#sad boy hours gets an open starter

[backmaskcd]

location: around main street status: open starter

Nolan had felt like he was in a daze ever since he and Willow (Jane?) decided to officially end their relationship. Having clung to it for so long, he was feeling lost, and empty. He hadn't been at the art festival when the crack exploded, but now that all the water had receded back into the crack, he had decided to venture out and survey the damage himself.

"What the fuck," he marveled, peering over the edge to see if now there was a visible, albeit liquid bottom. It was near impossible to be alone when you were anywhere near the crack, so he followed up his explitave. "Did you see this thing when it went off?"

[dropsofjupitcr]

NOTE: You do not need to match length. This does NOT have to turn smutty - but absolutely can as Hunter would absolutely use that, too, as a vice.

 ˖ ✶ The good thing about having the rink to himself was no one was around to witness his stumbles while practicing. Hunter had taken some time off the ice after the night of dropping Ophelia and ultimately ending her career. Which was both bad and good for him in the long run. Good because he got some time to relax, bad because that ‘relaxing’ had turned into drinking. Excessively.

And he knows it could have been worse. That instead of happening at rehearsals where it was just them and their coach, it could have happened at the grand prix. Besides the scar on her leg, Phi would have had more constant reminders in the way of gifs and videos of it plastered online. And Hunter already felt bad enough.

And maybe he should just retire. The constant reminder that he wasn’t as good anymore and the fact that he no longer had his partner… But Phi would probably never forgive him if he let go of his dream for her. He at least had a few years - or his own bad fall - left in him, after all.

Another fall had him screaming in frustration, hand slapping down on the ice before getting up and practically storming off. It didn’t take him long to end up at Club Essence - a place his coach would absolutely want him to stay away from. He was already a few drinks in, the feeling of being slightly tipsy already taking refuge as he leaned over towards the person sat beside him at the bar.

“D'you know what time is it?” He knows he should keep track of the time, having to get back to the rink to meet up with his coach to go through some more of the routine, but maybe there was no point right now.

[aetherdoesthings]

luffy cuddling with his S/O headcanons or scenario(I prefer scenario but is your choice!) have a good day/ night!

elo! i hope you have/had a good day/night too!

forethoughts: fellas, i'm starting to run out of conversation starters and continuers. send help. also wouldn't it be cool if i got 7 more followers, and then maybe host a qna or something like that when i break 100? idk just a thought 🤷.

notes: gn!reader

When it comes to cuddling, you have a mix of emotions when it comes to your partner. 

On one hand, Luffy was the best cuddler you could ever imagine. He could (and would) stretch his body as long as he needs to wrap his arms around you and make you feel comfortable and safe.

Also, Luffy is naturally a playful person, so when he cuddles with you, you could always expect a lot of tickling, poking, and playful banter. He loves hearing your laughter and your futile protests for him to stop; he’ll do anything to elicit some sort of reaction out of you.

Luffy loves taking naps on your body too, placing his head on your chest to hear your steady heartbeat and breathing.

I’d imagine Luffy being a pro at pillow talk. Even though he seems like an airhead, he can always have a deep conversation with you if you want to have one with him, and would love to hear about whatever’s making you anxious or sad.

But even though Luffy can give you 7 hours of heaven, he doesn’t dish them out on a regular basis. Luffy slept anytime he wanted, napping on deck, out in open danger, anytime he was tired he’d sleep. That left him pretty hyper and awake at night, with all those naps he took in the day. 

If you asked him prior, Luffy would cuddle you and give you your 7 hours of heavenly affection, but it was rare to see the boy come into your shared room every night to cuddle you to sleep.

It’s not that Luffy doesn’t want to cuddle with you; he loves those 7 hours as much as you do, but that his brain requires some sort of stimulant at every second. 

There was also that question if Luffy had showered before getting into bed with you. But after one incident, it became mandatory that Luffy had to shower before getting into bed with you.

All in all, Luffy loves to give you affection and as much affection as he could, IF you can stop him from napping all day and if he had showered before.

[lotstradamus]

inspired by the manchester anon haha but do you have any tips and suggestions for visiting leeds? 🩷

I've lived here for 2 years now (!!!) but somehow I still don't really know my way around and just go to the same 5 places and use google maps to get anywhere else. it's sad. but here's some shit I love:

Grindhouse - cheap drinks, loads and loads of seats, never too full, music a reasonable volume, and they project 80s movies on the back wall. we once sat in here for 2 hours cos Stand By Me was on. one time we watched the bar staff earnestly tell a group of women on a hen do that the bar was closed and they weren't serving any more drinks, at 7:45pm. 10/10.

Rudy's - only 9 cities* in this fair nation have a Rudy's, so I'm going to keep reccing it for everyone else. perfect Neapolitan pizza. *Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham, Durham, London, York, Liverpool - if you live in one of these places and haven't been to Rudy's yet, sort it out.

Neon Cactus - go here on a Wednesday and order wings, and you'll get half price margs. lots of great Mexican scran. don't take anyone too picky or over 50, because the price for the great food and vibes is that at least one thing you order will be incorrect. but roll with it. half price margs, man.

Empire Cafe - book in advance if you want to sample the delights of Empire Cafe, cos there's like 6 tables max. everything is seasonal, changes on the daily, and is insanely delicious. if you want to experience heaven, order the steak and chips with salsa verde. there is NOTHING like it.

Stuzzi - another seasonal, small plate sort of place, but Italian. amazing food and a gorgeous restaurant. go with a big group and order one of everything.

Eat Your Greens - ANOTHER seasonal restaurant! this one is farm-to-fork and organic. I can’t speak to the quality as I haven’t actually been, but I am a frequenter of their GREENGROCER, which is MEGA. last time I think I left with natty wine, pâté, some insane tinned fish, a jar of harissa and a bag of sunset potatoes. if you like food, go here.

SARTO - fresh, handmade pasta and picky bits. another great place to go with a group and order all the starters. I had a celeriac pasta there last year that I think about on a fairly regular basis; I picked it cos it was the weirdest sounding thing on the menu and it was fucking mouthwatering. good quality and good people! and it's next door to The Wardrobe, so perfect for a pre-gig tea.

Santiago Bar - like Grindhouse (alternative, casual) but the music is louder and you'll find yourself doing tequila shots at 1am and screaming along to, like, Don Broco. it's the best.

Blue Collar Boys - as a rule I hate 'vintage' clothes shops (overpriced, ugly, everything is XXS), but this place seems to specialise solely in American t-shirts and sweatshirts from the 90s in exactly my size, and everything is £10. this is amazing and a huge bargain if you find something like vintage Wranglers and a Playboy bomber jacket (£20, my wife) but not so amazing or a bargain if you find 3 t-shirts with holes in (£30, me). we've never been without finding shit we love. they only open on random weekends, and they always seem to have more stuff than they could possibly ever sell. it's a freaky vintage alternate universe.

The Corn Exchange - a big gorgeous ol' building full of little businesses. vintage, handmade, tattoos, coffee, jewellery, independent brands, yarn, shoes, a barbers, a bookshop, they've got it all. very easy to spend £100 and 6 hours. every so often they have a market on the bottom floor. perfect tiny representation of Leeds: quirky, independent, delicious, cool.

Silver's Deli - this is a 9-minute train ride away in Bramley (my ends!) but has become THEE buzzy foodie spot recently. go on a sunny saturday morning (cos you will probably have to sit outside) and order the everything sandwich. thank me later. if they have scotch eggs or sausage rolls on, I beseech you, order both. and if you want the sunday special prepare to get there at 11 and fight.

Against the Grain - if you've come to Bramley for Silver's, you may as well trundle 10 minutes up the road and visit the best bar in Leeds. cosy, casual, full of locals, hidden in Swinnow Mills. it's a sit-around-and-chat-to-people sort of place, with bonus charcuterie boards AND a pizza van on weekends. we are here A LOT, because Gray's Salon and Rose and Thorn Tattoo are both in the Mill, and we give them all our money. oh! and dog friendly. sooo many dogs.

Project House/Galleria - if you've gotten the train out to Bramley for Silver's and ATG, jump on the 72 back to town and get off at Project House to eat MORE food. Galleria is a great place to get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Project House has EVERYTHING (depending on the day). yoga! gigs! vintage fairs! a bi-annual tattoo convention meets makers market with food vendors called Hand of Glory! check what's on and head on down to support local!

Kirkstall Bridge Inn - another one local(ish) to me, but worth travelling out of town for; a PROPER pub (i.e. no tv, no sports, no shite) that does roasts upstairs and lets dogs in downstairs. outdoor seating right by the canal, and every so often they put something on and the car park turns into a tiny festival. Kirkstallpalooza is a highlight. great place to finish a nice canal walk (who am I?!).

tl;dr sorry that this is obnoxiously long, I love Leeds

[thessalian]

Thess vs Boxing Day

Huh. You learn some really interesting historical shit, and a fair bit about how low your country of residence has stooped, when you look up a simple little thing like “How did Boxing Day start?” to add a little historical sidebar to a Tumblr post.

Well, for starters, I always kind of wondered which were the twelve days of Christmas, specifically. Well, apparently we should be getting or giving turtle doves today, because it is the second day of what is liturgically known as Christmastide.

Anyway, Boxing Day started here in the UK, and mostly you’ll find Commonwealth countries ceiebrating it today, and some other parts of what were considered part of the British Empire (except for the US, who apparently yeeted that into the harbour along with the tea or something, I dunno). In Europe, it’s St Stephen’s Day. Now, here in its country of origin, Boxing Day is a Bank Holiday, which means reduced shop opening hours, reduced bus service, and everybody stays home and eats leftovers, basically. Most of the countries I know about, though ... whether or not they call it Boxing Day specifically, it’s a shopping holiday; kind of like Black Friday, just with a different sort of historical revisionism attached. I mean, when I was a kid, my father told me that we called it “Boxing Day” because we boxed up all the gifts we didn’t want, picked up the gift receipts, and headed out to exchange them. That never quite rang right to me - I was pretty sure that Boxing Day existed before gift receipts, at least - but I never bothered to look up what it actually meant. Until today.

Boxing Day is supposed to be a day about giving to the poor, servants, or any less fortunate. It’s a day where people gave a parcel to their household staff, postal worker, errand boy, people like that. But before that ... aaaaaaaand now I know what the Christmas carol Good King Wenceslas is all about. The church would give alms to the poor on St Stephen’s Day (or the Feast of Stephen), and the ‘Good King Wenceslas’ of the carol is based on an actual person - Saint Wenceslaus 1, Duke of Bohemia, who was canonised for his generosity and charity after his death. According to legend, he was assassinated by his brother, Boselaus the Cruel. Apparently Wenceslaus is some kind of Arthur figure, complete with myth about his resurrection and discovery of Very Important Sword (under a stone, though, sensibly enough). Gotta love the Czechs.

Anyway, point is that today’s supposed to be a day of giving to the less fortunate, and in this country at least, to those who worked so hard for you all year, for far less than you make. And what’s happening today? Massive queues outside Selfridge’s as people hunt for bargains, and strike action by public transport workers who don’t want their jobs downsized to oblivion and maybe to be paid enough to live on. Honestly, I don’t blame anyone for wanting to get the things they need as cheaply as possible at this point, and insane Boxing Day sale prices are probably the only way a lot of people can afford some things. But while Boxing Day hasn’t been about giving for a long time, the fact that it’s currently a day to claw just anything needful away from those who have been taking from us all year just to add to their hoard of money so large that it’s functionally meaningless ... it makes me really sad.

So there you have it: another historical snippet and piece of socioeconomic commentary by everybody’s favourite tick in the “Other” box crammed into human form, Thess. Happy Boxing Day, or St Stephen’s Day, or whatever you celebrate. I may not be able to give you all a parcel or meaningfully provide a tangible gift, this is supposed to be a time for appreciating those who work hard with little or no reward for the ultimate benefit of others. So I’m going to appreciate you guys; everybody on this hellsite. You don’t do this for profit. You don’t do this for fame. Yet you provide stories and songs and artwork and fun trivia facts and tutorials on everything from science to history and way, way beyond. You provide support of the emotional variety so often. You give what’s so often taken for granted - enjoyment, comfort, carefully-researched facts, and ... I guess hope? Hope that not everyone in the world is a complete shitbird. So thank you, Tumblr and those who lurk within. For being you.

[silvermuffins]

POKEMON SCARLET LIVEBLOG!!!! part 1

Dear Amber: Do not open until Christmas!!!

That said fuck yeah here I am let's go. I'm about half an hour into the game so let's go over my initial impressions quickly!

Spent a loooong time just dicking around in character creation. Pretty happy with how Fani came out, sad that I didn't like any of the freckles on her.

THAT OPENING CUTSCENE AAAA?????

already delighted at the sheer house-ness of the house

Mom has her own room!!!

SKWOVET

oh man mom is pretty this time

Fridge upon move, Skwovet, stickers on my dresser are 2/3 Galar pokemon, mom says "Off you pop!" did we move here from Galar? Are we not native Paldean???

i am SO cute

Don't really trust Clavell but he's still kinda endearing

wanders around for a while

OH THANK GOD I CAN RUN

i just got a pokeball before choosing my starter

I am no longer secure in choosing Quaxly. Fuecoco is just SO endearing.

Also Nemona is here. We haven't met before, more evidence I moved here recently. Just not like, literally yesterday, like happens in Hoenn, Kalos, and Alola.

god i am TORN

we DID move here just recently!

oh yeah ftr Fani is sorta a tomboy, grass stained knees, sense of adventure, would rather be out rolling in the dirt than doing makeup. Impatient and driven.

I am stalling while trying to choose between Quaxly and Fuecoco ftr

oh snap Nemona is "Champion-ranked" guess I know who the final boss is now. Student council president, though, nice.

How do the classes work at this school???

Nemona looks notably older than me and is Champion-ranked but she'll be in my class????

AH SNAP THE TIME HAS COME HELP I DON'T KNOW other than not Sprigatito. It's cute but it's a tad generic.

After genuinely 10+ minutes of agonizing. I eventually default to what's IC.

In my heart of hearts, Fani chooses Quaxly.

Okay Daya the Quaxly is my starter and that IS a very roundabout reference to the good boy--

Nemona's probably gonna wanna fight me even though???? She's Champion rank and I legit just got my VERY FIRST pokemon? How is that fair!!!

okay but you still have way more battle experience if we don't count my 20+years of history beyond the fourth wall

huh she takes the disadvantage

oh snap nemona's house is FANCY

!!! I spotted a gimmighoul!

OKAY time for the classic starter bashing. my duck can EAT your croc.

man nemona is SO gung ho.....lady please im like 12

The chatter about filling out a paper pokedex by hand.....i see what you did there

oh we're back to forced catching tutorials, are we? well the reprieve was nice while it lasted

there seems to be some wonkiness to the controls. Why does pulling out the pokedex also toggle crouching?

ooooh i get to stay in the dorms huh....PLEASE tell me that's gonna be a space I can decorate. Like a secret base. PLEASE.

oh I see B is crouch

namonaaaaaa i already KNOW how to catch a pokemon

oh well at least I'M actually the one catching a pokemon. Lechonk get!

yeah its official i love this game

So far we'v caught Charlie the Lechonk, Sirea the Hoppip, and Havva the Scatterbug!

??? There is a pokemon in that tree and it SAID i could knock it down by throwing a Pokeball but that's not working?

GOTCHA LITTLE SPIDER DUDE

Scolio the Tarountula

i keep trying to do the throw the pokeball thing and accidentaslly battling lechonk

tried googling to see if im doing something wrong and of course it's not helpful, giving me answers to a million things i DIDN'T ask

i know there's fletchling here i want a fletchling!

FOUND YOU

Scoots the Fletchling has joined the team

PAWMI!!! its name is Jupe now

i can TAKE PHOTOS

holy shit a houndour get on my team little guy!

Vani the Houndour c:

oh that's a monster

a kinda unsafe cave to steer clear of, huh. no way that's gonna be where i need to go or anything, huh.

no really you tell Fani it's unsafe and she WILL go looking for it

wow koraidon is being threatened by two small dogs

WAS I SAVED FROM FALLING OFF THE CLIFF BECAUSE I HAVE A HOVERPHONE?

oh i bet he wants my sandwich

Fani: *sees a big intimidating dinosaur thing* Fani: i know what you need! lunch!

awww is he gonna lead me back up to the top of the cliff?

EYO THIS IS SO COOL

oh theres pokemon to catch in here, hello Ankles the Yungoos and Nibblet the Diglett

oh I hope this cave is fully explorable this is SO COOL

Nemona can you stop being a battle freak for two seconds I'm having a semi-mystical experience over here

oh i nearly got eaten

glad to know im adopted by a lizard now

nemona i am begging you stop thinking about pokemon battles for TWO SECONDS

can't wait to get out of intro land and just, explore freely

wow, rude, my guy. thats MY lizard buddy, YOU can shove off!

oh Sada is his mom

man i wasn't expecting him to be angy

man i thought he'd be a soft boy

dude are you like. okay. do you need me to track down a therapist.

why are you so mean

are you hungry

okay bye

Los Platos...god I should know that. It's been a decade since I took Spanish, though...

wait are all trainer battles at your own initiation this time? no "Our eyes met, and so we must do battle!"???

holy shit no more of that....thats gonna be SO weird

Hembo the Psyduck!

Azurill! Call you Orb because that's what you are

Buizel! I'll call you Mermert. Oop, and here's a Deerling, you can be Rosy

Runs around fields just picking stuff up

my mappiny says there's Happiny....

getting some brief freezes....better save rq in case of crash

WINGULL, GET OVER HERE-- YOU'RE HUMPHREY I DON'T CARE oops i keep killing humphrey

oho i found some ruins!

wait wasnt i supposed to be going somewhere

w/e i have freedom

and Drowzee. Eh....Hosenose.

FLAMINGO?! FLAMIGO I AM NAMING YOU PINKLE

there are SO MANY pokemon before the first actual town oh my god

i have seen five on the radar so far that i haven't yet caught and i keep seeing more

aaaaa i need to heal my pokemon at some point

my guy found a weird door now i gotta see it for myself

aaaaaa im gone, Nemona, I'm not making it to class today

oh yeah thats a weird door or lid alright

ruinous tablets? sealed??? immediately i think of the regis

HAPPINY you will be my Sunny

Ah! Havva evolved! !!! AND THERE a new Humphrey!

Daya is getting too strong to help me catch stuff here

anyway this is Teach the Wooper

y'all they have given me FAR too much freedom im never gonna get anywhere

COMBEE it's a boy but eh might still be of use eventually. Bread. Or, Beqd because im too lazy to fix my typo

i am getting low on pokeballs

sir are you the strongest martial artist here by virtue of being the only one?

I FOUND WIGLETT now how to GET one okay got into battle. Your nape will henceforth be Alfredo.

okay i think i will Stop hunting for new pokemon out on the plains and maybe continue the game

Found more Pokeballs! There is so much stuff just lying on the ground in Paldea

Igglybuff! You'll be Mallow. And Fidough! You can be Teeny. S'posed to be Ralts here somewhere but I ain't seen any.

i like how if you just stand in one place for a bit local wild pokemon will come stare at you

I finally arrive in Los Platos

I am summarily taught how to use a Pokemon Center

the Pokemart takes payment in LP and my first thought was oh no it's pokecrypto

Nemona venmos me some bitcoin

There's an ice cream shop! With....teriyaki ice cream?

are these buildings able to be goinsideable?

they look like they should be able to be goinsideable :c

i found an influencer

tumblr is struggling to type sotime to make a part 2

[slothgiirl]

the medic (keith x reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Languages are hard.”

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

“Hunk-”

“Yeah.”

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

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

—————

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

“Don’t even think about it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh, “of course you are.”

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

You roll your eyes.

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

“I have! Vivian Tran from Calculus.”

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

“And Atticus from Cantonese.”

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

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

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

“Eh-” Lance shrugs.

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

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

“Hey!”

“My nails Lance,” Hunk grumbles.

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

“English.”

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

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

“Ah.”

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

“It timed out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you cheat!”

“It’s not cheating!”

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

Keith frowns, his hand coming up to his cheek.

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

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

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

“Its been three years,” Lance retorts smugly.

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

“Two and a half,” Pidge answers.

“Ha! You’re twenty! Adult-”

“I don’t have adult acne!”

They’d fought over more meaningless things before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s clay!”

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

“I could go for a spa,” Hunk nods.

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

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

You shrug. “No clue.”

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

“So face masks?”

You nod, “want to try it Allura?”

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, accepting your diagnosis.

“Let me get the medicine.”

“Mhm.”

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

Keith pops one in immediately.

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

“Worried?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got to fix this machine first.”

“Need help?”

“Might ask Hunk or Coran,” you admit.

“I could-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“It was only a sprain,” Keith grumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

“Keith,” you utter, worried.

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

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

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

Keith leans into your touch, “no.”

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

You were going to have to corner Coran about it.

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

Add cornering Lotor to your list.

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

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

“Mm.”

He was completely out of it.

His breath tickles your cheek.

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

“Oh.”

You look behind you.

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

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

You frown, still processing.

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

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

“If you’re sure?”

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

———————

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

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

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

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

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

Lance unsubtly glances over at Keith.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Matt!”

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

“No!”

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

What had brought this on?

Shiro clears his throat.

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

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

“Pidge,” Shiro chastises.

The green paladin was right.

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

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

The red paladin crosses his arms over his shoulders.

Pidge taps her foot on the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh.

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

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

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

Shiro gives the signal.

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

Matt and you get to work.

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

Stupid damn biolocks.

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

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

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

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

“You in,” you ask him.

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

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

The sulfuric fog coats everything.

You taste rotten eggs on your breath.

Inside your suit, sweat runs down your back.

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

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

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

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

“Pidge,” Keith yells out.

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

Nothing.

Matt’s face goes ghostly white.

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

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

“On it.”

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

“Keith,” Shiro yells, “wait!”

“Fine.”

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

He steals himself. “Right.”

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

You and Matt go out to meet them.

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

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

Matt rushes to his sister, “Katie!”

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

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

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

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

Shiro clears his throat, “paladins.”

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

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

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

“The jet pack helped,” Pidge points out.

“Lucky you,” you grin.

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

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

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

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

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

“Very good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You grab her.

Her face goes crimson from the pain.

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

Keith picks her up.

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

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

Keith shakes his hair out.

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

“Why,” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

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

“Oh. Yeah. They did.”

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

A knot of anxiety dissolves in your chest.

“Well,” he asks, “satisfied?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, pulling your hands away from his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————

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

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

“Starlight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like for real!”

“Yeah.”

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

You finally hit the motherlode.

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

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

Literally since you and Shiro were the only humans here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shiro nods.

They shake hands.

You stand up, ready to corner Lotor.

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

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro leads Lotor away.

Your eye twitches.

That snake!

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Wait-”

But she scurries off.

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

Your toe throbs, “fuck,” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

“Anything to spare the wall,” you joke.

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the only constantly dark place in the castle.

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

He whimpers, curling up further.

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

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

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

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

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

“Coran already gave me a dose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think Allura minds?”

“Mind what,” you ask.

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

“What if I looked even more Galra?”

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

He was also half human.

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

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

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

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

You wonder how long it’s been bugging him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle, “you’re doing it.”

Keith tries to look at his reflection in the glass.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what the mats were for.”

“Still!”

Keith laughs at your expense.

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

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

He doesn’t answer you right away.

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

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

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

You trusted Keith.

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

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

“Duh.”

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

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

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

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

You liked him.

The universe was lucky to have him as a paladin.

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

Could it withstand a hit from a galra battleship?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh, shh,” you whisper gently.

Sweat beads on his brow.

Whines escape his throat.

“Fuck,” he grunts, clenching his teeth.

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

Keith curls up further, muscles stiff.

You’re helpless.

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

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

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

His hair is damp near his ears.

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

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

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

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

Oh god.

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

You don’t get any sleep that night.

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glance over at the red paladin.

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It takes some getting used to.”

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

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

“Stuff.”

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

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

“You’re hurt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad timing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Varga,” Keith supplies.

“Yeah, that.”

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

“Vrepit Sal two,” Keith offers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nab a table outside the stand.

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

Hunk glances at Keith without subtlety.

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

Keith raises a brow.

“Nothing,” Hunk looks down at his screen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What,” you ask, looking over at him.

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

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

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

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

Keith frowns for a second, before continuing to eat.

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

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

He looks at you with a knowing smile.

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

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

They were all so nosy.

Oh fuck.

——————

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

You roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lance is undeterred. “Could go higher.”

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

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

You jab your elbow into his side.

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

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

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

“Thank you Pidge.”

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

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

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

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

You throw him a dirty look.

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

“You okay there buddy,” Hunk asks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

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

Oh.

Your eyes widen.

OH.

His ears had changed.

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

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

Keith ducks his head, wrapping his arms around himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keith growls lowly.

Lance sniggers.

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

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

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

Keith squeezes your hand back.

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

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

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

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

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

“Our only medic,” Hunk points out.

Keith growls, his hand squeezing yours hard.

You all look over at him.

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

Or maybe she’d make a great poker played.

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

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

“It’ll be fine Keith,” Shiro adds.

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

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

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

Allura nods. “Our chief medic is correct-”

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

Shiro covers his face with a hand.

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

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

“Yikes,” is Ezor’s quiet whisper.

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

“Wait-” Keith follows you.

You ignore him.

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

“Listen-,” he whines.

“I didn’t mean-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite your lip.

Don’t cry, you think to yourself.

You were being dumb.

He was just being plain stupid.

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

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

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

“Because I can’t fight?”

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

You swallow.

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

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

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

What the heck.

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

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

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

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

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

Most people smelled like nothing at all.

He stiffens.

“But it’s nice to hear again.”

Keith smothers a laugh.

You kiss his hair. Boys were so dumb.

He purrs.

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

At some point?

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

Fuck.

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

——————

Bombs still pelt the surface.

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

Allura was last, tailing the group.

You reach the bunker.

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

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

The bunker seals and you get to work.

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

The fight continued on the surface.

The paladins had to form Voltron.

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

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

Your hands stain blue from the blood.

Allura works alongside you.

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

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

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

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

It irked you.

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

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

“Is that what you call it?”

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

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

“Another then?”

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

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

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

You can feel Allura’s questioning glance on you.

——————

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

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

You snort.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know better than to take it personally.

It was Keith.

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

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

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

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

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

“All the same,” the older man smiles.

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

You snort, taking a seat between him and Hunk.

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

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

The whole room turns to look at Shiro.

He had called the meeting.

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

Keith goes rigid, a spring wound up too tight.

Hm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hunk elbows him in the side.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shiro squeezes Keith’s shoulder.

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

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

Your mouth quirks up into a smile.

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

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

“Shiro,” Keith asks.

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

Huh.

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

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

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

At least Keith wasn’t dying.

Thank god.

Thank whatever freaky Altean magic existed in the universe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keith smiles wryly, “pretty much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort, and join the group hug.

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

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

Keith groans.

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

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

Lance laughs.

Shiro looks convinced by your stellar argument.

“I’m not that bad,” Keith grumbles.

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

Keith lunges for Lance.

Someone topples over.

Everyone falls.

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

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

No one makes fun of him for it.

——————

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

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

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

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

He’s reading the screen with you.

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

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

“Can you even surf,” he asks flatly.

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

“I like the desert.”

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

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

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

“Good for driving,” Keith smirks.

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

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

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

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

“But you do, know it I mean?”

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

Even Lance zonked out after these things.

“Knock on wood,” you laugh.

_____________

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t even see their eyes.

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

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

They nod, and walk off without explanation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone would find you.

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

They wanted Voltron, but you would do.

“There’s space here,” Acxa calls out.

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

“Of course. You look dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

She nods.

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

Acxa’s brows furrow, “Lance?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

But you’re one step behind her.

Did Keith like you?

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

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

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

“If you’re sure.”

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

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

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

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

You look around.

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

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

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

You wait, wondering if there was more.

It was a lot of changes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

s…it’s been a lot.”

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

But Keith flinches, looking away guiltily.

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

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

“Scenting me?”

He nods.

You take a step towards him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keith nods.

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

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

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

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

“You don’t-”

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

This was a small ask.

Your gaze flickers to the tips of his ears.

You had washed his blood off your hands.

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

Keith’s mouth quirks up in a smile.

You laugh, “come here.”

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh.

——————

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

The planet was a farming camp.

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

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

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

You don’t want to go down there either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You meet Keith in the red lion’s hanger.

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

“Then I’ll see you there,” you ask.

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

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

He raises a brow. “Oh. Yeah.”

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

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

Pidge’s work.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure they’ll be glad.”

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

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

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

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

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

“They stare.”

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

Keith sighs.

The paladin armor lies in a discarded pile.

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

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

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

Why did you do that!

God, you were so dumb-

He cups your cheeks and brushes his lips over yours.

Oh! Oh.

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

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

[beautifulplaceofyouth]

Falling asleep in your roommate's bed | JK FF

THE FIRST PART

Falling asleep in your roommate's bed while waiting for him to come home from the party

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X Female|reader

Word count: 2.5k

Raiting: 15+ without any funny business but 18+ if you're up to the second part with more details . Underage fans should really consider if this is the story you really want to read because you will need Holly water after....just to warn you though

Genre + warnings: Fluff, new relationship au! roommates to lovers, cursing with some dirty talk, love bites, maybe smut in the future? (If you want the second part.....lmao) possesive and sexy badboy and just your cute bunny being a flirt. This isn't real, just my imagination running wild so just enjoy reading!

a/n: so....this was sudden but I wanted to write short ver! fanfiction for the first time here and wanted to see where this goes. English is not my native(first) language so excuse some grammar mistakes if you notice something off about it, thank you!!

It was friday and the apartment was dead silent. Coming from your evening job and realizing that you will be alone for the night because your roommate went to the party, you felt alone and abandoned for once. Months ago maybe it was nothing but not now.

Friday nights were your special days when you both were hanging out watching movies and eating snacks but seems like he didn't care anymore. For the past weeks your handsome roommate seemed distant than usual and that hurt.

You both lived in a apartment with two bedrooms and one living room because when you moved from your parents house and started a job and studies in a new city, you didn't have enough money to live on your own so when your best friend suggested her classmate Jeon Jungkook who is trying to find a roommate for himself, you didn't hesitate to call him and ask him about it.

For starters, he was against the idea of girls living with guys because it was his role not to share with someone from the opposite gender but when you promised him that you will not do anything to give him any problems and he will not see you at all, he started to think it over. When he finally accepted your offer, you were happy that you have found a place to live. His rules were the last of your problems.

The first months passed really quickly where you somehow got a chance to get to know your roommate despite the fact he wasn't really friendly. He hated your guts but one thing you didn't know that it was just a big lie so you don't distract him when he was busy. When you first saw him, you were shocked that he looks shamefully gorgeous and it was really hard not to pay any attention to him.

You could describe him like an artwork. He was sinfully beautiful and cute with that adorable bunny smile when he was happy about something but when he teased you with those stealing glances and smirks, you couldn't handle his attitude towards you, it was crazy and frustrating because he asked you to follow his rules or else. You didn't know what to do about them because he made you to want brake them.

On top of that, his tattoos and piercings gave him the typical bad boy vibe and you totally loved it.

Your presence was effecting him also because even though he promised himself the no sharing role with the opposite gender, you were too kind, beautiful and funny not to notice you everyday. To be honest, it was a torture for you both.

Coming back from the memory, you sighed as you sat in the living room and looked at the clock on the wall. It showed nine thirty, almost night and you were completely alone. Actually you didn't like to be alone at home, your roommate always was at home when it was night time so this time you were sad. He didn't even texted you once. Did he really forget?

Not wanting to think about it, you went to your room and went over you homeworks. After one hour of studying, you felt shivers on your spine, feeling something off. Looking at your window which was slightly open and hearing the wind whistle through the trees while the branches swayed and gently hit the building wall, the sound gave you creeps because there was only you and no one else in the silent room.

Ignoring the shivers, you took the phone in your hand and noticed three messages from your best friend Lily.

Lily: Hey, girl! What are you doing?

Lily: There is this party where I'm right now. I know you said you will not come but why Jungkook is here if you said that you will be both at home?

Lily: It looks like your studying again. Respond if you see this!

Me: Hey, Lills

Me: Yeah, I know that he is there, he even forgot our movie night so I'm all alone at home and you know how I hate those kind of parties

Me: Anyway I hope you're having fun! :)

She didn't replied after that so closing the screen, you closed your eyes for a second, relishing the peace but that didn't take long because you started to think about your roommate again. Actually you missed him so getting up from your desk chair you slowly went to his room which was right besides yours.

You've never been there to be honest, you always respected his privacy but this time something pulled you towards his room. Opening the door, you immediately smelled his comforting cologne which still lingered in the air. Like fresh apples and mint with something masculine. The combination was devine and gave you the feeling of safety.

Not even giving the thought about what are you even doing in his room, you went to his still messy bed, not even looking at your new surroundings, just straight ahead, climbing inside and laying down, bringing your nose to the pillow, his scent giving you a dizzy feeling and butterflies in your stomach as you breathed in deep. You don't even know why that comforted you but this was the only thing so you don't feel so alone.

Before you know it, you closed your eyes and you fell asleep.

Someone stumbled into the room and you immediately stirred from sleep. The sight was still blurry but once it cleared, you stiffened knowing that someone is in the room with you. Hearing a thud and someone cursing, your eyes finally found the intruder and fell on your roommate. It looked that he hasn't noticed you yet because he looked pretty wasted. Feeling lump in your throat, seeing his clothes all wrinkled, you didn't want to think what was the cause of it.

Groaning, he take off his shirt with some struggle and you can't but gulp, still laying in his bed. Seeing him shirtless gave you strange feelings in your body because even in the moonlight you could see his eight pack, those strong muscles which were gained from going to the gym everyday. You didn't know why you're keeping silent and trying to hide your presence from him but when he starts to take off his pants, you curse silently, almost seeing him fully naked as he takes off his boxers along the way.

What the heck I'm still doing here???? If I don't go, he will come to bed naked

That thought leaves you when he goes into his bathroom and you hear shower turning on, the water hitting the tiles. Sighing in relief, you start to get up, trying to be quiet as possible but before you can climb out of his bed, a figure appears in the bathroom's doorway and your eyes go wide.

What the....! He just got in the shower and is already out??? It was like three seconds!

Heart racing, you quickly hide under his covers and try not to breathe because you don't think he saw you yet even though it looked like his unfocused gaze lingered on you for a second. Maybe it was your imagination.

You hear him approaching the bed and he groans again like he is in pain but you ignore it and just continue to keep still but when he plops into the bed, right besides you, his weight dipping in the sheets, you found yourself failing to be quiet. He deeply breathes and you feel sweat already forming on your skin. You were in underwear and a crop top without a bra only but it felt like you were burning all over so it was dangerous to be in the same bed as your roommate who will probably flip if he notices you in his bed.

"Fuck," Jungkook mutters under his breath and you feel him turning around. Your breath catches in your throat when his muscular body moves closer to you and when he takes the covers from you, you can't but grip them in your hands so he doesn't see you so feeling the resistance, his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What the fuck?" His voice sounds so deep above your head and you close your eyes fearing the next move.

His hand lingers in the air before you feel him leaning in and his palm grazes your head above the blanket. You gulp and grib it tighter in your fists so he can't know it is you but you almost pass out when he takes it from you with some strength and removes it to reveal your face, your eyes blinking when you meet his shining orbs due the moonlight.

Jungkook closes his own eyes shut and you see him shaking his head like this is some dream of his before he opens them again and still sees you watching him in fear, not knowing what to say. Your roommate swallows hard when his eyes travels down, to the side to see your full body, your shining diamond necklace which was gifted by him on your 20th birthday two months ago as it displayed on your smooth fragile neck and looking like a forbidden sin.

The silence killed you so you were the first one to brake it.

"J-Jungkook, I c-can explain. I-I missed you so I waited for you to return home to watch movies with me. I guess you f-forgot but that is not the point. I accidentally fell asleep in your bed, I didn't meant to so sorry, " your voice trembled when he still watched you.

"Did I really got drunk?" his words made you confused.

"What do you mean? How do I know if I wasn't there?"

He shakes his head in response, " No way this is real, you never come to my room. Is this a prank?"

You are left dumbfounded. Is he that drunk? He thinks this is some dream or a joke?

"Jungkook, this is not a prank."

"But you're in my bed. My bed, " repeating the words, you can't but gasp when he leans even closer to you and he reaches his hand to your face to trace your jaw with his fingers.

"W-What are you doing?" Your voice is breathless, not pulling away from his sudden touch. What is happening?

"Trying to see if this real. I come home and find my roommate in my bed, what should I think? Are you trying to mess with me?" He makes no sense with his questions but you feel dizzy already when he keeps carresing your cheek, somehow coming even closer to your face, hovering above you.

You smell his shower gel on his skin and you feel his wet hair brushing your forehead, some strands falling over his eyes when some water goblets drip on your eyelids, fresh from the shower. The scent of him, everything about him makes you crazy and you don't know what to do as you close your eyes from his closeness.

"I think you're drunk, Jungkook, we shouldn't do this, it is wrong," you whisper and when your lips move, you feel them brushing against something soft.

"Those were nonalcoholic drinks, sweetheart and we definitely should do this," he whispers back before his lips descents on yours, claiming your mouth in a kiss.

You gasp from the shock and you open your mouth by accident and it gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth. From your taste, Jungkook growls and climbs on top of you, hovering above your body completely when his hands goes through your wild hair, keeping you in place.

You can't even breathe properly because he keeps kissing you harshly like there is no tomorrow, like this is this his last meal to survive.

Trying to push him off so you can breathe, he is much stronger than you yet he pulls away slowly while bitting your lips, feeling the lip ring tug your lower lip in the process. Moaning from the pain and pleasure, you are drunk from lust for your own roommate who surprisingly hated you from the start because you're a girl but when his lips make a path to your ear, exhaling a deep raspy sound, your thoughts dissappear in instant.

"Still think this is wrong, baby?" You nod your head and instead of getting angry, he chuckles before whispers the words you will never forget.

"Then I will keep kissing you until you change your mind."

Of fuck, you will go to hell for this.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I- " It is hard to complete your sentence when he keeps distracting you with his lips as they trail down your neck, leaving the hickeys all over but somehow you manage to push him away as you gasp for air.

"What is it?" His voice is much huskier than before, the sound making you clench your legs but you try to ignore the feeling.

"What's gotten into you? Don't you hate me?" You ask confused and he masks his surprise with a frown.

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because....you don't like girls?"

"What the....actually never mind," shaking his head like he doesn't understand your question, you watch him run his slender fingers through his hair regarding you with some unknown gaze," What gave you the idea that I don't like girls? You think I'm gay?"

The absolute absurd of that makes you burst out in actual laughter in a time like this because to be honest his question caught you off guard.

"You, gay? Oh my God, what the hell?" You try to calm down but it is hard when he still looks at you with a straight face, not even smiling at the joke.

"Do you think that is funny?"

"Umm, yeah? You literally just came at me like an animal in heat and you still think that I had doubts about your sexual orientation? You kissed me, Jungkook so I don't think at all that you're gay. In fact you always flirt with me for no reason," voicing out your real opinion, he just shakes his head again.

"I still can't believe this is real. Maybe this is just a dream and in real life you're still sleeping in your bed, not that I'm complaining about this," he mutters when he takes the covers off of your body, making you shiver and blush from the insensitivity of his stare on you but his words made you feel special.

"If this is a dream, what would you do?" You can't but play along.

Your roommate chuckles when you see his dark silhouette moving closer until his breath hits your bare skin where your crop top ends, basically your stomach. His fingers gently explores your soft skin as they brush the side of your panties as you try hard not to jump from his intimate touch.

But your world turns upside down in a instant when you hear his response.

"I would make sure you never leave this bed again, baby girl."

Be continued....

p.s. The images (edits) and gifs are not mine, the credit goes to their rightful owners

DO NOT REPOST THIS WORK AS YOUR OWN BECAUSE THIS IS THE ORIGINAL OWNER'S STORY

If you like, please reblog or like the post so I can post the second part for your choosing ;)

🅒 All rights reserved

[flayedprincss]

starter set in the future for @turnedahero (inspired by this) 🌸

　　　That was not how Heather had imagined to spend Mother’s Day that year. In her head, she’d planned nothing more than a shopping afternoon with her mom and dinner with Billy right after that. She knew just how hard that day was for her boyfriend — whether he recognized it or not —, and although she had no way of making it actually better she didn’t want him to be sad and alone just because his mom had decided she was too much of a narcissist to stick around. The one and only time she’d met her was burnt into Heather’s head so deep it was impossible to forget, Billy’s eyes and tears a scar that was impossible to delete. It had been a long time since their trip to California, and many the adventures they’d had since then… Things had gone from bad to good in that way that only constant work on themselves could reward. And now it barely seemed like their life together had reached a balance they could maintain. They’d even talked about marriage one or two times, but considering how many fears they still had to deal with a proposal seemed still pretty far away.

　　　　Which was why taking that kid home with her felt like the craziest decision she could make.

　　　Her internship at the Child Protective Services had been one of the most challenging experiences of her life — but also the one that had truly made her realize what she wanted to do with her life. She’d assisted in many cases and helped saving a lot of lives, being empathic without getting too attached being a challenge she was learning more and more to master. Yet that day things had just hit differently. When they’d received that call from the police department, she’d been the one to pick up the phone. A blond kid, between the age of five and six, had been found alone in front of a supermarket, no way of tracking his mom despite hours spent searching the supermarket and calling the one phone number the child had memorized by heart. From the CCTV in the parking lot, they’d seen that a woman driving a red car had just asked him to get down and she’d then left. Police was of course trying to track the plate number, but no lack so far. And when Heather had tried to get a few answers from the boy and seen the small AC/DC pin on his old, blue, torn t-shirt, something had just clicked. She wasn’t sure she believed in destiny, but in that moment she’d decided there was no way she would let that kid sleep at the police station or to be brought to an orphanage. Even if that meant having to explain to Billy why there was a kid watching Tom & Jerry in their living room.

　　　It was going to be a temporary thing, she’d told herself. They had enough room to host him while the police did the searching and CPS tried to find some family members that could take care of him. Heather had actually prepared a whole speech for Billy, an accurate attempt to explain the situation and allow the kid to stay with them for a few days, yet the whole situation seemed so unreal her brain could barely focus on the dinner she was trying to make — Mac & Cheese, cause every kid loved that, right? When the back door opened, the pan almost fell from her hands. « Ehy… » Voice came out in a nervous chirp as she brushed her hands on the pink apron. « I have, mh… Something to tell you. » Like that wasn’t obvious enough.

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 26

part 1 | part 25

a/n: no matter how long you have been here, just know i'm extremely grateful for anyone who's read this fic. now here's the latest chapter.

Sometimes it felt like the days dragged on. Each and every hour was laid out just like the day before–the week before. It made time seem endless, even though Y/N knew it definitely was not. Sozin’s Comet was getting closer and closer each day. Y/N didn’t know if it was the anticipation for that long fated day or if it was some buried fire bender gene in her body, warning her of something to come. She could feel it deep within her bones. She woke up earlier and earlier each day, no matter how late her night ended up. And each day the sun greeted her with warm yellow light that made the air a little easier to breathe.

As they moved further south and into Fire Nation territory, Zuko made mention of Ember Island as a place to hide out. The island–or chain of islands, really–were close enough to Caldera City that it would be a good place for them to lay low and wait, as well as uninhabited by enough people that they could lay low.

Y/N thought it was a little risky to be living in the Fire Lord’s Ember Island house, but Zuko was probably right, this was going to be the last place anyone would look for them. Maybe Y/N was just unsettled about being back, so close to Caldera City, or maybe it was being back on Ember Island for the first time since she was 9.

Somewhere between the temple and the beach house, Y/N tired of training. It just added to the monotony, and so she just…stopped. Instead, she spent her days on the beach, sometimes alone–often with the others though–playing in the tide pools and skim-boarding on the sand. And sometimes, if she felt like she didn’t have enough time on her own to recharge, she’d leave in the night, either through her window or the front door to take a walk on the beach in the moonlight. Only to come back and wake up a few hours later, ready for sunrise.

Today was no different, though the sun was already peeking over the horizon and into her room when her eyes peeled open.

The wooden floors creaked under Y/N’s feet as she crept out of her room silently.

Each board was smooth under her bare toes, not well-worn by many little feet running across them year after year but made that way before they were even built into the house, for no doubt a hefty fee. The beach house was… cold, to say the least. It just felt like each pore of the house seeped something uninviting, reminding them that they shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t just Y/N who felt it, they all spent as little time as possible in the house.

She padded into the kitchen and struck their flint to start a fire under the stove–mostly unneeded since Zuko had joined their group–but wholly necessary when he wasn’t around to be their fire-starter. Y/N didn’t mind doing it this way, it felt nice being able to do something with her own hands for once instead of relying on the others to make clean water or heat up the food. She boiled just enough water for one cup of tea before heading out to the courtyard where she knew at least two of her friends would be awake.

Y/N didn’t like feeling optimistic. It was a terrifying feeling. There was so much riding on their success; she didn’t want to spend so much energy on hoping only to have it all dashed away if things didn’t go their way. It would be too heartbreaking. But watching Aang, she could. They weren’t even sparring and she could see the power behind every blast of fire. And she had hope for their future. She had to; she wasn’t going to lose her friends.

“You’re doing that one wrong,” Y/N said from the shadows on the porch. She held her warm cup to her chest, the breeze blowing in from the ocean was keeping the courtyard chilly until the sun could rise high enough to heat the island.

Aang didn’t seem too surprised to hear her voice. “Doing what wrong?” He asked, confused.

Zuko frowned up at Y/N from his seat on the steps but nodded to Aang. “She’s right, you have to dip further down so when you come up the fire creates more of an arc.”

Aang pushed through a few more poses before Zuko stood up and joined him. Y/N stole his seat and pulled her legs up to cross them. She watched as they moved in tandem, working though the most basic of firebending forms all the way up to a few advanced ones. Memories flooded Y/N’s head so fast it made her dizzy. She remembered sitting just like she was now, watching her two brothers work through their forms when she was younger. On chilly mornings, much like today, she would wrap herself in a blanket nest and sip on tea that was much too sweet as they worked well into mid morning. In a sudden rush of affection she realized she was doing much of the same thing, just years and years later.

Aang had learned fast. That was good. She set down her empty cup as the two boys headed back to her, both sweaty from their training. “Good job, Aang! You’re doing great!”

Aang beamed with pride. “Thanks, Y/N!

“Don’t be so encouraging, he’s still got a lot to learn,” Zuko grumbled, taking a seat on the ground next to her.

Y/N pouted. “He needs encouragement. That’s how he learns.” Y/N learned that from watching the differences between Katara teaching styles and Toph’s teaching styles.

“Speaking of firebending,” Aang kicked his feet against the edge of the steps and looked around like he was avoiding something. “How did you know about the firebending forms?”

Zuko leaned back on his hands. “I’d like to know that too.”

Y/N smiled softly. “I watched my brothers for years, religiously learning all the forms and practicing them on my own. I wanted to be just like them. I guess I still remember them.”

Aang frowned. “It’s not like you couldn’t bend on purpose.”

Y/N was surprised to see Aang look so sad. “I know.” She shrugged and looked away feeling her cheeks redden with both boys staring at her. “I just wanted to be normal so people would stop paying attention to me for the wrong reasons.” She mumbled.

“It made you a better sword fighter,” Zuko said suddenly.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“The discipline and movements. You do the same when you’re fighting.”

“I’ve never noticed, but you’re right, Zuko!” Aang exclaimed.

The thought made Y/N smile. “That was nice of you.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but let the smallest hint of a smile grace his lips.

She looked back to Aang, who still looked a bit hesitant. “Don’t worry about me. How about we go swimming? Before the others wake up!”

Aang perked up immediately. “That sounds great! Let’s go, Zuko!”

Y/N and Aang stood, both looking down at Zuko, who just stared at the ground between his feet. She could already hear him saying no, telling them that he needed to train more or meditate and didn’t have time to run off and play games.

Y/N opened her mouth to tell Aang that the two of them could still go but Zuko spoke up before her. “Yeah, okay.”

Sometimes even on those long, dragging days, it was the little things that made everything better; like playing in the surf with two of your friends.

---

That evening though, Y/N was back where she had started the day, and had decided that everyone in her group of friends, save for maybe Zuko, talked way too much. She craved those moments alone where she just had her thoughts to occupy her. Especially when she had a lot on her mind.

Y/N didn’t want to admit she felt stuck inside with Aang and Katara while everyone else was outside enjoying the evening, but she also felt guilty in turning down their request to help make dinner to just wander around on the beach until sunset. She didn’t help out much with making meals, and she felt obligated to help when she could.

So she was there, sitting on the dinner table, lotus style with a knife and a cutting board and a basket of carrots in need of chopping at her side.

“What else can I do, Katara?” Aang dumped some of the vegetables he was cutting into the stew Katara was currently stirring over the stove.

“Hmm, can you go out and get some more water to make the rice?” Aang grinned and nodded, before running out of the house towards the side of the house where there was a small barrel of collected water.

Y/N smiled to herself at the interaction and continued cutting carrots for Katara, trying not to let her mind wander, but it was hard with the monotonous work and the bad spot she was sitting in.

Just in front of her was the window where she had watched Zuko and Aang train while she made tea that morning, now it showed Zuko and Sokka doing their own training.

Y/N was struggling with more than just feeling like she didn’t belong on the Island. She didn’t know what she was going to say to Sokka, or if she was even going to say anything about her feelings at all. Without the constant traveling and the safety of a hideout, she was able to just stop and let those feelings and thoughts she had been holding back with a dam of fear wash over her.

It was all really confusing for Y/N. And hard to admit.

She didn’t want to face the awkward conversation of asking whether he could always be there for her. She didn’t want to beg him to never leave because she was so insecure. She was so afraid of losing everything and everyone that she was going to do just that because she was afraid of opening up.

What would happen if she never told Sokka she loved him back? Did she even love him back? What did love feel like?

Love with Azula felt like fire, sometimes it burned painfully, but in the good times it filled her with a warmth like never before. Zuko’s friendship felt the same, but it was less like sitting too close to the fire and more like sitting just in the right place where it didn’t dry out your eyes but didn’t make goosebumps grow on your arms. Sokka always felt like a cool breeze, one where you lift your face up to the sky and smile because it always feels like relief. But that’s not what Y/N is used to. How does she know if it’s love if it doesn’t hurt a little bit? How does she know that it's real if she doesn’t have to give all of herself until she is worn to nothing to make it work?

It wasn’t that she was afraid to care for him, she had made it clear that she did. It was just easier on her heart to keep him at a distance for now until she figured they were inevitably part ways. That’s how Y/N saw this all ending. Separated across oceans, back to where they came from, whatever the outcome of the war. Y/N wanted to dream of the possibilities and opportunities where they could be together in the long run, but those were just that, dreams for another lifetime. People from the Water Tribe didn’t marry people from the Fire Nation.

Everything that she learned over the last few months was that nothing was ever set in stone, so why should she and Sokka be.

Y/N stared out the window, pondering when it would all fall apart and sliced downwards on a carrot, but met nothing but the cutting board. She looked down where the knife was closer to her finger than to the carrots. She let out a little inward gasp.

“What?” Katara turned around and asked.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Nothing.” She motioned to the cutting board. “Do you want these smaller?”

Katara eyed Y/N and then looked to the cutting board. “They’re fine. But pay more attention, I don’t know how to reattach fingers yet.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Y/N’s eyes didn’t leave the wooden cutting board and her fingers until the others came bustling into the kitchen, all talking at once.

Y/N for the most part ignored everyone, until Sokka reached over and snatched one of the slices of carrots.

Y/N nudged his arm. “Can you wait?! I thought you didn’t like vegetables!”

“Aang got me to like carrots!” Sokka retorted, before quickly reaching around Y/N to grab another and popping it into his mouth.

“Why would you be sitting on the table that we have to eat off of?” Suki wrinkled her nose.

“Uh! Katara said I could!” Y/N stuck her tongue out.

Katara whipped around, hands on her hips. “I never said you could, I just didn’t say you couldn’t.” Katara turned back to stirring the stew before muttering under her breath, “Not like telling you no would have made a difference anyways.”

“Hey!” Y/N picked up a carrot and launched it at the back of Katara’s head.

Aang walked back inside carrying a bucket of water, to a kitchen full of chaos. Vegetables were being thrown across the room at one another, as laughter rang out. Sokka, Zuko and Y/N were sprawled on one side of the kitchen behind and under the table; with Suki, Katara and Toph only edging from behind the safety of the kitchen doorway to throw something.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N could hear the exasperation of a 112 year old monk in Aang’s usually cheerful voice.“Uh, guys, what are we supposed to eat for dinner now?”

---

Y/N was dozing against the headboard of her bed that night, when she heard the knock at her door. At first she thought she imagined it, that is until she heard a voice on the other side of the doorway. “Y/N, are you awake?”

Y/N slid out of bed and cracked open the door. She smiled and leaned against the doorjamb, a familiar feeling in her chest.

“Are you afraid that there are ghosts here too?”

Sokka grinned and nodded. “In this house? Absolutely. But I’m not here for that.”

“Oh?” Y/N raised an eyebrow.

“Come outside with me.”

Y/N chuckled. “Why?”

“Please, just come on. No questions.”

Y/N sighed and reached for an old silk robe she found in one of the closets, but her smile never left her face.

To be fair to Sokka, there wasn’t much to surprise Y/N with on an island she grew up on. But that night, the sky momentarily took her breath away.

Sometimes the simplest things were the most beautiful.

“I thought we could come out here; look at the stars a bit. I used to like doing that at home. Though it’s different. The constellations aren’t the same where I’m from.”

“I guess I’ll just have to teach you some.”

Together they laid side by side on the roof, and Y/N pointed out her favorites. The dragon, the jack-rabbit...

After Y/N had told Sokka the story of the Red Queen, some ancient fable of a powerful Fire Lady that was always one of Y/N’s favorites, they both grew quiet, Y/N asked the question that had been brewing on her mind. She worried that whatever she said would mess up the peaceful night they had been having. It felt like she was intruding on a secret that she wasn’t supposed to know.

“Hey, Sokka,” Y/N asked.

“Hmmm,” She looked over and Sokka looked about half asleep already. Maybe this would be good timing.

“Who’s Yue?”

Sokka’s eyes shot open and he sat up quickly. “What?”

Y/N could feel her face flush. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yue.” The word sounded flat and foreign on her tongue. Maybe that wasn’t how you actually pronounced it? Some of the Water Tribe names and words were hard for Y/N’s mouth to form. If she could, she flushed deeper. “I heard you talking about them when I was hurt. I was in and out of it, so I don’t remember much, but I remember the name.”

Sokka suddenly looked very sad. Which was… odd because Y/N just thought that Yue was a Water Tribe spirit much like the Fire Nation had Agni.

“She’s the moon spirit,” Sokka whispered, his eyes cast down on his wringing hands.

Y/N eyes were wide. Why was he acting like this? “Oh. I figured she was a spirit or something. It sounded like you were praying to her, or something.”

“Yeah,” Sokka choked out. “Something like that.”

That’s when Y/N noticed there were drips of water on Sokka’s hands. Tears.

“Sokka?” Y/N said softly. She reached forward and–yup those were tears, dripping on their hands.

“She was a girl I met at the Northern Water Tribe when we first started traveling.”

“I thought she was…”

“She is.” For the first time, Sokka looked up. The pain in his eyes was unimaginable. “But she was still a girl when I met her.”

Sokka launched into a story that sounded more fantasy than real, but the look on his face, the sadness in his features, Y/N knew he was telling the truth.

“She was blessed by the moon spirit when she was born, it was the only reason she was alive. But when we were in the Northern Water Tribe—Zhao, a Fire Nation commander killed the moon spirit and all the water benders lost their bending, forever.” Sokka shivered. “It was scary, the moon was gone in the sky and we were helpless to fight the Fire Nation. It would have changed the tide of the war.

But she was selfless. She knew that she was the only hope for her tribe—for the world—and she sacrificed herself to save all of us. So now she’s the moon spirit…I guess. I don’t know, she’ll always be Yue to me.” Sokka’s voice trailed off with a sniffle. Y/N didn’t know how to respond.

Sokka sent a longing glance upward. The moon was just past full, waning in the far distance but still bright and round in the sky. “I think–I think she heard me that night. And she knew how much you meant to me, even then. And she saved you because…” Now it was Sokka’s turn to flush. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

Those words made Y/N’s chest burn. Her arms and legs tingled in relief as if all the tension in her body began to melt away. Y/N reached out, wiping a stray tear off of Sokka’s cheek. “Me either,” she replied instantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“’m not. Sad, really. I miss her, but it’s easier to always know where she is. She didn’t have a lot of choice in her life, but this was something she had control over. If she hadn’t become the moon spirit, the war would have ended right there. So her sacrifice meant that, you know, Zuko is our friend now and Aang has a chance at beating the Firelord and you have a place in all our lives. She made all of this possible.”

“Sounds like we have a lot more to be thankful to her for than just saving little old me then, huh?”

“You would have liked her.”

Y/N nodded and peered at the moon above them. “I do like her.”

No one else needed to know that after the two of them went inside and off to bed, that Y/N hung halfway out her window to get one last look at the moon. Y/N swore as her eyes closed and sleep overtook her that the moon shone a little brighter. Maybe that’s how the moon said thank you. Y/N’d never tell anyone that she whispered a small thank you too, to the girl who lived among the stars.

a/n: don't be shy, come talk to me in my askbox and tell me if you liked it

taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @creation-magician @lunariasilver @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @solarsuki @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb @celia-not-cecilia @treestarrrrrrrr @izzieserra @salsasadd @nataliahaslosthershit @awkwardnesshabitat @lanie103  @im-the-galactic-starfish @charlotteisabella  @sugamonster22  @calumsfringe @whatsuphoesandbros @i-love-superhero @justasukisimp @grouchiest-hufflepuff  @euphoricmads @ivetoldamillionlies @fanficsformyperusal @mikxyu @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @someonekeepstakingmyusernames @earthtokace @justamessandahalf @perfectlyfadingmusic @atlafanforlife @iris-suoh @chilifrylizard2

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that��s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[hops-hunny]

You Can Be the Boss

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: N/A but it’s based off of this rambling here

Summary: Women are beautiful, but they sure don’t make ‘em like her.

Warnings: Weed, Alcohol, Mentions of sex.

A/N: I wrote this to cope with the copious amounts of work I had due but I finished it all so now we celebrate!

Hogwarts had many things but one thing it lacked severely was normality. Not that it was a problem, nobody who attended Hogwarts was normal but it didn’t stop a portion of muggle born students from feeling a bit homesick to things their muggle friends did at their own schools. That’s how the talent shows started. At first, the students tried to get it officiated by the school. Dumbledore thought it was a wonderful idea!....if it was professor supervised and when it turned out that Snape was the only professor with enough freetime on his hands, the idea of having it being school ran quickly flew out the window. But looking back on it now, many were happy they went with the idea of going behind the professors backs. It wasn’t like they weren’t aware, they just had no proof of it all happening. The atmosphere of the talent shows were different from ordinary talent shows, however.

For starters, anything went. Any talent you had you were encouraged to bring it no matter how big or small it was or if it was “school appropriate”. But the pro to this was also booze and bud, meaning that everyone had a good time no matter what. Although, as it would turn out there were many talented people at Hogwarts. So, for the past few months every Friday everyone would gather in the room of requirement, watching the many ups and downs of performances. Neville started frequenting there as often as he could. It was a win-win, his friends got free entertainment and he had a chance to make some money from selling to chumps with too much cash on their hands. What better way was there to spend the night? 

His hazel eyes snapped up at the feeling of his blunt being ripped out of his hand. He went to swear, glaring at whoever was stupid enough to do that but quickly stopped as he saw who it was. He watched with wide eyes as the tip of it went between her pretty (l/c) lips, exhaling smoke. (Y/n) (L/n). She was one of those girls you either knew or you didn’t but more than likely, you knew her. Before 5th year, no one so much as spared her a glance but after a very fortunate late puberty in their current year (7th) she was slowly becoming all anyone could talk about. It was truly amazing what a haircut and a bit of weight in your hips could do for your social life. He eyed her curiously as she looked down at him.

“You comin’ tonight?” she asked, exhaling another puff of smoke into his face. (Y/n) put the joint back in his hand, moving the heavy guitar case into her now free hand.

“Yeah. ‘Spose I am.” He mumbled, eyes trailing down the expanse of her plush thighs. They were on full display due to the skirt she wore that left nothing to the imagination. His eyes locked with her (e/c) ones as she hummed, nodding as she took the blunt back from him walking off. She flashed him a smile once more, winking as she turned the corner going merlin knows where.

“Oi! What does she think she’s doing? You really gonna let her take the blunt from you like that just because she’s fit?” Ron complained, glaring at the boy who was set with the rest of their group. Neville shrugged, turning his eyes back to his book as he turned the page.

“If you’re so bothered by it why don’t you go take it back yourself?” Neville sassed. They all looked at Ron waiting for a response, laughing as he had nothing to say but a small ‘piss off’ under his breath.

-----------------------------------------

Neville wasn’t one to put too much into his appearance. He’d usually just throw on a sweater vest over one of his uniform shirts and call it a day. However after the conversation he had had with (Y/n) earlier, he couldn’t help but wanna look nice. Was she flirting with him? He sighed as he glanced at his appearance in the mirror for a bit. ‘I doubt it.’ he thought. He shook the negative thoughts out of his head, packing his satchel with a few different strains. Just because some pretty girl was batting her pretty little eyes at him didn’t mean he was going to forget the reason he went to these things in the first place. The only other time Neville made this much money was Gryffindor common room parties and even then, it was only by a little.

But even as he was checking his appearance once again, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift. “Why am I wigging out? It’s not like we haven’t talked before.” He said out loud to himself. (Y/n) was a frequent buyer from him and even though he didn’t know her personally, she was one of the few people whose faces he remembered. At first, he was extremely annoyed by her. Who did she think she was showing up at his dorm at 3AM just to buy a bit of fucking jane? Every wednesday at the same time, she’d show up at his door (in a negligee that was far too short might he add) with that dopey look on her face asking to buy. And every single time without a doubt, he’d sell it to her. He had to admit, after a while he even started to enjoy the girl’s appearance. It gave him something to look forward to during his mundane school week.

“Ready to go, Nev? If we leave now, we can use a secret passage my brothers’ showed me.” Ron said, opening the door to Neville’s door. The lanky boy cleared his throat, giving the boy a nod as he wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Without another word, they both began their way ready for the night to unfold.

As usual, the talent show didn’t disappoint...for all the wrong reasons. Even though the cringe worthy performances were top notch entertainment and he had already made quite a bit of money, he still couldn’t stop from searching the crowd for a certain head of (h/c) hair. Where was she? After the stunt she had pulled earlier, he was sure she would be here. She had some nerve doing that and then not showing up. However, as he turned his gaze back to the stage, he saw the woman of the hour herself. She was in an oversized crochet sweater dress and a pair of combat boots. His eyes looked up in wonder as she took the stage, sitting on a wooden stool that was placed from the last sad excuse of a performance.

“It’s a bloody shame that she’s so fucking hot. Poor thing is going to embarrass herself singing up there.” Ron said, taking a sip from the beer he had in his hand. Neville nodded in agreement, taking a hit from his blunt but not really paying mind to his friend. It was hard to do so when the girl of his dreams was on the stage a mere foot away from him. He was absolutely intoxicated by her (and the few shots he had taken a bit ago) but he had to agree it would suck when she-”

“You taste like the fourth of July

Malt liquor on your breath, my, my”

She sang into the microphone softly. Neville’s jaw dropped in awe at the sound of her voice which was nothing short of angelic. He wasn’t the only one who was stunned considering the whole crowd went silent, a stark contrast from the loud chatter and laughter from before. He watched as she strummed at the guitar in her hands, looking up from the ground into the crowd. Mesmerized wasn’t even the right word to describe the state he was in. 

“I love you but I don’t know why…”

His eyes were focused on her lips, taking in every word she said. Harry nudged him, mouthing the words ‘look up’ to him as a small pause had come into the song. Neville looked at him confused before trailing his eyes up, gasping when he saw that hers were locked on his own. She smiled and flashed him a wink before continuing her song, leaning in forward. His own body began to subconsciously drift forward to but at the last second she pulled away and continued to sing.

"Did you see that? She definitely wants me." Seamus boasted confidently. The others looked at him dumbfounded at the fact he could get even more idiotic than ever before.

"Don't be fucking dumb mate! She was clearly looking at me." Ron chimed in, causing another round of even more exasperated looks to be thrown the ginger's way. They truly were dumb and dumber.

"I-I think both of you are wrong. (Y/n) was looking at.." Harry trailed off as the girl stood up, dancing around the stage with her guitar as she continued to sing. Not a single pair of eyes weren't on her at the moment. Could you blame anyone? When a beautiful girl with the voice of a siren is on stage, you'd be a fool not to. However, dumb and dumbers’ argument ceased as she made very clear eye contact with their awkward friend.

“You can be the boss, daddy

You can be the boss”

“That’s all me boys.” Neville said, a triumphant smirk taking over his place as Dean leaned over to give him a fist bump. As much as (Y/n) had him wrapped around her finger, it appeared she was wrapped around his too. All the angry glares being sent his direction were only fuel to the pride he felt growing in his chest. Such a pretty girl, the same pretty girl who plagued all his wet dreams and shower thoughts, was not only on stage singing in front of him, but directly to him as well. She reached a hand forward, tips of her fingers lightly brushing against his flushed cheeks.

“I like you a lot, I like you a lot

Don’t let it stop”

“This is totally unfair. One of the hottest chicks in our year and she’s pining over Longbottom.” Seamus grumbled, grimacing as the liquor went down his throat hard. Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Jealous much?” he asked no one in particular, as that could be said about most of the guys they were sitting with.

“Bad to the bone, sick as a dog

You know that I like, like you a lot

Don’t let it stop”

Neville felt his own lips curl up into a smile at the sight of the one that belonged to the angel in front of him. However the cute moment didn’t last long cause once again, Ron chimed in with something else.

“Neville? Bad? He still sleeps in pajama sets!” he exclaimed quietly, earning a ‘shh!’ from Harry. The boy in question leaned forward, looking at his ginger friend.

“Is this really coming from the boy who needs Mummy’s howler to fall asleep at night?” that shut him right up. Harry snorted, high fiving him for bringing up the embarrassing piece of information. 

The girl continued to sing, eyes never leaving Neville’s for a second. Ron and Seamus’s petty comments had ceased as well. Even though they weren’t the one receiving attention, they could still admit the girl had pipes on her. When the song was over she stood up, bowing as the silence of the crowd quickly erupted in cheers and claps from the breathtaking performance. There were a few more people left but no one paid much mind to them. He found himself feeling bad for them. Even if they were good, none of them could top the performance of the night. 

As the night began to come to a close, (Y/n) found herself over to Neville again parking herself in his lap which he gladly accepted. She looked up at him, smiling shyly. It was almost comedic due to the words she had so sinfully sung to him only 45 minutes ago. Neville ignored the way his friends gawked at him. He’d deal with that another time.

“Come back to my room and split a spliff?” she asked, looking down as she picked at her fingers. He grabbed her hands, leaning in close to her.

“Only if I can eat your pussy afterwards.” he said confidently. He said it quiet enough to not draw attention but just loud enough that his friends would hear. (Y/n) felt her face grow warm as she nodded, hopping up from his lap as she dragged him off to her room.

Neville 1, blokes 0.

Extra:

“Seriously?! Is it really that easy? What does he have that I don’t?” Seamus said, mind running over the times he’d attempted saying things like that. The only place it had gotten him was on the ground after he had his balls kicked!

“It’s gotta be the weed. After all, who wouldn’t wanna sleep with the weed man? Free pot!” Ron exclaimed, trying to rationalize what had just happened.

“Aren’t you the residential booze man of Hogwarts? If that was the case, you’d have an easier time with women too.” Dean said, causing Harry to nod in agreement. Ron simply grumbled, slamming his empty bottle down as he walked off from the cackling group of blokes.

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH..

Part Two

Part One

Warnings: swearing

‘Carefully, you reached towards the piano and tried to touch a vase of flowers but they passed right through your fingers. Your entire hand went numb then a tingly feeling spread throughout your body.

Well, two things were for sure.

You were definitely back, but you were definitely dead.’

-

“(Y/n)?”

Alex appeared by your side, pulling your hand away from the vase that you couldn’t seem to stop sticking your hand through.

You had been so distracted, you didn’t realize that the girl had come back until you heard her scream. Alex covered his ears and shouted over the noise.

“Please stop screaming!” He shouted.

She did, but she kept eyeing the four of you suspiciously. 

She was holding a cross out as she slowly stepped into the room. Her eyes were still wide with fear but she stood her ground. “Who are you and what are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

Luke gave her a look of confusion as he stepped forward. “Your mom’s studio? No, this is our studio.”

He yelped as she came at him with the cross. He jumped up on the piano and slid across the surface. “The grand piano is new, and-”

Luke cut himself off suddenly and in a fit of excited giggles, he ran towards the other side of the room. “My couch!”

You watched as he ran his hands over the worn leather, a dreamy look on his face. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. After your time in the dark room, it was comforting to see some things never change.

Luke’s eyes flickered up to the ceiling, his eyebrows knitting together as he inspected the lights and chairs hanging down and you were reminded that more things had changed than stayed the same.

You decided you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to get to the bottom of this. And to do that, you needed the boys to focus for more than a few seconds.

“Boys, can I see you over here for a minute?” You said, gently leading Alex and Reggie away and gesturing for Luke to follow before turning back to the frightened girl.

“Excuse us for a second.”

You gave her an apologetic smile and shuffled over to the other side of the garage with the boys in tow. Once you got far enough away, Luke frantically whispered. “What is going on? How did she get her stuff in here so fast?”

“Maybe she’s a witch. I mean, chairs are floating on the ceiling.” Reggie exclaimed. You could feel Alex glaring at him as you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no such thing as witches, Reg.” You said.

“You sure? Cause I used to think that there was no such thing as ghosts.”

Alex nodded reluctantly. “That’s fair.”

“Okay,” Luke butted in, “So, we’re going with witch?”

“No!” Alex scoffed. “We’re not going with witch. Look, she’s just scared. Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

He turned towards the girl and approached her slowly before practically yelling in her face. “Why are you in our studio?!”

“Real soft, Al.” You whispered to him before extending your hand out to her, wincing at the awkwardness once you realized that like the vase, you probably couldn’t touch her either.

“I’m really sorry we scared you. I’m-”

Before you could finish, she jabbed her arms forward until the cross went clean through your chest. The tingling sensation came back in full force and you resisted the urge to shiver.

“Oh my gosh! How did you do that?” Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she stared at you.

“Clearly she doesn’t get it.” Alex said, turning back to the boys and then back to her, obviously exasperated. “We’re ghosts, okay? We’re just four ghosts who are really happy to be home.”

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve.” Luke explained, his tone full of pride like it always was when he talked about the band.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie piped up with his signature line and you snorted. It was nice to know that even in death, Reggie was still the best hype-man.

“Last night was supposed to be a big night for us.” Luke said. “It was supposed to change our lives.”

“I’m pretty sure it did.” Alex interjected.

“This is freaking me out!” The girl shouted, keeping one hand held out towards you with the cross and the other pulling something out of her back pocket which she began frantically tapping on.

“What is that?” Luke asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

“It’s my phone.” She cursed herself and shook her head. “No! Stop talking to them. They aren’t real. There is no such thing as cute ghosts.”

Reggie flashed her a dopey smile. “You think we’re cute?”

You rolled your eyes and Alex leaned forward. “Who are you calling?”

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

You couldn’t help the surprised giggle that escaped your mouth as the boys groaned in unison. “Sunset Curve!”

Over Alex’s shoulder, you could see the bright screen of her phone as she pulled up an article. At the top was your professional band picture you had taken a year before the Orpheum. Luke was goofing around and playing Alex’s leg like a guitar while you stood by his side, sticking a finger in Bobby’s ear.

“Whoa.” She muttered. “There is a Sunset Curve and you did die. But not last night.”

You tried to keep your composure as she turned to look at the four of you, the fear in her eyes replaced with a small trace of sympathy. “25 years ago?”

“What? No, that’s impossible. After we floated out of the ambulance all we did was go to that dark room where these two cried.” Reggie gestured between you and Alex.

“Well, I think we were all pretty upset.” Alex said in his high pitched voice that usually made you laugh, but the mention of the dark room made you remember your moment with Luke. You turned around to look at him only to find him several feet behind you, eyes focused on a spot on the wall just past you. 

The fact that he was still avoiding you didn’t escape you, but you forced yourself to swallow the sad feeling and focus on the issue at hand.

“But that was just for like an hour.” Luke said. Despite the tension between you, the sound of his worried tone made your heart ache. “We just showed up here.”

The girl sighed. “I’m just telling you what my phone says. You died in 1995 when you were 17. It’s now 2020.”

“So, this is the future?” Reggie asked.

Your head was spinning. There was no way it had been that long, right?

“It’s really been 25 years? I’ve been crying for 25 years, how is that possible!?” Alex shouted. You rubbed his back softly.

“You’re an emotional person.” Reggie shrugged.

“I am not!” He said, his high-pitched voice coming back as he pouted.

Just then, an unfamiliar voice chimed in. “I thought you were too afraid to come out here.” 

You turned around to see a kid standing in the doorway, smiling as he came into the room. “You talking to your ghost friend? Is he hideous?”

“He can see you.” Alex snorted, bumping Reggie with his shoulder.

“No, he can’t.” The girl blurted, receiving a weird look from the younger kid.

She asked him what he wanted and he rolled his eyes. “A normal sister for starters, now stop being weird and come eat.”

The girl blinked at the garage doors her brother had just exited from before looking back at Alex. “He couldn’t see you.”

“Well, yeah. That’s kinda how ghosts work.” Alex said.

The girl huffed and marched towards the doors, spinning on her heels to face you again. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“Wait.” Luke took a step towards her. “We didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Julie.”

“Cool.” Luke smiled. “I’m Luke, by the way, and this is…”

“Reggie! Hey.”

“I’m Alex, how’s it going?”

“I’m (Y/n).” You waved to her awkwardly as Luke stretched out his arms and made a little ‘tad-da’ sound.

“Okay...” Julie said before disappearing out the doors.

“Julie seems nice.” Reggie said brightly, making Alex sigh.

“Did you miss the part where she kicked us out?”

As you patted Reggie’s shoulder, your eyes drifted up to the loft where you could see the outline of more instruments. “Alex, aren’t those your drums?”

Alex followed your gaze and poofed up to the loft. “All of our instruments are up here!”

Luke immediately shot up from the couch where he had been sulking and faced you and Reggie with a mischievous grin on his face.

Half an hour later, you had your instruments set up in the middle of the room. Once it all came together, you could almost convince yourself you were back in the old studio having a normal band practice. The boys must have felt the same way because before you know it, you were singing as loud as you could as Luke played the opening of ‘Long Weekend’

You got lost in the music, smiling and dancing around. Even though it felt like it had only been a few hours since you sang at the soundcheck, it had been 25 years. It was as if everything you didn’t get to feel in all that time started pouring out.

You felt like you were floating - and not in the ghost kind of way. 

It wasn’t until you heard Julie’s annoyed rambles that you came back to reality. You stopped singing and the boys followed, though Luke couldn’t resist doing an extra few riffs on his guitar.

“The whole neighborhood can hear you!” Julie yelled. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“Wait, people can hear us play?” Luke asked. Your stomach fluttered with hope as Julie sighed.

“Yes! And so did my dad and my brother.”

Alex stood up from his drums. “So, only you can see us, but everyone can hear us? What kind of ghosts are we?”

Luke gave him a fistbump. “Who cares, man? People can hear us play!”

Suddenly, the door swung open and a man stepped in.

Julie smiled nervously. “Dad!”

“Hey, I was just making sure you’re okay.” He smiled.

“I’m fine. I just had to turn off the CD player.”

Julie’s dad nodded before turning around and looking at your instruments. “Is this the junk that was in the loft?”

“Junk?” You and Luke scoffed. His eyes flickered to yours but you looked away as the man started tapping on Alex’s drums with his fingers.

“Hey, man! Tell him to stop touching my drums!” Alex complained. Julie just shrugged as the man pointed to the CD player.

“I liked that song you had on.”

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve.” Luke cheered.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie said as if he could hear him.

“It’s just an old CD I found.” Julie explained.

Her dad smiled. “Well, it’s still nice to hear you listening to music again. Out here you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.”

Something in his voice was a little sad even with the smile on his face, and you noticed something seemed a little heavier about Julie too. You got the sense that the conversation wasn’t just about music.

He stretched his arms and they went straight through Reggie and Luke’s chests. They both shivered but smiled brightly.

“That’s nice.” Reggie said, which made Julie sigh in frustration.

“Stay out of this.” She snapped and her dad gave her a confused look and started to apologize. Julie shook her head frantically.

“No, no. Not you. You know what? Just give me a minute.” She grabbed her dad’s arm and started leading him out of the garage.

Before he stepped out, he gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll figure out this music program thing.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He gave her one more reassuring smile before he disappeared out the doors. 

Julie paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. You were just about to ask if she was okay when she whirled around and glared at all of you. If you weren’t already dead, you’re pretty sure that her stare would’ve killed you.

“He liked our song!” Luke yelled.

“He doesn’t count. He’s a dad.” Alex said.

Julie stomped her foot. “Why can’t you just be normal ghosts? Go haunt an old mansion or something! I heard Pasadena is nice!”

She stormed out and Alex whistled. “I think she’s warming up to us.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Pasadena.” Reggie said.

“I feel bad.” You admitted. “I mean, if I was her, I’d probably be pissed too.”

“I don’t think-” Alex started, but before he could finish, Luke poofed out of the garage. 

“Rude.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before you heard Luke’s voice just outside the studio. You pointed towards the doors and Alex and Reggie nodded.

You closed your eyes and focused on where you wanted to go. Within seconds, you were standing on the pavement of the driveway, facing Julie as she and Luke talked.

“Look, I’m sorry we came into your life.” Luke said. “But what I just felt in there actually made me feel alive again.”

He looked back to the three of you and you nodded.

“We all felt alive again.” Luke sighed. “So, you can kick us out if you want. But we’re not going to stop playing music. I mean, we can play again! That’s a gift that no musician would give up. You gotta know that. I mean, clearly your mom is into music.”

Julie’s look shifted from understanding to sadness. She took a deep breath. “Was. She passed away.”

Luke exhaled. You could tell he was beating himself up a bit as he chewed on his lip. “I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, we didn’t know.” Alex said. Reggie nodded solemnly behind him.

“It’s okay.” Julie shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at Alex. “You haven’t seen her anywhere, have you? Like from wherever you’re from.”

“Uh, no. I mean you’re kinda the first person we’ve seen.” Alex said.

“Yeah, but she’s not dead so that doesn’t answer her question.” Reggie piped up, making Alex roll his eyes.

“I think she knows what we mean.” Alex turned to Julie. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Julie’s gaze fixed on her shoes and she shrugged. “Thanks. Sorry I got mad. You guys are kinda good.”

“Kinda?” Luke scoffed. “That’s just 25 years of rust getting dusted off.”

“Yeah.” Reggie agreed. “Do you play piano too?”

Julie shook her head, a sad smile on her face as she stared through the studio’s window. “No, that’s just my mom’s stuff in there.”

“No way! She’s an amazing songwriter.” Luke said.

“She was.” Julie tore her eyes away from the garage. “Wait, how do you know that?”

Luke shrugged. “There’s a song on the piano, if that’s hers…Your mom was really talented.”

You nodded and Julie scanned all of you one last time. “I guess, if you need a place to stay…you can stay in there.”

You all cheered and Julie rubbed her temples. “This is just too weird.”

“Thanks, Julie.” You said. The other girl gave you a weak smile before she disappeared behind the gate leading back to the house.

-

An hour later, as you paced around the garage, you got an idea. Your hand flew to the front pocket of your jeans and you turned to Alex. “Hey, Al. I’ll be right back.”

Before he had a chance to ask why, you had poofed away.

It didn’t take long before your feet landed on the doorstep of the house. You wandered inside and it took a full minute of searching before you arrived at Julie’s bedroom door.

You tried to knock, but your hand went straight through the wood. You cleared your throat. “Hey, Julie?”

“Come in.” Julie said.

Carefully, you stepped through the door and into her bedroom. It was decorated a lot like the garage, with bright lights and pretty paintings. Julie sat in the middle of the room on her bed, and even though you probably couldn’t sleep anymore, you wanted nothing more than to lay down and take a nap.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you.” You fiddled with the zipper of your jacket. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about your mom.”

The friendly smile she had wavered before she nodded sadly. “Thanks. I’m sorry again for freaking out back there. I guess I just still kinda think of it as her place.”

“Don’t be sorry!” You told her. “Believe me, I wouldn't have handled it as well as you did.

 I know we’re a lot to handle sometimes. And by ‘we’ I mean the boys.” 

You both laughed and Julie shrugged. “They’re not so bad. As far as ghosts go I would’ve expected them to be a lot scarier.”

“It’s really nice of you to let us stay. But I’m sure we can find somewhere else to go. I wouldn't want to intrude on your mom’s space.”

“No!” She said, sitting up slightly against her pillows, “I think it’s what she would’ve wanted.”

“She sounds like an incredible person.” You said. 

“She was.” She nodded. She took a deep breath in, “It’s just kind of hard to talk about her sometimes.” 

You nodded. “I understand. My dad died before I was born. All I really have of him are a few pieces of clothes and this picture.”

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulled out a polaroid picture and handed  it to Julie. It was of your mom and dad on the day they got engaged: your mom showing off her ring and your dad unable to stop smiling as he kissed the crown of her head.

It had been on you since the day your mom gave it to you with a box of his old things. The sight of your mom made your heart wince, but you weren’t ready to think about that yet.

Julie smiled as she stared at the picture then pointed to your jacket. “Is that his?”

It was a dark blue hoodie with sleeves that were a little too long for your arms so you had to bunch them up to fit your hands through.

“Oh, uh. No, this is Luke’s.” You explained, trying to fight the blush spreading across your cheeks. “Or at least it was before he waged a war on sleeves.”

Julie laughed again, and you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter.

“Anyway, I know it’s not the same,” You took the photo back and shoved it in your pocket. “But I do know what it’s like to miss someone, and if you ever want to talk about how much it sucks, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

She nodded, a grateful smile on her face. “Thanks, (Y/n).”

You nodded and waved goodbye before poofing back into the garage. 

Between working at Cece’s, going to school, and making music, you never had much time to make friends when you were alive. Especially girl friends.

But you were starting to think that maybe you could have one now.

July 1994

“Slow down!”

You yelled over the noise of the crowds, your tone sounding a lot less intimidating than you wanted due to your laughter as Luke dragged you up the boardwalk.

He responded with a smirk over his shoulder while he waved through dozens of excited carnival-goers. The smell of fried food, funnel cake, and fresh ocean air flooded your senses as you tried to stay on your feet. The pace was almost dizzying, and your body was buzzing from the excitement.

You hadn’t realized where he was taking you until you saw an array of flashing neon lights spinning above you. The Ferris wheel.

“Seriously, Luke?”

“It’s tradition.” He beamed, fidgeting excitedly as he got in the line. It was not lost on you that he was still holding your wrist in his left hand. “I mean, can you even remember the last time we did this?”

You didn’t. But you weren’t going to prove Luke’s point for him.

“Next, please.” The ride operator gestured for the line to move up and before you knew it, Luke was shoving you into the cart. It was a faded red one with a ‘7’ painted on the side.

“You know, it’s okay to admit that you only dragged me over here to avoid everyone seeing me kick your ass at Skee ball.” You joked.

The ride started and your cart was lifted into the air while more people got on.

“Excuse you, I dragged you over here because I wanted to spend time with my best friend.” He said sincerely, but you could see the mischief behind his eyes. “Or maybe I wanted to do this!”

Luke suddenly jerked forward, then pulled himself back, making the cart wobble.

“Luke!” You gripped the support bar and glared at him. Once your heartbeat righted itself, you shoved him with your shoulder. “You’re hilarious.”

“About time you admitted it.”

The ride spun around a few times before slowing to a stop just as you reached the top. The sun was gone now, but there were still soft streaks of pink in the sky left behind. The noise of the carnival faded out beneath you and the playful mood shifted into something different as the sky began to darken.

“Are you cold?” He asked, looking back at you for the first time in a few moments. Something in his eyes seemed softer, but you tore your eyes away before you could figure out what it was.

You shook your head and tried to hide the fact that you had goosebumps from the cool night air. Despite Alex’s reminders, you had forgotten your jacket in the car. But you were too stubborn to admit that you needed it, especially knowing how much Luke would tease you for it.

“Dude, you’re shivering.” Luke laughed and rolled his eyes before shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and wrapping it around you.

The material was warm and soft against your skin. It smelled faintly like cinnamon and laundry detergent and suddenly your head felt dizzy all over again. "Thanks, Lu."

You weren't sure what gave you the confidence for your next move, but you ignored the screaming voice in your head as you slid over and tilted your head until it rested on his shoulder. It was something you’d done before out of comfort, but you felt out of your element in this moment.

Some hair on the top of your head ruffled as he took a deep breath and you could hear the soft smile in his voice when he spoke.

“Anytime.”

There was a moment of anticipation, like just before a big drop on a rollercoaster. Neither of you dared break the silence for fear of shattering the moment and the feeling that came with it. Just as it seemed like maybe it would last forever, the Ferris wheel suddenly moved forward and the moment evaporated.

"So." You said, trying to distract yourself from the fluttering in your stomach. "How much do you wanna bet that I actually can kick your ass at Skee Ball?"

-

Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull

Let me know if you want to be added!

[adam-banks2024]

Deja Vu

Part 1

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly

He’s insufferable

He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.

He is insufferable.

And I have to deal with him.

Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago. 

I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.

Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.

When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.

“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.

To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness. 

I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.

Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say. 

“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?

He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”

I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.

“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.” 

Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.

My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”

He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”

“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work

Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”

I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”

Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.

“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.

He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--” 

“That I’m not good enough…”

He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.

“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”

I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.” 

He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up. 

Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.

“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.

The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.

It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?

“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”

I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.

He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”

I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”

I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”

He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face. 

I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path. 

“What do I get out of it?”

The audacity.

“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”

So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”

He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Watch it.” His voice was stern.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”

Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”

[innytoes]

Soft sentence starter prompt" ❛ we can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want. ❜ for the Reggie ship of your choice

(Obviously I'm going to choose the Rose/Ray/Reggie Reggie is the one to survive AU.)

Living with Rose and Ray was kind of a dream. Their apartment was warm and cozy and full of beautiful photography and plants and cool thrift store finds, full of love and laughter and music and snuggles. Reggie's Star Wars figurines lived next to Ray's vintage polaroid and the bowling trophy Hazel had defaced to create a 'World's Most Feisty Broad' award back when Rose nearly got kicked out of the club they were playing for going up against a guy twice her size after he put his hand on Lily's ass.

Some things had taken some getting used to, of course. Rose and Ray had to make room for Reggie, of course, converting Ray's home office into his bedroom. And then converting it back when they all got together. It took a while for Rose to remember that Reggie was 'a poor white boy' and she should ease up on the spices when cooking until they got his tolerance up a little. Ray and Reggie had to come up with an agreement on who bought which colour socks so they wouldn't keep using each other's and grumbling about how they didn't fit right.

One of the things Reggie had most had to get used to was, to quote Hazel, living with a 'feisty broad'. Rose could get loud when he was mad, yelled when she was passionate. The first few times, he'd frozen in place, or fled to his room. The first time it was directed at him, he may or may not have burst into tears. They'd had a long talk after that, about Reggie's parents, about Rose's upbringing. She didn't shout at him anymore after that, or at Ray, and they had a signal for if it got too much otherwise.

These days, he was pretty used to it. So when the door slammed open, his wince was less about the noise and more about the drywall. He stopped washing the dishes and turned to put on the kettle, hoping that some tea would help calm her down. Rose threw her bag at the couch like it personally offended her, before looking up and spotting him in the kitchen. He gave a sheepish wave, and she blew some curls out of her face, still annoyed.

"Hey, darling," he said, leaning on the counter that separated their kitchen from the living room. "Meeting didn't go well?”

Rose sighed and slumped down on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “He wasn’t interested in our music at all,” she said bitterly. “He just wanted to fuck me.”

All of a sudden, the door slam didn’t seem like enough. “What?”

“He told me that if I wanted to play his club, I’d have to go out with him first,” Rose said. “When I told him I was taken, he basically implied that since I was a slut dating two men already, what was the harm in one more?”

“I’ll kill him,” Reggie said, even though he knew Rose didn’t need a scrawny banjo-playing nerd in a leather jacket to defend her, he still really, really wanted to anyway. She gave a sad laugh, pulling him around the counter. He went willingly, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Don’t bother. I threw a drink in his lap and left,” she said. Reggie pressed a kiss to her hair, grinning. That was his feisty broad, alright. “It was hot coffee. I’m going to get us blacklisted before we ever even make it.”

“You don’t want to play clubs that will listen to a creep like that anyway,” he said. Rose sniffled, and he pulled her even closer. “Come on, let me make you your tea, and then we’ll snuggle on the couch until Ray gets home. We can order pizza, watch a movie, whatever you want.” He paused. “Or we can grab some of that ugly dinnerware Ray’s aunt pawned off on us last Christmas, go to the alley, and throw it at the wall.”

Rose thought about it for a moment. “Both.”

So that’s what they did. They spent a good half hour throwing hideously patterned ceramics at the wall before the pizza delivery guy arrived (and yes, he did get to throw a plate or two on top of his tip), quickly tidied up all the shards, and then snuggled on the couch with a movie until Ray got home.

And if maybe Reggie called up Hazel the next day and they went to Carl’s Music and Bar and hid hard-boiled eggs in all the vents and other hard-to-find places, well, Rose didn’t have to know about that.

[dadsbongos]

good heart

Movie/Game/Show: The Devil All the Time Dynamic: Arvin Russell/Reader Warnings: use of the daddy word but it’s purely platonic, sacrilege, post-canon, proofread but i am illiterate, fem pronouns Summary: Arvin knows he wants more, but he won’t let himself run for it. ~~~

Arvin slides onto the nearest stool he can find at the counter without looking around too much, peeling off his hat and holding it tight to the shiny surface with both fists. He keeps his head low and waits for a waitress to approach him.

“You want anything or you just getting out of the sun?” a voice teases from behind the counter.

His head lifts and he offers a fracture of a polite smile and nod, “Just a black coffee, ma’am. Please.”

“‘Ma’am’” you repeat as you write down the order, “You’re awful formal, don’t you think?”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Oh, no, you don’t gotta apologize for anything,” you awkwardly offer a smile, “I just tease sometimes, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Now, how many times have I told you to stop that,” an older man chides from the kitchen, “Bring that poor boy’s order over and stop messin’ with people.”

“Sorry, daddy,” you mutter, turning to hand over the ticket with Arvin’s measly order.

The man takes the paper and squints to read it, shaking his head before turning to the brunette boy at the counter, “Sorry ‘bout her. Gets bored around here.”

Arvin finally glances around the whole room and sees that the diner is empty of customers except for him.

He shakes his head and gives a slight grin, “Don’t worry none, sir. Just a rough few days, is all - nothin’ wrong with your daughter havin’ fun.”

He’s waved off by the older man and you soon return to Arvin’s front with a bounce in your step at his words, “Thanks for backin’ me up, stranger.”

“Just the truth,” Arvin murmurs, looking around the barren diner once again, “Slow day, huh?”

He internally cringes at the awkward starter but resolves to let it slide when you light up at the branch.

“Yeah, it’s Sunday service hours, ya know. Don’t get too many people willing to skip a meetin’ with the Lord for scrambled eggs and coffee.”

Lenora and Emma would be at service by now. Lenora would be praying with her neighbors and family by now. She loved services.

A bell dings before Arvin can claw out a subpar response and you’re making a trip to the little window between the kitchen and sitting area before carrying back a breakfast of toast, eggs, and coffee.

“Oh, I can’t- “

“On the house,” you wink, pushing the plate towards Arvin, “Don’t gotta eat it if you don’t want, but Daddy likes makin’ the effort to feed people,” leaning over and whispering so your father can’t hear, you let him in on a secret, “He looks mean but he’s got a real soft spot for people like you.”

He quirks a brow, picking up a fork to poke at his eggs, “Strays?”

You roll your eyes at the suggestion, “People who look like they need a good meal. He’s old but he reads people real well. I can take it back, if you don’t want it.”

“No!” he recoils and his face sours at the volume of his own voice, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you shrug, “Gotten a lot worse from customers for a lot less.”

Arvin finishes off a bite of toast before asking, “People yell at you often?”

Again, you merely shrug, “Polite young men like you ain’t exactly common around here.”

“Who could do that? You seem mighty fine,” Arvin shakes his head, “I don’t know you real well, ma’am, but somethin’ ‘bout that don’t rub me the right way.”

“Not much I can do ‘bout it. Daddy kicks ‘em out fast as he can but it ain’t like he’s always listenin’ out for people who don’t like his daughter.”

“What if I could get ‘em out?”

“What? You plan on sittin’ in a slow diner just waitin’ for people to get rough with little ol’ me?”

“Sad as it may sound, ma’am, I don’t got a lot goin’ on. ‘Sides,” Arvin shovels up more eggs on his fork, “your daddy ain’t a bad cook.”

You weren’t actually expecting Arvin to come back the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that. Or even the week later. But he did, just like he said he would - he came back and made sure nobody gave you a hard time. He wasn’t the tallest or the most muscular, but nobody could deny the intimidation Arvin could give out. He seemed like he’d seen more than most men his age. Seemed like he’d done a lot more than a lot of men his age. After a day you asked his name, he panicked and said Eugene just in case either of you knew of the sins living in Arvin Russell.

After a mere week of him coming around, your father offered him a job at the diner. He’d take the floor while you had the counter, and if the floor wasn’t busy he’d be on call for anything else needed. After a month, you asked where he was staying and found out he had nowhere to really go and he felt guilt claw at his chest that night when he wound up sleeping in your father’s bed with your father on the couch.

But he seemed sweet on you, calling you darlin’ in that backwoods drawl of his - offering to carry dishes when he saw you struggling. Offering to take over your position if you seemed overwhelmed. Helped your father around the diner and in the house, kept you company, kept out people who threw fits in the diner. Never made a fuss, never made himself difficult.

He didn’t give out his real name until a few months into his staying. His legs bouncing under the counter with nerves and hands gripping the surface for any sort of purchase. By now he figured you and your father would have some sort of attachment to him, maybe he wouldn’t have to explain his past - maybe both of you already knew. Maybe you’d turn him in. Maybe you’d understand. Maybe he could stay.

Please, Lord, let him stay.

It was after closing hours, leaving just the three of you as he spilled all the weight looming over his guilt-wracked mind. Telling you both - he wasn’t born as Eugene. He was born as Arvin.

“Russell, ain’t that right?”

He wants to dig himself a hole and die in it with how your father looks at him. Judging and waiting. Spying and predatory. It reminds him of those woods. It reminds him of the sheriff.

“How many people have you told?” he’s surprised by how you reach across the table so quickly to grab his hands and hold them in your own.

“Just you two…”

“You shot that reverend. Suspected on a sheriff. We heard about you,” your father’s voice is cold and he wishes he could go back by mere seconds and never tell either of you who he was.

He didn’t want to go to prison. He wasn’t a bad person, he had good reason. He knows he had good reason but the bodies piled up and he felt his chances at getting out of this diner in anything but handcuffs slip away. He knows any chance he had at companionship with anyone other than his own head were burnt to ash.

“Why’d you do it?”

His attention is brought back to you at your shockingly soft tone when asking the question, he purses his lips, “It’s gonna sound like a lie, but I swear that none of those people were any good.”

“Arvin,” you lean towards him slightly to make eye contact, “I wanna believe that, I do. But you’ve gotta explain yourself more than that.”

He lets himself find comfort in your sincere expression for a few seconds longer before looking to your father and then back to you, “That preacher - he, he - he hurt my sister. Real bad. She… she killed herself cuz a’ him. And the sheriff chased me ‘round after I…” he shook his head, clenching his eyes shut at how ridiculous he sounded, “They weren’t no good, I promise you. I swear it.”

“Arvin, why’d you kill the sheriff?” you pat his cheek gently, “Why was he chasin’ you? Was it over the preacher?”

“No, I- I shot his sister. And her husband,” he opens his eyes in time to see that your father has come closer and he wishes he never opened his mouth, “They were tryin’ to kill me. I swear it. They took me into their car, said they’d give me a ride but they- they stopped and I saw him pull out a gun and I knew they were up to no good and I had to protect myself. I didn’t wanna do it, I didn’t want- I didn’t want any a’ this,” he looks away from your father and back to you, tears now springing in his eyes, “I didn’t wanna hurt anybody… I didn’t wanna kill them… I’m not a bad person, I swear.”

You wipe away his tears, “Arvin, I wanna believe you, I do. But I also know you know this is a lot to take in, right?” you look back at your father as if silently asking where to go next.

He pulls you away from Arvin and stares down at the young man as if he could physically read whether he was lying or not. Arvin wishes he was looking at you again, he felt more comfortable when he was looking at you. He felt more comfortable with his hands in yours. He wants his hands in yours.

“If I was you,” he begins, “If my sister was hurt however bad yours was, I know that I’d kill that man. If anyone did what that man did to make your sister take her own life to my sister or, God forbid, my daughter, I know that I’d kill that man. I know that if someone tried taking me outta this world, I’d kill them too,” he nodded to himself, weathered and wrinkled hands splaying out on the table, “I’ve never killed anybody with these hands, Arvin. But if I think you’re lying for a second, they just might have to.”

“Daddy,” you pitch in over your father’s shoulder nervously, “what’re you sayin’?”

“I believe you, Arvin. I believe you’re a good kid, I believe you wouldn’t hurt someone without a damn good reason. You’re good to us and you do good work here. I believe you’re tellin’ the truth,” he looks into the young man’s eyes, “If you ain’t, and you’re lying to me, then I hope the Lord makes you see our faces every time you close those eyes.”

“I ain’t lyin’, sir, I promise,” Arvin shakes his head, growing desperate as tears pool at his waterline, he just wants one of you to say it - just say he’s okay. Say he can stay. He can stay here with you. Say he’s okay.

He just wants to be okay.

Your father leaves wordlessly, retreating to the kitchen, lights flickering as he began the routine clean-up for the night and preparation for an early tomorrow. Arvin turns to you in the growing silence, you’re a blotchy outline with the tears gathering in his eyes.

“D’you believe me?”

You come around the counter and reach out, taking Arvin’s head and pressing it to your chest, just over your heart. Gently removing his hat and placing it on the counter, your fingers begin carding through Arvin’s messy hair, “I believe you, Arvin. The man you’ve been to me is not somebody who’d go around hurtin’ people, I believe you.”

He swallows at the lump in his throat, eyes falling closed and hands grounding themselves in your work uniform, “Thank you, darlin’. Thank you, thank you, thank you...”

“You’re safe here, Arvin. We won’t tell nobody, I promise.”

Your voice is more comforting to him than the thought of any eternal bliss waiting outside this life. He wants to protect it - protect you. He wants to stay.

“Can I stay…” he turns his head to press his face into the cloth of your uniform as if that’d prevent any upcoming rejection, “Can I stay, darlin’?”

“You can stay, Arvin,” you murmur, continuing to run your fingers through his hair, “I want you to stay.”

Arvin kept himself wound around you for as long as you’d let him hold on, and you were content enough to keep him in your arms until your father was finished with his routine in the kitchen.

“Ready to head home now?”

“I’m goin’ too?” Arvin pulled away from you just enough to not muffle his reply, eyebrows furrowed, “I’m still stayin’ with you both?”

“Arvin,” you cupped his cheeks to direct his eyes with yours, a small smile just peeking at your lips, “We believe you’re good. Of course, you’re comin’ home with us. We love you, Arvin.”

Your father nodded quietly, patting the boy’s shoulder before walking past you both, “I’ll start up the car, so hurry up. We got an early mornin’ tomorrow.”

It was in the dead of night later on that Arvin found himself still unable to relax. His eyes wide open and fingers nervously tapping at his stomach through the comforter on what used to be your father’s bed. What if you both were tricking him at the diner and there’ll be a police officer out in the front lawn by morning? What if you were at the station turning him in right now and he’s actually all alone in this house?

That thought has him springing up from the bed and down the small hall to where your bedroom door is shut. He feels guilty doubting the sincerity you’d shown but his brain won’t rest and his heart refuses to calm down. He knows he could never blame you for giving him up but he needs you in his life now that he has you.

He curls around the doorknob and pushes open until he’s fully inside. He can just make out your figure in bed within the darkness, his eyes hurrying to adjust to the night.

Creeping to the side of your bed, Arvin hesitates but ultimately shakes you awake anyway, “Darlin’?”

You hum and groan and rub your eyes until you’re fully awake with Arvin at your side, “What’re you doin’ up? Didn’t you hear daddy? We gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep, I- I keep worryin’.”

At the admission, you’re sitting up and bringing a hand over Arvin’s, “‘Bout what?”

“D’you really trust me, or was that just an act back at the diner?”

“I believe you,” you make room on the bed and drag Arvin into it, coddling him to your body, “I know you’re good. I’ve known you for a long while now. It’ll take a bit to get used to, but I know you’re a good man. I love that you’re a good man.”

You’ve gotten so close to saying what he wants to hear, he could almost pretend it’s what you’d said. He could almost pretend he heard you say you love him - he likes to pretend that’s what he heard. But he knows he doesn’t deserve that love - he just needs to protect what he has now rather than strive for more.

“Thank you for believin’ me, darlin’.”

“I’ll believe you ‘til the end, Arvin. I know you’re good.”

He feels comforted, once again, by those words - by your words. He feels comforted by your hold and he hopes that this is a safe place to lie until his bones give out - if you’ll let him. He knows what he wants is to have and hold and cherish this home you’ve given him both in the form of a roof over his head and the spot between your arms but he has to remind himself that what he needs is to just protect you. At least until you decide his sinful heart is worthy of loving with yours.