#Shiro's like oh shit this my jam hold up

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Without realizing it, Lance accidentally says concerning shit and everyone ends up worried for his mental health. Like "Damn, this is like that one time I found my uncle's corpse first after he overdosed"

He means for them to be jokes but it's actually just sad. Everyone tries to come and get him to let out his pent up emotions but he just ends up brushing it off and joking.

Keith tries last and it turns into a screaming match about how Lance is scaring the rest team and he's odviously not ok.

Eeeeeeeee 

Trigger Warning: Mentioned of puke, blood and injuries, possible implied death of background characters, slight hint at possible abuse

It all depends on how you read it

-----

"Thank you so much for saving my son," an alien with four arms and pastel pink skin hugged Lance tightly; the rest of the team watching the interaction.

Lance wrapped his arms around the mother with ease. He pulled back after a couple of moments, a smile on his face. "Don't worry about it. I once woke up to my step father laying in a pool of his own puke shaking violently. I just repeated what worked for him."

She gave him a sad smile and he turned back to look at his team, confused to why they were staring at him. He shrugged his shoulders, to himself and headed back towards the ship. This mission was complete, time for the next one.

---

Lance kneeled down next to a member of Voltrons new ally. He placed his hand over the younger boys hip, ignoring how the deep purple color covered his hands and soaked into his pants.

He kept his voice low as he talked to the person, telling him any story that came to his mind.

"Lance! The medics and I are almost to your location." Shiro's voice crackled through his helmet.

"Okay Shiro," Lance applied a bit more pressure onto the wound. "Then I totally pushed my sister into the ocean but when she ran to mom to rat me out I totally lied and said I didn't do it," he smiled when the other boy started chuckling.

The medics appeared a couple of moments later, moving the boy onto something that resembled a stretcher. Shiro and him stood and watched them scurry away.

Shiro frowned as he looked at his fellow paladin. "Let's get you cleaned up Lance."

Lance glanced down at his stained hands and knees. "Oh, I'm in no rush. This isn't nearly as bad as when my aunt accidently cut her wrist on a new kitchen knife. I had to hold a rag on her arm since she never liked the sight of blood and passed out. I was covered in blood by the time the ambulance arrived." He paused for a moment, staring down at the purple color. "Purple is easier to look at than red." He dropped his hands, smiled and began walking back towards his lion.

---

Lance groaned a bit, his vison swimming as he tried to lift his head up. Blue was face down into the surface of a planet. They were shot out of the sky. Lance fumbled with his belt, his left arm hanging useless at an awkward angle. He breathed through the pain, giving up with a loud scream as the buckle jammed.

"Lance?! Are you okay? GUYS I FOUND BLUE!" Hunk's voice appeared outside of his lion, Blues intercoms completely turned off due to the crash.

"Hunk?! I'm here," he bit his tongue as more pain exploded from somewhere on his body.

He soon heard other voices appearing, Hunk explaining that Shiro was going to lift the Blue lion up with his Black lion.

Lance wasn't sure if he made a verbal response or not, his vison fading in and out. He was jolted in his seat as Black wrapped his jaws gentle around the other lion.

His arm exploded in pain and he swore up and down as Blue was placed upright on the ground. "Shit shit shit shit," he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, willing the stars in his vison to disappear. "Fuck this hurts."

He jiggled his belt again, groaning when he realized it would have to be cut.

"Lance?! Are you okay?" Hunk ran into his lion, grabbing something sharp off the ground. He quickly freed Lance from his set, borderline bridal style carrying him towards his own lion. Hunk nervous rambled that he was going to be okay and Coran was going to have a pod ready by the time they reach the castle.

Lance gave a small chuckle, resting his head on Hunks chest. "When I was eight I was in this wicked car crash. Crushed my older brother leg, it was scary." His vison went dark and his head rolled back as Hunk rushed him to the pod.

Lance knew something was off as soon as he stumbled out of the pod, shaking the cold from his body. The team was surrounding him, smiles hiding an underlying emotion. His stomach turned a bit as he made his way towards the dinning table. The team surrounding him.

Hunk was fidgeting the entire time Lance ate. Lance told a couple of jokes here and there but the atmosphere felt off; it was a bit annoying.

"Well," he pushed himself away from the table, "I think I'm going to lay down. See yeah." He started walking towards his room, stopping when he heard a set of footsteps behind him.

He turned with a smile on his face, "Hunk! What's up?"

Hunk took a couple more steps to be next to him. "Oh nothing much. How's your arm?"

Lance looked down at his left arm, moving it in a circle. "Just like normal, doesn't even hurt." He continued on his rout to his room, Hunk keeping in step with him.

Hunk rubbed his hands together as they walked, his eyes darting to Lance then the floor, to the wall to back at Lance. They reached his bedroom door and as soon as he placed his hand on the censor Hunk spoke; his voice rushed with anxiety.

"Are you okay though? That story you told me before you blacked out scared the shit out of me."

Lance blinked at him a couple of times, tilting his head in confusion. "The story of the car crash? Yeah I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

Hunk shrugged his shoulders, his eyes darting down the empty hallway. "Sometimes you say concerning things and the team and I are just worried about you. That's all."

Lance grinned and patted Hunk's left shoulder. "Awe buddy that means a lot to me. Seriously though, I'm okay. Tell you what. After I get some beauty sleep we can all have a movie night or play a game together."

Hunk gave a tense nod and Lance slipped into his bedroom. He thought for sure everyone would drop the subject and Hunk was just a one time deal. Boy was he wrong.

Lance made another comment after one particular hard mission, trying to lighten the heavy mood. Shiro had pulled him aside afterwards and gave him basically the same talk Hunk did. Yet, coming from Shiro it felt more like a lecture than a conversation.

Lance brushed the issue aside, laughing down the hallway way, stating that he was okay and the team had nothing to worry about.

When Pidge cornered him he felt a small ping in his chest. He viewed them as a younger sibling he didn't have. But, he was just trying to lighten the mood. They really hadn't face too much that he hadn't seen in his weird past.

Pidge was a bit more passive with their words, more saying that Lance could always come talk to them at any point of the day. Lance thanked them for their concern but repeated yet again that he was okay.

He was never spoken to by Allura or Coran. It was probably due to the fact losing your entire planet was worse than anything Lance had encounter. He didn't mind their lack of lectures he didn't like how everyone else seemed to walk on eggshells around him. Looking at him like he was a hurt animal or some damsel in distress.

The others stopped pushing him though. Never making eye contact with him after a comment. Lance in hindsight should have realized what he was saying wasn’t “normal” or really found funny by the others but he needed something to help him cope from being star systems away from his family. 

He knew his humor was always on the “darker” side of things but his family shared the same dark humor so he never really had to adjust to “jokes others may not find funny.” 

Was Lance okay in hindsight? He didn’t try to think to much on it. Maybe it was the progressive worse sleep he had been getting, or the feeling of loneliness because he couldn’t just call him mom up and chat with her about nothing important. Maybe it was the impending death that he faced every single day, or the fact that his brain couldn’t comprehend that all these terrible things were happening in front of him yet again. 

He was simply trying to cope with everything. He thought he was fine, he had to be fine. War doesn’t give you a day off. He thought he finally convinced the rest of the team he was fine. Until Keith snapped. 

They were sparing against a bot together. After they were done Lance made another comment about a particular bruise that began to form around his lower neck (the bot kicked him a bit high). 

From Lance’s perspective, he was trying to lighten the mood since Keith looked a bit frazzle. He expected Keith to either roll his eyes or brush him off, not stop in his tracks and turned to face him; fire in his eyes.  

“What the FUCK is wrong with you Lance?” 

Lance blinked at the outburst, Keith was hotheaded but he never directly yelled at Lance before. He lifted his hands in a surrender position. “Hey man, what got under your skin?” 

Keith took a deep breath, taking a couple steps closer to his fellow paladin. “What’s under my skin?! You! And your jokes. If you can even call them jokes.” 

Lance reached out and grabbed Keith’s hand, lowering it slightly. “No need to point at me.” 

The other boy scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Look,” Lance looked down at his feet, “I’ll stop making those kind of jokes around you. I didn’t know they bothered you that much.” 

“It’s not just me Lance. It’s the entire team. Everyone except me have voiced our concerned about it. None of us think you’re okay.” 

Lance clenched his jaw briefly, “I am okay. How many times do I need to repeat myself-” 

“Jesus YOU’RE NOT!” Keith’s voice bounced off the walls. 

Lance opened his mouth to respond but he couldn’t find any words. He closed his mouth, watching Keith’s shoulders move up and down with his heavier breathing. 

Keith took a couple steps back, running his hands through his hair before he spoke again. His voice quieter but the anger still sat behind it. “Lance, the team is worried about you. I’m worried about you. Those stories you keep sharing they’re not normal. You shouldn’t have gone through any of that.” 

Lance blinked at his friend silently, still unsure about what to say. 

“You can keep saying you’re okay but it’s obvious you think those situations were normal.” 

“Okay but we’re in a war in case you forgot mullet. Andddd we’re seeing basically all the same shit.” 

Keith let out a tight sigh, closing his eyes as he mumbled something under his breath. “Yes we are. We’re a ground of teens and some adults fighting a war. None of us should be seeing what we are seeing but Lance,” he opened his eyes and met Lance’s eyes. “All of that happened before the war. It’s okay to admit you might need some extra help navigating all of this.” 

Lance lowered his gaze, “I’m okay. I promise.” His voice was small, almost as if he was admitting he lied to his mom. 

Keith took a couple steps closer to him, his right hand resting gentle on his left shoulder; something he must have learned from Shiro. “It’s okay to not be okay, but it’s not okay to not ask for help.” He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We’re all a team and we need to look out for each other. But you have to let us help you Lance.” 

Lance nodded his head slightly, had anyone ever told him he would be okay? That he could find support and comfort in him no matter what? He reached his hand up and wiped his face, when did he start crying. 

Keith moved quickly and pulled him in for an awkward hug. Lance reciprocated it after a couple of confused moments. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but Keith pulled away, after mumbling that he would be okay into his ear. 

He took a couple of steps back, “Tell anyone about that hug and your dead.” 

Lance gave an over the top gasp, “but it was our second bonding moment!” 

Fire flicked in Keith’s eyes again, “YOU DO REMEMBER THAT!” 

Lance put his hands up again, “water under the bridge.” 

Keith muttered something under his breath again and Lance chuckled as they left the training deck. It might take some time but he knew he would be okay. 

-----

:)))) 

You can read this as platonic klance or romantic 

I hope I did this idea justice. I used stories from my life or some of my friends (with permission) 

Thank you <3333

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #lance #lance vld #lance voltron #keith #keith vld #keith voltron #shiro #shiro vld #shiro voltron #pidge #pidge vld #pidge voltron #hunk #hunk vld #hunk voltron #langst #klance #platonic or romantic #my wirting #answer anon #thank you #trigger warnings

[oceanswife]

newdawnrose replied to your post “Does Shiro hate the Wii theme?”

shiro probably forgets to pick up his phone because it starts playing and he starts listening to it and shaking his head along and then hes like "wait, shit thats my phone someones calling me"

FIJDSHU THAT’S SO CUTE

#Shiro's like oh shit this my jam hold up #newdawnrose #replies

[lance-space-mommy]

Bullshit

(minor Langst)

“It’s doesn’t matter.”

Lance maintained composure his face dimming with every word someone spoke to him. Darkness in his eyes eventually forced people to stop talking.

“Who gives a shit, God!”

Throwing his hands up Lance almost immediately shoved past his group into the wide crowd of aliens.

“God damn it Allura! You really pushed him over the edge,” Shiro said as a matter of factly.

“Oh, cause I’m the only one to blame idiot! You should start acting like the leader of Voltron and not a baby!”

Pidge glances to oncoming BOM and Keith, “Okay so Lance is nowhere to be found because of you imbeciles and Keith’s coming!”

Hunk sighed, “I’ll go and look for him...”

Lance was now running, he had no idea when he started but he was and he felt like screaming into the vast void in front of him. His head, light, and brain foggy he didn’t know how to feel. How to be Lance.

Rushing out into a giant open field of flowers, resembling blue daisy’s, his mother's favorite flower he felt the world spinning as if everything around him was not functioning. The wind started picking up, developing into a bunch of flower petals soaring through the entire kingdom.

Allura feeling bad decided she was to apologize and lead the entire team to follow Hunk. Yet upon reaching the door Hunk still stood there seemingly frozen at the scene unfolding before him.

Rushing out they all looked for Lance, soon Keith took the lead seemingly urgent and annoyed.

“What the hell is going on guys?”

Pidge crossed her arms, “Would you like me to explain for you, Princess?”

Allura turning with a strained smile, “If you must.”

Pidge smiled sarcastically speaking, “Oh it would be a pleasure,” immediately dropping the attitude she turned to Keith, “so team leader here and Allura have been on his ass all the time and it’s no help that I and Hunk haven’t come to his aid, so he finally snapped and walked away.”

Keith sighed, “I’m getting Lance.”

Lance was in the middle of the field and froze screaming, “Is there something wrong with me!”

Crashing to the soft grass underneath him everything fell, blue flower petals in his hair as he sat there all his freckles glowed.

He spotted Keith looking around frantically shouting out for him, “Lance?”

Lance up a single tear fell down, “Keith?”

Keith’s headshot in the direction of Lance, his gaze heavy like the lives of tons of heroes rested a hand on his shoulder. Lance smiled standing up, “Keith!”

The two sprinted to one another, the months of the two being apart, their friendship had only grown stronger into an unspoken of love. Lance took a running starting run to Keith throwing himself onto him. Slamming Keith to the ground he looked at him, tears streaming down his face as he smiled.

“I missed you, you fucking idiot!”

Keith cupped Lance’s cheek looking down at him a tear of his own starting to form before he leaned down and softly spoke the question already lingering between the lips of the two.

“Tell me to stop.”

Yet all Lance did was wrap his hands around Keith’s neck, a smile decorated on his perfect face, with perfect tears, and a perfect everything.

A tender kiss, one not too long but not too short, Keith pulling Lance up and into a hug they didn’t move.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you-”

“Shut up you’re here now and that’s all that matters to me.”

Pidge and Hunk stood there and after a bit, they joined the hug that Lance and Keith rearranged for. Lance then turned to Allura and Shiro and dragged them into the hug.

“That’s better, exactly the way it should be.”

Keith smirked kissing Lance’s forehead, “Hah, that’s bullshit!”

My face fell, “Damn straight, we had a mission so let’s actually do our job.”

Putting on my helmet I generated my bayard, “Okay let’s see what weapon I’m given today.”

Not my surprise it waited for me to choose, I shrugged deciding to go with a smaller gun. The smaller the gun, the easier it is to attack and aim.

Typing up a message to Lotor as Pidge tried to track down the location of the Galra I smiled brightly under the shaded screen of my helmet.

Keith and I kissed -Lance

Oh, really? I’m so happy for you -Lotor

Thank you now all you have to do is confess to Allura -Lance

Pidge’s voice snapped me out of my activities and made me realize everyone was looking at me.

“What?” I slightly snapped at them. Not used to having them sincerely be interested in what I was doing.

They all looked away to Pidge as she spoke, “I found an underground base Galra are camping at. Probably holding valuable information.”

Nodding I made my way as the map was shared with everyone.

Clipping in my ear chip I decided to call Lotor.

“Hey, I thought you were on a mission.”

“I am just bored, what are you doing?”

“Ah, nothing crazy just organizing my papers and information. The chips crazy jam-packed.”

I hummed in response as he became venting about his skincare and conditioner. I walked around taking down enemies. Ducking beneath a stand I shot at two sentries.

“Okay, so it’s not just me who’s having horrible skin! Besides conditioner makes my hair oily.”

Taking down the last enemy before the castle entrance I smiled, “Sorry Lotor I’m about to meet with the king I’ll call you later.”

“Bye Lance better stay safe for me!”

Hanging up I slammed open the doors scoffing at the weakness the Galra presented before noticing something was off.

The fighting wasn’t over.

Feeling a weight in my hand, I subconsciously knew it was my Altean broad sword.

Brightly I smiled as my eyes lit up, Keith rushes in after me but all I did in response was shrug my shoulders, smirk, and scoff all in unison.

I’m a bold voice I called out. Slashing my sword out.

“This is bullshit.”

#katie holt #keith kogane #pidge gunderson #takashi shirogane #vld allura #voltron #voltron coran #voltron keith #lance angst #langst #vld #klance

[sasuhinasno1fan]

A night with my Japanese class crush

Inspired by these prompts I found here. I love college/university aus, there the ones I tend to default to since I'm in college myself. College

Lance knocked on the door again, hoping someone would answer. This wasn’t happening. He was not locked out of his own dorm room because he forgot his keys in the room when he went to go grab dinner and study. Except, well, he was. He knew Hunk wasn’t there. His high school sweetheart went to a college a few hours from theirs and her extremely over protective brother wasn’t going to be on campus for the weekend. His other suitemates though, James Griffin and Lotor Daibazaal, the assholes, had to of gone out for the night. The most annoying thing was they all hung their keys up on hook by the door, so they knew he didn’t have his keys yet they still locked the door. He groaned, dropping on the door and sliding down to the floor. It was cold outside and he just wanted to go back into his room and put his fuzzy shark onesie on and drink hot chocolate and fall asleep listening to the new Alexander Jean CD he finally got.

Part of him wondered if he’d get in trouble for falling asleep in the dorms’ lounge but he knew the last time someone had done that, they woke up with dicks and curse words drawn on their face. Lance was not risking that. He tried to think, was anyone he knew on campus still awake? Allura? No, she had early morning practise, so she’d be asleep with her earbuds in and he didn’t really know he roommate too well. Adam? He was the RA for a whole other building and if he remembered correctly, his favourite TA was on duty tonight so he couldn’t have guests. Pidge? No to that too, they lived with their brother and Matt loved annoying him by flirting with him and he didn’t have the mental compacity to put up with him right then.

In his frustration, Lance picked up his Japanese text book and threw it down the hall, where it hit the door on the other side. He heard the door opening as he threw his face into his hands.

“What the hell? Lance?”

He looked up and froze when he saw the person at the end of the hall. Shit.

“Keith!” he cried, shooting up and stared the other male. “What, what are you doing here? I thought you lived in Montgomery.”

“I do, but my brother lives here and he’s busy and asked me to watch his cat.”

“Huh?” Cat? Pets weren’t allowed in the building? And what brother? And why was Keith even here?

Keith and Lance were in the same Japanese class. He had noticed him on their first day. There class was set up so the desks were in a circle and Keith was opposite Lance. the first thing he had noticed was his hair was a bit of a mullet but other than the tragic hairstyle, Keith was really good looking. Like drop dead gorgeous, with his dark eyes and obvious muscles. Back when the weather had been hotter, Keith came to class with his bangs clipped back and his hair tied into a messy bun and Lance felt his heart stop. No one should look that good. Didn’t help that he’d been in a tank top and it took everything in him not to get lost during the lesson because he kept staring at Keith. Whenever they stood next to each other when the teach would have them practise writing characters, Lance would control himself not to blush. God, literally last week, they were paired to do a practise conversation and Keith asked him if he was free on Saturday and Lance melted a little before remembering it was a practise conversation.

“What are you doing out here? And throwing your textbook out that hall?”

“Huh?” Lance realised Keith was talking to him. “I left my keys in my room by accident and even though my other roommates so my keys on the hook by the door, they still locked it.”

“I can call security for you?” Keith offered, holding out Lance’s textbook.

“Thanks, but Hunk used the suite’s free passes when he kept forgetting his keys, hence why we hang them up by the door now.”

“Oh. Are any of your roommates coming back?”

Lance shook his head. “Hunk’s gone to see his girlfriend for the weekend and I know my asshole roommates left for the night. Everyone else I know isn’t the best option to stay the night with.”

“Did you want to stay the night with me?”

“What?”

“My brother went to grab something from the student store and his therapy cat keeps meowing if he’s not in the room, so I’m keeping her occupied.” Keith explained.

“That’s what that noise was?” Lance said, thinking back to the times he was so sure he heard a cat meowing. Then he remembered something else. “Wait, the guy who carries the spaceship bag is your brother? I though he was a pre-vet student.”

“Shiro a pre-vet major? No, Shiro studying to be a teacher. He’ll be back soon and my roommate dropped out halfway through the semester so I’ve got a dingle. You can sleep on the extra bed and we can come back the next day to make sure your roommates are back.”

A whole night with Keith, alone? Lance would not make it through the night.

“I, I don’t have anything to wear. I needed a shower.” Lance tried to excuse.

“Most of Shiro’s hand-me-downs I use as pyjamas. I have extra towels too.”

Lance struggled to find another excuse. He didn’t want one because a whole night with Keith, yes please, but it was also Keith.

“Sure.” He agreed in the end.

“Cool, come on. we can wait in Shiro’s room till he gets back.”

Lance slowly followed Keith into the room, which he realised was one of the random singles on the floor. While one wall was taken mostly by a bed, the other had a large cat tree and a steady incline of perches, including a bridge that lead to the dresser. Tangled up in a teasing rope toy was a black cat, with a few patches of white.

“That’s Kuro, Shiro’s therapy cat.” Keith explained as he gently nudged her side, moving when she twisted in attempt to sink her claws into his foot.

“Oh. Ok. Medical issues?”

“Mostly. He has really bad anxiety after this accident he had. He’s much better than he was when he first got her but I guess you can say she’s overprotective. She doesn’t like having him out of her sight.”

“I see.”

The door opened and the guy Lance and Hunk were always so sure was a pre-vet student came in, unzipping his jacket. Most of his black hair was hidden by a beanie, but his white dyed fringe was still in his face.

“Oh, hello?”

“Shiro, this is Lance. He lives across the hall.”

Shiro’s grey eyes lit up with recognition. “Right. You live with Lotor right?”

“Unfortunately.” Lance said. It was no secret he didn’t like Lotor or James.

“Yeah, he makes it a habit to complain about me bringing Kuro to class.” Shiro said.

“I’m sure he does.”

“Lotor and his other roommate locked Lance out so he’s gonna spend the night with me.” Keith said, picking up his jacket from Shiro’s bed.

“Alright.” Shiro pulled out two bowls of instant ramen and gave whatever was left in the bag to Keith. “I’ll see you around Lance.”

“You too.” Lance said following Keith out the door and back into the cold air.

“Are you hungry?” Keith asked, his words slightly muffled with his scarf around his mouth.

“Um a little.” Lance admitted. “I can just grab something from the vending machine when we get to Montgomery.”

“No need, I have food in my room. I hope you don’t mind ramen.”

“Consists of most of my diet.” Lance admitted.

They soon reached the building and Keith tapped his student ID to the card reader, pulling the door open when it let out a beep. He led Lance up two flights of stairs and down the hall where a door covered in a Sherlock door poster hung, making the door look like the door for apartment 221B. According to the old marking on the door jam, it was actually room 221.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I had gotten the poster for Christmas before I started college and when I saw what my room was, I knew I had to bring it.” Keith unlocked his door and let Lance walk in first before he followed him. one side of the room looked unoccupied while the other was obviously lived in. the bed was covered in red and black sheets, the blanket shoved near the end of the bed, almost covering the large hippo plush. The desk was pushed against the end of the bed and held a large monitor for the desk top computer. Most of the wall was covered in posters of different anime or space related. On the chest of the drawers, acrylic stands and figurines were spread out, picture frames placed in free spaces around them.

Lance dropped his things on the empty bed and glanced over at the pictures. There was one with Keith and an older guy. He almost looked like Shiro but Lance could tell that he resembled Keith more. Another picture held a woman in army fatigues who looked more like Keith. There was one with Shiro and Keith along with a dog, who looked like more fur than anything. He looked over at Keith as he dropped his jacket onto the chair, taking the bag to the microwave that sat on top of the mini fridge. He turned on the kettle sitting on top of it and pulled out the other bowls of ramen.

“You said you didn’t like beef ramen, right?” Lance looked confused, unsure how Keith even knew that. “You mentioned it in class one day, around the food section?”

He had mentioned that, but that had been during a practise conversation that Lance knew he hadn’t been paired with Keith for.

“Um yeah. Don’t really like the taste of it.”

“I have soy sauce udon, is that ok?” Lance nodded and watched Keith pull a container out from the fridge and put it in the microwave. He picked up a mug that seemed to hold all the cutlery Keith owned and held it out for Lance.

Lance smiled at the sight of Studio Ghibli themes chopsticks as he took the Kiki’s Delivery Service ones.

“I didn’t realise you were such an otaku Keith.”

“Have you seen my bookbag?”

He had. It was covered in pins from different animes and the bag itself was Kingdom Hearts themed. “I prefer my pins on an itabag.”

“Oh I have itabags, I just don’t use bags on campus except for my bookbag so there’s no point in bringing them.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. He was still nervous about staying the night in Keith’s dorm, especially with his crush on him but he was learning a lot about Keith. It was slowly becoming easier to relax around him. The microwave went off and Keith pulled out the container, a cloud of steam erupting when Keith opened it and offered it to Lance.

“Seafood dumplings. I was going to finish these tonight so feel free.”

“Is it ok?” Lance asked. With Keith’s nod, Lance picked one up between his chopsticks and took a small bite. “These are good.”

“There’s this kinda unknown dim sum place not far from here. It’s pretty good.”

“Sounds like fun. I should check it out.”

The kettle went off next and Keith went to fill the bowls with hot water, keeping the lids down with a chopstick each before sitting next to Lance on the bed. He took Lance’s chopsticks from his hands and used it to pick up his own dumpling.

And there went Lance’s blood pressure, shooting up at the thought of using the same utensils as Keith.

‘Congratulations Lance, you’ve become a complete child with a crush.’

“Were you studying Japanese?” Keith asked.

“Hmm?” Then Lance remembered it had been his Japanese textbook he threw at Shiro’s door. “Yeah. The kanji is really hard.”

“Yeah. I get confused with some of them. I’m not looking forward to when we have to start using them in our writing.”

“I’m still more worried about speaking part of it. When I get nervous, my mind starts switching Spanish and Japanese.”

“Oh yeah, I remember the midterm exam, the speaking portion. You recovered really well though. If you want, I can help you practise your speaking.” Keith offered.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Lance couldn’t really answer after that. He wanted to. Keith didn’t have to but he wanted to.

“Sure. If it’s ok with you. Man, you are really doing a lot for me. Letting me stay the night, feeding me, helping me study.”

“I’m sure you can figure out some way to repay me.” Keith said, his voice sounding flirtatious, making Lance’s heart stop again.

‘He isn’t allowed to do this. I’m dying, why is he doing this?’

“You ok?”

“Yep, sure, totally fine.” Lance rushed out. Then Keith gave him this smile. God, he really wasn’t allowed to smile like that!

“Here, I think the ramen is ready.” Lance took his chopsticks back, and stuffed a dumpling into his mouth, trying to organize his thoughts. “Did you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure, you can choose.”

Keith handed Lance his bowl, which he started to dig into then woke his computer up. He put a DVD into the drive and skipped to the main menu.

“Ohh, Kingsman! I love that movie. The second one was really good.” Lance said as he saw the main menu.

“It’s one of my favourite ones. I remember Shiro saw it with his boyfriend and they said Eggsy had gotten married to a blonde chick and my mind went to Roxy.”

“I know, I watched it on the plane ride home but I was half asleep and the person next to me was watching it and was like ‘I can’t believe they shoved those two together! That was one of the stories good points, that Roxy and Eggsy were only best friends, never even hinted to be in a relationship. I was glad we were both wrong.”

“I know. But I guess it speaks to how Eggsy values relationships. He liked Roxy only as a friend and they stayed that way the whole time and even though he only wanted to have sex with the princess, he was able to hold a relationship with her, something he never wanted to risk, even for his job.”

“I kinda hope I can have a relationship like that.” Lance said.

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem.” Keith said, in that same flirtatious voice.

Oh god, Lance didn’t know if he was trying to say something. That was a tomorrow issue. For now, he was going to enjoy watching this movie and ramen with Keith.

#klance au month #college au #pinning lance

[psychicscavenger]

Two Stars Intertwined

Heyyy @noiryn I was your shance pinch hitter for the Shance Valentines exchange 2019! I’m sorry you had to wait awhile but I hope you enjoy it! I tried to include every single prompt in your list and this was the result!  

Prompts:

 Shiro lifting lance!!!! More specifically, benchpressing ;) 

 Nose kisses! 

Soft shiro looking at lance tm 

Knight/prince au is my jam

Them geeking over space together "

As promised, there is NO ANGST in this, just some happy fluff between a prince and his knight! Hope you enjoy~

                                                     *********

"Okay, one..two..three!" Shiro hefted his giggling boyfriend using only his arms, over his head, slowly bringing him back down towards his chest. Shiro smiled as his squirming boyfriend twisted around to peck him with a soft kiss, nose just barely brushing with his, pausing to rub just a little bit against his own before Lance resumed the position Shiro put him in, waiting as he continued to benchpress him. Lance kept as still as possible, not wanting to disrupt his secret boyfriend's concentration, although his face was absolutely flaming from how turned on he was.

For two minutes, Lance was hefted up and down by his secret boyfriend, heart hammering every time he was dipped low, wondering if Shiro might get injured, the strong bodyguard kept hold and hardly wavered in his strength. When Lance mentioned secret boyfriend, it was because as a prince, he typically couldn't court or be courted by someone of Shiro's status, despite it being higher than many. His position as head knight and Lance's personal bodyguard is what brought them close, in terms of speaking and being around each other. However, it was their mutual love for space that bonded them together. Lance had always wanted to travel through space since he was little, but as a prince he couldn't leave his duties and people behind while Shiro had explored a good number of the galaxy between their respective planets. There was nothing amazing enough to compare to those warm summer evenings spent talking on the balcony about the stars, their constellations and comparing them to the ones on Earth. Shiro would tell Lance of the times he dressed up as a spaceman for so many years repeatedly for a tradition called 'Howl'oh'ween' on his planet while Lance had been obsessed with anything to do with stars, including collecting little sticky glowing stars that he attached to everything despite his parent's disapproval. Lance could recall how Shiro had casually asked him out(in secret of course), he had somehow followed Lance up to his favorite spot on the roof of one of the smaller towers of the castle. The two of them were casually sitting next to each other, admiring the clear night sky with its indigo void and millions of shimmering stars above them. After they had reached a lull in their conversation, Shiro had hesitantly leaned towards Lance, a soft look upon his face that also held another emotion, something close to uncertainty.

"Lance I have something to ask you, but I'm not sure how to go about it." Shiro started with Lance giving him an inquiring look.

"You can tell me anything." Lance had said earnestly. So what if he was a prince trying to impress a knight, this was the Takashi Shirogane, a legendary hero, a man of many talents with charm and wit to spare. He was someone Lance had a crush on for a long time and now he was alone, with Lance!

"Well, I've been spending alot of time with this person lately. At first, it was just work related reasons but then after getting to know him I've started enjoying his company and soon I realized that I've fallen for this person... And I think he likes me too." Shiro glanced at him, eyes imploring as Lance blinked, feeling like his heart was being torn in two.

"O-oh! That's..cool. Who is the lucky guy then?" Lance asked unsure if he even wanted to hear the answer.

"I'll tell you, but first I wanted your advice on how to confess to him. I figured you'd be the wisest person to ask given your 'reputation' and your self professed flirting skills in the love department." Shiro teased as Lance playfully smacked his shoulder.

"You know as well as I do, there is no reputation! I scare off every interested suitor as soon as they meet me..which has nothing to do with my flirting! My flirting is the best I'll have you know!" He ranted, mouth just moving before he could think but thankfully Shiro seemed to like it, smiling amiably and not aware of Lance's inner turmoil.

"I do know but still, I know your heart is in the right place and that's what counts. Which is why I'm asking you for any tips for someone who can't flirt to save his life?" Shiro smiled innocently as Lance turned his head, hoping the night was hiding his blush well. Damn Takashi and his beautiful face...

"Uh well, I guess just be upfront and honest? I joke around alot, but if someone were to confess to me their feelings and be sincere in every word they say, that would be the best and most swooniest way to get me to fall for them, regarding if I like them to begin with. Of course, not everyone is the same... Uh Shiro?" Lance sat there stunned by the intense look Shiro held on his face.

"Lance, for the past few months I have fallen in love with you, every second of every day. I'm always captivated by your positivity, your charisma for how you approach things, and your love for everyone. I always felt there was something between us, and I was hoping that maybe you would consider going out with me?" Shiro wondered, feeling like he was sweating bullets but on the outside he looked cool and collected as always. Lance however was flipping his shit, internally and externally but for the wrong reason.

"Yes! Shiro, that's exactly how you do it! Tell your mysterious crush that and you're golden!" Lance cheered incredibly impressed by Shiro's acting. Shiro just stared blankly, unsure where he went wrong before he opened his mouth, to try again.

"No Lance I was,"

"Seriously! The raw emotion! The passion behind every word you said! Ugh! This crush of yours is extremely lucky! They better say yes or I'll kick their butt!" Lance stated but inside he was screaming, wishing it were him.

"Then you would be kicking your own butt." Shiro pointed out bluntly. Lance merely blinked slowly.

"What do you mean?"

"Lance, you're the lucky recipient. You're my crush. That speech I made was for you. I was confessing to you." Shiro explained chuckling a bit as Lance's eyes widened, and he seemed to freeze in place as if finally processing all of it.

"Wait, really?" Lance flushed with a new wave of excitement rushing through his body. Shiro nodded, ducking his head shyly as Lance stared at him in shock and awe.

"You..I..yes. I'm in love with you too. Have been for a while actually." Lance laughed, wiping a small tear of happiness away as Shiro lit up.

"R-really? I'm glad." He beamed, slowly but surely, he eased Lance's hand into his own, squeezing it just a tad for reassurance with Lance squeezing back in response. The two gazed at each other, the stars reflecting the love and affection they had for each other. And they continued to sit there, talking about the constellations and Shiro's many past trips to the galaxy, never breaking their hands apart as the evening wore on.  

The memory faded away as Lance came back to the present, feeling himself being gently eased down. Shiro released a long breath, placing his boyfriend down in his lap before sitting up and grabbing a small hand towel to wipe his face. "Did you enjoy yourself your highness?" he asked a teasing lilt to his tone with Lance sticking his tongue out and poking the other in the cheek.

"Yes, except for the part where you stopped. I know you can easily do twenty more reps. What gives?" Lance pouted. Yes, he was being a little bratty but this was his favorite part of the day! What used to be just simply watching his favorite knight do morning exercises has now become an enjoyable activity they can do together, even if all Lance did was ogle his boyfriend's abs and occasionally act as a weight. Shiro chuckled at his expression before placing a hand around the other's waist and inching him closer to press a kiss to his lips.

"I'm ready to move on to some push-ups and I know you get excited when I do those so..." Shiro trailed off watching the blush form on his beloved's cheeks before Lance ducked embarrassed and also turned on.

"Oh okay, where do you want me, underneath or?" Lance trailed off distracted, thinking about the last time he helped Shiro with push-ups, all he had to do was simply lie underneath Shiro as the other came down and give him a simple kiss for motivation. And also to encourage him not to face-plant on top of Lance and crush him. Not that he wasn't into that.

"Actually I was thinking you could sit on my back, kinda like what we just did with the bench pressing, you'd be acting as a weight." Shiro explained, getting up snd stretching just a bit before getting on the ground in push-up position while Lance stood off to the side, foot tapping offensively.

"Are you saying I'm heavy?" He accused, arms crossed and pouty expression increased tenfold as Shiro turned to face him with a bemused expression.

"Not at all, despite all those sugary pastries you eat, you're very light." Shiro lightly teased making Lance blush furiously having his eating habits called out like that.

"Only because you sneak me them all the time, my diet is all screwed up thanks to you! Whatever, just get on the ground!" He haughtily ordered using his 'prince voice' with Shiro chuckling, "Yes sir." Shiro eased himself into a push-up position, waiting as Lance carefully climbed on, laying himself across Shiro's back and amusingly his butt. Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro's shoulders as instructed and waited as Shiro began his next exercise. Lance gasped as the man underneath him practically flew down as if they were falling to the floor but then paused just before touching the stone and just as fast Shiro eased them back up to their starting position.

"Holy crow..." Lance breathed, face flushing as Shiro continued to do his push-ups, no longer focusing on his boyfriend knowing his mind will take a different turn if he thought about the prince laying on his back, face flushed and eyes slitted with desire and sleepiness from waking up early to help Shiro.

"You still with me, your highness?" Shiro asked turning his neck just a bit to see his boyfriend as Lance took the opportunity to lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his boyfriend's cheek.

"I am and always will be." He stated, pressing his face against Shiro's neck, arms tightening their hold around Shiro's chest as the knight paused, looking back at his boyfriend with a soft look, smile small but easily noticeable as he replied,

"And I'll always be with you my prince, my star."

                                                 The End

Hope that was okay and that you liked it! Also just curious to anyone who reads this, should I put this up on AO3?

#shance #shance valentines exchange 2019 #shance cafe #noiryn #psychic writes #prince lance #knight shiro

[ravenvsfox]

I'd be so down for some klance! How about Lance jumps in and takes a bullet for Keith when they're separated from the group and it seems like a fairly minor wound but the bullet was poisoned and now Keith has to get Lance back to the castle and feels a lot of feelings.

PREMIUM prompt, here’s another 7k

The city is built like a labyrinth, high, sprawling concrete walls with uniform homes and shops built into them, everything coiled tightly around the shining city centre.

It’s a genius kind of protection, Coran tells them. No ship is small enough to land in the heart of the maze, and by the time foot-soldiers are lost in its twists and turns, defence has already sprung into action, soldiers who have been solving the puzzle since childhood.

Allura deploys the paladins to three different entry points — her and Hunk to the East, Pidge and Shiro to the North, and Keith and Lance down South. She gives them each a rough holo-map of how to navigate to the centre, where they think refugees have been hiding with dwindling supplies.

A Galra ship is suspended in nearby territory, close enough to appear in the sky like a moon from the face of Griathen. The implicit threat has kept the citizens behind a barricade for weeks, firing distress signals out into space.

The paladins already ambushed the ship and subdued their forces, so this rescue mission is like a victory lap.

When they ease down onto the windswept surface of the planet, Lance cranes out of his seat, as close as he can get to the window. The capital city rises up out of the dust to meet them, like a beast from the sea. 

“Well that’s ominous,” Lance says.

Keith follows his gaze to the slender, dusty mouth of the Southern entry point, the imperfect slabs of concrete pitched slightly inwards like bared teeth.

“It’s a maze,” he says, shrugging.

Lance scoffs, undoing his harness busily. “Your observational skills have really been honed by your time with the blades.”

“Shut up,” Keith says.

“Wow, snappier comebacks too? Will the wonders never cease,” Lance teases, ducking out of his seat to grab their gear. He flicks Keith in the cheek on his way past.

“We don’t have time for this,” Keith tells him, tracking Lance’s movement across the cockpit, studying the tapering, exaggerated lines of his armour. “We’re losing daylight.” When Lance glances back at him he looks quickly away, securing his bayard against his hip and reaching up to push the release on red’s jaw.

Lance spends a beat too long looking backwards towards the haze around those fortress-like walls, and Keith reaches out with a foot to kick him in the calf.

His leg gives out and he yelps, barely catching himself on a low hanging rafter. He looks back at Keith, disbelieving. “What the hell?”

“Get out of my lion,” Keith says flatly.

“Alright bossy,” Lance replies, “a man can’t even stop and enjoy the scenery when you’re around, huh?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s not scenery, and you’re barely a man. Come on.” They stride down the long stretch of Red’s gangway, and the grimy air hits them hard.

“Says the dude with no chest hair,” Lance grumbles.

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Oh, but you want to do something with me?” he asks suggestively. He cuts ahead to walk backwards in front of Keith, who speeds up so that Lance almost trips, jogging the wrong way down an incline. He grabs at Keith’s forearms to keep his balance.

Keith can’t figure out why he’s been doing this lately, trying to throw Keith off guard by flipping the switch between fighting and flirting, like some messed up tactic to get ahead.

“Yeah,” Keith says, stubbornly unaffected. “I want to do this mission.”

“Boo, okay,” Lance says, and they hop one by one out onto a barren stretch of sand.

The whole planet is a vortex of grey so light it almost looks like it’s blizzarding, except Keith is already sweating in his armour. The panel of shade cradled in the mouth of the city is sorely tempting. They cross the chasm of the desert slowly, struggling to stay upright in the swirl of sand and debris.

When they finally duck between the walls, backs to the stone, they’re both breathing hard, their visors fogging up.

“Why would the Galra,” Lance pants, “even want to take this shithole?”

“Maybe they want it because it’s so hard to take,” Keith says, squinting into the lukewarm light and open space. Every line of every wall is clean, plain, and nearly identical to the last one.

“That does sound like Galra logic,” Lance groans. “Someone needs to have the ‘consent is sexy’ talk with Sendak.”

“Are you volunteering?” Keith asks, playing along, one hand on his weapon.

“Oh, definitely. I’m going to single-handedly defeat the Galra empire by teaching them sex ed.”

Keith laughs, startled.

Lance grins. “And I could start right here with you, if you want,” he teases, stupid and salacious.

He knocks their shoulders together and Keith’s mind goes blank. “Uhhh. Do you have the map?” he asks quickly.

“Um,” Lance falters. “Yeah dude, one second.” He fumbles for the tablet in their pouch of supplies, and when he pulls the two halves apart, a hologram springs up, glitchy and silvery blue. “Okay so… left up here, and then we hang two rights in a row and go straight for a while. Got it?”

“Got it,” Keith confirms.

They tramp through the barren corridors of the maze, ducking their heads into shallow rooms with destroyed tables and canvas awning out front, passing cubicles that look like they’re built as single-person sleeping quarters, tiny pockets carved out of the walls.

“Tell me this doesn’t remind you of the old west,” Lance says, hip-checking a low swinging door and hopping away when it comes back at him. “The abandoned town, the whistling wind, the heat, the dust.” He says it like he’s narrating a movie trailer. “I keep expecting John Wayne to round the corner with a pistol, ya know?” His face changes, and he looks a little uneasy.

“There’s no one here,” Keith reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says, and then he gasps, slapping a hand to his weapon. Keith’s heart makes a dive for it, but Lance just says, “maybe I’m the John Wayne in this town.” He wiggles his bayard.

“Don’t do that,” Keith says, punching Lance hard on the arm, but he’s undeterred.

“A more handsome, Latino John Wayne, who like, respects women and stuff.”

They round a corner and face three diverting hallways, and Lance spreads the map open again. Keith glances at it and walks straight forward, but Lance catches him by the arm. When he looks back, Lance’s face is serious, and his gaze is trailing along the tops of the walls.

“This would be a pretty sweet place for an ambush, actually,” Lance says softly. Keith follows his gaze, squinting at the mass of dust that reaches almost to the walls, like a roiling, smoky ceiling.

“We already scanned the place, and it’s a ghost town,” Keith says, slipping free of Lance’s grip and forging ahead. “Plus we’re nowhere near the Griathenian base yet.”

“Right,” Lance says, but he’s tapping his helmet and opening up communications anyway, following Keith at a distance. “Hey guys, anyone else feelin’ that warm and fuzzy ‘I’m being watched” feeling?”

The comms hiss. The wind wails. Lance’s eyes flicker anxiously to Keith’s, and he stops walking.

Finally, there’s a spritz of sound like a hose being turned on, and Shiro’s voice stutters through. “L—ce? —hear me? Comms aren’t—ing—well. Pidge thinks—in the walls.”

Lance holds his helmet over top of his ears like he’s trying to block out background noise.

“Something in the walls? Wait, what? Like something jamming communication?”

“Y—exactly.”

Lance shares another look with Keith, who shakes his head.

“We won’t bother you then,” Lance says. “Nothing to report, just a squiffy feeling. And hey, last one to the middle has to clean out kaltenecker’s pen.”

Disrupted air that might be Shiro scoffing, and then “—ger that. Try—ay focused.”

“Aye aye captain. Over and out.”

“You’re disgusting,” Keith points out as soon as Lance hits mute.

“I’m providing the team with incentive,” Lance says, “it’s called leadership.”

“Stick to the map. It’s called navigation.” They trudge through an archway, and come out into a tiny courtyard, with woody looking flora and spindly hallways outstretched in all directions.

“Is that all I am to you?” Lance asks from behind him. “A hot piece with an eye for directions?”

“Please. You’re just the guy holding the tablet,” Keith says, and he doubles back, striding to the middle of the little room and reaching out to grab the map for himself.

“You just don’t want to admit how badly you need—“ Lance’s teasing smile slips halfway off his face, and he lurches forward like he’s going to tackle him. Keith staggers a couple of steps backward in shock, but Lance grabs him hard around the shoulders and swings him around.

He has a second to register Lance shoving him against the wall with the full weight of his body, his arms folding around Keith’s head so tightly that he can’t see anything. Then there’s a sound like breaking wood, and something impacts Lance’s torso so hard that he rams into Keith with the force of a running start.

He makes a choked sound, and then his whole body slips down Keith’s. He catches him heavily by the elbows, looking down, bewildered, at Lance’s hanging head. When he looks up again, he sees the shape of a Galra sniper across from them taking fresh aim.

Keith forces them both into a duck exactly as a bullet zings into the concrete behind them, and Lance’s legs give out. His knees wag against the ground, but his hands are vice-like on Keith’s shoulders.

“Shit, Lance, come on,” Keith says frantically. His brain is a broken circuit, a twitchy lightbulb that won’t stay lit. He realizes too late, in terrified pieces, that Lance has been shot in the back.

“I’m trying,” Lance says, sounding annoyed. Keith sidesteps another bullet, dragging Lance to his side almost too late. “Controls aren’t working.”

He gets them both behind the nearest wall, watching the flash of the soldier following their movements, and then it’s a mad, adrenaline-fuelled sprint around as many corners as possible. Lance gets his feet under him for a few stray steps, but it’s mostly Keith keeping them two steps ahead of the gunfire.

They duck into an alcove, and Lance finally has long enough to activate his bayard. A blaster unfolds gracefully along the line of his arm as he swings it towards the doorway, and as soon as the sniper enters Keith’s field of vision, Lance has shot him down. He collapses off the side of the wall, and Keith sinks gratefully back, catching his breath.

“Oh fuck,” he says, laughing inappropriately and holding his mouth with the back of a gloved hand. He thinks of Lance’s tight expression when he’d looked up at something Keith couldn’t see or sense. “Sweet place for an ambush.”

“Right?” Lance says, wheezing. “I don’t know why you distrust the gut. It has all our most important organs.”

“Speaking of important organs,” Keith says, scanning Lance’s crumpled body, those long long legs akimbo, his hand clutched over his own side.

“Yeah, about that,” Lance says, reaching up to slide off his helmet. “I’m definitely going to die.”That’s how Keith knows he’s okay; if the dramatics are intact, then so is he.

“Let me see.”

Lance nods tightly, reaching around to unfasten his chest plate and then crying out. “Goddamn,” he curses, “the bastard really got me.”

“I felt it,” Keith says hollowly. He keeps reliving the thunk of it, the way Lance was all around him and then he was dead weight. He crouches down to reach around Lance’s body for him, and he can feel his uneven breaths on his neck. “Since when do they use projectiles and not lasers,” he mutters, peeling Lance’s under-suit down.

“Maybe they—“ Lance pants, “heard my old western idea.”

Keith ignores him, busily detaching pieces and feeling overwhelmed, sweat beading at his brow and inexplicable tears clogging his throat. He shakes his head against all of that feeling.

“Why did you have to do that?” he asks tightly. There’s nothing on his front, so Keith manhandles him into turning over.

His hands go stiff on Lance’s sides when he sees the blood slicking most of his back, but the wound itself is unassuming, tucked to the side, nowhere near his spine.

“Was I supposed to let him get you?”

“You could’ve used your words,” Keith says angrily. “Given me a chance to fight back. Not left me completely powerless.” Tears threaten hotly, so he screws his eyes shut.

“You mean safe?” Lance counters.

He stretches the skin around Lance’s wound, but it’s not bleeding very much. He makes this choking noise though, and it sounds so much like the one he made when he was hit that Keith takes his hands away altogether.

Lance rolls gingerly onto his back, looking up at Keith and then away again. “I wasn’t thinking,” he admits, probably delirious from the pain. “I saw him pointing at you and I—“ he shakes his head, looking disturbed. “I wasn’t thinking. And anyway it doesn’t matter, I’m fine.”

“You’re shot,” Keith snaps. “You made yourself into a human shield.”“Well excuse me for thinking you’re worth protecting.”

Keith clenches his jaw. His whole head is full of fire, and nothing in it is recognizable anymore. He can’t tell his anger from his fear from his love.

“More of them will be coming,” Keith says slowly. “We need to warn the others.” Lance nods distractedly, brow furrowed. His top half is bare, and it makes Keith uncomfortable to look at, crushed into the dirt and streaked with blood.

He taps his comms open, and calls out into the void. “Anyone there? Guys? It’s a Galra trap. I repeat, it’s a trap. We were ambushed in the third sector of the Southern quadrant. Lance is hurt, and more Galra sentries will be nearby.”

They both wait through the static. Keith watches Lance close his eyes with a dawning sort of panic. He kicks him awake, nodding meaningfully to his torso when Lance gives him a perturbed look.“I’m not concussed, idiot.”

Keith shushes him. The comms continue to modulate and hiss, but no voices come through.

“Great,” Keith says.

“Hate to say it Keith-o, but we’ve gotta keep moving. We’re still close to where that dude was last stationed, and when they find us we’ll be fish in a barrel.”

“Can you even walk?” he asks doubtfully.

“Can I walk,” Lance mocks. “My legs aren’t the part of me that got shot.”

“Clearly neither is your mouth, because that’s still running.”

“Oh, wordplay, that’s sexy. I didn’t know danger could bring out this side of you, Keith.”

“And we’re standing up,” Keith says, sliding an arm around Lance’s blood-slick waist and hoisting him upright. They overbalance and Lance has to catch himself on the lip of the doorway.

“Jesus mary, this hurts. Why did no one tell me gunshots were gonna hurt this bad?”

“Every piece of media you’ve ever consumed has told you gunshots hurt.” He holds up pieces of armour for Lance to shrug back on, wincing whenever Lance makes a pained noise.

“I’m just saying that you should feel sorry for me,” Lance tells him frankly, and Keith scoffs.

“You jumped in front of the bullet!”

“Yeah!” Lance agrees loudly. “You should be gratefully weeping and embracing me ‘we almost died’ style.”

“You’re delirious,” Keith says through gritted teeth.

“You’re ungrateful,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Let’s get out of here.” Lance stumbles over his own feet on the way out, but he doesn’t need Keith to balance him, and his gait looks almost normal.

He trains his rifle on the grey rectangles of open space above them, and Keith follows close behind in case he falls backwards. They fall silent, listening for footsteps in the constant whispering of the sandstorm.

He’s impressed by Lance’s constant vigilance, his dead-serious eyes and unfaltering grip on the trigger. He’s only a little unsteady as he tracks both sides of the wall, turning slowly, checking the tablet with the gun cocked on his hip.

 Keith almost forgets that there’s a bullet lost somewhere inside of him, that the Galra most likely outnumber them and have the advantage of height and invisibility.

“I don’t like this,” Keith says quietly.

Lance doesn’t stop squinting down the barrel of his rifle. “Oh yeah?”

“Why are they using different weapons? Why didn’t our sensors pick them up?”

“The Galra work in mysterious ways,” Lance says. “Don’t worry too much about it right now. We’re still in the staying alive part of the mission.”

“You didn’t seem to care too much about staying alive before,” he says bitterly.

“Keith, seriously,” Lance says, exasperated, dropping the arm holding his gun to his side. “Are you mad at me for that?”

“Forget I said anything.” He fiddles with his own bayard uneasily.

“I keep trying to, and you keep sighing like some—wronged boyfriend.”

“I’m worried about you,” Keith blurts. “I hate that you’re hurt, and I let it happen.”

“Well—I mean. Okay,” Lance says, flustered. “But it’s not…”

He looks down at his abdomen, looking surprised, and then he drops like a stone.

“Lance?” Keith just stands there for a second, looking at where he’s crumpled and unmoving, not really understanding what he’s seeing. And then he’s rushing forward all at once, dropping his weapon in the sand and skidding to his knees.

Lance’s face is wan, and his head is thrown back like he’s too weak to lift it.

“What the hell,” Keith says. He can hear how reedy and panicked his voice is, and he barely recognizes it. He props Lance’s head up with his hand and struggles to take his helmet off again. His hair is drenched in sweat.

His eyes slit open. “I don’t feel so hot,” he murmurs.

“Is the shock wearing off? Is that what this is?” Keith feels quickly for more blood, for fever, for anything.

“Don’t think so,” Lance says, eyes opening properly. His pupils are twin pinpricks in unbelievable blue. “It hurt before, but now it’s worse. Way worse. I don’t know why my body isn’t—“ he tries to make a fist, but his fingers don’t close all the way.

Keith looks up at the empty walls, the stretch in front and behind them that look completely the same. They’re so exposed that it’s like a physical burning on his skin.

“Can you move?”

“Uh. Gimme a sec.” He breathes in and out a couple of times, laboured, and then he seems to use most of his energy to get halfway to sitting. “Keith,” he levels him with a serious look, and he thinks for a second that he’s going to tell him to leave him behind, or something equally ridiculous, but he just says: “we can do this.”

He catches at Keith’s neck, and leverages himself the rest of the way to sitting.

“Hey, not so bad from this angle.” He cracks his neck and shakes his hands out, obviously for Keith’s benefit.

“Let me,” Keith starts, and he shifts into a crouch so that he can lift Lance up off the ground by the armpits. As soon as he’s up he teeters into the nearest wall, and Keith hands him his helmet first, then his bayard.

“Lean against me, okay? We’re taking this maze side by side.”

“Neck and neck,” Lance says sort of hazily, rolling his head to look at him and smile, open-mouthed. “Okay.”

They move as an eight-limbed thing, and side by side they cover almost the full span of some of the passageways. Keith fumbles with the map and his bayard, sometimes leaning over to adjust Lance’s grip when his own bayard slips and the gun wobbles and ceases to exist.

“As far as missions go, this isn’t in our greatest hits, Keith, gotta say.”

“Whose fault is that, huh?” Keith asks, but he can’t tease the gentleness out of his voice. Lance looks so weak, and his helmet keeps knocking against Keith’s when his head droops.

“It’s your fault for not listening to my wise and beautiful guts.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Keith says, holding him tighter, trying to keep Lance together first and himself second.

“Hey, nah, you gotta argue with me,” Lance says. His voice is starting to slur.

“What do you want me to say?” Keith asks, blinking through tears and sweat.

“I dunno. Blah blah blah, I’m a dick. Blah blah, I ignore Lance’s golden instincts, and—and…”

“And what?” The next step Keith takes, Lance’s feet drag underneath him. “Lance? And what?” He reels around and feels for Lance’s pulse, finding it absolutely hammering. He remembers Lance’s pupils, the weakness of his grip, and the strange bullets, and he sobs with realization. “Fuck. The fucking— they poisoned you. Do you hear me?” He props him up against the wall, and keeps him in place with his own body, tapping at his helmet and trying to radio the team again.

“Anyone? Is anyone out there? Anywhere? Please. Please. It’s me, it’s Keith,” he says, choking, looking at Lance’s closed eyes and the dark freckles sprayed down his cheeks, the two that overlap on the tip of his nose. He holds his drooping jaw to keep his face forward. “We need help. Badly.”

There’s no reply, and Keith starts to cry in earnest. Lance’s brow furrows, and he sort of moans, hands lifting weakly to Keith’s forearms.

“Hurts,” he whispers.

“I know,” Keith whispers back. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Lance sighs. “Keith. Are you still running for your life?” He squints. His mouth is so pale.

“I’m running for ours,” Keith corrects, petting at Lance’s helmet stupidly, just trying to stay present. “Do you want to join me?”

“Hell yeah,” Lance says, but when he tries to stand, his body jackknifes and cracks back against the concrete. “Oh.” He coughs, and shakes his head. “My body says no.”

“I’m gonna carry you on my back, okay?” Keith says, already arranging his limbs.

Lance nods, face screwed up in pain. “Okay.”

He clips Lance’s bayard to his hip and wedges himself low against Lance’s body, easing him over so that he’s sprawled out on his back. He straightens slowly, keenly aware of how terrible it must be to have all your pain manhandled like this. 

He hikes him up by the thighs, and Lance turns his face into the back of Keith’s neck. He’s burning up even through his armour, and Keith tries to focus on the heat as a sign that he’s alive.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on Hunk and Pidge when they’re trying to—to make engineering into a game, or whatever. They’re just trying to feel normal.”

“What?”

“Pidge has the best the best head I’ve ever seen, man, and—“ his voice goes tense, shocked through with pain. “Hunk has the best heart. And tell Shiro how great he’s doing, would you? How much we love him. He always keeps everyone together but—but he really needs to hear it.”

Keith shakes his head. “What are you doing.”

“Allura needs someone to be family for her, so be her family, okay? You have a whole lost species to make up for but you’re… you’re pretty good.”

“I’m so mad at you,” Keith says, shaking with rage that he can’t do anything with. He squeezes Lance’s thighs. He hasn’t even looked up in the last seven turns.

“Coran reminds me of my dad, a little,” Lance muses. “Really loud because he really cares. You gotta tell him how much it meant to me… that he took me in. Like a dad.”

“I’m never going to forgive you if you die,” Keith says hoarsely.

“Keith, I really, really wish we had more time.” He’s so lanky and slippery on his back, he feels like he could pop off like an elastic. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?” It’s getting hard to keep walking. The map keeps flickering, Lance keeps sliding down, and the sand underfoot is clingy like mud.

“You’re gonna be okay.” He sounds so lucid. It’s weird how he perked up to deliver this weird, verbal will to him, like he had a backup generator of energy for exactly this purpose, like he was saving it for everyone else, never for himself.

“I’m not,” Keith says thickly.

“You are,” Lance insists. “Even if the end of the maze is a Galra base and our team is all taken hostage and you walk in carrying a dead body as your only weapon—“

“Shut up,” he interrupts viciously.

“You’ll do great. You’re the top of your class. You’re my favourite person in the universe.”

Keith closes his eyes, and slowly stops moving. The gusting wind is starting to sound like constant, mournful crying. He hears a smudge of sound against rock, and he goes absolutely still.

“I really… loved being a part of your team,” Lance says, sounding drunk and sincere. “You make me feel….” his words go soft and broken, and he passes out. 

Keith bites his lip hard, hearing footsteps come nearer, then stop, farther, then stop. Someone is circling, searching for them. Lance is dying, and Keith can’t make a sound.

He creeps a single step forward, and sand crunches beneath his boot. He curses silently, over and over, his heart in his mouth right behind his clenched teeth. Footsteps come faster, and Keith lifts his bayard.

Nothing happens for a heart-stopping second, and then the bayard shimmers into a sleek red blaster. Keith gapes at it, tears drying on his face, and when the two galra soldiers find him, they look as surprised as he feels.

“Hey! He’s over—“

Keith shoots the first one in the chest and he topples off the wall. The other one takes aim, and Keith runs with renewed strength, firing off inaccurate rounds behind him. Lance bounces against his back, and Keith keeps him away from the line of fire as best he can, pulling him awkwardly around to his side, cradling him on his hip like an overgrown child.

He makes an erratic run for it, trying to remember what was on the map and trusting his gut. It’s impossible to run very fast with the whole weight of a body balanced against the socket of his leg, and he’s not a marksmen like lance is.

He can hear the soldier radioing for help, but he’s obviously struggling to multi-task, and Keith takes advantage of his lag, making a couple of wrong turns and then doubling back and plastering himself to the wall around the last corner they took.

He can hear the stutter of feet. He kisses the helmet above Lance’s temple, and prays.

After a terrible minute, the footsteps pick up again, tracking farther and farther away from their hiding spot.

When he’s certain they’re alone, he jostles Lance to his back again, feeling an ache down the entirety of his body. He walks slowly this time, down the centre of each path, keeping his eyes on the grey overhead.

“Hey Lance,” he whispers, “we’re close.” No response. “You gonna let me save your life too?”

The paths are getting wider now, opening up a little. He can hear the faint sound of activity somewhere nearby, the bustle of a city. It doesn’t sound like a Galra base.

“You were right, about everything. As usual.” He peers ahead and tries to imagine seeing anything but grey. He squeezes Lance’s fingers where they’re dangling around his neck.

“Don’t you wanna say I told you so?”

He doesn’t take the bait. His hands are cold.

“Hey guess what,” Keith says. Lance hangs like a dead thing from his body, and he isn’t completely sure that that isn’t what he is, anymore. “I’ve always, always loved you.”

He can hear laughter, somewhere. It seems like some sort of scientific impossibility that someone could laugh, right now, at the end of the world.

He sinks to the ground, laying Lance out on the sand and following him down, like they’re going to bed. The wind cries and cries and cries.

“Keith?”

He looks up.

Hunk is staring at them, horrified, bayard deactivating in his grip. “Help,” he whispers. Then louder, “help! Get help, Pidge, get supplies over here, Lance and Keith are hurt.”

Keith looks into Lance’s face. He can feel Hunk coming over to them, manhandling Lance’s body, listening for breath and feeling for a pulse, asking Keith questions.

“He’s cold,” Keith tells him.

“You’re in shock,” Hunk says.

“Not shock,” He says, memory fluttering like tattered curtains. “It hurt before. Now it’s worse.”

Moments pass. His body aches badly. Someone else is there, and Hunk’s talking to them in hushed tones. “—happened to them?”

“—the same poison.”

“How did they—“

“—must’ve been exhausting.”

“His pulse is really, really weak, Pidge—“

“Someone should get Keith out of here.”

“No,” he hears himself say. “I carried him all the way here.”

“I know,” someone says gently. Shiro, he thinks, from far away. “We need to carry you the rest of the way.”

“The Galra—“ he starts.

“Are taken care of.”

“It never should have happened.”

“They have new tech,” Pidge says. “Some sort of cloaking device and those— those fucking bullets—“

“We captured most of them. Had a few casualties, but none of ours.“

“Lance is one of ours,” he says, confused. He feels like he’s talking through taffy. There’s an uneasy pause.

“He’s not dead, Keith,” Hunk says softly.

“Where is he?”

He’s not holding onto him anymore. He can’t imagine having let him go, but he’s not in his arms or on his back. They’re not even in the labyrinth, he realizes. The grey and the wind are tempered by colour and movement.

He looks up and the paladins are all nearby, looking grim and exhausted. He’s sitting down outside one of the little structures that litter what he can see of the town, and he can tell that he’s lost time. He can smell something burning nearby.

“He’s getting help.”

“I need to see him,” he says, wheeling to his feet. Four sets of hands fly out to stop him.

“You need to see a doctor first,” Shiro says. “I know you’re gonna be stubborn about this, but you’re in shock, and you’ll be helping Lance by helping yourself.”

“Can’t we let him go? What’s he gonna do, un-heal him?” Pidge says.

“It’s not Lance who would be suffering from this encounter,” Allura says tightly.

Keith shakes his head to clear it. “I’m okay,” he says, almost convincing. Time is starting to make a little more obvious sense. They told him Lance was alive, and he knows they wouldn’t lie about that. “I’m okay, but I have to--I told him I would save him, but I must’ve--must’ve passed out.”

“You did save him,” Hunk tells him, squeezing both of his shoulders, eyes glassy.

“He took the bullet for me,” Keith feels compelled to say, like he’s leaving out a crucial part of a confession.

“Idiot,” Pidge mutters.

“Hero,” Shiro corrects.

Keith shakes his head. He’s tired of talking about it like it’s some objective event, like he didn’t just wake up from living it. “I need to see him,” he repeats.

“Okay,” Allura says tiredly. “Okay. I get the feeling we’re only making things worse by keeping you apart.”

The gentle hands barring his way disappear. Hunk hooks a sad smile at him, and leads him by the elbow into the nearest building, stopping just inside the doorway, maybe to give them privacy. His arms cross and his lip wobbles, but he stays fixed at the door. Keith’s guard lets down a little for the first time in hours.

The interior is shadowy, panelled with pale wood but completely windowless. There are walls full of vials, wax tablets covered in writing, and those same woody plants from before.

The burning, Keith realizes, eyeing a collection of glowing instruments, was the physician cauterizing Lance’s wound. He can’t linger on the thought for too long without his eyes watering.

He walks, trance-like, towards the platform where Lance is face-down and stripped to the waist. He doesn’t even look at the doctor working quietly at his side, hanging bags of fluid and mixing herbs into pastes.

Keith’s eyes fix on a little coppery bowl, part of a tray full of frightening looking instruments. When he peers inside he finds the bullet that had been collapsing Lance’s body piece by piece, dragging him unconscious through an endless grey. It’s a tiny, blood-soaked thing crackling with purple energy, some kind of rotten quintessence.

The wound is ugly, infected, and bigger than the last time he saw it. His whole back looks like its contorted around the impact of the gunshot, and his skin seems too dusky to belong to living flesh. The doctor packs the wound with paste and gauze, and Keith swallows uneasily, looking away.

His gaze finds Lance’s upturned face instead, his parted mouth and slicked back hair, still dark with sweat. Keith puts his hand to the pieces that always stick up at the crown of his head, and he exhales all the terror he’s been keeping in his spine, the paralyzing stillness and feral anger.

He kneels quietly, hand sliding from his head to the curve of his jaw.

“You’re my favourite person too,” Keith tells him. His thumb slides against the hollow of his cheek. “Idiot.”

The doctor taps gently on Keith’s hand. Their skin is sun-bleached, with navy patterns running down their arms to their hands, which look almost like they’re dipped in paint. Their face is apologetic, tender with sympathy. “So sorry, paladin. I need to move him, if you’ll let me.”

“Where?” Keith asks sharply. “Why? Right now?”

“Just,” they say, holding out placating hands, “up high enough to wrap his wound.”

“Oh.” He steps awkwardly back and watches the doctor grip Lance’s biceps, maneuvering his upper body so that his head droops heavily forward.

“Wait, let— just let me do it.” He doesn’t know why he feels so protective over every bend and dip in Lance’s body. He wasn’t exactly being gentle with him when they were running and sweating and thumping against the earth and each other.

He reaches out and gathers Lance’s weight onto the front of his body, his head fitting neatly against Keith’s neck. He allows himself to rest his cheek in his hair and breathe.

The doctor wraps silky looking gauze around Lance’s waist, and when he runs his thumb along the seam, it seals against his skin like tape.

“Is he going to be okay?” Keith asks quietly.

“Oh yes,” the doctor says, helping Keith to lower him gently back onto the table. The way they’re looking down at him is pleased, fond. Lance had been unconscious the entire time he was in the room with this person, but he still managed to charm them. “He’s blue, right? Good with water?”

Keith nods jerkily, crossing his arms over his chest so he doesn’t have to focus on the way his heart is racing for no reason, and his arms feel empty without the weight of a body to support.

“Water is creative, healing, resilient. He’s smarter than this galra poison.”

Keith snorts. “I beg to differ.”

“Fire,” the doctor says sagely, eyeing his scuffed red armour. “Stubborn.”

Keith look skeptically to Hunk in the doorway, but he just shrugs, half-smiling.

“I’ve done all I can. And so have you.” They pat Lance’s calf firmly, then cross to the doorway. “Don’t let him move around too much, alright?” They smile warmly and disappear out into the celebration outside, the after-party of a liberation.

“He’s not gonna like that,” Hunk says, and Keith’s mouth twists, amused.

“No. It’s amazing how lazy he is until someone tells him to sit still.”

“Yeah, and then he’s trying to teach us salsa, right?” Hunk grins at him, eyes bright and knowing. Keith isn’t used to it, the way loving someone can become this whole community experience. His expression must be wrong, because Hunk’s smile fades. “What happened out there, man?”

Keith’s teeth grit. He remembers that first impact of Lance’s body, the coil of his arms protecting Keith’s face, the endless slip to the ground. He can still taste the sweat from the exertion of running. He can feel the soreness of the muscles that Lance’s weight tested when he’d been swung around his side, gangly but heavy. He remembers his voice, drizzling over Keith’s neck with the last of his consciousness, you make me feel…

“We were ambushed.”

“How many?” Hunk asks gravely. Keith faces Lance, touching the clean lines of his shoulder blades, ghosting his fingers over the bandaging.

“Just one. One soldier, one bullet.” His hand reaches the spot where the gauze is thickest, and he can’t bring himself to move any farther.

“How exactly did they outdo a sharpshooter and a former blade of marmora?” Shiro asks from where he’s ducking into the doorway. Pidge follows, going all the way up to Lance’s bedside and plopping down cross-legged in the side chair. Allura leans up against the doorframe opposite Hunk, the pair of them look like some kind of mismatched security team.

“They took him out early,” Keith replies, swallowing hard. “He just kept getting sicker and sicker, and we couldn’t figure it out. He tried to keep walking, but his body was shutting down, and the Galra knew where we were, so--so we had to move as quickly as possible.” He shakes his head. “You don’t realize how loud it is, carrying someone.”

He catches Shiro and Allura exchanging a loaded glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Then my bayard turned into a gun, and I kept firing until I hit something.”

Allura gets this troubled look on her face, and Keith ignores it. He can’t even fathom trying to deal with the mysteries and magic and fear of something bigger than one foot in front of another, or the next ash-grey wall in a maze.

“That’s cool,” Pidge says, thoughtful. “Do you think your bayard transformed based on the range of your target? Maybe it’s equipped to adapt to your needs?”

“I don’t care,” Keith says simply.

“I think it’s like Harry Potter, and his patronus changed to match the person he’s in love with,” Hunk says, sly.

“Are we talking hp?” Lance asks faintly.

“Lance,” Keith chokes before he can stop himself. He drops to his knees at his bedside, and he’s the first person to see those eyes open, deep summer blue.

Lance smiles slowly. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Fuck you,” Keith says, his voice raw. “I’ve never been that scared. Not for myself. Not for anything.”

“You’re okay,” Lance repeats, scanning his friend’s faces, corners of his eyes crinkling and then drifting closed again.

Keith shakes his shoulder. “You’re not allowed to go to sleep.”

“I was almost fatally poisoned,” he says irritably.

“A choice that you made,” Keith reiterates. “We’ve already had this fight.”

“And I told you it wasn’t, like, a conscious choice that I made,” Lance says, shifting in place and hissing at the pain. “I mean. You said — said I was just the guy with the tablet.”

“Jesus,” Keith says, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. I never mean it.”

“It’s cool,” Lance says evenly. “It’s just, like. I didn’t want to be the dude who brought a map to a gunfight. I didn’t think about it for even a second. Your back was exposed. You were smiling. I couldn’t just… I mean I really couldn’t just…”

“Yeah,” Keith says weakly. He would’ve done it too, to save his life. No thinking, no hesitation.

“Is everyone else okay? The Griathenians?”

“Everyone’s been freed,” Allura tells him, beaming.

“Thank god,” Lance says. “This isn’t some kind of prison hospital. I don’t think I’m ready to be some Galra’s slave.” His gaze finds Keith and his mouth turns up wickedly at the corners. “With one important exception.”

Keith flushes, and Lance laughs until his voice stumbles into hurt. He holds perfectly still and breathes through it.

“I’m glad it was me and you though,” Lance says, looking up at Keith from his pillowed arms. “You—were a shithead. Distracted me. Didn’t hurt so much.”

“Romance,” someone says behind them.

“And now?” Keith asks.

Lance shakes his head. “I’m good. Hurts like a gunshot should hurt, I think. Less like I’m being burned alive than before.”

Keith bows his head, forehead to Lance’s hands. They turn over against his scalp and comb through his hair. “No more missions until you’ve spent a week in a healing pod.”

“You don’t have the authority to do that, bucko.”

“No more missions until you’ve spent a week in a healing pod,” Allura echoes, and Lance curses.

“How about no more mazes,” Shiro offers. “Ever.”

“Deal,” Lance says.

“Deal,” they all chorus.

“How about you never get hurt again,” Keith says quietly, small and serious.

“I dunno,” Lance says, mouth twitching. “I’m pretty sure if I do, you’ll carry me anywhere I want.”

It’s a joke, Keith knows it’s a joke, but he still looks up to say, “I’d do that anyway.”

Lance face goes as still and flushed as steamed-up glass, and he says, “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Keith’s chest throbs, a lash of heat, and he nods jerkily.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Pidge says.

“We should give them a minute,” Shiro announces, backing up in the direction of the doorway, dragging Pidge with him. “Not too rough, Keith,” he says, like he’s trying not to laugh.

Keith glares at him. The team files all the way outside, letting the curtain swish over the doorway, and then they’re alone in the shadows, and everything feels so real, and close together. 

Lance presses up into him, and pulls his head down. He remembers hitting the sand, thinking that he’d lost everything, and now he can’t wrap his head around the proof of him, the heat from his body and the tenderness of his hands. 

Lance presses a kiss close to the corner of his mouth, and holds the place that he just kissed like he’s pinning it there for safe-keeping. His mouth ghosts over Keith’s and touches down on the other corner, holding there, lush.

Their noses slide alongside each other, and their warm, tacky skin catches together. Lance’s eyelashes feather over his cheek, and It’s so intimate that Keith’s breath comes out choppy against Lance’s lips, and he reaches up to hold his damaged back as close as he dares.

Lance kisses him properly, his lips chapped and warm, and Keith feels so much for him that it’s like a whole second pulse, shaking him and leading him to the very edge of tears.

It’s so quiet now that he can hear the haunted sound of the wind again, only this time it fits right in between the sound of their shared breaths, and Keith isn’t afraid.

#local half human is so bad at flirting that he needs literal gunfire to up his game #klance #voltron fanfic #vld #voltron #angst #prompt #mine #i know that this intro seems lighthearted but this story...... is not #leahlisabeth #ask

[savetheblackpaladin]

Yooo I love this blog!! What do you think it would be like if you were really good friends with Shiro, but you guys flirt a lot and everybody knows you guys are pining for each other, what would it be like when you finally hook up? Friends to lovers is my jam!!!

You and Shiro have known each other for years. We’re talking decades here. Like you two have been thick as thieves from the moment your new neighbor invited you to play in his tree house rather than unpack the millions of boxes off the moving truck.

It was practically love at first sight.

Except that 5 year olds don’t conform to your heteronormativity and cooties exist.

Cooties aside, there was hardly a moment you two weren’t attached at the hip, so there was little surprise when you two proudly showed off your dual scholarships to the Garrison’s Exploration Program. Shiro would join the fighter pilots and you to the engineering division where, once again to zero surprise, you two would become partners-in-crime with Matthew Holt.

And Matt, bless his heart, saw exactly what your families have known for years: You two were madly in love with each other and too stupid to realize it. The question now was: does he just suffer with your mutual pining OR does he get you two together and potentially walk in on you two sucking face (or, let’s face it, worse) in the practice ship?

Who’s he kidding. He’s going to walk off the edge of the Grand Canyon if he has to suffer through Shiro describing once again, in perfect detail, how you fixed their (fake) hydraulic stabilizer in 30 seconds flat. There’s only so many times a guy can listen to ‘…and the way they used a hair tie to hold it in place was revolutionary…’ without wanting to gag.

There’s was only one thing he could do.

After weeks of researching romantic comedies (and reading certain books he’d rather not admit to) he was ready to whip out the best of the best. But boy did you two make it difficult.

He tried getting you two to kiss via a spin-the-bottle game during a bonfire. Keyword: tried. Apparently coca-cola bottles defy the laws of physics and Shiro gets downright obstinate the more beer he has and just wouldn’t let Matt spin for him. But the two of you did end up drunkenly falling asleep in the back of Matt’s pickup, Shiro spooning you closely to his body as you happily held his hand against your chest. Unfortunately, someone set off fireworks and you woke up in a panic, accidentally elbowing Shiro in the face and spending the rest of the night in the ER so he could get his nose reset.

He tried setting you two up on a blind date for Valentine’s Day but, of course, you both assumed it was a double date to make things less awkward and both your dates stood you up. Matt’s not sure how you two swung that one because your table was in a nice secluded corner and only had two chairs.

There was the fake love-note taped to your dorm door talking about how ‘my love has burned years for you’ and ‘I only wish I had the courage to tell you face to face’ but ‘I’m scared to jeopardize our strong friendship’ and other sappy things that may or may not have made Matt tear up himself. Unfortunately, you never went home that day and when Matt and Shiro showed up to hang out (and for you to happily tell Shiro you loved him too) the note was still on your door. Shiro quickly ripped the note off with a violence rarely seen, his face darkening with anger as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket and burned it right then and there. He still denies it to this day even though Matt was literally right next to him.

Then there was truth-or-dare but no matter how hard Matt tried, he couldn’t seem to score either of you as victims.

He ditched you two at meals so many times that the two of you staged an intervention because you were worried something was terribly wrong with him.

He even tried getting a recording of at least ONE of you admitting you liked the other but damn if you two aren’t hard to manipulate.

He was reaching the end of his rope and it wasn’t until he got through chick-flick number 18 that he found the answer he was looking for.

“Matt, remind me why we’re watching you play with the chemistry?”

Matt snorted, “Because Shiro, you two can’t tell the difference between perchloric and hydrochloric acid and I really don’t want to die today.”

You and Shiro both scoffed but didn’t say anything else. Matt was right. Your lack of culinary skills also extended to chemistry and it was only last week Shiro brought the wrong acid and created a small explosion. Or that time you forgot your hot plate was on and you exploded your beaker simply by leaving it empty on the plate. To be fair, that was probably a result of crappy equipment but still.

Satisfied you two were properly chastised, Matt quickly added his ingredients for disaster. “Hey, Y/N? Can you get me some paper towels from the supply closet?”

“Uhm, why?” You’re voice wavered in concern as Matt sheepishly tried to hide the foaming mess behind him.

“Because I…added something wrong and in about 60 seconds there’s going to be graphite foam covering the table. And the floor.”

You cursed and immediately rushed out the room. If you didn’t get that shit cleaned up as soon as possible it was gonna take hours with a scrapper to get that off the tile. And there was probably some hefty detention involved too.

“And Shiro?”, Matt flushed as Shiro shot him a smug look, “Can you go with them? I need some methanol too and I think Iverson keeps that on the top shelf.”

Shiro snorted and slowly stood up, making a show of languidly stretching before taking controlled steps after you like he didn’t want to run to your side. Matt’s smirked deepened as he snuck off after him. Five seconds should be more than enough of a head start.

“Oh, hey Shiro!” You blushed lightly as Shiro joined you in the closet, “Matt need something else?”

You pretended not to see his blush as he reached above you, his chest brushing against your shoulders as he stretched. “Methanol, I’m assuming for easier clean–HEY!”

You both jumped as the door to the supply closet slammed shut and locked. Matt’s innocent whistling sounded on the other side.

“Matt! Matt, what the hell?!”, Shiro’s voice boomed above your head as he leaned around you two bang a fist against the door. You felt your temperature skyrocketing as this caused his back to press even harder against you, very nearly pinning you to the door. 

“Matt!”, you’re voice was weaker than you wanted it to be, “Let us out now! This isn’t funny. It’s really, really cramped in here!” Yeah, you didn’t know how long you could last feeling nearly every bit of your crush pressed against you.

Matt’s voice was cocky as he leaned against the door, “Oh no. I’m not going to let you out. You’re going to get yourselves out.”

“With what,” Shiro scoffed, “I conveniently forgot my crow bar in my bedroom.”

“Tsk, tsk, Shirogane. Have patience,” Matt teased. “I’ll let you out when you two stop being stupid and kiss or something.”

You both stiffened in the closet, your voices caught in your throats as Matt continued. “And don’t try to act like you don’t like each other because I have eyes. So like, just say it.”

“I-I don’t–”, you felt as if your face was glowing in the dark of the closet. There was no way you could tell Shiro you liked him. You grew up together. Practically like siblings. And he was so handsome and so smart, there was no way he could like you back. He was destined for greatness. For a supermodel or a politician or ROYALTY. Not the kid next door.

“Y/N”, Shiro’s voice was soft as he gently maneuvered you to face him. He felt you shaking as he tilted your head up towards him and he felt a great surge of fierce protection, an urge to pull you close and never let go. “Y/N, Matt is right.”

You gasped as he stepped closer, fully you pressing you against the door with his body, holding you up while simultaneously stopping you from escaping. Not that you had anywhere to go. 

“I’ve loved you for years, Y/N.” 

“Shiro…”, his name was shaky on your tongue and you couldn’t, you couldn’t say the words.

He leaned close, his hair lightly brushing your nose, “Do you really like me back?”

The words were trapped in your throat. Of course you loved him. You’ve loved him and only him. No one could even compare. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t get your voice to work! There was no oxygen in here…you couldn’t breathe…your heart was racing he was so close! Even in the dark of the closet you could make out the outline of the face you loved. Feel his breath on your lips. The smell of his cologne.

You were helpless against him. This ridiculously handsome man. You’re knees were about to give out. 

There was only one thing left for you to do.

You kissed him.

And oh! Those lips felt exactly as you’d imagine. Soft and warm and full as he immediately pulled you against him. His arms wrapped around your waist and a hand to your neck as he deepened this kiss. His tongue finally tasting the one person he’s ever wanted. You felt light headed.

It was happening.

It was finally happening!

Why did you wait so long?

“I-I love you, Takashi.”

~*~If you enjoyed this or any of my other works please consider donating to my Ko-fi or Digital Tip Jar!~*~

#shiro X reader #takashi shirogane X reader #voltron reader insert #voltron imagines #voltron scenarios #takashi shirogane #i wrote shito instead of shiro and i made myself laugh

[jeithiscanonking]

Jeith Angst HCs

[NSFW themes discussed]

Post-war

💋 James and Keith are totally hate fucking

Their fucks are pretty rough and quick, no sweet, sappy shit. Keith usually takes control- often riding James the way he wishes, but sometimes when he’s looking to be dominated, James brings out his Authority Kink.

Does James make Keith beg and whine? Does he make Keith call him “Sir”? Yes, of course he does.

💋James actually has unresolved feelings for Keith since pre-kerb OOF

💋Their relationship is summed up by most of Blackbear songs- James has noticed this bcs he’s always jamming to Blackbear.

💋They’re both very stiff and cold towards each other outside the bedroom- mostly because James is ashamed of what they do in secret and Keith.....he’s just awkward.

💋Keith loves James too but he himself doesn’t know how to interpret what he feels. Keith just mistakes the emotion for hate.

💋James gets antsy when Keith is around.

His friends have noticed how bitter and salty his behaviour suddenly becomes as soon as a certain raven haired boy enters the area where James is. It’s like Keith has the ability to antagonise (unintentionally?) James without even speaking or looking at him. It’s his presence. His vibes.

At least that’s what Ina concludes, anyway.

💋Keith has a strict no-marking rule- which James hates but respects and follows. He has accidentally left marks once or twice, but always at the hip or where it’s not obvious.

💋Keith marks James- but not with love(hate?) bites. Rather, with his lipstick. He smears James’ face, and collar, and bedsheets-

Of course, this only happens behind closed doors.

💋Usually, James room is where it’s at 👀

💋Immediately after sex, Keith disappears. He just clothes himself up and leaves. James is left empty every time. But he pretends to not care because duh what a stupid reason to be upset over, it’s not like they’re in a relationship or anything

💋James has a big misconception that Keith is crushing on Shiro. Yes, he HAD been but then Adam happened and Keith’s pretty much over it but James is still under the impression that every time they fuck Keith thinks about Shiro.

He doesn’t.

💋James just wants to be in a relationship with Keith but it seems so impossible and it makes him so sad. He wants to be Keith’s boyfriend. He wants to hold him. Call him his. Oh God he’s hopelessly addicted to the ravenette and it’s not helping his case of Deny All Feelings.

💋But Keith’s “IDGAF” attitude really starts to tear James apart, limb by limb

💋Keith is only keeping up the “IDGAF” attitude to deny his OWN feelings. They’re both in denial? Help these bOIS??

💋Denial makes Keith all the more antsy.

When James tries to take things slow during sex later on in their relationship because he wants to savour the moment and pretend they’re in a relationship Keith BLOWS and asks him to hurry the fuck up and not be so slow.

💋Truth is Keith wants to marry this idiotic fuck but he hates Keith way too much to want that.

💋No yall just need to sit down and talk it out please get married 😭😭

__________________________________________________

Kssksk hope yall liked that shit. I’ll be making a fluff headcanon list as soon as possible. Jeith is currently my top OTP. Like,,,Sheith will own me forever but Jeith is really testing my loyalty out here.

This is actually how I imagine their relationship to be before the fluff begins. With Jeith, it will always be Angst before it turns into fluff. That’s how it will go. Always. And after fluff that’s all it will be- fluff.happiness. Softness. Jeith will be endgame in almost all the scenarios in my head I can’t stand to let one ship sink while I sail the other sksksksk IS THAT WEIRD

#why IS there an anti jeith tag #only idiots would hate this ship #let people ship things you cowards #this ship is so valid #and so beautiful #anti anti-jaith #fuck antis #cowards #voltron #jeith #keith kogane #vld keith #vld #voltron lance #james griffin #james vld #vld james #jaith #jaith fanfic #jeith headcanons

[bodhimcbodeface]

I have a feeling my Shatt fic won’t survive the next season so go ahead and have a scene

(warning for PTSD stuff and discussion of torture)

Matt’s thought about kissing Shiro before. He usually imagines it happening in a moment of triumph, both of them coursing with adrenaline, both of them at their best. What he hasn’t thought about is almost kissing him, almost and then not, when they’re at their worst and have to let will outweigh desperation. That’s not the sort of thing Matt tends to daydream about. But it happens that he’s trying to pirate some movies from the Galra entertainment networks, while Shiro watches casually from the couch. Just movies to pass time, nothing that really needs doing. But he, like an idiot, has chosen to do it anyway. And then he, like an idiot, takes a wrong turn and pulls up some goddamn arena footage.

Something shrieks and swipes a claw, somebody’s bleeding on the ground, the crowd roars right into his ears and—

No, no, no. He needs to turn it off, needs to turn it off now, but he’s frozen in place, frozen again, oh my God, needs to breathe, needs to move, and by the time his fingers obey him they’re shaking so violently that he can’t hit the key and was that, no, that wasn’t, it can’t have been—

The screen blinks off. Matt turns and sees Shiro sitting on the floor beside him, his hand slowly pulling back from the keyboard. His eyes are wide, still fixed on the spot where the scenes had played moments before.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” Matt says, breathing deeply, forcing himself to come back. “Shiro, I don’t know how that even—”

“That was me.”

Shit. He saw it too, then.

“Yeah. It was. Shiro— ”

“I killed that person.”

“It was a...highlight reel, that was barely two ticks—”

“I killed them.”

“You don’t know the whole story.”

Shiro blinks a few times at that. Then his face forms into a scowl, which he turns to direct at Matt. “I didn’t hesitate,” he says. “I didn’t aim to disarm, or disable. I went right for the neck. Tell me what missing piece would fix that.”

Matt takes a deep breath. He knows Shiro’s anger isn’t for him, and he’ll face it. But he needs to be careful not to make this worse. “Them,” he says. “The Galra. The way they made you do it.”

“It’s not like they could puppet me,” Shiro argues. “If they ever had that ability, they wouldn’t have taken it out. And we checked.”

Matt shakes his head. “No, they’re not like that. They prefer to watch you struggle.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it creeps in anyway. “They’ll break you with starvation, or isolation, or planting stuff in your head that doesn’t belong there.” Careful, he reminds himself, but his mouth moves faster. “Hold other prisoners hostage like the goddamn trolley problem come to life, and bet on what the noble slave will choose: if he’ll puke, cry, try to save everyone— ”

Careful.

He takes a deep breath, and another, to steady himself. “If you killed that person, Shiro,” he says, “it tells me a lot more about them than it does about you.”

Shiro looks at him, puzzled. “How do you know all this?”

“After I joined the Rebels, I asked to be placed on the prison break missions, and arena prisons in particular,” Matt says. He wonders why it feels like a confession. “It kind of...seemed like the least I could do. And I learned a lot about how they work.”

He doesn’t mention how research, once a thrill and a pleasure, had taken on an edge of desperation, blurring the line between curiosity and compulsion in a way that hasn’t quite left him. He hasn’t mentioned that part to anyone, actually.

Shiro shakes his head. “I know what they did, Matt, or I know enough to guess…” He looks like he’s forcing himself to concentrate, like he’s fighting a war in his head and just wants all the noise to stop. “But it’s not an excuse—”

“Ever been in solitary?” Matt says abruptly.

Shiro frowns. “Probably? I don’t know.”

“Well, I have. So I can tell you myself that if you’re fresh out of a long enough stay in there, and they threaten to throw you back in...you compromise. Sometimes in ways you swore you wouldn’t. Or even if you swore you wouldn’t at all.”

Shiro’s face is instant sympathy, because he can do that for others just fine.

“Matt, I’m sorry, I-”

He throws up a hand. “Hey, I’m not saying this so you feel bad for me. Really. I’m saying it so you know I get it. Hell, I’ve done it. And no, it’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason, and it doesn’t make you like them.”

He forces himself through the end of that sentence. Then he inhales calm and exhales tension, the way Shiro taught him years ago, before they’d ever even left the ground. “Might feel like it does, but it doesn’t,” he adds, and he makes his shoulders open back up, makes his body turn back to center, because this is not about him. But Shiro squeezes his hand anyway, because he’s Shiro and of course he does.

“You’ll forgive me, then,” Matt says.

“It’s easier,” Shiro admits.

“That’s stupid, you know.”

“So I’ve been told”

Matt feels himself soften at Shiro’s face; there’s a small, tired smile on his lips, and for now he’ll count that as a victory. He twists his hand to maintain the grip, bumping arms in the process, then pulls them back to lean against the foot of the couch. To breathe, and breathe again.

“Can I tell you what I remember about you there?” he asks after nearly a minute. His tone’s not quite relaxed, but no longer urgent.

“Something good, I hope,” Shiro replies. It comes out not entirely as a joke, but Matt snorts anyway.

“Yeah? How about the first day, when I couldn’t keep down the food they gave us, and then the next time they came to take you somewhere you returned with crackers and a piece of fruit stuffed in your clothes?”

“I did that?”

“You did. You said you picked it from another guard’s pockets. But first you caused a traffic jam in the hallway to make it harder to trace back to us.”

“Clever.”

“Yeah. Or the time you punched a guard in the nose for trying to take my dad away.”

“But they took him anyway.”

“Not the point. And I don’t need to mention the last time, do I?”

“I guess I’ve heard that one enough.”

Matt turns, and waits for Shiro to meet his gaze. “You resisted,” he says. “I saw it myself. From the reports I’ve heard, you kept resisting until the day you got out of there. But if every once in a while you couldn’t win, well….Shiro, that just means you’re human.”

At the word human, Shiro’s eyes dart to his metal shoulder; the lower extremity is gone, but it’s managed to swallow up more of him than before. He starts to roll it in a cautious circle before Matt stops him, his hand firm against the metal.

“You know I can’t feel that,” Shiro tells him.

“No? What about this, then?” Matt slides his hand up Shiro’s arm and around to his shoulder blade, pressing firmly into the warmth.

Shiro smiles gently and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can feel that.”

“And this?” he asks, disentangling his other hand from Shiro’s to wrap it around his waist. Maybe it’s dumb, maybe it’s not the time, but God, he wants to be close right now.

Shiro hums, turning to face him, or possibly turning so that more of them can touch. “Feel that too,” he says.

“How about this?” Matt pulls Shiro closer, slowly, until their foreheads are pressed together. He brings his gaze to his lips and wonders, not for the first time, what it might be like.

Then he pauses, because Shiro’s too vulnerable and because it would be too, too good. Instead, he lifts his face to kiss his forehead, then pulls away.

“Being chivalrous, are you?” Shiro teases him softly.

“Nah, that job’s all yours. I just wanted to make sure you’re good.”

He nods “I’m good.” Seeing Matt’s hesitation, he adds, “Really. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Matt realizes it only as he says it: “Maybe I’m not, then. At least, not quite, you know? Not right now.”

And he feels stupid; he was supposed to be the one to comfort Shiro, was supposed to be strong for him for once, but now it’s him who feels just a little too cracked open.

But Shiro nods, and he seems relaxed, and that’s not nothing. He lays his hand down on his leg and lets Matt reach out and take it, lets him press up against his shoulder while they breathe into the silence. And it’s nothing like Matt’s daydreams ever were. But he’ll take it.

#voltron #sometimes I write things

[toosicktoocare]

ice ice baby

I have a million prompts in my inbox, but here I am writing this instead...

College AU, Pre-Klance

Summary: Cancelled classes = ice sliding and bruises

Word Count: 2,008

Keith would be lying if he said he isn’t slightly annoyed as he slips his boots on over thick, wool socks. He had plans to spend the surprise free day curled up under multiple blankets in bed with a textbook, but Lance had messaged him, pulling him from the comfort and warmth of his bed with a "come outside ASAP" message.

He could have ignored this easily, but he knows Lance would have persisted with multiple texts before coming to their shared dorm and dragging him outside, whether he was dressed appropriately or not. So, it's better, Keith thinks, to blow the fire out gently by meeting Lance's request as opposed to fanning the flame with resistance.

Outside, the wind is freezing, and snow is still fluttering down, as it has been all night. Keith shivers despite the added layers he packed on and fishes his phone from his pocket to call Lance, because 'outside' could literally be anywhere. Squinting, he cups one hand over his eyes for the snow is borderline blinding to his tired eyes. The other hand presses his phone against his ear, and he looks and waits, listening to the ring-back tone of some current song Keith doesn't know.

After a minute, Keith hears Lance answer with a loud "Hey!" that echoes close by. Frowning, he pulls the phone away and looks to the right to see Lance racing toward him from the resident lot.

"You've gotta come see this!" Lance shouts as he stops beside Keith and drapes a cold arm over his shoulders.

Shuddering, Keith shrugs Lance's arm away and spares a side glance to see Lance's rosy cheeks and red-rimmed nose. "How long have you been out here?"

"All morning," Lance says with a wide smile, voice borderline breathless. "Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro were here earlier, but Hunk and Shiro had to go to work, and Pidge went in because she was too cold."

Nodding, Keith crosses his arms, feeling cold himself despite only being out for a few minutes. While Lance looks cold, he isn't acting like it, leaving Keith arching his brows slightly as the two walk. Lance always boasts about how he's from 'the most tropical place in the universe,' so Keith's honestly surprised that the brunet isn't complaining about the biting wind and single-digit temperatures.

When they reach the resident lot, Lance motions with a wide wave toward the ice-slick pavement. "Look at it!"

With furrowed brows, Keith toes an edge, boot sliding instantly. "You made me come outside to show me ice?"

"No," Lance starts with a laugh. "I made you come outside to show you this!" He gets a running start before sliding across the ice, hands waving about on either side for balance as he skids all the way across the lot until he latches onto the back of Keith's truck to stop himself.

"Impressive," Keith calls out dryly as Lance bellows with laughter.

"Try it!"

Keith shakes his head and jams his fists into his pockets.

"Come on, Keith!"

"No!"

"It's fun!"

"I don't care!"

"Just come on! I did it!"

A twitch of annoyance tugs at Keith's face because Lance knows the one weak spot and is constantly stabbing at it with a long knife. Keith has a competitive streak, kind of hard not to when your step brother is a small-town legend, and Lance knows this, being somewhat competitive himself.

"Keith!" Lance continues, drawing out the name with a sharp pitch that has Keith cursing under his breath.

"This is so fucking stupid," he mutters as he slowly walks toward the ice. He toes at it again, gauging how slick it is with a swipe of his boot. His shoe slides across it quickly, easily, and he frowns, prepared to back out on the grounds that this is reckless and stupid, but Lance is shouting again, yelling his name repeatedly. His voice grates along Keith's nerves until he's backing up then running full force to the ice.

Wind whips at his face, feeling like small, frozen daggers, and pushes his beanie up and over his head. His knees wobble as he goes flying across the lot, and he's in a constant state of feeling like he may fall at any second. His heart is hammering against his chest, loud enough to echo in his ears, but whether it's racing from fear or thrill, he's not sure. He's approaching Lance rapidly, and it occurs to him at this very moment that he hasn't calculated how to stop. He squeezes his eyes shut as his truck comes closer and closer, and he throws both hands out in a poor attempt to not completely crash against the truck, but instead, cool, soft arms wrap around his middle, and the two bodies slide a little until slowing into a stop.

"Holy shit," Keith breathes out along a puff of adrenaline as he pulls away to see Lance holding his waist and smiling at him.

"Fun, right?"

"Dangerous," Keith mutters, but a smile plays on his lips as he glances across the icy parking lot.

"You rock climb for fun, Keith. I think this doesn't really compare in terms of danger."

Keith can only nod as a tug of want pulls at his heart. "Race you?"

An impossible smile pulls at Lance's lips, and the two break apart and start toward the snowy bank off to the side to quickly get back to the other end of the parking lot.

For what feels like hours, Keith and Lance race each other as they slide across the parking lot. At times, other students join in, but majority of the time is spent alone, just the two of them pushing and pulling at one another as they glide across ice to try and be the first back to Keith's truck.

It's been a while, Keith thinks, since he's had this much. His body is slightly sore from small tumbles, but the thrill of whipping across the parking lot keeps him going, that is until his latest slide across the ice.

He's ahead of Lance, for once, but his shoe hits a snag, a crack in the ice, and it sends him flying forward. He manages to turn onto his side before his body smacks hard against the cold ice, leaving him hissing sharply from a blasting spike of pain that shoots all across his side.

He can hear Lance laughing loudly, and the laughter grows louder and louder until Lance is skidding to a stop beside him.

"Holy shit!" Lance shouts in between breathless laughs. "Are you okay?"

Keith sits up, face pulling into a sharp wince as his side almost burns with pain. He nods anyway, and Lance bends over to help him to his feet.

"You're soaked," Lance says, still puffing out breaths of laughs as he steadies Keith with a hand to Keith's back. "Wanna take a break?"

"Yeah," Keith answers, and the two start slowly back to their dorm room, shivering and sniffling as they hurry to their building.

The stairs are murder on Keith's side. He grips the banister tightly and grits his teeth as he climbs them, following Lance all the way to the third floor and to their room. When they reach their room, Lance mutters that he's running to the dining hall for hot chocolate, leaving Keith alone to change.

He starts taking off layers of cold, wet clothes. His jacket comes first, then his sweater, and finally the long sleeve shirt he's got on underneath. He pulls it over his head with a muted hiss before he drops it to the floor to rummage in his closet for something dry and warm.

He's eyeing one of Lance's hoodies when he hears a sharp gasp followed by something splashing to the floor. Whipping around, he sees Lance gaping at him in the doorway, with a now empty paper cup rolling in a puddle of hot chocolate on the floor.

"What the hell, Lance? I'm not cleaning that-"

"Your side."

"Huh?" Frowning, Keith tilts his head, not liking the concern painted across Lance's face.

Lance doesn't offer a verbal reply; instead, he steps through the hot chocolate on the floor and moves until he's standing right in front of Keith. Keith can feel his cheeks burning with a blush as Lance reaches toward him, but whatever warm, shy feeling that was threatening to take hold of his heart is replaced with a burning sting that has him glancing down to Lance's fingers brushing along his side.

It's then that Keith sees it: the dark blue and black bruises already starting to color his side. "Oh," Keith says because his mind suddenly can't remember many words. "Shit."

"You're hurt," Lance mutters, crouching down to study the bruising with a deep frown. "This looks bad."

"I'll just ice it," Keith says, thankful that he can make his tone sound convincing. "I've gotten bruises before."

"Yeah, but those weren't my fault."

"It's really not a big... wait, what?" Keith snaps a gaze down to lock eyes with Lance's suddenly somber ones, and he holds the gaze as Lance slowly gets to his feet. "Your fault?"

"I made you do it."

"You didn't make me do anything." Keith's tone is a little sharper than intended, and he swallows back the flicking hint of anger. "I chose to."

"I bothered you until you did."

Shrugging, Keith turns back to the closet and snags one of Lance's hoodies. "You do that with ninety percent of things. I'm used to it."

"Yeah, but you've never gotten hurt because of me before."

Keith's never seen this level of guilt before, and honestly, that sad look doesn't match the bright color of Lance's eyes-- it makes him look younger, innocent. Keith shakes his head and starts toward his bed. "It's really not a big deal, Lance. I'll get some ice and take it easy." He slips the pale blue hoodie over his head before he bends over, very slowly, to start unlacing his boots. He swallows back the pain, but before his fingers meet cold laces, Lance is guiding him to a chair.

"Let me."

"I'm not an invalid, Lance. I can take off my own shoes."

"It's hurting you."

"It's not-"

"I can see it. Your muscles tense up. You're trying to hide it."

Keith's eyes grow a fraction wider as Lance crouches down to start unlacing his boots. Lance doesn't come off as the observant type-- he's more... easygoing, for better lack of words. At least, that's what Keith has always thought about the brunet. Perhaps he was wrong though. Maybe he's got to start peeling off the layers that make up Lance McClain.

Lance knows enough to let Keith at least change his pants on his own, though, and when Keith is secured in bed with two blankets wrapped around him, Lance starts toward the door.

"I'm going to get ice."

"Lance," Keith tries, and Lance pauses with his hand on the doorknob.

"Aren't you going to change first? You have to be freezing, Mr. 'I'm from a super tropical place.'"

"The faster I get ice, the faster you aren't in pain." Lance says, looking over his shoulder with a frown.

"You don't have to do this."

"You didn't have to slide on the ice."

Keith tilts his head at his. "No, but I guess I wanted to."

A soft smile plays at Lance's lips. "Then let me want to do this for you."

Before Keith can argue further, Lance slips out the door, leaving Keith huffing out a breath of frustration as he sinks back against the pillows propped up behind his back.

Of all things, his mind goes back to the cold outside, when he first slid across the lot and Lance caught him with those long, slender arms around his waist. His cheeks warm to a soft pink as another groan slips past his lips.

If Lance wants to do this, then, Keith guesses, he will let him.

#voltron #vld #whump #whump fic #whumpfic #klance #pre-klance #college au #my writing #my voltron writing #i literally have been watching slipping on ice fail videos and boom #here we are #also we had a lot of sleet today so my deck is super icy rn #so this fic is just very fitting lol #keith kogane #lance mcclain #check out that cheesy af title tho

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #55

Merry Christmas! For some reason I thought I already did list 55, but when I looked back at my tags I hadn’t yet. So yeah, this one is extra long, but that’s all to the good, hopefully.

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

Paper Patience by isabeau25 Words: 1,483 Author’s Summary: Someone is making paper flowers for Pidge, and it takes her a while to figure out why. *Takes place during the beginning of season 3, while Shiro is still missing.* My Comments: Sweet and lovely. Pidge’s frustration and fear is understandable, and it’s very kind of her teammate to make this effort to soothe her.

Space Jellybeans by YukiSetsu Words: 2,274 Author’s Summary: Lance has trouble sleeping and seeks out help from Coran. He gets something to help him sleep, but his body reacts negatively, leaving Lance with little time to get help before it got worse. My Comments: Another great whumpfic. I’m getting so spoiled this Christmas season.

No Place Like Home For the Holidays (But Sometimes Home Isn’t a Place)by WildWolf25 Words: 7,329 Author’s Summary: After a rough battle, Team Voltron decides to set down on a safe, deserted planet to rest and let the castle’s defenses recover. And if that planet happens to be covered in snow, well, there’s no harm in having a little winter fun while they’re at it. (Written for Lórien for the Voltron Secret Santa event on tumblr. Happy holidays!) My Comments: Cute, cuddly winter vacation with Team Voltron, including snow fights, ugly sweaters, and a cuddle pile under the stars. Implied Polydins but reads as gen.

for lack of advice columnists by againstmygreeleaf Words: 5,798 Author’s Summary: Hunk isn’t sure when he noticed the rock, doesn’t recall noticing it at all. The rock is within reach and his bayard isn’t. My Comments: Fantastic Hunk whump, and fantastic exploration of the consequences of war and how that affects Hunk in particular. I loved the team taking care of Hunk, all in their own ways.

Keith’s ‘Physical Contact’ Initiation Program by alisayamin (sh_04e) Words: 26,522 Author’s Summary: Keith didn’t move and neither did Pidge. It was a little awkward until Keith finally said, “Maybe we could officially officiate this..?” “What do you mean?” “Fist me.” Pidge recoiled and sputtered, “Keith, what the f-” She was cut off by Shiro’s bellowing laughter from the observatory deck.With his straight face unchanged, Keith lowered his left hand with the stopwatch and lifted his right hand, fisted. Pidge actually sighed with so much relief, “OH. You mean fistbump! Right.” She slapped her forehead to remove the very very wrong image her imagination drew for her, “Holy shit, Keith, we need to work on that but yeah sure, I’d be honoured to officiate your physical contact program whatever.” Or That one time Coran realized Keith was too distant and decided to make him undergo the 'Physical Contact’ Initiation Program which then led to –> 5 times the paladins realized Keith was an actual cat. My Comments: A little over the top and a touch OOC, but if you’re in the mood for paladin cuddle puddles and platonic cuddling and hugs and affectionate touches and all that good stuff, this is very much the fic for you. It’s incredibly indulgent and cuddly and really scratches that itch. Mentions of past child abuse.

Flu Season by YukiSetsu Words: 2,099 Author’s Summary: Lance comes down with the flu before a mission. And although he tries to ignore it to do his job, it turns out to be a bad idea once things take a turn for the worst. My Comments: Delightful sickfic plus whump. Poor Lance, lucky us.

Hippo You’d Better Come Home by pinstripedJackalope Words: 3,847 Author’s Summary: What if Keith had a little stuffed hippo hidden in one of the pouches on his belt, you ask? This is your answer. My Comments: This is absolutely adorable. Keith’s generosity bites him, a little bit, but it was so cute to see the whole team appreciating his precious hippo, and the ending was lovely.

Little Princess by Eastofthemoon Words: 7,488 Author’s Summary: “It was that weird bracelet,” Lance snapped as he struggled to keep his voice down. “I found it on the shelf, handed it to Allura because it was sparkly and I know she likes that stuff, she puts it on,” he pointed to her with his thumb, “and wham! Next thing we knew she was a kid!” “I still find it weird the clothes shrunk with her,” Pidge whispered. “Pidge, that’s the least of our concerns right now,” Hunk stammered as he cupped a hand over his mouth. My Comments: Wonderful deaged Allura with tea parties, makeovers, and various messes. I loved how much Lance and Hunk got into it, with the other paladins dragged into things with varying degrees of acceptance, and poor Coran’s heart got a bit of a workout. So good.

Varadero by 5557 Words: 2,109 Author’s Summary: While on Vacation at Varadero beach, a restless Lance cannot sit still and sleep when all the adults are away and having fun. Something is out there, calling to him. And it might just be worth the trouble. My Comments: Beautiful, vivid and lush, this story transported me back to the joy and curiosity of childhood. Lance is a cutie pie, as always.

Stranger Danger by YukiSetsu Words: 2,768 Author’s Summary: Lance makes a new friend at the school pool, and the others feel something is… off. And although Lance initially brushes off the warnings, even he starts to notice that his friend might be a bit more dangerous than he expected. But by then, it’s a bit too late. My Comments: Dramatic without being cheesy and whumpy without being unbelievable, just the right mix for me. Naive Lance and protective-everyone-else is my jam.

Coming Home by Vialana Words: 4,211 Author’s Summary: After the battle, Keith needs to decompress. So do the other paladins. My Comments: Absolutely beautiful. I loved the way every teammate checked on Keith, all of the hugs and cuddling and touches were just lovely and wonderful. And the tears, too. Very warm and soft and healing. I love this a lot.

Slippery Steps And Broken Cups by YukiSetsu Words: 2,062 Author’s Summary: Modern College AU. Lance had been busy planning a big Christmas party with Hunk, Shiro, Pidge, and Keith, only to go missing on the special day. Keith goes to check in on him, and ends up having to deal with way more than he expected. My Comments: Dizzy Lance with a high fever and somewhat grumpy but concerned Keith. Absolutely delightful.

déjà vu by mangotangerine Words: 3,501 Author’s Summary: Team Voltron finds themselves trying to convince a previously unknown planet to join the Coalition but they’re having trouble - these new aliens won’t do anything unless their God ordains it. Enter Lance, who knows a bit more than he’s supposed to and doesn’t know why. My Comments: Interesting little Star Trek fusion (no knowledge of Star Trek is necessary). I really enjoyed the mystery, and I would love to read something much longer with this concept.

Ghosts of Christmas Past by Swump (Zelan) Words: 1,841 Author’s Summary: Pidge crash-lands in the middle of a blizzard, where the others can’t get to her, and must fend for herself until help arrives. My Comments: Great whump, great Hunk and Pidge at the end.

Below Freezing by YukiSetsu Words: 2,495 Author’s Summary: The Blue Lion crash lands on a planet with extremely cold temperatures, leaving the team in a race against time to get Lance out alive. Shiro risks going down before the snowstorm subsides to get to Lance faster, but even he can only hold out for so long. My Comments: This fic REALLY hit the sweet spot for me. Lance with hypothermia, Shiro huddling for warmth with him, and just a touch of angst. Perfection.

Taste of Home by umbraja Words: 2,402 Author’s Summary: “I don’t know, Lance. I think Pidge is right. Waffles are superior to pancakes,” Hunk’s gentle voice drifted through the door. “Traitor! How could you say that? And after having my abuela’s pancakes,” Lance gasped dramatically. Hunk started to reply but Pidge cut him off, “Because pancakes are just flat disks of cooked batter no matter who does the cooking while Waffles are a masterpiece of culinary engineering with built in pockets for holding syrup and a crisp shell for the perfect crunch. It’s just a superior design, Lance.” The Paladins are all homesick and banter about missed food puts Keith in a talking mood, even if it’s just to Shiro. Somewhat of a character study. Or - I might have grown up on a farm in the Panhandle (that’s north Texas, btw) and every now ‘n’ then I get a mite nostalgic. My Comments: Warm, soft, and melancholy. I love how Shiro draws Keith out to reminisce about things long gone, and Allura was a sweetheart, too, surrounded by homesick paladins and trying her best to understand.

a grass in the beginning by coyotesuspect Words: 5,308 Author’s Summary: Pidge starts a garden on the Castle of Lions. Or: seven conversations Pidge has while standing next to a tree. My Comments: Lovely, rich, and touching fic. All of Pidge’s conversations with the others are just right, and the descriptions are vivid and entrancing. This was relaxing and warming to read.

Eat In Moderation, Kids by YukiSetsu Words: 2,013 Author’s Summary: Lance loves Hunk’s food, and for good reason. But when one Christmas cookie baking session gets out of hand, Lance bites off more than he can chew and his stomach suffers the consequences. Luckily, he doesn’t have to deal with it alone. My Comments: Sometimes it nice to have a problem that’s not that big of a deal, but everyone pitches in to help, anyway.

Rational Paranoia by TheQueen Words: 1,886 Author’s Summary: A story of Lance and Pidge, crashed on a hostile planet, waiting. My Starboy: A Lance Zine piece My Comments: Painful, but very well-written. I hope they get rescued soon. Tagged as possible romance but reads platonic to me.

Even Space Can Be Warmed Up By Christmas by YukiSetsu Words: 2,391 Author’s Summary: Lance leads preparations for a Christmas celebration on the Castle, only to be sidetracked by a bad fever on the big day. Nevertheless, he wants to continue with the party. My Comments: This has just about everything I love, fluff and team bonding and Lance getting sick and being cared for and loved. So very heartwarming. It was like drinking hot chocolate.

Learning Curve by psyraah Words: 2,498 Author’s Summary: The Galaxy Garrison has a name for training some of the best and the brightest. It’s rough, tough, and many would agree not an all together pleasant experience. Lance, Katie, and Hunk can all attest to that. The Paladins of Voltron are legendary, unmatched in their intellect and fighting prowess, and the only hope against the Galra Empire. Everything the Garrison should have trained them for. But Lance, Pidge, and Hunk know that there’s something that the Garrison didn’t teach them, something that took being light years from home for the three of them to understand: Heart. My Comments: Wonderful character study of Hunk, Pidge, and Lance and how they handle failure both at the Garrison in the past and now as part of the Voltron team. It’s great to see how much they’ve grown. And how much they trust each other.

What Keeps Him Whole by LightPinkTheColorOfMyAura Words: 6,398 Author’s Summary: Lance struggles in space. He knows that he is doing good by being part of the Voltron team, but everything is just constantly moving, difficult, and unrelenting. He’s tired. He doesn’t know what’s keeping him going anymore. My Comments: A little over the top and the writing’s a little rough, but this is a great scenario for Lance angst with lovely team comfort. Klance.

Five Stages of Grief by Sandyclaws68 Words: 5,058 Author’s Summary: There are five stages to the grieving process, but when you’re consistently lied to about your brothers’ “deaths” you might just get stuck in anger. My Comments: Great characterization and plot, and I loved the relationship between Pidge and Keith and Pidge and her mom.

Detonate by IcyPanther for heyheroics Words: 9,824 Author’s Summary: “Keith, please,” Lance pleaded, voice breaking. “They can’t lose you too.” / A routine mission takes a deadly turn. There are but literal ticks counting down until the end and Keith has a decision to make: leave Lance behind so he can escape or go down with him? It’s a good thing Keith is so stubborn. / Gen fic, Langst, whump My Comments: Excellent scenario, excellent whump, excellent protective Keith, excellent platonic Keith and Lance, it’s just all good. This one really kept me on the edge of my seat.

The Sound of Family by Anonymous Words: 8,623 Author’s Summary: As Keith swung the weapon in his hand, which he quickly realised was a bayard, it transformed. But instead of the usual comfortable weight of a blade, he felt the weapon tip forward, completely unbalanced. He made a noise of surprise, only to notice this voice was too high-pitched, too smooth to be his own. He looked down and saw blue armour instead of his black suit and in his right hand was a red rifle. “Keith?” he heard his own voice say. The figure tried to crouch but fell down with a grunt. “Keith, buddy, is that you?” His vision refocused and when he was able to see clearly again, he found himself gazing into his own… eyes? “Who are you?” he demanded. [When Keith and Lance accidentally swap bodies, hidden scars and wounds, both literal and metaphorical, are revealed and the two boys realise that there are some things that really shouldn’t be avoided any longer.] My Comments: I’d never thought about the fact that if a body swap happened, the brain chemistry would stay with the brain, not the mind. So what if there was a body swap and one of the bodies had depression? Great concept, explored very well. I love Keith and Lance’s mutual comfort and protectiveness. It was a fun scenario and a sweet fic. Ambiguous Klance, can be read as gen. Mentions of past child abuse.

each a perfect porcelain doll by panaili Words: 42,634 Author’s Summary: A new mission presents Team Voltron with the opportunity to get important information about Galra movements. Unfortunately, in order to successfully pull it off, Allura needs to be in two places at once: both shape-shifting to sneak into an alien server room and acting diplomatically as the Princess of Altea. Luckily, even though she is only one able to pull off the shape-shifting infiltration, disguising one of the paladins as the Altean princess should be much easier. [Set Season 2 at some point maybe] My Comments: This is everything I could have wanted from the premise of Pidge dressing up like Allura to fool an alien race. There’s bonding, fluff, whump, hurt/comfort, great action scenes and thrilling rescues, and, of course, Disney movies. This one grabbed me from the beginning and pulled me right along, and I loved it.

Earth, Meet Voltron by Gods_Writing_Fan Words: 2,181 Author’s Summary: What happens when the paladins try to warn Earth of an incoming attack? They freak out the entire population! Also, Lance gets to see his family again. My Comments: Packed full of emotion in not many words. I hope Lance gets to see his mom like this someday and give her a big hug and explain what he’s been up to.

What Not to Do in Chemistry Lab by Engineer104 Words: 2,458 Author’s Summary: Hunk’s to-do list for this semester consists of only one thing: making sure Lance doesn’t kill himself - and Hunk - in lab…and passes organic chemistry My Comments: Fluffy little modern AU in which Hunk is both amused and horrified by Lance’s shenanigans and Pidge mostly snarks from the side. Some hints of background romance of the college hookup variety, but the relationships on page are gen.

Interlude by LittleWhiteTie Words: 4,123 Author’s Summary: “Where are you going?” Keith asks, just barely catching Shiro before he collapses. “My room, or just… not here. Please.” Shiro should probably stay here in the infirmary where he can be monitored, but his eyes are pleading. “Alright,” Keith concedes. “But I’m not leaving you alone.” – In which Keith takes care of Shiro after The Journey. My Comments: So soft and indulgent and comforting to read, ahh, I love it, and something like this DEFINITELY happened in the gap between those episodes. Tagged as either romantic or platonic, but it did not ping me as romantic at all, just very intimate and brotherly.

Blood Brother, Space Brother by wingedflower Words: 4,826 Author’s Summary: (taking place around mid-season 4) Pidge has finally found her brother and Lance was happy for her, he truly was. But after filling the role of her big brother for so long, he couldn’t help but feel like he was… left out. My Comments: This fic literally made me cry, which is exceedingly rare. Lance’s feelings of loneliness and loss were so vivid that I felt them in my stomach as well as my chest. It’s all resolved beautifully, but yeah. Wow. This hit my buttons super hard. Going into my personal favorites.

Daily Interlude by Vialana Words: 1,540 Author’s Summary: “I need a hug.” Keith paused, spoonful of goo halfway to his mouth, and stared at Pidge. My Comments: Very cute and funny, with a touch of sweetness. Tagged Klance, but can be read as gen.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

Little Crystals (13555 words) As Color Fades Away (237268 words) The Purity of Sin (41134 words) Back from the Edge (5074 words) Taking One For The Team (38446 words)

#voltron legendary defender #weekly voltron fic recs #fic rec #vldgen

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Prompt: "I’m really feverish and I haven’t noticed you and this sneeze just won’t come out and I’m pulling the most ridiculous build up you’ve ever seen and shit now I’ve noticed you this is fucking awkward sorry" (I can imagine this with Klance and them being roommates or somthing. Lance coming home a finding Keith in miserable sneezy limbo and Lance just teasing him about it until he decides to help him out.)

(I lowkey love when posts I make come back to me omg!!! Also this is my first time ever writing voltron au!! I’ve always written canon verse!! So forgive me, and I have no time, so here’s a ficlet!Also great timing bc Keith’s vlog has me dead tbh)

Keith had a lot of pride.

He was fairly confident in his abilities, he had worked hard for them, and he was happy with the outcome. There were a few things about himself that he held dearly to his heart and was determined to not let them go, and with good reason. Some things, however, were slightly irrational.

Keith held pride for the fact that without fail he would always miss and avoid the annoying bout of sickness that seemed to plague everyone in school for the first while back. The plague skipped over Keith religiously every year. He’d missed it on his  first day on his last year in middle school, he’d missed it on his freshman year of high school, and he had done so on his first day of college.

He would never admit it, but deep down he knew how ridiculous this was. It was something Keith wasn’t embarrassed to show off, and boasted about constantly whenever it came up in conversation. Shiro and Lance were very close to jamming their ears out every year, without a fail, with how much Keith prided himself in this meticulous thing.

But Karma was a bitch.

He had supposed his constant teasing of Lance since they met their first day of high school finally came back to haunt him. Keith wouldn’t admit it, but he kinda deserved it.

He went through a denial to begin with, telling himself he’d just suddenly developed some allergy, and that was why he had woken up sneezing all over the place. It had left him breathless, monstrous sneezing ripping out of his throat, echoing off the thin walls of his and Lance’s dorm room.

He was a mess. Hair all over the place, sticking up in places where it shouldn’t, horribly reddened and chapped nose and the most bloodshot eyes he’d ever had. Keith was just glad Lance had a morning class that day, and that Keith didn’t have any classes until 4:30 later that day.

Keith coughed harshly, dragging himself out of bed and staggering over to Lance’s part of the room and grabbing the box of tissues he always kept on his bedside table. He resented the fact he needed them, and he was still kind of in denial. He was not sick. Not at all.

Keith blew his nose furiously into the tissue, hating the way the tissue felt soggy and all sorts of disgusting afterwards. He loathed it, and wished the cold virus had fucked off and gone to someone else. The cold virus didn’t look too bad on Lance, but the little shit never looked bad. Keith blushed furiously as he caught himself in his thoughts. He finished his trail of thoughts with the conclusion that it was not a good look on him.

Once he finished, he felt a little lightheaded and woozy. The world spun slightly, and everything in the universe was telling him to sit still and wait for it to steady again, but he was Keith, and everything was a challenge.

Keith forced himself to stand up, but the moment he did he was hit by a tidal wave of nausea that hit him in the gut, and an astounding shot of pain induced tremors throughout his head. The intense pain caused his knees to buckle, and Keith tried to find something to hold onto but the attempt was futile, because  he was tipping over and collapsing onto the floor.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Keith hissed to himself, trying to pick up his heavy and weak bones from the floor but to no avail. Keith coughed, the sound resonating from his chest as a wave of pain rang through his chest as he coughed. His chest ached horribly against the floor as he coughed.

Keith somehow managed to drag his heavy body up, only for an insistent tickling in his nose to make his breath hitch wildly. He snapped forward with a harsh, unrestrained sneeze that sprayed Lance’s bed, the force so strong he toppled over onto the bed.

“..Not sick..” He mumbled to himself, wanting to get off the bed and be productive to prove it to himself, but Lance’s bed was so soft and welcoming. His sheets were pleasantly crisp and cool, perfectly made. His pillow smelt of him, that flowery scent of his shampoo, the clean scent of his hand cream and moisturiser. So perfectly Lance that Keith was melting into it.

Keith hugged the pillow, letting its warmth engulf him into a heaven of softness. The thought of Lance made him go a deeper shade of pink, and thinking about him lifted his heavy head towards a better place filled with singing birds and swaying trees.

Then he was lulled back to sleep.

Keith woke a bit later, not quite knowing when, he’d lost his sense of time, to an annoying tickle in his nose. His chest heaved as his body began to succumb to the sneeze, breath hitching as his nostrils flared irritably. Keith tried to stubbornly scrub vigorously at his nose, still in denial of the state he was in.

But to no avail, his body was winning over him, as much as Keith hated to admit it. He managed to lift himself up with his elbows, gasping for air until he took one shaky inhale and fell into an intense sneezing fit that left him breathless.

Keith let out monstrous sneeze that sprayed across Lance’s bed, a brief, very short moment of clarity and relief coming to him before another round of intense prickling flooded his sinuses. Immediately he launched into yet another harsh and powerful sneeze that doubled him over.

Keith managed to clasp his two hands over his reddened face, feeling his nose tremble as it built up for another round of harsh sneezes. His body was racked by the new wave of sneezes, by the force of it. He kept sneezing, feeling a bit tired and couldn’t hold his hands to his face as they shook too much and went into another uncovered fit.

He felt absolutely miserable, his nose running and eyes red with irritated tears. All he could really concentrate on was the sound of his intense sneezing and the ticklish feeling in his sinuses. Everything else faded. Keith geared up for his next sneeze, but was left hanging in an awfully unsatisfying crescendo that had been building up to this very moment, the peak of the music, but it never came.

And just a little bit ago Keith would have done anything to deny his illness, but now more than anything Keith just wanted it to happen. He just needed to get this sneeze out, and he looked plain ridiculous, looking up with one side of his nose scrunches up and twitching with anticipation, his breath continuing to hitch as itchy tears threatened to fall from his irritated eyes.

“..What the fuck?” Lance gaped.

“N..n..” Keith tries to respond, but he can’t speak, too preoccupied with this tortuous sneezy limbo and the absolute shame flooding him. He doesn’t want to admit the truth, it’s deflating his pride way too much, which is so ridiculous, he knows that, but he can’t help how pathetic he feels for being sick.

“I’m uh..uh..tryi..trying to..sn..sn!!” Keith tried to make out through his hitchy, dazed voice, beginning to fan at his face desperately.

A victorious smirk crept onto Lance’s face. He crossed his arms and flashed him a grin, suddenly straightening in pride and amusement.

“So, you’re sick, huh?” Lance taunted playfully, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.

“No !!..im…not!” Keith protested breathily.

“Hmm,” Lance chuckles, “sure thing, Jan.”

“I just..need to..” Keith tried his best to speak, but was still overtaken by the insistent, incoming sneeze that just wouldn’t come out.

“Well well well, Keith fucking Kogane has finally caught the Fresher’s Flu. A bit late, sure, but it’s happened!” Lance exclaimed with gusto, extremely pleased with himself.

Keith could only squint as he tried to get the sneeze out of his system, nostrils flaring in a manner he believed to be horrendous and embarrassing.

“Now you’re in this sneezy limbo, like I have every single year on the first day, and now you have to suffer through it as a punishment for your relentless teasing! Karma truly is a bitch, ain’t she, Kogane?” Lance giggled, slightly bouncing from his excitement.

Lance kept rambling about his amusement, but Keith couldn’t concentrate on him as the intense tickling in his sinuses was way too much anyway. This limbo was too much, and Keith couldn’t bare one more second of it. The sneeze was right there, just at the end of the floodgates, waiting for the key to turn and unlock so it could just release.

Keith grew impatient, and he snapped.

“Lance, I’m sick! J..just shut up and help me sneeze!”

Lance grinned with victory and nodded, “Alright, sick boy!”

Lance approached Keith and tapped him on the nose, “Boop!~”

Keith finally took in a shaky inhale and when the sneeze finally came out of the floodgates, Keith had never felt more satisfied and complete in his life.

“Bless you!” Lance offered as he passed Keith a tissue to blow his nose with.

“Now, will you let me take care of you?” Lance asked gently, the softest smile framing his face.

Keith blushed hard, “W-what?”

“..I mean..you have to be sitting on my bed for a reason, Keith,” Lance stated, a little awkwardly.

Keith turned a deeper shade of red as he was hit by the sudden realisation of what he had just been doing.

“U-uh..I-I can explain–”

Lance could only smile softly, “You..don’t have to say anything. Just..let me take care of you?”

Keith had a lot of pride. It took over him sometimes, and it stopped him from doing many things, and often held him back from experiences. But somehow against all odds Keith was able to put it aside. For Lance.

He nodded shyly, as Lance climbed onto bed with him and wrapped his warm body around Keith’s shivering frame. Lance draped the blanket over the both of them, running his hands through Keith’s hair soothingly. Everything about Keith’s DNA would’ve made this moment awkward, but something felt so right. So in place.

“Are you really here, or am I dreaming..I can’t tell dreams from truth…” Lance sang softly, his lyrical tenor voice so sweet and comforting to his ears, lulling him into a peaceful rest.

Fresher’s Flu wasn’t as bad as Keith had anticipated, with Lance by his side. Lance took care of him well, so well that Keith wondered why he was so against the idea of getting sick when he had Lance to be there for him. It was almost like he had missed out.

And while Lance complained three days later when he woke up sneezing, he did not regret a thing.

#keith kogane #lance mcclain #klance #voltron #whump #voltron sickfic #sick keith #voltron college au #roommate klance #vld #vld keith #vld lance #voltron lance #voltron keith #sneezing #snz #coughing #sickfic #prompts

[mothmanismyuncle]

The Devil in My Bloodstream

OKAY. Now we’re about caught up to AO3. 

[Part One]    [Part Two]   [Part Three]   [Part Four]

Link to the series on AO3 and this chapter.

Tagging @bitchniz   Let me know if you want tagged in the comments! :D

           “Tuesdays are the worst,” Keith moaned. Shiro raised an eyebrow at him.

           “You picked Tuesdays because they’re the most unassuming,” He argued. Keith frowned at the needle in Shiro’s hand. “If you keep tensing up, you’ll just bruise.”

           “I know, I know.” Keith flapped his hand at Shiro and turned around. “Don’t tell me when you’re gonna do it, just—OW!”

           “You said not to tell you,” Shiro said wryly. Keith whipped around the moment he was in the clear and batted at him with both hands. “Come on, come on, I’ve still got the needle,” Shiro put the needle in their sharps jar and handed Keith a band-aid. “That’s all you, lil bro.”

           “You stab me and make me do my own band-aid,” Keith grumbled, grinning. “What kinda big brother are you?”

           “One that hasn’t yet figured out how to open a band-aid one-handed,” Shiro chuckled. “Are you going to pick up Lance this morning?” Keith nodded.

           “Yeah.” He said, leaning on the counter. “What did you think of yesterday?” Shiro set his jaw and nodded a few times.

           “If I wasn’t there to see it, I wouldn’t have believed you.” He said honestly. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

           “Me neither. My general plan is to just ignore it until I can’t anymore, I guess,” Keith said with a bewildered shrug.

           “That’s how you deal with everything.” Shiro ribbed. Keith couldn’t even argue. “Get out of here now, and you’ll have time to pick up Lance and have a doughnut or something. T shot day treat, on me.” Shiro gave Keith some cash.

           “Okay!” Keith chirped. “See you at school,”

           “Are you trying to bribe me with pastries?” Lance teased, taking a healthy bite of his doughnut. They leant against Keith’s bike in the gas station parking lot. “Because whatever you want, yes,” Keith laughed and a smattering of sprinkles flew off of his doughnut. Lance felt a blush creep up his neck at the sight of Keith covering his mouth and grinning with icing on his lip.

           “No, it’s just a T—treat from Shiro. Tuesdays.” Keith gulped. The grin turned into a grimace. Lance wasn’t sure what nerve he hit, but he was reluctant to push any farther. “So. This whole… Club thing. What do you do for it?” Lance knew a subject change when he saw one, and he took the opportunity to joke and flirt his way back into one of Keith’s genuine smiles. Too soon, they had to toss their garbage and make their way to school.

           “Next Tuesday, it’s my turn for a treat,” Lance promised. Keith blushed at his big smile and jammed his helmet on his head to cover it.

           “I’ll hold you to it.”

           They had a standing order at the Starlite for lunches now. Keith had tried to pay Hunk’s parents in multiple crafty ways, but they wouldn’t take his money.

           “Listen, they’re not gonna let you pay for lunch,” Hunk said, smiling. “It’s really cool that you try though. I appreciate it.” Keith shrugged.

           “It’s really good food, and they don’t have to deliver.” Pidge grinned at him.

           “What, were you gonna go pick it up on your moped?” A deadly silence fell over the room. Wisely, Lance slid his chair out from between Keith and Pidge.

           “My what?” Keith said quietly.

           “No,” Shiro said, standing up. “No, no.” Pidge looked, wide-eyed, between Shiro and Keith.

           “I was teasing,” They squeaked. There was another beat of silence before Keith launched himself at Pidge, going in for the kill. “No!” Pidge wailed. “Shiro, he’s killing me!”

           “Whoa, nice noogie technique,” Lance assessed. “You’re gonna have a bald spot, Pidgeon.” The fracas continued as Pidge desperately tried to get away. Keith was hell-bent on trying to get them to say ‘Uncle’, and Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose as Allura and Coran watched with mounting horror. They finally relented after being put in a headlock.

           “Jesus,” Hunk breathed.

           “He had absolutely nothing to do with all that,” Lance said, shaking his head. “You should’ve known better than to insult a man’s bike.”

           “Ready to go?” Keith asked. He leant against Lance’s locker again. Lance wondered if he practised looking that cool, or if it just came to him naturally. His throat was dry, and he cleared it in a clear attempt to slow down his racing thoughts.

           “Yep! Just let me swap some books out,” He chirped, grateful that he sounded at least a little normal. Keith bent his head to his phone.

Keith Kogane: i’m gonna do it

shiro: GO GO GO

           There was a string of emojis that made Keith smirk at his phone. His brother was such a dork. He watched as Lance looked over his planner and shuffled books around, mentally calculating how long he could put off certain assignments.

           “I was wondering if you were busy later,” Keith asked. He was proud that he didn’t mumble or have a stellar voice malfunction.

           “Uh, how later?” Lance asked absently.

           “Like, after dinner or whatever,” Keith replied, pushing himself off of the lockers. “Shiro took me to this frozen yoghurt place and I was wondering if you wanted to go.”

           “Oh, cool! I think Pidge has stuff to do—“ He watched Keith’s face fall and his heart did a funny lurch. “Wait, you mean… Just us?”

           “Yeah, if you’re about that. I mean, we don’t have to,” Keith mumbled, his hand clapping the back of his neck. “I don’t—I mean,”

           “No, I’d love to!” Lance said. Maybe a little too loudly, because Keith started a little and stared, jaw slack.

           “Really?” He asked and Lance chuckled.

           “Really really.” Keith’s face broke into a grin and Lance couldn’t stop himself from giggling if he wanted to.

           “Okay! Great! I can pick you up?” Keith trailed off, feeling heat bloom across his face.

           “That sounds perfect,” Lance replied, shutting his locker. Lance floated down the stairs and to Allura’s room to get their helmets.

           “Hello, boys,” Allura called cheerfully from the back of the classroom. She was weaving neon-coloured pieces of yarn into a twisted mass of metal and inexplicably had pink paint smeared across her cheekbones. “How was class?”

           “It was great,” Lance breathed. Allura looked at him oddly but chose not to comment. “Just grabbin’ our helmets.” Keith looked slyly at him at the use of ‘our’. The phrase sat right in his chest and made his limbs tingle pleasantly. Allura looked from the misty look on Lance’s face to the small smile on Keith’s and she smiled knowingly.

           “Brilliant. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”

           “Do I wear what I was wearing to school?” Keith picked at the spaghetti he’d made. It was his night for dinner, but he didn’t have nearly the amount of cooking experience that Shiro did. He scoffed. “I forgot about a haircut,” Shiro chuckled at how flustered Keith was getting.

           “He’s not going to care about your haircut.” He assured. “Was he as excited as you?” Keith had already given him the full run-down, but Shiro could tell he wanted to dissect the interaction further.

           “He tried to invite the rest of the crew, but then stopped and realized what I was saying,” Keith said, words tumbling out of him quicker than he could moderate. “Does that mean he didn’t want to go? Or that he doesn’t think of me like that? Or—“

           “Keith, the other day when everybody came over and Lance showed us what he can do, he was only looking at you.” Keith stopped and took a deep breath. “He was watching you, to see if you were scared or upset. He had just shown a teacher at his high school what he could do and he didn’t even care.” Keith nodded a few times. “And his face when you said that you were okay with it… He definitely thinks of you like that.”

           “Okay. Okay,” Keith nodded. “Good. Great.” Shiro shook his head and smirked at him.

           “When did you say you’d pick him up?” Keith looked at the clock with panicked eyes.

           “Shit!” He sprung up from the table and pounded up the stairs.

           “That’s not a time, Keith,” Shiro called, laughing. He plunked his dish into the sink and scraped Keith’s untouched spaghetti into a plastic container for when Keith would undoubtedly remember that he was human and get hungry at three in the morning. Keith whirled around in his bedroom, putting on a white tee shirt with the ripped jeans he had been wearing all day. He snatched his jacket and stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few seconds before digging around in his desk drawer for a hair tie. He pulled the straggling strands back in a low ponytail and called it good enough before stomping into his boots and running back down the stairs.

           “Six! I said six!” Keith screeched. Shiro’s gaze slid to the clock on the microwave. 5:55.

           “Please, please don’t drive too crazy,” Shiro said, trying to force calm into his voice. “Text me wh—“

           “When I get there and when I leave!” Keith yelled into the slamming back door. “Love you!” Shiro chuckled and shook his head, but the sound of Keith’s bike revving had him running to the back porch.

           “Goddamn it, Keith!” He shouted as Keith rode the wheelie out that he’d popped in his haste to hit third gear. “That’s crazy! That’s what driving crazy is!”

           Keith slid into Lance’s driveway sideways, peppering the porch with stones. Lance jumped out of the way of the spray with a small shout as Keith threw down the kickstand and ripped off his helmet.

           “Sorry!” Keith shouted. He was breathing heavily and his face was flushed. “I was eating dinner with Shiro and lost track of time,”

           “Keith, it’s 6:01,” Lance laughed, tucking the black helmet under his arm and hopping down the porch steps. “You’re right on time,” Keith frowned at looked at his phone. There were three messages from Shiro. Two were entirely exclamation points.

Keith Kogane: i’m here

shiro: YOU BETTER NOT BE

shiro: THAT’S A FIFTEEN MINUTE DRIVE KEITH

Keith Kogane: uh, sorry

shiro: ugh

shiro: Have fun on your date.

           “Ready for some top-notch frozen goodness?” Lance said, swinging his leg over the back of the bike. Keith started the bike back up and pulled out, much, much slower this time.

           They chose seats outside, away from the smattering of groups inside. Lance eyed Keith’s concoction wearily. It was nearly twenty ounces of peanut butter and chocolate frozen yoghurt and covered in Nutella, peanut butter, Reeces’ chunks, and chocolate chips.

           “How are you alive?” Lance asked wearily. His vanilla and strawberries with the little pink popping boba looked about seven times more appetizing now.

           “What do you mean?” Keith asked around the mouthful of peanut butter.

           “Nothin’. You just got a sweet tooth.” Lance said, grinning fondly at him. “It’s cute.” Keith choked and alarmed, Lance handed him his tea. “You okay?” Keith’s face was entirely red, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the oxygen deprivation or from the compliment.

           “You can’t just lay that on a guy while he’s got a mouthful of peanut butter,” Keith spluttered and Lance had the audacity to chuckle at him.

           “Best time, in my opinion.” He leant back in his chair. An uncertain look crossed his features. “So, is this… This is a date, right?” Keith wiped his mouth on his jacket.

           “If you want it to be.” He said softly. “I’d like it to be.” Lance smiled at him, slowly. A soft look crossed his face that Keith hadn’t seen before.

           “Me too.” He reached across the table and took Keith’s hand. Keith grinned and tangled their fingers together.

           “Good.” They finished their frozen yoghurt without any more near-death experiences and the sun was dipping low in the sky before Lance looked down at his phone and winced.

           “I, uh, I have to go.” He said, ducking his head. Keith squeezed his hand once before letting go with a concerned expression.

           “What’s wrong?” Lance fiddled with his phone case, popping one corner on and off his phone.

           “My dad’s home and wants to see me.” He said quietly. “It’s no big deal. I just… I’m not… Can you drop me off at the corner?” Keith felt the air rush out of his body.

           “Oh.” His stomach churned. “It’s me, right?” Lance looked away and took a deep breath.

           “He’s not really… He doesn’t know. Neither does my mom.” Keith nodded.

           “Yeah. I’ll drop you off wherever.” Keith stood and took their garbage to the bin by the door and returned to the table. “Wanna take the long way home?” Lance’s expression smoothed as he nodded. Keith drove slowly, feeling the arms around his waist tighten the closer he got to Lance’s neighbourhood. He stopped at the end of Lance’s block and Lance hopped down.

           “I’m sorry,” Lance said, tugging his helmet off.

           “It’s not your fault,” Keith said automatically. “What are we at school?” He knew what it was like to live separate lives, and he didn’t want to make waves at Lance’s house.

           “We can be whatever you want at school and at the diner,” Lance said firmly. “Just not here.” Keith nodded.

           “Okay, Lance. It’s no problem.” Keith insisted and Lance smiled.

           “Thank you, Keith. I had a really great time.” Lance was very close, Keith noticed. He took off his helmet, eyes hooded by his bangs.

           “Me too.” Keith’s knee bumped into Lance’s and Lance leaned down. Keith’s hand curled around the back of Lance’s head and Lance tasted peanut butter and chocolate. Impossibly sweet. Keith’s heart fluttered under Lance’s hand and Lance smiled into the kiss, knowing that Keith was just as nervous as Lance felt but didn’t show it.

           “See you in the morning,” Lance whispered huskily. Keith nodded once, and grinning, he put his helmet back on and spurred his bike to life.

           “Bright and early.”

#vld #voltron #klance #trans keith #keith kogane #lance mcclain #hunk garrett #pidge holt #takashi shirogane #allura #coran #witches #the devil in my bloodstream #witch au

[goddammitlance]

Keith’s A Ticklish, Sweet Tooth-Having Fool

My @vldhalloween piece for @magical-merlance !!

Pairing: Hunk/Keith with mentions of Pallurance

Rating: T+ because honestly when do I not say fuck

Summary: In which Keith is a fool and eats all of the candy his boyfriend Hunk intends to give to the small children

Read it on Ao3

Here is the thing: before you judge or roll your eyes and say that you could have done better, listen.

The bowl was just sitting there. It was innocently lying on the dining room table, just begging to be taken.

It was kinda like Rose from the Titanic, all stretched out and try’n’a be seductive and tempting and shit.

(Ha. That was a good reference. Keith guessed he had learned something that one time Hunk sat him down to watch The Titanic on one of their date nights.)

Anyway.

As you can see, it really wasn't Keith's fault, and therefore he could not be blamed.

He, personally, blamed the schmuck that left the candy lying out there all seductive and shit!

It was really only a matter of time before it got eaten.

So what if it was by Keith?

...All by himself.

...In under an hour...

He really didn't see the harm. It was candy left in the community area, and it was only a matter of time before someone ate it.

And no one’s name was on it, either!

Was Keith trying to logically find an explanation for his actions because he only realized he did a bad thing after the bad thing was done?

Well... maybe.

It was a hard maybe.

Keith's gray morals did not sign up for this trial in life, and quite frankly, he wants to sue.

Doesn't know who he would sue, but he's ready to call up a lawyer, by God.

God. He was deflecting. Stay focused, you fool!

He looked at the orange plastic bowl sitting all alone on the kitchen table, surrounded by empty, judgmental wrappers, and felt his body try to cave in on itself like, he was a deep sea diver without a suit. His insides went all crinkly and he felt like he just might throw up.

Ew.

Yeah. He messed up.

He began to debate differing ways on how to dispose of the evidence, but he didn't get very far. Keith got sidetracked very easily, he found.

Maybe it was the sugar kicking in.

Yeah. He'd blame the accursed Kit-Kats, and definitely not his fear of what would happen when someone came down and found him like this.

Like his thought was some kind of trigger, he heard footsteps on the stairs, quick and excited.

He jumped into action and sprang forward to grab the bowl. He jammed the large thing into one of the dish cabinets and called it done. (It wasn't done, not with the way he had to lean his shoulder up against the counter in order to stop it from tumbling right out onto the floor, but it was fine.)

If it was Pidge or Lance, they just be grabbing their things before they went out to meet Pidge's brother Matt and his boyfriend Shiro. They were all going to meet up before going to a party being thrown by Pidge and Lance's girlfriend, Allura.

(Keith and Hunk would be along later, of course, but they were going to hand out candy to kids for an hour or two before they went. A little old fact Keith had forgotten when he sank his greedy, sinful hands into the candy bowl.)

Hunk would probably mill about, see Keith acting all suspiciously and then realize that his candy was gone.

Oh shit.

He just had to hope that it wasn't Hunk, that's all.

He tried for casual as he leaned up against the cabinet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He could do this. He could be subtle.

He hoped.

With a grimace, he listened to the descending footfalls of one of his housemates.

Pidge came into the room a second later, whistling a tune Keith didn't recognize. Her hair was combed and gelled back in a comical way; it was to make sure that her Peridot themed headpiece stayed on her head. She looked him up and down before doing a double take.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, looking him up and down suspiciously.

"What'cha doin'?" she asked flatly, coming to stand in front of him.

"Nothing." The word came out quickly, but that wasn't anybody's business.

Pidge just narrowed her eyes at him.

"Uh huh. Right. Of course. You've just randomly taken up leaning against odd kitchen cabinets, huh?"

"Obviously."

"Obviously," she parroted. A beat passed before she stepped closer, staring him down. "What did you do?" she demanded.

Keith snorted, holding her stare very successfully. He wasn't going to crack under some sophomore chump's stare.

No matter... how creepy she started to look when she angled her head down. Or how threatening she looked when she propped her hands on her hips.

After a good half a minute of excruciating eye contact, Keith was honestly surprised and proud of himself that he held out.

She sighed, straightening up. "Tell me." She switched tactics, a whine stretching her voice, mouth in a pout. "I wanna know."

"No!" Come on. That was a no-brainer. "You're just gonna blab and get me in trouble."

Pidge looked him over, her mouth pressed into a fine line. "So you did do something wrong," she pointed out. Her face said that she took it as a major point.

Keith wilted and groaned. "You're impossible," he said. He reached out with the toe of his sock and tried to kick her ankle. She was just out of range. A shame, really.

She snorted at him.

"I've got other ways of making you talk," she said, tone menacing.

"Right, Sid. Such as?"

"I could get Lance to come down here and pry you away from the cupboard."

Keith laughed. "Do it. Your twig of a boyfriend couldn't beat me."

She scowled and breathed a curse.

"Okay, fine," she grumped. She thought for a minute, no doubt searching her head for blackmail material. It was another few seconds before the light bulb blinked on and she grinned. "I'll tickle you," she said finally.

And it shouldn't have been a threat, right?

No one over the age of like, five is scared of that threat.

But not everyone is Keith Park, who is quite possibly one of the most ticklish motherfuckers on this side of Mars.

Keith tried to stay strong, tried not to flinch, but he was too weak. Pidge saw the weakness in his armor and focused all her forces onto it, aiming to break him down without mercy.

She grinned wolfishly and took a step forwards. Her hands were reminiscent of eagle's talons. "You'd better tell me," she threatened, flexing her fingers. "I'll do it, I swear to God."

Keith slipped into a plain mask of resigned silence. "You can try. I'll never tell."

She had barely touched him when he jolted away from the cabinet, elbows tucking in to defend himself. It was a slaughter. He was defenseless against the onslaught put before him.

The cabinet tumbled open, and with it, the empty candy bowl.

She looked between him and the bowl, for all of three seconds while she connected the pieces. Her face lit up with excitement and she was halfway across the kitchen before Keith registered her scream.

"HUNK! GUESS WHAT KEITH DID!"

He let out a sound that was oddly like a yelp as he jumped after her.

"Get back here!" he yelled. She narrowly dodged his grip and continued running. She passed through the dining room, and the living room before Keith caught her. He tackled her to the ground. She fought violently to free herself, but it was all for naught.

"HUNK!" she screamed brokenly. "HUNK!"

Keith heard footsteps upstairs, panicked and rushed.

"Pidge? What happened!?" Hunk looked over the banister. His Frankenstein's Monster costume was brilliant and frightening.

Keith's hands pressed into Pidge’s mouth in an attempt to silence her. She licked and bit at his palm, trying to get him to remove his hands. Her hands found his sides and he jolted back with a cry.

"KEITH ATE YOUR CANDY!"

And just like that, Keith knew that he was going to be buried in the backyard, right under the daisies.

#text #voltron #keith #pidge #hunk #heith #pallurance #halloween #vld halloween gift exchange

[sassafrassrex]

Why study, when I could write minifics and snippets?

A wall.

Shiro and Ulaz sprinted around a corner and there, right in front of them… a wall.

Smooth, featureless, twentysome feet high, guardrail at the top of it. Separating the walk they were on – down here – from the walkway they needed to be on – up there

… And Shiro’s jetpack already out of action (something that seemed to happen entirely too often on missions. Should get that looked at).

… And (because of course) the armor’s grappling hook already jammed, due to earlier unfortunate circumstances forcing it to bear too much weight.

“Shit.” Catching his breath, Shiro chuckled at Ulaz, “So. What’s your jump height?”

“Roughly my own height. More with a running start, but not enough for this.”

Damn. “Yeah, mine’s only about chest-level.” Was a bit of a forlorn hope anyway. Galra were big. Big meant heavy, meant unfavorable strength-to-weight, meant need another plan.

Shiro darted forward to place an experimental hand against the wall. The telltale ache bloomed at the base of his skull as he lit the prosthetic up, hoping maybe… but he stepped back with a huff. No dice, someone on Team Empire must have been taking notes. Shiro anticipated he’d probably just knock himself out before he managed to melt handholds into this.

God, a fucking wall. They had – Shiro checked his mask display – twelve dovashes, to get where they needed to be. Which meant that in twelve dovashes, one tick, Shiro and Ulaz would have officially been thwarted by one of the oldest, simplest defenses in the history of all civilized society. 

“Okay,” he clapped his hands together, pointing them at Ulaz, “back against the wall.”

“What?”

“You, boost me up.” Ulaz was pretty strong, he could probably do it. “Then you,” he double-checked, “wallrun, corner, wallrun.” He illustrated, pointing to the wall beside them, to the corner, to the wall in front. “High as you can get, and I’ll reach down and grab you.”

Ulaz stared, “You think it will work?”

“… Sure. Yeah, Matt and I did it at the Garrison, when we were climbing the outside of the Mess hall. It’s fine.”

Ulaz stood, back planted against the wall, reaching out both hands.

Shiro stepped back. He had maybe three strides worth of a run-up. Cramped but good enough. He stuck his head around the corner. Still clear.

Yeah, it’ll work fine

Then one deep breath. He nodded to Ulaz, and one step – two – three – and Ulaz boosted him up hard enough he felt his spine bend.

It carried him just high enough to close both hands over the top.

Shit, no need to put me into orbit!

What was that? ‘Thank you, Shiro, for getting my boney ass up here?’

Hand over hand, he walked himself sideways until he reached one of the struts, supporting the railing. Then he hiked himself up, got his elbows over the top, and he was there.

Lying on his stomach, he wrapped his right arm around the support (brief visions of it getting ripped off his elbow made that decision), then stretched the other down as far as he could.

“Okay, go.”

Ulaz took it at a run, caught the side wall, then caught the corner, then came across, headed straight for Shiro.

It actually took two tries.

But on the second try (kicking gravity right in the face), palm met forearm and held fast. 

And then the yank.

Hero momen– oh fuck!

Shit, don’t let – 

Good thing Shiro had his other arm anchored, because godfuckingdamn, Ulaz was heavy. Odds were not favorable for pulling him up with one arm (unless he wanted to also throw his own back out) Shiro just grit his teeth and concentrated on holding on, and let Ulaz deal with hauling himself up.

Ack – climb faster – fuck, are you –

You twig – just – hang on –

Shiro owed Matt a(nother) apology.  

Ulaz hooked a heel over the edge, then finally he was up. Shiro flopped over like a dead fish, before slowly hauling himself upright. His whole arm was tingling, from aching shoulder all the way down to his buzzing fingers.

Am I lopsided? Shiro, I think I’m lopsided, is one arm longer?

Probably. Come on

Seven dovashes left now. Ulaz pulled Shiro the rest of the way to standing (by the other arm, thank God).

And they were off.

Much, much later (after they’d made it with an entire dovash and a half to spare, thankyouverymuch), safely back at the Castle, Ulaz was doing Shiro the wonderful favor of gently massaging the life back into his shoulder.

Totally uncalled for, to be honest. He hadn’t sprained anything (and if he had, this wouldn’t be right anyway). Sure, it had felt pretty shitty but Ulaz, though heavy, hadn’t actually done any damage. Shiro was fine.

But given the butterfly kisses brushing along the nape of his neck, and given Ulaz’s warm (blessedly warm) hands, fat chance of Shiro mentioning that fact.

#shiro (voltron) #ulaz #matt (voltron) #takashi shirogane #voltron #uliro #psh half a sentence of uliro i'm not sure that counts #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #sometimes there's no higher purpose #sometimes i just want them to climb stuff #don't judge me :p #study break writing jamz #for the record jumpheight is measured by how high your feet get not how high your hands reach #on the offchance that confused anybody #rex writes #vld

[pumpkins-s]

Spilling Like An Overflowing Sink

Read on AO3 Here

Read the Other Chapters on Tumblr Here

Lance Alexander Rafael McClain is born in the middle of a summer storm, thunder cracking and rain slamming onto the roof of an old ramshackle house that had seen more than its fair share of children.

The miracle baby, that’s what the family had called Lance. The unexpected son to a mother of five daughters.

(In which family is always complicated, Lance’s life hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, and he and Keith are really emotionally constipated for each other.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: Keith/Lance, significant platonic Lance & Hunk

Characters: Lance, Lance’s family, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Coran

Chapter 8: Longings

(( Author’s Note:

(kicks down door) Greetings, I'm back.

Apologies for being away from this fic so long. It's been a weird few months for me with a lot of personal stuff going on (If you follow me on social media I'm sure you witnessed the fallout of my breakup with my near year-long partner, for one), and that in addition to the Large amount of discourse in the fandom that sprung up after season 2, particularly surrounding Lance content, made me too nervous to update for a long time.

It took a while, but I eventually remembered that I started this fic for me, because it makes me happy, and letting the pressures of how long an update was or worrying over people's demands for when Keith would arrive was only hurting me, and my ability to write the fic.

So new rule. I'm doing this at my pace, Keith will get here when he gets here. End of story.

Now, before we begin, a couple things:

I'm incredibly honored and delighted to present to you all the finished version of Peachlance's fanart for this fic, which if you remember I linked the WIP sketch to a couple chapters back. You can check out their gorgeous art of Lance & Hunk here on tumblr, or here on twitter.

Also! I'm still not an artist in the slightest, but for those of y'all desiring them, here's some rough references for Mavis and Ritzie & Yuu I did a few months ago.

That's it. Have fun, bye. ))

Mavis’s apartment is a tiny thing on the thirteenth floor of a crumbling old residential building wedged between two larger, shinier new buildings, the few small windows in her apartment providing absolutely stunning views of her fire escape and the wall of the building outside.

It’s tiny, jam-packed, and bordering on claustrophobic, with its singular bedroom, living room, kitchenette, and bathroom all crammed together into one small unit. As a whole, it’s considerably smaller than Lance’s home, even if he is used to sharing that space with a hoard of other people, and arguably he’s pretty sure Mavis’s bedroom is actually slightly smaller than his and Hunk’s dorm room at Greenwood, which is saying something, given that’s not exactly a large space either.

Lance loves it instantly.

The first time he sees the apartment, an exhaustingly long thirty minute subway ride involving three train changes away from the airport, Mavis kicks the door open with otherwise little fanfare, dumping Lance’s suitcase by the door and straightening up.

“Welcome to city living! Mi casa es tu casa.”

Lance snorts, eyes roaming over the mess of dirty dishes in the sink, the unfolded pile of laundry on the coffee table, the assortment of books and music sheets on the kitchen counter. “Tu casa es un desastre.”

“Hush.” Mavis says, pointing a finger at him. “You try being an adult capable of clean, organized living these days. It’s hard.”

“You’re twenty-five.” Lance deadpans, and Mavis sniffs, flipping her hair and crossing her arms, pouting.

“Don’t remind me. I already feel old.” She claps her hands, grabbing Lance’s bag again and swinging it over her shoulder easily as if it isn’t heavily packed with everything Lance needs to survive here for three and a half weeks. “C’mon, let’s get you settled. You’re lucky I bought a bed that has one of those second mattress pullout trundle things in case one of my brothers or Evie ever came to stay or something.”

“Goodie.” Lance mutters, and Mavis smirks back at him, nudging the bedroom door open just as her phone goes off. Pulling it out of her pocket, she glances at the number and winces. “Work. I need to take this.” Swinging Lance’s bag off her shoulder, she turns and bodily chucks it at the trundle bed, sending it flying onto it with a loud crash that leaves Lance wincing and pitying his cousin’s neighbors. “Go ahead and get settled while I’m on the phone, if you want. There’s some toiletries and spare clothes I picked up just in case, since I wasn’t sure if you packed enough given I do the laundry like… once a month.”

“Gross.” Mavis snorts, and nudges him into the room, pulling the door shut behind her as she turns back to the living room, answering her call with a muffled, yet distinctly blunt “What.”, obviously none-to-pleased with whomever is calling her on her day off.

Sighing, Lance shuffles his way over to the trundle bed, nudging his suitcase over to a corner as best he can and then flopping down, savoring being able to stretch out properly after hours of being crammed on first a plane and then the subway. He may be smaller than an adult, or even, admittedly, small for his age, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates being shoved into tight spaces for extended periods of time any more than the next person.

Rubbing at his eyes, he sits up and turns to the small pile of clothes and what looks like a spare toothbrush and face-wash, among other things, resting on the pillow. He moves the toiletries without much thought, idly inspecting the label on the face-wash and happily noting it’s a brand he’s used before, but when he turns to the clothes he hesitates, looking at the shirt resting on top properly for the first time and noting a… small problem.

It’s pink.

A bright, searing pink, small flowers patterned along the collar and lace for sleeves.

Hands shaking, he grabs the fabric and carefully lifts it up, eyes roaming over the distinctly feminine cut and color of the shirt with a kind of displaced horror, offset by the hesitant want he feels just from looking.

The shirt is exactly the kind of thing he would have picked out, a year and a lifetime ago. On instinct, he holds it to his nose, and it smells… not like what he remembers when he thinks of clothing like this, of Loraine’s shampoo and his mother’s laundry detergent, but it does smell somewhat like Mavis, like the subtle scent of her leather jacket and her apartment, and that is… not right, but not wrong either.

God though, that doesn’t take the edge off the wanting, even noting these minute differences between his memories of the life he craves and his reality. If anything, knowing it’s real, here and presented in this space where he is relatively free of the consequences of such choices, makes the whole thing worse.

Almost idly, hands gripping light fabric, he thinks of a story his Aunt Rosa had told him once as a child, an old Greek myth from one of her well-worn books about a king who was punished for his transgressions in the afterlife by being placed on an island surrounded by water and with fruit trees growing on it, but could not eat or drink, no matter how much he hungered or thirsted, for eternity.

That is what this is like, he thinks. It’s placing cursed salvation in front of a starving person and watching them crawl desperately towards it.

He wants so badly, and yet to have it is akin to taking fruit from the poisoned tree.

Jerking slightly, Lance drops the shirt with shaking hands, as if it might scald him. From the kitchen, Mavis’s voice, raising in volume as she argues with whoever is on the other end of the line, drifts through, pulling him back to reality.

Mavis… right.

Assumedly, this is her doing, then.

Hesitantly, he turns to the remaining pile of clothing, eyes falling to a now more than obvious assortment of bright patterns and cheerful designs, a veritable ball of doom. Reaching out, both hands grasping unsurely, he rifles through it, overly-short cut fingernails, a habit he picked up to fight the urge to paint them, catching on floral shorts and thin tights and close-shaped t-shirts splashed with color.

As a whole, he counts four shirts, two skirts, one pair of high-waist shorts, and a single pair of light pink tights.

…Oh, and a clip-on hair ribbon. Blue.

Really, it’s not that much, barely a few days selection of clothes, but at the same time, it’s everything.

He wants to cry, he wants to cheer, he wants to burn it and curl up in a ball and try to forget.

It’s the little things that destroy a person, Lance thinks, when it comes to the wanting.

Outside the room, Mavis’s voice rises to a sharp crescendo, followed by the muffled sound of something being chucked sharply against a thankfully soft object, and, judging by the following array of colorful swears directed to the air, Lance can only assume it was Mavis’s phone being thrown, hopefully onto the sofa or something where it won’t be damaged.

It’s a funny thought that preoccupies his mind for all of about two seconds, before his gaze falls to the clothing spread out before him, and he swallows nervously, calling out. “M-Mavis…?”

Despite his half-hearted effort at the tiny vocalization, the loud cursing from the kitchen trails off, and after a moment, Mavis pushes her way into the room, door slamming open and then swinging shut behind her on its own momentum. Her hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction where she’s clearly run her fingers through it, but she doesn’t look upset, just mildly pissed at best.

“Sorry, sorry, my boss is a dick. I was supposed to have tomorrow off to do fun bonding shit with you or something, but he’s now demanding I cover my lazy coworkers ass so…” She trails off, eyes falling to him for the first time and widening, taking in his own shell-shocked expression, before her gaze catches on the scattered clothing, and it closes off, becomes guarded. “Ah.”

With a kind of long-awaited resignation, she trudges over to the trundle bed, nudging Lance gently with a food to get him to move over, and then flopping down next to him, lifting an arm in clear invitation. Lance doesn’t hesitate, despite the distant knowledge that the articles of his distress were undeniably provided by the person next to him, and falls against her side, tucking his head under Mavis’s chin and listening to the thrum of her heartbeat, the erratic sound slowing out to a steady rhythm as she calms down.

It’s good. Soothing. Like how he used to lay with Loraine when he was younger, the two of them tucked up together on that cramped bed layered in old quilts and well-worn pillows.

For a moment, when he closes his eyes and feels Mavis’s blunt fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp as her fingers card gently through his hair, he can pretend he’s back there again, in his sanctuary.

But... He sighs out, opening his eyes and meeting the sight of Mavis’s whitewashed wall. He is not there, and this apartment might just be his next best chance at something like a new sanctuary.

“I’m sorry.” Mavis says after a long moment of quiet, voice low and unsure. “I forgot.”

“Why would you…?” He rasps out, words falling into uncertainty.

Mavis chuckles, a brittle, bitter sound. “Let’s call it a momentary increase in stupidity. I just…” She sighs. “I wasn’t thinking, really. Well… No, I was thinking, just not very intelligently.”

“Well, clearly.”

She laughs at that, small but genuine, and Lance manages his own wet giggle in return. She grins down at him, and then her face falls, turning away to look at the wall. “I… I listen to you on the other end of that phone every week, Lance, and I don’t even have to see you to know how much it’s killing you underneath, living like that. No matter what, you’re miserable because of it, and I suppose I just thought…” She shrugs. “No one knows you here, so there’s no consequences here, y’know? It’s completely removed from home, from your school… from everything.” Mavis smiles weakly. “It’s stupid, but I guess at the time I wanted this place to be the escape for you that I made it for me. Plus, well… I can’t help but feel a little guilty, I suppose.”

Lance shifts at that, offering a questioning noise. “What? Why?”

Mavis shifts nervously. “Lance, you hate living like this, and I was the one who talked you into Greenwood in the first place—“

“Hey, no. No.” Lance sits up quickly, glaring at Mavis. “You didn’t talk me into anything. This— Everything was my decision. You didn’t coerce me into making the choices I have or any of that shit.”

“But—“

“Nope!” He says firmly, poking his cousin’s cheek gently. “You helped me, nothing more, and for that I’m grateful, okay? I’m…” He sighs. “I’m not saying I like living like this, or that I’m alright with it, because I’m really… really not, but I need it. I need this… purpose, to keep me going, to give me something to hold onto.” Lance hesitates. “I’m honestly not sure if I’d be alive right now, if you hadn’t helped me find that. It stabilized me.”

Mavis stares at him for a long moment, and then groans, head tipping back to fall against the side of the proper bed next to the trundle, where her back rests. “Don’t go getting emotional on me now, kid. We can’t both be having a sob fest, and your bullshit earnestness makes my self-pity just look sad.”

Lance grins in spite of himself. “Karma for deciding you’re to blame for all my problems.”

“Hey!” Mavis sticks a hand into the air, pointing up at nothing imperiously. “I never said I was to blame for all your problems. Just… a few of them.” She coughs, hand falling after a moment almost bashfully. “Ok, in retrospect, that sounds… Yeah.” After a moment, she glances down at him, raising an eyebrow. “I did actually mean to return those this morning before I picked you up and get you some different stuff, I just genuinely forgot.”

He smiles softly. “I believe you. I wasn’t angry in the first place, anyways.”

It’s true, really. Whatever slight slivers of annoyance he’d felt at Mavis sticking such metaphorical poisoned fruit in front of him had quickly drained away within minutes, leaving only a kind of calm acceptance and tiny pieces of lingering grief.

Mavis loves him, as much as any of his sisters, and maybe even almost as much as Loraine had, he knows this. She would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, or pain him. She only wanted to help— Had only ever wanted to help, since that first conversation after Loraine’s funeral, when she had offered him Loraine’s final gift, and along with it the directions to a chance at redemption.

“I should have known it was a shitty idea from the beginning, really.” Mavis murmurs quietly, leaning over and snagging the single pair of tights to glare at them ruefully. “Sticking you with that kind of decision.”

Almost unconsciously, Lance reaches out, catching the dangling ends of the tights carefully and tangling them between his fingers. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…” He swallows. “I want too much, I think. I’m afraid if I let myself have that kind of thing, I might not have the heart to give it up again.” His eyes flicker to his cousin. “And I can’t, Mavis. I can’t let those pieces of who I was back into my life. I’d rather die than jeopardize this last thing that I can do for her.”

Mavis sighs, dropping the rest of the tights into his hands. “You shouldn’t live your life trying to please what’s not coming back, Lance.”

“It’s what I want, though.” He says. “It’s the only thing I want, really, to do what she couldn’t. It’s the closest I can get to keeping a piece of her alive, and I… I need that.”

“I know…” Mavis says, closing her eyes. “God, I know.”

That night, Lance dreams of Loraine. Of the soft warmth of her hugs, of the sweet taste of summer air and of breathless laughter caught in near soundlessness on rushing air around a speeding hoverbike on old dirt roads.

There are dreams Lance has, nightmares really, that end in screaming, in the oxygen in his lungs being stolen in heaving sobs that leave him shivering and with an aching throat. Those… Those are the nights of blood and pain, the sensation of falling through air and of remembering what glassy, unseeing eyes look like, the nights when he cannot escape the day she died.

This is not one of those nights. Though, still, the bittersweet feeling of her face and her heart, loving and kind, haunting his sleep leave him with tear tracks on his face when he wakes, regardless.

Almost blindly, he rolls half out of bed, intending to walk the five steps necessary to reach Hunk’s across the room and curl up against the larger, slowly snoring warmth that is his friend, before his hand touches scratchy, industrial carpet instead of old wooden floorboards, and he remembers he is not at home, and Hunk is not here.

Sitting up, he rubs at his eyes blearily, squinting at Mavis’s distinctly unoccupied bed next to the pullout trundle, and then turns when the faint flickering of light under the doorway catches his eye. Stumbling to his feet, he carefully crosses the room and opens the door, pulling it open with the gentlest of creaks to bring the wash of yellow light from the kitchen streaming in, illuminating Mavis’s frame where she sits on a stool next to her kitchen bench, half hunched over a bowl of cereal and eyes settled on the book she has propped up against the fruit bowl. She blinks, glancing up, and when her gaze finds him her expression softens ever so slightly, almost lost in the imperceptibly neutral planes of her face.

He almost expects her to offer some quip, some cliché line that he can read in her eyes that screams you too, huh? But instead, she merely makes a halfhearted noise that falls somewhere between a snort and a sigh, and pulls out the stool next to her, patting it idly. Slowly, Lance edges out of the doorway and over to the stool, catching his toes on the well-worn wood of the ring between the legs of the seat as he looks for footing, scrambling up onto it as best he can. Legs dangling, too short to touch the ground, once he’s settled.

Mavis grabs a bowl from a stack on the bench, obviously washed but yet to be put away in a cupboard, in front of him, and then nudges the open box of cereal towards him. He accepts it wordlessly, pouring it into the bowl in rush of noise against the silence as the pieces of grain collide against the porcelain.

They’re Cheerios, he notes almost absentmindedly.

Loraine had liked Cheerios.

Fumbling, he reaches for the milk carton where it sits between the two bowls, and Mavis intercepts him quickly, picking up the carton and unscrewing the lid.

“New carton. It’s heavy.” Is all she offers, pouring the milk into his bowl. She resettles the carton once the pieces of golden brown are floating in white, presenting him with a spoon from who knows where wordlessly.

Lance takes it, scooping up a mouthful, and tries not to cry when the cool rush of milk and sweet tang of the cereal hits his tongue.

“I never liked Cheerios much growing up.” Mavis says quietly, staring down at her half-empty bowl and trailing her spoon through the mess before lifting it to her lips. “Loraine and Evie did, though, so that was all my Ma or Aunt Maria ever bought when they went to the store.”

Outside, there comes the faintest whisper of witching hour traffic along the streets, and the clinking of their spoons against the porcelain bowls is loud in the otherwise silence of the night.  

“You’re an adult,” He murmurs, “…Does it ever get better?”

Mavis sighs, propping an elbow on the bench and resting her cheek in her hand. “I’ll tell you when I figure that out myself.”

Lance nods jerkily, and that’s the end of it.

Even by that first day after Lance arrives, things are a mess, because Mavis’s schedule is a mess— And maybe her life in general is a bit of a mess, too, but Lance imagines that comes with the territory when one is somehow a part-time bartender, part-time stagehand, and freelance musician all at once.

Plus, well, it’s Mavis. She kind of specializes in functioning from afar while everything actively goes to shit, which he suspects is a trait he might slowly be inheriting via continued exposure to her mere presence.

Maybe. Maybe.

…Lance isn’t sure if he knows how to function period, really, regardless of outside problems, so maybe he’s just kidding himself with that one.

Either way, function Mavis does, so the morning after their little heart-to-heart over soggy bowls of Cheerios in the last trickling vestiges of night, she rolls out of bed to the chime of an annoyingly cheerful alarm at six AM and staggers her way into the bathroom to get ready for work, nearly tripping over Lance’s trundle as she goes, which is enough to wake him and send him scurrying into her bed to seize the warm spot she’s left behind.

She makes a face at him when she returns, poking the side of his head where it peeks out between the sheets. He hums sleepily, and she grins, a crooked, fragile thing. “’M sorry about this. I really wasn’t supposed to work today.” He offers a half-awake noise of understanding, and Mavis’s expression fades into a soft smile. “I’ll be back by dinner, I’ll bring takeout or something. You still like Thai food, right?”

“Mmmm….” Lance rumbles out, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “…Yeah.”

“Good, cool.” She straightens up, sighing out. “TV has a DVR, remote’s on the table. Don’t open the door to anyone, etcetera, etcetera.”

“I know, Mavis.” He mumbles. “I’ll be fine.”

She hesitates, dropping an uncharacteristic kiss onto his forehead, an action Lance would expect more from Marcie or Evie, and then she’s gone.

It only takes a few hours, once he’s rolled out of bed and forced himself into the living room, before the boredom sets in, and the itch, just there under his skin, becomes all the more obvious, like a crawling, wiggling thing, burying deep until it hums and scratches in his bones. It had been there since he’d woken up and gone to get dressed, uncomfortably aware of the selection of clothing Mavis had gotten for him shoved onto a shelf in the closet, just… there, right within grasp.

It’s undeniable, like a siren’s call, and television can only distract him for so long.

Almost automatically, he reaches for his phone, intending to call Hunk, his go-to backup system, before he pauses, and then drops his hand.

Hunk. Right. Part of the whole purpose of this trip was to not so subtly give Hunk a break from Lance’s… everything. He’s not going to go calling his friend after less than a day over some frigging clothing. It’ll just leave Hunk worrying about him incessantly.

He takes his phone, buries it between the couch cushions, and resurrects Mavis’s laptop from its constantly overheating, cracked screen, duct-taped death to Skype Ritzie.

“It’s just all so boring, darling.” She tells him in lighthearted monotone, bushy hair pulled back in a single ponytail on the other side of the screen, pale skin against jean shorts where she sits cross-legged and curled up in on herself. Off screen, someone calls her name, and she yells back loudly in French, before turning back to the camera with a sigh. “I love France, but it’s all just making nice with Papa’s business associates while he jets them around on cruises and listening to him arguing over the phone with Daddy about custody, again.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s like I’m a freaking commodity to be passed around.”

“Sorry.” He tells her in a whisper, and Ritzie laughs, the bright, cheerful sound he’s come to recognize and appreciate in her.

“Not like it’s your fault. I’m just looking forward to when I escape the parental affection battle and school goes back. I miss you lot, even Yuu, despite his nagging.”

“Miss you too.” He says, and even though he can’t tell her about the long-worn scars on his arms or the buzzing itch under his skin that he called to distract himself from, because she does not know, will never know, he still means it.

Will always mean it.

Even long after Ritzie hangs up the call, Lance sits there, fingernails digging into his arms where they’re crossed, and when it gets to be too much, he jumps up, forces himself into busyness by washing he dishes that lay piled high on Mavis’s counter, all the way down to their cereal bowls from the night before.

He eats a handful of dry Cheerios, pretends it’s lunch even as he ignores the sandwich sitting in the fridge, cut in triangles like he insisted on when he was little, before Mavis left home, and studiously does not cry.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

And when Mavis brings home takeout and bullies him into watching shitty old anime reruns with her, it’s almost good.

Almost… It feels like no matter what Lance does, he’s always just grasping at almost.

Two days after Lance first arrives in New York, minus the day he actually got off the plane and took his first steps into Mavis’s apartment, he reaches his breaking point.

...In a way, he’s surprised he even lasted that long.

It’s not so bad, in the morning, when Mavis doesn’t have work and drags him out of bed to walk around the neighborhood, teaches him the differences between the New York and D.C. metro systems, parades him over to the diner two blocks down and presents him cheerfully to the workers, who all know her by first name. It’s movement, noise, people, all the ingredients to the recipe for adequate distraction and entertainment. It’s nice, even with the oppressive heat of the summer sun beating down on the sidewalks, and Lance can see why his cousin treasures the home she has found here so much.

It’s in the evening, when Mavis, apologetic and reluctant, has to duck out for a short shift at the bar, that Lance finds the itch return, driving him to more frantic cleaning and fruitless pacing in an effort to forget.

He knows, really, that there’s only two options to drive away the itch— Give in, or… Well, he’s been trying to break himself of the latter habit, for the sake of Hunk’s sanity and the slowly healing marks on his arms.

On some level, Lance doesn’t know why it’s so bad this time, compared to any other. He’s been doing this for over a year now, has held himself strictly to this decision even when he’s home on the weekends and holidays, far away from Greenwood and its prying eyes, and he’s never come this tenuously close to slipping, to giving in.

He thinks, maybe, it’s the utter lack of pressures here. If he gave in at home, if he dressed and acted as he liked and found a way to lock it down every time he returned to Greenwood, his family would, in well-meaning intent, encourage him to take the clothing he loved, the things he once treasured, back with him.

They are too understanding, in a way. They’ll never be able to grasp the importance of this, of the lie he and Mavis have so delicately crafted.

But… Here? Here there’s only Mavis— Friend, cousin, coconspirator, secret-keeper. She knows. She understands why.

And so, as the hours drain away and the night creeps in, Lance finds himself falling from grace in a moment of desperate self-pity, fueled by exhaustion and resignation, and sneaking into the bathroom with the single hair bow Mavis had purchased grasped between his shaking fingers.

When he clips it on unsteadily, stepping back and squinting into the mirror, it’s all wrong, a conspicuous mark against his short hair and faded dark grey shirt. He looks more like a child playing around in his mother’s makeup drawer, metaphorically, at least, then he does like himself.

At the same time, though, even that one little piece is… Everything. The color of it, the weight of it against his skull, it’s everything to him.

“It looks nice.” Mavis’s voice rings out from the doorway, and Lance startles, turning sharply to see her reclined there, arms crossed and considering.

He hadn’t even heard her come in, he realizes. Too caught up in his elated panic over this tiny act of... something.

“It looks terrible.” He bites out, and Mavis shrugs.

“I think the color suits you.”

Lance glances back to the mirror, looking again, and for a moment he wants to ask if she really thinks so, but he shakes it off. “Doesn’t matter anyways.” He reaches to unclip it, and Mavis slides forward quickly, catching his hands in her own and staring down at them, biting her lip for a moment in an unsure, hesitant gesture.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should or should not do, Lance. But—“ She glances up ever so slightly, meeting his eyes even as she still looks down at him, the significant height difference between them never more apparent. “Nobody here can touch you. Nobody has to know.”

He blinks, pointedly ignoring the itch behind his eyes, and hesitantly looks back at his reflection, studying the splash of sky blue against his slight curls, the same as Loraine’s, even at this length.

He wants. He wants so badly, and he’s so tired of not being able to give into it.

Hesitantly, nervously, he slips one of his hands free of Mavis’s, dropping it to his side and running the edges of his fingers along the hem of his board shorts, the long fabric chaffing against the inside of his knees as it has for the last two days, heavy and unbearable.

“Could I…” Lance says quietly. “Could you bring me those shorts you bought me? Please?”

Just three weeks. Three weeks here, in this place where secrets can lay buried, and then he will go home to Veradera, and be who he needs to be once more.

Nobody needs to know.

…Right?

#spilling like an overflowing sink (voltron) #Voltron #vld fanfic #vld fanfiction #my writing