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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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Lance never shuts the fuck up.

Keith can’t get enough of it.

It’s been like that for as long as Keith can remember. Lance was the motormouth in, like, 6 of his classes; always had his hand up with a question or answer, and comments in between. Keith had been annoyed with it, that first year.

But then he’d shared classes with Lance again.

And again.

By then, they’d had their fair share of group projects together. Keith came to know that for all he was a rambling mess, Lance was really fucking smart, and funny besides. He was also endlessly kind and supportive, at least when he wasn’t egging on their rivalry that he’d invented (and that Keith hadn’t known they’d had — not that he wasn’t an active participant, once he knew. Riling Lance up was the most fun he’d had in ages).

Keith doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started smiling whenever Lance looked at him, feeling proud whenever Lance got a question right in class. Doesn’t remember when the mild annoyance turned to genuine appreciation. He does remember looking down at his notes one day, in Algebra II, only to discover a blank page, and realising that he’d spent the whole class just watching Lance talk. (He also remembers feeling pleased instead of the disappointment he should have felt, because he figured he’d have an excuse to hear Lance talk more if he asked him to help Keith catch up. He knew he was in quite the mess, then.)

Keith knew he had a crush on Lance, after that. And Keith was never one to sit idly — he’d asked Lance on a date right then and there. Lance had, for the first time in Keith’s working memory, gone speechless. (And quite the pretty shade of red.)

The speechlessness didn’t last long, that’s for damn certain. Keith took Lance to the Applebee’s at the plaza near his house that very night, because Shiro worked there and would give him a discount. Also, Lance had once mentioned he liked the lemonade there.

Keith met Lance there because neither of them had their full license yet. He doesn’t remember what exact table they sat at, only that they must have been near a window, because Keith remembers swooning over the sunlight warming Lance’s beautiful brown eyes no less than six times. They’d ordered, Keith some sort of fried dish and Lance — Lance had ordered a four-cheese fettuccine with a garden salad and, of course, a lemonade. Keith remembers so specifically because Lance spent the next thirty minutes excitedly telling him every piece of history surrounding the dish, down to the prehistoric origins of wheat-made pasta and the disturbing account of the first pink lemonade. He’d looked sheepish after looking at his watch and realising how long he’d been talking, and Keith hadn’t known how to assure him that Lance could narrate every detail of paint drying in a wall and Keith would swallow up every word.

(Later that night, Shiro sent him a picture he took while the both of them were distracted — Lance, animatedly waving a fork in the air as he lectured, and Keith, chin in his hands, meal forgotten, looking at Lance with a face more besotted than he knew he was even capable of making.

Keith sent the photo to Lance, asking him if he’d like to go out again, confessing that he enjoyed every second of Lance’s rambling.

Lance said yes. Very quickly.)

The rest, to a degree, had been history. They’d dated for the rest of high school, staying together even as they attended university and trade school on either side of the country. It was easy, really. Lance made sure they always had something to talk about. (Lance loved university. He was enamoured with every second of it, every niche interest of his getting its fill. He switched his major fourteen separate times, chasing every one of his ambitions, and Keith loved every story he heard. He also liked becoming an expert by proxy, because that was inevitable — you could only hear about the important of spiders in the ecosystem so many dozen times before the information was reflective whenever someone brought up the subject.)

As soon as Keith got his mechanic’s certificate — and he passed his exam in the highest percentile, meaning he could practice anywhere in the country, much to his pleasure and Lance’s overwhelming pride — he took off to California, his one and only thought being that he had to get to Lance. (Not that it had been impulsive — this was planned, something they’d been waiting for. Did Keith run over as soon as he could? Yeah, kinda. So maybe it was a little impulsive. But mostly it was planned.)

Not to sound like a Disney princess, but Keith really felt like their life began once they moved in together. Keith was able to find a job at a pretty decent garage, bring in money for them immediately. Lance had his library job until he graduated, and of course then he was snatched up by the nearest ecological restoration effort — he got to spend his days crawling through the forest, fawning over every tiny bug and critter. He is so fucking cute. Keith loves him more than anything in the world.

Lance’s constant lectures never stopped, either — any interest he picked up, he told Keith about it. From his knitting club to the new beetle species he’d found at work, Keith got the pleasure of hearing about it. And it truly was a pleasure. Keith had his fair share of time being a motormouth, too — he’d bought a project bike as soon as they’d saved enough, and spent a fair chunk of free time building it back up. (Lance helped, or at least as much as he could. Mostly he sat in their garage, handing Keith tools, and talking about anything he could think of. If Keith could go back and tell his ten year old self what his future would look like… God. Sometimes he can’t even believe how lucky he got.)

Keith has it made. He comes home from work every day to Lance’s beaming smile and gentle teasing about the grease on his clothes. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted. He’s happy. So fucking happy.

Except that things have been a little different, recently. For the past few weeks, he’s been coming home to his usual smile and kiss, but the idle chattering or excited rambles — Keith feels as if they’ve become a rarity. Their home used to be filled with the sound of Lance’s voice, silent only when he’s reading or focused intently on something, eyes narrowed and tongue peeking out of his mouth.

Lance still looks happy. He still curls up with Keith on the couch after dinner, socked feet in Keith’s lap and three million blankets over his shoulders. He still sends Keith a myriad of heart emojis on his lunch break. Their sex life has not suffered.

But the lectures. The constant infodumps of whatever passing thing has grabbed Lance’s attention. They’re gone. And Keith’s devastated about it.

He misses Lance’s voice.

———

Shiro is not getting it.

“It doesn’t sound like a big deal,” he says, voice staticky because signal at the shop is ass. “I mean, maybe you two are just growing up and settling down. How long have you guys been together, now? Seven years? Eight?”

“Almost ten,” Keith says quietly.

Ten years of the same thing. This change is new. It’s strange, and Shiro isn’t getting it at all.

“Exactly! Ten years! You guys were so young when you started dating, kiddo. Hell, Lance was still wearing braces, wasn’t he? I’m not shocked that he’s mellowed out a little.” He chuckles to himself. “Hell, maybe he’s finally just learnt every bit of knowledge he finally can.”

Keith frowns. “I dunno, Shiro. Sometimes I feel like he wants to say something, but he’s holding himself back. Why would he ever hold himself back from me? I don’t — I don’t want him to hold back from me. I like it when he talks.”

“Tell him that, then. The only way you’re going to get answers is if you ask him, you dork.”

“Some brother you are,” Keith mutters, pouting. “You’re supposed to solve things for me.”

“Hm. Pretty sure you’re a grown-ass man who’s capable of solving his own problems, bud.”

“Ugh. You’re horrible. I’m changing the Netflix password to kick you off.”

Shiro laughs. “Sure! No more Costco membership for you. Password sharing goes both ways, you little snot. Now hang up and call your man. I have to leave for work soon.”

Despite his ongoing frustration, Keith can’t help a smile at the familiar banter. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your upcoming fourteen hour shift of hell.”

“Go fuck yourself! Love you!”

“Love you too. Bye.”

It shouldn’t really surprise him that Shiro’s no help. As much as he pesters his brother as often as possible and generally finds joy in making himself into a nuisance, they haven’t seen each other face-to-face since Christmas. They’ve lived in different states for years.

But, still. There’s some part of Keith that will always think of his big brother first when he has a problem. And that part of him had the right ideas, because Shiro is unfortunately right — he really does just need to talk to Lance. There’s not much else he can do.

He spends the rest of his shift wondering how he’s going to bring it up. He has his own motormouth moments, sure, but realistically? Keith doesn’t talk all the much. He’s more of an action person. How the hell is he supposed to breach the subject? ‘Hey, Lance. I’ve noticed that you are talking less. This change has consumed my every thought. I miss the sound of your voice. How come you don’t talk to me about your life anymore?’

Yeah, no. It sounds ridiculous even in his own head. He’ll have to — plan it out, maybe. He’s not sure. He’s never had to worry about making Lance talk more before.

He’s so distracted that he nearly burns off his eyeballs, forgetting to put on his welding mask before trying to make a part he couldn’t source for an older car. His boss sends him home early, worried he might accidentally leave a blowtorch by an air compressor or something and send the whole place up in smoke. Keith tries to take it as a blessing — maybe he’ll ride around on his bike for a while and clear his head. A way to bring it up might come to him naturally.

It doesn’t. He spends the whole ride just stressing himself out. He does drive by a flower stand, and turns around to pick up some poppies and peonies — Lance’s favourite. It won’t breach the subject, or anything, but it’ll make Lance smile. Hell, maybe he’ll start talking to Keith about all the different pollinators that made this bouquet possible. That would be a dream come true.

He hasn’t come up with any new ideas by the time he makes his way home, but he’s less stressed. He sets the flowers on the counter and takes a quick shower. Maybe he’ll start some dinner? Surprise Lance, for a change. Yeah. That won’t solve the problem, but it’ll be nice anyway.

He starts making four-cheese fettuccine and pink lemonade, because he is a sappy loser.

By the time he hears Lance’s key in the lock, he’s got the table set and the food is done. He keeps it heated on the stove, ducking into the bathroom to check his reflection as Lance steps into the apartment.

No grease smudges on his face. His hair is braided, the way that always makes Lance all blushy. He’s wearing the v-neck, too-tight black sweater that Lance likes, too. He’s got this. He doesn’t have a solid plan, or anything, but he thinks maybe if he turns up the romance then Lance will just spill whatever’s wrong. That works in the movies.

“Keith, baby? You home?”

“You have leaves in your hair,” Keith says, stepping out to meet Lance by the door. Lance smiles immediately, laughing to himself as he cards his fingers through his hair in an attempt to find them. Keith takes pity on him after a few seconds of fruitless searching, reaching forward and running gentle hands through the curly mess of his boyfriend’s hair, half to get out the leaves and half just to touch.

“Yeah — climbed a tree to check out a new weaver ant colony. Watched ‘em for hours — pretty boring, I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”

I want to hear about it, Keith thinks mournfully. Please, please tell me about it.

“I made pasta,” Keith says quietly, when it’s clear that no more details are forthcoming. “And, uh, got you some flowers.” He tugs Lance gently towards the kitchen, placing the flowers in his hands.

“Oh, Keith, they’re gorgeous! Man, I love peonies. They looks like pink cabbages, it’s the best. And poppies —”

Yes, Keith thinks. Tell me about how California poppies were traditionally used as stress-relief medicine, but not like opioid red poppies. Tell me —

“I should put these in a vase,” Lance says instead of any of that. Keith feels like he could cry, honestly. Lance leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek, patting him on the chest. “You want to set the table while I do that? Or do you want to eat on the couch and watch a movie?”

“Table sounds good,” Keith says, because if they watch a movie then there’s no chance of Keith finding out what’s wrong.

“Okay! I’m going to get changed, too, I’ll meet you in ten.” Lance kisses him again and then rushes off. Keith waits until he’s disappeared into their bedroom to cover his face in his hands and scream silently.

Fuck! He just wants his Lance back. So badly. He wants to be woken up at strange hours of the night to hear about how trees communicate. He wants to get spam-texted as he’s trying to work, phone practically buzzing out of his pocket. He wants to hear about marketing strategies when they’re grocery shopping. He wants Lance to get distracted mid-sex by reading the back of the condom box, and then remarking with vague interest that they use the same dye in some cereals.

At the very least, he wants to know why Lance is acting so strange.

“So,” Lance says, once they’ve both settled down at the table and started to eat. “How come you’re home early?”

“Boss sent me home, I was distracted. I’m not mad, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve done something special for you, which is a travesty.”

Lance smiles. “Dork. I appreciate it, though. Very sweet of you.” He shifts in his seat, tucking his legs up under him and leaning his head on his chin to look at Keith properly. “How come you were distracted?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Thinkin’ about this hot bod all day?”

Keith huffs a laugh. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Tell me! I’m curious now. I have to know or I’ll die.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Mhm. That’s not even the half of it, and you know it. If you don’t tell me right now I’ll just start listing the names of royals throughout European history and how freaky it is that most of them are directly related.”

Lance is teasing. His tone is light and playful; he’s obviously trying to goad Keith into playing along and groaning theatrically. A few weeks ago, Keith might have given in easily, and started ribbing him about why on Earth he has the names memorized in the first place.

But all Keith can think about is just how badly he would love to hear that.

“Promise?”

Keith’s voice comes out embarrassingly sincere. Soft and hopeful and dead-serious.

Lance’s hand stills, mid pasta-swirl.

“You…want me to? List names of inbred royals?”

Keith swallows. It’s as good of a segue as any, he supposes.

“Yeah.”

“…Why?”

“Because I — I miss your voice, I guess.”

“Keith, I talk all the time,” Lance says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He snorts to himself. “One might even say it’s my defining quality.”

“You haven’t been. Not recently. You used to talk all the time, but now — I dunno. The house is quiet. I miss you talking about random things. I miss hearing about your day and the million creatures you met and the people you saw on the bus home and the weirdly-shaped stone you tripped over on the sidewalk. I miss you bazillion lunch-break texts. I miss your running commentary when we watch a movie, even though you miss important dialogue and have to rewind to hear it again. I dunno. I just miss you.”

Keith keeps his eyes downcast on his plate as he speaks, and keeps it there after he finishes. He’s finished his food, already, but he can’t bring himself to look at Lance’s face.

“Keith?”

There’s a strange quality to Lance’s voice, a sort of — bewildered breathlessness. Keith risks a glance, finding his boyfriend staring at him with a dropped jaw and wide brown eyes.

“You really — you miss my motormouth?”

Keith shrugs. “I fell in love with your motormouth. Of course I miss it.”

That makes Lance’s cheeks heat, and he glances down at his plate like they’re teenagers again and Keith told him he was cute for the first time.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Keith’s not sure what else to say. He doesn’t know how to express that there’s nothing that Lance does that he dislikes, not truly. Sure, it’s annoying when Lance leaves a million half-full cups of water around the apartment, and Keith is regularly tripping over the shoes that he never puts away for some reason, but there’s nothing — every part of him is precious to Keith. Everything he does and everything he is, Keith knows he can’t live without.

“I know you love me,” Lance whispers. He looks pointedly away from Keith, pushing a couple wayward noodles around on his plate. “I’ve never — I’ve never needed to doubt that.”

Keith swallows. “Good.”

“I — yeah. You show me all the time. And, I mean, look at today! You brought me flowers home just because. You do things like that for me regularly; I never forget that you care about me. But —”

One word. Three measly letters. But it’s enough to feel like a stone is dropping on Keith’s chest.

“— sometimes I feel like I’m too much? Like, I’m kind of intense. I know that. And I can’t always tell when I’m being weird or annoying. And you’d never — you’d never string me along, I know that. If you stopped loving me you’d tell me.”

“I would never stop loving you.” Keith can’t say the words fast enough. He wants to print them out and — tattoo them on his forehead. Melt them into gold and press them into Lance’s hands. Smash them to dust and sprinkle them in the air. Whatever — whatever it takes to prove to Lance that they’re true.

Lance bites his lip. His eyes are wet. “I — I don’t want us to —”

Keith doesn’t wait for the tears to fall. He stands and hurries the two feet over to Lance’s chair, carefully pulling him up and wrapping tight arms around his waist. Lance falls into him willingly, resting his forehead on Keith’s shoulder and leaning into him.

“Three of my coworkers think I’m annoying,” he whispers, long after the food’s gone cold and the light from the window has begun to dim. After Keith’s arms have gone a little numb and a wet spot has grown where Lance’s face is pressed into his shirt. “I just thought — I thought we were friends, but I heard them talking about how exhausting I am to be around. I don’t want — I don’t want you to get tired of me, too.”

Keith closes his eyes as he exhales in a shudder, firmly reminding himself that unfortunately, being a two-faced asshole is not illegal, and Keith has no defense for hunting those shitheads down and murdering them a little.

“They are not worth the ground you walk on,” Keith whispers, pressing a firm kiss to Lance’s hair. “You have more value in your toenail clippings than they do in their entire bodies.”

Lance giggles wetly. “Gross.”

”I mean it,” Keith says, smiling. “I love you, Lance. All of you. I never get tired of listening to you talk. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

———

It takes a while. Those asshole coworkers did a number on Lance’s self-esteem, because they’re horrible, and they deserve every horrible thing that happens to them. Honestly, Keith kind of hopes their cars break down and they have to spend ridiculous amounts of money getting them fixed by idiots, because Keith has quietly blacklisted them to every good mechanic in town. (Not that Lance knows. Lance is too nice to ask for something like that. Keith, however, is a bitch, and has no problem doing shady things to appease his own sense of justice.)

Eventually, though, the apartment stops being so silent. It starts with a shark documentary that takes them three hours to watch because Lance keeps pausing it to point out specific behaviours to Keith. And then they get kicked out of a casino they go to for shits and giggles, because Lance can’t contain himself and points out how the house is strategically winning all the card games they’re calling ‘luck-based’. And then grocery store trips start taking too long again, and Lance gets distracted mid-shower comparing the ingredients of shampoo and conditioner, and then they start a small fire in the apartment because he was explaining how broccoli evolved from mustard seed and burnt a whole pan of stir-fry to a crisp.

One day, seemingly out of the blue, Shiro sends him a picture of him and Lance, fifteen years old, at the shitty town Applebee’s.

I was looking at old pictures, the text reads. And you were right. It is strange that Lance was so quiet. I can’t imagine how that would feel. I’m glad you two worked things out.

Keith looks over at Lance, who’s singing a the periodic table song to himself as he washes the dishes for Keith to dry, and smiles.

He’s glad they worked it out, too.

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mortmere · 23 days

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I don't usually pay much attention to the stunt guys doing their work, but this one is fun because it's a continuous shot that starts with the stunt guy and ends with CKR (I didn't even notice the switch until I was going through these scenes for my RayK apartment post last week). So, CKR had to hide in the back of the pick-up truck, and when he's climbing up from there, I think you can actually see a little glimpse of the stunt guy rolling off the truck bed. Glamorous television work! :)

#due south #ray kowalski #callum keith rennie #and his stunt guy #my due south observations #ds30below #episode: spy vs spy

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moonastrogirl · 6 months

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Vedic astrology and Celebrities Part 2

Keith Lee VS Atlanta

I love me some Keith Lee omg this Atlanta´s food scene situation is so crazy. Let me break it down to y’all why this is happening based on Vedic astrology.

Keith Lee is an Ardra moon (Rahu ruled) in Vedic astrology. Ardra nakshatra is ruled by Rudra who is the god of storms and the hunter. Ardra nakshatra’s goal is to destroy through storms and clear the path of someone’s life from inconfortable/painful/bad situations.

Before Ardra nakshatra there is Rohini and Mrigashirsha nakshatras. Those two were stuck in family issues and situations that were no good for them, obstructing their path. Ardra then comes in their life and cuts those issues, helping them escape and be free to start on a new path.

That’s exactly what the Atlanta vs Keith Lee situation is all about. I also assume Keith Lee’s wife is a rohini native.

So the restaurant called « the real milk and honey » created issues for her and then Keith Lee had to intervene to clear the path for her so she will never have to experience this situation ever again. The thing is ardra nakshatra cannot stop until it has cleared it out all. That’s why Keith Lee kept doing what he did cause he was doing it to help his wife and to help local people so they won’t have to go through what she went through.

The storms are blessings in disguise cause afterwards people can build new foundations and start fresh.

Now the most interesting is on Monday 30th October the moon was in Rohini nakshatra then the whole week the moon was transitioning in Gemini nakshatras and on the 2nd November the moon was in Ardra nakshatra.

In conclusion Keith Lee was victorious because he was doing his mission as a food critic for the greater good (aka how Rahu ruled people can excel), he was honest (one of the main amazing qualities of Ardra natives) and he cleared the path for people to have better and improved experiences in ATL restaurant scene. He is really the ultimate avenger Istg.

Btw The Real Milk and Honey saying they don’t know who Keith Lee is was beginning of the end on social media for them because Rahu ruled people are known and international. Plus Rahu ruled people dominate social media. They even had to release an apology statement please y’all couldn’t handle the heat after starting some bs with him 🙄

I also saw some videos saying some people threatened the safety of Keith Lee and his family in ATL. This is insane 😨

Based on numerology 2023 is a 7 year and this number is a Ketu ruled one. In the name Atlanta there is the energy of 7. Ketu energy can be a really dangerous one. Especially when Ketu’s bad behaviours are being exposed to the world. Just think when politicians or judges or humanitarian groups are being exposed, what we learn is always on another level. They can use their power to abuse people they were supposed to help or lead or provide a service to. For instance Oxfam workers/volunteers being sexually harassed by their group leaders in 2018… Ketu ruled institutions can act completely unhinged and even dangerously. People said on Tiktok ATL had that energy with or without Keith Lee. It’s like dark vibes. It’s ketu vibes. Ketu energy can be really threatening.

Rahu ruled people need to be more careful this year until it’s over ! I am an Ardra sun and I had been to several places ruled by ketu energy and I felt the dark energy this year. Tho it only made me stronger to stay in my power and not let it consume me. Thanks to my strong ketu mostly ong 😭

I hope y’all enjoyed my analysis of the situation let me know by liking, commenting or rebloging and thank you for reading me once again 💜

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avocadolaw · 1 month

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Guess who’s definitely doing some pride events this year :)

#my art tag #ceramics #stoneware #underglaze #underglaze painting #sgraffito #wheel thrown pottery #keith haring #I’ll post a finished pic of these later #assuming the handles stay on and nothing goes horribly weird #astute observers will notice the clay looks different #this is some super old white clay I recently brought back from the dead #not the biggest fan of it #but the place where I get my clay is waiting on a shipment from the brown clay place #so in the meantime I’ve got this

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dear-mrs-otome · 2 years

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Silvio getting called out by Keith sounds hilarious 😂 I feel like I never see much about him so I’m grabbing at this interaction

It's pretty funny. Also...

Prior to that he absolutely calls Silvio out on crushing hardcore on Emma. They're drinking together and Silvio's in an even worse mood than usual, clearly trying to get drunk, and bitching about how it's been five days (not that he's counting, I'm sure) since Emma's done anything as a hostess for him. AKA he hasn't seen her in five days.

Keith: ...Uh I'm gonna take a stab at this here but, you're pretty into her aren't you?

Silvio: djdjdjdjdeddnxn??! 😠😠🤬😡 Djdjdjdvggtttk NO? BARF, AS IF, WHO'D EVER BE CRUSHING ON THAT SASSY BROAD?

Keith: Ah. Clearly I was not mistaken?

#mrs o talks #spoiler #spoilers #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #i really adore regular keith #i appreciate too that he seems to be the silent observant type and has good intuition

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ambrosiallkiss · 9 months

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With Prince Keith*, it's either choke on his c*ck or just choke...

#spoilers #ikepri keith #just some observations #sweet keith would be mortified by both #i still think he's interesting

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shadesofnavy · 2 months

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#had adams not kept his feelings closed away maybe keith wouldve have noticed and return them

Mhmhmhmhm... But would this have prevented Keith's murder by Jeffery?

Oh sure Adams revealing his feelings may have resulted in the two possibly getting together, but what about Keith's future murder by an overprotective Jeffery? Would this have been enough to somehow save Keith's life or would Adams have been left devastated? :)

Unfortunately, no. In the end it would not have mattered. If anything, it'd only leave Adams feeling worse than he already did upon finding out what had happened. He blames himself already for not having been there on a shift the night it he incident happened (he worked daytime shifts on the weekend and overnight shifts on weekdays, the murder happened on a weekend evening long after Adams' daytime shift ended*). Had he and Keith miraculously gotten closer than originally, he'd only be left feeling even more shittier for not having been there.

#asks #fnf animatronic au #fnf au #adams dankworth #animatronic keith #keith burlington #oc #character info #*this was purposely plotted by stephan after having been stalking and observing the restaraunt's routine for several weeks #he took action the night when the least employees were working #specifically when he knew the “pathetic love-struck security guard” wasn't around

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blown-blooms · 3 months

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I always make jokes about being right when it comes to my opinions but like. Wow I can't believe I was actually right when it comes to huskerdust and cherrisnake. From day one baby I can't believe I won.

#I wasnt even gonna watch the series I was just going to observe from the sidelines #but then like. I was winning??? huh????#that and the siren call of Keith David #anyways #I love always being right <3 #morri mumbles #hazbin hotel

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discordiansamba · 3 months

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Oh, I love the logistics of Names Of Relation Types, I had a whole Thing for this information in high school. Assuming that Keith's dad was an only child, ruling out any first cousins, the next most obvious, and closest, way James could be related would be if he was Keith's dad's cousin's kid, which would indeed be a second cousin! (also the maths for Keith if his dad was mixed would be 1/4 white, 1/4 japanese, 1/2 galra, because it's always multiples of two!)

Ohhh, yes I see. As you have noticed, math is not my strong suit, and I wouldn't be shocked if stuff like the logistics of more distant relations is tangled up in that same web. I know my strengths and weakness!

(alas, it is also why there are some interesting fic ideas that I could never truly write)

#asks #sadly. we will never get the cool fic that exists only in my head #of pidge and her observations of keith post-ignis. because I do not have the technical know how and it would. very much show lmao

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

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–––

Keith doesn’t sleep a wink the following night. He quickly packs a bunch of supplies into a pod, and then spends hours staring at the base's scanners, waiting for the castle to pop up. He doesn’t hesitate for even a second when it finally does, barely remembering to check in with Kolivan before speedily manoeuvring out of the base and into the castle’s waiting flight deck.

As promised, the team is gathered there to meet him, clambering over each other to be the first to greet him when he walks out of the pod. It should be flattering, should make a pleased flush redden his skin from his neck to the roots of his hair. It’s everything he’s ever wanted; that kind of love, that kind of joyful acceptance, an excitement to see him.

But he barely even notices. All of his attention is trained on the figure so far away from everyone else he’s practically shroud in shadows, stiff and stone-faced. Lance stands with a duffel clenched tightly in his fists, jacket zipped up to his neck and hood halfway pulled over his hair.

Everything he sees makes him want to fall over. He almost feels nauseous, and he’s not entirely sure why. Lance has his off-days, Keith knows this. There were days when Keith had to help Lance fight his way out of bed, and when he did the same for Keith. Keith has held him as he sobbed himself to pain on the observation deck floor. Keith has watched him get overwhelmed and mean and snappy and then guilty for days afterwards.

But he’s never seen Lance like this. He’s never seen Lance…shrink, collapsing into himself so deeply, keep himself so distant. The closest thing he ever saw was when he came to Keith’s room talking about five lions and six paladins, about a seventh wheel.

I solved that problem, he thinks, increasingly desperate. Lance was backed into a corner so Keith threw himself out of the room to give him space. That was the point, that was the purpose, that is why he has stayed in a stupid grey bunk he hates and nodded blankly to masked people he’s not allowed to familiarise himself with and stubbornly refused to leave a man behind no matter how much trouble he gets in.

He was supposed to have fixed things, and now everything has gotten worse.

“Keith!” Pidge screams the second he emerges from the door, sprinting at him and damn near tackling him to the floor. Despite himself and his dizzying confusion he smiles softly, squeezing her right back.

“Hey, Pigeon,” he says, and she must have really missed him because she doesn’t even deck him for it.

“You need to call us more,” she grumbles at him, and he snorts and asks her how that holoprojector he asked her for is coming along.

Before she can launch into yet another rant about how far from the realm of possibility that is, the rest of the team catches up to her, and this time he really does hit the floor. Luckily he lands sprawled on his brother, who only sighs fondly and flicks him on the forehead.

“We’ve all missed you so much,” he says. “Not the same here without you, squirt.”

Because Keith has misses his brother, he refrains from turning around and throwing hands with him right in the hangar, because why would he call Keith that he’s a grown ass man, basically, not six, Shiro what the fuck. The team teases him anyway because they are the worst, but Keith rolls his eyes and takes it. Between Hunk’s bawling and Pidge’s snark and Allura’s hand gripped in his, Keith can almost pretend like he’s just back from a quick and risky errand, that everything is normal, that his family is just excited to see him and they’re gonna head off for dinner together in a few. The familiar foreignness of it all is almost settled around him like a heavy blanket.

Almost.

“I believe we have an exchange to get on with,” drawls a voice so pretentious it makes Keith recoil even before the cruelty of his words kick in.

Lotor stands in the middle of the room like he’s centre fucking stage, hip cocked, inspecting his nails, casual and unbothered. A quick glance to the side confirms that Lance’s jaw has tightened at the comment, posture tensed further. Keith looks back to Lotor and wishes with his whole heart that he had laser eyes via Clark Kent so he could fucking obliterate him. He settles for intensely praying for his downfall to the universe, which isn’t enough but will have to be until Keith can sacrifice him for the greatest good or something.

An exchange. Like Lance is a fuckin’...low rate commodity, or something.

Keith is honestly more disturbed by the fact that no one else seems to be terribly bothered by the comment. He wonders if he’s being too sensitive, if he’s reading into things, if his own hatred for Prince L’Oreal is clouding what could be a similar relationship to what Keith and Lance have, with all the insults and competitions.

The actual thought of that makes him physically gag.

No, that’s not it. Keith is not mistaking the pain that is radiating off of Lance, the way the air itself in the castle feels wrong.

“I’m ready to go if you are, Lance,” Keith calls, as softly as he can manage. Unfortunately it doesn’t manage to go far, and Lance only nods once, tightening the duffel over his shoulder and walking over. His steps are deliberate, at least, no downtrodden shuffling – there’s some stubbornness within him still. It’s better than nothing.

“Aw, no, already?” Hunk complains, sniffling.

Despite the storm raging in Keith’s head, he manages a smile in Hunk’s direction, equally flattered and amused by the affection.

“We’ll be back, man,” Keith promises. “Mission is only supposed to take a few days. Maybe we’ll finish up early and I won’t tell Kolivan, huh, Lance? Spend a couple days here.”

He smiles as brightly as he can manage in Lance’s direction, receiving only a tight-lipped grimace in response, an attempt without the verve to follow through.

“Yeah, sure.”

He gives the pile of teammates a wide berth as he climbs into the pod, disappearing quickly into the back. Keith tries to pretend his words weren’t sullied with bitterness.

It takes longer than he would like to finally bid everyone goodbye and crawl back into the pod, which he feels a little bad about. Both because he doesn’t want to feel like any interaction with his family is at all a burden, even a goodbye, and because he doesn’t want to keep Lance waiting. But he’s in a rough place right now, off-kilter and almost disoriented, so he cuts himself some slack, breathing deeply as he pulls out of the hangar and back into dead space. He puts the tiny but powerful thrusters up as high as they will go, zooming along at top speeds. He stays in the pilot’s chair, hand firmly on the yoke, until the castle is well out of view, until they are surrounded on all sides by endless darkness. Only then does he steel himself to put the pod on autopilot, to breathe deeply and turn around to face the oppressive awkwardness filling up the small space.

“Hey, Lance,” he says quietly, sitting gingerly on the floor in front of his seat. He’s relieved that Lance doesn’t straight up move away like he expected. He’s even more relieved to notice that Lance doesn’t tense up at his mere presence.

He barely acknowledges Keith past a nod of the head, though, which is depressing. Keith wants to ask another question, get more than a nod out of him so desperately it’s actually embarrassing, but he manages to restrain himself. He knows maybe better than anyone else what it feels like to be crowded by questions when you already feel like you’re suffocating. Keith will just have to wait for Lance, however long it takes.

Thankfully, he doesn’t wait very long.

“I didn’t get any details.” Lance’s voice startles Keith, not because he isn’t expecting it – all he’s been doing is waiting for Lance to talk – but because it’s nothing like he expects. His voice is almost normal, not strained hoarse or even bitter like it was earlier. If Keith squeezes his eyes shut and pretends the last several months didn’t happen, he can almost convince himself that he and Lance are sitting at the briefing room table late at night, heads bent together, trying to iron out a plan for their upcoming mission. He wants that back so badly he aches with it, but the ache is familiar enough now that he thinks he can bear it.

“It’s, uh, a quintessence hunt,” Keith explains. “Or, well, kind of. Hopefully. Kolivan gives a lot of details at once and he speaks in this super depressing monotone and I swear to God I do everything I can to pay attention but at some point it just sounds like the teacher in Charlie Brown. So. That’s my bad.”

He has to force air back into his lungs by the end of it and he’s red in the face to boot. That’s maybe the most words he’s ever spoken in one go (hyperbole whatever let him live) and of course he sounds like the biggest dweeb. Why hasn’t becoming a super cool space ninja made him more aloof and mysterious? This isn’t fair. What happened to gay rights.

To his great surprise, his dorky ramble is rewarded by a flash of Lance’s smile, so brief he would have convinced himself he imagined it if he hadn’t spent so much of his life seeking it out. It’s gone faster than it existed, Lance’s expression falling back into something carefully blank, but the fact that it was there at all is the biggest relief.

Lance takes the tablet Keith hands to him, mission file pulled up and ready to go. He squints slightly as he reads it, tilting his head to the side. “We have to go through…wait, Keith, is this right?” He flips the tablet over to Keith, zoomed in on a pair of coordinates. “This is, like, right next to a black hole. RIght right next to, worryingly next to. I don’t like how close this is. This pod is not really built for that, I don’t think.”

Keith doesn’t recognise the coordinates, so he can’t really say, but there’s a fair bit riding on this mission, so he doubts Kolivan has fucked this particular detail up.

“Well, it’s either safe or no longer our problem.”

“I suppose.”

A little disappointed that Keith’s attempt at a joke didn’t do much to lighten Lance’s expression, he lets them lapse into silence, tilting his head back onto the seat and closing his eyes as the pod zooms forwards.

They have a long journey ahead of them.

–––

#next chapter is the offical crash babes!! drama drama drama!!#vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #pre klance #space whale #space whale au #langst #klangst #observant keith #red paladin lance #blade keith #my writing #fic #longpost

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fanvoidkeith · 3 months

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just something i noticed

(i was originally going to say more than this, but as a white able-bodied person without any chronic illnesses, i don't feel qualified to speak for POC, or disabled people, or people with chronic illnesses, or people who are in multiple or all of those categories. so i won't.)

#void keith talks #void keith's memes #void keith's ponderings #this is a meme but it's also like. an observation. y'know?

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vld-has-messed-me-up · 9 months

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Not gonna lie, "We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!" really hits different in 2023.

Because we know Keith now. We know he's lonely. He was probably so excited that he'd had a bonding moment with his teammate. I bet he was looking forward to this team being like a family to him.

In that moment, their Bonding Moment™, Lance dropped his antagonism for a moment of genuine connection and knocked Keith's walls down... and then Lance didn't remember and refused to acknowledge that moment of vulnerability between them... yikes... rip Keith, I guess.

#vld rewatch #klance?#idk I am observing the Keith & Lance dynamic with an open mind here #I mean I interpret them romantically but even without that their bond is interesting

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toasterghostie · 10 months

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Thank you to the writers that decided to hurt me in this way, with Lance initially coming to Kieth with his insecurities about being the right hand and being reassured by him, Kieth ultimately leaving the team because of his insecurities as a leader with no one to talk to about them.

Kieth was looking forward to helping him as a friend in that moment but felt he was unable to communicate his own issues with his role as when initially approached by Lance he said it was because he was the leader and Keith looked disappointed by this.

Because of the power dynamic established Kieth was unable to communicate his own issues to Lance and couldn't receive the same validation back, the only other person he had was the clone Shiro, who is not the loveable space dad that we know and appreciate. His advice led to Kieth only feeling further isolated from the team.

So now with his mentor essentially pushing him into a box where he's the leader in name but has no actual authority, his closest paladin leaving him alone with the "can't have six paladins math" and his own insecurities bubbling up, he leaves with the blade of marmora. So he's no longer responsible for the team, he believes the better leader is taking over, and also quells Lance's fear of having to step down.

There's so much I wanna say on this that I can't articulate at the moment because too much to process but just, the angst in this scene as Lance also realises that Kieth may have stepped out in part because of what he said and having to deal with that to come. I'm gonna talk about the parallels between Kieth and Lance and their loneliness in the team probably when we get to the milkshake episode.

#voltron #shiro voltron #clone shiro #keith vld #vld lance #the angst #breakdown of stuff maybe #im just trying to be more observant of the scenes now #i just hope this makes some form of sense

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lovebugism · 20 days

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hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them.

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?”

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache.

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself.

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper.

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?”

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong.

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them.

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief.

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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wroteclassicaly · 2 months

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18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

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