quiet the steady

i want love that’s warm and sickeningly sweet like honey… the kind that makes your insides all gooey and causes your heart to flutter uncomfortably and causes heat to blossom on your cheeks… but i also want the cool and calm kind of love, the love that’s quiet and steady and stable, where they make you feel like you’re coming home.

Call Me Daddy

Summary: Phil asks Dan what his kink is, but Dan doesn’t feel so inclined to tell him.

Word Count: 3.1k

Genre: smut (specifically: daddy kink smut oh man)

happy birthday @mangothatismelancholy !! i know im a few hours early but i won’t have much time to post it tomorrow morning ahaha. i hope you like this and i hope i remembered correctly that daddy kink was your favorite (?). also i hope you have a great birthday dude!!! 

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His hands were the first to touch me after yours. They were strong, but they weren’t aggressive, they were steady. Quiet and soft, yours were always unsure.
I think about the way his fingers grazed the sides of my waist when he was kissing my neck, while yours would barely touch an inch of my flesh, as if you were afraid to break me.
I can still remember the sweet nothings you’d whisper into my ear and the way you’d press your lips against mine but it never felt like you meant it.
For months after you, I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to be touched by anyone else. I craved your hands, and late at night I’d be staring out my window, asking the moon for answers on whether or not I should dial your number.
But I didn’t. I still think about you often, because I still love you. But the reason I am tangled in his sheets and my clothes are on his floor is because he made me feel like someone wanted me, and that is something you could never do.
—  I’m not sorry, delicatevoids

Auntie Bells

by reddit user Pippinacious

Auntie Bells wasn’t really my auntie, or anyone else’s for that matter. I’m not sure she even had any real family at all. It was just what everyone called her. She’d been a fixture in the neighborhood since long before I was born and there wasn’t a single person who didn’t at least know of her.

She was something of a living legend; a crazy cat lady type without the cats. It wasn’t unusual to look out your window in the dead of night and see Auntie Bells shuffling down the street, big walking stick clutched in one hand, her tameless hair shining white in the moonlight. And if you didn’t see her, you’d hear her. Auntie Bells took her name from the bracelets she wore on both wrists, strands of twine run through a countless number of tiny bells that tinkled with her every movement.

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Steady

Summary: You are a well known female hunter who has always butted heads with the Winchesters in the past, especially Dean. Will this case go a different way when you see him in a more holy attire?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings:

language, sassy!reader, mentions of sex, smidgen of angst, is kissing a warning?

Song Insp; Steady as She Goes- The Raconteurs

*gifs are not mine*

Find yourself a girl and settle down

Live a simple life in a quiet town

Steady as she goes

Steady as she goes,’

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean groaned as he set eyes on you sat at the bar, glass of whiskey in hand as you laughed at some poor unsuspecting guys chat up line. Of course you were wearing those damn tight jeans along with that black leather jacket you had on last time him and Sam had bumped into you in another town a few years back. Now, that was definitely a memorable weekend.

“Earth to Dean?” Sam cleared his throat, pulling him out of his brother’s thoughts.

Dean rubbed a hand across the back of neck, turning his body away from the direction of the bar, silently praying that you hadn’t seen them. “Let’s just go somewhere else, there’s another bar just out of town.”

“Oh come on, she’s not that bad,” Sam countered and Dean threw him a blunt look.

“Yeah, she’s a ray of sunshine,” he let out a short unimpressed scoff, rolling his eyes at his brother. “Up until she takes over our hunts and then steals the damn credit for ganking whatever it is,” he grumbled, the distaste clear on his face.

Sam tried to hold in his laugh as you appeared behind Dean, a smug grin across your face having heard a good amount of what he’d just said.

“Damn, Dean-o. Way to break a girl’s heart,” you held a hand over your chest in mock hurt as Dean turned to face you, his jaw clenched in frustration. 

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I’d Live Them All The Same

Hello mates! You know I love angst, and, well, it just happened to be Angst Appreciation Day today, so yeah ;)

Characters: Older sister Winchester!reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester [mentioned], other members of the Winchester/Campbell family. 

Words: 2400+

Warnings: Broken reader, implied depression, just overall bad mental health. If you think about what Sam and Dean’s been through, it’s not far of a stretch from the show, but just know that it’s angsty (not the most angsty thing I’ve written though, sorry.)

A/N: I feel like I got a positive response to some of my older sister stuff I did a while back, and I also just got some older sister angst feels, so yeah, here you go. Also, there’s a couple of paragraphs (and title) taken from this song: Circles (MNG Remix) - Eden Project. If you want, listen to it while reading this, it builds up the angst ;)

Originally posted by kendaspntwd

Your name: submit What is this?

If I told you how this story end,

Would you change a step you take?

And if I could relive all of my days,

I’d live them all the same.

‘cause I’m scared, of all that I don’t know,

'cause I want it all but all of it ain’t gold.

And I’m scared, but I know it’s not for long

'cause I’m learning what I should’ve long before.


You sat on the carpet clad floor of the dark motel room, right by the door. It was the middle of the night, but it wasn’t not quiet — your brothers’ steady breaths filled the room, filled you up with calmness. You clutched the shotgun tighter, and the cold metal of the barrel your hands were wrapped around was slowly getting warmer by the heat you were exuding. You’re 24 years old and you’re the protector of this family. Always had been, and always will be.

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porcupine-girl  asked:

I'm desperate for any zimbits bc the ao3 tag has been dead slow lately... So literally anything, but if you want a prompt how about bedsharing? Or maybe a blind date?

let’s uhhh not talk about how long ago you sent this to me, but bedsharing on their first night Providence? let’s do it! 


Bitty collapsed onto the guest bed as soon as he closed the door behind him, burying his face in the nearest pillow and groaning. He wasn’t sure exactly what brand of panic had taken hold of him just then, but the end result was him sleeping alone in Jack’s guestroom apparently. This was not how he had pictured their week alone together in Providence going.

He fumbled for his phone in his pocket and stared at the bright screen morosely. 11:09 P.M. His groan was more whine than anything this time and he kicked his legs on the bed for good measure. It was almost half-past by the time he peeled himself up from the bed to change into his sleep clothes.

Bitty sighed at his reflection in a wall mirror as he pulled on a loose-fitting shirt that had “MADISON HIGH FOOTBALL” printed in large block letters across the front. There were dark bags under his eyes from losing sleep to both excitement and anxiousness in the weeks leading up to this visit and although he’d been lifting and running all summer per the Jack Zimmermann Workout Plan that had been texted to him at an ungodly hour every morning, he still looked scrawny to his own eyes.

He pulled at the hem of the shirt, considering, before tugging it back over his head. He stood up a little straighter and looked at his reflection again, forcing himself to see the broader shoulders and muscle definition that hadn’t been there last year. He took a deep breath and looked towards his closed door, thinking of Jack probably already soundly asleep down the hallway and how warm his bed would probably be. He took one more look back at the empty, still-made guest bed and nodded decisively.

“C’mon, Bitty,” he muttered to himself. “You can do this.”

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1334  x 750

⌦ characters: jungkook, an idol that gets jealous and insecure easily but in the cutest ways. y/n, the idol’s playful long distance girlfriend that also happens to be a heavy sleeper and his rock.

⌦ genre + plot: fluff, smut mention, angst. the long-distance couple stays in touch via daily facetime calls and the occasional visit, but even then they crave each other. the idol acts on those desires, but not without a few bumps.

⌦ wc: 3,595

muse: bts’ jeongguk



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RFA+S’s ideal MCs

I have this headcanon that each RFA member has a specific kind of MC.

Not like how MC4 is Yoosung’s or MC2 is Zen’s.  That gives me the heebie-jeebies.  (It’s just their faces!  You know nothing about the girl behind the face!  Pairing one of the RFA members with a profile pic makes no sense, to me…it’s literally judging them by their appearance.)

I mean like how they each have a type, and depending on what route you’re on, your responses are different.  (Minor spoilers ahead!)

For example:  Jaehee’s MC would never get a good ending if she were on Jumin’s route.  She too assertive.  Too independ.  No go.

Saeyoung’s MC would never truly be happy with Zen.  Zen’s kind of square.  And MC is too quirky.  It wouldn’t last.

Jumin’s MC would get run over by Yoosung insisting that she’s “like Rika.”  Yoosung wouldn’t be able to read her like Jumin could.  And she would just go along with what Yoosung says, because she wants him to be happy.

Zen’s MC on Jaehee’s route is Jaehee’s first bad ending.  #truestory

So, my headcanons on what each RFA member’s “ideal MC” is like!

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The Joyride - Part 2 (Jason Todd x Reader)

A/N: Part 2 to The Joyride! I’m really glad that you guys enjoyed part one so much! Here’s the ending to your cliffhanger, but no guarantees that there won’t be another!

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of injury

Tagging: @solis200213 @pinkwitch21 @tigeragathe @gokusanfan @just-a-girl-maybe @queen-of-all-the-fandoms @neverlandprincessjaz 

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four


Jason blinked in an attempt to dispel the blurriness that clouded his vision. He was lying in a hospital bed with an IV hooked into his arm. His head was pounding and he squinted at the bright lights above him. He grunted slightly and moved his unhindered wrist to shield his vision.

“You’re awake,” came the gravelly voice from beside him, which he identified as Bruce’s.

“Yeah,” he groaned hoarsely, turning his head to face Bruce. “What time is it?”

 “About five in the morning. It’s a Saturday. Why do you ask?” Bruce replied, maintaining his usual composure.

 Jason noted that it was still early the morning of the accident, meaning he hadn’t been out for too long. “(Y/N). Is she- I- Is she- How is she?”

Jason didn’t miss the darkness in Bruce’s eyes or the grimace that he attempted to hide. He felt a pit forming rapidly in his stomach and he shook his head, his eyes going wide. “She’s- She’s d- dead?

 “Not dead,” Bruce corrected, and Jason let out a sigh of relief. “But it’s bad, Jason. She’s going into emergency surgery. I- I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

 “Oh.”

 There was silence between the two after that. The occasional beeping of the machines, and the steady quiet buzz of the air conditioner were what kept the room from utter silence. It wasn’t for a few minutes until Bruce spoke again.

 “They say- They say you’re lucky to only have sustained a concussion and some bruising. Especially compared t-” Bruce cut himself off before he could finish. It wasn’t a statement Jason would appreciate.

Jason, however, didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence. He knew what the ending was. Especially compared to her. He shifted his head awkwardly against the stiff material of the hospital pillow to look away from Bruce.

“How did you find out so soon?” Jason asked, less out of interest in the answer and more out of a desire to fill the silence. To give himself less room to think.

 “They recognized (Y/N) as one of my wards, called me over here about an hour ago,” Bruce explained.

 “I see,” Jason replied shortly.

 Another painfully long moment of stiff and awkward silence came to pass.

 “I know you blame me for this but-”

 “I don’t.”

 “You- You don’t?” Jason asked, slightly surprised. He had been expecting Bruce to make this more difficult. To make him feel guiltier than he already did.

“No. But I know you blame yourself. And I don’t think that’s fair,” Bruce said, his tone even and his voice unfaltering.

“How would you know that it’s not my fault? How do you know this didn’t happen because of some irresponsible mistake that I made?” Jason inquired, still surprised at Bruce’s lack of vindictiveness. He turned his head back across the pillow to face the other man.

“How do I know? Because I know that you don’t make irresponsible mistakes when it comes to her. I know that when it comes to her you take precautions, and you’re more careful than I’ve ever seen you,” Bruce stated matter-of-factly 

Jason didn’t know how to respond to that. So he didn’t. And suddenly he understood why Bruce stayed silent when faced with difficult questions. Because sometimes there was no good way to answer. “What are her injuries like?” Jason asked, deflecting off onto another topic.

“Are you sure you want to know? It’s not pretty. I would understand if-”

I want to know,” Jason cut him off firmly, steeling himself for what he was about to hear.

Bruce nodded, the expression on his face grim. “They said that there’s extensive internal bleeding in several locations and-” Bruce paused to let out a weak sigh. “The impact caused several broken ribs. One of which- One of which punctured a blood vessel. The lacerations she suffered were severe and some cut into the bone. One shoulder is dislocated and the opposite wrist is broken. She has shrapnel scattered throughout her legs. It’s not pretty.”

Jason’s mouth ran dry. He had imagined that your injuries would be bad, but this? This was more than he knew how to process. “I- All of that?”

Bruce nodded wordlessly. “Despite all of that,” he started slowly, “They say that she’s lucky. Her head, neck, and spine are all intact, aside from minor stress from impact on her spine.”

“Lucky,” Jason tried out the word for himself, and he felt a sense of bitterness as it rolled off his tongue. Lucky. He didn’t feel like you had been lucky. He felt like the hospital staff decided to call your condition lucky because they didn’t have the hearts to tell him that you were on the verge of death. All because the two of you had been bored and sleepless at an odd hour of the night. No. Lucky wasn’t right. Lucky wasn’t right at all.


You awoke abruptly with a tube down your throat and no idea where you were. Immediately you wanted to kick your arms and legs, but not only were you restrained, it hurt to move. Every inch of your body was in pain, and your muscles ached and your chest hurt with every movement 

You felt panic rising in your chest and you started to hyperventilate. You struggled against your restraints despite the fact that every single fiber of your being was screaming for you to stop. You wanted to cry out, but you couldn’t get your voice to work, and the breathing tube restricted you from any form of verbality. Despite your inability to call for help, before you knew it, there were people in pristine white clothing standing above you and gently holding you down.

You felt a sharp and searing pain rip through your abdomen as you twisted your torso in a strange way while attempting to struggle against the doctors and nurses.

The pain forced you to stop resisting so much, and after a few moments your state of hyperventilation had passed. After you had calmed down, you gained some recollection of what had happened and where you were.

Another few minutes had passed and a nurse began to ask you questions about what you remembered, how you felt, and if you knew why you were there, having you write down your answers on a pad of paper with your unbroken wrist, though she was careful not to harm the dislocated shoulder.

Your writing was barely legible. Your hand had been trembling violently the whole time, and your only usable hand was your off hand.

Once she seemed to be done interviewing you, you zoned out, still in shock after your violent wake-up and the events of the crash. You heard her say something about stitches, and then something about extubation before you completely tuned out 

The breathing tube was uncomfortable, but it seemed like a minor thing compared to the pain you felt up and down your arms and legs, as well as in your abdomen. You had no idea what time it was. The curtains were drawn, and you had absolutely no perception of time, aside from the wall-clock which read seven-fifteen. Morning or night, you couldn’t tell.

You shut your eyes and tried to ignore the pain. Instead you focused on how tired you felt, and how nice it would feel to sleep. Slowly, you drifted out of consciousness.


When you woke up again, you felt no panic. Just bleary eyed and still just as tired as when you had fallen asleep. This time, though, there were two people in the room with you. One at your bedside and another sitting by the door.

You blinked a few times and gave your vision time to clear. You identified the two people as Jason and Bruce, and a strange sense of comfort washed over you. Bruce was dressed in civilian clothes, but Jason wore a hospital gown.

Both were asleep, Bruce hunched over in the too-small chair, and Jason slumped onto the side of the bed with his head resting in his arms.

The clock on the wall read seven-thirty, but you doubted that it had been only fifteen minutes since you were last awake. No. You felt the hours of sleep in the way your eyelids seemed to stick shut when you blinked.

You wanted to make some move to alert them that you were awake, but the breathing tube still kept you from speaking and Jason was on the side of your broken wrist. Your dislocated shoulder prevented you from reaching across and waking him with your other hand 

You felt helpless all over again. You were scared and it felt like you had been alone for an eternity.

As you realized your predicament, you became painfully aware of the sounds of your breathing tube and heart monitor and the buzz of all of the machines that were keeping you alive.

That was another thing that scared you. How close were you to death? What kind of line were you walking? What if you fell onto the wrong side? What if you fell asleep right here and just never woke up? What if the last time you ever got to see Jason he didn’t get to see you? It scared you tremendously. But it was a hollow, passive fear. Passive because what else could you be with a tube down your throat and two useless arms? As you stared up blankly at the hospital ceiling you realized that the most terrifying experience of your life wasn’t staring into the barrel of a gun, or colliding with the asphalt at fifty miles per hour. The most terrifying experience of your life was taking place right then. Staring passively up at a hospital ceiling. Helplessly wondering if you were going to die. There was no adrenaline. There was no rush that kept you from looking death straight in the face.

You pondered this for a long while, until, to your relief, Jason stirred from his sleep.

He groaned slightly as he awoke, and you smiled to yourself as best you could around the tube 

You watched as he lifted his head and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Slowly, his eyes met with yours, and you saw slow relief take over his expression.

He smiled sadly and moved a hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes expressing relief, but also guilt and love.

You managed a small shake of your head. It’s not your fault, you wanted to say. The subtle change in his expression told you that he’d understood what you’d meant.

“I love you. I- I just- I need to say that. I love you.” The sadness he carried in his voice broke you. The way his voice started to break at the end. The bittersweet message that his words carried. I love you and I need to say it now because if you fall asleep again I might not get another chance.

You nodded your head as best you could, never breaking eye contact with him. I love you too, you wanted to say. There were so many things you wanted to say in that moment. I love you. It’s not your fault. If I die I don’t want you to blame yourself forever. I’m scared. I love you. I love you. I love you.

His hand never left the side of your face, and he continuously brushed circles on your cheek with his thumb. As you watched him, you swore you could see the moment where whatever thoughts he was having, whatever ideas plagued his mind, broke him. His face contorted into a caricature of grief and it alarmed you.

It was so unlike Jason to cry, or display his grief so openly. Part of you wanted to tell him not to waste his tears on you, but the other side wanted to cry along with him. To cry because of the helplessness that ate away at your resolve.

Jason managed to wipe away his tears quickly, and if you hadn’t seen it yourself, you wouldn’t have been able to guess that he had been weeping just moments earlier. He rest his head gently against your upper arm, careful not to hurt you.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed before you felt a sharp and painful twinge in your abdomen. You winced slightly, but paid it no mind. You figured it was just a bruise, or some stitch from your surgery that had been pulled 

You grunted in pain when the twinge returned, more painfully. You became alarmed once the pain branched up into your chest. It hurt like hell, and soon your entire abdomen was in excruciating pain.

You cried out through the breathing tube. It was a strange, mangled sound and it had Jason’s head shooting up from the bed.

“(Y/N)?” he asked in a panic, trying to get you took look at him. You cried out again, and Bruce, who had just woken up, shouted for a nurse.

Several people came running into the room, two of which began pulling a struggling Jason out into the hallway.

He fought tooth and nail to get back to your side, struggling hard against the people who were pulling him away. 

“I love you!” he shouted, just as he was pulled out into the hall, and the door was shut in his face.

Let’s talk about Mercury

Some facts about Mercury:

Mercury is the closets planet to the the sun, and has an orbital period on 88.7 days. Mercury’s orbit is not a perfect circle, so its distance from the sun varies. The minimum distance from the sun to Mercury is 28.5 million miles and the maximum distance is 43.5 million miles. It takes Mercury 175.9 days to rotate on its own axis, this mean that a ‘Mercurian’ year is shorter than a ‘Mercurian’ day.

With such an short orbital period, it means that Mercury goes retrograde about 3-4 times a year.

In astrology:

Mercury rules over Gemini and Virgo (and exalted in Aquarius) and stays in one sign for about 14-30 days, due to its orbit around the sun. Because Mercury is so close to the sun it can never be more than 28 degrees away from your sun sign, so it can either be in the sign before, after or in the same sign as your sun sign, depending on how many degrees your sun sign is.

In Roman mythology:

Mercury is the Messenger of the Gods. His job was to give information and news from the world to the great god Jupiter, and his wife Juno. Mercury can be compared to Hermes in Greek mythology.

Keywords for Mercury in the signs:

Mercury in Aries: Motivated, wild, reasonable.

Mercury in Taurus: Steady, witty, innocent.

Mercury in Gemini: Talkative, optimistic, open minded.

Mercury in Cancer: Nostalgic, caring, whiny.

Mercury in Leo: Creative, shy, wise.

Mercury in Virgo: Analytic, honest, clam.

Mercury in Libra: Highly intelligent, idealistic, witty.

Mercury in Scorpio: Quiet, honest, bitter. 

Mercury in Sagittarius: Confident, fearless, adaptable.

Mercury in Capricorn: Nervous, quiet, steady in their opinions.

Mercury in Aquarius: Calm, talkative, reasonable.

Mercury in Pisces: Caring, optimistic, wise.

2

asher mir | [ghost fragment: eris morn]

The Tower’s med bay was still. Guardians might operate across the system at all hours but even in the heart of the Last City, there is sometimes… quiet.

The Awoken man lay upon the bed like a broken thing. Machines monitored his every twitch, every aspect of his physical status. The steady, quiet blip of his heartbeat was the dominant sound in the room. 

A small transplex window sat in one wall of the room. Hovering there, eerily still, was a Ghost. Its single eye reflected against the inside of the window, a steady red glow.

In the corner of the room sat a chair. Cheap, vinyl-covered, this chair could have been a relic from the Golden Age itself. And, suddenly, it creaked.

Because, in the stillness, there was another measured source of breathing in the room.

Eris Morn settled back into the chair, allowing the dark wisps of power she’d summoned to effortlessly flow from her back into the night. The green emanations from her shroud were stark against the dimness.

Almost as an afterthought, the Ghost turned from regarding the window. For a moment, three eyes stared at one, before it turned back to its watch.

Her face implacable, Eris regarded the Awoken in the bed. 

His name was Asher Mir.

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anonymous asked:

how can a single person survive in a world full of couples?

Pray. Study. Serve the Lord at church. Read his word. Get busy working for God. When you’re busy working, you don’t have time to feel sorry for yourself because you have no one. Strive to improve yourself in education, career, finances and in your walk with God. If you want a Godly man/woman, then you must become a Godly man/woman. Don’t waste your time on relationships that aren’t going anywhere.

Recognize that God is in control, even when it seems He has forgotten you. I love the words to the Old Testament prophet Habakkuk:
Look around at the nations; look and be amazed! For I am doing something in your own day, something you wouldn’t believe even if someone told you about it” (Habakkuk 1:5, NLT).
Often when it seems nothing is happening is when everything is happening behind the scenes. You just can’t see it.

Renew your faith in God’s quiet, steady providence. Every major figure in the Bible was forced to wait long periods of time before God brought them to a place of success.
Abraham waited twenty-five years before his wife Sarah gave birth to their first child.
Joseph slogged through thirteen years of betrayal, false imprisonment, and abandonment before assuming the leadership of Egypt.
Moses spent forty years tending sheep before God called him as a deliverer of His people.
David spent fourteen years before the throne of Israel would be his.
And in Jesus’s own ministry, he often told his disciples “My hour has not yet come.”
Waiting is not incidental to faith. Waiting is the DNA of faith.

Essays in Existentialism: Valentine’s Day

With Valentine’s day coming up, how about a themed Clarke and Lexa story?

The hospital swirled with the quiet steady of patients and doctors, all taking their time getting anywhere at all. Nurses stations filled with deliveries of bouquets and cards and chocolates, while the halls were littered with cardboard hearts and babies with little wings and bows. Reds and pinks of every shade and color turned the fifth floor into a haven of sappiness and commercial love.

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What Lovers Do

“Everything and nothing makes sense when I’m with you.”

It’s barely a whisper, but around their room, under the humming engines of the Castle and the dim glow on the walls, it almost echoes.

Lance stays quiet, breathing steady and slow as soft snores leave his mouth and Keith can’t help but smile, leaning closer to the brunet’s sleeping face.

“It’s not fair,” he continues, low and careful, face still pressed on his side of the pillow but hand reaching out, gently cupping Lance’s cheek, “You asshole.”

His thumb caresses Lance’s tanned skin gently, enjoying the feeling it gives him when Lance leans to the touch.

“Why am th’ asshole?” Lance mumbles groggily, voice muffled against the pillow.

Keith doesn’t miss a beat. “You made me fall in love with you,” he chuckles as he leans forward and drops a kiss against the brunet’s forehead, “You ass.”

Lance hums in appreciation, still half sleeping but snuggling closer to his boyfriend’s side.

“Tha’ fair.” Lance hums, “So, you an a'hole too?”


“I sure hope so.” Keith says quietly, fingers running through Lance’s tangled hair.

or just needed to know

vulnerable!kuro can’t sleep, protective!keith comforts him | Keith/Shiro, Keith/Kuro | for @voltronwhumpweek2017, insomnia + helping with depression | [ Ao3 link ]

Keith sits on Shiro’s bed, moves beside him, takes a breath. Shiro doesn’t stir, or even acknowledge him, the shadows beneath his eyes look like bruises in the dark.

Except it isn’t Shiro. Keith knows it, and Shiro knows it, and Keith doesn’t know the first thing about making something like this okay, only that he won’t rest either until he does.

“I heard you walking about,” Keith says softly. He ventures his hand toward Shiro’s hair- damp and matted on his forehead- thinks to check for a fever, or just run his fingers through the tangled strands, quiet and steady until Shiro goes to sleep.

Keith pauses, scrunches his fist and lowers it to his lap. Shiro might not want him to do that.

Not now.

Shiro’s stare flickers toward Keith’s hand. His mouth pulls down at the corners, he blinks for a second too long. It takes Keith a moment to read it, and when he does, something small and sad uncurls in his chest.

…Shiro’s trying not to look hurt.

“Hey,” Keith whispers, but falls silent as Shiro turns aside to cough- once- twice- then he shakes his head, exhausted, eyes watering behind his sleeve as the fit continues. Keith knew Shiro hadn’t been sleeping properly- not since they’d found out- but it’s only been a matter of days, and he’s shocked to realise just how much worse he sounds.

“Here, shh- hey- I’m going to sit you up, okay?” Keith murmurs, reaches both hands below Shiro’s arms. It barely makes a difference as he tries to lift, but Shiro pretends it does by helping, manages a shaky smile as Keith settles him upright.

“Thank you,” Shiro mumbles, and he sounds so drained that Keith can nearly feel it, a pang of emptiness swelling in his own chest.

“I care about you,” Keith says suddenly, the words unexpectedly fierce. “I still care about you. I want you to know that.”

He raises a hand to Shiro’s cheek, clumsy, he wants so much to hold him, but-

Shiro closes his eyes, his torso lifts with an inhale and he leans into Keith’s touch, his expression gritted in that same, stern sort of grimace that Shiro- Keith’s Shiro- gives when he’s trying not to cry.

… it never really works for Shiro either.

“Sorry-” gasps Shiro, and he angles his face the other way, as if trying to spare Keith the sight of it. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not him. I-”

He clears his throat, harsh and desperate as he tries to keep his voice steady, sucks a breath through his teeth as it falls apart. He’s beyond exhausted, brushes a hand to his chest as the depth of it seems almost tangible.

“I’m here for you, Kuro,” Keith whispers harshly, and it isn’t until the words leave him that he realises how much he needs to hear them too. “And the absolute very, very last thing you need to be, for something that is the furthest thing possible from being your fault…”

Shiro turns back to face him, wipes his nose on his sleeve.

“…is sorry,” Keith finishes, “for anything.”

Keith lowers his gaze in the silence that follows, jaw clenched and pulse still whirring. But then, slowly, Shiro smiles, so weakly that it almost breaks Keith’s heart, and mumbles,

“…Kuro?”

For a moment Keith blinks- where- how did…

And then his outburst replays in his head, and his cheeks flush warm with regret.

“Oh,” says Keith, and then, “ohh..

“You want to call me something different?” Shiro says softly.

“No, no no, not if you don’t want me to-” Keith stumbles, but Shiro reaches for his hand, gives a tentative squeeze. His fingers are strong, slightly calloused and gentle, his expression less haunted as Keith squeezes tightly back.

“I… am so sorry,” Keith says again, swallows. “I didn’t mean to say that. Not before I asked you. It’s just something that came to me- in case you ever wanted us to. Because it sounds a bit like Shiro, uhm, and-”

Shiro looks more curious than upset, his eyes somehow less bloodshot as he blinks, then sniffles.

“…and a bit like Keith,” Keith mumbles, feeling worse than ridiculous as he hears that out loud.

“Oh my god,” Keith says after a second, when Shiro doesn’t reply. “Can we please forget I ever said that, I-”

“-I like it,” Kuro murmurs under his breath, gives a small smile as he glances up.

The tips of Keith’s ears prickle uncomfortably warm. Kuro nods again, shyly covers his mouth as he yawns.

And then Keith smiles back.

“Hey,” he says softly, Kuro hasn’t looked this relaxed for days. “Why don’t we see if we can get you to sleep for a bit, huh? It’s okay if you wake up- I’ll be right here, and we can always give it another go later-”

He keeps talking, gets up to lower the temperature a notch, then fetches Kuro a second blanket. Kuro watches, wary, his posture stiffens slightly as he braces himself for the attempt.

Keith moves back to the bed, gently lays next to him.

“Can I try something?”

Kuro turns his head, hopeful, nods sheepishly again.

“Okay,” Keith murmurs, wriggles closer. When he lays down again, his head is resting in the middle of Kuro’s chest. Kuro’s body unclenches as the weight sinks against him, he lets out an aching breath.

“Oh,” says Kuro, and then, “ohh..

“Yeah-” Keith smiles, gives a husky laugh. “It’s kind of comforting, right?”

“Yes,” Kuro whispers, peers down at him as his hair falls over his eyes. “…yes.”

“Shiro would sometimes lay like this with me,” Keith admits, and being able to say that comforts him too. “When I had a nightmare, or just… needed to know…”

“…that he was there,” says Kuro, and Keith tucks Kuro’s arm around him, feels his breath slowly lengthen, his eyelids drooping closed.

“That I was too,” Keith says quietly.