#shameless hurt/comfort

[uefb]

Chapter One of Aimez-vous les uns les autres (Love One Another) posted today, sequel to Far Away from Temple After Sunset

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and the first night of Hanukkah when Newt and Tina are injured in an action against Grindelwald, whereafter they are evacuated with Theseus & co. by the Magical Resistance to a small church in rural France. Dealing with curse-exhaustion, landmine injuries, and travel through Nazi- and Grindelwald-occupied regions isn’t how either of them expected to spend the holidays, but—-in the big scheme of things—-there were, arguably, worse ways to finish 1940… In the end, the experience brings them closer together and—-back in England—-holidays with their families give them paradoxical hope for shared peace in the years to come. (Written for @afrenchaugurey!)

Excerpt (opening scene):

Newt had woken up in an extraordinary number of incredibly strange places in his life, but—for him—coming to on top of a hay bale in the back of a Muggle lorry was really maybe the strangest.

In fact, if he weren’t so groggy, he certainly would have done more than a double-take to find his injured leg elevated on the thighs of what appeared to be an actual Christian pastor, sitting on the haystack directly beside him. Newt moved his arm to scratch at his nose then, only to fuzzily realise he’d been warmly tucked into what was definitely said pastor’s clerical robes, so he ultimately only succeeded in hitting himself in the face with its massive sleeves...

The pastor had looked up at him by then to offer a smile, but Newt’s mind still wasn’t up to its normal speed—though his heart felt like it was pounding doubletime—so he broke the gaze as fast as he could, casting about for his brother, who must have heard the shift of his head because—

“Merlin’s beard!” — A voice from across and behind him in the truck, and then Theseus had knelt on the dusty boards beside him, fingers instantly feeling at his wrist and neck for pulse and pressure, before pulling back to balance on his haunches, brows furrowed. “You are drugged to the gills, little brother... How in Gamp’s good name are you awake?” [1]

As the truck bounced over a particularly deep pothole, Newt couldn’t help throwing the robe’s sleeve over his eyes to hide his discomfort. Beside him, he could hear Theseus saved from falling on his rump thanks to the soft thump of one of the maquisards’ boots at his back.

“Humans don’t have gills,” he finally murmured through gritted teeth. “And to answer your question, I’ve developed a rather unfortunate resistance to a number of common substances, that’s why I’m awake…” A beat and a frown. “Where’s Tina?”

“You’re on her, Newt.”

He uncovered his face, tilting his head back to see what he was pillowed on, only to be met with the gentle dip at the top of his wife’s thighs; the scratch of her warm, wool coat; the subtle scent of her perfume that always reminded him of camping for pleasure (not work) in Puzzlewood Forest… [2]

He twisted back further for a better look (and he caught a glimpse of her, too—head low and pillowed on Auror Voorhees’ shoulder, deeply asleep), but Theseus put a hand on his chest to urge him back down before he could better assess her.

“Stop moving. Macmillan’s stability spells on your leg are already being tested by these roads...”

Newt relaxed reluctantly into the dry hay, and Theseus thoughtfully transfigured a handkerchief into a towel to tuck beneath his neck when he noticed him grimace at the texture.

“Look,” he reassured, “she’s fine — just utterly exhausted. She’ll be good as new with a few cautionary countercurses and a couple days’ rest. And we hope to be able to say the same for you soon.”

“So - where are we going then?” Newt countered with quiet acceptance, glancing from the pastor to Theseus and back again. “And - and what is he doing here?”

“Don’t worry,” Theseus reassured glibly. “He’s a squib.”

[shiningstarr15]

Made a couple of fanart pieces for some fanfics that I thoroughly enjoy 😊

First one is from the fic Kintsukuroi by @lilmissflower and the second is from How to Care for your Sick Humans by @terrietont

Both are amazing authors and do my fave duo so much justice. Also I’m a stickler for detail bc I love picturing it in my head and the attention to detail with their writing is honestly just *chefs kiss*

Anyway I’m not gonna give away the context of the scenes but yall should um.. go check these out.

Thanks for making my doublestar duo heart happy :3

One is finished while the other is ongoing btw<3

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

Here, have a 4k Sherlock & Co angst/hurt/comfort fic. Yes, I really am that brainrotted. No, I don't need help. Sherlock does, though.

[p4rallel-universe]

hello helloo

there's literally no ian x male reader in here so let me request something for him rq :]

I saw this prompts on pinterest earlier and i thought they would fit ian so i was wondering if you could do smth with them

"Please don't cry, i can't stand seeing you cry"

"Just talk to me."

"Don't pretend you're okay because i know you're not"

bye byee!

tears are in your eyes

A/N - can i just say thank u to this anon for getting me back into the writing spirit frrrrr

this request was exactly what i needed bc i LOVE ian gallagher i literally dream about him

plssss let me know who u are anon bc ur right the lack of male reader ian fics is madness 🙏🙏

summary: you love Ian, but he's sick. and he loves you, but you're crying.

it all started in the morning.

you came round the Gallagher house at 11, looking for Ian. he hadn't taken your calls all morning, it wasn't like you were worried or anything. maybe a little. but worrying about Ian felt like more of a constant feeling recently. when you got there, Fiona was the only person around and she told you to check upstairs, saying she hadn't seen him since she's been up.

when you went up there, Ian was laying in bed, wrapped up in covers. you smile to yourself. he's an angel, he is, and you always think this. even just from the back of his head when he's half asleep. you love him.

"heya," you call to him, "you still asleep?", you shake his shoulder gently and he shrugs you away. you furrow your brow and sit on the edge of the bed.

"c'mon," you ruffle the back of his hair and he groans, pulling the covers further up his face.

" 'm just...'m tired," he mumbles, you shift yourself closer to him, your hand on his arm,

"hey, Ian, you gotta get up. it's past 11." you stroke his arm gently,

"just...just- leave me alone." his tone is harsh and it stings. you remind yourself he doesn't really mean it.

"Ian, c'mon, what's wrong?" you ask and he doesn't reply. the room is silent and uncomfortable, but your hand stays on his arm. you love him.

"just talk to me." you're almost begging now, and he grunts in response.

and that's how it's been all day. it's 4 PM now, and Ian's barely moved. you've stayed next to him the whole time. your hand has moved from his hair, to his hands, to his arm. you've spoken to him softly, you've shouted. he's only replied in grunts or mumbled words, or just stayed silent.

it's hard, to see him like this. but you can't leave him, not like this. you love him.

it's 5 PM and nothings changed. you're lying behind Ian, arms wrapped around him, holding tight. he's holding your hands, loosely, but he is.

"Ian-" you start, whispering right next to his ear,

"no- no, don't," he stops you, "i'm fine- it's fine, i'm just...i'm tired." his voice is barely a whisper, and you hold him tighter.

you pause. there's a depressive intimacy happening, that you don't want to break.

"don't pretend you're okay because i know you're not." you wait for his reply. it never comes. you kiss his cheek and try to hold back tears. you love him

"he's still not up?" Fiona's in the doorway, holding two plates. she looks at you sympathetically, she knows how it feels.

"uh, no." you pull yourself away from Ian, he doesn't try and and hold you there. you sit up, taking the plates from Fiona. "thanks." you say, out of politeness, because you know you both won't eat.

"y'know you don't need to stay here, i can take care of-" she doesn't get to finish before you interrupt her,

"no. i'll stay. i'm staying with him." Fiona tries to smile at you, but she knows, more than anyone, you're just fighting a losing battle.

"right, well, uh, try eat something. get him to eat something." you smile at her as she leaves the room. moving the plates to the floor, you lay back in the bed, staring at the ceiling.

7 PM now, and Ian is laying on his back, looking up. it's the most he's moved all day. you're sat up next to him, staring down at your hands. you pick at your nails.

you're thinking about Ian, who's right next to you but not really there. you think about how the top of his head smells. and his voice in the morning. his arms when he holds you. his smile and his laugh and how his jaw hardens when he's angry. and most of all, you think of how you love him even when he feels like nothing. when it's as if he's just air. you love him.

and then you start to cry. it's slow at first. tears that trickle from your cheeks and land on your shirt. then you can't stop. you rub your eyes harshly to punish them, because you don't want to upset Ian. the tears don't stop, they can't stop. Ian looks at you, his blank face showing concern. and it isn't that he doesn't care, because he does. he's kicking himself seeing you cry. but he just can't. not right now.

"please- don't cry. y'know, i, uh, can't stand seeing you cry." he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. you look at him, face twisted in emotion, your hands in your lap. he reaches out and takes them, kissing them. and you can't help but smile so wide you wouldn't believe it was because of something so small. he pulls you down into a hug, holding you to his chest.

"i love you." he whispers, breathing you in deeply, his nose pressed to your neck.

this time you don't say anything, you just smile. and it's not a lot, but it's perfect.

and you love him.

A/N: the day i stop writing shameless angst is the day i die - stay tuned for many fluff posts from now onnnn (title is inspired by the yo la tengo song ofc)

[jrooc]

Self Rec Saturday 🫣

Thanks for the tags you wonderful writers/artists & humans @mybrainismelted @juliakayyy @mmmichyyy @deedala @deathclassic @doshiart @energievie @doshiart

Fuck it, gonna say my first ever piece of fanfic Drunk Text. A short little one-shot hurt/comfort s3 fill-in that is riddled with typos but I still like it.

Summary: Mickey shows up to the Gallagher house drunk in the middle of the night needing a little TLC.

Special guest appearance from the backyard van.

Tagging @gallapiech @sgtmickeyslaughter @stocious @transmurderbug @heymrspatel @crestfallercanyon @rayrayor @ms-moonlight-inn @notherenewjersey @ian-galagher @bawlbrayker @heymacy @whatthebodygraspsnot @darlingian @gallawitchxx

[logicallyblind]

don’t mind me i’m just going to shamelessly promote my Damian centric fic here because I finally got around to actually editing it!!

[batmobilestires]

just Dick hallucinating Jason after he died :(

[shypixiered]

Ren and Makoto try to keep their relationship status a secret from Zenkichi and the police while also making the most of their summer break.

A moments in-between Ren/Makoto shipfic.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Just wrote an extremely self indulgent hurt/comfort pre-relationship jmart fic go check it out for Jonathan Sims has a Bad Time and Martin helps him work through it!! Plus fake dating and both of them being idiots!!

[the-lone-reader]

Eyes on Me - Huskerdusk whump

"If I knew it was this easy to get ya' to strip for me, I woulda' stabbed myself ages ago," he grins, panting.

"If I knew it's the only thing to make you shut up, I would'a stabbed you ages ago."

Angel gets hurt in the battle against Heaven. Husk is there to keep him grounded. Shameless whump, ambiguous relationship.

Read on AO3

Husk hears the sound of Angel's breath being punched out of his lungs. He turns in time to see a bullet explode an Exorcist's head in a shower of golden blood and viscera, but not before it had released the spear it had been about to throw. Husk watches Angel hit the ground, and a flick of his wrist sends a card slicing through the throat of the Exorcist Husk had been battling, and then he's moving, racing to the fallen sinner. He skids to his knees, mindless to the rubble tearing at his skin and clothes. Angel is turned on his side, his body curled around the spear embedded in his gut. Husk goes cold.

He puts a hand on Angel's shoulder to turn him over, but the second he makes contact Angel's eyes fly open. Two hands come up to shove at the intruder above him, another making a frantic grab for the gun that had fallen from his grasp, but only succeeds in knocking it further away.

"Easy, Legs, it's just me," Husk says, grabbing two of his wrists. Angel almost immediately goes slack with relief.

"Oh, shit," he says breathlessly. "Hey, Husky."

"Hey yourself," Husk gently turns Angel onto his back to get a better look at the injury. "C'mon, lemme see." An Angelic spear buried in his stomach, blood already seeping around the intrusion.

"Well, that ain't good," Angel laughs weakly before his face screws up in a wince.

"No, it ain't." Husk agrees grimly. He looks around and sees the others crowded around a bloody and ranting Adam. He knows field medicine, but this is Angelic weaponry. "Don't move, I'm gonna get help." The second Husk shifts, two of Angel's hands grab at him frantically, and a pained noise escapes his mouth at the movement.

"Easy, I'm just gonna go get Charlie and Vaggie. They'll know what to do."

"Don'- Don' leave me," Angel's voice breaks, and through the pain Husk can see the fear in his eyes. Another glance at the others and Husk eases back down, taking the hand Angel had grabbed him with and pressing it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere." Angel was already looking pale; Husk wipes cold sweat from his forehead and the sinner leans into the touch.

Husk yells for Charlie, his voice cracking betraying his desperation. Vaggie hears and turns to look, immediately paling and grabbing Charlie's arm to drag her towards them. One of Angel's hands goes towards the spear, but Husk takes the bloody hand in his own.

"It hurts," he says weakly.

"I know it does. Don't touch it. Charlie's on her way; she's gonna get you fixed right up. You'll be back to impaling yourself on wolf dick in no time." Angel laughs, but the sound turns into a whimper.

He shivers, and Husk uses his free hand to pull off his jacket, covering Angel's chest and shoulders. Vaggie and Charlie skid to their side as Husk rips off his shirt too, buttons flying as he bunches it against Angel's stomach to staunch the blood seeping from the side of the wound. Angel groans and grabs for Husk's wrist, who desperately wishes he had more hands.

As Vaggie starts shouting orders, Angel blinks blearily up at Husk.

"If I knew it was this easy to get ya' to strip for me, I woulda' stabbed myself ages ago," he grins, panting.

"If I knew it's the only thing to make you shut up, I would'a stabbed you ages ago."

"Charlie, get Lucifer. It's Angelic weaponry, he's the only one who can deal with it. Niffty, needle and thread. Husk, hold him. Get ready to staunch the bleeding." Vaggie presses gently on either side of the spear, before swiftly pulling it out in one clean motion. An agonized cry is wrenched from Angel's throat. Blood immediately starts pouring out of the wound, and Husk bunches his shirt against Angel's stomach and leans his entire body weight onto it. A strangled cry and Angel's bloody hands scrabble towards the injury, his legs kicking uselessly against the ground. He coughs and blood dribbles down his chin.

"Keep him calm," Vaggie orders, grabbing the flask she knows Husk keeps on his person at all times, and takes over putting pressure on the wound. Husk moves to Angel's head, smoothing hair back from his face, cradling his cheek.

"F-fuck," Angel whimpers, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes.

"I got you." Husk can hear Vaggie and Lucifer talking in low, urgent voices. Angel relaxes slightly when Vaggie relieves the pressure to expose the wound. Blood is pooling underneath Angel's body, soaking Husk's pants. Lucifer carefully draws out the Angelic magic from the wound, the last glimmer of gold barely gone before Vaggie dumps the contents of the flask onto the open wound and then presses the bloody shirt back in place.

Angel's back arches as he screams, the sound like a knife through Husk's heart, and he barely gets a hand under Angel's head in time to shield it from smacking against the ground as he writhes in pain. One hand smears blood against his face, another scratches at Husk's bare arm, a third pushes weakly against his chest, and the fourth is flung to the side in agony. Still cradling his head with one hand, Husk strokes his fur gently with his thumb and takes two of Angel's hands to hold against his chest; sobbing quietly, Charlie takes the other two, and Husk makes sure he's filling Angel's field of vision as he shushes him softly and murmurs comforting nonsense.

"I know. You're doin' so good, kid. You're gonna be okay. I got you. I'm right here. Just keep your eyes on me."

Angel's face is ashen, looking at Husk like he's the only thing left in the universe, the pain and fear in his eyes starting to lose focus as the pool of blood grows beneath him. His breaths become shallow and hitch in his throat, the grip on Husk's hand starts to loosen, causing him to grip it tightly back. He makes a small noise as he struggles to keep his eyes open, and Husk swallows thickly and presses their foreheads together.

"It's okay. I'm not goin' anywhere. I'mma stay with you the whole time, and I'll be right there when you wake up. Promise." Husk feels Angel's hot breaths panting shallowly against his face, and the weight of his head against his hand increases before his hands go lax in Husk's grip. Husk closes his eyes tightly and finally allows tears to fall.

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Gallavich Triple Trope Event 2023

I was so excited to do the Second Triple Trope Event hosted by @its-a-queer-thing

This round I had the tropes Mermaid AU, Old Age, and Hurt/Comfort.

Here is (most of) the fic I wrote for this challenge!

Ian is sick. Sick to the point that he's in the hospital after an emergency triple bypass and the doctor is suggesting to Mickey that he be placed in a retirement home. Not that Mickey is a spring chicken himself. In their seventies Ian and Mickey are in the golden years, their adult children Yevgeny and Rue are there to help them bounce back from Ian's heart attack. But when Ian starts having sundowners episodes in the evening, they may not have a choice about going to a retirement home.

But fifty years ago when they met, there was a different ending planned. Where Mickey would go back with Ian to where they first met, and go back to his home.

[spacerockwriting]

Galladrabbles: Childhood Comfort

I have been thinking about Gallagher comfort toys and Galladads and all sorts all weekend. So seeing this prompt I was MORE than excited. (Nearly squeaked in the office) Thank you to @galladrabbles and @mikhailoisbaby because this is the content I am HERE for. Just a bit of BG info: Ian's fav toy is his GI Joe named Joe who is LT commander of all the military. Ian and Mick's son has a Cookie Monster plush he can't sleep without, and Mickey has lovingly nicknamed their son Chuck Norris.

Childhood Comfort

--

“Can’t find Cookie, Fuck,” Mickey groans one night, nearly flipping Lip out the chair. Their son can’t sleep without his Cookie Monster plush.

“So?” Carl snorts.

They all ignore Carl. “Once went 80 blocks looking for Ian’s GI Joe,” Lip says. “Ian wouldn’t go anywhere without that thing.”

“When you’re LT Commander of all the military, protection is needed.”

Mickey snorts. “Fucking dork.”

“You ever have something like that?” Ian wonders.

Mickey’s response hurts. “Think I had a bear. Terry threw it out. Said only faggots cuddle toys.”

“Never Ally’s Cookie?”

“Fuck no. Never would traumatize Chuck Norris like that.”

--

I have a shit ton of plushes so someone like Terry would be my sworn enemy.

[sam-loves-seb]

young and stupid (left wide open)

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mickey barks with no bite. “Can you hear me?” Ian looks up and blinks slowly at Mickey. “Sorry—what?” “Jesus,” Mickey mutters, looking over Ian with a furrowed brow. “I said are you alright?” And, like, half of him wants to say yeah, I’m fine, just forget this ever happened and get your pants off, but the other half of him wants to say no, I’m a mess, can you just come and sit next to me for a while. He doesn’t end up saying either of those things; he doesn’t even come close.

// 1x09: what happens after “I need to see you” and “I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

[shsy7573]

Quiet

Part two, by shsy7573

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time they saw Lance was 12:00 the next day. He dragged himself from his room after much prompting from the team that it was really time for him to wake up.

He didn’t look like he’d slept for seven hours. In fact, he looked like he’d barely even slept one. But when they asked him if he was feeling alright he smiled and insisted he was fine.

Because he was. Totally and completely fine. He’d gotten out of bed, and he was only feeling slightly weighed down by the quiet that followed every sound. That roared in his ears every time he stopped to take a breath.

And sure, it’d taken him three hours to pull himself out of bed. But he was still feeling just fine.

They didn’t have to worry about him. He never wanted them to worry about him. These were Lance’ problems and he could deal with them on his own.

He was fine. Even though he could only stomach two mouthfuls of food goo. Even though he could barely focus during team training. Even though his body willed him to do anything but be a contributing member of society. Even as he felt the quiet creeping up, and up, and up through his veins. He was fine.

He was always fine.

It was 15:30 when Lance went in search of something to drown out the quiet. He made the usual rounds.

First Hunk. But Hunk was busy, and Lance didn’t want to bother him. He didn’t even ask.

Then Pidge. But Pidge was crabby and he didn’t want to annoy her. He slipped out as she cursed insults at her game.

Then he found Coran and Allura. But they were reminiscing about Altea and Lance didn’t want to intrude.

Then he spotted Shiro and Keith. They were having one of their teaching, bonding, brotherly moments. Lance didn’t even announce his presence.

And through it all Blue called out to him. Begging him to talk to her. To let her in. To tell someone about the heaviness, the despair, the loneliness. To talk to her about the quiet.

But Lance refused. It was one thing to find others to distract him from it. It was another to tell them about it. To spread it to them like a disease. To bring them down with his own stupid bullshit.

And Blue would have it even worse, because they shared a mind.

So he refused, and he retreated back to bed.

-

The next day came by fast. Probably because he slept through the rest of the last one.

His mind woke up at 6:00. Lance couldn’t drag his body out of bed until 10:30.

He put on some moisturiser. Threw on some clothes, and left his room. With his hands in his pockets, he walked down to the lounging area, where everyone was already in full conversation about something. He watched for a few moments, not quite feeling up to joining in on the antics.

And then someone noticed him.

“Lance!” Hunk rejoiced, “you’re awake! We missed you at breakfast again, buddy.”

“And dinner.” Pidge added grumpily

And Lance did what he always did. He smiled. He smiled and waved as he stepped into the realm of socialisation.

“Yeah, sorry. I must be coming down with something, I keep falling asleep,” he lied.

“Well hopefully it’s not too serious. We’ve got that big infiltration mission coming up soon,” Shiro proclaimed, walking over and pressing a hand to Lance’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Shiro,” Lance said, batting the hand away, “I promise.”

The Black Paladin furrowed his brow, “if you say so.”

“Just don’t get the rest of us sick,” Pidge muttered.

Lance lifted his hands in surrender, “I’ll try my best, Pidgeon.”

Shouldn’t be that hard considering I’m not really sick.

But that seemed to be the end of the conversation, and Lance was thankful for that.

Until another one started. “Have you eaten yet today?” Shiro asked.

Suddenly a ping of hunger stabbed Lance in the gut, and he was painfully aware of the fact that he hadn’t eaten much at all in the last give or take 48 hours. Let alone this morning. He just didn’t have the stomach for it.

He shoved his hands in his pocket. They were shaking.

“I… yes?” He lied. It didn’t sound very convincing. He’d blame it on the weariness of hunger.

“Lance, you need to eat.” Shiro said. Lance sighed, looking at his feet.

“Why don’t you come with me buddy. I’ll make you something really good. I know that goo stuff isn’t the best when you’re sick,” Hunk placated. Wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulder and leading him away.

“K,” was all Lance was able to reply. As they walked the quiet thickened. As Hunk sat him down the quiet thickened. As he left to prepare the food the quiet roared, suffocating him. Choking him with its intoxicating will to just give in.

His hands were quivering badly now, and he felt himself sweating cold. Forgoing food for so long may not have been the best idea.

When Hunk presented him his dish, Lance forced himself to eat it semi-normally. He didn’t want Hunk to think he didn’t like it. He did. He loved it. And he was hungry. He just didn’t feel like eating.

But he did. And he told Hunk it was good, which it was. And he felt some of his strength returning.

When he stood up he didn’t feel as wobbly, and he smiled at Hunk as they went to locate the others again.

But still, between every footstep and every heartbeat and every inhale or exhale of breath it was there. It was too much. And Lance pushed onwards, spurring Hunk into a ramble about his culinary genius. The way Hunk’s eyes lit up as he explained his passion for food made the quiet duller. Its grip is weaker. Its edge duller.

And Lance smiled more warmly.

He carried on through the day with a cloud shrouding his view of the world. And he tried his best to ignore the quiet. To focus on the small sounds. To not let it consume him entirely.

He forced himself to train.

He forced himself to do castle chores so that he didn’t sit with idle hands. Alone with his thoughts.

He forced himself to stay up and eat with the team, before retiring to his bedroom for the rest of the night.

-

The next morning, he pried himself out of bed at 8:00. Going to breakfast and shovelling food into his mouth.

The team split up, and Lance found himself once again in search of companionship.

It went about as well as the last time he tried.

He barely made it to lunch before retreating to his room.

He barely managed to force himself out of bed to eat supper.

He didn’t stay awake long enough to partake in the team’s movie night.

-

The next few days felt pretty much the same. Some days he’d get up early and face the day with a smog over his brain. Some days he’d hide away as long as possible before he felt he’d worried the team enough. Some days he’d train. Some days he’d seek out others. Some days he’d show up to evening meals with the team, and some days he’d go to bed in the afternoon and not emerge again until morning.

And then the day of the mission came up, and he forced himself out of bed at 5:00. They were supposed to leave at 7:30, so he had two hours to get his shit together.

He splashed water on his face, performed his skincare routine, threw on his Paladin uniform and headed downstairs for breakfast with the team.

He forced lumps of food goo down his throat. Put on the same old act of cocky, goofy, slightly irritating, humorous Lance.

He got into Blue, insisting over and over again to his Lion that he was fine.

And at 7:30, they set off, and Lance's brain snapped into mission mode. The quiet receded to the outskirts of his mind. Still there, but not enough to cloud his judgement.

They approached the Galra base from its blind spot. Sneaking up in the cover of the blinding rays of a nearby star.

They’d planned this out for weeks. They knew exactly what to do. They landed on the rings of the planet next to the base. Keeping their lions in the blindspot of the sun. Then, they all piled into the Green Lion, and snuck right up close to the ship.

Pidge dropped off the Paladins, along with some BLIP tech and Galra scanners before flying back to the planet’s rings to monitor the Paladin’s progress from a safe distance.

Hunk and Shiro tackled the first floor, aiming to find the base’s prisoners and set them free. Meanwhile, Lance and Keith made their way as stealthily as possible to the control room.

They were proceeding cautiously through a long, empty corridor when Keith turned to Lance, both their mic’s off, and started talking.

“Has there been something going on with you lately?” He asked. Looking over his shoulder, before lowering his voice even more from the mutter it was at.

“No,” Lance replied, lying through his teeth, “why?”

“I just… you’re not around as often. You don’t talk as much. You just seem less… yourself.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “I told you all I was getting sick didn’t I?” He questioned. Suddenly grateful for that lie. “I just gotta wait for it to pass. You don’t have to worry. I’m not gonna compromise the mission.”

“That’s not what I—“

“You guys have incoming!” Pidge whispered through coms, and the two Paladins both ducked behind the pillars on each side of the wall.

They listened as marching footsteps slowly approached from the direction they’d been coming from.

Lance listened to the sound, holding up his fingers and slowly, silently counting down from three.

When his last finger fell, he and Keith both jumped out from behind their cover, catching the sentries by surprise and disabling their control panels before they could scream for help. Not that they could, really. They were robots.

Keith and Lance continued on, locating the control room not long after that.

“Okay,” Keith whispered in his ear, “you take out the two on the right, I’ve got the big one on the left.”

“Copy,” Lance responded. He manoeuvred himself into position, waiting for Keith to signal their go.

That went as well as the altercation before. They incapacitated their opponents easily —or, as easy as it was to fight the Galra— and Keith walked over and inserted a small flash drive-esk thing into the panel. Pidge talked Keith through the process of downloading Galra data while Lance kept watch.

And as he stood near the entrance, coast supposedly clear, he began to feel heavy again as quiet surrounded him.

His shoulders slumped and his eyes scanned the hallway lazily. Nothing. No footsteps. No eyes. No lights. Nothing to focus on.

He couldn’t turn his microphone back on. He knew he’d get distracted by what was happening. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t give in to the need for an out right now.

But as it turned out, the quiet was just as distracting as the others, because he didn’t even realise the blast heading for him until Pidge called over the coms.

“LANCE WATCH OUT—“

A beam collided directly with Lance’s shoulder, and he was sent careening backwards. He landed on his ass, and lifted his bayard to shoot down the hallway at the figures approaching.

“Lance? You good?!” Keith asked, turning around.

The Blue Paladin forced his way-too-heavy-for-the-motivation-he-had-right-now body to its feet, and continued shooting at their oppressors.

“Yeah, I’m good. Keep doing your computer-y thingy” He hissed, but in reality he could feel pain radiating through his shoulder.

He ignored it, sending more beams of blue energy towards the Galran centuries.

One good thing about this base: the entirety of its population were robots. The only biometric signatures on the ship were that of the prisoners.

A couple more well aimed shots and the robots were deactivated. Lance breathed heavily, lifting his free hand up to press his shoulder. He winced, biting back a yelp. Probably dislocated. He could deal with that later.

“You guys alright up there?” Asked Shiro over coms.

“We’re fine,” Lance replied, though his breathy voice wasn’t super convincing. “Just got into a little spat. How’s the prison break going?”

“Good.” Shiro reported. “We’re just loading the last of them onto the escape pods now.”

As if having perfect timing, Keith turned around, holding a disconnected chip in his hand. “Good, then we’ll all meet at our exit point at the same time.”

And they did.

As they all swarmed back into the hull of the Green Lion, Lance was aware of the quiet. Nobody spoke, concentrating on evading the many Galran ships that were now patrolling the base.

He couldn’t take it.

“So… that was close, huh?”

“Lance, shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Pidge spat as she veered out of the path of an energy beam.

His mood sank again, “right… sor- AGH!” he exclaimed in pain as they made a harsh turn, and his bad shoulder was rammed into Keith’s elbow.

Light danced on the edge of his vision as white hot pain radiated from the area.

“Lance?! Are you okay?” Kieth asked.

Lance nodded. Gritting his teeth against the pain as he raised a shaky, unstable finger to his lips, before pointing at Pidge.

Keith gave him an exasperated look, but was forced to stay silent as the lion veered right again and he fought to keep his footing.

“Just a couple more minutes guys! Then I can turn the cloaking back on!” Pidge said as she dodged out of the way of another ship.

The entire hull shook as the Green Lion was hit. Hunk gripped tightly onto the wall, grabbing Shiro with his other hand before they could be thrown forward. Keith caught himself on the back of Pidge’s chair.

Lance was not so lucky. He was sent sailing over the top of Pidge’s chair and right on top of her lap. This many people in a Lion’s cockpit was definitely not safe.

“Lance!” Pidge screamed, kicking at him as she struggled to keep Green under control. “Get the hell off me!”

Her foot shoved him to the ground, and he couldn’t help the scream that escaped as he landed on his dislocated shoulder.

“My Cub! Hurt!” Blue fretted. He could hear her concern.

No, Blue, it’s fine I— “FUCK!”

He screamed in pain again as the ship lurched back and his shoulder was sent ramming into the bottom of Pidge’s chair.

He was trying to get up, but with only one hand and the ship being jostled around like crazy he didn’t think he could.

“Danger! I will protect!”

Blue, no! Stay— he couldn’t keep a proper train of thought Pidge kicked him away again. He’d managed to stand up, but fell on top of her again as the ship barrel rolled.

“Lance, stay off me!” She spat as she steered the ship sideways.

Lance’s back slammed into the side of the cockpit. He felt dizzy and disoriented. He wasn’t even sure where he was.

“My Cub! I’m here!”

“Blue no!” He shouted, voice raw with pain. But it was too late. Blue raced past the Green Lion, blasting ice at the surrounding ships.

But there were too many of them. Too many for a pilotless lion to take on her own. Sure maybe if he had time to concentrate and guide her, but he could barely get out two words before being flown across the length of the Green Lion’s cockpit!

“What’s the Blue Lion doing here, Lance?! This wasn’t part of the plan!” Keith exclaimed. Very much panicking.

But Lance’s mind was fogged with pain and he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of Blue’s cries as she tried desperately to save them.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Pidge exclaimed as now she was not only fighting to defend them, but Blue as well.

“Dammit! Blue! Get out of here, I’m fine!”

“No! Cub always say that! Not fine!”

“This time I am Blue, please! I promise! You’re just hurting yourself!”

“My Cub is hurt! I will protect! Hurt with you!”

“BLUE, DAMMIT I DON’T NEED—“

“LANCE, WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON?!”

“There’s more of them!”

“We’re getting swarmed!”

“I can cloak now, but we need to get the Blue Lion out of here!”

“FUCKING HELL!” Lance screamed. He turned on his jet pack and finally, finally was able to right himself. Pain screamed down his entire arm and his head was pounding and despite all the yelling his head still felt so goddamn quiet!

“Pidge, line me up! I’m gonna eject over there and fly her myself!”

“You can’t! It’s too dangerous to go out there Lionless!”

“You got a better idea!”

“No, but that one’s stupid.”

“Well I am fucking stupid, so I don’t give a shit. Just do it!” Lance yelled. He didn’t leave much room for arguing as he made his way towards the ejection pad.

“Lance, I’m not doing it!”

“Pidge is right, it’s too dangerous!” Hunk agreed

“Lance, get your ass back here!” Keith demanded.

Lance hovered his hand over the eject button. “I’m gonna fucking press this, so if you want me to have a chance at surviving you’re gonna fucking line me up!”

Pidge let out a yell of anger, but she had no choice. She looped Green around, then aimed her towards the Blue Lion’s mouth.

Lance watched, waiting for the exact right moment.

“See you guys on the other side!” He yelled, ramming his hand down on the button and feeling his body being shot out into space.

For a couple, terrifying moments, he was surrounded by nothing but stars, Galra ship, and space lions. And then, Blue, in her desperation to save him, opened her mouth and collected him into her safe embrace. Sheltering him from the battle and from the screams of his friends who were 100% still arguing his decision despite it already being made.

Gritting his teeth as his shoulder pain intensified tenfold, he ran to his pilot chair, sat down, and began trying to get control of Blue.

“I made it!” He called over intercoms, barely caring to hear the response as he commanded Blue to action.

“Lance! Oh my god! When we get back to the ship I swear I am gonna fucking kill you!” Pidge screamed in his ear.

“Yeah well, let’s focus on getting back to the ship first, alright?!” Lance suggested, trying his best to dodge the fire of the Galra ships.

Pidge was screaming over coms, “how do you suggest we do that?!”

“You get cloaked and go to the other lions!”

“And leave you behind?!”

“I’ll be fine! I can evade long enough for everyone to get to their own lions and provide support! But none of us are gonna get out of here if you don’t hurry the fuck up!”

As if to reiterate his point, another shot landed on the Green Lion’s side.

Pidge growled in irritation, before responding. “Fine! Just don’t fucking die while I’m gone!”

And then the Green Lion disappeared, and Lance was all alone. It was just him, Blue, and the quiet.

And, of course, an entire Galra fighter fleet, but that's besides the point.

Lance was just starting to doubt that his plan would actually get him out of here alive when the rest of the Paladins returned with their lions.

He’d never been so happy to see the giant, metal, multicoloured lions in his life.

“Lance! Get out of there!” Keith yelled as he shot a fire beam towards some of the ships flanking Lance.

They fought together, and with all five of them, they managed to escape only slightly banged up and, by some miracle of the universe, alive.

Soon, the Galra base, as well as the ships, were out of sight.

And as they journeyed back to the castle, the quiet crept in once more. It settled over the static on the coms. Its presence the same as all the other times it had reared its ugly head. It was always the same. The same heavy feeling. The same unbearable silence. The same feeling of swimming through a river of molasses. Limbs heavy as the ocean.

“Lance.” Said someone over the coms as the Castle came into view. The tone was small, quiet. Lance wasn’t quite sure who it was, until they continued speaking and he recognised the familiar rasp of Keith’s voice. “That was… incredibly stupid.”

Lance didn’t reply for a moment. The quiet in the hull felt almost too difficult to penetrate with his own voice.

“I know.”

“You could have been killed.” Kieth continued.

“I know.”

Lance flew through the suffocating silence. His hands were definitely not shaking.

“Is your shoulder alright?”

“It’s fine.”

That was a lie. It hurt like hell, actually. But he wasn’t going to make the team worry any more. He hated it when they worried.

They returned to their hangars, and Lance forced himself out of the pilot seat. Slowly dragging himself down and out of Blue’s mouth onto the floor of the large room.

He commanded his feet to carry him towards the med bay. And was met halfway by the rest of the team. The very worried, very pissed off team.

He stopped as they appeared in the hallway before him, leaning on the wall as they made no move to let him by.

Pidge stalked forward first, face contorted was a mixture of concern, fear and anger. She punched him in the gut.

“What the hell was that! Fucking throwing yourself into space in the middle of a battle! Do you know how fucking idiotic that was!?! No- you know what- of course you do! You just get a kick out of giving us all a fucking heart attack, don’t you?! Fucking—“

And then she was hugging him. Wrapping her small arms around his body so tightly that he struggled to breath.

Lance couldn’t force himself to find humour in her fit, though. He was too strung out. His shoulder hurt, his brain felt like mush, the adrenaline of battle had subsided and, most importantly, he had fucking fucked up again. He had worried all of them so much. He had compromised the mission by not being able to keep his shit together, and tell Blue to stay the fuck where she was.

He couldn’t even bring himself to smile.

Shiro stepped forward and wrapped his arm around Lance’s very much shaking body.

“Why don’t we get you to a healing pod. We can talk about… all this after.”

Lance nodded mutely, and allowed himself to be guided silently to the med bay. The quiet clung to him like a wet blanket. No matter how many ways he twisted his mind, he just couldn’t pry it off him. He didn’t have the energy to try.

So, as he changed into the appropriate clothing for the healing pod, and stepped himself inside, Lance stopped fighting. He was going to be medically unconscious for at least half a varga, so he figured the quiet could have its way until then.

For now, Lance would let the quiet win.

Just until he had the energy to fight again.

-

Lance tipped forward as the healing pod slid open.

For a moment, he was free falling, and he didn’t have the energy nor the care to catch himself.

But then something else kept him upright.

The Blue Paladin looked up to see himself limp in the arms of Keith Kogane. For a moment, his mind didn’t register it. Didn’t register the vulnerability he was in. Didn’t care to do anything but stay there. Limp. Unmoving. Cold.

Quiet.

But then his senses caught up with him, and his face flushed, and he found his own feet supporting him as he pulled away.

“Keith?” He questioned, shocked.

And then he remembered.

“You—“ he looked behind Keith to the rest of the team, “you waited?”

“Of course we waited, Lance. We wanted to make sure you were okay.” Hunk said, coming forward and bringing Lance into his embrace.

“Oh… well, I’m fine.” Lance supplied, hugging Hunk back before pulling away again. The bitter cold fatigue of the healing pod coupled with the viper grip of the quiet as it coiled around him made him eager to push past whatever conversation they wanted to have and get to his room.

“Look, I know what I did was stupid, but there weren't a whole lot of options and I couldn’t get Blue under control until I was able to actually be in control. I’m sorry I scared you guys, but I knew what I was doing… mostly.”

His voice was flat. Monotone. Exhausted. It wasn’t Lance. Not like they were used to.

Shiro sighed, “It’s okay, Lance. I can tell you’re tired, and I’d rather not get into a whole lecture. How about we just let it go and move on, okay? I think that’s what’s best for everyone at this point.”

Lance nodded, very grateful despite his inability to express it. He couldn’t express anything right now. He was too cold. Too tired. Too numb.

He brushed past everyone, walking in a slow, mechanical gate all the way up to his room. He collapsed onto his bed, and curled up tightly in his assortment of blankets. Twisting his whole body between them until he felt every pocket of cool air snuffed out by their warm embrace.

The quiet made itself at home in the familiar confines of Lance’s bedroom. Lance didn’t give a shit.

He closed his eyes, ready to sleep off the events of the day, and move on with his life.

Sadly, he was aware that his brain wouldn’t allow him to just forget about it.

For now, though, it was nice to pretend that it could.

-

He got up at 8:30. And by up I mean up, out of bed, dressed. Lance was feeling stubborn today. Stubborn, and slightly terrified. He didn’t want to spend another day holed up in his room, with nothing but the quiet to keep him company. Because he hated the quiet. And even though moving through it was hard. Even though breathing in it seemed near impossible. He felt like he had to.

After yesterday, he had expected hostility. Irritation. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Every time he said something, or made a joke, or tried to participate, the others would look at him disdainfully. They would barely allow him to interact. Their worry from the day before morphing into anger now that he was for sure okay.

But Lance was feeling stubborn today. So when mealtime ended he stayed with Hunk, who went to the engine room to tinker.

The clacking of metal and scraps comforted Lance. He picked up a small, miniscule object and began rolling it between his fingers.

“Hey Hunk, what is this? It’s kinda squishy.” Lance asked, and to demonstrate he squeezed his fingers a bit to feel the compression of the material.

“Lance don’t—!”

The ball exploded in a brilliant ray of multi-coloured paint. Splattering the stuff all over him, Hunk, and the workspace.

Lance sat there for a moment, then smiled. “Paint bomb! Cool!”

Apparently Hunk didn’t think it was cool. At least, not when it was… everywhere. “Listen, Lance. Maybe you can— I don’t know, go do something else.”

His voice wasn’t… aggresive, but it was curt. Sharp. On edge.

And Lance felt heavy again. His shoulders sagged, and he got to his feet. “Oh… yeah, sure thing, buddy.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out of the engine room. The quiet lulled around him. Thick and suffocating, like the smell of ax body spray. Lance shook his head. He pushed through it. Trying to force it to let up, but it stayed. In all it’s soul consuming glory, it stayed.

So he ignored it instead. It weighed him down, but he pretended it didn’t.

He found Pidge next. He was nervous to talk to her. She was scary when she was pissed. But his fear of the quiet outweighed his fear of being yelled at.

Yelling was better than silence.

Anything was better that the quiet.

“Hey, Pidge?” he questioned, walking over as she preformed a roundhouse kick on the video game they’d got from the space small.

“Not now, Lance. I’m busy. Whatever you need help with, get someone else to do it.”

Lance shook his head. “I don’t need and help. I was just… I was just wondering if I could chill with you for a bit.”

His voice was casual, but hopeful. He begged her to say yes. He needed her to say yes.

“I— I’m not really in the mood right now.” Pidge stated, he saw the movements on her controller falter.

“Oh…”

Pidge paused the game, turning around to apologise. To say she just wanted some alone time after yesterday. She didn’t mean to be snippy with him. She was still more worried than irritated. But Lance was already walking away. His posture slumped. Defeated. Dejected.

Pidge stared for a moment, then hesitantly went back to her game.

Lance found Coran next, but he was running a high intensity diagnostics test.

“Sorry, I just don’t think you’re, uh… skillset is required for this. I’m afraid you’ll only get in the way.”

Lance sighed, his eyes downcast. He knew what Coran really meant. That he was too stupid. Too much of a fuck up to be anything useful.

“K.” He murmured, before leaving the Altean to his work.

He missed the man’s guilty, worrisome gaze as Lance walked away.

With every rejection the quiet grew stronger. Like it was a butter churn, and each person who turned Lance away sent another stroke through the substance. Letting the silence cake in his lungs.

Then he found Shiro and Allura. They were talking in the control room. He walked in, straightening ever so slightly, but not making any more effort to conceal his misery.

He couldn’t.

“Hey guys.”

They didn’t even look at him.

“Feeling better, Lance?” Allura asked, though her voice was curt. Like she wanted to reprimand him instead.

“Mhm,” he hummed, but didn’t do much more.

“We’re just working on the castle’s defense systems. Trying to find ways to improve them. Coran is downstairs right now running a diagnostics test.” Shiro explained. Though Lance could guess he wanted to be able to focus.

Lance looked back down, dropping his shoulders again. “I just saw him. Suppose my skillset isn’t required here either.”

“Afraid not. Not to worry Lance, we’ve got this under control.” Allura assured, though she wasn’t paying much attention.

Lance figured he’d find no escape from the quiet here. In fact, this room felt more clogged with the stuff than the rest of the Castle. So, Lance hummed, turned, and left the team leaders to their business.

As he walked he found the mounting emptiness grow heavier, and heavier still. Lance struggled to breathe. He felt his eyes watering, but there was no outward emotion behind them. No screwing of the face. No sobs. Just misted eyes and he hauled himself down the Castle hallways.

He needed an escape. He couldn’t let himself be taken over. He didn’t want to. He hated this feeling. He hated the quiet. He didn’t want it!

So, when he found himself knocking on Keith’s door, I guess he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Normally he wouldn’t bother the Red Paladin if he was alone in his room. He hardly bothered anyone when they were alone in their rooms. But especially not Keith.

Lance needed some noise, though. He needed the quiet gone.

So he knocked.

And he heard Keith yell. Not hostile. Just prompting. “What?!”

Lance stood there for a moment or two, leaning on the wall beside the door, bracing himself against it. Then, finally, he managed to fight the quiet. Just enough to utter one word.

“Keith?”

His voice was dry. Exhaustion seeping through as he stared at the door.

Behind the door the Red Paladin sighed, “what do you want, Lance?!”

Lance didn’t have a concrete answer. He just needed a distraction. He needed to be away from the quiet. He needed something.

But he couldn’t tell that to Keith. And Lance was done with the lying. He couldn’t lie, and pretend he was fine. Not today.

He just didn’t have the energy.

So he didn’t answer. Instead, he diverted. Asking, “what’re you doing?”

“Why is that any of your buisness?!” Keith snapped. Lance could tell he hadn’t come any closer to the door.

Lance sighed, leaning his head against the wall. More tears filled his eyes, and in that moment, he was just…

Done.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He could tell he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Keith and he was so tired of trying.

Of fighting.

Of pretending.

So he shoved himself off the wall and started walking away. He made the short trip to his room (and by short trip I really mean short. Like a metre or two), tears slipping from his eyes as he began to walk inside.

He heard the tell tale sign of a door opening behind him, but he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t even look back as he walked into his room and closed the door behind him.

The Blue Paladin flopped onto his bed and yanked his comforter around him.

He couldn’t do it anymore.

He was so sick of fighting.

The quiet was too much. He couldn’t get away from it. He never would.

Lance gave up. He was too tired. He fucking gave up.

And the quiet lunged in. Taking the hopelessness in his soul and milking it for everything it was worth.

-

Keith regretted his response immediately. He’d been in the middle of a good book. And I mean, a really good fucking book.

But even as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He didn’t want to snap at Lance, it just… sort of happened.

Guilt churned in his gut as he heard Lance sigh. It was a heart wrenching sound. So full of despair, and Keith couldn’t stand it.

He shoved a bookmark between the pages before tossing the book aside. The Red Paladin stood up and hurried to the door.

He opened the door just in time to see Lance retreating into his bedroom.

“Lance?” He asked. But the door to the boy’s room was already closed.

Keith didn’t know what to do for a moment. He stood there, feeling awkward. Out of place. Of all the people on the team, Keith was pretty sure he was the least equipped to deal with social situations like this.

On the other hand, Lance had seemed so… defeated. So resigned. So sad. Keith hated it. He wanted to do nothing more than burst into Lance’s room and demand he be happy because dammit if anyone deserved it, Lance did!

Lance was their happiness. Their ray of sunshine. He was their shelter against all the threats this war faced. He was the roof over their heads. Shielding them from the rain and snow. Protecting them when the elements became too much to bare head on.

He mattered so much to Keith. So fucking much.

So Keith took a deep breath, bracing himself, and strode into the Blue Paladin’s bedroom.

What he saw was… shocking to say the least.

Lance was laid on his bed, wrapping his comforter around him burrito style as he stared blankly at the room. Tears slipped down his face, and he breathed slowly, but other than that he did not move.

Keith paused. The atmosphere in Lance’s room was heavy. Extremely heavy. And quiet. Way, way too quiet for the boy Keith hand grown to love.

No- not love.

…

Actually, yes. Love.

Fuck! Not now brain! Keith scolded himself, pushing past his momentary gay panic to the situation at hand. Even though he had no idea what to do.

“Lance?” He asked. The boy twitched, and he turned his bloodshot, teary eyes to Keith. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t get up. He didn’t move. Not the way Lance would move.

Keith began walking towards the bed, and Lance made no effort to stop him. “What’s… what’s going on?”

The Blue Paladin didn’t respond. He just looked away, turning his face ever so slightly away. Keith could see shame in his eyes, and he felt himself moving on autopilot.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. You… can talk to me if you want,” Keith soothed, stepping toward and laying a hand on Lance’s shoulder. The boy looked back up at him with sad, pleading blue eyes. Keith could see it, the struggle twisted across his face as he tried to put some semblance of energy into speaking. But alas the boy seemed to not be able to find the strength, and Keith felt his heart breaking even more.

Keith knew that Lance was the type of person who found great comfort in physical contact. He was a hugger. The type of person to wrap his arms around somebody or lean against them as they sat next to each other. He was the type of person to show his affection by brushing hands as you passed them in the hallway, or placing a hand on your shoulder when someone seemed distressed.

So, that’s probably why Keith found himself crawling beneath Lance in his blanket burrito. He manoeuvred the comforter so that it still stayed tight around Lance, but allowed room for himself as well. Keith propped his body up against a pillow, and pulled Lance close against his chest.

The Blue Paladin turned his head into the warmth of Keith’s chest, his hands letting go of the blanket in favour of clutching the Red Paladin’s shirt. Keith found that he did not mind. It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but as Lance cried into his chest, the overwhelming need to comfort him overtook any other sensation Keith was feeling. The Half-Galra ran his hands through the team sharpshooter’s brunette hair in slow, soothing motions.

Lance seemed to relax as well. His whole body shuddered in, what Keith hoped, was relief as strong arms held him tight and close. Sheltering him from whatever had been weighing on his mind.

They stayed like that, silently drinking each other in, for a couple of minutes before Kieth heard Lance murmur softly into Keith’s shirt.

“Talk.” He pleaded. Gripping Keith tighter. As if he were afraid that the words would make Keith pull away.

Even though that was not Keith’s intentions, at all, he was still a little confused. “Talk? About?” He asked, keeping his voice quiet and soft.

“Anything.” Lance breathed. After a few moments he added in a much more desperate tone, “please?”

“Okay… why… don’t I tell you about the book I’m reading?” He asked. It was a question, he wasn’t sure if Lance would be interested in a topic like that.

But, Lance nodded slightly, not even making a jab at Keith for being a nerd. Keith took it as a yes. Whatever was bothering Lance, it must be pretty bad if he wasn’t even trying to make fun of Keith.

So Keith started talking.

“That’s what I was doing when you came by, you know. I kinda lose track of stuff when I’m reading sometimes.” He explained, before pushing on. “Anyways, it’s about this kid. He’s always been different from other kids. He’s got ADHD and dyslexia, and weird things always seem to happen that get him kicked out of schools. He’s got this cool mom and this deadbeat dad. But then his mom dies and he’s taken to this camp where he finds out his teacher is a centaur, the Greek gods are real and he is a demigod…”

Keith was sure he was being boring. Uninteresting. He was sure Lance didn’t care and he’d want Keith to talk about something else.

But, when Keith looked down he saw Lance peeking out from where his head was buried, just a little bit, to look up at Keith. He had relaxed even more now, and Keith took it as a good sign.

So he kept talking. Even when he was sure Lance was bored out of mind he kept talking. Because for whatever his rambling was worth, it seemed to help.

So he kept talking. Pushing away the silence with his words of grandeur, fantasy and adventure.

As he spoke, Lance’s presence seemed to become lighter. Happier. More like the Lance that Kieth had grown to love. The Lance, he realised, that he hadn’t seen much of in a long time.

That made Keith happy.

-

The more Keith spoke. The longer he laid there, running his long fingers through Lance’s hair, the farther away the quiet fled. Lance knew he had no idea how much he was helping, but the sharpshooter was grateful for him nonetheless.

When Keith’s narration of the novel he was reading came to an end, Lance was able to pull himself up, and drag himself off Keith’s lap. He unwrapped the comforter, and repositioned himself so that he was sitting beside Keith. His cheeks flushed a bit at the proximity, both now and previously. But he supposed he was kind of past the point of pulling away now.

He leaned against his companion’s shoulder as he spoke, “thank you, Keith. I…I needed that.”

Keith turned his head to him, and Lance felt sweat on his brow as the Red Paladin asked, “do you… wanna talk about it? You seemed… really upset.”

Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to. But… Keith was here. He’d seen Lance wrapped deep in the claws of the quiet… and he hadn’t run away. It hadn’t plagued him too. In fact, he’d made it go away.

So… maybe…

“You don’t have to. But you can… if you want.” Keith added as Lance pondered. The Red Paladin took Lance’s hand in his own. Lance wasn’t sure when Keith became so keen on physical contact, but he liked it. “I promise I’ll listen.”

Lance smiled, and apparently that was all the reassurance he needed.

He took a deep breath, resting his head on Keith’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. Being this close to Keith just felt… safe. Homey. Like he belonged there. “I… I don’t know how to explain it. I just… sometimes it’s just quiet. Too quiet. And heavy.”

He didn’t think he was making sense. But Keith listened regardless.

“And it’s like… it’s hard to do things. Like talk. Or move. Or just… function. And lately it’s been… I don’t know, it’s just been so much. And I just—“ his voice broke as tears filled his vision, but he carried on, “I keep trying to find people. Because hanging out with people usually makes it go away. But I haven’t been— it hasn’t— and then today I tried and…”

He whisked his tears away as Keith moved his arm around Lance and pulled him closer.

The Blue Paladin took a deep breath before continuing. “Today nobody wanted me around. And I just- I really needed— I didn’t want to be alone again. I didn’t want it to be quiet. I just needed someone but… but everyone kept telling me to go away and that made it so much worse.”

Lance was aware that he was shaking now. Keit’s grip tightened.

“And I just couldn’t… do it anymore. I was just so tired of pretending that I was okay. Of fighting to keep going despite how much I just wanted to stop. And I just couldn’t— I just wanted to give up and I couldn’t—“

He sobbed, and turned his head so that his face was buried in the soft, pale skin of Keith’s neck.

The hand returned in his hair, and Keith cooed at him softly.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here now. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Lance sobbed harder, and Keith let him.

He didn’t cry long. Most of his tears had already been spent, and also he just… didn’t need to. Having Keith here, it helped. He didn’t feel so alone in his mind. The world didn’t feel as chokingly silent.

It made the tears dry faster than they ever had before.

“Thank you Keith. For listening and… and for being here. I really didn’t… didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you, Lance. We all will. But…” he paused, unsure if this was the right thing to say. He shook off the hesitation, he had to know, “why didn’t you just tell us what was going on in the first place? You never had to be alone. We could have helped you.”

Lance shrugged, keeping his body situated comfortably against the Red Paladin. “I… I thought I could deal with my own problems. I didn’t want you guys to worry. I didn’t want to be a… a burden.”

Keith shook his head, “Lance, if you’re hurting, I want to be able to help. And I know the rest of the team feels the same. You can’t, — fuck— you can’t let yourself suffer all alone. Knowing that you’ve been struggling and I didn’t even know. I— it— it fucking hurts man.”

Lance sighed, but he didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure there was anything that needed to be said.

Keith sighed as well, letting his head lean against Lance’s.

“Just… promise me you’ll tell me when you’re feeling all… gloomy. No matter what I’m doing, I’ll help. And— and when you’re ready, I think you should tell the rest of the team. If I’m not here I want to know you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’d be okay.”

“No, Lance, I mean really okay! Not ‘I’m pushing through it and ignoring it so I’m fine’ okay!”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“Promise me?” Keith pleaded, squeezing Lance’s hand tighter.

Wow, Keith begging was new. Lance didn’t think he could say no to it. So, feeling like he didn’t have much of a choice, he surrendered.

“Okay. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Keith breathed, his grip tightening again.

Lance, for the first time in a while, completely forgot what it was like for the world to be quiet. Lance relished the feeling. This feeling of complete and utter contempt. He knew it wouldn’t stay forever. He knew the quiet would return and he’d return to the daily battle of just existing in his own brain.

But the task didn’t feel as daunting anymore. Because Lance wasn’t fighting alone anymore. Laying in his bed, wrapped up in Keith’s warm embrace…

It was the farthest from the quiet than Lance had ever been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Note: Did I shamelessly plug Percy Jackson into this fic? Yes. Do I also feel like it’s in character for Keith to relate to a book about kids not knowing who they are and feeling different their whole life only to find out they are NOT completely human? Also yes!)

[rebelwhump]

The Fairy Tail

TV Show: Shameless

My first Shameless sickfic, featuring Ian and Trevor.

CW: emeto, drug use, sex (non-descriptive)

_

Ian arrived at work through the back service door and headed to the employee dressing room. He took off his clothes and  slipped into his tight gold shorts and loosely wrapped the matching gold tie around his neck. His blonde coworker, Adam, rounded the corner and offered him a line of coke before his shift started. Ian stared down at the small ampule in his hand filled with white powder. If he had been offered coke a month ago, he would have declined, but after being fired from his job as a paramedic and stopping his medication, he was inclined to give in. He agreed and Adam poured a line out on Ian’s hand as he bent down and snorted it. The powder burned his nostrils. 

“I’ve got some other party favors if you’re interested?” Adam admitted with a smirk on his face.

“Maybe later,” Ian replied, wiping his nose. “I’ve gotta get out on the floor.”

One sleazy old guy after another requested a lap dance from Ian, slipping fives and tens in the waistband of his metallic shorts. Most of them were between the ages of fifty and seventy years old, balding, and wearing cheap mismatched suits. There were a couple of times when security had to step in, as the men were getting too handsy. One of them even tried to stick a finger up Ian’s ass. Part of him wanted to go find Adam and ask for something else to help take the edge off and make the evening more bearable. He finished up a dance and headed over to the bar, where he poured himself two shots of vodka. Ian hadn’t eaten all day, so the alcohol went straight to his head, making his vision fuzzy. He saw Adam walk past the bar and enter the back room. Ian followed closely behind and tapped on his shoulder. 

“Hey Adam, I was wondering if I could take you up on your earlier offer?” He asked. Adam smiled and rummaged through his locker, pulling out a round white tablet.

“This’ll make you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine baby,” he said. Ian placed the tablet on his tongue and swallowed hard before heading back out onto the dance floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Trevor walking towards him as he was making cocktails for a couple of guests. 

“Trevor! What are you doing here?” He said, excited to see his boyfriend. 

“Lip told me I could find you here. I’ve been texting you the last couple days. Where have you been?” He asked, a combination of irritation and concern in his voice.

“I've just been working a lot,” he replied, pocketing the three dollar tip that was left for him on the bar counter. “Lots of long nights.” 

“Could we maybe go outside and talk?” He asked, pointing towards the entrance.

“I actually just took my last break, but I get off in another hour if you wanna meet up then?“ he said.

“Okay, sure. I have an errand to run, but I’ll be back in an hour,” Trevor answered, slightly disappointed. He had been worried about Ian ever since he lost his job. Even Fiona had expressed concern over her brother not taking his medication. He had lied about his errand, considering it was one in the morning, and the only places open were clubs and bars. Trevor just didn’t feel like watching as other men hit on his half naked partner. Instead, he decided to take a walk around the city, stopping off for a coffee at a twenty-four hour diner down the block. An hour has passed and he circled back around to The Fairy Tail. He waited outside, leaning up against the brick building as he smoked his vape. 

A half hour after his shift ended, Ian stumbled out of the club.

“Oh hey! You’re here!” He said exuberantly, his words slurred. 

“Uh yeah, I told you I would be,” Trevor replied, annoyed. “Ian, are you drunk?”

“I had a couple shots with the guys after work,” He answered, grabbing Trevor’s waist and leaning in to kiss him. 

“Why don’t we just go back to my place? You can sober up and then we can talk,” he said. Ian agreed and the two made their way back to Trevor’s house. 

They had the house to themselves since his two roommates were out of town. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Trevor said on his way to the kitchen. Ian felt himself coming down so he slipped another pill that he had in his pocket when Tevor wasn’t looking. The two sat down on the sofa together, Ian nuzzled his head into Trevor’s shoulder as they flipped through channels on the TV. 

“What do you feel like watching?” Trevor asked.

“I would rather just watch me fuck you,” he replied, kissing his neck and trying to slide a hand inside his jeans.

“Stop,” Trevor said, swatting his hand away. 

“Fine. You can fuck me,” Ian smirked, straddling his legs and tugging at his belt buckle again. 

“What the hell has gotten into you?” He shouted as he pushed Ian off him. He lost his balance and fell backwards onto the floor, hitting his head on the coffee table. 

“Shit! Ian, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” He asked, reaching out his hand.

“Fuck you,” Ian mumbled as he rejected Trevor’s hand and stood up, appearing unstable on his feet. 

“Are you high?” He asked, looking into Ian’s  eyes. Ian shook his head in disbelief as if he had just said something incredibly offensive. 

“I’m leaving,” he scoffed as he headed for the door. 

“Please don’t go,” Trevor pleaded. “Just stay the night, okay? I don’t want you walking home by yourself.” He was really worried about Ian’s state of mind. This wasn’t like him, or at least, not the Ian he knew. After some coercing, he managed to get him to agree to stay the night. 

Trevor offered to sleep on the couch, but Ian told him they could share the bed. The last thing he wanted was to be alone. His head was killing him, so he went to the bathroom and searched the medicine cabinet for a bottle of aspirin. He popped two tablets in his mouth and swallowed them down with water from the facet. Ian walked over to Trevor, who was sitting shirtless on the bed. 

“I’m really sorry about earlier. Is your head okay?” He asked, feeling guilty.

“Fine,” he replied as he took off his jeans and stood there in his dark blue boxers. He could see the hurt on Trevor’s face. Sitting down beside him on the bed, he rested his head on his shoulder. The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Ian turned to kiss his boyfriend's cheek. This turned into a full on make out session, with Ian on top and pinning Trevor’s arms down on the bed. Ian planted kisses on his chest, heading south towards his naval. He tore his underwear off and went down on Trevor, who let out soft moans. After orgasming, Trevor pushed Ian onto the bed and reciprocated the favor. Due to the pills and booze, it took a little longer, but eventually he got there. They both finished and laid down on the tangled sheets, breathing heavily.

“That was…unexpected,” Trevor said.

“It’s more fun that way,” Ian grinned. Trevor still had questions he wanted to ask, but figured it was best to wait until the morning once Ian had sobered up. They climbed under the covers and cuddled until they fell asleep. 

Trevor let Ian sleep in while he made them breakfast. He hadn’t been grocery shopping in three weeks, so there weren’t many options to choose from. Rummaging through his fridge, he managed to find some bacon that was about to go bad and a box of half eaten frozen waffles. 

Ian woke up feeling groggy and slightly nauseated. He sat hunched over in bed and rubbed his eyes, reaching for his wrinkled t-shirt that was on the floor. 

“I made us bacon and waffles,” Trevor said, peeking his head around the door. Ian gave a half smile and slowly stood to his feet, taking a minute to gather himself before heading into the kitchen. There were two plates of food set up on a small dining room table in the corner next to two glasses of orange juice. 

“Looks good,” Ian said with a smile, although his stomach felt different. He picked at the waffles on his plate, growing more nauseous with every bite. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Trevor asked, noticing Ian’s discomfort. 

“I’m just not very hungry,” he replied, setting down his fork. He let out a large belch and felt his food about to make a return, so he rushed to the bathroom. Trevor followed shortly after, finding Ian sitting on the tile floor, hunched over the toilet. Trevor rubbed his back as he gagged into the bowl. Once he had emptied his stomach, he got up and rinsed his mouth out at the sink. Opening the cupboard under the sink, Trevor grabbed a bottle of pepto and poured some into the measuring cap, handing it to Ian who threw back the chalky pink liquid in one gulp. 

“Thanks,” he said with a grimace, letting out an airy burp. 

“How’re you doing?” Trevor asked nervously, putting the bottle back under the sink. He wasn’t sure how to start this conversation, worried about upsetting Ian.

“I feel a lot better,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his slightly bloated belly. 

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” he said, taking a pause. “I know you’ve been going through a hard time since losing your job, and I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing?” Ian knew this question was coming, but was hoping he could avoid it. Talking about feelings didn’t exactly come easy to the Gallaghers, and when he was with Mickey, the only acceptable emotions were lust and anger. 

“I have good days and bad I guess, but just being with you helps a lot” he said, thinking that is what Trevor wanted to hear. 

“You’re taking care of yourself though, right?” He questioned. Ian knew what he meant by this. 

“Yes, I’m taking my meds,” he said and gritted his teeth, walking back into the bedroom to finish getting dressed. Trevor wanted to give his boyfriend the benefit of the doubt, but couldn’t help but feel like he was being lied to.

“I have to get to work,” Trevor said, grabbing his phone and keys from his bedside table. “You can hang out here if you want. My roommates won’t be home until tomorrow.” 

“Nah, that’s alright. I should get home anyways,” Ian said, buckling his belt. The two shared a short kiss and left the house together, both going their separate ways. 

[slveepyscwrs]

pls send writing prompt requests (bonus points if haikyuu), i need something to do with my boredom.

(only m4m ships pls)