#and i feel really annoyed because I have been to depressed and can’t focus long enough to read this year

[tripleyeeet]

DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL

SUMMARY: Gale's been hiding behind his pride for far too long. Or at least, Astarion thinks so.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gale

WORD COUNT: 2,053

WARNINGS: Descriptions of decomposition and injuries. Brief mentions of dissociation.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, this idea has been consuming my brain since I read @ssalballoon's comic about rotting gale. Obviously the concept isn't mine and is heavily inspired by their art, so please give them some love! <3

MASTERLIST

-

Something’s wrong with Gale. 

Often smelling more like a batch of tanned leather than a human wizard, Astarion can’t help but linger at its presence. Despite the way it violently rips through his senses —clouding his vision like a putrid fog of death— the smell is strangely intoxicating. A temptation of sorts, plaguing his thoughts with a powerful sweetness wrapped in rotting flesh. 

It calls to him in ways he doesn’t quite understand. As the days pass, he can feel it clinging to his nose, assaulting his senses each time the wizard draws near. Ripping through him like a bloodied knife reeking of day-old viscera. 

Most days, it’s presence is fickle. Ebbing and flowing like the tides, there are moments in between when he’s able to breathe a sigh of relief and forget the strange desires that sit at the back of his mind. Moments where the air is pure and unalloyed —no longer tainted by whatever shit Gale’s got collecting underneath that wretched bandage of his. Ones where Astarion can breathe without the threat of a fragrant assault each time the wizard passes. Allowing him time to think of himself rather than focusing on the increasing injury that Gale hides in plain sight. 

Because Astarion can tell it’s getting worse. As the days turn to nights and circle back, he can see the subtle changes in Gale’s behaviour. How the wizard’s charm has slowly dampened over time, leaving nothing more but this suppressant version of himself, aimlessly floating from one camp to the next. 

It drives him mad if he’s honest. Watching the way Gale refuses to cook with his hands. Instead choosing to waste his precious Weave to pilot those ridiculous apparitions. Or how he no longer waves his hands like a man gone mad each time he speaks. It’s depressing really, seeing him swiftly wither away. Witnessing the downfall of his autonomy each time he struggles to hold his staff during battle. 

Even conversations with him have changed. Once resembling an elegant show of vast grandeur, talking to him has become nothing more than some menial task. A boring back and forth lacking that past boisterous quality of wit. 

Astarion knows it’s because he’s exhausted. Slowly rotting from the inside out will do that to you, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. Especially because he’s become embarrassingly reliant on the bastard. Not that he would never admit it out loud but the man’s become somewhat of a constant in his daily routine. A moment in time he stupidly looks forward to each time they both find themselves awake before everyone else. 

Considering neither of them sleep, over the weeks it’s become a constant to greet each other before breakfast. To simultaneously wander out of their respective tents when the sun comes up, stretching their aches and pains away before meeting by the snuffed-out fire. Usually, Gale will greet him like an old friend, his tone cheery or playful, while Astarion merely nods and grumbles his way back to consciousness, eventually giving in to whatever conversation the wizard’s decided to focus his energy on.

It sounds preposterous given the circumstances but he enjoys the company. More so than he probably should, he thinks. Which makes the decreasing energy of his friend’s soul all the more painful to watch.

And to smell. Especially now that they’ve returned from battle, caked in the blood of their enemies —coated in dirt and sweat. All of it mixing together to create a cocktail-induced headache Astarion has to pretend not to notice.

Clearing a lump in his throat, as soon as they’re back he rushes for the lake just South of their campsite. Paying no mind to the rest of the party who follow leisurely behind, he quickly takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down. Sucking the tainted air as he closes his eyes, he pauses to allow it to filter through his lungs, counting each second spent struggling to maintain any sort of composure before he inevitably lets out it. 

With just an inhalation or two he can tell Gale’s only a few feet back, moving slower than usual. Most likely sitting at the tail-end of the pack in order to push through the pain of his injury.

As they continue walking to their shared destination, Astarion can’t help but pity the poor fool, knowing how difficult it must be to move after all that excitement. Considering throughout their encounter he could see him struggling, it’s a miracle he’s still upright. Having spent the majority of the fight using his staff more like an anchor than a weapon, Astarion could feel the irritability of everything coursing through his veins —rushing through him alongside the adrenaline of battle.

It quickly became obvious he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. What with him whiffing every other shot and defiantly going against Tav’s orders. Having him around had become nothing short of a liability. And based on how hard he’d managed to push himself, he knew it too. 

Which is why he refuses to stop, even now as they make it to the water’s edge and begin stripping down to wash away past thoughts and actions. Instead of acknowledging his need for help he merely continues to ignore the issue, walking down to the furthest point of the lake so that he can hope to slip away unnoticed. 

Immediately going against such an idea, Astarion follows behind, keeping just enough distance so that he can remain undetected as he watches the wizard struggle to lower himself to the rocks below. Staring at the way his hands shake with the kind of violent energy Astarion’s far too familiar with.

Frowning at the memory of having to dig himself from his own grave centuries before, he can still feel the rupture of his knuckles against the dirt. How they cracked under the pressure of his desperation, threatening to break just like Gale’s now seem to do. 

Remembering the irritation of the filth beneath his nails, Astarion can’t help but flex his digits at the same time Gale swipes his good hand across his face. Watching how the frustrated features disappear behind his fingers before returning with exhaustion.

A sight that immediately makes Astarion frown. A sort of sadness filling up his chest at the image of his friend struggling to maintain whatever semblance of strength he has left. Sympathy latching onto his bones in the form of cautious steps that force him from his hiding spot. 

“You look like you could use a hand.” 

Before he can even think to stop his offer, Astarion moves to the wizard’s side, acting as if the smell doesn’t bother him. Pretending like the scent of the stained cloth that coats the lower half of his arm doesn’t remind him of a festering corpse splitting open to reveal spoiled organs.

“Care to lend an arm as well?”

Unfortunately, Gale's joke falls flat. Not necessarily because of the material but because of the tone. Its lack of joy hitting Astarion’s ears in a way that furthers the ache. Forcing him to kneel in front of his friend with a sigh. “You know you’re starting to worry the others.” 

“Am I?” 

Ignoring the question, Astarion’s fingers gently inch towards the top of Gale’s dressings, searching for an opening —twitching reluctantly against the sweaty fabric as they continue to sit in silence. Neither one of them able to speak out of fear of revealing too much. 

Which only increases the pain inside Astarion’s chest. Like a knife, it pushes through his lungs, creating deep craters for the rotten scent to penetrate —holes the size of Gale’s hands that now rest limply against his lap.

Peeling away the soiled cloth, Astarion holds his breath while Gale lets out his. Both of their minds struggling not to veer off course as the bandage is torn away, revealing sick skin. Showing them both the polluted flesh that wraps around broken-down muscle and bone. 

“You reek, you know. Of... whatever this is.”

All Gale does is hum as he reaches into the pocket of his robes, prompting Astarion to narrow his eyes until there’s a fresh set of bandages placed in front of him. Then he merely grabs them and begins to work, slowly unravelling them as he looks at Gale’s expression, noting the slight blush across his cheeks. How his eyes grow heavier with each passing moment they spend together. 

“You should really consider finding a cure,” he says. “For my sake, obviously.” 

Grinning then, Astarion expects some sort of quip, but again, all he’s met with is silence. The continued absence of Gale’s wit refusing to acknowledge the obvious. Most likely rejecting the idea that for once the vampire’s making sense. 

A fact that fills Astarion with annoyance, knowing the pride Gale feels is something he deeply relates to. How every day he’s met with the struggle of asking for help versus manipulating it out. Each moment he spends with any one of his companions he has to resist the urge to beg for their assistance. To ignore the desire to drop to his knees and cry for a forgiveness none of them are aware of in hopes of earning their aid. 

It’s the same reason why he’s currently helping Gale. Why, instead of granting the wizard time to brood by his lonesome he’s instead inserting himself into his space. Taking it upon himself to woo and distract —making it seem like it’s merely just kindness. 

It's what he always does, despite the reluctance that sits at the back of his mind. How he earns the trust of all the people he encounters. Similar to Gale, he uses his pride to his advantage, showing it off to anyone who will see it. Producing it as if it were a mask instead of the blade that constantly nicks his skin each time he weaponizes it. 

Always hiding behind its decorative design, Astarion allows his confidence to do the talking. To earn their trust as they continue towards their common goal despite knowing that it’s wrong. 

“Apologies for the burden I’ve become as of late.” 

Too engrossed in thought, Astarion nearly misses Gale’s apology. Focusing on their shared advantages, his voice is faint at first, barely hitting his ears as his fingers absentmindedly work around his arm. Echoing in the back of his mind over and over again until it’s clear as day, forcing him to look up. 

His eyes are distant in a way that breaks the vampire’s heart. Shattering on impact, he has to swallow down the shards that try to escape, feeling them slice across his esophagus as he tries his best to ignore the sting of Gale’s expression. How it grows in both distance and familiarity the longer the two of them stay.

“You wouldn’t be a burden if you set your pride aside for once.” 

Gale huffs and then blinks, returning all at once. His moment of absence becoming nothing more than a memory that both of them will eventually forget. “You’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

Astarion lets out a single ha —one filled with total falseness. “You and I are nothing alike, wizard,” he then lies, even though Gale’s right. 

Far too often he sees himself within him. Lurking in the strangest of places, it’s as if Gale’s behaviours often mirror his own. Always reminding him of his motivations —prompting him to question why he does what he does as he’s forced to stare at these distorted images. Ones that look familiar but somewhat changed to better suit the wizard’s needs.

“Perhaps… perhaps not. I suppose it depends on the finer details.” 

This time, Astarion’s the one to remain silent. Opting to ignore the tightness in his chest that presents itself to turn his attention to the bandage now fully wrapped around Gale’s arm, allowing his fingers to trail down his wrist to grab his hand. 

“Well, for the right amount of coin I’m sure there’s a decent healer in Baldur’s Gate who could help you,” he says, once again smelling that scent. Feeling it rush through his nose like a rapid river of disgust, forcing him to clear his throat and mind as he raises the wizard’s knuckles to his lips before leaving without another word.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

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[axelars]

It’s kinda annoying because my (actual) diagnoses came during this “fad” of being traumatized and neurodivergent. So I feel like I annoy everyone when I talk about mine and that they don’t believe me/think I’m just looking for excuses/attention.

This is my story. Human names have been changed.

I am diagnosed Bipolar 2, ADHD, and Autistic.

I went my whole life undiagnosed of what was actually the reasons behind every single struggle I had, and there were, and continue to be ALOT. I talk about it so much because it’s a relief to understand myself now and to validate my experiences and start to heal and move forward. Since as long as I can remember, I felt out of place. Always a step behind everyone else and like I didn’t really belong anywhere. I was painfully shy. Speaking to people terrified me. I had frequent meltdowns and sensory issues that were brushed off as temper tantrums and being sensitive.

But I had friends. I had large friend groups I was a “part” of. I participated in team sports and dance. I maintained okay grades in school. I didn’t scream or meltdown in public. I didn’t stim or avoid eye contact (lol yes I did but had already learned to force it and my stims have always been low key). I didn’t have any “learning disabilities”.

Now I know the reason behind this is autism but it didn’t look the same as what everything knew it as, and girls especially learn to mask very fast and at a young age. And I did have learning disabilities. Auditory processing disorder is one. I mean I guess autism and adhd are learning disorders in themselves, but I don’t like calling them that. We just connect things differently and therefore learn, understand, and do things differently. But we’ve been told our whole lives we’re doing it wrong. We’re doing life wrong. But it becomes our normal so we think everyone feels like this.

Fast forward to high school. I’ve turned dark. My parents went through a really messy and toxic and abusive divorce when I was around 12. I’m 13/14 and I’m starting drinking, and smoke weed. This progresses to drinking heavily and often, and taking various pills. I’m diagnosed with major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder at 15. Medicated and things get better. I finish high school (still partying alot), go to University and do alright and kinda just party my way through it. I got off my meds cause I’m cured! Around 25 or so I start having panic attacks. I can’t leave my house. I go back on meds but as always am still apathetic about life. Panic attacks dissipate and I learn how to manage them when they do happen. Things are pretty good. I get my degree in geology, meet my then partner, John, get my masters degree and then a job. We have 2 dogs, one we got together and one I had previously, and 2 cats. It’s good for a bit and then I get bored and stop caring.

And then Covid hits. All routine and structure and societal need to socialize disappears. At first it was awesome. I could sleep in and working from home was nice. But then I got bored and started caring less and less about my work. I couldn’t focus, keep track of time or even days gone by, was experiencing executive dysfunction, sensory issues got worse, and much more. I now know this is ADHD and Autistic burnout.

I’m diagnosed with ADHD and do a bunch of medication trials. Nothing works. It makes me more apathetic and I don’t give a single fuck about anything at all. Even the one thing that brings me joy which is dog training. I realize my childhood was really abusive and traumatizing and I’d been normalizing it. So I start trying to heal from that.

My partner at the time was the only thing keeping me afloat (love you John) but it also took a huge toll on our relationship. We moved to the Yukon. I switched to a new company. I became even more depressed and move back to Alberta without him. I take all of the animals (2 cats and 2 dogs) because he’s on shift work. He gets super depressed without his Emma (dog) and finds a way to not be on shift work anymore so he can take care of her. So I send her back to him because they really did have the best bond, and she was born to be a wilderness dog. But this was heartbreaking for me. I get involved in an extremely emotionally abusive and manipulating and as I later find out, dangerous situationship. I’d known him for over a decade so I could trust him right? Dead fucking wrong but we will get into that later. John is still my best friend. I get a border collie puppy and she’s amazing. He gets involved in a relationship (also abusive) and cuts off communication with me. I finally get diagnosed bipolar 2 and and medicated for it. I learn my first manic episode was at age 19 when I decided to go to New Zealand for 2 months out of nowhere. I hate travelling. I barely remember the experience and I wasn’t drinking or doing drugs.

John gets himself out and we are best friends again. I couldn’t do life at this point without him.

Things are starting to make sense and get easier. I’m able to regulate my emotions better. I get myself out of that abusive situationship. I completely change careers and leave geology and the security along with it (it’s the best decision I’ve ever made). This change brings new meaning and purpose and joy to my life, but it also ends a years long friendship and my dog training community and support system.

Then my soul dog, Ernie, and the reason I’m a dog trainer gets bone cancer and dies. I reconnect with my previous friends from the training community (silver linings?).

My mom gets cancer which has spread and needs chemo. She’s starting her third set of treatments this week. The doctors are optimistic but she never tells us the whole truth about scary things. I’m scared but trying to be positive.

Then I find out the real truth about my situation-ship. Him and his friend have allegations of sexually assaulting women together. At least one his friend was charged for but they got dropped when she could no longer afford it. Our justice system sucks. Like how is that fucking possible. I learn of other attempted assaults or close call and just overall inappropriate disgusting behaviour. I learn of the other women. I speak to them and even befriend one. I learn he told us all the same stories that “he’s never shared with anyone before”, cooks the same meals, makes the same jokes, literally all the same things. This guy has zero conscience or personality and genuinely believes he is a good guy. He would always talk about what a good guy he is 🙄. Well he had me fooled and a trail of traumatized women before me. I learn he sent all of us at the same time pictures of his 2 year old niece. I’m disgusted by this because what human uses their toddler niece to gain trust from women. He’s despicable so I tell his sister in law.

Anyways I put that behind me and meet a really nice guy, Tyler. We have awesome chemistry and we get each other. But he’s in the dark place and can’t be what I need. I understand this because I’ve been there several times but it still really sucks. I’ve had a really hard time moving on.

Fuckface is back on the dating apps going by a different name. He’s so vile 🤮

My training business is picking up and I’m genuinely starting to be kinda happy. I can at least get more daily things done but it’s still a disaster. Still having a hard time missing Tyler but managing. Before bipolar meds I would have spiralled into my pit of despair.

A new dog comes into my life. She is an Olde English Bulldogge just like Ernie was and I sincerely believe he sent her to me. The week before I met her as a training client for a rescue I train with, I’d been feeling his presence a lot. I’m about to adopt her and I started a part time job at a canine physiotherapy clinic doing hydrotherapy. I love it. I get to see my best friend after 5 years and meet her little daughter.

So I think things are kinda progressively getting better with each setback. But frick can I just be done with everything needing to be a lesson?? I’ve got my PhD at this point.

[itsmeglendaloraine]

Hello, Depression? Will you please stop calling me, especially at night?

Not Truly Yours,

Glenda

I’ve been feeling down for a few weeks now. There is that haunting thought that is robbing me of my joy, energy, focus, strength, determination, and motivation. Every day is a struggle. I don’t know how I’m able to survive. I feel like I may pass out any time now. I can’t think yet my mind is always full of thoughts - thoughts of mistakes and embarrassments from the past or the piling plans for the future. I feel like I have so many things to say but sadly, no one can truly understand me.

I know I’ve been so blessed with the best support system but I am often left alone widely awake at night staring at the darkness with a heavy heart and a mind that is making circles. Round and round it goes. The ever-fluctuating emotions. Emotions of late that I was not able to process well for I suppressed them. It’s unfortunate of all things, I am invalidating my feelings.

Triggers. Triggers. Small things trigger me: the snide remarks of people; the unsolicited advice; my things not in their proper places; the curtains that my Mama newly hung in my room that I don’t like; my pen that is running out of ink.

I easily get annoyed, frustrated, and impatient. I tried so hard every day to fight the urge of breaking down. But I guess, I need to break so I can be whole again. 

Another thing is social media. For the past two months, I was overly exposed to it and like a sponge, I easily absorbed the things I see there, making my brain want to explode. So lately, I made a resolution to walk away from negativity (protect mental health at all cost!). I made a list and put it in my journal so I’ll hold myself accountable.

I wanted to write a blog for so long yet I don’t have the energy and the drive to do so. And so, this writing is a labor of patience and endurance bearing the pain and the tiredness that I feel deep in my heart right now. Hello, depression. F**k you! I wish I could afford to go to therapy. But, it is costly (Sad truth).

This is my version of therapy – writing. I am sharing this with you hoping you pick a thing or two.

I feel depressed and anxious for weeks now from all the stuff that is happening in my world: me graduating, proceeding to my master's degree, turning 29, plans of settling down, the high price of commodities (Hi, inflation!), the bills to pay, savings running out because I just spent too much lately, expectations not met, my thesis coming up that I don’t know how to start. Haaayy… All these and all that.

How I wish I have a magic wand to erase all those so I can sleep soundly at night! But, it doesn’t work that way. Life happens and so it goes without giving even a dime of care. It just happens whether you’re happy or sad or mad. It is what it is.

Last weekend, someone gave a shitty comment about how I gained weight. That person further said that before, my belly fat doesn’t show, and now it does. Arrrghh! To respond in the coolest way, I faked a laugh and made a joke. Talk about white lies. For that person, it is just a conversation startup and it doesn’t mean a thing, but, for me, it sends a signal to my overthinking brain that I am fat, and need to lose weight.

Last month, two people said that I look skinnier. Okay, what it is really? Lost or gained weight? Whatever.

Those comments may be plain or simple and the person saying those may doesn’t mean things but it’s up to the person perceiving, too. Right? Don’t comment on people’s weight when even you don’t give a damn about yours. Oh, come on!

In a world full of know-it-alls and insensitive people, may we try hard to be kind to everyone; to be the light of the people around; to radiate positive and good vibes because we don’t know what they’re going through.

"To each his own", as the saying goes. We have different stories to tell. May we all be good characters in each other’s stories.  

[thecatprince]

I am kinda considering changing my url.....

[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.

[thebibliosphere]

I had a question.

So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.

Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.

Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.

Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)

So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)

Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.

Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.

So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)

And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.

I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.

Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.

It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.

Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.

That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.

Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.

If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.

I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!

Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.

Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).

You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep. *jazz hands of despair.*

Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.

Brains are fun.

Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.

----

*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!

[honeypiehotchner]

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end 

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

[rosesvioletshardy]

mr. perfectly fine - mat barzal

okay first ever fic for Mat and I really hope you all like it. sorry it took so long i've been busy with school and work and the only time i got to work on it was in the middle of the night and it's finally done. sorry that it’s really long i sort of got carried away with it and if it's really bad

i got the idea for the fic after Taylor released the song and i lowkey got some mat vibes on some of the lyrics 

(please note this is fiction and just like my nolan “all too well” fic, i don’t think that mat is like this as a person and would not be like this)

masterlist

mat masterlist

warnings: angst, fluff, mainly angst

# of words: 3,550

Being with Mat was something you never thought would happen. From the moment the two of you met the first time to where you currently were it felt like it was all just a dream. He would tell you stupid jokes that would always make you laugh, try to make you breakfast or dinner, if you were upset he’ll start singing off-key while holding you to make you give him a small smile. It wasn’t like that anymore. No more stupid jokes, attempted dinners or breakfast, and off-key singing.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Mr. "I've been waitin' for you all my life"

Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side"

It was the morning. The morning after 1 year of being together. You had everything planned for a nice dinner, a walk back to the apartment before a night of activities. The sunlight was creeping into yours and Mat’s bedroom through the closed curtains as your eyes began to flicker open. Mat was still asleep, his hand lightly touching yours, mouth parted open a bit and his hair now messy as a piece of his face in his face. Everything about him just felt perfect and the moment felt perfect.

“I can feel you staring at me and it’s rude.” he mumbled in his sleep, feeling your eyes on him causing you to giggle as he pulled you in

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Perfect. You just have such a beautiful face, nice features I can’t help but stare.” you told him before giving him a kiss. Pulling away, the two of you stared at each other for a small moment. Nothing but silence between you two before you spoke up again

“What’s going through that head of yours? I can see the gears in your head tuning and overworking.” you said to him while rubbing his hand, trying to calm him down

“Nothing, just thinking about how much I love you. I know we’ve only been dating for a year, but I wanted you to know that I don’t think I could imagine myself anywhere else or with anyone else.” he said before continuing

“I promise you I will never go away. I’m going to be with you every single day, by your side, and how we’ll work out every single one of our problems when we run into them until we’re old and gray. I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you and I’ve waited for it to meet someone like you. I want to be with you until the end when we’re old and gray.” he said

When he said that you could help but kiss him. He wasn’t shocked to say the least but he returned the favor and kissed you back. Pulling away, your foreheads touching as he gave you one last peck. Everything in that moment felt right as he held you in silence

You knew that’s where you should’ve been cautious. Making promises that you can’t keep like the ones he made. The only promises he was capable of making that he fulfilled were protecting you when it came to feeling unsafe at times and coming back home from long roadies. You never suspected anything because you always thought everything would be alright, especially if he was out with Beau or any of his other friends but sometimes they never suspected anything either. You didn’t blame them seeing that you weren’t dating them or anything but it would’ve been nice for them to tell you what happened sometimes. Now you were thinking about everything all over again even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t give into any thoughts of him no matter what and tried to block it all off.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone, " I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

Your relationship with Mat was odd to say. You both understood that there were days that you needed to be alone even if you wanted to help each other. It was worse with Mat because he would hold everything back most of the time and not tell you what’s going on with him. The worst was when he would get up and leave. It felt like someone had just stabbed you and all you could do was just go lay down and think about every small thought that could make you cry.

Your friends have helped you get over him when you two broke it off, after allowing yourself to wallow and take time for yourself. The hardest was having to wake up in a bed alone without him holding you, his hand on your leg, or your head on his chest.

It’s been 2 weeks since he called it off. 2 weeks since you’ve seen his face that wasn’t on the tv. You knew you had to get over him sometime but every time you saw him or someone had mentioned him, your heart broke all over again. Anthony has tried calling you multiple times to see what happened and why Mat was in a mood during practices and games. You didn’t have the heart to tell him what happened seeing that it should be Mat who does so. You didn’t know whether or not it was worth watching the games and hockey entirely anymore. It annoyed Mat whenever the team and wags asked about you and why you weren’t going to any home games, or why you were never answering any messages they’ve sent. He would simply just ignore them or pretend that he didn’t hear.

“Hey so is Y/N coming to celebrate? We haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Yeah, we miss her.”

“Well she’s busy so you won’t be seeing her anytime soon” Mat finally snapped

Everyone stayed quiet after that and didn’t ask anymore questions as they left to go celebrate. You knew that they would be celebrating due to the fact that they’re one step closer to going to the playoffs. You haven’t done anything other than manage to hide the fact that you got your heart broken and have to force yourself to get out of your bed since those 2 weeks. Your friends have come and checked up on you but they knew that you needed space and will come out on your own.

Hello, Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breakin' mine?

Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby

Hello, Mr. "Casually cruel"

Mr. "Everything revolves around you"

I've been Miss Misery since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You’d never thought you’d run into him again, especially seeing and remembering his schedule all the time and the routes he takes. It wasn’t your fault you ran into him and it wasn’t his either. Mat had spotted you hiding in between the fruits and vegetables. You had no choice but to face him seeing that you didn’t want to cause a scene by running away and leaving everything. He still looked the same but his hair was a little longer and some stubble of his beard was growing in. Mat couldn’t help but smile at the way you looked. He always thought that you could be wearing a garbage bag and still look beautiful. There wasn’t any between the two of you other than the faint music playing from the speakers

“Hey.” he said with a smile

“Hi.” you answered, voice barely above a whisper and trying to avoid looking at him

“How have you been? It’s been awhile since what happened and I wanted to see how you were” mat asked knowing it was probably a stupid question seeing that he broke your heart

“I’ve been okay. You know always busy with school and work” lie

It wasn’t entirely a full lie seeing you’ve been doing your schoolwork and going but you haven’t been to work since those few weeks

“That’s good”

“How have you been? I heard about your recent win” you asked him wanting to change the subject and quickly finish the conversation

“I’m doing great, and yeah no one suspected that I’d make the goal but you know, guess I was lucky. Just really glad that Nelson was there with the assist to help me out before shooting” he chuckled a bit. He’s been shooting goals and living his dream while you drown in your own misery by listening to your depression playlists on repeat and going back into old habits. Mat could see that you were lying but he didn’t want to say anything. The most he could do was nod and smile knowing how much he hurt you

“That’s good. Always knew that you could make any shot no matter the situation. Always at the right place and the right time.” you smiled trying not to tear up knowing that he’s living his best life at the moment. He smiled back and was about to say something before you both got interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing

“It was nice seeing you again Mat. Hope you win the cup this year.” you tell him while giving a small smile before leaving

Mr. "Never told me why"

Mr. "Never had to see me cry"

Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

Trying to wrap around everything that happened the day he broke up with you hurt but you had to figure out why he did it. The thing about Mat was that he sometimes would never tell you how he was feeling and you’d have to read off the signals he was giving from his body language and at times he was good at hiding those too. One moment you were getting ready to go out then next you’re at Julie’s crying into her shirt as she rubbed your back.

Taking days off where you just needed to focus on yourself were always needed. The entire day you wouldn’t use your phone, unless it was an emergency, and you would try to treat yourself to a good day. You’ve managed to go to the gym and workout not caring if people were staring at you, you went out for a nice lunch and decided to try something you’ve never had before. It was going well until during your lunch you saw him again. He was by himself and at his stuff with him which meant he must’ve come out of practice. He hasn’t changed much since the grocery store but this time you knew he had a girlfriend. Mat must’ve known you were staring at him because he looked up as soon as you got up to leave and waved you over to join him. It’s not like you hated him with a passion, it’s just you still didn’t feel comfortable or confident enough to ask him why he wanted to break things off.

“Hey Y/N, it’s good to see you again” Mat said with a smile as you sat down

“It’s good to see you too.” you said back to him trying to hide the fake smile

“So how’s everything” you asked him trying to make it less awkward

“Um, before we talk, I just wanted to apologize. I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend when we were together but I’m trying to change. Before you interrupt and say something, save it. I was wrong to hurt you like that”

You didn’t know what to say and sat there shocked. It was hard to tell whether or not he truly meant it due to his body language but you brushed it off and told him it was fine

“Mat, don’t worry you know. It happens. So what is going on? How’s hockey? I see pre-seasons about to start” “Yes it is and I know this season we’re going to make the playoffs and win the cup” He started as you began to zone off. You couldn’t help but realize that he was just like the rest of them; every other guy you’ve dated or even went on one date with.

Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

And I never got past what you put me through

But it's wonderful to see that it never fazed you

Social media was sometimes cruel to you but it wasn’t their fault entirely that people decided to post about their personal lives on there. You haven’t really checked anything in a month thinking it was best to limit social media for your own mental health. Occasionally you would check for any news but otherwise it was for the best to delete them all. It was a good breather. No one has tried contacting you about any celebrity gossip that was happening. You knew your friends would post pictures of you (with your permission of course) but other than that, they completely respected your choice of not posting or liking anything.

You were currently out with some friends for lunch after a long week of being busy and needing a day to each other. They were telling you all about everything that’s going on in their life and were about to show you pictures from their siblings' wedding. When one of them handed you their phone, your finger hit the home button again and took you to the top of the timeline. As soon as it hit the top, you felt your heart stop and drop all the way down to your stomach. It was Mat with his arm around a girl as they both laughed and looked each other in the eyes. You knew he’d move on quickly but you didn’t know exactly when they got together. Julie was the first one to notice your face and took the phone from your hands to see what made you react the way you did. Everyone gathered around before looking back at you and giving you their sympathy. It wasn’t their fault that they still followed him on social media and you had no problem with it, it was what you heard ended up being true.

“Babe, i’m so-”

“No, it's fine. I mean he’s allowed to move on. People don't always move on at the same time and if that’s how quickly he moves on, then that’s okay. You know? I need to focus on myself. That means taking my time to heal whether it ends up being weeks, a month, or a year. I’m taking my own time to find myself. I’ve overheard him talking to someone from when I ran into him and Anthony but it’s nothing now.” you let out all in one breath as your friends sat there in silence as you handed them their phone back.

The rest of the lunch no one bothered to open their phone unless it was their work, family, etc. they kept glancing at you throughout the entire lunch to see if they were able to read your face and how you were really feeling but they couldn’t get anything. It did hurt to see him with someone new but as you said you need to pick up your heart. The thing was you couldn’t. You remembered everything from that night and at times it’ll haunt you in your dreams, everything feeling real and having to constantly relive your heartbreaking over and over again.

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Sashay your way to your seat

It's the best seat, in the best room

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

As you came out of the hotel bathroom ready for the night, you saw Mat standing in the mirror fixing his tie. It was the night of the NHL awards where he was nominated for the Calder Rookie of the Year award. You stood there for a while admiring him as he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“You know, instead of standing there and admiring your hot boyfriend, you can help me fix this.”

“Who says I can’t do both?” you asked walking over to him and making sure that his tie was straightened and not crooked

“I’m proud of you. You deserve this award so much.”

“By the way, Tito is also coming but since he didn’t know if you agreed or not, he’s also my date.” he said holding your waist and pulling you in to kiss you to distract you

“Mmm okay. At this point I’m not shocked. Now c’mon, your family and your “date” are waiting for you in the lobby.” you told him while taking his hands off your waist and grabbing one of them to drag him to the awards before he made you both late

The awards were going by smoothly and Mat wasn’t joking when he said that Anthony was going to be there as they pretended to take pictures the way you and Mat would. You didn’t mind it though because you knew what their friendship meant to each other and knew Mat would do the same if Anthony were ever to be nominated for something this big. During his speech, he was trying not to sound smug and let his ego show, especially only being a rookie and having his whole life ahead of him within the NHL. You couldn’t help but admire the way he talked and how he stood up there from a seat that you didn’t realize how good they were until he was up there. When he came back, the smile didn’t leave his face for the rest of the night. It was another win in his book but he didn’t want to be smug about it even if you knew.

And it's really such a shame

It's such a shame

'Cause I was Miss "Here to stay"

Now I'm Miss "Gonna be alright someday"

And someday maybe you'll miss me

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

The first person who was there for you after the break up was Julie. Your best friend who you told everything to. She knew something was wrong as soon as you were at her doorstep in the middle of the night. Julie knew something was wrong with Mat a few months before the breakup but she didn’t want to say anything to make you upset but you knew she was right and you ignored all the signs. She supported you with every decision you made afterwards and thought you were right to take time to focus on yourself before getting into another relationship. The moment you told her you were seeing some she was happy that you were moving on and told her that you were going to be okay. You were happy that you’ve got to notice what you really needed and that your life didn’t always need to revolve around a man. Mat has tried to get into contact with Julie and apologize but he was late to it. You’ve moved on from him and he needed to know.

Goodbye, Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breakin' mine?

Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby

Goodbye, Mr. "Casually cruel"

Mr. "Everything revolves around you"

I've been Miss Misery for the last time

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

“How do you feel?” Julie asked as you looked in the mirror for the last time

“Honestly? I still feel upset but it’s time to move on and go ahead with my life. He’s no longer dating me and I’ve accepted it but I’ve met someone new and he’s all that’s on my mind” you told her with smile on your face while turning to face her

“I’m proud of you. You’ve been Miss Misery for the last time and now you’ve grown up.” Julie faked cried but still feeling proud

“I feel like it too. He’s moved on and his heart doesn’t seem to be broken and mine is on the mend and forgetting about him. I just know that he’s perfectly fine the way he is and I don’t need it anymore. I felt like being with him, I was always in the shadows and I know he’s a professional hockey player, but I felt like there was just never time for “just us” like it always felt like it only revolved around him and I didn’t need that anymore.” you smiled while letting out a deep breath.

You're perfectly fine

Mr. "Look me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

You said you'd never go away

He promised and he always told himself he’ll keep the promise of never going away and fulfill it someday. Sometimes when you meet someone that’s what you think, but sometimes it never does and they break your heart in the end

[gaiuswrites]

World's Best

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: Not every day is easy. Frankie makes it better.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2.2k~

Warnings/tags: smut, vague-ish descriptions of depression/mental health, hurt/comfort, fluff

Notes: Do y'all ever get into a funk and then attempt to write yourself out of one? Well, this is the v self-indulgent product of said instance heh. I have tagged a random assortment of potentionally interested people but obvi no pressure? idk? :) Sending so much love and well wishes to you guys. x

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

A sea of knotted sheets spans between you—as tangled as your legs—too tired, too leaden to unweave. The fan rotates in the corner, blowing stale air your way every few clicks. You dangle a foot off the bed, skin prickling as the weak breeze sweeps over you and a bead of sweat licks from your knee to slope down your calf. Morning sun leaks through the window— the finch perched on the tree just outside it chirping once, twice, before flitting off.

You’ve been reading the Sunday paper for a solid twenty minutes—which, in all honesty, is an overstatement; you started and quickly abandoned the Sudoku after a measly ten, and you’ve been staring at the same sentence in the local section for the other half, blinklessly hovering over the fine print.

You’re not here today. Not all of you.

There’s this sinking feeling, hollowing you out and unmaking you. It’s as if something unseeable is oozing over you - dripping - something treacle, something thick. You’re far away from yourself—far from the cornflower blue walls and the framed photos hanging on them—the happy faces in the pictures smiling back at you— far from the plants basking in the tines of filtered light by the sill, far from the body lying beside you.

You’re not always this way. Not every day drags like an inky smear, your mind meandering sluggishly in circles, holding you hostage in a prison of your own making; but you can’t say it’s foreign to you either. It’s old, familiar—like that sweater in your closet you’ve had for centuries and rarely wear, but can’t bring yourself to get rid of. You know it well, this slog—you have unwillingly memorized it’s sodden intricacies, and today you feel it. You feel every single one of your days—each grey hour— weighing heavy on your very bones.

heavy heavy

heavier, still.

If you’re not careful, you’ll sink straight through the mattress. You’ll nestle deep into the springs and make a home in the down. You’ll sleep there until you become it. Comfortable. Catatonic.

Frankie sips his coffee. He doesn’t look up from the email he’s skimming. “What’s wrong?”

The baritone of your boyfriend’s voice sucks you back to the present—to the tick of the clock marking the seconds, the whir of the fan. The paper crinkles as you lay it to your chest—big eyes feigning ignorance as you blink up at him, chewing your lip. “Hmm?”

“Baby, I know that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’ve got on,” he replies, “that’s your ‘I’m-upset-and-I’m-trying-to-hide-it’ face.’”

“I-” you frown, “no it’s not.” Gingerly, you pat a hand around your temple, your cheek, as if you could see your expression through touch.

“Uh huh.” Frankie rolls his digit upon the mousepad, clicking and scrolling down the webpage, and your vision glazes over again—ugly thoughts fogging up the panels of your mind—

“You gonna talk to me about it?”

You blink, swallowing, “nothing to talk about.” You flap the paper, ironing out the pleats, and scan for that pesky paragraph you never managed to finish.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking with an all too obvious slurp.

“Really, I’m fine,” you say weakly. You’re not that convincing—you barely convince yourself.

“Sure, sweetheart. If you say so.”

He’s too casual; he’s letting it all go too easily and God, he’s gotten good at this—at coaxing the truth out of you. He doesn’t even have to try any more. He’s so kind and open and sincere, all he has to do is crack the door ajar—tempt you with an inch of space, with only a sliver of leeway—and immediately you want to plunge through it and chase after him, like a dog and a bone.

He makes you want to share; not because of what he says, but by everything he doesn’t—the welcoming gaps he leaves you with, the gaps you’re urged to fill. This happens every time—it’s pretty damn annoying, actually. You’re so miserably predictable. After three and a half years together, sometimes you think Frankie might know you better than you know yourself.

A scary thought—wonderful, too.

“I’m just-” You run a hand over your face, pressing into the bridge of your nose and you grunt, frustrated. Exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Frankie settles his coffee cup on the hill of his sternum, closing his laptop quietly. He swivels his head to you, hair mussing into the wall.

“Of anything in particular?” he asks, linen soft.

“No, yes—I don’t know,” you heave—an errant thing fluttering around in your chest as you fold the newspaper, letting it float to the floor with a splat. “It’s just-” you worry the inside of your cheek raw, fumbling with the blur of your emotions. You shake your head. “It’s just a bad brain day.” Your voice is small as you slump into him, letting your body go limp.

“I’m sorry I get like this. I’m okay—I’ll be okay,” you mumble, face burrowed into his arm. He smells summered, like sweat and heat and the promise of long days fading into even longer nights, and you take a heady drag, inhaling his scent.

You hear him sigh, stretching as he sets the mug and computer down on the side table. He shifts back to you, snaking an arm under your body as you coil your own around his center, hugging him close.

“You know, it’s alright if you’re not,” Frankie murmurs into your hair, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. “And you know you don’t have to hide from me when you aren’t.” His thumb finds your arm, the chewed nail bed scratching soothing circles along your skin.

Your gut somersaults, flipping and purring, and all you can do is press your lips to the cottoned shoulder of his tee shirt—the one with the holes in the collar and motor oil stain on the hem; all you can do is tighten your grasp, wringing around his cozy waist.

“And you know that nothing you say is gonna scare me away, right? I’m always going to be here for you.” Frankie gives your forearm a reassuring squeeze.

God, this man.

You nuzzle further into his chest—snuggled and swaddled in the safety of his warmth—and you mumble something incoherent, muffled against his relaxed body. His beard catches on your fly-aways as he dips to hear you better. “What was that honey?”

“I said,” you crane your neck, lifting out of his side, “you really are the ‘world’s best uncle’.”

A ripple of confusion twists over his features before you bat your eyes up to meet his, shooting a glance over to that exact phrase wrapping itself around the ceramic cup beside him.

You got stuck with it at some terrible white elephant exchange last Christmas. It’s fucking tacky and aggressively large—not even you - you, in all your caffeine dependency - can chug that much coffee fast enough in one sitting without it going cold— and neither of you have any nieces or nephews to speak of…

Naturally, it’s become your favorite mug.

Frankie barks out a laugh, his stomach flexing against your grasp. “Oh yeah? Is that all I am?” he smirks, a glint of mischievousness reflecting in his irises as he bores down at you.

You quirk an eyebrow, a coy tug blooming across your lips. “I dunno,” you drawl sweetly, “you going to prove me otherwise?”

His face is split into a grin now, wide and aching and unnecessarily endearing. His hair is a mess, wavy tufts jutting out every which way, and his eyelids are still puffy from what little slumber he was lucky enough to get in your hot, cramped apartment.

You really can’t keep putting it off—you need to buy an AC unit.

His focus dances from your eyes to your mouth, breath hitching as he watches you skip your tongue over the plush mound there. “I just might,” he growls playfully, maneuvering you onto your back with one broad swoop, pinning you to the bed.

/

He makes love to you like a man unburdened - untouched - by time. He fucks into you slowly, unhurriedly—at a pace that’s mind numbingly measured and patient. Frankie devastates you, dragging himself through your walls from head to hilt, letting you feel every ridge, every vein of him; filling you up so impossibly well—his thick cock sauntering in and out, and in and out again. Each roll of his hips makes you gasp, his blunt tip brushing against that deep, uncharted chasm within you that tempts you into oblivion. Your legs are locked around him, crossed at the ankles, and the perspiration at the pits of your knees slicks his sides.

Frankie’s palms dimple the fitted sheet as he brackets your head, burying himself into the crook of your neck. He moans—hot breath ghosting over the prickled skin there, babbling disjointed strings of guttural praise into your ear.

Fuck baby—fuck you feel good

How’d I get so lucky, how’d I-

God, you’re a— fuck

You’ve got the perfect pussy—made for me

Made for me, made for me, made for-

You turn your head and capture his mouth with your own, whimpering into him as he nips at your bottom lip and bites. You scrape your fingers through his scalp, pulling at his locks, and Frankie whines a tortured noise—giving an especially hard thrust that pries a yelp from your throat. He rears his head back, catching your gaze, a concerned line creased into his brow. “Y-You okay?”

“No- nono, yes Frankie. Again, right there,” you beg, lashes fluttering.

He darkens—the timbre of his voice made husky and raw as he drinks in the sights and sounds of you mewling for him, splayed and needy. “You like that?” Frankie drives into you again, sharp and searing as he bottoms out, the smattering of curls at the base of him soaked with your gloss. “You need it hard, baby? You want it rough?”

You whimper, clawing desperately at the nape of his neck. “I just—I just want you, all of you,” you pant as you hold his stare—the gorgeous, chestnut gleam of it—and the wordless expression that crests over his features makes you want to cry. The precious indent in his cheek, the stubble littering his jaw, his sculpted nose and clever lips, the sad rings under his eyes—the grooves he thinks you don’t notice, the grooves he tries to mask by always taking care of you, always putting you first, even when he shouldn’t.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful—he’s so beautiful you could weep.

“You have me,” he rasps breathlessly, bowing to meet you in a messy whirl of tongue and teeth before breaking away—forcing himself up off his hands and back onto his shins. He hooks an elbow under your knee, letting the other frame the outside of his hip. “I’m right here—you have me, you have me-”

Frankie’s hips are frantic now, pulsing in short, strong bursts as he grinds into you. He dips a hand to your center, pad of his thumb working erratic, sloppy flicks over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit. Your feet arch, the muscles there constricting as the tension in you mounts.

“Babe.” You’re whining now, vulnerable and shaking and fuck, you’re going to come apart—any moment now, any unbearable second, you’ll snap. “F-Frankie, baby oh god—”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes screwing shut as you shatter. Like a vase crashing onto kitchen tile, you break into a million jagged fragments. Your cunt seizes, legs spasming against him as he fucks you through your orgasm, and it doesn’t take long for the tight contractions of your heat to yank him right off that same ledge. The both of you—tumbling and fracturing into terrible, perfect shards—to be intermingled and scattered among each other’s glass pieces.

Indiscernible. The same.

When you glue yourself back together again, you will find parts of him there - here, within you - filling your jigsawed cracks like golden ore.

Frankie slips out of you with a squelch and a huffed groan, collapsing to the mattress in a panting heap. His cum dribbles from your apex and you shiver at the feeling of it—at the feeling of him, warm and wet and lingering inside you. He rests his cheek on your breast while you both catch your breath—rising, falling. Waxing, waning. Two pitter-pattering hearts beating in time.

The sheets have been sloughed, lazy and forgotten, to a crumpled pile on the wood floor and the steam once rising from the mug on the nightstand has long since disappeared. It’s too muggy for you two to be this entwined—his leg draped over you, a big arm slung across your belly—but neither of you dare move. Neither of you have the energy, never mind the desire.

The clock whispers in the morning quiet.

A new bird claims the branch the finch left—she sings now, roosting there in the birch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur sleepily, drawing patterns into the valley of his spine, mapping out his freckles and moles and scars. “Thank you,” you say. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for understanding me, thank you for listening even when I cannot speak. “I love you so much.”

Gently, silently, Frankie tilts his head, bristled hair peppering your flesh as he mattes your skin with his lips; laving along your breasts, across your clavicle and up the plain of your neck—each kiss a response, each kiss a truth.

You don’t have to apologize

You don’t have to thank me

I love you

I love you

I’m right here

I love you

tags:

@pedros-mustache @roxypeanut @frannyzooey @djarinsbeskar @read-and-rec @keeper0fthestars @krissology @greatcircle79

[enviedear]

liability → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n slips herself weak love potion daily to get through the wretched sadness she feels she can’t escape. in her mind, she’s a liability. and unbeknownst to her, draco malfoy feels the same.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3.2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

tw for depression ; something i have so please know i understand if you’re going through it. my messages are always open if you need a friend. be good to yourself and if this may trigger you pls don’t read it. all the love, olivia <3

pls enjoy this angst, and also please ignore the science behind love potions in this fic.

after cedric had been killed, life for you wasn’t the same. the two of you were the best of friends. you did absolutely everything together. cedric helped you be the very best you. 

after him, life seemed grey, dull, and monotonous. you didn’t have anyone to talk to.

your friends pulled back from you and said they made a mistake thinking they could take you on, and you understood. some days you could be so happy and carefree and the very next minute you drifted into the dark abyss that was your mind. you were a little much, for everyone. 

over the summer you began reading to take your mind off of cedric. well, not him, just what happened. you forced yourself to read every book in your home. from books about the stars, to poetry, to books on theories, and finally your textbooks.

it was one of the hottest days of summer when you came across the chapter on love potions. it gave you an idea. the chapter clearly stated that the drinker of the love potion would become infatuated with the person who gave it to them. who’s to say you couldn’t become infatuated with yourself.

of course you didn’t want to become a narcissus, so you brewed a very weak version.

it worked. for a whole day you were happy. you ate, laughed, and were so good to yourself. you were in love with the girl you were. you found yourself slow dancing alone, stroking your own cheek, being there for yourself. 

of course, it didn’t last and by night time you were back to feeling all too much. the type of feeling where you’re silent and unmoving, the world a blur but your thoughts in a deathly focus. 

it was that night you decided that you’d take a weak love potion everyday until your bad feelings went away on their own. you were tired of being the girl people pushed away because they didn’t understand. 

so you did exactly that. your entire fifth year consisted of flying under umbridge’s radar. thanks to harry potter and the order, that proved easier than expected. no one suspected you.

now, you’re in sixth year. everyone is convinced you’re happy again and they don’t treat you like some sort of liability. of course, they don’t know that every night you cry and feel exactly like you did in fourth year. but that’s ok, you can handle the nights as long as the days are good. you find it to be a cycle now. in the mornings you take the potion and it’s almost like the best part of yourself fights the whole day to take care of you, but by night, she looses to the worst part of yourself.

“y/n would you like to go to hogsmeade today?” your friend, cece asks.

“i would love to, but i have to study for transfiguration.” you sigh, giving your friend a sorry look.

“ah it’s ok, you’re taking advanced this year. you’re right to study. mara and i will make sure to bring you back some things from honeydukes.”

you smile and thank your friend before making your way to the astronomy tower. cedric was the one to introduce you to studying here, and you never stopped. 

you take a seat on the steps and begin studying multicorfors.

just as you were getting up to practice the spell, a body runs into you, causing the both of you to tumble to the floor.

you look to your side and spot draco malfoy, who, besides being herbology partners one year, you didn’t really talk to.

“are you okay, draco?” you ask, helping the boy off the floor.

he smoothes out his suit jacket, “yes, l/n.”

you scoff a bit and raise your eyebrows at him, “are you sure because it’s unlike you to stumble about. you’re just too good for that.”

draco glowers at you.

“okay i’m sorry. i didn’t want to be here anyway,” you gesture around the room, “the astronomy tower is now yours.”

he doesn’t say anything as you exit the room and you shrug it off. 

‘as if draco malfoy could be pleasant’, you think to yourself, annoyed.

once you approach the hufflepuff common room you feel the effects of your potion begin to wear off. you curse yourself a little for not drinking enough potion to last you until dinner and decide to run by the kitchens to grab something before bed. there’s no way you can sit through dinner like this.

by the time you make it to your dorm room you feel heavy with thoughts. you curl into your bed crying and stare at the stone wall until you fall into a dreamless sleep. like most nights.

the next morning is a saturday and you wake up early, before your dorm mates, and grab the bottle of love potion under your bed, hidden in a locked trunk. you down the small bottle and watch it refill thanks to the spell you placed on it, and put it back, hidden away.

you decide to head to breakfast early and grab a muffin to take with you to the astronomy tower. you need to master multicorfors before your test on tuesday.

a half hour into your practice, you’re doing the spell almost perfectly. though, changing your skirt into pants proves to be your downfall. you just can’t get it. 

“i need the astronomy tower.” a voice says from behind you.

you turn to see draco malfoy, again wearing a fitted suit.

“you can study while i’m here draco.” you say pointedly.

“i don’t want to.” he scowls.

you roll your eyes, “then study elsewhere.”

“no. you can leave.” 

“listen draco, i can argue with you all day, but i’m not moving until i’ve mastered multicorfors. so either you stay here with me or you go somewhere else.” you groan.

he doesn’t reply but takes a seat on the steps, taking out his wand and transfiguration book.

you smile to yourself, happy to win the argument, and go back to trying to change your skirt into a pair of pants. 

“you’re too rigid with your movements, l/n.” draco tells you.

“can you show me then? i can’t figure it out.” you ask.

“no. just flick your wand more. it’s not that hard.” he says.

you give him a deadpan look, “please. this is the last part of the lesson i need to get. if you show me i can leave sooner.”

draco groans but gets up and walks over to you.

“give me your hand.” he instructs. 

you do as you’re told and he grabs your hand, showing you the correct way to move your wand. his hand is warmer compared to yours and you like the way he warms you up. it’s also extremely soft, almost as if he’s never had a single callous. 

“you have soft hands.” you tell him, grinning.

surprisingly draco lets out a small smile, “you’re supposed to be paying attention.”

“i can’t. you have baby soft hands.” you joke looking up at him.

“i just use lotion. you should try it sometime, your hands feel like a house elves’.” he teases.

you let out a deep laugh, “who knew draco malfoy was such a comedian?”

he feigns shock, “i made those hilarious ‘potter sticks’ badges back in fourth year for nothing then?”

you suck in a unnoticed breathe at the mention of fourth year before smiling,“okay i suppose that should have been a hint. but it was mean.” 

draco and you continue to talk and practice transfiguration up until dinner. the time flying while the two of you are together.

“would you like to eat dinner up here? i can grab us some things from the kitchen.” you ask him, packing your bag up.

“i actually have something to do, but maybe some other time. let’s meet here again tomorrow though, i can help you with transfiguration.” he says.

“draco malfoy fraternizing with a muggle-born hufflepuff. tsk tsk.” you joke before agreeing and heading to dinner. 

you don’t miss the eyeroll he gives you for that remark.

“where were you all day, y/n?” mara questions as you sit down beside her.

“astronomy tower. i was practicing transfiguration. you’ll never guess who ended up helping me either.” you beam, grabbing a plate for yourself.

“who helped you? i’m guessing cormac mclaggen, he seems to have a crush on you.” cece says.

your face contorts in disgust, “no, definitely not. that guy is a creep. it was malfoy actually, and he’s surprisingly funny.”

mara and cece give each other a look before mara speaks, “you do know people are saying he’s a deatheater, right?” 

you roll your eyes, “malfoy is not a deatheater. i think a deatheater would oppose to helping a mudblood.”

your friends shrug and dinner continues on with normal conversation.

“cece and i are going to study in the library before bed if you want to join us.” mara says, grabbing her books.

“i’m okay, plus i’m super tired. i’ll see you at the dorm.” you smile, before parting with your friends.

slipping into your bed you begin to feel the come down of your potion. tonight your pain hurts even more than usual. you feel so trapped and can’t seem to catch your breath. you keep thinking back to the last time you had spoken to your best friend.

it was a week before the maze and he was sitting with you by black lake.

“y/n i promise you once i win, i’m taking you and cho to the fanciest restaurant i can find and we’ll all celebrate.” he had grinned, leaning against a tree.

you giggled and shoved him playfully before saying, “if you don’t win i’m still expecting that dinner.”

“i’ll win. i’ve been practicing so much.”

“i know, you barely ever have time to see me now.” you had sighed.

“y/n i’m sorry. i promise that after all of this is over, you and i are going to see each other everyday. i can’t live without you, kid. you’re my best friend.” he soothed, giving you a hug.

you had leaned into him, “forever?”

he laughed, “of course.”

that memory was etched in your brain. you knew it would never leave your mind. 

you laid silently crying in your bed as your dorm mates entered to room, ready for bed. they said goodnight to each other before getting into their own beds, assuming you to be drifted off by now, and after a few minutes, their snores are the only sound in the room. 

the emptiness of your being feels too much and you’re desperate to escape. you need air. you need something to remind you that you’re alive.

you quietly sneak out of your room, out of the common room, and up the stairs to the astronomy tower.

as you quickly enter the doorway of the tower, a body collides into yours, knocking you back a bit. 

when you look up, tears falling out of your eyes, you’re greeted by teary grey ones. draco’s.

he sniffles and steadies himself before asking, “what’s wrong, l/n?”

you can’t seem to find the words. no one has asked you this question in years, and so much is wrong.

all you can do is cry harder.

“you have to breathe l/n. you’re going to upset yourself more, just breathe.” he says, voice breaking.

you try to calm down but nothing is helping. nothing feels real. cedric should still be here. you shouldn’t be this broken. life should be how it was. now it’s just too much.

“i hate it, draco.” you finally cry out.

he wipes the tears from his own eyes, “what do you hate, l/n. talk to me.”

“i hate that i haven’t been the same since fourth year. i hate that my best friend is gone. i hate that i have to worry that everyone around me is going to die, just because of some evil dark wizard. and i hate that i take fucking love potions everyday just to feel okay. i hate it all.” you breathe, finally. 

draco raises his eyebrows, “you’ve been taking love potions?”

you nod, weary of your confession.

“i’m sorry y/n.” he mumbles.

your eyes meet his at the mention of your first name. coming from him it seems so genuine. he’s never called you by your first name before.

“you won’t tell anyone will you?” you ask, eyes searching his.

“no, i won’t,” he pauses. “but you should get back to your dorm, i’ll walk you back. a walk might help you calm down.”

you nod and let the boy lead you through the dark castle, lit only by the moon. draco’s steps are lighter than yours, and it causes you to wonder how he learned how to be so quiet. it’s unlike him.

when the two of you reach the hufflepuff entrance you whisper to him, “thank you for calming me down, draco. it means a lot that you would help me.”

in the shadows you see him smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. you bid the boy goodnight, and walk back to your dorm. of course you’re still sad but the sadness is somewhat diluted, thanks to none other than draco malfoy. 

you continue to meet with draco daily throughout the months of your sixth year. the two of you finding comfort in each other. 

by now, you’re becoming far less dependent on love potions. having someone to confide in proving immensely helpful.

but although you’re getting better, draco only grows worse. you never ask him what’s troubling him. maybe because you’re scared he won’t tell you or maybe because you’re scared to loose the person helping you the most. either way, you still try to help him as much as possible.

today, may the eighth, draco and you have plans to go to hogsmeade to look for a new notebook for you, since your old one is completely used up. you really loved mcgonagall, but the woman sure stressed you out with all the notes she commanded your class to take.

you’ve been waiting patiently for twenty minutes, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

maybe he’s still at breakfast? you think to yourself, before heading into the castle to search for your friend.

you peer around the dining hall, coming up short. so you decide to go to the astronomy tower. if you needed draco you could usually find him there.

when you enter the sixth floor, ready to head further up, you hear shouting. curious, you walk toward the noise, which is coming from the boys’ bathroom.

you hesitate going in but once you hear a defensive spell being cast, you draw your wand and bound into the bathroom.

in front of you stands harry potter. he’s crouched behind a wall, clutching his wand and panting. you furrow your brows, and go to question what he’s doing before you see draco emerge and cast the cruciatus curse at him.

before you can tell them both to stop, harry yells out a curse you’ve never heard of before.

“sectumsempra!”

almost instantly, draco falls to the floor, blood pouring out of him.

you’re shocked, and don’t even feel yourself run to him. you don’t hear harry’s apologies. you don’t hear when professor snape rushes in. you don’t hear a thing other than draco’s pained cries.

it reminds you all too much of the chaos of cedric’s death. everything happening too fast.

when snape finally stops the bleeding he instructs you to get back to your common room and keep quiet. you don’t try to fight him on it, and do as you’re told.

after a few hours of worried overthinking, you leave the hufflepuff common room and head to the hospital wing. when you enter the large room, you notice draco immediately. he’s the only one.

“draco?” you call his name, standing beside his bed.

the boy opens his eyes and stares right at you, causing you to cry.

“i was so scared draco.” you cry, placing your hand on your friends chest, feeling his heartbeat. it’s comforting.

“i have to tell you something, y/n, before it’s too late. you just have to promise you won’t tell a soul.” he tells you, voice weak.

“draco you’ve kept my secret over these months. i would never hurt you by telling anyone.” you say.

your friend gives you a weak smile before sitting up in the bed and pulling up his left sleeve, exposing a black ink that contrasts so much from his pale white skin.

“they’re coming here in june. i don’t know the day yet but when i find out i’ll tell you. you have to stay safe, y/n. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.” draco advises.

“you’re a deatheater.” you breathe out, eyes locked to the dark mark on his arm.

you can’t believe the scene in front of you. your draco, a villain that you’ve been so deathly afraid of for years.

“i’m so sorry y/n. it wasn’t my choice. but please promise me that you’ll stay safe. i need you here with me, not gone by the hands of a dark wizard.” the boy pleads, grasping your hand.

you look him in the eyes, “i promise draco.”

he doesn’t let go of your hand and brings it back to his heart.

“i care so deeply for you, y/n. you’re so good. thank you for everything.” he says, faltering.

your eyes are teary when you say, “i love you draco.”

with that you slip your hand out of his and walk back to your dorm. your thoughts seem to be invasive that night. you contemplate grabbing the bottle of love potion you haven’t taken in a month, but decide against it.

you feel cheated. everything had been so perfect. all the excitement you had from running through the nights with the boy you love begin to eat you alive.

it’s not fair for it to turn out like this. the two of you so dependent on each other, but on two separate sides of a war. there’s no way this can end well.

you realize you love draco, as more than a friend. that scares you and so you’re back to thinking that you’re better off on your own.

draco still sits with you in the astronomy tower daily, but the two of you don’t speak much. you, scared of falling deeper in love. and him, too focused on his task. 

of course you find yourself loving the boy more and more everyday. the two of you are always embraced when together, and even though it’s unspoken, you know draco loves you too.

it’s the thirtieth day of june, you’re in the astronomy tower alone when draco comes rushing in.

“y/n you have to go, they’re here.” he warns, checking the stairs behind him.

you freeze at his statement. you knew the day would come but you still weren’t prepared.

“y/n! are you listening to me? you have to go.” he shouts.

this is it. this is the final time you’ll see draco before the war officially starts, after this there’s no more innocent days spent together. here you are again, loosing your best friend.

you get up from the floor and walk to draco. you cup his face gently, “take care of yourself. i love you.”

he eases a little and places his hand on yours, “i love you more. i hope you know that.”

and you do. of course you do.

[dimonds456]

*sees your tags about being salty about suf spinel*

YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT AND NOT SHARE YOUR SALT /LH

Okay, but I'm warning you, you asked for it.

LONG POST WARNING.

LIKE A REALLY, REALLY LONG POST WARNING.

Dimonds456 Presents: How They Did My Baby Dirty: An SUTM and SUF Analysis on Steven and Spinel (Told by a Progressively More and More Angry Narrator)

THE CONTEXT: There was a post talking about how you think a character will fix everything, but then they wind up making it works. My tags were "#*looks at suf spinel* #I am still salty about that like the bitch I am fghdjskgfa"

Grab some water, guys.

Let's start by talking about Steven for a moment. In the original show, when we were following him as a 12-14-year-old, we watched as he built up trauma and then learned how to hide it expertly well, to the point that most of the audience didn't even realize he was struggling.

You can actually pinpoint the seconds he makes those decisions, too. The best example is in "The Test," when he's storming up to the gems. He's pissed. His fists are clenched, he's got that anime eye shadow overlay on his face, he's frowning, all that. the Crystal Gems are clapping for him and lying to his face, and he KNOWS they are because he overheard them talking about how it was "impossible for him to fail" that test (- Garnet).

And yet... he also overheard them saying that they're just trying their best. They don't know what he needs. They never really have. No one is sure. So, Steven realizes that by picking a fight, he would just be making it worse for them because they would know they messed up, and nothing gets solved, and everyone gets more depressed and Amethyst and Pearl go back to fighting each other and- well, you get the picture. He doesn't have a full understanding of what's going on, so his kid brain went "so I can either be angry at them and cause problems, or I can tell them I did a good job to make them happy."

"I can lie to make them happy."

He storms down there angry, still mulling this decision over. He drops to the floor, frowning and pissed, and says "I can't believe you guys." He is so close to yelling at them, and yet, when he looks up at them...

"That was so... INSANE!"

You never would have been able to tell. It was right there. That moment. And then he never stops. For the ENTIRE REST of the series, he NEVER STOPS. He puts the Crystal Gems above himself every time. Think Rose's Scabbard, The Message, The Return/Jailbreak. The Cluster. Peridot. Dealing with Jasper. The zoo arc (ESPECIALLY the zoo arc). Aquamarine. Then pretty much the entirety of Season 5.

(NOTE: I went back and rewatched that scene for the screenshot. There is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lip tremble in there too! D,: )

He lives for the people around him, and not for himself. Almost never for himself.

Put a pin in that.

Now, let's look at his maturity. People thought that was just him being mature, right? That he grew up. No. That was not it at all. He was learning from his own behaviors as well as the people around him, and building up this idea that he had to "fight to be everything that everyone wants [him] to be when [he's] grown" (- Steven, the extended intro).

Yes, he matured, but not because of that. He started making various decisions to benefit the group that oftentimes he wasn't fully comfortable with, but something he believed would be better for everyone.

Put a pin in that.

Then, later in Future, we see it all manifest. He is selfless to a fault, to the point that he can't think of himself in a positive light in the sense that he's good. We see it a couple of times, but especially in "Prickly Pair," when he vents to Cactus Steven about everything that happened. He feels useless, which is taking a toll on his mental health.

"Why do I need to be needed?" He needs to be needed because that's everything he was as a kid. His entire IDENTITY rests on his ability to help other people, no matter what happens to him. He literally sacrificed himself for them countless times (the big one of course being the Aquamarine incident), and now as a teenager, his whole sense of self is wrapped up in this need to get up and do something to make the world better.

And when he can't make the world better, his world falls apart.

Put a pin in that.

Now, let's talk about Spinel, the moment we've all been waiting for.

Spinel, as a gem, was made specifically to be a friend. That is her niche, and her purpose. Her reason for existing. At first, she and Pink Diamond got along very well, as shown in the flashbacks right before Drift Away plays (I headcanon she has illusion powers and was literally projecting her trauma, but that's a completely different post).

She and Pink vibed together for who knows how long, until one day, Pink started to not like being around Spinel anymore, finding her annoying and childish. We don't know what really caused the switch, just that it did happen (but of course, I have headcanons for that, too). Spinel never realized until it was FAR too late.

Steven actually describes his younger self as annoying at one point during the Diamond Days arc, when he decides to throw the ball, so I'm legally allowed to make this comparison.

Steven and Spinel were the SAME. They were both young and dumb, and something that at least a few people found annoying. People put up with their BS though, since they cared about them. But, while Steven realized this and matured because of it (or bottled up his emotions, to each their own), Spinel never did. She never matured. She was never given a chance.

In the movie, we saw her as a child, and watched as she played with Pink and never tried to be or do anything else, to the point that Pink Diamond thought to realize she might be struggling (and maybe Spinel didn't, either!).

She lives for the people around him, and not for herself. Almost never for herself.

And when she can't be friends with this one person, her world falls apart.

Sound familiar? It should. I literally pulled from things I said earlier lol.

Spinel and Steven are mirror reflections of each other. Reset!Spinel is 14-year-old Steven, completely devoting her entire self to one idea. Steven's was helping others no matter what, Spinel's was serving Pink no matter what. Spinel is like a combination of 14 and 12-year-old Steven in this sense, honestly. Goofy, without a care in the world, except one thing: the people around her. She would do anything for Pink, just as Steven would do anything for his family.

Now, Pink Diamond left Spinel. We all know this story. She left Spins there in the garden for 6,000 years because she grew more mature and started a rebellion, effectively forgetting about this one gem she kinda stopped caring about standing there.

Personally, I don't think Pink had any malicious or even intentional intent in that, but this ain't about her. This is about how Spinel continued to sacrifice herself for Pink, even when Pink didn't need her to anymore. She wanted to please Pink 24/7, all day every day, to the point she self-sacrificed and stood perfectly still for her for millenia.

Now, back to Steven. The gems don't need him anymore in Future, right? They've all grown up and matured and headed off towards their own futures, effectively stranding him alone in terms of self-identity and self-worth. But he stays there, ready to assist at the drop of a hat, or- in Future's case- the call of a phone.

Episode 6 anyone? The one everyone says shouldn't be in Future? That it should have been cut to allow more focus on Steven himself? The fusion episode? YEAH. THAT. He is running himself RAGGED to try and help others, to give himself a purpose. He is self-sacrificing. (He's a professional, don't worry. /j)

Steven metaphorically planted his feet down and decided that he was going to devote himself to the people around him.

Spinel's feet were literally tied down soon after she made that very same decision.

Okay, enough with the backstory. Time for the salt.

In Future, Steven is at his lowest low. He is running to the Diamonds for help, to see if there is SOMETHING they can do to help him. And we first see Spinel.

Spinel has been through the ringer on a lot of the same mental problems Steven himself is facing. She self-isolated, watched as everyone grew up and left her, and then began to lash out because of it. She understands what he's going through. We even see her concerned as Steven starts to tell her why he's there.

Spinel takes him from Diamond to Diamond, until he's running out of White's room in a blind panic. Spinel is able to catch up with him, and Steven realizes the same. SHE GETS IT. He turns around and says "Hey, you used to have vengeful thoughts!"

Spinel replies "Ohhhhh yeah, but I don't have 'em anymore."

"How did you make them stop?"

She then goes on to sing Change to him, effectively cutting that conversation short.

On paper, that sounds very in-character for her. She's goofy! And that is what worked for her! But the problem is that they had to dumb her down in order to make that character decision work. In the movie, she was shown to be observant and able to put two and two together, even if she often jumps to conclusions (see her being the one to figure out that the gems needed to remember their "pieces," as she remembers the Garden, her re-realizing what Pink did, and her meltdown later when she reactivates the injector).

Spinel is smart. It should have been in character for her to realize that Steven was panicking just as she had been, and needed to be talked to gently. But no. Instead, she starts belting out Change, which given Steven's situation, would not work for him.

At the very least, she would have started doing little tricks or started trying to get him to join a game, which would have taken his mind off of it (to her anyways, that wouldn't have worked either), which then could have prompted further discussion.

Then, once they finally start talking, Spinel could have been able to share some legitimate advise. She was hurt and lashed out. What worked for her was opening up to others and letting them in, learning to trust again (which Steven also has problems with- he can't trust that the Gems won't break down the second he turns his back. Trust does NOT equal love, there is no doubt he loves them to no end), and allowing other people in.

That is what Steven needed, too. He needed to let his guard down and just talk to someone. Sure, Spinel was not going to be a fix-all, but she could have at least offered some insight on what to do.

She UNDERSTANDS him. They are a reflection of each other.

But instead of offering help, Spinel made it worse. She was dumbed down to allow the rest of Future to happen, to make Steven feel even worse. Because- and here's the kicker- because the one person who MIGHT understand him doesn't, that means there's no hope for him.

At least, that's how he sees it. And so, the denial- and "Everything's Fine"- begins.

Here's the thing, though; they DIDN'T NEED to make that decision. If the Crew wanted to have Spinel not understand Steven, then draw the line of her being a Gem from Era 1, used to the Diamonds shattering people.

Steven has killed Jasper and revived her at this point, so maybe Spinel offers that at least he's trying to get better, just like the other Diamonds! See, they're doing so great now! And then that makes him feel worse since he IS trying to do better, but is only failing, while the Diamonds- who were MADE to be nasty dictators- are doing better than him.

The Diamonds shattered a lot of people, and they're doing better than Steven, who has only shattered one person, and not even on purpose. How horrible is that?

Then boom. THERE'S your angst, with a much smarter, more helpful Spinel.

Look, I knew going in that Spinel wasn't going to be able to help. The finale had to happen somehow, and we hadn't seen Wormy Boi yet. I have always been a storng believer of the corrupted Steven theory, so I knew it was bound to happen. But I was hoping that Spinel would at least try. But she really didn't. She just brushed him off, offering really loose advise that didn't even fit his situation and thinking that would be enough.

No. It's not.

I can see where the Crew was coming from. I still love that episode, and I love seeing Spins in it (until that exact moment). This is probably the only thing in SU that genuinely gets me mad. Or, well, maybe not mad, but definitely annoyed and- you guessed it- salty.

I have an unfinished fic where I kinda delve into Spinel's head for that episode called "A New Start". If you really want my thoughts on where Spinel's head was at, there's a bit in there that really explains it. In the fic, Steven decides to rejuvenate himself and brings Spinel along with him, and that's all the context you need for this.

I cannot explain that moment in the climax of the episode, though. Maybe she thought it would make him feel better, or that maybe he really did just need to open his eyes and see the error of his ways (which doesn't make sense, he KNOWS what he did). Maybe she thought that being silly would help somehow.

But you'd think she'd learn from her time with Pink as she grew more annoyed with her, but apparently not. Or maybe she would realize for a second that being loud and annoying was bad. Or maybe she doesn't learn.

Either way, it- and she- was dumb. And they did my baby dirty.

*drops mic and walks away*

[alixdelcourt]

You're way too precious to me

Ft. Katsuki Bakugou, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari x female reader

Genre : angst, deep and dark angst (I had hard time writing this) and slight comfort in the end

WC and warnings : 2.7 k / Angst, dark mood, hurt feelings, depression, emotional burn out, light mention of self-harm, crying and feeling down. Please be careful reading this, and skip it if you're insecure or having mental troubles, I struggled writing this and felt hurt myself, so please be careful.

Note : I hope that I achieved your request okay, @d3nk1x, and that it's what you requested for. I discovered that I am not that comfortable with angst... I definitely prefer fluff or smut. This isn't for me... So maybe it's not well writen. Please let me know.

Dating katsuki Bakugou is quiet a big deal, and not always an easygoing relationship. All the anger, frustration and brutality he bottles inside of him prevents bakugou from being a perfect boyfriend. But, whatever ! Who needs perfection anyway ? When you felt in love with him, you were aware of all these matters. You love him just the way he is. After all, love is for the better and for the worse, so you always find your way forgiving his roughness and harsh attitude.

But, lately, you find yourself patching up your own feelings and emotions because of him. You have more and more trouble taking the blows, and some wounds of yours refuse to heal. So you slightly change, trying to give him hints of your unhappiness, of your insecurities. But in vain…

Today has been particularly tough, and you just feel… down. You need whatever comfort you can find, and you’re craving for your boyfriend affection. But today hasn’t been a good day for him as well. He lost all his training sessions to Kirishima and Deku, and he’s pissed off. So when you came up to him and asked for a few caring, he just… erupts. You were a sadness soused combustible, and his fury sparks caught fire on you so well. He poured all of his raging emotions on you, and the words he spat to you were like sharp knives cutting your skin and letting all of the pain seep deep into you.

… You just wanted some cuddles. Was it too much to ask ? Just a pinch of affection to sprinkle on your illness. An ounce of empathy. And here you are, buried under your blanket, fist clenched, closed eyes crying, and all your body shaking because of the your hurted feelings. His words keep streaming in your mind, destroying you a little more every time they start again.

“Stop clinging at me like you do ! Look at you, you seem so miserable right now… It really pisses me off.

“Please… Katsuki… I need you… I need your-”

“ F*ck off ! You’re always so whiny ! Such a crybaby ! Stop being so dependant and clingy ! I am not your baby-sitter !”

“But… But…”

“I said f*ck off! Get the hell away, and leave me alone ! I can’t stand crybabies like you !”

The message has been perfectly received. It’s printed in capital letters behind your eyelids.

You felt asleep, exhausted from crying, and when you wake up, you couldn’t tell how much time did you spent laying there. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t feel able to get out of your bed, so you just stay here, in the warm fluffy embrace. Whenever you feel some thought triggering your mind, you bite your flesh hard and the concentrate on the pain ‘til you forgot why you started doing this. After a few times, you couldn’t even think of a straight complete sentence.

When the blanket was roughly removed from over you, you didn’t even blink. With a quite long delay, you realize that you should feel the cold air, the disturbing noise and even his touch on your skin… But you’re like under anesthetic. Which makes Bakugou freaks out. He tries to make you react, slaps you, screams your name, while shouting for someone to help him. You’re conscious, but you can’t feel anything. You should probably answer him, but why would you do ? seeing him shouting at you, you think that he’s still mad at you… Why did he come for you then ? If he doesn’t want you anymore, why is he here ? You don’t understand what’s happening.

Maybe because you don’t realize that from his point of view, you seem… dead. Your body is cold and your eyes are empty. The other students called for Aizawa, and recovery Girl came to auscultate you as well. But you didn’t notice, lost in the fog inside your head.

And when you “woke up” from this choc state, you was kind of surprised by a caring boyfriend of yours, who hugs you tight and cuddles you all day long, apologizing and whispering to not ever do this to him again. And when you asked “do what ?”, he goes like “nevermind”, before holding you close. It’s Kirishima that told you what happened. You went through an emotional burn out for a few days, and Bakugou was literally freaking out and feeling guilty because of what he told you. He didn’t mean to hurt you like this, he was mad and didn’t think of the consequences of what he said. He promised he won’t act like this again. He felt like he lost you, and it was unbearable. You’re way too precious for him.

Your relationship with Eijirou Kirishima is based on routines. You both like the fact that you follow a settled pattern that time made up for you. Just small little things that remind you two of the love and affection you share. For example, you wait for him in the morning to go to your classes together, and he waits for you to tidy up your things after class before reaching the cafeteria. He kisses you for goodnight, and you play with his hair for him to fall asleep.

Loving him is easy and sweet. And even if you have arguments, because every healthy relationship goes through some arguments, both of you try to find a way or a solution to deal with it. And lately these times, you just feel so in love with him, you literally can’t help but kissing him all day, spinning around him like a light feather carried by the breath of love between you two.

It’s quiet late at night, and you were in his room. You always end up in his room after dinner for some cuddles and maybe watch a movie together. Then you two just do your own things until you’re getting sleepy and head to bed with the goodnight routine of yours. Like chilling, each one on his own but together. Doesn’t makes a lot of sense, but it works for you two, so you just don’t mind. Tonight, you two had to study for the next math exam that was coming. And it was difficult. Math gives you headache, and hopefully Eijirou is a patient tutor. He kept repeating for you until you got the point. You’re proud of you, and so is he, but you ended the study session a little bit delayed, and he was late to his online gaming sessions with Denki and Sero. He let you finish the last exercise on your own and connect quickly to catch up with the boys.

You read a book, but can’t concentrate with all the math in your head. You can hear your boyfriend gaming and he looks way too attractive to you with his hair flattened by his headphones, tongue sticking out because he’s focused on his game. You smile before reaching his lap. You comfortably sit on it and hug him to express your affection. This is a way better position for reading.

But you still can’t concentrate. Not with your body pressed against him, with you’re *ss on his crotch, with all the dirty thoughts running in your mind. You throw away your annoying book, and start kissing the redhead’s neck. He smells so good… A mix of his wooden scent gel shower and the bitter fresh scent of his aftershave. You get pretty excited, imagining this perfume ruined by his sweat while pounding you. Picturing all these thoughts and imagining Eijirou’s lips on your, you’re getting really needy, aren’t you ? You can’t help but move your hips and rub your lower part on his. Maybe this will get him hard and he’ll be just as needy as you. Maybe you could sleep over here tonight…

But no. Your moving just annoys him. He can’t focus properly on what he’s doing while you wriggle around and sigh on his skin. He can’t hear you moan, he can’t see the desire in your eyes, nor notice the excitation you’re in. He tries to push you off his lap, but you keep trying to get him out of his play. Game over appeared in bloody letters on his screen, and he removes his headphones. When you try to frame his cheeks in order to kiss him, he pushes you away.

“You’re really annoying, you know that ?”

“You say that only because you lost… Come here, let me comfort you”

“No. Not when you’re the reason why I lost. Anyway, I am not in the mood.”

He keeps avoiding your touches and attempts to lay him on bed.

“What is it, babe ? Why don’t you want me to touch you ?”

“I just don’t want to right now. Can’t you understand it ? Or do I need to keep repeating myself like for everything else ?”

This was like a cold shower. It cancelled every single drop of excitement you had. You clench your teeth.

“Okay. I get it.”

And you reach you own room, without any of you wish each other good night. While turning in bed, you couldn’t tell if you’re angry, or disappointed, or sad, or furious, or… You’re hurt. This was an emotion injury you couldn’t explain. And you had no clue even after thinking about this all night. You didn’t manage to sleep, and you were totally depressed and out of your plate on the morning. Like totally lost. You did nothing right. Since breakfast, you kept trudging and having trouble answering even basic questions like “Can you please hand me the butter ?”. This day has passed at a maddening speed, and you can’t tell what happened most of the times. For example, you know that you took an exam today, but you can’t say if it was difficult or not, if you completed it or not. Basically, today you were a zombie.

You desperately needed some sleep. So, in the middle of the dinner, while Momo was pouring you some tea she made for you because you seemed tired, you stood up and went to your room, mumbling a good night by habit. You just crumble on your bed.

“Pebble… Pebble, are you okay ?”

You didn’t even notice that Eijirou followed you, really worried about you. He snugs in the bed with you and hold you close. You two have a difficult conversations when you tell him about all the confusion and the pain you feel. He apologizes and hold you close all night long. And he’ll never act like this again, because the way you were today was definitely not okay for him. From missing his morning kiss to looking like a zombie, nothing was okay. He will watch his mouth to not hurt you anymore because you’re way too precious to him.

Denki has an outgoing personality, no doubt on it. You two are like day and night, you complement yourselves pretty well. He was a loud troublemaker and you are a quite and peaceful person. And these differences are precious to you, but sometimes it’s too complicated to handle.

He’s a loving boyfriend, but he can’t help himself. Always too cheerful, too playful, with anyone. He gets really flirty with any girl that talks to him, even if you’re right there, watching. He tells you to don’t mind, because he doesn’t do this on purpose. It’s just like… like a game. He gets female and even male’s attention, and he feels confident acting out like that. So you just accept it. Have you even got the choice ?

You don’t notice it anymore. His random smirks to Mina, his winks to Jirou, “innocent” sexual implied comments to Toru… Daily, there’s always someone to flirt or to tease with. And it’s the same with random strangers.

Like today. Well… You have to admit that this waitress is really pretty with her bright shiny smile and her disheveled hair buns. And, yeah, maybe she was attractive when she was wrapping this loose lock of her hair around her finger, shyly blushing when Denki was complimenting her and obviously undressing her with his gaze. And of course you can’t deny the fact that she is sexy. Certainly, all this shit is true. But today was supposed to be your day.

Denki and you are on date, he brought you to this fancy place to celebrate your date anniversary. This is all about you and him being in love. So, just for once, you want him to concentrate this flirty attitude of his on you. Was it too much to ask ? But you accept it, once again. He did all the conversation during the meal, and you barely enjoyed the dishes. You just wait for the end of this date to leave the place and the waitress behind.

But your patience has its owns limits. That were crossed far away when the b*tchy waitress, who purposely ignored you all the time, bent over and touched your boyfriend’s lap, giving him the dessert’s menu. You see red all over you, furious and mad, expecting Denki to react, but he just chuckles and light touches her forearm. What was this ? He never allowed anyone to act like this with him. Or maybe you just didn’t know…

“Thank you, miss, but I think that we don’t need you anymore. We’re leaving, could you bring the bill ?”

She stutters a bit, looking at Denki, who was too chocked to react.

“Aren’t we eating the dessert ? Why do you want to leave ?”

“I don’t feel comfortable, I just wanna go home please”

“And I want a dessert, could you please wait ?”

“No, I can’t. I am leaving. You can have a dessert if you want, you can even have the waitress with it as well, I don’t care.”

“Okay, see you later, then. I’ll try to have fun and enjoy, since you don’t know how to do so”

You furiously grab your handbag and run out the restaurant. You don’t stop running until you’re home. Your shaking hands and teary eyes had some trouble opening the door. You crumble against the stubborn closed door and cry yourself out. You can’t hold it. Long sobs, breathless coughs and heartbreaking screams. All this noise brought your neighbor, Sero, to check out what’s happening.

“(Y/N) ?! Are you hurt ? What happened ? What’s wrong ?”

You couldn’t tell him, your anxious cries preventing you from talking straightly. He assured himself that you’re not injured and helped you get in your bedroom. You can’t tell what he was doing around you, your cries slowly turning into a huge panic attack. Curled in your bed, you rock yourself back and forth, cutting yourself out from reality. You couldn’t hear Sero calling Denki and asking him to come home. You couldn’t hear your boyfriend freaking out when he heard you crying like that on phone. You couldn’t know that he was running towards home, feeling guilty and culpable, his sunshine having a mental breakdown because of him.

“Sunshine ? Sunshine! Look at me ! I am right there”

Denki’s voice find its way to your ears, to your mind, to your heart. You hold on to him like a lifeline, trying to calm down. He thanks Sero, who left, before joining you on bed. He breaths heavily for you to focus on his chest going up and down slowly. You imitate his breaths until you can think straight.

“Thank you, Denki… I am sorry, I-”

“I am the one who have to apologize. I acted like a piece shit back there. I am sorry, I didn’t know you were jealous. I shouldn’t act like this, I am sorry. You know, babe, that you’re the one and only. You know it, right ?”

“No… I don’t…”

“I don’t care about anyone else. You’re the one that I love. And if it makes you feel insecure, I’ll stop flirting like that, okay ? It hurts me to see you like this. I don’t want you to be hurt, you’re way too precious to me, babe.”

________________________________

Hey ! I don't have much to say... Hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to request anything else (angst is still okay but I don't handle it well so prepare yourself to be disappointed ^^')

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

[miss-nishinoya]

I have request: bakugo, tamaki, mirio reacting to reader yelling at them. Make it angsty. Pls. Hi btw. 👀

heyy muah 😽

mirio togata (x abusive reader)

"Hi, sunshine!" Mirio was late for the date. Again.

"Where were you?" You ask, with a extremely polite tone, and his eyes already loose all the light they had when he saw you.

"I'm sorry, darling, Eri wanted to play a little more and i-"

"And again you choose her over me, right? I'm starting to figure out your priorities in life." You insist on the calm, low way to say your words, and stare at him with murder eyes.

"She is a little girl... i love her as... as a daughter. H-how can you say something like that..." Mirio is starting to breakdown, starting to doubt his own feelings.

"I'm being realistic." You grab his arm and stick your nails deep on his skin. "She is not your daughter, and you'll never be able to cover the emptiness she already holds. Only a fool like you to think that she could ever see you as a father figure... All you do is be clingy and annoying around her!" Togatas eyes drops to the ground and he plays with the sleeve of his shirt to avoid the tears.

"It's ok if she does not see me like that..." He offers you a depressed smile. "All i want is to ease her pain, even if it's just a little. And i need to take care of her-"

"Of course... guess i'm just overeacting again, sorry. I don't need your attention and support as she does..." You know exactly what to say to put some guilt on his back.

"No-no, don't say that! Your feelings are important to me too, and i'm so sorry that i let you down again, i swear i won't repeat this..."

"Tsc... the same thing you said last time. And here we are, having the same discussion... you're so dumb i swear-"

"I'm sorry... let's just... enjoy our date?"

"Hah- Funny how you say that you care but try to avoid the topic at all costs."

"I'm- fuck, how could i be so unsensitive...? do it, tell me everything you are feeling. I promise i'll fix."

"Don't make promises you can't keep. The only thing that could solve this problem would be you let go of this... this... stupid child!" You stop the pressure on his arm and start gentle massaging the place. "It's between me and her. I won't take excuses this time."

"But, but..." Mirio take a moment to think of the best words choice. "Eri makes me so happy... after i lost my quirk my days has been only her... she helps me to forget too..."

"DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?" The tone makes him focus on you again.

"No..."

"SHUT UP. SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You point an accusing finger to his face and straight your posture.

Before talking again, you take a good, long, amused look at how destroyed he is. A tiny smile emerges.

"I don't have time to your FUCKING VICTMISM! 'After i lost my quirk' *cry noises* THAT'S BULLSHIT. DEAL WITH IT! RECOVER ALREADY, USELESS PIECE OF SHIT!" You push him.

"You're right..." Togata feels like an idiot. Why can't he just surpass the pain? Why does he need someone to do it? He has one simple task and he keeps failing.

Useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless, useless...

"DID I SAY THAT YOU COULD FUCKING SPEAK?" You aren't done with him yet. "WHY ARE YOU SO ANNOYING? YOU... SELFISH BITCH! Can't you think of others feelings for once? Damn..."

Mirio is taking everything you give him with a fake smile, but he can't stop the tears. You're right, you always are.

Is his fault. If only he had make to the date in time, if he was able to not always talk about himself-

"ANSWER ME NOW, UNWANTED TRASH!"

"I'm being so s-selfish..." The tears empaze his words in a way that would be painful to anyone that watched, but not for you. Tears mean that you won. "I apologize for being uncapable to solve my own problems... Please..."

"I'm done with this. Have fun babysitting Eri, because you just lost me." You proceed to walk away, but Togata runs to you.

"I can't do this alone. Don't leave me, please! I swear i'll be good, i will be always happy to you and you won't even notice my selfish problems. I promise, just please, PLEASE..." Mirio begging after all the yelling, all the bad things he heard... is the prove you needed that he is eating on the palm of your hand.

"I don't need a fucking dependent on my back!" With this, the sweet smile finally fades as he lets out a sad whimper.

"NO! I love you so much, give me just one more chance!" None of the "other times" were his fault either, but he felt as it was.

"I can't, you are destroying me, Mirio...."

"It wasn't the intention..." You turn away and he starts panicking. "I'LL DO ANYTHING, I'M BEGGING!"

"I already told you what i want you to do." You know that you're incisive and painfully killing any sign of joy he once saw.

"Sure, i-i will..." He is a crying mess, just to think that he would have to give up on his favorite person to have you.

"Amazing... Are you crying, love? Aw, don't be like that, shh... I'm sorry, i took it too far. I need to learn how to hide my feelings... shh.... It's ok." You hug him and pats his head, he doesn't stop crying. (this is not comfort and it's not a soft ending for clear reasons)

All the insults spin on his head, as he shakily curls into your chest.

Tamaki:

"Fairy... really, Tamaki?" The question floated in the air, as Amajiki only stared at his hands.

"S-she is m-my friend..."

Were she inducing him into flirt? Yes.

But did he tried to stop it? No.

You got so mad, watching your boyfriend sit there and watch as his "friend" threw herself to him.

"And because she is your friend, you think you are allowed to flirt with her?" It felt like you were dealing with a child, holding back your anger and jealousy so he don't get hurt.

"W-wasn't flirtying..."

"Oh, right. So how do you call it?"

"C-complimenting my friend..?" He makes himself as smaller as he can and waits, never staring at you.

"Are you playing dumb with me? She was obviously seducing you and you didn't move an inche!" It's so tiring how he can't stand for himself.

"I was being friendly..."

"FRIENDLY?" He flinches, starting to tremble and whisper to himself. "YOU WOULD'VE CHEATED ON ME IF I DIDN'T STOP HER!"

"N-no..." Tamaki hates screams so much.

"LIAR! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU ARE TOO INNOCENT, IT'S SO-"

You look at Tamaki and he is sobbing, asking for forgiviness but is barely audible. It breaks your heart when he starts punching himself.

The world is all blurry to Amajikis, he hates this part of his personality so much, and you were the only one that he thought understands him, that you understood how hard it is for him, but he is trying his best.

"Tamaki?" You were calling him since you noticed that you were screaming, but he spaced out. "I'm sorry, oh my god, answer me-"

The only one he thought fully understands...

"Sorry, baby!!! Look at me, oh fuck!"

Liar? Cheater? Is this all you have to say about him? Coudn't be more caring with the words?

Is in times like this that we really get to know someone, he ponders.

"I-i-i c-can't d-do this any-anymore..." He then runs for his life.

Amajiki told Mirio and Nejire about everything, and aa the protectors they are, both helped him to avoid you as the month passed.

Came to the point that Tamaki alone didn't look at you anymore, your face alone make him feel anxious.

and that was when you knew that the lovebirds feel apart.

Bakugo

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Katsuki was raging, for the third time this week.

"Angel, i would like it better if we sit here and talk..."

"Who cares about what you think?" He is stubborn, you can tell after 2 years of dating.

"Katsuki, stop being immature for a minute." You aren't on the mood to take his drama today, and he doesn't notice that he is crossing a line.

"What about YOU stop being A WHORE, SHITTY PERSON!"

Katsuki is mad at you for posting a pic with your guy bestfriend. His jealousy is getting out of hand, the photo has none romantic appealing.

"You better apologize now." You're firm with him, not backing up even when the little explosions start on his hands.

"I am the one to apologize? Fuck no."

"I literally did nothing wrong and you are screaming, of course you are going to apologize!"

"NOTHING WRONG?" Bakugo walks away so he won't hurt you. "YOU AND THAT LOSER POSTING PHOTOS TOGHETER WAS WHAT? A NIGHTMARE?" he replys to you and proceeds to spit.

"You're... disgusting, you know that?"

"SHUT UP! I'm very dissapointed with-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" You suddenly stand for yourself, gaining confidence out of nowhere.

Katsuki is silent. He just heavy breaths and stare at you with seems like fear.

"I DON'T GIVE A SINGLE FUCK TO WHAT YOU THINK!" You yell and he is taken aback by your response, closing his eyes and trying to take more air.

"I HATE YOU! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS ANYMORE, IT'S USELESS!" You start taking your things to walk away. "I won't insist into a failed relationship anymore."

He can't move.

All those years, he was the one pointing fingers at you, he was the one accusing.

And he doesn't know what to do now.

Katsuki is still upset, and his pride says to stay right where he is and pray for you to come back.

But he is not cold hearted as it seems, he wants you more than anything. Maybe he should give up only this time

Or maybe not.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

YES

NO!!!

YES!!!!!!

By the time he is able to decide, you are already out of his sigh, out of the shopping you guys had agreed to met in, and you are out of your rational state.

Katsuki was not able to find you that day.

Katsuki was not able to fix it.

End </3