#marmoraskeith

hi <3

9: Favorite Show?Right now??...voltron >.>

19: Loud music or soft?It depends, sometimes loud music is too much for me and i have to turn it down, but it already tends to be pretty loud so that might be why  ajsjndkwhy am i like this

Oh boy, was this a trip, and it’s only chap 1, lmao. 

Alright babe, @ciuucalata u r in for quite a ride, so, lemme just say:

HAPPY BIRTHMONTH and I hope you enjoy the first chap of your gift fic! <3

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. 

Is punching someone annoying worth spending his Friday afternoon in detention?

Keith asks himself the same thing as he pushes the rolling pencil once again, letting it roll all the way up until it reaches the edge of his desk before it rolls back down to his finger and he repeats the action.

If that someone is Lance McClain, then Keith’s answer is simple: Yes.

Keith doesn't need to lift his head to know that Lances blue eyes are on him; he can feel the heavy stare from the brunet coming from the desk next to his own.

That and the mumbles the brunet not so subtly is whispering under his breath as he curses him and his ‘mullet’. Really, Lance should know by know how echoey these classrooms are, especially when it’s only the two of them there.

Well, them and their professor who had the misfortune of watching over them during detention on the last day of school.

Keith cracks his neck and tilts it to the side, tapping two times over the black screen of his phone discreetly, trying to look subtle enough so his teacher wouldn’t catch the action, and waits for it to light up with his blocked screen, showing him the time.

It’s been two hours since the last bell rang, signalling the last period of the day. The school must be deserted by now and Keith has no doubt that even the sport teams are done with their practice.

Keith sighs and drops his right cheek to rest against his fist, wincing slightly when it stings him just below his eye.

“Wrong cheek,“ Lance teases from by the side, a small smirk on his face as he tosses a paper ball up in the air, catching effortlessly as it goes down, “I sure did an number on you, huh?“

Keith rolls his eyes. “Says the one who couldn't talk without slurring for two days because of that split lip.”

“You have a mean elbow, man,” Lance grumbles, poking the corner of his mouth carefully, over his mildly healed cut

That means Lance is going to die

“You’re off.” “–You’re off and shoving too hard!” “You’re not shoving hard enough!”