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dancingtotuyo · 2 months

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7. when she lets me call her mine

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: a year passes through Jackson

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: angst, blood, grief (loss of a sibling, loss of a child), trauma, anxiety

Notes: Once again, thank you to @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this! I appreciate all your comments and feedback, and I love you both so much!

Words: 8311

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Joel coaxes you awake the next morning. Your room is bright with sunshine. He’s dressed in his clothes from last night, smelling like your soap. Your body protests, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep until the end of time. You groan burrowing into your pillow, making him chuckle. Then, the events of last night come flooding back. Adrenaline shoots through your body as you shoot up. Your head spins a little. “Maria?”

“She’s awake. Doc Pooley stopped by this morning, said she looks good so far.” Joel wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer. “Just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Sweetheart.”

You pick at the buttons on his shirt as you remember it all. “For last night. Everything.”

Your temple rests against his forehead. His steady breathing calms you until the two of you are in unison. Joel kisses your head. His fingertips brush across your thigh.

“I want to go over there.”

“Tommy said we’re welcome anytime. I think he feels better having you there.”

“Do I look as atrocious as I feel?” You turn to him.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. “Got some big bags under your eyes, and some gnarly morning breath.”

“Gnarly? Really?”

“Only the best of words for you.” Joel winks. “I’ll get you some breakfast while you get ready.”

“Thank you.”

Maria is sitting up when you get there. Her eyes are bloodshot, her shoulders sag with exhaustion, but she’s alive, and she looks a hell of a lot better than she did the night before. The baby lays contently on her chest. She smiles at you over his head. “If it isn’t my guardian angel.”

Your chest quivers with relief as you ease beside her, perching on the edge of the mattress. Out of the corner of your eye, Joel gives Tommy a delayed but obligatory congratulatory handshake.

“I’m just happy to see you awake.”

“You look like shit.” Maria teases.

“Oh, I look like shit?” You raise an eyebrow. “Look in a mirror.”

Maria laughs softly, successfully hiding the cringe of pain behind it. “I’m never leaving this bed.”

“Bullshit.” Tommy crosses his arms. “She was tryin’ to get out of bed this mornin.”

You smile, eyes roaming over Maria, searching for any signs of something wrong. You can’t find any, but it hardly eases your anxiety.

Maria squeezes your hand. “If something felt wrong, I would tell you.”

“Promise?”

She nods, a smile spreading across her face as her eyes flicker to her sleeping newborn. “I have someone dependent on me now.”

“He’s not the only one dependent on you,” You say with a sigh. When you look down at Jackson’s newest addition, you can’t help but smile either. “Though he may be the cutest.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Maria runs a hand over his tuft of dark curls. “You wanna hold him?”

You nod, carefully taking the infant into your arms. Other than the brief moment when you’re delivering a baby, you haven’t held one this small since Carter was born. “Does he have a name yet?”

“Yes,” Maria smiles at Tommy. He places a hand on her shoulder. Your heart swells every time you see them like this. As much as Maria championed your relationship with Gabe, you did for her with Tommy. “Meet Elias Joel Miller.”

“What?” It seems to tumble out of Joel’s mouth automatically. “Now why would you do a thing like that?”

“Maria wouldn’t be here without you,” Tommy says. You swear you see the sparkle of tears in his eyes.

Joel clears his throat, eyes moving between his nephew and brother. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I think they’re capable of deciding what to name their child, Joel.” You grin, pressing a kiss to Elias’s head. “Now come hold your nephew.”

Maria’s recovery isn’t easy. It takes a lot of time, more than either of you anticipate. You spend days at her house and nights on the couch, caring for her when Tommy is on patrol. Eventually, slowly, she returns to full strength. She cares for her son and husband and all of Jackson with the same grace, strength, and capabilities as before. When she does, she kicks you out of her home with a grin.

It’s gradual at first, the way you pull away. Joel chalks it up to Maria’s close call, the amount of time you spend caring for her and Elias.

As the air begins to cool, you ask to walk alone. Joel picks it up the moment he meets you on the porch that night. He sees the distance in your eyes. Kissing your forehead, he crosses the street to his home without so much as a word. You’re relieved despite the dull ache in your chest.

You toss and turn that night. Your thoughts race with anxiety. The fall air seems especially chilly without Joel there to keep you warm.

Joel joins you the next night, but you’re quiet, too quiet. He tries, bless his heart, to keep it light and cheerful doing his best to pull you from the sea of thoughts. Despite his best efforts, you only give him brief sounds and one-word answers. When he wraps his arms around you that night, you don’t lean in.

None of it surprises him. He expects it. He would’ve done the same thing this time last year. What he doesn’t expect is the gaping ache in his chest as he watches it happen a little more each day like the autumn leaves falling from trees. The tighter he holds on, the more you slip through his fingers. So he takes the opposite approach. He keeps his distance. He stops meeting you in the middle of the road. He only comes over when you ask.

You expect the space to grant you relief, but it only gets harder to breathe. You toss and turn at night. The bed is empty. You’ve grown accustomed to having Joel next to you. There’s no clarity to your thoughts, no sense to your actions. The push and pull is tiring: missing Joel but not letting him too close.

You step onto your porch on a Friday in mid-October. You’ve walked alone, slept alone for almost a week. The only time you’ve seen Joel are the afternoons Carter asks to spend with him.

Joel sits on his porch, leaning back in a rocking chair. His guitar is propped on his knee. It stops you in your tracks, stealing your breath. He’s had the unstrung guitar in his home since June, but now, even from across the street, you clearly see several silver strings running across the frets. A couple of bright notes bridge the gap between you.

Instead of stepping into the street and setting along your beaten trail, your bottom hits the wooden step. You stare across the street, transported to 20 years ago when you and Joel lived across from one another the first time. Even at the end of the world, some things never change. You remember him sitting on his porch in the Austin suburb, the same angle to his recline, fingers playing over the strings. You used to open your bedroom window at night, straining to hear the faint rifts he played. Sometimes, his voice drifted through your curtain as you pined for a man who very rightfully, never looked your way. Those were your favorite nights.

Tonight, you don’t watch in secret. You don’t have to strain to hear the melody coming off the strings. You spent too much time wanting Joel, and he’s yours to have if you can only shake the fear away. It seems silly that the world ended and you somehow ended up with the only thing you wanted before it did. Now, you’re in self-destruct mode. You don’t know how to stop it. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you continue to watch Joel and his guitar without embarrassment.

Joel clocks you the moment you step out. He watches you from his periphery at first, surprised when you take a seat on the steps instead of going for your walk. He plucks at the strings refamiliarizing himself with the instruments after decades of separation. He’s only been able to find 4 good strings, but it is enough for now. The taught strings feel like therapy beneath his fingers connecting him with something unseen.

Joel continues to pick out the melody, becoming more confident with each play-through. He misses a few notes due to his missing strings, but something about it tugs at the strings of familiarity.

Finally, you stand, crossing the street. Joel doesn’t look up when you make it to his porch. Resting against the railing, he plucks away as the melody finally hits you. You’re embarrassed at how long it takes you to recognize it. Landslide. Memories flood your mind. You ran that cassette until it busted. When the Dixie Chicks put out their cover in ‘02, you and Sarah played it on repeat.

You focus on Joel’s fingers, the words forming in your head as he closes out the song. He leaves the guitar on his lap. Your arms fold over your chest, and his warm brown eyes reach yours.

The breeze catches your hair. You bite your lip, yet Joe doesn’t say a word. “I love that song.”

“I know.”

You raise an eyebrow. He chuckles. “You played that song on repeat for a week, Sweetheart. Sarah forced me to learn it.”

“Like you didn’t already know it, old timer.”

Joel pushes back a laugh, propping the guitar against the house. You catch the tension in his shoulders. Guilt shoots through you. You want to crack open his thoughts and curl into his brain. Is he upset? Hurt? Does he think you’ve come to call this thing off? This thing you’ve never labeled. Does he want to call it off after your actions?

“I’m sorry.”

Joel quirks a brow.

“For pulling away.” You add.

Joel lets out a deep sigh as he stands. Worry floods your body. You have succeeded. You pushed him away, and this is where things end. He steps forward. His body heat cuts through the fall chill. His fingers brush across your cheek and over your ear. Your head tilts into his palm.

“Joel-” You whisper.

“I’ve missed you.”

His words cut all the anxiety from you with a surgeon's precision. “I missed you too.”

He kisses you, tentative and understanding. It doesn’t silence your fears but gives you the budding courage to face them. Joel’s fingers curl around your face. His flannel is soft in your clenched fists. As you tug him closer, a grin spreads across your face.

Joel trails his hands down your back and over your ass. He wants to tell you so much more. He wants to tell you that he’s more than missed you. His arms have ached without you. He wants to tell you you feel like coming home, that if he never spends another night without you, it won’t be enough. He wants to scream from the rooftops that he’s yours and he wants you to be his, but he knows that all of that will send you running. He still sees the fear in your eyes.

Instead, he presses you against him, opening your mouth with his tongue. For the sake of not giving the whole town a show, he pulls you inside, dragging you to his bedroom.

The cold winds blow in and snowflakes drift about the sky as you follow Carter from house to house on Halloween night. He’s happily escorted by Ellie and Dina, relishing in their attention. The bright orange of Reese’s wrappers and red of Kitkats might be gone, but the town of Jackson knows how to improvise. Homemade sweets fill baskets and pillowcases. Joel walks alongside you, hand in yours. He wears an easy smile, one that keeps you warm as the sun sets behind the mountains.

“Remember the year Sarah convinced you to come trick or treating with us?” A faint grin spreads across Joel’s face.

“I remember all my Mr. Goodbars missing when I got home.”

Joel laughs. “Sarah always liked those.”

“Pretty sure it wasn’t Sarah I left unattended with my pillowcase.” You roll your eyes. “And she was more of a Reese’s girl.”

“Pretty sure 18-year-olds weren’t supposed to go trick or treating.”

“Touché,” You smile.

Joel presses a kiss to the back of your hand before furrowing his brow. “Your hands are freezing, Sweetheart.”

“It’s snowing outside, of course, they are.”

“Wanna go back to my house? I can start a fire.” Joel grins. Since the weather had turned, you spent more time at his house due to the beautiful fireplace in his living room and your home’s lack of. Evenings spent in front of his fireplace are some of your favorites.

“We’ve only made it through half the houses.”

“I think Ellie and Dina are fine with Carter. He doesn’t even know we’re here.” Joel points. It’s true. He adores the ground those two walk on.

You bite your lip, torn between seeing the rest of the evening out and the promise of Joel’s fireplace. Carter’s nose is tinged with red from the chill, but his grin is unbeatable. Joel’s breath is warm on your ear. “Made up your mind.”

“Promise it doesn’t make me a bad mom?”

“I promise.” Joel laughs.

You double-check with the girls, making sure they know they can bring him back to the house at any time. They assure you it’s fine and then Joel drags you off.

He has the fire burning in no time, casting an orange glow across the room. He sits down next to you, an overly full glass of whisky to share. Your legs rest over his thighs as he runs his fingers over your shoulder. “Warmer?”

You sip on the glass, handing it to him. “In more ways than one.”

Pressing the glass to his lips, he chuckles. “Gone are the days of subtlety I suppose.”

“I don’t need subtlety anymore.” Your head rests on his shoulder, tracing the seams of his jeans.

He kisses your head. “Wanna raid Carter’s candy when he gets back?”

You grin. “Isn’t that the point of being a parent?”

Snow begins to pile up. The holiday season is upon Jackson. As you exit the clinic one day, it hits you, literally, in the back of the head. Cold and icy, some of it drips down your skin. You spin around, met with Ellie’s apologetic grin.

“Oops.”

You furrow your brow, a teasing glimmer in your eye. “Gotta work on your aim there, Ellie.” Your bag drops to the ground, hands meeting the cold snow.

“I didn’t throw it.” Her grin grows as she slowly backs away.

“Oh?” You take care to form the snowball, calling on your years of travel softball. “You need to get better at lying.”

“Duck!” someone yells. You manage to and the snowball hits Ellie square in the face. A laugh grows in your chest as Jesse appears around the corner, a handful of snow ready to stuff down the back of Ellie’s shirt.

“Ellie, move!” instead of sending it her way, you barely graze Jesse’s head.

Before you know it, you’re pulled into their war. Your hands go numb. Snow finds itself in places it should never be, melting from your body heat. Most importantly, you’re having fun in ways you haven’t for a long long time.

Two strong arms wrap around you. They’re Joel’s. You would know them anywhere. His laugh echoes in your ear. Then, he’s pulling you down into a snow drift. Your coat rides up, cold snow pressing into your back. You squeal, trying to wiggle free, but he keeps you pinned.

“You jackass!” You thrash under him.

He laughs. “You should learn to pick on people your own age.”

“They started it!”

Snow smashes on the back of Joel’s neck. He yells, spinning around. You’re forgotten as Ellie laughs, running away. “You little twirp!” Joel yells and then a snowball collides with his face.

“See what I mean?” You stumble onto your feet, the ghost of the cold still pressed against your skin. “They’re asking for it.”

“You flank the left. I’ll take the right.” Joel nods.

The two of you are hopelessly outmanned by the 3 teenagers as snow pelts your face in such quick succession that you can hardly think straight. Within seconds, Joel calls out “Retreat!”

His calloused hand grabs yours, dragging you toward his house like you’re teenagers running from the cops. Laughter spills from both of you the entire way there. Your hands shoot to your knees as you struggle to catch your breath. Joel assumes a similar position.

“Gettin too damn old for that shit,” Joel says, laughter still in his tone.

“But it sure was fun.” You wink.

Joel eases up, his knees and back letting off a string of cracks and pops. You glance over at him, laughter playing in your eyes. He shoots you a look that tells you not to say a word, making you bite your lip. “I’m gonna get a fire going.”

You nod, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna hop through the shower.”

Joel catches your waist before you dash up the steps, pulling you snug against him. “Give me a real kiss, Woman.”

You crinkle your eyebrows at the name, but Joel lays a breath-stealing kiss on you before you have time to make a comment. Warmth spreads through your body. He pulls away with a grin. Your eyes flutter open, connecting with his eyes and then glancing down to his lips again. ”Sure you won’t join me?”

He groans. “If I do that, we’re not getting out of bed tonight.”

”I don’t see any issues with that.”

He squeezes your ass, giving you another kiss. “Go get showered. I’ll be waiting for you,” he says, practically pushing you towards the steps. You laugh. “And don’t go stealing all my hot water!”

You answer with a laugh.

Carter is in the living room when you come down. Your body hums with warmth from your shower. He sits on Joel’s lap, animatedly recounting something. Even from behind, you can see Joel’s face moving with exaggerated motions. Carter’s vocabulary is getting better with each day to the point where you can put together most of his stories now.

You fall onto the couch, thighs pressed against Joel’s. “Mommy!” Carter launches himself toward you. You barely manage to avoid getting your two front teeth knocked in, kissing his chunky cheeks.

“Carter!” You reply, squeezing him against you.

Before long, Ellie comes stomping in, cheeks rosy from the cold. The four of you eat leftovers in front of the fire, spending time together until Ellie is pulled away by her friends and Carter passes out on the couch. You and Joel stay on the floor, his arm around your shoulders.

“I think I have a problem, Sweetheart.”

The words are like ice water in your veins causing your heart rate to spike and your anxiety with it. You’ve heard those exact words before. ”What’s wrong?”

“I’m getting too used to having you around.”

Your jaw sets, fist colliding with his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?”

”Scaring the bejesus out of me.”

He kisses your head, hand roaming down your neck and shoulders. “Sorry. Guess I should work on my delivery.”

”Ya think?” You sigh, resting your head back on his shoulder.

It falls silent. Blood rushes behind your ears. The adrenaline courses through your dysregulating body. It’s just words. Joel was just being silly, but your body won’t listen. It won’t settle. You’ve heard those words before. It turns your vision a red you can’t wipe away. Before you know it, your body is shaking. “Fuck.” You barely get it out before you lose control over your body.

Joel’s brow furrows as he cups your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

Your head shakes as your fingers claw at his jeans, twisting in his shirt, desperate to find stability somewhere. Tears slip from your eyes, flowing over his hands. Fear rushes through Joel. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You choke it out, barely over a whisper. “Carter.”

”He’s right there.” Joel brings you into his lap, turning you to look at your son’s sleeping frame. “He’s okay.”

You shake your head, sniffing. It hurts to talk like there’s a lump in your throat, your diaphragm constricting in painful ways. “No- my- my brother.”

Joel searches your wet eyes. You’re not here. You’re along the outskirts of Jackson in a place you’ve only alluded to. He knows Carter died. He knows that death left you on your own. He doesn’t have words. He’s not sure you would hear them anyway, so he crushes you against his chest, rocking you back and forth like a mother does to her hurt child until your body stops shaking.

As the tension releases from your body, you weave your fingers through Joel’s. Eventually, you slide down, back against the hard floor, and head on Joel’s thighs. His thumb brushes over your wet cheek as you look at each other. The tears still pour from your eyes, but they don’t try to rip you apart anymore.

The fire has died down, but it’s still warm against your side. The flames dance off Joel’s irises. When you can finally draw a breath without your rib cage rattling, you attempt to speak. “I’m sorry-“

”Don’t.” Joel is soft. “Don’t apologize for it.”

You nod. He keeps brushing his fingers across your face. “I'm ready to talk about it.”

He freezes for a second and then nods.

“Carter was hurt when a group of raiders came through, but they didn’t kill him.”

Joel inhales sharply. You squeeze his hand. “He was hurt and there was nothing I could do.”

The image flashes before your eyes, your baby brother bleeding out slowly on the floor of a place with so many cherished memories. “He bled out so slowly.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not true.”

“Baby-”

“I could’ve-” You bite down on your lip, on the verge of breaking the delicate skin. “I should’ve helped him.”

“You just said you couldn’t do anything.”

“No- I mean…” Your chest shakes again. “He didn’t have to die like that. Slow and painful. He- Shit.” Your chest aches, tension tight across it.

Joel’s palm lands over your heart. It stays still for a minute and then moves in slow, pressurized motions. It doesn’t make it hurt less, but it eases the band constricting around your rib cage. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

You take one last deep breath and utter the words you’ve only said out loud once before. “He begged me to make it stop, the pain. I knew- I know how to make it quick. He spent hours in pain and I couldn’t bring myself to make it better.”

Hot tears roll down your cheeks again. Joel collects them on his thumbs. “Sweetheart.”

You ease into a sitting position, taking his hand and tracing the lines in his palm “What you said- about thinking you had a problem.”

Joel traces along your hairline, following it behind your ear. “Yeah?”

“He said that to me, right before I saw the blood.”

Joel leans forward, kissing your forehead. Another pocket of tension fizzles away. “I’m sorry.” Another kiss. “But thank you for tellin me.”

You nod, forehead pressed to his, fingers scraping softly at the back of his skull. He kisses your jaw. “Let’s go to bed.”

Joel stands, offering out his hand. You feel a little off-kilter on your feet, but he makes sure you’re steady before gently picking Carter off the couch, careful not to disturb him. Joel takes your hand, leading you upstairs. You tuck Carter into the bed of the spare bedroom. He’s familiar with it by now.

Once you’re in Joel’s room, you shed your clothing, crawling under the cool sheets in just your underwear. Joel slides in behind you, strong arms keep you flush against him, his warm skin pressed against yours.

“Joel…”

“Yeah?”

“When the weather gets nice, I want to go to my grandparent’s place. I want to visit him.”

Joel nods, lips warm against your shoulder. “Whatever you want, Sweetheart. I’ll take you.

The snow drifts melt away. The weather warms. Spring showers bring fresh green and pink buds, the grass growing more vibrant with each day. Birds chirp and the days grow longer. With it, your evening walks return, Joel ever-present beside you except when he’s on patrol.

He spends free days outside of the wall. Your anxiety heightens when he goes out, but something else stirs too. You haven’t been out in years. You had been quickly nixed from the patrol lineup when your medical training had been dubbed too important. Since the walls were completed, you haven’t set foot outside of them. There’s a call, a tug, deep within you. For the first time, you want to leave the safety promised by the tall gates.

You walk the parapet sometimes. During the cold months, the breeze up there stings more, chapping your face. In the summer, it soothes you.

Joel comes back one day with a small bouquet of barely blooming wildflowers. They’re tiny. They look even smaller in Joel’s large hands. He looks almost timid handing them to you. “Ain’t much. They’ll be a lot prettier ones come summertime.”

”These are beautiful.” You smile, taking the delicate buds in your hands.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Joel says, eyes following as you find the best vessel to hold the tender gift.

“That’s what they say.”

Joel crosses his arms, hip resting against the counter. “I was thinkin’.”

”Uh-oh.” You shoot a teasing grin over your shoulder.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “How original of you.”

“I try.” You shrug, setting the flowers on the counter. You mimic his stance. “Now what were you thinkin?”

“That tomorrow would be a good day to go to your grandparents’ place.”

Everything in your body, your heart, your breathing, your brain, stops for a split second. You feel outside of your body as it happens. Joel steps forward, hand gripping your bicep. It snaps you back, eyes locking on his.

“We don’t have to.”

”No.” Blood rushes behind your ears. “I want to. I’m ready.”

“You went white as a ghost, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath. “I want to, Joel.”

He searches your face, looking for any signs that you’re not. “You sure? I can’t have you floating away like that when we’re out there.”

”I’m sure. I told you I wanted to.”

”Wanting to and ready to are very different things.”

“I’m ready.”

Joel waits a second, weighing the options and your words. He takes a breath. “Okay, we’ll leave at first light tomorrow.”

”Thank you.”

He kisses your forehead, arms wrapping around your shoulders. “I’ll turn us around if you do that, okay?”

Your fingers tangle in the fabric of his worn shirt. “Can’t tell Maria.”

”Gonna have to smuggle you out, huh?”

”Something like that.” You grin.

Joel laughs, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Luckily, I have some experience with that.”

Joel has two horses saddled and waiting at the gate when you approach the next morning. Electricity buzzes in your bloodstream at the thought of stepping out beyond the gate for the first time in years. The air is crisp but promises spring warmth later in the day as birds start to chirp.

“You sure?” Joel asks, reigns in hand.

“Yes,” you grin, taking them as you mount the horse. A rifle sits in the saddle holster. You shift in the saddle, taking a deep breath.

Joel looks up at you, concern evident in his deep brown eyes. He’s worried, maybe even scared. A knife materializes. “Keep this on you. Somewhere accessible.”

You take it, hands warm against his. “I know.”

“This too.” He pulls out a pistol.

You stare at the metal, flickering in the growing sunlight. You know your way around a gun. You’ve been comfortable handling them long before cordyceps. Growing up in Texas made sure of that, but you haven’t had to touch one in too long.

“Darlin.”

You take it from him. “I’m good, Joel.”

“You can get us there?”

“Yup.”

He nods, ensuring you’re secured before mounting his horse. He looks at the gate attendant and they crack the door open just enough for the two of you to slip through.

Wind and sunshine greet you and a huge smile crawls up your face. You kick the horse forward, Joel and his mount keeping pace next to you. The further from Jackson you get, the more you feel the weight start to lift from your shoulders despite the heaviness awaiting you.

Joel sees it. The bits and pieces of your younger self come out in your smile and laughter. Your body seems looser, freer in the open. He makes a note to sneak you out more often.

You take your time, an internal compass guiding you toward the place that kept you safe for so long. The sun warms your back until you slip into the woods. The soft babble of water pulls you deeper. Once you find the brook, you and Joel let the horses lap at the water. ”It’s not far up the mountain from here,” You say. “Probably 30, 40 minutes.”

Joel nods, handing you a canteen. “No rush. We have all day, Sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side, accepting it. You hand him two apples. Once for himself. Another for the horse. You can’t help the smile that’s been on your lips all morning. You weren’t expecting to feel this way, but something in your body thrums with life regardless of the fact that you’re close to the place that holds so much of your grief.

”Thank you for doing this.”

Joel hooks a finger through your belt loops, tugging you nearer to him. “Any time. Especially if I get to see you like this.”

”Like what?”

Wracking his brain, he can’t seem to find the right words. His eyes search yours, sunlight filters through the trees, casting yellowish spots across your face. It feels warm and magical. He wants to stay here forever with you, basking in your smile. He wants to make the entire world a place that brings you such peace, blocking out all the bad things, the dark things. The thought of you feeling anything other than what you do right now makes him want to tear each infected limb from limb until the world rights itself. He can’t erase the marks it’s made, but he wants to help them fade because he-

His heart jumps, interrupting the thought before it materializes. His palms go sweaty. Could he think it? Could he say it for something that’s never been defined? Should he say it?

You catch it in his eyes. You don’t know how to explain it, but it’s there for you to read like a book. Anxiety balls up in your stomach. It doesn’t overpower the other feelings coursing through your bloodstream, but it gives you an answer. If he says it, you’ll bolt. You know it.

You step backward, his finger dropping from your belt. “We should keep going.” You turn to the horse, checking that everything is still in place and secure.

Joel nods. He’s not sure what to say. “Sweetheart.”

You swallow, back turned to him. “I can’t give you anything else right now.”

”I know.”

You stay quiet for the rest of your trek following the brook toward the house. The familiar gate fades into view. It kept you protected from more than one group of infected and raiding parties for over 10 years. As you approach the gate, it hits you that you’ve spent just as much time away.

Joel is on alert, keeping watch for any unwelcome parties while trying to stay in tune with you. You dismount before entering through the gate on foot. Joel follows suit. You hitch them to a post, pouring out grain for them to eat.

“This is the Baldwin place?”

You nod. “My mom’s maiden name.”

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in a while,” Joel says, easing a door open.

“Patrols use it from time to time. I’m sure stragglers do too.” You follow him in. Joel is focused on making sure it’s clear. You’re not sure you can focus on anything.

The wallpaper has faded in 10 years, a couple of windows are broken here and there, but otherwise, it looks just like you remember it. It’s a mix of comfort and dread.

You let Joel clear the house room by room, leaving the great room for last. You don’t even have to tell him. It’s like he senses it, the way you look at that the door.

Once the rest of the house is clear, you stand at the door. It’s just a room, one that used to bring you joy. It’s one, decade old blood stain. That’s all.

“We don’t have to do this,” Joel says.

You meet his eyes and see nothing but understanding. You wonder if he would ever want to go back to where Sarah was killed, nature washing away her stain long ago. You wish that was the case for Carter, like Gabe’s blood stain in the snow, gone with the spring thaw.

You swallow. “I want to.”

He nods and finally, you twist the door knob. Things are different from what you remember. Furniture has been moved from patrols stopping in. Your grandmother’s rocking chair is missing a leg, likely used for kindling in the big fireplace. It darkens the carpet, right before the hearth, brown and thick. Your attempts at washing it away had been useless.

Your feet take you to it of their own volition. Knees hit the carpet. Your hand spreads over the large stain as tears gather in your arms. It comes out barely a whisper the first time, and then louder the next. “I’m sorry.”

Then your chest begins to shake. It comes out over and over, sorrow and anger all spilling out after suppressing them for years.

Joel’s hand rests against your back and you fall into him, letting it wash over you as years of built-up guilt finally release from your body until finally, you still. There’s no big moment of clarity or understanding, just the gentle ease of acceptance.

An hour later, puffy-eyed and tired, you pull a comforter out of the closet, the oversized one with faded pink rosebuds. To your amazement, it’s relatively untouched by moths. Dust flies free when you shake it out on the deck, sunlight sparkles off the little flecks floating around you almost like fireflies. Memories of stargazing and fireside nights flicker through your brain. Joel’s coughing ruins the slightly magical moment making you laugh.

You settle on it, Joel unpacking lunch. The two of you stay quiet, basking in the sunlight as you eat. You save the strawberries for last, the latest crop just starting to produce in the greenhouse. They’re sweet on your tongue, pushing away the last of the salty tears.

Joel shifts, his thigh pressing against yours. The deck looks over a valley, granting a serene look at the blooming trees and flowers, painting in broad strokes across nature. It's a welcome reprieve after winter, but it makes you realize how bearable this winter felt. It wasn’t a mild winter by any means but, you have him.

Your eyes drift to the man beside you. He’s at ease, leaning back, arms supporting himself. In the bright sunlight, his hair looks a little lighter and his eyes more like honey. You lean over, hand running over the scruff of his cheek, and capture his lips in a soft, languid kiss. A hand slides over your side, easing you closer. A bee buzzes a couple yards away. Birds chirp in the distance. Just through the thicket, a doe wanders through the forest. The kind of noise that feels silent, like time stands still for the two of you.

You feel it, the spark that’s been there for months. Up here, away from the rest of your small world, you can’t feel the trap tightening around you. You’re not sure it is a trap anymore. The flicker of it floats through your brain. The beginnings of those 3 little words. The anxiety flares. Somehow, you force it away with the words. The fuzzy feeling stays. You have Joel. That’s enough for now.

You pull back, his breath fanning across your face. Joel drags his fingertips up and down your forearm. Once again, he feels the words wandering closer to his lips. Not yet. He can’t say them yet.

“What do you want to do?” He asks, eyes fluttering over you. There’s no heat behind them, just the need to be assured that you’re okay, that you’re actually here.

“One more stop before we go home.”

He nods, kissing your forehead. “Whatever you need, Sweetheart.”

You stop under the willow tree. The one your mom planted when she was a kid. The one you buried Carter under. Joel keeps his distance, holding the reigns of both horses.

The dirt is hard, littered with tiny bits of rock and sticks that press into the knees of your jeans. You stare at the small boulder you shoved into place a decade ago. There’s no name, the paint washed away long ago. So many thoughts flood your brain. There’s so much to tell him, so much you wish he could see and know about you.

You tell him about his nephew. He never would have let you live it down knowing you named your son after him. You mention Jackson and the people, Maria mostly, a little about Tommy, and Gabe and Joel. You don’t tell Carter about your feelings with Joel, just that you’re happy and taken care of. Then, you sit in silence as if you expect a response. The silly thing is you do. You expect a sign or a nudge deep in your soul, but there’s nothing. You’re okay with that.

“I’m okay. Surprisingly.” You smile weakly. Taking a deep breath, you rise to your feet.

You stare at the boulder. Then up at the tree. Your parent’s initials are still barely legible in the bark. Your gaze flickers to the house behind you, your home for so long. It’s haunted now.

You feel it in your chest, solid and true. You’ve found all the closure you need. “ This is the last I’ll be here. I’m not coming back.”

Joel’s ears perk up. His head cocks to the side as you approach. He doesn’t ask and you don’t elaborate. Instead, you take the reins, mounting your horse. “Let’s go home.”

Summer brings all of its usual joys and festivities. The outdoor crops grow with the sun. The days are long and filled with hard work, tired bones, and sun-soaked lunch breaks. The flowers start to appear each time Joel leaves Jackson for patrol or pleasure. You watch the bouquets grow in size and variation. Your own measurement of the foliage growth beyond the wall.

June bleeds into July. Maria brings out a cake to celebrate Elias’s first birthday. It seems incomprehensible that you’re a year removed from that night. After everything, it was hardly the worst night of your life, but the fear you felt that night was the culmination of all of it. It still haunts you from time to time.

Joel squeezes your thigh, offering you a smile. Your heart clenches with joy, maybe even peace. It dawns on you that you’ve spent more than a year at his side, walking, talking, not sleeping. He kisses your temple. Across the table, Ellie scrunches her face at the two of you. Carter ogles the cake. Elias babbles happily on Tommy’s knee. Your best friend’s face says it all. She’s the happiest you’ve ever seen her. Looking around the table, you’ve never been more thankful to fall into the trap.

The bed is empty when you wake up one Sunday morning later in the month. The house is already hot, a warm breeze pours through the open window. You’re not used to the empty bed, especially having fallen asleep next to Joel.

You roll over, hand spreading over the sheets. Your eyes follow the trail of sunlight to the window. Joel’s bare back stretches before you as he stares out the glass. The curtain billows softly in the breeze. It gives the air of a peaceful moment, but you know it’s anything but. His muscles are taught across his back.

It takes seconds to settle across you. Last year, he spent the night before at his house. You didn’t even realize what day it was until after lunch. Sarah’s Birthday.

You slip out of the bed, bare feet meet the hardwood. Your hand settles on his shoulder trailing across the expanse of his back down around his waist. He hums softly in acknowledgment.

“Joel…”

He wraps an arm around you, tugging you against him. You oblige, head nuzzling into him. He kisses right above your ear. “Just stay near.”

You stay there until Carter knocks on the door, one of the skills you’ve been diligently working on. You move, but Joel beats you to it, opening the door, scooping the 3-year-old into his arms. Carter giggles. “You want pancakes for breakfast, Bud?”

“Yes!”

Your heart clenches. Joel never liked pancakes, but Sarah loved them.

“Maybe momma will make her special peaches?” Joel turns to face you, his head level with Carter’s.

“Please,” Carter begs.

He and Joel give you puppy dog eyes. Almost impossible to resist. You see the sorrow Joel is pushing back, but something nudges at you. This is what he wants. He wants pancakes with your mom’s peach pie filling, just like Sarah always requested on her birthday.

“I think we can make that happen.”

Ellie bustles in ready for Sunday breakfast soon after. You wonder if she knows what today is. Tommy, Maria, and Elias wander in unannounced but welcomed nonetheless. Elias walks around on unsteady feet, still getting his sea legs under him.

Joel pulls you out of the house after you eat, hand in hand. He doesn’t say anything to Tommy and Maria, leaving you with the impression that this was all planned in advance. Two horses are already saddled. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

“I’m taking you somewhere.” Joel smiles, handing you the reins.

You go in the opposite direction of your last expedition. This ride is quieter, the breeze rustling through the tall grass and the horses’ snorts your only company. You travel over one of the smaller ridges, greeted with a smattering of blues, yellows, and oranges. You pull the horse to a stop in awe of the beauty. Joel smiles back at you.

“Is this where you’ve been gettin all the flowers?”

“They’re at their peak this week. Wanted you to see them.”

He grins. “C’mon.”

You hitch the horses to a tree near a stream. Joel grabs your hand, pulling you deeper into the field of wildflowers. Bees buzz. Butterflies flap around. Joel stops once you’re in the middle. He’s still, a butterfly, painted orange and black, lands on his shoulder. Your breath catches. He stares at it. You swear you see his lips move. His crow's feet crinkle, and the butterfly takes flight, flapping around both of you.

He pulls you to the ground, pulling you to sit between his legs. He buries his head between your shoulders. “I feel closest to her here.”

You smile, hands running across his jeans. “I can see why.”

He hums in acknowledgment, leaving the two of you to sit in peace. Eventually, Joel guides you to the ground, hidden by the growth. It spills out of him like water from a fountain. What he remembers most about her, and what he struggles to recall. What he thinks she would be like now.

He tells you the story of her 5th birthday. Sarah took a pair of safety scissors to her hair, leaving her curls lopsided and sticking up everywhere. She cried while Tommy couldn’t stop laughing at her.

You laugh, back arching off the solid ground slightly. Joel’s chuckle echoes deeply in your ears. Tears gather in your eyes as he continues to describe the disastrous birthday.

The sun hangs golden in the sky and the tall flowers make you feel a million miles away from everything, like it’s just the two of you in the whole wide world. Your body thrums like you’ve just woken up from a Sunday afternoon nap on the couch. The gentle breeze is cool against your neck as it rustles through the field

“Thank you,” Joel says. “I needed to talk about this.”

You nod, looking over at him. “Of course.”

His deep brown eyes are on you, swimming with warmth and affection that makes your chest feel like it could burst. You know that look so well. You wonder if he sees it in you too. You know it’s there. It’s been there for a while now growing with each tender touch and silent moment. You’ve accepted it, but you won’t give it a name. You won’t say it out loud- let the world hear it so it knows what to take from you next.

Joel cups your cheeks. His callouses skim across your skin so lightly it sends chills all the way down to your bare toes. You turn on your side, hair spilling to the side. You lean in, touching your nose to his, drawing closer to his lips before you pull back, teasing him.

He sighs eliciting another giggle from your throat. His fingers slide over you and land at the base of your neck, guiding your lips to his. He hums against you and you happily fall into him. These days of peace and laziness are so few and far between. Your days outside of the Jackson walls are even fewer, but you’ll sneak out with him any day if it means this.

When you separate, it’s there in his eyes again burning brighter. His heart speeds up beneath your palm. You can feel the words developing inside him, threatening to pop out and tear it all apart. Joel’s lips barely move, no sound ever leaves them before you cover them with your hand. He looks confused, but he catches it. It’s the same panic he saw that night he found you crying under the pines, and when you turned away from him the first day he snuck you out.

You don’t need to say a word, but he hears your pleas, and he nods, covering your hand with his as you slowly pull it back.

He kisses your palm, long slow kisses, making his way up your forearm, the crook of your elbow, bicep, shoulder, and collarbone. You’re returned to your back. Joel hovers over you. Your fingers dance over his brow, and his eyes flutter close for a few seconds.

He’s so relaxed here. The wrinkles set in his forehead and around his eyes are less pronounced making him look 10 years younger. Your heart swells again and for a minute you contemplate throwing caution to the wind, maybe the universe won’t hear you here, taking cover in the wildflowers, muted by the gentle breeze.

His lips are warm against yours. He moves slow and sweet like honey, like time is his to waste.

When he pulls away, his eyes are a shade darker. Your breath catches as you notice the desire that’s beginning to pool in them. There’s another unfamiliar layer. It sends a rush through you because you know it’s love.

Your hands fly to his mouth. You won’t let him say it. He can’t say it. Your head shakes softly, scared to ruin this perfect sacred moment. “Please,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, floating away on the breeze. “Don’t say it, Joel. I- I can’t.” Tears threatened to cloud your vision. You worry he’ll reject you, get fed up waiting for you to let him say it.

He inhales softly, lips deliberately pressing against your palm. “I know, Sweetheart.” Another kiss. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

He leans in, leaving soft kisses over your face. Your heart clenches. You should be able to give him this, on today of all days, but you can’t.

His lips dip to your ear. His breath is hot against your neck. “Mine.”

Your hands thread through his hair. It’s longer than he usually keeps it. His lips touch your cheek and then your lips. It looks chaste, but there’s a promising heat behind it. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Be mine.”

You catch the hint of fear in him that maybe those words will send you into a tailspin, but they don’t. It’s a complete statement: be mine. There’s nothing to add to it. You are simply his. It feels like a safe zone. A definition of what the two of you are. It soothes all your anxieties. You can live in the in-between with him. He’s not even asking to be yours but you know he is.

Joel’s forehead rests against yours. Your thumb brushes over his cheek. He’s looking into your eyes with such devotion. At the same moment, he repeats the words a third time, you tell him. “Yes.”

His eyes shine with wonderment like he can’t believe it like this is a dream.

“I’m yours.”

A smile tips his lips toward the sky and then they’re on yours. All the words and thoughts he holds back for you translate into the physical.

Author’s Note: THIS MARKS THE END OF PART I of Woman!

If you’ve taken a look at the masterlist, you’ll see I’ve divided this fic into 3 parts! Please take a look at the short series Before between Parts I and II. It would mean so much! And you get to learn more about Reader’s back story! 💕 thank you all for your continued support!

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro stories #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #woman (joel’s version)#woman (joel miller)

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conniesbae · 2 years

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Weak in the knees

Pairings: Conrad Fisher x Conklin reader

Warnings: Light smut (very light), smoking, light swearing.

Conrad Fisher is the only person who manages to make me weak in the knees. Anytime that he is around me, I suddenly forget how to think, sometimes even speak. It's embarrassing really, especially when Jeremiah notices and makes a joke about it. Conrad usually just laughs it off, but I know that he loves the power that he has over me.

"You have to come y/n, it won't be fun without you," Belly says while rummaging through her dresser looking for something to wear.

Belly has been trying to convince me to go to the bonfire with her for hours. Usually I'm not one to say no to a party, but tonight I just really want to stay at the house. Susannah and my mom are going to be gone for a couple of hours, probably at the bar reminiscing on their college days. So, I plan on smoking a joint out by the pool and enjoy my time alone.

"I went last time Bells, you'll have fun, just stay with Steven and Jer."

"Oh like that's so much better than being by myself," Belly laughed.

"They know how to have a good time," I said while picking out a dress for her to wear.

"Here, this is perfect."

"I'm so glad you're my sister."

After everyone left, I went upstairs to take a shower. I couldn't wait to take one, I went swimming earlier and can't stand the smell of chlorine in my hair. As I'm in the shower, all I can think about is Conrad. He looked so good, somehow better than he usually does. I managed to avoid him, not in the mood for one of Jer's dumb jokes. I hate what Conrad does to me and how he makes me feel, because I know Conrad will never think of me that way.

After I finally snapped out of my thoughts and finished showering, I finished up my night routine and put on a pair of black pajama shorts and a white zip-up jacket that's only zipped up enough to cover my boobs. I grabbed the joint and a lighter and made my way out to the pool.

I'm sitting with my feet in the water, absolutely content. It's not often that I get the chance to be alone here, so that's why I took advantage of the opportunity while I could. I just like to be alone with my thoughts sometimes, I feel like it's needed every once in awhile.

As I'm blowing smoke out, I hear, "How did I know that you'd be out here."

I look up, already knowing who it is by the sound of their voice, it's Conrad.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the bonfire," I don't know what it is, maybe it's just because I'm high, but I don't feel nervous or weak around him in this moment.

"Aren't you supposed to be in your room reading," at least that's what I told my mom. Surprised that he remembered that though.

He makes his way over and sits right next to me. Not even now do I feel nervous. He grabs the joint out of my hand and takes a hit. I love watching him smoke, and I love the fact that he does smoke. Belly doesn't approve of either of us smoking, we always tell her that we're going to quit, but we never do.

"You could have asked," I playfully kicked water at his legs.

"Sharing is caring," he smirked while taking another hit.

My mind quickly went to when we were younger and I would always say that to him while stealing some of his food. I haven't done that in years and I can't believe that he even remembered.

"Yeah well this isn't food, it's an expensive plant that's hard to find around here," I reached for the joint, grazing his hand.

As I'm hitting it again, I can feel him looking at me. Which, this does in fact make me a little nervous, I don't let it show though. I don't like to be stared at for long, especially with someone this close to me, it's too easy to notice imperfections and insecurities.

"You don't seem nervous," he licks his lips while staring at mine.

"Because I'm not."

"So, you only act that way in front of everyone else then," he questions, knowing it's bullshit.

Truthfully, I tell him, "no, I'm just done letting you hold that much power over me when you'll never feel the same way."

He looks me in the eyes and says, "how do you know that you don't hold that much power over me?"

"Because I know I don't, it's impossible."

He rolls his eyes and stares down at the water, "you don't even know how special you are y/n."

This takes me back. I never in my life thought that I would hear those words come out of Conrad Fisher's mouth, about me of all people. I don't even know how to react or how to respond.

"Prove it then," I moved closer to him. Our legs and arms were touching, any closer and I would be on his lap.

He turns his head to look at me again, and without missing a beat, he put his hands on both sides of my face, leaning in until our lips touched. He moved one arm behind my back and the other one grabbed my thigh while he moved me onto his lap, our lips never parting. I roamed my hands through his hair while he moved his hands under my jacket, running them softly up my sides, giving me goosebumps. His tongue swiped across my lips, begging to be let in. He pulled away and starting leaving light kisses all over my neck, gently sucking, careful not to leave any marks. I softly moaned at the feeling and pulled on his hair.

He pulls away and looks at me, his eyes a slightly darker blue than before, "you have such a hold over me y/n. Every time that I'm around you, this is all I think about."

I smiled while leaning in to kiss him again. His lips are like a drug to me now, they feel exactly how I thought they would.

After a few more minutes of us getting lost in the moment, we hear the front door close, which makes us quickly pull away.

"Imagine if Jeremiah saw us, he would freak," Conrad laughed.

I got off of his lap, unwillingly, "can't imagine how those jokes would be."

He helps me stand up so we can join everyone inside, and my legs slightly tremble as I stand in front of him.

"Wow I guess I literally just made you weak in the knees" he smirks while looking down at me.

I roll my eyes and say, "let's just wait and see how weak in the knees you are later."

He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Belly, Steven, and Jeremiah accompanying us. Instead, he just gives me a look that brought butterflies in my stomach. He really does something to me.

After another couple of hours downstairs hanging out, we all finally make our ways to our separate rooms. I knew that everyone was going to pass out pretty quickly, being drunk and all. I laid in bed staring up at the ceiling, thinking of what happened between Conrad and I. It feels unreal. I don't plan on telling anyone, I think it will be more fun if we have to sneak around. I hope that this isn't just some friends with benefits situation, I'm in love with him and hope that he feels the same way. It feels like he does.

As I'm about to go to sleep, Conrad sends me a text that says, "come to my room ;)"

I make my way to his room, which is right down the hall from me. I lightly knock on the door, just incase he wasn't dressed. He opens it and I step inside as he tries to close it as quietly as he can.

"Okay let me see how weak in the knees you can apparently make me," he bends down to pick me up from the back of my thighs and brings me over to his bed.

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #team conrad #conrad fisher imagine #tsitp fanfic

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greyhound-with-a-mega-wizard-hat · 5 months

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The Necromancer and the Martyr: The Walk

(Part 5 of The Necromancer and the Martyr)

Sunlight filtered through the canopy as Thorn stirred from her slumber. In a harmony and routine that spoke of their long relationship, Thorn and Rose packed up their rudimentary camp, ensuring that no trace of their presence was left. Thorn put her armour back on somewhat reluctantly, having no pack to store it in. Wordlessly, they began to walk in the opposite direction of the mine.

It seemed to be summer, the trees leaves were vibrant green, and the air was warm and the breeze was gentle. Rose glanced over at Thorn, who appeared to be in deep contemplation.

"Something on your mind?" He asked.

"Yeah. I never asked you what happened to you. Do you want to talk about it?" Thorn replied, moving somewhat closer to Rose.

"What do you mean?" No sooner had Rose asked the question, did he realise the answer.

"My death? I don't really remember it. Dying or being dead that is. I must have passed shortly after you did though. I remember your funeral, the peace talks, and then nothing." Rose lied, hoping that Thorn did not pick up on his falsehoods.

If she had noticed his gritted teeth, or the tension with which Rose spoke, then Thorn did not act upon it. In fact, she did not react to his answer at all, instead drifting further away from Rose again, and increasing the pace at which she walked.

'She knows'. Rose realised with dread. 'She knows I'm lying. She always knows'

"If you know something Rose, you can tell me. I know I haven't always taken things well in the past, but I promise I will work hard to be more compassionate and forgiving. Please tell me what's really going on." Thorn's voice was calm and gentle as she spoke, though her march never faltered.

Rose frantically searched for an excuse. "I just, don't feel ready to talk about it, y'know?". He looked towards Thorn to see if she bought it.

"That's fair. But please, you can talk to me when you feel ready. Ok?" Thorn seemed happy with Rose's excuse.

For several hours, they continued to walk in silence. Dread gnawed at Rose's stomach, whilst Thorn seemed perfectly contented, listening to the wind and the birds. Eventually, they arrived at a stone path.

"Oh excellent. We must be close to a village." Rose mused aloud to himself.

"Agreed." Replied Thorn. "Though it's odd that the path doesn't lead all the way to the mine. Why does it stop, or start I suppose, here?" She stopped in her tracks to examine the edges of the path.

Rose knew of course. He'd had the rest of the path buried, to ensure that no one tried to interrupt his rituals. But he was not sure that Thorn would like that answer.

"Who knows. Oh well, best be moving on." Rose took off down the path, walking so fast he was almost running. He looked over his shoulder to see if Thorn was following.

She was not. She remained transfixed by the path, as though staring at it would give her the answers she sought.

"Rose!" She yelled. "Is it true that magic could make the grass grow over a path like this, and bury it so completely you would never know that it was there?"

Rose stopped. Thorn's intellect had always taken people by surprise. They had always expected the great warrior to be nothing more than a fighter, a tool to be pointed at the enemy and set loose. For once, Rose wished that they were right.

"Yeah I suppose..." He answered tentatively.

"Well then, could it be that the path does go all the way to the mine, but whoever it was that brought us back to life buried it for some nefarious purpose?" Thorn walked on to catch up with Rose. "If someone is powerful enough to bring people back to life, then would this not be easy?"

"Maybe... I don't know. If we ever find out who did it, we can ask them. Lets just go to the village and see what's what." Rose desperately hoped to end the conversation. His flesh squirmed and writhed all down his back, and he could feel his shoulder blades moving into their new position. It took all of his concentration to remain calm, and not to revert back to his true form.

Thorn took Rose's hand and led him onward. "I suppose you're right" she acknowledged. "Now lets see what's changed since we've been away."

Rose allowed himself to be led, fear growing with every step. He knew he needed to tell Thorn the truth, show her the truth, but how he would do that he did not know. It could wait though, he'd tell her after they'd visited the village.

[Part 4]

[Part 6]

#long post #the necromancer and the martyr

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cor-corbinian · 7 months

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So I had time to sleep on the last episode of bsd and I have thoughts.

So far I've seen so many different oppinions about it - so many people are exited and so many are dissapointed. I easily fit into both categories.

But my first thought was that the episode felt off .... And I'm going to try, putting that feeling into words

PACING: As always the anime is going for an olympic medal in rushing. But unlike the previous ones this one felt even more rushed. For me, I believe that has one mainreasons. 1) Ususally I marinade in the manga chapter before I watch the Anime. This time I had nothing to go off, so my brain couldn't automatically fill the gaps. -> Missing Plot/Plot holes felt a lot more present

FUKUFUKU: Alright. This is propably the part I enjoyed the most. I think it was the best way that could have ended. 10/10 Somehow managed to not feel rushed to me. Teruko coming in was suprising but not entirely unexpected. I really liked it. You can see were the most effort went into :)

Aya&Bram: This one was good as well. But I barely felt scared for Aya. Another case of rushing - nothing to outragous though, although I felt it took the emotions out of the scenes.

All in all I really enjoyed the majority of the airport Part and can very much see why people are so exited and happy about this episode.

Now for the mixed bag that is Meursault...

SOUKOKU: Here the opinions are split. Not mine though, I liked it. Does it have implicateion that I most likely haven't thought about? Yes. But as long as Dazai wasn't aware of Chuuya not being a Vampire for the entire time, I'm fine with it. It is very much Soukoku shenanigans at the finest. Still rushed as fuck and with so many open questions that the manga has to adress. So I can see why people dislike it.

FYOLAI: Oh boy ... I really disliked Fyodors death. They have to have cut something important from the manga, because it just felt wrong. I fully believe Fyodor is coming back in some way. But the death just was so unsatisfying. What do you mean, every character got an impactfull fake-out death and Fyodor just got stabbed by some no name and blown to bits?! Doesn't feel like a fitting end for the mastermind. Nikolais part was amazing though - exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Absolutely heartbraking. 10/10 for that small part.

SIGMA: AAAAAHHHHH. I'm honestly upset and absolutely livid. What do you mean, the character who just wanted a home and to be seen as more than a disposable tool got his fate revealed in a single line and was forgotten and disposed of??? What the actual fuck! I get what bones is trying to do - keeping it a mystery on what exactly happened to him. Trying to reveal absolutely nothing. But we don't even get Dazai mentioning that he has to go back into the prision for some reason? Or saying that he has something still left to do? Anything at all that hints towards Dazai remembering that Sigma existed? Truly, it fells like Sigma was abandoned and I hate it. I will be writing Angst about it.

OTHER CHARACTERS: The Montage was kind of nice, even though important characters were forgotten about (where is Jouno!). With the lack of impact of most of the characters shown it just felt kind of hollow I guess.

EPILOGUE: Why does it feel off? I honestly wouldn't be at all suprised if it was the set-up for some anime only filler content - However horrible that would be. Akutagawa was looking fancy though. And it seemed about the only relevant thing that happened to poor Atsushi this episode. For a Protagonist he was sidelined hard.

TLDR: I feel like the rushing and lack of explaining/skipping over plot details of the anime is making me hate the progression of the plot more than I could ever with manga. I'll have to wait and see.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd spoilers #cor rants

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the-art-in-arthesia-is-loud · 7 months

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Death Is Inevitable

oh wow what a. depressing title. um. oh how i wonder what's going to happen here!!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 /s

yea um, warning: there will be some...creepy behaviour depicted here, like stalking and such. also murder and death is implied in the end. and blood mention. oh god. you're in for a doozy, actually

———

At first, I was doing fine.

———

Hikaru was a fairly popular idol in the nation. He has a lot of fans, has went on a world tour before, and had a lot of friends because of this (are they really his friends, though?).

Hikaru had a lot of fans.

Remember this.

He did have a lot of fans during his time as an idol, but there was one particular fan that stuck out amongst all of them like a sore thumb.

We'll call her T.

When he was still an idol, Hikaru was still a teenager, which meant that alongside his idol career, he has to attend school like a normal teenager would. He didn't particularly minded this, but idol work and school work were definitely a hassle to deal with.

Even at school, he had fans and admirers. Nearly everyday, he would find love letters and flower bouquets in his locker. It annoyed him a bit, but he appreciated all of the love he got from his idol career. However, a reacurring figure in the love letters that he got always signed her letter with the alias 'T'.

He was always curious about who this T person is, so he tried finding her. He asked every student if they knew anyone who would go by the alias T, but nobody knew her at all. He nearly gave up, until one morning he decided to come to school early.

That's when he found a girl slipping a love letter into his locker. She noticed him right away and then quickly ran away, the love letter already inside of Hikaru's locker as intended. Hikaru read the letter, and surely enough, it was signed with the T alias like the other ones he got in the past.

He then knew that this girl was T. He's glad enough to find her identity and then went on with his life in peace. However, after that morning, he never found any love letters signed from T ever again. That obviously made Hikaru feel a mixture of worry and confusion.

But T's still going to school like normal, it seems. So what made her stop giving Hikaru love letters like usual? That was the question that filled Hikaru's mind everyday.

However, after some time, he started feeling a presence looming behind him everytime he walked through the hallways of the school he went to. Hell, he could feel someone following him from behind outside of school. It made him...start to get a bit paranoid.

That's no good. Who would follow him everywhere he goes?

And then he remembered the contents of the letters T sent to him. They always start with T reaffirming her love for him, and always end with T wishing him a good day. The contents of the letter can vary, from T talking about how she admired Hikaru so much, to T just talking about her day, whether it was the day she put the letter in Hikaru's locker or any other day before that.

The contents of T's final letter to Hikaru is...pretty much the same, but he remembered how weird the wording was in it.

"I hope I can see you again tomorrow, Hikaru. Or else I'll lose myself."

"Did you know how much I love you, Hikaru? I want you so bad it really does hurt."

"Maybe one day we can be together forever. Just like how I hoped things would be."

"Your voice makes me go on a rollercoaster of emotions. I love you so much, Hikaru."

"Please be mine one day, Hikaru."

On that realization, Hikaru knew something is wrong here. The next day, he felt someone following him again. He tried looking back or stopping from his walk to catch the identity of this stalker, but no sign of them were there. Hikaru just felt even more insane the more he tries to find the identity of the stalker.

It's like trying to find the identity behind T all over again...

———

But suddenly, every part of my body hurt.

———

After some silence from T, Hikaru finally received another letter from her in his locker. He read it, but alarmingly enough, the contents were concerning.

"I want you to be mine I want you to be mine I want you to be mine I want you to be mine please be mine please be mine please"

That was the only content of the letter before the usual sign off from T. Strange. She usually does the usual love reaffirmation and the wished for Hikaru, but this time it's just...this creepy mess.

This made Hikaru even more paranoid of the situation. He felt...scared. Concerned. Frightened. What kind of behaviour is this?

He knew that idol fans can be insane, but getting to experience having an obsessive fan like this scares him too much. First, he feels like he's being stalked. Second, T. Third, this. Now what?

After that letter, T went silent again. Hikaru got even more paranoid because of that. Everyday, he feels like he's being stalked. Everyday, he's dreading on what T will do next. Everyday, his paranoia grew even more.

That was until T slipped another letter into Hikaru's locker.

The contents were the following:

"Hey Hikaru.

Hey.

I love you, y'know.

I want us to be together forever.

I want you to be mine so bad, I might as well die.

If you don't love me back, I might as well kill myself.

What's the point in living if you don't love me back, Hikaru?

Hikaru....love me.

LOVE ME.

PLEASE LOVE ME. PLEASE.

PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME PLEASE LOVE ME

— T."

"What the hell...?" That was all Hikaru muttered out after reading that letter. He knew it's no longer safe around here. He needs his friends to at least shield him from T.

Oh wait.

He doesn't have any genuine friends.

Whoops.

Who would protect him in a time like this...?

...

"Glaciaxion..."

"I wish you were here right now..."

———

I couldn't breathe.

———

The stalking went on even longer.

Hikaru's paranoia grew even more each day.

And overall, this whole thing is a mess.

This went on for quite awhile...

Until Hikaru decided that enough was enough.

Hikaru tried finding T's classroom, and in the process he found out that T is his underclassman. That fact made Hikaru even more scared. He then decided to find any information regarding T from other students. From that, he found out that she's pretty much an outcast, and is hated by mostly everyone.

They say it's because she's 'creepy'.

Yikes, that says a lot.

Eventually, the day came where Hikaru decided to confront T about her behaviour. He asked her why she's like this. She only answers with a simple, "Why are you even asking? This is love! Love, Hikaru! Love!"

"Love...?"

From the bottom of his heart, Hikaru couldn't believe her.

No matter how hard she tried to reaffirm the fact that it's because she loves him, he just couldn't believe her at all.

To her, this is indeed love.

But to him?

This isn't love.

"I refuse to believe you." That's what Hikaru said, ending off their confrontation entirely.

He wasn't fully aware, nor was he fully prepared, for what was about to come to him.

———

And then finally, my heart stopped beating, and I, too, stopped breathing.

———

On that fateful day, Hikaru received a letter from someone. It wasn't signed, so the sender was pretty much anonymous. It read:

"Hikaru, please meet me at the Miracle Forest. I need to tell you something important."

No sign off, which made Hikaru anxious. Hikaru was a rather dumb kid back then, so he decided to come to the Miracle Forest either way. At that time, there was no such thing as "a magical girl guarding the Miracle Forest", so nearly everyone can just wander into the forest for who knows what.

But then, he saw her.

It was T. T was the one who sent that letter telling him to meet her at the Miracle Forest.

Seeing her himself made the idol filled with light sick. He can't forgive her for what she's done to him. The stalking, the creepy letters...he just can't forget about those...!

He then had the urge to run away quickly, but T managed to tackle him to the ground, pull him by his hair, and then—

———

That rock was stained with blood and only blood.

Hikaru's head was bleeding.

His shirt is stained with blood too.

He felt his vision getting blurry and his life slowly slipping away from him as he laid against the rock, looking up to the starry sky.

Such a beautiful view for such a tragic night.

The light slowly dimmed, and then disappeared into the darkness.

That's how the world, and The Testifier knew, that the world just lost their light.

———

At first, I was doing fine.

But suddenly, every part of my body hurt.

I couldn't breathe.

And then finally, my heart stopped beating, and I, too, stopped breathing.

I lost my light.

Now what?

#arthesias writing (youre posting this on the wrong blog thesia)#arthesias ocs #you are your very own light!: hikaru (oc)#i am not gonna tag t. irrelevant to the rest of the universe except for hikarus backstory #yea sorry for this guys #original character #original characters #oc #ocs #oc writing #oc one shot #writing #one shot #dawggg idk what to tag thissd 💀💀💀💀#rgverse: writing

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agonyaster · 2 years

Text

nothing i love more than backstories about how trainers meet their pokemon. so i write one for the train men and theirs because i am always rotating these men in my head

also on ao3!

…

“Why is it frowning?” Ingo asks, peeking over his brother’s shoulder at the sculpture he’s constructing with hands that have started to turn blue from the cold.

Emmet doesn’t answer at first, lost in deep concentration as he presses an icicle they took off of Ms. Dubric’s porch railing into the snow around its eyes. He does the same on the other side before looking up and cocking his head to the side.

“Your Vanillish is frowning. Why?” Ingo points to its downturned mouth, which is made out of a twig his brother snapped in half. “Don’t they usually smile?”

“Yes,” Emmet agrees, wiping his hands on his pants before tugging his mittens back on. “But it's you. Of course it’s frowning.” He hefts the sculpture into his hands and presses it against Ingo’s cheek. “See?”

“No.”

Emmet doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, twisting the Vanillish around and pressing it against his own cheek, trying his best to mimic Ingo’s frown. It doesn’t look quite right, lips quirking down and curling in at the corners of his mouth, but Ingo gets the idea.

“Oh! I see it now.” Content, Emmet sets the snowman back down as Ingo scratches at his chin. “I don’t think I would want to be a Vanillish though.”

“Why not?”

“It seems lonely.”

“I wouldn’t let you be a Vanillish alone.” Emmet points to the Vanillish Ingo made. “If mine is supposed to be you, then yours is me.”

“And when it gets hot we’ll stick together so when we refreeze we’ll be a Vanilluxe!” Ingo nods. “You’re very smart, brother.”

“What I do. What I say. Always the same.” Ingo laughs and reaches forward, squishing the two snow Vanillish together, which makes Emmet laugh too.

After their laughter dies down, they start to make another snowman, playfully bickering back and forth over which pokémon to make next. Emmet smashes Ingo’s Frillish and Ingo kicks Emmet’s Lilligant enough that they call a truce and start to build a Fraxure together.

“Boys! I need you back inside!”

The twins pull their attention away from the half-formed Fraxure limbs and look up towards the voice of their mother. She’s standing at the railing of the bridge running through the middle of town, hands stuffed into the pockets of her robe as she shivers and shouts down to them again.

“No thank you!” Ingo calls back before turning to the snow in front of him, trying to remember what the armor on Fraxure's back looks like.

“Ingo-”

“It isn’t just me! Emmet doesn’t want to go either!”

Beside him, Emmet nods vigorously, and up on the bridge their mother sighs heavily. She slumps against the railing in defeat before straightening and turning on her heel. “Alright, if that’s what you want. I guess the surprise can wait another year.”

The boys’ heads snap up and they’re on their feet in an instant, racing towards the bridge and chasing after their mother as she heads towards home.

They reach home and take a moment to stomp the snow off their boots and shake the ice crystals from their hair before being herded into the living room, where they’re pushed down to sit on the couch and blankets are draped over their shoulders.

Emmet tucks his knees into his chest and watches his mother with wide eyes. “What’s the surprise?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.”

“Well it’s our birthday and we want to know! Don’t we, Ingo?”

“We do!”

Their mother laughs as her sons stare up at her expectantly, fidgeting with excitement. “Well… double digits are a big deal, so it’s a present. From your Uncle Drayden.”

Ingo gasps. “Really?”

“Uncle Drayden gives the best gifts,” Emmet hums in approval, starting to fidget even more.

“Are you saying I give bad gifts?” their mother asks, barely able to contain the humor in her voice.

“No, just that Uncle Drayden’s are better,” her son corrects and she laughs again, flitting off into the kitchen, returning with two small square boxes in hand.

“These are from both your Uncle and I, so they’re doubly good. According to your logic.” With a smile, she hands one box to each son.

When they don’t move, she mimes an opening motion and they rip off the lids in unison. Emmet’s grin stretches even further and Ingo lets out a delighted gasp, both reaching into the boxes and gingerly pulling out a singular pokéball each.

The twins launch themselves off of the couch and towards their mother, wrapping their arms around her, mouths spewing out an incoherent stream of thanks and excited babbling. After a moment of surprise, she sinks down to her knees and hugs them back, ruffling Ingo’s hair and swiping at Emmet’s eyes with her thumb.

“So excited and you haven’t even opened them yet,” she teases as the boys pull away, their gratitude morphing into barely-contained excitement as they grip the pokeballs tightly to their chests. “Don’t you want to meet your new partners?”

With two in-unison nods their thumbs press down on the buttons in the center of the pokéballs, the sharp smell of well-polished metal and a strange clicking sound filling the air as the pokémon are released.

A pair of Klink float in front of the twins, four minigears spinning in perfect unison. Klink aren’t the easiest pokémon for a child to hug, but they manage to figure it out.

…

Nimbasa is verrry big, Emmet realizes.

He doesn’t remember it being so big when he was younger, which seems a little strange. It makes more sense when he starts to think about it, though; when they did come into the city it was only because there was no train that ran from Anville all the way to Opelucid, and they never wandered the streets or the surrounding routes. He and Ingo always kept firmly inside the walls of Gear Station, watching with delight as the trains speed by and the Depot Agents direct hordes of commuters and challengers of the Battle Subway alike.

Now that Emmet is firmly outside the walls of Gear Station, wandering the streets and surrounding routes, he realizes that it is a verrry big city indeed. There are skyscrapers so big it hurts his neck to even try to look all the way up at them and people every which where he turns.

He’s probably seen more people in the day he’s been in Nimbasa than his whole life living in Anville. They’re all so sure in themselves, complete strangers united by proximity or something deeper that Emmet just doesn’t know about yet. He itches to know what it is.

Grandfather used to talk about stuff like that all the time before he died. He and Uncle Drayden would debate over truth and ideals so late into the night sometimes they were still talking when Emmet and Ingo got up the next morning for breakfast. Grandfather seemed to really like that he and Ingo were twins, and Emmet vaguely remembers being told stories about two brothers who fought for what was right.

Looking out at the people passing him on the street, Emmet wonders if they ever think about how they tend to fall in line and move forward as one. He almost turns to ask Ingo, but Ingo isn’t on the bench with him; he’s inside the Pokémon Center getting more supplies because they decided to take the long way up to Opelucid.

Emmet turns his attention back to the street and watches a tired businessman hug a briefcase to his chest as he chatters away on his phone, a woman wipe at the mouth of her toddler with a wad of napkins, a girl in a yellow jacket run her fingers through the mane of her Blitzle as it mouths at her bag, trying to eat whatever’s inside through the fabric.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emmet sees something small and yellow pop out of a grate in the street and scurry across the pavement, weaving in and out of the feet of passersby before hopping up onto the Blitzle’s leg. It scurries up until it's tucked snugly into the crease of the Blitzle’s neck and shoulder and stops moving.

The smile on Emmet’s face grows as he thinks of the Joltik infestation Uncle Drayden’s neighbor had three years ago, of how the little fuzzy creatures attached themselves to anything even resembling electricity. He’d managed to wrangle one, luring it in with static after rubbing his feet on the rug for ten minutes, but his mom didn’t let him keep it. Now, though, he’s on his journey and no one can tell him no.

Grabbing a pokéball and standing, Emmet draws back his arm and lets it fly.

It hits the Joltik and captures it, with the Blitzle and the girl only looking a little startled as he darts forward and scoops up his prize before doubling back and making a beeline for the Pokémon Center. Ingo needs to meet his newest partner. Well, after Emmet meets them.

He pops Joltik’s pokéball open and she squeaks, staring up at him with wide blue eyes. She nuzzles into his palm, fur sending out weak pulses of static that make his hand tingle pleasantly.

Stroking the top of her head lovingly with his thumb, Emmet looks around and realizes Ingo isn’t there anymore so he turns and leaves, in search of his brother. It doesn’t take long to find him because Ingo is just outside, looking a little more than confused as the girl in the yellow jacket glares at him, her Blitzle scraping his hoof against the pavement angrily.

“You really think you can try and steal my Blitzle and get away with it?” she yells, cheeks burning red with anger. She sort of looks like a Trapinch.

“I don’t… believe I did?”

She doesn’t seem to hear him, and if she did she doesn’t seem to care. “Well you’re wrong! Battle me!”

“R-right here?”

“Yeah! Right here, right now!”

“Good luck, Ingo!” Emmet cheers, drawing the girl’s and his brother’s attention.

Ingo brightens but the girl pales, eyes going wide as they dart back and forth between the twins. Even her Blitzle seems surprised.

“I- there are two of you?!”

…

Ingo tugs down the brim of his hat in an attempt to keep the flying sand out of his eyes, but it doesn’t work very well, the wind just twisting to blast him with more. The sand is one of the many reasons he doesn’t like the Desert Resort, and he’s tempted to turn back and just continue their journey to Castelia, but he can’t. They’ve already been here so long; he won’t let the sunburn be for nothing.

“Wait up!” Elesa calls over the sounds of the storm. “My foot’s stuck!”

He turns to see her crouched down, crying out commands to her Blitzle as it does battle with a wild Darumaka while she claws at the sand enveloping her left foot. Emmet stands to the side, looking mildly amused as Elesa finally manages to pop her shoe out of the sand.

“Maybe it is a sign. We should stop here,” Emmet says and Elesa nods vigorously as she returns Blitzle to his pokéball.

Ingo gives his own nod of agreement and the two plop down onto the sand dune as he slides down into its valley, adjusting his hat once more before starting to skim his hands over the sand.

“And just to double check, we’re sure Dwebble live here? And not in the ruins?” Elesa asks as she tugs her shoe off and flips it upside down, squeaking out an apology as the sand in it dumps out onto the back of Ingo’s neck. It stings a little, but he ignores it.

“Yes. We asked a lot of people. We are sure.”

She pulls her shoe back on. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Why?”

“The Joltik thing, stupid,” Elesa points out, clearly unimpressed. “If you would have just asked like a normal person-”

“But you are an electric trainer! You would’ve taken her from me!” Emmet defends with a huff.

“You didn’t know that at the time.”

“You look like one.” At Elesa’s confused look, he makes a zig-zag motion near his ears. It only earns him a confused blink. “Your hair! It’s all… spiky.”

Ingo chuckles at the way her cheeks go pink and how she slaps at the brim of Emmet’s hat. “Oh, you of all people don’t get to talk about my hair! I’m still half convinced you’re balding under that hat.”

“We are not balding! Ingo, we are not bald, correct?”

“Not since I last checked.”

He keeps clawing at the sand as Emmet and Elesa continue to bicker back and forth. Ingo doesn’t hear it, too focused on the shifting sands in front of him, searching for that quick flash of orange or dark brown. The grains itch and scratch at his skin, burning the palms that have been rubbed raw from all the desperate digging he’s been doing over the past two days.

Frustration starts to build in his gut and after a few more minutes Ingo admits defeat, sinking back onto his haunches and spitting out as much sand as possible. “I don’t think there’s anything here. Maybe we should move again.”

“I, uh, do you want us to help?” Elesa scratches at her cheek. “There’s still a lot of ground to cover.”

“You don’t have to.”

She and Emmet don’t take it as the ‘no’ it's supposed to be, sliding down the dune and coming to a stop in the valley before fanning out and starting to dig as well.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but what’s up with the Klinks?” Elesa asks as she tugs off her sneakers and starts to use them as shovels, kicking up grit behind her as she drags them through the sand. “Like, they’re your starters, right? Why did you both get Klink? Did you both want a Klink?”

“It’s a tradition,” Ingo explains. “Twins are always given Klink.”

“Oh, alright. You catch them yourself?”

Emmet shakes his head. “Nope! Our uncle did.”

“The one we’re going to Opelucid for?”

“Yep! Did you catch your Blitzle?”

He thinks Elesa says something, but Ingo’s attention has zeroed in on the patch of swirling sand in front of him; two orange pincers breaking the surface before the rest of the Dwebble’s body wriggles out of the sand.

Heart hammering in his chest, Ingo reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pokéball and a stone; the Dwebble spots him and squeaks, starting to bury itself back into the sand. Before it can fully submerge itself again, Ingo sets down the stone and waits. The Dwebble stops, eyes fixated on the pebble. It scuttles forward and taps at the rock cautiously before dragging it closer and looking up at Ingo.

With a shaking hand, Ingo lowers the pokéball to Dwebble. After a moment of contemplation, Dwebble makes a noise in the back of his throat and taps the pokéball, disappearing into it.

On either side of him, Emmet and Elesa cheer.

…

Watching a Joltik eat its way through a Casteliacone is by far the funniest thing Elesa’s seen since she started her journey— maybe even the funniest thing she’s seen in her life. Not that she’ll ever admit that to the twins.

The damn thing is twice the size of Joltik, so big that she’s comfortably standing on top of the soft serve as she nibbles away at it. There’s a profound sense of determination in her eyes that spikes up into annoyance whenever Emmet picks her up and tries his best to scrub the melted ice cream out of her fur, and he gets a few good zaps for his attempts.

“She’s going to get sick if you let her eat that whole thing,” says Elesa as she watches Joltik chew at the wafer cone, crumbs falling onto the street below where Pidove start to squabble for them.

“Joltik will be fine! She is a sturdy young lady,” Emmet reassures with a smile before diving back down and biting at his own ice cream.

Elesa rolls her eyes and looks down at the single Casteliacone in her hands, then over to the two in Emmet’s; one eaten down to the cone, the other covered in staticky fur and small footprints. “Isn’t Ingo going to get upset that you let Joltik step all over and eat his?”

“No.” Emmet bites into the cone of his own ice cream. “It was never for him. Ingo is lactose intolerant.”

“Then why are you having one?”

“I am not lactose intolerant. Ingo is.”

“But you’re twins.”

“I do not pretend to understand how it works.” He shrugs. “I simply enjoy cheese.”

Elesa stifles a laugh and licks at her ice cream, staring out into the harbor. It hurts her eyes a little, with the way the water reflects the sun, but it’s beautiful. Off in the distance, she swears she can see a school of Basculin breaking above the waves, leaping out in pairs before vanishing back down below the surface.

“We’re heading out on the ferry tomorrow, right?”

“That is the plan.”

Elesa hums. “Why don’t we just head back up to Nimbasa? There are trains that run to Opelucid. It’ll be a lot faster.”

“We will not learn anything from this journey if we use the train to get everywhere.” For the first time, Elesa sees Emmet frown. It looks… a little funny on him, if she’s being honest. “That is what my mother says. Besides, we have already been to Nimbasa.”

“Eh, not really. You didn’t go see a musical or ride the ferris wheel, or even challenge the gym leader. We’ve still got a lot to do there.”

“Then you will just have to take us on a tour when we make the trip back.”

“I’m not doing anything for free.”

“Then it will be my reward after I win against you.” Emmet pops the last of his cone into his mouth. “But that can wait. We should head back; I don’t want to leave Ingo alone any longer.”

“He’s not gonna die because you aren’t separated. You’re not a Klink.” Despite her sass, Elesa sends one last look to the harbor and they begin their walk back to the hotel where they’re staying. The Liligant behind the front desk greets them with a cheerful spin and they take a moment to applaud, Elesa tossing her an oran berry before they head for the stairs.

They enter the room and for a moment Elesa thinks they might have ended up in the wrong one, because there’s no way Ingo managed to stink up the place this bad in the twenty minutes they’d been gone. Her hand flies to cover her nose and next to her Emmet almost drops Joltik, who lets out a squeak of alarm and flees up her trainer’s jacket sleeve.

Ingo is perched, cross-legged, on one of the beds, spraying a potion on something sitting in his lap. The pokémon notices them first, giving a strange little bark and shrinking further into Ingo’s lap; the smell spiking and sending another wave of nausea through Elesa.

“Oh! Welcome back!” he greets as the potion empties. “Did you enjoy your ice cream?”

“Is that… a Trubbish?”

“Yes!” Ingo claps and looks down to the Trubbish in his lap. “Say hello, would you?”

Trubbish stares at them with wary eyes but barks in greeting and gives a half-hearted wave anyways, preening at the “Bravo!” and thankful pat Ingo gives it in return. Elesa holds her breath and waves back at it, elbowing Emmet sharply in the ribs until he does the same.

Clearing her throat, Elesa side-eyes the Trubbish, trying to think of a way to put this nicely. “Are you… keeping it?”

Ingo blinks, confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Trubbish are just kinda… dirty, aren’t they? You sure it's the best fit?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Trubbish love to eat garbage! They make the world cleaner everywhere they go!” Ingo offers the empty potion bottle to Trubbish, who scarfs it down in a single bite. “It’s quite admirable.”

“They smell verrrry bad,” adds Emmet. As if on cue, the stench in the room flares up and Elesa suppresses another gag.

“Well, that’s just because she’s scared and injured!” Ingo defends, hugging Trubbish to his chest. “With proper time and care, she will-”

“Ingo. Be reasonable.”

Ingo stares up at them and ducks his head, starting to shrink in on himself. “I… If it bothers you so much, I’ll let her go. I’ll go to the pokémon center right now a-and find someone to trade her with. I’ll go now so she’s gone by the morning and we can still make the ferry and-”

He stands abruptly, Trubbish falling to the floor with a startled grunt as he picks up his bag and dumps it out on the bed. Tossing aside books and pouches filled with berries as he frantically searches for Trubbish’s pokéball; Klink and Dwebble appear with confused cries as their pokéballs tumble off of the bed and pop open.

Emmet springs into action almost immediately, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and gently leading him to the floor where they both sit.

“Hey, hey, Ingo. Breathe with me.”

They take a few deep breaths in sync and Ingo melts, posture slumping as he wrings his hands in his lap. Emmet catches her eye for long enough to beckon Elesa over and she sits down on the other side of Ingo awkwardly.

“I am sorry,” Emmet says quietly.

“It’s not your fault nobody likes her. Or that I am…”

Emmet shrugs. “It’s our fault we didn’t give her a chance.”

Elesa nods and beckons Trubbish over with a wave of the hand and a quick whistle. She tottles over, hopping up into Ingo’s lap but staring at the two seated beside him.

Cautiously, she reaches out and grabs one of Trubbish’s arms; Emmet grabs the other and they shake. It’s a little slimy, but Elesa can get used to it. For Ingo.

…

“Have you ever been to Opelucid before, Elesa?” Ingo asks, looking out at the rolling waves through squinted eyes.

Next to him at the rail, she shakes her head. “Nope. Never really left Nimbasa.”

“Not like she needs to. It’s a verrry big city,” Emmet pipes up, voice unsteady.

“Shut up and rest, Emmy.”

“Emmy?” he squawks, standing up with an angry huff. But the blood drains from his face and he’s clamping a hand over his mouth as the boat rolls beneath his feet, so Emmet’s back down just as fast as he got up..

“Emmy?” Ingo echoes, giving Elesa a questioning look.

She nods and hums. “Emmy and Iggy. My loyal sidekicks.” Ingo snorts out a laugh and turns his attention back out to the water. “How can you two be so into trains and get motion sick?”

“It’s seasickness! It’s different!”

“Elesa’s right, Emmet. You should rest”

Emmet grumbles out something that sounds suspiciously like “Betrayed by my own brother” but rolls over on the bench and stays silent.

“So, what’s there to do in Opelucid anyway? Isn't it kinda old?”

“It’s traditional, I suppose. Old architecture and such. Our uncle took us to the museum once but…” He thinks back to an old urn, toppling to the floor and just barely getting caught before smashing to the ground. “It didn’t go very well, so usually when Emmet and I would visit we would spend most of our time helping him care for his pokémon.”

Elesa snorts. “You seriously got banned from a public museum?”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“You totally did, didn’t you?” When Ingo doesn’t say anything, her smile only grows. “Oh my dragons, that's hilarious.”

“You’re cruel, Elesa.”

Her smile grows softer. “You two, you mention your uncle a lot, in passing and stuff. What’s he like?”

“He is… rough around the edges, a little old fashioned, at times. Loud, too, but that just runs in the family.” Ingo pauses, searching for the right words. “He cares, though, and that is what matters.”

“Sounds like a real stand up guy.”

“I like to think so.”

They fall into silence for the rest of the ride; when the ferry finally pulls into port they leave the railing, heading over to where Emmet’s collapsed on the bench. Ingo hoists his brother up by the armpits and slings one of his arms around his shoulder, Elesa doing the same with the other. They manage to hobble their way off of the boat and make their way into the city when Emmet’s finally sturdy enough to stand on his own.

They wander aimlessly through the familiar streets, soaking in the musty smell of the old city and the reassuring feel of cobble beneath their feet.

“So, you two going to go see your uncle now?” Emmet nods vigorously, turns green, and stops. “I’ll meet back up with you later then, I guess. Don’t want to go for the gym here until I’ve gotten a few more badges.”

“What are you talking about? You should come with us!”

“What?”

“He’d love to meet you!” Emmet says and Ingo finds himself nodding along in agreement.

Elesa pauses. “If you’re sure.”

The twins don’t even bother to answer, each grabbing one of Elesa’s hands and leading her down familiar streets towards Drayden’s house. When they arrive, Ingo fishes the spare key out from the miniature Drampa statue’s mouth while Emmet knocks on the door so ferociously Ingo thinks he might break it down.

As soon as the door is unlocked, Emmet storms into the house and pulls Elesa along with him.

“Uncle Drayden! We’re here!” he calls out as Ingo slips inside as well.

Elesa freezes. “Wait, did you say Drayden?”

Ingo nods and grabs Elesa by the shoulders, pulling her away from his brother as he starts to feel the floor shake. “For our own safety, it’s best for us to take a step back.”

Before Elesa can get another word in edgewise, Druddigon finishes his journey down the hallway and slams straight into Emmet. He somehow manages to stay upright and somehow manages to hug the dragon back without scratching himself on its scales.

“Druddigon, down,” a low voice instructs and the pokémon peels himself away from Emmet, returning to his trainer’s side. “You’d think he’d learn how to behave around you.”

Emmet shrugs. “Just proves I’m the favorite.”

Drayden huffs out a laugh and reaches over to his nephews one at a time, popping off their hats and ruffling their hair with a firm hand; then he turns his attention to Elesa. Ingo sees her posture straighten as Drayden looks down at her.

He feels a little bad, watching her all coiled up like a spring. It’s not easy, the first time being on the receiving end of Uncle Drayden’s stare.

“You must be Elesa.”

“That’s right. You must be the Uncle I’ve heard so much about.” She sticks out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Drayden takes it and they shake hands firmly. “Likewise. Nice to know the boys made a friend.”

“Before you say anything, please know that we were some of the only children in town and the few that did live there were significantly older than us!” Ingo points out, but Elesa just rolls her eyes and laughs.

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Have you ever seen a Haxorus, Elesa? I think you should come see one.” Ingo grabs her by the hand and drags her down the hallway. “Uncle Drayden, we're going to see Haxorus.”

They pass old family photos hung on the walls as Ingo makes a beeline for a room near the back of the house, the one that was always his favorite. Emmet trots after them, mildly amused, and Drayden follows after him.

Ingo enters cautiously and leads Elesa to the back corner where Haxorus is curled up into a tight ball, her tail tucked up under her chin. Her green scales have even more chinks and scuffs on them than the last time he saw her, but she seems happy. She raises her head in greeting as they kneel down in front of her bed and Ingo rubs under her chin.

“Why don’t you touch her? She doesn’t bite.” Emmet plops down next to them, a smug expression on his face. “Not hard, anyway.”

Elesa tucks her hands under her thighs.

“Don’t mind him. That boy’s been spouting nonsense since he learned to talk,” Drayden rumbles. “She might’ve fought hard back in the day but all these years have made her soft; she won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“I’ve just never seen one before. Don’t get a lot of Haxorus wandering around in Nimbasa,” Elesa murmurs. She pulls her hand out from under her leg and tentatively reaches forward, pressing her palm to Haxorus’ snout. The old dragon rumbles and presses against Elesa’s hand affectionately as Emmet strokes down Haxorus’ back.

Her breathing is slow. A little too slow, for Ingo’s liking.

Elesa draws her hand back and twists around to look at the door. “I, uh, where’s the bathroom?”

“Second door on the left.”

She nods and heads for the door, closing it softly as Emmet takes her place in front of Haxorus, scratching at a chink in one of her scales.

“It’s the right time of year, hasn’t she just laid her clutch?”

“Yes. It’ll probably be her last one.”

Ingo feels his stomach drop. “What?”

“Haxorus… she’s getting up there in years.” Drayden lowers himself to the floor. “She spends most of her time in here nowadays. Sleeping with the eggs. Doesn’t eat much, either.”

“Oh.”

“How much longer does she have left?” Emmet whispers.

“It’s hard to tell, but if I had to say, maybe a few months at most.” Drayden gently runs his thumb across her tusk. “She’s lived a good life, boys.”

As Ingo looks into her eyes, he can’t help but agree. She’s got old eyes, ones that have seen countless generations of hatchlings and human children aike to maturity. They gaze back at him with a gentle, tired love.

“I’m glad you two stopped by when you did. I know she is too.”

Drayden draws his hand back as Haxorus shifts, uncurling her tail and revealing the eggs that had been wrapped up in it. She sniffs around at them for a moment before gently starting to nose one away from the rest, picking it up in her jaw once it’s far enough away.

She twists back around to face the boys and sets the egg in front of them, nudging it closer.

After a moment's hesitation, Ingo reaches out and picks the egg up. It’s slightly warm to the touch. Emmet runs a hand over it, looking a little perplexed at the leathery texture.

“I’ll be damned.” Drayden’s voice snaps the twins to attention.

Emmet yanks his hand back. “What? Did we do something?”

“No, no, you’re doing just fine.” He chuckles. “She hasn’t even let me touch the new eggs yet, that’s all.”

“Oh! Well then, you should-”

“No. That egg is for you two. No one else.”

Haxorus snorts in agreement.

…

The trainers on Route 8 are not very open minded to double battles, Emmet learns, and he could not be more upset by this fact. His brother and Elesa are having the time of their lives while not one ace trainer has it in them to try something new, so he’s stuck battling at a Goomy’s pace.

Even then he’s still faster than them, so Emmet’s off to wander Route 8 alone while they wrap up their battles. It’s the worst route they’ve been to by far, all puddles and wet socks and Stunfisk who think it's hilarious to shock him while he’s stomping his way through said puddles.

Oh, when they get to Icirrus he is going to sit in their hotel room and do nothing for an entire day, training be damned.

He’s sitting in the grass trying to get his vision back to normal since that last Stunfisk attack when he sees a flash of dull gray through the trees. It’s a little strange, considering that only Palpitoad, Stunfisk and Shelmet live on this route.

Deciding to forgo proper safety measures in the name of adventure, Emmet stands and makes a beeline for the trees. Ducking under a low-hanging branch, he blinks the last of the black spots out of his eyes and searches for that metallic glint.

Instead, there’s a sound of feet squelching in the soggy grass and something’s slamming into his knees with enough force to send him spiraling into the dirt.

Water soaks into the back of his jacket as Emmet stares up into the maw of the Durant perched on his chest; it hisses and spits and clicks its mandibles and stomps its feet right on his ribcage in warning. Saliva leaks out of its mouth and drips onto Emmet’s cheek as she screeches at him again, the sound making his ears throb.

He manages to wriggle his way out from under the bug, wiping the spit from his face and rising to his feet, sidestepping Durant as it charges at him again. Emmet can’t help but find it a little strange, though. Durant don’t live in Route 8 and they especially don’t live in forests.

This dance goes on for a while until Durant grows tired and heads off into the trees. Emmet, of course, goes after her, following the six stomping legs until they stop to dig at a lump in the grass. She unearths a great ball, cradling it in her mandibles, and suddenly things start to make a lot more sense.

It takes more berries than he’s willing to admit but eventually Emmet has calmed Durant down and lured her out of the trees, getting back to the route proper where his brother and Elesa are shouting out for him. They’re a little more than confused when they find him but he doesn’t have the time to worry about that, tossing another sitrus berry to Durant as he races through the puddles towards Icirrus City.

He doesn’t end up spending the day resting when they get to the city. Instead, they’re on their feet all day asking every trainer they find if they’re missing a Durant. Then they’re asking any citizen they can if they’ve heard about anyone missing a Durant. They even send word to Uncle Drayden to keep an eye out.

Emmet isn’t surprised when they don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s not disappointed.

Durant’s so determined to find her trainer that she finds a way to get the window in their hotel room open and spends the whole night wandering around the city looking for them. When she’s not eating, she’s holding onto her pokéball and when she is eating she defends it with her life; one of Elesa’s Emolga got a little too close and was hit with an Iron Head so strong that it faints in one hit.

Watching her makes Emmet sick to his stomach. She’s strong, a little rough around the edges but sostrong and someone just threw her away. It makes the disappointment in him boil up into white-hot anger.

Before he knows it, they’ve all beaten the gym leader and don’t really have any reason to stay in Icirrus. He knows they should just go, but he can’t bring himself to. Emmet can see the worried looks Ingo and Elesa share when he pulls on his jacket and goes back out to scout.

Emmet leaves Durant at the Pokémon Center and runs for the city limits where his brother and Elesa are waiting. He doesn’t expect her to follow him.

She tackles him to the ground, just like she did the first time they met, only it hurts a lot more this time. Durant stamps on his chest a few times before she hops off and growls until he sits up.

Emmet watches as Durant squeezes her mandibles together, shards of pokéball flying everywhere as her great ball shatters.

He scrambles to his feet and sends out Galvantula, a smile stretching across his face as he reaches for an empty pokéball and prepares for a fight.

…

Climbing the Celestial Tower is exhausting, not just because there’s so many steps. That’s part of it, but it feels like there’s something heavy making a home lounging across Ingo’s shoulders, settling in further with every step.

They meander on their way up, stopping to battle a few trainers and doubling back to chat with the polite nurse a few times. Ingo even catches a Litwick. Elesa walks up with them most of the way but stays at the base of the stairs on the fourth floor, waving them up with a flick of the wrist before turning to go battle the ace trainer waiting beyond a row of graves.

The wind whips at his cheeks and Ingo feels a little lightheaded as he reaches out for his brother. Emmet grabs his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before they approach the bell together. It’s cool and smooth beneath his palm, the sound echoes in his ears, repeating over and over like the wheels of a train running over a track.

Going back down is somehow a lot harder. Elesa meets them halfway and leads them out of the tower, not even bothering to try and get them to shuffle across the narrow walkways hanging above the tall grass.

Ingo doesn’t sleep very well that night. He lays awake in bed, running his thumb over the edge of the scale Uncle Drayden gave him the night before they left. Litwick is perched on Emmet’s pillow, cooing softly as its flame burns bright.

He sleeps all the way through the next day, only getting out of bed when Emmet drags him out so they can all have dinner together. Emmet does the same the next day and Ingo lets him rest, going out to wander with Elesa through the streets.

They spend their third proper day in Mistralton out training on Route 7, sun beating down on them, tanning the backs of their necks as they wade through grass that tickles at their chins.

“Why didn’t you stop him, Elesa?” Ingo huffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

She scratches behind Emoga’s ear. “Because he’s not my problem.”

“There is no ‘I’ in team,” he points out, which only makes her roll her eyes.

“You two forget that I’m not responsible for that monster.”

“He is not a monster!”

Almost to spite him, Axew starts trying to swallow a Pidove whole.

After a few good zaps from Galvantula, the Pidove flies free and Axew goes back to hacking at the tree he’s already downed. Ingo feels a twinge of guilt as the little dragon starts to chase after a Deerling that poked its head out of the grass to get a better look at the commotion.

Emmet yawns and plunks down onto the tree, resting his chin in his hand. “I am verrry tired.”

“That’s a first.” From her place atop Emmet’s hat, Litwick’s flame flares up in anger for him. “You know, I think she likes Emmet better than you, Ingo.”

“That’s not true!”

Elesa raises a suspicious eyebrow. “You sure?”

Absolutely not. “Yes.”

Emmet yawns again and slaps his hands on his knees. “I am going back to the hotel. Goodbye.”

He scoops Litwick off of his head and hands him over to Ingo, calling Galvantula back into its pokéball and heading back across the wooden walkways. Elesa follows shortly after, but Ingo opts to stay behind.

Ingo wanders through the grass and across the suspended wooden pathways, guided by the light of the moon. He battles a few wild pokémon and a few trainers, even debates heading back up the Celestial Tower.

“Geez, are you ever going to take a break?”

Ingo flinches and his hand is flying to Klang’s pokéball as he frantically searches for the location of the voice. “Pardon?”

There’s a rustling off to his left and a Ducklett pops out of the grass, followed by a short girl with bright hair and goggles perched on her head.

“You were out here until dark yesterday too,” she says, bending over and picking up the Ducklett, who squawks in alarm.

“Oh! No, that wasn’t me. It was my brother.”

“Ah, alright.” She tucks Ducklett under her arm and focuses on the flickering flame on Ingo’s shoulder. “You catch that Litwick at the tower?”

“Yes.”

“Thought so. Best to be careful with it.”

“Why?”

“Litwick… steal. Not like Purrloin do, but they’ll sap you of your life to make theirs better.” The girl hums. “Don’t work yourself too hard, mkay? Only makes it easier for Litwick to drain you.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve seen too many trainers waste away because of them.” She puffs out her chest. “Be sensible and get a Ducklett instead.”

“I’ll pass, but thank you.”

“Your loss.” She shrugs, disappearing back into the grass without another word.

Ingo’s back at the hotel before he really knows what’s happening, letting Litwick out of her pokéball and watching her inch across the room towards Emmet. His posture sags further when she crawls her way up his leg and suddenly things are starting to make a lot more sense.

He’s stomping across the room and scooping Litwick up in one hand, using the other to open and close the door as he slides down it.

“No. My answer is no.” Litwick stares up at him, its waxy body slightly warm in his grip. “You need to stop.”

Wax runs as she tilts to the side, questioning.

“You will stop taking from him. From Emmet.” Ingo narrows his eyes. “You will not hurt my brother.”

…

The boys’ Klangs have been running circles around Elesa for the past half hour now and it couldn’t be more annoying. Her hair is full of static, so when they get too close her scalp is shocked with little zaps. It’s not the worst she’s ever had, of course, but it’s really goddamn distracting.

“Why are they so freaked out, again?” she asks, slamming her shoulder into one of the floating rocks.

“They’re not freaked out!” protests Ingo, coming up from behind and helping her push. “They’re excited to be back home, is all.”

“I thought you guys owned them since they only knew Thunder Shock.”

“Well, yes, but this was their first home! Some of these little guys might be their brothers and sisters,” Emmet, standing to the side and being very unhelpful, says, gesturing to a Klink floating idly nearby.

“Klink don’t have gender.”

“You know what I mean.”

The rock finally moves and they’re free to continue through the cave, Emmet practically crawling around on his hands and knees as checks every nook and cranny twice over. Elesa’s getting a little tired of breathing in crackling electricity, and that’s saying something.

“Don’t you think we should head for the lower floors? We’ve been up here forever.” She crosses her arms and kicks a pebble. “This is worse than the Dwebble thing.”

“No. We have to check everywhere.”

“There might be more in the lower levels…”

“See! Ingo agrees with me!” Elesa rolls her eyes. “From what I heard in Mistralton there are more of these magnetic rock things down there and Tynamo are probably attracted to them. We should at least check.”

Emmet crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

Ingo whistles for their Klang and they start to make their way through the cave, looping around a few times at Emmet’s insistence before Elesa grabs both of them by the elbow and yanks them into the descending passageway.

“There’s another level, c'mon. We go all the way down and work our way up and if we don’t find anything we’ll do it all again.”

“We can’t even do a check of this floor?” he protests, swatting her hand away.

“No. We’re finding the next stairway down and we’re going.”

Emmet grumbles but doesn’t say anything else as Ingo leads the charge through the cave, scattering Joltik as his feet pound on the stone. Elesa’s the caboose, dragging Emmet by the ear when she needs to so he doesn’t fall too far behind.

“I need you to do me a favor,” he whispers, falling in line beside her, rubbing at his ear.

“Aren’t I doing you a favor by being here?” she snips, but stays anyway.

“Distract Ingo for me.”

“Why? Isn’t that like, the exact opposite of what we need right now?”

“Trust me, Elesa!”

“I don’t.”

“I just, I need time by myself to find a dust cloud— you can go find it and I can distract Ingo, if you want!”

“Tynamo never make dust clouds, Em. Only Drilbur do.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Sometimes I doubt there’s anything in your head.”

He sighs and looks around before leaning in closer. “I want a Drilbur so I can give it to Ingo. He loves Clay’s Excadrill and even if he doesn’t end up using it, it can help carve out shells for Dwebble and make slabs once she’s a Crustle.” He huffs out a breath. “I just… I want to thank him.”

Elesa pauses at that. Starts to chew on her bottom lip, something that would’ve made her dad glare disapprovingly. “Since when did you get so mushy?” She groans. “Fine. I’ll go. No promises on how long I can keep him busy, though, so hurry up.”

Emmet beams at her and immediately doubles back, but Elesa doesn’t mind, jogging up to meet Ingo and grabbing him by the hand, dragging him down the stairs into the second level.

“Before you say anything, Emmet’s being stubborn, so we’re leaving him up there while we find a Tynamo first.” She points to the line of slow-moving Joltik on the wall. “I say we follow those guys. They leech electricity off of bigger pokémon just like Tynamo do.”

“An excellent idea!” They start to tail after the little fuzz balls. “You really know your stuff, don’t know?”

“I try to.”

The sound of their footsteps echoes off of the narrowing walls as the Joltik leads them into a small cavern, one where electricity pulses in the air even more intensely. Joltik hops up onto a strand of the webbing spun all throughout and follows it to the Galvantula in the center.

There’s a whole cluster of Tynamo darting around it, crying joyfully and soaking up the electricity it sends out in pulses though its webs.

“Bingo.”

Catching one is a lot harder than she thought— Tynamo are slippery and having so many Joltik in the room isn’t helping. Ingo’s new Litwick proves to be helpful with that, at least. They do manage to get one, though, and Elesa is forced to follow Ingo as he makes a mad dash for the upper levels.

“Emmet! We found one!” Ingo exclaims, holding the pokéball high above his head.

“Perfect! I have something for you too!” Emmet calls back and the two manage to find each other through some sort of twin echolocation. They throw their pokéballs are one another and release their newest catches, oohing and aahing as Tynamo darts around Emmet’s head and Drilbur clacks its claws together in greeting

Elesa places her left hand on the nearest wall and starts walking. “You can trade properly or whatever later, right now I need to get out of this cave.”

“Yes ma’am!”

…

Emmet does not know how many more caves he can handle. He isn’t even sure if he and his so-called brother are related anymore because Ingo seems to be enjoying all of this; the smell of wet soil, the lack of sunlight, the thin layer of grimy dust that engrains itself into his clothes. It’s absolutely horrible.

And that’s not even the worst part! His pokémon have betrayed him too! Durant’s spent their entire time in Driftveil trailing after Clay, refusing to listen to him even after he gets the Quake Badge.

He slumps against the wall and groans, the sound reverberating throughout the cave. Crustle scuttles over and clicks his claws in front of Emmet’s nose, concerned.

Clay raises a brow and casts an unsure look towards Emmet. “Yer sure he’s alright?”

“Yes. Emmet is just being dramatic,” Ingo reassures, not even bothering to look up from the pile of rubble he’s inspecting.

“I resent that statement.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

Emmet grumbles under his breath but rises to feet as Clay beckons them forward, Lampent lighting the way with Clay’s Excadrill beside her standing guard and Ingo’s Drilbur tottling along after the both of them. They walk for a few minutes until something catches Clay’s eye, he and Ingo talking amongst themselves while Emmet is left to ponder the cave. It’s still as horrible as he found it before.

In frustration, he kicks the nearest rock formation, which only results in a bruised ego and a throbbing foot. Durant, who’s been marching through the tunnels like she owns the place, decides that this non-command is the one she’s going to listen to; stomping over and smashing it to pieces with a headbutt.

She rifles through the rubble, picking up any chunks that are offensively too big and crushing them between her mandibles.

“Leave the poor rocks alone,” he instructs, watching as a Roggenrola hightails it away from its lost home.

When Durant doesn’t listen, Emmet’s left with no choice but to scoop her up and try his best to keep a hold on her as she wiggles in protest. She does, twisting around in his arms as Emmet tries to pry her jaws off of the rock she’s holding.

Emmet manages to and goes to toss it back to the ground but stops, running his thumb over a peculiar ridge on the underside. He flips it over to reveal something like an arrowhead just barely raised within the rock.

“Find somethin?” Clay’s at his shoulder, peering down and letting out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What did he do this time?” Ingo asks as Clay takes the rock and inspects it more closely.

“Looks like we’re gonna need to get outta this cave and find Miss Elesa,” he turns it over in his hands, “because that is a genuine plume fossil if I’ve ever seen one, and I know you’re gonna wanna get it revived as soon as possible.”

Emmet drops Durant in his scramble to snatch the fossil out of Clay’s hands and spends so long staring at it that Clay has to steer him out of the cave via a hand on the back of the neck.

Finding Elesa is easy, considering how much she sticks out in a salt-of-the-earth town like Driftveil. It’s even easier to convince her to pack up and leave as soon as possible, so easy that it's not even convincing, really.

They say goodbye to Clay, Zebstrika taking them across the drawbridge and through the streets of Nimbasa until they reach Gear Station. There’s no line straight to Nacrene, so they have to settle for Striation and book it across Route 3. If Ingo falls off the back of Zebstrika and has to chase their dust trail through the streets towards the museum, that’s nobody’s business.

Finally, they reach the museum, and Emmet just about busts down the doors.

“Hello! I am Emmet!” he says, slamming his hands down on the desk.

The attendant looks a little taken aback, but recovers and smiles politely. “I’m Lenora. What can I help you with?”

“Can you revive fossils?”

“Depends on the kind.”

He places his bag down on the desk and whips out the fossil, handing it over after a moment of hesitation. “What about this one?”

Lenora hums, her lips twisting up into a smile. “We sure can. Have a seat, it takes a little bit.”

She disappears through a door behind the desk and Emmet joins Elesa on one of the plush benches, his foot already tapping impatiently. Ingo comes in a few minutes later, red in the face and already yelling about leaving him behind. He doesn’t pay attention, eyes trained on the door Lenora disappeared behind.

Emmet springs out of his seat as soon as it opens, practically ambushing Lenora as she steps out and nearly making her drop the pokéball she’s holding. He reaches for it but she swats his hand away, a stern look on her face.

“Before you take Archen, you need these first.” She presses a stack of pamphlets into his left hand. “He’s been dead for over 100 million years; you need to teach him how to properly live in the modern world.”

“I can do that.”

“If you have any problems, call the museum. We’re happy to help.”

“I can do that too.”

“Perfect!” Lenora smiles and extends her hand. “Then he’s all yours, kid. Take good care of him.”

Emmet snatches the pokéball out of her hand and releases the pokémon without a second thought. Archen stares up at him confused eyes, the tiny claws at the ends of its wings digging into the flesh of his palms as he cradles it.

“I am Emmet,” he says, because he’s not really sure what else to say to it.

Archen screeches at him and waggles his wing in an approximation of a wave, so he thinks it was probably the right thing to do.

#no ideas if the evos line up with their backwards journey but shhh #the reason their axew egg hatched that early was because they spent so much time walking around icirrus looking for durants trainer #:)#submas #ingo #emmet #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #elesa #pokemon elesa #writing

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bittersweetdere · 2 years

Text

History between us.

YN male reader

homosexual content

Sorry for my English. English is not my mother tongue. And I don't speak fluently.

The character is not mine and all credits go to its creators.

Only the fanfic itself is mine.

Please do not reply to this fanfic without my permission.

It was just another normal day in y/n's life. He wakes up early, eats and then goes for his morning walk. Nothing shipped right?

Y/n was more of a teenager who had just entered his adult life, or he was already an adult. Y/n was 19 years old and in his freshman year of college (preferably his) had a fair amount of friends. Nei said as many Nei as few.

Well I think I better stop stalling and start.

Keep the fanfic.

Tow tow! Her watch would chime and y/n would start to open her sleepy eyes. Then he turned off his watch and got up, went to the bathroom and did his morning needs, as soon as he finished he went back to the bedroom and made his bed, when he finished he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, took a piece of pizza from the day before put it in the microwave and sat on the counter waiting for the microwave to ring indicating that the pizza is hot.

After a few seconds of waiting that stopped for years the microwave rang and y/n got up and grabbed his pizza. Eating, and eventually his gaze caught the clock and noticed that it was already 12:00. −oh I'm late for college! The teacher will kill me! - Says y/n quickly going to the couch, picking up his backpack and hurrying off to college.

Luckily your teacher got sick and didn't go. For some reason they didn't warn this in the living room group. But you were more relaxed that you wouldn't have to worry about your teacher's scolding.

You were kind of not sure what to do, your friends were busy and you didn't have anyone to talk to, so you ended up going to a new cafe that opened close to downtown. Even though I was new, I didn't have many customers and people talking about it. Probably because of its theme of being like a library and a place of nostalgia. This really attracted him and since he probably wouldn't have a line he decided to go see the establishment.

He didn't come home and went straight to the cafe. As y/n very suspicious there was no queue and Nei made loud noises, it was very strange since it was on the edges of the center, so it was really shocking, not bad but different.

As soon as he entered, he noticed an attendant at the cashier. His hair was thick and curly black and seemed to reflect a reddish color, he was tall and looked like a corpse with his pale yellowish white skin. His eyes with dark circles and eyes big and dark like a black hole. That really drew him was familiar but he didn't know where from. It brought him comfort and warmth.

Hello good life! What do you want? - He looked at you asking in a really nostalgic voice. − Wow, they really worked hard with the coffee. - That thought was running through his head. Nei noticed but was silent appreciating and remembering his voice, until he asked again. − Hello? Are you okay? Seems distracted. Want a place to sit? We have chairs at the counter.

− Sorry... Sorry... I was distracted in my thoughts. Well, I'll take the chair at the counter. − y/n says with a happy laugh. He showed you more tables before he could leave y/n stopped him and asked. − what is your name? – you spoke with curiosity. − Onh... Well... My name is John doe. - And you beautiful sunflower? − That question and just the touch of his voice made y/n blush like a red pepper. - My name is y/n! My name is beautiful and suits you! - you talk with a smile from ear to ear like a child who has just received a new toy, just finding out its name. − Thank you! Yours suits you too.

Y/n and doe kept talking until their superior sent doe to work. That was sad for you but at least they exchanged numbers.

#john doe game #john doe #fanfic #x male reader #romantic #yaoi bl

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ducknotinarow · 5 months

Note

2k12 Mikey Don - #

send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including:

"Aw come on again? I dunno know, feel like Donnie would find me giving my phone over for this to be a pretty obviously bad way to get my information taken or something like that? Since he's always going on about internet safety and such. Then again he was sort of a jerk to me the other day?" The turtle purses his beak and takes a moment to think it over "Alright you can look!"

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

⚗️"Dee🥼 "

"Yeah nothing to special there I guess but just one of his nicknames we all use here and there. Don, Donnie, Dee. Ya know nothing to out there really I did add some sciencey looking emojis though! I thought about the goggles too since Donnie wears goggles hmm maybe I should swap it for the goggles now instead?" Mikey offers with a tilt of his head :I bet if Don could he would ear the full get up? Maybe I can find him an old lab coat?" Mikey attention shifts away with the the thought.

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

[image description] it's clearly taken from the pit in the lair, Donnie's on the couch with a tub of popcorn for once out to join the rest of them for some TV time. They look decently happy wearing a pair of socks on their feet because they were complain about being cold. His attention is off to the side because he was in the middle of explaining that to Raphael. You can also slightly just see the corner of Leo's elbow on Don's other side. It was a photo he took of his three eldest brothers all getting ready to sit down and relax for a night in. Just the four them for once at that. Sure Raph was being Raph, grumpy and such. Leo was ready to step in and get all bossy as he does. Well Mikey was trying to run the reigns for the night. But Donnie? looked content and happy. Even with the rough patch it was just a normal moment for the four of them. Donnie didn't seem annoyed by Raph he was smiling that soft little look. Mikey just liked it so he snap the shot and crop each of their faces for their own contacts.

"Ya know? for the longest time all my photos for Donnie tend to have him in his lab. Sometimes yelling for me to get out. Sometimes it's him in the middle of something he's working on. Cause I guess despite knowing Don all my life? I kind of only saw him as the guy with all the answers. The one who can fix everything. And yeah I still do think that way of him but then? he got real sick and mean and stupid. But we all do that stuff mean Raph 'quites' the team least once a month all the time but he always come back after a few days. I guess I kind of forget Donnie's well not just those things? And I dunno I think its a nice photo to use for him to remember that. Even when hes kind of a jerk with the whole online friends stuff I know he's just worried about me. Like how he smiling here seeming happy to be surrounded by us?" Mikey smiles and shrugs his shoulders "You think 15 years of only living and knowing each other we be better at this stuff but I guess we sorta got used to nothing changing we forget those little things? Like sometimes we need 'breaks' and just be allowed to exist and I think Don is the worst about it so it's nice when he lets himself just be with us."

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

Gold by SHADED What’s it gonna take to fill the void again? Am I doing this all wrong? And will I ever be enough to see the rough and clear it up Until you’re not just giving up? Oh, you lighten up my soul

"Donnie might seem like a jerk and full of himself cause hes smart and junk. But I mean he is really smart course he. But think Donnie prides himself too much into it, yeah he got an ego but that ain't what I mean. Donnie relies on being the smart one ya know? He feel he has to fix everything but he always fixes everything so it makes sense he does think that way? Honestly I think the reason Splinter don't harp too much when he slips is cause well no one can be harder on Don then Don already is on himself. And I dunno think it just makes him thing bad things about himself."

- my muse’s last text to your muse

[text] Who closes the bus door after the bus driver gets off the bus?

[text] is it the s or the c that is silent in scent?

[text] Why do they call them fingers? I've never seen them fing.

[text] How far west can you go before you start heading east

[text] Can you hold your breath till you pass out? I can :D

-----

[text] you get to pick for movie night this week!

[text] plz don't make us watch something smart though, my brain don't wanna think tonight Dee

-----

[text] DEE!!!

[text] Don!!!

[text] Donnie!

[text] DEDE!!!

[text] Donatello!!!

[text] I'm sorry please let me back in to the lab!!!

----

[text] I'm making pizza run got bonus coupon deals we can have anything toppings we want!

-----

[text] Imma steal Von! I think she like to take my very important zine quizzes with Angel.

#muse| hamato michelangelo #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ the brains of this operation -aflockoffeathers]#ic rpely #phone contact meme #meme answers #stay queued #((in general I kind of do just feel it s a nice song for 12 donnie XD and It might be weird choice but its cause mikey isn't taking it #romantically XD he just thinks it fits Donnie uwu))#((Mikey ofc perfers face to face interaction BUT i feel he would be the type to text Donnie any random question he has and then ask him if #he got his text messages later when he seems him out of the lab pfft))

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mochikeiji · 3 years

Text

Sleepy

Request: "Hihi! Prompt no. 49 for inumaki toge pretty please? 🥰"

49. "Mine." "I know but can you let me go?"

↠ Pairing: Inumaki Toge x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff, mention of Yuta!

↬ Word Count: 1k

↠ a/n: this is actually my first time writing about Inumaki and I gotta say, he fits the fluff content uwu

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

"Tuna."

The used to be tamed, white ball of fluff— now wild upon waking up from his dream land. Inumaki wasn't really a morning person to begin with during his weekend breaks. Usually Panda would be the one to pull him out of bed alongside with Maki (and if Yuta were present, he'd be laughing from the back ground instead of helping the poor guy), luckily all second years were given some days to enjoy themselves and for once, they had agreed to postpone training since it was their routine even at breaks.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the lad was practically jumping in glee yesterday as he tugs onto your shirt. Wiggling his brows in excitement to have you sleep with him longer without further interruptions from the two and his teacher. Much like every one except Maki, they've gone back to their respective homes during these times rather than being cramped up in the dorms. Too many prying eyes to witness all of your private moments anyways. Pretty much explains how you and Inumaki slept back in your apartment which was still surprisingly clean as you left it.

Being the nonchalant looking guy and being the quiet one, Inumaki was not far from resembling to a feline animal. His head kept on nuzzling against your chest deeper in plead and comfort when you stopped scratching his scalp. Whenever you'd do that you catch a faint sigh and the arms wrapped around you squeezing. The little languages you've learned that meant gratitude and a silent whisper of love.

If only you could just see the annoyed mark on his forehead as he listens to you and your long time friend and comrade, Yuta. It was a real shocker to have him call you so sudden. Thinking it may be serious, you didn't hesitate to answer only to have Yuta just asking how things were in a cheery tone. That had led to a longer conversation though. Long enough for Inumaki to groan and whine gradually louder in hopes you'd just return back to sleep with him.

Oh you're mistaken. Yuta knows exactly what he's doing to push his buttons off. The used to be timid male now bold enough to ruin his friend's routine. Credits to Panda for initiating the idea and Maki, not wanting to deal with any of this, walks away from the conversation.

"Was that Inumaki? Hey man!"

"Okaka.."

Scoffing, his hands slid underneath your shirt, placing them on your sides. You glared at him softly as a warning before continuing your talk with Yuta. "Yeah, he just woke up. Not a morning person remember?"

"I'll say. Wait, am I interrupting something?"

His head shot up, nodding profusely while lightly shaking your body. It tickled your sides to be honest, you thought he was just playing around when in fact he desperately wants you off the phone this instant.

"Ah, no! He's just tickling me." coughing out a giggle. "Stop that." you whispered, covering your phone to avoid Yuta from hearing. Inumaki then pouts in defeat. Gently thumping his head on your chest trying to find the comfort he's lost on his spot. Squirming in discomfort, Inumaki whines once more. It was literally only 7 am, he still needes much more sleep after having a late movie marathon with you last night. He can get cranky if he needed to just to get what he wants. It worked on Maki a lot though it does earn him a smack on the head.

"Well, I can hear the guy's getting worked up."

"You sly little boy. You knew exactly what you were starting, didn't you?" whispering against the phone with your hand cupped over your mouth. Making sure your boyfriend wasn't listening, Yuta simply laughs and bids his goodbye to continue on his tasks.

And finally— finally you put your phone away. Ready to receive the much needed affection, but soon confusion was written all over his face when you attempted to get up. "Tuna?" peeping his eyes from below you. Asking why you were getting up. "It's morning, silly. We have to get up eventually you know." you say after giving him an eskimo kiss.

His brows visibly furrow as he tangles his legs with yours. He may not seem like it, but his arms are quite built enough to be able to hold you down. Inumaki was strong, and you know better than to underestimate or try the guy.

"Babe, aren't you hungry?"

"Okaka!"

He claims as he huddles himself close to you like a ball. He was at the verge of sleeping, why can't you read that? "Oh, poor thing. Alright, you sleep in while I go cook us up something for later, k?" still he doesn't budge from his position nor his hold wavering even as you pry him away. You bit back an adoring smile to see him like this. Maybe you should have Yuta annoy him again. You knew about his irritation whenever your friends would come around during your time alone. It was fun riling Inumaki up if it gets him clinging onto you.

"Okaka!"

"I know, i know, but can you let me go? I promise I'll be quick."

"No"

The room went silent. You didn't realize you were holding your breath and had already been squeezed tighter in his arms. That was the first time Inumaki spoke something out of his vocabulary. Much to your relief, nothing seemed to happened. Inumaki was still in the same status as he was now, even snickering a bit from your reaction before pushing his head up away from your chest to meet with your lips.

There were shivers that ran down your spine when his hand came up to rub you from behind. Coming to a stop on the back of your head to pull you in deeper. Though the kiss was short, his actions seemed to dawn on you more than he expected, seeing as you were speechless still.

"Mine."

He whispers lowly, you worry about the fact that he's said two things out of his language. It was a miracle nothing happened. And he wasn't coughing blood or something, no. He remains the same as ever, feeling ever so at bliss before closing his eyes at the feeling of your fingertips running through his hair soothingly. "I have got to tell Yuta about this." giggling madly at how flustered and light your heart was, you were only met with light snores before slowly closing your eyes in the arms of your sleeping lover.

Oh well, breakfast can wait.

#inumaki x reader #inumaki imagines #inumaki scenarios #inumaki x y/n #inumaki x you #inumaki to/ge x reader #inumaki to/ge imagines #inumaki to/ge fluff #inumaki fluff #jjk inumaki #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #raines: gogatsu event

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lazysimp · 3 years

Text

Dark Clouds (+18) /// Shoto x Male Reader

Click HERE to read the Fem version

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only Minors DNI

Summary: You love Shoto more than anything but what if you were the only thing standing in between him and his dreams? Smut+Angst

A prequel to Cloud Nine.

Word count: 3k+

Warnings/tags: Angst, Blackmail, Morning Sex, Breakup, Soft Dom Shoto, Praise, Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (receiving), He/Him pronouns, All characters are adults.

masterlist┃AO3

“Oh fuck Shoto! Please just a little more,” You beg, your back arching off the bed as you push his head down. Your fiancé had made it a habit to wake you up with his mouth on your cock, licking up your cum like it was his last meal.

After living together for a month you thought he would finally start to calm down but his need for you had only grown. He had barely left the apartment, deciding to take a vacation to spoil you instead of working on climbing the ranks. You tried to convince him to focus more on his career, but he would drop to his knees every time you brought it up.

“I love this pretty cock,” He groaned, swiping his tongue over your tender glands as more precum leaked from your slit. His lips closed around your tip, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers teased your tight hole.

You yelp and clench your thighs, caging in his head but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, your soft thighs against his ears sent him into a frenzy. He thrust his long fingers into you, curling them up to press against your sweet spot.

Your body bolts up, curling around his head but he continued on, never giving you an ounce of mercy. With your head directly above his, the lewd sounds of his mouth filled your ear, sending you further down the rabbit hole.

He released your cock from his mouth and moved to your hole to gather more of your addicting taste with his tongue. “My baby has such a good hole. So tight and hot, and it’s all mine.”

You let out a whine at his praise, you wanted to always belong to him. To never leave his side as he rose to meet his dreams.

He added a third lubed finger into your ass, stretching you open in preparation for his cock. You hiss at the slight burn but it fades quickly as his expert fingers began to fall in temperature, soothing the ache. He had always been so considerate during sex, always making sure you were well stretched before he ever tried to enter you.

The first time the two of you had sex was not the greatest but it was a moment in your life you would never forget. For hours he explored your body, experimenting and exploring you to understand exactly what you liked. By the end of the night, you were both absolutely exhausted, barely able to move.

His tongue returned to your cock, teasing the side of it with the tongue as his fingers continue to pump into your ass. Your breathing grows frantic and your body becomes tight as the pleasure swelled inside you. You could feel your thighs tremble around his head and your hands shake.

He smiled as your sweet hole trembled around his fingers, his baby was close. Remembering to not speed up he kept his movements consistent, listening for your little mewls to direct his touch.

As your breathing grew more labored and body tense he took you all the way into his mouth, sucking to pull every last ounce of pleasure from you. It was the final straw, he watched in awe as you fell apart. Your ass milking his fingers while your cock pulsed in his mouth with each spurt of cum.

Normally he would keep his mouth on your cock, cleaning up your orgasm with his tongue but he had to be at work in twenty minutes. Grudgingly he moved his mouth from your sex and rose to his knees. He gently slid his hands under you and flipped you over, exposing your mouthwatering ass to his view.

Holding his breath to stop from cumming, he lifted your hips up and pushed your back down. It looked as though you were presenting yourself to him. While he loved watching your face as you cum, this view definitely had its perks.

Lining his tip with your entrance he watched himself sink into you. Your cute moans filling his ears, serenading him as he bottomed out. Wanting a better view, he grabbed your ass with his large hands and spread it open, exposing your tight rosebud. He ignored your squeal of protest and started to thrust, watching you take his cock so perfectly.

Each thrust into your tight heat drove him further into insanity. He would never grow tired of this, tired of you. He still wasn’t sure how he managed to get you to agree to marry him, it still felt unreal, like someone was going to rip the floor out from under him. Something as good as you never happened to someone like him, something always messed it up.

“Shoto,” You whine, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Fuck, I need more.”

Determined to have you cum around his cock he reached around and wrapped his hand around the base of your cock. He let out a sly grin watching your body jerk as he thrust his hand, knowing the extra stimulation would send you right over the edge.

“Please, Shoto, please,” You begged, the tight coil inside your chest reeling tighter with each lazy pump of his hand. You lose the ability to speak, only moans leaving your lips.

“That’s it, that is my good boy. So perfect for me. I want you to cum on my cock while I watch,” He says hoarsely behind you. That was all it took, the spring inside you snapped sending you spiraling into oblivion.

Your toes curl in uncontrollably as you scream into the pillow, the brutal waves of pleasure crashing into you. You couldn’t even breathe as your rode out each pulsing wave. His hand did not stop milking your cock, instead teasing you through the high. Making you ride the wave as long as possible before his thrusts started to fall out of rhythm.

You lay face down into the bed, exhausted as he finally falls apart. You could feel his cock pulse inside you as his cum fills you. Once he finally finished he rolled off the top and laid next to you, pulling you into his arms.

You both lay there for a few minutes, not needing words as you recover from the morning quickie. Shoto pushed himself up on his elbows and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He then stood out of bed and started to get ready. You lie in bed and watch as he dons his uniform and smooths out his sex hair.

“I should be home for dinner today, I am only scheduled to patrol until five.”

You nod, “Do you want to go out? Mina said the new soba place was really good.”

Shoto flashed you a warm smile, “I would love that, I’ll see you tonight.”

You push up on your elbows to meet his lips for one last kiss before he leaves. No matter how many times you kissed him, he always managed to take your breath away. You bring your hand up to his cheek as he slowly pulled away and looked into his eyes.

“Please be safe.”

He tilts his head into your hand, giving you some of its weight. “Don’t worry, I promise I will always come back to you.”

You drop your hand and lay back down, watching as he leaves the confines of the bedroom, and listened for the front door to close. Slipping on one of your lazy shirts, you make your way to the kitchen. You grab a few ingredients and cook a quick breakfast, eating it while you watch the news. Thankfully there was nothing big going on in the city, only a few petty criminals.

Shoto was more capable of taking care of himself but it was hard not to worry. You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to go out with Shoto, but he made all the stress and worry worth it.

You sit at the small counter and eat your breakfast. You avoid scheduling anything on your days off just in case they let Shoto off early so you had nothing planned. You put your dishes in the sink and start to collect some laundry, you could at least clean up some before you rested.

A loud buzz filled the apartment signaling someone was wanting to come up. You drop off the laundry and click on the speaker. Shoto had chosen this apartment because of the added security measures in place. No one could come up to the floor without a key or explicit permission.

“Hello?” You say into the small mic, unsure who would be asking to come up. Shoto hadn’t mention anyone planning on coming over.

“Can I come up?” The deep powerful voice of Endeavor said to the mic.

For a brief moment, your heart stopped. You tried to frantically think of what to say but no words came to mind. You had only ever met him once and you had Shoto by your side. You know he does not approve of your relationship with Shoto, after all, Shoto is going to be one of the world’s strongest heroes and you were well you.

“Just a minute,” You say to buy time as you debate whether or not to call Shoto. On one hand, having him by your side would keep Endeavor in line but on the other, you should be able to handle being around your fiance’s father. After all once you get married he will be family.

You suck in a stabilizing breath and call down to the front desk to give Endeavor permission to come up. While you waited for him to arrive you run to the bedroom and quickly put on a more presentable outfit. You still wanted to call Shoto, to have his supporting hand at the small of your back as you talk to the flame hero.

Three stern knocks signaled that Endeavor had arrived. You turn the knob and ignore the dread filling your stomach, you could do this. Endeavor knew better than to hurt you, he probably just wanted to talk about your engagement.

You stood frozen in the doorway and stare at the flame hero. He did not have any of his usual fire blazing, letting you see his natural hair better. Without his flames or hero uniform, he was a lot less intimidating.

You plaster on your best smile, “Please, come in.”

He steps into your shared apartment and takes off his shoes. You smile, this was definitely a good start. You both silently make your way to the dining room and sit. You were unsure what you need to do so you sit silently and wait.

Endeavor cleared his throat, “This is a very nice place the two of you share. Shoto chose well.”

You give a cautious smile, “I do really love this apartment. I have never lived somewhere with a view as nice as this one and it is easy for both of us to get to work from here.”

Endeavor nodded, “I won’t waste any more of your time, pretending to be here for a visit. I am sure you have seen the news lately. Shoto has fallen over two spots in rank compared to last year. After evaluating his skills and performance in the field, my agency has determined that his fall in rank is due to the amount of time he is taking off.”

You stiffen in your seat, scared of where this is going to go.

“I allowed this relationship to continue as it was not worth getting Shoto upset with my interference, but this is going too far. You are ruining his chances at becoming the number one hero.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Excuse me!”

Endeavor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small booklet. He opens it to reveal a single check. He pushes it over to you, the box for the amount was blank.

“You fill out how much you want to leave this relationship.”

“You can’t be serious, what kind of person do you think I am?”

Endeavor’s face held no emotion, “How much?”

Your face twists in anger, “Fuck you! I’m not leaving Shoto, not for any amount of money. You can take this check and shove it-”

“If you do not leave I will be forced to take action.”

A rush of fear runs through you, “What do you mean?”

Endeavor sighed, “I let Shoto leave my agency with the understanding that he would still work to climb his way to the top. He is no longer doing this. If he continues like this I will have to call up the agency he is working at and have him removed from their staff.”

“Removed, you mean fired. You will have him fired because he is going to marry me?” Your throat began to grow tight as the world started to close in around you.

“I am going to have him removed because he can’t do his job properly and be with you.”

You begin to shake, “And how is that going to help him become the number one hero?”

“Simple, he will have to come work for me again. Under my influence, he will take over the number one spot in no time.”

“You know he hates working for you. He loves the agency he is working at, you would rip that way from him?”

Endeavor’s flames started to sprout, “I have seen too many heroes with potential never amount to anything because of relationships like yours. I will be damned if the same happens to Shoto.”

“So I will talk to Shoto about not taking as much time off.” You try to reason.

Endeavor shakes his head, “It is far too late for that. It is not just me who is taking notice to his slacking. If he continues to behave the way he is, I won’t even need to make the call to have him removed. If you want him to not have to work for me you will leave him or all of this will be your fault.”

Endeavor stands to his full height, “After today if I see you anywhere with him he will come to work for me whether he wants to or not.”

He leaves you to sit alone in the apartment. You sit still in your chair, unsure what to think. How could a morning that started so perfect end up like this? You somehow managed not to cry, too focused on figuring out what to do.

You know Shoto loved you, he made sure to tell you almost every day, but could he love you if it meant he had to do something he hated? He loved working at the agency with Inasa and others. The time he spent working under his dad was some of the most miserable of his life.

The entire reason the two of you even met was that he went out with his friends to celebrate finally leaving his father’s agency. How could you ask him to stay with you if it meant returning to misery?

With no one to turn to you flip on the tv, needed background noise as you try to find a solution. You could not ask Mina or Kirishima for help, they would spill to Shoto the minute you told them. If he even caught a hint at what was going on he would go berserk.

You had only ever seen him mad once when a fan tried to throw something at you. His entire demeanor changed from quiet and calm into a simmering rage. He would have easily laid out the fan but you somehow managed to calm him enough to convince him to go home. He had spent hours fucking you to get out his rage. By the time he was back to normal your entire body was covered in hickeys and bruises.

You shake your head to clear your mind of, this was not time to think about sex. You look around the apartment you share with Shoto and feel tears begin to well in your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Being with him these past few months had been the happiest of your life. You had never loved someone like you loved him.

Could you live with yourself if you had to watch the beautiful light in his eyes fade if he worked for Endeavor? In the dark of night, Shoto would confide in you about his childhood. How his father only saw him as a tool to overcome All Might. If you stayed with him he would have to be around that mindset every day.

Shoto deserved happiness, even if it was not with you. He was young and handsome, he could easily find someone else. You know it will be hard on him but you could not live with yourself if you had to watch him grow to be miserable.

You lift your chin up, you had to break up with Shoto, it was the only option.

You turn to the bedroom and grab a duffel bag you used moving in. You had to move your stuff out before he got home. You know if he had time he would be able to convince you to stay.

You haphazardly pack away your clothes, not bothering to fold the piles as you shove them into the bag. You would only be able to pack a bag without a car to move.

The small click of a lock stopped you dead in your tracts. No, he wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour. The bag drops out of your fingers and you run to the living room. He was standing in the kitchen with the fridge open. He did always get hungry after patrol.

He turned his head at the sound of your footsteps and smiled. Your heart finally broke in half, you were never going to have this again. Deep sobs tore up your throat and before you could stop them fat tears began to fall.

Shoto’s face filled with panic and he rushed over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice filled with panic.

This only makes you cry harder, you didn’t want to do this. The weight of your loss grew stronger as his hold tightened.

“W-we have to break up,” You incoherently sob into his chest.

“Baby, I don’t understand what you are saying, can you look at me?” He gently bruised his hand up your forehead pushing your head back so he could look into your eyes.

Your lower lip trembles but you somehow manage to speak, “I am calling off the engagement, I can’t do this anymore.”

You watch as his face drops, his eyes wide with confusion, “Baby, what are you talking about? What is wrong, did something happen when I was gone?”

You shake your head, “I can’t do this anymore.” Lie. “Being with you is exhausting.” Lie. “I thought you were the one but I was wrong.” Lies, lies, lies. You hate every word that comes from your lips but this had to hurt. You had to make him hate you, it was the only way.

He drops the arms that once held you close to him, ��I don’t, I don’t understand? We were fine this morning, what happened?” His blue eyes were glossy with unfallen tears.

You wrapped your arms tight around your waist for mock comfort. “I-I have been thinking about this since you proposed, I can’t handle dating a hero it is too much stress. I am m-miserable.”

Watching Shoto struggle to speak as he processed what you said hurt more than just ripping your own heart out.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why did you let this go on for so long if you felt that way?”

You shake your head, “I thought I would get used to it, but it has only gotten worse.”

“But this morning and every day before that you never said anything. You seemed happy.” He turned his back to you and walked towards the kitchen.

“Why now? What changed?”

You needed to end this before he asked any more questions, you let thick walls close around your heart and go for the kill, “Because I don’t love you anymore.”

His entire face crumbles as if you had stabbed him. Unable to look at him any longer you grab your duffel from the bedroom. You take one last look at the bedroom, the bed still a mess after this morning.

The weight of your loss was so suffocating you couldn’t even breathe as you walk past Shoto. He stood still in the living room unmoving in shock. He blinked strongly a few times like he was trying to wake up from a terrible nightmare.

You reach the front door “I am going to stay at Mina’s if you need anything. I’m so sorry Shoto.”

This was for the best, he could receiver from losing you. You were only in his life for a few months but his dream of being a hero had been lifelong. This breakup will only be a road bump in his journey to success. You knew he will reach the top, it just won’t be with you.

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captainmalewriter · 2 years

Text

My Brother

My older brother Antonio has always been the good looking brother out of us two brothers. I'm pretty average looking myself, and I honestly don't mind it. I got the brains, and my brother's got the looks. Not gonna lie though, Tony's a pretty handsome guy.

I definitely see what people mean. Honestly, Tony was one of the reasons I figured out I was gay. Growing up, I just couldn't stop admiring my brother. It wasn't until we were in high school that it finally hit me that I was into dudes. I never came out to my family though. They don't need to know, not until I bring someone home anyway. Until then, I'm happy living the single life. No commitment, no worries.

It was an early summer morning when Tony and I were sitting around on the family couch. We both had come back home to visit our parents for the past month. This was the first time we've ever come home together though, it's usually just me visiting Mom and Dad. Mom has asked Tony why he doesn't come home to visit more often. He said that between college, work, and social life, time just slips way from him. Mom insists he should come home more, but Tony says he wants to enjoy his last year of undergrad to the fullest. Mom didn't push the issue anymore.

I still wonder what exactly Tony does all the time. I'm only in my 2nd year of community college, so I don't know what university life is like, but I imagine you can't be busy 24/7 seven days a week. It just doesn't seem realistic to me.

"You alright bro bro?" Tony asked me, snapping me back to reality.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I was just spacing off." I looked around the living room. My gaze rested on the wall clock. "Hey it's almost 12, you gonna head out soon?"

"Yeah, just waitin' for Ma to come home. You know how she gets."

I nodded. He then raised his eyebrow.

"Hey didn't you say you were leavin' for some writer retreat or some shit?"

"The retreat? Yeah... I think I'll leave later though, I miss spending time with you. I almost never see you nowadays."

Tony snickered. "That's gay bro,"

I winced. Tony didn't notice though and kept chuckling for a bit.

"But yeah, sorry about that bro. I've just been busy with college shit, you know,"

"Yeah. I know." I stood up. "I think I'm gonna head out now though, I don't wanna be too late."

"Alright man, catch ya later." Tony didn't get up from the couch. Damn... that kinda hurt, not even a handshake or anything.

I walked to my old bedroom and picked up the suitcase I had sitting by the door. I went back to the living room and made my way to the door. I opened it to leave, but I stopped in the doorway and turned my head around.

"Catch ya later Tony," I said. Tony only responded with a wave. Disappointed, but not surprised.

I went on ahead out of the door, closing it behind me as I left. I then walked to our driveway, and threw away the empty suitcase I was carrying. It was fake. All of it. There is no writer's retreat, that was a lie.

I went around my house to my bedroom window. I left it unlocked so I could sneak back inside. My mom was out of the house, my dad was sleeping, and no doubt Tony would just ignore any noise I might make.

I crawled in through my window flawlessly. I then walked to Tony’s room down the hall from mine, making sure to make no noise as I did so. I walked into his room and saw his duffel bags packed and ready to go. I took a look around the hallway to make sure Tony wasn’t nearby. Once I made sure, I proceeded to open one of the duffel bags. The duffel I opened was stuffed with clothes, practically ready to burst open. Luckily, I didn’t really need to look for anything specific. I just took out the first pair of swim shorts I saw and threw it onto the pile of dirty clothes Tony kept in his closet. With that part done, I fixed the contents of Tony’s bag as much as I could remember. Though honestly, I half assed it. Tony was never the type of guy to fixate on smaller details. I doubt he’d notice some of his stuff slightly rearranged.

With everything set, I put the duffel bag on the floor with the flap right open. I stood directly above it, and focused.

Blue shorts with pink flamingos...

I kept that image in my head and transformed myself into the pair of shorts. I felt myself float in midair for a brief second before falling straight down into the duffel bag. My consciousness was already beginning to fade. A human conscious cannot survive in a clothing vessel for very long, unless it’s being actively worn of course.

With the last bit of my energy, I folded myself haphazardly the way Tony folds his clothes. I successfully replaced one of Tony’s shorts with myself. Now, I’ll get to see firsthand what Tony does. My vision faded away to black inside the duffel bag.

***

I regained consciousness when I felt a cold spray of water landing on me. I sensed I was being worn. That must’ve brought me back, though I’m not sure for how long I’ve been out cold.

“This water is so fucking cold!!”

I heard Tony’s voice. Yes! He put me on! Just as planned.

I could feel Tony’s dick push against the back of me as he moved around under the shower faucet. The water was numbingly cold, but I could feel the very little body heat Tony was exuding. That was enough to keep me warm.

I almost couldn’t believe I was actually being worn by Tony. This was as close to Tony as I’ve ever been, but I wanted to get even closer. I want to get as close as possible, no matter what.

I don’t know what happened, but my line of sight shifted upwards. I went from being at crotch level to normal height level. It felt strange.

I blinked, taking in what I had just felt, when it hit me that I could suddenly blink again. I felt hands touch along the sides of my face, then quickly realized that those hands were my hands! I felt around my face, and noticed I had a jawline that I’ve never had before. Then, it hit me.

“Holy shit! I’m Tony!”

I stood there for a while after I shouted, only moving to comb back Tony’s- er, my hair from all the water running through it. I was really Tony. I went from being myself, to being a pair of shorts, to actually being Tony after he put me on.

“I am Tony... I. Am. Tony...” I repeated it to myself over and over again until the shock faded. Then, reality began to sink in. A smirk spread across my face when it did.

“I am Tony.”

“Are you okay?” I heard coming from behind me. I turned around to face some shirtless guy with a look of concern on his face. He was pretty cute too.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” I answered him, but he didn’t seem too convinced.

“You’ve been swimming all day again, haven’t you? C’mon on, let’s get you out of the sun and back inside.”

He took me by the arm and began pulling me. He pushed me so that I was in front of him. I had no clue where I was supposed to go. I started walking slowly, hoping whoever he was would walk alongside me and lead the way. I was waiting for that to happen, but it never did. Instead, I felt two hands grab onto my shorts.

“But first, let’s get these ugly ass shorts off you,”

“Wait-!”

I couldn’t stop him in time. He ripped the shorts right off me, sending my consciousness out of Tony and back into the shorts. The shorts hit the floor, and my conscious faded to black again.

***

I felt woozy regaining consciousness again. It’s not a fun feeling, it feels like waking up on a Monday morning after a weekend of nonstop drinking. I’m just glad the nausea, although intense, fades within a minute or so.

“Nice! Now move your arm down and give me a smile!”

I heard a voice talking. It was not Tony. I don’t know who was wearing me, but it wasn’t Tony. Fuck.

I needed to get my bearings again. I forced my conscious into whoever was wearing me, taking control of their body. I was back to normal eye level, and the first thing I noticed was Tony posing for a poolside photoshoot.

Goddamnit big bro, there you go being the sexy brother again.

“Alright, I’ve got some nice shots so far. Take 5 and I’ll be back for some more.” The photographer said to Tony. Tony nodded to them, and they left the pool area. Tony’s focus then went straight to me. It honestly caught me off guard. He was smiling as he crept further into the pool, his finger beckoning me to come to him. I did so and followed him into the water. I got close to him, only for him to pull me in even closer.

“Thanks for being here for my first shoot Boo Bear,” Tony said, right before giving me a quick kiss on the lips. "I know you hate those shorts but it was the only spare I had. I'm just so glad you're here with me."

He then put his arms around me and pulled me into him for a hug. I hugged him back, as tight as I could. I felt his hands slither down my back and onto my ass, then giving each cheek a squeeze. I moaned into his ear, and I could hear him chuckle.

“I’m so grateful to have a supportive boyfriend like you,” he kissed me again. The second one was longer than the first, and this time I kissed him back. Tony was such a great kisser, and with strong arms like his, I wish I could've stayed in his embrace forever.

The sheer bliss of kissing Tony distracted me from the fact that Tony was kissing another guy, and his boyfriend no less! No wonder Tony would rather be at college than at home. I'd do the same.

"Yesss," I heard a camera shutter. "Lemme get some shots of the two boys in love!"

The photographer kept snapping away. Then, when I noticed a pause from the photographer, I quickly placed my hands on Tony's temples and pulled him in for a kiss. I caught him off guard, but he caught up right away, even slipping in a little tongue this time.

I could hear the camera snapping in front of us, but honestly I didn't care.

"I love you," Tony said as he nuzzled himself into my neck. I held him tight in my arms, and nuzzled my cheek against his cheek.

"I love you too, Tony."

#male possession #male body swap #possession #body possession #object tf

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messwriting · 3 years

Text

Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab: Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now.

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT. CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT. DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink. MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl.

Word count: ~4.4k

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it.

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?”

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table.

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it.

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

“It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap.

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too.

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous.

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder.

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention.

“I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins.

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs.

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple.

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips.

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in.

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination.

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides.

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority.

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

“Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again.

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing.

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits.

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

“All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table.

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming.

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication.

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead.

“Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker.

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.”

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body.

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well. He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!”

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes.

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth.

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute.

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?”

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?”

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls.

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance.

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.”

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…”

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white.

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks.

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.”

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe.

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.”

Because you love everything about that.

#shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu smut #haikyuu smut #shirabu kenjirou smut #shirabu kenjirou x reader #tw consensual noncon #tw medical kink #tw medical roleplay #tw doctor

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slothgiirl · 3 years

Text

the spy part 1(keith x reader)

8k. explicit content. while on medical leave reader meets the red paladin of voltron during the war against Zarkon.

The corridors are well lit. It’s like being in a brand new hospital, this ship in the rebel fleet.

People hustle around, landing, taking off in smaller ships to distant planets. Your hand goes to your arm. The medic had given you a movement’s leave, so you were resting for now on this ever moving ship.

Outside the widows, you spy an assortment of ships, each one’s origins clear from the design. So many planets, so many peoples banding together against Zarkon. You’d win the war.

It was what you kept telling yourself.

You would.

It was just a matter of time.

You round the corner, stretching your arm across your chest, a simple form of physical therapy in deep space. You hadn’t seen earth since being deployed. The galaxy garrison seemed like a dream from another life. You had been on track for the chemistry department, long term missions to mars to analyze soil and dust, not this, not a war. You take a breath.

And spot the Red Paladin.

He’s one of the most recognizable people in the universe, and his grungy hair and distinctive outfit does him no favors. You’d never seen him before, not in the flesh. Sure. Voltron had saved your ass a handful of times. You wouldn’t have survived the assault on Arrakis if Voltron hadn’t rammed the shield. Trapped. Piloting a fighter craft that was closer to a mosquito irritating the Galra then pushing them back.

But you hardly knew him.

He’s gripping the railing tightly, trying to camouflage into the wall as an alien with crystalline blue skin and hair like saturated indigo leans into him.

The line of his shoulders is taut, brittle.

You don’t even think.

“There you are,” you force yourself to be synthetically cheerful as you smile easily at the paladin, who you realize quickly you don’t know his name but you know what he is and that must be an awful feeling, being so recognizable without being known. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you lied, elbowing the blue alien out of the way. You could never tell much from a single glance at themis species despite their largely humanoid appearance.

You put your hand on his arm loosely, “come on, we’re late enough and you know how annoyed the others get.” Good, that seemed convincing enough.

The red paladin’s eyes go wide, his mouth a grimace and it’s then that you notice the feverish flush to his skin.

But he doesn’t pull away or argue.

You ignore the alien and decide small talk was the way to go until you put some distance, “I’m kind of hurt you didn’t come visit me while I was healing,” you stick close to the truth, “but since it only took an hour? a varga? for me to heal I won’t hold it against you.” He’s too warm.

Maybe the space flu?

Was that even a thing?

You weren't sure.

Mostly, you snuck into work camps and blew up strategic targets using whatever you could get your hands on to make a bomb. The chemistry came in handy.

He sways as he walks, looking like your roommate at the garrison after a few too many hits after an exam. “Do I know you?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just,” you look back, but the alien’s been left a couple turns back, “you looked uncomfortable.” You take a step back, letting go of him. “Are you okay?”

His expression furrows, mouth a pinched line as he goes from suspicious to annoyed, takes a u-turn back to suspicious as he studies you, before relaxing. “Yeah. yeah. . .who are you?”

You introduce yourself, taking on the meaningless garrison designation at the end, “technically second year member, though I’ve been with the runners mostly.” No designation more than a number.

“You do look human,” he replies simply, moving to get a look at your ears, “not many of those out here.”

“And yet somehow the sentries always look the other way,” you muse, “not very bright. I’m almost convinced the Empire’s in it’s failing bureaucracy days.”

He winces, before deadpanning, “eh, I don’t know how useful a lion is against the DMV.”

You laugh.

He takes slow deliberate breaths, steadying himself, “I’m Keith.”

“Seriously though, do you need to see a medic?” He looked in serious need of a tylenol. The ships were usually crisp, you wore a jacket most of the time to stave off the permanent chill.

Keith shakes his head, chewing his lip before meeting your gaze with an intense concentration in his violet eyes, as if he was gauging how much titrant he could add before hitting the endpoint and if half a drop was worth the risk. “I’m just. . .going through something.”

“Anyone I can call for you?” You weren't about to abandon him here. Sure, he was a paladin and could probably look after himself. But you couldn’t in good conscience walk away.

He swallows, looking down for a moment and you are startled to find how much you miss his attention boring into you with the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen.

“No,” Keith replies mulishly as he jerks away from you. “I’m fine.”

Which was a total lie. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling well but you weren’t about to get on his case. You were sure he had people for that. He wasn’t some random soldier in arms with you that you watched out for and hoped not to have to watch die.

You swallow the bitter thought away, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leaning back against the hall, you watch evenly as Keith stumbles, catching himself on the wall. His mouth is a drawn line of determination.

You didn’t understand why.

There was aid here. It wasn’t the same as crawling through cramped mining tunnels and swallowing back pain forcing yourself to work through it until the mission was accomplished.

“Do you need help,” you ask.

“No.” He leans a hand against the wall.

You raise a brow, wondering if he would pass out for whatever weird space flu he had clearly caught and you could only hope it was nothing like the infections that ran rampant in the work camps, or if he would give in and accept your offer of help. The former seemed more likely.

You don’t ditch him though, focusing your attention on the porthole to the stars.

There was no rush: no reason to help him by force. People didn’t learn if you babied them you’d caught on quick back on earth during your tutoring hours. You had to let them fall and smash their face in sometimes.

So you stay, watching the stars.

Keith makes no move to take another step.

It still got you, looking out into the vastness of space and realizing this really was your life now, you were out here, further than you’d ever dreamed. Everywhere you looked, novel stars, distant planets teaming with life. You could have done without the war, but it was what it was.

“And here I thought Mars would be the furthest I’d go,” you comment more to yourself than Keith.

The red paladin makes a small sound of acknowledgement.

“Earth’s, or was, at the beginning of our space age. People had barely begun to live on the research bases on Mars,” you watch him out of the corner of your eye in case he really does pass out, “so no Star Trek for me but now I’m here.”

“There’s a war going on.”

You turn over to look at him, sort of annoyed because yeah you got that, spent enough time in the trenches without a fancy lion spaceship, but the bubbling annoyance dissipates when you see the upturned corners of his mouth. Keith was teasing you.

Shifting your weight, you add, “yeah well, instead of being a footnote in a Mars base’s history I’ll be a footnote in this war instead.” Gallows humor. You needed a lot of that when regularly infiltrating camps and posing as a slave, as a prisoner, the bottom of the barrel that wouldn’t get a second glance from the Galra soldiers.

He frowns. “I don't think anyone’s just a footnote.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Keith looks away.

You feel bad. “It’s probably better not to be so cynical,” you muse, “but it’s like the vice president thing, no one remembers them unless the president gets assassinated.” God you couldn’t help how dark your humor could veer even when trying to be positive.

He looks over at you, head tilted, considering. Despite being standoffish, Keith was easy to read unlike the slick space pirates you’d encountered.

You meet his gaze head on.

“I might need some help,” he allows.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. “If you’re sure,” you utter, regarding him carefully and unable to keep the teasing from your voice. You shouldn’t. You barely knew him and what little you’d learned made it clear he wouldn’t take well to your teasing.

War made quick brothers out of everyone.

But Keith held himself afar.

A questioning glance danced in his uniquely violet eyes as he tried to get a read on you. “I am.”

You nod, stepping besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. You were always caught by surprise by how heavy a grown adult could be. And depending on the alien. . .

He takes a step, still holding himself afar from you, barely resting any weight on you. His muscles were stiff under your touch, back rigid that matched the uncomfortable look on his chiselled features.

You follow his lead.

At Keith’s sedate pace, it would take quite a while before you dropped him off where you needed to go. Being personable was part of being a leader or it’d lead to mutiny. Not that you had ever gotten that far. The Galaxy Garrison had slapped the graduation badge on your uniform and sent you into space.

You scrabble for familiar territory, earth and the garrison. The Black Paladin was a Garrison member returned from the grave. Rumor had it all the paladins were garrison deserters.

Veronica McCain did share a familiar resemblance with the blue paladin. It was probably true.

“I attended the Garrison campus at Guiana,” you offer. “I was hoping for Texas or Florida to be closer to home, but I didn’t test into pilot or engineer.”

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat.

Even through the fabric of his uniform, he felt warm. How anybody could be warm in such cold halls was anybody’s guess. A permanent chill had sunk its way into your bones. You missed the humid heat of Guiana.

“It was nice though. The jungle was pretty close and it was always hot,” you tell him. “I thought I wouldn’t miss the humidity, step outside and it was like having just showered but I do. These ships have to be at 15 C.”

“Texas is hot too.” Keith utters quietly.

“Isn’t the desert cold at night though,” you ask, already knowing the answer. It had been basic earth science.

“Yeah. It is.” There’s longing in his voice. You wish he’d say more just to hear him speak.

Warmth spreads, an embarrassing tell, through your cheeks.

“I did miss the snow while there,” you continue, “it didn’t snow much up in Vancouver but it was never as hot as Guiana, and the rain was warm!” You had never gotten over that. The rain would spot and start throughout the day but the sun would keep on shining.

“What were you,” Keith asks bluntly.

“Chemisist, more the physical and inorganic type,” you admit, “it was fun doing wet labs.” That had gotten you hooked back in regular school. “Then got shunted to command track after a few too many volunteering opportunities. Guess the lesson there’s to not try too hard.”

That gets a laugh out of him.

“You,” you ask him as he shifts more of his weight onto you, finally accepting the help he asked for. Stubborn guy.

“Pilot.”

You look over at him, his wild hair brushing against your cheek and the simple action shouldn’t excite you but it does. He was hot with sharp features offset by a certain enthralling earnestness but he could run a comb through his hair.

Keith didn’t seem the pilot type: arrogant, loud, generally strong personalities.

“You any good,” you ask though you’ve heard about Voltron so he has to be pretty fucking good to be part of them. How did Voltron choose its pilots?

He smirks easily, close to a smile at the mere mention of piloting and you knew that moment he loved it: didn’t matter if he was good at it or not. You swallow hard as anticipation buzzes under your skin for no good reason.

Get your head out of the gutter, you tell yourself.

“I’m a pretty good pilot,” Keith answers, somehow managing to sound like he’s stating a fact instead of bragging.

“Just pretty good?” You smile at him, letting him know you were only joking around as you both round another corner, finally making it to the transient quarters. People were always dropping in and out of mobile spaceports like these.

He snorts. “Better than most.” Keith shrugs, smiling over at you.

“Don’t be modest on my account,” you utter, looking away, not sure what to do about the growing heat in your body that had nothing to do with temperature controls.

“It’s true,” he says simply.

Honesty was a hard thing to come by. You were finding more and more reasons to like the red paladin as you reach his current room. No special treatment here.

Or maybe it was politics and optics, making sure everyone knew Voltron was of the people and not aiming to replace Zarkon as rulers of the universe.

Keith places a hand against the door, putting space between you both.

You swallow, glancing away, feeling some of the tension ease.

“You sure you don’t want me to send a medic,” you ask him, looking over at his striking eyes. The heat under your skin is a live wire: you curl your toes in your shoes. People usually didn’t affect you this much. Even the smell of him was so distinct, drawing you in.

It was an unprecedented reaction.

He must feel it too.

Keith studies you with an enraptured fascination shining in his wide eyes, mouth parted on the verge of answering. Both your bodies sway towards each other like branches in the wind: sunflowers orienting towards the sun.

You shift your weight from one foot to another.

It relieves enough tension for you to shift away.

“No. No medic,” Keith finally answers.

“Right then.” But you don’t make a move to leave.

He says nothing.

The silence is broken by the hum of the ship's engines under your feet. People move about and you can hear their footsteps echoing on the metal floors.

Supposedly quintessence powered ships smelled like ozone.

This one was powered by crystals and some Olkari engine. You wouldn't know the specifics, they were beyond you. And not your job.

You look back at him, ready to leave. The space between you could so easily tilt to awkward and you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you found yourself so entranced by Keith. You barely knew him. You didn’t want to be one of the soldiers with a photograph in your pocket and a farflung hope that you’d-

He’s looking at you, cautious, movements slow and deliberate as if he’s caught between thinking and simply doing.

Then Keith’s demeanour becomes determined: deciding to take the leap without looking down. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you.

For a second you’re baffled, trying to figure out how you got to point B when this wasn’t a bar and you had no agenda, before you shrug and kiss him back. Keith was undeniably attractive. He was even a bit taller than you which was compelling, you were on the tall side for a girl.

It’s not some unsolvable thought experiment, you kiss him back.

And a current of static electricity runs through your core. Heat pools after only just a kiss that steals your breath away.

You can’t get enough, his hands warm against your skin, igniting a delicious sensation in your very core. You want more. You kiss him harder, your mouth against his, sucking on his bottom lip.

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his shift.

Keith kisses you back, matching your frenzied energy, his mouth parting against yours and pulling you flush against his chest.

It does nothing to dissolve the tension, the charged energy between you spikes. Like a fire fed by wood it grew.

It was a heady feeling, his hands caressing your cheeks as Keith kissed you with a vigor you thought only existed in soapy dramas. Heat pools in your belly like a sinking stone: you liked his intensity.

Keith pulls away, catching his breath, resting his forehead against yours.

Some of the muddled list clears from your head, now completely in the gutter as you press Keith against the door to his room.

Oh. . .were you really doing this?

Keith looks a fuckable mess, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. Still, he hesitates.

You can feel the question linger in the air, can feel it in the featherlight touch of his hands ghosting over your cheeks as he makes to pull away, to let you go if you want to turn back now. But you don’t.

You want to run your hands through his hair. You’re practically burning up wondering how Keith would look splayed on the bed between your thighs. . .how he would feel.

Would he be just as intense in bed as he fucked you?

“You feel it too,” he asks quietly.

You furrow your brows, thrown. There were a lot of intense emotions coursing through you all narrowed down to feeling horny as a teenager back on earth. Masturbation only went so far.

You swallow, trying to rack your brain cells together and say something. Yeah. It was a bit. . .much. Space much. But that didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t taken any drinks from strangers.

The connection was too strong to discount the possibility of space weirdness affecting both of you.

“Yeah,” you reply, sounding more whiny than you’d like to. The apex of your thighs throbbed with want. Anticipation had built up and he was right there; Keith

s breath fanned over you, his forehead against yours like a touchpoint.

Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his shirt.

In the hall.

Where anyone could see.

“So what now,” you ask, “medic?”

Keith snorts, “No. I just-do you want to come inside?”

You smirk. Everyone knew what that meant. There were so many variations with the same outcome.

“Yeah. Okay.” You put a pin in any alien space nonsense and slip inside Keith’s assigned quarters for however long Voltron was here for.

The lights are off. You don’t bother to study the room when Keith crushes his mouth against yours. You stumble around in the dark, feeling emboldened now that he’d voiced an invitation, he wanted this as much as you did, and run your hands up his chest. He was lean and lithe. Keith leans into your touch, a shiver running down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair and run your tongue over his bottom lip.

Keith moans, the sound scratchy from the back of his throat excites you.

It was thrilling to know you could elicit such a response from someone. You liked feeling hot and sexy. And from a guy like Keith who you were vibing with. . .

He finds the jagged hem of your cut tank top, which had doubled as a bandage, and slides his hands under your shirt. His fingers are calloused, skin hot against yours and there was always something so carnal about skin on skin touch. Keith clutches at your sides and leads you backwards.

You trust that he knows the layout.

Your mind has boiled down to simple desires.

“Keith,” you mumble against his mouth as he guides your hips against his and you feel his cock beneath the fabric. It goes straight to your ego: straight to your pussy.

More heat. It’s unbearable how much your body throbs and you moan against him, against his lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling.

“Mhm,” he asks, just as overcome with lust as you were. Keith tilts his head up, and you kiss his jaw, kiss the side of his throat, nipping at the flesh and enjoying the breathy moans he makes as your knees hit the bed.

You want more.

You move your hands to his shoulders, “let's get this off,” you utter softly, pushing at his jacket.

“Okay,” he replies, crowding you against his bed until you have no choice but to sit down. Keith discards his jacket, and pulls his shirt over his head.

Your breath hitches in your throat. It’s dark. You can’t see him well. You still react like a charged electron.

“Now you,” Keith states simply, not exactly a command. It was nice, the lack of mind games and subterfuge.

You scoot up further on the bed, shrugging your bomber jacket off.

He’s watching.

Awkwardness creeps up on you. There was no sexy way to take off a sports bra.

You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Then you peel off your sports bra. The elastic worked too well.

Keith’s sitting up on his knees.

“You’re beautiful,” he states.

“Come here,” you utter, inviting him closer.

He complies readily, cupping your cheek and kissing your mouth eagerly, closer to a lover than a random encounter.

You grab his other hand, guiding him up to your chest, to your breast. Keith runs his thumb over your nipple, gooseflesh rises on your skin. He trails bruising kisses down your throat.

Your breath catches in your throat. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you, savoring the feel of his chest against yours.

“Fuck,” you groan as Keith bites down hard at the crook of your neck, harder than you’d expected.

He stills. “I’m-I,” making to pull away.

“No,” you reach for him, tilting his head up as you move to straddle his waist, “it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.”

“I won’t do it again,” he stammers out.

“I didn't say I didn't like it.” You push him down against the bed, topping him. “Just warn a girl.”

Keith wraps his hands around your hips, tugging at the waistband of your trousers. “These are kind of in the way.”

Laughing, you reply, “could say the same to you.” Your hands pop the button of his jeans.

It’s a fumble to pull your trousers down. Neither of you care, eager to get on with it. He shoves his jeans down his legs along with his boxers.

You straddle Keith, completely naked and lean down to capture his lips against yours. His cock twitches against your thigh and your toes curl up. His tongue runs over your top lip, you part your mouth, letting him in.

You cup his cheeks between your hands, your hips rolling against his.

He thrusts feverishly against you. His fingers dig into your bare hips, skin against skin.

“Come here,” Keith utters hoarsely, “I wanna fuck you.”

“Think I’d rather ride you,” you reply back breathlessly.

“You can do that after,” he whines, a rumble emanating from his chest but your head is too fucked up to make sense of it.

You sit up, hands on his chest. “That’s presumptuous of you.”

Keith grins, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and rolls you over so he’s on top. “Is it,” he asks rhetorically as his hand reaches between your thighs, ghosting over the wetness of your pussy, “when you’re this wet?”

You moan, canting your hips, cashing the feel of his hand, wanting relief. It was a mounting pressure in your belly, a forest fire under your skin and you needed Keith. “Okay. yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes when Keith bent his head and licked a stripe from your nipple to your collarbone. You whimper, lost in the sensation.

“Tell me what you want,” Keith asks.

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” you utter, you hands clutchinf at his shoulders, bringing him flush agaisnt you.

Keith aquieses.

You bend your knees, spreading your legs as he positions his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Keith mutters as he pushes into you.

Fuck indeed. You moan his name without thought, closing your eyes and laying your head back against the bed. His cock fills you up, sliding into your pussy with ease given how turned on you were.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he stretches you out.

“God, yes,” you utter dazed.

Keith moves his hips. You roll your hips up to meet him. He nips at your collarbone as he thrusts into you with favour.

As promised he fucks you.

Keith captures your mouth in a kiss that catches the moans you make as he reaches between you and runs his thumb over your clit. His pace, the way he was kissing you madly. . .the heat that had been building since you’d met him comes crashing down.

You come.

Leaving you boneless.

“Keith,” you whimper.

“Sh,” he tells you, kissing the shell of your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

“You..sort of already did,” you utter completely fucked out.

“Turn over.” Keith says even as he’s already helping you move, his arms supporting your weight. He presses his lips on the back of your neck, as he grabs a pillow and sets it under you.

You bring up your knees, laying on your legs, “thought I was going to go next,” you tease, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

He stills, “if you. . .”

“No. No,” you shrug, “I did ask you to fuck me.”

Keith runs his hands over your shoulders, sliding down your sides. He squeezes your ass with his hands.

“Best two out of three,” you offer, half joking half serious because while you were still blissed out from having just orgasmed, you could already feel your pussy clench with anticipation. Seriously, the effect he had on you-

You can feel his smile against your skin, “If you think you can handle it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you reply, arching your back into him, titling your head back, and pulling his hair so you could kiss him. It was sloppy, and the angle was awkward, but none of it mattered when Keith stroked your pussy with his fingers, dipping into your wet folds.

Already stimulated, you shudder with pleasure.

Your tongue strokes his in an open mouthed kiss. He tastes as good as he smells, Keith filling up your senses like an incense stick wafting through a room.

He wraps an arm around your chest, his hand caressing your breast, pulling you against his chest, both of you melding together. Keith thrusts his cock into you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hand fisting the sheets of his bed, moaning into his mouth.

It was a combination of his cock in you, his thumb rolling your nipple in his hand, that set you aflame.

You couldn’t get enough, your hips jerking back, up to meet his. Keith fucks you against the bed.

He palms your breast in his hand, pulling you up to him, keeping you close as he plants a kiss at the juncture of your ear and jaw, on the side of your neck whilst nipping the skin and you moan, his cock hitting just the right spot as he slams into you.

First he grows comfortable, pulling almost entirely out before thrusting hard as he finds a pace that leaves you both a mess.

“Right there, right there,” you utter.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, his fingers draw a circle around your clit without giving you the satisfaction you desperately seek, already building up to another climax.

You nod jerkily. “So fucking good Keith. Your cock feels so fucking good,” you manage to reply.

He speeds up, faster, deeper, at your words. The bedframe, bolted down into the floor, creaks.

“Just like that.” You moan wantonly. “Right there.”

He responds to your words, pulling out to the head of his cock, teasing your entrance just so before slamming back in.

You shut your eyes and whimper, over sensitive to your very marrow. It was too much. Keith was trailing kisses down your spine, his breath warm, his cock twitching inside your filling every inch of your pussy up.

With a shudder, you come, stars behind your eyelids and short circuiting. You never knew sex could be this amazing. Not in real life.

You got what people meant about the right partner.

The right sexual energy to match.

You collapse, a puppet with its strings cut. Keith’s hand across your chest is the only thing keeping you from melding into the mattress like a blob. His hips thrust against your ass mindlessly, chasing his own climax.

With another couple of thrusts, his hips snapping against you, Keith moans your name and comes undone behind you.

He comes inside you, hot and sticky.

His hand grasps the back of your neck, holding you in place as he comes inside you. It’s unexpectedly hot. You didn’t know you could like this in bed.

You didn’t know how much you liked an obstinate expression with wide eyes until you met Keith. He had the type of soulful eyes you could drown in.

He had drawn out something in you that you hadn’t even been aware of.

Your thoughts center on him as he finishes inside you.

“You take my dick so good,” he says with a surprising amount of softness for what amounts to a one night stand and a pang strikes your chest, wishing you had met him under better circumstances where there might be-

Keith gets off you, slumping next to you on the bed.

There’s a thrum of satisfaction running through you as you look at his face in profile. The insane idea that you might just stay and cuddle plants itself.

That was impossible.

It was time to cut and run.

Sure, he’d fucked you. But he was also still half a stranger. No matter how jumbled your thoughts were, you refused to give into the pull he had on you.

You wanted to lay there with him.

Keith blinks slowly, looking as blissed out as you feel, reaching out a hand towards you, but stopping himself halfway.

You feel a little disappointed, but say nothing. It was just a one off thing you remind yourself, no matter how you felt.

Now that you can think a little more clearly, though the sensation remains like a lump in your throat that starts there no matter how much you swallow, you glance around the dark room. Only the barest red lights on the floor illuminate enough to cast shadows.

Keith’s own eyes reflect the light like a cat. Just a glimmer of traffic sign yellow.

But you’re too tired to think, so you file it away in your head under the nebulous details you’ve learned about the red paladin.

You blink, grimancing as Keith’s come runs down your thigh onto the sheets. At least they weren’t yours.

He closes his eyes.

“I’d say sorry about the mess,” you break the easy silence lulling you into staying there, “but it's your fault,” you tease way too familiarly.

Keith sounds embarrassed when he utters, “sorry about that. I can get carried away.”

You smile softly, tracing over his shadowed form with your eyes but resisting the urge to reach out. That part was over. “It was good.”

“You did mention.”

So he could joke.

You giggle in the darkness that envelopes the room. You were good at being friendly and taking charge but you understood the hesitancy to open up to people you just met.

Keith’s chest makes a rumbling sound akin to a cheetah purring.

You try and hold onto the thought, sure it means something, but the sound draws you in and you lose the battle against yourself, curling up into his side.

He takes this as the permission it is, and tangles his limbs with yours.

A thrum of warmth surges where Keith’s skin touches you and you’re not sure if its his running warm or if it's all in your head or-

your eyes drift closed.

He’s purring.

You know Keith would be embarrassed if you pointed it out.

So you say nothing.

Everything seemed so intangible anyhow. The world had been turned down a notch. The post orgasm glow remained unrivalled.

Even a hit from a bong didn’t measure up.

Your first time had been a real embarrassment (you hadn’t managed to get the boy’s cock in you), this was just a weird quirk of his, and it was soothing.

You close your eyes.

Keith’s breathing is deep and steady, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but don’t feel pressured to check.

It was nice, not scurrying off, not being more than a little drunk. War was exhausting. Earth had only been in it for less than three years. No wonder some aliens were in such shit moods.

You exhale.

There’s no way to mark the passage of time.

The bed shifts under you. Keith runs the back of his hand gently over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open.

“So would this be round two or three,” you ask lightly.

Keith smiles lightly, “you did say…”

“I did,” you laugh easily, blushing, the flush creeping from your cheeks to the tips of your ears.

You swing a leg over his waist, straddling him, but not without feeling the start of a soreness in your legs. It doesn’t deter you.

Keith lays back, watching you through his lashes as you sit up. He looks lovely.

You lean down and kiss his mouth, reaching for his cock with your hands. He was already half hard when you wrap your hand around his shaft.

His breath hitches in his throat as you move your hand. It’s been a moment since you’d jerk anyone, but it’s not rocket science. You press kisses down his throat, moving your hand firmly up and down his length until he’s completely hard. You nip at his collarbone, marking him the way he’d left bruising kiss all over you.

His cock twitches in your hand, Keith’s hips thrusting up into you.

Anticipation builds in your belly, but you want to set the pace, stay in charge. So you still your movements.

Keith whines under you, his hands holding your waist.

“Be a good boy for me,” you tell him. “Can you do that?”

“Mm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yeah,” he manages hoarsely, “I can be good.”

You smile, lining him up against your entrance. You shift your hips, teasing his cock against your wet folds, closing your eyes as you moan at the feeling.

Keith thrusts up, trying to get more friction.

You still wanting to drag it out. Though your thighs ached and your pussy throbbed and you wondering if you should just-

You rub his cockhead against your pussy, “oooOH,” you moan. Your nails scratch his chest lightly, trying to steady yourself. Your heart raced, back arching down to him.

“Come here,” Keith groans, his fingers trailing up, asking for more, his hand on the small of your back.

You give in, sinking down onto his cock.

He moans your name, shutting his eyes.

It’s pornographic, the way Keith rises up to meet you, hips bucking against yours, the expanse of his pale throat.

You roll your hips slowly, fucking yourself on his cock. At this angle, the way he filled you-

“Fuck,” Keith moans, “you feel so good.”

“I could say the same,” you reply, sliding against his hips, picking up speed. You hold yourself up, hand on his chest.

You suck in a breath as his cock thrusts into you. Static filled your head as you chased your pleasure, grinding against him. You tilt your head back, moaning his name, everything but Keith becoming background noise.

He palms your breast.

Your breath hitches when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Ah,” you sigh.

Your stomach was taunt.

He doesn’t go further. You sort of wish he would. You trusted Keith not to hurt you. . .too badly.

The idea excites you, as he wraps his hand around your throat.

You match him, curling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard, “look at me,” you try and order but your voice is a whine. You’re too hot and heavy to think.

His cock twitches inside you, filling you up and fuck it felt good to be streched out.

Keith’s thumb strokes the side of your throat, his grip firm. “Do you like this,” he asks, his gaze heavy on you. He was entirely concentrated on you. It was like being worshipped.

It sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“I wouldn’t mind if you got rougher,” you admit, finding it easy to trust him.

He looks away.

You falter. Had you read things wrong?

Keith bucks his hips up against you and you let the thought go, sinking onto his cock and groaning, “Keith…”

It was easy to let go when it felt this good. His hand around your throat, fingers digging into your hips, you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. Not that anyone would be able to tell from over your uniform.

A shudder runs down your spine, you squirm on his cock mindlessly, thinking about bruises in the shape of his hands, about the marks on your neck you could already feel blooming on your skin. Heat surges in your chest, something primal as your thoughts linger there.

You nails run down his chest, leaving shallow scratches as you try and get a better hold, desperately grinding against Keith, down on the bed, his cock ramming into you. “Fuck,” you think, “fuck. . .Keith. . .”

You can’t stand it.

The pressure in your stomach, the heat scorching your pussy, the sound of Keith’s whines and moans, your name tumbling out of his mouth like a hymn that raised your heart beat, blood pounding in your ears.

Keith squeezes your neck, your throat bobs under his fingers and fuck-

You come.

Your legs tremble, unable to support you any longer as you collapse, a quivering mess on Keith. His hands move down to grip your thighs, pulling you down flush against him, down to the hilt of his cock as he comes, moaning erotically.

The thread of heat doesn’t dissipate entirely as you rest on his chest, boneless and sticky with sweat, but it relaxes and you breath the scent of him in instead of pulling away entirely.

Keith strokes a hand down your spine, an afterthought, “that was. . .”

“Yeah.” You’re exhausted.

You close your eyes, listening to the inhuman rumble of Keith’s chest as it rises and falls with every breath you take.

You end up slipping out. The halls are in the light cycle, but no one bothers you as you walk.

Getting up the next morning is hell.

Your legs are sore, and that’s not even mentioning how much your pussy hurts when you take a step. You take a dose of painkillers still remaining from your injury and check your messages.

Nothing from earth.

That was expected.

The meager universal communications were taken up by the war effort. You still sent your family messages, even if it was just one way. It was a way to keep in touch. It felt like watching starlight and knowing it was millions of years old, a form of time travel.

You shower.

Keith’s come was a mess on the inside of your thighs and the thought is not as gross as it should be, your skin warming up, zapped by static. You run your fingers over your clit and fuck yourself in the shower thinking of the red paladin and his come.

You get out, brushing your hair out, not looking in the mirror at the purple hickies spread out like a constellation on your chest, and realize how weird you were being.

Come was gross.

You hated swallowing so you never did. The tentative relationships at the garrison had been short, you had all been teenagers, and now anything that happened was a one off thing sometimes involving aliens.

You swallow, gripping the counter of your sink. You were horny again.

No.

Not going there.

No space weirdness this morning.

Because you’re on leave for the space equivalent of 6 or 5 days, you don’t have much to do. You get food. It had taken getting used to, and figuring out which brightly colored pastel goo thing was good, but there was a variety. You still had no clue what was plants or animals up in space.

The more liberated planets, the more supplies trickled in. Pirates loved to take a cut.

You eat as soldiers stop by to refuel, fill up on supplies. Despite the stress, you missed being out on the front. Being out of the action sucked.

Sitting around on a spaceship was boring.

It wasn’t like they had shops or movie theaters. Walking around too much ended up with you being in the way.

You clench your jaw, feeling feverish.

And you had just been getting better. . .

You shove the thought away.

You end up watching space TV: reality TV shows like Galra Ninja Warrior and nature docu series on plants, some you’ve been on, before finally sliding your hand under the waistband of your trousers and rubbing your clit.

It takes the edge off, but the heat’s still there, pressed up in the pit of your stomach, cheeks flushes and you sigh, unsatisfied as you click to something other than the marine biomes of Kmeolsuahr. For aliens larger than a schoolbus, they were peaceful creatures. Since they were filter feeders, agriculture had never developed a hold on their planet, but water generators were plentiful.

Yet another show starring Galra. It was the most common type of show in the Empire. Hijacking communications had given this traveling spaceship TV. You were glad for it now.

You curl up, the communicator snug around your wrist translating everything instantaneously. It was the part in the soap where there has to be a duel for honor. What a load of crap.

The two Galra circle each other, close ups of their face like a mexican stand-off. Through TV you got to know the Glara in the empire as more than just soldiers. Spending time in the camps taught you that even Galra citizens could be arrested for treasonous statements against Zarkon.

They make growling alien sounds, something between a jaguar and a sound not found on earth, an underlying clicking that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

You connect the dots.

The glowing eyes, the purrs and rumbles, and whatever weird alien thing was going on: the red paladin was part Galra.

Only that made no sense.

He was from Earth.

First contact had been what, when the paladins had disappeared? When the Kerberos mission had been abducted, and boy had that made fringe conspiracy theorists happy. . .how could he be part Galra?

Was it even your problem?

Surely this would go away. . .

You were leaving in a little over five days.

You curl up and watch TV until you fall asleep, determined to enjoy the rest while it lasted and your weren’t trudging through waist deep mud.

“Read through the debrief,” a commander with a nebulous rank above you asks. In your line of work, so much was redacted. Information gathering was a fancy way of saying spy. It was why you worked so closely with the rebels.

You don’t even blink at the slight pale easter egg yellow alien, ears that resembled hair, long and droopy like a rabbit: there were four of them. You’d met stranger. “Yeah. Long mission.”

You were not looking forward to being on a planet with an inhospitable surface. A sun close enough that set the surface on fire with it’s rays, no thanks.

Still, it was your assignment.

“It is vital.”

They always said that.

It seemed to be extracting some key players. Who they were remained unknown until you had to know. It was a lot of flying blind to keep information from leaking to the wrong ears. Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz.

“I’ll treat it that way,” you nod, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It would be fun flying a hijacked Galra fighter ship. The planet was pretty deep in Empire controlled space.

“And,” the alien looks you up and down like a Garrison RA finding a stain on your uniform during morning inspection, “get rid of that scent.”

“What,” you ask plainly, “scent.”

The alien raises a hairless muscle over its eye. The gesture is human enough. “Voltron has docked here.”

It was subterfuge. Both of you were in the same line of work, you could do this dance in your sleep. “As far as I know, yes.” You are careful to keep your expression neutral, feeling stupid for not having used negating get. It wasn’t even rationed, but used pretty widely. There were many aliens who relied primarily on scent, and those whose sense of smell was far sharper than yours.

“Mm.”

You hold their gaze.

You weren’t one to waver.

“Any further questions?”

“None.”

“Good.”

You walk blithely back to your room, intending to shower, again, and probably take care of the warmth in your gut. The heat was like an uncomfortable itch under your skin that stubbornly remained no matter how much you ignored it.

How was it even possible that Keith was any part alien let alone Galra? You were pretty sure the entire planet would have known if the Galra arrived on the planet.

It was intriguing.

Your mind drew up the details you knew, trying to make them fit. It was half mental exercise, half the urge to actually get to the bottom of this. Keith didn’t look half Glara like Prince Lotor and his gang of misfits. . .quarter, one sixteenth. . .

Occam's Razor.

The mystery occupied your mind as you made it back to your quarters.

Keith is pacing outside your door.

How did he even know where your quarters were?

“Did you sniff your way here,” you ask, genuinely curious. Maybe the traits might not be apparent. . .just how Galra was the red paladin. You were reminded again how little you actually knew him.

Understanding fills his eyes; he knew you knew. Keith looks over at you for a second before ducking his head dejectedly, a straw dog expecting to be run off.

Your heart ached.

How a paladin of Voltron could be so self conscious despite going toe to toe with the Empire on a daily basis. . .you didn’t know. They were only flesh and blood after all.

You take pity on him, “so is this going to be a thing,” the corners of your mouth lift into a small smile. You were still a little sore. You wouldn’t mind going another few rounds. . .

But you needed to clear some things up first.

Just how much of this between you was space Galra funkiness?

Keith snorts, looking up, meeting your searching gaze. His shoulders were still tense, unsure that you weren’t about to tell him to shove off. Not the loner type entirely by choice then, his innate awkwardness must have made it hard to connect.

It wasn’t a problem you’d ever had, rushing into everything headfirst, taking charge.

“Not like there’s a lot of humans to choose from up here,” he says self-deprecatingly.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m down for some alien funkiness,” you answer evenly, taking a step towards him. He inhales sharply, looking away again, this time in thought.

The lines of his face increase, clearly uncomfortable, frowning.

“I can’t usually,” Keith admits in a tense voice, “smell this well. . .though I can smell better than Shiro.”

“Shiro?”

“The black paladin,” he explains, surprised he has to explain at all.

You answer his unvoiced question, “everyone tends to focus on the color of the lion rather than the pilot inside.”

“Oh. That’s dumb.” He looks a little relieved at the anonymity that grants.

“Is it just me then,” you ask, getting to the bottom of things.

He nods, meeting your gaze. “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking of fucking you,” he says without ceremony.

You find yourself blushing. The connection went both ways, the very alien connection. “Don’t hate me but I think we should go to the medic.”

Keith frowns. “Or we could just fuck.”

“That horny,” you tease, raising a brow, “or was I just that good?”

Keith cusps a hand against your cheek, his thumb running over your lips.

Your mouth parts, the tip of your tongue grazing his thumb.

“So you don’t want to fuck,” Keith asks, a playful smirk on his lips.

You swallow, the urge to say yes right there as his touch on you entranced you, sending desire cascading through your body down to your toes. “This isn’t just alien weirdness is it?” You wanted it to be more.

“No,” he shakes his head, his breath mingling with yours. “That’s-I’m not that impulsive.”

“Good,” you mutter, pressing your body against his, and opening the door to your room.

#keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #keith kogane imagine #mine #smut #surprisingly soft for being esentially a take on the whole galra heat thing in fanon #part 2 will b just sex lol #feedback much appreciated (as a motivator too)

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