#vld sickfic

[autumn-leaves]

I just wrote a 10,000 word voltron sickfic I dont know what possessed me i have never written a sickfic before and I have certainly never written a fic that long before it's like something was working through me

[thefinestkilljoy]

I wrote this thing.

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He looked down at Lance’s hand and his eyes widened. “Did you get burned?”

Lance also looked down and mumbled an affirmative.

There was a sigh, and then Keith was there, taking Lance’s hand and inspecting it. Lance blushed, which was entirely because of the sickness thank you very much.

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You should check it out.

[johaerys-writes]

Shiro/Keith | Voltron: Legendary Defender | E | Ch. 2/3

Summary: During a fight with the Galra, Shiro and Keith are sucked into a wormhole and flung to the far edge of the universe. They land on an empty and unfamiliar planet, with no way of contacting the castle, but Keith isn’t too worried. Things could be worse— at least they have each other.

Until Shiro collapses.

My contribution for the Sheith Secret Santa 2022 event on twitter! Some comfort and tender caretaking after the hurt <3

Read on AO3!

Keith wakes up to an empty bed.

The sheets are still warm when Keith reaches out to touch them, and so is Shiro’s pillow. The blanket that Keith had draped over himself the previous night was tucked around his shoulders while he slept, probably when Shiro got out of bed.

“Shiro?” Keith sits up and groggily rubs at his eyes, trying to orient himself in the dark room. It is empty, too, and there’s no response. He pushes himself up, stretches his arms over his head. It is still dark beyond Black's window. The stars are bright, glittering silver pins in the night sky; exactly the same as when he went to sleep, hours ago. Seven hours and some minutes, to be exact. There are planets whose days are much longer than Earth’s, and the one they’ve landed on seems to be one of them. Dawn could still be hours, perhaps even days away from breaking.

“Shiro?” Keith calls again, more loudly now, padding across the room. He pushes the door to the cockpit open, only to find Shiro crouched beneath the pilot seat. There is a screwdriver in his hand, and he’s fiddling with some wires. He is still in the sweats and tee Keith helped him change into the previous night, but he has his helmet on his head.  

He looks so big in the narrow cockpit, so imposing. His broad frame and long legs barely fit in the cramped space below the monitors, yet Keith wouldn’t know it by the way he moves in it, with practised ease, as if it were built for him. He’s mumbling something to himself,  trying the comms over and over as he works, but the words come muffled from within the helmet.

Keith clears his throat, to which Shiro finally jolts around.

“Keith,” he breathes in surprise. He seems much more lucid than the previous night, but he’s still a little pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes. He crawls a little from under the cockpit to glance up at him. “Sorry— did I wake you?”

“You didn’t. I woke up by myself.” Keith glances around, at the tools that lie scattered on the floor. “What, uh… what are you doing there?”

Shiro takes off his helmet and sets it beside him on the ground. His hair sits flat on his head, his silver forelock tucked back. He’s still a little sweaty, like last night, his forehead gleaming. Keith doesn’t like how waxy his skin looks, how dark his eyes. “The power system controls seem to have been damaged during the landing,” he says. “And I think there’s something wrong with the drive condition monitors. I was trying to fix them.”

“Oh. Um… okay.” Keith frowns. The power system? The drive condition monitors? He couldn’t care less about those right now. Shiro should still be in bed, resting. He was burning up with fever the previous night, after collapsing right before Keith’s eyes; surely he isn't ready to go straight to trying to fix Black, right?

Keith’s first instinct is to run to Shiro and take the helmet and the tools from his hands and demand he go back to bed. He resists that urge as he takes a step closer, and in the gentlest tone he can manage he asks him, "How are you feeling? You didn’t seem very well last night.” And that’s putting it mildly, he adds to himself.

"I’m feeling great," Shiro says. “Much better than last night. Sorry about all that, by the way. I must have really worried you.” He gives Keith a warm, reassuring smile.

It doesn’t reassure Keith in the slightest.  

“Your fever was really high last night, Shiro,” he says. “And you…” You almost died , Keith thinks, but doesn’t give voice to that thought. Shiro does look better. He’s up and about and can hold a conversation. Perhaps he really is better; perhaps last night was just a freak accident, some sort of weird space flu that lasts only for a day and then goes away as suddenly as it came.

Somehow, Keith can’t bring himself to believe that.

“Keith, I’m fine,” Shiro says, noticing his silence. “Really.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles quickly, “yeah, I know, but—”

You almost died, he thinks again, and his stomach ties up in knots. That same worry and unease grips his hard, unyielding. He wants to take the tools out of Shiro’s hands and march him back to bed, to tuck him under the blankets and not let him get up again until he’s absolutely sure, one hundred percent positive, that Shiro is okay.

There is something Shiro told him once, years before.

It was back when they were both at the Garrison, a few months before the Kerberos mission— stars, it’s like a lifetime has passed since then. They'd snuck out together after curfew to stargaze on the Garrison's roof. They’d brought drinks and snacks with them, as always, but it wasn’t quite the same as other times. Shiro had been quiet and pensive. His hand had been acting up that day, his fingers trembling and going painfully numb; Shiro often tried to brush it away with a joke to lighten the mood, but there were times when he turned glum, his eyes staring inwards. Conversation had soon drifted to Shiro's illness, his childhood that had been filled with hospital visits and endless examinations, the loneliness they brought. Shiro had told Keith of his tenth birthday, how he'd had to stay the whole day at the hospital, unable to move; his grandpa had to bring him the cup of water and hold the straw close to his mouth so Shiro could drink. He couldn't even do that by himself.

I hated feeling so helpless, Shiro had whispered. Keith knows Shiro well enough to understand that he's feeling the same.

“Right,” Keith says, and pushes his sleeves up. He crouches under the monitors and crawls next to Shiro. If he can’t march him back to bed, then he sure as hell won’t let him fiddle with faulty equipment for hours on his own. “I checked the drive condition system yesterday. There wasn’t enough power to fully charge it up, but I think this wire here must be at fault. The landing must have shaken a couple of them loose. Pass me the screwdriver?” He holds his palm out, waiting.

Shiro smiles, a little surprised, as he reaches into the toolbox behind him and hands Keith what he asked for. “I think there’s more than a couple loose wires,” he says. “Altean engineering isn’t my forte, but if we find what’s wrong with it, we might be able to get the star track sensors up and working. It’s worth a shot.”

Keith nods, squinting at the maze of white-blue wires crisscrossing beneath the sleek surface of Black’s deck. After he identifies the issue, he and Shiro deliberate for a moment on how to proceed. They agree to clean and remove the broken part of the wire and glue the remaining bits together for a quick and temporary fix until they can find a proper replacement. Keith holds the two ends while Shiro connects them with the fibre glue from the emergency kit.

“Okay. Ready to try the sensors now?”

“Aye, Captain,” Shiro says, and rises up to his knees to flip the activation switch.

The screen lights up, making a soft thrumming noise. Shiro whoops enthusiastically when readings start flashing on the screen from Black’s external sensors, but it doesn’t last very long before it all dies back down and goes dark. Keith shakes his head and sighs.

“Seems like we need to wait a little longer for the batteries to charge.” He returns the tools back inside the kit. “We’ll try it again later.”

“That sounds like a plan.” Shiro can’t quite hide the disappointment from his smile of agreement. “I tried the comms as well, while you were sleeping. There was only radio static. I tried to alter the frequencies of the infrared system Pidge installed— I played around with the base settings and rebooted the system, but nothing worked. I suppose that will have to wait, too. But,” he adds, helping Keith secure the lid of the toolkit and set it aside, “I did manage to locate Red, which means the internal radars are slowly coming back online.”

"How long will that take, do you think?"

"Impossible to tell. A day or two, if we’re lucky. If nothing else has been damaged that I haven’t been able to find. Whatever we do, we'll need to preserve power. I'm assuming your lion is the same?"

"Pretty much.”

Shiro nods. "We'll probably have to go check up on her soon, make sure everything’s where it’s supposed to be. That ion cannons really did a number on them both." He pushes himself to his feet, but then he stops, swaying. He almost loses his balance, grabbing the back of his pilot seat so he doesn't fall.

Keith is next to him in an instant, holding him upright. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," Shiro murmurs, blinking. "Probably just a dizzy spell."

Keith presses his knuckles to Shiro's brow. "Damn it, Shiro, you're still burning up." The worry that Keith has been trying to suppress now returns tenfold. “You should have just stayed in bed.”

“Keith, I told you I’m okay,” Shiro chuckles, more than a little breathless as he lets Keith guide him back inside the room.

“Like hell you are.” Keith helps him sit at the edge of the bed, then grabs the Altean thermometer from the bedside table. The fever isn’t as high as the night before, only a few ticks above normal, but still high enough to warrant an extended stay in bed, rather than crouching on the floor and fixing faulty wires. He urges Shiro to lie back down, to which the other man obeys, amidst laughing protests. “You should be resting, not doing chores."

“You know what they say, I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

“That joke wasn’t funny the first time you said it,” Keith grumbles. “It still isn’t.”

Shiro grins at his frustration. “I thought my sense of humour was the reason we became friends in the first place.”

“Not really, no,” Keith murmurs as he deactivates the thermometer and stands up. He can’t quite hide the smile that curls his lips at the memory of Shiro though, tall and broad and towering over Keith and his old classmates in his strapping Garrison uniform, and completely oblivious to the fact that his car was being stolen right under his nose. “But I bet your superiors at the Garrison thought you had a wicked sense of humour when you dragged me in there like a lost puppy.”

“Hey. You earned that, fair and square.”

Keith hums a quiet laugh, his cheeks feeling a little hot at the praise as he walks to the food cupboard. “We should eat something,” he says, rummaging through the packets of protein bars and the juice boxes. “Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Anything but that gross Altean jelly,” Shiro says, then groans when Keith throws him not one, but two packets.

“Consider this an appetiser while I make us some actual food,” Keith calls from within a cupboard that looks rather promising. There are dehydrated deep sea vegetables from Ukkotil and some sort of dried mushroom powder, and the closest thing to rice Keith has seen since stepping foot in space. He isn’t sure how Shiro got his hands on it —probably at the outdoor market in Olkarion that they visited a while back— but he thinks he might be able to make something edible out of it.

“I could help, you know,” Shiro says behind him. “Those vegetables are a nightmare to chop.”

“Good thing I’m great with knives, then.” Keith winks at him over his shoulder as he tosses the cutting knife in the air, then catches it with a flourish before cutting the vegetables in neat and thin slices at lightning speed. Shiro clicks his tongue.

“Show off,” he says.

Keith laughs, but then he goes quiet, focusing on his task.

Read the rest on AO3!

[regalanimefreak]

This account was set up quite recently; and about a week ago, I'd decided that I'll be more active on here to pass the time, so if there's any fanfic oneshot requests regarding the following fandoms (KnB, Free!, Fruits Basket, Horimiya, sometimes VLD, Sasaki and Miyano, and Hirano and Kagiura), reach out, and I'll do my best to fulfill the request, mainly since my writer's block has been nearly incurable these past couple weeks—😂

[vcepsis]

G2 with Lance/Shiro and Keith? Whichever you like most

Wow I am SO sorry this took especially long!! To be honest I wasn’t 100% sure what you meant by this and I should have asked, but I….didn’t. So it ended up turning into Shklance of some kind?? If this isn’t what you wanted please feel free to hmu again! And thank you so much for the request :)

Taken from this ask meme (Nausea + at home). A loose interpretation once again…I hope you enjoy! Beta’d as always by the perfect and beautiful @feverflushed

—–

Lance stood outside Shiro’s door, the tray in his hands shaking just enough to make the soup in the bowl ripple. He’d been standing there for a good five minutes now, wondering if he should knock or just leave the tray on the floor.

He let out a frustrated breath; this was stupid. He knew it was stupid, but it didn’t do much for his nerves. It was unusual for him, to say the least, but this was an unusual situation. 

Before he could make a decision, the door slid open and he was suddenly face to face with Keith, holding a bowl of water in his hands.

Keith looked up, taking a startled step back at the sight of Lance standing by his door. “Holy shit,” he said, softly despite the shock in his voice. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here,” Lance lied smoothly, praising himself for keeping his voice steady even if his hands were still trembling slightly. He tried to look past Keith into the dark bedroom, but he couldn’t see much past the end of the bed. “How is he?”

Keith visibly deflated at the question, looking down at the bowl in his hands. There was a cloth floating in it, and Lance noticed how Keith’s hands were damp. “The same,” he said dejectedly. “I can’t get the fever to come down.”

Lance frowned, anxiety spiking hot in his chest. “Still? It’s been like, two days.” 

“I know,” Keith said, something between annoyance and worry in his voice. Lance saw how dark the circles under Keith’s eyes were, how pale he was. Had he slept at all this whole time?

“Well, I come bearing supplies.” Lance held the tray out, gently enough not to spill the soup or knock over the two water pouches on it. “Courtesy of Hunk. Coran said he’d come by later with another medicine to try.”

Keith eyed the soup warily. “I really don’t think Shiro can keep anything down right now. The fever is making him pretty nauseous.”

“That’s why the soup is for you,” Lance replied. “Really, when was the last time you ate? Or slept? Or left the room?”

Keith just blinked, looking surprised. 

Lance sighed. It was clear that Keith was in full worried-over-Shiro mode, and was therefore totally useless in taking care of himself. “Alright,” he said, only a little exasperated. “Switch with me?”

It took some maneuvering, but eventually Keith got the tray and Lance had the water bowl. He shot Keith a smile, hoping it looked more confident than he felt. “Be right back.”

It didn’t take long for Lance to get the bowl filled with cold water in the bathroom down the hall, where he washed out the cloth for good measure. He had been half expecting Keith to bite his head off; the only thing that made Keith even crankier than usual was when something bad happened to Shiro. Usually, it was cute. This time, though, was different. This time it wasn’t just Keith turning into a full blown Mama Bear over nothing. This was…serious.

Making his way back as quickly as possible, Lance let himself in Shiro’s room right away.

He wasn’t surprised to see the soup sitting on the desk in the corner, untouched, along with one of the water pouches. The other was in Keith’s hand, straw already in place, as Keith tried to gently coax it into Shiro. 

Shiro was lying against a small mountain of pillows, most of them more than likely pilfered from various areas in the Castle. There was also a pile of blankets at his feet, bunched up in an untidy mess. Shiro looked like he was barely awake, his head turned slightly towards Keith, eyes half lidded. His face was pale, several shades paler than Keith’s tired one, save for the red flush that Lance could make out even in the darkness of the room.

Whatever this sickness was, it had hit Shiro like a truck a few days ago, after they returned from an otherwise routine off planet mission. The only symptom so far was the fever, which explained the nausea, but it only climbed higher as the days went on. 

Keith, of course, hadn’t left his side since.

Lance stood rooted to the spot as Shiro took a few small sips of the packet, turning away after far too little. Keith looked unhappy, but didn’t force it. He ran a hand through Shiro’s sweaty bangs, murmuring praise as Shiro’s eyes fluttered shut. 

It was weird, seeing them like this. Lance didn’t know what the hammering of his heart meant, but the feelings were drowned out by the strangeness of it all. Of seeing Shiro, their indomitable leader, so seriously sick. Of Keith, angry and impatient, handling the situation with such a foreign tenderness. 

But maybe, there was a fleeting moment of jealousy buried somewhere in there. But for which person, he couldn’t tell.

Keith looked up, eyes sparking as he saw Lance standing there. He beckoned him over impatiently, and Lance felt the strange feeling again as he recalled the tenderness aimed at Shiro.

Nevertheless, he made his way over quickly, holding the bowl as Keith dipped his hands in to fish out the cloth. Wringing it out quickly, he turned back to Shiro, who had slid down the pillow mountain slightly, his breathing quick and shallow. Keith gently dabbed the cloth on Shiro’s cheeks, across the scar on his nose, down his neck. After a few dips in the bowl, he eventually swept Shiro’s bangs aside to lay the cloth against his burning forehead.

Pulling back, Keith let out a shaking breath, pointedly not looking at Lance. 

“Ok, seriously,” Lance said, taking care not to be too loud. “Eat something. You need to keep your strength up. You’re no good to him if you get sick too.”

Keith huffed a frustrated breath, turning to Lance. “Coran said we were all exposed to whatever this is. If we haven’t gotten sick by now, it’s probably fine.”

“Sure, but staying up and not eating will make you sick no matter what.” Lance gestured to the soup, still untouched on Shiro’s desk. “So eat. Maybe sleep too? Like in your own room?”

Keith’s eyes flicked over to the soup, and he slumped down in his chair. “I know. But..” His expression changed, just slightly, but Lance was taken aback by the obvious worry on his face. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Lance said suddenly, emboldened by the vulnerability Keith had shown him. 

Keith’s eyes widened at the offer, and he was silent for a moment. But in the end, he nodded. “Just for a bit,” he conceded, getting up from the chair. “And I’m not leaving.”

Lance sighed, but nodded in response. He could only hope for so much.

Taking Keith’s post by Shiro’s bed, he rested the half full water bowl on his lap, watching as Shiro slept fitfully. His breathing was still labored, and shifted just enough to make the cloth slip from his forehead. Lance readjusted it as gently as he could, but suddenly, Shiro’s eyes were on him. “L-Lance?”

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance said softly, trying to smile. “How are you feeling?”Shiro’s eyes were unfocused, glazed with fever. He looked troubled, and Lance couldn’t help but brush his hand against Shiro’s cheek. His eyes widened at the heat he felt there; it was even worse than he thought. He could only pray Coran’s next round of medicine actually worked–so far the fever hadn’t responded to anything he’d come up with. Lance still remembered the uncharacteristically serious expression on Coran’s face when the last remedy had failed to make a dent.

Shiro was frowning now, and it would have been cute if not for the dire situation his was in. “Lance,” he said again, softer this time.

“Yeah?” Lance responded, but Shiro was still staring at him with unfocused eyes. Lance, in a moment of desperation fueled insanity, wrapped both his hands around Shiro’s, belatedly realizing it was the metal one. Shiro looked down at their joined hands, fear in his eyes this time. 

“Not..that one,” he muttered, trying to take his hand back. Lance was alarmed at the lack of strength as he pulled; it took no effort to keep his hand in place. “I’ll…hurt you…”

Lance kept his hands wrapped firmly around Shiro’s metal one, squeezing just a bit, even though he wasn’t sure if Shiro could feel it. “No you won’t,” he said firmly. “You would never hurt any of us, Shiro.”

I trust you with my life, he didn’t say. I’d follow you into hell if you asked.

Instead, he moved one of his hands to stabilize the cloth, which had slipped again. “It’s ok, Shiro. You’re ok.”

This seemed to work, as Shiro relaxed a bit more into the pillows.

“You should try to drink something again,” Lance said, already starting to reach for the water pouch Keith had before.

But Shiro squeezed his eyes shut, turning away. “Can’t.”

This made Lance pause. “Why not?”

Shiro wrapped an arm around his stomach, breathing going choppy. He’d gone an alarming shade of pale at the mention of drinking “Can’t.”

Lance remembered how Keith mentioned that Shiro couldn’t keep anything down. Now he was even saying no to water. 

This was bad. Worse than Lance thought. 

There was a soft knock at the door, and before Lance was halfway out of his chair, Keith was already pressing the button to open it. Lance had dropped Shiro’s hand in the process, and Shiro whimpered softly.

At door was Coran. It was almost strange to see him like this: serious, unsmiling. Even his moustache looked a little unkempt, like he’d been fiddling with it without thinking. Lance knew Coran had been working on something for Shiro since this all began, redoubling his efforts when Shiro only got worse.

“Please tell me you have something,” Keith said in lieu of a greeting. Lance came up behind him, eager to hear the news.

Coran hesitated for a moment, eyebrows going up as he registered Lance’s presence, though it didn’t last long. He held up a vial, half full of something bright purple.

“This should do the trick,” he said tiredly. 

Keith eyed the vial warily. “Does he have to drink it? I’m really not sure that’s happening right now.”

But Coran just nodded. “Right. I know he hasn’t been eating. Pidge explained how fevers can affect your delicate human biologies. Not to fear, though.” At this, Coran gave the vial a little shake, seeming to perk up a bit as he explained. “I’ve made adjustments for that. Hopefully this will kick in within a few vargas.”

Keith didn’t seem entirely convinced. After all, nothing else had worked so far. But Lance stepped around him, taking the vial. “Thanks, Coran. We’ll let you know how it goes.”

Coran shot them a smile, though it still looked tired. “Very good, then. I truly hope this works.”

Lance knew how worried everyone was about Shiro, especially as he continued to deteriorate. Even Coran, it seemed, had begun to let it get the best of him. 

Coran turned his attention to Keith, giving him a once over. “Take some time to rest up too, Number Four. Can’t have you falling ill as well.”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith said, almost as if on auto pilot.

Coran sighed softly, but didn’t push it. 

“Good luck, boys.��� With that, Coran left them to it.

The door slid shut as they both turned towards Shiro, who had hiked the blankets up to his neck, shivering. Keith cursed softly, hurrying to the bed and quickly covering him with the sheets he’d kicked off earlier. 

Lance came around the other side of the bed, vial still in hand. The purple stuff inside sloshed like water, thin and slightly translucent despite its unnerving colour.

He handed it over to Keith, who took it with a nod of thanks. “Can you…help me sit him up?” he asked hesitantly, as if expecting Lance to say no.

“Sure, dude. No problem.” He shot Keith a smile, who offered a shaky one in return.

Together, they managed to sit Shiro up, even as he grumbled a bit in protest. Lance couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in Shiro’s back moved, the hard lines of his shoulders. 

Shiro, half awake and even less lucid, kept trying to refuse the medicine, even as Keith pleaded with him to drink it. Lance rubbed soothing circles on Shiro’s back, hoping to help without overstepping.

“It’ll make you feel better,” Keith was saying. But Shiro still shook his head, wrapping a protective arm around his stomach.

“Please?’” Keith asked again, sounding just a little bit desperate. “For me?” He looked up, making eye contact with Lance. “For us?”

Slowly, Shiro looked up at Keith, then over at Lance. One of the straps on Shiro’s tank top had shifted just enough to show a horrible jagged scar that ran down his shoulder onto his bicep. Lance had tried to avoid looking as much as he could–he knew Shiro would never want him to see, under normal circumstances–but up close like this, it was hard not to. It made Lance’s heart hurt. But it also filled him with rage at the ones who did this to him. 

The muscles under Lance’s hands suddenly relaxed, and Shiro finally offered a single, jerky nod.

Keith let out a shaking breath, relief clear in his face. He managed to get Shiro to drink the whole thing in one go, before laying him back down on the bed with Lance’s help. Soon enough Shiro fell back into an uneasy sleep, curling up on his side with an arm still wrapped around his stomach.

Lance sighed softly, picking up the bowl of water and bringing it around the bed. After handing the bowl over, Lance took a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I, uh…guess I should go?”

Keith looked up from the bowl, where he was wringing out the cloth. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Yeah. Sure.”

There was a moment of profound awkwardness, where neither of them seemed to know what to say. The silence was broken only by Shiro’s breathing. Was it Lance’s imagination, or was it sounding a little easier already?

Nodding, Lance made his way to the door, but before he got too far, Keith spoke up. “Lance?”

Turning slightly, Lance raised his eyebrows in question.

Keith seemed almost embarrassed, but he gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

Relief flooded through Lance at that, at managing to help. He hated seeing Shiro suffer, almost as much as Keith did. To know Keith appreciated his help, especially with something so important, made Lance’s heart soar.

“Yeah, man. Anytime." 

[edelwary]

Keith, babe, you’re heavy - the (sick)fic / the headcanons

[autisticlancemcclain]

Shiro had warned him. Hunk had warned him. Coran had warned him. Hell, Keith had even warned him, and offered one of his hoodies.

But had Lance listened? No, of course not. His stubborn ass refused any sort of layer and marched right out to the chilly planet in nothing but his jeans and baseball tee (he forwent his jacket in what Keith firmly believed to be spite), denying that he was cold through teeth chattering so badly that none of his words were actually legible by the time the negotiations wrapped up and they headed home.

“You sure you don’t want my hoodie?” Keith had asked, admittedly a little smug.

“Ch — choke to d — death,” Lance had replied, with as much dignity as he could with his lips turning blue.

(It’s not even that the planet was below freezing, or anything. It was maybe 14°C, give or take a couple degrees. But Lance had the shittiest circulation of anyone Keith had ever met, and as a result could not stay in cold environments very long without really starting to feel it. Sometimes Keith affectionately called him his little gecko, which Lance hated and everyone else found hilarious. Keith will admit that the gecko comment may have been part of the reason that Lance refused to wear a goddamned hoodie.)

Regardless of the reason for the Red Paladin’s stubbornness, when he walked into the kitchen the next morning with a red nose and a duvet wrapped around his shoulders, looking absolutely miserable, Keith can’t quite hide his smile.

He’s not the only one.

“Morning, popsicle,” Pidge greets, smirking.

Lance doesn’t even look at her, squinting at the space in front of him with bleary eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

Hunk smiles into his cup, shaking his head, but Shiro has the good grace to at least look sympathetic.

“Got a little cold, there, buddy?”

“I’m actually dying.”

Allura snorts. “You don’t have to milk it, doofus. I’m not going to make you train like that.”

Lance sniffles, coughing wetly into his elbow. Keith starts to feel the first stirrings of pity in his gut.

“Good, because I might have died. My shrivelled lungs would have given out and collapsed, and that would be on your conscious.”

“Your lungs are fine, dear,” Coran says, eyes twinkling.

Lance tries to scoff, but it gets caught in his throat and turns into another cough. “None of you love me.”

He finally shuffles over to the food goo machine, squeezing out the smallest bowl Keith has ever seen him eat — his appetite must be shot — and makes his miserable way back over to the table, collapsing next to Keith.

As soon as he’s settled, Keith hooks his ankle around the leg of Lance’s chair, dragging him closer. He throws his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder hoping his ‘seriously insane levels of human furnace — are you half Galra or half red sun’ (Lance’s words, obviously) will help Lance feel a little comfier. He pulls back the duvet hood just enough to expose Lance’s face a little, and presses a kiss to his temple.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” he whispers, “even if I damn well told you to wear a jacket.”

Lance huffs, but a smile threatens to break free of the deep frown he’s forcing on his face.

“Shut up.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, jerk.”

[rubycrystalapasta]

The Glass

A/N, so I’m not getting any asks, and I’m sure my ask box is open, and anyone is allowed to ask anything for fics for Voltron and maybe any other fandom’s? Anyways, this is happening to me, so I thought, hey might as well write something when I’m down. Also, @taylor-tut is a really good account and got me started on sickfics! -RCAP OUT!-

Lance thought that he would go down in a blaze of glory. He never imagined he would die because of a large, huge piece of glass stuck in his foot.

Correction: it was small.

Anyways! That’s not the important part. The important part was that Lance was dying because someone broke some glass in the Castle of Lions right outside his doorway, so when he was barefoot, he got a small shard, smaller than a sewing needle, stuck in the sole of his heel, sending waves of pain every time he stepped on it. So, of course, he doesn’t step on in, instead firstly going to Pidge, who could be able to get it out.

That was his first mistake.

Pidge knew how to get glass out, and gave him some tweezers, to which he thought he got the glass out, but he actually didn’t. So, walking around he could do.

Until it was mission time.

“Hey, Lance! Why’re you so slow now?” Keith all but yells at the hurting paladin, who was limping to action, fighting against the few Galra headed his way. He shot them down, pain starting to return to his foot.

“It’s nothing, Mullet! Worry about your own butt, why don’t you?” He yells back. The mission was over rather quickly, and it was time to go back home, to the Castle. Lance hopped into Blue, frowning when he heard the worried purr of his lion. “I’m alright, Blue. It’s just a small thing of glass.”

How wrong he was.

Lance now showed the wound to Hunk, who spent an hour trying to dig it out, to which Lance was gasping and hissing in pain the entire time. “Hunk, let’s just- try again tomorrow or something.” He mumbled, getting up and going to bed.

He shouldn’t have done that.

The next morning, when Lance would usually be hungry, he found that he didn’t have much of a stomach for anything, and only ate lunch’s portion of the food goo.

He ignored the pain all day, on the second day, and went on with his paladin duties, though when the day was up, having gotten no help from anyone, and the glass hurt like being hit with his mother’s chanclas, and damn those flip-flops hurt a lot, he flopped into bed with an upset stomach and a hot body, though it wasn’t his usual hot body, it felt like it was ninety degrees, and Lance felt like he was coming down with something.

He didn’t know that his foot was getting infected.

While he drifted off to sleep, a raging fever took ahold of him, starting somewhere in the middle of the night, his body covered in a slight layer of slick sweat.

When he woke up, he felt dizzy and ill, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He looked at his foot, wincing when he saw the puffy, red spot around the wound, which had gotten slightly bigger, thanks to Hunk and Pidge who were unable to get the evil thing out. He could’ve swore that the Galra made this glass, to hurt him and only him.

In a way, he was partially right.

His stomach hurt, a lot, and so did his foot, so he had to limp all the way to the kitchens, looking around for any sign of the other members of Voltron. He couldn’t find anyone just yet. Lance felt sick to his stomach, like he was about to throw up, and he only managed to hobble into a bathroom and crouch by the toilet before throwing up, which was only stomach acid thanks to the lack of food from yesterday.

Lovely.

Lance then shakily stood, his stomach empty and throat sore, stumbling out of the bathroom, keeping his weight off of his injured foot. “Lance, where have you-….. Lance, what’s wrong?” Keith and Shiro are both there to catch the sick and injured paladin, who collapsed, unconscious. The black and red members of Voltron were alarmed at the amount of heat rolling off of the blue paladin, and carried him to the medbay.

“Guys, Lance is sick. What could’ve happened?” Shiro asks via the helmets, since both he and Keith were wearing their full body armor for training.

It’s at this time where Pidge and Hunk pipe up about the glass in his foot, that they both though was gone. Keith took off the paladin’s bunny slippers, frowning when he saw the red skin.

“You idiot.”

[whump-side]

I would love more sick Keith with a cold 👀. Maybe being taking care of by Krolia? Or which ever way you'd like to use a sick Keith. I heard you wanted more voltron request so I came to deliver. I've been thirsty for sick Keith for awhile now.

Mama Krolia ! I wish there had been more onscreen bonding moments between Keith and his mom. They spent two years in the Quantum Abyss and we just got a glimpse of it ;(

[stopkiwibea]

Can I get a sick fic where Character A is really sick and Character B has been taking care of A even though they aren't the most knowledgeable in caretaking? But B is trying so hard, A isn't even complaining. Its not until Character C shows up to ask how A is doing that they realize A is a LOT sicker than they thought and needs medical attention! Character B feels so bad but A just feverishly keeps trying to tell them "Its ok, you did your best."

[klancefics-cache]

Hi! I can't remember the name of a fic I really liked! Here's what I remember about it lol: it was only one chapter and was *ahem* mature,, they were in the castle and Keith's room got really cold in the middle of the night (temperature control or something) and so he went out to the control room where he found Lance and the rest was history~

i think this is it but it’s not mature rated??

blankets and body heat by peachcandle

(chapters: 1/1 | 3532 words | G)

Keith is cold and tired and tired of being cold.

[klanceficatalogue]

Any fics where Lance has a space disease?

A good portion of the ones I found were Hanahaki disease, so check out our tag for that if you’re interested. Otherwise, here are some non-Hanahaki space disease fics! - Jen

Tissues and Oceans by AbandonedLibrary (1/1 | 2,387 | Teen and Up)

Lance caught the Space Flu.

Keith is being a good boyfriend.

There is soup, gifts and comfort.

Space Flu and Space Kisses by oliviawrites (LauraLittlemiss) (1/1 | 1,605 | General)

Sometimes it takes cheesy Altean rom-coms with made up dialogue and space flu to get two people together.

Heartbeat by Saerwenn (1/1 | 4,675 | Not Rated)

Being sick is pretty normal.

Until you're deep in space, fighting a war against mean purple aliens, on a magic Castle with flying sentient Lions, with no hospitals around. Then...it might be an issue.

[uniasus]

fic rec! very h/c Shiro centric fic, set before S2. 87K

Summary: Something’s not right with Shiro, but it may go far deeper than anybody anticipated.

Comments: I sought this fic out for a reread, in part because @velkynkarma current WIP made me crave more of the same, and also because this is a Shiro whump fic that stayed with me from the first time I read it. It slips into horror a bit when you get done to what’s actually happening, and Haggar is the perfect evil genius here. What she planned was sneaky and manipulative and beautiful in a terrible way. We of course get to see a super sick Shiro, and the rest of the team caring for him. It also gets into a deep dive of all the characters which is a great analysis of them all. But let’s be honest, I read this because I just like to see Shiro suffer and boy does he suffer in this fic.

[snugsformugs]

Chapters: 22/22 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Allura (Voltron), Coran (Voltron), OC's, Alien OC's - Character Additional Tags: quarantine au, lmao yes this is inspired by COVID, but not actually COVID, alien infectious diseases, im in public health i know what i be talking about, forced living together, omg they were roommates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, it's the canonverse but like without all the sucky parts, so most of it, season 1/season 2 lion configurations, season 2 knowledge, and then like that's it, Falling In Love, Mutual Pining, So much pining guys, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, some people get sick, gross medical talk, epidemic talks, klance, Omg they were quarantined, Canon? I dont know her, Angst, fluff too dont worry, Minor Character Death, Grief, it's off screen don't worry Summary:

Keith and Lance are remarkably unlucky, as always, when they try to help a planet that just happens to be battling not only the Galra universal occupation, but a highly infectious alien disease that could not only kill them, but their entire team as well. In order to save the planet, Voltron and essentially the entire universe, they have to be quarantined for an unspecified amount of time. They can only do so much in quarantine and end up having to fight anxiety and boredom together.

[ah-b0h]

Some of you never had to keep a tab with a Fahrenheit to Celsius converter open while reading a sickfic and it shows

[vcepsis]

I+9 with Klance, pleeeasse?

Thanks so much for the request! Sorry it took so long!

Taken from this ask meme (fever + camping). Since I’ve done one similar to this, I hope you forgive me for doing something a little different this time. Shout out as always to @feverflushed​ for the lovely beta work

—–

Lance groaned softly, his face buried in his pillow as he tried in vain to pull the blanket around himself tighter. He was absolutely freezing, even though he knew it was the fever talking. Another shiver ran through him, making his bones almost ache. He was tired and cold and completely miserable.

But most of all, he was lonely. God, he was so lonely. Growing up with all his siblings and cousins living practically on top of each other had its downsides, for sure, like never fully understanding the definition of privacy. But after living with them for so long, it just meant he was never alone.

For someone like Lance, being surrounded by people he loved was the best thing he could have asked for. And when he would get sick, his baby cousins would pile his bed with their favourite stuffed animals and blankets. His mom would make him soup that would clear his head and warm him up from his inside. His father would move their portable heater from the living room into his bedroom. It never failed to lift his spirits, no matter what awful plague he’d contract.

Now, living who knows how many lightyears away from them, Lance had never felt so alone.

He’d come down with this whatever-it-was alien virus a few days before, and at first, he was scared. Scratch that: he’d been terrified. It was the first time any of them had fallen ill since their impromptu recruitment into a ten thousand year space war, and Lance had been sure he’d picked up some deadly alien sickness that would kill him. But as the days passed, it mostly resembled an Earth-like flu.

Lance sniffled pathetically, burrowing as deep as he could get into the soft Altean blankets on his bed. Shiro and Coran had swiftly sequestered him in his room once they confirmed he wasn’t in any real danger, and since the pods weren’t designed to deal with illness, he was left to tough it out the old fashioned way. And while the others were around to get him whatever he needed, they mostly left him alone to wallow in his misery.

Maybe he was supposed to be more appreciative. Coran had thrown around words like quarantine and isolation until Shiro had convinced him that having Lance in his room would be equally effective. But still, Lance couldn’t help the immense wave of sadness being alone caused. Especially being alone and sick. He’d do anything for his brother’s stuffed alpaca, or the smell of his mother’s cooking. He missed them all so much…

Just as the tears started building, there was a soft, tentative knock on his door.

The noise jolted Lance out of his downward spiral, and he turned on his side to wait for whoever it was to come in. There was a beat of silence before they knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Yeah?” Lance called, clearing his throat when the sound came out rough and scratchy.

“Um…” The voice on the other side was hesitant. “It’s Keith.”

Keith?

Lance’s eyes widened in surprise. What the hell did Keith want?

Slowly, Lance sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled the blanket with him as he stood, wrapping it securely around his shoulders and stumbling his way to the door. It opened with a swoosh.

Keith was standing on the other side, dressed in his usual attire, but without the jacket. He frowned as he looked Lance over. “Hey, uh…are you ok?”

Lance blinked, and belatedly realized there were still tears stuck to his eyelashes. He wiped them away quickly, flushing from embarrassment. This was just great. It was bad enough that Keith saw him looking like a mess, but he had to see him cry too…?

But Keith didn’t comment on it any further. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance scoffed, only to turn away and muffle the subsequent coughing fit into the blanket still around his shoulders. His chest burned in the aftermath.

“Ah, sorry,” Keith said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lance looked back over to see Keith fidgeting with the end of his shirt. It was a small thing, but it was something so distinctly un-Keith that Lance couldn’t help but notice.

Was he…..nervous?

He sighed, looking back up at Lance. “Look, I….I know you’re probably feeling like shit, and tired, but I wanted to do….something.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Something?” he repeated hoarsely, his voice cracking halfway through the single word.

“Yeah….something.” Keith sighed, frustrated. “Look, I don’t want it to be weird or anything, but I don’t know how to describe it without showing you.”

“I hate to break it to you, buddy,” Lance rasped, “but it’s already weird.”

Keith shoved his hands into his pocket. “I know, I know,” he sighed again, defeated. “Are you up for coming with me to the rec room? It’ll be easier to show you.”

Lance frowned. What the hell was Keith up to? Lance’s first instinct was suspicion, but he was so desperate for some kind of contact, so he nodded. Keith slumped in relief.

“I’m keeping the blanket, though,” Lance said as he stepped out of his room, the door closing automatically behind him. Keith shrugged in acceptance.

It was quiet in the castle as they made their way to the rec room. “Where is everyone?” Lance asked, absently rubbing his aching throat.

“We stopped outside a planet yesterday. Distress call, pretty standard.” Keith had slowed his pace to match Lance’s, who was wobbling slightly as he walked. Staying upright was harder than he expected. “Apparently they’re just wrapping things up now. Getting supplies and medicine.”

“Medicine?” Lance repeated dumbly.

Keith frowned. “Well….yeah? You’re sick. They’re hoping the people on the planet can help, since we helped them.”

Lance couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at Keith’s words, stopping suddenly. The others wanted to help. He might be a burden on the team, but they wanted to help. The tears from earlier suddenly returned, the fever making his emotions run wild, and he had to blink quickly to keep them at bay.

“Hey….” Keith had stopped when Lance did, and he put a gentle hand on his arm. “Lance? What’s wrong? Do you need to sit down or something?”

“I….” The hand on his arm was so warm, and Lance felt the ice inside him thaw a bit. “I thought….I mean, everyone left me alone….and Coran wanted to quarantine me…I thought…”

“What?” Keith’s tone was genuinely confused. “We left you alone because we didn’t want to bother you. Shiro had to keep telling Hunk and Pidge to let you sleep.” 

“Oh….” Lance pulled the blanket around himself tighter, shivering from emotion and the freezing ice that was still in his veins. 

Keith sighed, but it didn’t sound annoyed. “Let’s just…keep going, alright? We’re almost there, and then you can rest again.”

Lance nodded silently, trailing after Keith, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.

Before he knew it, though, they had made their way to the rec room.

Or at least, what Lance thought was the rec room.

The room had been transformed into a giant, ridiculously elaborate blanket fort.

Lance gasped as he took it all in, and the memory of building blanket forts with his siblings flashed through his mind. They would steal all the pillows and blankets from all around the house to make a giant enclosure that would get more and more complicated every time they built it. Then they would all sit with the lights off, using flashlights to play cards or board games and telling dumb, scary stories.

And now he was staring at a blanket fort easily three times the size of anything they’d ever managed to make, yet it still had a cozy, inviting feel to it. The number of pillows and blankets here must have been easily five times the amount they’d ever used back home. The blankets were strung up along the walls and just below the ceiling, with more pillows than Lance could count lining the floors. The blankets in the center drooped slightly, and that slight imperfection made it feel like home.

Keith cleared his throat softly next to him. Lance turned to him, still in shock.

“Coran helped me build it,” he said slowly, trying to gauge Lance’s reaction. “Pidge and Hunk mentioned doing this with their families…..and I know you have a big family at home, so….”

There was a distinctly red flush across Keith’s cheeks, and he refused to meet Lance’s eyes. “Did you…did you do this for me?” Lance asked softly.

The flush deepened, and Keith crossed his arms tightly. “Um….I mean…I know you’re probably not feeling very good, so if you don’t like it or you wanna go back to your room, just tell me, it’s fine.”

The tears made another return, except this time one or two escaped and trailed down Lance’s cheeks. 

Finally looking up, Keith’s eyes widened when he saw the tears. Lance shook his head quickly, smiling softly. 

“Keith….” How could he even begin to describe how he felt? How the loneliness had been eating him from the inside, how he desperately yearned for something from home? And somehow, Keith had known. 

So he settled for smiling at Keith, emotions still running wild. “Thank you.”

The flush was back, and Keith ducked his head. “Y-yeah….don’t worry about it.”

Lance grinned. The obvious embarrassment on Keith’s face was almost cute.

Shuffling over to the fort, he eased himself down onto one of the many mounds of pillows strewn inside it, groaning in relief as he rested his aching joints. Seeming to shake himself out of his trance, Keith joined him, sitting stiff and cross-legged on his own mountain of pillows.

“The others will be here when they’re done,” Keith said, pulling out even more blankets that were buried somewhere in the sea of pillows, making sure they were within reach. “Hopefully they’ll have something for your fever, too.”

“Does Allura know about this?” Lance asked.

“Uh,” Keith said hesitantly, “she will when she gets back.”

Lance barked a laugh, happiness surging through him even though it made him cough. “You gonna convince Shiro to get in on the fun too?”

Keith grinned. “Absolutely. Hunk will make us soup. Pidge will probably have some games we can play. It’ll be great.”

“Like a sleepover,” Lance remarked, nestling into the pillows.

Keith shrugged. “I guess?”

“Have you never had a sleepover before?” Lance asked, incredulous.

Shaking his head, Keith looked away. “Never really had the chance.”

“Well then,” Lance said, tossing one of the blankets toward Keith. “That’s something we’ll have to fix, huh?”

Keith took the blanket and wrapped it around himself. He looked up, giving Lance a soft smile. Lance returned it without thinking.