#i have my french exam in a little over an hour i do Not Need To Be Thinking About This Rn

[skrunksthatwunk]

ohhhhh no. fuck my stupid baka life fuck my stupid baka life fuck my stupid baka life fuck my stupid baka life. this shit isn't funny anymore guys!!!!!! it's pretty fucking unfunny and you're still laughing!!!!!!!! god. dammit. literally just run me over with a car what the fuck

[coconutdays]

study week!

s. your boyfriend deserves some special treatment after working so hard and you think you know the best way to treat him, you think

w.c. 4.9k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this was halfway written in my drafts and I know I haven't posted him in a while, so I thought id treat my girlies for what they fell for me for in the first place and finish it

it's midterms week and as difficult as it's been for your dear boyfriend suguru, you can't stop yourself from being a bit of an obstacle for him yourself.

he's waiting for you outside of your french studies lecture in the morning when you can see his slightly tired eyes rake across the cleavage bared by your low-cut blouse. then to the short mini-skirt and pantyhose lining your legs. and your lips, you're wearing his favorite lipgloss, the one that always has him pushing you onto your knees and sucking him dry.

"hey baby." he smiles a little, taking the almost too large water bottle from your hands and reaching down to hold one of your hands while you walked, "you look beautiful."

"hi," you snuggle into his arm, hoping he didn't see the slight quirk of your lips at his obvious stare just a few seconds ago, "did you study as much as you wanted this morning?"

suguru nods, thumb caressing your hand as he sighs, "yes, although I do wish I could've finished earlier and had more time to get ahead on that project."

that project. the one that had been taking up most of the time for the past two weeks, more so this one right before his exam and presentation came up for his Japanese architecture class.

it had been only last semester the two of you started dating after the close to masterful planning of satoru gojo that led to your hookup with the charming brunette on halloween night. you had no other classes together when the spring semester came around and you both obviously missed it at times like these, when the added ninety minutes of just getting to even be together in lecture and spare time of studying the class material together could've more easily satiated the want of each other's presence

this semester he had Japanese architecture and although the class was fairly easy, he had to work on a hefty group presentation that took up over thirty percent of his grade, and he being the ever meticulous student, was doing everything in his power to make sure he would get his A+, which meant being taken prisoner by his assigned group in the library to piece together the presentation most days. and when he wasn't, he was studying for his other classes and making the most of any interaction he could with you, be it by texting, FaceTime, or getting a quick dessert at the cafe near the school campus with you.

but not sex.

"'m sorry. that sucks," you pout for him, peering up at him through your eyelashes purposefully, "wish I could make it a solo project, so you wouldn't have to rely on other people for your grade."

suguru spares you a small glance before tiredly looking you and shining his warm smile down at you, "well it's already too late for the professor to change his mind, so I'll bear it through."

suguru tears his gaze away from you so he can guide the both of you across the street to the previously mentioned cafe. when you make it across the street and continue walking to the ever growing close cafe, your boyfriend strikes another topic.

"how was class though? did you get the material?"

you nod your head eagerly and upon realizing he can't see you do it because of his guiding, you voice, "yea! it was relatively easy, shouldn't take me more than an hour or two to brush up on what I need for the test."

"good." he hums, opening the door for you to the cafe, never letting go of your hand, "and your other classes?"

and there came the reason as to why you felt so free to mess around with him in the first place. you barely even had midterms, luckily enough this time around. you only had your French midterm and the studying barely even counted as something to be stressed about when it was just like overlooking the normal homework being assigned in the class. and your other classes...well it was pure luck that your professors didn't care to give one and if they did, they instead spread them around to conveniently happen before and after midterms like any other normal test. god knows you're happy they didn't pile up into one week like they did for your boyfriend, his poor poor soul. a poor soul so restricted by his other responsibilities during this short time span that you just wanted to tease him for all he's got.

"I already started my study review for my international business relations class yesterday, so I'll be fine when the test comes around next month." you beam proudly, grateful that the university gods had been kind to you and to yourself for staying on track to your planner.

"good girl" suguru's eyes crease when he gets in line to order with you and brings your hand to his mouth to kiss it. the action is mindless, just like his response, it was natural for him to praise you. and considering his avoidance of your sex life ever since those cruel cruel cruel classmates of his started dragging him into the study rooms of the library as of last week, it was purely innocent, with no intention of riling you up.

but it did.

and you can't help but think of the last time you and suguru had sex, the exact morning of the day he had received the news from his professor that he would have to group up with other people for a good grade.

he had eaten you out for close to an hour because he felt like it. it was slow and sensual the entire time, he never listened to your pleas to go faster, telling you to take it like he knows his good girl would, and although it wasn't the cruel speed you begged for most of the time, it still brought you over the edge in a many pleasing and toe curling way.

the thought had you blushing at the fact the person you held those memories with was right next you, being domestic, and leading you to an empty booth while he carried your desserts in a bag.

craving the touch of your boyfriend, you refuse to sit across from him, and squeeze yourself next to him in the booth, the action makes him caress your thigh warmly before he sets out napkins and puts each of your preferred sweets on their respective places.

you're halfway through your dessert when you push yourself onto suguru and pout, "I miss you sugu."

he places a firm yet soft hand on top of your head to caress it, "I miss you too. I'll be all yours tomorrow."

"what?" he wasn't supposed to be free until three days time

"my group decided they wanted to turn in the project today to get it over with, which I'm up for by all means. and my calculus professor felt merciful last night. he gave passes for the midterms to the students with no late assignments and As."

you try your best to hide the devious excitement in your eyes and instead smile endearingly, "that's so good! we can go eat at that viet restaurant I dmed you."

suguru takes your non pastry sticky hand and brings it onto his lap as he gazes into your eyes, "I'd rather cook for you tomorrow."

your curiosity overtakes your predatory instinct and you bat your lashes at him when you ask, "what are you thinking of making?"

"risotto,"he hums, before he leans forward a bit and kisses the corner of your mouth. when he pulls back he smirks a little at the flustered look on your face.

"you had some strawberry filling." he points out before placing another kiss at the top of your head, rubbing a tentative hand at the back of your head in doing so, "let's finish the pastries so I can buy you a matcha latte before my class."

and just like that, he had made your resolve weaken, yet again, like always, your intent on seducing him forgotten for the meantime due to his proficiency at making your mind a puddle.

you find yourself in the library, hours later in the afternoon, studying with your friend at the same time suguru is meeting with his group.

and...soooooo conveniently sitting at a desk right in front of the glass door of one of the library's large group session cubicles, that just so happens to be hosting your boyfriend and his classmates.

your luck worked out perfectly and you thanked whatever mightier being there was when you saw suguru seated at the far end of the table with no one in front of him, allowing him the perfect view of you from across those few feet and glass door.

you see his eyes light up as he tries to listen to whatever one of his groupmates is saying while sharing a loving look with you.

perfect.

suguru

are you going to study pretty?

by the time you see the message from him, he has his arms folded over each other as he speaks to the other people in the room. god you wish you could hear him speaking right now. he was 100% giving some sort of smart nerd dialect input and you did everything in your power not to remember the time he tutored you in a class he had already taken last semester, using that same voice.

that time,

you had asked for a prize if you got all his questions correct

and he had been more than happy to give when you did

the specifics of which you didn't let yourself fret on more when you typed away to answer him

y/n

mhm I need to practice a speech for french.

and you left your phone on the desk with the screen facing down as you continued to your studies, conniving your next plan of action as you typed away at your computer.

about thirty minutes had passed when suguru was finally allowed a moment of peace, a moment of tranquility from having to explain a million times why comic sans was not the most ideal font to use.

and he was going to reach for his phone, to see what you had answered–he felt the buzz in his pocket–but couldn't look due to his previous debate with his classmates, when he spotted a quite inviting sight.

where you had been sitting basically face to face with suguru, with your friend next you, now you had your back to him as you practiced your speech in front of your friend.

it wasn't really useful, she didn't understand, it was more so to have someone to make eye contact with.

well more so,

an excuse to stand up and bend over a little every once a while so your skirt rode up just the right amount.

you bent over when you hand your phone to your friend to time you, you bent over to get a quick look at your computer, your speech written on it. you bent over to type something quick, a meaningless note, but a meaningful excuse for you.

you're not flashing him outright, of course, there was still a possibility of any one of his group mates accidentally getting a glance of whatever you rescinded to your boyfriend in these minutes; but you are teasing him. he loves these skirts on you. he's especially a bigger fan of the pantyhose, considering this was the only surviving pair you could find. so you know that he's letting his memory and imagination undress the sight before him as well as entice him.

you're glad you didn't unlock your phone when you gave it to your friend to time you, choosing to slide up for the clock on the lock screen, when after an hour of perfecting the speech you didn't need until two weeks time, she says, "geto texted you by the way, a couple minutes ago."

you take your phone from her as you go to sit down, facing suguru again for the first time in an hour, and you don't know if he's resorted to playing your mind games too, but the sight is knee buckling.

he's got his hair in that half up, half down combo that never fails to make you ravenous. and he's biting his cheek as he listens yet again to whoever and looks down at his computer screen every once in a while.

why did he always look so unaffected by everything, god.

you force yourself to look at the messages he sent you earlier

suguru

try your speech on me when you get the chance, okay?

how long are you going to be here? do you want me to take you home after we finish the project?

y/n

I'll make it my first priority! and I'm about to leave :/ I still have to do a quiz at home with my camera on in about two hours, wanna get it done before the hour mark.

you get up seconds after sending the text to suguru to put your belongings away. the task was easy considering you didn’t take much out of your bag. and when you started to close it, you felt a firm and soft hand tugging you towards them. 

suguru was in front of you now, sitting at the edge of your desk, tugging you close to him so you stood between his legs, which were unavoidably manspreading for you.

“five at my place tomorrow?” he’s softly quirking an eyebrow at you in question, holding both of your hands close to him

“I’ll be there,” you nod

he smiles at you in response, then juts his chin a little in the direction of your friend behind you–mindlessly scrolling through her phone as she waits for your conversation with your boyfriend to end–and asks, “are you getting a ride? I don’t like the idea of you walking by yourself, especially when it’s so close to sundown.”

you have to resist the way his protectiveness of you makes your skin crawl and want to jump onto him and force yourself to nod, “yea. she’s dropping me off after this. i need to give her one of the books we read for lit last semester anyways, she needs it for a class.”

“alright then.” suguru pulls both of your hands to his lips and gives a kiss to each one before getting up. he stands tall before you like he always does. “text me when you get home.”

“I will,” you say as he raises his hands to hold both sides of your face to pull you into a kiss. he keeps it calm and fluttering, so the most you can manage to retrieve out of him is a slight sharp inhale when your tongue softly grazes his lower lip. 

he still has his hands on your face when he places a small kiss at the top of your forehead and mutters, “i love you.”

“I love you too.” you say back, basking in his touch, knowing it’ll be close to a full day before you can see him like this again.

y/n 

Im homeeeeeeee!

finished the quiz too, wasn’t as hard as i thought it would be

suguru

nice job baby

have you eaten yet?

y/n 

im making a fruit salad :p have a sweet tooth right now

are you done with the project???

suguru

thankfully, yes. It was getting very difficult to see everyone use comic sans by default today. all i have to do is study for the test now, i can do that on my own without worrying about them. 

ill make a peach cobbler for you tomorrow, for your sweet tooth

y/n

aw for lil ol me??

suguru

yes for lil ol you miss coy

ill text you in a bit, im going home

your conversation continued when suguru got home, minimally if any, knowing youd talk on the phone before one of you headed to bed later that night. he did have to study after and so did you. which was why you saved your seductive attempts for until then.

“I liked your outfit today baby. It was cute,” you could hear your boyfriend repeatedly tossing a small stress ball up into his ceiling faintly. he was in bed already just as you were.

the comment made your ears perk up, “you did?”

“yeah, i didn’t know there was still a pair of pantyhose left.” 

“I didn’t either,” you sheepishly admitted, “i found it in the back of my drawer on saturday and thought id wear it.”

“wear them tomorrow, “ suguru added casually

“okay, ill–”

“don’t wear panties either.” 

your eyes widened a little, “but your bike–”

“what about my bike?”

he was picking you up tomorrow on his bike, like he always did. and you had to sit on his bike, on that leather seat with the incoming wind, your skirt, the pantyhose, no underwear…

“I thought we were having dinner.”

“we are, im making the risotto and peach cobbler for us,” he still sounds like he’s discussing any casual dinner arrangement, “don’t wear panties under the pantyhose.”

“why are you making those demands anyway,” you try to poke at him, as if you didn’t want to do that for him, to see if you could rile him up like you still wanted to these last two weeks, “you haven’t been horny for two weeks.”

“did i tell you i wasn’t?”

the authoritative question had you rubbing your thighs against each other, “no…but you weren’t acting that way either.”

“like you?” 

even on the phone it was hard to escape him, and he made it oh so delicious, even if it did always intimidate you.

“Is it so wrong to want you,” the pout in your voice clear

“no,” suguru comforts, “not at all.”

then, just as he knows he has you on an intense precipice in the conversation, he begins to end the call.

“sleep well pretty,” you can hear the love for you he has through it, as if he wasn’t just backing you into a corner seconds ago, “we’ve had a long day, and i need to get up a bit earlier than usual to get some groceries before i head to the gym.”

“sleep well too,” you huff and you can hear suguru’s laugh

“I love you beautiful."

“I love you too.”

suguru acts like a saint when he picks you up, like he's completely unaware to the fact that you're wearing pantyhose with no panties under your skirt, even though he asked for it.

"hey beautiful," he smiles when he leans down to peck your lips, "you ready to go?"

"yeah," you breathe, genuinely excited to spend time with your boyfriend for the first time in two weeks, uninterrupted

you arrived to your boyfriend's apartment with the most drenched pantyhose known to man. and you were too scared to see if any of your slick left a trail on his motorcycle. and although there was a certain buildup...down there...this had to be considered some sort of psychological torture.

because suguru had not made a sexual move on you the entire dinner, even through dessert.

nothing.

so here you were, stuck making casual conversation with your boyfriend, pussy basically exposed, and paranoid about his next move.

"satoru should not be eating that many macaroons a day. I know he loves them, but that's got to be some sort of crime." you discuss while taking a sip of your wine, "there has to be some economic surplus and deficit issue going on there."

"babe, you've had macaroon mukkbangs with him in front of me."

you pucker your lips in response to your boyfriend's unwavering ability to bring the facts right to your face.

"okay, but he does it way more often than me. consider that. I have to train for a whole month to do that. satoru does it back to back."

"there is that," suguru agrees, eyes flickering to the plate that had just been served with a slice of peach cobbler minutes ago, "and I take it you liked the peach cobbler."

"yes!" you nod eagerly, planting an excited fist on the dining table, "I love that my boyfriend is such a good chef."

"and I love that my girlfriend eats well," suguru responds warmly as he gets up and picks up both of your plates, placing them in the dishwasher before saying, "I'm glad you liked it though. I love watching you enjoy what I make."

suguru then takes your hand, while you're seated, and places a fleeting kiss on the back of it.

"let's go to the bedroom."

god, he just says that and you're ruining the pantyhose even more now.

"okay," you nod, getting up and letting him lead the way to his room.

he doesn't say much during the quick few steps until he opens the door and shuts it behind him.

"you're not wearing panties, right, sweet girl?"

you turn around to look at him, shaking your head earnestly, "no sir."

he walks up to you and takes your head in his palm affectionally, brushing a careful thumb across your cheek while he looks at you lovingly, "good."

"get on your knees then baby."

immediately you're sinking onto the ground and suguru is unbuckling his belt for you, already pulling out his rock hard cock.

on instinct, you open your mouth and suguru takes the invitation without hesitation, popping the tip of his dick against the inside of your cheek again and again.

"those pantyhose must be ruined beyond repair right now, aren't they?"

"mhm" you nod as best you can considering what he's using your mouth for.

"god, I can't wait to rip a hole in them." he hisses while he starts to slide his shaft up and down in your mouth.

its your queue to start sucking him off like you know how to. you hollow your cheeks and let all the spit build up in your mouth, even if it does start to run down your mouth and onto your chest and the floor. every time he nearly pulls out, you swirl your tongue around the underside of his swollen head, and you love the way his hips jut up just a bit at the action.

suguru's let you take the reigns now, instead placing a loving hand on the side of your head and making sure your hair doesn't get in your face.

"missed this pretty face getting messy for my cock." he breathes, grip growing by just a smidge on your hair, "missed it so much. couldn't even fuck your face to get my stress out baby."

he sees the excitement simmer in your eyes and suguru leans over a bit, "what do you say sweet girl, want me to fuck your little throat?"

you nod feverishly, suckling on his tip to show enthusiasm.

suguru gives you a small smile in return while he pinches your cheek affectionately.

"good girl."

he starts to move your head up and down his length at a leisurely place, something not too drastic, where you can feel and taste him coherently

until he suddenly speeds up the pace unforgivingly

"there, there, "he groans almost, staring at your face, "fuck, you're such a filthy girl. what'd I do to get such a pretty slut like you?"

the vulgar praise makes you moan, and the vibrations from your throat make him react the same way

"if I weren't saving my cum for my pussy right now baby, I'd fill your mouth again and again until you're practically spilling." he utters, still jack hammering into your mouth and you're doing everything you can to not let yourself gag,

"you like helping me destress beautiful?" he says desperately, cheeks growing a tinge red as he locks eyes with you

suguru's hips give a warning stutter when you nod, and he suddenly pulls out, and brings you up by an arm, turning you around so he can yank your skirt down.

"fuck." is all that leaves his lips darkly before he helps you take your shirt off and pushes you towards the bed.

"all fours baby, near the edge, wanna get a good fucking view of that pussy."

"o-okay," you say, already ruined by his previous indulgence and in anticipation of what was to come.

you get on all fours immediately and without a moment's waste, suguru's already running a greedy hand up your soaked folds, practically stuck to the pantyhose

"fuck, you're going to kill me. thought I was gonna go insane yesterday."

slap!

suguru lands a painful strike on your pussy

"it's not nice to tease your boyfriend when he's working so hard for you sweetheart. almost lost my mind trying not to think about all the things I wanted to do to you on that library table."

then there's a loud tear, and suguru runs his tongue flat against your exposed folds without hesitation

he starts to literally makeout with your pussy, treating it the way he wants. as if your lips down there could respond to his own. it's all for his own pleasure, none of yours, and you don't mind, turned on way more by the fact that he's using your body in such a depraved way.

and so, because you figure tonight is all about him taking out his stress on you, suguru suddenly stops, and you can feel him sit down on the bed, dragging you to stand in front of him.

"sit on my dick baby," he says, turning you around to face your back towards him, hands gripping your waist.

"wait!" you start to whine for the first time tonight, "I can't do this one, it's too hard for me."

just as suguru was needy, you were needy too.

you wanted the easy relief of him pounding you from behind, with you on all fours. when you rode him him like this, bouncing up and down, it was such a trek. he was so big, even sitting on it was a great feat. and he poked your cervix so painfully every time you went back down like this.

"yeah you can," suguru praises, reaching a hand down to swipe his tip against your folds messily, using the other on your waist to bring you down a little, "you always end up loving how I fill you up when we do it like this sweet girl."

upset, but still eager to have him inside of you, you start to sink down onto him with a pout, unable to stop your mouth from dropping open at the delicious stretch he always gives you

"so fucking big." you whine when he's bottomed out and you feel like you can't breathe from how full he makes you feel

and maybe he was right, because when you pick your ass back up, the feeling of his dick passing through and massaging your pussy from the inside has you keening for more and you could care less about your cervix.

so now you're bouncing against him sporadically, having missed the feeling of him inside you for so long

"missed your dick so much sugu!" you whine, stabilizing your arms on his thighs, ignoring the burning in your legs

"oh my fucking god," he groans, landing a stinging spank on your ass, "I missed this wet little pussy so much too princess. fuck. keep going, dirty fucking girl. gonna buy a butt plug for you so you can wear it with this same little get up. look so fucking cute with a little bunny tail sticking out with this-fuck."

"mhm mhm."

"gonna be my bunny? since you're always looking for my dick? god, if I could keep you in bed all day just for me to fuck you I'd keep that pussy full to the brim."

"sug-sugu!"

"I know baby, I know," he groans, both hands now gripping your ass and pushing you back down again and again, "cum for me, I'll cum with you."

you feel your leg start to kick a little as a reaction to what's about to happen and suguru notices the small paralyzation overtaking your body as a result to the nearing bliss. so he sits up straight and hugs you tight, pummeling you from underneath

"ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod sugu sugu, im cumming im cumming!"

"cum for me baby," suguru says through each quick stroke, "oh my god I'm gonna fuck my load into this slutty fucking pussy. greedy fucking girl's milking it out of me."

and you feel suguru's cock spill inside of you in hard thrusts, giving you what you feel is one of the biggest loads ever, considering this is the first time the both of you have gone without sex with each other for more than two days.

suguru's still inside you when he pulls you onto the bed with him and reaches a hand down to massage your boob

"babe, you did cum a lot." you comment, feeling his load pool inside of you

"good," he breathes, "it'll look hot coming out of you with the pantyhose"

"...are you going to take a picture for your album"

"maybe"

[prettiestlovergirl]

DON'T STOP

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; semi-public; teasing; oral (f. receiving); light dacryphilia; established relationship; mean! mattheo; hickeys; pushing the french-speaking-mattheo agenda, but be warned my french is shit, they don't exactly teach you pet names in high school french class lol.

concept: you n mattheo are studying in the common room when he gets bored and comes up with a more interesting way to study.

a/n: this idea came to me when i was studying for my lab exam and thinking 'wow, this would be so much more fun with a mean curly haired man absolutely wrecking me' n so, here you go! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

you had been studying in the common room for what felt like hours now, really cramming for this godawful history of magic test. you were stressed out of your mind, but you couldn't risk missing a thing.

you were sitting up on the couch well into the night, your legs curled up underneath you as you continued to take notes in the silence, occasionally making a comment to yourself out loud while you worked.

you'd been so in the zone; you hadn't even noticed the second body entering into the room until you heard that familiar, deep voice in your ear.

"princesse, mon amour, (princess, my love,) what are you still doing up?" he asked, his voice a bit husky from sleep. you'd have been a bit turned on if you hadn't been so startled.

"bloody hell! you can't just sneak up on a girl like that." you hissed, setting your textbook down onto your lap while he chuckled at your startled reaction, waiting for you to go on.

"i'm still up because i have to study for this bloody test." you huffed, following him with your eyes as he walked around the couch, giving you the wonderful and incredibly distracting view of your boyfriend in those damned gray sweatpants.

"let me help." mattheo hummed, a wicked smirk growing on his face as he got himself situated on his knees in front of you. "need to get some studying in anyways." he stated, his hand gripping your ankle and tugging your forward.

"no, mattheo, stop. really, i need to study!" you whined, biting your lip as he tugged your legs out from under you. "we are gonna study, i'm just an active learner." he smirked, pressing a kiss to your ankle. "read the textbook out loud."

"mattheo..." you complained, huffing a bit as his started to kiss his way slowly up your leg. you shivered lightly, the view of him on his knees in front of you never failed to make your brain go a little fuzzy.

"c'mon princesse, (princess) need you to help me study. you don't want me to fail, do you?" he asked, giving you a fake pout as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your shorts.

finally, you relented, just like he knew you would, and lifted your hips up for him. "bien, mon âme." (good, my soul) he smirked, sliding the fabric down your thighs and tossing it off to the armchair behind him.

if there was one thing mattheo loved, it was getting you to break so he could bury himself between your thighs. if you'd let him, he'd probably stay there forever, living in permanent pussy drunk bliss.

"start reading, princesse. (princess) thought you said you really had to study." he hummed, teasing you with his words and his fingers as he started to rub soft circles on your increasingly dampening panties.

it was sososo hard to focus with his hand on your clothed pussy, but still, you did as told and picked the textbook back up, starting to read aloud from where you left off.

you did your best to speak as clearly as possible, but it was almost impossible when his fingers pressed harshly against your covered clit.

he started rubbing the fabric into your skin, getting your panties soaked in your own arousal as your grip on the book tightened. "f-fuck!" you gasped.

"mm, don't recall fuck being in this history book, weird." he murmured, his lips pressing warm kisses along your thighs, lazily marking you all over as you let out an indignant little whine.

you glared down at him, but went back to reading aloud, doing your best to keep going through your uneven breaths. once he was perfectly satisfied with the number of marks on your thighs, he used his thumb to pull your panties to the side.

he groaned softly to himself, his tongue running along his lower lip as he admired your glistening pussy. you squirmed a bit, the cool air hitting your warm core making you stutter a bit as you went on.

"i-in the en-end, he was, uhm, unable to come out v-victorious" you stated, your voice breathy before your pretty lashes fluttered shut when his free thumb made contact with your bare clit.

"ah, ah, ah." he chided, pausing his actions but keeping his thumb pressed against the swollen nub. "can't touch you if you aren't reading, princesse. (princess) how are you gonna learn if your eyes are closed?"

"so mean..." you grumbled before letting out a gasp as he shoved two of his fingers into your pussy quickly, your eyes immediately opening again. "'m sorry, what was that?" he asked, curling his fingers up inside of you

"n-nothing! nothing, 'm sorry, nothing!" you moaned, his fingers immediately getting drenched in your arousal. "that's what i thought." he smirked, waiting for you to start reading again before thrusting them in and out.

"he had to... to f-flee━ oh fuck ━ civilization." you stuttered, your brain getting hazy again as he attached his lips to your puffy clit, happily gliding his tongue over it again and again. "from th- there, he h-had to be-become a stowaway."

he fucking loved how hard you were working, seeing how much effort it took you to get each word out only seemed to spur him on, making him speed up his fingers n suck a bit harder. "need you to speak up, princesse. (princess) really want to make sure i understand everything."

you let out a louder whine, sticking your lips out in a pout as you shook your head, your eyelids getting heavy n your breath getting all shallow. "fuck, fuck, fuck, i can't, please, i can't!" you whimpered, batting your lashes rapidly to blink away the budding tears.

mattheo let go of your clit with a wet pop, looking up at you intently while he curled his fingers up a second time. "aw look at you 'bout to cry." he mocked in faux sympathy as you looked down at him "you can and you will." he stated.

a sob finally broke past your lips as his tongue found its way back to your clit, your hips bucking and your hands tightening around the textbook.

your vision blurred, but you did your best to keep reading, your body slumped against the cushions as his tongue and fingers worked in sync to bring you closer and closer to the edge.

mattheo honestly could have stayed here forever, just devouring your messy cunt as you soaked his chin and fingers in your arousal. he lived for the way you whined and sobbed above him, loving your broken sentences.

this went on and on until finally you finished the chapter, another sob of relief escaping you as your back arched. "fuck, please, please mattheo i need to cum so fucking bad, please!" you begged, eyes squeezing shut.

"did so good f'me, princesse. (princess) so good, cum f'me." he hummed, sending vibrations onto your clit that finally pushed you over the edge, your cunt fluttering around his fingers while your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

your juices soaked him completely as he continued to suck your clit, going until you started to whine and beg him to stop, trying to squirm away from his eager lips.

"jesus..." you panted, placing a hand over your chest to feel your racing heart as you came down from your high.

"mon amour, (my love) jesus had nothing to do with your cum on my lips. credit's all mine." mattheo chuckled, that same devilish smirk on his lips.

"now, i think we should go over it one more time. just to make sure you've really got it memorized..."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

tags: @bratetteprincess , (gasp, dove reveal??? so soon??)

[rimunagenius]

Off Day

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

ʚ word count: 2.6k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! angst, creepy!stalker-ish!classmate, harassment, some fluff at the end

ʚ ri speaks: okay so i literally just dropped part one and the masterlist and right after i literally wrote this part! i literally pulled this series out of my ass last night…pardon my french. so i finished the masterlist and first part last night and so far, the feedback im getting is really good so…yay!☺️ anyways, this part is a little dark? but trustttt it will be resolved soon.

Part 2

| Series Masterlist |

You desperately wanted to crawl back into bed, get back under the cool covers, and just lie there until the world ended. Or until Kate got home. Either way, you wanted to be anywhere but class.

Something about today was so off. You woke up and did your routine like any normal day. Kate left earlier than you but came back right before you left. You left her breakfast or lunch, whatever she decided to classify it as on the counter, and said you'd see her later at practice. That was 3 hours ago.

But today you had an exam in your anatomy class. This class was easy but you just did not want to be there because of Nick. Ever since a couple of days ago when you told Kate what went down between him and Gabbie, he's been relentless in getting the details of "your and Kate's relationship." You didn't want to tell him it wasn't Kate because you'd rather have to pretend to date her than anyone in California. Especially the girls you knew.

Something about Nick was off so you weren't going to pick a random girl in your following on Instagram. Knowing him, he'd probably stalk the poor woman. You just wanted to skip this class altogether. You hoped this line in the coffee shop on campus would move faster to possibly find a seat where other people could fill in around you before he could.

"Hey!" You turned your head, pulled one airpod out of your ear, and smiled at the brunette next to you. Her name was Juliana and you had class with her in like ten minutes.

"Oh, my god, hi!" You put the AirPod back in its case, abandoning the tranquility for the rest of whatever conversation was going to ensue.

"Not to be nosy or get in your business, and I really don't want to make you uncomfortable, but that guy over there keeps staring at you." She pointed her finger, subtly, in the direction behind her. You got to be fucken kidding…Nick. "He's been saying things to people in anatomy, saying you guys are talking, and how he doesn't like how you're too close to Kate. Or something like that, it's all unclear. But I found it weird and thought you should know." Her face looked genuinely concerned. Her eyes went soft as she looked at your expression change from friendly to somewhat terrified.

"Oh, my god. Thanks for telling me. I don't even know him. He's asked me out a couple of times but I rejected him. Who is he telling? Do a lot of people know?" You asked her. Your hands started to get clammy, as you started to move to the pick-up counter, your name being called; your drink ready.

"I honestly have no idea, but if anyone asks just tell them you're in a relationship." Juliana suggested, unsure of how to handle the whole situation.

"Yeah, I thought he'd leave me alone when my friend Gabbie had said I was seeing someone already. He automatically assumed it was my best friend Kate." You really thought this was behind you. This was probably the bad feeling you've been feeling all day.

"Oh, so you're not dating Kate?" Juliana asked, her face lightening up.

"No, but she said she was okay with going along with it to keep him away from me. Why? You like her?" You had no idea she swung that way. She usually talked about boy drama whenever you guys did group work in your class.

"Uh, no. But if she decides to start seeing someone and needs to drop the whole "fake girlfriend" thing, you can definitely ask me. I'm happy to help." She smiled warmly at you. You were very grateful for her willingness to help.

"Oh, okay. Thank you so much!" Her friend then called her over, and you both said goodbye. You had already made it to your class. Juliana keeping you company the whole way. You walked in and took a seat, pulling out your phone. You figured you could text Kate and let her know that if Juliana was willing to help, you'd relieve her of her duties. You also wanted to catch her up on what the hell went down in the coffee shop.

"you will not believe what just happened..."

almost instantly, her response bubble popped up.

"omg, what?"

"a friend in my anatomy class came up to me in better buzz and told me some guy was staring at me"

"what guy? are you okay?"

"and the guy was Nick!"

"oh..."

"apparently he's telling people me and him are talking but doesn't like how me and you are so close"

"wtf. are you serious?"

"did you tell her that me and u were together?"

"ab that...she said she would be down to be my "girlfriend" if I needed it. so I was thinking I would just tell ppl that me n her are together, so that way you're not dragged into this mess lol"

"Oh."

"okay for sure."

"I gtg. I'll see you later at practice!"

"alright, see you later. love you!"

" 'bear <3 loved "alright, see you later. love you!" "

Usually, she said it back. You, Kate, and all the girls got in the habit of saying 'love you' to one another because it was true. You all loved each other so dearly. None of you had shame in how you felt about one another and how close you held each other to your hearts. But you just decided to brush it off, she was probably just super busy. 

You honestly had no idea why your mind told you to read into everything she's been saying and texting you, lately. I was seriously getting unhealthy with how much you worried about what she thought about you. You were lost in thought before someone took a seat next to you. Assuming it was Juliana because she was just outside with her friends, you turned to tell her that if she was down to be your "girlfriend." You were pretty startled to see it wasn't her but Nick instead. 

"So, how have you been?" He asked. Something about him seemingly so off. You didn't like the feeling you got around him at all. You noticed his gaze following you out of the shop with Juliana ten minutes ago. You looked around the room, the spots in the class filling up quickly. You saw Juliana walk in, but before you could get her attention, Nick moved into your line of sight and prevented anyone from coming between you two. 

"Uh, good?" You looked down at your phone trying to find anything to keep you looking as uninterested as possible. 

"That's it? Nothing else to say to me?" He seemed to be growing more irritable with the short responses. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, I didn't want to talk to you anyway." You looked at him, wishing he'd go away. You didn't want to say it out loud and catch the attention of everyone around you. 

"Oh, now that's not nice. That's no way to talk to your boyfriend." He said, a weird smile encroaching on his lips. You did not like this at all. You were genuinely starting to get scared. You pulled up Juliana's number, thankful you asked for it last week so you could send her the notes she missed. 

"911. he's starting to really freak me out." 

You sent the message and immediately Nick asked who you had been texting. "Can you please, for the love of god, leave me alone? I'm seeing someone." The smirk on his face dropped, a cold stare being directed right at you. 

"No, you're not. You're seeing me." 

"No, she's not you creep. She's my girlfriend." Juliana then sat on the opposite side of you, staring Nick down. Nick's face flushed, his eyes looking at a few people who had turned around to see what was going on. She placed a hand on your leg.

It wasn't long after your exam and when the class was dismissed that Nick approached you again. He tried to talk to you, you just want to get straight to the Carver stadium. No students that weren't on the team or staff weren't allowed in. You just needed to get there as quickly as possible. 

"Hey! Stop ignoring me." Nick semi-shouted at you. You had put both airpods in, trying to tune him out. It wasn't until he tried to grab your arm and pull you back from walking away from him that you turned around ready to blow up before your saving grace came up to both of you. 

"Hey, man! Watch the fuck out. I don't know who you think you are but you are not gonna put your hands on my friend like that. Not like that, not now, and not ever." Hannah, with the hand she had placed on his arm to throw it off you, pushed him back a little before putting her arm around your shoulder and walking away from him. "That was fucking weird. You know that guy?" She looked back to see if he was still there, and indeed he was. Watching you both walk in the direction towards the arena. 

"No, actually. He's a fucking creep who asked me out a couple of times and took it horribly. He's been harassing me for a little. He was staring at me while I was getting coffee before my class like two hours ago." You said, calming down significantly since Hannah showed up. But your stomach was still uneasy and you really did not want to go to that class tomorrow or ever until he was gone and far away from Iowa City. 

"Yeah, don't walk around campus alone anymore. I'll come to find you after every—what class is this?" 

"Anatomy." 

"Okay, after every one of your anatomy classes, I'll come to find you and we can go to practice together. Do you have friends that know what classes you have and can walk you?" Now that you think about it, Juliana was in a lot of your classes. She wanted to do nursing so most classes you had in the week, were with her. 

"Yeah, funny story. The girl that's pretending to be my girlfriend to keep that guy away, which he obviously doesn't give a damn about, is in a lot of my classes. And it works out because the ones she's not in, Kate takes me because they're on her way." You smiled at the tall girl, grateful. 

"Okay, good. I don't want you getting stalked and possibly worse because of that guy. You should report him before it gets too bad." Hannah suggested, and rightfully so. 

"Yeah, I will. Thanks again, Hannah."

The girls' practice was going well. Until it wasn't. 

"Hey, you got a minute?" You were organizing gauze and wraps in the med bag behind the bench before you looked up and saw Kate holding her nose. 

"Yes, of course, Kate. Another one?" You looked at the girl as she walked around the bench and you handed her a towel. She broke her nose every year, you and Caitlin swore on it. You grabbed some gauze squares and put them in each nostril, to absorb as much blood as possible before you completely ruined the towel. 

"Don't tilt your head back. It could cause clots." You knew she already knew that with how prone Kate was to bloody noses. But it never hurts to refresh her mind, as it is instinct to stop the bleeding. 

"Yeah, thanks." You and Kate stood there while the bleeding stopped. "Alright, I think I'm good." She said a small smile on her face. You saw some blood on her shirt, grabbing the small bottle of peroxide in the bag, and a small gauze pad, you tried to soak as much of it out so it was easier for her when she did laundry. Suddenly your phone started buzzing. A new notification every second. 

"Jeez, who is blowing up your phone?" Kate asked, as she looked at your screen lighting up and watching the notifications pop up one by one.

"I don't know. Can you check?" You asked as you tried to get the last spot of blood off her clothes. 

"It's Instagram. Someone named Nick? Is it that same Nick guy Hannah said harassed the fuck out of you today?" She set your phone down. Your stomach immediately churning. You were honestly getting the creeps. 

"Oh my god. She told you?" You asked as you looked into Kate's eyes. Both of yours mirroring each other. The same worried look. 

"Yeah, and I'm glad she did. You need to say something. Or I can if you're not comfortable." Kate suggested. Now six more new notifications popped up, all from Nick. "I'll block him for you." She said, picking up your phone but stopping to look at you. Her eyes silently asking if that was okay with you.

"Yeah, please." You sighed as you threw the gauze squares away, putting the peroxide back before watching Kate block Nick. On your main and spam account. You have no idea how he found you; your name isn’t in the usernames. You really should go private and change your message settings. "Alright lemme check your nose though, to make sure it's not broken." There was absolutely no need to do this. You knew it was probably just a simple elbow or ball to the face. You both would've known if it was broken. 

"Alright." She sat on the bench, signature manspread. Good lord. You stood between her legs, putting pressure on different parts of her nose, checking for any indication of pain. It was a little tender but that was obvious, and so was you making an excuse to keep Kate a little longer. I mean, could she blame you? You haven't seen her much in the last couple of days. Late practices you missed for studying for your exam, her leaving earlier than you and by the time you get home she's either asleep or visiting her nephew. You missed your best friend.

You could see her looking at you as you checked. Your eyes meet once or twice, small giggles escaping your lips every time. Her eyes dropping to your lips occasionally, watching your tongue poke out a little as you focused on the task at hand. That made her giggle too. "Okay, bear. You're good." You kissed the top of her head and patted her shoulder before she stood up and ran back to the court. 

"If I roll my ankle, do I get a cute nickname and a kiss too?" Caitlin shouted as she pretended to throw herself on the ground. You laughed at her antics loudly before nodding your head and yelling yes. You laughed harder as she pretended to limp towards you. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna need like ten kisses to make this unbearable pain go away."  She fakes winced as she took a seat in the spot Kate was previously in, resting her "injured" foot on the chairs next to her. 

"Oh for sure, Cait." You laughed.

Suddenly, Sydney, Kylie, Jada, and Gabbie, hobbled over pretending to be injured to get their kisses too. "You need one too, Coach Bluder?" You shouted after you made your way through half the lineup. You made the assistant coaches laugh, including Coach herself. The practice was better after that, but you just couldn't shake the events from today off. 

Maybe another movie night with Kate would fix this. A lot of ice cream must be eaten tonight. Just one night, peaceful, and Nick free.

[blissfullyecho]

how to study + become a better college student

*i’m in nursing school for reference*

before classes/school:

#1. eat a good, hearty breakfast. i cannot concentrate when i’m hungry because i think about lunch or having a snack. i like to carb up for breakfast (carbs give you energy) and have things like pancakes, french toast, bagels, etc., as well as protein (because that keeps you full) like eggs, turkey bacon, yogurt, etc. i like to take a green powder or a multivitamin during this time to give my body what it needs so that i can function for the rest of the day too.

#2. i always bring water with me to class so that i can concentrate and not think about how thirsty i am. it’s super important to stay hydrated so come prepared.

#3. i know the lesson plan and what’s going to be talked about each day, and if your classes are run like that too, read the chapter or look over whatever it is you’re going to look over today in class to give you a general idea of what you’re going to learn today. this will help you feel like you’re one step ahead (which you are).

#4. wake up early enough to be relaxed in the morning. every time i didn’t perform my best in school was when i woke up and immediately rushed to get ready for class and not took the time to allow myself to ‘wake up’. your mornings should be chill, not a race against the clock.

during classes/school:

#1. actually jot down notes— do not rely on just using your phone to take pictures of the board/powerpoint. when you write your notes down, you get a chance to get that information stuck in your head. what i do if my instructor goes too fast on the powerpoints is: i take a picture of the powerpoint, then i write down what she/he says, then when i get home i rewrite what i took a picture of and the notes that i took in class (i’ll talk about this later).

#2. ask questions— who cares if you’re shy or whatever. asking questions will allow you to be more engaged and it shows your professors/instructors/teachers that you actually care (and they might even bump some grades up for you if you show you’ve taken initiative and tried). every question you ask, write your question down and their response in your notes. i’m telling you, this has helped so much and it gives you such a good look.

#3. use your lunch break for what it is— a break. 30 minutes isn’t a lot of time for an 8 hour day so actually rest and enjoy your lunch during this time. you need a chance to reset.

#4. if you can, always ask to review your tests with your professors/instructors. see what you got wrong and talk it through with them. in nursing school, we generally aren’t able to see what we got wrong on our exams and tests without our professor being there to review them with us. please do this.

#5. use a 1 subject notebook for each class and have pens/pencils that you only use for class. your notes in class should be legible but not super pretty. make your notes pretty at home, not in class.

#6. when taking a test, go over the questions and answers before turning in. there have been so many times i read a question too quickly and changed my answer and i ended up being correct when i looked it over again. don’t make those dumb mistakes.

#7. befriend the other students who do really well in the class. seriously, this will save you.

after classes/school:

#1. when you get home from school, unwind for an hour. take a shower, go to the gym, do whatever you want to do to allow yourself to relax and unwind. you need to take another break after school to regroup and to find a little bit of balance.

#2. review the notes you took in class that day and the pictures you took of the board, and rewrite your notes in a different notebook. so i suggest 2 notebooks for each class— one for your sloppy in-class notes and another for your pretty and organized notes. rewriting your notes will allow your brain to help retain that information.

#3. spend some time each day after rewriting your notes to watch a few videos on youtube about that topic. for nursing school, i like to look at 1-3 videos about what we’re learning to get a wider understanding.

#4. on the weekends, i like to spend 1-2, sometimes 3 hours each day reviewing everything i learned that week. i will watch more videos, i will read over my notes, and i will also create flashcards with my own practice questions in regards to the notes i take and quiz myself with those cards.

[sysy-studyblr]

hello! i stumbled upon your blog a few days ago and was honestly amazed at how you progressed in your german learning in less than a year. i don't know if you ever made a post about it, but could you share how you structured your learning routine? i'm self-studying french and the thing i find the hardest is how to cover all the topics i need and fit them jn a schedule. i know it's different fot everyone, but you're a major inspiration source, so it'd be pretty helpful! thank you in advance 💜

hi, firstly thank you so much!!! this is such a kind message!!!!! like very seriously, the type of message I would store in my heart for a long time, so thank you.

going to be absolutely real with you, I was very free as I picked up German, it was kind of my only goal for 8 months, so I didn't need to worry about other tasks!!! but in general, I started using the Common European framework of reference for languages [CEFR - A1-C2] to guide my revision, I did A1 - A2 with a language learning institute [goethe], where I got content + guidance from them and B1 - B2 with a private tutor, though I used a lot of my own resources + scheduling, so I'll break down what could be useful for you!

I broke German down into vocabulary and grammar, like just fundamentally - I did learn a bit of French, so I think this could work for French too, considering tenses as a part of grammar.

generally you have to progress in a language from basics to intermediate to then advanced, such that vocabulary + grammar structures get more complex as you go along. I (allegedly) pirated (alleged) German learning books from the (alleged) website libgen/scihub, and used them for practice. I also found free content online for German B2 grammar.

if you want to pass an exam, then what I did would work - towards the exam time, I pretty much just understood grammar structures, and read vocab, then did past papers until I was really good at it, because I needed the certificate for uni. but in general, I recommend practicing these structures yourself, and integrating them into your life. I watched German shows, listened to German music, read tons of stuff in German, and of course, all my devices are in German now. [I also did this before my French IB exam, albeit I am not very good at French]

my schedule had German every day, on average 3 hours, the week before exams 4 hours a day for like 5 days straight. I gave myself a week to go over grammatical structures, but if you just obtain a French A1 book and start doing the exercises alone, you would be just fine. I missed 20 hours of the start of the A1 class (I did 4 hours a day from A1 - A2) and I just used the simple book they gave, understood stuff with a dictionary and pushed forward.

this reply might be super all-over-the-place so do let me know if I should expound on something specific or if something makes little to no sense,!!!!

[zuucc]

MORE THAN A VANCOUVER SUNSET: What if...

... it was Mat instead of Sam?

Summary: What if Emma had ended up losing her virginity to Mat instead of Sam Brown, the douchebag that had spent the rest of the summer boasting about how he’d been the one to take it - making Mat so angry about how he spoke about his crush friend, that his friends had to stop him from fighting Sam on several different occasions? Mat sees Emma at that post-graduation party, sneaking away with the hockey team’s biggest asshole. Instead of pretending he didn’t see them, he goes up to them and somehow manages to steal her away. 

Warnings: smut, alcohol, cursing

Word count: 9k

Author’s note: Again, MTAVS does not need anymore smut than it already has but my mind is procrastinating writing my exam spinning with spicy ideas, so here we are. Again, you can still read this even if you haven’t read my eightythreethousand word book about Mat Barzal and his steamy summer romance with his former math class partner in crime slash crush, it can be read as a stand alone. I will give you the information you need :-) 

Please enjoy!

In cursive, you will find a short extract from More Than a Vancouver Sunset that explain where this What if? is coming from, along with a short paragraph that will also provide some insight.  

~

“I wanted to lose my virginity to you,” Emma admitted as she pulled away from the kiss.

“Really?” Mat asked, his eyes widening, as well as his smile. Emma had kept her crush on him all to herself during high school, and the girls had asked so many times, but she always said that it wasn’t anyone special she wanted to do it with. But it was, and that person was definitely Mat. Emma and the girls had spent countless sleepovers talking about sex, and Mat was always the one she had in mind when they did. On Monday after a weekend of all-nighters and hours spent giggling in Laura’s basement, when Mat came running to ask her some stupid question about that very specific line in the French novel in her hand, when his hand touched hers and his arm pressed into hers as he stood towering over her – she’d always find herself involuntary pressing her thighs together.

“Mhm, but instead I ended up losing it to fucking Sam Brown on the night of graduation,” she sighed, shaking her head as she looked at Mat. Even though it wasn’t exactly the best memory she had in her mind, she still couldn’t stop the smile on her lips as she looked at the man beside her.

“Oh I forgot about that, he was boasting about it all summer. I was so jealous, and so pissed off because of the way he was talking about you,” Mat said, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he thought about his former teammate that summer after high school. He’d seen Emma from afar a few times that summer, but he didn’t talk to her – it was not like he had any French homework to use as an excuse anymore. Luckily he’d grown a pair of balls since then.

“Ugh, I know. It’s sweet that you were mad, though,” she smiled, reaching out for that one curl that kept falling into his face, pushing it back. Mat got lost in her eyes for a little bit, deciding to save the story about how he’d almost gotten into a drunken fight with Sam the weekend after graduation, have it not been for Jason being a little bit more level headed than him, for a later time, and just kissed her instead.

~

...that one time Mat had showed up to the party Emma was at and he’d wracked his brain trying to come up with something to say to her – it wasn’t like he could go up to her at a party and ask her about French homework.

~

Emma shouted a quick goodbye to her parents before she hurried out the front door and down the couple steps from the porch, making sure to disappear out of view from the kitchen window as fast as possible, without looking suspicious. They knew she was going to a party, she’d graduated that Friday, after all. She was going to sleep over at Laura’s after, and in her overnight bag, along with PJs, toiletries and a few outfit alternatives, were also two bottles of wine that she’d bought from Francesca’s older brother. Each carefully wrapped in a piece of clothing, placed on each their side of her bag with a full makeup bag shoved between them in order to keep them from clinking and making any sort of noise as she hurried down the stairs from her bedroom.

She made her way down the street to Laura's house, slipping through the opening in the hedge and in through the backdoor, going straight for the stairs down to the basement, where she knew she would find her group of besties.

"Did you make it?" Francesca asked before she could even get down the stairs and greet them 'hello'.

"Of course," Emma said like it was that easy. Her parents weren't strict on many things, knowing that she was usually quite responsible. Though an incident when she was sixteen and had a bit too much, had made them wary of alcohol. Maybe the lack of such incidents ever since had made them forget.

An hour or so goes by and Laura's parents announce that they're leaving to go visit Laura's aunt in Vancouver. The girls sit in silence until they can hear their car pull out of the driveway, and just as Laura sees them disappear down the road - she's pulling red solo cups out of thin air and drinks are being poured.

"So, what's the POA tonight?" Jessie asked, making a grimace as she swallowed another sip of the drink Francesca had mixed for her. Needless to say, the vodka to orange juice ratio wasn't quite right.

"The P-O-What?" Sophie asked, turning her head in Jessie's direction so fast that Emma, who's got Sophie's hair wrapped around a curling iron, nearly burns both her hand and Sophie's forehead.

"Plan of action, duh," Jessie rolls her eyes at her cousin, making everyone else laugh as they didn't actually know what she was talking about either. Thankfully, Sophie was always willing to ask first, making the rest of them look smarter.

"Depends on what kind of plan you're looking for," Laura chuckles as she pulls the fourth crop top over her head, before reaching for the one she was wearing in the first place. Emma was sure she was gonna go through the cycle of those four tops at least two more times before they leave for the actual party. Maybe even try a fifth, nearly identical one.

"Well, does anyone have any prospects for tonight? You know, dick-wise? Virginity-wise?" she asks, turning towards Emma and Sophie, the only two virgins left in the room. Emma couldn't see Sophie's face as she was currently looking for any straight pieces at the back of her head, seeing if she'd missed some, but she was pretty sure that Sophie rolled her eyes in unison with herself.

"You're such a dude, Jess - only thinking about sex," Sophie exclaims, again, nearly making Emma burn herself again.

"We've literally only talked about sex for like four years straight now, you're just as bad," Francesca argued, turning it back to Sophie. Emma laughed, motioning for Fran to pour some shot into her mouth as she curled the last piece of Sophie's blonde locks. Sophie rolled her eyes again, though this time with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Emma has a POA, apparently," Laura laughs, "otherwise she wouldn't be taking so many shots."

"I do not!" Emma tries to sound believable, but fails immensely as a wide smile and a blush creeps up her cheeks.

"You so do!" Jessie calls out, a huge shit eating grin on her face.

"I swear I don't!" Emma failed again, not able to keep a straight face at all. The alcohol wasn't exactly helping.

"Who?" Laura asks, just as interested as Jessie. The rest of them turning their full attention to her as well.

"I don't know! I'm just thinking of getting it over with, that's all. Like, I do not care at all. Or like a little bit, but it doesn't have to be meaningful or anything like that. I feel like it's gonna take forever if that has to be a criteria," Emma explains. She did have someone in mind, that was for sure, but that person was unattainable, and not someone she was discussing with her friends. She would rather jump off a cliff than face that kind of embarrassment.

"I get that - just go for it," Francesca agreed while Sophie made a grimace - Emma wasn't sure if the grimace was because she disagreed or because she really wasn't a fan of red wine.

"I mean, there's lots of guys who would fuck you," Jessie shrugged.

“Let me know if you hear of any willing then,” Emma rolled her eyes, before motioning for Laura to change places with Sophie.

“Yeah, we’ll just go around asking if anyone’s willing to do you. We’ll have a line up for you to choose from at the end of the night,” Francesca chuckled, making everyone laugh. Emma included.

“Yeah, right,” she shook her head, praying for another topic or for the attention to turn back to Sophie. She took a long sip of her wine before she started sectioning Laura’s hair for curling.

“Seriously, Em, I literally heard Brownie and Tommy F. discuss the length of your skirt like two days ago,” Jessie argued, throwing her hands out in emphasis.

“Maybe they wished it was longer,” Emma shot back, making them all groan and roll their eyes. Emma laughed to herself, satisfied with her own self deprecating joke.

“Oh yeah, sure sounded like it when they talked about how you’d bent down to pick up your pen from the floor or something and Brownie had tried to catch a peak,” Jessie retaliated, making them all gasp in disgust.

“No way in hell you’re losing it to, Brownie, Em,” Sophie chimed in.

“You know what, maybe I will fuck Sam Brown. At least I’d get it over with,” Emma said, refusing to refer to any of them by their stupid hockey nicknames. Again, she was internally hoping, praying, begging for the topic to change. Sophie grimaced again, and this time Emma knew it wasn’t because of the wine or any other booze Fran had managed to supply them with.

“There’s always Barzy. He’d probably beg to be the one,” Laura came in with a more sensible option, mumbling the last part under her breath. Sensible, though completely unrealistic, Emma thought.

“Laura, you can kiss my ass. Fran, please pour something strong down my throat,” Emma finished the conversation. Before she’d managed to chase the vodka shot with white wine, Laura had started loudly doubting her fashion choices again, and the group of girls moved on.

Another hour went by too quickly and Emma had made sure that everyone's hair was curled to perfection, Sophie had consulted everyone's fashion emergencies, Jessie had painted every single nail in sight, Laura had provided comedic relief and Francesca had made sure that every single one of them had taken at least five shots and downed three cups of their alcohol of choice. They were ready to go.

Francesca's brother came through again, picking them up in their parents minivan. He deserved more than the 20 dollars they'd promised him for spending fifteen minutes just getting the five drunk girls into the car, let along pulling up with the screeching of "You Belong with Me" by Taylor Swift on repeat for another twenty while he drove them to the party. The party was to be held at Christopher Maxwell's house - their class' resident rich kid who everyone depended on to throw a huge party whenever the occasion called for it. Be it prom, start of summer, end of summer, graduation or just a random Friday night.

The ground was slightly wobbly beneath Emma’s feet as she made her way into the Maxwell villa, pulling at the tight skirt Sophie had convinced her to wear as it kept riding up with every step she took.

“If you’re planning to let it go tonight, you might as well let it ride up,” Laura grinned next to her, making Emma laugh.

“Might as well let everyone take a peak, see who volunteers,” Emma shot back sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s find someone for you to flirt with,” Laura pulled her under her arm, nearly making Emma trip on the threshold.

They slowly made their way through the house, stopping to talk to classmates and people they hardly knew along the way. It's weird how, all of a sudden, you’re talking to people you’d barely say hi to in the school hallway as soon as schools out and you’ve got some booze running through your system.

Halfway through the house, they lose Jessie and Sophie, and somewhere in the kitchen, they lose Francesca ass well. Somehow, Emma and Laura make it all the way out to the garden on the other side of the enormous villa before they split up. Laura got sucked into some conversation with some girls from her French class, and Emma finds herself placing one foot in front of the other in the direction of some nice patio furniture filled with jocks.

“Heyy, Emma,” a few of them greets her as she approaches them. Her drunken smile widens as they welcome her with somewhat polite compliments of how she’s looking tonight, helping her confidence just a little further. She scans the little crowd in front of her for a face she knows a little better than the rest, luckily finding Laura’s twin brother, Troy. He offers her a hand so that she can safely maneuver what feels like a hundred pairs of long legs between the sofa and the coffee table, all the way over to him where she finally sits down on the edge of his lap.

It’s easy then, to fall into conversation with Tristan from history and Corey who sits behind her in English. Ten-fifteen minutes go by and Corey becomes Tommy F. and Troy whispers in her ear that he’s going to the bathroom and pushes her to her feet in order to get up. She doesn’t bat an eye when another lap takes his place underneath her when she sits back down. They're all familiar faces, though soon, they're just that - familiar. She doesn't really know any of them. Mat Barzal sits down on the other end of the sofa, but he just shot her a short smile before he went back to his conversation with Jason Smith. In complete opposition to everyone else, he almost seemed less friendly here at the party than what he did in school. She tried to hide her disappointment.

When Tristan runs off with his on again, off again girlfriend and Tommy F. disappears to find Tommy D., Emma thinks maybe she should get up, too - at least move away from whomever's lap she was sitting in, now that the seat next to them were free. Tommy F.'s seat already taken by someone Emma was pretty sure graduated at least two years ago.

"Heyy, where are you going?" She hears the person underneath her saying, his hands finding her hips to pull her back and further onto his thighs, all the way until she's sitting sideways across his lap in the corner of the modular sofa.

"I'm not going anywhere, just thought I'd stop weighing you down," Emma puts on her flirty voice and cheeky smile.

"Oh, please, I can barely feel you there," Sam Brown grins before confidently placing one of his big hands on her thigh. Sam was huge and usually the one to end up some kind of brawl on the ice. He was also a little too cocky and a little too confident, though nice enough, and if you stared at him long enough he was handsome enough, too. His eyes were kind, though Emma knew enough girls who'd found themselves fooled by that. Luckily, Emma had no intentions that extended past tonight.

It became easy again, falling into conversation with Sam. Discussing his plans for hockey after high school and laughing along when he cheekily suggested that Emma became his trophy wife.

"I'm not sure, Sam, I'm no puck bunny," Emma chatted back, speaking his language and knowing exactly what she was doing when she placed her hand on his chest.

"Oh, please, just five minutes ago you were the only girl in a couch full of hockey players," he shot back, and once again, Emma laughed along. At this point, she was determined that he'd be the lucky one. It was clear that he was very much willing already from the second he started talking to her.

She kept talking to Sam, stealing sips from his beer in order to keep her courage going. The alcohol running through her system had her playing this role so well she almost believed it herself. Every now and then she'd catch Mat's eye for a short second, but it seemed like he pretended he didn't see her. Soon he was gone too.

"Hey, let's go inside," Sam suggested, disguising his proposal under the fact that Emma was getting cold outside in just a skirt and a short sleeved top.

"Sure," she smiled, flirtatiously. She let him push her to her feet with his hands low on her hips, as well as she let him escort her inside with his big hand low on her back. The same big hand that he'd slowly inched up her thigh, all the way until it was halfway under her skirt.

'Inside' soon became 'somewhere more quiet', and even though Emma had never done this before, she could tell that Sam had his way of going about this. She let him pull her upstairs to a quiet hallway, where he pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips. Emma was about to go back for more when a familiar voice called her name, somehow making her forget what the hell she was doing.

"Mat!" Emma heard her drunken voice exclaim excitedly, pulling away from Sam's grip to greet Mat, who was approaching them in the otherwise lightly populated hallway. Mat surprised her with pulling her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her middle while hers slid around his neck. She could recall hugging him once before, on his birthday back in May, but not like this. He even lifted her off her feet. Truthfully, she had no idea what was going on.

"How are you?" he asked, focusing all his attention on Emma, not even granting his teammate as much as a nod. Emma fell for it, right away. Falling into conversation with Mat easily, just like they did in math class, where they usually just talked to each other for 45 minutes straight rather than try to solve any of the problems Miss Lee presented them with. How either of them got through the year without failing math, she had no idea. Soon Sam was bored enough to dip into the bathroom instead of just standing there listening to their conversation and Mat saw his chance to finally pull Emma further down the hallway, away from Sam. Only then did Emma catch on to what was going on.

"Hey! You cockblocked me," she accused him, playfully shoving at his shoulder. Mat laughed lightly, but quickly found a more serious tone.

"What were you doing with Brownie, anyway? He's not a good guy, Em," Mat asked, settling his hands on her lower arms, holding her in front of him.

"I know that, Mat. I just- I just wanna get it over with," she admitted, feeling a certain color inch its way onto her cheeks.

"Get what over with?" he asked. He truthfully didn't know what she was talking about. Though, as he watched her cheeks turn completely pink in a matter of seconds, he had to smile. It was kind of adorable.

Emma couldn't believe she was about to tell Mat Barzal that she was just trying to lose her goddamn virginity, but that was what she was doing. She took a step closer and leaned onto her tippy toes to whisper it to him, but the music was coming from down stairs was too loud and the line to the bathroom was getting longer and chattier.

"What?" he asked, and Emma tried again, leaning in closer and resting her hand on his shoulder. To no success, though. After the third try of telling it to him without yelling it so loud the entire upstairs hallway heard it, she gave up.

"Oh my god, come here," she laughed, shaking her head as she took his hand and pulled him through the first unlocked door she found.

"What?" Mat repeated once he'd closed the door behind them. By the time he'd turned back around to face her, Emma had covered half her face with her hands in embarrassment.

"My virginity," she told him, surprisingly loud and clear.

"Oh," Mat blurted then, realisation dawning upon him. He even found himself blushing a little bit too.

"Yeah," Emma confirmed, "so thanks for that, now I’m not getting rid of it tonight," she threw out her hands in emphasis before she took a few steps back to the bed and fell back on it. It looked neatly done still, so chances were low that anyone had managed to christen it just yet.

"Well, I'm not really sorry. He's like the worst guy ever when it comes to that," Mat told her, sitting down on the mattress, right next to where she'd spread herself out. Her skirt had ridden up when she'd thrown herself back onto the bed, and Mat didn't know if he should ignore it or help her by pulling it back down for her. He'd always been easily entranced by the skirts Emma wore. Before he could decide, she was sitting up - her skirt returning to its proper length when she pulled herself up.

"I know, I just wanted to get it over with, like, no strings attached. No hurt feelings. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she repeated the same words she’d told her friends earlier that night. Why the hell she was sitting on a bed in some rich boy’s mansion, telling this to Mat Barzal - the boy she’d secretly had a crush on since the third math class of last semester - she had no idea.

“I get it, Em. But I can’t tell you how many girls I’ve heard too many intimate details about in the locker room from him. It’s never ending and half of it is straight up fantasy. We’re talking everything from the size of their tits to some bullshit story he’s pulled from some fucked up porno he’s seen. And I just don’t want that to be you he’s talking about next,” Mat told her, calmly. He watched as her expression softened.

“Thanks, Mat,” Emma sighed, falling back on the mattress again. He was right, Sam wasn’t the right guy - even if she wasn’t looking for something meaningful and special. Not to mention how incredibly sweet that was of him, to go out of his way to stop her from making that mistake.

“Anytime, Em,” he sighed, laying back as well.

“Anytime, huh?” Emma tries to lighten the mood, looking over at Mat and finding him already looking at her.

“Yeah, wanna go take another spin around the villa? See if we find some potential matches? The night’s still young,” He shoots back, but his smile isn't as bright and goofy as it usually is.

“Hah, I’m sobering up now,” Emma groans, crawling her way up the bed to sit against the headboard.

“Maybe that’s a good thing?” Mat looks at her with a grin, soon following her to lean back against the headboard too.

“No, I can’t flirt for shit when I’m sober,” she chuckles.

“That’s not true, you flirt with me all time,” he teases, making Emma throw her head back laughing. The cackle pouring out of Mat’s mouth as he laughs along with her, has her smile spreading even wider.

"That's not true," Emma laughs, swearing that she was just being her normal self whenever she was talking to Mat. They just had a fun relationship, that's all. She would even go so far as to call it a coping mechanism for getting through math. And then there was the fact that she had that deep buried, never seen the light of day, crush on him.

"Well, that's what everyone says, anyways," Mat states, looking over at her, "not that they just say that about you, though. It's mostly me, really," he adds, laughing.

“Okay, okay, fair,” she grins, looking back at him. She has to pull her gaze away quickly, not able to keep her eyes on him long without blushing or staring at his lips. It was easier in school, then Emma was able to keep her somewhat hard exterior, but the vulnerability of the situation and the alcohol coursing through her system made all that was Mat Barzal a little bit harder to deal with. They both fell silent.

"I’m comfortable with you though. Makes it easier," Emma eventually breaks the quiet. This time she's keeping her gaze straight forward, not turning her head to the side to look at him. She could feel him looking at her though.

"Yeah?" Mat breathes, his voice low and laced with something hopeful.

"Yeah," Emma confirms.

"You’re like... safe," she adds, daring to look up at him for a second.

"Safe?" he asks, not really understanding what she meant by that.

"Are you trying to tell you're not? I'll be out of this room real quick," Emma turns the situation around then, making Mat laugh and shake his head no.

"You're safe with me, Em," he confirms, the smile still on his lips as he looks over at her, reaching over to give her two reassuring pats on her knee. Emma felt his touch on her skin long after it was gone.

"Exactly," Emma nodded, like that was just what she meant. She was safe with him.

"Why did you look at me like you barely knew me earlier?" she asks then, after a minute or two in silence. It felt safe to ask, and she honestly really wanted to know. Mat wasn't usually like that. She'd never really spoken to him at a party before, though, that was worth mentioning, but their paths hadn't really crossed either. But in school, Mat would always say hi, even go out of his way to come find her just to ask her some obvious question about their French homework.

"What, when?" Mat asks, but Emma could tell he knew what moment she was talking about.

"Earlier, outside on the couch," she clarified.

"I don’t know, I just - whenever I see you outside of school I just forget that we’re actually friends, like I think that I need to ask you something about French homework to be able to talk to you. But in reality, I could talk to you about anything," he explains, and this time it's him that's not looking at her.

"Okay?" Emma says, not sure what to gather from that.

"Like, I don't forget that we're friends, I just... I forget than I can talk to you about things that aren't school related, you know. And then whenever I see you at a party or something, I just overthink it," he went on. Emma just nodded, taking it all in.

"And I guess I was kind of jealous," he adds, kind of under his breath, but kind of not. He turns to look at her.

"Why?" Emma asks, looking back at him. Their eyes meet and Emma gets a little lost in the dark green.

"You were sitting on Brownies lap," he clarifies with a chuckle, like he's a little bit embarrassed to admit it.

"Oh?" Emma perked up, interested to hear more about this.

"I swear, that's not why I cockblocked you," he defended himself, a flustered smile spreading on his lips along with a redness on his cheeks.

"I don't know," Emma teased, the booze helping her compartmentalise the part where he apparently wanted her in his own lap. She couldn't focus on that part.

"I promise you, my intentions were completely pure with stealing you away from Brownie. I wasn't just saving you for myself. I meant everything I said about him," Mat defended himself, his expression softening when Emma's smile turned soft instead of amused.

"I know, Mat. I believe you," she said then, and Mat sunk down in his seat - only halfway sitting up against the headboard now.

"I'd just much rather you sit on my lap instead," he stated, putting the fact into the room. The fact that had been implied earlier, that Emma had just shoved away into the back of mind in order to not freak out.

"Oh," Emma smiled, trying her hardest to keep that smile at a normal width - to not let it get uncontrollably wide and take over her entire face. Her cheeks felt warm, too. Somehow Mat managed keep the color of his normal.

"Yeah," he breathed, keeping his eyes on her.

Emma couldn't keep looking at his face, though. That was too much. Her eyes traveled down his torso, over his white t-shirt and to his arm that laid across his stomach. His hands was really nice, she thought - long fingers and few prominent veins stretching from his forearm to the back of his hand. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed.

She felt his eyes follow her every move closely, she didn't dare look up to meet his eyes, but somehow worked up the courage to reach for his hand. He lifted it to meet hers, fingers spreading apart to let her right hand intertwine with his left. His thumb immediately starting to rub up and down the side of hers, slowly.

"You have nice hands," Emma complimented, her voice soft and barely audible. She dared meet his eyes and watched as the sides of his lips lifted into a smile.

"Thanks," he smiled, "yours are really soft."

"Thanks," Emma said softly, finding some deep buried bravery somewhere as she turned to her side, slowly swinging her leg across his thighs until she was straddling his lap. His eyes followed her every move closely, from the first turn of her hips until she settled on his upper thighs. Their hands slide apart slowly, Emma's settling on his chest while Mat's slowly slide up the side of her thighs, settling on her hips.

"Is this okay?" she asks, her voice soft and sweet. Vulnerable. Mat decides that he'll do everything in his power to make sure she's never uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I told you I wanted you in my lap, didn't I?" he smiled cheekily, but spoke softly. Emma laughed nervously. He'd started rubbing little circles on her hips with his thumbs, making her feel more secure immediately.

"You told me you'd rather have me in your lap than anyone else's. There's a difference," she flirted back, letting her hands slide down to his abs.

"I think you know what I meant," he said, his voice low and charming. His hands dropped to her thighs for a bit, before they slowly made their way back up her hips. Her skirt was barely hiding anything when she sat like that, but she didn't care. Emma bit her lip and took a deep breath. He was making her feel certain ways.

"Will you do it?" she asked bashfully, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth again immediately as she finished speaking.

"Do what?" Mat asked, though he was positive she was talking about her virginity again. Emma rolled her eyes playfully.

"You know what," she told him, playfully pushing at his chest. His hands traveled from her hips to her waist, and then slowly back down again. Every touch made Emma feel unbearably warm.

"You’re asking me like it’s a chore, some bothersome task," he stated, his smile sweet but a little cheeky. He was an eighteen year old boy offered with sex, after all.

"Well, I don’t know how you ask for it, not like I’ve done it before," Emma chuckled, feeling more comfortable in her position by the second.

"I won't do it just to help you get rid of it, okay? Only if you really want to," he said then, and Emma wondered where the hell all this maturity came from. She appreciated the way he spoke about it, but the way she was feeling just from sitting across his lap with his hands wandering up and down her sides, told her that it was nothing she wanted more. He was the one she'd wanted in the first place.

"I really want to," she whispered, softly but filled with so much lust for him. It was almost like she could see his eyes darken as he took the words she said.

"Fuck, just... come here,” he groaned, moving one of his hands up her back and to her neck as he sat up, immediately pressing his lips to hers. Emma's arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her, openmouthedly and hot.

His arm wrapped around her middle, while his other hand gripped the underside of her thigh, pulling her up in his lap and impossibly close. Their chests pressed together, just as their tongues met in, if not the best, but certainly the hottest kiss Emma had ever experienced. Mat's hand traveled from where he was gripping her thigh and further up, this time sliding in under the tight skirt that was bunching up around her hips. She felt his fingers gripping her ass, her body responding immediately by arching into him, moaning against his lips. The motion letting her feel what she was doing to him as well.

Their lips parted, red and swollen, eyes meeting for a second before Mat was attaching his lips to her neck, leaving wet kisses down towards her collarbones. One of his hands trailed up her side, covering her boob in his hand, applying pressure to the sound of breathy moans.

Emma clawed at his t-shirt, begging to feel him naked against her. Instead of letting her pull the garment off herself, Mat pulls away and reaches for the material at the back of his neck, pulling it over his head in the way that guys do. The way that every girl finds hot, Emma no different. She's quick to reach for him as soon as he's gotten rid of the shirt, her hands sliding from his chest to the back of his neck as their lips meet again. Mat's arm slides up her back while his other hand grips her thigh as he swiftly turns them around and rolls on top of her. The way he presses his bulge against her, earning him a moan. A gasp leaving her soon after as he just as quickly pulls away from her.

"Need to lock the door," he smiles, almost innocently, as if he wasn't just pressing his erection to her barely clothed heat. Emma's head falls back on the mattress as Mat locks the door, making sure no one would walk in on them.

"Hey," he smiles when he comes back, climbing into the bed and positioning himself on his knees between her legs.

"Hey," Emma replies, smiling back at him. His hands fall to her bare thighs, slowly traveling up to the hem of her skirt that bunched around hips, surely showing him the lacy thong she had on.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, lifting one of thighs to rest at an angle. He's rubbing circles on the inside of her knee. All she wanted was for him to touch her where she wanted him most.

"I want you so badly, Mat," Emma told him, surprising both herself and him with the boldness of her words. Before he could say anything she reached for his arm and pulled him in closer. She leant up on her elbows, stretching her neck to meet him in a soft, but lustful kiss. She keeps her lips where they're almost touching his as her hand falls to his hands, slowly moving it to where she needed it.

"Can you feel how much I want you?" she spoke against his lips, pulling back slightly just to be able to look at him as his fingers found their way inside her thong.

"Fuck, Emma," he groaned then, falling forward just an inch or two, just to press his lips to hers again. He could feel her moans vibrating against him as let his finger run through her wet slit.

"What do you want, Em?" he asked, kissing her again before letting her answer - deep and toe-curling.

"Undress me," she demanded, and Mat was on it immediately. Hooking his fingers into the elastic waistband of her skirt, pulling it down while Emma helped by pulling her legs up. As soon as the skirt hit the floor, Mat was onto her top - Emma raising her arms above her head to let him pull it off, leaving her in the only matching set she owned, thoughtfully saved for Saturday night.

"You're so beautiful," Mat sighs, barely getting the words out before Emma is telling him to shut up and planting her lips on his in an openmouthed kiss, pushing him over to straddle him again. He curses against her lips as her hands immediately reach for his belt, opening it and undoing the button and zipper next - her hand disappearing into his jeans to cover his bulge.

Kissing down his neck and to his chest, Emma soon brings her hands back to the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down as she goes. She doesn't stop until her knees hit the edge of the bed, her lips just an inch or two above his bellybutton. Stepping off the side of the bed, she completely rids him of his pants. Her eyes fall to the bulge in his boxers before she's pulled back on top of him.

"You're fucking unreal," Mat beams up at her, smiling as he pulls her into another deep kiss. He's sitting up, Emma on her knees over him. Her hands are placed firmly on his shoulder and jaw, Mat's hands roaming all over her - traveling from her hips to her ass, up her back until he reaches the clasp of her bra.

"Can I?" he asks, pulling away from the kiss.

"Please," Emma just begs, leaning back in for more as his fingers work on opening the clasp, soon getting it and helping her pull the straps down her arms. They pull apart again, Emma throwing the black push up bra away as Mat is entirely too busy taking in the sight before him.

Rather than touching her chest, Mat brings his hands to her thighs, pulling them up until she's able to wrap her legs around him. His arm snaking around the small of her back allows her to lean back as he finally starts leaving sloppy kisses from her collarbones to her boobs, soon fitting his lips around one of her nipples - sucking it into his mouth to the sound of her breathy moans.

"Come on, Mat, I need you to touch me," she begs, halfheartedly grabbing at his hand to hopefully steer it on the right path. Instead of sticking his hand in between their bodies, Mat runs his hand over her ass and all the way back until he can stick his middle finger in between the soaked material of her thong and her slit, easily slipping the finger inside her.

"Oh, fuck, please," she begs him again, trying to push herself closer to him and the hard bulge sitting between his legs.

"Patience, baby," he mumbles against her skin, though she can picture the smile on his face as he says it. He earns another moan from her when he pulls his finger out of her and then pushes it right back in again along with his ring finger. The hand that she's currently got in his hair, tightens.

"I really need you to fuck me now, Mat," she goes on, soft and sweet and every thinkable contrast to what she's saying. He groans against her neck, pulling his fingers out from her and swinging her around to place her on her back in the middle of the bed.

Mat didn't really know what to do with himself, his fingers moved to the sides of her thong to pull it down her legs - he knew what to do, but damn if he knew how to handle someone like her. This wasn't his first rodeo at all, there had been two girls before her - one older that he'd lost his virginity to, and one who he'd had some kind of arrangement with, who he'd gone home with a couple of times after parties. But none of those experiences had been like this. No one had begged him to touch them before, nor fuck them. No one had been so sure of what they wanted, like Emma. He felt lucky to be her first, and he was terrified to, in any way, shape or form, fuck this up.

"Take off your boxers," Emma dictated, her eyes falling to his dick as soon as it sprung free from its constraints.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself, reaching out to wrap her hand around him once he was back in his position between her legs again.

"What?" Mat asked, barely getting the word out as she surprised him with a long stroke and her lips attaching to his neck. She pulled back to look at him with a smile on her face.

"Always thought dicks were kinda funny looking, but yours is kinda pretty," she grinned, loving the disbelieving smile that spread on his lips.

"Pretty?" he repeated her compliment in a question.

"Yeah, pretty," she confirmed, cheekily. She gave him a couple more thugs before Mat reluctantly placed his hand on top of hers. He didn't want her to stop, not at all, but he knew that it was necessary.

"Never heard that one before," he chuckled, slowly taking her hand away from where he wanted it, moving it to his side as he lowered himself down to lay on top of her. Though both still smiling, Mat pressed his lips to hers, immediately opening his mouth to let their tongues meet in a searing kiss. Emma moaned into it as he finally pushed himself against her bare heat, his hand disappearing between their bodies to place a thumb on her clit, moving it in circles while they slowly made out.

"Need you inside me," she pleaded in between kisses. Her nails running down the back of his head to his neck.

"Nothing I want more," Mat mumbled against her mouth, pulling away.

"I have a condom in my bag," Emma told him, pointing to the the little black bag that was on the floor, next to her shoes.

"Do you now?" he grins, putting one foot on the floor to support himself as he reached for her black, leather bag.

"Well, I came here with a fucking agenda, didn't I?" she chuckled, almost feeling embarrassed about the things she'd told him tonight. But now was not the time to be embarrassed, not when it was all working out and turning out to be so much better than she'd anticipated.

"It's in the little pocket, with the zipper," she clarified to Mat, who was now rummaging through her purse for the promised condom.

"Got it," he smiled, holding it up like he'd won a trophy, making Emma giggle.

"Your agenda worked," he added then, bringing them back to the original topic. He handed her the condom before climbing back into position, sitting down on his knees between her widespread legs. He let one of his fingers slide down her slit.

"Not really how I imagined it to work out, though," she said, leaning up on her elbows to watch what he was doing.

"No?" he smiled, cheekily.

"The way I see it, it worked out a lot better than imagined," she said, a moan interrupting her mid-sentence, as Mat pushed two fingers into her hole. Mat's smile widened and Emma didn't really know if it was from hearing what she said or if it was because he made her moan like that. Either way, she found it intriguing and weirdly cute how he was smiling like that as his eyes moved between her face and his fingers that were moving in and out of her.

"Yeah?" he breathed, giving himself a few short strokes before that hand came back to rest on her hip.

"Yeah, and that's one hell of compliment, considering you haven't even fucked me yet," Emma told him, playful tone gone and lust clouding her eyes. Mat looked up at her, biting down on his lip.

"Fuck, Em," he groaned before he pulled his fingers out of her, making a particularly loud moan fall from her lips. She took the condom to her teeth, biting down on its edge to rip the foil open.

"Here," she breathed as she took the condom out of its packaging and clamped the top between her thumb and her index finger. Mat came closer, cursing to himself again when she took him into his hand, holding his erection in place as she positioned the condom on his tip and rolled it down his length.

"You ready?" he asked, lowering himself down between her legs - one hand coming down to wrap around his length in order to position himself at her entrance. He knew the answer she'd give, but he asked anyway.

"Yeah, please," she begged, moving her gaze from in between their naked bodies to his face, right above her. She gasped as he pressed the head to the top of her slit, letting it slide down through her arousal before pushing into her. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in her, but he needed to make sure she was alright first. He watched her as her eyes closed and her mouth fell open.

"Fuck, that feels good," she sighed, opening her eyes to see Mat smiling above her.

"Yeah? You're good?" he asked, just to confirm. A wide smile spread on her lips.

"I'm so good," she grinned, placing her hands on the back of his neck and pressing her lips to his as he finally started pushing in and out of her. Mat's lips fell apart and Emma immediately licked into his mouth. With every thrust of Mat's hips, another moan vibrated against his lips.

"You feel so good, Em," he sighed, pulling away from her lips only to bury his head between her neck and shoulder. She moaned in response while she ran her nails down his back.

"Can you go faster?" she asked him, and again she surprised Mat with how vocal she was about her needs.

"Yeah," he breathed against her neck, adjusting his position to sit on his knees with his hands planted in the mattress on both sides of her head. He rolled into her at a faster pace, watching her carefully as her eyes closed in pleasure, her mouth falling open as moans erupted from her throat with every thrust he delivered. Her fingers clawed at his chest, desperately begging for something to hold on to.

"Oh, fuck," she exclaimed when Mat grabbed onto on of her thighs and pressed it against her torso, hitting even deeper inside her. His self control was running out, though, and after a minute more or two he was getting desperate.

"Wanna try something else?" he suggested, quickly pulling out as soon as she gave her approval, giving himself as much of a break as possible without completely stopping up. Placing his hands on her hips, he flipped her around quickly - a cocky smile spreading on his lips when she gasped in surprise.

"Fuck, Mat - even that was hot," she whined, making that smile of his grow even wider as he found his position behind her.

"Yeah?" he grinned, letting his fingers slip between her legs for a little bit, rubbing at her clit for a little bit before slipping through her wet folds.

"Yeah," she confirmed, a groan erupting from her throat as he stuck two fingers into her, fingering her for a little bit while he placed kisses down her spine.

"Please, Mat," she begged him, and she if she was begging for an orgasm or for him to press back into her, he didn't know, but he did feel like he'd bought himself some time before he needed to let go.

"Yeah, baby," he hummed, grabbing her hips and pulling them up to the perfect height. He lined himself up again and pushed into her, immediately finding a good rhythm. It was apparent in her moans that he was doing something right, hitting somewhere good.

Emma found herself getting closer and closer to the feeling that she'd only gotten to experience on her own before. Something was building up in her lower stomach, begging to break free. She snaked her hand between her torso and the mattress, pressing her finger to her clit.

"You close?" Mat asked, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He saw the hand reaching towards her centre and hoped it meant she was just trying to reach the edge.

"Yeah, so close," she whined, desperately rubbing circles on her clit as he rammed into her from behind, making her feel better than she ever had before. His fingers were surely gonna leave marks on her hips from the way he was gripping her, but neither of them minded. Moving a hand to her shoulder, Mat made sure to go as fast as he possibly could, truly tiering himself out in the quest of getting her to reach her orgasm before he did. It didn't take long before Emma's moans became frenzied, then soft and breathy.

"Did you?" Mat asked, still going at it.

"Yeah," she breathed, letting go of the pillow she'd fisted into her hand.

"Fuck," Mat cursed to himself, finally letting go and emptying his load into the condom, almost collapsing on top of her as he did. He managed to tip them both to the side, though, making sure they ended up in a sort of spooning position instead of him falling on top of her - his length still buried inside her.

"Yeah," Emma sighed, still catching her breath from the intense activity.

Mat pressed a kiss to her shoulder before he pulled out and made his way into the ensuite of the totally random bedroom they'd ended up in well over an hour ago. He covered the condom in some toilet paper and threw it in the trash before quickly washing off, both his hands and his dick. The feeling washed over him just as he was stepping back out into the bedroom again, that maybe she'd feel awkward now, or regretful, scattering around to get her clothes back on. But Emma smiled bashfully to him, still very much naked, when he came back out.

Mat pulled on his boxers before he climbed back over her and laid down next to her, almost like he did when they'd first started the conversation. Again, he thought he was incredibly lucky to be in this position, able to just look at her as she laid there on her back, completely naked and still flustered from the orgasm she'd just had. He'd had a crush on her ever since that day in late August, when she sat down next to him in class, beautiful and charming.

"Thank you, I guess," she chuckles, turning from her back to her side, to face him. Mat rolled his eyes, though smiling.

"Don't thank me, Em. Like I said, it wasn't a favour. We did it because we wanted to," he told her, staying on his back but turning his head to rest in her direction.

"I know, I know. But still, you're so respectful and nice... and safe," she trailed off, smile still on her face. She reached for his hand, only to start making little trails across the palm of his hand.

"Well, that's just how it should be," Mat explained, thinking it wasn't fair to paint him as some sort of saint. Even if he knew that it wasn't a matter of course for everyone. Well, for most guys his age. Still, he didn't feel like he'd been the hero tonight - he'd gone in to stop her from hooking up with Brownie, and then he'd ended up doing it himself. He didn't like the way that it sounded. Not that he regretted it, though.

"But it isn't," she said, "and maybe it should be expected that everyone treats girls like you do, but that's just not the way it is," she added, and Mat agreed. He decided to let it go though, just take the win that she was so willingly giving to him.

"Do you feel any different? Now that you're not a virgin anymore?" he teases, turning the conversation in a slightly different direction, making Emma laugh.

"Except for the fact that I feel fucked and satisfied, then no," she grins, making Mat smile proudly.

“I have to say it, though, I really didn’t have any ulterior motives when I pulled you away from Brownie. I didn't mean for this to happen,” he repeats what he said earlier, after a few seconds of silence. It was on his mind and kind of bothering him.

"Hey, even if you had, I'm glad," Emma smiled, wrapping her hand around his wrist and pulling him towards her.

"I didn't, but I'm glad, too," Mat agreed, the smile on his lips matching hers. He willingly followed the pull of her hand, rolling to his side. She didn't let go of his wrist before she'd successfully placed it on her waist, her fingers then trailing up his arm and coming to a stop on his bicep.

Mat's gaze wandered down her body as he took in every curve and every dip. He observed how her chest rose and fell with every breath, how thin, pale stripes stretched over her hips, all while feeling the softness of her skin under his fingers. There was a slight hitch in her breath when his thumb ran over her erected nipple.

"You're so beautiful," he hummed, looking up to meet her stare. Her smile turning up on one side, before her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth.

"Thanks," Emma breathed, finding herself leaning closer to him without even thinking about it. It was something about the way he was looking at her; he was flat out staring at her body, but the look in his eyes felt everything but predatory. She felt admired and wanted, and suddenly she was reminded of why she hadn't wanted special and meaningful - this one was gonna hurt.

Mat saw how she'd leant into him, and sensed her apprehension to press even closer in the hitch of her breath. He thought that maybe he was making it up or completely misinterpreting it, but either way he moved in closer and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Emma's hand fell to the back of his neck immediately. Her breath hitched again when he made a trail of kisses up her neck and his hand dropped from her hip to her ass, grabbing it lightly. He continued leaving kisses up her neck, only stopping when he reached her cheek. Their eyes met for a second, just long enough to share a smile before he pressed his lips to hers again.

Even if Mat was grabbing her ass and Emma was raking her fingers through his hair, their kisses didn't get too heated. Mat pressed himself closer to her, and Emma moved her leg to rest over his. Neither of them were trying to initiate another round of sex, but both enjoyed the way their tongues slid against each other and how their naked bodies felt pressed together, just exploring.

"Oh, Mat," Emma sighed as she slowly tore away from the kiss, his fingers playing with her nipple and his thigh firmly pressed between hers. She rolled to her back, giddy smile on her lips.

"Emma," Mat smiled, letting his hand fall to a rest on her middle. She bit her lip again, eyes falling from his face to his chest, to the tent in his boxers. Mat followed her gaze as well, grinning when their eyes met again.

"Can you blame me?" he asked, making Emma laugh.

"Nah, I would've had a boner right about now, too, if I had a dick," Emma grinned.

"Oh, yeah?" Mat asked, touching her knee.

"Yeah," she breathed, letting her knees fall apart. She looked at him with an invitation, biting her lip when his fingers ran up the inside of thigh - a gasp sounding from her throat when his fingers finally hit her wet slit. Mat cursed to himself when he felt what he'd done to her, soon hearing breathy moans coming from her lips as he played with her. She moaned louder when two fingers finally slipped inside her.

Mat managed to make her come again, only using his fingers this time. Emma felt like she was on cloud nine when they eventually redressed. She was beaming when they made their way over to the locked door, hair finger brushed and mascara carefully wiped from under her eyes. Her phone was buzzing in her purse as Laura had been calling her once at least every three minutes for the last fifteen.

"Hey, you know," Mat started, stopping her by grabbing both her hands. He moved his hands to her hips and pulled her into him, leaning down to be able to press a deep kiss to her lips. He took a step or two forward, until Emma's back hit the wall.

"we've still got all summer," he went on, kissing her once more - this time with tongue. Emma rested her head back against the wall as she looked up at him, biting down on her lip as she took in what he just said. Mat thought maybe he'd gotten ahead of himself when she finally answered by wrapping her arms around his neck and stepping up on her toes, mumbling yeah against his lips as she kissed him even deeper.

This one was going to hurt, probably more than she thought it would - just not yet.

[iantimony]

tuesday again

late in the day again this week because i spend so many fucking hours today in errands and waiting around. literally awful. totally fucked up my meal schedule and even worse i did No Work today because of it. im so fucked

listening: whatever i have on my phone. mostly fallow, nothing new. oh i guess the new sammy rae single is alright sammy rae and the friends - no rulebook. (coming home song is still my favorite out of the singles released for this new album)

reading: wikipedia page on fasciation

interview with dashcon creator

(some of) this article on body cams for cops and how it's all bad all the way down forever

new goya found! it's haunted

some french horn articles (1) (2) because i need a new mouthpiece and have never bought one before, the one i have is over a decade old and i stole it from my high school band director, it's not even branded and there's exposed brass on the mouth part now which is very uncomfortable...and i wouldn't be surprised if my dogshit mouthpiece has been impacting my progression with the instrument...but also mouthpieces are So expensive and have So many little details (rim diameter thickness and contour, throat size, shank length, etc) that can differ and i have No Fucking Idea what will work best for me. i think i have settled on getting a laskey 75g because it's not too expensive and someone on reddit said it was a good starting point. lmfao.

and finally, an article about interview with the vampire season 2 costume design choices

watching: as you may have guessed from my last reading article, i finished interview with the vampire season 2. i had so much fun watching this show. my god. very excited to see sam reid eat up the scenery as rockstar lestat next year. more emma/made in the moment, reacting to crochet hot takes 1 and 2.

playing: started playing some minecraft again! my friend b has a friend who has a modded minecraft server up and i was like. fuck it. i want to mined some craftz. i haven't done much yet - basically just installed a new mod launcher and made sure i could actually access the server - but things look really cool and fun and im excited. many mods.

making: crocheting normal-ass granny squares like from a few weeks ago (the multicolored ones, not the yellow). just something to keep my hands busy waiting in line at the bank, etc.

eating: boyfriend made a DELICIOUS shrimp curry thing. so fucking good. unfortunately No Recipe because he's just like that

misc: i'm starting to get really stressed about my research stuff simply Not Working. like it's plateaued again in a bad spot and i know i just have to keep pushing it through it but i'm just. ugh. really really stressed about it. i wanted to do my preliminary exam in august but now i'm not sure if that's doable and i REALLY wanted to try getting it done before my hectic travel fall started...and i don't want to push it off further than early spring because after that it will start delaying my graduation. fml. grad school not even once etc

[jerzwriter]

We're Having a Baby... 1/2

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)

Rating:                 Teen

Warnings: Pregnancy/Childbirth

Category:            Fluff

Summary:   As Tobias heads to work and Casey heads to a routine doctor's visit, they are unaware of the chaos about to be underway. Part 1 or 2 of little Samantha Carrick entering the world.

Words: 1.8k

A/N: According to my HC, Samantha is born on 4/20/2023, and Tobias & Casey's lives are forever changed (for the better, of course!) It's still 4/20 in some parts of the world, so I say I got this up on time. lol @aprilchallenge | Family

Part 2: Here She Is

Casey was waiting for Tobias by their front door, her arms crossed defiantly… and uncomfortably… in front of her chest. After all, her eight-month pregnant belly didn’t give those arms a lot of places to go.

“Tobias, stop pouting! I’m going to be fine.”

Her husband came rushing into the foyer, slipping into his lab coat as he approached the door. “You’re going to be fine, but I’m not so sure your boss will be.”  

She slipped into the passenger seat with a giggle.

“I love how Ethan goes from being your bestie to my boss when you’re mad at him.”

“He’s still my bestie,” Tobias sighed. “But he’s also an ass. He knows you had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

“Oh, and you think he called this Board meeting? Please, he’d rather have the clap.”

Tobias’s eyes crinkled as he shook his head with a laugh. “You know you have a way with words, baby girl.”

“It's one o the many reasons you love me. Another is because I can be a voice of reason. The Board has taken notice of your research because you’re knocking it out of the park! They’ve asked to review it with you right before they finalize the annual budget, I’m sorry, Dr. Carrick, but you need to be there.”

“I need to be with you.”

“It’s a standard visit.”

“A standard visit for my thirty-seven-week pregnant wife who is on bed rest.”

“Baby,” she reached for his chin and turned his face toward her. “Nothing is going to go wrong. But let’s just say something does. My doctor is in the hospital and gasp! Where will you be? The hospital!”  

“You know, pregnancy has only made you more of a wise ass,” he snickered.

Casey pulled him over the center console, and her lips met his in a tender kiss.

“You love my wise ass.”

“I love everything about your ass,” he practically growled.

“Now that’s the man I married,” she laughed. “Go kick ass at that meeting! Make me and baby Carrick proud! Then, we’ll grab some French toast and guacamole to celebrate when it's over.”

“I can’t wait for you to eat like a human being again.”

“Hey! Don’t knock it until you try it!”

“Some things I don’t need to try to know I won’t like.”

“Oh yeah,” she smiled. “From what I understand, you used to say that about married life… and look at you know.”

“Yep,” he grinned, “I’m a changed man… who will never eat French toast and guacamole simultaneously.”

~~~~~

An hour later, Casey was lying on an examination table wearing the finest of Edenbrook’s hospital gowns, and Tobias was impressing the Board four floors below. She greeted Dr. Garcia with a welcoming grin as she entered the exam room.

“You’re only smiling like that because you know our frequent visiting situation is coming to an end,” her doctor teased.

“Mmmm.  That may have a little to do with it.”

“How are you feeling today, Casey?”

“Pregnant. I’m feeling pregnant.”

“Well, you’re going to feel that way a little bit longer. Now, let’s look at what’s happening here.”

Casey cautiously shimmied her hips to the end of the table, tossing her legs over the stirrups. She laughed to herself, thinking of how awkward she must have looked. Dr. Garcia was always very talkative during exams, so Casey was a little worried about the silence that filled the room.

“Have you been experiencing any cramping or discomfort?”

“Nothing out of the normal, maybe a bit of pressure. Is everything OK?”

“Everything is fine… but we need to get you to labor & delivery… you’re almost dilated 5 centimeters.”

“I’m WHAT?” Casey yelled. “That’s… that’s impossible! I haven’t had any contractions, and my water hasn’t broken… how can that be?”

“It’s not common, but sometimes it happens this way.”

“But it’s too early! I’m three weeks from my due date! I’m not ready, Dr. Garcia!”

“You may not be, but your little one is. Based on your due date and the baby’s weight, I see no issues with you delivering. Casey… it’s time.”  

~~~~~

“Have you reached my husband?” she asked nervously, marveling at how different the hospital halls look when you’re being rushed through them in a wheelchair.

“We’ve paged him,” her nurse responded. “I’m sure he’ll be here in no time.”

“He’s presenting before the Board… he may not hear the page? Can someone call….”

“Casey!” a voice screamed out. 

“Si?” Casey sighed, relieved to see her friend’s face. “Si, I need Tobias. Do you know where…”

“Already texted him,” Sienna answered. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”  

“So, I’m five centimeters!” Casey nervously explained. “I need… I need to get an epidural… fast! Are they arranging for it?”

“Are you sure you want to?” The nurse inquired. “If you’re not experiencing any….”

“Yes, I want to!” Casey hollered. “If we wait much longer, I won’t be able to!” she began breathing rapidly, her eyes clenched tight.

“Casey, are contractions starting?” Sienna asked.

“No, it’s my….” She turned to the nurse. “It’s… I have an anxiety disorder, and I….I’m sorry, but my husband’s not here, and I’m scared as hell right now. If I don’t have an epidural, I will not make it through this.”

“Well,” the nurse replied, helping Casey into her bed. “I’ll go get you an epidural and find your husband.”

“You’re an angel!” Casey replied. “Say, what’s your name. We haven’t picked a name yet, and maybe….”

The nurse shot Casey an incredulous look. “My name is Prudence, and I still haven’t forgiven my mother, so don’t you dare name your child after me.”

“Then the search for a name continues,” Casey laughed.

“All the more reason for me to find your husband!”

~~~~

A short time later, the painless labor came to an end, and Casey missed it terribly. As she was groaning in pain, Sienna was quickly losing patience.

“Where is the anesthesiologist!” She shouted. “I want them in here now! If she misses her window of opportunity, you don’t want to deal with me, and trust me, you really won’t want to deal with her husband!”

Sienna checked her phone as the nurse scurried out of the room, but still no word from Tobias. A guttural scream permeated the air as a strong contraction hit Casey. Sienna clutched her hand and did her best not to scream, even though she wasn’t confident that Casey hadn’t broken her finger. Then the door flung open.

"Oh, thank God… oh fuck, it’s you!" Sienna grimaced.

Jackie rushed to Casey’s other side, giving Sienna a dirty look on her way. "Case! How are you doing, hon?”

“I’m… having a baby,” Casey sighed.

“That you are… and nice to see you, too, Sienna!”  

"I’m sorry! I was just hoping you were the anesthesiologist or Tobias. Where the fuck are they?"

“I saw the anesthesiologist in the hall,” Jackie reported. “They should be in here any minutte, but has anyone reached Tobias?”

“He’s been paged. I’ve texted him, but….”

“AAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!” Casey screamed as Jackie looked on in horror.

“I have never been happier that I don’t want kids.”

“Be glad she’s not holding your hand,” Sienna groaned.

“Hey,” Jackie shrugged. “You like being godmother, right? You have to pay the price! Should I go look for T?”

“Please,” Casey pled.

“You got it,” Jackie smiled. “Anything for you, as long as it’s not holding your hand!”

~~~~~ 

Jackie found Tobias and Ethan standing at the receptionist's desk outside the boardroom. They were surrounded by a dozen people wearing suits with price tags that would astound most.

“I was skeptical,” one board member stated as he patted Tobias on the back. “But after today, I think this will put Edenbrook on the map.”

“With all due respect, I think we’re already on the map,” Tobias chuckled.

“Yes, but this will help them see us from outer space!”

“Tobias!!!” Jackie yelled, interrupting his conversation. “We’ve been trying to reach you! Casey! You have to get downstairs. She’s in labor!”

“She’s what?!” He exclaimed as he glared at the receptionist. 

“I was told not to interrupt,” she shrugged.

“Unless there was an emergency!” Ethan spat. 

“I… I gotta go….” Tobias sputtered as he took off, leaving his scowling best friend behind.

Alone in the elevator, he frantically pressed the buttons as if it would make it move faster.

“Come on! Come on!” he pled. 

The door opened a floor before his, and two hapless interns were about to enter before he barked at them to stay out. He flew out of the doors before they fully opened, frantically rounding the corner as he tried to recall Lamaze breathing to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

He came to an abrupt halt as he reached the nurses’ station. Pointing at a nurse he had worked with many times before, he attempted to catch his breath.

“My… my wife…” he gasped. “Baby… she’s in labor… where…. What room is she in.”

"Dr. Carrick, I believe she's in L&D 3, but I can…."

He didn't wait to hear more. He took off and burst through the door without knocking, apologizing for not being there sooner before he even walked in.

"Baby, I'm so sorry! They didn’t get me, and…  Jennifer?"

"Tobias? " a very pregnant brunette gasped. "Please tell me you’re not my doctor!”

“Dr. Carrick!” The nurse yelled as she ran in after him. “I was trying to get you… I assumed Ms. Adams was your wife.”

“My wife?”

“His wife?” Jennifer laughed. “Tobias Carrick… with a wife?”

“I’m sorry, I remember seeing you two together at Donahues, and….”

“Five years ago!” Tobias hollered, “Are you even on staff here? Did you see the name of another Dr. Carrick in L&D?”

“Shit, you really are married!” Jennifer marveled.

“Just tell me where my wife is… I’m not responsible for… that,” he pointed in Jennifer’s direction.

“Good thing, or your wife and my husband would be kicking your ass.”

“She’s in room 7.”

“Get out of here!” Jennifer winked. “Go take care of what you caused!”

“I am… and uh, good luck!” Tobias hollered as he ran out of the room.  

“Hey, maybe our kids will date one day,” Jennifer laughed. “Tobias Carrick… married and with a kid on the way?”

“Looks that way,” the nurse shrugged.

“It must be a very cold day in hell.”

~~~~  

Tobias felt relief sweeping over him as he approached room 7, but that relief diminished when he heard screams he knew belonged to his wife. 

“Casey,” he blurted upon entering the room. “Baby! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s OK,” she winced as a contraction began to subside, letting out a genuine sigh of relief as she opened her eyes and saw him there. “How’d the presentation go?” she asked weakly.

“Honey, I don’t give a shit. How are you?”

“I’m… I’m scared… but better now that you’re here.”

“I’m here… and I’m going nowhere, baby. I promise. I’m by your side until this is done.”

“Will you be by my side after, too,” she half smiled.

“You know it. You’re stuck with me. Casey,” he said with wonder. “We’re having a baby!”

“We sure are,” Casey grinned. “Let the show begin.”

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OH Only: @annfg8 @binny1985 @coffeeheartaddict2 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @peonierose @youlookappropriate

Tobias Only: @icecoffee90 @kyra75

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello M darling! Firstly, congratulations on reaching 500! You totally deserve it and I can't wait to see more from you<3

For your event, I was wondering if I could request a modern!calamórë with the prompt 23. “Say my name.” and a library setting?

College students!Manwë and Námo are boyfriends and they should be studying for their final, but Manwë decides on a fun little way of helping Námo memorise his work and it leads into him testing Námo whilst pleasuring him? He only gives him what he wants if he gets the answers correct, much to Námo's dismay because he's all needy<3 it eventually leads to them fucking and trying to keep it hush, even if they are the only two in the library at such a late time 💕

Hope this isn't too much! You can mix and match what you think works well. Congratulations again 🥰

Thank you! And thanks for your request, I hope you like this.

"Motivation"

Prompt 23. “Say my name.” and a library setting.

Pairing: Modern Námo x Manwë (both college students)

Themes: Modern AU | Smut | Soft

Warnings: Praise kink | Begging | Explicit language | Dirty talk | Foreplay | Public sex | Oral

Word count: 2.3k words

Summary: Late night prep for English lit finals goes in a completely different direction.

Rating:  🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

Manwë held up a mock exam paper, impatience writ large on his face. "Come now, little raven, we need to focus for tomorrow’s exam."

Námo huffed and slumped into his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the time. It was nearly eleven at night, and the library was empty save for the two of them. They had been studying for hours, pouring over books and filling up mock papers, reviewing each other’s answers, all in preparation for their English Literature finals. It was exhausting work, and now Námo just wanted to fall into bed. Any bed. Or a sofa. Or even a comfortable chair. Somewhere. Anywhere. And just sleep.

"No more, mon cher," he mumbled, half asleep.

"Now, that could work, little raven. If I were Gomez Addams." Manwë snickered and shook his head. Clearly, Námo was still stuck on that morning’s French paper, but it was not going to do. They had one final exam to get through, and then they would be free to do as they wished. He picked up a pencil, tapped it against the table to get Námo to pay attention. "Unfortunately, I am not. Now come. We need to focus."

Námo sat up straight and groaned. He rubbed his eyes once more and tried to focus. A large emphasis would have to be laid on "tried to," because Námo tried, and failed. "I can’t," he whined, and he tried to sleep at the table, his head on his folded arms. "I just can’t. Can we go back to our dorm now?"

"One more round, that is all," Manwë urged, and he placed a hand on Námo’s shoulder, shaking it gently to try and keep him awake. "Thirty minutes, little raven. Just thirty minutes and we can leave, I promise."

"Do you?"  Námo asked hopefully, as visions of fluffy beds and soft pillows danced before his drooping eyes.

"I do, little raven." Manwë said, brushing back an ash-blonde lock of hair that covered Námo’s left eye. When that eye flew wide open and looked right back at him, as if pleading with him not to stop, Manwë had an idea. He will have to dig into his special bag of tricks to motivate Námo into studying.

"So," Manwë started by first smoothing back Námo’s soft, wavy hair. He lifted a paper with his free hand. "Do you know what the answer to question number five is? Where the passage is from?"

Námo lifted his head and squinted at the paper that had been held up for him to see. The answer to this was easy. "C. John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress."

"Very good," Manwë hummed sweetly, his eyes on the mock quiz. He pushed Námo’s hair from his neck and drew lazy circles with a finger, something he knew would grab Námo’s attention and make him more alert. It worked; he heard it in the sharp intake of breath. "Now, the next question. Which of the following is true of the passage?"

Námo found it hard to focus when a large, warm hand started to rub the back of his neck, but he answered all the same. "C. It’s C."

"You’re doing perfectly, little raven. And the question after that? What does the last sentence suggest?"

"That Father Roger failed to nurture the boy’s talents?"

"Excellent. Now. What about," Manwë settled on a harder question. "Ahh. Yes. This one. Question number thirteen. What does the passage describe, little raven?"

Námo groaned in defeat when he looked at the paper. Of course, Manwë had to go find a question on Beowulf. "I fucking hate you, you know that?"

Manwë simply smiled to himself and raked his fingers through Námo’s hair. "I know, little raven. However, the question remains unanswered." He shook the paper, demanding an answer.

Námo had plenty to say. All unrepeatable things, of course, but the sensations that came with Manwë running his hand through his hair killed the heated words already at the tip of his tongue. Námo grabbed onto his chair and inched it closer to Manwë’s, so he could get a better look at the question. The sounds of his chair being dragged were muffled by the thick carpet, not that anyone could have heard anyway. He read and read, debating which answer to choose. Manwë kept combing his hand through Námo’s hair, his lips curling when he caught the barely audible whimper.

After some struggle, Námo settled on, "B," he said triumphantly. "Loss of life in battle."

And Manwë was quick to pull his hand away. The answer was wrong after all.

"Wait… why did you do that, babe?" Námo protested.

"Do what, little raven?" Manwë said lightly, his gaze fixed firmly on the paper before him, his eyes glinting wickedly.

"Take your hand away. Why did you do it?"

Manwë turned his attention to Námo, taking in the narrowed eyes and the heavy pout. Not only was he hooked on what Manwë was doing, he was sulking. Námo was actually sulking, like a child that had been denied candy.

Manwë struggled to bury a triumphant smirk. He had Námo exactly where he wanted him. "Needy, are we?"

"No," Námo lied, and poorly too. Oh, he was needy, so very needy, and it was already starting to show.

"No?" Manwë leaned in closer, his lips a hair’s breadth over the shell of Námo’s ear. "Then why are you sulking, sweet raven?"

Námo grumbled something ineligible before looking away, his arms crossing over his chest. Manwë smirked and leaned in even closer, his lips grazing Námo’s earlobe. To give him more incentive, he decided. "Do you want me to keep touching you?"

He flushed; yes, he did want Manwë to keep touching him. "What if I do?" Námo said, his breath hitching when teeth nipped and pulled.

"Keep answering correctly, and I will. In all manner of ways," Manwë sat up straight and took the mock paper to hand. "So, little raven. What is the answer to question thirteen?"

That large hand of his brushed over the nape of Námo’s neck, to encourage him. This time Námo focused and tried to recall what he learned at class. He took another stab at the answer.

"E," he said, hoping and praying that this was the correct one, as he did not want Manwë to pull away again.

It was, and Manwë gave the paper to Námo to hold, freeing up both his hands for the things he wanted to do next.

"You’re doing so well, little raven," he murmured, his hand sliding down the length of Námo’s arm. The goosebumps he felt brush against his palm made him smile.  "So well. What about the question sixteen?"

Námo answered correctly again, his eyes closing when Manwë snuck a hand under his t-shirt and let the other delve into his hair. He slumped back into his chair, although this time, it was not due to weariness or a need to sleep. Flushed and breathless, he tried to focus as Manwë’s hand glided all over his chest, stoking a familiar fire in his blood.

"Any… oh fuck," he breathed when skilled fingers pinched at a nipple, lightly at first, then insistently, making it throb and ache.

"Yes, little raven?" Manwë kept at his ministrations, focusing on one nipple before turning his attention to the other.

His heart fluttering in his chest, Námo shook his head and forced himself to focus. Hard to do so when that deft hand of Manwë’s kept sending jolts of pain and pleasure all over his body. And he wanted it. Oh, how he wanted it—to feel those jolts wash over his body. "Any… any more questions, babe?"

"Eager to go on, eh?" Manwë said, his voice now thick and rough. "I’m proud of you, little raven. Very well, question twenty."

Námo looked down at the question, his eyes already going hazy as lust overtook him. He struggled to answer, to form proper words. Manwë’s touch proved it nearly impossible to do so, but the heat of his touch and the words of his praise were all too good to pass up. Sleep was forgotten at last. He made himself concentrate and answered, his words faltering near the end when Manwë’s hand glided down, going lower and lower, not stopping until it rested over the band of his shorts. Námo waited, wanting to see what Manwë would do next. Would he abruptly stop now that their study session was nearing its end, or would he go on? Oh, how Námo craved for him to go on.

"Hard already," Manwë let his hand glide even lower, trailing over the bulge of Námo’s erection. A breathless laugh fell over his lips when Námo’s mouth parted in a silent moan, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut. Late-night studying just got very interesting.

"Don’t stop," Námo whispered, his hand moving over Manwë’s. "Please. Please babe, don’t stop."

"You are needy," Manwë muttered, his own needs coursing through his veins like an out-of-control fire at the sight of Námo writhing like anything. "I will not stop. But you must say my name first. No more, babe."

Námo blinked and looked around, hoping that the librarian would not actually walk in on them.

"Mrs. Murtaugh is off in that office of hers, little raven," Manwë dipped and nipped his earlobe again as he loosened the top button. There was a brief hissing sound as the zip came down. "It’s just you and me. Now, will you do it? Say my name?"

Námo tried. Oh, how he tried, but his tongue felt like it was tied up in knots. Manwë let his lips drift over Námo’s shoulder, his hand palming Námo’s cock over the thin fabric of his briefs.

"Say my name, little raven," he groaned, his touch growing more intense by the moment. "Say it."

Manwë cupped him and applied more pressure, just enough to crumble what defenses Námo had. His name soon fell from Námo’s lips in what was a half-moan, half-whimper. Finals and studying and everything else had been forgotten. Manwë kept stroking him, his senses blind to all but his boyfriend. Námo encouraged him, his worry at them being caught all but forgotten.

"Not enough, Manwë," he whispered, his breath harsh and ragged. "Please, Manwë. Please."

Vivid, arctic blue eyes lit up immediately. Manwë lapped it up and wanted to hear more of Námo’s begging. He always loved it when Námo begged. "Such a needy slut you are, little raven. But you’re going to have to try harder."

Námo whined and complained, but Manwë, despite his caresses, remained unmoved and refused to go further. Unable to bear it anymore, Námo yielded quite shamelessly.

"Please give me more, Manwë," he mewled, "Please. Please."

"More you say," Manwë purred, his voice sweet as honey just then. "More of what, little raven?"

One final squeeze, and Námo was like putty in Manwë’s skilled hands. "Go down on me. Please."

Manwë fully planned on doing it, but he needed to hear another round of pleading before he did. "You will have to be more specific, little raven."

Thoroughly done in by now, Námo very nearly sobbed, "Please suck my cock. Please."

With a satisfied growl, Manwë pulled away and snuck under the table. "You’re not to make a sound, do you hear me?" He peeled back Námo’s briefs, freeing his erection for his touch. "Not one sound."

"What?" Námo breathed, his eyes locked onto what Manwë was doing. "Why?"

"I know how loud you can get, little raven," Manwë grinned wolfishly and pushed Námo's thighs apart. The carpet felt coarse against his knees, but he took no notice. "And we cannot afford to have Mrs. Murtaugh hearing those sweet noises you make, do we?"

Námo nodded and put his hand to his mouth. It was just as well that he did, as the first moan spilled out barely a moment later. Manwë pressed soft kisses against the tip, moaning quietly to himself when Námo moved a hand through his hair. The library was quiet, so very quiet, and all either could hear was the sound of the other’s rough breathing. Such a pity, thought Manwë, that he couldn’t get to properly enjoy all the sounds Námo made, but he made himself content with the sight of Námo’s silvery eyes, now dark and clouded with lust.

Námo nearly forgot himself and cried out in ecstasy when Manwë ran his tongue along his shaft before slipping all of him into his wet, hot mouth. He wanted to moan out loud, but the knowledge that they were in the library was all that stopped him from doing so. The sounds he made were hoarse and muffled, but the sensations — the feeling of Manwë gripping at his waist, his fingers digging into soft flesh, his free hand moving in tandem with his mouth, his grip squeezing and releasing with each stroke — it was all too much, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

The gleam in Námo’s eyes betrayed his need and how close he was. Manwë didn’t slow down; he didn’t stop. He wanted to feel the taste of Námo’s seed against his tongue. He also wanted to get it over with so he could take Námo home and have his way with the rest of Námo’s body. He went faster, took Námo even deeper, his strokes relentless as he felt Námo stiffen even more. Námo didn’t last much longer, his hand fisting in Manwë’s thick, white hair. His body shook, and a deep, muffled moan was followed by a spurt of warmth filling Manwë mouth.

"Couldn’t hold out, could you?" Manwë swallowed and grinned.

Námo managed a weak smile, his chest still heaving. "Like you said, I’m a needy little thing. Did you expect me to last long?"

Manwë laughed this time, his eyes glinting. "I suppose you’re right. Let’s get you cleaned up and back home. I need to hear those pretty sounds of yours while I fuck you."

tags: @cilil | @asianbutnotjapanese |@fictionfordays

[fragiledewdrop]

BOOKS!!!!

Something really cool happened to me today (cool by my standards, that is, which might mean not cool at all. You decide.)

I have been cooped up in my house for a while, studying and daydreaming and letting dirty dishes pile up in the sink since my rommate is not currently here to see them. I needed to get some fresh air, and, quite literally, touch grass. This morning I got up early to go study on the meadow of a nearby medieval church, like one does when one lives in an Italian medieval city.

I stopped to have breakfast, and, while eating, I was reading Rimbaud, because I have a French exam in two weeks and I wanted to practice, and also because I was in the mood. Here, have a pretentious, pseudo-intellectual, hedonistic picture:

(The cappuccino was soooo foamy. I loved it)

Anyway, I finished eating and I went on my way, but I didn’t put the book in my backpack. I was juggling it alongside my keys, cellphone and card holder, when I heard a voice say :“Do you read French?”, which, you know, fair assumption, given the neon orange cover that was apparently advertizing “Rimbaud” to everyone around me.

So I turned and I saw a desk full of second hand books. I told the man selling them that yes, I do indeed read French, sort of defensively implying “I am not in the habit of carrying foreign poetry around just as a prop to seem smart”. He smiled at me, beckoned me closer, and proceded to show me about 15 very old French books. He didn’t even know what most of them were about, because he couldn’t understand all of the titles. I spent a few minutes telling him that one was a study on the figure of Saint Francis in Medieval literature (oookaay, colour me intrigued) and another was an early 20st century tourist guide to Switzerland. Then we proceeded to haggle over prices, and when we reached a fair agreement I picked two books.

One is called “Julien, ou une conscience” by Jean Ronstad, who was a biologist and philosopher. I am really curious about it. It’s from 1928 and, by the pencil annotation in the back, i think it cost 49 francs (is that possible? I’ll have to check).

The other is a 1925 copy of “Le Prométhée mal enchainé” by Gide published by Gallimard. I immediately loved it from the depths of my nerdy soul. I have a bit of a problem when it comes to old books- I mean, I am kind of regretting not getting the guide to Switzerland, and I have no use for it whatsoever- but for some reason this one just called to me. It’s not even particularly beautiful: Gallimard publishes a lot of fairly cheap pocket books, which is the reason why most of the French books in my possesion are theirs, and apparently they did it in 1925 as well. It reminds me of the old Italian BUR classics I find quite often at book sales, and of the 2 €  paperbacks by Collins that fuel my addiction to English literature. They are the best books, in my opinion, and this one seems very well loved. I think whoever owned it before really liked it, and that thought always makes me emotional, so of course I bought it. How could I not?

I had never read Gide before, but I have been meaning to, and it still counts as French practice, right? (Never mind the fact that I can read pretty well and it’s everything else-speaking and listening and using verbs and accents-that’s the problem.) So, instead of studying history like I had planned, I sat down on the meadow and read the whole thing in like three hours.

I am not ashamed to say that I both laughed and cried openly enough for a couple of dog owners to look at me with concern. I definitely know which author I am going to read more of. And I got to pet dogs! It was the best morning I have had this month, all because I am too lazy and disorganized to pack my things properly for a short walk :)

There. I am even in love with the little stain on the cover. Send help.

[la-galaxie-langblr]

Long post underneath the cut, I basically ramble about A Levels and some new study techniques I'm gonna be trying out over the next few months :)

I'm back from my trip to London with mum (my first time visiting, it was so much fun!!), so now it's time to make a plan of attack regarding my A Levels

My biggest focus will be French speaking - since I was absent from school for the last few days I delayed getting my mark for a little bit, but I know on Monday I'll have to face the music and own up to how badly I did, and then get to work on improving

But I also need to make a solid revision plan for business and maths, and make sure to start revising sooner than Easter. I want to spend my Easter holidays finishing up notes for Unit 2 in both subjects, and doing Unit 1 past papers. If I still have Unit 1 notes to make by Easter then I'll be in trouble. I don't want to overwhelm myself with work during the Easter holidays because I still need rest, I want to make plans with my friends, I'll be doing more hours at work etc

I'm still too shattered to make a solid plan, but basically I have 5 months until the date of my first exam (business unit 1), so every 4 weeks I want to have done at least 2 things to make progress towards the exam, whether it's updating my notes or doing past paper questions on a certain topic, and since I'll be making unit 2 revision notes as I go along (well, I sure hope I will) I shouldn't have too much to do over Easter??

I can use a similar technique for maths, but for French I'll have to do things a bit differently

The exam board is giving us hints for what's on our listening & reading and literature papers, so once I know what those are then I can properly get to work

Speaking. My French teacher is a bit of a wild card sometimes and you never know when he's going to start introducing extra speaking practice - he did that last year coming up to our real exams as well as holding an extra mock - and while in theory it was supposed to be helpful, his scathing criticism every week was not 💀 My biggest problem for this mock was memorisation, or lack thereof, so I'm gonna try a similar 'every 4 weeks' technique and have a couple of standard questions memorised during that period, and if the French assistant gives any advanced notice or gives me a choice of topics to discuss, I'm gonna try choose one I've 'memorised' to test myself.

A final strategy I might try is a variation on 'touch it once' that I saw on a study tips post. The idea in that particular post is that once you get an assignment/have something to do, you should try doing in one go to as much of an extent as possible - eg if you need to send an email, send it in one sitting, do a set of questions in one sitting, do a particular reading in one sitting etc etc and while I like the idea behind it, I know it's gonna be impossible for me without modifying it, so my version is 'touch it once every night until the due date'. Most of my business and maths homeworks are for the next day anyway, but even with test revision this could work. I'm mainly going to be using it for French - if I get a week to write out a set of oral questions, I'll spend the first night bullet pointing what I want to say, language I want to include, pages in the textbook I might want to reference etc, then use the second night to draft Q1, third night writing Q1 and drafting Q2 etc etc

I know this is basically "spread your work out over a period of time" but for me, if something has a Fun Name then I'm more likely to try it.

Here ends my Using Tumblr As A Diary session :)

[khaleesiofalicante]

Soo, my exam got cancelled bc the teacher didn't have half the topics we needed for the exam (I only got them bc my friends explained them to me) and then she proceeded to try to fit everything in half an hour, leaving us with no time to finish properly!!

I wanted to get that shit over with already, but it is what it is... Tomorrow I do have another exam😭 I hate maths so much, they are the worst!!

Fortunately my friends and I got the exam from another group thanks to the fact that the girl that passed it to us wanted to flirt with my friend (who has a girlfriend!) but that's another story 😂

I am drowning in between studying, french classes, work and chores, (how is it just Tuesday???) but I took your advice and made a list of everything I wanted to get done this week (it's s long fucking list btw) and it has actually helped calm me down a little bit

Thanks for that💙 I'm gonna use it more often

CANCELLED EXAMS? GOD IS REAL.

but also i hate when it happens because i also like to get it over with!!

ALSO WHY IS EVERYONE IN YOUR COLLEGE FLIRTING WITH EVERYONE OMG? (not a complaint, just shooketh)

LISTS DO HELP! I AM GLAD YOU DID IT. and that satisfaction when you tick it off??? OOF.

sending you lots of energy and productivity vibes for this week!

[chelseydavidson]

Week # 10 Business Progress

What is working?

My first "sales transaction" went rather well.

Last week, on May 2, I had my first session with a student whom, for the sake of anonymity, I will call Johnny Appleseed. Little Johnny has an upcoming exam for grade 10 French and, while his class is working on an ISU currently, his mother is concerned that he's forgetting all of the tenses he has learned earlier this year. It turns out that Johnny does see the value in being bilingual (members of his extended family are bilingual, for one, but he also sees it as a marketable skill from a career perspective, which is a mature way of thinking for a boy of 15). His issue is more along the lines of spoken French vs. written French. Johnny feels that learning within the classroom is stunting his ability to speak French because he's "just more inclined to speak it than everyone else seems to be." I acknowledged the value of conversational French, but asked him to consider the importance of knowing how to read and write it clearly and for him to self-assess his capacity to do so.

I think that helped because, by asking him not to tell me but to evaluate himself and to be brutally honest in that regard, he felt more empowered than the top-down experience in which he's been enmeshed. I think the relationship has been quite tense between parent and child over this particular point, but Johnny does not outright hate French so much as having frustrations about the pedagogy surrounding it at his school.

I count this as a win, because the problem is not with learning French. The problem is more complex than that and involves appreciating the need to understand and communicate with the written word. We reviewed using the past and present tense, including using negatives, for reflexive reciprocal verbs, which he self-identified as an area of trouble. Again, allowing him to tell me his weaker areas seemed to have an empowering effect where he felt more in control of his educational pursuit.

Over the next few weeks, we will move through each part of the curriculum; I will be able to then evaluate areas of strength and weakness and provide added support where I can see it is most needed.

The client, Mrs. Appleseed, thanked me profusely when we chatted after the session. Her gratitude was very kind and I gave Mrs. Appleseed a few business cards to “refer me to your friends.” (You have to try, right?)

She also mentioned in a week or two ramping up the number of sessions as we enter into his final exam period. We scheduled again, this time for tomorrow, Wednesday, May 8, another hour-long session. She e-transferred the funds for the first session immediately as well.

In an Excel spreadsheet, I am keeping track of all of the financials of the business, including cash flow, to ensure I am meeting my intended objectives. Like I mentioned last week, I’m also trying to absorb as much intel as I can from the Appleseeds, so I can understand best about what works well and what doesn’t with my current business model, and whether there are adjustments I can make to improve the business viability. 

What is not working?

More clients would be nice. Diversifying my clientele seems like a more sustainable way to move forward. I don’t want to put too many eggs in one basket. 

If bad news is your thing, though, then marketing will interest you. I am still getting absolutely nowhere with Facebook. My frustration with social media is insane right now. (Not that I would feel much better by getting set up to properly engage with it. But I digress.)

I did spend some money on business cards (and less than I'd budgeted, thanks to a coupon code), so I am relying, unfortunately, a little too heavily on passing these cards around wherever I can. I know word-of-mouth is absolute gold, especially in the tutoring industry, for netting more clients, but I am feeling a little desperate to supplement it with some social media or other kinds of marketing. (More on canvassing with flyers below.)

I truly expected the marketing process to be more organic than it has been, so I am genuinely surprised at the number of speed bumps I’ve faced along the way here. My goal by next week is to have something more concrete figured out, even if it means switching gears entirely and seeking out another paid marketing campaign option outside of Facebook. 

How do you feel the project is coming?

Can't complain.

Based on my metrics, I’ve met my goals so far. My natural personality doesn’t gel well with the “let it be” mantra I’m force-feeding myself, but I am trying to learn to let go a little and not try to jump the gun on my milestones.

There’s still much room for progress, but I also need to give it room to progress.  

What are you learning about running a business? 

It should come as no surprise that I have learned that I would really like to be able to afford the services of a marketing firm. The ability to know my weaknesses and pain points and being able to offload them to someone with the expertise and connections to get it done right the first time – what a blissful dream. 

Honestly, I'm starting to understand why Don Draper was such a big deal.

In the world of regulations and bylaws, I also made some strides in learning where I can hand out flyers. A terrific municipal law enforcement officer got back to me on April 29 stating that, in Ajax, no municipal bylaw exists prohibiting me from handing out flyers in public. However, I cannot hand out flyers or any other promotional materials on Town of Ajax property, any property classified as a park, and any Town of Ajax recreational facilities. By virtue of that, I might consider handing out flyers later this week; the weather is pretty nice right now and the foot traffic is increasing, so it might be wise to do that for a few hours. 

What are you learning about yourself?

I am learning a lot of four-letter words, but one of the most important ones has been “calm”... oh, here’s two more: “Slow down”.

Being as Type-A as I am, I have to learn to pace myself for a marathon, not a sprint. I have managed to seemingly get the most steps forward when I’ve stopped and smelled the roses. So, I am aiming to keep doing that, in spite of myself.

Quite honestly, rewiring that part of my brain would not necessarily be a bad thing. I understand there’s a difference between eustress (the good kind of stress that keeps us alert and alive) and distress (the debilitating kind that brings us to our knees and wreaks havoc on productivity and wellbeing), but I cannot always tell the difference between grit and grind.

In my experience, when you’re in it, you can’t see the forest for the trees. So, if nothing else, if this startup venture is an abject failure, I will walk away from it with a better sense of calmness. Nothing is ever a total loss, if we can learn or change for the better due to it.

[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.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Kiss me more" - TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

SUMMARY: A collection of small moments when you and Peter share various kisses. Cute stuff, 'tis all.

I am ✨soft✨ for this boy

[Check out the 500 followers special!]

Kisses on the head

"Can we have a break?" you mumbled. It was the fourth hour of you and Peter doing chemistry exam-style questions. Your brain was evaporating.

"Come on, it's just three more," he answered in an absent tone, already reading the next one. The excitement science incited inside him was adorable, although now you couldn't help but hate it.

Tired, you let your head fall on his shoulder. It wasn't a conscious movement that he rested his head against yours. Peter has done this so many times it was, quite literally, muscle memory. Maybe he hasn't even noticed his little habit.

"Peter, my brain is a smoothie."

He laughed at your serious statement and your head lightly bounced on his shoulder.

"Then go take a nap," he whispered before kissing the top of your head.

"Only if you're coming with me."

To your pleasure, Peter didn't need much convincing.

Forehead kisses

"My God, Peter, it's like you're trying to get yourself killed," you mumbled under your nose as you measured the good length of bandage to cut.

"I have it all under control."

"You surely do, babe," you answered unconvinced and put the bandage over the cut on the back of his shoulder, running your hand over the adhesive edges to make sure it's stuck well.

You got up from the bed and Peter was about to longingly grab your hand and ask about where you were going, when you gently grabbed his bruised face and gave his forehead a long, affectionate kiss.

"I'll get you something to eat," you whispered against his forehead before kissing it again and leaving your bedroom.

Cheek kisses

Only when Peter sat down across from you, did you look up from your book. The dining hall was filled with students, their loud voices and laughs nearly drowning out any coherent thought your mind produced.

With a bright smile on his face, Peter set a small paper bag down on the table.

"What's that?"

"For stitching up my arm."

"I'm taking care of my boyfriend for free."

Sometimes he still got giddy hearing you call him "your boyfriend".

"I know."

You got up from your seat, leaned across the table and kissed Peter on the cheek. Then you opened the small paper bag only to see a few of your favorite French pastries.

He really knew you like the back of his own hand.

Finger kisses

You opened your mouth to tease Peter back when the police radio in his pocket buzzed and rustled before a female voice quickly spoke:

"All units, we have a report of a 499b in upper Midtown. Suspects are driving a black sedan on Michigan numbers."

"I think you're needed, Spider-Man."

Peter looked at you with an apologetic expression, his eyes somehow wider and eyebrows slanted. You could tell he wanted to say something, let out a waterfall of words that would, hopefully, earn your forgiveness. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel neglected as if his spandex alter-ego was more important to him than you.

He brought your hand, which he was already holding, up to his lips and whispered before kissing your fingers and disappearing into the night:

"Wait for me."

Pecks on lips

You heard a soft knocking on your bedroom window and almost tripped over your own feet running into the room. Peter was, as you expected, on the other side of the glass, waiting for you with a grin on his face.

The cold night air hit your face when you opened the window. It felt refreshing. A police siren wailed in the distance and you could only suspect Peter had something to do with it.

"Hey," he said quietly and kissed your lips.

"Hey," you answered, smiling into another kiss. Without a problem, Peter crawled through the window into your bedroom, still exchanging pecks with you. His hands went into your hair and around your waist. "How's your night?" you asked.

It took Peter a few deeper kisses to finally answer:

"A lot better now."

_____

@restingbitchsblog