#he looks like hes saying that the same way pidge say | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-californicationist · 9 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 08)

Soap/Reader — MDNI 18+

Sorry for the wait as usual. Hope y’all can forgive me!

/:/:/:/:/:/:/

FEBRUARY — FRIDAY: 7 days until the wedding

In the month or so after Christmas, your relationship with Johnny had progressed considerably. He was on a particularly challenging tour, but you only heard about his work in sparse mentions. Most of his conversations were centered around your relationship “after we tell Pidge”.

It was all he wanted to talk about.

“After we tell Pidge, we can look for a place together in Glasgow. What do you say, lass?”

“After we tell Pidge, we can take trips with them. Always wanted to see Iceland.”

“After we tell Pidge…”

And on and on and on. It wasn’t that you weren’t excited to be with him. You adored him, and he seemed to feel the same way about you. But, telling Pidge was scaring you out of your damn mind. In the worst case scenario, you’d be losing your best friend and the man that you…

Careful, that dark voice was back in your head , don’t want to say the word, huh?

The man that you… liked a considerable amount. Not love. Love was a commitment. You were not in love.

The dark voice cackled. You ignored it.

You were going to see him this weekend for the combination stag and hen party, and you could think of little else. But, you had plenty to work on. As the maid of honor, this was your time to shine. You needed to prepare for more than just seeing Johnny. In fact, you were about to have six girls at your tiny apartment for a slumber party tomorrow night. The whole 600 square feet of your place was decorated in gold glitter and streamers. There were big B-R-I-D-E letters above your bed, and a giant inflatable diamond ring was propped up on your futon. You’d already sprayed Marlowe twice with the water bottle for threatening it with her claws.

Tonight, though, you were alone. You had asked Johnny if he would fly in early, but he hadn’t been able to confirm. So, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your phone, dressed only in his shirt, praying for some miracle.

You stayed up as late as you could, but still no call.

SATURDAY — Early morning: 6 days until the wedding

Your phone buzzed where it lay against your chest. You slowly awoke, and it was still dark outside. Bleary and only semi-conscious, you picked it up without looking at the screen,

“Hello?” You croaked.

“Mo mèirleach,” he whispered, “Open the door, hen. It’s fuckin’ frigid.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. Johnny was outside? You looked at the clock. It was 0311.

“I’m downstairs! Buzz me up.”

You did, and then you waited, waking up more and more as you stood in the kitchen, drinking some water to clear your dry throat.

He knocked softly, and you let him in. Immediately, and without so much as dropping his rucksack, he pulled you into his arms. You smelled his sweat, a strong hint of fire or smoke, and something you couldn’t quite place. It was almost like gasoline, but not quite. He’d come straight from the field.

“Hey,” he pressed his forehead to yours and kissed you gently, smelling your skin and nuzzling into your hair.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, hugging him a little tighter.

Having him back was making you feel like no time had passed at all. He held you just as he did when he told you goodbye in December, and now, all of January felt like some wasted dream.

You looked behind him,

“Where are the others? I thought you said they’d be coming to the party this weekend.”

“Put them up at a wee hotel. The Indigo, just a few blocks away. But, I’ve been sleepin’ on the fuckin’ floor too many nights, now. And I wanna be in my woman’s arms instead.”

His woman. Your heart clenched in your chest. He noticed your emotional response to his words; always the observant one. His smile felt so good, even though he had caught you in his snare,

“Aye. You’re my woman, aren’t you?”

Huge, rough hands warmed your skin as they snaked underneath your shirt, reaching up across your belly, finding your hanging breasts and squeezing them ever so gently.

“Shower with me, lass. I’m right filthy.”

“Alright,” you nodded, and he pulled your shirt off the rest of the way, discovering the nothing you were wearing underneath.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Johnny lamented, holding you at arm’s length to study your skin and curves with a deep admiration, “Look at you, mèirleach. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dreamin’.”

You led him to the bathroom, which you doubted was big enough for the both of you, and he stripped off all of his dirty clothes. You helped him, peeling him apart, layer by layer, discovering him in pieces.

His broad chest filled your vision in the tiny washroom, and you latched onto his nipple, tasting the salt from his sweat as you did and listening to him moan. He laughed from the sudden sensation of it,

“It’s sensitive, lass. Easy…”

Your eyes found his, showing him that you knew what it felt like, and you did not relent. You enjoyed watching him squirm beneath you, his hands resting on the side of your neck, threatening to pull you away when he became overwhelmed.

You gave him a break, kissing across his tattooed ribs and over his belly. He lifted your face up to his, pressing you against the bathroom counter, growling in whispers at you,

“Careful, thief. Don’t go givin’ me ideas.”

“What kind of ideas, Johnny?” You teased, dragging his boxers down over his plump ass to squeeze his cheeks in your hands.

“Ideas about what I’d like to put in that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

He grabbed your hand and shoved it onto his hard cock, still covered by his boxer briefs, the fabric askew and taut, ready to come off.

“See what you fuckin’ do to me, thief?”

You smiled, staring down at the evidence of what you had done to him. You took his hand and slowly moved it between your legs, letting him curl and experimental finger up just far enough to dip into your wetness.

“See what you do to me?”

He shuddered, his body falling forward, and he caught himself with his free hand on the countertop, pinning you beneath him. He was playing inside of you with his fingertip, as achingly slowly and gently as could be, barely moving it, basking in your warmth. His face contorted into a twisted grimace, and he grunted,

“Fuckin’ hell, mèirleach. Get in the damn shower, or I’ll have you right here, lass.”

The shower curtain rings hissed across their metal rod as he followed you inside. You washed your hair, and you used your soapy hands to wash his. The soap turned brown with dirt and sand, and you made a face, laughing,

“Johnny! You are filthy.”

“Yeah, we ran into some trouble at the end of our mission. Lost contact with base. Had to camp in the wee mountains for a few nights, tryin’ not to freeze to death.”

“Holy shit…”

You pitied him, using your vanilla scented soap to scrub down his body for him, letting him be treated to your sudsy massage.

“Knowin’ I was comin’ back to you kept me goin’. I dreamt about this wee shower, hen. Even Ghost was surprised that I was able to keep my whingin’ to a minimum. But, I knew you were here and I wasnae gonna let anythin’ stop me from comin’ home to you.”

He bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back, letting the water wash over you both, bathing you in the heat of each other. He pulled away, grinning like he’d won something, and you felt the blush rise into your cheeks.

You made the hand signal for him to turn around and he spun, giving you his wide back, planting both of his hands on the wall like you were going to search him.

You started at his neck, washing away days of dirt and grime, feeling his swollen muscles pull and push against his bones. He had a new tattoo on his spine. It was a little Gaelic word that you couldn’t read.

With your fingertip, you traced over the black ink, softly rubbing over the raised skin, healed but fresh. He stilled, realizing you’d noticed it.

“Gealladh. It means ‘promise’.”

You wiped it clear of soap and lay your lips to it, kissing it softly, making him tremble beneath you. You tried to pronounce it, whispering it against his skin.

The rest of the shower went quickly, and by the time you were clean, he was ready to get dirty again, fondling you and rubbing across his curved length hungrily.

He wrapped you in your towel and watched you braid your hair, kissing your neck and sharing your toothbrush. You tried not to be grossed out by it, but you made a face and he rolled his eyes, spitting out the paste into your sink and trying to kiss you with his messy lips. You giggled, leaving him in the bathroom to finish up.

The cool air in your apartment made you clamber to get under the covers, eager to warm up and anxious for him to join you. He sauntered out of the bathroom looking like some Greek god, wet and tanned, tattooed and scarred, fresh from the bonds of war.

He threw his towel down with yours and climbed into bed next to you, curling you up in his arms, sighing with the most delighted contentment. His big jaw pressed into the side of your neck, looking for purchase, and he began to suck and lick at your skin, traveling down your shoulder to your nape, sending shivers down your arms.

“Did you miss me, mo mèirleach?” His voice was so quiet, you could barely hear him.

“I did, mo chridhe,” you whispered back, turning your body to face him.

He took both of your hands in both of his and kissed your forehead. All of his sexual overtones and lurid advances in the shower had somehow been washed away, and as the orange blush of dawn came through your window, he looked changed. His hair was soft, the mohawk all grown out and curling at the tips, his eyes glassy and full of something that looked suspiciously like hope.

“I know this has been hard on you, lass. I’ve been more than just a wee bit selfish, and I want you to know I’ll make it right. I promise you that. Do you hear me?”

You nodded, pressing your cheek to his chest, inching closer to him. He wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you too close.

Did you believe him? Would everything work out for the best? Or were you continuing down a path that would lead to ruin? How easy it was for him to convince you of the opposite. He could lead you like a lamb to the slaughter, and you’d go willingly, bleating up at him with all your love and affection as he pushed you into the chute.

His arm became heavy, and you heard his breaths lengthen in his chest, and you knew he was asleep. You had an alarm set, so you curled up in his warmth, letting him doze, allowing yourself to sink into the murky blackness of sleep along with him.

SATURDAY — Lunchtime: 6 days until the wedding

Johnny had changed into something clean and left you in bed, kissing your face and promising all sorts of filthy things to you after the bar crawl tonight. He begged you to dance with him when you wound up at the club, washing away your worries about Pidge, claiming she’d be too drunk to notice. You rushed him out, warning him she’d be here for lunch, and washed your sheets.

Sure enough, your phone rang and Pidge was outside your apartment, screaming with six other girls to be buzzed up not an hour after Johnny left, and you breathed a sigh of relief they’d missed each other coming and going.

You had the whole day planned out. Lunch was at a little cafe near the river, perfect for a photo op or two. Then, you’d booked a nail salon for mani-pedis for the whole squad. After that, it was back to the apartment to put on your faces before going “out-out”.

For the most part, the day had been a wild success. Pidge was already a little tipsy from the non-stop mimosas, and even though your bank account had seen better days, it wasn’t that bad. Now, you were in the middle of the evening ferality. Someone had ordered a pizza and there was hairspray in places you didn’t think hairspray could go. Marlowe was hiding in her cubby under your bed, and you were already done getting ready.

You’d told everyone it was black and white themed. Ham and Pidge would be in white, with all of you in black, and the goal at the end of the night was for them to find each other by hopping from bar to bar. The stag would chase the hen through downtown Glasgow, and you’d planned to have them all end up at The Berkeley Suite.

There were girls everywhere. It was like a bomb had gone off in your apartment, and there wasn’t really a space for privacy except for the bathroom (as long as you shooed everyone out of it first).

“I’ll just be a second!” You shouted over the thumping music, closing the door behind them.

You took care of business and spent a brief minute checking your phone. You had two texts from Johnny, and when you opened them, your breath caught in your throat.

Mo Chridhe: open this when youre alone thief

Mo Chridhe: blacksuit.jpg

Johnny had sent you a mirror selfie of his outfit, and he looked stunning. You couldn’t believe it was him. You’d never seen him so dressed up. His hair was shaven on the sides, the mohawk back to its full potential, and his suit was a gorgeous black with velvet lapels and a gold chain between the button holes. He wore no tie, instead letting the first two buttons hang open rakishly, showing off his tanned chest.

You texted him back:

You: you are still so damn hot lol

Mo Chridhe: show me you

You obeyed, taking a racy selfie in the bathroom mirror just like he had done. You showed off your cleavage , and the short, high cut of the dress as it hugged your ass. You tried your best to be pouty, just like all the Instagram models, but you weren’t sure if you succeeded.

Mo Chridhe: i might be the luckiest cunt alive or im dreamin

You: lol ;)

Mo Chridhe: ham might be chasin pidge all night but ill be chasin you

You smiled down at your phone before closing the app and returning to the fray.

Glittered, glammed, and ready for a night of debauchery, you took your phone off its charger and made your way out into the cold evening air. Pidge had brought a jacket, but Cherise had decided to go without, claiming that hot girls didn’t get cold. You were definitely cold, so you wondered what that implied.

The first stop was The Variety Bar. You had texted Johnny and told him to warn you before their first bar choice so that you could pay the tab and bolt before Hamish could put his hands on Pidge. But, it didn’t really work out like that. You had all ended up as one big group, and spent most of the time jokingly keeping them from kissing each other. Price held up a wet coaster between their mouths which sent Pidge coughing and spitting, causing enough of a ruckus that you decided to move to the next spot.

Johnny sat with you at the bar while you paid, trying his best to keep his hands off of you.

“Lookin’ like a right goddess tonight, you are.”

“Stop it,” you smiled, “No flirting allowed while your sister is literally right behind us.”

“Och,” he shook his head, “She’s in her own wee world. Where to next, lass?”

You slid the check back to the bartender and thanked him, turning to Johnny and smirking triumphantly, knowing he still needed to pay before he could follow you,

“Don’t you hunt people for a living? Come and get me.”

You left him at the bar, frozen with a delightful look of surprise on his face. You found Pidge and the other girls outside.

“Alright,” you smiled, “Onward. Let’s head over to Max’s.”

“Oh, God,” Anjali sighed, “You really want her to blackout, huh?”

“Fuck it! Max’s it is, ladies!” Pidge screamed.

Everyone cheered and marched on after her. She cuddled into your arm as you walked,

“Thank you so much for this, babes. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for, you know that?”

“You are, too,” you kissed her on her temple and squeezed her arm a bit tighter.

By the time you’d had two drinks at Max’s, Hamish’s clan found you again. Gaz was the one who spotted you through the window, holding his hands up to the glass and pointing you out.

“Uh oh,” you smiled, “Last call, girls.”

Cherise laughed,

“I don’t know why we’re running. Might as well just party with them.”

“It’s tradition, right?” Bekah rolled her eyes.

“Well,” Pidge shrugged, “You all can wait here then, if you prefer the boys to me.”

“No! Pidge, that’s not it, babe,” Cherise protested.

Pidge drunkenly waved her off,

“It’s fine, no worries. See you at Berkeley’s. How about that?”

Pidge stormed off out the door, and you followed behind trying to get her to calm down. She eventually did, drinking the water you had bought for her. But, that was how the group got split. Half the boys ended up with you and Pidge and Anjali, and the other half waited at Max’s until the happy hour rounds were over.

You’d gotten all settled in at Berkeley, listening to the loud club music, letting the high of your buzz wash over you, trying not to think about how nice it would be to have Johnny here, dancing with you like he promised.

Then, Pidge realized she forgot her jacket, so she sent you back to the other bar. You left her with Gaz and Ghost, and Price wandered out into the street with you.

“‘Bout time Hamish finally caught his hen anyway,” you speculated as you walked with him.

“Aye,” he agreed, “And maybe your stag as well.”

Your eyes darted up to him and then checked over your shoulder, just to make sure Pidge wasn’t behind you.

Price continued,

“Are you sure keepin’ him a secret is the right thing? He’s dyin’ to tell her. Fuck, he was tellin’ people he didn’t even know about you.”

You smiled,

“Yeah, I know. I just want the wedding to be about her. Nothing is ever about her, you know? She deserves to have a day where she doesn’t need to consider other people��s feelings for once.”

“What about your feelings?” Price asked.

You didn’t answer him. You just shrugged and kept walking. Suddenly, you heard screaming behind you,

“Wait! Wait up!”

Pidge and the rest of the crew rushed over to you and Price.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“We’re gonna surprise Hamish this time,” Pidge smiled, pulling out a big confetti popper from her purse.

“Oh, God,” you grinned, looping your arm through hers and dragging her along.

Nothing was going according to plan that night, but you were so tired that it was hard for you to care. You weren’t even sure if Hamish’s group was still at the other bar, and you hadn’t heard a thing from Bekah or Cherise.

Finally, you made it back to Max’s. Just as you were about to open the door, it burst open and out poured Johnny, tangled in Bekah’s arms. She was giggling and kissing his cheek, leaving streaks of purple lipstick all over his freshly shaven skin. He was holding her close to him, his fingers digging into her side so tightly.

You knew what that felt like.

You gasped, stepping back, stunned. He looked right into your eyes and stopped. The whole world came to a grinding halt. All of the time that you had spent together seemed to lay out in front of you, prostrating itself, and being found unworthy. You felt nothing. Just a creeping numbness that leaked into your core, a fire burning without kindling, unable to be extinguished.

“Och, Jesus and all the fuckin’ saints,” Pidge threw her hands up, “Couldnae even wait until after the party to get your hands into one of my mates, could you? Arsehole. Get outta the way.”

“No, tha’s not it, Pidge!” He frowned, “Bekah doesnae —”

“Bekah, what?” Pidge spat in his face, “Bekah doesnae care that you’ll turn up next month or next year or next week in a box with the wee Scottish flag draped over it? Okay. Now, move yourself from the door, Jonathan.”

Bekah was sort of octopusing herself around him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, sucking on his earlobe, caring very little about the Scottish flag no matter where it was draped.

Johnny was trying to fight her off now, suddenly angry at Pidge,

“What did you just say to me, Brigette?”

“Oh, shut up! You’re just like your da, and you’ll end up dead like him, too. See?” Pidge turned to you suddenly, eyes wild with fury, “This is why I warned you, Johnny MacTavish is a fuckin’ widowmaker. And that’s all he’ll ever be.”

She finally made it around her brother and wrenched the door open, disappearing into the club. Johnny still had Bekah in his arms, and you couldn’t be there anymore. You turned and walked in the direction of your apartment, miles away but hell-bent on getting back there.

“Hey! Wait! Thief, please. This isn’t what it looks like,” his voice was cold and distant. You didn’t turn around to listen. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you didn’t need to see it to know how it felt.

Johnny could have Bekah. He was allowed to have her. He was not allowed to have you, and you couldn’t have him. That much was clear now. You should’ve listened to your friend. You’d known all along, hadn’t you?

“Wait, mèirleach!”

You spun on him like a snake, striking out sure and true,

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

He could see in your eyes that you were serious, venomous as you were in your delivery. His eyes looked desperate, like a kicked dog, but he didn’t let her go. She smiled and waved at you, looking drunker than you’d ever seen anyone look. You tasted the bile in your mouth from your disgust.

Price jogged to keep up with you, and he grabbed your arm,

“Wait, girl. Just wait a second.”

You jerked your hand away and hailed a cab that was pulled over on your side of the street. You climbed in and shut the door, begging the cabbie to drive quickly, and he did. You stared out the window, watching all of the lights blind you as they seared into your eyes, burning the images you’d seen that night brightly into your memory.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 09

172 notes · View notes

torveiglyart · 3 months

Text

I had this idea that when the paladins are really connected to their lions and they’re in mortal danger or something, the lion can actually take over the paladin. This would only be in dire situations as the rush of quintessence from the lion would do irreversible damage to the paladin, but would save them (or someone else) from certain death. Of course I used Lance as a basis for this, because he’s the paladin I know how to draw best, and the Red-Blue double channeling looks cool. Being a puppet for two lions at the same time would probably kill him though. I also couldn’t decide on the regular white armor or a blackout version.

I was thinking something like this:

The paladins are infiltrating an Empire land base and got split up. Lance and Allura got caught up with a ton of sentries but were able to destroy them and are headed back to the Green Lions as per pidge’s instruction, when out of a corner comes (Insert Galra character). They are forced to fight more, but are already exhausted from the dozens of sentries prior. During the fight, Allura gets harmed enough to be down for the count, leaving an angry Lance to deal with their opponent. In his desperation, exhaustion, and rage, the Red Lion takes over. The next thing Lance knows is that he’s waking up from a pod and falling into Hunk’s arms. The team congrats him on his bayard upgrade, but Lance has no idea what they’re talking about. They claim he was shifting his bayard fluidly mid fight and was able to use their bayard forms as well. Lance denies it, saying at one moment he was fighting with his broadsword, the next he was waking up in a pod. They spend the next few quintants trying to figure out what happened, why Lance’s armor is now red and blue tie-dye (But normal white with no stars), and why Lance has burned-in lines under his skin.

I have way too much time on my hands but I hope you all enjoy it 😂. I’ll probably draw the side effects next week because I’m going on vacation this weekend. It’s my sister’s birthday and we’re going to Disney to meet her and spend it with her. I’m so excited! I’ve been to Disney A TON but I could never get tired of it. One time in September 2020, y’know, covid, my dad got us a week stay at one of the resorts and my brother and I did our online school from the hotel rooms. Even though we didn’t do any parks, it was still a great ‘stay-cation’. Disney holds a lot of nostalgia for me and my family, so every trip is another addition to the memory book. Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the Disney stuff now. Hope you all liked my idea!

64 notes · View notes

alluraaaa · 1 year

Text

i do very much like the idea of baby butch lesbian pidge. or futch or however we wanna diagnose what she’s got going on in canon. but i’ve always seen her having a love/hate relationship with her femininity

when she first came out as trans she was veeery little and flocked to femininity like coming home. it was so easy to put on dresses and grow out her hair and play with girl toys. she wanted to!! and katie rolls off the tongue much easier than any other name, but her annoying brother still calls her that old nickname sometimes :/

(but it’s fine. it was pidge from pigeon. it was her first word. for some reason.)

and when she decides to sneak into the garrison detransitioning for the time being made sense. they’re looking out for a girl. with long hair. it’s the best plan she’s got. it’s for her family she can do it. she can do it she can just pick up the scissors… and…

pidge keeps his head down. doesn’t talk much, even to the two (other) guys he’s grouped with. doesn’t talk to them even as they all get launched into space with two more men. just five boys in a giant lion. guys night, right?

but soon enough it gets clear this isn’t temporary. this is real. they’re in this together. they have to mind meld and get along and be on the same wavelength twenty four fucking seven. pidge has to come clean.

so she does. she’s a girl. the name has grown on her but she’s a girl she’s she.

and the team accepts it. loves her regardless. hell, even saw through her botched haircut.

so… yay. she’s a girl and they know. but would they be okay with her being… girly? she’s missed the dresses and the hair and pretty flowers. yeah allura is all those things and they all like her just fine but would it be weird if pidge just suddenly gets girly? she likes the masc look too but damn she misses heels sometimes. she hates having to deal with her shortness

one day allura weasels all of this out of her and allura doesn’t take no for an answer. so pidge is dolled up in one of allura’s best dresses, face beat to the gods, hair done in the girliest style they can manage with her… whole situation. and she’s beaming at her reflection

then allura drags her to dinner, hiking up the skirt so she doesn’t trip over herself as she gets into her seat. pidge toughens up and waits for the laughs to hit her. for someone to assume pidge got roped into this and secretly hates it. the “uhh… who are you and what have you done with pidge?”

but none of that happens. shiro says she looks nice. keith likes the hair. hunk likes the dress. lance demands to get dolled up next.

if anyone notices pidge’s immovable smile for the rest of dinner, they don’t comment on it. and they don’t bat an eye when skirts and dresses make their way into the rotation of pidge’s outfits right alongside her pants and overalls

#my femmasc futch girlypop #txt #pidge #headcanon #longer than i thought. and this is the short version #she accociates femininity with being a kid in school and being bullied by those kids. they didn’t bully pidge they bullied katie #and other such thoughts #but allura would murder all of them in her sparkliest gown. so who cares what they think <3

200 notes · View notes

callmelyc · 8 months

Text

Lances ex was terrible

He was the kind of ex that was really full of themselves, cruel, didn't like Lance spending too much time with anyone else (not that his ex girlfriends were any better).

So when they finally broke up everyone rejoiced. The demon had been slain!

Until...he came to get his shit out of Lances apartment because not only did he take his shitty wardrobe he also stole Lances precious baby blue!

His beautiful baby, his sweet meow meow, his darling princess.

But because Lance had no proof the asshat got off scott-free!

He'd cried for hours not knowing what to do and his stupid ex blocked him so Lance couldn't even attempt to beg for his cat daughter back. So he did what anyone would do, he complained online.

The comments flooded with people trying to come up with ideas until one stood out. Some guy with a photo of a motorcycle asking what this ex looks like.

Lance sniffled sending pictures in the replies and waited. He wasn't sure why anyone would want a picture but maybe the guy wanted it so he could keep an eye out? The reply didn't take long at all and it only baffled Lance further.

The guy, Keith K, responded in seconds "dw I can handle this."

Before Lance could even question anything Keiths status had switched to offline leaving Lance to read through other comments as possible solutions.

~•~

At 1am Lances phone lights up with a call. Now, normally Lance would ignore these, who responds to random calls especially at 1am?

But he looks down and it's the same name of the guy from earlier, Keith K. Lance will admit first a foremost he doesn't always think things through and come on now, he was curious to know how this guy got his number at all.

So lance picks up, groggy with sleep "hello??"

"I got ur cat back, do you wanna meet up for her or would you like to wait until later?"

That got lances attention. Now more awake he scrambles to get dressed "are you sure? Like ur sure it's my cat?"

"your name and number are on the collar"

"Where do you wanna meet?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I am the stranger."

"Yeah but ur a stranger that apparently saved my darling daughter!?"

Lance hears a small laugh on the other side of the line "I'll shoot you my location?"

"Sounds good to me."

The second the call ends Lance receives directions to a place 15min out and a picture of blue safe in a cat carrier. He's more than relieved to both see her and have proof this wasn't a dream, though he is still weary.

He shoots off a text to Hunk and Pidge with his location/tracking on in case something went wrong and Lance rushes out the door to go meet this stranger. They'll likely wonder what he's up to at this hour, maybe even spam call him in worry. However, Lance doesn't have the patience right now now when his baby is in some randos hands.

Pulling up to the 24hr McDonald's he doesn't even care that he's meeting a stranger anymore the second he sees his baby blue through the window. Lance rushes inside and the second she spots him she paws at the carrier door with a sweet little meow. He's cooing over her and letting her out to make sure she's safe when he finally looks up to see her knight in shining armor.

And wow....this guy is hot.

Dark hair, deep eyes, leather jacket and gloves.

Dude looks straight out of a Harley magazine despite the beat up pick-up in the parking lot Lance is positive belongs to him.

As blue snuggles into Lances hold he looks at Keith with the first genuine smile he's had in days "thank you, I-I don't even know what to say? I can't thank you enough how on earth did you manage this?"

Keith just gestures for lance to sit down across from him, so he does, and smiles "I have my ways."

Oh? Well Lance has to know now "go on share the deets. I can offer you whatever you want off the menu as payment."

The other man snorts "it's fine I'll share without pay...This time."

"Oh? How generous of you."

Keith leans forward on the table "your ex was already on dating apps. I pretended I'd take him on a good date and went home with him. The second he left to get pretty for me I took the cat and ran, he's a douche."

That...what not at all what Lance expected to hear. His jaw was on the floor. He laughed in surprised awe "you...you got my cat back by luring him into false security??"

Keith's brow lifts "what like it's hard? He's the one that fell for it and got uno reverse robbed. I don't know what you saw in him."

That only gets lance to laugh harder "yeah, I don't either."

They spend the rest of the early morning chatting and eventually exchanging phone numbers.

On the way out Keith stops him though "actually, I changed my mind I do want payment."

"Oh yeah? Like what"

He smiles "how about a date?"

Lance is left breathless in the light of the rising sun "you won't be robbing me now, will you?"

"and if I say I am?"

"what do you aim to steal from me mr.criminal?"

Keith leans in just slightly "your heart? If things go well."

Lance gives him a quick peck on the cheek "yeah, yeah I can do that."

No one believes Lance when he says he got a new boyfriend because the guy stole his cat back from his ex.

#voltron #lance vld #vld #vld lance #lance mcclain #klance #keith kogane #keith x lance #keith voltron #i like giving lance crazy exs so he can meet keith #in case u havent noticed #inspired by a post idk where its from but its a ss of a ss #and a girls friend slept with a guy to steal a cat back #but keith doesnt even have to sleep with the guy here bc the ex spends too long in the bathroom #he doesnt really wait v long snyways he waits until he hears the shower and robs the guy #as he should as he should #he totally didnt see lances cute smile in his pf pic and immediately want to help #he wont admit it to a single soul

76 notes · View notes

theaestheticsromance · 4 months

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝟏𝟓𝟎𝟎 - 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭

Art done by @Rottincotton

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Tyler Hartfelt 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Loa of Death and Shadow 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Hellborn (Moth Demon) 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Transman 𝐀𝐠𝐞: 400+ physically 35 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Married Alastor 10 years after he died 𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Owner of the burlesque club Shadowplay Speakeasy 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞/𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Pidge 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Baron Samedi, Lazlo Cravenworths and Lucifer (TV)

Appearance:

Tyler’s appearance resembles that of a death's head moth with sharp angular features. He is somewhat slender, standing 9ft tall with greyish skin and an extra set of arms just above the hips. His hands, forearms and lower legs are a reddish dark brown eventually getting darker towards his hands and then fading back into the grey towards his upper bits. On his face, he has a skull design and pitch-black eyes with no pupils or irises which are only shown when feeling high amounts of certain emotions he has yellowish almost white pupils.

The inside of his mouth is a dark grey with cream almost white sharp teeth lining the top and bottom accompanied by an elongated yellow tongue. He has short dirty blonde hair with two fluffy feather antennae of different browns and yellows. Around his neck and along his chest sits a fluffy boa-like fur consisting of a dark reddish brown and a happy trail on his stomach, Tyler also has two top surgery scars that he loves showing off with pride.

Tyler's genitalia is as one would say unique, instead of just having male parts or female parts he has both well kinda. His genitalia work similar to how lizards and dolphins essentially have a cloaca where it retracts inside and only comes out when turned on or in use.

His wings are similar to Valentino's and how he uses them but with the colour scheme being yellows, blacks and many different browns the same colour palette you would often see on a dead head moth. Tyler's wings are extremely soft to the touch and very fluffy with reddish fur lining the edges and are usually wrapped around his body acting as a type of coat or cloak depending on what outfits he chooses to wear them with.

WIP will update when done but art done by @az-roser

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬:

Tyler's outfits are inspired by the 18th century to the late 19th century and refuses to wear anything else with most of his clothes being custom-made with the help of Rosie over in cannibal town. But he does have Three signature looks that he likes to parade around hell.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 outfit consists of his wing cloak, a once-white now faded cream poet shirt with puffy sleeves, large frills on the front, black lace-up shoes, and dark grey formal pants.

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 favourite outfit is dedicated to his husband Alastor with a brooch on his fluff that resembles Alastor's microphone. He wears brown formal pants, a faded black tunic, a dark red striped vest with black buttons adorning each side, and brown formal shoes.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 outfit is a satin dark blue tunic with puffy sleeves, a brown striped vest with black lining, a greyish green scarf accompanied by a black gem, long brown striped pants, and black and white formal shoes.

Art done by @az-roser

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭: The outfits that Tyler wears for his drag shows consist of a mixture of Victorian dresses with a lot of lace and puffy sleeves some showing more skin than the average Victorian style dress would show.

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭: Tyler’s night clothes are quite simple before he met Alastor it would simply be nothing at all, but since then out of respect for Alastor’s old-fashioned ways of decency, he now wears a short cream silk/lace nightgown along with a matching robe. On colder nights and when he gets up to make breakfast Tyler will wear a set of cotton long pants and a burgundy cable knit sweater.

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬:

At first glance, he can seem extremely intimidating but underneath his hard gaze and rigid posture are just all-out golden retriever vibes and love when demons/sinners and humans give him attention or compliments by adding more fuel to the fire of his ego and you will never see his cold, sadistic, downright terrifying side that he is known for.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜: Tyler is the epitome of charm and charisma. He can effortlessly captivate anyone with his smooth words and seductive demeanour.

𝐄𝐥𝐨𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭: Tyler is highly eloquent and sophisticated, adding to his mysterious and alluring aura. He speaks with a rich vocabulary and a confident tone.

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭: Behind his charming facade lies a sharp and analytical mind. Tyler is quick-witted and able to adapt to any situation that's given to him by using his words to bite back most of the time otherwise it's his teeth.

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞: Tyler sees himself as a homme fatale and uses his charm and seductive nature to get what he wants mainly using this skill on Valentino and the rest of the V’s to mess around with them.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞: Despite his manipulative nature towards the V’s, Tyler is fiercely loyal to those he cares about and will go to great lengths to protect his loved ones, especially Alastor.

𝐁𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲:

Now looking at the 9ft moth you may expect him to be a hardcore dom when it comes to the bedroom but in reality, it just depends on the partner he's with at the time, since marrying Alastor he fits the criteria of a pleasure dom and sometimes on the rare occasion where Alastor was being an attention seeking brat than he would use a much harder but effective disciplinary method in their sessions or Tyler will sometimes let Alastor take charge but that's very rare.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐚: Sex is Tyler's playground, he loves finding out what makes his sexual partners tick and moan by exploring new ways to get them utterly cock drunk. He loves trying out new things and has an endless supply of equipment to try out.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐫: Kinky sex, dominance, submission, power play, rigging and other things that seem out the norm during sex, Tyler finds pleasure in the thrill of it all whether that be making his partners squirm from being tied up and edged to the max or showing them who really in charge when it come to the bedroom.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫: Tyler loves focusing more on their partner's pleasure rather than their own pleasure. This means he tends to focus more on giving their partner the pleasure rather than themselves honestly as long as they are enjoying and are sent into a subspace that's all Tyler needs to finish.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜: To be completely honest after meeting Alastor Tyler has become such a romantic when it comes to the bedroom and cares about the emotions and intimacy with Alastor even if he tries to get Tyler to go harder on him it is always filled by sweet words of “I Love You” which Alastor hates.

𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

Other than being a loa spirit for the humans up topside he is also an owner of a very successful 1900-themed burlesque club called the Shadowplay Speakeasy which is always hidden and changes location throughout the many alleyways across Hell’s sevens rings but since meeting Alastor he now resides in the Pride ring. The reason for this was to create a place where sinners and hellborns could come for the amazing drinks, music, performances, aesthetics and overall appreciation of how Tyler treats his employees and clients who use Shadowplay as a sanctuary to get away from being exploited and abused by other demons, especially Valentino.

Which is how he would later come to know Angel Dust and eventually take him under his wings. He does a variety of different performances including drag shows on occasion and sometimes performs at Ozzie’s with the King of Lust himself who he is still really good friends with despite being in a friends-with-benefits type relationship in the past and has now become Ozzie’s and Fizz’s number one shipper.

When on the stage he goes either by Lady or Pidge where he gets to show his more feminine side when out on stage but would later take on the name Maman of Shadows as a result of his employees (mainly Angel Dust)

𝐀𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬:

𝐔𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬: Tyler has the ability to conjure and create shadows as the result of being idolised by topside as the Loa of The Shadows and Death and often sees his shadows as friends rather than a means to gain power. Like any parent, Tyler does have favourites among his Shadows with Wybie being his right-hand shadow/personal shadow.

𝐖𝐲𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐨: Wybie has been with Tyler from the very start, with him stating that his shadow was created before he came into existence. For a demon's shadow, he has a very cheerful and outgoing personality, especially towards Alastor's shadow Ozul and can be very touchy towards the ones he feels comfortable around and usually tries to flirt with Ozul daily. (Inspiration Aziraphale)

𝐎𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐁𝐢𝐨: Tyler created Ozul by giving Alastor's shadow life after he had mastered shadow work. Now unlike Wybie Ozul is an exact copy of Alastor but that's just the front he puts up as the result of him being the Radio Demons shadow like all shadows. They look up to their counterparts but he is such a sweetheart deep down that only Tyler and Wybie can bring out when they have their alone time together which Alastor hates. The one thing Ozul and Alastor share in common though is how to show their affection towards Tyler and Wybie, with Alastor not being a very good teacher when it comes to how you show affection towards someone you like and has learnt that to show love is to act defensive towards Wybie but luckily just like Tyler, his shadow knows that it's just a front. (Inspiration Crowley)

He is also able to physically touch and feel the shadows without going straight through their forms like others can and can also sense if someone may have the potential to harness the shadows which is how he first came across Alastor.

𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: As a result of being in tune with the shadows, he can create portals with them and use them to travel around the many rings of hell but only if there are shadows. Being the Loa of death he is the watcher of cemeteries up topside and the guardian between the living and the dead meaning he can travel to earth by either altar or a funeral with his vèvè on the tombstone. His vèvè depicts a tomb with a cross and two coffins, symbolising death.

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦: Other than English he is also fluent in French and Cajun French because of his ties with New Orleans as a loa spirit and occasionally visited topside during the 1700-1900.

𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: His demonic form is more skeletal than normal with his body being more sharp and angular in most places making him incredibly lanky, his eyes are pure white showcasing no shine or glint. For height, just like Alastor’s demon form Tyler is incredibly huge standing between 15-16ft. At the corners of his mouth are white stitches that make him smile, showcasing sharp jagged teeth. For his hands, they become longer and sharper like razorblades and if in the close vicinity, you will be able to hear a thousand different voices scream and cry out loud from his many shadows.

𝐏𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬: Not to be confused with Valentino's repugnant imitational smoke bullshit Tyler has the ability or rather a skill set as he doesn't consider this a power to use against others since Tyler is a moth demon he can produce pheromones that smell like a mixture of sandalwood, pink pepper and leather musk that can increase there partner's libido while also acting as a type of relaxation if directly smelled from his scent glands.

𝐓𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲: Tyler is immune to most chemical agents including Valentino's smoke and is unable to be put under his spell.

𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠: As a result of having an extra pair of arms Tyler can multitask whether that be holding a glass of wine while he cooks or reading a book while Alastor is lying down on his chest and tracing his back.

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 The perks of being a moth demon is that Tyler can fly although he doesn't use them to. Just like Valentino Tyler can also use his wings to create powerful gusts of wind and other than being an asset when it comes to combat they are also used as a piece of clothing from wearing a long cloak to a coat or shawl Tyler can alternate the style of his wings.

𝐕𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 Since being a part of the loa spirits and also practises voodoo Tyler can perform rituals and magic and can conjure objects at will.

34 notes · View notes

rorimoon9597 · 9 months

Text

Lance has always been obsessed with Keith's hair for some reason. He didn't know why at first, but as time went on, it became so clear that he wanted to run his hands though it and feel it on his fingers.

He made comments about it being an ugly mullet to hide that fact. It didn't work, especially not when he confessed to Keith before he left for the Blade.

What? He was going to lose the chance to say anything anyway! And he was so happy when Keith kissed him to shut him up and told Lance that his feelings were reciprocated, he felt as if he were on cloud nine.

Since coming back from his fight with Shiro's clone (who they're forever going to refer to as Kuro as in 'Operation Kurone'), Keith has experienced some changes.

For starters, his eyes were more purple. Before they'd been a grey colour with purple undertones, but now they were properly purple. Then his canines were sharper, practically fangs, and his eyes would sometimes change. When he was angry, his irises would become slits and the sclera of his eyes would become yellow. It was hot, in Lance's humble opinion (Pidge called him an alien fucker when he said that at first. Lance said that Keith's dad was the true alien fucker. Shiro sprayed the water he was drinking everywhere and choked when he said that).

The most noticeable change happened to Keith's hair though. The ends of it lightened, until they were purple. It looked so cool, and it connected Keith to Krolia more. His hair stayed black, but now when it gets out it was purple.

Keith... Didn't think the same way as everyone else.

"I feel like I'm losing my dad. I've only ever looked like my mom, and the one thing that has ever connected me to my dad was my hair." The team had stopped on a planet for a rest, and Keith and Lance had gone off together to hunt down some meat and gather fruit and vegetables.

Lance stopped and grabbed Keith's wrist, forcing him to stop and turn to face him.

"You're still connected to your dad, Keith. It's just not entirely in your appearance," he said. Keith frowned.

"What do you mean?" He asked. Lance hummed.

"You said that he'd go head first into danger, right?"

"Yeah..?"

"And that he was a hero?"

"Where are you going with this?"

"According to your mom, your dad was kind, and reckless, and a hero and someone she loved enough to leave to keep safe."

"Mom said that?" Keith asked, sounding surprised. Lance nodded. "Where are you going with this anyway?"

"Because those are some things that you have in common with your dad," Lance answered. Keith opened his mouth, then closed it.

"... You're right," he eventually said. Keith reached up to his hair and fiddled with a purple end. "That stuff... Does connect me to my dad..."

"I'm never wrong about people things," Lance said, confidently. Keith smiled down at him (that had happened during the two year time dilation that Keith and Krolia went through, and Lance found that he liked having to look up over looking down).

"You know more about people than I do," he agreed. He pressed a kiss to Lance's forehead. "Thank you."

"Anything for you," Lance said. He pressed a kiss to Keith's lips. "Now, let's go catch something that Hunk can make into a good meal."

"Alright."

They worked quickly, and made their way back to the campsite with food that all of them could eat. Hunk was quick to take care of the food, Krolia helping him while Romelle stayed by Allura's side.

Lance sat on a log, and Keith settled himself between his legs. Kosmo flopped down with them.

Lance ran his hands through Keith's hair, smiling as Keith joked with the others and treated Shiro and Romelle like Lance treated his siblings - by annoying the hell out of them out of love.

Lance leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Keith's head.

"I love you," he whispered. Keith hummed, tilting his head to look up at him. There was a smile on his face reserved just for Lance.

"I love you too," he replied.

_______________________________________

Based off of this post I made

#voltron #vld #keith kogane #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #princess allura #coran #hunk garrett #pidge holt #krolia #keith has purple in his hair #based off if a headcannon i have #i love purple haired keith #someone please draw this man with purple hair as described in this please #not forcing it but it'd be so cool #klance

105 notes · View notes

sapper-axtual · 9 months

Text

Keith didn't leave Voltron for Lance.

Please. please. as a Klance shipper myself, I hate when Klance shippers point to the "leave the math to Pidge scene" and say Keith left to make room for Lance to keep piloting Red.

First of all- it implies that Keith thinks Red would pick him over Lance...which seriously undercuts Lance's capabilities and Keith's confidence in him.

Second of all- it assumes that Shiro would have to take Black again now that he's back which no one was saying. The whole point of that conversation was to show that no one was saying that.

Third of all- it implies that, if Red did pick Keith over Lance, Keith wouldn't want to respect the Lions' choice. Keith is a duty-driven character. He would step up if the Lions asked him to, and he'd expect Lance to do the same. It's not about their personal feelings about it. Even if he disagreed with the Lions' choice, he would obey.

So no- he didn't leave the team to make sure there was space for Lance. It's honestly a boring headcanon that misunderstands both characters.

I also don't like the idea that he left just to look for his Galra heritage. Would Keith-yells at Pidge for wanting to go find her missing brother on day one of being a team-Kogane really prioritize learning about where he came from over serving the greater cause? He never needed to know who his mom was to know himself. He's a fighter, he's a protector, he stands up for the vulnerable because he knows what it feels like to be abandoned and powerless.

So- no. It wasn't about finding his mom.

But!

If Keith found a really useful way to serve the cause through the Blade (reconnaissance and covert operations) that also puts him in a position to potentially understand why his mom left him, it makes sense why he'd be drawn to them.

And, more than that- if he felt like he was repeatedly failing to live up to Shiro's expectations as a leader while Shiro was back with the team, and he knew he was putting his life in danger on the Blade's missions...and he didn't feel confident that he could survive much longer in that environment...

It's just responsible to step down and distance himself.

He left with the Blade because he thought it would protect the team from him. From his own poor leadership and his increasingly-likely death.

This isn't just my headcanon- the show points to it with the scene of Allura confronting him about how Voltron needs him- right after he got back from a mission where the Blade team lost Regris and he almost got stuck in space with a leaking suit. Keith nearly died and then got lectured about the fact that Voltron needs him. Keith is grappling with the danger of the Blade- with the implications of Knowledge or Death- and the fact that, in order to learn more about himself, he'll be risking himself, then he's confronted with the fact that getting himself killed as the leader of Voltron might doom the cause.

At the end of the day, the big difference is: with Voltron, Keith's indispensable. With the Blade, he's not. To Keith- that's liberating, so of course he wants to go with them. Of course it seems like the right thing to do.

#Klance #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld keith

100 notes · View notes

leonspretty · 2 months

Text

windows of opportunity

in which lance is a disaster romantic and misses every opportunity to ask you out

masterlist

pairing: lance x reader

tags: fem! reader, disaster romantic lance, blue paladin lance, oblivious reader, oblivious lance too, reader isn't a paladin she just, like, helps(?), very very tiny bit of angst, happy ending, fluff, mutual pining, flirty banter, no use of y/n, lance calls reader ‘pretty’ as a nickname, cheeky little taylor swift reference if you squint.

notes: as a huge hopeless romantic, missed opportunities with a happy ending and mutual pining but thinking the other doesn't reciprocate is my obsession. i also know i said the first one would be keith but then i thought of this and it fit lance more i think.

wc: 2.3k

“Rise and shine, work hard, carve out your name, Take aim, pull the trigger, hit the bulls eye for fame, Know the value of faith, an' family, and don't you complain, Open wide, your windows of opportunity" — Kate Denson's "Windows of Opportunity”

To say that Lance liked you was an understatement. He was obsessed. Not crazy obsessed, but obsessed in the way that you consumed his every thought.

Luckily this didn't extend to during fights, but even then he would still be acutely aware of where you were at all times, making sure he could hear your voice over the comms, often talking over Coran just to flirt with you.

You were no different. Having known Lance since before joining the Garrison, your feelings for him have come and gone repetitively. Each time you'd confide in Pidge, declaring that you were over him after seeing him treat someone else the same way he treats you, claiming that he'd only ever see you as a friend, he'd do something that would make you retract anything bad you'd ever said about him.

Yours and Lance's feelings were obvious to everyone and it bewildered them how you both thought they were one sided.

The kitchen was quiet, Hunk, Keith and Pidge holding conversation while each did their own thing: Hunk baking, Keith tracing his blade and Pidge on her computer. Peaceful.

"What if I say something and she thinks I'm weird and never talks to me again?"

Keith and Pidge immediately groaned while Hunk remained silent, watching as Lance walked past all three of them, interrupting their conversation and train of thoughts. He threw himself onto a chair at the table across from Pidge who had already gathered her things and gotten up to leave. "Nope, not dealing with this again," she said as she left.

"She already thinks you're weird, I'm surprised she still puts up with you," Keith says from the spot next to where Pidge was. Lance glared at him in response, ignoring him.

"I think you should just try. If her face when she looks at you is anything to go off, I'm pretty sure she likes you too." It was a usually useless statement that was many times returned with "You're lying," or "I would've noticed." This time however, Lance turned to face Hunk and instead said,

"I was on my way to ask her out just now but she was training with Shiro and was in a zone and I didn't wanna disrupt that cause- where are you going?" Lance cut his rant off with a question directed at Keith who was leaving the kitchen.

"To train," was all he replied with.

"So you're finally going to do it? Why are you in here then?" Hunk asked.

"Yeah I am. I'm sick of wondering if she feels the same so I'm just gonna ask. I've never had a problem with it before so why should I now?"

From there, Lance vowed to himself that he would ask you out as soon as possible. He didn't want to spend any more time not being able to call you his than he had to.

You heard your name being called from down the corridor as you made your way to the showers. Training with Shiro was one thing, training with Shiro and Keith was another when you weren't out in the field anywhere near as often as them. It also didn't help how Keith had mentioned he had come to you two to escape Lance's apparent rambling about you. It had thrown you off and to make up for it and stop Shiro's teasing, you had put even more effort in than you normally would.

Turning around, you saw Lance running to catch up to you. Despite wanting to turn and make a run for it to the showers to avoid any embarrassment, you stopped and waited for him to meet you.

Huffing slightly, Lance met up with you and stopped to take you in. You were beautiful. Even when you were clearly sweaty and exhausted. He had to shake his head slightly to keep his thoughts from turning dirty. "Finished training?"

"Yeah, was just heading to the showers, wanna join me?" you said with a smirk, knowing that your question could be taken a couple different ways.

Recognising your signature smirk you used whenever the two of you would 'harmlessly' flirt, Lance played along. "Of course."

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Lance froze up briefly. He had wondered if Keith had overheard him say that he was going to ask you out and had opened his big mouth to you. You quietened his thoughts by following up with, "You look like you wanna say something. If its to tell me I smell, I know, Shiro and Keith are not easy opponents."

"Yeah you do stink, but I hope you kicked Keith's ass." Lance joked. "Anyway, I just wanted to ask you the best way to ask someone out." Your smile dropped for a second before replacing it with a forced one. You knew he didn't like you and he wasn't yours to lose so why should you keep someone else from experiencing what you could only dream about.

"Oh, well, it depends who it is. Personally, I like when it's done in a way that shows the person really knows me, like with trinkets or using inside jokes as a way of showing their feelings rather than just saying it. Allura though, she'd probably like to be taken somewhere nice, so when you ask her out maybe do it on a planet with a nice skyline or sunset or something." You knew it had to be Allura he was planning to ask out. He'd been flirting with her ever since you all met her. It was only a matter of time. You felt the unwanted tears build up - you had to get away, and fast. "Oh look, we're at the showers, thanks for walking with me and good luck on asking Allura, I'm sure she'll say yes." You were out of sight in seconds.

Lance stood facing the door speechless and confused. Where did Allura come into this? Why were you so quick to leave? He had only asked how to ask someone in hopes to lead up to him actually asking but instead his window of opportunity had closed before he even let it open.

His next window was clear. He had his speech planned out, knew exactly what he wanted to say and how. Now was the perfect opportunity. You were the only one on the bridge, sat in his seat seemingly just relaxing. Why you were doing that here instead of in the lounge he didn't know but he decided to ask later.

You hadn't noticed Lance's presence until you head a "Quiznack" be muttered under his breath as he tripped over his own feet, luckily managing to catch himself. You sat up and turned to face him. "Finally falling for me, Sharp-shooter?" you joked, internally cringing at the use of the word 'finally'.

If Lance had noticed your slip up, he didn't mention it. Instead, he rounded to the front of the chair you were in and dropped to sit on the floor facing you. "You wish. No. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"How did it go with Allura?" Truthfully, you didn't want to know, but you were sure you'd hear about it from one of them soon enough so why not get it out of the way.

"How did what go with Allura?" The confusion on his face was obvious.

"You were gonna ask her our remember? You literally asked me how to do it like two days ago." You mirrored Lance's confusion.

"Oh." Silence. "Oh! No! I wasn't planning to ask her out! I actually wanted to ask you-" his voice, which was already turning very quiet was cut off by you sitting up and squinting at the window.

"What was that?" You asked yourself aloud. Lance mistook that as a question for him.

"I said-" he was cut off again when you quickly got up and ran to the window.

"Quiznack!"

"What?"

"Alert everyone. Get to your lions. Now."

At that, Lance looked outside to see multiple Galra ships appearing. He groaned internally. To you the groan was about having to go out and fight. For him, the groan was because yet another window of opportunity had shut.

Keith really just wanted to lay down. Not necessarily sleep as that had never come easy to him, but he was exhausted. Instead he had to listen to you whine about how Lance doesn't share your feelings. When he had asked why you were coming to him about this you had said that everyone who wasn't Lance was busy and she didn't want to bother them. At that moment he wished you hadn't found him sat in the lounge. As much as he cherished you as a friend, he was quite frankly sick of hearing about Lance. When there was a knock at the door of his room, of which you had followed him into and immediately flopped onto his bed mid rant, Keith rolled his eyes and opened it. He was glad it had at least got you to be quiet since you also wondered who it was.

"Hey have you seen, oh hi pretty, Keith have you seen-" Lance stopped talking. When he'd said hi, he wasn't thinking, it was natural instinct. When he realised you were laid out on Keith's bed, his brain caught up to his mouth.

You, on the other hand, were blushing. It wasn't the first time Lance was calling you pretty. In fact it's what he called you 90% of the time. But it was the timing. You had just been complaining about how he doesn't think of you except from if he has to or if you're talking with him then he calls you pretty, offhanded. You were going insane.

"What's up?" Keith asked Lance, aiming a sly smirk at you as if he could tell you were going crazy over both seeing the person who was the main character of your rant and at the name said person had called you.

"Actually I was looking for her but if you guys are busy..."

Keith took this opportunity to both get rid of you so he can lie down and also get back at you for talking his ear off. "No, no, please, take her, I'm sick of hearing about you."

Lance ignored Keith's comment, turning to you, "Can we talk?"

Your eyes went wide as you sat up, your heart immediately dropping. Had you done something wrong? Had he overheard you talking about how much you liked him? Was this the end of your guys's friendship? You'd rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. You just nodded and said bye to Keith as you left his room.

The door closed within milliseconds of you leaving the room. It was just you and Lance now. Alone. "Come on," Lance smiled and started walking to his room.

Arriving in his room, Lance's nerves began to pick up. This was his chance. Again. He promised to himself that this is it. He wasn't going to let another interruption keep him from telling you how he feels.

Being in his room alone with him was nothing new, so why did you feel so nervous. "Come sit down, pretty." Lance patted the spot next to where he had just sat on his bed. You plastered a smile on your face and sat down.

"What's up? You never ask to talk, you usually just... do."

Lance let out a snort at that, giving you a pointed glance. "Oh and you don't?"

"I never said that."

The light hearted joking relaxed you - it's what you were used to between the two of you.

Your previous nerves about what Lance had to say dissipated as the two of you continued to joke together a little longer.

"Lance. You didn't come find me just to hang out. I know you. What's up?"

He had been putting it off, nerves creeping up the closer he came to confessing and so he sought comfort in your company as it was. Lance nodded and cleared his throat, turning to look in your eyes. "Every time I've tried to talk to you about this, something interrupts me: you rushing off to the showers, then the galra finding us. And then you thought I asked Allura out which is crazy because yeah she's-"

"Lance." You cut him off, not wanting to hear about how the princess of Altea was perfect and dreamy. "Come on."

"As I was going to say, before someone rudely interrupted, again-"

You laughed and stuck your tongue out at him quickly and jokingly.

"Hey! Anyway, yeah Allura is cool, I mean, she's a princess. But she isn't you." He paused, but realised how that could be taken, he continued, "I don't want Allura... I want you pretty girl. And it has taken me way too long to finally tell you. There have been so many missed windows of opportunity, and I refuse to miss any more. It's you. It's always been you, and I'm sorry I led you to believe otherwise."

You were speechless. A confession wasn't even on the list of things you had expected to come from this talk. The smile that grew on your face was unstoppable. Not trusting yourself to let out a happy squeal, you threw your arms around the man who had just told you he chooses you.

The sudden force took Lance by surprise, but he was fast to wrap his arms around your waist and fall back onto his bed, pulling you down with him. You lifted your head to look Lance in the eyes. Lance took this as his chance to finally make things official. "Will you be mine, pretty?"

The smile you didn't think could grow any wider, did. "I will always be yours, Loverboy Lance."

notes: i low-key kinda don't like how this ended up but i tried. it's also only slightly proof-read because i wanna move on to a keith fic now. also, if you saw this before, i reposted it cause i wanted it after my masterlist stuff so its still the same just reposted. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. i also may make a taglist so let me know if you wanna be on it!

@cafekitsune made the dividers here!

thank you for reading!!

28 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 9 months

Text

part one

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

“Well,” said Hunk, holding Allura in both arms, “that looks bad.”

Shiro snorted. “Thank you, Hunk.”

“Anytime.”

Keith wanted to snap at them both. What time was it to laugh? They were injured, mostly defenseless, castle crashed. The Lions still sat, unusable, in their hangers. Hopefully they were okay, but it wasn’t like anyone could go check. Keith could barely even feel Red’s presence in the back of his mind – that stupid new Empire toy had drained them. It was frightening. And Hunk and Shiro were making jokes?

But Keith couldn’t find the words to chew them out. Instead, his voice was caught in his throat as he looked on the slowly advancing army with wide eyes and tense shoulders.

The advancing army was…trees.

That’s what it looked like, anyways. Rows and rows of rough bark and quietly swaying leaves, advancing in formation. A large black bird flew, cawing, above them. Keith tried not to think about omens.

“Did a forest come to life?” Pidge muttered, squinting. Keith was relieved she was seeing the same thing. Keith has been in space a long time, at this point, but this was like nothing he had ever seen before. This didn’t look like a people in any way he understood. They were alive, surely, their movements organic in fluid in a way non-living things couldn’t quite manage, but his eyes were not deceiving him, and in front of him was a bunch of moving trees. As he watched, they advanced slightly further, stopped, and froze.

And then, slowly, they morphed.

Out of the bark, people seemed to…melt? Was that the right word? The trees planted themselves on the beach as if they’d always been there, as if the giant ocean was simply a lake beside a forest, and the bark of each plant seemed to shimmer, to shift. Humanoid figures took form, with skin like wood and hair like moss and leaves, eyes dark and old and knowing. Little saplings hid behind the sweeping dirt skirts of giant, older trees, giggling amongst themselves. Tiny droplets of water shined in dots on dozens of brown faces, glittering on brows and lips and noses like diamond piercings. Vines wreathed around torsos like tailored clothing.

Above them, Lance gasped. It was a quick, near-silent sound, one Keith only noticed because he was watching Lance from his peripherals anyway.

“Dryads,” he whispered, unmistakably excited, and before anyone could get so much as a word in he scrambled down the control board, careened down the bridge, and sprinted his way out the exit.

“No, what are you – Lance!” Hunk shouted, the first to react. He handed a still-unconscious Allura off to Coran, who took her with a wide-eyed, confused expression.

“Number Two, what is –”

“I am going to burn your Percy Jackson books,” Hunk seethed, already stomping out after Lance. He scooped up his blue helmet on his way and shook it at the door. “You hear me, Leandro? Burn them! Head outta the clouds, that’s an army!”

Keith was quick to follow. The rest of the team fell in step behind him, jogging after Lance.

Outside was…well, it startled him.

He’d seen it on the way down, of course. But he hadn’t been focused, really, hadn’t taken the time to map it past what the air currents felt like, past a safe (ish) place to land. The beauty of it now knocked the breath out of him. The ocean was almost crystalline, it was so clear and blue. Keith could smell it even through his helmet, the salt, the sea, and something Keith couldn’t recognise. Every rock on the seashore shone in the bright golden sun, glittering like encrusted jewellery. Down the beach, where the rocks gave way to beach, the sand was bright brilliant white; hard, actually, to look at. On Keith’s other side was a rolling, sage green meadow, peppered with wildflowers so familiar Keith almost felt he could name them. He saw dozens of fruit trees, all different kinds, so ripe and rich his mouth watered. He was nowhere near enough to smell them, but the fruits were so plump and colourful that every instinct curled up in every corner in his head begged him to gorge himself to coma. Even the army in front of him, the rows and rows of stern tree warriors – dryads, Lance had called them – couldn’t stir wariness in Keith’s heart. His shoulders relaxed without his say-so.

One of the warriors stepped forth. She was wide-set, tall, and the ground trembled with every step. Her eyes were dark as murky green pond depths. Deep gauges lined her face, most from the pattern of the bark that made up her skin, but many that disrupted the pattern; rough, torn scars, one right through her right eye.

“State your business,” she said, voice rough as sandpaper.

No one said anything. The awe Keith felt was reflected in his friends, wonder rendering them mute.

“You’re dryads,” said Lance softly. He stepped forward, Hunk’s hand falling from his shoulder. “Tree spirits.”

The tree-woman nodded. “If that’s what your people call us, child. Here, we’re Aegians, Last Guardians of Marmaro. And we ask again – name yourselves.”

Her army raised their weapons as she spoke. Sharp, pointed weapons, some of hardened stone, some of crystal and marble, some of the same wood that made up their flesh. One even had shards of metal attached to a complicated string of vine.

“We are Paladins of Voltron,” Shiro said, finally, hands held up in peace. He moved slowly up from next to Pidge, eyes never leaving the Aegian leader, until he finally stood in front of her, arm loosely circling Lance’s elbow, tugging him gently back. “We come in peace. Our ship was attacked by the Galran Empire, and we barely made it out intact. We apologise for any damage.”

“I’m not sure ‘intact’ is the right word,” murmured the Aegian leader, glancing quickly at their smoking ship, “but regardless. You are here now. I am Dryope, and I grant you asylum, as is my birthright.” She said the name like dry-oh-pay, but with a lilt to her vowels Keith couldn’t replicate even in his own head.

Dryope stood to her full height – which, ho-lee – and struck her staff twice on the rock on which she stood. Immediately, the army fell back, weapons sheathed, postures loosened.

“Aegians!” she called, and every single tree-warrior stood to attention. “The Paladins of Voltron have come to us. We shall extend our hospitality to them, as dictated in the Ancient Laws.” She turned to them for a moment, contemplating. “Seven households come forward. Our guests are to be fed, clothed, and cared for. Who shall claim the honour?”

Keith exchanged a look with Hunk, shifting uncomfortably. Seven households? They were in no position to complain, but on all the planets they’ve visited before, they’ve never been housed separately. To speak up would surely insult their hosts – but was it safe to split up? They were injured and exhausted – if their hosts proved malevolent, they would be almost powerless individually. Allura was still out, Lance for sure had a head injury, Keith was, now that he noticed, breathing laboriously. A quick glance beside him revealed an odd angle to Pidge’s wrist, probably sprained, and Hunk shifted every couple of seconds like he could not stand comfortably. Shiro favoured his left leg. Only Coran stood tall and strong, Allura held protectively in his arms – but Keith knew better. (He will never, as long as he lives, forget the way the man collapsed, ashen and unresponsive, right at his spot at the castle’s controls. The rest of them had just been deemed healthy enough to fight again after falling ill to Deadman’s Spots, fevered and covered in sores and wasting away. Only Coran had been spared – or so they thought. They had almost lost him.) Coran could have a shard of bone sticking out of his leg and none of them would know.

They could not afford to refuse the help.

The gathered army rippled and shifted as people answered Dryope’s call. One by one more Aegians pushed their way to the front, until seven stood just behind their leader, shoulder to shoulder, chins raised proudly.

“We have space for the injured girl,” spoke the first Aegian. She stepped forward, and she didn’t look like a warrior at all – the smile on her face was soft and welcoming. She was much stouter than Dryope, and and her eyes held the same maternal kindness that Shiro’s often did, deep and black and understanding. The lined pattern that made up her bark was softer, lining her face like smile lines. Thousands of branches twisted and grew out of her waist, resembling the tangled roots of the biggest tree in the forest. Clinging to her branch-skirt were at least four little saplings, young and reedy, peeking their wide eyes out behind their mama’s hips. She smiled wider, hands outstretched, and Keith had to stop himself from walking into them himself.

“Yes,” said Dryope, nodding at her. Her face went oddly soft, smiling at the maternal woman. When she turned back to face the team, her face morphed back into its impassive expression. “Paladins, Rhea and her family will house your injured girl. She will be well cared for – Rhea has nursed and watched many in her time.”

“Come,” beckoned Rhea, almost interrupting Dryope. The leader didn’t seem to mind. “Bring her to me, she must be laid comfortably.”

Coran walked forward, handing Allura to her gently. It spoke volumes to her character that Coran approached her at all, let alone that he pressed a quiet kiss to his charge’s forehead and stepped away.

“She is only tired,” he said softly. “Not injured. She needs rest, and perhaps food.”

“I will see to it. Come, children.” With a sweep of her skirts echoing like a bamboo broom, she walked back through the ranks, saplings clinging to her back like baby monkeys.

Next, an elderly man stepped forward. He was hunched, gnarled fingers curled around the haft of a sharp wooden trident that resembled Dryope’s staff. Despite his limp, he walked with dignity, and when he lifted his chin to face Coran, his eyes were bright.

“Have you space, Father?” murmured Dryope.

He nodded. “Always.”

Using his trident as a walking stick, he strode toward Coran, standing beside him. Coran, ever the diplomat, smiled slightly, and began speaking with him too quietly for Keith to hear. Both men, he noticed, seemed to stand the same way, although he couldn’t explain what that meant. It was just – vibes, he supposed. An energy.

“By the Sky, Mother, how long is this going to take?”

Startled by the abrupt change in tone, Keith jumped, turning towards the man who spoke. He was taller than anyone on the team, although shorter than most of the other Aegians, and covered himself with leaves that looked deliberately sewn rather than grown. His smile was wide and white and what Keith could only describe as shark-like.

But what was most striking was his skin. The dark lines of patterns that covered it had Keith thinking he was as Aegian as the rest of them, made of tree bark, but then he blinked and realised – they were merely marks, or tattoos. Unlike the rest of the Aegians, this man had skin, this man was –

Lance gasped. “You’re — human!”

“Half,” the man corrected, chuckling. He swept forward and delicately grabbed Lance’s hand in one of his, pressing a kiss just above his wrist. Lance blushed up to his hairline. “My name is Peitho. I was born here, on Aegis. My father was a lost human explorer. I have never been to earth. But human genes…” He looked Lance up and down, grinning charmingly. “I’ve always felt they’re very dominant.”

Lance, obviously pleased with the attention, warmed up quick. He walked over, reaching up to brush the hair out of Peitho’s eyes, touch lingering. Like they were friends or something. Keith ground his teeth so hard you could hear it from the ship’s smoking engine room.

“I thought…I‘ve never seen a human in space. I thought we were alone, up here.”

Peitho laughed, full-bodied and bright, like the sound of a smoothly rumbling engine. His handsome face creased lightly as he laughed, emphasizing newly-formed smile lines, which only made him more beautiful, not less. Lance smiled widely along with him. “Oh, my dear,” he said, turning that charming grin full blast on Lance, “you are never alone.”

Keith thought his jaw might crack. What a sleazeball. No wonder Lance liked him so much.

“The introductions need not drag on,” Peitho said grandly, sweeping his arm out like he was in charge or something. His other arm was around Lance’s shoulders. “Akeso, Dysnomia, Elatreus, meet with your paladins. They are hungry, and likely tired from travel. The sooner we have them rested, the sooner they can partake in our welcoming festivities. Right, Mother?”

Dryope nodded, looking a mix of annoyed and amused. “Yes, you embodiment of impertinence.”

As ordered by the embodiment of impertinence, three Aegians stepped forward. The first – who must be Akeso, a tall, reedy person with willowy locs falling to their shoulders, who held no weapon – approached Shiro, nodding tersely. Keith felt his brother match the terseness, stiffening.

(Internally, Keith winced – could his brother not get someone who smiled, maybe? Akeso was probably fine, but, yeesh. There was once a time when Shiro laughed more than anyone else Keith knew. Sometimes maniacally, on two hours of sleep. But he heard it so rarely now.)

The second Aegian, Dysnomia, approached Pidge. Like the Green Paladin, she was short as shit. Keith met his friends eyes and snickered at her. The murderous look he got would make him more nervous if he, as Lance so often liked to gripe, had a bone of impulse control in his body. (Rich coming from him, but. Whatever. It wasn’t like Keith could argue.) The third, Elatreus, was absolutely, one hundred percent, the coolest Aegian Keith had seen so far. Holding an intricately crafted crossbow and with a shoulder width approximately the size of a small mountain, he lumbered over to Hunk. He held out his fist. Hunk wasted no time bumping with his own. Keith would be jealous if Hunk didn’t deserve it so bad.

“Oh,” said Peitho, after a moment. “Of course, there is one more. Ares!” He gestured with half as much enthusiasm at Keith. “Your guest.”

Keith stilled. From behind Dryope, the last Aegian host stepped forward. His pale, papery bark was gnarled and scared, bulky, and – stained, it looked like, all the way up the arms. His face was more impassive that Dryope’s, expressionless, except for the slightest of sneers. Resting on one shoulder was a massive club, three times the size of Keith’s head at its tip. Like his host’s arms, it was stained.

Keith forced himself to meet his stare. His host had eyes red as pomegranates – well. Eye. The right side of his face, like the rest of the Aegians, was humanoid. The left side looked like it had – looked like someone had clawed out his eye, leaving a gaping, half-healed knot of a scar.

Ares.

Keith wasn’t familiar with a lot of myths. But he knew what namesake his Aegian host bore – Ares, god of war, god of pain, god of hardened warriors and battlefield and bloodshed.

Fitting, hissed a voice in his mind. Keith curled his fists and ignored it.

“Paladin,” nodded Ares, taking his place next to him.

Keith swallowed. “Ares.”

“That, I believe, is everyone,” said Dryope. “Paladins, please follow your hosts. They will bring you to their homes and ensure you have somewhere to rest. At sundown, we shall reconvene at the hearth, eat, and make merry. Please –” she spread her hands, “enjoy our island. I will see you all shortly.”

She cracked her staff once on the ground. Immediately, her army parted for her, following her in formation once she marched through. Many of them returned to their tree form. It was still strange to watch.

Keith jumped as a hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Shiro smiled slightly at him, squeezing again before letting go.

“See you soon, kiddo.”

He followed his host, leaving Keith to realise he was the last still gathered in the shadow of their crashed castle. The eyeless Aegian stood next to him, hands resting on his club, watching him curiously.

Keith cleared his throat. “Um, we can go.”

The Aegian continued to stare. Keith shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to draw his bayard. That would certainly not help. Things were precarious enough.

“You do not trust us,” his host observed. His one remaining eye was unblinking, holding Keith’s stare until his own eyes burned and he had to blink.

“No,” Keith admitted. It wasn’t that he was scared of the Aegians, per se, but he was wary of them in the same way he was wary of the Blades of Marmora. He recognised their strength, their power, and knew from the way Dryope stood that she was keeping a lot of information to herself. Any group that kept secrets was impossible to trust, at least by Keith’s standards. He suddenly wished he had been paying attention enough to watch Pidge, Lance, and Hunk leave with their hosts, to make sure they were armed.

His host shrugged. “Wise, probably. I would have no trust in your position.”

He started to walk over the rocks, and Keith followed. It was no accident that the Aegian kept Keith on a diagonal to him, visible from his right side. Keith did his best to keep himself in his line of sight.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Do I look like I would?”

“I don’t know how to answer that diplomatically.”

To Keith’s great surprise, his host huffed a laugh. A slight smile upturned Keith’s own lips.

“Fair.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Off the beach and across the meadow, in a deep, round valley, there was a sprawling village. Small, large-bricked buildings dotted hills and lay nestled at the edge of small farms. Dead centre of the valley was a giant fire pit, gently lit, and surrounding it in a perfect circle were several larger buildings in the same style. Keith recognised many of the buildings as temples.

“This way,” Keith’s host said, beckoning him forward. He turned off the main path and walked along the edge of the hill. Keith teetered after him, trying desperately to keep his balance. He was reminded how hard it was to breathe with bruising around his ribcage, how tired he was. But he kept his mouth clenched tightly closed, unwilling to look weak.

They walked far past the centre circle, past outer circles, past even the farthest of farmhouses. In crossing one of them, the man stopped, Keith nearly walking right into him, and waited for several moments. He bent over as a tiny little boar came galloping to the edge of the fence on runty little legs, smiling as he scratched the thing between its tusks. Keith couldn’t help but notice the blood covering the sharp, portraying bones, as if the animal had just recently hunted.

“Hey, Kyknos. Good to see you.”

He pet the boar for a few more minutes, then wordlessly started walking again. Keith had to jog to keep up, tired from the hike so far.

“That, uh, your pet?”

“No.”

Keith waited. No more information came forth.

“Oo-kay, then.”

There was a Lance in his head that was laughing at him, bringing up every one-word answer of Keith’s that had frustrated the Blue Paladin to twitching eyes. Keith scowled.

Finally, the host stopped at a house. Keith felt he would nearly faint with relief, beyond ready to lay down his head, wariness or not.

“This your place?” Keith asked, panting.

His host raised his eyebrow, pushing open the door.

“No,” he deadpanned, “this is my annoying neighbour’s house. He’s on holidays. I’m staying here and using all his things to take revenge for hours of small talk.”

“Oh,” Keith replied, impressed. “Cool.” He’ll have to do that next time Lance is on a solo mission.

“No, I’m – I’m kidding, Paladin.”

“Oh,” Keith repeated, disappointed. “Less cool.”

“Just – get in the house.”

Keith didn’t argue. He followed his host into the small building, nodded as he was pointed to a guest room, and passed out the second his head hit the straw-stuffed pillow.

— — —

part three

326 notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 11 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 02)

Soap x Reader AU

Link to AO3

THE NEXT DAY

The Ettrick was the best pub in town, and you could smell the spicy blend of their famous curry halfway down the block. It was close enough to Pidge’s house to walk but far enough to be a bit of a trek, and so you were trailing behind her and Hamish as you made your way out to dinner. Hamish had called up some friends, and Pidge had done the same, for a little impromptu celebration party. You were not a fan of crowds, really, but you had promised yourself (in some small secret way) that you would be the best maid of honor there ever was for your best friend. If that meant partying down at the local bar, so be it.

After bringing you and Pidge your morning coffees, Johnny had taken his Jeep and sped off somewhere, saying he “needed to clear his head.” But, even though he promised to show up to dinner tonight, you doubted he would show. Pidge had rolled her eyes and shrugged at you, expressing her doubt as well.

You weren’t supposed to be worried about him though. You needed to focus on the goal: Pidge having fun. Be fun. She needed you to be fun. Smile, or something, c’mon. Your internal pep talks exhausted you, and you grew frustrated with yourself. Surely you could stand to be in a crowd for just an evening?

Lachlan Black, Hamish’s man of honor and college roommate, was already at the restaurant. You could tell because his lime green Aventador was parked out front, covering both the street and the sidewalk and shining like a penny. Stepping around it as carefully as you would a coiled snake, you squeezed past the car, making sure not to even breathe too roughly on it.

When Hamish opened the door for you, you stepped inside to find Anjali, Bekah, and Cherise already waiting for Pidge, half-circled around Lachlan and Johnny like hungry birds - waiting to be fed more sweet nothings, you assumed. The three girls were Pidge’s friends from grammar school. They had grown up with Johnny and Pidge, and they knew them well, but they were not the most reliable bunch. If there was a party, they would turn up, but if you needed a ride to the airport, better call someone else. There was a reason none of them made the cut for maid of honor.

“Pigeon!” Johnny shouted from his end of the bar.

He had changed clothes, and he was in a half-open, rolled-sleeve button down with a pair of black canvas pants. Casual, but he looked like he was built to party. Lachlan, on the other hand, looked like he owned the party. You didn’t know what kind of fabric his clothes were made out of - probably something to do with baby alpacas - and he was shining all over. His high (surgery-induced?) cheekbones and bright blond hair made him look like a movie star, and the girls doted on him as if he was one. He had thrown an arm around Cherise, and she seemed perfectly content to be nestled there in his expensive armpit.

Johnny hugged Pidge and shook Hamish’s hand. He didn’t know what to do to you, so he just leaned back against the bar and shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling at you and mouthing the ghost of a “hey.” You did the same, matching that awkward energy and immediately regretting it.

“Hey, babes,” Lachlan smiled at you in a sort of sneer, “Aren’t you that bird from…New York?”

“Florida,” you corrected, tearing your eyes away from Johnny’s and looking hard at Hamish’s friend.

“Right, well,” he took a swig of his whisky, “All the same, innit?”

Hamish shook his hand, and then, he sort of pulled him off balance a bit to speak to him closer,

“No, mate, it isn’t.”

They laughed, but you could tell that Lachlan had been temporarily cowed.

“Good to see you again,” Cherise kissed you in the French sort of way, the imaginary cheek smooches that you were supposed to have memorized when you crossed the pond. Did you lean left first or right?

“You, too, Cherise. Glad you could come,” you tried to be as friendly as you could, but Cherise was into her own ventures and there wasn’t much that could shake her from that. She was tucked back into Lachlan’s side, trying to return herself into his missing rib. If she just squeezed in close enough, maybe…

“Can I get you a drink, from one Of Honor to the next?” Lachlan showed you his teeth again. White. Straight. Sharp.

Before you could say a word, Johnny moved in front of him and held out an outstretched hand. He gave you a full whisky cocktail, complete with an orange rind on top - something Pidge already had a copy of - and shrugged,

“Sorry, mate. You can get the next one, yeah? Here ya go, bonnie.”

The way he looked at you was meant to be dismissive, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to look at you at all. Johnny barely glanced your way, pale irises hiding under thick, dark eyelashes that then quickly fixed themselves back down at the counter. But, the look in your eyes must have called him by his name, because he found himself caught in the snare of you. His gaze met yours in a second glance and studied your skin, your cheeks, your nose, and finally your mouth, covered in sticky gloss and glitter, shining under the warm glow of the bar.

You watched him study you, his enormous Adam’s apple bobbing along his scruffy throat as he swallowed, and his face wore a mask of heightened uncertainty and… rejection? You couldn’t tell what emotion he was trying hard not to outwardly express. It was not a swoon, that was for sure. It looked as if he was concerned. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and you broke away from him, muttering a thanks for the drink. Staring down at your hands, suddenly feeling insecure, you became hyper-aware of everything he could have seen and had apparently found wanting.

A soft hand grabbed you around the arm and pulled you in,

“C’mon,” Pidge said, “Let’s get a booth.”

You took a sip of your cocktail as you were dragged away by your friend, and the whisky stung you like a hornet. One of these would be enough to put you down, and Christ did you want to be put down.

Seeing Johnny dressed like that had been enough to shake your determination, but his look of dismissal or distaste (or whatever it was) had shattered your self-esteem. To make matters worse, you couldn’t get away from him for a single second. He had given you a drink at the bar. He walked behind you as you moved deeper into the pub, and he slid around the slick pleather crescent of the booth seat, finally sandwiching you between him and his sister - the last nail in your coffin. You could smell his cologne, a musky, woodsy scent that mixed with his earthy citrus that you knew so well. You remembered the arch of his muscular shoulders as he squeezed himself into the seat, and you could almost taste his sweet breath on your tongue as he talked over you to his sister. If you were still in grade school, you thought about having to write: “I will not fuck my best friend’s brother” five hundred times on the chalkboard - or however many it took for it to sink in. How many sticks of chalk would turn to dust just to slake your forbidden thirst?

You felt his huge thigh, warm and tight, press against your bare leg through his slacks. The thin cotton was a poor barrier, and all you could think about was the skin underneath it. Was it covered in dark coarse hair? Shaved smooth like a swimmer? Did it have black, inky tattoos or jagged scars? Sharing his heat was unimaginably difficult to deal with. Your body stirred, wondering why you were hiding your interest from him. Your traitorous heart was joyful like a bird with a juicy worm, expecting revelry and finding only cold, white-knuckled repression.

“A wee toast!” Johnny lifted his cup, smiling in that half-cocked way that he wore in all of his photos, “To Hammie and Pigeon; and whilst we thus should make our sorrows one, this happy harmony would make them none. Congratulations, sister. Slàinte mhath.”

“Slàinte mhath!” The tables’ voices rang out with proud approval.

Pidge rolled her eyes, but she wore a sweet smile,

“Thank you, Johnny boy. That was not the toast I was expectin’ from you, you weapon.”

Johnny, who had been wearing an innocent grin, turned it into a cunning one that a wolf might wear,

“Ya mean, this one?”

“No, Johnny, don’t -” Pidge tried to pull him down, reaching over you to get at his arm.

He broke through her grip as if she was a petulant child, and stood, raising his glass and his voice so that the entire pub could enjoy his toast,

“Let’s drink our drop o’ barley bree,” boisterous cheering came from the older menfolk who recognized the rhyme, “Though moon and stars should blink tae’gether, to each leal lad wi’ kilted knee…” a pause for effect prompted raucous whistles and table-pounding, “and a bonnie lass among the heather!”

Loud, jeering applause filled the cozy room, and Hammie was being shoved by his mates, blushing like a nun. Pidge cut a sharp glare at her brother, red not for shame but for fraternal rage.

You wanted to stick up for her, being stuck between them as you were. So, you put on a wry smile and raised your eyebrows to deliver your sarcasm,

“Wow, Sergeant, didn’t realize you were such a poet.”

While he was laughing and basking in the crude attention, he now paused and swiveled his head over to you, looking at you intentionally this time, and there was no second take. He laughed a little lower, and looked ruffled that you would challenge his poetic authority. He needed to save face, so he made quite a show of clearing his throat and settled himself nice and close to you before he said,

“Perhaps the bonnie lass would like to hear another?”

You noted his tone on the callback line, and you shrugged, feigning disinterest.

“Of that quality? No, thank you,” you tried to erase all traces of interest from your voice.

He was not to be deterred. Johnny’s face turned serious, and he delivered the next lines as earnestly and without satire, taking your request to heart,

“We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go, always a little further. It may be beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow, across that angry or that glimmering sea…”

When he stopped his performance, the applause and the cheering erupted again, praising him for his fancy delivery. Thinking he’d won your little challenge, he took a big sip of his own straight whisky and grinned like a cat who caught the mouse. You snuffed it out with the frigid precision only a graduate student would possess,

“White, on a throne, or guarded in a cave,” you enunciated as clearly as you could, matching his volume, and you watched as his pompous attitude was extinguished. He froze, just like a fox caught in a trap, staring at you with wonder. You continued,

“There lives a prophet who can understand why men were born. But, surely we are brave…”

He said the last line with you, his face blank in disbelief and his voice almost a whisper,

“Who take the golden road to Samarkand.”

More cheering than before. You’d won. You borrowed his smug attitude and looked at him, sipping your drink as he did, pleased as punch. He looked wounded but blissfully happy about it. Everyone around you went back into their conversations, chittering and drinking and eating the appetizers that were waiting for you. But, Johnny kept you locked in his sights, staring back like he was seeing you again for the first time, just like when he thought you were a thief. You wondered what it was that you had stolen this time. His pride? The other bridesmaids’ admiration?

“You know Flecker?”

You nodded,

“I’m at Glasgow. Doing a bit of graduate work in poetry, actually. Shakespeare, to be specific.”

You tried to be casual about it. In truth, the “bit” of work was a mountain, and if you were being “specific”, you could talk for days and still not cover the details in full. But, normal people didn’t want to hear about that sort of thing.

Johnny was about to say something with a wide grin on his lips, but it fell as soon as Lachlan interrupted from across the booth’s table,

“My father is an Emeritus at Glasgow. He’s hardly in residence, but he could help you get into the ARG, if I put in a good word.”

There it was again, that sharpness. You smiled genuinely, refusing to be unsettled by his intrusion and his mention of the invitation-only advanced research group,

“I’m running my own research in the ARG now, actually. But, thank you. That’s very generous.”

Johnny was speechless for a moment, but there was something dark roiling around in him as he cut his eyes at Lachlan,

“Aye, mate. Very generous. Did you attend uni as well, or just your da?”

A cruel dig. Everyone knew that Lachlan hadn’t been accepted to his father’s own department. Johnny was dragging out the skeletons of his vast, walk-in closet, a dog with a bone.

Lachlan Black was not one to be bullied, though,

“I went on invitation to Oxford, actually. A full merit scholarship…”

Johnny wasn’t done playing with his food,

“Och! Of course. I've been forgetful lately. And what, uh…degree was it, then?”

Silent tension struck the table like a too-tight guitar string, ready to pop someone across the cheek. Lachlan was clearly rattled, but he recovered with ease. He took a sip of his nearly empty glass and rose as if to get a refill, reigning hellfire as he did so,

“I had already made my first million by the end of my starting year. So, I thought I’d leave the monastery to the monks, right boyo?”

Lachlan stayed standing over the table for a beat, making sure the dog he’d kicked stayed down. Johnny didn’t produce a comeback, but he was close enough to you that you could feel his body prepare itself to deliver one in a more physical format.

When Lachlan left the table, Cherise in tow, Pidge spoke across you again,

“Johnny! What’s gotten into you?”

Her brother rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. He turned his attention back to you, emboldened somehow even in defeat,

“Another round, hen?”

He pointed to your glass, and you nodded,

“Sure, but let me get it. Pidge? Do you want another?”

“Yes! And tell them to bring two tequilas. My wee brother is driving me to drink.”

“I’ll help you carry ‘em back. C’mon, then,” Johnny held his hand out to help you out of the booth, and as you slid your fingers across his palm, he grabbed it with confidence.

He led you to the other side of the bar, as far from Lachlan as he could get, and let you place the order. You sat on the stool to wait and he stood beside you, one arm on the bar and one on the back of your chair, caging you in,

“So, Shakespeare, huh?”

“Yep,” you nodded, hesitating to elaborate.

“You’re after his poems, I take it?” Johnny’s face looked like he was trying to piece together an impossible puzzle.

You sighed, steeling yourself for the ordeal of telling someone all about your project only for them to respond in the most milquetoast way. You told him,

“I’m trying to determine why Sonnet 145 has such an abnormal structure. Some scholars have even claimed that Shakespeare didn’t compose it. It’s the black sheep of the collection, and I am performing an analysis on its rhyme scheme and meter.”

“Do you know it by heart?” He asked, practically begging for a performance.

“Here are your drinks, love. Tha’s twenty pound,” the barkeep stopped you from delivering your encore.

You paid him and balanced the cups in your hand. Johnny took the majority of the burden and made his way back through the crowd with you trailing behind him.

“Ahh!” Pidge squealed with pleasure, “Shots! C’mon, babe. Show these nuggets how it’s done in America. This girl’s a real cowgirl, she is. Watch this.”

You grabbed the salt from the center of the table, shy and miffed at Pidge’s callout, and licked the meat of your thumb to wet it. You sprinkled the salt on it and reached for the lime. Then, you licked the salt, downed the shot, and sucked on the flesh of the fruit, keeping your face as straight as an arrow. Pidge clapped with joy.

“Okay, me next.”

“That’s quite the process, cowgirl,” Hamish commented, admiring your shot-taking ritual.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that downtown Miami didn’t have any cows, but you just smiled, folding yourself back up into hiding in the booth. The conversations left you behind and your head began to swim from the alcohol. By the time everyone was ready for their next beverage, you were done. Pidge didn’t notice. She’d moved on to champagne and spritzers. You were alone in a crowded room again, as usual.

“Hey, you feelin’ alright, bonnie?”

Johnny’s voice seemed too quiet for a loud bar. You smiled weakly,

“Mmm. Just drank too much, I think.”

“C’mon. I’ll get you home.”

Before you could protest, he was helping you out of the booth and onto your feet. You heard Pidge shriek,

“Johnny! What did I say?!”

“Pigeon! Is that really what you think o’ me? Gonna tuck her in, and tha’s it. I’ll be right back.”

“I swear on Christ and -”

“Yeah, yeah, and all the actual saints. I heard you, you wee dafty. I promise. Not a hair on her head, yeah?”

“You can touch all the hairs on my head, Soap,” Bekah cackled, and the table laughed with her.

Johnny laughed too, which felt like a knife twisting in your chest for some reason. You’d forgotten all about his nickname. Everyone except Pidge used it for him. You thought it was a callsign for the military, but you’d never had to call him anything, so you didn’t remember. But, Bekah did. She called him the right name. You had failed, obviously. Put it on my tab , you thought. You screamed it in your mind, punishing yourself for your mistake: Soap, Soap, Soap…

“C’mon,” he held you by the arm, “I’m out back.”

He loaded you into his Jeep and climbed into the driver’s side, adjusting the knobs for air and music. Some early aughts alt rock was blaring too loudly, and he cut it down, apologizing under his breath. His car smelled like cigarettes and beach sand. It was cleaner than it should’ve been. You felt too hot and too cold, and you wanted to sleep, so you did.

You woke with a jolt after the short ride had ended, and he had you in his arms, nestled close to his chest. He felt you come to and he whispered,

“Shh, lass. We’re almost in. Gonna get you some water and a paracetamol, and you’ll be right as rain in the mornin’.”

“God,” you groaned, “Soap, I’m so sorry. I didn’t really eat anything, and I -”

“Tha’s fine, hen. You’re alright. We’ve all been there, trust.”

He deposited you on his bed, pulling off your shoes and tucking you in. Then, he was gone and back in a flash of your semi-unconscious state. He handed you the pills and the water. It was cool in your hot mouth.

“Here, lass. Take that for me. Tha’s it. Good girl.”

You groaned, feeling sick with drunken stupor and sick with drunken desire all at the same time.

“And, hey,” he bent his face so he was eye-level with you as you lay back down, “Call me Johnny.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 03

#soap mctavish #soap x reader #soap x you #soap cod #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty fanfic #guile and guilt

130 notes · View notes

girlboypersonthingy · 1 year

Note

Heyy can I get a Matt Holt x Shiros sister reader who’s like best friends with Pidge?? Thank you!!

This is such a specific request, plz IM OBSESSED PLZ this is too cute I can’t. Thank you again anon! I’m feeling so confident in my writing with all these requests I’ve been getting. AH Thank you all sm for being patient with meeeee 🥹❤️‍🔥 love y’all so much fr

I’m doin headcanons, hope that’s chill 🤷🏻

Ps: THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRYYYYY

Y’all for sure met through Shiro. Shiro introduced you to Matt and the rest of the Holt family long before they even knew they’d be going to Kerberos together.

Instantly, you and Pidge clicked, besties for the resties. You weren’t necessarily as smart as she was but you were always so curious and interested in what she was in to.

You and Pidge became really close considering you were only two years older than her. And because Matt and Pidge were always very close, y’all became the three amigos real fast.

Matt always enjoyed your company, he thought you were funny and kind and open minded. He liked you but he always felt like you were more of Pidge’s friend than his friend.

Only a couple months after meeting the Holts, Shiro noticed they were all you’d ever talk about. He also noticed how differently you spoke about each of the siblings.

When you talked about Pidge, it was like you were talking about a super hero, some cool cosmic thing that’s almost too hard to even explain.

But when you’d talk about Matt, big bro Shiro could tell you had a crush from the get go. When talking about him, you’d say his name a lot and you couldn’t even look at Shiro, a smile would poke at the corners of your lips and you’d look down at your lap awkwardly. And Shiro’s like 😏

Because of your close friendship with Pidge, you tried very hard to push your feelings down and just look at Matt as a friend. I mean he is your friend after all. Let’s just keep it that way.

When Shiro got the news of the Kerberos mission approval, you were the first person he told, just before he told Adam. And of course you were excited!!! Your big brother is going TO SPACE OMFGGGG

You def cried…a lot. And hugged him…a lot.

I have to mention…being Shiro’s sibling means being Keith’s sibling. You two are Keith’s chosen family for sure. So you were a big comfort to Keith upon hearing that Shiro would be gone for a while.

The next time you saw Matt, you were sure to congratulate him with an excited smile and a big hug. This was your first time hugging him and it was so nice, it was soft and innocent and warm. You couldn’t wait to do it again.

Matt, Sam and Shiro had many Kerberos meetings at the Holt family home and Shiro would always bring you along. The next several months before the mission were spent with Pidge as you both sneak around to eavesdrop and peak in on the Kerberos mission plans.

The day they left, you cried and hugged Shiro and Matt A LOT. You were a mess, an excited and proud mess tho.

Before he left, Matt told you to take care of his sister while he was gone and you promised him you’d look after her. He told you he was very relieved to know that you would keep Pidge company while he was away. And he knew Pidge would be good company to you while Shiro was gone.

When news of the failed mission came to you, you broke down, you were a mess. You were worried about your brother and your best friend’s brother. Poor Pidge has lost two family members. You couldn’t even imagine how Keith felt…and he disappeared soon after. You had lost both of your brothers in the same instance.

From that moment on, you followed Pidge everywhere and were her biggest supporter and protector. You had to keep your word to Matt to protect his sister and you also wanted to help Pidge in hopes of getting your own brother back.

When Pidge got into the garrison, you began visiting her almost every night. You’d slip through a broken part of the fence or carefully climb over the barbed wire at the top and meet her on the rooftop. You two had spent too many hours to count up there searching for a sign of Matt, Sam and Shiro.

Eventually, you found yourself watching Shiro crash land to Earth and you caught a glimpse of Keith running to save him. You couldn’t help but run in to help as well. Shiro would probably scold you two about putting yourselves in danger later but saving him was just too important.

It felt like you had closed your eyes for mere seconds and when you opened them again, you found yourself in the castle of lions with your brothers, best friend and a couple other garrison cadets. It all happened so fast, one moment you were helping bring Shiro back to Keith’s little hide away and the next you were watching everyone become paladins of voltron.

You didn’t even get the chance to cry or enjoy Shiro’s return, you were thrown straight into a galactic war.

Being the one person who wasn’t a Paladin, you found yourself helping Coran around the castle a lot and training to protect yourself in case you were ever thrown into battle. If you weren’t with Coran or in the training room with Keith, you were always by Pidge’s side. She was your best friend after all.

Often times, you went to Shiro for advice and to vent about your fears and worries and stress. He is so good to you, he always offers you the warmest hugs and gentle pats on the back and when you’re really upset, he’ll kiss your cheek and give you a big smile.

Other than that, you and Shiro often did your own things. You hung out with Pidge way more than you did with Shiro and he didn’t mind it. He was happy you had a best friend as wise and kind as Pidge. Lord knows you don’t have many other friends.

And there’s Matt…he was always a good friend to you. A fantastic friend even. And so in addition to always siding with Pidge and protecting her, you often ran off on your own to look for Matt and their father, Sam.

After many days of holding Pidge as she cried and crying along with her and staying up late to run tests on new tech and ruining mission plans just to go looking for Matt and Sam, Pidge had finally found her brother.

Once the siblings got back to the castle, you were the last to greet Matt. You sort of just stood behind everyone else to stare at him while he hugged Shiro and introduced himself to the others.

When he finally saw you, he looked shocked and excited all at the same time. “(Y/N)?” He said it as if he wasn’t sure if that was really you. You’d both changed a lot since you last saw each other.

Finally, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You ran to him, nearly pushing Shiro out of the way as you hugged him tightly. All he could do was laugh as he hugged you back.

“You look different.” “Yeah, ditto.” You can decide who said what.

Y’all are just so taken aback by seeing each other again under these strange circumstances and now things feel…different. You spent so long, tried so hard to help Pidge find him and now that he’s here, it feels like you know him inside and out. You’ve been picturing him in your mind for so long, wondering if he’s even alive and you’d cry at night thinking about him and you start to panic as you realize you’re still very much in love with him…you still have the same crush on him that you did years ago, when he wore glasses and had braces.

Although you’re happy and relieved to have Matt back, you give the Holt siblings some space for the first few days after his return. You know how close they are and it was very emotional for you when you and Keith rescued Shiro, you just want to give them some private sibling bonding time.

Immediately, they put a stop to that. They both so badly want you to be a part of everything they do. Pidge feels that she will forever be in debt to you for helping her, and Matt is also secretly in love with you is incredibly impressed that you made it all the way up here with the rest of the team and really appreciates that you stuck by his sibling this whole time. You kept your promise and that makes his heart explode ❤️‍🔥

After just a few weeks with Matt around, EVERYONE could begin to feel the tense vibes between you two. Like…y’all are really comfortable around each other and you are decent at pretending to be ‘just friends’ but there are certain times when Matt is just very obviously pining for you and the team can’t NOT notice, he’s just too dramatic for it to go unseen.

Pidge notices first and she’s like “Yep. I saw that one coming from a mile away.” Then she starts to whisper to the rest of the team about it and point it out more often just to embarrass Matt.

She’s terrible, she’ll literally blackmail Matt with threats of telling you how he really feels about you. And he’s like 😥 “Katie, please, no.”

After a couple days of blackmailing to get piggy back rides and get served food and drinks while she works, Pidge begins to actually talk to Matt about it more. She starts to become his little wingman, giving him tips about how to woo you and things she’s learned about you since he’s been gone.

One day, Matt decides to confess his feelings to your brother first. It was a bit awkward at first as Matt stuttered and blushed, but it quickly became a very comfortable and deep talk about how much they both admire you.

Suddenly, he gets a surge of confidence and asks Shiro’s permission to ask you to be his partner, considering that Shiro is one of his closest friends and also his hero. Of course Shiro approved. Y’all are too cute for him to say no. He ships it so hard already.

Matt comes barging into the lions’ hangar where you are assisting Pidge in adding some cool, new invention to her lion. He charges straight up to you with a very concerning look on his face. He’s bright red and breathing quickly and won’t look you in the eye which is very unlike him.

“Matt? What is it? You okay?” And he’s looking nervously back and forth between you and Pidge.

“Spit it out already, Romeo! We have work to do.” Pidge is lowkey grossed out rn. Y’all are cute but you’re her best friend and he’s her brother and she doesn’t want to see it up close like this.

“(Y/N), I think I love you…I-I uh…I’m sorry.” Matt’s so red and scared and stressed rn, omg plz tell this boy how you feel already.

“I love you too, Matt.” And instantly, he’s looking at you and he’s smiling.

He asks you very softly to be his partner and how can you refuse? You’ve been dreaming of this day for so long.

Because y’all are already close friends, the transition into a relationship is super easy. You still geek out together with Pidge and you still talk to each other the same, you just get to do cute couples shit too like cuddle in bed under the blankets and hold hands as you walk together and share quick kisses right in front of Pidge just to gross her out. It’s honestly hilarious.

#long post #voltron legendary defender #voltron x reader #voltron x you #vld #matt voltron #voltron matt #voltron #matt vld #vld matt #matt holt #matt holt x reader #matt x reader #voltron fandom #voltron fanfic

177 notes · View notes

alluraaaa · 1 year

Text

When the paladins touched down on Earth, it quickly became Reunion Central. Not that Keith has a problem with it, he’s just unsure of how to approach it. He doesn’t exactly have anyone to return to.

However, he doesn’t have to think about that, the decision is made for him.

He’s pulled into many a meeting of the family, given introductions he immediately forgets and hearing stories about himself. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance are thrilled to show their first families their second one. Keith, Allura, Coran, and Romelle are passed around like trading cards to the tune of “These are my parents!”

Though Keith will admit he’s avoiding Lance’s family. Nothing against them personally, it’s just… there’s so many of them, and they’re all as touchy feely as Lance. He appreciates a good group hug from the team, but it’d be different with people he’s only heard stories about.

Luckily, he’s saved from a social interaction he doesn’t want to participate in yet.

“Keith. Akira. Kogane.”

Unluckily, it’s replaced by a less favorable one.

Keith stiffens, staring but unseeing at Hunk’s grandmother. She, and the rest of the Garretts, turn to the source of the full name yelled across the way. Keith… doesn’t. He stares at the ground, unable to hide his grimace as he hears boots marching towards him.

Someone please put him back into a magic robo-cat that shoots lasers. He’d gladly get into a space fight than talk to him.

“Where the hell did you go!?” he asks, grabbing Keith by the shoulder and turning him around. Keith stares up into brown eyes covered by glasses, rage in those irises. Behind his head, Shiro is sending him a sympathetic smile, unable to stop his fiancé once on the warpath.

“Your brother goes missing and you think the best reaction is to do the same!?” Adam all but screeches.

“Hi Adam,” Keith manages. He missed him, he really did, but he also 100% knew this was coming.

“Don’t Hi Adam me, young man! Where did you go? Do you know how much I was looking for you? I was so worried! And you didn’t even say anything, you just left! Right after I get told my fiancé is dead!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry and we both know that.”

“Yeah…”

Adam sighs, like this is the biggest problem he has right now, and pulls Keith into a tight embrace. But not too tight. He still remembers how Keith likes his hugs. Keith hugs back.

He’s just as warm as Keith remembers him, and he still smells the same, like vanilla and cinnamon. It’s moments like these where Keith gets why Shiro fell in love with him.

“You’re grounded, by the way.”

“What!?”

#i wrote this months ago but forgot to post it #cue the garrison trio watching their chill ass professor W lecture their badass teammate who looks like he got caught by a parent #and they all laugh at keith <3 family things #keith #adam&keith #fic #mine #txt #long post #kiiiinda. just in case

265 notes · View notes

veryace-ficrecs · 8 months

Note

looking for voltron (legendary defenders) found family or klance, i love some good banter. i’m also always up for some good angst but no pressure there

I can sure do that for you!

Voltron Fic Recs

This Is The Part Of Me (That You're Never Gonna Ever Take Away) by negativefouriq - Rated T

Lance finishes reading the file, then turns to face Shiro. Shiro braces himself for an onslaught of questions, and readies himself to message Coran — “Is this your way of quietly kicking me off Voltron?” — and freezes. Huh? “Pardon?” Lance swallows roughly, eyes trained on his fidgety hands. “Um, I asked if this is your way of kicking me off the team,” Lance repeats. Shiro has never felt more like his brain was completely empty, because he has no fucking clue what to say. --- OR: Shiro and Lance have a misunderstanding. But Shiro wants nothing except for his kids to be happy, so he clears things up as quickly as possible.

Singularity by this_book_has_been_loved - Rated T

AU where instead of landing in the trash nebula, Pidge finds herself on the same planet as a certain Galra prison camp

The Lost Paladin by dinosuns - Rated T

If he doesn’t leave, all of him will be reduced to cinders. But if he leaves, all of him will be undone. A course that he will choose to chart, no matter how it breaks his heart. It’s a battle that cannot be won. - Their names burn inside him, seared onto his soul. Black coal sits in the centre of his chest, fuelling a fire that was soon to be smothered by the very people that set it ablaze.

Bad Diagnosis by ElfGrove - Rated T

Pidge has been having bad headaches for nearly a week straight, so she decides to see if the infirmary has some sort of Altean Advil. The actual news is not so great.

Tag in, tag out by Rangergirl3 - Rated T

When a teammate is in danger, Keith doesn't stand by when there is something he can do to help - even if it might cost him his life.

Family Can Be 2 Aliens and 5 Ex-Paladins by Lilacs_and_the_sea - Rated G

The war is over, and everyone's back home with their family. Everyone except Keith.

i'm family? by seph_bites - Rated T

“You were right when you said I shouldn’t be leader. All of you were right and Shiro was wrong. I can’t be what you guys need,” he said quietly. “No,” Hunk said defiantly. “You’re the one who’s wrong. Because you’ve been there for us. You didn’t want to be the leader of Voltron but you did it anyway. For us.” “And I almost got all of you killed in the process! Look, once Shiro can pilot Black again, what would I stay for?” “Us! You’re supposed to say us, you asshole!”

A Family By Any Other Name by Calacious - Rated T

Lance and Keith discover a lone survivor on a planet whose inhabitants have been wiped out by a virus brought to them by a visitor from another universe.

the perfect pair by polypinneaple - Rated T

“Don’t– you know it’s not different Shiro, Pidge and I work just as much if not more and what, they can just skip practice today because they’re homesick, or what, tired? This is a war!” “If they can’t pull their weight then maybe they shouldn’t be here. No! I don’t want to hear it, I’m going to go train.” ••• Hunk wasn’t an angry guy, he wasn’t short tempered or easily poked. But something about the way Keith spoke about Lance made him furious, he didn’t care what these people thought about him, but his Lance? Hunk would go to war and die fighting if it meant Lance was happy. AKA Lance and Hunk deal with feeling like outsiders to Team Voltron during their first few weeks in, it doesn't go well.

It's Okay by TerrificTea - Not Rated

It was supposed to be a simple intel mission. In and out. Simple right? But this is Voltron, and now Lance and Pidge are trapped after an explosion, leaving Pidge concussed, confused and with a rapidly growing concern for her teammate.

Voltron Means Family, And Family Means No One Gets Left Behind by Spazzcat - Rated G

Five times the merchant vessel Castle of Lions gained a new crew member, and one time they all refused to leave.

Family, Then and Now by NightPurity - Rated G

Hunk likes to bake, but sometimes, his thoughts get a tight hook into him and start to pull him down. Coran, he happens to stumble upon a hurting Hunk. Sometimes, it hurts thinking about those you've lost, but also, it helps to talk about it. Of course, hope can help keep you afloat.

#veryace asks #voltron #keith kogane #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #takashi shirogane #vld coran #princess allura #vld #voltron legendary defender #found family #klance #ao3 #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs

39 notes · View notes