#keith: if you asked I would rip off one of my own ribs and give it to you but that doesn’t mean I care about a priest saying words at us

[electricsynthesis]

lance cries at their wedding and keith says he looks stupid and is an annoying crybaby as he reverently wipes the tears from his cheeks. Do you understand what I’m trying to say.

[womanofwords]

Ghost Tricks

Due to the sudden traction to my fic Ghostly Vengeance and the new addition to ghost squad lore (both caused by @shyticklemonster), I wrote this on the fly. This is the newest addition to the saga.

“So . . . since you’re a ghost and all, what else can you do?” Keith asked. Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“What exactly do you mean?” Sebastian asked.

“Well, we know that you can possess people, but that can’t be the limit of your powers. What else can you do?” Elliot asked.

“Well, before you two came along, I would often levitate and telepathically control objects,” Sebastian replied. “Mostly out of boredom, but sometimes to scare off intruders. I don’t really do it as much now that I have friends to keep me occupied.” The boys were enthralled as Sebastian levitated a few dusty lampshades, making them spin. Doors opened and shut on their own and tables rattled towards them. Dishes flung themselves to their deaths to the sound of Keith and Elliot gleefully applauding.

“So cool!” Keith cheered.

“Well, I did spend a few decades as a vengeful poltergeist, so this is all par for the course,” Sebastian bragged. “I’m actually a little rusty, really. I remember the days when I used to move that grand piano.” The dilapidated piano seemed to sag with nostalgia, or maybe wood rot.

“So, what changed? What weakened you?” Elliot asked.

“Weakened?”

Elliot pressed on. “Well, sure. You used to be able to move the grand piano, so what changed?”

“Well, as I told you, I was a vengeful poltergeist. That means that I was full of rage and that gave me the strength I needed,” the teenage ghost explained.

“So . . . you’re just not angry enough to do anything meaningful any more? You ran out of juice, huh? Are you looking for inspiration? Maybe you’re just lazy.” Elliot was poking the bear, and he didn’t give a damn about anything. Not the twitch in Sebastian’s eyebrow, and certainly not the frantic nonverbal warnings of his best friend, who was begging him silently to stop digging this hole.

And then Sebastian struck.

Elliot let out a yelp as the discoloured and tattered curtain he was standing next to wrapped itself, on Sebastian’s instruction, around him. Due to how old the curtain was and how much Elliot was struggling, it ripped and now he was on the floor, writhing like a worm.

“Seb, what was that for?! I’m sorry, OK? I was trying to motivate you to achieve more, not be a jerk! I swear, I didn’t mean it like that!”

Sebastian shook his head and tutted. “Oh, silly Elliot. I thought you knew that provoking a ghost was bad. I guess I’ll have to re-teach you.”

“Will you be needing an assistant?” Keith asked. Elliot’s eyes widened with fear as Sebastian gestured for his own best friend to have first dibs.

Elliot hastily pleaded with the two of them. “No, no no no no no no no no. Keith, you don’t have to do this! Sebastian, I’m sorry!” His pleas fell on deaf ears as Keith advanced forward and his shoe’s laces were being untied and slipped off. Meanwhile, a good seven feet behind them, a hairbrush and a feather rose into the air, awaiting commands.

One hour later

Elliot howled with laughter as the feather sawed between his toes, the hairbrush scrubbed at the balls of his feet and Keith’s fingers burrowed into his ribs. “Gonna provoke anyone else, ‘Ghost Hunter Extraordinaire’?” Sebastian taunted.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Elliot screamed.

Meanwhile, a couple walking heard the screams coming from the old mansion. “What the hell is going on there?” the taller one said.

“I’m not staying here to found out!” said the other one, and they both ran away in terror, holding each other and stumbling.

If they only knew.

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Happy Hump Day <3

The way Keith saw it, training was a success. The recruits of the Garrison assembled for Earth’s defense are more capable than he thought they were, amenable to following orders, and enthusiastic to boot. Although, one of them in particular was a little too enthusiastic… it didn’t bother Keith. Their aim was fair, and their loyalty fierce, that’s all that matters when it comes to defeating the Galra. He told Iverson as such, though he didn’t stick around once his part of training was over… even despite that one recruit’s insistence. They kept asking him about his evening plans for some reason, why he couldn’t guess. 

It’s only after turning the corner that Keith realized that Lance was there in the viewing window, watching with his arms crossed and an uncharacteristic, pensive look set deep in his usually unlined face. 

“Hey there.” Keith hums as he approaches, the door shutting behind him with a quiet hiss.

Lance turns to him with that same, strange look, uncrossing his arms as he approaches the other with a sudden spur. Before Keith can think, or even breathe, the door behind him opens again as Lance pulls him out of the room with his long, dexterous fingers wrapped tight around Keith’s wrist. Keith flounders only for a moment before he hisses, “What’re you-?”

Lance interrupts him as they storm by what appears to be a small cleaning closet, “This’ll do.” He huffs to himself under his breath before he throws open the door and shoves Keith inside, following soon after. Darkness swallows him, and before he loses the moment to speak Keith immediately starts his interrogation, “Lance, what the hell is-” 

When Lance cuts him off this time, it’s by sealing his mouth over his with a possessive shove against the far wall, rattling the mops and brooms leaning against it to the floor with loud thuds of wood against metal. Keith doesn’t resist it, he’s confused, but his instincts with Lance never give away to fight or flight. Keith kisses him back with a hum of bewilderment, his hands cupping his jaw as Lance’s hands immediately seize the sides of Keith’s uniform, grasping and working the buttons open with rapid, heated breath escaping across their parted lips as the kiss between them begins to blister and burn. Lance’s hands seem to forget their mission as they suddenly start to slide up Keith’s sides, counting his ribs beneath the layers of clothing separating them and then to his collarbone, his throat. Lance sucks on Keith’s bottom lip and tugs on it with his teeth, making Keith gasp with the hitching beginnings of a breathless moan as his hands finally wind into his hair, holding him there with what would be a white-knuckled grip if his touches weren’t so innately gentle. 

It’s only then that Keith can finally break away from the heaven-forged kisses to get some answers. “Lance, what’s - hn - what’s going on?” He pants, taking the brief moment as well to try and catch his receding breath like a riptide of inhibitions. 

Lance doesn’t give him too much of a break. His lips continue to remain on him, but with Keith’s mouth preoccupied with words Lance’s attention instead gravitates to his jawline and throat to leave suckling kisses like a man starved. In between each divine mark he breathes, “I saw you training. You’ve always been the best of us…” Keith’s breath rattles in his throat like a caged bird when Lance’s tongue presses against his pulse, “And they all knew it. Especially Cadet 714. But I… I’m not jealous. I just…” He flounders suddenly, Keith’s eyes widen as he tries to pierce the darkness and that’s when he spies the oceans of Lance’s eyes dancing before him, glittering gems that shine from the meager light filtering through the slots of the doorframe. “I just love seeing you like that. In your element, commanding the field. You blossom when you’re out there, you know? Dios, Keith, I just wanted to get close to you…” His lips just barely grace Keith’s to the point he can feel how they tremble with effort, with restraint, and he realizes that even despite the tension that rips beneath his skin, Keith’s still in control. 

Spreading warmth like dropped coffee drips down Keith’s chest at the revelation, and he finds that any sort of words in response elude him. He tries for a moment, “Lance…” But as he tries to find something to say, the more that English seems like a foreign concept. Instead, he smirks a little when that strike of rebellion bred into his soul rears its draconic head and he licks a heated stripe on Lance’s lip, so close yet so far, and buries his hands into Lance’s uniform to pull him flush to his chest. 

Lance smirks right back at him, and Keith swears that his heart’s about to hammer straight out of his chest at the crookedness of that damn smirk. The smirk that could make him do anything, fly across the galaxy, punch Sendak in the face, pilot the Black Lion. Lance purrs like a jungle cat with its prey beneath his claws. “Wanna see you bloom here, too, just like this, mi amor.” 

He presses his lips back to Keith’s and the darkness of their little cleaning closet completes as Keith’s head spirals into the abyss. The sensations give into something more primal, more feral, and when Keith’s hands drag up Lance’s back to pull him against his chest he moans against his mouth with a tremor that could shift mountains. Lance pushes his thigh between his own and the desperation in the air seems to spark like two stones crashing against each other. Keith buries his hands in Lance’s hair and holds his mouth firmly against his as their tongues melt together and clash with the violence of a meteor-strike. Lance moans are muffled against Keith’s and with a push of his hips the pressure between them spikes and their heart rates with it, the friction generated nothing short of divinity. 

“L-Lance-!” Keith chokes on his tongue as his name slips out, and something in Lance seems to shift. His kisses grow hungrier, more desperate and wanting, only outmatched by the pressure of his hands as they begin to wander Keith’s body. His hips, his waist, his sides and his chest, they linger only for a moment to fondle and further pressurize Keith’s lungs before they rise higher, to his shoulders, his arms, to his hands still balled into the short locks on his head as his only grounding force as Lance’s grinding threatens to send him into orbit. He wants to, he wants to break into his barest components and melt and moan and more importantly make Lance do the same, but he finds himself distracted as Lance’s hands keep wandering, like he’s immortalizing every inch of his skin. 

Quickly he refinds the fastening button on Keith’s chest to his uniform, and without ceremony he rips it open and pushes it off of his shoulders as his teeth play against Keith’s bottom lip, tugging and pulling Keith’s hazy thoughts into the storm in Lance’s eyes. 

“Every inch of you...” Lance whispers against Keith’s panting lips, desperately he fights to keep it under control as Lance’s tongue begins to travel and move and his teeth- “... is a canvas. And you must be painted just like Earth, because…” Keith’s head hits the metal wall of the small closet as Lance slides down, kissing every exposed inch of skin on Keith’s throat and then down his chest once he pushes his shirt aside to reveal the man beneath it, finishing his sentence as his lips dance and revere every dip and curve of his skin, “... you’re my whole world.” 

Despite the undeniable heat and warmth of his words, Keith can’t help but laugh, despite how every second Lance’s tongue and teeth makes him want to moan more and more with each passing second, his hand claps his forehead as he gasps, “That was- ah… That was really sweet, but… h- terrible.” 

“Excuse you, but that was gold.” Lance argues with a huff, standing upright as he claps a hand on the wall right next to Keith’s head, “You just can’t appreciate a good pun.” 

“I can appreciate puns.” Keith argues, cocking an eyebrow at the other as he takes the brief reprieve from the stimulation to breathe, “... Good ones.” 

Lance narrows his eyes at him, but before Keith can do much but chuckle at him Lance’s hands suddenly grab his thighs and hoist him up, slamming him against the wall with his legs on either side of his hips. Immediately Keith’s breath is stolen, his eyes meet Lance’s and the air seems to simmer, shake, and ignite like oil on asphalt as Lance starts to move again, this time his hands hold tight onto Keith’s waist to keep his movements controlled. Desperately Keith grabs onto something to feel secure and finds the shelves of the cleaning supplies to his right and left, it shakes violently as he latches on and accidentally knocks half of said supplies to the floor, but neither seem to care. No, Keith could not give a single fuck about that, not with Lance grinding up against him and making his voice and thoughts spiral into the abyss. Lance drags his tongue along Keith’s bobbing adam’s apple and Keith’s voice begins to emerge from the cavernous deeps of his chest, raw, breathless, desperate, soft only with the thought that anyone could be walking by this closet Lance shoved him in at any moment and hear him grinding against him with rough drags, see through the cracks in the door the Red Paladin worshipping Keith with his hands, his mouth, his teeth, his eyes that drink in every second of Keith’s unravelling.

Lance’s grip on his thighs adjust as the heat between them rockets into the atmosphere, Keith uses his grip on the shelves as best as he can to move against Lance as well with his ankles locked around him. Their collective desperation reaches new heights when Lance’s rugged breath starts to morph into whines and groans with each tug and pull against the other. Keith briefly shushes him but he realizes that there’s little he can do to silence him with his arms being used to keep strain off of Lance’s grip on him, so instead he presses forward and kisses him. It’s nothing but feral teeth, wet gasps, and mutual efforts on both of their ends to keep the other quiet as they climb, and climb, and climb, until they break. Fractured, breathy moans drip into each others mouths as they ride out their highs to the fullest extent, and Keith takes ragged breaths knowing that most of his body bears Lance’s mark upon him, literally or otherwise. 

Lance takes a breath once he sets Keith down, his arms pressed against the wall on either side of him as he attempts to regain his strength. After a brief beat he chuckles, his gaze down between them, “You made a mess.” 

Keith huffs indignantly and pushes his shoulder lightly as he releases the disheveled shelves, “And whose fault is that?” 

Lance grins wickedly at him and Keith has to swallow on his hummingbird heart to breathe, “All mine.” He winks at him in that same brutal fashion and Keith wonders if that look is a blessing or a curse on his soul. “So shower time?” 

Keith’s face matches the hues of his former lion as he turns towards the shelves in an effort to fix up the mess he’d inadvertently made, “I can’t go to the war room like this, so yeah. Thanks for that.” 

“That’s what I’m here for! Giving you a hard time.” Lance flashes him a finger gun which automatically rewards him with a playful smack as they stumble out of the closet, rosy faces and coy smiles alight and buoyant as they link their hands, heading down the hall together. 

And how red are the faces of the cadets who stood hidden down the adjoining hallway, those hoping to get in some extra practice instead now wonder who it was that just defiled the innocence of that cleaning closet. 

[trashycatarcade]

My @voltronsecretsanta2k19 gift for @hystericalcherries

...

“Tikki, spots off,” Keith sighed, immediately slumping into his bed. Three people akumitized after school and saying Keith was exhausted would be an understatement. He glanced over at his backpack he had hastily thrown into the corner of his room and thought about the stack of impending schoolwork waiting for him. Tikki looked at him and frowned.

“Keith, you need some rest. Give yourself ten minutes at least, maybe get a snack and some water too,” Tikki suggested.

“You’re right… but first I’m just gonna close my eyes for like 30 seconds.” Keith nodded, already pulling his blanket over his head.

“Um, I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Maybe do your school work first then get to sleep early?” Tikki said, but he was already long gone. She knew Keith was always such a responsible person and with how busy being a superhero has made him, Tikki felt like he needed a break.

…

Keith awoke to the sound of his alarm ringing at 6:45 a.m. and he lurched up, still in his clothes from the day before. He jumped out of bed and scrambled to change his clothes. He had 25 minutes before he needed to make it to his bus stop, so he figured he could finish at least his assignment for the morning. Keith grabbed his backpack up off the floor and a loud rip sounded through his room followed by his school things falling to the floor.

“Damnit.” Keith threw his empty bag down on the ground.

“You really shouldn’t get into the habit of swearing.” Tikki chided and Keith sent her a dirty look.

“I don’t want to hear it, Tikki. And, why didn’t you wake me up? Now I’m screwed today.” Keith complained. He scrounged around his room and found an old backpack in the back of his closet. He shoved all his school things into the worn out backpack and rushed to get his shoes on.

Getting to school was bad enough, but being at school was worse. Of course, his first hour teacher wanted them to discuss the assignment from the previous night that Keith hadn’t done. When it came to Keith’s turn to contribute, he had to admit that he hadn’t done the homework in front of the class. He felt embarrassed and his day was really not going well.

“I’m sorry Mr. Iverson, I didn’t have time to finish the worksheet,” Keith turned to the owner of the voice. Of course, he knew it was Lance but he was surprised. Keith had never seen Lance miss an assignment before. He felt kind of guilty that it made him feel better to not be the only one who hadn’t finished.

The day only got worse, it felt like the universe was against him today. Having to tell every teacher that he didn’t have his work done was so frustrating for Keith. At the end of the day, Keith found himself sitting on front steps of the school, dreading going home and having deal with more school work. He looked up when someone sat down beside him. It was Lance.

Keith had an interesting relationship with Lance. Lance was new to his school this year and they hadn’t known each other very long, but Keith felt like they clicked pretty well. Keith couldn’t deny that he like Lance… in a more than friendly way. It was embarrassing at first because Keith felt like his crush was so obvious. As they school year has gone on,  Keith felt like he had gotten better at hiding his feelings. He was too afraid to confess his feeling because he didn’t want to mess up their friendship.

“You good?” Lance asked, bumping his knee against Keith’s. Keith let out a heavy sigh.

“Bad day.” Keith shrugged.

“Wanna talk about it?” Keith shook his head with a frown.

“I’m just being dramatic, no big deal.” He said.

“Even if it’s not a ‘big deal’, it helps to talk about it. Just want you to know that I’m here, you know, if you need someone to talk to.” Lance explained. Keith leaned into Lance, resting his forehead against Lance’s shoulder.

“How do you know exactly what to say?” Keith questioned him.

“I think you’re the only person who thinks that,” Lance laughed a little, Keith felt the little shake of it in his shoulders. Keith leaned back, looking to see the soft smile on Lance’s face. For a moment, Keith forgot why he shouldn’t risk their friendship and he leaned a little closer to Lance. Was it his imagination or was Lance leaning closer too?

Of course, a loud crash sounded from the distance, pulling them apart. The pair met eyes and both stood.

“I should-”

“I’ve gotta-”

Keith was too distracted by his own need to get out of there and help hawkmoth’s newest victim. He started running in the direction of the noise, glancing back to see Lance running in the opposite direction. Keith found a good spot to stop and called for Tikki. He didn’t have time to think about what just happened with Lance, he just hoped that Lance got somewhere safe and away from the akumitized person.

Keith ran into the biggest shitshow that he’s seen yet. Cat Noir showed up a minute after him, frozen by the scene unfolding in front of them. There were more akumitized people than Keith could count and he shot a worried look to Cat Noir.

“It’s fine, we’ve got this.” Cat Noir said confidently.

Even with all the confidence in the world couldn’t have prepared Keith for this. In the end, Cat Noir and him pulled it off, but Keith was pretty sure he had a broken rib or something and Cat was limping. After the last butterfly was released, Keith was slumped against some brick building, Cat Noir next to him.

“I’m about to transform but I really don’t think I can get up right now,” Keith admitted, panicked but at that point accepting that he was screwed… again.

“My ankle is really messed up, but I can-”

“It’s fine, I guess this was inevitable.” Keith chuckled, but the situation lacked any humor. When Tikki detransforms and Keith hear Plagg, he can’t help but look over to Cat; only he finds himself face-to-face with Lance.

“Oh.” Lance gaped.

“You sound disappointed,” Keith frowned.

“Uh, actually quite the opposite,” Lance shook his head, not hesitating a moment to lean forward, back to where they left off in front of the school. 

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

“and i don’t know how i can do without”

Lance-centric post s8 fic. Canon adjacent.

Pairing: Allura x Lance, background Sheith, background Hidge

Rating: T

Tags: brief mentions of blood, burning, and injury, though not graphic; past major character death; dissociative episode.

Length: 2k+ words, complete

Read on AO3 here!

---

“There has to be another way.” 

Allura smiled wanly and took his hand. The infinite white around them shook ominously at the edges of his vision. She stepped forward and held him. 

“Lance,” Allura whispered. Her lips brushed over the curve of his ear, breath ruffling his hair. 

“I just found you.” Lance squeezed her tight and tucked his face against her neck, breathing in the light, lingering scent of her shampoo. Maybe if he held on better this time, maybe if he were stronger, she wouldn’t leave him behind. Allura could stay, and Allura could live, and they could figure it out together, the two of them. The six of them. “I can’t let you do this. I won’t.” 

“Lance,” Allura said again, more urgently.

“No, I—” A sob shook through him. He tightened his arms around her, but she was too strong; she pulled away, just as she did every time. Allura’s hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Please don’t leave me,” he breathed. “We just found each other.” 

Her eyes shone briefly, and she dipped her head. “Close your eyes.” Allura’s hands were warm against his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, just before sealing their mouths together.

Lance’s face tingled, then burned, and he squirmed. “Wait, what,” he tried to say, panicking. It was like she was cutting into him with every soft pass of her thumbs. Lance tried to wrench away; she only held him tighter. “Allu—”

She tore away, her hands and eyes still glowing. Fear contorted her features as Allura was pulled backward by whatever force filled this in-between realm. Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear. Lance broke away from the paladins only to be held back. 

“No!” he screamed. Hands scrabbled at his arms and shoulders. “Allura! Allura!”

Lance jolted awake, heart thrumming erratically in his ears. His face burned. He gingerly raised his fingertips to his cheeks, tracing the white-hot spots on the crests of his cheekbones. 

“What the…?” 

He scrambled from his bed and stumbled through his room into the small attached bathroom. The fluorescent light stung his eyes as he blinked at his reflection. Two blue crescent moons stared back at him, glowing dimly against his skin. 

“Allura,” he breathed. Lance slumped against the counter, his fingers tracing the marks that had been burnt into his face. His eyes watered. “Allura,” he whispered again. “Don’t go.” 

But she was gone--had been for two years. Allura had left him with marks that burned and glowed but didn’t give him any explanations for what they were, what they meant. 

Lance closed his eyes against the tears that fell. They stung where they crossed the hot blue marks. He slumped to the floor, uncaring of his knee catching against the cabinet doors of the small vanity sink. 

“Don’t go,” he sobbed. Lance wrapped his arms around his middle. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. His body shook with jerky shudders. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.” 

Grief welled in his middle and spilled out through every pore. His body had been an open wound for two years, and it had never lessened, had never healed. Lance clawed his fingers into his ribs. “It’s not fair. You--you gave, and gave, and gave, and we did nothing!” 

The words ripped from his chest, and he flung his arm out to bang his fist at the solid wall beside him. Lance howled, ineffectively beating against the wall, the counter, kicking his bare feet at the wooden doors of the cabinet. “She died, and we did nothing!”

His foot cracked the wood panel and clattered through it, landing hard on the sink’s pipes hidden within. He sagged to stare numbly at the bleeding, ruined mess of his heel and ankle. There would be splinters, he knew distantly, and the way his foot bled spelled trouble, but he couldn’t care, not now. It wasn’t important now.

“Please come back,” Lance whispered. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bathroom wall, thumping quietly against the tiles. “Just… come back. Come home. I won’t even be mad, I promise. Just please. Please, Allura...”

------

He came back to consciousness abruptly, as if falling from a great distance only to slam back into his body. Lance jerked, sputtering around a mouthful of hair, and he flailed his way to sitting up among a nest of blankets and limbs.

“What the…?” 

A hand thumped against his back. “Shut up. If you wake Shiro up I’m gonna kill you,” came a familiar grumbled, grumpy voice from behind him. 

He looked around, dazed. Yep, Keith glowered at him from in front of the door, curled with his back to Shiro’s chest, one sharp eye open and narrowed at him. Keith only huffed and turned to tuck his face into Shiro’s arm, waving his hand dismissively Lance’s way. 

Lance snorted in disbelief; he couldn’t help it, it was an incredulous sight, out of context. Keith’s hand shifted to flip him off. Lance laughed, high and reedy and nervous to his own ears.

A pair of yawns at his side pulled Lance’s confused gaze. On his right, Pidge scrubbed her hands across her face, and from his left Hunk patted Lance’s arm with sleepy affection. 

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk murmured. He draped his arm around Lance’s belly to give an awkward but welcome hug. “How’re you feeling?”

“I,” he started, unsure, “I, uh, fine?” 

“Liar,” Pidge groused, “and at—” she checked her watch and bared her teeth almost menacingly “—it’s not even 0600!” Pidge swore a long string of curses under her breath and turned to smother herself in her pillow.

“Katherine Matilda Holt, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Lance asked, almost scandalized, hand splaying over his chest.

She squinted at him to the sound of Keith’s aggravated huffing. “That’s not even my name, asshole. And no, I don’t kiss my mom, just yours.”

“Oh! Oh! Very mature, yeah.” 

” Guys….” Keith warned.

“C’mon, guys,” Hunk wheedled. His hand brushed against Pidge’s shoulder and she bristled a moment before leaning into it, only to slap at Lance’s knee with a free hand. “It’s late, or early, whatever, and—”

“Mmph, sssstupid mornings.” 

Everyone stilled, and Keith all but growled, “Laaaaaance…”

Lance looked up to watch Shiro blink into the low light of the room, rising up to his elbow. He scratched his fingers along his jaw. “G’ morning,” Shiro yawned. He turned his sleepy gaze to Keith and smiled, sleep-warmed and dopey. "Mm. Hey, baby."  

Keith scrubbed his hands over his face. “You shouldn't be up for another couple hours, at least. I told him to let you sleep—” 

“‘S fine, it’s fine, I’m up, I’m up.” Shiro groaned and sat up fully to lean against the door. His eyes landed on Lance, and he smiled gently. “How’s your foot, sharpshooter?” 

“My what?” Lance turned to look at the foot in question. It lay bandaged and clean, wrapped in a professional dressing and set in a plaster cast that ran from the bridge of his sole to halfway up his calf. He wiggled his toes and almost shrieked in relief when they followed his command. “W—what happened?” Lance twisted himself until he couldn’t go any further and collapsed on his belly, limbs akimbo, into the makeshift nest that housed the sleepy Paladins. 

“Best as we know, you kicked your cabinet. We found you just about catatonic in the bathroom. Got you to the infirmary, looks like you messed up your foot pretty badly and barely missed slicing through your Achilles tendon. You’re officially on bedrest and light activity for the next month.” Pidge peeked at him from her pillow. “Man, I knew you were clumsy, but that’s bad even for you,” she tried. The joke didn’t reach her eyes. 

Lance glanced between the four of them. “How…?” 

“Yellow told me.” Hunk shrugged. “Said you needed help.” 

Pidge leaned into Lance’s shoulder. “Green woke me up.”

Keith yawned. “Black and Red both yelled at me, then Hunk and Pidge tried barging into our apartment.” 

“Atlas woke me up in a panic and said one of my kittens was hurt. What?” Shiro asked defensively when all eyes zeroed in on his blushing face. “She’s only two, she doesn’t understand ‘pilots of sentient space lion robot ships made from magical interdimensional ore’ yet!”

“That’s, like, ridiculously cute, man,” Hunk said, not bothering to keep the snorts of laughter from his words. “They’re like, cousins or something, right? Atlas and the Lions? Alfor made the Lions, and Allura kinda made Atlas, well, Atlas, with the castleship crystal.” His brow creased with consideration. “Actually, I wonder if they recognize each other? Sentient ship to sentient ship and all?”  

Lance dragged in a gasping breath. Allura.

Pidge laid her hand on Lance’s shoulder and gave a brief squeeze. “Hey,” she said quietly, “hey. Come on, what’s wrong? What’s going on?” 

He shook his head against the tears that threatened him again. “I just,” he sniffed, rubbing his face into his pillow. “I just really miss her, y’ know?”

“Aw, buddy.” Hunk pulled Lance the short distance into his arms, and Pidge shouldered up against Lance’s other side to wrap around him like a koala. Lance could hear, then feel, the warmth of Keith at his head, and heard Shiro shuffling against the hodgepodge of bedding with a groan.

“She came to me in a dream, again; it was... well, you know, the end of reality and stuff, but it was different this time.” Lance shuddered, remembering the panic on Allura’s face when she was torn away from him. He rubbed his cheeks into the pillow, the cheap polyester rough against the still-tender skin of his scars. Lance hesitated, unsure, before adding in a quiet voice, “I think she was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear her.”

Someone breathed a sotto, Oh damn,  and Lance only nodded. Oh damn, for real.

Keith shifted to pat Lance’s shoulder in an attempted measure of comfort. It was… really nice, actually. “Like what you said about Shiro, or…?” 

Lance shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He took a sharp breath in and wished it could dislodge the unease from his lungs. “Was probably just a dream.” 

“We’re here for you, Lance,” Pidge said with a yawn, “but I might be more ‘here’ if we slept in a bit longer. You know me and mornings.” 

A beep of a datapad sounded above Lance’s head, followed by muted taps of fingertips on the screen. “Nothing pressing until drills this afternoon,” Keith muttered, “and those will have to be rescheduled, anyway. Get some sleep, everyone; we’ll take the day and get Lance’s paperwork from the medbay later. We’ll need to rearrange some scheduled blocks, but we’ll get to that when we get to it.” 

Shiro chuckled. “Don’t you need to clear that through the proper channels?” 

Keith sighed, audibly aggravated. “Fine. ‘Dear Admiral Shirogane,’” he simpered, saccharine in his sarcasm. Lance looked up in time to see him miming writing in the air and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

“‘Please allow the Voltron Paladins a day off due to medical emergency and/or injury,’” Keith continued, “‘even though we’re not technically under your jurisdiction, being that we only have a treaty of partnership with the new United Nations and their Galaxy Garrison, and I can technically do what I want with my own crew. Sincerely, Keith Kogane-Shirogane, Black Paladin of the Voltron Coalition, Earth Ambassador to New Daibazaal, and your fucking sleep-deprived husband.’ There, better?” 

“I think I could rubber-stamp that one through, yeah,” Shiro snorted. “Alright, kittens, back to bed.” 

“Finally,”  Pidge groaned. She play-slapped at Hunk as he laughed, jostling Lance in her efforts. Her breath rustled Lance’s hair at his nape, where she huffed her sleepy displeasure. “Big heart to heart in a couple of hours. Lance, didn’t they give you enough pain killers to knock you out?” 

“That’s actually a good question. Do you need anything?” Shiro asked. “They gave you something for the pain when we took you to the infirmary two hours ago and gave me a pain management plan, but they’ll still need to call in the actual prescription when the pharmacy opens again at 0800.”

Lance burrowed into Hunk’s shoulder, careful of the dull ache now registering in his foot. “I think so?” he said. “I think I just need to sleep.” 

“We could all use it,” Hunk agreed. “Let’s take a nap and come back to it in a bit, yeah?”

Pidge yawned in Lance’s ear. “Already… there…” 

Lance smiled wanly and almost jerked at the haphazard ruffling of his hair from above--Keith, maybe, more likely Shiro if his arm was on. He didn’t look up to check; it wasn’t important, anyway.  

He let himself be warmed, inside and out, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of their slow breaths. 

=======

Posted to Patreon a week in advance for Patrons-only early access. Want in on this deal? Pledge $1 or more to my Patreon, linked below, and get early access to fics and other perks!

Reblogs and likes are welcome and appreciated! Like my writing? Check out my links:

[Writing Tag]   [AO3]   [Twitter]   [Commissions]   [Ko-Fi]   [Patreon]

[jenanigans1207]

If I don’t get to love him

A/N: I used to be in love with my best friend and it wasn’t ever going to work between us, I knew that. But I couldn’t ever stop myself from writing a mental list of all the things the girl he fell for needed to know about him. It was like I was writing a “how-to love him properly” book. And I was thinking about this last night when I couldn’t sleep and, well...

His birthday is July 28th. He likes yellow cake best, but will eat anything

Keith wanders the empty castle hallways in the middle of the night, too plagued by his thoughts and fears to even consider sleeping. He's a lot of things--stubborn, hot-headed and closed-off to name a few--but he is not dumb. He sees the way Lance looks at Allura.

He will do anything for you without you asking, so you have to be sure to do things for him, too. Remind him to eat when he's caught up in something. Encourage him to sleep. He will take care of your every need, but he will neglect himself in the process.

It stung--more than stung, actually. It hurt in a way that made Keith feel like his insides had turned into a black hole--bottomless and draining him of every positive feeling. He would never stand in the way, of course, no matter how much he loved Lance. And oh, did he love that boy. His soul ached for Lance; for the way Lance truly saw him and didn't judge. It ached for the way Lance understood him. His body ached for the weight of that familiar hand on his shoulder, grounding him and guiding him simultaneously; reminding him that he didn't have to face things alone.

 He sleeps on his side, legs pulled to his chest and arms jammed under his pillow as if, even in rest, he cannot truly relax.

Just the thought of Lance was enough to send Keith into overdrive, propelling him out of bed in the middle of the night. It was enough to leave him feeling as if someone had ripped his insides out and forgotten to replace them with something else, leaving him a hollow shell of a person. Thinking of Lance made Keith want to track down the nearest Galra ship and take it on himself because surely that demise had to be less painful than the slow death he faced every day seeing Lance's smile directed at somebody other than him.

He would never admit it out loud, but he likes to sleep on the side of the bed furthest from the door. It makes him feel more secure. Which works fine for me because I--

I--

Keith stops in front of one of the long windows and stares out into space. He's explored the universe pretty extensively at this point--he knows how big it is--and yet somehow he feels like there is nowhere he can go that would put enough distance between the two of them. His feelings for Lance would prevail, always, unfailingly. Because that's what love is.

“I love him,” Keith says quietly to himself, testing out the way the words taste on his tongue. Bitter, he realizes. But then again, that's what he expected.

He needs someone to love him more than they love themselves because that is the kind of love he will give in return. He is the moon and the sun--all the light and radiance in the entire universe--and he deserves to be treated as such. If I can't love him, at least I can do this: I can bare his soul to you so that you, the lucky one, are able to love him right.

He places a hand gingerly against the glass window, feeling the coldness of it against his skin. Quietly he repeats himself, wishing that words could fill the void. “I love him.”

He doesn't notice the sound of the footsteps until they're too close--close enough that they definitely heard what he said. He sighs, resigned to his fate long before he hears the familiar voice ask “Who do you love?”

Never let his selfless acts go unnoticed. He will not ask for your appreciation, but he deserves it. Never fail to notice how gentle his touch is or how he always knows the right thing to say.

Keith doesn't turn to look at Lance. He couldn't bare it. Just imagining Lance with sleep-mussed hair, lidded eyes and rumpled pajamas was enough to make Keith want to launch himself into space.  Seeing it in person might finally give him the courage to actually do so. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I dunno, man, that sounds pretty important.”

You won't ever notice his attention on anyone other than you. You've won his heart and that means you get everything he has to offer. Every glorious, amazing aspect of him is now yours.

Turning away from the window, Keith keeps his eyes down. “It's not,” he scuffs his boot on the tile, hands fidgeting in front of him. He hates how nervous it makes him seem. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard your footsteps pass my room,” He answers honestly, his voice strangely raw. Keith didn't think the hole in his chest could get any larger and yet it does, creating a pressure that makes him feel like his chest is being pried open rib-by-rib. “And I've heard you the last couple of nights, too. I'm getting worried.”

Don't think you can ever fool him, because you can't. He's very perceptive and much smarter than people give him credit for. He will pick up on things you think nobody sees.

“I'm fine,” Keith says. But he's not fine and he doesn't sound fine and he knows it.

Lance draws his eyebrows together. “Keith, buddy…”

Keith turns back to the window, wishing it would open up now and vault him into space. Maybe he should find out if there's somewhere in the universe he can hide. And yet somehow, the prospect of not seeing Lance at all hurts more than seeing him every day and never being able to have him.

“Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say, Lance?” His tone isn't sharp. If anything, his words are feeble--barely filling the space between them before shriveling up and disappearing.

He is persistent. He will stay on you until you relent and then, once you crack, once you cave--he is there to pick up the pieces and put you back together.

Lance takes a step forward, placing a hand on the back of Keith's shoulder. Keith closes his eyes and takes in a sharp breath, willing himself to not let this mean so much to him. He fails. “The truth?”

The hand on his shoulder pulls, gently, until Keith turns around. They're standing face-to-face, eye-to-eye, and just like that, Keith shatters. He feels himself break into a million pieces and scatter across the universe, each shard of him reflecting a moment of their past, showing him all the reasons he's so in love with Lance.

Their bonding moment, Lance saving him from the Galra, Lance accepting him, unwaveringly, as the new leader of Voltron…

All the memories fill Keith, giving him the courage to finally speak. It was now or never, make or break. Honestly he didn't care what the outcome was as long as it was finally resolved. He just needed to know, once and for all so he could finally give up the hope. He just needed to be put out of his misery.

“You really want to know who I'm in love with?” Keith asks and Lance nods. A deep breath. Closing his eyes, Keith prepares to break his own heart. “It's you, Lance. I'm in love with you.”

There is a silence the length of two heartbeats. Keith counts because he can feel his heart beating in his throat, making it harder to breathe. Two heartbeats and then…

“Well that makes this a lot easier,” Lance whispers, his breath warm on Keith's face. Not even a moment later there are lips on his.

He will complete you. He will fill all the gaps in you, making you feel like a whole person. He will make you feel invincible. Like you can take on the world with him in your corner. He will light up all your days. I know this because…

I know this because…

After their kiss ends, Keith can't bring himself to open his eyes. They are watery and he'll be damned if he cries in front of Lance. Even if he did just confess his love. Carefully, he says “What are you doing?”

“Surely you know what a kiss is,” Lance teases.

“But why me? Why are you kissing me when it should be Allura?”

Lance's hand rests against Keith's chest. He's acutely aware of the fact that he's wearing only a t-shirt and he can feel the outline of Lance's hand in precise detail. He is certain Lance can feel his thundering heart but he doesn't mention it. Instead he says “Most people are happy when the person they confess their love to returns their feelings, you know.”

Keith takes a jagged breath, his heart still rapidly beating in his throat. “You-?”

“I don't know where you got your ideas,” Lance leans in and Keith can't help it anymore. He opens his eyes and is immediately stricken at how open and honest Lance looks. How vulnerable. A moment before their lips meet again, Lance whispers into the night, filling Keith’s inner black hole, “but it's always been you and only you.”

I know this because he lights up my life. He completes me. He grounds me when I need it and picks me up when I'm down. I know this because I know him--I am so lucky to say that I know him. And I love him.

I love him the way he deserves to be loved.

I love him like nobody else ever can.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under a Vanilla Sky prt 6 full

It took vargas to scrape away enough sand to see into the cockpit properly. Lance's form slumped over the controls as Keith smashed through the cracked glass with the handle of his luxite blade. The over powering stench of blood momentarily bringing tears to his eyes until he realised that the there was blood all over the cockpit and in places that couldn't possibly have come from Lance during the crash. In the state he was, he didn't consider the fact it could have been Lance's blood from prior to crashing. All he cared about was the rise and fall of Lance's chest, and the throbbing of a steady pulse beneath his fingers as he gently took Lance's hand into his to check his wrist. Finding a pulse, Keith moved on to check for major injuries. There was a nasty gash hidden in Lance's hairline, various small cuts and bruises from the crash, and a long painful looking tear along his upper left leg where it'd been partially pinned by the crumpled dash on the ship. Without the proper tools Keith couldn't hope to lift the dash enough to free Lance, forcing him to make the call to have Kosmo teleport them over to Keith's ship without being able to assess Lance's right leg. Sending Kosmo back to find anything Lance had had on his ship with him, Keith carried his unconscious friend to his bed, laying Lance down with the utmost care, having moved him had caused his wounds to open again, sending fresh blood seeping through Lance's thin clothes. For a man who knew the value of a good suit in battle, his current clothing left much to be desired. Teleporting back, Kosmo had a backpack in his mouth as he wagged his tail enthusiastically "Put that down, you don't know what's in it" Keith had a pretty good idea what would be inside. If it was the only thing Lance had brought with him, it'd have to have the drugs in it. Drugs and most probably clothes. It was almost as sickening as seeing Lance so bloodied and broken. His friend had lost weight, deep bags hanging under his eyes leaving him looking sickly and gaunt. This wasn't the Lance that had been at Allura's Memorial Day. This wasn't the Lance that lived for his daily skincare regime, or insisted he needed his beauty sleep. This was his best friend against the universe, forced to do whatever it took to survive without them there to provide back up and support. Cutting Lance's shirt off, things only got worse. Scars he couldn't remember seeing before, that had long since started to fade, littered Lance's chest and arms. A long bruise ran along bottom of his stomach where he'd hit the dash. Nothing felt overly swollen, though he was certain Lance wouldn't be fighting any intergalactic battles any time soon without major discomfort. Realising he'd been staring far too long at his crushes soft caramel skin, Keith's face burned bright red as he ripped his hand away from Lance's stomach. Lance was seriously injured and there he was, eyeing him off as if he'd never seen him half naked before. He needed to clean the wounds then stitch them... followed by giving some serious thought to what he was going to say Lance woke. * Falling asleep bent over the side of his bed, Keith was woken by a scream. The sheets beneath him torn away by a flailing of limbs that nearly hit him in the face as he rushed to soothe Lance. The last thing needed was to be was so active. The gash on Lance's thigh was ugly, but the swelling of Lance's right ankle was far more concerning. The area was warm to the touch, so swollen that he'd had to cut Lance's boot off because there was no other way to get it off. Feeling as if he was only adding to Lance's drug addiction, Keith had sedated him with an injection of his own. The pain killer only as strong as panadol, probably not even putting a dent in Lance's pain, but at least it didn't affect his friends quintessence. Screaming at him to let him go, Lance fought hard against Keith's hands on his shoulders, his screams growing louder as he grew more agitated. Keith had had his own share of screaming nightmares in the past. The disorientation of waking while his mind was still trapped in his dreams. Releasing Lance's shoulders as his blunt fingernails cut into Keith's arms, Lance tried to scramble back from him, Keith catching a moments break before Lance broke down sobbing, quietly repeating "no... por favor no mas... por favor... por favor no me toques...", as he curled into himself. Keith had no idea what he meant. He'd barely gotten the handle of Galra, and that was because his mother insisted upon it. The "no" part was pretty obvious... but that was where it ended. Unable to let Lance continue crying, Keith sank down on the edge of his bed, placing his hand on Lance's leg. The moment he did Lance's breath hitched, Keith knocked backwards off the bed as Lance launched himself on to him with a growl. It wasn't until Lance was straddling his lap with his fist raised that he finally came back to himself. Red-rimmed blue eyes blinking away the tears with a look that broke Keith's heart. Lance looked lost. Just staring into his eyes was throwing Keith's world into enough confusion that he felt as if he kept staring he'd be swept away in Lance's pain "K-Keith?" "The one and only?" Climbing off him less than gracefully Lance groaned as he clutched at his stomach. Keith waiting a few ticks before drawing himself to sit. He knew he needed to say something, but where to begin? "F... sorry, man. Nightmares... are shit" With a strained smile, Lance stared down at where his hands held his stomach "I feel like a building fell on me. What happened?" "You don't remember? We arranged to meet..." "It's already been a movement? Fuck..." Moving a hand from his stomach to his head, Lance grimaced "You should lay back down, you probably have a concussion and while I don't think you broke a rib, you've probably bruised them. You busted yourself up when you crashed your ship. Should I...?" Lance waved him off, flopping sideways like a fish with a whimper. Ignoring his friends wishes Keith gathered himself up off the floor, before moving to cover Lance with his blankets again. Bundled up, his love interest looked adorable as he nuzzled into the pillow beneath his head "That... that makes sense... am I in shorts? God. Buy a guy dinner first" Keith struggled not to stutter. Lance's shorts were a tad too short, but stripping Lance to his underwear was asking for trouble. Given how he'd woken, he had the feeling Lance would have melted down further if he'd found himself just in his underwear "I had to cut your pants down. The dash... was... uh... crumpled" "Ah... That explains the pain... I think you're right about that concussion. My head hurts worse than when I went drink for drink with Coran... never go drinking with Coran" When did Lance have time to go drinking with Coran? And why? Over the loss of Allura? "I'll try to keep that in mind. How do you feel?" He asked without thinking, grasping at straws for how to continue the conversation when Lance was still suffering the after affects of his nightmare "Like quiznakked hit me, drove over me, then chucked it in reverse, but I know that's not what you want to ask. You want to know about my nightmare" Yes. God yes. It was like some switch had been flicked inside Lance. His tears turned to rage so suddenly, then dropped in the next instant "Not if you don't want to tell me about it" Groaning as he wriggled down on the thin mattress, Lance pulled the blankets up to his chin "Good. Thanks for the hand man, but I think I need to nap this off. Did you find my communicator? I need to contact my team" A nap. A nap?! Lance was lucky Keith had been early and now he wanted to nap?! The half-Galra swore he could feel his hair turning grey. And his team... "It wasn't on you when Kosmo teleported you out. If it's on your ship, it's probably shot to hell" Swearing softly, Lance started struggling back up. Placing his hand on his shoulder to push him back down, Lance flinched back at the contact. Keith swore he could smell something like rotten fruit the moment his hand met Lance's warm skin, but when he sniffed the air again all he could smell was something like the spray of sea water "I need to call my team. They'll... worry" "You're not going anywhere like this. You need your rest" "I need to..." "Lance. I didn't see your communicator. I can go take a look in the wreck, but only if you promise to stay here and rest" "You'll look right? And my backpack?" "Your backpacks here..." Lance looked ready to shoot out of bed to retrieve his back, only settling back when Keith continued "... I forgot I dragged it out. I haven't looked in it" "Good... and you're going to look right for my communicator right? My team will worry" The concussion was probably leaving Lance muddled "Yes. Now rest. Kosmo will stay with you" "I don't need a baby sitter" Having peaked in Lance's backpack, Lance definitely needed a babysitter. Clothes and drugs. More pills than the original two types he'd seen in his friends bathroom, as well as a mostly full box of those yellow vials. All of which he'd wanted to throw back into the wreck of Lance's ship before blowing it up "Don't think of him like a babysitter. He was excited when I told him we were flying out to meet you" "For all his excitement, I don't see him here" Teleporting himself in like he knew he was being talked about Kosmo jumped up on the thin cot where he started licking at Lance's face, Lance screeching from the sudden attack "God! Dog breath! What is he feeding you?!" Kosmo's whole body was wiggling with excitement. Dropping his full weight down on Lance, Lance was completely pinned, all traces of the deep sadness gone from his blue eyes as he looked to Keith. It wasn't like Keith was jealous, but Lance seemed a billion times happier to see Kosmo than he had him "Keith... help?" "Nope. You wanted affection and here he is. Kosmo, make sure Lance stays in bed. He needs to rest" Whining, Kosmo then yipped in agreement "Good boy. I'll be back soon. Make sure he doesn't get up to too much trouble" Craning his head up to look past Kosmo's paw as Keith moved towards the bedroom door, Lance scowled at him "Who? Me or the wolf?" "If you have to ask, then you know the answer" "Rude. You're lucky I'm too injured to kick your arse, Mullet" If Lance was well enough to joke tiredly, he should be fine under Kosmo's care while Keith went to find this stupid communicator. The black one he'd seen him using to contact the police? wasn't in the wreck from what he could see, which meant he actually had to make the effort to climb back into the crushed ship and pray it wouldn't explode, despite his anger over not being able to see the bigger picture here. Lance was lucky he was injured, as Keith drew the line at threatening injured friends. * Finding Lance's communicator was a pain. The small device had slipped under the mangled dash leaving him to attempt to fish it out with his blade while the cold wind of the strange planet was on seemed to seep into his very being. His breaths falling in condensed puffs as he hurried back to his own ship to escape the sub zero temperatures. Who the hell sets up a meeting on a planet where it was this damn cold? Stumbling into his ship, Lance wasn't where he'd left him. Sitting in the cockpit, Lance was talking to Kosmo as he dragged files across the screen of Keith's navigator system. Now dressed in a shirt and a pair of jeans, it was like the Cuban idiot didn't know outside was freezing "I thought I left you resting" Jumping visibly, Lance shot up. A hand going to his hip despite the lack of weaponry there "Keith! Don't sneak up on a man like that! I could have shot you!" Rolling his eyes at him, Keith tossed the small black communicator to Lance who clumsily caught it "I'm terrified. What are you going awake and out of bed?" "I couldn't sleep... I felt bad about sending you out to find my communicator" "You're too much. You've only just woken up and now I find you at the control of my ship. What's going on with you?" "I'm fine. I was resting until you decided you needed to give me a heart attack" God. He was frustrating. Lance's pupils were blown so wide his eyes were practically black "Are you high right now?" Huffing at him, Lance sank back down without so much as a grimace, his fingers back to tapping away at whatever he was up to "I was disabling your tracking system. You've already landed me in enough trouble as it is. The last thing we need is more trouble raining down on us while you're flying this tin can" "Lance" "I mean, what kind of idiot hacks a security system installed by police. Did Pidge know you were using her program?" "Lance" "First you show up. Then you hack the clubs security. Then you break into our rooms. Seriously...." "Lance" "Now I'm stuck on this planet with my ship pulp. Keith. When I told you you need to show your dates a good time..." "Lance!" Stopping his rambling, Lance looked up at him "What?" "I have no idea what you're talking about, but all of this can wait. What happened to you?" Blinking at him Lance leaned back in the pilot chair, crossing his arms as he did "That's a long story no one wants to hear. Basically you got me in trouble with my bosses and I needed to get Erathus off for a bit. They're the kind of people you don't want pissed and on your trail. Hence why I disabled your ship's tracker" "I got you in trouble?" "Yep. Don't worry it wasn't just you. Erathus was starting to feel a bit too small. Now that I have my communicator I can contact my team" "You have a team?" "Yes, Keith. I have a team" Replying sarcastically, Lance was doing his head in "How am I supposed to know that?" "Because I told you?" "You told me? You haven't told me anything! You didn't even tell me you were in space. Now you're what? Running around the universe doing what? Shooting people? Getting into fights with who? Your ship was wrecked, and you crashed. You could have died in the crash! You're lucky I came earlier than we arranged!" "Damn, Keith. Calm down man. Stress isn't good for you" Calm down?! How could calm down? Lance seemed like he couldn't care less for the situation they were in "Stress isn't good for me!? I didn't have this stress until you came back into my life!" Looking like a kicked puppy, Lance slowly rose from the pilot's chair "You're right. I'm sorry man. I never should have let you been dragged into this. I stupidly let myself think it could be like old times, but those times are gone. My team should be here within the next quintant or so. So I'll stay out your way until then" Ah quiznak. He'd let his anger flare, then pushed too hard. Why couldn't he say the right thing? Lance was right there. The man he'd stalked the fuck out of because he cared, was now walking back towards the bedroom area looking thoroughly dejected "Lance, wait. It's not that... I mean... I wanted that too. Us. You know. Against the universe" Lance had once called him the "future", now he felt like his future self was just as much as an arse as his previous self. He'd chosen Lance because he wanted Lance to return to Earth and be free. He wanted Lance to be happy... yet had been too embarrassed to say anything like that when it'd really mattered "Don't worry about it man. It's fine. I'll go call my team" "You don't have to do that. You called me out here for a reason, can't we put all this aside? Why did you call me out here? I've never even heard of this planet..." Pausing in the doorway Lance sighed, not looking at him as he fiddled with the door frame "Oh... right. I think I know where your missing agent ended up. I was going to bring you with me, but now I'm thinking it's safer if you just wait here. My team can handle it" "You know where Guile is?" "Maybe. You can't get in without the right clearance, even if you are Daibazaal's favourite prince. I'm sorry. But like you said... you weren't the only one hoping that things could be how they used to be" Leaving him standing there Keith didn't know what to do. He was still frozen from his trip outside the ship, but that was nothing compared to the icy atmosphere that was left in Lance's wake.

[vcepsis]

Would you do K+3 for your babies Sheith pleeeease? With cherry on top? ❤

thank so very much ilu

From this drabble ask  (and hey if anyone else wants one feel free to send me an ask)

So the meme is for a drabble but I uhhhhhhhh wrote 2k so have some Shiro suffering under the cut (this is my first time writing for vld so I hope it turned out ok)

--

When this was over, Keith was going to see to it personally that this planet was bombarded from space.

He wrapped his good arm around his knees, gritting his teeth as Shiro coughed next to him, the sound wet and horrible.

They were coming up on day two of being stranded on this planet, and Keith didn’t like it any more than when they had first arrived. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission: make contact with the locals, shake some hands, gush about Voltron and the fight against the Galra, go home.

Keith remembered looking forward to it: a mission with just him and Shiro. And Pidge, but, well, she would probably lose herself in the planet’s tech almost immediately, so she didn’t count. Keith also remembered the deliberation to cancel the mission when Shiro had picked up a virus the week before, with symptoms similar to a bad cold. But in the end, Shiro had managed to recover enough that it was decided to push forward with the original plan.

Shiro had brushed off Keith’s concerns, insisting he was fine. And he had looked fine as well; in fact, the only indication that he’d been sick was a lingering cough, and even that wasn’t too bad.

The species that lived here was skittish, and not under Galra control. While their technology was impressive, they were used to keeping a low profile so as not to attract Galra attention. It was decided (by Allura and Shiro, mostly) to only bring the Green Lion, to not scare off these potential new allies.

Unfortunately, their secret keeping abilities weren’t quite as advertised. Because no sooner were Keith and Shiro meeting with a group of their leaders, the Galra attacked.

Of course, the locals blamed the Paladins for the Galra’s sudden appearance, and left them to fend for themselves. Luckily, Keith and Shiro had been together, and while Pidge had been alone, she had managed to get to her Lion.

”There’s too many of them!“ she had cried over the comms. ”I can’t get to you!“

“It’s fine!” Shiro had called back as he and Keith sprinted through the jungle terrain, a small army on their tail. “Just go!”

“I’ll contact the Castle, we’ll be back as soon as we can!” With that, the line went dead, and Keith and Shiro were on their own.

In the process of escaping, they had gotten pretty banged up: Keith would have a collection of impressive bruises come morning, and he was pretty sure his left arm was broken from a three-on-one fight. It paled, however, in comparison to Shiro. He’d taken two direct shots to the chest from a hidden Galra soldier, and while the armor stopped the shots from tearing through him, it didn’t stop a few of his ribs from breaking.

It had taken time, luck, and more than a few close calls, but they finally managed to find a small, shallow cave, naturally protruding from a large moss covered rock. It seemed the Galra had turned most of their attention to the fight in the sky and in the city. So they had settled in, expecting rescue to come fairly quickly.

It didn’t.

The only thing Keith could think of was that the planet was under heavy fire, and the others couldn’t getto them. Attempting to raise them on the comms did nothing as well.

Shiro continued to cough, and Keith looked over at him, trying to keep the panic at bay. After a few minutes, the fit finally subsided, and Shiro rested his head on the rock wall behind him. His breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and sweat plastered the white of his bangs to his face. The whole planet was just so warm and humid and gross. Keith felt the sweat beading in his own hair and under his armor.

Shiro looked over at him, turning his head without lifting it. Despite the heat, his face was pale, making the red of his scar more prominent. “How’s the arm?”

Keith shrugged his good shoulder. When they first found their makeshift camp, Shiro had managed to set and wrap Keith’s arm pretty well, despite the shaking in his hands and his own injuries. The pain had been excruciating at the time, but had eventually faded to a dull throb that Keith was able to tolerate. “As good as it’ll be. How about you?”

It was a dumb question, but Shiro gave him a soft smile. “S'ok. Not bad.”

They hadn’t been able to do much for Shiro: the armor covering his chest and stomach had been removed, leaving him in his black under suit. Keith had hoped it would make it easier for Shiro to breathe, but it wasn’t going well. That cough was making Keith nervous, especially with the wet edge it had recently taken on. The humid environment, broken ribs, and last remnants of that virus were creating the perfect storm in Shiro’s lungs. Truth be told, it was scaring Keith.

“Maybe you should lie down?” Keith asked hesitantly, unable to keep the worry out of his voice. God, he was just so bad at this. There were lines of pain etched into Shiro’s tired face, and Keith wanted nothing more than to make them go away.

Shiro shook his head slowly, closing his eyes when the small movement made him dizzy. “Can't–can’t breathe, like that.”

They had a bit of distance between them; Keith told himself it was to not crowd Shiro, but in reality, he was just scared. Scared that if he touched him, he would do something wrong and end up hurting Shiro even more.

“You’re quiet,” Shiro said softly, breaking Keith out of his spiraling thoughts. “You sure you’re ok?”

Keith had to laugh at that; it was either that or burst into hysterical tears. “Me? What about you?”

Shiro chuckled softly, which set off another round of rough sounding coughing he tried to smother into his fist. When he was done he was blinking tears out of his eyes. “It’s fine. Only—hurts when I breathe.”

Keith shot him a look. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Shiro responded, voice practically gone. His breath was rattling in his lungs. Pneumonia flitted through Keith’s mind, but he had to quash it down; he already felt like he was barely holding it together, seeing Shiro hurting so badly and not being able to do anything about it. He didn’t need anything else adding to his stress levels.

Shiro shifted slightly, hissing in pain when it jostled his battered ribs. “What are you doing?” Keith asked, the sound sharper than he intended. “Sit still, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Shiro blinked at him, and Keith noticed with alarm that he seemed less aware than just a moment ago. “S'cold. Wanted to…get closer.”

Cold? Keith frowned, confused. It was the exact opposite of cold here; Keith felt the humidity under his skin, felt the warm air sticking his bangs to his face.

Then it dawned on him. He scooted closer, finally crossing the distance between them. Pulling off a glove with his teeth, he pressed his hand to Shiro’s forehead, gently lifting the bangs away. Yes, it was warm out here, but even Keith could tell the heat radiating off Shiro wasn’t normal.

“Shit.” Keith couldn’t stop the curse from rolling off his tongue. Panic bloomed in his chest anew, washing over him like a wave, ripping through him like a thunderstorm.

Shiro blinked slowly at him, not understanding. “Keith?” The sound was so soft, so worried, and Keith felt sick.

“It's—it’s fine, Shiro. Do you want to try to sleep?”

“What about you?” Shiro asked, voice still raspy. “You haven’t slept since we got here.”

There was no way Keith could even consider sleep, not now. Not with Shiro hurt so badly. “Neither have you. You’ll feel better if you sleep.”

The lie was obvious, but Shiro hummed in response, eyes already slipping closed. He scooted down the wall a bit so his head was level with Keith’s good shoulder, resting on it. Keith sat up as straight as he could so Shiro could still sit in a somewhat upright position. Keith found himself wishing he had taken off his own armor; sleeping on it couldn’t be comfortable. But he wanted to be ready in case the Galra came back. Besides, taking off his armor felt a little like defeat—as if the action would be admitting they wouldn’t be rescued for a while yet.

Despite not sleeping since they landed, Keith felt wide awake. Shiro’s head was heavy on his shoulder, his good arm caught underneath. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw that their hands were just inches apart, resting on the ground between them. Slowly, carefully, Keith moved his hand so it was over Shiro’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. Shiro sighed a bit in his sleep.

Looking over, Keith took in Shiro’s pale complexion, save for the faint flush beginning to bloom across his cheeks, and listened to the labored sounds of his breathing. At least he was breathing. Keith tried to focus on that rather than the fear coursing through him.

They stayed like that for a while, Keith eventually leaning his head gently on top of Shiro’s. Suddenly, his helmet crackled from where it sat a few feet away, making Keith jump a bit. “—ith? You there?”

Keith blinked, taking a second to process it, then lunged for the helmet. The movement startled Shiro awake, who managed to catch himself before falling on his face. Keith made a grab for the helmet with the arm Shiro wasn’t resting on, which, unfortunately, was his broken arm, and he cursed loudly as the pain shot through it anew. Jamming the helmet on his head, he heard the static sounds of jumbled voices on the other end. “I’m here. We need a pick up, stat.”

“Keith!” It was Lance. Never in his entire life did Keith think he’d be so happy to hear his stupid voice. “Where are you? We tried to contact Shiro, is he withyou?”

“Yeah, he’s here.” Shiro had managed to shift so he was leaning back against the rock, eyes closed tightly in pain.

“Thank God,” Lance said, relief evident in his voice. “We couldn’t reach him, it was freaking us out. Are you guys ok?”

Keith looked over at Shiro. His head was resting against the rock wall, arm draped loosely around his stomach, panting hard. “Shiro’s hurt. You need to get here, now.”

Lance cursed. “Where are you? There’s a break in the fighting, I’m pretty sure I can come get you in Blue.”

“I’ll send you our coordinates,” Keith replied, already bringing up the armor’s floating touch screen. Shiro was looking at Keith now, brows up in question. “Lance is on his way.”

Shiro smiled, and though it was tired and hazy, it was like the sun coming out. “That’s good. But tell him to be caref—” The rest of his sentence was abruptly cut off by a coughing fit that sounded worse than all the others combined, practically doubling him over with the force of it. Keith’s relief at contacting the team quickly turned back to that familiar, heavy feeling of dread he’d had for the past two days. He scrambled over to Shiro, rubbing his back as he worked through the fit. When he was done, his lips were flecked with red.

Keith’s eyes widened at the sight. He grabbed Shiro’s hand roughly, turning it palm up to see the fabric of his glove nearly soaked in blood, which Keith could see even against the dark fabric. Shiro was practically gasping for breath, too exhausted to protest Keith’s manhandling.

“Lance,” Keith said into the helmet, voice just this side of hysterical. “Hurry.”

“On my way.” Lance’s voice was serious, for a change.

Shiro was slumped against Keith, breathing hard and fast. Keith put his arms around him, ignoring the scream of protest from his broken arm. “Lance is on his way, alright?You’re gonna be fine, ok?”

Shiro looked up at him, though his glazed eyes didn’t seem to really be seeing Keith. “Yeah,” Shiro agreed softly. “Everything’s….gonna be ok. You’ll be…” Before he could finish the thought, his eyes fluttered shut and he went boneless in Keith’s arms, unconscious.

Keith wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “Lance!”

“I know, I know, I’m coming!” The sounds of battle came through the comms, along with low grunts as Lance fought through it.

Keith tightened his hold on Shiro, the pain in his arm secondary to the fear that had taken root in his chest. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” Keith wasn’t sure if he was talking to Shiro or himself at this point. He rested his head on top of Shiro’s, frustrated that the helmet was in the way. But he could hear the sound of Shiro’s breathing, shallow as it was, and focused on that. “I’ve got you.”

And five days later, when Shiro stumbled out of the pod, Keith was the one to catch him.

[panda-noosh]

Unravel {Pidge x Female!Reader}

Words: 5412

   Summary: You never thought you would feel anything for Pidge Gunderson. You never thought you'd feel anything for anybody, but crash landing and being dragged onto the castle ship leads you to discover a lot about yourself.

   Pairing: Pidge x Reader

   Notes: 2 long fics in one day wow.

   Feelings things was always something you tried your hardest not to do.

   Feeling anything was a trap in itself. A trick of the mind to make somebody vulnerable, and it was a trap you had sworn to not fall into. Perhaps you were naïve in thinking such things, thinking you could swim through life without a care in the world, without a string attached to anybody. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, a suppression of the most innocent emotion a person could feel – love.

   But it had been easy enough when you didn't even understand your own feelings. Suppressing them was easy when you didn't feel the same thing as everybody else, which was why you often found yourself pleased at your own confusion.

    Pleased perhaps wasn't the right word. Not knowing who you are or what you want was a difficult battle to fight in itself, but whenever it benefited the one rule you had set out for yourself – do not get attached – it had come in handy.

   That didn't take away the harshness of reality, though. The fact that you felt like you were merely a walking shell of human, getting past life on lies and a smile that hid the lonely feeling you felt inside. Everybody else knew what they wanted – who they wanted. Everybody else had somebody to call theirs, because they knew what they wanted.

   You didn't even know that.

   Or maybe you did. Maybe you just didn't want to believe it.

  Things had been so easily dealt with up until the moment you met the Paladin's of Voltron. A group of five, along with two Alteans who insisted on dragging you aboard their castle ship as wounds plagued your body from a crash landing you had suffered only hours prior. They were nothing major, but the ginger Altean – Coran, you learned – had panicked at the sight of the blood and insisted you be put under careful watch until further notice.

   Meaning you were stuck in an Altean ship with seven complete strangers and a couple of mice, who had apparently been given the job of entertainers during your time on bed rest.

   It was the fourth night in captivity when you finally met her.

   She walked in with a curious glance being sent your way, you remembered. You could have been dreaming, though. It was three am, the sun disappearing, leaving the room in almost pitch blackness if it wasn't for the light streaming under the door from the hallway.

   For the split second the door was open for Pidge to peak her head in through the small gap she had created, you had spotted her. Pidge Gunderson. Checking up on you, even though she had no idea who you were.

   It only lasted a second. Her light brown hair disappeared the moment her eyes met yours. She let out a squeak of panic upon realising you were, indeed, awake before scattering off, leaving the door to clatter shut behind her.

    You didn't see her again until you were finally able to walk.

   The pain in your stomach was still there, bandaged and stitched up wounds still insisting that you sit down, but you managed. You knew you would go insane if you spent another moment in that bed, listening to the mice squeak in your ear as if you could understand a damn thing they were saying.  

   Coran and Allura certainly could. It freaked you out whenever they walked in to check on you, only to sit down and start having a casual chat with the animals.

    “She's up!” is the first thing you hear as you make your way into the living area. You had memorised the route from your room to this very area, hands trailing along the wall to keep you upright. The pain still burned in your lower stomach, but you ignored it as best as you could.

   You smile at Coran, Allura and the five Paladins as you waddle into the room. “I'm up.”

   Coran frowns. “You need to sound more enthusiastic than that, my dear. You've been on bed rest for nearly a week.”

   “A week I most certainly didn't need,” you reply, and the words come out harsher than you planned. You want to apologise, but you keep yourself quiet, instead concentrating on keeping yourself upright.

    Coran and Allura share looks of concern as you slump down on the sofa, grunting as pain spirals up into your rib cage, pinching at your chest before quickly subsiding as you relax into the pillows.

   “Perhaps you need more than a week,” Allura mumbles. “You don't look too good.”

   You wince, shaking your head. “I'm fine. It's just the stitches.”

    “Stitches?” Shiro speaks up. You look up at the leader, raising a brow at the discontent in his voice.

   He doesn't even bother lowering his tone as he continues on, turning to Allura and Coran.

   “You used up some of our medical resources for a stranger?”

   You swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to feel hurt by his words. The whole reason you had isolated yourself was to avoid this feeling – this feeling of worthlessness, and you were surprised by just how easy Shiro managed to crawl under your skin and break the seal you had applied years ago. With one sentence, he was degrading you and making you feel like utter shit.

   You bite down on your lip and turn away from him, half-wanting to pretend you hadn't even heard him.

   “How can you even question that?” Hunk says. “She was injured. We aren't about to just let her die. That's not who we are.”

   “Hunk's right,” Keith agrees. “She was badly scraped up -”

   “I had a few bumps and bruises,” you say, though the gouging rip in your stomach that had now been stitched up spoke otherwise.

   Shiro shoots you a sideways glance, prompting you to awkwardly look away. It is then that your eyes click with Pidge's. You jump as your eyes meet hers, her big brown ones burning into the side of your head. You hadn't even realised she was there. She kept to herself, by the looks of things, and she sat numbly in the corner, listening to the unneeded debate in silence.

   She doesn't break the eye contact for multiple seconds, trailing her eyes down your injured body before she finally turns away, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair. It takes you a minute to catch your breath, though you hadn't moved. She had managed to knock the wind out of you with her glare – a glare that you hoped wasn't bad.

   You weren't entirely sure why you were hoping for such a thing. You didn't know her. You didn't know her personality, her back story, and you didn't plan on finding these things out. Learning about people led to attachment, and attachment led to feelings, and feelings led to forced-reasoning with ones-self. Reasoning you weren't ready to do just yet.

   You swallow again and turn back to the group, trying to whisp away all thoughts of Pidge Gunderson. There was absolutely zero reason for you to even ponder on the thought of her – she was nothing to you. A mere stranger amongst the people who had taken you in against your will.

   You would leave this ship, and everything would be okay in the end. You could go back to being confused. You could go back to being closed off, on your own. It was for your own good.

    You were overstaying, and you knew that.

   You were risking everything you had built up in the past few years, and you knew that.

  But by the fifteenth day, your ship still had not been mended, and you were still staying in the room you had been put in when you were injured. You even found yourself helping out around the ship, doing what the stitches allowed you to to not make you feel as helpless as you actually were.

   In reality, you should have still been resting. Having your lower stomach ripped open by a gear stick and fixed with a simple set of stitches was not something that should have been ignored for the sake of your dignity. You knew you should have still been on bed rest, listening to the mice and nodding along to their incoherent squeaks, but being trapped in a room with strangers parading outside of the door was too unrealistic to think about.

   Space was a dangerous place, and trusting people was even more dangerous. Meaning you couldn't look vulnerable in front of these people, whether they had good intentions or not.

   So you were up, working and keeping yourself busy – just how you liked it.

   The fifteenth day saw you working in the kitchen with Hunk, scrubbing shamelessly at pots and pans he had used to cook dinner for everyone that night. You had yet to sit around the large table to have a meal with everybody, instead fleeing to your bedroom to eat, but it didn't stop you from helping Hunk out whenever he needed it.

   Hunk was the one person you felt yourself getting close to, and you didn't mind it. He was nice, but he never made himself sound attached to you. Leaving him wouldn't cause a rip in your heart, though you knew you would miss him just a bit. He was nice to you and treated you well.

    “Do you plan on eating with us tonight?” he asks after a comfortable silence had settled between the two of you.

   You spare him a glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes and giving him a warm smile to soften the news that you would not, in fact, be eating with them.

   “Nah. I don't think anybody else would appreciate my presence.”

   Hunk narrows his eyes, wiping his hands on a towel before tossing it over your shoulder for the dishes you were finishing up. “What makes you think that?”

   You nearly scoff at his obliviousness. “Shiro clearly isn't the biggest fan of me, Hunk. He was half-ready to sacrifice my life for the sake of a couple of stitches if I remember correctly.”

   Hunk paled and you felt a pang of regret for taking your anger out on him. You bite at your bottom lip, busying your hands in the soap suds.

   “Plus, I'm not even that hungry,” you continue. “I'm just gonna work on the ship and go to bed. An early night.”

   “Your ship isn't gonna be fixed.”

   The voice that emerged through the kitchen startles you enough to make you drop a knife, it clanging to the floor and splashing soap everywhere. Of all the people you expected to walk in here, Pidge was certainly not one of them, and the sound of her voice sent your cheeks flushing a red colour and your nerves to bite at every limb in your body.

   You whirl around to look at her, eyes wide as Hunk grunts, picking the dropped knife up off the ground.

   “Christ, Y/N. It's just Pidge. Calm down. You look like you've seen a ghost.”

   You silently curse him for pointing out the obvious, quickly looking down to avoid Pidge noticing your startled expression.

   Stop this, Y/N. Stop.

   “And what do you mean her ships not gonna get fixed?” Hunk continues. “Is it not already on it's way to being usable again?”

   Pidge shakes her head, pulling herself up onto the counter across from you. “That's what Coran said, but it was only because she was injured and he didn't want her panicking. It looks like she's staying with us for a little bit longer than we thought.”

   Your gut twists in despair. Despair at the idea of being stranded on this ship with these people who didn't even want you there. Despair at the idea of your ship being completely out of use. Despair at the fact that Pidge almost sounded annoyed at the idea of you staying here.

   You couldn't pin point the tone in her voice. From the few times you had heard her speak up, she had a way of disguising how she felt behind a mask of wobbled words and anxiety that was clearly played up. She wouldn't be a Paladin of Voltron if she was the nimble, shy girl she always played off to be.

   And yet you understood why she would be annoyed at the idea of you staying. You were nothing more than an extra mouth to feed. At the moment, you couldn't even hold yourself upright without the help of a wall or another person.

    You were completely useless, and you were positive that Pidge saw that, too. Weirdly, it made anxiety screech in your stomach and you forced yourself to push off of the counter, leaving the kitchen behind for another night of solitude in your room.

   Day thirty reached and brought even more healing than you had expected. You had thought that your walking around and lack of rest would put a dent in the healing process, making your deeper wounds take a little longer to heal, but they were healing up nicely, though you still struggled to keep a meal down and there was still burning sparks of pain that slammed into your body whenever you moved too abruptly.

    Which was why you knew training today was a bad idea, but sleep refused to take you and it was the only thing you could think of doing to escape the harsh reality of what was actually happening to you at the moment.

   The Galra war was happening and you were stuck, completely helpless with gaping wounds in your body. You needed to find some way to get your mind off of that very fact.

    You made your way down to the training room at midnight on the thirty first day of your stay. You had tricked yourself into thinking you were well enough to punch at a punching bag, and had waited until you were certain everybody else was asleep before making your way to the room. If Coran and Allura saw you now, they would surely tell you off for moving around too much, and if anybody else saw you, they would surely tell you off for using their supplies.

   Despite having stayed with them for a month, basically becoming part of the crew at this point, Shiro was still wary about giving you anything that belonged to them. Wasting supplies on a stranger, he called it. You wanted to know how long you had to stay on this damn ship until you were no longer classed as a 'stranger' or an 'outsider' to him.

   The air of the training room was like a breath of fresh, familiar air. A room with good equipment, lit up by the moon and stars streaming in through the windows, solitude. It was pure bliss, and for a moment you could forget everything. Forget the panic that was settling in your stomach more and more with each passing day at the idea of getting attached to these people – even Keith and Lance had begun to warm up to you. They were becoming friends, though you refused to admit that to yourself.

    They were acquaintances. That was all they ever would be. All they ever could be.

   Then there was Pidge.

   You swung a punch to the punching bag.

    She was another thing all together. A completely different puzzle which you were yet to work out.

   Punch.

   She had this thing of just showing up out of nowhere and the way she spoke to you made you feel like a kid being told off by their parents for doing something stupid.

   Punch.

   She made your brain work weirdly. She made your stomach erupt into butterflies, and it was that very fact which angered you. That somebody so uninterested could walk into your life and make you feel things which you had been suppressing for years.

   Punch.

   She wasn't right for you. You knew she wasn't right for you. She wasn't interested. She didn't like. Not even as a friend.

   Punch.

   But it's not you liked her as anything more than that, right? She wasn't even a friend to you. You two barely nodded to each other when you passed in the hallway. You hadn't even sat down and ate dinner with her yet.

   Punch.

   You couldn't like her in that way. You admired her, of course. You admired all of the Paladins.

   Punch.

   Plus, she's a girl. You didn't like girls. You couldn't fall for a girl. Nothing to make your feelings even more complicated.

   Kick.

   The pain becomes blinding as these thoughts race through your head, and in seconds you have dropped to the floor, letting out a cry of desperation as it all suddenly catches up to you. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be feeling things. You shouldn't be training at all. You should be on bed rest, because now your stomach felt like it was being shredded open and your head was hurting with the realisation that maybe you had let yourself get too deeply into things with somebody you had no hope with.

   Everything you had feared.

   “Y/N-ah?” a voice sounds. A voice you want to block out. A voice which makes you groan out through gritted teeth, your hands wrapping around your middle as tears blossom in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks with the pain pushing them forwards.

   You see dots in your vision. You see dots, and you reach out to touch them, to bat them out of your line of sight, but she grabs your hands and kneels in front of you, clasping your fingers together to stop you from hitting them off of the equipment you were just brutally beating.

    “What the hell are you doing in here?” Pidge hisses, pulling your face up to meet hers. Your cheeks are beetroot red, teeth gritted to stop the scream of pain from erupting because it all hurts so badly.

   Pidge sees the pain your in and her features immediately mould into one of panic.

   “Can we leave you for more than a god damn second?” she exclaims, but she's working as she scolds you. She zooms upright, wrapping one of your arms around her shoulder and tugging you up, bodies close together in a way that has your cheeks heated.

   It was just the pain, though. It was always just the pain.  

   She whispers incoherent curse words under her breath as she carried you out of the training room. As soon as the door closes behind the two of you, though, she begins to yell, screaming for Coran to wake up and help. You aren't sure if she's being loud. All you can hear is the whistling in your ear, and all you can see is Pidge's hand gripping your fingers over her shoulder. Everything else is blocked out by black spots, which slowly cloud your vision even more with every step you take.

    You want it to consume you. You want the pain to end for just a moment – pain you had caused yourself, because you knew full well you weren't healthy enough to be wondering around and training.

    “You can't close your eyes, okay?” Pidge says, voice sounding distant even though she was directly beside you. “We could lose you if you let the pain consume you, so stay awake. Don't close your eyes.”

   You gurgle as you're pushed onto a plush mattress. “Why would you even care?”

   You don't know why you say that, but you don't have time to question it. In seconds your eyes are slipping shut, the last thing you remember seeing being Pidge flinch back at the words you had just said. Then everything disappeared.

    “You're the one that was treating her like absolute shit from the moment she opened her eyes!”

   “She was a stranger! Sorry for being cautious! She didn't have to go and nearly get herself killed.”

   A scoff. “She would have died if I hadn't had walked in. I'm the one that saved her, so I'm the one who's gonna be here when she wakes up. She'll want an explanation.”

   “You can spare a second to come and talk the plan through-”

   “I said, I'm not going anywhere. Not until I know she isn't about to wake up and walk off and damage her innards anymore than she already has.”

   “I really don't understand why you care so much.”

   Silence then. Your eyes were too heavy for you to open them and see what was going on, but you could feel the tension through the door even as you slowly warped back to consciousness.

   It was Shiro and Pidge, you knew. Judging by the context of the conversation and the voices, you were most certain it was them two. It struck you as strange. Two people who had barely made an effort with you since you walked into this ship – Shiro even becoming hostile with you – were outside your door right now as if you had been best friends this entire time.

   You would have laughed if you weren't so severely in pain.

   “Yeah well,” Pidge spoke up, finally. You stiffened at the sound of her voice, straining your sore ears to listen in. “I don't need you to understand. I – I barely understand, okay? Now, you can deal with the plan without me this one time. Just let me – Let me stay here.”

    You finally peeled your eyes open, allowing the dim light of the familiar room blind you. It was only a bed side table lamp, but it was enough to have you crinkling your nose up in displeasure at the sudden brightness.

    The pain was still very much present, a burning sensation in your lower stomach which had you wincing at the feel of it. Not a good thing to wake up to, though it was certainly better than the pain you had felt when you had collapsed. You were almost sure you were going to die whenever that wave had hit.

   It doesn't take long for the door to the room to open, revealing Pidge. You caught a glimpse of Shiro shaking his head outside, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration at what you could only assume was Pidge's denial of his planning.

   Pidge sees you, and immediately her eyes widen. “You're awake!”   The door closes as you nod, locking both you and her in the room by yourselves. You feel nerves. Nothing but nerves, tingling at your fingertips and making your head spin.

   It was just the pain. It's always just the pain.

   “I'm awake,” you grunt.

   Pidge lowers herself onto the chair next to your bed, folding her arms in her lap. “You really messed up your insides training the other night.”

   You nod. “I can tell. I feel it.”

   “You don't have to be sarcastic. I know you're in pain, and hiding it behind humour is just gonna be useless.”

   “I'm not hiding anything. I'm just delirious and quite sick of people telling me the obvious.”

   Pidge rakes her eyes over your injured state for just a moment, biting on her bottom lip as she does so. You barely catch a glimpse of her expression but you don't need to. You know what she's thinking: how weak.

   “Coran thought you were gonna die,” she continues on, ignoring your hostility. “We all thought you were gonna die.”

   “I bet you were all distraught.”

   “We were.”

   You blink in disbelief, not entirely sure if she's being sarcastic or not.

   She looks up at you and shrugs loosely, leaning back in her chair with a lazy grunt. “I know that you think we all hate you or something, but we don't. We're just – We've been betrayed before. We've all been hurt before. Opening up to new people isn't exactly our forte – especially Shiro.”

   You nibble on your lip. You could understand that – you had your own reasoning behind your isolation, and you were sure they had theirs. It just hurt whenever you were on the receiving end of the hostility. It hurt to think that other people saw you as any less than them because of something you couldn't help.

    That means a lot more than it should.

   You squeeze your eyes closed, as if doing so will chase away the unwanted thoughts which had managed to creep into your brain all too often.

   Pidge reaches out, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin on your wrist and you find yourself flinching away from her touch.

   “Are you okay?” she asks. “You closed your eyes for a second. I thought you were having a pain spell again.”

   You shake your head stiffly, trying to ignore the burning sensation in your stomach that was only exaggerated by the butterflies which were now rooting in your system. “N-No. I'm good. I'm okay.”

   “I think that's saying a bit too much,” Pidge grumbles, and before you can ask why, she is standing up and placing herself on the bed beside you.

   You shuffle to the side, only for her hands to crinkle themselves in your shirt to keep you in place. It is only then that you realise that your shirt is blood stained, the buttons broken off of it, revealing what is meant to be a lick of skin – in it's place is a blood stained bandage, but you still blush as if your entire torso is on show for her.

    “Who broke my shirt?” you ask.

   “We were in a rush,” Pidge grumbles. “You have nice skin, by the way. I appreciated it.”

   You nearly choke on your own saliva, but hide it with a raise of your brow. Putting on a charade of confidence was always a lot easier than showing off nerves.

    You're so engulfed in her comment that you don't notice whenever she pulls the bottom of your shirt up to reveal even more of your stomach. The cold air bounces off of the skin which is now, indeed, showing with no bandage to cover it, leaving your skin on show to Pidge.

   Her eyes trail over the skin for a moment before they travel back down to the bandage which is pressed around your lower stomach. She lets her fingertips graze it slightly before she nods.

    “I think we should change these.”

   You panic. You aren't entirely sure why. You don't want to know why, because the reason will surely be one that will scare you in the long run. Nonetheless, you still jerk away from her touch, hissing at the pain which emerges at the sudden action.

   “Stay still,” Pidge exclaims, and her fingers clamp down on your thigh and you're almost sure you're going to burst into tears.

   She was making it extremely difficult to stay in denial about your feelings.

   “Are you okay?” she asks.

   You shake your head. “I can change them myself.”

   “You can barely move a little to the left without being in pain. Now let me-”

   “Pidge, I'm serious!” you bark, and the sternness in your voice makes her pull away. Guilt washes over you, and it is then that you realise just how far you'd dug yourself into this hole, and there was no getting out of it.

    You were feeling guilt. Guilt at hurting somebody else. Guilt at being rude or stern with somebody else, and that was a sure sign that your plans for life had failed, and they had failed in the strangest way possible and it made you feel like shit.

   You had gotten attached. You had gotten attached, and you were starting to fall for a female – a person of the same gender. If things could get even more confusing for you, they had.

   Pidge's lower lip wobbles a little bit at the volume of your voice and you allow yourself a moment. A moment to think about her lips, pressed tight against yours as the two of you sway happily in a peaceful bliss. It's a utopia where things aren't messed up. It's a utopia where getting close to somebody is a good thing, a happy thing. It's a utopia where you being in love with a girl is -

    “You don't have to act this way.”

   Pidge's voice startles you. Your eyes snap up to hers, and your heart shatters when you see crystal tears coating her eyes, threatening to fall down her face.

   Not once had you seen Pidge cry.

   She continues. “You don't have to pretend to be okay around me, alright? I want you to trust me, and I know I haven't shown that very well through my actions, but I want you to trust me like you trust anyone else. Christ, Y/N, whenever I walked into that training room the other day and saw you on the floor, I nearly started crying because of how scared I was. You've made me feel things that I've been trying to suppress, and all you had to do was get injured for me to realise it.”

   You swallow the golf ball sized lump in your throat. She was spoon-feeding you her feelings in this moment, and yet you still couldn't let yourself believe a word she was saying. It wasn't possible. You had never gotten lucky in your life. This couldn't be the first.

    Pidge shakes her head gently, letting her hand fall back onto your stomach. You shiver as her cold fingertips trace over the small bit of exposed skin on your stomach, but you don't pull away. You simply let her trace patterns on the skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.

    “I pretended to be a boy for my time at the Garrison,” she says, suddenly. “It was for my own sake, I suppose. I'm gonna use that as an excuse for what I'm about to do.”

    “What do you-”

   You don't get a chance to reply before Pidge has leaned forward and she is pressing her lips to yours in a gentle, soft peck that makes sure you don't hurt yourself trying to reciprocate. For a moment, you don't. For a moment, you're hands are tangled in the sheets at the side of you as everything seems to stop around you – time, your breathing, the world. It all comes to a still as Pidge presses her lips to yours, and they're soft and her breath smells of mint and her hands are on your waist and she's just perfect and you suddenly don't understand how you never realised it all before.

    Denying yourself feelings was something you did because you didn't want to admit to yourself that you liked the same gender. It was a defence mechanism against what people saw as 'weird.'

   You didn't realise just how beautiful finding happiness was until this moment.

   It doesn't take long for you to melt into the kiss. Your stomach hisses in protest at you, but you ignore it as you let your hands trail up Pidge's arms, finally clasping around her neck to pull her impossibly closer to you. You hear a small squeak escape Pidge's mouth as she falls forward, surprised that you were so eager, and the noise makes you smile in satisfaction.

    Her hands unclip from your waist and lean against the headboard to stop herself from falling forward completely. You don't even care. You feel yourself unravelling, and it was Pidge who had untied the string and had let you feel for the first time.

    It wasn't what you expected, but you didn't care. You wouldn't have it any other way.

    You pull away after a moment, letting your head fall back against your pillows and a wince to appear on your face. “If we take it further than this, my insides might just give in completely.”

   Pidge stares at you wide eyed and open mouthed, her lips swollen and red. “I honestly just took a guess there. I didn't know you-”

    “Either did I,” you say. “But – But you're special, Pidge Gunderson. You're special.”

[yourwritersblock]

Copper

Keith had heard people compare the smell of blood to the smell of copper. But he had never understood that. Blood was cloying, and rich, and hot, and so unique to itself that he had never been able to equate it to anything else. He realised now that he could thank his Galra senses for that; they enhanced the scent, giving it a stench that was so much more distinctive than any earth metal. And right now that sweet, acrid odour was all he could focus on.

Lance lay sprawled on his back, his blood thickening the dirt around him in an impossibly large pool. Keith tried to think back to his health and safety classes at the Garrison. How much blood did one need to lose before they bled out? Keith was pretty sure it was a third, but the wide splatter around Lance seemed like far more than that. It wasn’t difficult to see what had caused the damage. A large sword had been driven through Lance’s stomach, deep into the ground below him. Lance’s helmet had been thrown to the side. The magnitude of dead sentries scattered around Lance showed what a valiant fight he had put up; it just hadn’t been enough.

Keith’s movements seemed to fall into slow motion as he covered the short distance between them and collapsed onto his knees. His first instinct was to reach out for the other boy, but as his hands moved hesitantly towards Lance, he curled them back into his sternum. If he jostled Lance he would more than likely worsen the damage.

Lance dragged a shallow breath into his lungs, only for a hacking cough to shudder through his body. Blood pulsed from his nose and dripped out from between his pale lips, dark and thick. “Keith?” Disorientation clouded the red paladin’s eyes. Keith stared in horror as the syllable forced even more blood to spill over Lance’s chin. A broken rib must have punctured one of his lungs. Keith’s brain kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out what would kill Lance first – the sword through his body or the internal bleeding. Did it count towards blood loss if it was still in his body? Probably.

“Lance,” he breathed. His fingers had managed to find his teammate’s short hair, unbidden. Keith pushed the brown locks away from Lance’s sweaty forehead.  

The taller boy’s head rolled to the side. “S’nice,” he mumbled as his eyelid’s flickered closed.

Visceral fear clenched at Keith’s heart, sending hot blood to pound in his ears. “Lance?” He repeated, “Lance! Stay awake for me, okay? Can you do that?” Lance nodded sluggishly and pried his eyes open again. Keith removed his hands from Lance’s face to tear his helmet from his head. He shook it violently before slamming his thumb down on the coms. “Shiro!” he yelled. “Shiro, please respond, Lance is hurt!” Seedy static was his only response. He growled and threw his helmet to the ground, where it clattered against Lance’s.

“I need to tell you something.” Lance’s voice was suddenly clear and calm and the serenity of it dragged Keith back to him. He laughed lowly, and the action caused the blood to bubble in his mouth. One of the bubbles popped, and Keith watched in revulsion as it caused a small splatter of red to spray across his own armour. “I didn’t want to have to tell you like this, but I need you to kno-”

“No,” Keith bit out. “No talking. Save your strength. You can tell me whatever you need to say when you get out of the healing pod.”

“Please,” Lance said. His voice carried so much sadness, and so much finality, that Keith could only stare down at him. He hunched over Lance’s body so that their faces were just inches apart.

“Tell me later,” he begged.

Lance forced another shallow breath into his chest. Without warning he surged up, smashing his lips against Keith’s. Keith’s could taste the metallic sting of the viscous liquid against his mouth, and his nose filled with the heady stench of blood. But he hardly noticed. Because Lance was kissing him. It only lasted for a couple of seconds before Lance no longer had the strength to keep himself up and crumpled back onto the ground with a hollow thud. But those seconds had been more than enough for Keith to understand. Lance voiced it anyway: “I love you.”

Keith froze. A million thoughts ran through his brain in unfinished snippets. Nobody had ever actually told Keith they loved him. Sure, Shiro had often told him how ‘important’ he was and how much he ‘cared’ for the younger man, but ‘love’ had never been a word extended to Keith. And it had come from Lance. Beautiful, caring, intelligent Lance. Lance who was dying. He tried to reach for something to say, but the words “Since when?” fell from his bloodied lips.

The red paladin’s lips curved up into a warm smile. “Second week at the Garrison.”

“What?” Keith responded intelligently. “But you hated me when we first got to space! You started that whole stupid rivalry thing!”

Lance’s smile fell and he jerked his shoulders up against the ground in a shrug. “I was hurt. I didn’t know how else to handle my feelings. I didn’t love you back then, but I definitely liked you, and to not even remember who I was…” He trailed off and the clarity in his eyes faded, his pupils glazing over. His hand twitched slightly.

“Lance?” Keith cried, fingers scrambling to find a pulse. They settled against one eventually. It was weak and uneven, but it was there, and that was enough for now. He no longer cared if he was making the injury worse. He pulled Lance’s head onto his lap, cradling his face and rocking back and forth. “Lance,” he whispered, “You’re going to be okay.” A cold tear slipped over his cheek and landed on Lance’s, diluting the blood there into a pale pink. “You have to be okay. You can’t just tell me you love me and then not give me the chance to say it back. I love you too, you jerk.” Lance didn’t respond.

Keith was about to scream his anger into the sky when Shiro’s voice broke through the air. “-eith? Lance? Can you guys hear me?” Keith grabbed his helmet, body twisting painfully so as not to jostle Lance.

“Shiro,” he yelled. His voice cracked in relief. “Shiro Lance is hurt. I need you to get here right now.”

Keith heard Hunk gasp over the line, but Shiro’s voice remained steady when he answered. “We’ll be right there. I’ll get a pod ready.”

Hunk released a barrage of questions regarding Lance’s state and how he had been hurt. Keith answered him robotically, listening to the other members of Team Voltron’s distress as the story unfolded. Pidge let out a sob as Keith asked if the pods could synthesize blood. The answer was a resounding no, but Hunk knew Lance’s blood type, which was the same as Pidge’s, and Shiro was a universal donor. So between the two of them they would probably have enough for a transfusion.  When the Yellow Lion finally showed up, Keith was still rocking Lance’s body back and forth.

The trip back to the ship passed in a blur. Keith wasn’t entirely sure how Shiro and Hunk had managed it, but somehow they had gotten the sword out of the ground without ripping it from Lance’s body. Keith had just watched in a daze as even more blood pulsed from the wound as Hunk gingerly carried him into Yellow. He had followed in a haze and curled himself into a ball in the cockpit as Shiro pulled a vial of adrenaline from somewhere and shot it into Lance’s veins. Somehow the ten minute flight back to the ship passed in both seconds and hours. I love you repeated in his head. I love you.

Shiro had noticed the blood caked onto Keith’s lips and had given him a speech on how trying to administer CPR without the proper training could do more harm than good. Keith didn’t hear any of it.

I love you.

[ladyvialana]

Prompt Fic: Daily Interlude

Right, so, my current fic is progressing at a snail’s pace and I’m procrastinating on my current original project so I decided to keep my writing juices flowing by doing some prompts. I’m using this prompt list I reblogged a little while ago for ideas and I’m just gonna work my way through it as inspiration comes to me.

Feel free to prompt me if you want. I’ll be writing anyway, but if you’d like a fic with a particular character or pairing (or series -- I am actually a fan of many things, not just Voltron) I’d be pretty open to it.

Anyway, here we go!

Prompt 42: “I need a hug”

Voltron: Legendary Defender

Notes: set vaguely post season 4, fluff, a hint of klance

Also on Ao3

“I need a hug.”

Keith paused, spoonful of goo halfway to his mouth, and stared at Pidge.

He had popped into the kitchen to quell the hunger that was starting to affect his reflexes during that day’s training session. He’d missed the main rush for lunch, so the green goo was all that was on offer. Not that it mattered much: nutrition was nutrition, no matter what it tasted like. (Still, he could smell the lingering scent of Hunk’s recent attempts at bread and it was making the goo even less appealing than usual).

In a way, he was thankful to Pidge for her timely interruption. He’d been swirling his spoon through the last remnants in his bowl and debating if his light breakfast and half a bowl at lunch was enough to get him through that afternoon’s planned regime.

Still ... that was an odd request.

“Um ... okay?”

(Odd though it may be, Keith was more than okay with it despite his naturally cautious reply.)

He set his bowl down on the table and got up, opening his arms and hoping that he didn’t smell too sweaty any more. (His shirt was still stuck to his back, so, unlikely.)

“No no no.” Pidge darted forward, dodging his lumbering attempt at affection, and grabbed his shirt. “Not me. Come on.” She pulled him out of the kitchen and towards the lounge.

Keith had been around her long enough to recognise her single-minded focus when she was caught up in one of her ideas, so he went along with it. She wasn’t leading him towards the hangars or her lab or the engine room, so the likelihood of being blown up was pretty slim. As far as Pidge’s usual unexpected flashes of inspirations went, this one seemed mild.

Lance was the only one in the lounge when they arrived. He was sprawled over the back lounge, shoes discarded in the middle of the room, shirt rucked up halfway to his chest, limbs everywhere. His leg was thrown over the back of the couch; how was that even comfortable? He didn’t look over at them when the door slid open. His eyes were closed and he was listening to something with Pidge’s borrowed headphones. 

She’d probably given up on ever getting them back and already invented something better for herself that interacted with Altean tech. Though, Keith was pretty sure she’d hold the theft against Lance for ages. Hell, she’d probably still be harping on about it when they were old and stuck in the same nursing home together and he and Hunk would be stuck listening to her rant again, mouthing along with every word while Lance ignored her.

(Keith liked to imagine that they all lived through this and grew old together. It might not have been realistic but it was one of the few happy thoughts he refused to give up.)

Pidge leaned over the back of the lounge and yanked the headphones off Lance’s head. He yelped and jumped up into a ready battle stance. Keith was actually kind of impressed by the reaction time.

“Pidge, what the hell?!”

“I need you both for an experiment.” She pulled some kind of scanner from the voluminous pocket of her baggy shirt.

Keith and Lance glanced at each other and shrugged. It was probably easier to just do it and get it over with than try to get an explanation or get caught up in further tests. This wasn’t the first time either of them had been roped into one of Pidge’s experiments. At least nothing was on fire. (Yet.)

“Okay, both of you stand in the middle of the room, close together.”

Lance sighed dramatically but did as he was told. Keith didn’t sigh dramatically and walked stoically to stand next to Lance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Good.” Pidge barely glanced at them, focused on her scanner. “Now hug.”

“What?”

Keith winced as Lance yelled right by his already tender ear. He slapped at Lance’s chest with the back of his hand almost automatically. Lance turned his outraged scowl on him instead.

Keith attempted to diffuse the sudden loud tension. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Seriously?”

Keith shrugged. “It’s better than that time she almost set us on fire.”

Lance couldn’t exactly disagree (he still brought that up every time Pidge tried to get him into the labs --- maybe that’s what he’d constantly be harping about to her in the nursing home later in life). Instead of directly arguing, he eyed Keith up and down and pulled a sour face. “When was your last shower exactly?”

Keith was the one to scowl this time. “Oh, like you’re a bed of roses either?”

(Lance wasn’t quite floral smelling but he was far less grimy than Keith, even with his clothes still rumpled from his nap and a stain from the remnants of lunch dribbled over the front of his shirt. Keith did not let himself linger on the exposed strip of stomach where Lance’s shirt had risen up no matter how inviting it looked.)

Lance rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Let’s just do this.” He closed his eyes, scrunching up his face as though anticipating something unpleasant, and opened his arms.

Keith slid into the embrace before he could second guess himself.

Lance flinched away from his damp shirt but relaxed when Keith didn’t do anything more than wrap his arms around Lance’s back and hook his chin on Lance’s shoulder. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, given the circumstances, but it was nice to be close to someone.

Keith felt Lance’s arms come up to rest against his shoulder blades. His thumbs absently stroked over the protrusions. Keith tried not to shiver at the sensation.

They stayed like that, locked in each others arms, for a few moments while Pidge circled them and waved her scanner about.

Keith shouldn’t have expected the peace to last long though.

“Why are you so damp anyway?”

Keith scowled, not that Lance could see it. “I was training.”

“You’re drenched. I didn’t even know humans could sweat this much. And Galra have like fur, so there’s no way it’s that part of your genetics. How long were you training for to get this bad?”

“Well, if you actually did any training yourself you might find out it’s not just a walk in the park.”

Rather than retorting, Lance laughed. The motion jostled both of them, vibrating between them. Keith could almost feel it under his own ribs.

“Wait, didn’t Coran have to reprogram the time limit alarm and lock when you came back?”

Keith scowled again, shoulders hunching. His ears were still ringing from that stupid alarm and he’d almost got his fingers caught in the door when he had to rush out before it locked. He didn’t tell Lance this, obviously, but Lance had been present a few times before when he’d been kicked out by the program and was probably recalling those memories with fondness.

Lance kept laughing. “Only you, Keith.” His thumbs paused in their stroking, hands going still against Keith’s back. “You know, I really did miss making fun of you while you were gone.”

Keith took a quick breath, trying not to let sentimentality get the better of him. “Well, I certainly didn’t miss your uninspired attempts at insults.”

Despite his words, Keith squeezed his arms a little tighter around Lance’s back. So much for attempting aloofness.

Lance cleared his throat, sounding a little uncomfortable. Keith didn’t know for sure, but he had a strong suspicion Lance was blushing.

Lance gave a quick squeeze in return before shifting his head around to ask Pidge, “Hey, what did you say this experiment was for again?”

Pidge didn’t look up from her scanner as she said. “I didn’t. Hunk and I just had a bet to see how long I could get you two to do this.”

“What?!”

Keith stumbled as Lance ripped himself from the embrace and chased Pidge out of the room and into the hallway. Lance slid rather than ran, since he was still only wearing socks, and almost slipped and caught his shoulder on the door frame. He was lucky not to crash head first into the wall. Pidge’s cackling laughter and Lance’s furious swearing echoed back through the doorway before it closed.

Keith shivered once he was alone in the room. He didn’t want to admit he missed Lance’s warm presence, but it really had been kind of nice to relax like that for a time.

Way better than food goo at least.

(Better than most things, if he was being completely honest with himself.)

Still, hopefully Coran’s time lock on the training room would have reset by the time Keith got back there. Before he’d left with the Blade it had been set for a varga during the day and six during the sleep cycle so he should only have a few more dobashes to wait.

Keith picked up Pidge’s headphones from the floor and left them on the couch where Lance had been lying and nudged Lance’s shoes over to the floor nearby before leaving the room to go back to training.

(Maybe next time he’ll ask if Lance wants to join him.)

[starryeyed-char]

Erased

This is a story BASED ON the Lost Lance AU which BELONGS TO @kaxpha which is AMAZING and everyone should check it out. This particular one-shot which is longer than I thought it’d be is based on this post and this animatic.

This is one of my favorite klance AUs ever, because you can just tell the sheer amount of thought and effort that went into it. I hope I was able to do it justice.

aNYWAY here it is. Sorry, I’m posting this later than I originally planned.

Lance’s leg was bent at an awkward angle, and every time he got the nerve to look at it just made him feel worse than before. 

Hunk had suffered a few bruised ribs at the very least, and it was likely Pidge received a minor concussion. One of Shiro’s legs had been grazed by a laser, and Keith seemed to be the only one of the five of them who could still stand on two feet.

But Lance couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt happier. Because they’d finally done it.

They’d taken down Prince Lotor, heir to the all-powerful Galra empire. He kneeled on the ground, hands clutching his stomach. Lance couldn’t help but feel a bit smug at that— he was the one to land a shot there.

Keith stumbled forward, one hand clutched to his still bleeding eye, the other holding his activated bayard firmly. He glanced back at the blue paladin, looking somewhere between concerned and overjoyed.

Lance, who could care less about the pain in his leg at this point, offered his best smile of encouragement. Keith nodded, and took a staggering step towards the Galra Prince.

They’d discussed it beforehand. Keeping him conscious while they took him back to Coran and Allura was too dangerous. Lotor was in no condition to keep fighting, and so Keith had naturally stepped up to deliver the final blow, so they could confine him and put him in space jail, or wherever criminals of the known universe went to do time. Lance had no idea.

He could barely contain his joy. Against all odds, they’d made it. The seven of them, from the beginning. The Voltron team had finally finished what they’d started what now seemed like so long ago.

Thoughts of Earth plagued his mind, of the rain, the ocean, the clouds. Finally getting to see his family again, telling them all he’d been through, returning as a hero, introducing them to his team.

Introducing them to Keith.

The happy images fizzled out when Lance realized that Lotor was smiling. Keith was giving some elaborate speech about right and wrong, and the prince just grinned eerily, as if he were in on some secret joke.

A chill ran down Lance’s spine, but he saw nothing wrong with the situation. Keith had his bayard raised, ready to strike. Lotor hadn’t even lifted a finger to defend himself, probably knowing that it was hopeless—

Lance’s gaze snapped to Lotor’s hands, still firmly pressed against his stomach. He immediately saw the purple glow, gradually glowing brighter. A quick glance around the room was enough to tell him no one else had noticed it.

Lance’s brain started going a mile a minute.

Keith was standing nearby, but Lotor’s hand was already moving with Keith completely oblivious. Any warning Lance gave would be too late for the red paladin to move, if his voice even worked after that fight. What would happen if that blast hit Keith?

Lance wasn’t about to wait around to find out.

He made a split-second decision, adrenaline numbing the pain in his leg enough to allow him to stand and rush forward. Lance used all his energy in that one burst of speed. He didn’t push Keith out of the way so much as collapse against him, but it was enough.

When Lotor raised his hand to expel the purple light that’d been quickly building up, Lance was the one standing in its path.

Keith fell unceremoniously to the ground, and turned around to look at Lance with that frustrated yet amused glare the blue paladin loved so much, before his purple eyes widened in fear. “Lance, what—”

That was as far as he got before a scream ripped through the air.

Lance had no idea who was screaming, but he guessed it was probably him due to the rawness of his throat. The voices of his teammates just sounded like white noise through the blood rushing in his ears, his entire field of vision consumed by the blinding light. 

Everything he saw, heard, and felt was just pain, pain, pain. Lance thought the explosion from Sendak was bad, but this was as if every cell in his body had been lit on fire.

And then… nothingness.

The purple glow receded just as abruptly as it had come, but it still took Keith’s eyes a second to focus.

When they did, the first thing he caught sight of was Lotor. Unable to summon the energy to remain upright any longer, the prince had collapsed onto the floor. And he was laughing.

Panicked, Keith surveyed the room. While the other Paladins seemed unharmed, Lance was nowhere in sight. His bayard and helmet lay discarded on the floor where he’d been sitting before he…

“LANCE?” Hunk’s broken voice called across the room, confusion and fear evident in his voice.

“What… what the fuck just happened?” Pidge asked, trying to push herself into a standing position.

Keith wasted no time in diving towards Lotor. He yanked him up by the collar, forcing him to meet Keith’s eyes.

“Where is he?” Keith demanded, voice dangerous. “What did you do to him?”

It was with another laugh that Lotor responded. “He’s dead.”

A collective gasp was the only noise, everyone too stunned to say anything for a moment.

Keith steeled himself, refusing to believe it even as the words caused his heart to drop. “You’re lying,” he shook his head. “Tell us where he is, now.”

Lotor couldn’t seem to stop laughing. “That spell I used? It erases the target from the universe. No blood, no remains, no mess. Just gone. You’ll never see your precious blue paladin again,” he smiled at Keith. “It’s a shame, really. You loved each other so much. To think you were so close to your happy ending.”

Keith was unable to stop the scream of outrage from escaping, but he didn’t care. He threw himself at Lotor, for once not holding back. He tossed his bayard aside, going in with his fists and hitting him again, and again, and again.

“YOU’RE WRONG!” he found himself screaming. “YOU’RE WRONG, HE CAN’T BE DEAD, HE CAN'T—”

Arms wrapped around him, pulling him backwards. Keith kicked and thrashed, but his protests were ignored by Shiro. Lotor had long since fallen unconscious, and his blood covered Keith’s hands.

“KEITH!” Shiro was yelling over Keith’s own enraged cries. “Keith, this is Lotor we’re talking about! He’s got to be lying. If Lance had died, there would be a body. He’s not just gone, that’s impossible, but he could be very injured. We need to get Lotor back to Allura so we can find Lance through the bond.”

Keith nodded, though his entire body felt numb. But of course Shiro was right. He ignored the small part of him that whispered Lotor was telling the truth, and scooped up Lance’s bayard and helmet, resolving to return them if— when they found Lance. So they all returned to the castle, carrying Lotor with them.

The second they saw Allura and Coran, however, Keith knew something was wrong.

Allura’s hands covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Coran’s head rested on the front control panel, shoulders shaking with silent cries. They both looked up to see the four remaining paladins, and Allura let out a broken sob.

“It’s fine,” Pidge said quickly. “Lotor hit Lance with some blast that teleported him or something, but we just need to find him.”

“Find him?” Allura asked, confusion evident in her voice. “He’s… Lance is dead.”

Weeks.

Weeks, and weeks of scouring the universe, searching for any sign of Lance, even trying in vain to communicate with the blue lion.

Weeks and weeks of nothing.

Allura had explained to them that she felt the bond sever, that Lance’s connection with the blue lion had been destroyed. The only way that would happen was if the paladin died.

But Keith still hadn’t wanted to believe it. They’d looked anyway, but every time they came up empty-handed. Slowly but surely, they’d been forced to accept that Lance was truly gone.

Keith had been forced to shove down and ignore the small part of him that insisted on Lance being alive, somehow. Somewhere.

It all just felt so wrong. They’d finally defeated the Galra empire. The galaxies finally freed of Lotor’s corrupt regime. Everyone in the universe was celebrating. Everyone, except four humans and two Alteans living in a castle that felt much too quiet.

The team went to party after party on the newly liberated planets, all in mourning black.

There had even been a funeral.

The team sent all Lance’s photographs, his helmet, his bayard, and his clothes from Earth off in a pod. Even if his body was gone, they needed some sort of closure.

Keith caught Hunk and Pidge installing a tracker in the pod, just in case Lance returned and wanted his blue lion slippers back. He promised he wouldn’t tell the others, if he was allowed to keep Lance’s jacket. In truth, he wouldn’t have told them anyway.  Keith was glad that it wasn’t just him who still held hope for Lance’s return.

But Allura insisted they stop looking, assuring them that if Lance were still alive, she’d be able to feel it.

Keith wore Lance’s hoodie as he stared up at the stars, and he drew it tighter around himself.

The last time he’d been here on the observation deck, Lance accompanied him. The blue paladin talked happily about how great it would be to introduce his family to the love of his life, how Keith would love all of them, the possibility of a future together on Earth far away from that miserable little shack in the desert.

Now Keith was alone, wondering what he would say when they made the inevitable return trip.

Your grandson piloted the blue lion. Your nephew saved the universe. Your brother was a hero.

Your son is dead.

And Keith loved him.

His mind was plagued with everything he could’ve done differently. If Keith could go back and change it, he’d kill Lotor on the spot. The prince was locked away with the Blade of Marmora, no doubt enduring interrogation after interrogation.

To Keith, it wasn’t anywhere near enough for what he’d done. Not when his actions had cost Keith the best part of his life.

A voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Do you ever realize how far we’ve come?” Hunk asked, coming to stand beside Keith on the deck.

Keith didn’t turn around, he couldn’t. A tear slipped down his cheek from his good eye, uninvited.

“I mean, look at where we are,” Hunk continued, voice breaking. “It’s been so long since we started out, but it feels like just yesterday Lance was flying us all out into space in the blue lion.”

Hearing his name sent a renewed jolt of pain through Keith, and he whirled around to leave. But Hunk caught his arm.

“Hear me out?” Hunk’s voice was barely a whisper now. “That’s… that’s all I ask.”

Keith simply stood still, as the tears continued to fall.

“If I could go back and change what happened that day, I’d make sure his life was spared,” Hunk sounded on the verge of crying himself now, and a sob escaped Keith’s lips before he could stop it.

He turned to see that tears streamed down the yellow paladin’s face as well.

“If… if I could trade his life for mine,” Hunk pressed a hand to his chest, a sad smile making its way onto his face. “Then he’d be standing here with you, right now. And you’d… you’d both be smiling. He always knew how to make you smile, no matter what.”

Keith saw it in his mind’s eye for a minute. The war over, Lance looking at the stars with him. Laughing to themselves as they talked about their future. Together.

“If you guys got your happy ending,” Hunk said softly, as if he could see it, too. “Then that’d be enough.”

He held open his arms, and Keith collapsed into them with sobs wracking his body. They stayed there like that, just the two of them on the balcony, mourning the boy from Cuba who shined the brightest in both of their lives. Whose light was extinguished too soon.

Galaxies away, someone woke up. A boy, scared, injured, and alone with only one word that seemed to have any connection to the past he couldn’t remember.

Blue.

[communikateee]

Do you write any, or do you know of any fanfictions where Keith is still hurt after his battle at the Blade of Marmora hideout? Or any fanfictions where we get to see the teams' reactions of his reveal of being part Galra? Thank you

Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry for the late response!!

I actually haven’t read a lot of fanfic of that scene particularly, but I did have a piece written about Keith’s Galra reveal in a college au setting where Galra and Altea are rival schools and the team forms Voltron to battle Galra University in a sports festival. It was originally intended for my fanfic “Battle for the Empire,” which I kind of lost motivation for when getting into other projects or bangs. But if you’re interested in reading that, I’ve included it below!

Thanks so much for the question, and I love to recommend fanfics! So feel free to ask me for any more recommendations if you know of any au’s or tags you’re interested in!

Tags: Klance, Shallura, mentions of minor character death

“Well maybe Keith has some inside information?” Lance sneered. His blood was hot and bubbling through his veins. He could feel that it was making him irrational, but there was nothing that could stop the avalanche of words that poured from his mouth.

Keith turned bright eyes on Lance. A terrified suspicion, quickly covered by a casual warning for Lance to shut up, like always. Well Lance was done shutting up.

“What do you mean, Lance?” Shiro asked, and his tone was dark, cautionary. Shiro crossed his muscular arms and looked down on Lance.

Lance shrugged his hands out of his pockets. He looked around the group with a playful expression, “You know, since Keith’s mother is from Galra University.”

“You’re half Galra?” Allura’s voice was a squeak like the bottom of her register dropped along with her heart.

Keith clenched his jaw and fisted his hands at his sides. He didn’t look at Allura. He didn’t meet the eyes of the rest of his team. He didn’t glare at Lance for saying it out loud. He didn’t look at Shiro for sympathy and understanding. He didn’t look at Pidge for condemnation and betrayal. He didn’t need to; it seized in the air around them.

Allura took a step toward Keith, drawing his grey eyes to hers, “You dare come to Altea University and join Voltron when you’re Galra?”

Shiro grabbed her arm, “Let’s take a minute to calm down before you yell at Keith for something he couldn’t control?”

“Couldn’t control?” Allura snapped, whipping her hand out of Shiro’s warm grasp, “He controlled where he applied for university. I’m sure that Galra would have happily welcomed one of their demon spawn back.”

“Allura,” Shiro was aghast and even Pidge, who had the most reason to hate him, seemed a little offput by the harsh comments, “Please let’s – ”

Allura cut him off with an accusatory outburst, “You knew?” Shiro didn’t say anything, just watched Allura and waited, “You knew this whole time? And even after I told you about my mother,” Allura’s voice broke, and she coughed.

“Your mother?” Lance spoke before Hunk could elbow him in the ribs. Allura looked at Lance and the fury that had faded into grief and distress at the mention of her mother returned.

“Yes, my mother.” She stood taller, and her eyes pinned Keith to where he stood. His arms folded across his chest as if to conceal him from every glare, “The Galra killed her. You want to know how? She was protesting their invasion of peaceful lands to the South. Their private guard killed her. She stood in their way so they smashed their riot shields into her body and pelted her with rubber bullets.”

She took another step towards Keith, forgetting all who were around. She wanted to remember everything she had suppressed from her childhood and spin it before him in gory detail, “But when they pushed her to the ground, she was concussed so badly she was comatose. Comatose for five years!” Her voice caught as tears stung the corners of her eyes. Keith finally made eye contact with her then, and she didn’t want to register the despair that reflected in his eyes, “I spent my sixteenth birthday in the hospital, spending as much time with her as possible before she died.” Allura turned on Shiro, eyes blazing.

“And you,” She pointed a finger deep into the muscle of Shiro’s chest, “you knew all of that and yet you never said anything. You let me go along as if I cared for him.”

Shiro grabbed her hand, “And you did.”

“Before I found out he was Galra,” she spit on the ground as if to cleanse herself of the very word itself.

Keith scratched the back of his head with a stiff arm. His nonchalance that he had perfected long ago faltered. He licked his lips, “Well, I’m going to use the training room.” He waved a hand and strode out the gym. Before the door shut, Lance could see Keith sprinting down the hallway.

Allura was still seething, inconsolable. She stalked out of the gym, the opposite direction of Keith. Shiro strode to Lance grabbing a fist full of his collar. “We will talk about this later,” His voice was a growl as he chased after Allura.

Lance brushed off his collar and looked to Hunk and Pidge.

Pidge buried her hands into her pockets, “Not cool, Lance.”

“What?” Lance shrugged, trying not to come off as defensive as he felt. He could play this cool. He was a pro at masking his true feelings, “I thought it was common knowledge.”

Hunk eyed him suspiciously, “I really doubt that,” he huffed, playing with the hem of his gloves absentmindedly. “I just hope you didn’t spill the beans just because of your dumb rivalry with Keith. There are some lines you shouldn’t cross.”

“I didn’t!” Lance defended, his tone coming off strained and unconvincing, even to his own ears.

“We’re not trying to accuse you,” Pidge shrugged and pulled out her phone, “Well, I’m going to go work on my compsci homework. I’ll catch you guys tomorrow for training.” She waved goodbye over her shoulder and left the gym.

Lance could feel Hunk’s eyes on him. Could feel the way his oldest friend analyzed the slope of his shoulders or the anxious twitching of his fingers. “Let’s go,” Lance sighed and shoved his twitching fingers into his pockets. He slumped his shoulders and followed Pidge out of the gym.

Keith closed the door to the training room behind him. He slumped against the door. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. The last fading streaks of sunlight filtered through the windows, giving him enough light to see. He pushed his palms against his face. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but goddammit it kept hitching. Hitching on the tears that were constricting his throat.

Dammit, where was Shiro?

He was the only that Keith would allow to see him right now, to see him like this. Like after his mother died. Shiro had been the one to climb through his window. All of the adults mulled around the living room, giving their condolences to his father. Keith was so young when it happened he could barely recall his mother’s face. If it weren’t for the few pictures around the house, he knew he would have forgotten it all together.

But of course he remembered Shiro. The other adults knocked on the door, asking Keith to come out. Asking him to eat something or to talk to them. Keith didn’t answer, just leaned against his bed frame, knees tucked up to his chest.

The window creaked as Shiro crawled through with a proud smile on his face, “I finally found you,” Shiro exclaimed and sat down next to Keith. That was the only thing he said. He didn’t say anything when Keith’s soft sobs escalating into wailing screams. Just a soft presence beside him that listened to everything and never tried to say that it was going to be okay.

Keith’s phone buzzed and he ripped it out of his pocket.

Shiro: Are you doing okay?

Keith: Where are you?

Shiro: With Allura. Do you need me to come over?

He was with Allura? He had run after her instead of Keith. The fragile feelings that had been slowly constructing in his heart shattered. Cotton candy in the rain. Keith bit his lip and his head lulled back against the door.

Keith: No. I’m fine. Please tell Allura I’m sorry.

Shiro: Will do.

Keith brought his arm up, muscle tensing ready to smash the phone to the unforgiving training room floor. With a small sob, his muscles relaxed and his arm fell limply to the side. Keith’s chin trembled as he fought back the tears.

He didn’t want to lose the friends he had found. His phone buzzed again, and a small lofty breath caught in his chest. Was Shiro finally coming?

Lance: Hey Keith. I just wanted to say that what I did earlier, it wasn’t cool. I just want you to know how sorry I am about this whole thing, so if you wouldn’t mind could I come apologize to you in person?

Lance wanted to apologize? Now, that was a momentous occasion. Keith chuckled a dark, teary laugh. How could he let Lance see him like this?

In a millisecond, anger boiled under his skin. He jumped to his feet and snapped on the lights. He typed a quick text, threw his phone on the gym bag he had left in here earlier. Pulling on the gloves he left dangling from the punching bag, he began to practice again.

The rhythmic thumping of the punching bag cued Lance in that this wasn’t going to be an easy apology. He knocked three times on the door before opening it. Keith stood at the punching bag, using his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

Keith’s eyes were dark as he ripped the velcro off the gloves and methodically hung them back up. He had turned his back on Lance as an obvious sign that Lance needed to start the conversation. Lance strode into the room, hearing the door click shut behind him.

The first time Lance had seen Keith shirtless, he hadn’t really thought much about it. But now as he walked closer to the black haired boy, he saw the well defined muscles ripple in his back. He saw the way Keith’s low cut pants hung on his lips. He saw the adorable little ponytail Keith had fashioned after Allura had taught him how to tie a hair tie.

“Keith,” Lance began and Keith stopped moving. His hands slowly slid down the bag, leaving his gloves dangling from the punching bag chain. Lance rubbed the back of his neck. Writing that text message had taken him five minutes alone. Hunk had given him a curious stare when he sprinted from their room. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen earlier, I was – ”

“Then why did you do it?” Keith whipped around to face Lance. His face was red and his hairline was soaked with sweat. He took a step closer to Lance, and Lance quickly took another back. Keith placed both palms against Lance’s chest and pushed. Lance stumbled backward and settled his feet into a fighting stance.

“Why Lance?” Keith practically screamed.

He put his hands against Lance’s chest again, gripping handfuls of his shirt, “Why would you do that? You had to know what would happen!”

“I didn’t think – ”

“Yeah, you didn’t think!” Keith was shouting, fists shaking in Lance’s white t-shirt. “You thought that the daughter of President Alfor, sworn enemy to President Zarkon would take that well? You thought that the girl who’s family is practically imprisoned by Galra would take that well? You thought President Alfor wouldn’t hear about this? You thought that I could still be apart of Voltron?!”

Lance placed a hand on one of Keith’s that were still clutching his shirt. Lance looked away, “You’re right, Keith. I didn’t think.”

Keith’s head sunk, and it was like the only thing keeping him standing was the grip on Lance’s shirt. Lance grabbed Keith’s other hand, and slowly pried off Keith’s grip. Lance bit his lip and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear the fragile catching of Keith’s breath. He didn’t want to feel how Keith’s arms trembled against his grip.

Lance released a hand and reached out on instinct as Keith’s knees began to give out. Lance had placed a hand on Keith’s ribs and could feel how hot his flesh was. His fingers twitched against Keith’s skin, but the boy didn’t seem to notice. Lance helped him walk to a bench press, guiding him to sit. The sudden loss of Keith’s touch frighted Lance. More so the way that the loss had made his heart contract.

He shook his head, denying the heat that colored his ears.

Keith placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Lance, what am I going to do?” Keith’s voice was gravely and quiet.

Lance didn’t know why he was asking him, but he wanted to bring a little levity to the situation. He casually leaned against the bench press bar, “Well, you could focus on classes. God knows your GPA needs it.” Lance tried for a laugh. He wanted to make Keith laugh. He wanted Keith to forget this ever happened.

Keith cursed himself as he sat on the bench press. Why had he let Lance come? He was a mess. His one saving grace was that he hadn’t cried. He hadn’t cried at all. He hadn’t cried since that night Shiro had crawled through his window. This could be no worse than that. And so he wouldn’t cry.

Lance’s joke was pathetic. Keith glanced at Lance, finally lifting his head from his hands. He rolled his eyes, “Classic,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Lance prodded. His tone was light, and Keith could tell by the slight twinge of desperation in his tone that he was doing everything he could to make Keith feel better, “You want to go, Kogane?”

Keith snorted at that, and Lance froze for a breath. He made Keith laugh. This might honestly have been the first time. Lance’s smile was unbidden, but Keith wasn’t looking at him.

“If I leave Voltron, can we still be friends?”

Lance froze for a second. Keith considered him a friend? The warmth in his chest that he had felt when looking at Keith’s muscular back went hot and icy at the same time.

Keith shook his head, “Never mind that was a dumb question. Can you please just forget – ”

“We live on the same floor,” Lance started and Keith’s eyes jumped to his. Lance leaned closer to Keith, “You’ll never be rid of me, bestie.”

“Ew,” Keith suck out his tongue, but Lance noticed the way the furrows in his brow lessened and his shoulders relaxed, “Never mind, I take that back. I don’t want to be friends with a fish like you.”

“A fish?” Lance scoffed, placing a hand to his chest, “Just because you can’t swim, doesn’t mean that – ”

“I can swim just fine!”

“In the shallow end!”

And just like that, it was like everything was back to normal. Except there was this air of frivolity around them. They knew that nothing would be the same, but here in this moment, fighting as they always did, it seemed as if Keith being Galra was a secret only they shared.

[defendersofspaceandtime]

Hello, it's me again.... I've read the request I asked you ( the paladin + Allura and Coran finding an abandoned baby Galra ) and I love it, and now it's time to pour that salt to that wound with lemon and ask; Will you make a scenario of paladin + Allura and Coran Galra child ( now adult ) died by wining the war against Zorrcron?? Lielke they are too late to save them?? * Evil laughing on the background *

Oh~ you maniacal little nonny~

Hope you enjoy!——————————————

  A broken man walks into a dark, empty room. 

  As if his hands had forgotten where the switch was placed, his fingers frantically felt the uncomfortable, cool sensation of the bolts that held the sheets of metal of the wall, though deep in his heart, he cared little if he found it. 

  Shiro didn’t need it, the light. He knew what was there. 

  Dropping his battered helmet to the ground, hearing it roll and hit the metallic wall with a satisfying thud, he stumbled half-heartedly into the room.

  He falls. 

  He stays. This time, in the light of the doorframe- his feet barely passed the threshold of the door.

  He was bleeding, they all were. 

“…”

“…”

   …His favorite memory of you, was in the garden when you were nine. 

   It was a diplomatic mission, though unbeknownst to you at the time, and you had begged to go with. At first, Shiro almost laughed at the idea that you would go with. How you looked…what you were…

“It’s boring!” He remembers telling you, though unable to look directly into your big, glowing eyes, “It’s just a bunch of old people talking about adult things, yes? You’d hate it!” 

“But, Shiro!” You’d pouted, for he remembers the turn of the lip very well, “It’s so pretty outside! Look at all the flowers!” 

  That’s all you had wanted to do. To go outside, and see the flowers. 

  So, you did. 

  You had never questioned as to why Shiro and the others made you wear a cloak, and demanded that you kept the hood on at all times; he was thankful for that. He wouldn’t know what to say if you did, in fact, ask. It probably wouldn’t have ended well. 

  But he remembers standing for what seemed to be hours on end, his fancy garbs itching in all the wrong places, his legs and arms locking up, aching as the alien tribe spoke in their slow, steady tongue with Allura. With special permission, you were off playing in their garden. Alone. 

  Shiro wasn’t exactly sure why he thought to look your way, but his gaze had suddenly focused in on that small, little Galran playing in the garden, covered by a cloak and the darkness that arrived with it; arms were outstretched, wide and open as you giggled, running up and down and up down, feeling the foliage on your fingers, exclaiming you were the ruler of all.

  There was something there that day that wasn’t there before, for Shiro. You were so innocent, so small, so childlike it almost seemed to be a dream watching you, his heart aching at the disappearance of such simple qualities of life. Having spent almost ten years out in the cosmos at that point in time, it was very easy for anyone to grow cold in its darkness, its vast, unending void. 

  It was very easy for anyone to get lost.

   But for the first time, in a very long time, the icy barrier that had become of his heart had slowly started to thaw.

  Someone had noticed this, a guard of the diplomat that was speaking. He looked to Shiro was gentle eyes, and warmly, quietly, asked, 

“Is that your child in the garden?” 

   And Shiro, realizing that maybe, space wasn’t as unforgiving as he thought it was, that maybe, there were stars in the night sky, after all, had only replied with a simple word,

“Yes.”

——————————

  Keith stared at Lance and cried.

  It was quiet, the sound of silence seemingly deafening to his ears as he gazed at Lance, a lump in his throat, a knot in his stomach, and tears streamingly slowly down his face. 

  His helmet had been blasted off during the fight, leaving his forehead bleeding. Thick, congealed blood stuck in clumps to Keith’s hair. Being the same Keith as he’d always been, his hot-blooded temper never seemed to stray too far away from him. He remembers the sound, still fresh in his mind, of the alien metal contorting and ripping away from his head. His last form of protection for himself, gone. 

  Lance is supposed to have chided him on that, teased him, laughed at the fact that he’s losing his touch, the red paladin is getting too old, he’s forgotten how to duck. 

  But he didn’t. Instead, the blue paladin looked as if all these years of fighting had caught up with him, as his lips were sagged into a permanent whimper, eyes hollowed and sunken in. The large scar that ran down his left eye- a token of remembrance of when he fought Lotor- had all but added to his friend’s age. 

  It bewildered Keith as he sobbed, watching through watery eyes as his friend of more than twenty years, his brother he would say, sit perfectly still. 

 Keith didn’t notice, by Lance was slowly opening his mouth, his eyes cast downward, body resting against the chairs of the dining table, speaking so softly, Keith almost missed it, 

“R-remember when…they wanted to braid your hair?” 

  Keith sucked in his breath, the pain of even mentioning your existence seemed too much to bear-

“T-they…heh…they got out their hair-ties a-and begged to it ‘cause it had gotten so long…”

  Lance had the tellings of a smile on his face as he spoke of this, recalling that moment he spoke of like it was yesterday; his eyes stung maddeningly, sure, but he continued on, trying to console Keith as he wept. 

  He was too scared to cry.

“A-and…um, and you were throwing s-such…such a fit about it! Y-you…” 

  His voice trailed off, his tongue numbing as he tried to choke back sobs, his throat on fire, his mind melting, bursting at its seams, 

“…You…didn’t want them to touch you, God, a-and w-we had to beg to get you to do it…th-they were so-so…” 

  Lance shook his head in pain, in grief, fearing that if he were to start, he’d never stop. 

“…Happy.”

  Lance’s eyes shot up to find Keith’s, a sorrowful grin to his cheeks as the tears still continued to pour, 

“They were…” Keith’s lips quivered, yet his smiled still remained, “happy,” 

  Lance soon joined in, still fighting valiantly against the tide of emotions that threatened to break his own self down, 

“…You just…you just had to drag me into it, didn’t you? With the braiding and all?”

  Keith chuckled sorrowfully, “Hey, pal, we were in that together, if they’d cut my hair, you were going down with me,” 

“Oh, that’s typical of you, ain’t it?” Lance cried, though he couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, “If you look stupid, Lance has to look stupid. Okay. Nice.” 

  Keith laughed through his tears, ignoring the pain that it brought him from the broken rib that sat in his chest, 

“Y/n…is…” He caught himself, “…was, really something else, eh?” 

  The mood, so joyous in the celebration of one such person, had dwindled off into one of remorse, and loss.

  Lance felt like he was suffocating, desperately clawing at himself to not shed tears, but it was too late. The dam that he had felt to keep up for so long had broke. 

  And so the two old friends, after having so many things lost to time and space, had only mourned one more thing that was no longer twinkling brightly in it. 

—————————————-

“Princess Allura,” 

“…” 

“Princess Allura,” 

“…?”

“ALLURA!”

“…What?” 

  Her adviser merely looked to her with despondent eyes, unable to tell if his already shattered heart could bear one more sorrowful loss, 

“Allura, please put down the glass.”

  The drunken Altean shook her head, so far gone in her stupor that she couldn’t give a damn about what anyone said anymore, 

“No,”

“A…Allura, I…I know how you feel, and…and I’m sorry, but you really need to-” 

“No, Coran!” She swiped his hand away from her, her body bent over the table, barely in the chair that she swayed in, “I…I…” 

“I’m not leaving you,” He stopped her, his hand calmly placed on her back. The years upon years of being alive have withered him, his once, much younger self-frozen in time had sagged, age spots covering his arms and hands, 

“Why’re you…” She hiccupped, “still here? I don’t WANT you here, get out!”

   Coran sucked in air, his patience worn thin, “This is not the way a princess acts-” 

“FUCK that!” Allura screeched, her hands clenched around the glass, her face red with anger, with rage, “W-what…What goddamn difference does it make! Y/n’s f-fucking dead..I-they-they’re…”

   Coran heard Allura sob, watched as she picked up the glass in her hands, smashing against the wall next to her, 

“Allura-!” 

  She didn’t care. She didn’t care. Allura merely watched the Y/n die in her head, over and over and over and over-

  Allura threw her hands onto the table, feeling the shards of glass impale deep into her hands, Coran desperately reached in to stop, repeating her name on deaf ears as she watched the little child that she knew so well, the little babe that they’d raised since birth, her one semblance of ever having something as close as a kid of her own, die. 

  That’s all they do, isn’t it? Allura thought to herself, somberly, though her outside self was in mind-numbing pain, bleeding and bruising as she continued her drunken rampage, they all die. Every single one of them. 

“ENOUGH!” 

  Allura eventually stopped, her hands were still shaking, scarlet red with her own blood. 

  In a way, you could say that two people died that day…

“They’re…they’re gone…” Allura whimpered, turning to Coran, all her anger leaving her, “I…they’re…” 

  Coran couldn’t hold back his own tears anymore as he pulled in Allura to his chest, the excruciating pain of losing so many loved ones crashing down on the both of them. 

…One was you, the bright, kind, Galran child. 

  And an Altean, whose eyes had lost their glow, and whose heart had finally, definitively, shattered. 

 ———————————–

  He looked very intimidating, Hunk knew this well. 

  It was years ago that Lance had proposed the idea of Hunk to grow a beard, and so between the scars that lined his face and arms, his large, burly chest and tattoos that ran along the biceps, Hunk was most certainly not the same young man he left Earth as all those years ago. 

  Most of the tattoos, much like Hunk himself, were of much simpler things than you would expect. They were of miscellaneous designs and shapes, colored and uncolored, often times just left blank save for the black ink that shaped them. 

  He had no favorites, except for one, very special one. 

  With his hand on his chest, he was counting all of his- though very few- lucky stars that he did not get hit there. Whether it was because of the fact that that’s where his heart was, or because of the fact that the only tattoo dedicated to you was there, he would never say for sure. 

  All he knew, is that the little bundle of flowers assigned to you was the only connection left between both you and him. 

  It was truly only by sheer accident that the spot over his heart was for you because the other members of Voltron had their own positions on his skin- the were always with him. He was never alone. 

  He could grow very, very lonely. 

  But as broken as he was, as much pain as he felt, the emptiness eating away at his stomach, his heart, his soul, he…

  he couldn’t cry. 

  It was the strangest thing, because Hunk was known to cry, he was known to collapse under pressure, to become so anxious he couldn’t help but feel his insides turn to dust as he tried to calm himself down. 

  Would you want him to? I you’d truly asked, he would do it, but how in all of the cosmos would that be right? You…you died saving the universe! You gave it your all, how could he cry at a thing like that? 

  He…he was proud. He was the proudest he’s ever been.

  Hunk wiped away the teary eyes, his left hand still warmly seated over your tattoo, directly over his heart, 

  You hadn’t disappeared. 

  You were right there, where you’ve always been- 

  Home. 

——————————————

  “H-hey…um…Y/n…can you hear me?” 

  You were six when your pet fish died. 

  A strange thought, Pidge knows, but Lance had won it at a weird, alien carnival-type thing, and he’s first thought was to give it to you. 

  And though the fish had died because you had forgotten to feed it on multiple occasions, you loved it dearly. It’s rainbow-colored scales that gleamed and shined in the light, it’s glowing, purple eyes that seemed to be so innocent in nature, so pure. 

  When it had died, you had asked Pidge where it had gone off to. 

“Wha…where did it go?” You had asked through your tears, “Is…is he sleeping? Will he wake up?” 

  Pidge, not knowing how to console the death of a pet to a child, had to think fast, otherwise, that night was going to last a very, very long time, 

“It’s…uh…it’s um…he…turned into a star?” 

“I…I know you can. I can see you for goodness’ sake…”

  One such Pidge, about 15 years later, on a cool, clear night in September, had looked up to the skies for their dead friend- a sibling, really. 

  You. 

  Four months have passed since the war had finally ended. Four months since you’d sacrificed yourself. 

  Four months, since everybody went home- At least, for a while, anyways. 

“I- um. I’ve been doing fine. Everyone’s fine- Keith’s head wound finally healed up, thank God- oh! And Allura’s hand. That was…” Pidge clears her throat, “that was certainly something.” 

  The world up above was painted in pinks and blues, in green hues as the milky way showed itself to the Earthen sky, shining as brilliantly as ever, 

“I hope my dad’s okay, up there. I mean, I’m sure he is, especially with you and all, but… you could never be too sure, ya know?” 

  Silence soon fell over Pidge, and for awhile, that was all she could do. Sit in silence as the world around her slowly turned, and the one above her continue on through the infinite.

  Pidge wasn’t sure if people really did turn into stars when they died, but every time she’d come out here, sitting atop her car, parked in the desert- at what felt to be the edge of the world- she could swear that she could almost see you, there in the distance. Waving and smiling like you’d always done.

“...How?” You had asked her, your eyes no longer red, but wide from the idea that you would- one day- turn into a star, “How do people do that?”

  The answer was so easy back then, “Because, Y/n, the ones that love us, never really leave us, right? So, every time we look into the night sky, they’re there, looking down on us- never too far away. Okay?”

  You frowned thoughtfully, your purple hands stretched out into a hug. Pidge cocked her head,

“What?”

“Mmmm, well,” You had started to explain, “I love you, and I wanna make sure that I become a star so that I can see you, and you’ll love me, too.”

“...good night, kid,” Pidge had said aloud, starting up the engine of the car- twilight approaching the horizon, a smile gleaming from her lips,

“I love you.”

[ella-animine]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TORI!!!!!!!!!!

@hunks-spacebabe I worked really hard for you, so here's to hoping that this birthday is amazing for you and you receive all that you hope for!!!! Lots of Hunk content!!! As requested of you for me... Heith!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Keith, do we have any plans tomorrow?" Hunk asked. He was putting their dishes in the sink following a great dinner that Hunk had lovingly prepared for the two of them. It had been wonderful, they sat across from each other at the small kitchen table in their shared apartment, sharing a quiet and intimate meal alone for the first time since moving in together. Hunk glanced back to find Keith still licking whipped cream off of his fingers from dessert and stumbling to answer. "I don't think so." Keith mumbled. "For the first time in forever." "Hmm," Hunk chuckled. "You know they're all just excited that we've moved in together. So the gang is trying to celebrate the only way they know how, together." Hunk passed by his boyfriend with a damp rag to wipe the table, pausing just long enough to drop a kiss on top of Keith's head. "They love us." "The entire point of moving in together was to be ALONE together more often." Keith smiled wryly. "We ARE alone together more often." Hunk responded. "And since we will be alone together tonight, with no plans tomorrow, we can stay up later doing ACTIVITIES." "Activities?" Keith practically whined. "I don't want to do anything but lay around with you and make out." "That's part of what I meant." Hunk draped the wet rag over the middle of the double sink, and slid calloused fingertips along Keith's jaw to coax it up. Wrapping his fingers in black hair and drawing Keith into a kiss, Hunk smiled. "Hm, what's the other part?" Keith muttered absently, far more interested in kissing Hunk more. He was so busy thinking about potentially christening the kitchen like they'd talked about once, he almost missed Hunk's chuckle as he pulled back. "Meet me in the bedroom in 15?" Hunk pecked the corner of Keith's mouth and the end of his nose. "Can we make it 10?" Keith sounded desperate. "I was initially thinking 20, but I told myself I could rush." Hunk kissed him once more before pulling away, leaving Keith sitting at the table watching longingly as Hunk disappeared. Keith clenched and unclenched his fists to resist the urge to run after Hunk and tackle his boyfriend onto their bed to inspect and appreciate every soft curve and strong musculature of his body. Keith thought about how he would love to feel Hunk's strong hands slide along his body and around his waist, being engulfed by Hunks size and feeling so small in comparison. Had it been 15 minutes yet? It felt like an hour had passed, but when Keith looked at the clock it had only been about 3 minutes. He swore he was going to go crazy waiting for Hunk. But true to his word, Keith remained rooted to the spot, thinking about his sinfully beautiful boyfriend and wondering what the bedroom could possibly have in store for him when he finally arrived. After what was possibly the most antsy and impatient 15 minutes of his life Keith bolted up and practically ran to their shared room. He stopped just short of throwing the door open, and knocked politely. "Hunk?" Keith asked, throat gone dry. "Are you ready for me?" After a bit of shuffling and what sounded like the bathroom door Keith finally got a response. "Heh, I guess it wasn't quite enough. Just, uh, come in and relax on the bed? Don't touch anything, okay?" Keith waited for the soft latch of the bathroom door to open the door to the bedroom and slip in. Out of habit, he shut the door behind him and locked it, only realizing that it wasn't necessary after the fact. The room was dim, the lights shut off save for the lamp on the bedside table, but that was covered with a thin red fabric to soften the light and give it a tinted color that was easier on the eyes. Scattered around were some candles Hunk kept that gave off some more dim lighting and a nice scent of blended spices. There were fresh sheets on the bed, and Keith crawled up to lean against the headboard, trying to seem casual despite the fact that he was obviously very keyed up. He unbuttoned his jeans, only to re button them because he didn't want to seem presumptive and Hunk HAD told him not to touch anything. Himself included, Keith supposed. After another good 3 minutes, the bathroom door finally opened and Keitjh was dumbstruck. "Fffuuuuuuuuuuu..." He trailed off, eyes scouring ever inch of his gorgeous and slightly nervous boyfriend. "Is it good?" Hunk asked, trying to keep the smile on his face from wobbling. "It... Uh... Wow." Keith stumbled, throat so dry it scratched like sandpaper when he tried to speak. Hunk stood in the low light of the room, literally shimmering in the most beautiful price of gold body jewelry Keith had ever had the pleasure to witness. It hung delicately over his sternum in a deep V shape, coming together just below Hunk's pectorals and inching even lower to where two strands of gold hung over his waist and hips, small red pendants dangling off of them. Rings decorated the fingers that had tucked into Keith's hair earlier, and his ears shine with sparkling red gems tha had clipped on. If Hunk didn't look gorgeous enough already Keith noticed a slight golden shimmer across his collarbones, cheeks and shoulders. The icing on the cake was the beautiful lace undergarment Keith had never seen before that accented Keith's second favorite asset on his boyfriend. Number one being Hunk's beautiful eyes that watched Keith with a bit of hesitation although he was trying to be brave. "Do you like it Keith?" Hunk whispered. Keith was so speechless he just nodded enthusiastically. "I made it myself." "You made it?" Keith whispered reverently, looking over everything again, even more enraptured by the sight of it. Delicate craftsmanship for Keith's eyes only. "Yeah." Hunk smiled and drew closer. "There was nothing that I could buy that was big enough, so I got a lot of jewelry loops and accessories, and I made this after looking at some reference pictures." Hunk had made it to the bed and he smiled softly at Keith who still looked at him in awe. "The gold powder was Lance's idea, he said it would add to the look. I kinda like it, but I made a little mess in the bathroom. Sorry." Hunk crawled into the bed slowly. "You have nothing to apologize for..." Keith mumbled, shaking hands coming up to touch the work of art his boyfriend had made for him. "What's all this for?" "I just wanted to treat you right. Now that we've got a place to ourselves, I'd like to try some new things." Hunk's fingers traced over Keith's jaw slowly. One thumb, laden with a solid ring, slid slowly along Keith's lower lip, and Keith looked dazed already. Hunk chuckled, smiling fondly. "I'm gonna take that as an affirmative response." His eyes flickered down for half a second and Keith swallowed hard. "You look... So good like this." Keith pushed out. It was times like this he wished he was a more eloquent man, so he could wax poetic about Hunk's infinite beauty, sensuousness, and charm. But, after being together for months now, Hunk had leaked how to interpret Keith's words and transform the, into the sonnet Keith had in his brain that couldn't reach his lips. Keith hadn't been this aroused by Hunk since the night he realized he had feelings for him as they hazily made out in the back of the club Lance had dragged them to. Keith had been so drunk on tequila and the taste of Hunk's lips that he had all but begged Hunk to screw him in the back of the club. It was now a semi distant memory, and one that Keith looked upon fondly, but it couldn't hold a candle to the way that Keith felt now. "I'm in love with you Keith..." Hunk mumbled, drawing him into a kiss. "I've been in love with you for a while, you know, but I'm so in love with you right now." Hunk pressed their foreheads together and looked at Keith with unabashed adoration. "I'm in love with you, Keith Kogane. And I want to show you tonight, now that we've got the time in our shared home." "Oh my god," Keith breathed. Hunk kissed him and it took his breath away. He felt lightheaded in the best kind of way, and every kiss made him crave more contact from Hunk. Their bodies pressed close, Hunk sat in his lap, Keith's hands fumbling and scrabbling for something, somewhere to hold on. Hunk's hands eased up Keith's sides, finding his rib cage, about to burst from the erratic pace of Keith's heart. Keith gripped Hunk's face suddenly, deepening the kiss, and sucking on his bottom lip. Keith felt like he was burning up, and Hunk was dazed by lust and adoration, practically keening when Keith pulled back to rip his own shirt up and over his head. They fell back together, kissing fervently, hands roaming over the planes of each others bodies. It was desperate and needy, a bit faster than either had really bargained for when they planned to make love in their new home for the first time. For most of the night they loved and explored, trying new things and old favorites in the comfort of their shared home, content with the knowledge that they had all the freedom to do what they wanted and be together without worry for roommates or guests. All that mattered was that they had each other to love and cherish now, and as they lay together catching their breaths and resting, they unknowingly shared a thought. "My god, I want to marry him."

[hotarubi-e]

You are, you are, all the wonder in the world

Request: College klance where Keith is like bullied or something in some way gets incredibly hurt and acts like nothing is wrong but it keeps getting worse and worse and Well my boy lance is super worried

Summary: Keith keeps getting hurt. And every time he does he insists the same thing: ‘I’m fine.’ ‘It’s nothing I swear, Lance.’ ‘I can handle this myself.’ But how many times is Lance supposed to accept the lie? Brush off his worries and patch up Keith’s wounds? How many times does he have left before Keith gets so hurt he can never stand back up again?

P.S. I finally discovered how to make words italic after two goddamn years on this website.

The first time, Lance let it drop. Chose to believe Keith’s words and bury his worry, whittle away the time until Keith was willing to talk. He wasn’t badly injured. Lance was safe to wait a while.

‘Hey, Keith? That you, babe? I thought you were gonna be back an hour..-‘ Lance paused, head hanging around the doorframe, eyes popped and mouth drawn wide. ‘-…ago..’

Keith was limping. One foot steady, the other hobbled, he inched his way through the door with a face like thunder and a greeting to match.

‘Don’t ask, not talking,’

‘..Okay,’ Lance sung, spinning his heels to follow Keith’s figure as it passed towards the bathroom. Lance’s eyebrows raised in question as he noticed the backpack usually slung haphazard across Keith’s back, now clutched tight to his chest, protected. ‘Well.. when you get done with whatever emo shit you’re doing in there, I’m ordering pizza,’

Keith’s voice clamoured around the clang of the door in the frame. ‘Not hungry - order without me,’

‘What?! Keith - you’ve been looking forwards to pizza night all week!’

‘Have not.. Still not talking, Lance,’

‘You said - and I quote - ‘I would die before I miss pizza night, these midterms are kicking my ass, and I need the cheesy sustenance to live’,’

A grinding crash echoed from the closed bathroom door, eliciting a yelp from Lance’s lips. Twisting the knob, he pushed into the room, eyes scanning the entrance in search of the source, and found to his horror, Keith splayed out on the floor in a pile of books, muddied beyond all saving or repair.

‘Keith!’ he yelled, down on one knee by his side the moment his shock would allow. ‘Are you alright?!’

Keith, head hung, palm covering his eyes, nodded tersely through the wave of dizziness that that bought him to the ground. ‘I’m.. I’m fine..’ he mumbled through tight lips, righting himself against the toilet seat he had been using as a make-shift tabletop. But Lance’s hands did not leave him, rather clung like a wave, dragging him backwards again. ‘Lance.. honestly, I’m fine, you can let go now,’

‘But -!’ Lance breathed deep, readying himself for the onslaught of defence he knew was coming, but when nothing more than a tired sigh left Keith’s mouth, Lance sank, worry prickling like buds in his gut. ‘..Keith..?’

‘Long day, sorry.. I don’t really have the energy for an argument right now, even one of our usual ones..’

‘Alright, well.. why don’t you just tell me what happened to all your stuff?’ His eyes glanced down at the disarray around them, books and pads all coated in dirt, pages ripped and writing running from the paper in thick, inky rolls. Keith’s hum returned him to reality, and he met his eyes with a worried frown.

’N-nothing.. I just - I tripped, okay?’

But ever fibre of Lance’s body refuted Keith’s account, denying the plausibility of a simple fall. ‘You tripped?’ he asked, voice digging for the grains of truth hiding behind Keith’s eyes. ‘And everything in your bag just happened to fall out in a puddle, and you happened to end up with a limp, and like, hit your head or something?’

Keith’s grumble was ostentatious at best. ‘I didn’t hit my head, I just.. might have gone down a little heavier than I would have liked,’

‘But you are limping, babe, and like it or not, you did end up on the floor,’ but Lance knew a beat beast when he saw one, and the fire in Keith’s eyes was gone. A push was a push, and shove was just as hard, and both would close him off to the world if he dared give Keith either before the spark of life had come back around. And so he let it drop, cast the worry away, and picking up a book from where it sat swimming on the floor, smiled warm and wide.

They spent the rest of the night re-writing notes and whispering words no other would ever hear, Lance content in Keith’s unbound attention that whatever woe had befallen him was nothing more than a one-time deal.

The second time, they lay in bed together, wrapped around themselves in a world private, and wonderful, and all of their own. Missives soft and soothing were spoken into the space between them, careful and quiet under the fading light of day.

At least until Lance, rolling onto his chest with arms held out, rubbed his fingers across Keith’s skin, just below the ribs and to the right. A wince, and a flinch so hard it broke Keith from his grip, paused Lance’s hands, shaking them both from the twilight world they had occupied.

‘Babe? What’s wrong?’ Lance asked, tone tentative and mind flashing, worry sparking like a flame inside his breast. Keith’s face turned away from him, body angling against the bed to shield himself from Lance’s prying eyes.

‘Nothing, Lance - I’m fine,’ he said, but more to the pillow than the body next to him. And Lance again knew better than to push, but fingers brushed the hem of his shirt all the same, pulling it away from the muscles laid flush beneath.

A whistle of air, tight and tense, rang through Lance’s teeth at the bruises he found, coating Keith’s body from sternum to hip, thick and dark, and purple and blue, all mottled together and too painful to see.

‘What-?! Oh my God.. fine my ass, Keith! What the hell happened to you?!’ he demanded, rolling Keith over and onto his back, eyes searching for something to cling to. Something to make the sight of the mess of bruises even just a little bit better. But Keith could give him nothing, no words of comfort, no lie to soothe the ache. Just a small, sad smile and a gentle touch to his face.

‘It’s nothing I can’t handle, baby,’ he told him. ‘nothing a few days won’t sort out,’

‘..How did this even happen?’

‘A couple guys were kicking a ball about on the quad and I walked by at a really bad time. I got booted by it, right in the gut. Knocked me on my ass,’ he laughed, but even he could hear the note of contention, the subtle shake of the lie. For a ball to do such damage to him, to form the bruises in perfect moults, small and round and ever so perfectly placed, like someone had purpose picked the spots to bruise. And he knew without needing to see, that Lance didn’t believe a word.

The third time, Keith came home with a split lip and bloody face, ripe red tendrils of rain running down his chin from where they escaped his nose, swollen and bruised, and plugged with a tissue held in stubborn hands. The third time, Lance swore inside his mind that this was not right, that no matter how clumsy Keith had claimed to have become, no matter how terrible his luck may be, there was no plausible way for that to be an accident.

In a moment he was off the couch, note books and pencils forgotten, his hands wrapping around Keith’s face in such a show of affection that Keith reeled back.

‘Keith, what the fuck?! Who did this to you?!’ he asked, face fallen and voice lilting so dangerously towards tears that Keith could do nothing but stare for the longest time.

‘Lance.. You - you weren’t meant to be home. I-it’s -‘

‘I swear to God, Keith, if you say this is nothing, I’m gonna drop kick you outta this appartment so fast you won’t know what hit you, so just tell me the truth, okay?’

Keith paused, mind whirring as feeble lie after lie swum through his brain, testing themselves against each other for one with the most validity. But nothing made itself known, nothing came to the front as something Lance might believe. And so he sighed, levering himself from Lance’s grip and sinking down into the couch with a weight in his limbs that felt like all the worlds in all of the galaxies were sitting down with him.

‘Lance, you can’t worry about this, baby, I swear I’m fine,’ he told him instead, in lieu of better words more equipped at calming his lover’s heart. ‘It was just.. it was an accident,’

‘Keith.. why are you lying to me? Seriously, what’s going on that’s so bad you can’t talk to me about it?’ It came out as more of a beg than Lance had intended, but it brought a rise of Keith’s head and a look so wounded that Lance thought it might have worked all the same. Might have pulled the truth from his better half’s eyes with nothing more than the sheer desperation of it. But as most hopes, it stayed short lived, as Keith cut himself off and turned away, a thick sniffle of blood slipping into the silence. ‘Keith, please..’

‘I can’t, Lance! I just..- can’t, okay..? Look, my face really hurts, can you just let it drop?’

They spent the remainder of the evening alone, each swallowed up in their independent thoughts, nothing but awkward, half angry moments shared between them.

The fourth time, Keith was meant to meet Lance for coffee. They had arranged, per Lance’s request, to meet after Keith’s morning lecture and spend the afternoon in each other’s company. But as Lance arrived at the shop and saw with a sinking heart no sign of Keith, he felt the bubbling dread of worry building in his gut.

For ten minutes he sat, back to the wall, eyes on the door, waiting for Keith with his phone in his hand. He had called him twice and texted a dozen more, but every message pinged back to his own phone, Keith’s answer machine message the only sound connecting from the other end. He might have turned it off, stowed it away quietly for his class, but Lance had never known him do that before, and the pointlessness the new habit struck him as odd.

But if he hadn’t turned it off, then why was there no reply? Why did not even a single message make it through? The thought spurred in him movement, and with a restless jerk he stood, coffee forgotten.

Keith’s lecture hall was across the quad, and it took Lance less than five minutes getting there, sparking yet another burst of anxious energy within him. He was nearing twenty minutes late when only five away - what could have happened to delay him so? He brushed the thought away, praying there would be no need for worry when Keith would surely be okay. He was strong and capable, a temper like a storm brewing beneath the surface of the calm outer shell. Nothing could endanger him enough to warrant the fear spreading like a plague through Lance..

A quick examination of the building proved it empty - all lectures had ended at twelve, and no others scheduled till one, so with a shake of his head and a clench of his fists, he stepped out to the street and cast an eye across the green. He searched for a mullet, dark black and mussed in all the right ways. But, killing the hope he hadn’t realised was welling in his heart, he saw nothing, not a damn thing. No Keith, no nothing, not a single sign of the man he loved.

Another phone call proved yet again fruitless, until with a sinking thought he chose to check the alley hiding behind the hall, feet carrying him like lead, only stopping at the sight of a bundle of black slumped in shadow against the wall. A cursory call left his throat, checking - when he did not really want to know - that it was the one he thought, he feared, lay unmoving by the dumpster giving off noxious fumes.

‘Keith!’ His feet took him to his side in a moment, no care given to the state of his knees as he fell heavy and hard to the ground beside him. ‘Oh God.. Keith..’

Keith’s body did not move, no muscles containing the strength to even look up at the sad little sound of his name. A beat passed, and then another before finally he opened his eyes, slow little flutters of his lids, fighting the crack of half dried blood.

‘Baby.. I keep asking this, and you’re scaring the goddamned hell out of me - what the fuck happened?’

But once again, and with a well of self hate Keith had never known, he could give no reply. So he simply shook his head, turning his face away with softly closing eyes. It made Lance want to cry, to cry and scream and burn the whole world down, but he pushed it deep, right down to the bottom of his feet, electing to seek revenge another time.

‘..Okay.. Keith, baby, can you stand?’ he whispered, mind weak and heart so heavy he thought it might hold him down. ‘You need a doctor,’

Keith couldn’t stand, they found, when once he was on his feet his body pitched forwards with such intensity it sent him reeling. If it hadn’t been for the wonderfully waiting arms wrapped like pillars of stone around his chest, he feared he might never have returned from the ground again. But there they were - the hands he loved, and they kept him steady all the way back, and for every moment after as his body recovered from just one more half remembered nightmare.

The fifth time - the fifth time, Lance had learned the pattern. Every other week on Wednesday afternoons, Keith would wander in bloodied and bruised, and brushing off any concern Lance could throw his way. The fifth time, Lance lied in order to save him from whatever demons were dancing their way around his head.

He told Keith he was working a shift at the Student Union store until evening, and with a nod and a kiss, bid Keith goodbye as he left for his day. But Lance, rather than walk to work and the relative safety of the denial he so wished to remain hidden within, followed Keith’s path to the lecture hall across from the quad. And there he stood, cold and guilty for so long he thought he would go numb, until with a hiss of air he watched as Keith once again made his way out onto the street.

And he followed him again, back round into the alley he had found him in two weeks before, eyes not noticing anything except the gentle sway of the bag by his hips. But he stayed back, not wishing to disrupt, to break whatever concentration he could see building under Keith’s skin, the strange, stark stare somehow both full of allure and terrifying at the same time.

It was when the voice broke the silence, foreign and faceless as it was to Lance, that he finally moved his eyes from where they rested on Keith. Only to find a group of four others circling close around his love, hands wound like springs, fingers cracking in tension held tight.

‘If it isn’t little Kogane, back for more, eh?’

‘Who’d have guessed you liked our company this much - maybe you want another makeover, make you look more like a man, after all?’

But above it all, Keith’s voice rose, with a confidence, stoic and strong that Lance had never heard.

‘Why don’t we just get on with this alright? I’ve got shit to do, and every time I see you guys, you waste my time with your stupid talk. Just hit me and get it over with already,’

And Lance was not fast enough to spare Keith the first hit - a knee to the gut so sharp it had him doubled over with a cry - and nor was he fast enough to spare him the second either. His head, grabbed in hands that Lance vowed to break the fingers from one by one, was smashed against the dumpster so hard it left him lain across the floor.

But Lance was fast enough to bring his bag down upon their head, startling the group into a collective run, leaving behind the alley and Lance and silence, as he knelt down next to Keith. The words he wanted to speak were so well worn by then that he didn’t even dare - knew they would get no answer - and so with a gentleness that surprised even him, he rolled Keith onto his side and up onto his own knee.

‘I got you, baby. You’re okay now. Can you talk to me? Are you awake?’

Keith could only give him a nod, and a wide-eyes stare once his lids were working well enough to open under his command.

‘Good. I swear to God, Keith - don’t you dare ever lie to me about this shit again, okay? I can help you.. It’s my job,’

‘…I wanted.. I wanted you to be proud of me…’ they were barely words, the waves of air that Keith sent out for Lance to grasp. But grasp them he did, and spun them around in his mind until confusion clouded his face.

‘What? Keith, what are you talking about?’

‘I didn’t.. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t fight, Lance. You said you hated it when I fight, so I didn’t.. I was brave for once,’

‘Oh, baby..’ the heart that broke and made its way into Lance’s throat was one that he thought he might never see fixed again, but with a gentle kiss placed to Keith’s now bloody forehead, he vowed to do his best all the same. ‘I’m always proud of you, idiot, and you’re always brave, and when you’re better I’m gonna make sure to show you everyday. But honey.. I don’t ever want to see you hurt again, so next time those assholes try something like this, you kick their asses and then send them to me for more, got it?’

Keith’s small nod drew a smile, wry and soft from Lance’s lips.

‘Lance?’ he asked, tucked safely into Lance’s side. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.. but I really do love you, okay?’

‘I know you do - I’ve never questioned that, not even for a minute. And bad communication skills aside, I love you too. More than anything,’

After head scans and five stitches in his forehead, Keith spent the remainder of his night curled into Lance’s warmth, thinking not for the first time that the hands carding through his hair were his favourite thing in all the world.