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Illustration for this cute fic! “A healthy dose of denial…” is pure fluff! Also, soccer player Keith and Lance stealing his clothes UwU

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Seeing double

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so.... i started voltron a few weeks back.....

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yeah i watched voltron for the plot 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

sighhhhh they deserved a sloppy make out 🤦 .........

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A glimpse of the world.

(inspired by a recent art from Given)

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Meet Princess Allura!

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lance and keith as han and leia!! ty genice for the au idea hehe

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redblue got me once again

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anybody remember Voltron? that wild son of a gun. it had 8 seasons over the span of 2 years

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may or may not be procrastinating.. how about another excerpt of pregnant Lance?

--

They had a party and Lance hated the food. He wanted real food. He was half thinking he could eat one of the locals, even.

“Lance, we can't eat the locals,” Hunk said, aghast.

“Just one?” Lance said, quietly because said locals were everywhere. “Hunk, I need real food! Protein!”

“No, Lance!”

Frustrated, Lance took a walk. He ended up in the bridge, gazing at the star map either Allura or Coran had left up. The door opened, and he glanced back to see Red walk in. Black had a more decorated suit. Probably to indicate some sort of rank in whatever secret organization they were from.

“Hey,” Red said as he came to a stop beside him. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Lance mumbled. “Allura says she can't drop us off on Earth. That it's not a priority.” He huffed. “A-and Hunk won't let me eat one-one of the l-locals!” The tears were sudden and numerous. He blubbered incoherently, and Red watched him, either frozen or apathetic.

This happened sometimes. Lance would become overwhelmed with emotion for no reason at all. And it seemed now was the time for a meltdown.

“A local?” Red said, and it was impossible to tell what he was feeling with that modulated voice and that stupid mask. He held out a hand, low. “Those little guys?”

Lance nodded, still blubbering.

Red dithered for a moment. And suddenly, he pulled out a knife.

“I'll get you one,” Red said. “Please don't cry.” Then he turned around like he really was about to go kill a local for Lance.

“You can't kill them!” Lance shouted, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him to a stop. “They're people!”

Turning back to him, Red was silent. The knife lowered slightly and gestured with his other hand.

“You said you wanted one!”

“I want one!” Lance cried. “But I don't want to kill them! I want real food!” He stomped his foot. “I hate that stupid goo and the food tastes so weird!”

Red looked down at his knife.

“Maybe there's something else on the planet we can hunt,” he said. “A something that's not people, but that tastes similar to home.”

Wiping at his messy face, Lance said, “Really?”

Red nodded vigorously.

“Yeah!”

Lance threw himself at him, hugging him tightly. As soon as his bump pressed against him, Red went stiff all over, but Lance did not let him go. This hug was happening, dammit! Red could fucking deal just this once.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you so much!”

“Anytime,” Red murmured. And after a few seconds, he lifted his arms and hugged Lance back, his hold gentle around him.

Once he got his fill, Lance pulled back and smiled delightedly at him.

“Let's go now,” he said excitedly, grabbing Red's hand. He pulled Red along, his other hand steady on his belly.

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Band Au

Keith on stage and #1sharpshooter admiring him

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We’re getting old, huh?

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beach boys

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thinking about kl who broke up when keith left for the blades. thinking about kl who still dont know how to deal with that or one another five years later. thinking about kl who have never once been normal about each other. thinking about keith who thinks the way things are right now is the better option for lance. thinking about lance who could never keep himself from keith even if he tried.

(cw for implied sexual themes)

Now, at this point, Keith is a torch that’s been engulfed in flames for far too long. It’s just a matter of time until he finds out if the fire or the wood gives out first.

“At least get dressed before you talk to me,” Lance says, cutting Keith off the very second he opens his mouth.

Keith doesn’t miss the harsh undertones in his voice, and the words die in his throat. They shrivel up and rot away too easily.

He nods, bending down to pull his undersuit over his hips and chest, to click his armor back into place while Lance is tucking his chiffon shirt into his slacks. His lips are pressed into a thin, angry line.

Keith’s desperately aware of how cramped the room they’re in is. They didn’t really care just twenty minutes ago when they hid out in this storage closet, because all that mattered was a deeply consuming need to get skin on skin, shoving fabric out of the way and making sure they’re alone.

His arm bumps against Lance’s and it once again feels like a burn, like the touch is searing, the same way it always feels with him. Lance turns away first, shuffling back, bringing as much distance as physically possible between them. Keith barely holds back a bitter laugh at the irony of it all.

He tightens his belt around his waist, and that’s that.

When Lance finally looks up from adjusting his necklaces, Keith is already watching him.

“Don’t do that,” Lance mutters, running a hand through his now-messy hair.

“Don’t do what?” Keith asks, even though he knows exactly what Lance means. This isn’t their first dance.

Lance just sighs, his eyes wandering across Keith’s features, his lashline steeped in a cocktail of near unreadable emotions. “Don’t look at me like– Not like that, Keith.”

So he reins himself back in, throws the lasso and catches himself right by the neck, pulling back and away. Back out of the danger-zone. Away from where he shouldn’t let his heart out of its tightly locked cage.

“Sorry, I–” he tries. “I– I get– I almost forgot.”

He doesn’t forget. He indulges. He lets the flames burn brighter in selfish lapses of judgment.

Lance’s face twists, schooling his expression into something that’s more neutral on purpose, into a mask, perhaps a shield. “Yeah, right,” he says, biting and icy. “Do I need to remind you that it was you who broke things off in the first place?”

(Broke things off, not broke up with me, because they never even got that far in the first place. Keith hadn’t even allowed himself that much – hadn’t allowed either of them that much. And continues not to, even five years later, no matter how much he wants to.)

“No,” Keith answers, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “I know that well enough.” He bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to distract from the way his stomach twists with frustration. “Do you want to go first?”

“Please.” Lance huffs, hands smoothing down his blouse one more time. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”

And Keith doesn’t know what to say to that, so he only plasters himself against the wall behind him, some alien cleaning utensil digging into his spine, to let Lance through.

The door opens with a creak, and Lance peeks through the opening, checking left and right before stepping outside without so much as another word to Keith.

When the door shuts behind him, Keith feels all the air leave his lungs. He feels wrung out and stretched too thin. It gets worse every time they do this, he’s pretty sure.

Eight minutes later, Keith leaves the room. Best case scenario, he finds Shiro, and Shiro’s not yet gone looking for him. Best case scenario, he doesn’t run into Lance again for the rest of the night. It’s not impossible. Shiro gets terribly chatty when he’s had Nunvil, and Lance’s role as a diplomat usually keeps him pretty tied up during most events.

The hall behind the glass doors suddenly seems more tightly packed with people and a lot more intimidating than it did half an hour ago. Keith grits his teeth, squares his shoulders, and pushes the door to the side.

Music fills the air, couples dancing move past him, the smell of bad air circulation permeates his nose. It sets him on edge. Makes his palms sweaty. Makes him too aware of his breathing patterns.

Luckily, he finds Shiro’s shock of white hair quickly enough, somewhere closer to the center of the room, chatting idly underneath one of few giant golden chandeliers hanging low from the ceilings.

But as he steps closer, realisation dawns as he sees the same light blue chiffon as earlier. Lance’s arm is draped lazily around Shiro’s shoulder, both of them talking to each other, and Lance looking more relaxed than he had all evening.

That is, until his eyes meet Keith’s, sending shards of jagged ice down his spine, freezing him in place.

Lance’s face falls visibly for a moment, for just a split second before the corners of his mouth curl up into a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes at all.

“Yo, Keith, buddy!” he exclaims, and Keith thinks he’s going to be sick. “Where’ve you been? Shiro was looking everywhere for you.”

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Keith’s lips form around a fumbled lie, stretching out into what he thinks resembles a smile as he takes the open invitation of Shiro’s outstretched arm.

There’s no way around it. Keith’s a torch engulfed in flames, and he knows the wood is going to give out first and reduce him to ashes if he doesn’t get the fire under control soon.

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I am. Normal about them

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can opener vs leg opener