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ashes-in-a-jar · 4 years

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Because Your Hands are Yours

A moment in the Scotland safehouse. Jon contemplates the essence of hands.

Cw: Scar description. A trip down memory lane refering to the horrors of this podcast. Non sexual intimacy.

Jon sat at the kitchen table looking at his hands. It was something he started doing when his mind drifted off ever since the coma. His hand were rough and thin. He could trace the harsh line with his eyes lingering on every blemish, every sharp edge, every scar that mapped a universe within them.

It was a meditative sort of exercise. Thinking back to where each change happened and what choices shaped his palms as they are today.

There was the faint line across his ring and little finger on his right hand. It was from a heavy door that slammed on them when he was ten. For a long time after his encounter with the web he refused to use door handles and resorted to all sorts of convoluted ways of opening doors until his fingers paid the price.

There were paper cuts scattered about his fingers from all the documents and cardboard boxes he handled throughout the years. Faded but for some reason still there, a mark of his position as the Archivist.

He then moved on to trace the circular dots Prentiss left him that extended past his hands to the rest of his body, an array of little holes long since closed but left as a memento of his first experience as an adult with the unending horrors in this world.

There was the very obvious burn mark on his right hand where his encounter with Jude and his own stupidity left the nerve endings ravaged and weakened and left the skin itself mottled with intense discoloration. This mark always fascinated him. He could always find new shapes in it and the feeling of tracing its ridges and grooves with his fingers was mesmerizing and alien each time.

There was the friction burn across both his palms from those awful moments gripping the chair to the point of bleeding while falling at Mike Crew's home, then being forced to use those same hands to dig his grave. Those were the scars he tried to skip over because even now they left him with the taste of the vertigo and dread with which they were created.

There were much fainter burn marks scattered across the back of his hands from the explosion at the wax museum. For some reason those did not remain as harsh as the one he got from the Desolation but he supposed that made sense. Their color on his skin reminded him more of birth marks than actual scars.

The were the two clean lines across his left little finger where he tried to cut it to no avail. They healed quickly but left a memento of his desparation. A reminder of his very obvious inhumanity.

Scattered but focused around his finger nails were the scratches from his hopeless digging in the coffin, while searching for Daisy. Those sometimes had mud caked around them which he would need to pick out even when no dirt was in the vicinity.

He sat there, his mind wandering as his fingers traced the marks and the ridges, following the changes in color and texture. He came back to himself noticing what he was doing and breathed deeply. It was always hard for him to stop this fixation when it started, to let go of his focused observation. Go through all of the memories associated with the scars. Like a zealous collector counting his precious hoard.

Suddenly another pair of hands came into view. Soft hands, large and pillowy and elegant in their movement. The only marks they adorned were the constellations of freckles that complemented their pale hue nicely.

The hands slowly approached his own and tenderly gathered them into their clasp. They were warm soothing, their texture so even and balanced it immediately pulled Jon's mind back into focus, grounding him gently.

Jon looked up blinking slowly. Martin was gazing down at him quietly, having come back from his walk.

"Hey" he said softly. His hands were tentative, unsure of what to do now that they had the object they aimed to grasp within them.

Jon looked back down his throat closing up for some reason. He began tracing lines between Martins freckles with his fingers, caressing them lightly. Martin made a humming sound. Jon took the hands and slowly raised them to bracket his own face. He leaned into their warmth. They were so so warm.

"Hi." he responded, sounding strangled to his own ears. For some reason the whole process took the feelings of the past months that he always kept buried inside and pulled them out to the surface of his being. He felt his eyes prickle and took another deep breath, closing them, still holding those lovely palms in his and resting them on his cheeks.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, Jon letting the wetness seep through his lashes and trickle down into Martin's palms.

Martin stood silent then slowly brought his hands up to gently knead Jon's temples. Jon's hands slid to hold Martin's wrists and let out a shaky sigh, the tension he didn't know he held bleeding out of his shoulders.

"That feels good." He whispered. He concentrated on the experience of Martin's fingertips, how right they felt, how free of burden. He stroked Martin's arms for a few seconds, or minutes, and then let out another sigh.

"Jon?" Martin asked "Are you feeling a little better?"

"Yes." He murmured. He looked up once more and through the haze of his tear filled eyes he gazed at his anchor, his home among the strange and the unsettling. "C'mere."

Martin leaned down while jon pulled him in and their lips met in an intensity that left all of their previous kisses in the dust. Jon dimly compared their lips like he did their hands and was so so glad he had the privilege to feel them both, to explore them and hold them close with no need for an excuse. It's been so long since he could do that with someone. With anyone. The touch was so new and good in comparison to all the awful touches of the past few years it took his breath away and he moaned quietly into Martin's mouth, deepening the kiss. Martin found his hands again and clasped them tightly, holding all of his scars and marks in his grasp, a promise to embrace and preserve.

The ghost of the kiss still lingered even after they pulled apart, and they kept their hands tightly connected as they moved to comfortably cuddle on the couch. Jon was engulfed in Martin's snug embrace and it felt like the most correct form of existence.

"Jon, I just. I just want to say that no matter what you think, your hands are lovely." Martin expressed. "They're yours and... and I love them for it."

The last part he said in a rushed tone. Jon's heart clenched. It was the first time the word 'love' was used between them. And it felt. Right. He looked up from where his head was pillowed on Martin's chest. Martin lookes nervous but didn't avert his heated gaze. Jon breathed deeply.

"I love you Martin. So much." Words he wanted to say for a while and now it felt there was no better time to begin saying them aloud. And continue saying them hence forth.

"Uh. Hah. God, I love you too Jon." Martin responded urgently and tightened his grip around Jon.

Jon smiled into Martin's jumper and vowed to himself to make sure Martin's hands will never become as marked as his. No matter what the future might bring.

#I had a tender thought #And I love hands and their implication in intimacy #Hope you enjoy this little Jonmartin moment #Jonmartin #Tma fic #Tma #The magnus archives #Jonathan Sims #Martin blackwood #scottish safehouse period #Tma spoilers #My tma fic #Inspired by another fic about Jonmartin hands which i absolutely love #Its called 'See Your Hands Take Mine - by MilkTeaMiku #Go read it on ao3 its phenomenal

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jildinart · 7 years

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@milkteamiku‘s Seven Days fic forever changed my life. Literally one of the best writers ever so check out their stuff.

#lance (voltron)#keith (voltron)#allura (voltron)#seven days fic #milkteamiku #voltron #vld fanart #voltron: legendary defender #my youth is yours fic #jbean art #it always amazes me when artists post stuff on a daily basis #like how #I'd start something and then lose interest halfway through and the cycle repeats #I'm on break now so maybe I'll post more #those who followed me for the WoWP AU don't lose hope I haven't abandoned that yet #I just need to find some motivation

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braincoins · 8 years

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Title: Controversiae et Circenses Fandom: “Voltron: Legendary Defender” Summary: Mr. Shirogane and Ms. Fala are taking their own damn sweet time asking each other out. Time for the Voltron High Debate Club to step in and handle things. Ships: Shallura Warnings: Barely-edited Author’s Notes: High School Teacher AU for @milkteamiku! Happy Valentine’s Day from your seeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeecret valentine! I hope you like it. ^_^; (3,947 words - also on AO3)

“Okay, we can’t let this go on much longer.”

“Yeah. It’s getting kind of pathetic.”

“How’re things on your end? Get anything good?”

“Oh, definitely! I think we’re go for launch.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be without blowing my cover.”

“Okay, cool. So, here’s how we proceed…”

At the bell, Keith ran from his last class to his locker, tossed his unneeded stuff in, and slammed it shut. He was already texting Lance one-handed as he bolted for the stairs. [OMW]

His phone was lighting up with the others responding similarly. Keith shoved his way up the stairs as everyone else tried to go down. People gave him dirty looks, but he ignored them. This was important.

Mr. Shirogane – “Shiro” to most everyone – was one of the best teachers in the school. He was tough but fair and he had ways of making the most boring periods of history interesting. He was also the secondary sponsor of the Debate Club, and most of them had joined just because Shiro was such a cool guy to hang out with (and, as they’d all come to realize, they liked arguing).

But there was a problem. And that problem was the Debate Club’s primary sponsor: Ms. Fala. She was a civics teacher, even stricter than Shiro was. She took her job of educating future citizens on their rights and responsibilities very seriously, and her class was a graduation requirement. She was the bane of nearly every student’s existence. But, more importantly, Shiro clearly had the world’s biggest crush on her.

Most of the time, he could hide it pretty well, but there were times when she smiled at him or when the sunlight coming in the windows hit her hair just right or, hell, whenever she touched his hand or something, when Mr. Shirogane would look like his brain had just been wiped. It would take him a bit to “reboot.” It was funny at first, but it was starting to get annoying.

So, the club had done their research. Allura Fala was only a year or two older than Takashi Shirogane was, she was unmarried and, near as anyone could tell, not seeing anyone. She had pet mice. Shiro didn’t claim to have a fear of rodents, nor did he own a cat; so far, so good. Most importantly, the research indicated there was the hint of a possibility that she might like Shiro in return. Pidge reported a 5% increase in touching and nearly a whopping 10% increase in smiling when she was around him. (Pidge was in Ms. Fala’s class this semester, so she was able to study the subject more closely.)

Subtle hints to Shiro that he should ask Ms. Fala out had failed. Telling Shiro straight out that he should ask her out had failed. The students of Voltron High Debate Club were taking matters into their own hands now. And today was the day.

He slowed down as he approached Shiro’s last period classroom. Fortunately, it wasn’t the same one the Debate Club met in. “Hey, Shiro!” he called as he saw him emerge.

“Keith,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be over to the room in a minute.”

[He’s wearing a tie today] Keith texted surreptitiously. At least he hoped that was what he texted; it was harder when he wasn’t looking. “I actually had some questions, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it is. Walk with me over to the office; we can talk about it while I drop my stuff off.”

“Sure,” Keith said, keeping a straight face. He let Shiro go first and whipped up his phone to send off a thumbs-up emoji.

“Keith’s got him distracted and he says he’s dressed up a bit. At least, I think that’s what that means,” Lance reported. “Is Pidge in position?”

“Uh, yeah? She has her class last,” Hunk reminded him. “She’s been ‘in position’ for the last fifty minutes.”

“You’re taking all the joy out of this, Hunk.”

“Less talking, more working.”

“…but voter turnout is a constant problem,” Pidge was saying. “If you can’t get asses to the polls…”

“Language,” Ms. Fala warned.

“Sorry, but it’s the same sort of ‘butts in the seats’ thing that businesses worry about, isn’t it?”

“Yes, in a sense, though I would argue civic engagement is more pressing than even economic participation, all the moreso because it’s voluntary. People have to buy certain goods and services, but they don’t have to take part in their communities.”

“Exactly, but then how do we get higher voter turnout? I mean, that’s why I’m saying like… I dunno, give a tax credit to voters who show up at the polls or something.”

“You don’t want to have to bribe your citizens into doing their civic duty.”

“No, you don’t want to, but the voter turnout for the last election…” Shiro, you better appreciate the sacrifice I’m making here, Pidge thought. And you better take advantage of it.

“So, it’s actually four different memoirs?” Keith asked.

“Yes, and each with a distinct purpose. Initially, Lady Hyegyong was writing more for herself, but she increasingly directed her memoirs to the public. She was trying to bear witness to history about the treatment of her family members.”

“Like her husband.”

“Yes, but also her father, her uncle, her brother, herself. It’s a great chronicle of the Korean court, written at a time when monarchs were held to be unquestionably moral, almost divine. She showed the human side to them, with all the flaws that entailed. It’s an incredible primary source for the Joseon Dynasty.”

Keith nodded and tried to still look interested. I’m dying here; hurry up, guys. “And it talks about her husband going nuts and being killed, too, right?”

Shiro snorted. “Yes, her memoirs talk about Crown Prince Sado’s descent into madness. That’s all anyone ever wants to read about.”

“Well, sorry, but can you blame me? I mean, that sounds really cool! They should make a movie about it.”

“They have.”

“But not in English, I’m guessing?”

“Correct.”

Keith groaned and Shiro looked at the wall clock. “Hey, we should get to the room. The others are probably wondering where we are.”

Keith glanced at his phone. He hadn’t gotten the all-clear yet. “Do you have any of the movies?”

“What?”

“About Lady whatshername.”

“Hyegyong, and no, I don’t but I thought you didn’t want to watch subtitled movies anyway.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t need subtitles for the bits where the guy is being a nutjob.”

Shiro frowned at him. “Show a little respect. He wasn’t a nutjob. He had a mental illness.”

“Okay, but he did kill people, right?”

Shiro sighed. “Yes, according to his wife, anyway. In the 1805 Memoir, she says…”

“Are we done?”

Lance looked around the room and nodded. “I think we’re good.” He whipped out his phone. “Text Pidge; I got Keith.”

Hunk snorted. “Yeah, like at lunch time? I saw you two sneak off to the bathroom together.”

Lance grinned. “Hey, ain’t nothing wrong with my love life. Let’s focus up.”

Pidge pulled out her phone when it buzzed at her. “Oh, hey,” she said, seeing Hunk’s thumbs-up, “we should probably get to Debate Club.”

Ms. Fala looked at the clock. “Oh, goodness! We did get a bit carried away, didn’t we?” She gathered up her things. Pidge led the way out of the room and waited for her to lock up.

“Uh, actually, I have to go to the bathroom real quick. See you over there!”

Ms. Fala nodded and strode off towards the room.

Keith’s phone pinged at him. “Oh, hey,” he said, “they’re wondering where we are.” In reality, his text from Lance read [Ready for Romance? The room is anyway! LOL XOXO] with a bunch of kissy emojis. Horndog. But he suppressed a grin.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. C’mon.”

Keith let Shiro lead the way out of the History office. He waited for him to lock up and walked a little ways with him.

“Hey, y’know, I’ve gotta take a pit stop. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay. Don’t take all day in there; we’ve got a meet this weekend to prep for.”

“We’ll be fine. We’ve got this.”

Shiro grinned. “Lance is rubbing off on you.”

Keith grinned back. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah, okay, way more than I needed to hear. Just go already.” Shiro made shooing motions with his hands and headed for the room.

“Huh?” Allura looked around the room. Most of the desks had been pushed up against the wall, except for four pushed together to make a table of sorts (still with their attached chairs). A white tablecloth had been draped over them, and a small votive candle in a glass jar was sitting in the center next to a vase with a red silk rose in it. Gold colored napkins and actual, non-plastic flatware marked two place settings. The lights were off but twinkling white Christmas lights had been strung up around the room and wrapped in pink see-through gauze to soften the light further. There was an iPod and some speakers on the teacher’s desk, quietly playing piano music.

The Debate Club was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on here?” Shiro’s voice asked from behind her.

She turned to him and shrugged. “Honestly, I haven’t the first clue.”

Shiro was standing in the doorway. Backlit by the hall lights, he looked like he was glowing. More importantly, he was staring at her, lips parted just faintly. She wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

She licked her lips, aware of her face heating and hoping the darkness of the room would hide it. “Is… is something wrong?” she asked him, hoping she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth or something.

“You look… luminescent,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. Then he cleared his throat and turned his head, rubbing the back of his neck. She could make out the blush in his cheeks, but then he had the lights of the rest of the school behind him. There was still hope he couldn’t see hers, even if her own face had gotten redder (and she was almost certain it had). “Sorry, I…”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Table for 2?” She looked past Shiro, who had turned around, and saw Lance standing there in a suit, with a white cloth draped over one arm, and a ridiculously long and thin mustache on his face. He was speaking in an overdone and bad attempt at a French accent. “Wee wee, come weeth me, right zees way.”

Allura snorted a little and tried to turn it into a cough. Lance just pushed past Shiro and “escorted” him to the “table.” “Right here, monsieur and mademoiselle,” he said. He couldn’t pull chairs out for them because they were bolted to the “table,” but he did gesture quite grandly.

“Lance, what are you doing?” she asked him.

“Showeeng you to your table, mademoiselle,” he insisted, repeating his gesture.

“Oh, for goodness’s sake.” But she took a seat, setting her briefcase down beside her.

Shiro shook his head and sat down opposite her, and she jumped as his foot hit hers. “Oh, sorry, I…”

“These desks are…”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“No, I understand.”

Lance smiled at them and then clapped twice in a very imperious manner. Pidge and Keith, both wearing suits and aprons, came running in. Pidge had a basket of bread that she set in the center of the table and Keith had a bottle and two champagne flutes.

“You do not have alcohol on school grounds,” Allura said with a frown.

“Mademoiselle!” Lance gasped in outrage. “Eet ees our very finest sparkleeng grape juice, I weell have you know!” He scoffed.

Shiro dropped his head into one of his hands. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. Keith just set down the glasses and was about to unscrew the top when Lance grabbed the bottle from him. “I weell do zat! Go on, shoo shoo!”

Keith frowned at him and rolled his eyes but left with Pidge. Lance unscrewed the bottle – releasing the telltale hiss of carbonation – and offered the screw-off top to Shiro to smell. Shiro looked up at him and shook his head. “Lance, what are you doing?”

“Eet has a lovely bouquet, sir, eef you would like to…”

“No,” Allura put in, “What Are You DOING? All of you. What is this?”

“I have a terrible feeling I know exactly what this is,” Shiro groaned.

“Well, I would appreciate an explanation,” she told him.

“Ah!” Lance declared. “May wee! But of course!” He poured the champagne flutes full of sparkling white grape juice, set the bottle down, and then declared, “I weell go and check on zee status of your meal!” and practically ran out of the room. He closed the door behind him.

Allura just looked at Shiro expectantly. He cleared his throat. He had quite definitely stopped laughing. “Well?” she asked.

“The, uh…” His blush was clearly visible; that probably meant he’d seen her blushing earlier, but she couldn’t do anything about that now, and she was too curious to care. “…the Club is trying to get us to date.”

“What?” Oops, she was blushing again now. She wished she knew a way to get that to stop. “Why?”

Shiro’s face got redder. “They’ve been after me to ask you out for weeks now.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she pointed out.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, it doesn’t,” he admitted.

“Well?” she prompted again. He cleared his throat again and picked up his flute, downing half of the grape juice at one go. “Shiro.” She used his nickname after school, because it was simply easier than constantly referring to him as “Mr. Shirogane,” as she did during school hours.

“I wish this actually were alcoholic.” He grabbed the bottle and topped off his glass.

“Shiro, do you…?” But her question was interrupted.

The door opened to Pidge and Keith – under Lance’s watchful eye – bringing in plates of pasta. “Zees ees one of our chef’s specialties!” Lance informed them.

“Oh my GOD, Lance, stop it with the accent,” Pidge grumbled.

“Insolent pig-dog!” he yelled at her. “Do not eensult zee French! Eet ees zee language of L’AMORE.”

“I think he just slipped into Italian,” Pidge muttered.

“He took Spanish because it’s an easy A for him,” Keith told her. “He wouldn’t know French if it bit him on the a-…”

“Keith,” Shiro and Allura said together.

All three of them grinned at that. The plates of pasta were set in front of them. “Our chef has worked very hard on zees especially for you two! Enjoy!” Pidge and Keith left, but Lance went to the iPod to turn it up just a little bit. Then down a little. Then up a little more. Keith finally popped back in to grab Lance by the collar and haul him out of the room. The door practically slammed shut.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hungry.” Shiro pulled his napkin out and set it on his lap.

“Or you’re trying to get out of a full explanation by keeping your mouth full,” Allura charged, but she also draped her napkin over her lap.

“Well, they went to all this trouble. I’ve heard Hunk is a great cook.”

“Shiro,” she said again.

“Using your teacher voice on me doesn’t work,” he reminded her, picking up his fork and knife. “I’m one, too.”

“Why would the Club want you to ask me out?”

“Because they want us to date.”

“And they want us to date… why, exactly?”

But it was too late: he’d already shoveled some pasta into his mouth. Quite a bit of it, actually. She sighed and sipped her grape juice, then helped herself to a piece of bread. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to conjecture,” she warned him. He just gestured to his mouth full of food and shrugged. “Very well then.

“So, the known facts are this: the Club has set up this classroom to look like a nice restaurant. They have tried to create a classically ‘romantic’ atmosphere, including Italian food, a wine substitute, soft lighting, and music. If I believe you, they want us to date. Also, by your statements, they have been pressuring you to ask me out. They have not, however, pressured me to do the same.”

She took a bite of her bread and chewed thoughtfully. “Thinking back on it, Pidge has been asking me a number of questions lately about my personal life. And all of them have asked me my opinion on you numerous times.”

“What did you say?” Shiro asked immediately.

“Oh, so now you can speak.” He winced and scooped up some more pasta to fill his mouth with. She narrowed her eyes at him, but grinned. “Well, then, to return to my conjecturing: their… curiosity about me and about my opinion of you lends weight to the supposition that they want us to date. I have no reason not to trust your word, so I must therefore also believe they have been urging you to ask me out. The fact that they have not asked me to ask you out speaks to either outdated modes of thinking as regards gender equality OR, more likely, they believe your attraction to me is greater than mine to you. Perhaps even that this is more about making you happy than it is about ‘our’ happiness in any larger sense.”

He looked aggrieved at that. She reached across the table and patted his hand twice. “You’re their favorite, Shiro. I take my job as a teacher very seriously, and I know that doesn’t make me the warmest person in their eyes. It’s hardly surprising.”

He blushed at the touch, but couldn’t say anything still. She used her bread and fork to scoop up some pasta and mm’ed appreciatively.

He cleared his mouth first. “If anyone ever doubted your qualifications to serve as Debate Club sponsor…” He drank more of his grape juice, but then thought of something. “Wait a second, are you saying I don’t take my job seriously?”

She swallowed hurriedly. “No, no, not at all! We have… different teaching styles, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause it sounded like you were saying…”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“…Maybe,” he admitted.

“Do you want to ask me out, Shiro?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’re colleagues.”

“We’re allowed to date if we want to.”

“I just don’t want things to be …weird. Awkward.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that now, after all of this.” She gestured with one hand to the room around them, then picked up her champagne flute. “Will you feel emasculated if I ask you out?”

“No!” he said immediately. “N-not at all! But, I didn’t think you’d… be interested in me.”

She was sipping her fake-champagne when he said that and she nearly choked on it. He started to rise to come help her, but she waved him back into his seat. “Honestly, Shiro.”

“What?”

“Do you not know there’s a betting pool going on about which of the single teachers will ‘net’ you first?”

His blush deepened. “Uh, no. No, I did not know that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, now you know. I’ll split the pot with you, don’t worry.”

“Gee, thanks. Now it sounds like you’re only interested in me for the money.”

She chuckled. “You’re handsome, smart, and sweet. Winning the pot is an added bonus. Besides, I’m far more interested in showing up Romelle down in the Science department than I am in the money.”

“Don’t lie; you’re a teacher. I know your salary.”

They both laughed.

“They’re laughing,” Lance said. “I think that’s a good sign.”

“Are they saying anything about the food?” Hunk asked.

“Hunk,” Pidge hissed.

“What? I worked hard on that! A cook likes to know his work is appreciated!”

“Shhhh!” Keith warned them. “They’ll hear us.”

“Like they don’t know we’re out here listening in,” Pidge pointed out. “Or that at least Lance is.”

“Hey!”

“So, you are interested in me,” Shiro confirmed.

She nodded; her mouth was the one full of pasta this time.

He smiled in relief. “You’d think that’d make this easier, but now I just worry that if I ask you out on a boring date, I’ll blow my chance.”

She smiled and swallowed her food. “You know, technically, you haven’t told me that you’re interested in me. I conjectured that.”

“Oh!” He blushed deeper. “I’m… yes, I’m interested in you. In dating you. I…” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Hold on, let me start this over again so I sound less like one of our students.” She laughed and he opened his eyes again. “Your laugh is beautiful.” She blushed, and he continued. “Your smile is captivating. You’re so brilliant, so passionate about your work and your beliefs, so dedicated. It’d be hard not to be attracted to you, even if you weren’t heart-stoppingly gorgeous.” His face felt like it was going to combust, but he’d finally gotten it all out.

“Oh, now you’re overstating it,” she protested lightly.

“Not by much,” he insisted. “I’d give you that golden apple every time, and who cares what the other goddesses think?”

She laughed again. “Didn’t that nonsense start a war?”

“You’d be worth it.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do.”

“Shiro…”

“Takashi.”

She smiled. “Only if you’ll call me ‘Allura’ and never start a war over me.”

He reached across the table to rest his hand on hers. “I promise, Allura.”

“So, uh, how long do you think they’re going to be in there?” Pidge asked.

Keith opened his mouth to reply but then the door opened. Ms. Fala was standing there, arms folded, frowning at them. The room lights clicked on behind her, and the music shut off. “Well, there’s our meddlers. You can all come in and help us put the room back the way it needs to be. And then we are doing our meet prep for the weekend,” she informed them.

“Did you like the pasta?” Hunk asked weakly.

She smiled. “It was very good, Hunk; thank you. I hope you didn’t make too much of a mess making it?”

“I already cleaned up the home ec station I used,” he told her. “A good chef doesn’t leave their area messy.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She stepped away from the doorway to let them in.

Shiro had blown out the votive candle and was disassembling the table. The dishes had been moved to the teacher’s desk.

“So, uh… how’d it go then?” Keith asked.

Shiro and Ms. Fala both looked at him, and he feared for his life suddenly, but then they looked at each other and smiled faintly. “We have plans,” Shiro told him. “That’s all you need to know.”

Lance whooped and started passing out high-fives until Ms. Fala grabbed him by the ear. “And so you have no further need to involve yourselves in other peoples’ personal lives, Correct?”

“Ow, yes, sorry, never again!” he yelped. She let go.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Hey, uh, Shiro?” Pidge asked. “Are you wearing lipstick?”

He blushed and wiped at his mouth. Ms. Fala just cleared her throat. “Let’s get the room squared away,” she ordered as if she weren’t an interesting shade of red herself. “And then I want to hear the argument you wrote on voucher systems for charter schools, Hunk.”

Keith grinned at his co-conspirators. Mission Accomplished. “You heard the lady, guys. Let’s get to work.”

#Socks writes Voltron fanfic #milkteamiku #Secret Valentine #shallura #writing #fic

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whateverithinkof · 5 months

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Daily Fanfic Rec (Day 10)

Yuri On Ice

5/4/2024

Masterlist

Title: A Week From Now

Author: MilkTeaMiku

Words: 2,500

Chapters: 1

Completed?: Yes

"Yuuri has a surprise for Victor's birthday, but he doesn't know how Victor will react."

-- -- -- -- --

A simple, fluffy fic where Yuuri tells Viktor they're expecting!

#fanfic #ao3 #fic rec #read this #yuri on ice #viktuuri #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #fluff #mpreg #a/b/o verse #a/b/o dynamics #alpha viktor nikiforov #omega yuuri katsuki #yuri plisetsky

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rainebowevee · 10 months

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fic: Moonset Deep by MilkTeaMiku [Legend of the origins of mermaids]

#old art #2016 #vld #voltron legendary defender #mermaid #video #fan art #fic art #klance

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klanceficatalogue · 4 years

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Klance Fic Starter Pack

So back in June of 2018 I made a Klance Fic Starter Pack post but since it’s been a long while since then I decided it’s finally time for an update. So here we have it! - Karri

so why don’t we fall by aknightley (1/1 | 8,218 | Explicit)

Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.

Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.

//nsfw

The Marks We Make by wittyy_name (12/12 | 255,302 | Mature)

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

//nsfw

(shallura, hunk/shay)

Nightmares by Trashness (1/1 | 14,864 | Teen And Up)

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

call me, beep me (10/10 | 85,591 | General)

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

(shallura)

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (15/15 | 249,827 | Mature)

Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

//nsfw

(shallura)

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner (13/13 | 135,555 | Mature)

Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

//anxiety //insecurities //nsfw

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru (7/7 | 43,295 | Teen And Up)

"So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps.

Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

(shallura)

you never stood a chance by kagshina (1/1 | 12,221 | Teen And Up)

lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E

(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (1/1 | 50,369 | Teen And Up)

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth (4/4 | 6,819 | Teen And Up)

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

//blood //injury

What a Healing Pod Can’t Repair by Remember_Me (12/12 | 55,777 | Teen And Up)

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be. -- Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

//violence //blood

Bonding Time by magisterpavus (1/1 | 16,416 | Explicit)

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

//nsfw

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (15/15 | 74,280 | Teen And Up)

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

//blood //injuries //panic attacks

we’ll make it, you and me by ghostcribs (1/1 | 6,421 | Teen And Up)

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

//injury

time out of mind by aknightley (2/2 | 27,849 | Teen And Up)

Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future.

He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned.

Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

A Fish And A Bird by Methoxyethane (1/1 | 13,141 | Teen And Up)

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

On Thin Ice by anonimina (11/11 | 205,795 | Mature)

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.

Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

//anxiety

(shallura, hunk/shay)

bench press me by eggboi (1/1 | 1,683 | Teen And Up)

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku (10/10 | 29,980 | General)

An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week.

Keith does not understand babies.

#klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #klance fics #voltron fic #voltron fics #vld fic #vld fics #klance starter pack #klance fic starter pack

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