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langst-is-my-unborn-baby · 2 years

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Dropping an ask down in your fab inbox! Would the fair writer consider the team pissing lance off for (insert langsty reason, like they’re all just being pricks or sth) and then lance just exploding and being a bamf as he big bro lectures the shit out of everyone (including shiro) Ending is up to you good sir of many talents I bid you adieu

The necessary author’s note: I made a few promises over the years to return to this account and to the fandom, and I’ve tried to start, and I have always failed. But I knew, the moment I went through my heaped inbox and saw your user – I had to try. You were one of my first supporters and really inspired me to get this blog as far as it went. So even if you’ve moved on, my return to VLD hell is in your honour.

Binned Jacket

Perhaps the filter system of the castle was in need of servicing as Lance’s grimaced away his inability to breath coherently. Frustration was not a foreign feeling to him, of course not. He had always dived straight into arguments, letting his insecurities burn his bridges and bloat a boisterous ego. Regardless, he stewed in a beginning anger that left his cheeks hot. Of course, anger was a secondary emotion, it built on Lance’s unexplainable sadness.

Scratch that- his sadness was most definitely explainable.

“You got rid of my jacket?” the words had left his mouthbefore his thoughts could gather.

Allura’s gleaming look inferred that she had not taken his abhorrence seriously. Shiro beside her seemingly used to and unfazed by his loud tone. The team seemed incredibly nonchalant about what he considered a very personal attack.

“As I was saying, you are defending this Universe- ambassadors to many systems now. I just need to give you all that look,” Allura expressed, an uncalloused hand pressed against her chest as she preached. That look of far-gonejoy in her eyes was one that would have brought a smile to Lance’s face.

Lance could not help but snark back. “You only scrapped my clothes.” The twisted expression of his face made him feel moments away fromglowering. “You didn’t even just ask me not to wear it, you threw it.”

“Not threw, binned,” Pidge smiled from the couch, eyes never leaving her tablet. “Rest assured I’d be there if there was some coat-tossing game, my new gadget needs something to test its strengths.”

Lance could not believe it. Well, he could. It was becoming common to be laughed off by his teammates, for his possessions to be considered with little regard. He looked around, Shiro appeared to only be standing by to ensure Lance didn’t escalate this situation. Keith was arms-crossed and sighing. Coran smiling away behind Allura. Hunk was completely absorbed in his latest recipe transcription… bless him.

“Lance, I am going to give you new clothes,” Allura laughed, although it truly sounded humourless. “You understand that, don’t you? I am just tidying your appearance.”

“Pretty-boy does not want to hear that,” Keith said, whistling lowly afterwards. Shooting Lance, a quippy smile.

His jacket. His homely possession. His most genuine reminder of his sister Rachel who wore a matching copy.

“This is ridiculous,” Lance spat. “Where is your respect?” His eyes zeroed onto Allura, he was determined to hold her gaze, her gleeful expression fell in an instant.

Like the rotting of an apple, Shiro’s eyebrows drew together, a recognisable anger in his expression. Lance felt a tinge of a sting, string strangling his heart that struggled to beat evenly. His failing hero held his eyes momentarily. No apologetic look.

“Lance, refrain from such language,” Shiro said, his fingers running through his hair as he seemed to try to hide a huff of annoyance.

“It’s just a jacket, Lance,” Keith offered, a plain smile tempted his features. Dark eyebrows drawn together in parodied confusion. Lance’s chest constricted whilst his cheeks broke a hot and maddened red. Keith was finally warming from the cold rival he once was, but Lance felt revolted instead of pleased.

“It. Is. Not. ‘Just a jacket,’ you asshole,” Lance scoffed, his fingers making air quotation marks.

Shiro sounded breathless. “Lance!”

He was almost certain that a scolding was supposed tocontinue. Lance pushed his arms out, waving them off as he lifted his chin. “No,Shiro, you all-” the words fell from his mouth harshly. “You all can just listen.”

He was certain even Pidge was finally looking at him, shifting uncomfortably in her spot. Fingers running tirelessly against her tech as she sucked in a breath.

He made eye contact with Hunk, who had finally put down his work. The latter’s face has scrunched, his lips pointed downward. But Lance had trust. Hunk looked at him with concern but not contempt, he was worried, but he had not placed forth any expression of judgement. Bless him truly.

“You ‘binned’ my only reminder of my family, of my sister.” He was certain he saw Pidge lean back, shoulders tense and square. He turned to Allura, frustrated look unbreaking. “Tell me her name.”

“What?” She stuttered, wavering ever so slightly, a humbling discomfort appearing through her faulter.

“What is my sister’s name?” Lance repeated, an eyebrow raising.He turned. “Shiro, do you even know, I’ve told you.”

The man bristled, but then rubbed the back of his neck, eyes a wobble of confliction. “I don’t know.”

Keith’s voice came quiet but blunt. “How is this relevant, why does any of that matter?”

“Because it just does!” Lance said, fighting the urge to grab whoever was closest and shook them until they understood. “My sister, my person, the one who knows me better than any of you.”

“Lance-“ Allura tried her voice but fell silent. The galaxy fellsilent.

“But I thought you knew me, I thought you respected me, but what you did.” Lance struck a fierce look to Allura. “And to what you all allowed, encouraged. That was anything but.”

Shiro looked stricken, the first to look truly ashamed. “Lance,” he said, so quietly. His call of his name was different to Allura’s. It was remorseful, it was an attempt to tend a wound, but it was like a Band-Aid to a bullet-hole.

“We aren’t some team,” Lance suddenly shifted his gaze, hisfury burned as tears on the edge of his eyes. He steeled his stare to the ceiling. “All I had to connect me to Earth, and you took it from me. Rachel. I don’t know if she’s safe, if I’ll ever see her again.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.

Allura had a hand on her chest when he finally composed himself.

“I’m here for the Galaxy that needs us. I’m here for you all. You need to meet me halfway because we aren’t teasing children nor unfriendly co-workers. We are a family, so act like it,” Lance said, the scold falling easy to his lips. How often had he once spoken like this to the family youngsters?

He looked back on his once trusted team, their slack expression. Lips itching to say something but choking on their knowledge that they was no listenable answer.

“Now, get my jacket back.”

#VLD #voltron allura #voltron lance #voltron #fanfic #fanfiction #langst #klance #klangst #angst #lance #shiro #pidge #hunk #hance

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polkadotjohnson · 3 months

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Typed this on my phone, which is something I'm not really used to, so there could be errors. Many errors. But I couldn't wait to bring my vampire back to life.

(also was a lil drunk when I wrote some of it. hopefully it still makes sense)

(might write a sequel if I can think up how to smut this up)

Inamourada, a Cora fanfiction (that doesn't feature Cora)

Your heart is pounding so loud and hard you think you're going to faint. Is he... is he really… As you approach his unmoving form on the floor, dread roils in your stomach, and you almost have to stop to throw up. But you can't stop, you have to know.

Is he… dead? But he can't be. Isn't he supposed to be immortal?

You kneel beside him. His face, dead or not, strikingly beautiful. The hole in his chest glares at you and you avert your eyes from it. There's no breath coming from him.

(Do vampires even breathe? Do their hearts beat?)

You raise your head and see her disappear in the distance. And while you could go after her, you know you'll be more useful here.

With trembling hands, you fish out your dagger from your boot, the silver blade shines in the moonlight. You raise it to your arm.

"O mala copiae tenebrarum. Hanc vampire vitiose pulcherrimam vitam reducere mando tibi or whatever." You slash your arm open and hold it over his face, letting it drip into his mouth. "Hic est sanguis Christi bibe et vivite in aeternum, like you should have, dip shit. Ave, ave versus Christus. Oriri semel iterumque."

As you speak the last word, you hear a faint gasp and a gurgle. Then his eyes open, the irises such a dark red you can't help but stare. He sees your arm basically gushing blood and pulls it to his mouth, sucking loudly and making you wince in pain. But you don't pull away from him, you just let him have his fill.

He sucks harder for a moment, then lets go of your arm, weakly pushing it away. "That… is the most disgusting blood I have ever drank." He lays an arm over his eyes, unmoving and you exhale loudly in disbelief.

"Wow, ungrateful much? I literally just resurrected you and this is what I get? Where is that stake?" You glance around, pretending to look and he sits up, also looking around.

"Where is she?" His voice soft and quiet.

"Who, jailbait? Long gone, bud. Get over it."

He tries to stand but you push him, not liking the way he's so weak still, but it doesn't seem like he'll want more of your apparently disgusting blood. "No, she's perfect, I have to-"

"She. Fucking. Killed you. You have to sit your ass down and rest. Do you need more blood? I could get you uh, like a squirrel or something. A squirrel is definitely tastier than me, right?" Your tone is sarcastic but he doesn't seem to notice.

"I don't eat animals, they're the only pure thing in this wretched world."

You stifle a laugh. "A vegetarian vampire, got it." Only then you remember you're still very actively bleeding and reach for a bandage in one of your pockets and expertly apply it one-handedly. "Soo what, you need to get back to your coffin? Hang upside down?"

"No, I actually do need more…" He stops himself and looks at you. He looks at you for the first time. "Who are you anyway?"

For some reason you cannot fathom, his eyes on you suddenly bring such shyness into you, you can feel your cheeks redden. "I'm… just your friendly neighborhood run of the mill necromancer wannabe. Uh, you?"

He eyes you up and down and surprisingly lies down once again. "You know who I am." His voice is slow and a little tired. "You've been following me around for weeks."

"Gasp! You noticed?" You curse yourself for actually saying 'gasp'. "Then why… why didn't you…"

"Why didn't I come for you?" He looks you in the eyes with a smirk as he speaks. "You don't interest me. You're weak and unremarkable."

"Unre- have I mentioned you're incredibly ungrateful? I did a spell to bring you back to life, don't think I can't turn that around, mister."

"I don't remember asking you to resurrect me."

"Well of course not, you were dead! Why do you-"

"What do you want? For your troubles?"

You hate being interrupted, but since he just asked the magic question, you let it go. "Isn't it obvious?" You stand up and do a little twirl so he can see your get up. Your black clothes and chains, your tall boots and dark makeup. "I want you to bite me!"

He has the gall to roll his eyes. "Great. Another goth."

"Excuse me? What do you mean-"

"I don't want you. Biting you means we would have a connection, and I don't…" He looks you dead in the eyes again. "Want you."

You don't know whether to cry or scream. So you do both. "Agh fuck you! Arrogant prick who can't even decide between a teen and a cougar and then ends up with neither that's what you get haha sucks to suck fuck you dick go to hell and die again for all I care…" You breathe in to spew some more insults and turn around but hesitate to leave him despite his words. He decides it for you.

"Wait."

"What? What could you possibly want?"

"Help me get back home and I'll consider it."

"I…" You'll hate yourself for this. But deep down you know that if you don't do it, you'll hate yourself even more. "Fine. Can you stand up, o master vampire?"

He punches you, but it's more of a shove. "Keep up that insolence and see where it gets you."

You hold back a sigh and help him up, his claws dig some into your arm sending an intrusive shiver down your spine. 'What the actual fuck', you mouth. You feel them go slightly deeper and he's up. "Where to? Castle? Cave? Futuristic wood and glass house?"

"Just… keep walking."

"You're fucking kidding me." Calling the house dilapidated would be a compliment. More like decrepit. Rotting. Dying. His house looks like it's dying. "Is it haunted?"

"I live in it."

"Good point." You push the front door and it opens with the loudest creak you've ever heard. "You must have one hell of a security system."

"Yes, it's called being a powerful creature of the night with such a strong aura of terror no one dares to enter." You stop and look at him to see if he's actually serious, but he's rolling his eyes again. "Why would I worry about intruders? If someone enters, they get eaten."

To be fair, the house is so secluded, deep down into the woods, a place you never knew existed, even though you've walked through these woods your whole life. You doubt anyone else knows about it.

The living room is beyond filthy, leaves and dirt everywhere, every item of furniture covered in deep layers of dust. He plops down into a dingy couch, ignoring your horrified expression. When he doesn't say anything else, you take the chance to explore, morbid curiosity winning over your desire to go home and take a long, warm shower.

The kitchen smells putrid, and soon you realize why. The fridge door is ajar and there's nothing but spoiled food in it. Dirty dishes in the sink. Dirty pans on the table. Does he eat actual food?

You return to the living room and notice some pictures above the fireplace mantel. A couple. Man and woman. Three kids. "Was this their house? Did you kill them?"

"You're still here. Wonderful."

You know he's not going to answer you, so you try something else. "Well?"

He sighs. "Well… what?"

"Are you going to do it or not?"

"I said… I would think about it. Go home and leave me alone, I can't stand to look at you anymore."

You shake your head to stop your nerves from shaking too. "After all I've done, all I've gone through, this is how I get repaid. Story of my life."

"I don't care, go away."

You shake some more, wondering why the hell you didn't bring your cigarettes with you. You could really use one right about now. "I hope you die during the night."

"No, you don't."

The only way you can think to describe what you're feeling is that you're falling for him. You're falling in hate with him.

"See you, sucker." You smile through your tears and go home.

You walk through the cemetery every other night, but don't see him again. He used to stalk around, looking at graves and breaking into mausoleums to do god knows what. When you first saw him, he was perched on top of a family grave like a gargoyle. You knew immediately what he was. The rumors were true. Which meant your childhood dream of becoming one could come true. If only you had the guts to approach him.

You followed him around, watched him meet up with the blonde woman, wondering what he could possibly want with her. But other than her, you never saw him bite anyone else.

Then…

Then there was the scuffle with the girl and he died, just like that. It surprised you how strong she was and how he seemed to be holding back.

You wonder if you'll be able to fight like that too if he bites you.

You're weak.

His words reverberate in your head.

You're weak and unremarkable.

You know that. You know. He didn't have to say it.

The scar in your arm doesn't itch anymore. You rip the bandage off and throw it aside. It's completely healed. You want to grab your dagger and open it up again. Instead, you light up a cigarette and inhale deeply, keeping the smoke in until you calm down some. When you blow the smoke, it's clear, almost transparent and you do it again, deeper this time until your heart calms down and you feel that sweet lightness all over your body.

One poison over the other, you suppose.

"Where are you?"

You're still looking at the scar when it hits you. Your stomach drops.

I actually do need more…

You jump from the bench but stumble still lightheaded, that head almost cracking open when you hit the ground.

How many days has it been? Six? Eight? The spell doesn't work twice on the same person. If he dies again, it'll be for good.

Your stamina is deplorable, but you're running. Breathless, legs feeling like they're about to fall off but you're running.

You let out a scream of frustration when you can't find the house and search around some more, trying not to fall in complete despair.

Were there any reference points? Any landmarks? Anything different? No. You couldn't remember anything. Nothing remarkable surrounding the mysterious house of the mysterious vampire.

Nothing at all. That was the point. You were looking for something, turning at every tree that looked different, every twisted path you came across. But the way was unremarkable.

Just like you.

In less than five minutes you're there. The door cracked open just like you left it, and you dread peering inside. But you do it anyway.

"Knock knock, Avon calling."

He's still on the couch where you left him to die.

"Hey asshole." You're trembling, your voice is nothing more than a whisper. He was pale before but now his face is sallow and haggard. The smallest crinkle on his brow fills you with such relief that you fall on your knees beside him. "Looks like you've got no choice but to have more of this disgusting meal, huh." You pat your boot but the dagger isn't there. In your crazed rush, you've probably lost it somewhere along the way. "Shit. Uh, stay here." He exhales softly while you run to the kitchen, scouring the drawers to find an at least somewhat clean knife. There's nothing, they're all drenched in the filthy sink water. "Ugh. Fuck." You grab one with the tips of your fingers and wipe it on your clothes as best as you can and make a new cut next to the last one and all but shove the open wound into his mouth. He only laps at it at first, but then his eyes open wide and he sucks long and hard. Instead of wincing, it sends another unwelcome shiver through your body. In a moment, he's grabbing onto your arm with both hands, claws buried in your skin and you turn your head away so he won't see your face.

"Better. So… so much better." His voice is so weak that you almost want to comfort him, but he gets back to it and this time it hurts a little. It should probably hurt more with the voracity he's going at it, but your head is so light that you're not sure what you're feeling anymore.

That's enough, you're gonna suck me dry. The words are only in your head, but he looks at you and keeps sucking. It's like that story about the guy who tries to help out a snake only for it to bite and kill him. 'It's your own fault. You knew damn well I was a snake and yet you've offered yourself to me.'

Was that how it went?

When you open your eyes, you find that hell is nothing like you pictured it. There's no lava pits, no devils with pitchforks dancing around and torturing people. Just decaying flowery wallpaper and dirty sheets. A couple of fresh oranges over a nightstand and a familiar knife.

Your arm is throbbing and you can't move it, but it's not bleeding. Maybe he really did suck you dry.

You devour the fruits without hesitation, even though you don't usually like them. They were so fresh, a complete contrast of everything else in that house.

You get up from the bed when you're done and almost take the knife downstairs to be washed, but then you remember the state of the kitchen, and you really don't want to part with your meal so soon. Soft sunlight dances through the curtains and a warm breeze makes you walk to the window. There's an orchard, and it seems to be well taken care of. Another discrepancy with the rest of the house.

Does he take care of it? You can't imagine that.

You wonder where he is. Probably asleep, since it seems to be early morning. You open the door and it's a long hallway with other doors you're for some reason are weary about opening.

"Vampire?" This is ridiculous, you should know his name. Yet, you've never asked.

"Not now." His voice is soft, but not weak as it was last night. You can't tell from which room it came from and you don't try to find out.

"I'll come back later."

You leave without another word and go about your things in a daze all day. And when the sun sets, you run. There's no need to, not anymore. But you run.

"So it wasn't gross this time?" You've just finished sweeping the floor and now you're seriously considering whether you'll have the guts to brave the sink.

He watches you for a moment, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Why don't you give me some more so I can decide?"

"Sure. If you take it yourself. With your fangs."

"You're persistent."

"One of my best traits." Not believing your luck, you put on the rubber gloves you've just found. They're somewhat gross too, but it's better than just having to shove your hands directly into the putrid water.

"Why? Why do you want to become a soulless monster who thinks of nothing but making people suffer? Nothing but feeding and spreading discord?"

You glare at him for a moment before turning your attention back to the dishes. "Do you have to do those things? I mean, besides the feeding. Can't you just like, I dunno, live your life without ruining other people's?"

"Where is the fun in that?"

"...You're despicable."

"And yet, you're doing my dishes."

If your life had a laugh track, you're sure it would pop up right about now.

"Been meaning to ask. What's your name?"

A few seconds later he still hasn't said anything, and when you turn your head to look at him, he's frowning and looking out the window. "Stay here." He leaps out the door and you realize you've missed seeing him moving this unnaturally fast. He used to do it a lot on the cemetery and-

Wait. Why did he tell you to stay here?

You glance out the window, but don't see anything, it's pitch black out. Then you hear fighting noises. Oh no, did Buffy return? Like hell you're letting her kill him again. You grab a (now gloriously clean) knife and run outside. But the one he's fighting is not a girl this time, but another man. And they're both letting the other have it. "Hey! What's going on?" The fight stops abruptly, the vampire holding the other man by the neck while said man just stares at you.

"What's that? You got your own Renfield?" The guy sounds amused despite the blood running down his nose.

"I told you to stay inside!"

You scoff. "Are you nuts? Since when do I respond to you?" You approach them with the knife by your side and the vampire tries to push the other man away. The man ignores his attempt and in a moment, he's standing right in front of you.

Oh. He's a vampire too. Handsome, but not quite as handsome as y-

No. You did not just think of him as 'your vampire'. Nope. That's not a thing that just happened.

"So… what's your story, Creature Feature?"

"I-"

"Don't talk to him." The vampire pulls the man by the collar and throws him on the ground.

"You were always the jealous type, weren't you Vincent? Never willing to share your toys."

Vincent. You have a name now.

"Yes, Sebastian. And as you can see I am not dead, you can go home now." He glares at you, willing you to get inside with his eyes, but now you're too intrigued to leave.

"You were, though. I felt it." Sebastian stands up turning his back to you so he can talk to Vincent. Ignored, as always. But this time, you don't mind.

Also, he felt it? Were they connected, like Vincent said it happens? Did one of them bite the other? You have so many questions.

"I was just weak. Had some indigestible meal and fell sick."

"Who? Renfield over here?"

You decide to interfere, because for some reason he doesn't want the other man to find out that he did indeed die. "Yeah, I'm inedible, apparently. And I was the one who offered, so I felt bad for making him sick and now I'm doing his chores."

"Hmm. I'm not sure that's how it works. It felt just like it did with Chr-"

"I am fine." Vincent smiles, forced and awkward. "I obviously did not die, how do you explain me standing here right now?"

Sebastian looks Vincent up and down. "That's what I'd like to know."

"There is nothing…" His voice is loud, and he takes a deep breath, forcing that unnatural smile again. "To know. You might have felt me fade away for a moment thanks to the foulness of the blood I had consumed."

Sebastian crosses his arms. "Never heard of something like that."

"What are you, the expert in vampire lore? There are many things we don't know, Sebastian. Like what are you still doing here since I already told you that everything is okay?"

The man dusts himself up, eyeing you one last time. "Be seeing you."

"No, you won't." Vincent grabs your shoulders and starts pushing you back inside as Sebastian leaves.

You can't help yourself. "So, what was all that jealousy about? Do I do it for you now? Are you biting me then?"

"My brother has a strong persuasive strength. If he wants, he can turn you into his slave for life. If that is your thing, make sure to have a long, nice talk to him next time he shows up."

Oh, brother. It explains the similar looks. "So, what, you're from a family of vampires? A clan?"

He breathes out a short laugh. "I wonder what kind of fiction you consume. And speaking of consume, it's time for dinner." He raises his eyebrows at you, and you sigh.

"Fine, but you gotta stop before I pass out this time." You cut up your arm and offer it to him. "What did you do before you had your own personal blood bank?"

He looks like he's not going to answer, so you pull your arm back. "I can persuade people too. But differently. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses."

"So you could persuade me."

"Why waste energy when you're so willing?" He sucks on the wound with considerably less fervor, but his noises are still enthusiastic. Was it a change in your diet? That couldn't possibly be it, you always eat the same junk. Then…

He pulls your arm closer for a moment and licks the wound clean. Goosebumps start forming almost immediately.

You wonder how healthy it is to lose this much blood so often. "Would you grab me another orange?"

"Help yourself." He turns and leaves before you have a chance to ask him about the orchard.

Next time you visit, he's actually hanging upside down from a tree, and there's a crumpled form in the ground next to him.

"Who's that?"

"Dinner." Is all he says.

You stretch your neck to see the person's face, but don't recognize him. "Is he dead?"

"Probably not. I'll take him back in a moment."

It's out of your mouth before you can think about it. "Was he tastier than me?"

"Not really. Too much alcohol in his system. And probably some illicit substances too."

It makes you happy. You want to kick yourself for feeling this way, but it does. "And why are you hanging like that? Trying to turn into a bat?"

He raises himself on the branch like a gymnast and jumps off. "Just exercising a little. What do you want?"

You almost scream at him. He knows what you want. "...Can I finish cleaning? I don't like to leave it half done."

He shakes his head, throwing the (hopefully) unconscious man over his shoulder. "Suit yourself." In a blink, he's gone, and you stride to the house. You're curious to see more of the second floor, but also weary. Are you going to find corpses on the beds? The house owners maybe?

You examine the pictures above the fireplace again. Man, woman, three boys. There are individual portraits too, which you didn't notice the other day, and you recognize the face in one of them. Large, beautiful eyes, and despite the photo being black and white, you're sure they're not red. Possibly brown. Thin, long, nose and perfect cheekbones, although a little chubby, given how young he seems to be. An innocent smile the type you could never imagine on that wretch's face. "So you weren't always evil." In one of the other portraits you think you can recognize Sebastian, younger too and also smiling like an angel. There's no portrait of the other boy.

So this really was his house.

In another picture, the woman who's obviously his mother is looking after the orchard, and in the next, he and her are playing in it, both with dazzling smiles, and that answers another one of your questions. Maybe he's less of a monster than he lets on, if he wants to keep her memory alive like that.

The bedrooms are considerably easier to clean than the kitchen and the bathrooms, but when you're done, you're still so tired that you fall on the bed, a different room than the one you woke up in the other day. There were a few games and old magazines, some of the pages starting to crumble. You stored them as safely as you could in the closet.

The third brother probably died young. You leave the bed with a start, afraid he'll get mad at you for lying in it. "Vincent? Are you home?"

"Yes."

And because he's answering all your questions today, you follow his voice to the next door, one you haven't been to yet. Maybe he'll tell you more.

The room is a library, and on the few walls without any bookshelves, there are paintings, beautiful works of art from artists you don't recognize. He's sitting on an ancient but comfortable looking chair, the book in his hands so worn out you can't make out the cover. "Would you tell me about your brother?"

He sighs. "I already did, he's an insufferable maniac with a penchant for torture."

You can't believe he's the lesser of two evils. "No, I meant… the other one."

He raises his eyes from the book, staring a hole into you, and you swallow, taking a small step back without even realizing it. "I'm sorry. Forget… forget I asked. Pretend I didn't. I'm gonna go grab the broom so I can clean up a bit in here." Great, look what you've done. Now he won't answer anything anymore.

You don't even look up at him when you return to the library, but you can see he's still sitting in the same place, book now forgotten over his lap. You feel his eyes on the back of your neck while you sweep the floor and you can't focus on it. You're sure you've sweeped the same spot three times and it's still dirty.

"She came in one night and killed my parents." His sudden voice makes you jump, and you're pretty sure you let out some sort of embarrassing noise too. "Ate both of them right in front of us. Then she started feeding off of me and my brothers. Her control was absolute. I was twelve, Sebastian was ten. And Christopher…" He sighs shortly. "Christopher was six. It was like that for years. Years. She'd take turns with us so we wouldn't get too weak. And she taught us things. How to play instruments, how to fight. I guess she wanted to start that clan you're so crazy about. And when I turned fourteen, she taught me something else too and I was in love with her. She was perfect. I couldn't get enough of her. Her cold murder of my beloved parents a distant memory in the back of my mind.

"She let me have a drop of her blood when I was eighteen and it tasted like death and it was exquisite. I started killing for her, bring her victims. Christopher was weak, too weak. I'd bring her someone else on his days or offer myself again. I don't remember how old I was when she bit me. Twenty four? Twenty eight? Sebastian was so jealous of her that he begged her to bite him too and she did. That night she had us both, even though he could barely move as the bite took hold. She didn't care.

"And just like that there were more mouths to feed and we'd have to go far away so the townsfolk wouldn't get suspicious. One week we destroyed an entire village. It sated us enough that we could return and settle down for a while.

"She didn't have any reason to bite him then, we were so full. But she did it anyway. There was no rhyme or reason to her. I knew he wasn't going to make it. He was weak. He was going to perish on the first night, unable to handle the transformation. I fed him all night, holding his hand and wiping his face, and he pulled through. I dreamed of my parents, about how disappointed they were in me. Of what I'd become and when I woke up, her spell was broken. I ran upstairs to my parents bedroom, which she had taken for herself and almost screamed. The perfect creature was nowhere in sight. On the bed there was only an old shroud, filthy and foul, rotting. I touched it and she grabbed my arm. Her face a waking nightmare. There were no eyes, only empty holes. A bat nose, horrendous, wet and red. And her fangs were infinite. Her fangs were eternal. I was falling for it again, staring into them and seeing that beautiful demon again, her soft hair, perfect body. I leaned in to kiss her but was pushed away. I fell hard against the door and Christopher was there and his hand was on the window latch while he pulled her to him with the other.

"Don't!"

He smiled and opened it. "I love you."

"He vanished before I could do anything, turned to dust before my eyes, but he'd taken the thing in the bed with him. They were both gone just like that, and I felt like my body was imploding. Coming apart from the inside. In an instant Sebastian was there too and he picked me up and held me tight.

"He was gone the next day and I stayed."

"..." No matter how you try, you can't think of a single thing to say. Your feet feel like they're stuck to the floor. "I… I'm…"

He's in front of you in an instant, his claws softly scratching your chin. "Will I have to spell it out for you? I won't bite you because you remind me of him too much. So you can quit this housekeeping nonsense and leave." He turns to do just that but you manage to grab his arm

"Wait! Can't… can't I keep coming anyway? I won't bug you about it anymore…"

"And why would you want to do such a thing?"

"I like y- your company."

He buffs. "You're a terrible judge of character."

"Yeah, I know. I'm gonna finish up the library now." You push him away weakly and he leaves to do who knows what.

Only then do you try to wrap your mind on everything he's just told you. You can't say it justifies the way he is, but it certainly explains it.

You know your chances of him biting you have dropped considerably, but you don't really care right now. You didn't lie to him, you really do enjoy his company, asshole as he may be.

You can only imagine it has to do with your apparent masochistic tendencies.

You still let him drink from you every now and then, and he isn't shy about letting you know how tasty it is. You are. You'd blush, but your blood leaves your body before it can reach your face.

"Was it really bad the first time you drank it?"

"It tasted like poison." He licks the wound and you watch his tongue, feeling a little thirsty yourself.

He's a murderer. A monster. You really shouldn't be around him. But… you want to be like him, always have. You've told yourself time and again that if your dream ever came true that you'd only go after evil people, rapists and politicians and whatnot. But what if you change too? What if you don't care?

You barely care now.

Maybe the both of you should be locked up.

It's a moot point anyway, since he's adamant about not biting you. Maybe you should prove to him that you could be strong. You're almost sure you've seen some dumbbells when you cleaned the attic.

(He did mean physically strong, right?)

You can barely lift it one inch off the ground. "Great. Uh, maybe I could start with just the bar?"

You hear glass breaking downstairs and freeze. You were sure he was asleep, as the sun hasn't set yet. "Vincent?"

There's a commotion outside, and from the window you can see people. People with torches, and the smell of gasoline reaches your nose. "Fuck! Vincent!"

Your voice draws their attention and a rock flies right beside your head. You step back but it's too late. Everything goes dark.

"Ah…" Why does it hurt so much? And why is it so hot? "No…" You try to get up but there's something heavy on top of you. A beam from the ceiling apparently. But the real pain comes from whatever had impaled your stomach. A… stake? No, it's just another piece of wood. Too big to be a stake.

Is he dead?

"Vin… cent…"

"I'm here."

"You're okay." You taste blood on your cough.

"They're not. And neither…" He comes into view, disheveled and drenched in blood. "Are you." He lifts the beam off of you, and you're pretty sure most of your ribs are broken. "If I remove the other one you'll bleed out almost instantly."

"Then… if you bite me, it'll heal, right?"

He shakes his head, and while the look in his eyes is almost certainly sad, you're pretty sure it's because he's about to lose his favorite meal. "It would take a while for the bite to hold. Days. With Christopher it was fast because she was more powerful." He runs the back of his fingers over your face and you close your eyes.

"Can't… can't you do it anyway? I really wanted to feel your mouth on me at least once." It sounds vaguely sexual, but since you're dying, you couldn't care less.

You're not entirely sure if he kisses you out of pity or because there's so much blood coming off your mouth that he really doesn't want to miss that last snack. You thought it'd be cold, but when his tongue touches yours, it's warm and soft. "Do you think you're strong enough to bite me?"

"H-huh… I…" can barely speak, so no.

He touches one of your piercings but pulls his hand back with a hiss. "Silver. All of them?"

You nod. That is some piece of vampire lore it had escaped you. He can't touch silver. Finally it makes sense why your blood tasted bad that first time when you remember your long lost silver dagger.

"Can you take one off?"

You try to raise your arm. "Can't… move…"

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, going back to the piercing, struggling with it due to his claws. When he gets it off, he punctures and rips his neck open with it before tossing it aside. "Have as much as you can." He leans over you, his pale bleeding neck right by your mouth. So you do.

The taste makes you recoil at first, but you keep going and then it's delicious. A nectar. The best thing you've ever tasted. "By the way," his voice is weaker. "I have no idea if this is going to work, and if I pass out, be prepared for a fiery death."

You release his neck. "Then go."

He just shakes his head and kisses you again, and you hold him tight against you.

"Do you think Brazil has a high crime rate?"

"Are you suggesting we move to a place that is known as the tropical country?"

"Hmmweellll… why don't you want to go to Romania?"

He looks at you as if you just asked the dumbest question he's ever heard. "Competition."

"Oh."

"Besides… it's where Sebastian lives."

"Are you kidding me? Then we really should go! We could stay with him until we find some place."

"Have you forgotten?" He pushes you against the side of the burnt house and bites your neck. "I don't share my toys."

"Ah…" His comment should make you want to punch him, but his bite makes your knees too weak for that. "Let's just drive then. We can live in the car until we figure it out." You make sure all the blinds and window covers are in the back seat and open the passenger door for him. "Sorry about the house."

He shakes his head. "It was just a place. They can't take what matters the most." He taps the side of his head with a claw in case you didn't understand. Then he sits down, holding the vase with the seedling, and you almost tell him to put it in the backseat, but the way he's looking at it tells you maybe he wants to keep it closer to him just a little longer.

#david dastmalchian #cora #fanfic #why didnt he use his claws on his neck #something about not being able to hurt himself with them but i forgot to write that part fml

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vldfanenesp · 1 year

Text

Hilos De Telar - Polydin AU Fanfiction

Los paladines de Voltron no solo deben enfrentar al emperador Zarkon, a su ejército Galra y liberar a toda la galaxia, sino también deben comprender que son esos sentimientos que sienten los unos por los otros y descubrir si son reales o solo un efecto más de su conexión con el arma legendaria que es Voltron.

Reseña [X]

Head Canons

Características generales del UA [X]

Ships polydines [X]

Romanticas:

Kidge, Klance (Leith), Sheith, Heith, Plance, Shidge, Hidge, Hance, Shance y Shunk.

Romances de Allura (En desarrollo)

Coran x Ilak (Corak??) (En desarrollo)

Fanfics

Primera Parte: Multicolores

1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9 Completo

Segunda Parte: Macrame

2.0 2.1 2.2 2.3 2.4 2.5 2.6 2.7 2.8 2.9 2.10 2.11 2.12 2.13 2.14 Completo

Tercera parte - Punto y seguido

3.0 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 3.7 3.8 3.9 3.10 Completo

Cuarta parte - Bordado (nuevo)

4.0 4.1 4.2 4.3 4.4 4.5

Epilogo: Code: Paladin blood

E.0 E.1

Aventuras Adicionales

Especial: Bond-fire Completo

1.0 1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.6 1.7 1.8 1.9

Especial Fic/Aventura adicional: Base espacial BX-21L7 Completo

BX.0 BX.1 BX.2 BX.3 BX.4 BX.5 BX.6 BX.7 BX.8 BX.9 BX.10 BX.11 BX.12 BX.13 BX.14 BX.15 BX.16 BX.17 BX.18 BX.19 BX.20

Especial: Pecado de sangre Completo

P.0 P.1 P.2 P3 P.5

Links fuera de Tumblr

Hilos de Telar - Fanfiction.net

Hilos de Telar - Wattpad

Hilos de Telar - Archive of Our Own

Ultima actualización: 29/09/2023

#voltron fanfiction #voltron fanfic #masterlist #fanfiction #fanfic

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paladumb · 6 years

Text

ninety-nine percent

hance / 1k / read on ao3

they visit a planet that looks to the stars.

they visit a planet that looks to the stars and has the green of life like earth and red sand and lilac waters. // varadero inverted, lance calls it, and doesn’t sleep at all their first night there, instead choosing to spend the night lying in the darkness of the beach, listening to the waves washing up at his bare feet and pretending that he’s home.

hunk joins him the second night. lance curls into him and they spend hours spooned together, looking out over the waters. the sand filters through their fingers, the grain only barely bigger than the softness of earth’s sand. // “what do you think that says about the way erosion works here?” hunk asks, carding a hand through lance’s hair. “the gravity is just lighter than earth. pidge and i checked, it’s like 99% of earth’s gravity or something. that’s got to affect everything in some way.”

lance bites his tongue and thinks about it, and wonders if he’s lighter, why his heart still feels so heavy. they’ve been in space for years. at least, he thinks they have. // he puts his old ID up next to his face when he looks in the mirror, to gauge how much time has passed. his hair is longer. he’s given up on straightening it. his jaw has angled, and he has to shave much more often now.

hunk says his eyes have stayed the same, if nothing else. lance thinks he’s a fucking liar. lance thinks his eyes have changed the most. he remembers what it felt like to look at the world wide-eyed, look at the sky with the ignorance of a child. // he knows what the vacuum of space feels like, now. how it feels to have nothing pulling at your feet.

hunk spends the third night in their bed, because it rains, and unlike lance, hunk isn’t nearly as fond of the rain. keith likes the rain though, and he sits on the beach with lance, both of them in nothing but their shorts in the wet sand, hair dripping into their eyes. // another thing that hasn’t changed: lance feeling like less next to keith. his shoulders have broadened, and lance’s still feel scrawny. like a boy’s.

“i didn’t know you liked the rain,” keith says, and lance wants to punch him.

“i like water,” lance tells him, and keith nods awkwardly and looks back out at the ocean.

he doesn’t speak any more, and together they watch the sun rise, the sky dawning with cool colors.

during the day, the three moons hover at the horizon, and the white dwarf star soaks everything in harsh light. it’s ugly, like cold LED lightbulbs, and the population of the planet is gray-green from it. // lance spends his time there quiet, sleepy but not sleeping, attached to hunk’s side. shiro and allura side-eye him, worried, but lance puts up with the day in order to get to the night.

he and hunk make up new constellations, since they can’t see their own. “the great god of war and pestilence, frames janco,” lance says, outlining a lumpy figure in the sky with his finger. next to him, hunk dissolves in giggles. “see, the two red stars up there, those are his eyes. and then he has a spear in his one hand - see how some of those stars over there align?”

“yeah, and that’s his nemesis, uhhh, spider macguire - ” hunk says and lance groans and rolls away in the sand.

“please tell me you’re not talking about that stupid old movie again.”

“let me like old comic book movies, lance, it’s not that stupid - ”

“hunk, are you literally kidding it’s like a century old - ”

“and it’s aged just fine, my tina showed it to me when i was a kid - ”

“your - ” lance says and then stops, staring up at the constellations of frames janco and spider macguire. // the lighthearted mood implodes, and then they’re left with the stars glittering coldly above them and the sound of the ocean, carrying on for miles.

“sorry,” hunk says.

“no,” lance says. “honey.” he crawls back to where hunk is lying on his back, staring at the stars, and curls up next to him, putting his head on his chest. “don’t be sorry.”

“i just miss my moms so much,” hunk says. “i miss how my mom and i would study together and i miss listening to her sing and i miss my tina’s cooking and i miss her hugs. no one here gives hugs like my tina.”

lance threads their fingers together and sighs. “i’m just worried - if we go home while the war’s still on - ”

“we could be followed,” hunk says, “or tracked, or worse. i know. sometimes it just hurts too much to deal with it. and like - i wish i could like, do a keith or something - ”

“ugh,” lance says.

“ - and just like, run away. but i’d come back to the castle. i just. i just want to go home.”

lance reaches up and presses his lips to hunk’s. the hand that lance isn’t holding comes up to rest at the nape of his neck. hunk’s fingers trace words onto the skin there: love you. love you. love you.

“you’re the only piece of home i have here,” lance finally murmurs. “you are home.” // he pauses, and when hunk doesn’t say anything, he adds: “i miss varadero beach. i miss my mami, and my papi, and marco and veronica and luis, i miss them more than anything in the universe. but you’re here.” love you, hunk says. “and wherever you are. that’s home.”

they watch the sun and the moons rise, and when the light hits them, it feels a little warmer.

#hance #hance fic #hunk x lance #lance x hunk #hance fanfic #voltron #voltron fanfic #voltron fic #hance fanfiction #voltron fanfiction #mine #fic #fics

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kirishwima · 7 years

Note

# 20 ! ( i find it super interesting and pairing of your choice :)) )

#20: “But god never came, did he.”

I enjoyed writing this way more than i expected to lol, thanks! I chose to go with Lance because I don’t write enough about the two but wow, it is uh, way angstier than i expected it to be lol, hope you like it!

*****“Have you ever thought about the stars? Like really thought about them?”

It’s dark, street lights have long turned on and he’s laying on his back on the cramped roof, the buzzing sound of the rural city pulsing at his fingertips, the sounds of cars and people talking blending into one from such a distance.

There’s the moon, the night clear and air sharp, and the stars; so many, so endless, so…

So lonesome.

“There’s just so many of them” he continued, taking a drag of his cigarette and tapping on it so the ashes fall beside him. “There’s millions and billions of stars. And we think they’re all bright, and amazing.”

He felt the body next to his shift, dark skin illuminated by moonlight, hazel eyes piercing at him.

“But we can’t count the stars. We don’t have a name for every single one star in existence. If one star disappeared, the world would move on, and no one would ever know that star is gone.”

He turned to face the boy besides him; his face contoured, intent and listening.

“I feel like one of them. Of the disappearing stars.” he confessed, throwing his cigarette to the side.

“But you’re not. If you disappeared I’d know, and I’d miss you.”

Hunk sat up, shifting closer to Lance until he was looking down onto Lance, who was sprawled on their shared blanket, gaze fixated to the sky before Hunk blocked his way, like the sun hid the stars in the early morning.

“You would wouldn’t you? But everything’s got a start and an end. Why can’t I choose mine?”

“Because it’s not..it’s not up for you to decide. There’s a natural course of things, there’s so much life to see. So much for us to do.”

Lance smiled at that, leaning up to peck Hunk’s lips before plopping back down.

“Yeah, you’re right. I said too much, sorry.” he shrugged.

Hunk looked to his face a while longer but said nothing, choosing instead to lay back down and tug Lance in a hug that could convey everything that wasn’t said.

It’s not that Lance felt sad.It’s more of an emptiness.

There was a hollow in his chest that didn’t seem to want to leave him be, no mater how much he tried to fill it up with kisses and starlight, they all left soon after, leaving that same hollow space back in his chest.

But there was good. There was family, the family he loved and loved him back, and there were friends to laugh with and ice cream and the beach and there was Hunk.

There was Hunk.

The first time they met Lance could’ve sworn the sun swam in Hunk’s eyes, a bright five-year old with a shy smile and a t-shirt with a sunflower; Lance still remembered that shirt, he called Hunk the ‘Sunflower boy’ for so long after, even when that shirt was passed down to Hunk’s little nephew years later.

There was Hunk and his hugs that felt like summer and the kisses that tasted like cinnamon.

Life wasn’t perfect, but it was okay. It was good.

And Lance would hold on.

*****

The time after missions holds a different air than any other.

It’s somber yet electric, like a static shivering that’s ready to burst into a jolt at any minute yet never does, everyone far too tired and frustrated to do much else than wipe the blood off their armour and lay their bodies down, feeling the ache in every single muscle.

This time felt different.

Lance returned with a bruised rib and a gash on his arm, but Hunk, Hunk returned with a broken arm and leg that had him be immediately sent to the healing pods.

It’s been well over an hour, Lance had already changed out of his armour and into his same old jacket and jeans, sitting at the steps of the pod and counting down the seconds until Hunk’s frozen face emerged, until he could hear his boyfriend’s breaths and feel his skin warm and flush against Lance’s.

He heard the swishing sound of the pod and stood, readying himself to balance Hunk before he stumbled.Hunk found balance on the back of the pod, taking a minute to orientate himself before locking eyes with Lance.

“Hey..how long was I out?”

“Just an hour. I got you your clothes to change into, and Coran made some kind of uh…food…substance, if you’re hungry.”

Hunk smiled and that was all it took for the worry in Lance’s heart to gnaw a little less, seeping further away when Hunk leaned close to peck Lance’s cheek

.“How could i possibly say no to Coran’s um, wonderful..cooking?” Hunk grinned, earring a snort from Lance.

They left the room hand in hand, and everything felt right. Better.

But the fear of a frozen face and bloodied noses kept Lance up for nights on end.

*****“Do you think there’s a god?”

It’s late, he knows, or by the Castle’s standards it’s supposed to be, the lights dimmed and resembling what a night on solid ground should look like.

He’s nestled into the crook of Hunk’s elbow, another battle preceding their sleep that brought bruises to their bodies, but more allies to their cause. Lance began to wonder if it was worth the hits.

“I do. You know that.”

Hunk’s tone was soft, as soft as the fingers weaning through Lance’s hair. It was getting longer, he knew, but cutting them meant he was admitting that time was passing, and the very thought made his gut turn.

“I know. But after all of this..do you believe so, still?”

Hunk sighed.“I…I don’t know” he admitted, his nose scrunched in thought, “I used to think that this would end without trouble, but now…now I’m not sure.”

He shifted to his side, his face inches away from Lance’s.

“I’d pray for this to end, for Allura to have her planet, her people back, for the Galra to see reason and just stop; I thought a god, any god by this point would’ve done something…”

“But god never came, did he.”

Hunk’s breath is warm on Lance’s face, their hands finding each others and interlacing, both content on looking to their knuckles.

“I still have hope” Hunk broke the silence, “I said I don’t know but..there’s still hope. Things are slowly looking up.”

“Are they?”

“We started out as five humans and two aliens, and now we’ve got a whole coalition on our side ready to fight for what’s right. I’d say they are, yeah.”

Lance smiled, the warmth of Hunk’s eyes, of his upturned lips, slowly finding its way through Lance’s heart and planting sunflowers in the empty spaces of his ribs.

“You’re like the sun.”

“As in, round and hot?” Hunk winked, and it took every effort Lance had in him to not shove him off the bed with how hard he was shaking with laughter.

“As in warm. And nice. And gentle but fierce” Lance continued when they both calmed, the only sound in the room being their interlaced breaths.

“You’re blinding and beautiful and have a heart that could melt glaciers” Lance smiled, relishing in the way Hunk’s nose reddened.

“If I’m a..If I’m a sun then what are you?”

Lance thought about it for a moment.In any other circumstance he’d probably say a star.Nice from far away, but collapsing in on itself up close, insignificant in the long run.

But he wasn’t a star, and Hunk wasn’t the literal sun.They were just two teens trying to make sense of the situation they found themselves in.

“A sunflower.” he replied.

Hunk’s smile was as bright as newborn nebulas, the way he gleamed at the phrase.

“Not a star?”

“Maybe a Hollywood one” he grinned, “but no, not a star. Not..not insignificant.”

“Not insignificant” Hunk agreed, “You’re like..I’d say the moon but cold and mysterious isn’t your style so-“

Lance flicked his arm with a pout.

“Yeah okay I deserved that” Hunk huffed a laugh, bringing a hand back to wrap around Lance’s waist.

“You’re the Earth then.”

“The Earth?”

Hunk hummed.“Full of life, full of hope, and a survivor even when things feel bleak. Like earth!”

Like Earth.

Lance shut his eyes, settling into Hunk’s embrace.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he asked, already knowing what kind of smile Hunk was sporting.

“I mean, I don’t mind hearing it more…”

“You goof. I love you.”

Hunk kissed his forehead, settling his chin over the top of Lance’s head.

“And I love you too.”

With drowsiness in his eyes, Lance thought of Earth, it’s blues and hues and the way it moved around the sun in a gentle dance, fitting in place and standing it’s ground in the face of adversity.

He made a mental note to give Hunk the biggest of hugs tomorrow morning.

For now he’d settle with a breathy ‘i love you’ and dreams of Earth and sunflower fields.

******

anyway i love Hance and hold the firm belief that Hunk would give the warmest greatest hugs and drreamworks can fight me over this

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