Imagine being Toji's ex-lover, an outcast jujutsu sorcerer that's hated by most of the higher-ups and elite sorcerers, meeting Megumi Fushiguro after canon events. seeing your old love inside the eyes of a 16-year-old sorcerer who's experiencing loss and grief like no other. deciding to approach him and (unknowingly and unintentionally) taking him in, letting him stay over, and cooking for him, all the while helping to guide him through this post-apocalyptic era. helping him regain his trust, spark, and self. experiencing his slow but sure care and tenderness, and accidentally slipping out, "you're just like your dad" during a random Tuesday after seeing him cook through your kitchen with the kind of dedication your once lover had.

Oh please do! I love reading post canon stuff!🥹 They need to be happy together!💜✨️

[AUDIO RECORDING CONSENT ON FILE. CLASSIFIED TRANSCRIPT. MEDICAL USE ONLY.]

L: Good morning, Doc.

D: Good morning, Lance.

L: How are you doing?

D: Great. I always love a sunny day. You do, too, right?

L: Yup, they’re better for the beach. Storms are fun sometimes, but my family dog is terrified of them, so I like the sun a little more right now.

D: I see. Have you been practicing what we talked about this week?

L: On and off.

D: …

L: Okay, maybe I only journaled once this week. I’ve been busy! Summer is when harvesting and replanting happens. My family needs me.

D: I’m sure they can spare you for five minutes to write in your notebook.

L: Then I’d have to explain why I’m writing in a notebook.

D: Lance, your family is understanding, from what you’ve shared. War changes people. They’d probably appreciate you showing some sort of normal reaction to that.

L: No. It’s better to leave them out of my mess.

D: Why not let them make that choice?

L: Because we’re all sacrificial morons. They’ll scramble to help me and totally get hurt in the process. Veronica will harp on me and my coping mechanisms, my mom will feel guilty she wasn’t enough to cure my— my stuff, Marco will feel awkward bringing up Voltron. I don’t need all of that.

D: It’s okay to name it, you know. Your PTSD. It’s important.

L: I know. It’s just hard.

D: It is. All important things are.

L: You’re kind of an asshole, Doc.

D: That’s why you came to me. You said you wanted blunt.

L: I was stupid.

D: Hey, now.

L: Whatever. I actually didn’t want to talk about my family this week.

D: Oh? Something come up?

L: If by something, you mean a total wrench, then yeah. Something came up.

D: What happened?

L: I woke up Tuesday wayyyyy too early because my whole room smelled like garlic.

D: Did you sleep in again?

L: …it was 11 AM, but that’s not the point. When I went downstairs, the smell was literally invading my brain, it was so good. And I had that super illegal thought of “these can’t be my mom’s garlic knots, because they somehow smell better than hers.”

But when I went in the kitchen, it wasn’t her! It was Hunk! And I’m like, “what the hell?” He didn’t warn me he was coming. Uncool.

D: You haven’t seen him since the final press conference, I believe?

L: I haven’t! He’s called, and at first I just, uh, didn’t answer. These talks with you are the only reason I can pick up the phone with him now.

D: Do you talk to anyone else?

L: Coran is helping me organize a shipment of juniberry seeds, and Pidge sometimes is on calls with Hunk.

D: Not Keith?

L: [Scoffs.] No way. Can we get back to the garlic knots?

D: Please continue your outrage over baked goods.

L: Anyways, Hunk is making garlic knots with my mom, who’s really annoyed at his changes to her recipe, but whatever. He’s all, “hey, buddy! I made you lunch!” And I’m so disarmed! I’m still in my pajamas, hair messy from my pillows— which my mom keeps saying needs a haircut— and he’s looking totally spry and chirpy. Unfair, right?

He’s so bad at hiding shit, too, so I knew the second I looked at his face that he wants something from me. I start wondering what that even would be— I mean, surely I have nothing to offer him now.

So I asked him.

D: How did he react to that?

L: He wasn’t happy. I guess I asked a little bluntly. I just wasn’t happy that the first time he visited was so obviously with an ulterior motive. He’s been walking on eggshells with me ever since— uh— since—

D: Since Allura’s passing.

L: That. [Sighs heavily, some rustling]. Don’t get me wrong, he’s been super nice. He always is. It’s just hard to think that he’s waiting for me to open up, when I really don’t want to talk, and might never want to.

I feel bad for not talking to Hunk.

D: It’s perfectly acceptable to have boundaries and different support systems for difficult discussions outside of your best friend.

L: Sure. So, continuing on. It took some time to get it out of him (and yes, I did stuff my face with food as he talked). Basically, Voltron is coming back together to go around the world, visit major cities and countries, and answer questions about the war. I’m supposed to join them.

D: Like a diplomatic mission?

L: Like a glorified press junket. I think it’s stupid. We’re war veterans before we’ve even reached 30, and they think that now is the time for a tour in front of cameras? None of us are made for that shit!

D: I recall you being rather good at public interfacing.

L: I was, when I was a space hero with glorious accomplishments. Now, though, I’m just….

D: You can speak freely.

L: [Voice unsteady] All they’re gonna see is the guy whose girlfriend is dead. That’s it. I’m a walking fucking tragedy, Doctor. I’m the only member of the team to leave the war and put everything on pause so I can cry. I’m a disappointment.

D: Lance, that time you took— are taking— at home has been crucial to your healing. You’ve reconnected with very key parts of your identity and your personality by being at home, surrounded by family. I promise it’s only helped you achieve more balance, not less.

L: It’s one thing to hear that crap from my therapist. I doubt the world will agree with your opinions.

D: The opinions of the world don’t actually matter more than the opinions of those who know and care about you.

L: You’re assigned to me.

D: Lance.

L: That was rude. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.

D: You’re grieving. And if anyone passes judgement on that, as you give up your healing time to reassure the world, they can go fuck themselves.

L: Whoa! Colorful language!

D: I’m serious.

L: You think I’m going on the junket. You think I’m going to let them pull my strings again.

D: I know you’re going.

L: God, you’re right. I am. How do you just know that about me, before I do?

D: Because despite all your hurt, you just can’t let them down. You’re a very reliable man, Lance.

L: Thanks. Ugh.

D: Nervous?

L: Terrified.

D: He’ll be there.

L: I know.

D: Do you want to talk about it?

L: I’d rather get stuck in a wormhole.

D: It’s going to be okay. You’re still brave, still the same man who found a way to work and be friends with them. A few months can’t break bonds forged by fire.

L: If you say so.

D: I do. And I’m always right.

L: Shut up.