#loverboy lance

[katswave]

Quick draw of lance

Changed the pose a little 🕺

[mushed-kid]

voltron as textposts etc. 26

(lots if lance in this one, what can i say? i love him)

[crioh-freeze]

Lance headcanon: The first time he was called Loverboy Lance was by his sister, Veronica. And it was because of how much he loved everything. How much he loved the stars, flying, the beach, the sand, the warm feeling of summer, the chill in the air for autumn, the layers he got to wear in winter, the bugs that started to come back in spring, how other people interacted, how silly people could be, how— no matter the age— there are still things that everyone does, everything. He loves everything so much, and that's why Veronica started to call him "Loverboy Lance".

[bluemantics]

Lance breathed in a ragged breath.

In, out.

The soot fogged up his helmet, choking him up, but he still pushed onward. Step after step after step. In, out. His breathing was labored. His armor was dirtied. His limbs ached.

“Keith?” Pidge’s voice rang out over the comms.

Keith had come after Lance when the Galra had made the threat, when Lance dove down into that waste of a planet. At first, he’d been held back by Shiro. Keith was somewhere on this planet now, but Lance couldn’t focus on him. He had other priorities. Keith would be fine.

In, out.

Lance focused on his breathing instead, tuned out the outside sounds of the paladins calling for Keith and him. With each struggling step, his bayard illuminating the way, he dragged himself over to the cave home.

It’s curtains were drawn, and no light came from within. The only sign of life were the heat signatures his helmet picked up.

Fuck, the air was rough.

“Lance, your helmet is broken,“ Allura started.

Lance shut off the comms. Anything distracting him was preventing him from reaching /them./ He pushed his way through the curtain entrance.

There she was.

Huddling under a table in the corner was a small girl, a blue-scaled dragonling humanoid with bright red eyes. She was trembling. Lance got down on his hands and knees, crawling over to her.

In, out. His throat hurt.

“Hey,” he said softly, a rasp tickling his words. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron. I’m here to save you from the fires.”

The alien girl croaked out a whimper. She clearly didn’t recognize him, but her planet was a member of the coalition… fuck. Lance knew what he had to do.

He removed his helmet.

“See?” Her eyes lit up with recognition.

“Loverboy!” she exclaimed. Lance winced at his stage name, laughing outwardly to reassure her.

“That’s right, and I’m here to save you,” he agreed, reaching his arms out to her. Without the meager protection of his helmet, he was really starting to feel woozy. Still, that didn’t matter.

With shaking hands, he picked her up and began to walk outside the cave home and back to Blue.

This time, though, the trek was worse. He couldn’t see as well without his helmet, couldn’t recognize heat signatures or the fastest path back. Instead, he relied on lighting up his footsteps and retracing his steps.

That didn’t last long.

After 20 steps, Lance began to feel dizzy. He lurched, which caused the girl to make a series of clicks.

In, out. He patted her back and continued on.

After 50 steps, Lance started to lose the edges of his vision to blackness. He could feel the mucus in his throat fighting his inhalations. He fought back harder. He would have to reach a level of survival that went beyond what he could handle. To save her.

In, out.

Finally.

120 steps.

Lance fell to his knees.

The girl screamed.

Lance was only a football field from Blue. He had failed.

The girl scrabbled her claws at his armor, wailing, her cries embellished by the distant sound of crackling fire. Lance closed his eyes, listening to her pain, letting it soak in. He’d failed her, and this was his punishment, to lie prone and to hear her suffer. He had failed.

In, out.

He felt a tug to some hidden darkness inside of him.

“Lance!”

Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Lance felt more than heard the pounding footsteps of Keith Kogane as he ran to his side, kneeling by Lance’s head and cradling it in his hands.

“Stay awake, Lance, I have an O2 mask and we can get the girl to safety—“

“Loverboy!” The girl insisted.

Keith’s head snapped up. Lance chuckled weakly, coughing at the end.

“What?” Keith asked.

“She knows… shows,” he muttered in response. Keith huffed a breath, fogging up his helmet.

“Oh.”

Lance coughed again, and Keith panicked, pulling a mask from his belt. “Stay awake.”

“Loverboy,” the girl insisted again, tugging on Keith’s shoulder.

Lance blinked slowly. The world was slow. Why was the ash now falling on his face in slow motion? Why was Keith putting the mask on so slowly?

In, out.

Lance blinked. The darkness came back. He closed his eyes.

“No, Lance, no.”

Lance wasn’t listening. It was more peaceful, here, to focus inwardly rather than on the voices out there. It was quiet and dark and cool. The fires couldn’t touch him here.

“Loverboy? Stay with me, please. Please.” The rawness in his voice made Lance’s eyes snap open.

“Keith? I’m really trying…”

Words were too difficult, though.

So Lance let his heavy eyelids fall, let the blackness rush in. He felt the mask press into his chin and nose.

“I know, Lance.”

Silence again.

In,

[badsongpetey]

More of my Last Unicorn Au <3 Lance is supposed to be investigating the Red Lion, instead he's investigating King Zarkon's son. Part 1.

Eventually this little mini comic will be a full page! I wish I art'd faster...

[mignonricciardo]

*he is very gorgeous to me*

I JUST know his dick is big I’m sorry

[mammoneythegreat]

my fav bbys with their guns<3333

[batmanbeyondrocks]

LoverBoy Lance ❤️‍🔥 @babyboylance_

[soulreapin]

lance’s voice changes depending on where he is and who hes with

if hes with teenagers/cousins hes giving out solid directions in a kind way

if he’s with the team he’s laughing and loud

with his family he’s very upright and respectful

but with keith…he is soft. solid. his voice is a little lower, made for fireplace stories, and his tone shifts up and down like rocking waves and THAT is the loverboy tone

because is is reserved by a boy for his lover

[autisticlancemcclain]

“—Lance isn’t even paying attention!”

Lance looks up from his phone, noticing Pidge whining to Coran for the first time.

“I’m paying attention,” he lies.

Pidge ignores him. “It’s not fair! He should forfeit his movie vote! He’s not even gonna watch, anyway.” She turns to Lance, glaring. “He’s gonna be too busy texting Keith and making ga-ga eyes at his phone.”

“I will not!” he says, rapidly trying and failing to delete the ‘wish you were here, Dropout’ text he just sent. “I don’t — I wasn’t even texting Keith! I haven’t talked to him in days!”

Not a single person is fooled. Even Coran, who can regularly be counted upon to be on Lance’s side, is raising an eyebrow.

“Honest!” Lance insists.

“Ugh,” Pidge complains, glaring at him before flopping back on the couch. “I still think your vote shouldn’t count.”

Regardless of her petulance, Lance does get a vote, thank you very much. Unfortunately it comes with an abundance of teasing and wiggling eyebrows from the rest of the team, but whatever. At least his point was made, and he doesn’t have to watch whatever nerd documentary Pidge was gunning for.

To his credit, he does actually try to pay attention to the movie. It seems mildly interesting, at least, some kind of Altean classic, and usually he’d be able to at least appreciate the costumes. He really does try.

Fifteen minutes in, his phone buzzes slightly.

Absolutely not, he tells himself. Do not Pavlov yourself to his ringtone, because that would be humiliating. You can go two hours without talking to him. You’re basically a grown-up, for fuck’s sake. You barely even like him mostly. Plus, if Hunk reads over your shoulder and sees the messages you’re sending to him you will never recover.

Nodding resolutely to himself, he shoves his phone deeper in his pocket and returns his attention to the movie. There’s some kind of conflict happening, maybe between the two romantic leads?

Whatever. Lance is paying attention. The movie is just…unclear.

The second time the phone rings, reasoning with himself is much harder. After all, Shiro isn’t even trying to pretend he’s not falling asleep into his popcorn — he’s not paying attention. And Hunk is intently braiding Allura’s hair, so he’s not paying attention either. The point of family movie night is to spend a few hours in each other’s presence outside of training or missions or meals, so it totally counts even if Lance is on his phone, right?

He has to physically sit on his hands to keep himself from checking his messages. Pidge will needle you about it for eternity, he reminds himself, increasingly desperate.

The third time it buzzes, he gives up. His hands fly to his phone so fast he cringes at himself.

How embarrassing.

Fully aware his ears are bright red, he clicks on the notification, opening his and Keith’s communication line.

mullet-head:

lance? you there?

mullet-head:

did you fall asleep during movie night

mullet-head:

are you pulling an old man shiro

Lance smiles to himself, glancing over at the snoring leader of Voltron, drooling on Coran’s shoulder. Keith never misses a chance to clown on his brother, even if Shiro can’t even see it.

loverboy:

i did not fall asleep u butthead

loverboy:

i’m not shiro

loverboy:

i’m not six i don’t need naps

Keith doesn’t respond for a second, and Lance pictures him with his head thrown back, eyes squinted shut and mouth open wide in the startled way he laughs when he unintentionally finds Lance funny. It makes something warm and simultaneously bitter churn in his belly, thinking of how many lightyears away he is from that brighter-than-the-sun laughter.

mullet-head:

stop making me laugh i’m going to get caught

mullet-head:

i’m on some boring patrol i’m not supposed to be on my phone

Lance narrows his eyes in alarm. If that dumbass is texting him instead of paying attention on a mission, he swears —

loverboy:

patrol where??

loverboy:

please don’t tell me ur dicking around on ur phone on a GALRA BASE

mullet-head:

no no no it’s some supply centre

mullet-head:

look

The texting bubble spins for a moment, loading, then a video comes through. Lance glances around the room surreptitiously, but no one is paying any attention to him. Pidge is chatting quietly with Allura, Coran is totally wrapped up in the film, Shiro’s still sleeping, and Hunk has moved to Allura’s other side to braid the hair on that half of her head. Still, he turns the volume as low as he can, angling the phone away from the others.

The video footage is shaky at first, eventually settling on Keith’s face. He looks good — well fed, healthy.

Handsome.

Embarrassed, Lance pauses the video, taking a moment to observe Keith’s face. It’s stupid and gay and sentimental, but — Lance has been looking for a reason to ask Keith to send him a picture, a video, hell, a voice message. Something to confirm, aside from texts, that he’s alive and well, something for Lance to hold on to, a glimpse of the face he’s missed so dearly (not that he’ll admit it). He’s been too embarrassed to ask, but wanting to feel like he’s in the same room as Keith again.

“I thought the Arizona desert was boring,” video Keith says, exasperated. “But at least it has cool lizards. This place has nothing but rocks, sand, and more rocks. Look.”

The video flips around, showing off Keith’s view. He slowly moves the camera to the side, presumably so Lance can see just how boring the rocks and sand and more rocks is.

Lance squints.

Hang on a second.

Is that flurexonomite?

He rewinds the video slightly, pausing it when he sees it again. He brings the phone close to his face, looking as closely as he can, and lets out a delighted little laugh when he sees it.

It is! It’s flurexonomite!

loverboy:

GET ME THAT ROCK

loverboy:

PLEASE

He screenshots the frame with the rock in it, circling it and sending it back.

loverboy:

THIS ONE

mullet-head:

are you serious

mullet-head:

i send you a video of this boring ass desert that i’m stuck in

mullet-head:

and you focus

mullet-head:

on a rock

mullet-head:

you massive nerd

Lance pouts, even though Keith can’t see it and feel properly guilty. That’s not fair. He’s not a nerd. Rocks are just cool! And he hasn’t been able to find flurexonomite, possibly the coolest of all space rocks that Coran has ever told him about, anywhere!

loverboy:

PLEASE JUST GET ME THE ROCK I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER

mullet-head:

i cannot believe what i am reading with my own two eyeballs

mullet-head:

you

mullet-head:

who calls hunk and pidge a nerd every single day for any reason

Lance can’t help his defensive scoff.

“Everything okay, buddy?” Hunk asks, beyond amused. Lance shoves his phone in his pocket, or tries to, but he’s flustered, so somehow in his panic the phone goes flying out of his hand and onto the floor, face-up, messages clearly displayed.

Lance has never moved so quickly in his life.

He scrambles to the floor faster than he can even register he’s doing it, rolling right off the couch and throwing himself at the device. Unfortunately, Pidge reaches it first, scooping it up with a cackle and tossing it to Hunk.

“Read it out loud!”

“No!” Lance screeches, lunging after the device. Hunk is quick, though, standing on top of the cushions and holding the phone far out of his reach.

“‘Wish you were here, Dropout —’” he starts, gleeful.

“Stop! Shut up! That was a typo!” He attempts to climb Hunk to no avail; the man simply holding him away with one big arm. He’s not even struggling.

Lance knows how embarrassing some of those messages are. He cannot let them see the light of day. The time has come for drastic measure.

Somehow anticipating Lance’s impending violence, Hunk tosses the phone to Allura, who catches it easily and runs to the other couch.

“‘Saw someone dressed in all black on our last diplomatic mission and thought of your emo ass,’” Allura recites.

Lance screams, collapsing to the floor. He won’t be able to wrestle his phone away from her. She could kill him with a toothpick, probably.

He is doomed.

Allura clicks a few buttons and then laughs particularly evilly, making something ice cold shoots through Lance’s veins.

She hasn’t found his notes app, has she?

He can’t risk it. If anyone finds out what he’s written on there — oh, God, there are angsty song lyrics. About Keith. He is going to die. He is going to melt into a puddle of humiliated goo. This cannot happen.

With an ear-splitting war cry, he jumps to his feet, sprinting at her at tops speeds and tackling her to the ground. Before she can react, he yanks the phone from her hand and scrambles away at the speed of light. He dashes out of the common room before anyone can stop him, speeding to his room and locking the door behind him. He walks over to his bed and flops onto it, screaming into his pillow as loudly as he can, face the colour of a red star going supernova and just as hot.

“Every part of being alive is a prison,” he laments to no one. He vows to wallow in his own self-pity for all of eternity.

His phone buzzes.

He gets up to check it so fast he honestly has to take a moment to consider if being this gay is truly worth it.

mullet-head:

video.attachment

He brightens. Two videos in one day?!

Being this gay is worth it, apparently!

“You are truly the biggest nerd I know,” video Keith tells him solemnly. His indigo eyes are bright in amusement — soft, even. He takes two steps and then bends down — Lance keeps his eyes firmly on his friend’s face, he does, he does — and picks up the brown, dusty rock.

Lance heart skips a beat when he realizes it’s the exact right rock, the first time. Keith must have looked very carefully at the photo to get the right rock, for all his teasing. The rock is as tiny as a pinky nail, and it doesn’t exactly stand out.

God, Lance loves him so fucking much.

Video Keith slips the rock into his pocket. “You’re lucky you have me, you goober.”

The familiar banter makes Lance smile wider. It took he and Keith a long time and a lot of understanding to come to the point where they are now, the familiarity, the comfort he knows Keith must feel around him to let his guard down so blatantly, to be so transparently teasing and playful.

It makes his heart hurt, a little. He wishes there wasn’t a screen and a bajillion miles between them.

———

The worst part about the Blades, Keith thinks, is that there’s absolutely zero in between. He’s either bored out of his mind, polishing his sword while patrolling some random supply station, or he’s running for his life, barely making it out of an exploding Galra warship in time to keep all his limbs. There are no middle moments, no time for him to be anything but praying for death to at least put him out of his mind-numbing misery or praying to make it out of a situation alive. No family meals, no strange space mall supply runs, no training with Altean superhumans.

He misses his family.

But he knows he can’t go back. At least not permanently. He made this decision for a reason, and that reason is more important to him than a little bit of boredom or some measly mortal peril.

(Lance is more important to him than a little bit of boredom or some measly mortal peril.)

He sighs as he stares at the bunk above him, tracing the shadows of the bed for the zillionth time. He’s not tired at all, but there’s fuck else for him to do in between now and his next mission. He’s already trained all day today, and there’s only so much he can do with a sword before he wants to put it through his own head.

He misses training with a partner.

He shifts around, looking for his phone. It’s late, and he can’t text Lance — the dumbass is in a healing pod right now because he pulled a Keith and tried to fight a nine foot tall Galran commander with his own two hands to cover for someone — but maybe he can send him a couple messages, anyway. Just for when he wakes up.

It’s not like he has anything better to do.

He leans over as far as he feasibly can in his bunk, trying to reach his uniform. He manages to hook his finger around the sleeve, pulling it closer until he can reach his pocket. He thinks he left his phone in the right one, if he can just pinch the corner —

His hand runs over something small and rough, and he stills.

He pulls out a rock, and for a minute he’s confused — he just washed this thing and he’s been on base for three days, how the hell did a rock get in there — then it hits him.

He smiles. This is Lance’s dorky rock.

He leans back onto the mattress, holding the rock out in front of him. It sparkles slightly in the low light of the barracks, it’s many minerals catching the glow of the Balmeran crystals. It looks like a tiny little jewel in his hands, like a sparkling piece of amber.

Like Lance’s eyes.

Immediately he’s embarrassed with himself for thinking it. It’s so — it’s such a fucking gooey thing to think, to compare this sparking crystal to the deep brown of his teammate’s eyes. It’s not even the right brown, anyway. This rock is on the lighter side — Lance eyes aren’t as ambery orange. In the right shadowy lighting, they’re more of a black, so endlessly dark that you could lose yourself in them, that you could be swallowed right up in the look.

Not always, though. Keith lifts the rock up a little higher, holding it right in front of one of the crystals, and squints, letting his eyesight go blurry.

Once, when they were on a planet startlingly like Earth, Keith and Lance snuck off from a gala and ran to the beach to watch the sunset. Lance has smiled so wide, then, squishing his whole face, and when the golden rays of the settling sun had hit his eyes, they melted into a honeyed amber the exact same shade of the crystal. Keith remembers his mouth going dry, his mind going completely blank. He’d been so starstruck by the sight that he hadn’t even dared to breathe.

Lance had thrown sand at him for staring, and cackled as Keith cussed him out.

Keith pulls his blanket up to his chin, smiling. He closes his eyes, rhythmically rubbing the roughened crystal.

He falls asleep faster than he ever has before.

———

The castle is buzzing with excitement.

Most of its resident are too excited even for words. Breakfast is a mess, everyone bouncing in their seats, grinning so wide they can barely eat. Pidge inhales her food so fast she chokes. Hunk sporks himself in the nose, not paying attention.

It’s visiting day.

In less than two vargas, Keith is going to land a pod in the hangar, here to stay for two full days. One of those days will be a mission, sure, but after that they’ll have several hours to just hang out with their friend for a while, catch up, remember how much they miss him. It’s exhilarating.

They all gather in the hangar when he messages to say he’s close, practically vibrating in place. None of them speak, too pumped for words. They all watch the doors with wide eyes, reading to sprint the moment they open and Keith lands safely.

Only, one of them is too impatient to wait that long.

“Keith!” Lance cries, sprinting forward when the pod is a foot from the ground. Before the pod even lands, the hatch is thrown open, and Keith comes tumbling out, half falling to the floor.

“Lance!”

They crash into each other so hard it’s a miracle they manage to stay standing, embracing so tightly it has to be painful.

“You know, I was once married,” Coran remarks. “I went on a two-decaphoebe exploratory mission in that time. When I returned, I was not embraced that tightly.”

“That’s because you didn’t have an intensely homoerotic rivalry and then a weird half-friendship half-romantic relationship you refuse to acknowledge as such that racketed up your sexual tension to levels that cannot be recorded,” Shiro explains.

Four pairs of eyes blink at him.

“Nobody is as gay as they are,” he simplifies.

“Well, gay or not, I’ve lost patience. Lance does not get to hog all the Keith time, not on my watch.” Hunk marches towards the couple (couple of besties) and lifts them both off the ground in a hug that looks to have rearranged their spinal cords. “Keith! Buddy! We missed you!”

The rest of the team rushes in soon after, hugging and holding and generally just piling Keith with all the love they’ve pent up in his absence. Keith is bright red by the end of it, but visibly pleased, obviously flattered.

“I missed y’all too,” he says. “Seriously. Blades aren’t the same.”

With a herculean amount of strength, they manage to pull away to give Keith some space, heading towards the briefing room to prepare for their mission. They have a fleet to destroy, after all, and an Empire to cripple.

And, of course, the faster they complete their mission, the more time they can spend together with no obligations looming over their heads.

They debrief quickly, making sure not to miss any important information but determined not to dilly dally. They split up to suit up, then run off to their respective hangars, ready and rearing to go. Keith lingers for a second next to Lance.

“Good luck, Sharpshooter.”

Lance grins. “I don’t need it, Samurai. I’m going to kick your ass.���

“Wrong ass to be kicking, dontcha think?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Keith, you’re with me,” Shiro reminds him, when neither fool looks to be focusing on the impending mission, gently knocking his brother’s shoulders.

Keith nods. “Yeah, coming.” He jogs away from Lance, flashing him one last smile. As he turns to corner, he pulls out the crystal from his pocket, gently pressing it to his lips before slipping it back where he got it.

“What’s that?” Shiro asks, gesturing to the pocket.

Keith looks shifty, like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Uh, just a good luck charm.”

“Since when do you believe in luck?”

Keith shrugs. “Since I started feeling lucky, I guess.”

Far behind them, stopped to tie his bootlace, Lance stares at where the brothers disappeared into the Black Lion’s hangar, wide-eyed.

He recognises that rock.

———

Several hours later, six paladins dock back on the castle, exhausted but satisfied.

“Man, I missed having a full team. That mission was way less horrible than usual,” Pidge says.

“Indeed,” Allura agrees tiredly.

“Almost like we had a good luck charm,” Lance whispers to himself, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

Shiro smiles at them all. “You did great, team. This was by far the most successful mission we’ve had in months.” He turns his smile to Keith in particular, who grins right back. “We missed you, buddy.”

“Missed you too,” Keith murmurs.

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow,” Coran says. “Right now we are all exhausted. Off to bed, my dears.”

They all comply without protest, stumbling out of the bridge and down the halls to their rooms. Keith and Lance walk together. It makes Lance smile, remembering when they used to walk each other to bed, everyone else long asleep, stupid tired after a late night of planning. He doesn’t miss the stress, but he does miss leading with Keith, more than he’d like to admit.

“Hey, wait,” Keith says as they approach their bedroom doors, hand on Lance bicep to stop him.

“What’s up?”

“I, uh, have something for you.” He digs around in his pockets, looking panicked for a moment when he can’t find whatever it is he’s looking for, then visibly relieved when his fist encloses around it. He holds it out to Lance, who accepts it without question. Onto Lance’s palm he drops a sparking brown crystal.

“The flurexonomite,” Lance says, grinning.

Keith rocks back on his heels. “Yeah. I’ve been keeping it safe, you nerd.”

Lance looks up at him softly, unable to summon any playful exasperation at the tease. “Thank you, Keith.”

Keith smiles softly at him. “‘Course.” He puts his hand on his lockpad, opening the sliding door. “Night, Bluebell.”

“Goodnight, Willie Nelson.”

———

The next day is as crowded and energy-filled as expected. To avoid fights over Keith-time, the paladins had made a schedule: most of the day will be spent all together, but each person gets one designated hour of one-on-one time to do as they please. Keith gets dragged from person to person, blushing every time someone grumbles about not having enough time, from sparring with Shiro, swimming with Lance, and painting his nails with Allura.

He cries four separate times. It’s nice to remember how loved he truly is.

As days tend to do, however, it eventually comes to an end. Supper is a somewhat bittersweet affair, everyone knowing that once it’s over, Keith has to head back to his pod, and they won’t see him again for weeks, even months.

They try to make the most of it.

Hunk and Lance cook up something to honour the occasion, Pidge at the kitchen door with Lance’s gun to prevent Shiro, Coran, and Keith himself from so much as looking at the food so they don’t fuck it up somehow. Allura serves her solemn duty as taste-tester, ensuring all food is fit for a royal feast.

It’s amazingly thoughtful, even though Pidge is way too trigger happy. Keith cries again halfway through supper, and half the table joins him.

By the time the team walks him to his pod, they’re all pretty cried out, and determined to put on a happy face. They all hug Keith for way too long and with way too much force, each making him swear to call and text frequently, and to not do stupid things or get himself killed. Keith promises to do one of those things.

Eventually they all, with very knowing and smug looks, wave goodbye and head out, leaving Lance and Keith alone. Both pointedly pretend that they’re not embarrassed about it.

“I have something for you,” Lance says, when Shiro finally exits.

Keith glances at his gigantic care package of collective gifts from the rest of the team, raising an amused eyebrow. “Will I have space for it? The barracks at the Blade are small as shit, you know.”

Lance huffs a laugh, nervous smile pulling at his lips. “It’s, uh, pretty small. Promise.”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, then grabs something out of his pocket, holding his fist out to Keith. In his outstretched palm, a mirror of the night before, he drops a silver chain, attached onto a small —

A small, brown stone.

The flurexonomite.

“Good luck charm,” Lance explains quietly. He hesitates for a moment, then powers on. “And a piece of me to carry with you. If you want it.”

For a moment Keith gapes at the precious thing in his palm, the chain Lance must have made by hand sometime when Keith was hanging out with the rest of the team today. It’s simple, just the chain and the rock, but to Keith it’s more valuable than all the universe’ riches put together. To him it’s everything. To him it’s a message.

It is, without even a sliver of a doubt, a manifestation of Lance’s feelings for him. Of his feelings for Lance, too, having picked up the stone at all.

Keith decides to hell with the waiting. To hell with the war, with the consequences, with the long-distance. He grabs Lance’s face in his hands and kisses him as hard and fast as he has been wanting to for longer than he’s willing to admit.

“I fucking love you so much,” he mutters against soft, ful lips. He feels Lance’s smile.

“Yeah no shit, stupid. I gathered that when you kissed the rick I begged you to pick up for me before a mission, like it was a picture of your sweetheart in World War Two.”

Keith huffs, but can’t resist kissing him again. “Are you physically incapable of saying I love you back like a normal person, you dickhead?”

Lance laughs loudly enough to disrupt the kiss. “Yes.” A beat. “I love you too, mulletbrain. If that wasn’t abundantly clear.”

Keith smiles, kissing him one last time before pulling away. “It was.”

He lets Lance clasp the necklace around his neck, relishing in the touch of Lance’s cold fingers on his skin, committing the feeling to memory.

“I’ll miss you,” he says from the pilot seat. “I’ll call you.”

“If you don’t, I’ll fly Red to the Blades and kick your ass,” Lance informs him.

Keith feels like his heart is going to burst. “I don’t doubt it.”

When he finally takes off, castle shrinking to a dot behind him, the weight of his good luck charm around his neck makes leaving feel like less of a goodbye.

[nightmareworks]

hi i have been Cooking lancer fic

Once again, we meet Union Auxiliary Pilot, (28th Voidcombat Division, Mercenary Wing Bravo,) ["Kingfishers",] Callsign- VI The Lovers. We meet Miss Allison Wax (she/her) [Her Body, a borrowed face]

And her Loverboy (he/him) [Stone Butch Death Machine]

(both art gotten from @skycrimedraws who NAILS IT EVERY TIME BABY)

"Hey boss man," The words fell out of her lips, halfway through (the next words were a question) when her CO interrupts with "I told you not to call me that." She stops. (She doesn't flinch, its not flinching.) [She kind of just needs to run through some maybes.] For just that moment, there's no one in the body in front of the CO. And then she starts again, words coming back out. "Alright, alright. CO, what's the job you got lined up for me and my Loverboy?" The CO gestured to the spare chair with a file, and Allison picked her way across the floor. (She walked on the tips of her toes, even in the sneakers.) [She walked with a gait to big for her body, like her legs were blades.] {She's En Pointe} She pulled out the chair and sat, crossing a leg across her lap and looking at the CO through her bangs. "The next mission shouldn't be for a while yet, Miss Wax." The CO's voice was always even, collected. That's why they were the CO. That's why they wore Union Grays and Allison wore what she always did. (Just put clothes on Her body) [What kind of clothes did She wear before Allison?] A thought dismissed with the disappointment of nearlight engines. "Really now, CO? How long are you gonna keep me up? More time in medbay?" The CO shakes their head, opening files, going through them. The work seems endless, running a Merc Lance. (But what's Alllison gotta worry about work?) [Gets to wound up, being in a ship conapt too long without her Loverboy.]

"So is it more time with the headmeds?" The CO looks up from the papers and gives that kind of pained smile as Allison snatches a file off the table to read. (One of the ones with the Mission Seal on it.) [Can't read Unionite Legalese for shit.] "No, Miss Wax, you're scheduled for wind-down, but you don't need to go see one of the after-action therapists- unless you feel the need of course." So she started paging through the mission file, going over the after action reports compiled from her Loverboy (From his eye, from his soul.) [The stars are beautiful at 2,000 kmph.] "So there's really no jobs, CO? Not even basic patrols? I get bored when I'm stuck down too long." The CO holds out their hand, and she returns the file. (She likes to feel like she earns her keep.) [That's just polite, for all the things Union offers.] "Miss Wax," the CO begins "I understand that talented pilots get odd without flight." That's the thing about Grays- they're willing to work with you more than they aren't. (Its not that Allison thought they were pushovers.) [Just the most reasonable kind of people, mostly.] I can organize testflights for you, if you see that there isn't more work for the technicians." There's what she wants to hear (But not quite).

"Work's good for me, CO. You wouldn't let a butterfly starve in a jar, would you?" The CO folds the file closed. (Her file.) [The one that says "Obvious signs of long-term Chronos exposure."] Doctors let you read files out this way. Its nice to know they care, at least. CO gives their answer. "Miss Wax, war's a failure and you're a contingency. Glory only comes with time. Take your mech out, call it a patrol if that helps, but my job is to make sure the mercenaries stay healthy and stay flying." There's more, Allison knows there's more, and she stops a moment. For that split second, she's not in Her body. Allison is watching Her sit there, in the chair, in Allison's clothes, across from the CO. (The look on their face is kind of worried.) [People still caught in their meat don't like being reminded of it's hold on them.] Allison picks a maybe, a series of words that seem right, and then the moment is over, and she's back in Her body. "So where are we headed, CO? You can at least let me prepare for the future."

"We're headed to Dawnline, Miss Wax. There'll be work aplenty for you in the Long Rim and beyond."

======

The cavalry technician looked up at the frame he was gonna work on. It was a custom job, one of the Lancers that the Aux had brought onboard when coming out of the Range. Long haul ships for Union do that sometimes, guard presence in exchange for amnesty and escape. Good people get trapped places. He just wasn't sure whoever flew this thing was the best kinda people. "Beautiful damn monster you are." The mechtech murmured under his breath, looking through a sheaf of printouts. Specs for the machine in front of him, an IPS-N Frame the pilot apparently fit together herself. He didn't, really trust the speed listed under its maximum output. That kind of speed would make someone grayout (The speed at which the blood of a human body begins to pool in the limbs, causing the pilot to lose consciousness). Redout even. [The point of g-force at which the brain is starved of blood, and dies.]

He looked up again at the machine and saw it was staring back at him, great singular eye tracking along its axis, to cast its baleful red upon him. He noted it, and looked back to his notes. Looking for if this thing had a casket it in, a C/C programmed to play tricks. The normal shit pilots pull on their technicians. He came up around the great black thing in its bay, and stared it in the eye from the gantry. It stared back, body making the clittering hiss of a mech at rest. (Mechanized Cavalry frames that are in regular usage are rarely quite things.) Coolant pumped through the entire frame, keeping the coldcore under wraps until it really needed to go. Fusion engines, power-reroutes designed along the Albatross style… where the verniers and thrusters aren't shaped for an RPV. (Remote Pilot Vehicles aren't uncommonly retrofitted for pilot use, he notes under his breath) [Under that red eye.] He eyes them again, as the giant thing keeps staring. There isn't any record of a computer smart enough to do anything of worth on this machine.

It was strictly Turning-Compliant, according to the CO's paperwork. That left the damages to repair. Bits of slagged armor along the leg-blades and shoulder plating. Nothing a few hours work with the rigs wouldn't fix. The mechtech flicked a few switches and brought the frame up to the light, to the arms that pulled and printed in smooth motions as his fingers danced across the keys. It was slower going than he thought. And the mech was making a noise. It was keening, a clatter-chatter at once both rumbling low and piercingly high. Something was wrong with the feedback from the mech-harness, reporting simple and blunt legionspace attacks. Best the cavalry technician could manage was to remove the offending plates before the assembly limbs gave up and stalled. That's when a hand touched his shoulder, and a voice rang in his ear. "My Loverboy doesn't know you, mechtech, but I do. Gimmie a minute to settle him down and you can get back to work."

The girl walks past him then, almost teeter-tottering as she glides across the floor on the tips of her shoes. She moves her legs wrong, picking her way as much as stepping. The cavalry tech looks at the mech's legs and puts together the kind of pilot he's dealing with. The kind that have gone in a direction past human, hunting for something else. (He'd never really known someone in full body prosthesis) [Was rare, in his neck of the galaxy.] She moves like her mech even as she steps off the gantry and onto its chest, placing hands against the grinning skull. Ever since she came in, the eye's been locked onto her alone. He worries and wonders what kind of monster he's got to work on now.

===

He screams for her, against the void, he tears away from the cling-gravity of the UNS-CV Paris (Like the commune, she offers) [Like lights, the therapist offers back.] But the past doesn't matter when the future is laid out in the bleeding world of 2000 kmph. She was safe from everything, safe from Gravity itself as she lay coiled in her Loverboy's guts, aching through Chronos haze and picking his flight path for him as a beautiful dance. She wanted him to run through his paces, and he was eager to please. To show her what he could do. How he was built for her. Like a butterfly flitting across a windless sky, like a shark dancing through a school of fish- Loverboy puts on a show for his girl.

She's spinning him a dance, putting the engine to its test. Her Loverboy screams for his girl as he dances, frame keening against the speed and void. (Allison watches Her legs twist against the seat.) [That's how she knew the engine was art] {State-of-the-art affection} She doesn't like to think about home. Not home anymore, and not worth thinking about. More Gravity shorn free from her under the speed. So what's it worth if its pulled away so easily? Home wasn't ever home, no matter how much anyone told Allison it was. What's where you're born compared to where you'll be? (What's the flesh you were born in but another place to be trapped in?) Allison feels her brain reel as Loverboy spins in a piroutte ascending. It doesn't spin in place, but it recognizes the forces working upon it as her Loverboy pulls into a rise. (The snap from horizontal to vertical would snap necks.) [But when you don't have Gravity, moving is easier.]

Verniers howl with force as Allison considers Her. (And the changes Allison had made to Her.) [Would She mind? Would She understand?] There are protective tendons, built from the same kind of whipcord steel that run through Loverboy. There are stabilization systems built into her braincase, that absorb and disperse the shock of sudden shifts of g-force. There's a dozen, a hundred little aftermarket touches to Her body that Allison has made. (But is it really that bad, when the body is aftermarket?) [When the body wasn't built for you.] Allison still watches Her, curled as Allison left Her. (Back curved gentle. Arms on knees, resting eyes against forearm.) [The clunky implants hooking Her to Loverboy peek their tubes from beneath Her shirt] She was still perfect. Still beautiful. Everything Allison had wanted to be back then. There She was, with Allison's brain in Her body, Allison's Loverboy hooked through feeds to Her back.

Allison reached in the stopped little flaring moments between directing Loverboy through his dance. They were all the same moment. Allison reached out, and cradled Her face, and said Her name. Something Allison couldn't ever know. (How was she supposed find Her? Long way from Ketherese.) [From everything from that life.] Everything but her Loverboy. He counts the micromovements of her eyes. His own whirrs and focuses, keening as the scopes hone in on a target and his body twists with his girl's desire. He counts the times she stops existing as a presence registered at the controls. He rolls over and considers in his clicking thoughts the ways he loves her. His adoration burns in him as retros flare and he lands blades first, touching against an asteroid with the grace of a butterfly upon a blossom. His thoughts turn and his computers chitter and churn. His whitewash tanks purge into rawmat resivors and a new batch is rapidly encoded, new chains of acids and code written by mute-drive, a silent organ buried deep in his frame, coiled round and through his girl.

The Hyperkinesis Module develops a novel admixture of nanites and adrenaline and feeds through the connection to Allison, filling her endocrine system with a soothing electricity synchronized to readouts and full reports of engine efficiencies, micrometeor grazes, and heat venting. (His body hisses for her, waste gas for heat disperial in null atmosphere environments) [He bares his heart to her, reactor dropping as he stretches against the asteroid.] Allison leans forward, the Chronos uptake stretching from her back and into the cockpit's back wall. (Little tubes running up to her spine and kidneys) [One of the other aftermarket touches to Her body.] Allison's face reaches through the holoscreen outputs of Loverboy's eye. She kisses the armored outer hull of her cockpit. (She stands to her toes.) And her Loverboy gently touches off the asteroid, into the void, gently floating in the empty place beyond Gravity.

Allison lowers her oxygen uptake, and rides the Chronos her Loverboy made for her. (She dreams like an editor.) [Looking at scenes and picking them.] A wash along the nervous system, stuttering climbing up her spinal column and into the brainstem. She dreams of Ketherese, and what was left behind. Consider the Gravity that's been shed. (In the embrace of her Loverboy.) [Memories are the only thing you can't shed.] Her grandfather's dirt is far from everything she'll ever see again. No one will see the frontiers she sees. (Allison will see things even She'll never see.) [Or maybe they'll see the same stars some day.] {Face-to-borrowed-face.}

No one she had ever known would see what she sees, know what she knows. (She'd shed them, like her old body.) [Like Gravity.]

[shatterinseconds]

“So you’re bisexual.”

Lance rolls his eyes at Keith’s statement, saying in pure exasperation, “Yes. Obviously.” 

Somehow Keith, out of everybody Lance has ever known, including his family back on Earth and his new family here on the castle-ship, is the last to know. Lance doesn’t quite get it since he has flirted with alien species of all different genders since they got trapped in space. But then again, this is Keith and he still has a mullet, as if Earth is stuck in the late twentieth century, so he clearly catches onto things at a snail’s pace.

“And you’ve had a crush on me this entire time?” This time Keith phrases it as a question, a slight heistance to his voice that Lance isn’t sure what to make of it. Whether it’s annoyance or hopefulness. There are only two things it could be. His arms are crossed, hands tightly clutching his biceps—it’s not that inspiring but Lance soldiers on. No getting out of it now; not after…  

“I don’t kiss people for the fun of it—I mean I do, but with meaning. Not on impulse.” Lance waves his hand as he struggles to explain. “You get it.”

“I really don’t.” But Keith says it with a smile this time, trying to contain a laugh and that makes Lance start to grin, a weight on his heart easing. “It was still pretty impulsive.”

“Sue me. You were the one who asked me to dance,” Lance bites back. His skin heats though the redness is thankfully concealed by his brown skin. 

It was a typical gala event, hosted by the alien species they had saved that day. Nothing special. Nothing unordinary besides Keith standing next to him, extending a hand in a silent question. When they had entered the dance floor, almost as if on queue, the crystal lighting shifted to a soft lavender, dosing both of them in a glow of starlight.

Keith’s touch had been so gentle, so warm. Lance didn’t even mind that they lost the rhythm to the dance too many times to count, Keith wholly uncoordinated.  

“You always complain about never having a partner,” Keith argues in response. His pale skin starts to color red, first his cheeks then his ears. Lance loves it.

“You hate dancing though.”

“I do,” Keith admits, only to surprise Lance by adding, “But you make it fun.”

Lance sucks in a sharp breath. He leans against the corridor wall, taking a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on the coolness of the metal. “Did you want me to kiss you?” he finds himself asking, a bit hesitant, as he opens his eyes again. 

Keith had cupped his face right as the music started to change into a different melody. His fingers twisted into the hair at the nape of Lance’s neck, thumb brushing his cheekbone. They had stared at each other as if in a trance, fully stopped on the dance floor while everyone else twirled around them unknowing.

Keith licks his lips, nodding to Lance’s question as he ducks his head. “Yeah, yeah I did,” he answers quietly. Then his dark violet eyes flick up to Lance’s face. “Just didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

Part of Lance can’t believe this is happening—that Keith would ever be interested in him. But here they are. He chuckles a little, unable to contain the spark of giddiness catching at his heart. “I’ll be more obvious with my flirting next time,” Lance says. He takes a step forward, making sure Keith’s attention remains set on him, and gently rests his hands on Keith’s hips, fingers catching onto his belt loops. “For instance: Keith Kogane, you are the most captivating person I have ever met. I’d love to take you on a date sometime.”

Keith leans in, grabbing onto Lance’s shirt to pull him closer, and kisses him square on the mouth. Their lips part and Lance follows Keith’s lead, caught in the push and pull and Keith’s quiet laugh reverberating against his open mouth. Keith breaks the kiss no more than a few seconds later, but a pleased smile sits on his face. “Alright, loverboy. Pick me up at seven. Don’t be late.”

[vldkeith]

have loverboy lance being so cute and idiotic for his birthday <3 hbd babe please work on urself

[lovelytsunoda]

november rain // lance stroll

when I look into your eyes, i can see a love restrained but darlin' when I hold you, don't you know I feel the same? (..) if we could take the time to lay it on the line, i could rest my head just knowin' that you were mine, all mine so if you want to love me then darlin' don't refrain, or I'll just end up walkin' in the cold november rain

summary: after four long years and one pandemic cancellation, it's finally time for y/n and lance to return home to mount tremblant and tie the knot.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed! reader

warnings: co*kwarming, so much implied smut and sexual innuendo and i'm not sorry, weddings, they are so painfully in love it is sickening. a dad who doesn't quite get the jewish traditions but is doing his best. also i googled a lot of the jewish wedding traditions so im not sure they're 100% completely accurate tbh

inspo: wedding dress, lance's suit, welcome sign, the arch, getaway car

ten months to the wedding.

it was a calm, quiet afternoon in the ranch house. lance was asleep, desperate for a nap after his afternoon cardio session with his trainers, and y/n was in her home office, laptop out in front of her as her manicured fingers dragged tabs around the homescreen, a pinterest board full of white dresses open on her phone. the couple's two year old golden retriever was sitting under the desk, resting his head against her lap.

"you're going to be the best ring bearer, aren't you, boy?" she giggled to herself, carding her fingers through whistler's fur as she looked back at the wedding blog open on her screen. whistler licked her fingertips, almost as if the dog was agreeing with her.

15 jewish wedding traditions you should know about.

"hey, baby." lance spoke softly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he ambled into the office, hair messy and shirt wrinkled from his nap. "what are you up to?"

"just some wedding stuff." she replied, getting up from her desk chair to wrap her arms around her lover, whistler padding along beside her as lance reached down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

"are you looking up jewish weddings?" lance asked, lips against the crown of her head. "baby, you don't have to go out of your way for me."

"i want to, lance. this is your ceremony too, and it means something to me that you feel as if your faith is being represented here as well. as long as i get to wear my white dress and pick the song i walk down the aisle to, i'm not picky about anything else."

"as long as you're happy." lance smiled, leaning down to kiss her, fingers lacing with hers as their lips danced gently together. "have you picked a song yet."

y/n groaned, tipping her head back. "you're going to laugh at me."

lance laughed. "no, i'm not! just tell me, darling."

"well, i wanted to walk down the aisle to 'november rain'. it just has a lot of special meaning for me. it's one of the songs that made me believe in love." she admitted, meeting lance's eyes.

"if november rain is what you want, that's what we'll play. have you picked a dress?"

y/n grinned, nuzzling further into lance's chest. "a few contenders have emerged. but it's bad luck to see the dress before the wedding!"

laughing, lance swept y/n off her feet, carrying her towards the bedroom with whistler at his heels. "come on, you really don't believe in that."

"so what if i do?" she smiled, cradling his face with the hand sporting her stunning diamond ring as she placed her on the king sized bed.

"then i guess i'm just going to have to keep fantasizing about that tight white fabric, hugging all the right places." lance teased, his lips grazing the skin on her neck.

"you do that, loverboy. because you don't get to see my dress until i'm coming down that aisle."

"and then i get to take it off you, right?" lance smirked, kissing her on the forehead. "because god, i have had thoughts about what we're going to do that night."

the bed dipped next to them, whistler's wet nose nudging at y/n's nose as she burst out into giggles, lance groaning as he flopped down on the bed, carding his fingers through whistler's fur.

"whistler, my guy, you don't need to be such a cockblock." lance laughed, patting the dog's side.

"baby, this is what you signed up for when we adopted him. you've had two years to get used to this." y/n giggled in turn, gently shooing the dog off of her bed.

"whistler, c'mere buddy." lance clapped his hands and signaled for the dog, lumbering clumsily off the bed. "i just want twenty minutes of alone time, buddy. go play with your raccoon toy."

he continued to attempt to bride the dog as he guided whistler out of the room, gently closing the door as the golden retriever left with his stuffed toy.

"twenty minutes, huh?" y/n joked, taking off her shirt. "you really think you're that good?"

"baby, please. you know that i can have you screaming my name in ten." lance's voice was husky as he leaned over her, pressing her body back against the pillows.

he kissed her deeply, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth as she moaned into his touch, bucking her hips up into his, feeling his erection grow inside his jeans.

"i love you." he said softly, his hands caressing her bare sides. "i can't wait to get married."

five months before the wedding.

"ladies, i think i've found the dress!" y/n giggled, pushing through the dressing room curtains and performing a little spin, the white satin fabric swirling around her bare legs. "this is the one."

"babes, you look stunning!" christa, her high school best friend and maid of honor cheered, raising her champagne glass. christa and her boyfriend bruce had gotten married during the pandemic, much to the disapproval of her greek family, who were expecting a large, flamboyant wedding.

as the wedding seemed to approach faster and faster, y/n and lance had both decided to go shopping for big day outfits on the same day. y/n, however, was pretty sure that lance only came up with that plan because he wanted to sneak a peak at his bride before the big day (and to grab more material of the love of his life for his spank bank while he was at it).

the dress would need a few alterations, currently pinned to her body with wooden clothespins, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, cream fabric hugging her body, the large slit up the side of the dress, she knew that this was the dress she was going to get married in.

"bestie, your phone is ringing." helena, her college roommate, shouted from the sitting room where they had all left their bags. "i think it's loverboy!"

y/n laughed, extending her hand. "bring the phone here, hell."

lancey💍would like to facetime.

chuckling to herself, y/n flicked to a regular phone call and ducked back into the changeroom. outside, helena and christa exchanged looks.

"were you trying to steal a look at me in my dress?" y/n laughed, sitting down on the fitting room's ottoman. "baby, i thought you were smarter than that."

"i hoped you wouldn't realize it was a facetime call at first. not even a peek?" lance asked hopefully.

"not a chance. i think i've found the one, though. it's cream coloured, and tight fitting, contoured to all the best spots." she said with a smile, knowing that lance would be working himself up on the other end of the line. "off the shoulder with a big slit going up the leg."

lance exhaled, and she could just picture the blush rising in his cheeks. "and i don't even get a look with a visual like that? come on now baby, that's just cruel."

"how goes the suit shopping."

"so, it turns out that pastels are on trend this year and i don't know how i feel about that. i had mick take some pictures for me, i'm sending them through now. unlike you, i actually want my spouse's opinion." lance said teasingly. "i'm leaning towards the mint green, team spirit and all, but let me know what you think."

her phone buzzed in her hand, seven pictures taken by mick schumacher sliding into her inbox. she smiled to herself as she flicked through, looking at her fiancé's dorky poses and looks of pure disgust at the mustard yellow suit esteban had insisted he try on.

"you're right, go with the mint green. it goes with the theme, too."

she could practically hear the smile on lance's face as he responded. "i thought you'd say that. right, if we've both got things picked out, i take it you'll be home soon?"

"an hour, maybe an hour and a half. i still have to buy the wedding lingerie as well, you know."

"oh, baby, don't say that when i'm out with my friends." lance groaned. "now i'm hard in a suit that's not mine."

y/n couldn't stop herself from laughing at that one as she took a sip of the champagne. "that's your own fault. so i take it you don't want me to ask what kind of lingerie you want me to buy?"

"something white, lacy and expensive. my dad is paying for half of the wedding, so money is no issue, babes. really, i want you to treat yourself. i know the wedding has been stressing you out lately."

"you try planning the happiest day of your life." y/n chuckled. "i can't wait to get home, if i'm being honest. as great as looking for dresses has been, this morning has been exhausting."

"i'll run a warm bath for you, order takeout from that place on main that you like. i think i know just how to ease those nerves of yours." lance suggested, a seductive tone in his voice that had y/n biting her lip.

"that plan wouldn't happen to involve cotton sheets and bath and body works lotion, would it?" she teased, knowing that every long, erotic night with her fiancé usually started with a massage and ended with a few orgasms.

"uh, yeah, of course it does. how else am i going to get rid of this little problem? seriously, babe, i am out in public."

"what are you going to do about it, big boy? spank me?" she joked, having fun imagining just how red her lover probably was right now.

"i haven't made up my mind yet, pretty girl." lance teased. "maybe i will, maybe i won't. you'll just have to wait and see, yeah?"

"i look forward to it. i've gotta go if i want to be done shopping by dinner. i love you, lance."

"love you more, y/n. see you when you get home."

the night before the wedding.

it was just after midnight when y/n slipped out of her hotel room, forgoing shoes as her mismatched socks padded along the hotel carpet. helena and christa were fast asleep, and y/n found herself tossing and turning as her separation anxiety kicked in.

she counted room numbers in her head before she stopped and knocked gently on the door, hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she waited for the door to open.

“you just couldn’t stay away, could you?” lance stroll joked, opening the hotel room door. he was wearing nothing on his top half, his lower body covered in nothing but a pair of montreal canadiens flannel pants.

part of him had known that y/n would find her way back to him before the wedding started. she never had been great at being on her own.

“we both know im not as tough as I pretend to be.” she quipped back, wrapping her arms around her husband-to-be. “I missed you.”

lance smiled against her skin as he placed a gentle kiss on her neck. “come inside, pretty girl. let me run a bath. the bathroom window has a great view of the city.”

y/n closed the door behind her as the couple made their way to the large bathroom, lance filling the large jacuzzi tub with warm, bubbly water as his fiancée undressed. she slipped into the bath alongside her lover, humming in contentment at the feeling of lances body against hers.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” y/n asked, sighing into his arms as lance put his arms around her torso, gently kissing her cheek.

“nah, I was watching the game. its not the same trying to fall asleep without you.”

“now who’s the cheesy one?” she giggled, splashing her lover as he moved his hands, beginning to massage her shoulders softly. “I love you.”

“love you more.” lance hummed as he kissed the back of her head. “how’d you get out of your room anyways? I thought the bridal guard would have you on lockdown. for the sake of tradition, and all that shit.”

“theyre asleep. I snuck out, used pillows to make it look like i was still in my bed. how was the bachelor party?”

lance laughed, pulling his fiancée closer. “I dont know if you could call the hockey hall of fame and whalburgers a bachelor party, but I had a good time.”

“you got a weekend in toronto and all I got was pottery painting and mocktails?” y/n joked, her hand trailing up lances thigh. “im glad you had a good time. I did too.”

with her back pressed up against his chest, y/n dragged her hand further up his thigh and upwards towards his member, wrapping her nimble fingers around his shaft.

“baby, not right now." lance whispered, concern in his tone as he unwrapped his arms from the woman in front of him "what’s bothering you, pretty girl? you get needy like this when something is getting to you and you don't know how to say it out loud.”

she sighed, retracting her hand and linking her fingers with his. “i'm just nervous about tomorrow. scared, I think.”

lance's expression softened. he shifted in the tub, trying to turn y/ns body so that they were sitting across from each other, both her hands in his.

“its not too late to elope if you dont want to do this anymore, love. I can call chloe and she can drive us down to city hall. just the two of us, no stress, no fuss. I just want you to be happy, y/n.”

"no, lance. everybody is already here and i've been dreaming of this moment since i was thirteen. i want to do this. it just scares the shit out of me. it's like when i slept with you for the first time, you have to remember that."

lance laughed, using one damp hand to rake his hair back. "if anything, i was more nervous than you were. because i knew that if i fucked that up, i could have lost you for good. i swear, i would have given up on sex if you never felt comfortable enough with me to do it, i just knew i wanted you in my life."

"and now look at us." y/n hummed, kissing lance's knuckles. "i'm just scared that something is going to go really really wrong tomorrow."

"listen to me baby, here's what's going to happen. you are going to walk down that aisle tomorrow in your gorgeous dress with your parents on either side of you, and 'november rain' playing in the background, and i promise that i will be waiting for you at the altar. i'll also probably be crying from how stunning you look and how surreal this moment is, but i will be right next to you the entire time, okay?"

"promise me you aren't going anywhere?"

"i promise." lance said, leaning over to kiss her before stepping out of the tub and wrapping his well-built frame in a plush hotel towel. he extended a hand for his lover, lifting her out of the tub bridal-style. "now, you and me are going to curl up in bed, watch the last two episodes of 'the night agent', and not think about anything wedding related."

y/n smiled, feet firmly back on the ground before she raised her arms and allowed her fiancé to wrap the towel around her body. "i like that idea."

dried off and wrapped in a silk hotel bathrobe, y/n curled up underneath the comforter. she gently swept her hand across the bed spread to flick off the crumbs, frowning at lance as he redressed in his hockey flannels and joined her in bed.

"i leave you alone for one night and your bed is filled with crumbs?"

"sorry," lance shrugged, a small blush on his cheeks. "force of habit. can't watch the game without a bag of miss vickie's."

rolling her eyes, y/n reached for his laptop, waking up the dark screen before closing the tsn app and opening netflix.

"baby, your skin is freezing." lance remarked, pressing soft kisses to the skin on her shoulders. "look, you've got goosebumps. do you want me to turn down the air con?"

with a cheeky look on her face, y/n turned to look at him. "i can think of another, much more fun way to get warmer."

"oh, you want me to warm you up with my cock, is that it?" lance hummed, gently slipping a hand underneath the hem of the white robe. "baby, if you let me have my way with you tonight, you won't be able to walk down that aisle tomorrow."

"we don't have to do anything. i just want to feel you."

and how could lance say no when she asked with those eyes, with that voice? she hummed in content as he slipped inside her glistening folds, readjusting the blankets around their conjoined bodies as she pressed play on the next episode.

"i love you, lancelot." she hummed, turning her head to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"i love you too, y/n. now, get some rest, darling. if you fall asleep, i'll stop the episode so you don't miss anything, yeah?"

the wedding.

"ladies, i'm going to be real with you, i'm scared out of my mind." y/n laughed nervously, smoothing out the front of her dress while christa fussed with her hair.

christa and helena were not fools: they knew that y/n had snuck out of her hotel room to meet up with lance, but neither of them could fault her for that. christa knew firsthand that y/n had been so scared that she would never fall in love, never have her moment in a white dress, and she wasn't going to stop y/n from being with lance, even if it was just for a night.

that being said, nerves were high on the morning of the wedding, and y/n had to be talked down more than once so that she would be ready to walk down the aisle.

and now that moment was finally here. she walked out of the dressing room to meet with her parents, who would be walking down the aisle with her, as per jewish tradition. lance had gone down the aisle moments earlier with claire-ann and lawrence beside him.

"you're going to do just great, kiddo." y/n father said, pulling her in for a hug. "but remind me what i'm supposed to do once i get up there."

"you're going to stand across from lawrence, diagonally from claire-ann in place of the bridal party. all you have to is stand there, and once the rabbi has said 'you may kiss the bride', shout 'mazel tov' with everybody else."

mr. y/l/n nodded, gripping his daughter's hand. "i'm so proud of you, honey. you picked a good man, and i love that he makes you so so happy."

the bars to 'november rain' began to play, and y/n took a deep breath before she walked into the banquet hall with her parents. her hands were shaking, and she tried not to look around and notice how many people were in the room.

she would celebrate with them all later.

she tried not to think about anything as she stepped up the small wooden stairs (not many steps, just three) to the altar. lance stood underneath the arch of roses (they'd decided against the traditional jewish canopy, but would have their parents stand at the four corners in principle), looking dashing in his mint green suit. he was restless, messing with the white rose on his lapel before wiping at his eye.

"were you crying?" y/n giggled quietly, reaching for her husband's hand

"what, no." lance laughed. "there's gotta be some pollen in here or something."

"good, because if you cry, i'll cry."

weeks, even months later, if you had asked y/n what the rabbi had said during the ceremony, she probably wouldn't have been able to tell you, even though the entire thing had been videotaped for the happy couple. the entire world narrowed down to that altar, to her and lance.

the love of her life.

"i now pronounce you husband and wife."

"mazel tov!"

"too soon, dad!"

"sorry love, carry on!"

TAGS:

@starsanova @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @daydreamingleclerc @libraryofloveletters

[vldlance]

julance week four: birthday ❣️

happy birthday lance sharpshooter goofball loverboy mcclain who would i be without you 💙🌟

[alohaasaloevera]

KL post-canon sorta fwb/situationship AU where they rile each other up!!!!!!1!1!!1!

—

Lance is so fucking annoying. Keith has decided that his mindset from when he was 18 (and sexually confused—actually, maybe just repressed?) is now superior.

Keith hates how Lance flirts with anything that even remotely looks like a woman. He hates how he jokes around too much. He hates how extensive his skin routine is. He hates how he can’t decide whether he wants to punch Lance or kiss him senseless every single time he wiggles his eyebrows as an attempt to flirt or recites a crappy one-liner at him.

His Things I Hate About Lance list is about to be updated, because they’re at yet another diplomatic party on earth (which is actually more of a “celebrating the fact that the universe didn’t get destroyed” party) and Lance is wearing a navy blue button-down shirt which is very much accentuating his muscles, and it’s causing his brain to malfunction. I guess the constant labor at the farm paid off, Keith thinks.

He’s also flirting with a lady who also seems to be extremely appreciative of Lance’s outfit choice. They look like they’re about to decimate each other in the middle of the room with how their eyes are focused solely on the other. Lance’s eyes flick over to him for a second before he just smirks at Keith—the smug fuck—then he focuses back on the girl in front of him before settling his hand on her hip and leaning closer, his voice a hushed whisper against the shell of her ear.

Keith just rolls his eyes. Not that he cares about who Lance sleeps with anyways.

“You’re drooling.” Shiro says, which earns him a moderately hard slap from Keith on his non-prosthetic arm. “You look mad, too.”

“Shut up.” Keith grumbles, because apparently his 14 year old self’s attitude is now the best way to go, “Go away.”

“Jeez, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“I said, shut it! Or else telling Adam you made out with Curtis.”

“Please, they’re probably making out with each other as of this moment.”

“Gross!”

“What are you, 12?”

Keith does not go ahead and answer that question, mostly because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s acting more and more immature as the seconds that he stares at Lance and the woman go by.

Shiro, who has been a spectator of Keith pining over the Red Paladin since the early days of Voltron, sighs, before ruffling Keith’s hair, “Please just try and talk out whatever this weird sexual tension between you and him is. For me, please? I’ve already constructed a customized shovel talk for him if you ever do get with him, and let’s just say updating it over the years—”

“Alright, alright! I’ll do it!”

“Thanks, child.”

“Child? Is that what we’re doing now?”

“Just go!”

—

Keith, both fortunately and unfortunately, does not get to talk to Lance until after the party. He walks around the ballroom, and multiple people tell him Lance was last seen walking out eagerly with a girl, so he waits until the next day to talk to him.

What feels unsettling is that how most of the people who let him know about where Lance has gone were talking in an almost…disappointed manner; like they had expected better from him. Which is ridiculous, because for starters, Lance doesn’t need to be all serious and on guard all of the time, especially since they’re celebrating the fact that they had won the war—in fact, it would be out of character for Loverboy Lance to not flirt with at least one person at a party. Secondly, Lance is basically still a kid. Sure, he’s been through some stuff, but he’s still 20 years old. He wouldn’t even have graduated college by now!

Keith gets that they are the Paladins of Voltron, and their duty is to protect the universe, but sometimes the expectations people have for them make them look like flawless, error-free machines who never make mistakes or miss a beat, when it’s far from that. They’re human too. They mess up plans like half the time (maybe not half, but you get the point)!

When he’s walking to Lance’s house—somewhere about a 5 minute walk away from the city and a 10 minute walk from his own house—he stops in his tracks.

What is he even going to say to him?

He can’t be flat-out, outright straightforward with Lance and say, “Oh, I’m kinda in love with you, and have been for the past 5 or so years, so could we stop this friends-with-benefits situationship we have going on and just cut to the real deal?”, but he also can’t be too vague with it.

Though, if there’s anything that Voltron has taught him, one of the things would be, without a doubt, is that you always have to be prepared to improvise.

He knocks on the cold wood, and just when Keith is about to reconsider even coming here, the door opens.

—

In the course of 5 seconds, Keith goes from knocking on a door to being slammed against that same door. Not that he’s going to complain.

“Sorry—” Lance manages in between kisses, “—about—” a kiss on his forehead, “—yesterday.” He kisses Keith gently on the lips, adding more pressure when the smaller’s arms come to wrap around his neck.

Just as Keith relaxes, he breaks the kiss, genuinely confused, “Wait, what?”

“It’s just that you seemed genuinely sad when I was flirting with her, and—” Lance attempts to explain, only for Keith to cut him off.

“Hey, don’t apologize to me for that.” Keith protests. “I was just jealous that you looked fucking amazing in that dress shirt and she was the one who got to have you. Besides, we aren’t exclusive.”

He expects Lance to loosen up—maybe brag about how he wooed Keith with his dazzling looks, but he sure as Zarkon and Honerva themselves does not expect him say this:

“But what if I want to be exclusive?”

Keith’s heart catches in his throat, eyes widening like saucers, “What?”

“I said,” Lance looks straight at Keith, his gaze piercing,

“What if I want to be exclusive?”

Oh, fuck.