#protective!shiro

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

“You did what.”

Keith coughs. “We, uh, we got married.”

“Accidentally,” Lance pipes up, because he can see the Stress Muscle in Shiro’s eyebrow start to twitch, and doesn’t want him to start freaking out which will make Keith get defensive and put his foot in his mouth — he’s as bad as Lance, really — and then the whole thing will be more difficult to handle than it already is. “It’s a whole big thing.”

Shiro stares at them for several minutes, then sighs, sitting heavily onto the kitchen floor with his bowl of goo. He shovels a bite in his mouth, then reaches blindly for the intercom switch on the wall, slapping around until he finally manages to hit it.“Team,” he says tiredly as it crackles to life, “please make your way to the kitchen. Keith and Lance made something stupid again.” He drops his hand back down, returning his full attention to his goo, committing to pretending Keith and Lance aren’t in the room.

Which.

Fair.

“I resent that ‘again’,” Keith mutters petulantly. “We’ve been remarkably well-behaved lately.”

“No,” Shiro says, without a second of hesitation. He doesn’t bother arguing.

It doesn’t take the rest of the team long to get here — Hunk and Allura have appeared to have sprinted, drama loving bastards — and they join Shiro on the floor, turning expectant eyes to the Red and Black Paladins. After a look of deliberation, Keith and Lance sit down, too.

“Tell them what you just told me,” Shiro says, voice garbled through his food goo.

Here’s the thing.

Lance knows he should feel nervous. Or worried, or scared, or embarrassed, even, about getting literally magically bound to his self-proclaimed rival (once a rival always a rival) because he got brained by the jacket that he left unattended. It is, objectively, a sitcom-level ridiculous situation. He knows that he is going to be shamed, and possibly gently bullied.

However.

Keith’s hand still grips him tightly. Lance doubts the Black Paladin has noticed, but every so often he runs his thumb over his knuckles, and every time he does his lips twitch up in the slightest smile. Lance couldn’t feel anything but ludicrously happy if he tried.

Plus. He and Keith just, like, made out in the hallway a bunch. If Lance is being honest, his brain is still kind of fuzzy. He’s half focused on everyone else and half focused on replaying the feeling of Keith’s hands pressed to his cheeks, cupping his face, kissing him like he was drowning and Lance’s lungs were the only place he could get oxygen. He’s still kind of lightheaded, and keeps having to fight off giggles.

“We got married,” Lance says, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

As much as the team is used to their shit, that visibly shocks them. Coran squints at them and types something rapidly into his tablet. Pidge cusses and hands Allura a handful of GAC, which she pockets with a cackle. Hunk is the only outlier, the only one with a reaction Lance can’t place: he straightens up, looking between them with narrowed eyes, mouth flattened into a line.

“Explain yourselves.”

“It was an accident,” Keith assures, much like Lance did earlier. But instead of expressing is understanding, Hunk’s eyebrows only climb higher. Lance gets the same distinct feeling he gets when he knows he pressed the Wrong dialogue option in a video game.

“I hope you didn’t marry my best friend on accident, Kogane.”

Lance puts his head in his hands. He can physically feel the panic leeching from his husband’s (!!) body. He considers all the ways he can murder his best friend and make it look like an accident. He honestly doesn’t think he’s ever been this mortified in his life.

“No no no, I didn’t mean accident, well I guess I did —”

“Hunk,” Lance says through grit teeth. Hunk gives him a ‘what did I do’ look, stubborn set to his shoulders. Lance vows to take a seam ripper to his shirts.

“— like it was technically not a planned sequence of events, per se, if you want to look at things technically —”

Hunk continues to stare at Keith with his eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Lance digs around in his pockets for something to chuck at his face.

“— if it went according to how I’d planned it in my head there would be more flowers involved, probably, and we’d be on Earth at least, but it kind of just happened, you know? It was so fast I swear I couldn’t have done anything —”

Lance tears his gaze away from Hunk and stares at his rambling mess of a husband. Any annoyance practically evaporates from his system as the implications of Keith’s words set in.

“You thought about marrying me?”

Keith flushes redder than he already is. “I’m not answering that.”

Lance barely manages to shove down the giddy laughter that bubbles up his throat. Keith, his crush, his rival, his husband, spent time daydreaming about marrying Lance. And kissing him, probably, and holding him and building a future with him. Keith maybe even got just as flustered as Lance did when they got too close, back off when sparing got a little too close, breathing heavy. The knowledge is exhilarating. Lance leans over, pressing his beaming smile to Keith’s lips. He softens immediately.

“I thought about marrying you, too.” He smirks. “Among other things.”

Keith’s gloved hand finds it’s way back up to his cheek, for the second time today, and the blood rushing in his ears downs out the sound of Pidge gagging.

“Gross. Can we force them to divorce? This is worse than the pining.”

“Physically impossible for me to divorce him,” Lance murmurs, distracted. “Since he technically owns me, now. Kind of.”

Keith makes a face. “I hate that a little.” He presses one last chaste kiss to Lance’s mouth before pulling away. It’s casual, and small, but the novelty of it is not lost on Lance.

He was not kissing Keith this morning, that was for certain.

It’s not until Lance manages to blink away his ga-ga eyes that he realizes that the rest of the team is looking at him in shocked confusion, and it clicks that his sentence would, sans context, be kind of horrifying to hear.

“Oh,” he blurts, without thinking, “I’m a Selkie.”

“You’re bad at this whole revelation thing,” Keith notices. “I think my Galra thing was somehow handled better.”

“Shut up.”

To his credit, Keith’s observation isn’t too far off. If anything everyone’s shock has only worsened, and it’s clear that Lance’s messy, half-explanations aren’t going to do much. The Alteans could probably do with some actual historical context, but for now, Lance thinks a demonstration is the wisest choice. And since he doesn’t have an ocean available to him, he decides to do the next best thing.

He slips his jacket carefully over his shoulders, spreading it out over his legs and gently running his fingertips over the rough canvas. Just as in his room, the fabric begins to blur, warp, change. He understands the change that is happening — it is his coat, after all; his own flesh — but he cannot find the words to describe it. There may not be. The coat simply changes in a way that is not comprehensible by non-Selkie eyes, as evidenced in the various strangled noises of bewilderment around him. Even Keith looks at the pelt in awe, unused to Earthen magic.

“How long have you been a seal person?” Pidge asks, hands twitching like she’s itching to touch.

“Two decades,” Lance says drily.

It doesn’t take long for the shock to melt away. That’s due in part to everyone’s curiosity, and the rest is because, as Lance suspected, their lives are just so goddamn weird — this Selkie thing just doesn’t even make top ten.

“So was that what the whole dramatic running out of the common room was about earlier?” Hunk clarifies.

Lance nods. “Yeah. I didn’t…I got too comfortable. Left my pelt out, Keith tossed it at me, boom, it’s not longer mine. Luckily I was wrong about how dangerous that is, ‘cause I didn’t lose my free will or anything, but I am essentially married to Keith now. So.” He turns to his husband and grins. “I don’t think he minds.”

Ignoring Pidge’s mutter of “here we go again,” Keith smiles back, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t comfortable before.”

Lance looks up at Shiro, startled by the seriousness in his voice. His tired look from earlier is gone, replaced with something narrow-eyed, serious.

“Huh?”

“You said you got too comfortable.” He gestures to Lance’s lap. “With your pelt. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us.”

“And I’m sorry for threatening you, Keith,” Hunk adds. “Well, it was barely a threat, but still.”

Keith reaches over to pat his shoulder. “All good, man. It was understandable. Lance probably warrants some threatening on his behalf.”

Lance narrows his eyes. He’s sure that’s an insult, somehow.

“Hunk, do not scare my husband away with your foolishness —”

“I know you’re just saying that to have an excuse to say ‘my husband’, you whipped simp —”

“Fuck off, no one asked you —”

“Pardon my interruption,” Coran says, holding up a hand. “But what is a Selkie?”

Allura raises her hand as well. “I would also like to know!”

“If I’ll be honest, I’m not that familiar with the legend either,” Pidge admits.

Lance pauses for a moment, considering. He knows that explaining everything would take a long time, and he knows he doesn’t have the energy for that. It’s something you learn over time, anyway, over years of stories at the right time. He can simplify some information, though. Get the point across.

“I’m not human,” he starts carefully. “I’m also not alien, not not-human. It’s complicated.” He runs his hand over the soft fur of his coat. “My pelt is like…a physical manifestation of my soul, I think. My quintessence? I’m not entirely sure. But when I wear it, I become another form of mine. Kind of like your shapeshifting, maybe? I turn into a seal, but I’m still very much me. And it’s not like I’m a seal with a human brain, or whatever. I’m a seal, I’m a human, I’m a Selkie. I’m never not those three things.”

Pidge cocks her head. “So you’re a seal right now?”

“Yeah. I’m a Selkie, I have to be. Unless my pelt were to be truly lost, I guess. If someone set it on fire I wouldn’t be a Selkie anymore. I’d lose my soul.”

“Jesus,” Pidge shudders.

Keith looks determinedly at him. “I won’t let that happen.”

“No shit,” Lance says, raising an amused eyebrow. “That’s your job now, Mullet. The pelt is yours to guard. You took it, it’s your responsibility.”

Keith’s determined expression does not change. Lance is just a little endeared but it. As unconventional as this has been, Keith genuinely seems to be excited to be with him. And if Lance trusts his word — which he does — then Keith has wanted to be with Lance for a while. With his space family’s approval, and the certainty that he will have the same from his Earth family when he makes it home, the weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying finally drops from his shoulders.

“God, I can’t wait to human marry you.”

Shiro sighs. This time, it sounds significantly more amused. He gets to his feet, dusting off his hands. “I guess that falls to me, huh,” he says, waving them over. “C’mere.”

Keith and Lance scramble up, running over to where Shiro stands, at the head of the table. He holds two twist-ties in his head that he has formed into rudimentary rings.

“I feel contractually obligated to remind you about Adam’s stance in elopement,” he says, looking pointedly at Keith. “And Lance, I don’t know your mother personally, but your sister and I were colleagues. You are also going to get into leagues or trouble when we get home.”

Lance grins brightly. “I am going to get in leagues of trouble anyway!”

Keith nods. “I left Earth against Adam’s specific instructions. I’m toast no matter what, so I might as well do the best thing I will ever do in my life before then.��

Lance’s ears burn. He glances down at his sneakers, embarrassed and pleased all at once.

He’s the best thing that Keith will ever do in his life. God.

“Well, that answers my first question, then.” Shiro turns to Lance. “Since Keith obviously does, do you, Lance, wish to take Keith as your lawfully wedded husband, so long as you shall live?”

Lance grins. “I would love nothing more.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the five dollar certificate I got online, I pronounce you wed. Congratulations. You may kiss the groom.”

Neither of them wait for Shiro to finish his sentence, surging forward immediately, colliding in the middle like magnets. Lance feels the weight of his pelt on his shoulders and Keith’s hands on his face in equal measures. It feels like swimming free.

[kismetconstellations]

Here I go, again... The ride just never ends.

Shiro's reaction to Allura sacrificing herself for him in Season One, when he was still a character who mattered:

Shiro's reaction to the exact same thing in Season Eight, when the writers had long since stopped caring about him:

Shiro's response to Ulaz, who he barely knew, sacrificing himself to save him, back in Season Two:

Shiro saying goodbye to one of his dearest friends, who saved his life and gifted him with his new arm, and the power source for it, in the final episode of the absolute disaster that is Season Eight:

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Alright I need to write something 'bout Lance because I haven't yet, and that is not ok. (Though it still has Keith in it... oops.)

This is one of my favorite headcannons.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When people are sad, Lance uses pet names.

Like full-on lovey nicknames.

A few weeks ago he found Hunk sitting in the corner of the kitchen with his head hidden in his knees. That absolutely COULD NOT stand.

"Aw baby, what's wrong? Do you need a hug, love?" he said, and immediately got crushed in Hunk's arms. (Cuz they're wholesome beans)

And it's not just him. He once accidentally yelled, "You good Darling?" from across the room to Shiro when he was thrown into a wall during training. Yeah, that took some explaining. (But it was kind of worth it to see the flaming blush across Shiro's cheeks.)

Anyway, the planet they are currently orbiting is a lot like Earth, and the homesickness is getting to everyone.

But Lance is still shocked when he hears soft sniffling coming from Keith's room. Keith of all people. Mr. Lone Wolf™!

He quickly puts in the door code that he knows for completely not-stalkerish reasons.

Keith looks up at him from his bed with teary eyes. He rubbed at them aggressively when he sees Lance.

"What are you doing here Lance? Does Allura need us?" His voice cracks terribly.

"Cariño! Are you okay? Never mind don't answer that, you're obviously not."

Without warning, Lance wraps his strong arms around Keith. His heart swells with adoration when Keith buries his head in Lance's shoulder. Of course, being the oblivious idiot he is, he does not notice Keith's flaming blush.

He gives in to the urge to touch Keith's hair and ends up rhythmically gliding his hand through it. They stay like that for a couple hours. (Keith may or may not have fallen asleep, and who was Lance to disturb him?)

They both silently agree to pretend the whole thing never happened.

A few months later and they are now on a diplomacy mission. The planet they are on is home to the Kragzots. They are giant neon-pink glow worms with faces. Lance has to do breathing exercises to keep his laughter from bursting out.

Their host, an alien named Vav'eol, is a... how can Lance say this nicely? He's a turd. Not literally of course, but he on everybody's nerves right now. Even Hunk has a grimace on his face whenever the pig-colored alien speaks.

Keith of course is absolutely shaking with anger.

1 hour into the stifling meeting and Vav'eol decides to comment on Shiro's arm. "Well I'm grateful and all that for you lot being here, but I'm not sure if you're trustworthy seeing as that one was reckless enough to lose an arm. How do you even manage to do that?" he scrutinizes.

Shiro opens his mouth to respond, but before he can the screeching of a chair interrupts him. They all turn to see Keith stand ramrod straight with fury etched into his face.

"Say that again you dirt-eating piggish son of a BI-"

He is interrupted (quite rudely) by warm arms wrapped around him.

"Come on babe, we're supposed to be peaceful right now. Calm down, hun."

Keith relaxes slightly, but still breathes heavily into Lance's neck.

"...Are they dating?" Vav'eol interrupts.

"I wish," both Shiro and Pidge sigh at the same time.

The hugging boys turn red as tomatoes.

----------------------------------------------------------

Ew. Dialogue. That was painful. But the vision had to be fulfilled.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

To me Shiro IS a "pacifist" but not in "we shouldnt fight people :(" but more "lets try and avoid jumping straight into a fight cause it could endanger us and them. If it is someone we dont know try to talk it out. If that doesnt work/it is someone whom i know wont back down, boy you better believe i am throwing hands."

[discordiansamba]

thinking about how Shiro never really knows for sure what Keith thinks about him. By the time they meet, Keith's already closed off his emotions. Shiro's not naive enough to think that Keith doesn't still have them, but he's suppressed them to the point where he might as well be emotionless. Nothing good has ever come from them, and they just get in the way of what the Garrison wants him to be- a weapon.

A weapon has no need for emotions. No need for attachments. All a weapon has to do is obey the orders its given.

But Shiro? Shiro cares about Keith. There's so much that he wishes he could give him that he can't. Until one day, suddenly he can. Aboard the Castle of Lions, they couldn't be father away from the Garrison if they tried. They're also in the middle of a war, which... isn't ideal for convincing a kid that they're not actually a weapon, but he'll make do. At least Allura and Coran are willing to help him.

The truth is... Keith doesn't know what to think about Shiro. Some tiny part of him that still recognizes his own emotions realizes that he thinks of Shiro differently from the other members of the Garrison's command. He tries to not dwell on it- he's his commanding officer, especially out here. He's glad It's a good thing he's here. He's not sure what he would do without him who he would take orders from. Allura? It's not like he can't think for himself, but he's not... used to it. There's always been someone to give him commands.

Except for Shiro.

It's not Shiro who commands him to take an Altean pod and use it to ram the black lion to keep it out of Zarkon's hands. It's not Shiro who commands him to face down Zarkon himself either, in a situation where he has the clear disadvantage. But Keith does that anyways. It's easy enough to rationalize- the black lion is critical to Voltron. To the universe. He is not a paladin, but Shiro is his commanding officer- therefore their mission is his mission.

He's not a paladin. This is the only thing he can do to protect Shiro the mission.

(The red lion quietly observes. Not yet, it decides. There's a spark, but it's quickly doused again.

But this time, it left cracks.)

[shezit]

What's your favorite moment between Shiro/Keith

Mines is when despite Shiro being in the Black Lion and protected Keith still tries to deactivate the bombs. Great job Keith, it doesn't quite make sense but great job. (Also his clutch on saving Lotor)

[icypantherwrites]

Fic Update: Reaching For Your Hand, Chapter Three

Chapter Snippet:

“Oh G-God,” Hunk’s whimper sounded from up above and Shiro jerked his head up to see Hunk — his rope cutting off a few feet above Shiro — staring down with tears starting to form in already red-rimmed eyes. “L-Lance.”

Lance didn’t react. 

The cavern did though.

Another groan reverberated through it and there was the skittering sound indicating loose shale that always preceded a larger piece of rock breaking off.

But the worst of the sound was across the cavern.

This time.

The entire cave still shook as the rock smashed through the intertwined path, dust and smaller rocks breaking off around them and a few pinging off of Lance who still didn’t react and Shiro was starting to fear he wouldn’t.

He shoved the thought away.

Lance was right there. 

Despite the odds, literally at the end of their rope, they’d found him. 

That had to mean something.

The universe couldn’t be that cruel.

Read it here

(not currently posted on AO3)

[hood-ex]

Keith might have just taken hold of the blorbo seat. S2E8 was a great episode for him. And when he was hurt, his lion started raging and fucking shit up. Hell yeah! That's the type of devotion I liiive for! Let's go team red! Plus then Shiro intervened and was also about to throw down on Keith's behalf.

Shiro's dad behavior is raising him in the blorbo ranks as well because now I just want to read protective Shiro fics.

[purplina]

the Shiroganes dealing with their abandonment issues and other mental problems every time they can i fear

QUICK life updates :

•School started, it’s been 2 days and I’m already dying (the burn out is burning BRIGHT)

• I decided to do ugly sketches bc I don’t have the same time I had during summer and it will be faster and less heavy for me (I do need to find balance in my hobbies so I don’t harm myself more) so I’m sorry the quality will decrease but I’ll still post silly things’ it will just also look silly ig ToT

•It’s giving me time to finish the first chapter of my fic. I was rewatching Vld the other day and even tho I knew the writing and the narration were weak, I got surprised by how terrible it really was in the first episode 💀 I mean I get why but at the same time… why ?

•You’d probably notice by now that I’m very fond of siblings and familial dynamics, that’s why I draw more of the McClain, the Shirogane or the Holt, to expand their families lore and balance the family they were born into with the family they found along the way

•My point is, I’m sorry there’s not more Klance for now, I love them so much, but I have to build their foundations (their families so other characters) to know how would Klance be treated the best 🤭

Thank you for following my work, have a good scholar year and take care 🩷

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Hi, I was just rereading today, and I still think it's hilarious how Tsumiki handles Megumi’s divine dogs😭😂

Nanami, highly experienced grade one sorcerer: *appropriately assessing the risks of shikigami in a highly aggressive attack mode whose sorcerer is not coherent enough to order them down properly, trying to find a solution that prevents injury without necessitating the destruction of the shikigami*

Tsumiki, has a decade of being secretly smug that her brother’s shikigami love her best under her belt, ready to bank it all on the fact that her brother’s dogs are Good Boys: nanami would you move your ass

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Lighthouse keeper, huh?”

Keith watches Shiro’s face carefully, because he’s not sure what to expect. Not anger — Shiro doesn’t do angry, not with Keith — but not exactly excitement, either. He’s not sure.

Shiro sighs, hanging his head. He doesn’t speak or move for several moments, only staring at his clasped ands, jaw set. Keith remains where he is, leaning against the bookshelf covered in stickers placed carefully by six-year old Keith, ugly as sin but impossible for sentimental Shiro to throw out.

Shiro braces his hands on his knees, sighing again as he heaves himself up and walks over to Keith. He cups Keith’s face in his hands and leans their foreheads together.

“Why do you always have to choose the least safe option, huh, kiddo?” His voice is a mix of tired and fond; strained and loving.

Keith shrugs. His hands tighten on Shiro’s shirt. “That’s what you did.”

The remark makes Shiro crack a smile.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Tyrant,” Keith says. The familiar tease — remnant from when Keith was younger and angrier and fought every choice Shiro made for him, regardless of whether it was the right one — makes Shiro huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead before pulling away.

“You have to promise to call me every week, okay? At least once. Lighthouses get lonely.”

“Okay,” Keith says quietly.

“And get decent groceries when you go out. Vegetables. Lots of them.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t do anything stupid, like go swimming in an icy ocean at night to chase a cryptid or something.”

Keith smiles a little. “No promises.”

Shiro sighs again, but it’s not as heavy this time. This time there’s an edge of acceptance to it.

“Just — be safe, kiddo. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Okay,” Keith says again, and he means it.

———

Lighthouse keeper. Lighthouse keeper.

What an insane job.

Is Keith qualified for it, technically? No. Not even a little bit. But after a little resume-fudging — okay, a lot of straight-up lying — and a myriad of people refusing to come near the lighthouse they swore was haunted, Keith landed the job.

“Look, it’s kind of isolating, okay?” says the coast guard, pressing a massive ring of keys into his hand. “Like, it’s not a hard job, really, except for during storms. You mostly just get to chill and check on the bulb every once in a while. But it can get…lonely.” She cuts him a sideways glance. “You know the story?”

Vaguely.

Keith shrugs.

“This used to be a real popular port,” she says. “People landing day and night, every day of the year. Used to be people manning the light every second of every day, groups of six or seven living here at once, like one big family. But then we shifted from using coal to using all that renewable shit, and the port stopped being so popular ‘cause there were less ships out to this area. Employees dwindled to just one guy, here by himself, every day of the year for decades.”

She pauses for a moment, drumming her hand on her car door. Keith pretends to be way less intrigued than he is.

“He went mad,” she says quietly. “No wifi or anything in the 60s, you know. Not a damn thing to do. He said he fell in love with the moon. Refused to retire, to resign. Stayed up in that tower until he was way too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms ‘cause he was just to frail to be out in those elements, y’know? But he wouldn’t leave the damn place behind. People say he never really left — that his ghost haunts the place. That’s why it’s been abandoned for so long.”

She shrugs, somber look melting off her face as quickly as it came. “Well, I’m sure it’s all shit, anyway. You’ll be fine. Good luck!”

Before Keith can so much as utter a single ‘hey, what the fuck’, she ducks into her car, slamming the door and speeding down the gravel driveway.

“Well, goodbye,” Keith mutters, shaking his head and walking down the cobblestone path to the door. “Thanks for that.”

Ghost, huh?

That sure as hell wasn’t on any of the waivers he signed.

He hopes it’s not an angry ghost.

———

Turns out Shirt had nothing to worry about. Keith keeps a radio on him once it gets dark, making his way up to the light when he gets word of a ship coming near, just to make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t really do much except watch the sea, basically. He supposes he’ll be a lot busier in a giant storm or if something breaks, but as of right now, his biggest trouble is boredom.

And oh, what a trouble it is.

Turns out manning a lighthouse is boring as shit. 24 hours is a lot of goddamn time in the day, and there’s only so many times Keith can scroll through his phone or read a book before he goes insane. It’s almost never worth the gas money to drive into town, and besides he doesn’t know anyone, so mostly he just sits and mopes out the window or skips rocks along the shoreline (his current record is 20 skips in a row, which would be cool as shit of the every second of every day didn’t feel so blah). Even the calls with Shiro are too mundane to pique his interest — his brother’s life isn’t too exciting, either, although talking with Shiro still has its enjoyment.

There is something magical about the stillness of everything, though. Like, yeah, Keith would love it if he could maybe experience something that was even a little interesting, but he’s felt more peace in the past few months than he has his entire life.

(Not that that’s saying much.)

(But, still.)

He particularly likes sitting out on the balcony by the light once the sun has set, watching the stars. It’s gotten warm enough now that he can sit out for hours without getting cold, just watching the stars. He’s so far away from any city that he can see what feels like every star in existence.

The moon, though, is the most breathtaking of anything. Somehow it looks more breathtaking every night. This far out on the coastline Keith can see it with startling clarity, every dip and crater and crevice glowing a soft silver. Sometimes Keith is so captivated by it that he watches it from sunset to sunrise, feeling like barely an hour has passed.

It makes Keith feel a little less lonely, somehow. Like maybe his heart doesn’t hurt so bad.

———

Keith wakes up at two in the afternoon feeling strangely pleased.

It’s not because he slept in, or anything — he usually wakes up at around two, since he’s up all night manning the light — or even that his sleep was particularly restful. He doesn’t know why he feels so…excited? Maybe that’s not the right word. But he goes through the day feeling all floaty, humming as he cleans up his living space and dancing around as he makes food. The air buzzes with anticipation, although for what he’s not sure.

Closer tonight.

Keith freezes.

Huh?

He waits a moment, hands still int the soapy water. What was that? That was a strangely…foreign thought. What’s closer tonight? What does that even mean?

He shakes himself out of his stillness when he realises the water has started to go cold, continuing to scrub the dishes. Whatever. He has weird, intrusive thoughts all the time. It’s nothing new.

Full moon. Closer to Earth.

“Okay, what the fuck.”

Keith drops the dishes, yanking his hands out of the sink and taking a stumbling step back, stopping when he backs into the fridge. His wet hands drip onto the tile floor, steady plop sounds, one for every heavy inhale.

“Okay,” he tells himself, “I am going to dry my hands and then sit down on the couch. I am going to remain still for twenty minutes. If I hear a weird thought again, I am going to freak out. If not, I am going to assume my brain is trying to freak me out to make things more interesting, and I am going to dismiss this entirely.”

Twenty minutes later, when no weird thought occurs, Keith sighs in relief.

God, how bored must he be, for his brain to make up weird voices or whatever? Maybe he should take up another hobby.

Knit, or something.

Can’t hurt.

———

“Did you get lonely a lot, when you were deployed?”

Shiro hums; tinny through the shitty cell reception.

“Yeah, lots. There were a lot of long stretches where I felt like I might be the only person in the world. Made everything feel smaller. Why do you ask? You getting lonely?”

“Just curious,” Keith denies. He pauses a moment.

“Did you ever hear…voices?”

As soon as he says it, he knows he’s fucked up. The comfortable silence between them gets charged immediately, tense, and they may be hundreds of miles apart but Keith can physically feel the concerned look Shiro is sporting.

“Keith, maybe you should call a doc —”

“It’s not me,” Keith says hastily. “I’m just — I read a lot now, right? I don’t have much else to do. And I was reading one of the manuals lying around this place, and it said that if you experience any strange mental symptoms to switch out shifts, but I was just curious about what strange mental symptoms might be, I’m not actually —”

“Okay,” Shiro interrupts. “It’s fine. I believe. Just — stay safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to call for help, to call it quits. We can always figure out what to do next.”

Keith takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and smiling slightly. No matter what, he can count on Shiro.

“Okay.”

“Good. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too.”

———

Keith squints at the sky. He tilts his head, considering, then squints harder.

“Maybe I am going crazy,” he says to himself. He hasn’t heard any weird voices since that one time, but he’s been feeling a lot of weird things in his chest, near his heart. For two weeks the night sky has felt almost…distant? Cold, even. But then he started to feel this growing pull to be outside more and more, the strong desire to stand and stare out at sea during the day, swaying with the waves, and to stare endlessly at the sky at night, drinking in the sights, watching the moon turn through it’s phases. The feeling is almost suffocating, now, like if he’s not outside he’s incapable of breathing. Everything feels so restless during the day, soothed only by the light of the moon.

“Or maybe I’m just dead bored. Who knows.”

———

Finally.

The voice startles him right out of a nap, tumbling off the couch onto a heap on the floor. He blinks himself awake fully, blearily checking his watch. His eyes widen.

“Shit,” he says, scrambling to his bedroom to grab his radio and sprinting up the stairs to the light. He’s late. He doesn’t seem to have missed any calls, thankfully, but still, he needs to be up there in case a ship’s radio is broken and they can’t call, or what if —

He freezes on the top step.

“What the fuck.”

Elbows on the balcony railing, leaning out facing the ocean, is a man. He’s tall, curly brown hair whipping around his angular face in the sea breeze, eyes closed in serenity.

Every part of him, faintly, glows silver.

“Took your sweet time,” he says, not opening his eyes. His voice is strangely familiar.

“What the fuck,” Keith repeats. He’s not sure how else to encompass the pure bewilderment he’s feeling.

Finally the man turns slightly to face him, lips curled in amusement and eyes opening to reveal a deep, dark brown that sparkles faintly in the moonlight.

“You’re supposed to be here when the sun sets, yes?”

Keith hums, nodding his head.

“Yep. I’ve officially gone insane.”

The man laughs, head thrown back and teeth gleaming white.

“Perhaps. Are madmen always so eloquently charming?”

“Figments of my imagination are not allowed to be mocking,” Keith snaps, because if he’s going to go insane it’s going to be on his terms, goddamnit.

“Good thing I have nothing to do with your imagination, then,” the man shoots back easily. He smirks. “You couldn’t come up with something as pretty as me if you tried.”

Keith scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Figures that his brain would cook up a bratty loudmouth with a bright smile to torture him. He’s his own worst enemy.

“I’m going to ignore you,” Keith informs the man. “If I don’t acknowledge you, then my brain will get the message and you’ll disappear.”

The man pouts. “Don’t be so callous. I only have three days, and then I’ll not see you again for a month.”

Keith ignores him. This lighthouse gig is kind of boring, sure, and yeah, he’s a little lonely, but it pays well and includes room and board. There’s not a chance in hell that he’s succumbing to his insanity and returning to fucking retail, or something, no sirree. He’s stubborn. He can wait this out.

The man sighs petulantly. “Of course you’re boring,” he mutters. “The last Moon Guardian got to fall in love with the lightkeeper, and I get someone who can scarcely believe I’m real. How unjust.”

The last lightkeeper… what was it the coast guard had said?

He said he fell in love with the moon…stayed up in that tower until he was too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms.

“Oh, real original, brain,” he mutters to himself. “Real fuckin’ original, with the Hollywood spooky stuff. I need to stop watching horror movies before bed.”

“Ugh,” the man says, rolling his eyes. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you? I bet you will refuse to even acknowledge me for months or even years. I should have chosen to guard one of Venus’ moons when ‘Llura gave me the chance.”

“Nope,” Keith says, waking to the other side of the balcony. If his brain is going to torment him with ridiculousness, then he is not going to listen.

He’ll just wait it out.

———

For the eight hours of sundown, he manages. He keeps stubbornly away from the hallucination, ignoring the man’s huffing and puffing and muttering, firmly telling himself that he’s just overtired and that he’ll sleep in extra tomorrow morning so this won’t happen again. The very second the sun peeks above the horizon, Keith books it for the staircase, rushing for the door before the hallucination can so much as mutter a word. He runs straight to his bed and sleeps for sixteen straight hours, completely dead to the world. When he wakes, he convinces himself to check the balcony, and is relieved to find the man gone.

“See?” he reassures himself. “Just sleep deprived.”

He believes it all the way until sundown, when he jovially makes the climb up to the light, whistling to himself, only to trail into silence when the man stands there again, smiling smugly at him.

“Good evening,” he says.

Keith throws a book at his face.

———

“I despise you,” the man says nasally, glaring at Keith through bruised eyes.

Keith winces, dabbing blood off the man’s nose as delicately as he can with a damp cloth.

“Sorry,” he says, as genuinely as he can. “I really did think the book was going to go through you. How was I to know that you’re — well, that you’re real?”

“Because I told you!” the man cries. “Thrice!”

Keith huffs, stepping back as the man wrestles the cloth from his hands and starts to wipe the blood off himself. “Well, I said I was sorry, okay? Jesus.”

The man glares at him one more time before sighing. “I suppose I can forgive you.”

“Cool.” Keith shifts awkwardly. “Um, not to be rude, but who the hell are you? Now that I know you’re not my brain, it’s kind of super weird that you’re here.”

“I have many names,” the man says. “Luna, Alqamar, Dal. Moon. But the other Guardians call me Lance, so perhaps that is the name most suitable.”

“Okay,” Keith says, like this isn’t lunacy. “So you’re not just some random dude? You’re, like, the — moon? In the fucking sky?”

“Our spirits are one, yes.”

“Mhm. Great. That cleared up nothing.”

The man — Lance — raises an amused eyebrow. “What more must be made clear to you, Lightkeeper? The Moon and I are one. I am he who guards her, I am her. Is that so confusing?”

“You must know that it is,” Keith says flatly. “Like, up until right this second, I though the moon was a lifeless rock floating in the sky.”

“You’ve never felt the pull?” Lance asks softly. “Your kind has built your culture on her. Every one of you worships her in some way, ever group looks to her with some kind of fondness. You truly did not feel any of her pull, of her power? The power of any of the celestia? Have you not looked up and felt the breath knocked from your lungs?”

“I have,” Keith admits. Lance is right — the moon has always has spirit. Keith just didn’t think it was so literal.

“Good,” Lance says firmly. “There is hope for you yet, Lightkeeper.”

“Keith.”

“Hm?”

“That’s my name,” Keith says awkwardly. “Keith.”

“Oh!” Lance exclaims. He smiles, just as he did the first time Keith saw him, faint silver glow making him appear ethereal. “It’s good to meet you, Keith.”

Keith cracks a smile. This is weird as hell, sure — but didn’t Keith ask for something interesting to happen?

“It’s good to meet you too, Lance.”

———

“A friend?”

“Yep,” Keith says, popping the p. “All by myself and everything.”

“That’s great!” Shiro says enthusiastically. “How did you meet? Is he working for the lighthouse too, or does he work in town?”

“He’s a…traveller,” Keith says hesitantly. “Yeah. Only here three nights of the month, so I let him crash and we hang out.”

It’s as much of a truth as any. Keith has learned over the last few months that Lance can only come to Earth when the moon is closest — when it’s ‘full’.

“Your human denominations make no sense,” Lance argued. “I am always full, I’m just simply not always facing you. What is a ‘new moon’? I never change.”

Keith shrugged. “Do I look like I named the damn phases? People didn’t always get that, man. You looked like a crescent, you were called a crescent. Simple!”

“But you have advanced! You know the truth, now, so why keep the archaic language?”

“Lance. Dude. I am a lighthouse-keeper, and I made up all sorts of shit to get this job. I am not an astronomer.”

“Ugh. Humans perplex me.”

“Okay, mythical being.”

“…but I’m glad you’re not so lonely,” Shiro continues, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. “I was worried for a while there, kiddo.”

Keith snorts. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“Hey, don’t give me that! You have a tendency to get yourself into sticky situations and then make it worse by stubbornly refusing to back out while you can!”

“I do not,” Keith says, lying.

“Mhm, sure, kiddo. And I didn’t have to rescue you from a cult two separate times.”

“Whatever,” Keith says, scowling. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Yeah, yeah, goober.”

As much as Keith hates to admit it, life really does improve between Lance’s visits and Shiro’s calls. Both give him something solid to look forward too, and Lance’s visits especially often give him the element of physical touch that Keith didn’t realise he was missing.

Not that he’ll admit that.

But it’s nice, kind of. Even though Lance’s skin kind of feels like cool marble, and every time they hug it’s like the warmth is leeched out of him.

Not that they hug a lot.

Well, kind of. Lance is a touchy person. Moon Guardian.

Whatever.

———

“How does the guardian thing, like, work? In terms of science?”

Lance shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest clue,” he says easily. “My friend — he’s the Guardian of Phobos — he has a much clearer idea. It has something to do with quintessence, he supposes.”

“Quintessence?”

“Life force. Energy. The pieces that make up atoms.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that had a name.”

“Everything does. That’s why it exists.”

“Huh.” Keith sits with that for a moment. Not that he ever probably could, but he’d love to explain this to Shiro, to watch his nerd brain explode. It would be hilarious. “So do you guys just…spring to life when a new planet it formed, or something?”

“Oh, no,” Lance says, laughing. “I am only…twenty-five rotations around the sun.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You’re my age?”

“Are you insinuating that I look older?” Lance teases. “Because if that’s the case, I can arrange to have you smited.”

Keith laughs.

Then he gets nervous.

Can Lance have him smited?

“No, no, you look great,” Keith says. Better safe than sorry.

“You look beautiful, really. It definitely makes sense that you’re the moon guardian, y’know? Like, if I had to picture someone who matched the moon, it would be you.”

Well.

That was certainly more than being ‘safe’.

Sometimes, Keith wishes he had even a little bit of a filter.

“You think so?” Lance asks quietly. Shyly.

“Yes,” Keith chokes out, picking a random star and praying to it that his blush fades. “I think so.”

A cold finger curls around his.

“I think you look beautiful, too.”

———

“Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith —”

“Shiro, piss off,” Keith mumbles, reaching blindly for a pillow to smack his brother with. “I’m tired.”

“Well, get up! This only happens thrice a year, and I want to make the most of it!”

Wait. Keith only knows one person — well, ‘person’ — who says thrice unironically, and it’s not Shiro.

“Lance?!” Keith yelps, startling awake. He shoots a confused look to the frankly ecstatic man before him, and then looks, even more confused, out his window. The sun is high in the sky, it can’t be more than noon.

“How are you here?”

“Supermoon!” Lance shouts excitedly. “Every four months, I am as close to Earth as I can possibly be, even closer then what you humans call a ‘full’ moon, and so I can be on Earth a full day cycle! It’s very exciting. I tried to wait for you to wake, but you slept so long. I couldn’t wait any further.”

“Ugh,” Keith groans, flipping back onto the pillows. “It’s early.”

Really, he’s as excited as Lance, but Lance can’t know that.

“Half the day has passed!” Lance argues. There’s a dip in the bed, and it’s Keith’s only warning before there’s suddenly a weight flopped on him.

“Oof.”

“You’re being exceptionally boring,” Lance says, pushing himself up on Keith’s chest to look him closely in the face. “I want to explore the town. I’ve always been too shy to go on my own. Take me, take me, take me!”

Keith fights off a blush, both from their position and Lance’s accidental innuendo.

“Okay,” he says weakly.

Lance cheers, scrambling off him and running out of the room.

“Hurry and get ready! I will try and make us breakfast — I think I understand how to use the stove!”

“Yeah, yeah.” It takes a moment for Lance’s second sentence to sink in. “Wait, Lance, no, stay away from the stove, you don’t know how fire works yet!”

———

Keith is going to collapse into particles. Really. That, or melt into goo on the ground.

It’s just that Lance is so cute.

Sure, he’s always beautiful. Ethereal, really. And he’s funny, and smart, and obviously very fascinating on principle alone.

But watching Lance flutter excitedly through the tiny coastline town, fascinated by every tiny, mundane thing?

Oh, Keith is not going to make it out of this one alive. Seriously. It’s straight out of that one scene in The Little Mermaid, except Lance is a million times more adorable, and knows what a fork is.

“Oh my stars, look at all these things! It’s all ridiculous! There’s no purpose for it! I want one of everything!”

“How do you even — wait,” Keith says, as something occurs to him. “Do you have, like, a house on the moon, or something? How do you store all your shit? Because you clearly have, like, clothes and stuff. And you understand some book references. Is there like a Celestial Guardians neighbourhood, or something…?”

“Oh, everything I have is stored with yours, only on the astral plane,” Lance says dismissively.

“Right. Okay,” Keith says. He pats Lance on the shoulder. “This would be one of those times where you say something that you think is very normal, but is actually batshit insane.”

Lance blinks. “Oh.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head. “If you don’t know about the astral plane, it might be hard to conceptualise.”

“Let’s grab some food,” Keith suggests. Lance lights up at the suggestion, making Keith smile. Lance loves human food.

Once they’re settled at some random, tourist trap restaurant, Keith pokes Lance in the shoulder.

“Astral plane?” he prompts.

“Right,” Lance says, speaking through his bite of food which should be disgusting but is instead only endearing. “Quintessence is a very finicky thing. It exists and it doesn’t, in more places than are possible. It is, in many ways, the explanation for things that do not make sense.”

“So it’s not a specific material?”

“It is, it’s just also everything else that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, that’s confusing.”

“Mhm. That’s what’s so fun about it! The most important parts that you need to know, though, is that every physical plane has an inphysical plane, and every single thing on those two planes are entwined on a quintessential level.”

Keith nods. “That means almost nothing to me.”

Lance laughs. “Well, think of you and me, yes? You are a human, a physical being. I am a Guardian of the Moon. I am physical only in certain ways, and only because my quintessence is tied completely with yours. We are mirrors to each other, connections to the two different worlds. Does that make sense?“

Keith stills, fork halfway to his mouth. Because, scientifically — no. Nothing about what Lance said is in any way something Keith can conceptualise.

But, like, on spiritual terms?

“That makes it sound like you’re my soulmate,” Keith says quietly.

“That’s a great way of putting it!” Lance says, smiling brightly. “Our souls are mated, yes. That’s one way of seeing it. Every part of our lives has been linked together from the moment we existed — I exist, as a Guardian, because you exist, because you are my tether to the physical plane — and will continue beyond that. Fascinating, yes?”

Keith nods numbly.

Soulmates.

For the second time since he’s met Lance, Keith thinks back to the coast guard’s story, back to the man who guarded the lighthouse and fell in love with the moon, who never retired, who stayed with the moon until his very end.

It sounds a lot less spooky, now.

———

Lance is still a bundle of energy when they finally head back to the lighthouse, sun beginning to set on the horizon.

“You’re my favourite human I know,” he says, pressing a smacking kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the town.”

“I’m the only human you know,” Keith responds wryly, hyper aware of the spot on his cheek that Lance’s lips just touched.

Soulmates rings in his ears.

They climb the stairs in comfortable silence, lying down on the balcony next to the light and looking up contentedly at the stars.

“It looks far more wondrous on Earth,” Lance says quietly. He smiles. “Most things do.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, just as quiet. “I would’ve thought you could see more out in space.”

“You can, but there’s something special about being down here.” He turns to face Keith. His smile has turned shy. “With you.”

Keith’s throat goes dry. He takes a deep breath, then reaches out a shaking hand, cupping it around Lance’s cheek. Lance leans into it.

“Lance,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Do you know what it means, for humans, to be soulmates?”

“Yes,” Lance whispers. “I was — I know what it means to me, at least. And I know what I hope it means for you.”

Slowly, Keith brushes his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone, back and forth. His skin has started to glow again, in tandem with the moon. It makes the brown of his eyes seem darker.

“What do you hope it means?”

Lance’s gaze flicks down to his lips. “That I am yours.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours, if you want me.”

Lance smiles, a flash of white in the darkness. “I do. I always have.”

“Always?” The words are barely a whisper, their faces so close together that their breath intermingles, tiny freckles over Lance’s nose shining like mini constellations.

“Yes,” Lance says, and then their lips finally meet, Keith’s eyes fluttering shut as he cradles the face of the Moon carefully in his hands, caresses the coolness of his skin. He breathes in the scent of his soulmate, and he knows he will go just as mad as the lightkeeper before him; desperately in love with the Moon.

Somehow, he doesn’t mind.

[kismetconstellations]

"Watching Season Eight of Voltron: Legendary Defender" Moodboard

[sockdooe]

Every time someone edits Keith in the black paladin armor an angel loses its wings.

[scattered-winter]

In an earlier post, you mentioned that you weren’t going to do any lion swapping in your VLD Rewrite.

So, I’m assuming the means Shiro also gets to keep his Bayard.

Do you have any ideas for what form Shiro’s Bayard will take?

I did say that, yea !! I've since played with the idea of maybe having some instances where someone else will pilot a different lion for Plot, but it won't be permanent, and it won't be the same as the Bond (tm) that the lion has with her paladin. but I digress <3

I have sooooo many thoughts about shiro's bayard <3 I've always LOVED the hc that his bayard takes the form of a shield so at the moment that's my primary idea, but I also think it'd be cool if he had a few alternate forms later on (in fact, I'm planning on giving Everyone a few alternate forms as they continue to develop their skills) and ngl ngl ngl I am thinking sooo so hard about polearms. so very incredibly hard.

[trivojol]

Shiro doesn't have limitless patience

[justaz]

pidge and lance rivalry after the lion switch of pidge being infuriated that she’s no longer the black paladins favorite and lance rubbing it in her face every chance he gets