#protective keith

Red Lion: establishes a mental link with Keith out of nowhere

Keith, in terror: Lance is dead, isn’t he.

Red Lion: No. Keith. He’s alive. I just wanted to know if you were safe.

Keith:

Keith: oh.…I'm fine.

For fics taking place within the BOM, or where Lance joins the Blade of Marmora with Keith post-war. You might also like these posts: Post-War/Post-Canon Klance Galra Keith / Galtean AU / Altean Lance Keiths Second (Galra) Puberty / ‘Going Galra’ Mixed Mating Signals by Sherale, Word Count: 14,924, Rating: Explicit, Summary: Keith was overjoyed when Lance decided to come help the Blades out…

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

“Well,” said Hunk, holding Allura in both arms, “that looks bad.”

Shiro snorted. “Thank you, Hunk.”

“Anytime.”

Keith wanted to snap at them both. What time was it to laugh? They were injured, mostly defenseless, castle crashed. The Lions still sat, unusable, in their hangers. Hopefully they were okay, but it wasn’t like anyone could go check. Keith could barely even feel Red’s presence in the back of his mind – that stupid new Empire toy had drained them. It was frightening. And Hunk and Shiro were making jokes?

But Keith couldn’t find the words to chew them out. Instead, his voice was caught in his throat as he looked on the slowly advancing army with wide eyes and tense shoulders.

The advancing army was…trees.

That’s what it looked like, anyways. Rows and rows of rough bark and quietly swaying leaves, advancing in formation. A large black bird flew, cawing, above them. Keith tried not to think about omens. 

“Did a forest come to life?” Pidge muttered, squinting. Keith was relieved she was seeing the same thing. Keith has been in space a long time, at this point, but this was like nothing he had ever seen before. This didn’t look like a people in any way he understood. They were alive, surely, their movements organic in fluid in a way non-living things couldn’t quite manage, but his eyes were not deceiving him, and in front of him was a bunch of moving trees. As he watched, they advanced slightly further, stopped, and froze. 

And then, slowly, they morphed. 

Out of the bark, people seemed to…melt? Was that the right word? The trees planted themselves on the beach as if they’d always been there, as if the giant ocean was simply a lake beside a forest, and the bark of each plant seemed to shimmer, to shift. Humanoid figures took form, with skin like wood and hair like moss and leaves, eyes dark and old and knowing. Little saplings hid behind the sweeping dirt skirts of giant, older trees, giggling amongst themselves. Tiny droplets of water shined in dots on dozens of brown faces, glittering on brows and lips and noses like diamond piercings. Vines wreathed around torsos like tailored clothing. 

Above them, Lance gasped. It was a quick, near-silent sound, one Keith only noticed because he was watching Lance from his peripherals anyway. 

“Dryads,” he whispered, unmistakably excited, and before anyone could get so much as a word in he scrambled down the control board, careened down the bridge, and sprinted his way out the exit. 

“No, what are you – Lance!” Hunk shouted, the first to react. He handed a still-unconscious Allura off to Coran, who took her with a wide-eyed, confused expression. 

“Number Two, what is –”

“I am going to burn your Percy Jackson books,” Hunk seethed, already stomping out after Lance. He scooped up his blue helmet on his way and shook it at the door. “You hear me, Leandro? Burn them! Head outta the clouds, that’s an army!”

Keith was quick to follow. The rest of the team fell in step behind him, jogging after Lance. 

Outside was…well, it startled him. 

He’d seen it on the way down, of course. But he hadn’t been focused, really, hadn’t taken the time to map it past what the air currents felt like, past a safe (ish) place to land. The beauty of it now knocked the breath out of him. The ocean was almost crystalline, it was so clear and blue. Keith could smell it even through his helmet, the salt, the sea, and something Keith couldn’t recognise. Every rock on the seashore shone in the bright golden sun, glittering like encrusted jewellery. Down the beach, where the rocks gave way to beach, the sand was bright brilliant white; hard, actually, to look at. On Keith’s other side was a rolling, sage green meadow, peppered with wildflowers so familiar Keith almost felt he could name them. He saw dozens of fruit trees, all different kinds, so ripe and rich his mouth watered. He was nowhere near enough to smell them, but the fruits were so plump and colourful that every instinct curled up in every corner in his head begged him to gorge himself to coma. Even the army in front of him, the rows and rows of stern tree warriors – dryads, Lance had called them – couldn’t stir wariness in Keith’s heart. His shoulders relaxed without his say-so.

One of the warriors stepped forth. She was wide-set, tall, and the ground trembled with every step. Her eyes were dark as murky green pond depths. Deep gauges lined her face, most from the pattern of the bark that made up her skin, but many that disrupted the pattern; rough, torn scars, one right through her right eye. 

“State your business,” she said, voice rough as sandpaper. 

No one said anything. The awe Keith felt was reflected in his friends, wonder rendering them mute.

“You’re dryads,” said Lance softly. He stepped forward, Hunk’s hand falling from his shoulder. “Tree spirits.”

The tree-woman nodded. “If that’s what your people call us, child. Here, we’re Aegians, Last Guardians of Marmaro. And we ask again – name yourselves.”

Her army raised their weapons as she spoke. Sharp, pointed weapons, some of hardened stone, some of crystal and marble, some of the same wood that made up their flesh. One even had shards of metal attached to a complicated string of vine. 

“We are Paladins of Voltron,” Shiro said, finally, hands held up in peace. He moved slowly up from next to Pidge, eyes never leaving the Aegian leader, until he finally stood in front of her, arm loosely circling Lance’s elbow, tugging him gently back. “We come in peace. Our ship was attacked by the Galran Empire, and we barely made it out intact. We apologise for any damage.”

“I’m not sure ‘intact’ is the right word,” murmured the Aegian leader, glancing quickly at their smoking ship, “but regardless. You are here now.  I am Dryope, and I grant you asylum, as is my birthright.” She said the name like dry-oh-pay, but with a lilt to her vowels Keith couldn’t replicate even in his own head. 

Dryope stood to her full height – which, ho-lee – and struck her staff twice on the rock on which she stood. Immediately, the army fell back, weapons sheathed, postures loosened. 

“Aegians!” she called, and every single tree-warrior stood to attention. “The Paladins of Voltron have come to us. We shall extend our hospitality to them, as dictated in the Ancient Laws.” She turned to them for a moment, contemplating. “Seven households come forward. Our guests are to be fed, clothed, and cared for. Who shall claim the honour?”

Keith exchanged a look with Hunk, shifting uncomfortably. Seven households? They were in no position to complain, but on all the planets they’ve visited before, they’ve never been housed separately. To speak up would surely insult their hosts – but was it safe to split up? They were injured and exhausted – if their hosts proved malevolent, they would be almost powerless individually. Allura was still out, Lance for sure had a head injury, Keith was, now that he noticed, breathing laboriously. A quick glance beside him revealed an odd angle to Pidge’s wrist, probably sprained, and Hunk shifted every couple of seconds like he could not stand comfortably. Shiro favoured his left leg. Only Coran stood tall and strong, Allura held protectively in his arms – but Keith knew better. (He will never, as long as he lives, forget the way the man collapsed, ashen and unresponsive, right at his spot at the castle’s controls. The rest of them had just been deemed healthy enough to fight again after falling ill to Deadman’s Spots, fevered and covered in sores and wasting away. Only Coran had been spared – or so they thought. They had almost lost him.) Coran could have a shard of bone sticking out of his leg and none of them would know. 

They could not afford to refuse the help.

The gathered army rippled and shifted as people answered Dryope’s call. One by one more Aegians pushed their way to the front, until seven stood just behind their leader, shoulder to shoulder, chins raised proudly.

“We have space for the injured girl,” spoke the first Aegian. She stepped forward, and she didn’t look like a warrior at all – the smile on her face was soft and welcoming. She was much stouter than Dryope, and and her eyes held the same maternal kindness that Shiro’s often did, deep and black and understanding. The lined pattern that made up her bark was softer, lining her face like smile lines. Thousands of branches twisted and grew out of her waist, resembling the tangled roots of the biggest tree in the forest. Clinging to her branch-skirt were at least four little saplings, young and reedy, peeking their wide eyes out behind their mama’s hips. She smiled wider, hands outstretched, and Keith had to stop himself from walking into them himself.

“Yes,” said Dryope, nodding at her. Her face went oddly soft, smiling at the maternal woman. When she turned back to face the team, her face morphed back into its impassive expression. “Paladins, Rhea and her family will house your injured girl. She will be well cared for – Rhea has nursed and watched many in her time.”

“Come,” beckoned Rhea, almost interrupting Dryope. The leader didn’t seem to mind. “Bring her to me, she must be laid comfortably.”

Coran walked forward, handing Allura to her gently. It spoke volumes to her character that Coran approached her at all, let alone that he pressed a quiet kiss to his charge’s forehead and stepped away. 

“She is only tired,” he said softly. “Not injured. She needs rest, and perhaps food.”

“I will see to it. Come, children.” With a sweep of her skirts echoing like a bamboo broom, she walked back through the ranks, saplings clinging to her back like baby monkeys.

Next, an elderly man stepped forward. He was hunched, gnarled fingers curled around the haft of a sharp wooden trident that resembled Dryope’s staff. Despite his limp, he walked with dignity, and when he lifted his chin to face Coran, his eyes were bright.

“Have you space, Father?” murmured Dryope.

He nodded. “Always.” 

Using his trident as a walking stick, he strode toward Coran, standing beside him. Coran, ever the diplomat, smiled slightly, and began speaking with him too quietly for Keith to hear. Both men, he noticed, seemed to stand the same way, although he couldn’t explain what that meant. It was just – vibes, he supposed. An energy.

“By the Sky, Mother, how long is this going to take?”

Startled by the abrupt change in tone, Keith jumped, turning towards the man who spoke. He was taller than anyone on the team, although shorter than most of the other Aegians, and covered himself with leaves that looked deliberately sewn rather than grown. His smile was wide and white and what Keith could only describe as shark-like. 

But what was most striking was his skin. The dark lines of patterns that covered it had Keith thinking he was as Aegian as the rest of them, made of tree bark, but then he blinked and realised – they were merely marks, or tattoos. Unlike the rest of the Aegians, this man had skin, this man was – 

Lance gasped. “You’re — human!” 

“Half,” the man corrected, chuckling. He swept forward and delicately grabbed Lance’s hand in one of his, pressing a kiss just above his wrist. Lance blushed up to his hairline. “My name is Peitho. I was born here, on Aegis. My father was a lost human explorer. I have never been to earth. But human genes…” He looked Lance up and down, grinning charmingly. “I’ve always felt they’re very dominant.” 

Lance, obviously pleased with the attention, warmed up quick. He walked over, reaching up to brush the hair out of Peitho’s eyes, touch lingering. Like they were friends or something. Keith ground his teeth so hard you could hear it from the ship’s smoking engine room. 

“I thought…I‘ve never seen a human in space. I thought we were alone, up here.” 

Peitho laughed, full-bodied and bright, like the sound of a smoothly rumbling engine. His handsome face creased lightly as he laughed, emphasizing newly-formed smile lines, which only made him more beautiful, not less. Lance smiled widely along with him. “Oh, my dear,” he said, turning that charming grin full blast on Lance, “you are never alone.”

Keith thought his jaw might crack. What a sleazeball. No wonder Lance liked him so much.

“The introductions need not drag on,” Peitho said grandly, sweeping his arm out like he was in charge or something. His other arm was around Lance’s shoulders. “Akeso, Dysnomia, Elatreus, meet with your paladins. They are hungry, and likely tired from travel. The sooner we have them rested, the sooner they can partake in our welcoming festivities. Right, Mother?”

Dryope nodded, looking a mix of annoyed and amused. “Yes, you embodiment of impertinence.”

As ordered by the embodiment of impertinence, three Aegians stepped forward. The first – who must be Akeso, a tall, reedy person with willowy locs falling to their shoulders, who held no weapon – approached Shiro, nodding tersely. Keith felt his brother match the terseness, stiffening. 

(Internally, Keith winced – could his brother not get someone who smiled, maybe? Akeso was probably fine, but, yeesh. There was once a time when Shiro laughed more than anyone else Keith knew. Sometimes maniacally, on two hours of sleep. But he heard it so rarely now.)

The second Aegian, Dysnomia, approached Pidge. Like the Green Paladin, she was short as shit. Keith met his friends eyes and snickered at her. The murderous look he got would make him more nervous if he, as Lance so often liked to gripe, had a bone of impulse control in his body. (Rich coming from him, but. Whatever. It wasn’t like Keith could argue.) The third, Elatreus, was absolutely, one hundred percent, the coolest Aegian Keith had seen so far. Holding an intricately crafted crossbow and with a shoulder width approximately the size of a small mountain, he lumbered over to Hunk. He held out his fist. Hunk wasted no time bumping with his own. Keith would be jealous if Hunk didn’t deserve it so bad. 

“Oh,” said Peitho, after a moment. “Of course, there is one more. Ares!” He gestured with half as much enthusiasm at Keith. “Your guest.”

Keith stilled. From behind Dryope, the last Aegian host stepped forward. His pale, papery bark was gnarled and scared, bulky, and – stained, it looked like, all the way up the arms. His face was more impassive that Dryope’s, expressionless, except for the slightest of sneers. Resting on one shoulder was a massive club, three times the size of Keith’s head at its tip. Like his host’s arms, it was stained. 

Keith forced himself to meet his stare. His host had eyes red as pomegranates – well. Eye.  The right side of his face, like the rest of the Aegians, was humanoid. The left side looked like it had – looked like someone had clawed out his eye, leaving a gaping, half-healed knot of a scar. 

Ares.

Keith wasn’t familiar with a lot of myths. But he knew what namesake his Aegian host bore – Ares, god of war, god of pain, god of hardened warriors and battlefield and bloodshed.

Fitting, hissed a voice in his mind. Keith curled his fists and ignored it.

“Paladin,” nodded Ares, taking his place next to him.

Keith swallowed. “Ares.”

“That, I believe, is everyone,” said Dryope. “Paladins, please follow your hosts. They will bring you to their homes and ensure you have somewhere to rest. At sundown, we shall reconvene at the hearth, eat, and make merry. Please –” she spread her hands, “enjoy our island. I will see you all shortly.”

She cracked her staff once on the ground. Immediately, her army parted for her, following her in formation once she marched through. Many of them returned to their tree form. It was still strange to watch. 

Keith jumped as a hand reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Shiro smiled slightly at him, squeezing again before letting go. 

“See you soon, kiddo.”

He followed his host, leaving Keith to realise he was the last still gathered in the shadow of their crashed castle. The eyeless Aegian stood next to him, hands resting on his club, watching him curiously. 

Keith cleared his throat. “Um, we can go.”

The Aegian continued to stare. Keith shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to draw his bayard. That would certainly not help. Things were precarious enough. 

“You do not trust us,” his host observed. His one remaining eye was unblinking, holding Keith’s stare until his own eyes burned and he had to blink.

“No,” Keith admitted. It wasn’t that he was scared of the Aegians, per se, but he was wary of them in the same way he was wary of the Blades of Marmora. He recognised their strength, their power, and knew from the way Dryope stood that she was keeping a lot of information to herself. Any group that kept secrets was impossible to trust, at least by Keith’s standards. He suddenly wished he had been paying attention enough to watch Pidge, Lance, and Hunk leave with their hosts, to make sure they were armed. 

His host shrugged. “Wise, probably. I would have no trust in your position.”

He started to walk over the rocks, and Keith followed. It was no accident that the Aegian kept Keith on a diagonal to him, visible from his right side. Keith did his best to keep himself in his line of sight. 

“You wouldn’t?”

“Do I look like I would?”

“I don’t know how to answer that diplomatically.”

To Keith’s great surprise, his host huffed a laugh. A slight smile upturned Keith’s own lips.

“Fair.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Off the beach and across the meadow, in a deep, round valley, there was a sprawling village. Small, large-bricked buildings dotted hills and lay nestled at the edge of small farms. Dead centre of the valley was a giant fire pit, gently lit, and surrounding it in a perfect circle were several larger buildings in the same style. Keith recognised many of the buildings as temples. 

“This way,” Keith’s host said, beckoning him forward. He turned off the main path and walked along the edge of the hill. Keith teetered after him, trying desperately to keep his balance. He was reminded how hard it was to breathe with bruising around his ribcage, how tired he was. But he kept his mouth clenched tightly closed, unwilling to look weak. 

They walked far past the centre circle, past outer circles, past even the farthest of farmhouses. In crossing one of them, the man stopped, Keith nearly walking right into him, and waited for several moments. He bent over as a tiny little boar came galloping to the edge of the fence on runty little legs, smiling as he scratched the thing between its tusks. Keith couldn’t help but notice the blood covering the sharp, portraying bones, as if the animal had just recently hunted. 

“Hey, Kyknos. Good to see you.”

He pet the boar for a few more minutes, then wordlessly started walking again. Keith had to jog to keep up, tired from the hike so far.

“That, uh, your pet?”

“No.”

Keith waited. No more information came forth. 

“Oo-kay, then.”

There was a Lance in his head that was laughing at him, bringing up every one-word answer of Keith’s that had frustrated the Blue Paladin to twitching eyes. Keith scowled.

Finally, the host stopped at a house. Keith felt he would nearly faint with relief, beyond ready to lay down his head, wariness or not. 

“This your place?” Keith asked, panting.

His host raised his eyebrow, pushing open the door.

“No,” he deadpanned, “this is my annoying neighbour’s house. He’s on holidays. I’m staying here and using all his things to take revenge for hours of small talk.”

“Oh,” Keith replied, impressed. “Cool.” He’ll have to do that next time Lance is on a solo mission. 

“No, I’m – I’m kidding, Paladin.”

“Oh,” Keith repeated, disappointed. “Less cool.”

“Just – get in the house.”

Keith didn’t argue. He followed his host into the small building, nodded as he was pointed to a guest room, and passed out the second his head hit the straw-stuffed pillow.

— — —

Or the other way around where a planet (or something/someone) calls Lance useless and is overall rude and Keith stands up for him

I love both

i actually have both of these sdjds

Got 99 Problems by BleuSarcelle

The nobles snort, laughing mockingly at the words and Lance knows it’s not the first time Kolivan has gotten this treatment.

Keith, however –

“We just saved you. We –“

“Voltron saved us.” The noble snarls in Keith’s face, “Just because you look like another race, familiar to the Paladins’, does not make you any different. We can see your – ugh, Galra genes.”

They are almost a slap in Keith’s face because the teen looks stricken, mouth open in shock and Lance's blood boils.

[That one where BOM joins Voltron into freeing a planet from the Galra but not every citizen is grateful of having Galra Rebels in their planet. Lance's protective instincs kick in when they aim at Keith.]

Truth May Vary by orphan_account

Lance’s grin fades when the Price stares down at him unamused and something inside him drops unpleasantly.

“Blue...Paladin, of course.” The Prince says, a bore and uninterested tone on the back of his tone as he forces a rigid polite smile, “While I agree with you on the fact that Voltron surely won this battle by their own hands, I have to ask…”

He pauses, letting his words linger in the air as he takes a step towards Lance and clicks his tongue.

“Why are you on the team?"

absolutelyy - karri

protective keith tag

where & how we’ll land by xintong (1/1 | 5,878 | Teen And Up)

The first time Keith meets Lance is also the first time they kiss. It all goes downhill for him from there.

//underage drinking 

A healthy dose of Denial never hurt anyone by crystalklances (2/2 | 19,202 | Teen And Up)

There was a cough behind them. Keith and Lance both turned around and found the other players looking at them in amusement.

One of the guys said, “Look, we’re happy for you, but you two are giving us diabetes.”

“Yeah, not everyone here is into PDA. Get a room.”

“What? What’re you talking about?” Keith asked.

“We know you’re dating, but there’s a time and place for everything.”

“We aren’t dating!” Keith and Lance both said at the same time.

---Or: 5 times Keith and Lance deny they are boyfriends, and the time they finally don't

(hunk/allura)

Core Relationship by agok (10/10 | 21,033 | Teen And Up)

Every four years the Alteans host a giant party called the Core Alliance Celebration in honor of their alliance with the Galra. Prince Lance is ready to meet some new people and relax from his responsibilities for a week, until he meets Keith, a Galra soldier who isn't interested in anything the festivities have to offer.

October 29/30: Masquerade Ball

Edit: I didn’t expect this to blow up thanks

From @monthlyklance

“So, uh, Lance,” Shiro approached him, and Lance looked up curiously. “You know the coalition ball we’re attending soon? We had a slight mishap on the suits, and your is, well, it’s a dress. We don’t have enough supplies to make another.”

Lance shrugged. “Fine with me man, I’ll look hot either way.”

Shiro furrowed his brow. “You sure you’re good with it?”

Lance waved him off. “Yeah, no problem. Growing up with a lot of sisters means this isn’t the first time I’ve been stuffed in a dress.”

* * *

Lance stared in astonishment at the gorgeous blue dress Allura revealed.

“Holy…” He gasped, and Allura laughed.

“Like it?”

“Like it? Like it? I fucking love it! It’s so pretty!” And it was, shiny blue material in his favorite color. It poofed outwards, layers of material falling outward. The front fell to his thighs and the back to his lower calves. The top was jeweled, rhinestone like gems decorating it. The dress was perfect, in every way.

“Again, I’m so sorry this happened. When I was inputting the measurements and directions, I must have clicked the wrong option.” Allura apologized again, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“I hope you have a pair of heels for me because there is no way I’m wearing my boots.” He crouched next to the dress, lightly running a finger over it.

Allura smiled, the grin lighting up her face. “I might have something.”

* * *

Lance descended the royal staircase slowly, dramatically. The silver stilettos he borrowed from Allura clacked on the floor, making him a good 5 inches taller than he normally was. His dress swished as he walked, and he winked at Hunk who sighed amusedly.

“Buddy, you look great. Are you done with the theatrics yet though?” Hunk asked, and Lance grinned.

“Fine, fine.” He walked over to the rest of the group, all wearing suits except Pidge and Allura, both sporting dresses. Their colors matched their lions, which was a little redundant to Lance, but whatever.

Lance avoided Keith’s eyes, unsure of what his reaction would be.

“Paladins, are you ready?” Allura asked, handing the paladins their masks.

They all nodded, and the bay door whooshed open to reveal a crowd waiting restlessly.

Heading straight to the castle, Lance noted the hazy sun was just beginning to set. He smiled instinctively at the people calling out for him, winking and flirting a bit as they moved. Once inside the palace, there were a lot fewer people, which made it a bit easier to breathe.

Bowing before the king, they awaited his response.

“Greetings, Paladins of Voltron and Princess Allura. I am King H’uxborg of the Switzel people. We welcome you to our planet and are pleased that you are able to attend the annual masqued ball.” The kind spread his arms wide, green skin contrasting with orange clothes.

Allura stepped forward, poised as ever. “We are the ones who thank you. We hope you choose to form an alliance with Voltron and offer our humblest gratitude at the hospitality you have granted us.”

The King nodded, introducing his wife and son, Prince Calistiar. The Prince looked Lance up and down in a slightly uncomfortable way, so without thinking he shifted closer to Keith.

The Prince fluidly welcomed them as well, shaking or kissing their hands.

“You are the blue paladin Lance, are you not?” The prince asked, shaking Lance’s hand. “You are very attractive, and that shade of blue is absolutely stunning against your skin.”

Lance bowed his head. “Thank you. It’s an honor to be here, and I hope the best comes from it.” The Prince smiled again, sharp teeth against pale lips.

They were then taken to the ballroom.

Lance gazed at the room in wonder, the tall window revealing the sun was all the way down. The candles glinted off the pink metal lining the room, creating an interesting effect.

As they made their way down the aisle, the orchestra started to play and Lance was soon approached by a young lady.

“Would you dance with me?” She asked tentatively, and Lance smiled.

“I would like nothing more. I’m Lance.” They started to spin in time with the music.

“Senaya.” She smiled, and again the sharp teeth took him by surprise. “Not to be rude, but why are you in a dress while the other men are in suits?”

Lance laughed, “Wardrobe malfunction. I think I look dashing still, don’t you?”

Senaya giggled. “Quite dashing. But I didn’t come over here to talk about your dress.” She purred, and Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Could you introduce me to the Green Paladin? I find her quite beautiful.” She sighed, and Lance led her over to where Pidge was standing.

“Pidge, this is Senaya. Senaya, Pidge.” He lightly shoved Senaya into Pidge’s arms, then whirled away, giggling.

“Ah, Lance,” A voice called, and Lance turned, spotting the prince.

“Prince Calistair.”

The prince held out his hand in invitation, and Lance cringed inwardly but took it nonetheless. “How are you finding Planet Switzel?”

Lance revolved on time with the music. “It’s very nice here.”

The Prince’s hand lowered on his back, trailing downward. Lance looked up at him sharply, but the Prince continued, making Lance uncomfortable.

“Please stop that. It’s making me uncomfortable.” Lance firmly stayed but Prince Calistair gripped his waist tightly.

“C’mon. Don’t be like th-” He was cut off by a strong voice.

“May I cut in?” Keith asked, a dark scowl on his face. Calistair let go of him reluctantly, shoving into Keith as he walked off.

“Oh, Keith, thank you!” Lance sighed in relief as the pair began dancing.

“That douche. I’ll kill him if you want?” Keith helpfully supplied, and Lance laughed. With the heels, he towered above Keith, so dancing was a bit awkward but they managed.

“That won’t be necessary. Also, that suit looks really good on you,” Lance smiled, and Keith blushed.

“You look nice, as well. Really pretty actually.” Keith confessed, and Lance stopped breathing for a minute.

* * *

“God, they’re obvious,” Pidge watched her two teammates act like five-year-olds.

To start, thanks for the kind messages this last week, guys. I will try to thank ya’ll individually later today, but I wanted to make sure I did it at some point, in case I forget. You guys are incredible and have no idea how much those messages helped me get through last week.

Okay, this is short, late, probs not very good (trust me, I hate myself for this just as much as anyone else could). But I am determined to keep up with my goal, even if I’ve missed it a couple of times. I’m gonna do this. Unfortunately, last week was a mess of trying to recover from my vacation, catching back up on assignments, literally the following Monday we got back started the last week of midterms, which is when I apparently had most of mine, plus my husband got in a car accident so now I’m having to get myself (and him) up even earlier than I usually do for classes so I can take him to work in the next town over and then come back for my classes, and then I have to pick him up when I get off work. In short, guys, I’m leaving the apartment at 6 every morning and getting back at 11 or 12, and then I have homework before I can go to bed and do it again. I’m tired.

Also done complaining. For now XD

ON THE STORY: Okeiiii so this is part of a demon au I forgot I did? Apparently it has two parts, Despair and Kindhearted. I’m pretty sure that’s the order they go in, too, so 5 points to Gryffindor for that. Anyway, here’s another piece!

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              Shiro sprung from the couch, instantly overcome with an overwhelming urge to throw up. He rushed to the nearest bathroom, focused on his need to rid himself of the roiling in his gut, but was foiled by his boyfriend, who was already leaning over the toilet. Talking hurt, but Shiro managed.

              “What the hell is this?” Keith shook his head, turning after a moment to speak with Shiro, but he had already fled to their other bathroom. Really, though, Shiro had a point. There wasn’t much that could knock down a demon like that. The last time he remembered it happening was whenever they accidentally…

              “SHIRO!” Keith stumbled to his feet, weak and shaky. “Where the hell is Lance?!”

              There was a silence before Keith heard a clamber, the slamming of a door, frantic steps coming from their bedroom. Keith launched himself in the same direction he knew Shiro was taking, and, sure enough, they met each other in front of Lance’s door. Shiro hesitated before he gently nudged it open to expose the emptiness behind it. Keith checked his phone. It was after 11, way later than Lance usually tried to stay out when he had a major test in the morning.

              They’d spent all day studying for their midterms the next day.

              “I thought he went out with Pidge and Hunk?” Shiro broke Keith out of his quickly-growing-frantic thoughts.

              Keith bit his lip. “They’d be able to take care of him and make sure Haggar and her witches stay away from him, right? I mean, it took us so long to figure out what was happening to him…”

              They made eye contact, their concern mirroring the other’s. Shiro sighed, “Well, he is still extraordinarily clumsy; I’m sure that’s all it was…” But he sounded unsure, and they both knew that probably wasn’t what had happened. Keith groaned.

The next fifteen minutes were some of the worst Keith had ever experienced. They spent most of it on their phones, desperately calling and texting Hunk, Pidge, and Lance himself. With each vacant ring, they found themselves tensing more and more. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they heard shuffling at the door, and they both flung themselves in that direction. Though somehow Shiro managed to “fling” himself much more slowly and carefully. Keith didn’t give a fuck. He was going to find their human.

              Upon reaching the door, Keith barely even paused before he swung it open, both shocked and unsurprised to find Lance cradled carefully in Hunk’s sure arms. “What happened?” he demanded, rushing to relieve Hunk of the precious weight.

              “Someone spiked his drink.” Pidge’s grim reply, coupled with flashing eyes, made Shiro’s tail lash from its bindings, black smoke swirling around his hands.

              “Nothing happened to him,” Hunk rushed.

              Shiro stared incredulously. “Are you kidding me? He can’t even focus on what we’re saying right now!”

              Hunk winced. Pidge didn’t even blink, the stupid little gremlin. Her second set of eyes opened, making the stare down twice as intense. “But he’s safe, he’s whole, and nobody hurt him. He’s home now, and you and Keith are going to take care of him. Right?”

              Keith bristled at the challenge. “I’d like to see someone try and stop us!” As he turned to whisk Lance upstairs, Hunk stopped him.

              “Keith… take care of him, all right? He’s important to me.”

              A solemn nod. “Hunk, I would die again before I let anything happen to Lance, I swear to you.” A whisper of black smoke rose from his mouth at the words, and Shiro shook his head. “Keith, you are lucky demons aren’t actually bound to their promises, you moron.”

              Keith gasped indignantly, though they could all hear the laughter hiding in his voice when he responded with, “Take that back, you fluffy wombat! I would absolutely die for Lance, and you can’t stop me!”

              Hunk’s giggles were cut off when Lance began to stir, whimpering lightly in protest at… something. Keith had no idea. He shot Shiro a panicked look.

              “All right, Hunk, Pidge. Thank you for bringing him back. We’ll have him call you tomorrow to let you know how everything turned out, don’t worry. For now, we need to get him taken care of.” And with a quick round of goodbyes, their friends saw themselves out while Shiro turned to his boys. And yes. They were his boys. Even if 50% of them didn’t know they were, Shiro would be blessed before he would let anyone hurt either of them. He put a hand on Keith’s lower back, guiding him and their lovely boy to their room, where they could easily keep an eye on Lance and make sure he recovers from whatever drug he had been given. Nothing else mattered.

Everyone Else:.....