totally going to tell her we were also there, but..."

"But what? You guys left me out to dry!"

"We're sorry, Lance. How can we make it up to you."

Lance thought for a moment, before his eyes widened, "I want to go on land!"

There was silence for a moment, before the two busted out laughing, which caused Lance to glare at them.

"Sorry Lance, we didn't mean to laugh, but be reasonable. We don't have legs, we have tails."

"There might be a way..."

They all looked back, surprised to see Keith. Then they looked at each other, "How?"

"The Witch."

---

"Keith, this is a really bad idea-"

Keith ignores Pidge, who was tweeting in his ear. Lance was far ahead of them both, excited at the possibility of getting legs and being part of the land world.

"Oh, what do you think it's like," Lance begins to fantasize about the world above. Little did they know, it was burning to ashes.

----

You watched as all the passengers left the cruise ship. You were ecstatic to finally get off the boat for a few hours. You liked the water and all, but it wasn't nearly as predictable as land. You walked down the towards the dock, but your captain called out to you.

"Y/n!"

You turned around, him giving you a dark look. You looked at him confused.

"Be back by 15 hundred."

You nodded and took off. You went to a nearby cafe that was on one of the docks and decided to take your break there. Or at least that's what you wanted to do, but you were intrigued by a group on the beach.

---

"We want legs!"

"Legs you say?" The banished Prince, Lotor, looked at the group, before swimming through his lair and finding a potion bottle. "I may be able to help you..."

The group watch Lotor swim around and drop things into his cauldron. There was lights and the mushrooms glowed brightly on the walls. The group huddled up over the cauldron and looked into the bright glowing liquid.

They then looked at eachother. Pidge, being the voice of reason, finally spoke.

"Guys, I don't know if this is a good idea..."

"Of course it is!" Lance exclaimed excitedly. He holds out his hand as Lotor hands him the bottle.

Lance then hands it to Pidge. "Well, what do I have to lose?" And then Pidge clugs, before tossing it to Hunk.

Hunk looked over at Keith, who was examining the bottle on the shelves.

"Hey, Keith, how about you take it before me?"

Keith turns around towards Hunk, before eyeing the bottle. "I don't know. I like my tail."

"I guess you'll never know what the human world is like," Lotor taunts. "Or that one person... Oh what's their name?"

Keith's fist clench at the mention of the girl he had not been spying on... well, maybe he did, but he knew that's what Lotor meant.

"Fine," Keith grabs the bottle and gulps it down, leaving a tiny bit for Hunk.

---

"I can't believe I let you guys talk me into this," Pidge groaned, trying to step over a rock, but ultimately falling.

"At least we're not naked."

"Bonjour? Est-ce que vous allez bien là-bas³?"

They looked towards the voice; Keith and Lance's eyes widen recognizing the h/c haired girl. You walked down the slippery sand and towards the clumsy group. They were holding on for dear life as they didn't know how to use their new feet.

"Peux-tu marcher⁴?"

They looked at you confused, before the tall, brown-haired male speaks-

"What?"

You shook your head, before going up to help them, "Are you guys okay?"

"Uh, yes. We've never walked before," The bigger male speaks.

"What does that mean?" you ask him confused, by the brunette quickly covers his champion's mouth.

"He's stupid. I'm Lance." The brunette takes your hand, shaking it hard, "That's Pidge and Hunk," He points to the big male and then the smallest guy, "And that grump is Keith. What's your name beautiful?"

"Y/n," You look Lance up and down, before rolling your eyes, "You're not from around here are you?"

"No," Pidge says, shaking their head. "Actually," Pidg steps towards you, "Where are we?"

"Are you ship wreck survivors? I know there was a crash up west-"

"Yes!" Pidge stands straight, but still leans on the rock. Infact, they were all leaning on the walk, like they didn't know how to stand.

"Well, we need to get you to a doctor, make sure you're okay-"

"No, it's fine. We'd really just want to... Uh," Pidge looks towards Lance, who had been insistent on turning into a human in the first place.

"We wanna get back home!" Hunk burst out and you're taken aback.

"Are you sure you can handle going on a ship after what happened?"

"Yes, nothing can stop our hopes and dreams-" Lance speaks but you interrupt him.

"Okay Patriot, I'll go speak to my captain, see what I can't do. Come on," You gesture for them to follow you.

They look at each other, before Pidge takes the first steps, trying to walk towards you, before falling. Pidge groaned, face full of sand. They reminded you of babies learning to walk.

"All that time in the water, you may need to sit down for a while." You went to leave but Lance calls out to you.

"No! She's just being dramatic-" He pushes himself off the rock and slowly walks towards you, the other's soon following. When Lance reached you he jumped, fist bumping the air, "Oh my god, I did it!"

"You walked?" You shook your head, but didn't speak anymore on it.

---

"Je ne pense pas qu'ils soient d'ici. Ils agissent étrangement⁵…" You whisper to your captain when he asked about the people you were with. He looks at the group and back at you as you continue. "Ils ont dit qu'ils étaient des survivants de l'épave à l'ouest⁶."

"If you swear to keep an eye on them, they can work with you. They really want to get on a boat so soon?"

"They were adamant. I've never met people like them before." You look back at the group. Lance and Keith were fighting and Pidge and Hunk were trying to break them apart.

"Okay, make sure to keep them occupied."

----

"Coran, have you seen the others?"

The orange-haired male turned towards the blue-haired princess. "Not since you yelled at them a few hours ago."

"I just want to protect them, I wish they'd see that."

"I know you are princess, but... Well, they love an adventure."

"Yes, I can see that."

----

My God! I thought I saw a big fish tail

Ugh, it's gonna be a long night

Hello? Are you okay there?

Can you walk?

I don't think they are from here. They act strange...

They said they were survivors from the wreckage to the west.

#voltron x reader #yandere voltron #yandere voltron x reader #voltron legendary defender #yandere lance #yandere lance mcclain #yandere keith kogane x reader #yandere keith kogane #yandere allura #yandere vld #yandere pidge #yandere

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