#listen. keith with fangs

[0xy--m0r0n]

@klance-brainrot you're a keith addict aren't you. keith with fangs. cmon

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

The gentle stag Rewrites the stars  

The gentle stag Rewrites the stars  

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing: Keith x MC

Part of : Ikemen Prince Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen

Gift for @ridiculouslly-ridiculous, I really hope you may like it 🤗

Tag: Slow burn Mutual pining Party Stargazing Realization of feelings Confession of requited feelings First Kiss Fluff

Word Count : 3.962

Author’s Note: The so very friendly and not at all romantic relationship she has with Keith begin to get more intimate when he invites her over to a ball held to celebrate his birthday.

Pleasant occasion turn the ball into a stargazing date, where they realize the feeling they have for one another and couldn't hide any longer, for nothing resist to the almighty power of Love. 🥰

Side Note: All the images were found on Pinterest-Google and I was unable to find the source, please if any of you know the owner tell me and I will provide to give the artist the credit for the image.

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978

@william-rex @candied-boys @writingwhimsey

@fang-and-feather @moonstruckmelancholic @lichtluv

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty @ike-garden2024

@jollibeeshappiness @starzyquee             

@maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

“It isn’t a date.”

What I hoped to be a confident assertion of my plan for the night did nothing but elicit giggles and knowing smirks from all the princes, sat around the round table.

Leon was the first to break the ice, or as well melt it with the warmth of his smile.

“Alright then, if you say so we believe you, it's true guys ?” 

I hoped they would have listened to him … but in vain, as I noticed seeing Jin smirk as he spoke breezily.

“Of course darling, an invite to a party, in his country, really sounds like a casual stroll to me.” 

I sighed as much as I hated that impression he was right, and yes I may have been getting my hopes up a little bit, but he was such a wonderful gentleman, and it was impossible not to love him. 

“Be careful out there.” Licht hidden kindness melted my heart, I met his eyes melting at the sight of a soft light smile curling his lips, I didn’t shy away from requiting with one of my own

“I will, thanks for the advice.”

“Remember to pay attention to your outfit,  and don’t dare look sloppy on your date.” Yves' warning makes me smile with gratitude, of course I should avoid it or else the nobles will mock me, easily ignoring the fact he called it a date,

“Thank you I will, don’t worry.”

“As if.” his haughty attitude didn't change a bit but the slightly more relaxed smile curling his lips told me another story.

Truth to be told, Keith's wicked side intrigued me like his soft one, the fact I was the only one in Rhodolite to know of his birthday and of his sides maybe made me special to him somehow, or at least I hoped so.

I turned at the sound of a scoff, coming from the head of the table opposite to Leon, in time to see a little smile play on Chevalier’s lips before he resumed his usual stern expression. 

If even he didn’t  believe me then it was useless to hope someone else would, if even he saw our meetings as dates I can only imagine what kind of rumors had spread around the courts about us.

“Dearie me. Who could have imagined you would have been conquered by him of all people?”  I glared at Clavis, ignoring his amber eyes gleaming mischievously, immediately backed up by Nokto,

“He certainly played his card right little lady, you got to admit it.” the foxy grin on his smile tickling on my nerves, pushing me t to give him a piece of my mind

“He isn't my lover.” I declare in a futile attempt at dissuading them from a truth everyone saw but me.

“Not yet.” 

“As much as I am fascinated by Keith.” I do my best to ignore the accomplices smiles Julie and Luke kept giving one another as they look up at me, mentally slapping my face for pronouncing his name, like we were intimate, we are a bit, but still, I sigh heavily, great now everyone knows what I feel for him, confirming things they already thought on their own anyway. 

“Prince Keith is only a friend. I know my place.”

Or at least, I should have known my adoration with him would have done nothing but hurt us both. Everyone knew it but him, blissfully unaware and careless of the supposed forbiddance of that feeling while our meetings became more and more similar to romantic trysts than mere strolls.

“As you desire sweetie.” a playful smile curled Julie’s lips glimmering in her bright green eyes, knowing her fondness for matchmaking I am sure she saw straight through my lies, but it was the best I could offer to fool myself with a non-existent distance between us.

“Thank you for listening to me.” I took advantage of the courtesy to calm down my heart beating furiously in my chest, with measured steps I walked toward the door, my hand was on its knob … when a crystal clear voice reached my ear.

“Enjoy your rendez-vous alors.” a Cheshire cat grin danced on her lips, receiving only a hearty chuckle as answer to my glare.

Once out of the door I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding in until now, affection swelling in my heart at the thoughtfulness they had for me, even though someone showed that better than others, and with a spring in my step I direct myself toward my room, basking in the excitement filling my heart at the prospect of that night party.

The afternoon flew by in an instant, my effort to study was useless, since the only thing in my mind was him. Love was forbidden between a commoner and a noble or, at least, was a lot more difficult than how I read it to be in countless fairytales … but how can you rule the unruly, govern the ungovernable, put rules to emotions, and oblige the heart to follow them?

Brief answer: you can’t. 

I sigh heavily, pushing aside the book I was reading, yet another way to cram my head with etiquette and rules that I should have followed to disguise myself as a noble, hoping for it to be enough to earn my place by his side  …  if only Keith, too,  would have been so crazy as to favor love over politics regarding marriage matters. 

Wondering if our love was starcrossed or written above the stars, I looked to them beginning to twinkle in the early evening sky, still colored with the warm hues of the setting sun in search of answers to questions that kept me thinking all through the day, especially after a totally casual and not at all romantic meeting of ours.

The ever present mantra of not getting too close to him flew out from the window the instant he appeared in my mind, making a jolt of blush spread across my cheeks as I adjusted the tiara on my curls in front of the mirror, mindful to adjust every detail to perfection, running my hands over the soft jade velvet of the gown, a color I chose thinking of him alike the nature themed accessory completing my outfit.

The carriage ride to Jade took longer than expected but I didn’t pay any attention to it, too lost in the admiration of the flourishing countryside scenery out of the window. 

The drumming of my heartbeat only got louder as I caught a glimpse of the Royal palace, dazzling bright like a gleaming Jade stone surrounded by a thick forest amidst the blue velvet of the night sky, embroidered with stars, that so many times Keith and I looked at  together.

I ran my fingers nervously over the richly decorated envelope, an official invite to his birthday party, sighing dreamily I caressed his signature, a flamboyant calligraphy I would have recognized amidst thousands.

A celebration he always felt no need for, but everyone insisted on celebrating as he confessed albeit shily to me only a few days prior as we were having tea together … and not that too was not a date … perhaps ? 

Nervously I stir my fingers on the gown adjusting invisible crinkles, before rushing to take a mirror pocket from my pochette to check out on my makeup and straight the tiara on my curls, to distraction myself I pick up the coins he gifted me rolling it between my thumb and forefingers, letting out a sigh to dispel my anxiety, smiling fondly at the memory of how he taught me how to make it dance in my palm, even though I was not even good enough as him I liked keep playing, reminiscing all the times we spent together, swelling my heart with all the love I and for him and was doing my best to forget but in vain.

The palace got bigger at each roll of the wheels on the cobblestone mixing with the horses’ hooves as the rhythmic undulation of the carriage slowed as we approached the gates, trailing off in a path surrounded by a rainbow of flowers and foliage billowing in the wind greeting the guests. 

My heart beat so loudly almost drowning the music coming from inside, I place and hand over it overwhelmed by a rush of anxiety mixed with excitement as the carriage came to a halt in front of his entrance.

I slide off as gracefully as possible letting the excitement for the night that awaited for me lead the way, pushing away all my nervousness as I smile, concentrating myself to not fall from my high heels keeping a straight composure as I approach the throne placed on a mezzanine floor, with the windows on their back.

I catch my breath at his sight I didn’t know it was possible but he looked even more gorgeous than ever in his formal clothes shining like a Jade under the light of the moon, shaking my head I focus on my courtesy, after the attendant presented me as the daughter of a Rhodolite noble, a surge of pride swelled in my chest at the small satisfied smile playing on his lips.

I let out a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding in until now, meeting his amber gaze as I rose from my position, smiling at his thoughtfulness at the sight of him descending the stairs to come greet me.

“You looked really beautiful tonight, as ever.” His compliment makes a surge of pride swell in me, as I unconsciously bow to him, sliding my fingers over the front of my gown, letting the softness of the velvet under my fingers calm me down a little bit.

I lower my head bashfully to hide my blush behind the fan gazing at his heart melting expression, a tender smile curled on his lips, radiating acceptance and kindness glimmering in his golden eyes as he took my hand in his leaving a gentle kiss on my knuckles, enough to set my skin on fire, I tried to refresh fanning myself but in vain, for the warmth of his hands still lingered on mine even after he retracted it.

“Thank you so much for coming, it made me so happy to have you here today.”

My heart jumped in my chest at the honesty in his voice, so different from the shallow lies of the nobles I got used to during my time at the palace.

“It was my pleasure and honor to meet you, Prince Keith. May I wish you a pleasant and mirthful birthday.”

"It is now that you are here with me." the earnestness of his heartfelt confession bring a smile to my lips as he tucked a rebel curl behind my ear, ignoring the way my heart raced out of control at the warm contact of his fingers brushing on my cheeks, while an hint of sensuality flickered on his honeyed eyes for a brief second, enough to make me yearn for more.

There was a hint of shyness in his smile as he gazed back at me, while a soft rosy blush crept up on his cheeks making my heart swell with love I held for him, enhanced by the tenderness I saw reflected in his golden eyes as he leaned to me, his breath fanning on my cheeks distracting me from everything else, moment I savour to the fullest revelling in the little touch of his chest brushing against my breast, as my heart galloped wildly in a frenzy from his allure.

“I would like to show you something.” He bit his bottom lip, fidgeting with his own fingers before raising his wide doe-like eyes to look at me with such a heart melting gaze I couldn’t deny anything to 

“Do you want to come with me ?” his almost pleading tone pulled at my heartstring, I tenderly placed my gloved hand over his own.

“Of course, lead me.” The sun dawned once more on his features brightened by such a pure soft smile I stared in awe at, I would go with you anywhere if you asked me a secret wish I keep to myself.

I bask in his manly warm hands engulfing mine as he lead me to a secret passage directed to his personal astronomy tower that only he would grace his presence upon, since he kindly explained to me that the astronomer was too engrossed in a deep discussion with the librarian to ever notice or care about the falling stars scheduled for that night to happen.

“I see well it’s cute that is happening today. It's like a gift from the universe.”

I sense him smiling as he gently squeezing my hand in his,

“Moreover I hope you will like my present when you open it, I left it at the entrance with the others.” 

“Trust me, your presence here is the best gift I could ever receive from you.” 

his soft voice dripped with tenderness as he squeezed my hand, turning around to give me a heart melting smile, so bright to shine even through the darkness of the corridor.

Once arrived there I follow him out on the balcony, my breath catch in my throat, mesmerized by the view of the Kingdom stretching before my eyes, shrouded in darkness almost a continuation of the night sky, with the stars sliding down to play hide and seek from clouds to the towns’ houses, a sight so beautiful to entrance me completely, smiling at the pleasant contact of his masculine forms hovering over next to me while his pinky finger ever so shily crawl on the railing to overlap with mine. 

I looked up at him but he simply smiled, enraptured by his handsome features I smiled back at him, squeezing his hand as he engulfed mine in his once more.

“It is so … beautiful.” I manage to murmur as I stare in awe at the sight, sliding to look back at him, the light of the lanterns dancing on his alluring features

“I am so happy you like it.” 

“Look out there for the falling star, don’t forget to make a wish-” 

“-And it will be granted.” I continue smiling at him, revelling in our shared knowledge.

Curiosity and hope got the best of me and before I know it I had my eyes glued to the sky feeling his pinky finger ever so slowly crawl to entwine with mine as I look briefly at him, seeing a soft smile plastered on his lips as he feigned innocence staring at the stars, reflected in his golden eyes.

I bask in that intimate contact hoping from the bottom of my heart the darkness could conceal the red blush of my cheeks, the same shade of rose I saw dusting over his as I softly squeezed his fingers, he ever so softly entwined with mine.

A bit of time passed by and nothing was in sight, so much so that I was thinking that maybe the towns’ light overshine over the stars … when suddenly I saw it.

A comet rushing amidst them all, burning bright, like my love for him, piercing through the clouds near the moon.

Unable to stay still I beam brightly pointing out excitedly at the sky

“I saw one, there.” I smile at him, unable to look away from the galaxy reflected in his gaze as the lights of the lanterns and the moon danced in the golden pool of his eyes.

“You seem to be lucky tonight, I have yet to see any.”

“Don’t be upset. I am sure you will see one too soon.”

“Have you expressed your wish?”

“Yes.” I confess bashfully 

“But I don’t know if it became true.” I trail off, looking down at the towns’ below, wondering if maybe I could belong there too, a wishful dream I brush off shaking my head from the bittersweet thought of what could have been … if only I would have been a noble but I wasn’t and so I was forced to see my love off with another, I clutch my fingers on my heat to calm the painfully tug at the thought.

“Why not ?” His tone dripping with concern as he leaned next to me, brushing his thumb on the back of my hand, managing to calm be it for a while my racing heart, making my focus shift back to him

“It … too strange that is.” I looked briefly up at him, in time to see surprise in his widened eyes, while a sympathetic smile played on his lips.  

“I am sure it will.” 

His support warmed my heart as I squeeze his hand before going back to gaze at the sky, doing my best but failing at forgetting the love I felt for him, or else this would have led us to our downfall and the mere idea of hurting him was unbearable to me, desiring from the bottom of my heart for him to be happy.

A bit of time went by and I kept my eyes open for any sign of a falling star, ready to indicate that to him and gave him the chance to make a wish too, all that to earn that bright, tender smile of his that never failed to make my heart swell with love and affection for him.

I had just thought that when his gentle voice shook me from my reveries

“I saw one too.” 

“You made your wish Keith ?” I leaned over with curiosity, I know well it was forbidden to tell it but a part of me wondered what he used it for … but with great astonishment he shook his head, his tone unusually serious as he looked straight at me.

“Wishing upon a star? What for when I have everything I could have wished for and more right there, in my arms.” 

His masculine brawny body engulfing me in his hug, I looked up at him seeing affection glimmering in his amber gaze, glimmering like molten gold at the warm suffused light coming from the lanterns of the balcony.

It was too good to be true, he was a prince and I was … well I a commoner faking to be a noble even though he knew of it this didn’t changed the difference in our status

“Keith please.” I beg, half hoping he wasn’t joking for my heart would have not take too well the delusion of my feelings being teased so openly 

“It is not a lie” his words filled my heart with hope, as it began to race out of control in my chest so much I was sure he could hear it too. 

“But your duty …”

“Is to follow my heart and that is what I am doing.This always has been the best thing to do for us in Jade and I am no exception.” This statement took me off guard, I always assumed Royalty everywhere married off just for duty and alliance but he proved me wrong and no one knows how much I was immensely grateful for it.

“But who can love someone like me.” My insecurities speaking up before I had a chance to shut them up, I bit my lip trailing my gaze on my fingers curled on his chest,

“I will.” his sturdy fingers cupped my face, raising me to meet his gaze, unwavering, loyal and honest like I came to know both his sides to be.

“I am not tricking you, please trust me.” a plea dripping over his tone pushing me to let down my guard, as I always did around him looking back into his gaze

“I love you.” the brightness of a thousand suns glimmering in his honey eyes, pouring over his tender smile.

“Oh Keith I love you too.” 

The sensation of his lips on mine was nothing like I expected it, it was far better, it really felt like we were melting into one another, it was shy and a bit clumsy I felt his hands curl on my hips to help me remain on my feet as I  get swept off by the soft movements of his lips savouring mine, while I grip my fingers on his shirt, afraid he may slip off if I loosened my clutch … but there was no need to, as he proved wrapping his arms around me holding me close to his chest.

Reluctantly he pulled away leaning his forehead to mine, brushing his thumb on my cheeks, before trailing it over my sensitive bottom lip, a dreamy sigh escaped my lips immediately robbed by his lips landing once more on mine,it was a brief kiss but enough to let me desiring for more, enhanced by his warm breath fanning over my swollen lips.

“Please grant me the honor of being my fiancé.”

The honest affection filling his golden eyes mesmerize me, driving me in further into that golden pool I wished to swim in with him … and now finally could after week spent wishing and dreaming to become his lover,

“Oh Keith. Yes.” the diamond on the ring glimmered in the sheer light of the moon witness of that peculiar engagement as he ever so gently slide it on my ring finger, unknowingly setting my heart ablaze with indescribable happiness and swollen with love, racing in my chest with all the affection I held for him, I hoped to convey tip toeing to leave a tender kiss on his soft cheeks, revelling in his rosy blush.

Surely he would have had a lot of things to explain to the court sooner or later, like I should have to after all …  but for now all that mattered was us, alone on his balcony sharing a promise with only the stars as guardians of our love.

I welcomed the softness of his lips melting once more on mine in a sweet, tender kiss, robbing me of any coherent thought as he embraced me ever so strongly swallowing the ever soft whimpers escaping from my lips as he deepened the kiss, while my fingers dived in his soft grey curls and his own tightened around my hips as he hold me close to him.

Reluctantly he pulled away brushing a gentle kiss on my forehead as he took my hands in  his, placing a gentle kiss on their knuckles looking straight at me 

“I love you my little bunny always and forever.” his heartfelt confession moved me to the core, I did my best to reciprocate.

“I love you too, my stag, all of you, so very much.” 

He placed his head on mine, pulling me in a slow improvised waltz on the balcony floor, I eagerly followed, leaning my head on his chest, hearing our hearts beating in sync like one, like the soulmates we were destined to be.

The princes of Rhodolite were right since the beginning this was a date, and no one knew how much happy it made me to have been able to finally confess that feeling I held secretly hidden in my heart until that moment 

Love was a gift, I always believe in that, but no one of all my books prepared me for this, to love and to be loved was pure bliss, it filled your heart with affection and happiness, a passion smoldering as the sun and ten fold as bright, inexplicable to describe and I was grateful to all the universe for making that possible, bringing us together as written above the stars since the beginning of the universe and for all eternity.

[kingdomoftyto]

OKAY, HELL, I’m reading through another old unpublished fic document and goddammit, there’s SO MUCH GOOD STUFF in here, I NEED to share this before it gets lost to the void entirely.

So okay LOOK, a few years ago when Voltron was briefly my main fandom obsession, I had an idea for an AU... a Phantom of the Opera AU. Galra!Keith as the Opera Ghost and Lance as the dancer-turned-famous-singer.

And I got INTO it. This concept CONSUMED me for several weeks. I listened to nothing but PotO soundtracks, I rambled about it to my friends and family (none of whom had ever seen Voltron), I got all flustered thinking about potential dialogue.

However, I’m chronically incapable of finishing a proper story outline, which was this fic’s ultimate downfall. I would start by trying to outline the basic roles and plot points and quickly devolve into describing specific scenes and character interactions. On the one hand, this means I never got enough of a cohesive plot figured out to actually start writing the damn thing properly.

...But on the OTHER hand, in the end I was left with a fairly thorough--if chaotically organized--collection of ideas and scenes that come together to still present a really fun and interesting premise.

In the time since writing all of this up in 2018, I’ve mentally moved on from Voltron and the finer details of its characters, etc, enough that the thought of ever going back and actually FINISHING this beast moves past “daunting” and into “impossible” if not outright “laughable”. THEREFORE, I hereby present to you, dear readers, the extremely haphazard, pre-alpha version, never-going-to-be-written-so-I-might-as-well-share-what-I’ve-got, Icarus-ian pseudo-fic that is....

......THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA KLANCE AU THAT YOU DIDN’T KNOW YOU NEEDED:

[The setting is roughly the same as in PotO. The characters’ names and races and all that are the same as in VLD and it doesn’t affect anything, shhh, don’t think too hard about the details, it’s just one of those vague Victorian-flavored Gothic Romance versions of Paris... except all the Voltron characters are there instead.]

[I’m going to basically stitch this together into a semblance of chronological order from the jumble of stuff in my notes document. There’s literally a section header in there that reads, “Outline Reboot 9/2/18″, so yeah, buckle up lmao]

Keith is half-Galra, born with partial Galra features--like, purple fur over half his body, pointed ears, a glowing yellow eye, fangs, claws, the works--and thus, after his parents are out of the picture, he’s seen as a monster and treated as an outcast.

His dad dies when he’s very young, and he ends up paraded around Europe as a freakshow. He runs away and teenage Shiro finds him scrounging for food, befriends him. They learn that his “deformity” invites violence and agree to keep his existence a secret, with Shiro eventually helping him build a sanctuary inside the theater and serving as his one lifeline to the outside world. Mostly, though, Keith ends up fending for himself in the catacombs beneath the opera house, becoming a sort of terrifying ninja hermit not afraid to steal what he needs to survive.

Shiro, of course, becomes a famous singer—the primo uomo of the premier opera house in Paris. Keith watches his career from within the walls and secret passages, growing to love the art and music and quietly learning the lives and habits of the theater’s inhabitants, from the jovial but hard-working stagehands to the fussy but kind prima donna [i.e. Allura. potentially.]. He learns the sounds of the instruments, the mechanisms of the machinery, and the plots of the operas. The habits and personalities of the workers, the performers, and the regular patrons. He watches each little triumph in the lives of the theater inhabitants, as well as dramas spanning years.

He sings to himself in the darkness, and finds he has a natural talent for it. 

Meanwhile--because the fandom seems to love making Lance a dancer in AUs anyway for some reason???--Lance is a danseur in the opera house. He tells people he got into it for all the beautiful women, but secretly he’s super into the art. The dancing, the music, the spectacle... He keeps up with his dancing career, good but not the best at it, and starts singing songs he’s picked up from the productions--over-the-top, off-key goofiness to his peers, but soft and hesitant in the privacy of his rooms...

Keith notices him, from behind the vents and mirrors. Lance has a good voice but secretly lacks the confidence to go out and be a leader star. Keith sees the quiet, more sentimental side to Lance that the dancer tries to keep hidden, and Keith is... enamored. Smitten. Maybe a little obsessed.

One night when Lance is drunk and half-asleep, Keith sings to him. Lance thinks it’s a dream, but then it happens again and he demands answers. Keith hesitates but realizes how desperately he craves companionship (especially with Shiro’s career increasingly preventing them from spending time together), so he relents and has an evasive conversation. Lance, unable to pry a name out of Keith, starts calling him his “Angel of Music”.

- -

[This is one of the bits where the “outline” devolved into disembodied dialogue and back before I could stop myself ghahgjsdhgf. Observe: ]

Eventually he can’t stand just observing anymore. He summons his courage and, when Lance is alone one evening, dozing in a secluded dressing room after finishing off a bottle of wine he’d snuck off with, Keith starts softly singing to him.

Lance is too tipsy to think properly about what’s going on, convinces himself that the voice is just a dream. A lovely, pleasant dream.

Except Lance hears the voice again the next night, too, and he gets the chills. “Who are you?” he asks, feeling exposed. Some kind of prankster? he asks. One of the stagehands trying to freak him out? 

A long, long silence. Then, “No.”

“You don’t expect me to believe you’re some kind of ghost?” But he sounds uncertain.

“I’m no one.”

“Tell me what’s going on or I’m bringing the others--we’ll find you and deal with you--”

“No!” the voice interrupts, then more calmly: “Do not tell them about me.” A pause. “Lance--”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know all about you,” the voice says, and Lance shivers, from cold or fear or something else. “I have watched you for a long time.”

When the owner of the voice refuses to give his name, Lance settles on calling him “the angel”, initially as a joke. (Over time, he might briefly question if there could be more truth to it than he’d expected, and of course eventually the title would morph into a genuine endearment: “my angel”)

- -

Keith has observed the bustle of the opera house for years but has virtually no experience interacting with people, so his first conversations with Lance are brief and neutrally formal. He tells Lance that his voice is good, and that, with some practice, his skills would be better suited for the leading role than a random dancer. Lance scoffs at this of course, but Keith offers to tutor him.

Side Note: For the sake of this AU, we pretend that the primo uomo--a phrase I just found out even existed--has an equivalent role/connotation to the prima donna. i.e. adored by fans, bit of a narcissist, theater desperate to keep him happy. Male diva, basically

So they begin lessons. Lance still half-believes Keith is just some sort of hallucination and falls head-over-heels for his mysterious new friend almost immediately. Though, on the off-chance Keith is not a figment of his imagination, he keeps his feelings (mostly) to himself.

Keith, likewise, has been in love with Lance since nearly the very beginning, though initially he’d mistaken it for some sort of disturbing, dark obsession from the depths of his “monster” soul. He continues to believe this on some level throughout the story, though little epiphanies like the way his heart lifts at Lance’s smile make him question his own inner darkness.

The two continue this mentor/student dynamic for a while, growing used to each other’s company and their new shared routine. Keith encourages Lance to let others hear him sing, and eventually Lance summons the courage to try it. His friends and fellow dancers are impressed, not to mention surprised. His popularity is now growing at the same rate as his skill in singing, and he’s eventually chosen to play a major role in a production as the Blue Lion. His performance is met with instant acclaim.

- -

[another VERY EARLY dialogue snippet that probably wouldn’t have even ended up in the final fic, for your consideration: ]

“Angel, are you there?” Lance stage-whispered to the empty room.

The corner of Keith’s mouth twitched upward. “Of course.”

Lance bounced giddily on his toes, “And?”

“The play was amazing. The ballerinas were in top form tonight.”

Lance’s expression soured instantly. “Oh, they were, were they?”

Keith couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and he thought he saw Lance’s eyes widen slightly at the sound. “You were incredible,” he admitted, his voice dropping all teasing edge. “Bravo!”

It was difficult to tell from this distance, but Keith thought he could see the dancer’s cheeks darken.

“The Blue Lion suits you,” he continued automatically, his mouth apparently speaking on its own accord. “It’s a fine debut role for a man of your looks and talent.”

Lance’s face was definitely flushed now. He cleared his throat. “Right. Right, I knew I’d blown them away with my amazing skills. I just wanted to make sure my otherworldly tutor approved, too.”

“More than approve. I’m very proud of how far you’ve come.”

“Thank you,” Lance said softly, his shoulders relaxing. “Figment of my imagination or not, hearing you say as much means a lot.”

Keith blinked, watching his student’s face. The man who just moments ago had burst into the room full of bluster and excitement was now slumped against the wall, looking tired and relieved and… vulnerable. Why did he trust Keith so much?

“Why should my approval matter more than your audience’s?” he asked instead.

“Because they’re not in this for me,” Lance said easily. “They just want to hear the pretty music and see the pretty dancing. But you’re always helping me. You, owner of the most beautiful voice in Heaven or Earth, spend time with ME, a poor upstart dancer with no training, and patiently mold my pathetic skills into something even the clueless managers of the theater can recognize as worthy of respect. You’re the one who’s incredible.”

Keith’s face grew hot.

- -

[Here, I was having a bit of trouble with the actual plot. I waffled a LOT on what Shiro’s ultimate role in the story was going to be. I wanted to keep at least somewhat true to the overarching plot of PotO, but I’d written myself into a bit of a corner by making Shiro a kind of fusion of Carlotta and the Daroga’s/Madame Giry’s roles. :U My reasoning was that the Black Lion/leadership role in VLD translated best in this AU to the lead performer in the theater, right? Especially with that being Lance’s ultimate ambition. (Lance deserved to pilot Black in VLD and yes even after all this time I WILL die on this hill.) Therefore, even though being a celebrity vocalist seems kind of strange and out of character for Shiro, it could be worked around as a necessary side-effect of the AU as long as his personality and relationships stayed more or less intact. HOWEVER, Carlotta’s only real purpose in PotO is to be a rival/obstacle to Christine, and Shiro’s just?? too kind and good to want to hold Lance back like that??? Even contriving a reason for Lance to be given the initial Blue Lion role instead of Shiro was giving me some trouble. I was working on it and had some ideas--Shiro seeing the signs of Keith’s activity and voluntarily resigning his role in this production to keep an eye on him? Then when Lance becomes such an instant success, he grows even more suspicious and worried, because it’s not like Keith to get involved with the outside world--but it was a fairly big stumbling block and one of many reasons this project ultimately sputtered out... v_v Anyway, continuing on.]

While Lance’s ego seems to inflate massively around his peers, in private he noticeably softens. During their next tutoring session, he thanks Keith for everything he’s done and asks if there’s any way he can repay the kindness. Keith’s heart spasms and he avoids giving a direct answer, knowing that there are many things he’d like to ask of Lance but none that Lance can give.

Meanwhile Lance admits to his friend Hunk, who works in the kitchens, that he’s learned so much so quickly because he’s being taught by an “Angel”. Hunk initially laughs this off as typical Lance silliness (which is what Lance was hoping he’d do anyway), but eventually something in the way Lance talks about the heavenly tutor strikes him as a little too sincere to be a joke. He asks Lance a serious question about it and Lance blatantly backpedals a little, deepening Hunk’s suspicions.

Meanwhile, Keith is sulking and skulking even more than usual. While aimlessly wandering his secret passageways within the theater’s walls, wallowing in his own self-loathing, he stumbles into a small stagehand in the near-darkness. He seizes them and, knife held to their throat, demands to know how they found their way in, before realizing that he recognizes them as the young girl who’d been disguising herself as a boy: Gunderson. He tells her as much, insisting that he’ll expose her secret if she so much as mentions the hidden passages in the walls or how she found her way in. The girl begins apologizing and agreeing to his terms, only to suddenly knock him off-balance and shake free of his hold. She turns on him, her own dagger drawn, and is ready to start demanding her own answers when she sees his glowing yellow eyes. She instantly stills, and Keith thinks she might attack him at any moment. Instead, she simply asks, “Who are you?”

The two have a guarded conversation wherein the girl—Pidge [sort of my take on the Joseph Buquet character, though obviously unlike Buquet, Pidge lives!]—admits that her reason for infiltrating the theater under false pretenses go beyond just needing money. Pidge explains that her family, the Holts, are part of a small underground society of scientists—Cerberus—specialized in the study of “elusive species”, i.e. monsters. (Cerberus: Protecting the Threshold Between Hell and Earth?) Her father and brother had gone missing almost a year ago after following an old but promising lead on a “monster sighting” to this very building. They both come to the same conclusion: that the Holts had been looking for Keith. Pidge goes on to say that she has a hunch Keith didn’t capture or kill them himself, given how he’d not done her immediate harm. He agrees that he has no idea what happened to them, and the pair end on a truce and a promise to investigate the issue together.

[The first version of the outline had a similar first meeting with Pidge, but it also alluded to some dialogue that I really love and would likely have tried to work into the final draft: Pidge sees the purple claws of Keith’s hand and is terrified but fascinated. She admits as much to Keith, and he tells her that he has powers beyond her comprehension, that if she breathes a word of him to another soul, he’ll know and he’ll kill her. She doesn’t quite believe him, points out that the safest thing for him would have been to kill her as soon as she’d given him the information he’d wanted. He growls at her. She agrees to keep his secret if he keeps hers.]

Keith is shaken by the encounter, having assumed his hidden passages were more secure, but he can’t help but also be a a little buoyant because another human being had faced his deformity and not immediately fled or tried to kill him. Maybe there’s hope for a connection with Lance after all.

Keith makes his way to Shiro at the soonest opportunity, asking if he has any information on the Holts. Shiro is shocked by the question and admits that yes, a little over a year ago he’d been approached by someone who seemed to know too much. But he’d misdirected them, giving them a plausible-sounding false lead to get them away from the theater and away from Keith. He’d never mentioned it to Keith because he was afraid it would scare him. He isn’t sure what could have happened to them since. He asks Keith how he’s learned all this, and Keith tells him about Pidge. Shiro is concerned but trusts Keith’s judgement. He reminds him to be cautious—“you know what happened last time we tried letting someone new into our confidence”*—and Keith deflates a bit, chagrined. Shiro reminds him he doesn’t blame him for what happened back then, that he only cares that Keith is safe, and Keith thanks him, assuring Shiro that he’ll keep him updated on the investigation.

(*The incident alluded to here involved Keith, not long after being rescued by Shiro, revealing himself to Shiro’s best friend--and, though Keith didn’t realize it at the time, his romantic interest--Adam. Shiro had been struggling to articulate why he was so suddenly and adamantly leaving their home town to live in Paris. Adam seethed, “You can’t seriously be so intent on throwing away your career, your- your life with me! Takashi, how important am I to you?” Shiro could offer little response. Keith, sick of seeing his brother/guardian tormented so, stepped in and spoke up in his defense. Adam responded with fear and confusion, accusing Keith of being a demon and of manipulating Shiro. Shiro, snapping out of his panic, whirled on Adam at his accusations: “Enough.” He explained to Adam that he’d hoped to introduce the two someday, when things were quieter and more settled. That he’d hoped a man as logical and idealist as Adam would understand and accept Keith, but that that day had taught him otherwise. Shiro led Keith away, voice cracking as he left Adam with one final request**: “If you truly care for me, never reveal what you saw today to another soul.”)

(**Adam comes back into Shiro’s life, of course. Cerberus, following a trail of rumors and stories through the European countryside, had essentially tracked Keith to the small town where he and Shiro had met. There, they’d hit a dead end and spent the next several months trying to find another lead, until finally Adam, in his own personal search for answers, had crossed paths with Sam and Matt Holt. Upon discovering that they were interested in these eerie, yellow-eyed, human-like creatures, but not in harming them, he agreed to share his information with them, on one condition: he must be allowed to tag along on the mission to find it. They happily agreed, and eventually the trio found themselves in Paris. The Holts interviewed Shiro--careful not to reveal their source, per Adam’s wishes--but they were unable to extract many details from him. Shiro refused to provide them with anything but feigned ignorance and a hint that he’d heard tales from his colleagues of a violet-haired monster in the Alps. They skeptically related their findings back to Adam, who dismissed the story outright, lamenting, “Takashi is as terrible a liar as he ever was. Your creature is still here; I’m even more sure of it now.” Before the Cerberus crew could decide on their next plan of attack, however, they were descended upon by cloaked assailants, some with glowing yellow eyes.)

Two weeks pass without any progress in finding more information on the Holts. Having spoken with Pidge multiple times now, he is shocked to find how comfortable their interactions can be. How normal. Since her initial (and understandable) defensiveness, she hasn’t shown any fear or unwarranted caution toward him. They slowly become allies, maybe even friends. Keith has a rare moment of introspection and realizes that—with this major counterexample to his old “humanity will reject you” mindset—he doesn’t have a good reason to hide himself from Lance anymore. He’s still absolutely terrified of the idea, of course, but he also can’t resist the curiosity, the irresistible pull.

He decides to throw caution to the wind and, without allowing himself time to chicken out, admits to Lance that he’s never danced before. He refers back to Lance’s offer of “repaying kindness” and asks Lance to teach him. Lance isn’t sure how to respond. He stutters and asks what Keith means, and Keith manages to say again that he wants to learn to dance. From Lance. In the flesh. “Will you teach me?” Still stunned, Lance squeaks out an affirmative and asks when. Before he can change his mind, Keith blurts, “Tomorrow night?”

This gives Keith enough time to scrounge together a decent outfit, a cloak, and a mask. He knows deep down that Lance still hasn’t considered the depth of what’s happening, and thus Keith can’t spring everything on him at once. However, he steels his nerves and shows up to Lance’s dorm after the evening’s performance has concluded.

Lance returns to the room, visibly giddy in his own anticipation. Keith watches him silently from behind the mirror, torn between exhilaration and dread at what comes next. Lance calls out for him and Keith remains frozen. Lance, expression crumbling, questions his own sanity aloud. Keith can’t bear the sight of his despair and speaks up: “Bravo, again.”

They exchange pleasantries but can’t stall forever, and finally Keith asks if Lance is ready to meet his teacher. Lance, in disbelief, says yes. Keith uncovers a lantern, breaking the illusion of the mirror and revealing himself.

Lance is inwardly disappointed that the disguise obstructs so much of his view, but is still in awe that he can see Keith—can touch him. “I’m either completely sane or even worse than I thought,” he marvels.

Keith leads Lance by the hand into his labyrinth of passageways. Heart pounding, he directs Lance a relatively dry and open part of his lair, lit by a myriad of candles and lanterns, light reflecting off the stones. Lance is completely speechless and clings to Keith’s hand like he expects him to vanish at any moment.

He teaches Keith to dance. It’s exceedingly awkward. When ballet proves to be out of Keith’s reach, he asks if there are any other forms of dance Lance could teach him instead. Lance hesitates, but suggests the waltz. Keith, helpless to his own desire for contact, agrees.

After a long moment, Keith turns to him, and, awkwardly, raises his arms in a shy mimicry of a waltz stance. Lance clears his throat too loudly and takes his hands, launching into a lesson. After several minutes of going over the basics and Keith beginning to practice the movements, Lance breaks a comfortable silence to ask Keith if he has a name. Keith tells him, and they fall silent for several more minutes before Keith abruptly steps away, clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact--the closeness is too good, he wants too much, he needs space... He ends the lesson there, claiming he has other obligations.

He motions for Lance to follow and begins heading back toward the passages, but Lance wordlessly reaches out and grabs hold of his hand. They both tell themselves it’s for his safety.

When they return to Lance’s room, Keith slips his hand free from Lance’s. Lance, doing his best to hide his rising panic, asks when Keith’s next lesson will take place. Keith says it’s up to his instructor. Lance, disbelieving, grins and says it will be after his own next voice lesson. Keith can’t entirely smother his own answering smile as he returns to the dark recesses of the opera house.

More time passes. They both continue their lessons. 

Despite knowing Keith’s name now, Lance continues to call him Angel for the most part (Keith thinks it’s like a title, but it’s 100% an endearment). Keith encounters Pidge in another secret passage. She’s unrepentant but shows him the weakness in his defenses. They’re slowly becoming friends. Keith is baffled.

During one such meeting with Pidge, she asks about the “poltergeist activity” he’s stirring up. He asks what she means. “Objects going missing, ropes swinging by themselves, mysterious noises in the dead of night… People won’t shut up about the theater being haunted. You mean you’re not doing it on purpose?” Worried by this revelation, he tells her no, he must have just been careless. He’s been distracted lately. “But maybe you should be doing it on purpose,” she suggests. The rumor has had long enough to build up now that she’s quite certain even the managers of the opera house are getting superstitious. “Use the paranoia to your advantage. Make some demands.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know—start small, test the waters.” When Keith draws a blank, she chirps, “Make them leave you a vacant seat! If they do it, you can let it sit empty and follow up by saying you appreciated the view during the play—they’ll wet themselves!”

Keith chuckles dismissively but decides to try it. Before long, the Opera Ghost goes from rumor to legend, and Keith has his own undisturbed box from which he can watch performances.

- -

[After that, it’s mostly a few poorly-thought-out ideas (like veering into Keith resenting Shiro over hiding him away instead of giving him a chance at a normal life, which might have ended up getting touched on briefly in the final draft but not to the extent that Keith would come to hate Shiro or want to harm him or anything), and all-caps half-thoughts like “RED LION INSTEAD OF MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH”.]

[However... there was ONE more scene that I did have written, and it was the sappiest, cheesiest, most self-indulgent goddamn thing ever and might have even ended up as the final scene of the entire fic. Re-reading it after all these years still makes me feel some things about these characters and I didn’t want to leave it to rot in the black hole of my computer without at least letting people share in the fun of the AU itself. SO, all that said, I now proudly present to you, LE PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE........]

- -

“No more talk of darkness. Forget your wide-eyed fears. I’m here—nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you…”

Keith lets out a strangled sound. He can’t believe his ears.

“Let me be your freedom,” Lance continues, his hand rising to Keith’s face to brush at the wetness there. “Let daylight dry your tears...”

Keith’s breathing hitches and he flinches away, but Lance draws him back in, voice steady and grounding.

“I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.”

Here is this beautiful man, this being of pure light, soothing Keith with honey-sweet words, touching him, blue eyes smoldering violet in the firelight as he watches Keith’s face. He’s waiting for Keith to pick up the duet, the silence stretching on a beat too long as Keith shakes his head violently.

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light,” Lance continues after a moment, undeterred. Keith stares back at him, the image wavering as more tears threaten to spill. “You’re safe. No one will find you. Your fears are far behind you…”

“All I want is freedom,” Keith gasps, his voice sounding distant and strange to his own ears. “A world with no more night. And you,” he clutches the front of Lance’s shirt, ducking his head down and away from Lance’s searching gaze, “always beside me.” His volume drops impossibly lower. “To hold me and to hide me…”

Lance tilts his chin up so that their eyes meet again. He smiles. “Then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime.” Keith’s heart stops. “Let me lead you from your solitude…”

Lance places his hands on either side of Keith’s face, thumb brushing reverently through the soft fur on his cheek. “Say you need me with you here, beside you.” Lance closes his eyes and brings their foreheads together. He stops singing, desperately whispering instead, “Anywhere you go, let me go, too. Please, Keith… That’s all I ask of you.”

Keith lets out another choked sound, and he’s not sure if it's a sob or a laugh. His fingers shake where he’s still holding onto the taller man’s shirt. He clings to the familiar words of the song like a lifeline, the only refuge in this cyclone of emotions threating to tear him to pieces. He knows what comes next, knows Lance wants him to continue, “Say you love me—"

“You know I do,” the response is so quick it nearly overlaps.

Keith’s heart swells and he suddenly feels weightless and dizzy. “You—” he pulls away to peer up at him. “You do?” he asks, nearly inaudible.

Lance grins, the flash of dazzling white teeth enough to knock the breath out of Keith’s chest once more. His hands fall to Keith’s waist and he spins them both around in a graceful twirl. “You think I’d abandon you after all we’ve been through?”

“That’s not—” Keith clears his throat, head buzzing. “Not leaving is not the same as—”

“Angel,” Lance murmurs, expression softening into something so sincere it makes Keith’s heart stutter. “My angel. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Keith blinks, sucks in a long, steadying breath. He hesitates only a moment before leaning his full weight into Lance’s chest, fingertips brushing his shoulderblades in what was surely a sorry excuse for a hug. “Anywhere you go, let me go too...”

Lance returns the hug, and Keith can feel Lance’s lips brush the top of his head. He can practically feel the smile tugging at them.

“Love me,” Lance begins.

And their soft voices weave together, muffled by the closeness: “That’s all I ask of you.”

❤💙

[amaranthkick]

A Therapy Werewolf, Part 9

(ao3) (story tag)

Lance was tired, aching and slightly feverish but pushed it all aside. He had to, for Shiro sake. He followed his nose at the small hint of fresh air, occasionally stopping to check on Shiro.

The black paladin was doing about as well as anyone in his shoes would do. Stumbling on his new found paws here and there but recovered quickly and was able to keep up with him.

There were galra drones and guards filled the halls. Lance tackled them, bit them, anything he could to open a path. Shiro also used his fangs and claws on enemies he missed. He growled, there really were galra on this planet.

His ears perked at the sounds of laser fires and metal clashing against metal. Lance breathed in slow and deep. Shadows of green, yellow and red filled his mind.

He turned to Shiro who’s posture was tense and alert. “It’s Pidge, Hunk and Keith! They’re here!” Lance could feel the relief radiating from Shiro.

Lance and Shiro slowed down as they reached their teammates. Keith raised his sword in warning and Pidge used her gauntlet to shine light on them.

“Lance!” Lance wagged his tail.

“And… Is that Shiro!?” Shiro huffed fondly and nodded.

Keith lowered his sword and turned around gesturing at them to follow. “Come on, let's get them back to the castle.”

The way back was a bit of a blur to Lance. The exhaustion left him shaking where he stood and the fever was quickly sapping his strength. He remembered Shiro asking if he’s alright only for him to tell him that he’s fine.

Lance turned back to human form to explain what had happened to them.

Coran was looking over Shiro much to Lance’s insistence and despite Shiro’s protests, scanning him with all sorts of scanners in the medical wing. Lance was sure Coran would figure out how to cure. Back in the castle, he felt safe enough to lay down and take a long nap.

“Guh?” Lance eloquently said as Shiro nudged him awake.

“Just hold on for a few minutes my boy, let me take a scan and ask some questions and I’ll let you rest either in a med pod or back in your room.” Coran said, voice low as he brought a scanner closer to him. He asked the usual questions like how he was feeling, if anything hurts and if he needed anything. Shiro stayed nearby looking on worriedly but huffed in amusement when Lance started exaggeratedly petting him and jokingly called him a good boy.

“Hmm, there is a foreign substance in your bloodstream but it seems your body is naturally rejecting it. Quite interesting. But it does explain the fever. I doubt you will experience a transformation similar to Shiro.”

Lance raised a weak fist pump. “Heh, Earth wolf: 1, Space wolf: 0.” Shiro rolled his eyes at him.

“You can rest in a pod if you’d like, it’ll help flush out the substance faster.” Coran suggested but Lance shivered as he remembered being stuck in the pod that one time.

Lance sat up and turned down Coran’s offer. “I’m good thanks. Oh Hunk! Ol’ buddy ol’ pal, can you carry me back to my bed?” He clasped his hands together and tried giving him puppy dog eyes.

There were sighs and snickers all around but the others were relieved to see Lance in good spirits.

Back in his room, Lance was surprised to see Shiro had followed them there. Shiro's ears were drooping and he was looking at the floor, he seemed dejected. Not that he’d blame him, getting turned into a wolf without his consent. Oh and this stacked on top of whatever happened when Shiro was taken by the Galra. Lance winced in sympathy.

Lance patted his bed, inviting Shiro to hop in. Shiro still didn’t say a word but hopped in anyways. Lance might not know what’s bothering Shiro but cuddles and a night’s rest was always a good first step. “Don’t worry Shiro. Coran, Hunk and Pidge will get you on two legs in no time.”

He smiled as he felt Shiro curl more into him. His fur was rougher than his own wolf form but still toasty and warm. Very nice.

---

“Come on Lance, wake up, it’s breakfast time. And Shiro won’t get up unless you do. Oh yeah, and we gotta check in with Coran.”

Lance snuggled into his large fuzzy pillow, groaning, “Hunk… Five more minutes… Can’t rush beauty sleep.”

His pillow shook as it chuckled, “Already in beauty sleep mode instead of restful sleep? Good to know you’re feeling better Lance.”

Lance was soon wide awake and fully aware that he was hardcore cuddling Shiro in his sleep. Oh quizznak! He hoped he didn’t drool on him! He flushed and told Hunk they’d meet him in the kitchen.

Shiro didn’t seem to mind, actually he seemed to be doing better today.

Exhaustion no longer plagued his limbs and his fever felt manageable. Lance thanked the moon for his fast healing. He stretched and got up to gather clothes to change into.

But before that he had to check in with Shiro. “Hey, you alright, you seemed down last night?”

“Huh? Uh yeah just thinking too much. You know, letting my guard down, you getting hurt, what if Coran can’t find a cure and all…” Ah, all valid worries. Still his chest filled with happiness to hear Shiro at least talking about it.

“Welp, we survived and we learned, we’re stronger now.” Lance jested, trying to steer them back into a lighter mood. “And if Coran can figure this out then I think I got a plan B ready. ...I mean! I’m not completely sure it’ll work and I don’t want to give false hope and I’d rather leave it to a professional…” Lance started rambling and was getting stuck in his head too, his thoughts entering a negative spiral.

Shiro nudged him, breaking him from his train of thought. His eyes wear soft as he stared up at Lance. “Thanks, Lance. Come on, you can tell me your plan B later.”

---

Coran told them that Allura and Keith went to explain the situation to the leaders of the two kingdoms, deal with any leftover galra soldiers and bridge communications with their research teams as they were also searching for a cure for those who were also transformed into ferocious space wolves.

Pidge pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Fortunately they were on the verge of a breakthrough. But when we did a simulation to test it for Shiro… there’s been a lot of negative results or side effects.”

So they bumped into a roadblock but it’s still too soon to give up hope, it has been just a night after all.

Lance nudged Shiro to get his attention. “Let’s go see how Allura and Keith are doing. Maybe they need help rounding up the space wolves. Hey! We’re gonna go check on the princess and mullet!” He called out to Coran and Pidge while running to get his paladin suit, Shiro bounding beside him. “Hey, Shiro. Maybe the space wolves will listen to you. Heh, go and assert your dominance!”

Lance's laughter echoed through the halls as Shiro shoved him playfully.

[scriveyner]

let it rest in peace 1/4

James always loved to watch Keith run.

The black wolf was a liquid shadow; compacted into a powerful ball of muscle and potential. It was poetry to watch slowed down, enormous paws dug into the ground for purchase and extending all the way out again, all four legs clearing the ground in a straight shot. Head down, laser-focused on his target, Keith moved so fast at that moment James felt like he was seeing an afterimage, the actual thing there and gone before he could even blink.

Keith ran every chance he got; up and down the long familiar stretch of beach, his slightly smaller frame shadow to Shiro’s enormously powerful white wolf. He ran through the woods, threaded the trees, circled their camps and the truck, and nearly made James dizzy with his exuberance and a seemingly endless wellspring of energy. He loved the most to run in the plains, though, when they went east and spent their nights in fields under an endless expanse of stars.

Run with me, Keith said, both hands on James’s wrists, eyes bright and skin bronzed by firelight.

He couldn’t deny Keith anything, not even this; futile exercise that it was. Before too long Keith would tire of lagging and would be on four legs, bounding back and forth and unstoppable. All the same, James humored him every time, jogged with him until Keith couldn’t bear it any longer, and bolted; across the clearing, across the sand, across the field—ears and tail high.

He loved to run.

He loved James, too.

James panted, hand pressed to the side of his neck, cheek in the dirt. He watched Keith run like this, powerhouse that he was, gone in a twinkling, fury and sound.

“I’ll protect you,” Keith said, calm and confident, sitting up in their motel bed, the covers kicked to the floor and his skin brushed blue by the cold light of the television.

It was an ancient song and dance between them now, months-weeks-years of it, Keith with his lazy certainty that he could take on anything and James with his world-weary amusement, knowing every beat to the conversation by heart. “You can’t, against everything.”

James brushed his knuckles along the outside of Keith’s thigh and Keith stirred, leaned over him and kissed him with a rakish grin. “You don’t know me very well then, do you, Griffin?”

I do know you, James thought, the words drowned in the blood squeezing between his fingers, the darkness starting to claw at the edge of his vision. He exhaled again and coughed wetly, closed his eyes and dreamed of running with his wolf.

Read the rest on AO3 or

let it rest in peace – 1

The sky was in his heart, an endless expanse of blue that reached horizon to horizon. The air was fresh, spring again, the sharp bite of winter’s chill melted in the calm, bright sun. The fields went on forever, lush green landscapes covered in wildflowers cornstalks barely to his hip, wheat swaying in the wind.

It was home, and yet.

“Griffin!” A voice, faint, familiar, carried on the wind of memories. “I found him, shit, shit, Shiro, hurry--!”

“Sing for me,” James said, brushed his fingers through Keith’s hair, the light of the dying embers caught in his raven locks. Keith leaned up on one elbow, smiling helplessly down at him, before rising smoothly on four legs.

James combed his fingers through dark fur, as Keith stepped away and out of reach the loss felt sudden, insurmountable—and he reached for Keith as the wolf raised his face to the sky, a dirge for the moon.

“James, no, no no no--” Keith’s voice, too distant. “Stay with me, please, please--”

The moon was in his blood, fat and heavy in the desert’s endless sky. The stars seemed to go on forever, past the point of the horizon, patterning down, under his feet until everything was night, washed out in the light of a full cold moon.

#

Everything hurt.

James squinted open gummy eyes, listening to the constant steady beep of the medical equipment beyond his line of sight. He couldn’t raise his arm to wipe his eyes, so he lolled his head on the pillow and immediately regretted the movement, paint shooting down his spine.

He let out a small involuntary grunt as he shifted, and that disturbed the dark head leaned against the hospital bed. James flexed his hand, and Keith lifted his head groggily, eyes red-rimmed and stubble so thick James knew it had been days, or longer. “Hey,” James croaked, lining up some kind of lumberjack crack but the single syllable was all he could manage. Keith’s eyes welled up immediately.

Keith pulled James’s hand up, both of his hands wrapped around it still, and pressed James’s hand to his mouth. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Keith’s voice sounded wrecked, worse than he’d ever heard.

It hurt to swallow, fuck, it hurt to breathe but James gathered himself and spoke. “Love you,” he murmured, squeezing Keith’s hands, and Keith let out a small little sob and didn’t raise his head. James smiled as much as he could manage, closed his eyes and dropped back off the cliff, into darkness.

#

When he woke again it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. The lights in the room were the same, although this time when he moved his head it didn’t immediately feel like it was going to come off his shoulders. There were no windows that he could see—just machines, off-white walls and a television up in the corner that was currently off.

Keith was sitting up in a chair beside the bed, looking better than he had. The stubble wasn’t as thick now, he’d shaved at least once; his hair was clean and he smelled like Keith, even with the competing antiseptic hospital smell attempting to overwhelm. He seemed to sense that James was looking at him and lifted his head, closing the folder he’d had open on his lap and smiling shakily for James. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

James lolled his head on the pillow, swallowed and then spoke hoarsely. “You ever seen Roger Rabbit?”

Keith’s brow furrowed, and James sighed, coughed a bit because the sigh hurt, goddammit. “Of course you haven’t.”

The door opened and they both looked at it—and it was Lance, leaning in the room clearly to get Keith. He looked tired, but lit up when he saw James awake. “Griffin, holy shit,” Lance said. “How’re you feeling, man? That was a fucking close call, if Shiro hadn’t--”

“Lance,” Keith said, his tone dagger-sharp. Lance stopped, gave Keith a look that James couldn’t really decipher, and then Keith said, “do you know what the fuck Roger Rabbit is?”

Nonplussed, Lance looked between them. Then he snapped his fingers, pointed at James and said, “you feel like you got squashed by the steamroller at the end!”

James chuckled, then groaned because that really fucking hurt.

Keith rolled his eyes, set the folder on a small table at his elbow, and got up. He put one hand on the mattress and leaned over, kissing James’s forehead gently. “I’ll be right back, I bet Shiro wants to see me,” he said. “Lance’ll keep you company, though.”

“Mm,” James was already feeling drowsy again, the interaction draining. “Keith?” Keith hesitated, looked down at him. James raised his arm slowly, touching the thick bandages around his throat, felt the ghost of fangs and claws nearly ripping his arm out of its socket, and asked, “how the fuck am I alive?”

There was a split-second flicker of something across Keith’s face he was too drugged up to catch. Keith took his hand away from his throat, patted it, and said, “please rest, James.”

His eyes felt too heavy, but he watched Keith say something in low tones to Lance, caught Shiro’s name but little else. Lance gave James a look and then shook his head, Keith clapped his shoulder and left the room. James closed his eyes and listened to Lance shuffle, pulling the other chair away from the wall to sit on his left side.

James swallowed, didn’t bother to open his eyes. “What did Keith do, Lance?”

The shuffling and scraping stopped abruptly. He heard the chair’s cushion complain slightly as Lance flopped into it, and he could almost see the way Lance tilted forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He definitely heard the aggrieved sigh.

“It wasn’t Keith’s call,” Lance said softly. “It was mine.”

James slept.

#

“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Keith said, the frown evident in his voice as he dropped into the chair he’d been living out of for the past week and a half—longer, James knew, since before he woke up even if he didn’t know how long that was.

James looked up from his phone, an equivalent frown on his face as he thrust the offending piece of technology in Keith’s direction. “I don’t like this,” he said. “I want my old phone back.”

Keith looked at the proffered phone. “Your old phone is in two pieces,” he said, and after a moment James sighed and retracted his arm, setting the phone on the tray extended over his lap on the bed.

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, what the fuck is wrong with this phone, it’s so…” he poked it. “I don’t trust the Blade not to be using some weird-ass shit magic on their technology, what if this thing achieves sentience? There’s a horror movie for you right there, fuck it.”

“Hasn’t technology run amuck been done to death by now anyway?”

“Probably. I was thinking more in the vein of the phone actually biting people, though.”

“Transformers,” Keith muttered, and James groaned and folded his arms. After a moment Keith tilted his head, gave James a fond grin, and they both laughed. James winced, touched the bandages around his neck, and then laughed again because laughing hurt, but it was a good hurt. He was alive, after all.

He looked at the door, still buoyant in his mood. “Shiro and Lance are here,” he said, a split-second before the knock came; and he caught the way Keith gave him a particular look out of the corner of his eye. “Come in!”

“Someone sounds better already,” Shiro said, opening the door with his left hand and holding it open as Lance pranced in behind him, a courier bag slung over his shoulder. The delicious smell of cheese and grease followed them in, wrapped around Lance like a living thing, and Lance beamed at James as he slipped the bag off his shoulder.

“We bring contraband!”

“Hey,” Keith said, sitting up as Lance pulled a fast food sack out of his bag, dropping an enormous burger on the tray in front of James. “He’s on a strict diet--”

“If you’re going to be Mr. Narc I’ll give James your burger too,” Lance threatened—and they both looked at James, who had immediately begun destroying the burger like he’d never eaten one before in his life.

“I’m not very hungry, anyway,” Keith said, clearly amused at the display, and James tucked into the second burger with relish.

James didn’t realize how off he’d felt until he had two burgers sitting heavy in his gut. Lance sat on the left side of his bed, elbow on the mattress and volleying barbs at Keith, who wasn’t taking them well. Shiro, on the other hand, didn’t get too close to the bed, and kept trying to fold his arms—which wasn’t happening, given that his prosthetic arm was, currently, disconnected.

Of course, that drew his attention because he’d hardly ever seen Shiro without it. “What happened with your arm?” James asked, balling up the wrapper from the second burger and tossing it into the sack Lance had left open on the tray.

“Tech department took it for maintenance,” Shiro said. He lifted his right arm and pointed to the stub. “Have you never seen it off?”

James shook his head, transitioned to a nod. “No, I have, it’s just unusual. Also, you keep trying to cross your arms and that’s, sorry, that’s hilarious.”

Shiro put his one hand on his hip and hung his head, sighing audibly. “Lance made fun of me in the elevator, too. Do I really cross my arms that much?”

“Yes,” James, Keith and Lance all said in emphatic unison.

“Frequently crossed arms is a sign someone is holding back something important,” James said, raising a finger knowledgeably, and Keith snorted, while Lance leaned on the armrest of the chair, in Shiro’s direction.

“So, what secrets are you hiding from me, Takashi?”

Shiro crossed over and put his hand on the back of Lance’s chair, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Just how very much I love you.”

Lance caught the front of his shirt, turned his face up, and they kissed properly. “That’s no secret,” Lance snorted, clearly amused.

“No shit,” Keith said, leaned back in his chair and exchanging an amused glance with James.

“And speaking of secrets,” James said, “anyone feel like enlightening me as to how I’m still here right now? Because I really should be dead.”

The room immediately fell quiet.

James looked around at them. Keith folded his arms, met his eye for a quick second and looked away. Lance wouldn’t look at him at all, and Shiro had a pained expression on his face. “Yeah,” James said. “That’s what I figured.”

Shiro slipped his hand from the back of Lance’s chair to his shoulder and squeezed it. “We should go,” he said, and Keith stood.

“No,” James said. “I want to hear it from everyone.”

Shiro gave him an apologetic look, and Lance stood. “We’ll talk later,” Lance said, earnest and weirdly obedient, following Shiro to the door. James watched them go, Keith seeing them out—and his ears caught a few exchanged words, but nothing that made any kind of sense.

Keith closed the door behind them, held that pose for a moment before walking back to James’s hospital bed. He stopped and looked at James, as James tore the last of the bandages off his shoulder, the ones from his neck already strewn across the bed. “James,” Keith said, pained.

James bared his neck, lifted his chin, and said, “I had my fucking throat torn out, Keith, and there’s not a scratch on me. What did you do?”

Keith sat on the mattress, pushed the forgotten tray out of the way, and looked James in the eye. “You were bleeding out in the back of the Jeep,” he said. “We were too far away from everything, remember, Lance even fucking joked about it, before…” Keith sighed, looked away for a second before looking back at him. “You needed blood. Shiro gave you some.”

James exhaled once, pushed his hand back through his hair, and said, “holy shit, I thought you were gonna tell me you sold your soul in some kind of Faustian bargain or something, fucking hell.” He slid his hand down to his face, exhaled again shakily, and said, “he didn’t bite me? Just… a blood transfusion?”

“He would’ve, if I asked.” Keith looked down at his hands. “Maybe even if I didn’t, but it wasn’t the full moon.”

James rubbed his hand over his throat, the new skin raw and unmarred. “So...what. Am I a werewolf now? What does this mean?”

“I have no fucking idea.” Keith looked at him again, looked more tired than James had ever seen. “The full moon was a few nights ago, you didn’t change. Nothing changed, really. You just healed…really fast.”

“Is that why we’re still here, then? Am I under observation or something?”

“Yeah.”

James said, “yeah, okay, observation time is over.” He pulled at the IV for a second before Keith grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away, leaning over him. “Let me go,” James snarled, and Keith didn’t release him, stared into his eyes and looked as remorseful as James had ever seen him.

“James,” Keith said softly. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this--”

“Yeah,” James said, tried to shake Keith’s grip but didn’t have the strength to break it. “Neither did I.”

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 4: Empty Union

Lance and Keith marry, and endure what every couple endures: gossip.

First  Previous  Next

Lance hears Keith's footsteps falter, hears a tiny chirp as they reach the doors to the throne room. He grits his teeth and pretends he didn't. There's nothing he can do right now except bear the brunt of the work.

The procession enters the throne room, Lance allowing his gossamer cloak to drag the floor behind him. His gold decorations chime in time with his steps. He recognizes a few of his previous paramours among the throng. Poor things. They’ll surely miss him.

Lance has plans.

Lance is the last to ascend the dais, glancing to his sister as she takes her former place next to Coran. Lance sits carefully in his throne, hands dangling from the arms of his chair. His father reaches out to his quintessence, disapproving, and Lance’s gloved hands find their way into his lap, clasped just so. King Alfor draws away.

The doors open again, Emperor Zarkon and Empress Honerva leading the procession in, Prince Lotor following, then Keith, just behind.

The kit looks terrified, but also like he’s trying to look impassive. Lance’s insides clench with guilt. His eyes find a predesignated corner, to where Hunk and Pidge stand. The only people beside his family that Lance actually wanted here. Hunk is smiling, offering a thumbs up. Pidge waves, even as their eyes keep sliding to Keith’s smallish form.

Lance wonders fleetingly if Keith might like them. Hunk, certainly, since the Balmeran will keep him from starving to death. Everyone loves Hunk, anyway. Perhaps he’ll like Pidge, too. The Olkari can be loud and overzealous, but they can be understanding, too. Something Keith might appreciate. Lance makes a note to introduce them to each other as soon as possible...

The royal family of Daibazaal stands to one side of the aisle. Keith kneels before the dais, Shiro’s hand upon his right shoulder.

“Speak, Lord Yurak of House Kogane of Daibazaal,” Alfor murmurs, quiet voice booming through the room. Alfor commands a room just by being in it.

Keith opens his mouth. The entire congregation must hear that shuddering, composing breath. It rings in Lance’s ears.

“I, Lord Yorak of House Kogane of Daibazaal, do hereby swear fealty to the Planet Altea and the presiding Crown. I give my life to the people, my essence to the earth, and my heart to the one who would take it.”

“Speak, Crown Prince Lancel of Altea.” Alfor leans back almost imperceptibly, all the cue Lance needs. Lance stands, slow and trembling. He steps forward, stopping at the edge of the dais, standing right in front of Keith. Allura stands just behind him, hand on his right shoulder.

“I, Crown Prince Lancel of Altea, do hereby accept your oath of fealty to Planet Altea and the presiding Crown. I accept your life, and will keep it well. I accept your essence, and will hold it dear. I accept your heart, and will treasure it always. I, in turn, offer you my life, essence, and heart for your own, to keep, hold dear, and treasure.”

“I accept your generous offer, as you have accepted mine.” Keith sounds like he would rather be anywhere else. He sounds tired.

“Your oaths are heard, understood, and approved, and hereby you are wed,” Alfor declares.

Allura’s hand slips away as she retakes her place. Lance removes his gloves and holds out a hand. Keith takes it, ascending the dais and entering the Altean royal family. Lance turns to Adam, who holds a small pillow bearing a circlet. He lays his gloves next to the piece.

Their hands are now bare to one another, and therefore, so are their hearts. There is no longer anything to separate them.

There is everything to separate them.

Lance gently lifts the circlet, settling it on top of Keith’s head, where it just barely brushes against his ears where it sits between them. They twitch and rotate, adjusting to the gentle touch. It’s kind of adorable.

Lance simply sighs in relief: it fits. Pidge had nearly throttled him when he’d asked them to modify it. Then they’d conceded that they should have thought about Galra ears in the first place.

“Behold Crown Prince Lancel and Prince Yorak of Altea!” Alfor booms. The crowd cheers, more excited for the banquet than for the marriage of their Crown Prince to some smallish Galra nobody.

Lance does his duty and pulls Keith close, one hand at the small of his back, another softly cradling Keith’s face. He presses their lips together as gently and sweetly as he can. Keith responds, his attempt inept, obviously inexperienced.

It would be sweet, if not for the reasons. Instead of dwelling on that, Lance pulls back, rubbing their noses together sweetly. Putting on a show. He draws the pliant Galra into a gentle embrace. That tail wraps around Lance's ankle.

Leaning his head to the side, Lance whispers in Keith’s ear, “Do you remember what I told you in the drawing room?” The Galra nods, muscles shifting beneath Lance’s hands. “The court is a den of lions. Bear with it, and I will get you away as soon as I can, I promise.”

Keith draws back, meets his gaze, but says nothing. Lance isn’t troubled. After all, he’d told the newly-appointed prince to trust no one.

Instead, Lance pulls him in for another kiss, this one more affirming. The courtiers coo and babble. The illusion is working.

...Somewhat.

Keith understands what Lance kept going on about roughly five doboshes into the dinner. The underhanded compliments. The kind that make Keith seethe like nothing else.

“He’s almost cute. For a Galra.”

“Oh, by the Ancients! He has a tail! Oh well. There are worse things, I suppose.”

“It’s actually quite fortunate that he’s small, when you think about it... Not-not that I’m thinking about it dear!”

“He seems gentler than most of his kind.”

“It’s best that he’s the quiet sort. Don’t want those fangs scaring away common folk.”

“He seems surprisingly well-adapted to civilized society.”

“I understand he’s intersex. Freaky, but I suppose it’s for the best. We do need an heir after all. Hopefully they’ll put him away somewhere during, though. I don’t want to see that.”

“He seems very young if you ask me. Almost too young. Though the Crown Prince is probably into that, if we’re being honest.”

Keith stares down at the weird Altean food. It all tastes ‘sweet’, or so he’s been told. He can’t taste ‘sweet.’ Has no concept of it. Instead, everything tastes like what he imagines hatred would taste like: tiny hints and aftertastes that leave him nauseous. He can’t eat.

Lance’s hand reaches down to where his own are clasped tightly in his lap and gently squeezes them. Keith flinches, forgetting his place for a moment, and the warm hand slips away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lance chatting seemingly untroubled with some courtier who’s commenting on how the Altean garb “almost seems to suit the little creature.”

“He was trying to reassure you,” Shiro murmurs in his ear, switching to their native tongue in case anyone overhears.

“Of what?” Keith whispered back. “That he likes kits?”

“I doubt it. He was all but scolding Emperor Zarkon this morning. I was listening by the door.” Keith feels a little better at that. Perhaps Lance will be gentle with him, if nothing else.

Never trust an Altean.

Lance is an enemy in an exceptionally pleasing guise. His ears are adorned with piercings and clasps, tiny gold chains strung between them. His bottom lip is painted gold, his upper in blue. His eyes are lined with blue and gold kohl. His bright blue scales glitter in the light. Even his fingernails are blue and gold. Death in a luxurious vessel.

His smile is pretty too, especially when it reaches his eyes. The only people he seems keen to smile at are his sister and Prince Lotor, though he does try for his fathers. And for Keith.

The prince is definitely trying to smile for him. He never looks happy, though. Keith imagines Lance is disappointed. No doubt he would rather have an Altean sitting beside him.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s still going to-” Keith breaks off, scared. His mating instincts, his drive haven’t even kicked in yet. As he is, his instincts are to run, or, if cornered, to lash out. Like any kit. Shiro gives him another pained look, ears down and to the side in a show of distress. Keith takes a deep breath, pushing down his fear, getting control of himself again. He cannot seem weak before these people.

“Well it’s good that he’s so young. He can still be civilized,” a booming Altean voice rings out. Keith stiffens, on the verge of losing his temper, when Lance raises his voice.

“The next person who says a single word against my spouse or our guests will be removed from court. I’ve had enough.” Silence rings out. Lance sips casually from his chalice, not visibly troubled. “Prince Yorak has married into a society that has spent centuries perfecting the art of killing his species. He is extremely brave, and for that and more, he means the world to me. I won’t tolerate another word. Especially from you, Lord Lanval. You’re drunk. Go home.”

Lance rises from his seat in one fluid motion, offers Keith a bangled hand. Keith stares at it, a confusing mix of fear and gratitude making him slow. But anything’s better than being here. He takes the prince’s hand.

The prince turns to his parents, bows.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to cause such a scene. But we are tired, and shall take our leave.” Alfor nods, looking tired as well. Coran’s eyes seem to smile a little. As they head out, Lance puts a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, leaning down to his ear as the conversation begins to pick backup again, loud and lewd as they make their exit. “When you get to your room, Adam will bring you something else to eat. Don’t force yourself,” he whispers. Shiro has never looked so grateful.

The emperor isn’t eating either. Keith assumes something has been prepared for him as well.

He follows the prince out of the dining hall, comments and bawdy jokes hooted after them. Lance sighs, managing a small smile for him. "Come on. Let's get out of here so I can take this paint off my face. It's been driving me crazy all day. And you can take off that stiff vest. I'm sure you hate it."

"I do," Keith admitted. "I really, really do."

"Quiznak, me too. Let's get out of here. There should be some food waiting for you when we get there."

Keith smiles a small, genuine smile as the prince tugs him along down a series of hallways. It's only the second time that Crown Prince Lancel has seemed like a real person as opposed to some particularly well-groomed pet.

Keith likes this person.

[midnightlie]

Keith: *has lil Galra fangs* / Lance, slapping his neck and staring at Keith from across the room: Wow it sure would be a pity if someone gave me some of those sexy vampire bite marks! Would definitely hate that! Definitely wouldn’t want that! Like today! Keith are you listening to what I’m saying?! I said–

I HEARD THIS IN HIS VOICE i am dying. i love lance!!!!! lmao!

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

The gentle stag Lovely surprise

The gentle stag Lovely surprise

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Pairing: Keith x MC                                                                                           

Tag: Established relationship Birthday Fluff

Word Count : 725

Author’s Note: A special birthday deserves a special surprise, like a kiss from his lover that awaited his return admiring the country she take as their home. As soon as he comes back they did not shy away from confessing their feeling to each other, basking pleasantly in the warm hug of their love. 🥰

Side Note: All the images were found on Pinterest-Google and I was unable to find the source, please if any of you know the owner tell me and I will provide to give the artist the credit for the image.

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978

@william-rex @candied-boys

@writingwhimsey @fang-and-feather

@moonstruckmelancholic @lichtluv

@wistfulwanderingone @rjthirsty

@ike-garden2024 @jollibeeshappiness

@starzyquee  @maeko-kun @rkmaru

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it 😊

It was a frizzy winter morning, one of those she would have desired to spend snuggled in the covers, but duty calls and so she was up so early, waiting impatiently for the return of her husband.

She stifled a yawn leaning in the softness of the sofa lazily admiring the town stretching before her eyes, each corner bustling with noise while the early birds sang a sweet melody, she would have never got tired to listen to,  chirping happily as they flied carelessly around the trees, chasing one another in the shy tepid rays of the rising sun,

The roads were filled with chit chats and clatter of horses' hooves on the cobblestone, a suffused music came from the vast land of the countryside, a shepherds’ song followed by the tingling bells of the animals with their verses seemed to accompany the song.

The sweet aroma of bakery and cooking wafted in the frizzy air of dawn, eliciting her an idea or two about certain recipes she desired to bake with him, even though she already pictured the mess the palace kitchen would have been in after they finished.

A scenario that was not unlike to happen, as it already had, making her giggle at the image of his lovely husband grey's hair covered in flour as he looked at her like a puppy caught in the rain, knowing far too well she would have hugged him and reassured him with ever so sweet kisses ... and later when they were alone in the bedroom even more than that.

A smile raised to curl her lips as soon as the pleasant scent of musk and wood reached her nostrils, the same perfume she would have recognized amidst a thousand, affection wrinkling her eyes as she turned to greet him.

"Welcome home."

"I am sorry to have woken you up so soon, you could have slept a little longer."

"Thank you but  I wouldn't wish it any other way, or else I would have missed the spectacle the dawn was."

His ever gentle fingers adjusted the velvet jade shawl around her shoulder as he took a seat next to her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close as she nuzzled into his chest.

A rush of boldness ran in her as she raised her face to cup his face in her hands, staring in his gorgeous amber eyes glimmering with surprise as she leaned to brush a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Happy birthday Keith."

The smile curling his lips was so bright and pure she felt an urge to steal that ray of sun only for herself, but he moved first melting his lips on her in a sweet slow kiss they savoured each other with.

Favourite flavour because to them both their love tasted like Home.

Reluctantly he pulled away, brushing his finger ever so gently over her cheek leaving an achingly tender kiss on his forehead.

"Thank you. It is now you are here with me."

His smile mirrored her own, while his eyes reflected all the love and devotion he felt for her alone.

Swiftly he took her in his arms, laying with her on the bed determined to show off his love to her until the stars would have come out again, solitary audience to that spectacle that was their alone to indulge in behind closed doors.

Gently he pulled away looking straight in her eyes, losing himself in the contemplation of all the affection reflected in them as he bent over to brush his nose with hers revelling in her soft giggles.

"I love you so ma douche biche."

"I love you too mon cerf, all of you."

His heart burst with warmth at the unconditional love spreading from her words, but he did his best to convey his own happiness wrapping his arms around her as they basking a little longer in their soft hug, brushing gentle kisses on her hair making her giggle, music he would have never fog tired to listen to, feeling his heart swell with affection as she nuzzled in his chest.

That day he would have made more than sure to show the depth of his feeling to her, his one and only Queen, deepening that feeling that bound their heart together for nothing was stronger than the mighty power of love.

[olkarianprincess]

Imagine Vampire Shidge, When Pidge reveals that she is a girl, she reveals that she is also a vampire having been bit 3 years before Kerberos, Hunk immediately sets up a blood donation rotation, upon which Shiro immediately freaks out and insists that Pidge can never have his blood. Pidge thinks he hates vampires, but in reality due to his illness his blood is toxic to vampires, but that doesn’t get revealed until a sample of his blood and Lance’s gets swapped, poisoning Pidge.

Ooohhh okay, but a slight twist on this!

She was starving. The little animals she caught on the occasional planets they visited were not nothing, but it wasn't enough. Deep down, she knew she was headed towards death. Well, her second death. The final one. The one that would stick.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to tell her friends about her...condition. Against her will, however, they found out. They knew something was wrong when she collapsed during training. Of course, she'd been holding out, and was suffering prior to that. But she'd been so careful to hide it from everyone else. That day, though, she wasn't able to. And then, with the help of advanced alien medical tech, her secret was out. The whole team knew that Katie Holt had in fact died and 'Pidge' wasn't just an alias. It was how she identified herself in her knew life. Or, un-life. As a vampire.

Pidge doesn't think she should be surprised, and yet she is wonderfully so. Her friends--her family--don't judge her in the slightest. They're confused. Shocked. Concerned. But they don't turn their back on her. Her worst fears don't come true. At least, she doesn't think they do.

But then she notices. Shiro smiles at her, offers her kind words and listens to her woes, but his blood is never in the donation pool the paladins set up. It's never offered. And she can see his tight smiles when she mentions her hunger. The stress in his eyes when he watches her drink one of her pre-made bottles of blood. He doesn't say anything, but it still breaks her.

She thought they had a bond. Something beyond Voltron. Pidge wasn't sure what it was exactly, but she felt it there. Felt it in their mutual desire to save her family. In how they leaned on each other for support during the attacks their own minds inflicted on themselves. And yet...

The team splits up. At first, everything goes well. Shiro and Pidge head in one direction. Hunk and Allura in another. Keith and Lance stay behind to monitor the situation. But it's a trap. They're stuck on that wild planet, stranded for days, unable to communicate with each other.

Fortunately there's food, but nothing for Pidge to eat. Her body screams in pain. She's hungry. But she won't ask Shiro for help. She refuses to. Pidge doesn't think she'll be able to handle the inevitable rejection. So she puts on a brave front and pretends that nothing is wrong.

Until she collapses again. She can't focus. Her mind is in and out of consciousness. But she see's Shiro over her, screaming for help. And then he's gone. She's alone. It's cold and damp and her mind won't work properly and the pain in her gut is piercing. It's unbearable. The physical pain isn't what hurts her the most, though.

She thinks she might die there. Weak and alone. Until Shiro shows up again. He's sobbing and she doesn't know why. None of his words make sense. The things he says--about not finding the others, about poison in blood--they reach her ears but no further. She has no idea what he's trying to tell her. The only drive left in her feable existence is that deep, animalistic desire for survival. So, without thinking, she reaches out, and Shiro freezes. She's not afraid of being alone. She's not afraid of Shiro's scorn for her actions. She doesn't have the luxury to be afraid. All that exists in her is hunger. And then, the sensation of her fangs sinking deep into flesh. Blood, delicious blood on her lips.

For a moment, all the pain in her body subsides.

And then she lets out a horrific scream.

The blood is poison.

Days later, she wakes up on the ship. She's alive. And Shiro, he's fallen asleep with his arms and head resting on her bed, but he's alive too. And suddenly everything makes sense. Why he wouldn't give her blood. Why sometimes had a distant, lost look in his eyes.

He had a secret just like she did. Only his had no chance of a happy ending.

Pidge reaches out and takes the sleeping Shiro's hand in her own, squeezing it. She'll keep his secret. It isn't hers to tell. But that doesn't mean she won't do everything she can to find a cure.

[lxiewrites]

hey there ghouls, it’s ya boys

Ao3

Summary: Keith and Lance try to contact the dead... and it kinda works?

Thanks to @gigili-jiggly for letting me ramble about the boys and ghosts and @bleusarcelle for being such a STICK IN THE MUD with Halloween! Xp

Lance laid on his back, rhythmically throwing this little stress ball he found in the air. It was in the shape of a star and spun when it reached its highest point. He more or less tuned out Pidge and Hunk's scientific ramblings or whatever they were doing, he had no idea what they were talking about anyway. He was in the zone with throwing and catching the squishy yellow star, up and down, up and down. It actually was pretty soothing.

"What are you guys doing?"

...Aaand soothing relaxing time is over.

He scowled over at Keith, tummy turning over. What was he even doing here? He didn't think that Keith would be the type to stay after school. Probably thought he was too cool to join a club or a team. Always a broody lone wolf, with a giant stop sign over his face saying 'don't talk to me'. Okay, something is weird with those metaphors but whatever! It's his own thoughts! He can do what he wants!

"What's it look like, Mullet?"

"Lance," Hunk admonished before turning to Keith with a smile, ignoring how Lance threw up his hands in a massive 'what?!' gesture. "We're just here for robotics club, we're, uh, a little shorthanded right now but you can join if you want?"

Keith's brows furrowed, eyes darting across the three of them. Hunk with his big smiling face hands fiddling with wires and a thing to strip the color from them. Pidge with their smarmy little grin sitting in a circle of discarded parts giving him a short salute and… Lance. Obviously the most brilliant and handsome and charming of the group who's obviously supervising from his position on the couch but whatever. Details.

"This is the robotics club?" Keith drawled, eyes going directly to him.

Instantly something inside Lance prickled, stomach all spikey and annoyed. "Yeah, got a problem with that?"

He could hear Hunk using that mother-hen tone with him again and he knew for sure Pidge was rolling their eyes and he could look over and throw the star at them or something, take the prickly pressure off of him, but he kept his eyes locked on one Keith Kogane. Watching how those weird purple-blue eyes--honestly it really depended on the lighting (not that he spent a lot of time wondering at the color of Keith's eyes or anything)-- narrow, head tilting as those indigo (the lighting wasn't the greatest so it was closer to indigo) eyes flickered around the room, no doubt taking in the cobwebs and black and orange streamers. "No, but... isn't this the art room?"

"Technically," Pidge piped in, pushing their glasses up their nose. "But it's not being used for anything today and the shop room is being used for a car or something. I don't know but it's a mess."

"Oh."

Keith shifted a bit on his feet, almost squirming under their stares, his thumb running over his knuckles wrapped around the strap of his bag.

"If you want you can join us," Pidge said. They looked around and shrugged. "It's a little messy but you could probably find a space."

"Yeah!" Hunk agreed, "Just sit anywhere, dude, we're pretty chill."

Hunk looked over at Lance, eyebrows raised, trying to communicate via facial expression. Which Lance pointedly ignored. They specifically left the couch alone and he called it and he was having a nice and relaxing time with his--oh fine!

He sat up, moving his legs over to give Keith room, embellishing the move with a wave of a hand.

Keith made his way over, carefully avoiding small parts and pieces scattered over the place. They definitely did some rearranging before they completely took over. The tables were all shoved to one side of the room, pressed up against the wall displaying the best work and portraits, nearly impossible to work at unless you wanted to sit on top of the tables. And while he's all for anarchy those tables have been around since the eighties he did not trust sitting on one of them. They left the paint-splattered couch in the back alone to actually sit on while Hunk and Pidge scattered their work across the floor. Delicate pieces of machinery and wires laying out where anyone could step on them along with tools and various nuts and bolts.

Keith finally made past the minefield and the way-too-old couch sagged under his weight. Lance shuffled even more to the side until his arm brushed against the art cabinets, fiddling with the stress star in his hand.

"What are you doing here, Keith?" Hunk asked as conversational as ever.

Keith shrugged. "My ride isn't coming until later. I didn't think anyone would be here."

"Ah, sorry for interrupting your alone time, dude. Do you come to the art room often?"

"Sometimes."

Eloquent as always. He peeked over, noting how stiff he was. The couch was old but it was comfortable and plush, but Keith looked like a statue, backpack on his lap like a shield. He was going to wear through the straps with how much he was rubbing the course fabric between his fingers. Silently, Lance tossed him the stress star.

Keith fumbled, lips pulled into a small frown and turning to look at him. Lance was carefully keeping himself sitting forward and occupying himself with his cuticles, biting off a section of dead skin. He fought down a satisfied smile when he heard the backpack hit the ground.

"Well, it's a nice place.” Hunk continued, oblivious, hands and mind preoccupied with the device in his hands. “My friend Shay comes here a lot. She's really good." Hunk nodded to the artboard barricaded by all of the tables.

Pidge scoffed, "Yeah, sure, friend." Their hands leaving their robot part to put up air quotes.

"She is!"

Lance laughed as Hunk sputtered, his deep rich brown skin turning ruddy and red. "Buddy, you went on and rambled about her for, like, an hour."

"I just respect her as an artist!"

He could feel Keith relax into the couch, back slumping, hands rhythmically squeezing the star, tracing his fingers around the letters printed on the side... He could even see a little smile.

"Maybe we should make a truth detector," Pidge teased, hazel eyes glimmering, smirk in place.

Hunk groaned, "Guuuyyyss, I'm serious! She's just a friend!"

"For now!" Lance had to add, just to see his friend blush so hard he could almost see the smoke burst from his ears.

"What are you guys working on right now?"

Lance turned to see Keith star at the different parts scattered around the linoleum floor.

Pidge lit up, brandishing her piece into the air like how Rafiki did to baby Simba. "My greatest creation!"

"It's going to be a recon offline virtual encryption radar or ROVER for short. It's basically a droid."

"It's way cooler than that!" Pidge insisted, glaring at Hunk for his betrayal of their creation. "It's going to be able to scan a surrounding area and break any encryption code that might be present. It's going to be able to send signals into space and pick of distant radio chatter and…"

This is usually the part where Lance tunes them out. They start getting into the details and using terms he doesn't know. All he knows is that it might be slightly illegal and probably could've helped Nicholas Cage steal the Declaration of Independence. The more technical mumbo jumbo and his brain decides to vacate.

He could practically feel his eyes glass over as they start feeding off of each other, looking over to Keith to see if he got anything from their ramblings to find him staring at him with a confused look on his face. It almost struck Lance at how much... cuter he was? Instead of a permanent frown and a 'don't mess with me or I'll punch you' attitude he looked a lot softer. One eyebrow higher than the other, mouth softened into something that wasn't a smile but it wasn't an angry scowl, his head was even tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

Deflect, deflect, deflect. He cleared his throat and shrugged with an 'I don't know' sound.

They looked back at the two on the floor who somehow got to arguing about some sort of thing and doing it once or twice? Whether it was safer or unneeded? Listen. He doesn't know crap about robots or what they're talking about he's just here to test stuff out.

God. He could just feel the awkward descend on them. Should he say something?

He shifted, the silence uncomfortable and heavy in the air, he blurts out, “So what are you doing for Halloween?”

Keith’s brow furrows when he looks at him, “Halloween?”

“Y’know, trick or treating, pumpkins, costumes, ghosts?”

Slowly Keith shakes his head, brow still furrowed in confusion, like Halloween isn’t this national holiday that is beloved by all. “I don’t really celebrate Halloween, it’s kind of… boring?”

Lance reared back like Keith just bitch slapped him. ”Boring?” Lance turned to face Keith fully, he looked mildly suspicious but otherwise impassive as Lance smacked himself in the chest. “Halloween is my lifeblood. How dare you.”

Keith’s lips twitched, scooting around to rest his arm along the back of the couch. “It’s just another holiday that’s capitalized by the candy companies.”

Lance stabbed a finger in the air between them. “You earn that shit. It’s in fun shapes like fangs and eyeballs and you go around in costumes and scare the shit out of your friends.” Both hands come up, clenching in the air like he could grab the spirit of Halloween and shove it in Keith’s face. “It’s hanging out with your friends and getting candy, and it’s watching scary movies and all of the spooky stuff.”

Keith is completely unconcerned by how Lance is so close to tackling him and shoving candy corn down his throat. “Yeah but you can do all of those things at any time of the year. The candy is just candy but in different wrappings, you can technically wear a costume at any time, and all the spooky and scary stuff can happen any day of the year. Ghosts and hauntings can happen at any time not just Halloween.”

“Okay, point, but the aesthetic. All of it is amplified by Halloween and ghosts are more likely to come at Halloween because that’s when the veil is thinnest and they have an easier time coming to Earth or something.”

“You guys believe in ghosts?” Pidge scoffed, face scrunched up in amused disbelief.

Lance gave her a funny look. “And you don’t? I would’ve thought out of all of us you would.”

They chocked on their laugh. ”Me? Why?”

“You know, like, like,” he waved his hand in the air like it could physically keep his thoughts going, “all that energy has to go somewhere, so the souls or whatever become ghosts or spirits.”

“Lance,” Pidge said, “there is no scientific proof of a soul. And if the argument is energy then it would just be the electricity in the brain keeping vital organs alive until it runs out. No ghosts.”

“Okay, but there are so many weird things that happen with no scientific explanation. Why can’t here be ghosts?” Keith chimed in.

“Can we just, like, not talk about ghosts? Is that a thing that can happen?” Hunk smiled a queasy smile, shoulders shuddering.

“Hunk! Not you too!” Pidge cried.

Lance leaned forward, an evil smile creeping across his face. “Our school is built on an old cemetery you know.”

Keith leaned forward; eyes gleaming smile tugging at a corner of his lips. ”Really,” he said, not quite a question.

He grinned. “Years ago the old cemetery was too full and there wasn’t enough room. So they decided to move it but they only moved the headstones, not the bodies.” He tapped his foot on the floor. “Corpses are rotting under us right at this moment.

“LALALALALA,” Hunk shouted, fingers in his ears. “Nope! Nope! Nuh-uh, we’re not talking about this.”

“Oh my god, there’s no such things as ghosts!” They shouted over Lance’s laughter. “Ghosts aren’t—“

The lights turned off, shrouding them in darkness.

“—real.”

Lance’s heart jumped when he heard a scream, matching it with his own, two more joining his. Leather wrinkled under his fingers, as he blinked his eyes to adjust to the dark. He could just make out the shape of Hunk’s hands covering his mouth. He relaxed his grip. “Hunk!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands waved in the darkness. “My bad!”

“Can I have my jacket back?”

Lance jolted at Keith’s voice right next to him. As in right next to him. “Fuck, uh,” he released his hold on Keith’s jacket, haltingly smoothing it out, “sorry.”

Lance didn’t hear his response, or if he made one in the first place because Hunk decided to screech again, sending the hairs on Lance’s arm straight up.

“Oh god, I felt something brush against me!”

Lance felt his pulse in his wrists and his cheeks, his nerves getting twitchy as adrenaline started pumping. “Hunk, please tell me your joking.”

“I’m not, man! Something brushed against me! And it felt cold!” A dark shadow that he was hoping, praying, that it was Hunk stood up.  “What if it’s a ghost?! What if it’s one of the people in the cemetery that really doesn’t like art or robots or something?!”

Lance stood up, squeezing his hands into fists to get rid of the unsteady feeling in his limbs, heart starting to pick up. “Okay if there is a ghost I say we just book it.”

He felt Keith stand up next to him. “If it’s a ghost they probably need help, to, like, move on or something. We should try to communicate with it and help it.”

Lance turned to look at him, only wishing that Keith could see the incredulous look on his face. “Keith, buddy, I don’t know if you have seen any horror movies but that never goes well.” He punctuated the syllables in never to drive the message home.

He winced at a bright light that blinded him, blinking away the black spots that appeared in his vision.

“Yeah, except it’s not a fucking ghost you dumbasses,” Pidge said behind their phone light their tone the definition of “done”.  “It’s probably a short fuse, c’mon, Hunk, we’re the only ones that are gonna be able to fix it. I don’t trust these two yahoos.”

Hunk whined, head tipping back. “But there are ghosts. And we shouldn’t split up! That’s just spelling disaster in horror movies! We’re going to be picked off one by one!”

“Would you rather sit in the dark?” They rolled their eyes at Hunk’s whine, moving behind him to push him to the door. “Come on big guy, I’ll protect you. Ghosts can’t hurt those that don’t believe in them.”

The last thing Lance heard was Hunk whining down the hall. A fading, “They’re the first one’s to go!”

“Why are they going to fix the fuse?” Keith said behind him, making him jump. He almost forgot he was there the guy was so quiet.

“The maintenance guy, Coran, is sick or something. I think he said slipperies but I have no clue what that is.” He nodded to where his friend’s left. “They help him a lot. I don’t think the school even knows, pfft. That good ‘ol school funding!”

He felt a little shot of pride at the little huff of laughter but immediately tensed when something crashed. A scream in his throat he whipped around, eyes darting around in the darkness seeing nothing.

His muscles jumped, throat closing, when a hand wrapped around his upper arm, a bright beam of light illuminating the wall before them. His arm hurt where Keith’s fingers dug in, his lip nearly white from how hard he was biting it, eyes intent as he looked to see the source of the crash.

Lance drew closer, arms brushing but Keith still didn’t let go, eyes settling on a brass corner sticking out from behind one of the tables. Relief came but it didn’t stay, muscles still poised in fight or flight, heart pumping and insistent against his chest. “It’s fine,” he croaked. “A painting just fell.”

“Did you mean what you said about the school being built on a cemetery?”

“Maybe,” Lance cleared his throat, ignoring how it cracked, “My older brother Marco told me, he had to move to this school when they rebuilt it here, like, twenty years ago.”

“Maybe the ghosts need help moving on, like, if they receive closure on their resting ground being disturbed.” Keith’s voice was just above a whisper, hushed.

Lance’s skin fucking crawled. He whirled on Keith, his dark, dark eyes wide and serious. “How do you supposed we do that?!” A harsh whisper that scraped through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

“We communicate with them,” Keith whispered back, not nearly as harsh. It was actually annoyingly even. “An Ouija board. We can write it out on a piece of paper and use a necklace or something to hold above it as a pendulum or cut out a circle.”

“How do you even know this?!”

“…I watch a lot of paranormal videos.”

“Jesus Fuck.” Lance scrubbed his hands against his face. “How do you know we’re not going to contact a demon or something?”

“I don’t.”

“Fuck, fuck, no.Absolutely not. Not happening, nuh-uh, no—“

Ten minutes later he was sitting on the ground in a little circle of discarded robot parts—were these parts like… body parts of robot pieces? Ugh, okay, no thinking that—across from Keith, a piece of paper between them and Keith’s phone light next to the paper casting shadows across their faces.

“I hate this. I want you to know I hate this.”

Keith only gives him a noncommittal hum, finishing cutting out the circle with safety scissors they found. At least if they’re killed by a poltergeist it won’t be by overly sharp scissors.

Keith slaps the circle on the paper, eyes narrowed and determined. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

But he sets his hands on the paper anyway, fingertips brushing Keith’s as they start to slowly slide the improvised Ouija thingy over their improvised Ouija board.  They aimlessly slid it around the letters, the paper sticking to itself slightly.

It was silent between them. Which was new. They’re almost never quiet with each other, someone—usually Lance— saying something. It felt heavy. Weighed down. Like another presence in the room. Like a gho—

There was a lump in his throat as he tried to ignore the silence. His attention expanding all at once like someone turned the dial in his brain up to an eleven. And somehow that was better and worse than the silence. Every tiny sound from the wind rattling the windows to the minute creaking of the room, amplified by the silence between him and Keith, loud enough that it was distracting. The darkness so black there was color.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the soft shh shhhof the paper. Ignoring the shuffling sounds in the walls his brain conjured up. Focusing on the soft huffs of breaths between them as his heartbeat took center stage as a rapid beating drum in his inner ear. Reminding him of how all those victims in horror movies could hear their blood pumping as they died. Pushing down that voice in the back of his head reminding him of all the stupid horror movies he watched like Paranormal 3 or The Ring or The Conjuring—

“So how are we supposed to contact them or whatever?!” Lance said, a little too fast, a little too loud, trying to drown out the voice and images flashing across the forefront of his mind.

“I don’t know, don’t you just shout at the spirits to make contact and they… just… do?”

“Why are you asking me?!” His heartbeat was loud as he looked at Keith, fuzzy with black at the edges as his eyes adjusted again.

Keith’s jaw and eyes were tense, little lines creasing at the corners as he stared down that their hands.  “I don’t know! I don’t like this any more than you!”

“You know, if we were smart we would just leave.”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t fix anything!”

“We’d be fixing our lives, Keith!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You know,” Lance brought up his hands, clapping them together, mouth pressed in a straight line, “this is a bad idea. We should go and leave and come back in the morning.”

“Fine. You go, I’m staying.” Keith crossed his arms, mouth firm as he stared at Lance.

Maybe another time Lance would have left. Shouted something at how he was just being plain stupid. Which he was! But he could see the rapid pace of Keith’s jugular in his neck. How pale he was, his fingers rubbing together. His normally pink and plush bottom lip thin and white as he bit it.

He sat back down.

He really wanted to find his friends and leave, and while he knew somewhere deep down they were not being haunted a bigger and louder voice was telling him there was a chance. A slim chance but there was this big, gaping possibility. And he would never forgive himself if Keith got his guts ripped out by a ghost if this possibility happened to come alive.

“Fuuuck, I hate this.” He glared at Keith who looked at him with relief, the tension between his eyes a little less stressed, his shoulders relaxed away from his ears. Lance could feel his heart kick up a notch and he didn’t think it was because of ghosts this time. He intensified his glare. “I hate you.”

Keith smiled at him. “You ready to contact the dead.”

Lance shook his head. “Jesus fuck.” Put his hands back onto the paper circle.

“Spirits,” Keith called out, eyes darting to the corners of the room. “Please. Let us help you.”

They waited a beat. He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like to use an Ouija board, if there was supposed to be a pull or a tug or, hell, an electric shock or something. But he was getting zip. He looked at Keith who just shrugged.

Keith called out again. “If there’s anyone here, please say something.”

This time Lance closed his eyes, who knows maybe the ghost was shy or something. He let his hands slide side to side with Keith’s, not feeling a particular pull but—

Fuck

Lance shot his eyes open. Heart beating fast and this time it definitely was not because Keith had a cute smile or pretty eyes. He heard something.

That shuffling from before. In the walls. It wasn’t in his head but he could hear it. In the room. Around him. And once he heard it heard it he couldn’t un-hear it.

“Keith,” he whispered. “I think I hear something.”

Keith looked at him with wide eyes, so wide he could see how his purple-blue-indigo irises were nearly engulfed by fear, the pupils only leaving a thin rim of color surrounding them.

“What,” he whispered back.

The sound traveled. Started at the back, right behind him and the couch and moved. And if his body wasn’t fucking paralyzed it would be shaking because that’s how his insides felt. Organs trembling as the rest of it locked up tight.

He didn’t look, didn’t want to look. Looking only makes it real; he’ll see whatever is there and get his face eaten off by a fucking demon. But he could still hear. Hear how that scrabbling turned to scratching. And by now, with him being so quiet, barely breathing, Keith could hear it too.

They locked eyes, both hearing it. Adrenaline starting a slow course through his veins, muscles twitching, heart jumping. He could see how Keith’s eyes slowly slide from his and he squeezed his fingers bringing them back to him.

He mouths, “I don’t see anything.”

Lance squeezes his eyes shut until colors flash in a kaleidoscope behind his eyelids, the scratching sound even louder, getting closer. Nails on a chalkboard, nails at his throat.

It was a ghost. It was a fucking ghost and he and Keith were gonna die and their corpses were gonna be found in the morning because of course Halloween was on a school’s day—

He felt a ghostly hand brush against the small of his back and he fucking leaped—

Straight into Keith's lap screaming. Keith’s hands fisting in the back of his shirt shouting in his ear so loud it was going to be ringing the next day— if he lived.

Heart in his throat he waited for the ghosts to do some shit where they pried him off of the newfound lifeline he had grasped in his arms, pulled around the room and shook like a doll.

And all of a sudden it was bright. Bright, bright, bright, bright. And all he could think of was ’do ghosts glow?’before he heard.

“What the fuck is wrong?!”

He shot his eyes open, black dots and bright light blinding him for a second before he could see Hunk and Pidge in the doorway eyes wide with panic.

Throat sore, he stopped screaming Keith quieting down soon after though both of their chests heaved as they tried to catch their breaths.

“What. The fuck. Is wrong?!” Pidge shouted again.

No ghost. The light was on. His friends were here. He dropped his head to Keith’s shoulder and breathed. Arms tightened around him.

Not looking up, he declawed his hand from Keith’s back, waving it at his friends. “Wanna explain, Keith?”

He felt a similar press of a forehead against his shoulder, the sigh fanning across his collarbones. Keith murmured something into his shirt.

Using his body he shook them both. “Come on, Keith, tell them what your idea was.”

Another sigh. “ We tried to use an Ouija board to contact the spirits.”

“Eh, eh, eh, it was Keith’sidea! All his! I wanted to leave!”

“You would’ve left without me?” Hunk said, pouting. He placed a hand on his chest. “Buddy, I’m hurt.”

Lance reached a hand towards him. “No, no, buddy! I would’ve found you first and then booked it!”

Hunk thought for a moment before nodding. “Accepted.”

“I told you guys there were so such things as ghosts,” PIdge said, exasperated.

Keith finally let him go to turn around. “But we did make contact with the ghosts!”

“Yeah!” Lance nodded, fervently, backing up what Keith was saying. “There was a ghost and it touchedme!”

Pidge squinted and looked between them while Hunk’s face screwed up in horror. “How did this hypothetical ghost make contact?”

“There was a lot of scratching noises, like it was in the walls and, again, it touched me!”

Pidge's suspicion fell from their face, expression blank. They smacked their lips together and looked at Hunk. The big guy losing the horrified look on his face, lighting up in relief and understanding. Pidge blinked slowly before bringing up a hand to rub at their forehead, pointing their other hand toward the cabinet doors. “I found your fucking ghost, morons.”

As one, Keith and Lance turned to look and found a little mouse cowering in front of the cabinet. It paced in front of the doors, little claws scrabbling at the wood, trying to find its way in.

Lance felt blood rush to his face and shared a look with Keith, who was also red from the tips of his ears to where it disappeared under the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from Keith to look at Pidge and Hunk sheepishly. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“It’s a good thing you got the lights going,” Keith piped in, cheeks still red.

Hunk’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, we didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked.

“When we got there everything was fine. Nothing looked out of place and we didn’t know what to fix, so we just left and were going to tell Coran in the morning.”

“The lights came back on when we were walking back and heard you yahoos screaming,” Pidge finished.

Lance took a deep breath. Nerves fried and muscles sore from being so tense. That entire fiasco might have been a mouse but no. Just no. He’s not risking it. He got up and helped Keith up, a single-minded mission to get the fuck out of dodge.

“Okay, we’re all leaving.” He grabbed their backpacks and tossed them to their owners and started shooing them out the door despite Pidge’s protests and Hunk’s comments about cleaning up. “Let’s go.” Next to them another painting from the art wall fell. “NOW!”

A/N: okay, yes, it might be a day late for Halloween but in my defense I got sick and my body snuck up on me and hit me over the head with a club

[kate-read-that]

Sidney had taken the chance to read her father's files when the fight started, and her careful attention shifted. To be fair, it wasn't much of a fight, because everyone knew dad would win, but her sister still put some resistance, which was why Sidney loved her so much. Sometimes it looked like she could almost win. Of course, that didn't last long.

_He's a brute and an arrogant idiot. I don't want to spend more time with him than strictly necessary -Carly yelled, with her body squared for battle.

_You've already ashamed me enough by rejecting to be an alchemist and choosing to live like an irresponsible teenager. He's invited you, and his father is one of the most important alchemists in the world; -their father's words, as always, didn't give a chance to answer- you'll be charmant and he'll have a good time, and that's it.

At that point, Carly looked at her mother for help. Sidney knew it was vain hope, but she looked at her as well. Their mom was as pretty as Carly, but she looked more tired than the older sister ever had.

_Why don't we compromise? Carly goes to a date with the boy, but if she doesn't like it she doesn't have to repeat.

At that, both looked at her with a fury that was common. Sidney knew they would scream again so she took her dad's files and left the room. She knew she shouldn't read them, but she was curious about her future job, even if her father punished her later.

The fight finished with Carly running up the stairs crying, followed by a bang and her mother's sigh.

A few days later Sidney saw Carly get dressed with teary eyes while she searched for something to say that would make her sister feel better.

_ It's only a date. You won't have to go out with him again if you dont like it.

Carly huffed. Both of them hated that guy, Keith. He had spent the summer with them it had been a nightmare. The way he walked, like he owned the very floor he stepped on. How he looked at them, like they were innocent children and he was a wise adult, even when he was Carly's age. And that stupid wink that made Sidney want to hit him in the face with the thickest dictionary she could find. The chances of a second date were slim.

_It doesn't matter. If i say I don't want to see him again dad will make life impossible for me until he finds a new young alchemist to pressure me with. I can't wait to go to collegue and get the hell out of here.

_Dad knows? -Sidney loved her sister, but even though she liked studying for alchemist, she sometimes envied the freedom Carly had. She envied a lot of things from Carly, like how beautiful she was, or how delicate, or how the boys always looked at her with dreamy eyes. But she loved her over all of it, because she always stood up to dad when Sidney was terrified of even talking.

_ No need. Mom knows and she promised she wouldnt tell. And i got a good scholarship, so i don't need much money. Just a few more months... -Carly finished buttoning up her dress and twirled, looking like a magazine star. At first, she had wanted to wear jeans and a tshirt, but dad's look had made her reconsider.

_I'll miss you -Sidney's voice sounded offly quiet, so much her sister turned around and hugged her. They didn't hug much at home, but it was nice.

_I'll come visit all the time, and maybe you'll come visit at some point! I have to go, it's almost time and if I'm late dad will try to get me in a second date or something -and with a toll of eyes, she left.

..............

Sidney woke up to the sound of screams in the living room. She looked at the clock and saw it was well oast midnight. Seconds later, her sister came in banging the door and got in the bathroom without even looking at her.

Sidney got up quietly and knocked on the door, asking her sister if she needed something. She got no answer, and after trying again twice she opened the door softly, and gasped.

Carly was sitting in the shower, which was on, totally dressed. Her perfect makeup was messed up and her pretty hair barely retained the elegant bun she had had a few hours ago.

_What happened? -Sidney barely recognised her own voice.

_No...thing. Go to bed...Sidney-she could barely understand her sister with the constant crying, but she turned off the shower and brought her a towel.

_No! I... I have to clean it! -Carly screamed, turning it on again and rubbing herself with a sponge all over.

_You just need to wash your face but that can wait until tomorrow -Sidney started helping her sister get undressed, not sure about what was going on. Dad would be so mad about the dress, it was a Christmas present.

That's when she saw the bruises.

Her sister's tan skin was covered in bruises in some parts, like her hips or her thighs. It looked painful and Sidney had no idea where those came from, but her sister seemed to cry even harder when she saw them.

_You don't understand, Sidney. He... he... -Carly didn't try to talk again after that, too impacted to say anything. Sidney didn't fully understand what was going on but she could tell it was horrible.

It took Sidney half an hour to get her undressed and in bed, and another half an hour to get her calm. Luckily, her parents were already asleep because there were no other sounds in the house.

_He took me to a restaurant. I said i had never drunk alcohol, but he ordered wine anyway and promised me I'd like it. I didnt want him to tell dad I had been rude, so i took some -her voice was even quieter than Sidney's, who laid by her side absolutely quiet and listening.

_Is Dad mad about the alcohol? -she tried to guess, confused. But that wouldn't explaim the bruises... maybe they had an accident in the car?

_No... no he's mad because I said I dont want to see him ever again. And because my make up is ruined and he said there was no way I'd catch a man if i ended dates crying.

Many times Sidney disliked her dad, but there were some times she really, really hated him.

_But why are you crying?

_Oh, Sidney... you dont... you dont understand... he took me to another place later, in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to go outside and walk but he said it was too cold. I was really tired and a little dizzy with the wine so I agreed. And then he... he started kissing me.. and i tried to push him away but he was so strong... -after that Carly cried so much there was no way of getting more information of her.

But it was no needed. Sidney knew what sex was, their mom had talked a lot about sex and consent and consequences with them. Bruises made sense now. Keith had...Sidney felt the bile rise inside her as her sister screamed of shame and pain against the pillow.

Out if nowhere, a wave of rage filled Sidney filling her body. He, that idiot with that stupid wink and that arrogant smile, had hurt her sister, her beautiful, delicate, intelligent and sweet sister. How dared him. How dared him even think about hurting Carly like that. They were alchemists, saviors of the humankind that worked to help the human race and protect them. What he'd done was... but there would be consequences.

_We'll tell Dad. If he knows what happened, he'll make sure Keith gets punished. You're Carly Sage. Your father is one of the most famous alchemists in the world. There's no way dad will let anyone do that to you and walk away -Sidney gritted her teeth just thinking of it. How could he? For once, their father's rage would be good for something.

_I'll never tell dad, or mom for what matters.

_What? Why, for the love of...

_Because he wouldn't believe me, Sid. Dad loves Keith, more than us anyway. He's always wanted a son and Keith is everything he could want. He will never admit it and dad will always believe the perfect boy over us. Besides, imagine what he'd say about me now-her sister sounded... deflated. She looked so tired she almost looked like their mother. She trembled when she said his name, but she didn't look totally alive.

Sidney wanted to scream, because she knew her sister was right. Even if they convinced her dad, which was almost impossible, Carly was no longer a virgin. Dad would lose gus mind and acuse her of ashaming the family name, even if it had been against her will.

_But we have to tell someone! Mom will...

_Mom will tell us to tell Dad, because he fixes everything apparently. She can't help us because she's not an alchemist, Sidney. Look, it doesn't matter, okay? All I want is to sleep and forget today happened.

She closed her eyes and finnally succumbed, the crying had worn her down so much she didn't move in the whole night.

But Sidney didn't sleep, too filled with rage and hurt for her poor sister to do so. Instead, she thought. She searched through her brain over and over from a thousand different angles until she found a way. A way to get justice. Or, as her favourite authors would call it, vengeance. She had a plan.

............

Two weeks later, she stood before Abrahan Mazur in a very luxurious looking club at 11 am. Getting her father's office key, checking the archives and finding what she had read a few months ago took a lot of effort, but going to the library and then scaping to take a bus to the city? Every step Sidney took, part of her expected her father to appear out of nowhere.

The club had seemed closed, but the documents said he would be inside already, even if there was still some sunlight, handling his "businesses". Sidney had wanted to turn around and leave, but whenever she thought of Keith's wink and her sister cries her determination grew stronger.

_Well, I've got to admit I'm surprised. A young alchemist was the last thing I expected when I got up today -Zmey smiled with a ladine expression while he looked at her. His fangs made Sidney tremble and every single piece of information she knew about Moroi appeared in her mind frantically.

They drink blood.

They aren't alive.

They can control your mind.

They want to condemn you.

They aren't human.

But Sidney was smart. She had considered all possibilities, and this was the only way. Human police could do nothing agaisnt alchemists, and alchemists would not lay a finger on Keith. So she had to seek help from someone who didn't fear Alchemists.

_How did you know I...? -she had covered her mark with her sister's make up before coming as precaution.

_Oh, please. I can smell one of you from the other side of the road Ms...

_Sage. Sidney Sage -if he already knew what she was, hiding her name had no sense.

_Perhaps related to the famous alchemist?

_He's... my father -and he would kill me if he saw me now.

_Well, now that's a surprise. What could I possibly do for you, Sidney? I doubt your influential father needs something from me, and if he did he wouldn't send ymhis beloved daughter, I'm sure.

_I've heard you... do favours. In exchange for things -very loquacious, Sidney. Zmey seemed to think the same thing, but didn't express it out loud. Just smiled with those horrid fangs again.

_That's true, but I'm not sure what kind of thing I could do for you.

This is it.

_I want you to punish someone.

The guardians of Zmey Mazur, who had been still like sculptures until that moment, suddenly looked at her, surprised. Even Mazur seemed a little baffled, which made Sidney feel safer for some reason. But Mazur composed himself quickly.

_Punish? I guess you dont mean telling off someone?

_No, not like that. He's done something horrible, and he's got to pay -she could hear her own voice get lower with rage, and could see Mazur getting more and more interested with every word.

_I thought you alchemists had your own justice system -Mazur arched his brow, crossing his hands on the table. Sidney swallowed and tried to keep calm as her feelings tried to jump out.

_My... people can't handle it. The crime can't be proven and even if it could, the person I'm talking about belongs to a very important alchemist family. You must know, you'd anger very dangerous people.

The elegant vampire laughed at that.

_No one's more dangerous than I am, Ms Sage. And I'm not scared of a few god-fearing humans. Is this person's family more important than yours?

-Yes, that's why I need to hire you. I cant pay you right away but as soon as I'm off age I can...

_I have enough money, I got no interest in more, specially if you can give me something else. Depends on how bad his crime was.

_What... do you want then? And what he did is... not important.

_It is important, there are a thousand ways I could punish him. Think about it, you'll only have one chance.

Sidney thought about it. Whenever she'd planned this, she hadn't thought of something specific, she just wanted him to pay, to be sorry, to...

_I want him to suffer. Every day of his life, I want him to see himself in the mirror and feel as horrid as he is. I want him so destroyed he can never harm another person again without thinking about the possible repercussions. And I want him to never feel confident enough to hurt someone again- Silent followed her. She had known she was angry, but the extent of her anger scared her a little. She discovered, with a little worry, that she was sorry she couldn't hurt him herself like she had just said-. His name is Keith Darnell.

Mazur stayed quiet for some minutes before smiling again.

_I know the Darnell family. I think I can do this for you, if you do something for me in exchange.

Sidney expected to pay money, which her family had, not to do something for her. But she couldnt back down now, and even if she could, she wouldn't. Carly deserved it, she was worth it.

_What?

_Oh, not yet. You see, I prefer to keep favours in case I ever need them, and when time comes I'll ask you to do something for me, and you'll accept-Mazurs smile shone again, giving her chills-no matter what it is. Deal?

Mazur outstretched his hand, waiting.

She didnt want to, she couldn't do it. She wasn't brave and she never went against the rules. If her dqther found out... There's no way-

_Deal.

She said it. And as she shook Mazur's hand, she knew exactly what a deal with the Devil felt like.

.........

Sidney waited days. Then weeks. She thought Mazur had been joking, that he wasn't going to risk it for the possibility of getting a favour from her. She had started fearing not having alternative solutions by the time that phone call happened.

They were in the kitchen again, eating dinner quietly. Carly had finally left her bedroom and Zoe was happily playing with her food when the phone rang. Her father, of course, picked it up.

His face suddenly turned white, followed by an angry red Sidney knew well. Part of Sidney's mind sang: he knows what you did, he knows you talked to Mazur... but when his father turned around, he didn't look at Sidney, she looked at all of them.

_Its Keith... he's... he's been attacked by strigoi.

Sidney's mom silenced a scream with her hands and immediately took Zoe as if to protect her. Carly just paled as much as her father, and closed her eyes. Sidney felt like everyone was watching her as she tried to sound surprised.

_What? What's happened? -she really hoped her voice didn't sound as plastic as she heard it.

Her father turned to look at her a few seconds, but hopefully he was too astounded to realise she was trembling.

_I can't... I knew they were cruel but this... it's... he's just a young man, it was totally.... they didn't even drain him of blood...

_Dad, what happened? -Sidney knew insisting was not the best way to seem innocent, but she needed to know, needed ro make sure he had paid. She found herself feeling excited about knowing how had he paid.

_His... eye. They cut... his eye... out. He's lost his eye. The poor boy... Of course, the alchemists will give him a new glass one but...

Sidney's mom screamed again and started crying, covering Zoe's ears. Carly left running and, by the sounds of it, puking in the nearest bathroom. Sidney got up from the table and went upstairs, not even needing to fake shock.

His eye. Abraham Mazur took Keith's eye out. She immediately thought of Keith's damn wink and how handsome everyone said he was. They wouldn't think the same thing again. Sidney shot out a laugh.

She covered her mouth, looking around to check no one had heard her. She felt like a terrible person, at least for a few seconds. But she couldn't help it. She had to lock herself in a bathroom and turn the shower on because she just couldn't stop laughing. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to stop the laugher coming from inside her.

His eye. His eye was gone. He'd never wink again, and whenever he saw himself in a mirror, he'd remember the pain and the fear. Sidney kept laughing until the tears overpowered her, and then she stopped and thought she'd do whatever Mazur asked of her. Anything.

[theriverpersonshadow]

Lamia Drama: Side Session (1)

I got an idea so I was like, hey, let’s do it! It’ll be short and WELP TURNS OUT NO. I think I’ll split this into parts if only ‘cause it’s too long. Not sure when this would happen, but assume they’ve been hanging out for a while???

As usual, the bitty species belong to @vex-bittys

Next

           Oozy was listening to someone sarcastically give bad writing advice on YouTube when he heard the little fart noise ringtone he’d set up for the D&D Groupchat. Not all of them had phones, but those that did were here.

             Mister Mom (Nikolai): Liam can’t make it this week. He’s got someone coming in to look at his skull.

           Orange Soda (Keith): This next session kiiiiinda needs him…

           pAlex (Alex): Yeah. We’ve kinda got a thing…

           Oozy: welp sounds like one off time

             One offs could be the best. They were noncanon, goofy, and just a great time. A grin split across his fangs, tail tip twitching in anticipation. This should be good…

           Orange Soda: Heck yeah.

           Lil Dude (Trousle): OH YES YES YES            Orange Soda: Anyone got ideas???

           pAlex: … how crazy can we get?

           Mister Mom: Should I be worried?

           Orange Soda: >:) Hit me with it

           pAlex: Soooooo… What if we get a pygmy and allow them to Co-DM, or just let them run rampant on the table. Anything that they happens.

           Mister Mom: That sounds like absolute chaos.

           Oozy: lets do it

           Orange Soda: I’m game! >:D

           Mister Mom: I’ll pick out a Pygmy then.

           pAlex: YES I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THIS KINDA BS

           Orange Soda: This is gonna be a wonderful disaster

           Mister Mom: I’m sure I can find far too many who’d want to join. This should be interesting.

           Lil Dude: YOU LOVE THE IDEA. ADMIT IT!!!!

           Mister Mom: Well I’m going along with it, aren’t I?

           pAlex: Lil snek’s gonna go zooooooooom.

           pAlex: Wait can I say snek? That’s not weird, right?

           Mister Mom: It’s not weird. Or at least not particularly bothersome.

           Oozy: oh yeah. we’ll get a zoomy. bitty, right?

           pAlex: I’d hope so. Having a full sized pygmy with zoomies on the table would be, uh… something alright XD

           Oozy: Pffft. Nice.

           Lil Dude: OH! SOMEONE ME SIZED!

           Oozy: Why are you in all caps?

           Lil Dude: THE SCREEN GOT CRACKED ON THE BUTTON AND I CAN’T TURN IT BACK. PLEASE HELP.

           pAlex: He is cursed with Scream.

           Lil Dude: I WISH

           Mister Mom: Are we using our usual characters?

           Orange Soda: If ya want. This is almost definitely non canon and already a mess, so bring whatever. I’ll probably curse myself later if I ain’t laughing my tail off, but here it is: Go Nuts.

           Oozy: imam have twenty million pets

           Orange Soda: Please go slightly less nuts. That’s too many rolls dude ^^’’’

           Oozy: theyre all squirrels

           Orange Soda: Oooooh boy.

           pAlex: Good luck Keith! I’ll see ya’ll there, I gotta get back to work. ttyl

           Lil Dude: FARE WELL FRIEND!!! :D

           Orange Soda:  Seeya

           Mister Mom: Take care <3

             Oozy was grinning as he turned it back to YouTube, though his mind was elsewhere, trying to think of what shenanigans he should do… Level 20? That seems almost cliché though, and getting the stats, feats, and/or spells for all that seems like a pain in the neck. Level 1? That’d get a few people to ask what was wrong with him, but that might be a one off joke. Should he try to make good on having an army of squirrels? He’s not sure if there’s a ruling to allow that kind of insanity, but if anyone was going to find it… It’d probably be someone else, honestly. Maybe Liam. Still, it was an intentionally chaotic session, maybe he could just say he has a lot of squirrels? What would a person even do with that many squirrels? That’s probably more squirrels than exist, maybe. He’s not exactly an expert on squirrel statistics… Damn, tomfoolery could be effort sometimes, but it’s not like he had anything better to do. Phone in hand, he started scrolling for things that would actually get a no out of Keith in a regular game…

One way or another, this was going to be a glorious disaster.

[justwannawriterps]

Forgotten Lies

Where: Halloween

When: 1st November

What: Eli tells a little white lie... 

Who: @keith-crane

Having lost touch with everything he once regarded as close or familiar, Keith Crane was walking across the ballroom hall with nothing but a drink. A poor, sad attempt at easing his nerves somehow--which clearly was not working. He wasn't even sure why he dressed like this..or who any of the people around him were..and  that had him wanting to get some air..eyes darting towards the male currently standing by the glass doors.

Elijah saw Keith and he was going to avoid him when he saw the other staring at him, "Erm, are you OK?" He asked, confusion racking his brain, "You seem lost?"

Keith exhaled softly, hesitant for the most part. He wasn't sure he wanted to out his situation, let this stranger think him crazy for not knowing where he was..or who he was--but his lips parted in the end, eyes looking up at Elijah and shifting away. "I just need some air, that's all. I don't..quite remember where I am."

Elijah bit his lip, "Lost your memory" he whispered, remembering his hard conversation with Fawn, "I'm Elijah, me and you, we are close" he spoke, lying, "You could say best friends"

"Are we?" Keith frowned, feeling himself become even more confused..if possible. He did give Elijah one quick up and down though...his lips pressing together slightly. Best to take advantage of whatever help he might get... "..do you know how I got here, then? What--happened to me?" The vampire still needed some air and for that reason, took a step closer to the other, giving his glass a way to a member of staff.

Elijah laughed, "Promise of a better life unless you are a slave but don't worry about that, shall I help you to get some air?" And he offered the other his hand. He knew this was wrong but he needed to find a way to best the man.

Okay. What the hell? Keith let out a sound of frustration, not sure this man wasn't taking the piss, and took the hand, allowing him to lead him outside..where he let go off it. The ad-man leaned against the railing outside. "You haven't answered my question." he mumbled, "..what is this place? Why am I here, Elijah?"

Elijah sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, "It's an institute with some, hidden things. Mainly you are here for an education and you are a master, as told by your lack of collar" he explained, "You probably came here to learn and like most people don't want too leave... Or cause you are supernatural"

Keith listened to everything the other was willing to tell him, feeling his hands clench into fists the more nonsense he spoke..and yet, as he cast one look over his shoulder, it kind of ..just did. All of those young people, the thirst he hadn't been able to quench no matter how much alcohol he had..it all clicked. "Why do I not remember?" he said in a plea.. "How am I supposed to believe you when you keep..saying all these..crazy things?"

Elijah sighed again and be shrugged, "A few people can't remember" he spoke as he looked around, "I'm not crazy and I'll prove it" and with that he pulled his likely pocket knife from his trousers and cut a small cut in his finger, letting blood gather, "If what I'm saying isn't correct, if I don't know how, then this blood won't bother you"

Keith's eyes widened the second his eyes landed on the object, having half a mind to stop Elijah ..except he couldn't. Before he could reach over to grab his wrist, the young man had dug a cut on his finger..drawing blood. Within a moment, his senses spiked and he felt himself fall under its spell..his fangs breaking through his gums at the strong scent... "..this can't be real..." he groaned, feeling his teeth with nimb fingers. "You're..you're right. What the hell am I?"

Elijah smiled and he licked his lip, "You're a vampire and that's perfectly normal here" he spoke with a nod, "You are probably rather hungry". He paused, Keith could owe him big time for this, "Here" and he held out his arm, "Eat"

Keith struggled but at last, he was able to pull his attention away from the bleeding finger, partly turning his back on Elijah. "..this is crazy." he muttered twice to himself, "I can't. I don't think I'll be able to stop if I do..you shouldn't trust me.."

Elijah gulped, "I'm claimed by someone who feeds on me. I know when I need you to stop and I'll tell you when I need you too stop". He looked around, "Keith, you must be hungry if you can't even remember what you are"

"But what if you can't stop me?" He snapped, mostly out of frustration, rather than anything else. Christ, why was he so hungry all of a sudden? "I'm fine."

Elijah looked at the other and he shrugged his shoulders, "Then you don't stop and you I guess eventually that means you would turn me? Which honestly, it's whatever". He had been thinking about those that got to live forever, "Eat Keith, you need it or you'll get sick"

His nostrils flared, "You don't want to feel like this...trust me." he rasped, now turning despite his best efforts. Damn..that stupid smell was intoxicating. "..you have to push me away. Promise me you will."

Elijah watched the other and it actually upset him to see how hard the other was trying to keep himself in check, "I want to live forever with the ones I love most" he corrected and he held out his hand again, "I'll push you away. Trust me, l take great joy in that"

The male tried to seize control over his instincts again, but perhaps his promise was all reassurance he could want or need..and so, not without hesitation, of course, Keith Crane took the man's wrist and wrapped his lips around that finger. Fuck. He had needed it. His eyes shut immediately, savoring the explosion of taste in his mouth..and he glanced up, into Elijah's eyes..and that neck.

Elijah watched the other and he couldn't help but smile. He'd wanted to mess with Keith but now, he knew he needed to help. He watched the eyes and he nodded, "You can bite my neck Keith, I don't mind"

Keith debated chewing on that forsaken finger but the allowance of biting into that man's neck soon detered him from that prospect, making him nod once. He said no words. Just walked into the other's space as veins began to form under his eyes, and pressed his mouth against flesh, gripping around Elijah's shoulders as felt for a vein.

Elijah tilted his neck to the side to allow better access and he closed his eyes, "You own the blood bar" he whispered, "You don't understand how good it feels to have a supernatural person drink from you"

Finding what he was after, the vampire let out a pleasurable groan in response and let his pealry whites do the work, successfully piercing the skin before blood at last..began pooling into his mouth. In that moment, he gripped the other much tighter and closed his eyes once again, swallowing a couple of mouthfuls... "..will your master be mad?"

Eli let his eyes roll in his head and he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling, "They won't mind me helping a friend out" he smiled as he moaned softly.

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, momentarily questioning why he was saying 'they' instead of he or she, but continued regardless..taking perhaps a bit more blood than Elijah surely had bargained for. Yet, he couldn't quite get himself to really hurt him --too dubious about how much could kill him. Squishing him gently, thus, the adman procured a couple of soft licks across the puncture wounds and detached himself with a groan..half staring up at the other.. "..this is..I feel better now.." he nodded, "..you probably need to sit."

Elijah felt his head go a little light and he nodded as he moved to sit on the edge of the wall, "See, I told you I would be OK and now you are too" he spoke as he took a deep breath, "I'm a good guy Keith"

The vampire pressed a hand on the other's shoulder to help sustain Elijah and sighed, quickly wiping off the splatter of blood across his lips with a tissue. "..thanks." he said. Keith would be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit awkward standing there..but what he said next about being a good guy confused him a bit. "..why would I think otherwise?"

Elijah shook his head and looked down at the floor, "Just feel like some people don't believe when I say it but I'd never let someone struggle you know?"

Keith moved over to sit right by Elijah's side, keeping some distance still and leaned his head back against the wall..gazing up momentarily. "Then prove it. Show people--just like now." he managed, "It's that or not caring what others think."

Elijah nodded his head, "Yeah I've been trying but people still wouldn't believe me". He paused and he looked to the other, "If you need more, you can take it. I'm very good at not fainting"

"Don't bother then." the vampire mumbled, almost without thinking as he met the other's eyes. "Let them think what they might..and make yourself proud instead." It was definitely not as easy as it sounded but he didn't really know any better. Shaking his head at the offer, Keith willed his fangs back for the first time. "I'm fine..thanks."

Elijah rested his head against the wall and he nodded, "You gunna be OK?" He asked

Keith paused at the question..giving the other a furrowed look, almost like he was not sure about what to say. "..I should hope so.." he said, "I have to start remembering at some point, right?" 6 November 2020

Elijah nodded and smiled, "If you need me, I'll be around Keith" he smiled

[stardust-and-blades]

Winter Kiss

Yoooo klance drabble I finished on my insta :3 

Summary: Lance, a fire fey, sneaks into winter fey territory out of curiosity to see if the gruesome legends are true. Little does he know he will meet a beautiful boy with a sharp tongue and a warm heart.

Pairings: Keith/Lance Fandom: Voltron

He was starlight against the fog of evening.

Lance is not one to venture beyond the summer court territories, one to bathe in the sun’s rays than to slip through the icy terrain separating warmth and cold.

They were at war. Fire fey had a sunset sea glass towering over the border between territory, a blistering beacon of defiance against their foes. A fragile looking wall containing the strength of the Gods, awaiting the other half to challenge it. To break it. To unleash a different form of war.

Little did the fire fey know was their very own approaching the wall, using their craft to exit as much as he can enter. Winter may not be able to approach, but summer can manipulate as they please.

As he crawled through the opening, as the heat pouring from his skin filled into a lukewarm feeling, he carefully settled his foot on snow. He nearly jumped ten feet in the air with how cold it was. What little winter they had (which was not much) was never this intense. Lance has not even felt snow before, which was one of the few reasons he crossed the barrier.

Allura used to tell him horror stories of the winter fey. Of their conquests and deceit. Their eerie gaze that can freeze you in place. The fangs protruding from their lips, ice daggers waiting to sink into the only warmth they desired: blood.

But there was one story that really stood out to Lance. One she did not speak often. But after a trial of a prisoner taking place years back when she was entering her late teens, her black and white tales molted into grey. She spoke of secret marriages. Of children born of winter and summer. Of a resistance group looking to join the territories rather than destroy one another. And while she had to shush herself upon sensing more than the ears she intended to whisper to, she made sure Lance listened carefully. Openly. To not be like the others.

Hence him passing the wall.

And maybe because he saw someone peering in from the outside, the only sign if it being fey was the dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes passing through the bushes.

Lance was going to find out who the fey was.

Maybe see if the tales about them are true.

Or if allura was right in the winter fey not being complete monsters.

So he set off. He followed tracks in the snow, the glistening white trees diamonds in the sun.

As he made his way to a clearing, he noted how the soft crunch of his shoes turned to shattered glass. Lance looked down to see the change, and noticed how he had set foot on a frozen lake.

And on top of the lake was a dancing boy.

The same boy with the dark hair, who hadn’t noticed Lance before Lance took another step on the fragile water.

He was beautiful. He glided on the surface with such ease, Lance questioned if he was a water nymph. His ears were long and pointed, decorated in fine crystals the shape of tears. He had stripped away his coat, the fur thrown to the side in order for him to freely skate with his black pants and white shirt. His skates, sharp as the newly forged blades by the fire blacksmiths. Except when they strike they did not exhume ash, but rather puffs of frost.

Summer and winter.

Fire and ice.

Ash and frost.

Hot and cold.

They were the opposites of the same coin. Destined to hate each other, proclaimed to be forever enemies.

If that was the case, then why did Lance feel no animosity? Why did he want to take a chance and introduce himself?

Why did he want to be dancing next to his sworn enemy?

Maybe it was because he was vulnerable in such state, completely unaware of Lance’s presence. Maybe it was because of Allura’s intriguing stories, sparking curiosity rather than resentment.

Maybe it was because he wanted to be part of the tale that defied all odds. Believed in peace rather than conflict.

But he is 100% sure it wasn’t because of the knife rapidly flying towards his head.

Lance screamed and ducked, the knife imbedding itself in tree bark.

He whirled around to the winter male. He stopped his dancing, his feet in a stance prepped for battle. He had two daggers in his palms, no doubt he held more somewhere on his body for easy access.

He narrowed his violet eyes, an arm arching back to chuck a dagger when Lance placed his hands in the air.

“WOAH WOAH WOAH, I’m not here to fight!”

“You have five seconds to explain why you were watching me before this knife meets its mark.” The boy said, ice gathering at the tips of the blade, elongating it’s already sinister edge.

“Um...”

“Five, four—“

“Hey give me a moment to gather my senses—“

“Three, two—“

“I was distracted by how pretty you were dancing oKAY?” Lance screamed.

The boy stopped counting.

“What?”

Lance threw his hands up. “I was curious. I crossed the barrier to check out this winter wonderland to see if it really was the scary, cold dungeon my side makes it out to be. I was thinking ‘hey lets take a look and maybe there are some softies or some cute animals’, not get a KNIFE to my HEAD”

He blinked, slowly lowering his arms. “You...wanted to see animals.”

“That’s what you took away from the response?”

He paused, looking over Lance. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

Lance sighed and lowered his arms halfway, his sun-kissed jacket flapped partially open as he kept his stance unguarded.

“You can search me. I have no weapons.”

“If I approach you so candidly you could stab me when I least expect it.”

“WOW, paranoid much?”

“I’m cautious.”

Lance snorted, his fear over the winter fey withering away. “Okay, Mr. paranoia. How should I prove myself to you?”

The boy pursed his lips, eyes traveling from the top of his head, down the front of his bright clothing, and back up again. Violets met azure, and if not for his keen hearing, Lance would have drowned from the beauty of the orbs that rivaled the dusk.

“Strip.”

Lance’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“What?”

The boy waved his blade towards him, nonchalant. “Take off the layers. It’s the only way I can be sure you don’t have an alternative motive.”

“I am NOT getting naked for you.”

He cocked his head to the side, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m not saying to get naked.”

“You just told me to strip.”

“Yes, but—“ he stopped, tossing what he said in his head until it dawned on him. Blush creeped on his pale cheeks.

“O-oh. I-I meant your top layers. Your jacket and anything that would hide what is apparent.”

“So not fully naked.”

The blush increased. “No.”

A cocky grin made it to Lance’s face. “You know if you want to see me in all my sunny glory you could just—“

The boy threw a warning knife, grazing Lance’s ear. Lance instantly shut up, having a deep feeling if he kept talking at least one of his arms would be pinned to the tree.

He unfurled his vest and coat. They were like lava against the white snow, bleeding to touch and burn everything in its wake. Crisp leaves amidst autumn; the blessing of the sun as it dips into the ether at the end of the day.

The clothes may be off, but Lance radiated the same essence the clothing did, his skin glistening despite the cold. If the boy was effected, he didn’t show it. He walked up to Lance cautiously, padding what’s left of his outfit (pants and a thin tunic). He made sure to avoid Lance’s gaze, poking and prodding but did not have an ounce of harshness in his touch. He was almost...gentle. As if Lance were a deer he was going to scare away if he wasn’t careful.

When he was deemed in the clear, the boy took a couple of steps back to allow Lance to put on his clothes.

“So since I did a strip tense,” lance joked. “I think you owe me your name in return.”

He hesitated, but after checking Lance, he doubted he could do any real harm besides embarrassing him.

“My name is Keith.”

“Wait,” Lance said, going still. “Keith. As in, the same Keith who is the knight of the winter palace?”

The legendary knight. The same one who had taken down dozens upon dozens of Lance’s kind, as well as his own when faced with betrayal. Rumors scoured the lands of Keith being so good at his job, the  victim’s bodies couldn’t be found.

And yet here was Lance, literally looking him dead in the eye and somehow still breathing.

Lance expected him to do a 180 and kill him then and there, forever silencing the fire fey that managed to sneak across the barrier and find the knight of nightmares. He imagined a blade making a home in his vitals, his blood drenching the canvas beneath him in crimson rivers.

But rather than turn Lance into a decoration in the forest, Keith shuddered and inched away, as if Lance were the dangerous one.

“I...am Keith here. Just Keith. Nothing more.” He said, his voice a hush in the chill of the air. “Nothing less.”

“Just...keith.”

“Yes.”

“Then...you’re not going to gut me and dispose of me in one of these deep lakes.” Lance joked, trying to ease the tension. To slow his heartbeat into a natural hum, rather than the adrenaline spiking through his veins.

Regrettable choice of words. Keith cringed, indigo irises becoming shattered glass as he took in the meaning. Without speaking, he gathered his jacket and cloak and began to retreat. Lance’s heart withered. He didn’t know Keith well, but there was something about him shutting down from the mention of his misdeeds that tugged at Lance’s heartstrings.

That made him reach out, his fingers stretched to capture his shoulder. To cross the frozen lake, its glistening blanket cracking under his weight.

His foot went through the surface, cold nipping at his limbs as he plunged into the water.

All he could recall was his mouth and nose being flooded and his body tensing up from the sheer amount of cold.

The next moment, he saw a flash of light and a large, blurred figure grabbing him by the scruff of his collar.

He was yanked up, lovely oxygen making its way to his lungs and biting wind chomped on the apples of his cheeks to replace the slew of water. He was used to the sea of summer, not this bone chilled one leaving his lips blue and chapped.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked. He was knelt in front of Lance, a hand to his back and Lance coughed out the remainder of the lake.

“Yikes that’s cold,” lance commented. “My hair and wings are going to freeze over.”

His wings weren’t visible yet, but he could feel the ache settling on his back. If they were, they would most likely be turned to fragile crystals.

“Here, use this.” Keith said. He reached beside him and pulled out a white cloak, the fur lined the hood and the edges. It was plain, but in the light it shone with a thousand gems. Keith shook it out and wrapped it around Lance’s shoulders, the snow on it melting away as it touched his skin.

“Winter court clothes are imbued with their own magic to keep the wearers warm.” He tied the hood over lance, weaving a neat bow. When he looked at Lance again, their faces a mere few inches away from another, pink dusted his face. Even Keith seemed to have the same reaction, his hands stilling and his eyes unable to look away.

That was, until something wet licked his cheek.

“Kosmo!” Keith admonished. Lance turned to see a wolf beside him, twin melted coppers staring at the fire faery with his tongue lolled out. He was twice Lance’s size, yet posed no threat based on his white tail wagging.

“Sorry, he gets excited about newcomers.” Keith said, rubbing one of Kosmo’s ears. “He’s the one who pulled you out of the lake.”

Lance smiled, scratching Kosmo’s other ear. He leaned his head towards him, enjoying the attention. He licked Lance again, the boy laughing from the irony of an intimidating wolf being nothing but a pup.

“Too bad for you,” Lance joked. “I expected a knight in shining armor to save me, but looks like an adorable wolf beat you to it.”

“I can easily have him eat you.”

“Nah, he likes me more than you.”

“I’m his owner.”

“And I am the handsome stranger who is giving him belly scratches.” Lance stated, Kosmo officially on his back as Lance scratched his stomach. “I win.”

Keith shook his head, his lips quirked in amusement. “Whatever you say, Phoenix boy. I thought you could swim like all the others by the ocean.”

Lance puffed up his cheeks. “I CAN swim, thank you.”

“Not based on earlier.”

“Oh?” Lance raised an eyebrow, an idea popping in his head. “Is that a challenge I smell?”

Keith chuckled. “I don’t—“

He stopped, his ears twitching. Lance wondered what made him go quiet. He opened his mouth, but keith raised a hand, silencing him and put a finger to his lips. Kosmo stopped relaxing, the wolf rolling onto his paws and hunched over, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Keith kept his tone to a whisper. “I’m sorry, but you need to leave. Now.”

Lance frowned. “Why?”

“Because when you crossed the barrier you let out a silent alarm.”

Lance squawked. “And you didn’t bother to tell me until NOW? I could be dead in five minutes!”

“Not if we teleport.” Keith said, grabbing Kosmo by his scruff and hopping on top of the wolf. It didn’t bother him, and he went so far as to bend down to Lance’s level for him to join Keith.

Lance hesitated. He doesn’t know this keith well. He may be nice, but for all he knew he could be setting up a facade and internally planned to transport them to the palace. To execute him right there for trespassing, sticking his head on a pike to ward off any future fire fey from crossing the barrier.

But as Keith held a hand to him, as Kosmo nudged his hip for him to follow suit, and as those violets penetrated his wards, he succumbed to the winter faery’s song.

When he took Keith’s hand, he could not help but noticed the warmth he held in those palms. He assumed they would be unbreakable ice. But really they matched the inner workings of the cloak draped over his shoulders.

There was a flash of light, and the next moment they were in front of the pane of sunset, Lance’s home beaconing for him to return. To strip away the cloak and dive into the beach waters filled with seashells that challenged the stars in beauty. To the motherly ocean, where it can caress you in times of crisis or unleash its wrath to drown its victims for the harming of its children.

Lance’s questions were answered. It’s time for him to go home.

Lance jumped off of Kosmo and was about to cross to his territory when a thought hit him.

He turned back to Keith, the boy scanning the area for prying eyes.

Lance wasn’t able to talk to him much. Wasn’t able to truly get to know him. To find out why Keith acted off when Lance mentioned his knight status.

But they weren’t exactly close to know each other’s secrets. So he came up with an excuse.

“Um, I’m still dripping from my plunge earlier,” lance started. “Would you mind if I borrowed your cloak for a little longer?”

“Huh? Oh, no you can keep it.”

“But it’s yours.”

“And you’re shivering like a leaf. Keep it, I have others.” He shrugged.

Lance groaned. “I can’t keep this, the court may think I stole it from you. If I’m anything, a thief isn’t one of them.”

Keith shook his head. “It’s not stealing if I give it to you.”

“It is in my eyes. Besides, you owe me for almost stabbing me. So all I ask is you meet up with me tomorrow so I can return it.” A knowing grin split his mouth. “Unless you’re scared of the big bad summer territory.”

Keith’s eye twitched. He bored his gaze into Lance, Lance feeling the hole going through his skull with how intense he was. If he ended up as a frozen statue, he couldn’t say he didn’t expect it.

But instead Keith sighed, heaved himself off Kosmo, and stood in front of Lance.

Sure enough, the cloak was the only thing preventing him from shivering up a storm and getting sick. His hair was sticking up with ice, his clothes damp, and his arms hugging himself. Yes they weren’t far off from Lance’s home, but the thought of just taking the material and flinging him back into the wild left Keith unsettled.

“Fine, but there is only one safe way for you to re-enter without setting off the alarm.”

Lance cocked his head. “What is it?”

“This.”

Keith stepped closer to Lance, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled him down. His hands moved from his shoulders to the sides of Lance’s head, kissing him atop the brow between his bewildered eyes. A cool sensation coursed through his crown, a frosted star embezzle right where the kiss was before it thawed away.

“A kiss from the winter court is an invitation for you to enter the grounds. Think of me as you pass through, and I will be here.”

“Um...I—what just...what—“ Lance’s face burned, and he knew it wasn’t because of the cloak.

Keith smirked and with one last wave of his hand, he disappeared with Kosmo.

When Lance got home, he screamed in a pillow.

[scriveyner]

let it rest in peace 4/4

It was autumn, when they first heard the hounds.

Keith was sitting in the porch swing, reading the particulars on some Blade project he was involved in; which had led to James sticking his fingers in his ears and pretending he had no idea what was going on because he was not going to Japan again, Keith. Keith rolled his eyes and gently smacked James on the head, who laughed, and eventually wandered out to join Keith in the swing, using Keith’s lap as a pillow.

The sun set early, and they could both hear the bay of the hunting dogs, distant on the east wind.

Keith’s arms tightened over James’s chest, as the cries faded into the twilight.

Read on AO3 or 

#

“I won’t let him take you,” Keith said, and James stood at the window and stared into the night. They hadn’t heard the dogs in weeks, but he knew, he could feel the prickle of warning. “You don’t belong to the Hunt, you belong to me.”

James snorted, turned from the window with his arms folded. “I belong to you, huh? Want to try that again?”

“You know what I meant,” Keith said, putting his hand on James’s side and steering him from the window.

“My family’s cursed,” James said softly. “You can’t outrun a curse like this, not forever.” He leaned into Keith. “At least I got to be happy, for a while.”

Keith put his palms on James’s shoulders. “Don’t fucking talk like that,” he said, anger making his voice harsh. “If that… whatever the fuck it was wants to show its stupid face to me I will tear it off before I let you go be a fucking hunting dog.” He caught James’s face with his hand, held it, met his eye. “You’re no one’s dog, James.”

James took Keith’s wrist, pulling his hand up and kissing his palm. “I don’t want you to get hurt trying to protect me, Keith,” he said. “You’re too important to too many people.”

Keith threaded their fingers together, held James’s hand, looked him in the eye. “My husband comes first.”

James smiled sadly against Keith’s mouth when Keith kissed him.

#

The howl woke James from a dead sleep. It wasn’t the bay of the hounds—he could hear that now too, clawing his way to consciousness, alongside the single tone of a hunting horn that reverberated in his chest—but the howl of a wolf, a challenge, a message.

Keith.

James lunged upright—or attempted to, his wrists yanked back and nearly wrenching his arms. He flailed wildly about, heard the scrape of metal against metal and arched his back—to realize that his wrists were cuffed together, threaded through one of the slats of their headboard.

He flopped back into the mattress, staring upside-down in disbelief.

He was going to fucking kill Keith.

The barking, baying, snarling—all passed by outside, out the window and away—toward the taunting howl of a wolf. James balled his hands into fists, yanking the handcuffs so hard they bit into his skin, drew blood. He twisted, didn’t have much leverage at all, but braced his feet on the bed and with one enormous yank, cracked the headboard.

Blood made his wrists slick. He didn’t bother trying to force the cuffs open, the chain gave like it was string. He could hear the howl in the distance still, and the singular notes of the hunting horn. His shoulder bounced into the door that he expected to open, and James rattled the doorknob of their bedroom door for a second as he realized it was locked from the outside.

Oh, he and Keith were going to have some words when James caught up to him…if there was anything left to have words with.

The moon was full and low, amber behind the skeletal tree limbs. James stood on the front porch, chest heaving and closed his eyes, listening to the night.

He’d never noticed it before, the way the trees seemed to line up, to form a pathway. James ran barefoot in the woods, head down; could hear somehow, the snapping jaws and snarling muzzles, he could smell the tang of copper, of blood spilled onto the dry leaves and he ran faster, faster than he’d ever moved before, sinuous, breath steaming from his open mouth.

Fingers curled into claws, churning the loam and there, he could see them now, the spectral white cwn annwn, eyes and ears gleaming red as they circled Keith, growling and biting; the wights on horses in a ring, some holding torches and others swords—and him, the antlered one, a white pelt over his shoulders and a horn in his hand. James was through the clearing, bowling the hounds over, snapping and snarling, fangs ripping through flesh and fur and leaving no trace behind save the sensation of the abyss and the taste of grave-dirt.

And Keith… Keith was alive, still, torn up and limping, stinking of blood and leaves stuck to his fur but he headbutted James, wound around him, watched his back as James turned and stood tall, defiant before the lord of the hunt.

“You can’t have him,” James said, one hand out to keep Keith behind him, panting hard. “You want me, here I am. Leave him out of this.”

The cwn annwn circled them both, growling low, salivating and snarling but now, keeping their distance.

Gwyn ap Nudd lowered his hunting horn, leaned on the pommel of his saddle and looked down at James with coal-dark eyes. “Tell me, Griffin ap Griffin,” he said, “do you know, what ere we hunt?”

“The souls of the damned,” James said softly.

The antlered figured pulled on the reins of his horse and it whinnied, dancing on hooves that left smoke and sulfer behind as he laughed. “Damnation is the purview of gods, faoladh. Only mortal men may join my Wild Hunt.”

Gwyn ap Nudd raised his horn to his lips and blew—and this time, it was silent. James looked around, baffled, as the wights raised torches and swords and circled their horses—before the white hounds took off into the darkness and the mounted riders followed, leaving the lord of the hunt.

“I… I don’t understand,” James said, chest heaving. “The curse…”

“To join the Hunt is no curse, but a privilege bestowed upon the lineage of those who once stood at my side.” Gwyn ap Nudd pulled at the reins and his horse danced back. “Perhaps, one day you will understand what you lost, faoladh, Griffin ap Griffin. Farewell.”

And like that, the clearing emptied of light, of sound—and James sank to his knees, chest heaving. Keith butted up against him, sliding against his side until his hand gripped James’s neck and he touched their heads together.

“James,” Keith’s voice was ragged, from shifting, snarling, fighting, “you, you were a, you—“

He stared at his hands in the dirt, blood streaked up his arms from where the cuffs had been but were gone now, lost along the way. He lifted one hand, gripped the back of Keith’s neck in much the same way, and closed his eyes, laughing desperately. “I know,” he said, could still feel the power in his limbs, the effortless movement, lighter than air. “I know.”

He was free.

#

“Do it again,” Keith said, sitting on the porch and supervising James in the yard below. James groaned and flopped onto his back, staring at the swatches of blue sky that escaped between the cloud cover. “C’mon, I know you can.”

“I can’t,” James said petulantly. “I, I don’t know. I just can’t.”

Smooth as silk, the black wolf glided across to him, circling once and sitting in front of him before resolving into Keith kneeling at his head. “It’s simple.”

“Says the wolf.” James grunted and sat up, rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know, okay? It’s not like,” he waved his hand at Keith, who smoothly dropped into a black wolf. “Showoff. Hey!”

Keith danced back on four legs, tongue still out from where he’d licked James’s face. “Get back here, you!”

Shiro’s Jeep rumbled up the dirt driveway, disrupting the two wolves wrestling on the lawn. Shiro was half out of the driver’s side when he saw them, freezing in place—and James came up on his feet, realizing his nudity all at once but Keith took his hand, squeezed it and then waved to Shiro. “Look,” Keith called, and Shiro left the door to the Jeep open, crossing the yard to them.

“Oh sure,” Lance yelled. “Leave me to carry all the shit!”

Three wolves—white, black, and mottled silver—chased each other in the autumn sunlight and Lance, hands on his hips, sighed in exasperation. “Werewolves,” he huffed, and carried the groceries inside.

#

James always loved to watch Keith run.

Moonlight dappling on black fur, snowflakes caught and settling atop his coat, head down and paws churning the ground, moving as fast as a bullet from a gun. He was coiled muscle and unlimited potential, racing the waves along the beach as the snow swirled in the air around him.

He came back around, trotting, chest heaving and breath steaming, before taking off again like a shot. This time, though, James matched him, kept up stride for stride, black and silver in the night.

“Run with me,” Keith said, eyes bright, hand outstretched.

James, exhausted, laughed and took his hand.

[ladyemberswrites]

I’m Not Crazy, You’re Crazy!

Some ficlet stuff from my Redemption Universe!Au

~ 

Melenor x Alfor 

. 

. 

. 

Alfor never considered himself a very bitter person. Sure, he’s held grudges, but he never found himself embroiled in absolute bitterness. There may be a widening drift between him and Zarkon, but knows in it his heart that it’ll pass. Or so, he wishes to believe. But, the truth of the matter is that he never knew what it was like to feel unholy rage- 

He found Melenor struggling to tip-toe around at the dawn of mid-night looking ragged and sickly pale as she slumped against the walls to keep herself steady, and hurdling to the floor. Her hair stuck to her face, and her legs wobbled, buckling, struggling to keep her weight. 

“Melenor?” 

Her body went rigid “Sire” she turns herself around, only for her knees to hit the floor.

“Melenor!” he rushes to her side “what are you doing out of bed?” he frantically glances over her noting that she had prespirated through her white, dress shirt. She felt cold, and clammy to the touch. 

“I just-” she clenched her teeth, pressing a hand to her belly as her head fell to his chest “I need out of that room.” she murmurs “I can’t stand it. I’m a warrior, not a invalid” she mutters into his sternum, her breath hot on his throat. 

“High General or not, you just gave birth. You should absolutely not be up and about” he slides his strong arms under her knees, and cradles her back. He lifts her with ease and carries her back to her private infirmary room careful not to justle her. 

.

.

.

Allura’s still asleep when they return, she’s swaddled tightly with only her tiny face peeking out from her cocoon of warmth. He places Melenor back on the bed, her tight grimace and knitted brows betrays her feelings all too well, but given her paleness her discontent loses it’s intensity. He undoes her her high ponytail, allowing the cascade of her snowy lockes to fall about her face, she huffs out an air of annoyance as he places her down. 

She hates having her hair down and shoves it harshly out her face. It aggravates her. It’s why he does it “I loathe this entire situation.”

“The hair or your condition?” he asks with a quirk of his brow. 

“Both. but, mostly you.” he gawks at her with wide eyes.

“What did I do?” 

“For starters stop looking at me like that” he blinks.

“Look at you like what?”

“Am I that pitiful to you that you have to look at me with contempt” her voice nearly cracks, her golden eyes turn from him in that moment.

Alfor sighs “You sound just like Zarkon” Melenor snorts.

“At least I can take pride in the fact that I’m still sane” 

“Mel.” 

She snaps back towards him her frecious amber eyes boring the cool blue that is his “You know as well as I, that man has clearly gone off the deep end. The rift did something to him, and you know it. It’s only a matter of time before he snaps completely"

“He just needs time.” he says, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or her, but at this point did it matter “He’ll see my side of things”

“And if he doesn’t? Then what?" 

Alfor doesn't answer and he's not sure why. Because she's right? Or because he's afraid of jinxing himself. It's one or the other, but he's for certain that Zarkon losing the final thread of his sanity isn't something he wants to image, or see be a reality. Clasping his hands together he stares off into the distance and out the window watching the autumn leaves fall.

"I'm sorry…"

"What?" His ears perk up, his head turns to find Melenor's casted away from him.

"I apologize." Her chest rises "I didn't mean to rub salt in the wound, I know how much he means to you." She murmurs, a rare tinge of red colors her pale cheeks and he couldn't help the slight smile that tugs at his lips..

"You're blushing" he runs his knuckles lightly over her cheek.

"I am not. A warrior doesn't blush as you say"

He laughs in good humor "Ah, but I've seen you blush before, haven't I? Remember, when we made love under the juniberry trees, I saw" 

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, shoving his hand away "It was a trick of the light, fool. I do not blush." She mutters into her pillow. He laughs again but with more heart.

"Will you hush, you'll wake the princess"

"You mean our daughter" 

"Your daughter" she corrects shortly. The good humor in the air dissipates, shattered by the cold reality before him.

"Melenor"

"I cannot be that child's mother."

"Biologically, speaking she is you're daughter" he argues.

"Our laws do not allow it. You know that better than anyone. I cannot be queen, and cannot be Allura's mother. It is simply not allowed" 

"Laws aren't always right-I can-" 

"Laws must be unhold. What's the point of them if we break those that we do not like? What then? What example, you as King, would you be setting for your people? Laws are set for a reason, whether we like them or not." Alfor swallowed, he kept his visage passive and unresponsive.

"We've taken enough liberties. We can't take anymore than the ones we've stole"

"We didn't steal anything"

"You should have taken a rightful queen instead-instead I distracted you, I kept you from your duties." 

"You kept me from nothing. I chose not to marry."

"Because of me"

"Yes. But, even if I didn't love you as I do now, I still wouldn't have taken Orla for my wife." 

"She's nobility"

"She's awful. I would rather be manually castrated than ever bed that woman." He muttered. 

Melenor eyed him, her hardened expression softened at the sight of his grimace. It's childish, the twitch of his lip. To her, he looks boyish and young, but he's right, nobility or not Orla's a repugnant woman. She would never wish her on him, not even her worst enemy.

"You're right. I loathe her entirely"

~ 

Keith discovers two disturbing truths in one night 

. 

. 

.

There's a muffled noise from behind the command center's door. He had assumed Kolivan would be alone. Perhaps, not as his sensitive hearing heard soft whispers. He really wasn't paying much attention to what was being said only that he had a message to deliver from Ulaz to Kolivan and be on his merry way for the night.

He took another bite from his apple, chewing and savouring the sweet flesh as he punched in the access code. The little lights lit up, beeping, the mechanic locks twisting and unlocking with a pop, the door slides with a hiss and with one step, and another bite he enters the room without a second thought.

He finds Kolivan, or more like he finds his back turned to him. 

"Koli-" he freezes mid-bite, he sees two legs that don't belong to the hulk of muscle and alien that is Kolivan. They're smaller, slimmer and dangling around his waist. His lips snap shut as the face that peeks over his shoulder is the last person he'd ever thought he'd see or want to see. The flushed, wide-eyed face of his mother staring back at him startled. Shoulders raised to her ears which slowly fall back as her lilac visage pales under the command center's dim lights.

There's a chill. Something beeps in his ears, and he isn't sure whether the coldness is due to the frigid tension or his body heat just dropped like a sack of iron hammers. The juice of his apple taste bitter on his tongue, dribbling down his chin, and onto his suit. Like his mother's his ears fall back, and his mouth clamps so hard that his fangs dig into his gums until he can taste iron on his tongue.

He steps back out the threshold hold and watches the door slide shut and leaves the Mamora's base ship and back to his room onboard the castle of lions with Kolivan's rigid backside burned behind his eyelids. The only thing that makes the night even worse than the lsd-induced nightmare he's living is accidentally overhearing a bizarre conversation between Allura and Prince Lotor- 

"-dreadful" 

"I know, but it'll help" he heard the prince grumble in the back of his throat.

"Why does your advisor have a whole barrage of fertility teas in the first place" Keith stopped dead in his tracks and blinked. 

...fertility teas? As in conception?

"They're leftovers"

"From what?" 

"Well, Coran had always dreamed of having a family of his own, hence the teas, but due to an injury he was rendered-uh impotent." 

"I see" he said after a moment.

"It was a devastating blow, poor thing, it's probably why he treats me as if I were his own" 

"Still doesn't explain why he kept all this" 

"Nostalgia" she said lamely "I suppose"

"It's creepy" 

"I know your not one to talk, Mr. Pervert" 

"Drink your tea, Allura" 

"You can't even deny it, can you?"

"Drink your tea, mommy" Keith almost swallowed his own tongue. 

"I'm not a mommy, yet-" he couldn't listen anymore, he left before his ears were assaulted again. He couldn't finish his apple, his appetite had been vaporized to kingdom come. First his mother, than Lotor and Allura- a shudder crawled down his spine, his mind kept making a flushing sound in the back of his head. He heard white noise, he could practically taste the static as he entered the lounge room with its bright, blaring screen and Hunk, Pidge, Matt and Lance's beet-red eyes glued to television set. Mario Party 6's theme song blaring in his ears like some sort of sick joke.