vld as textposts etc. 60

Keith wasn’t good with words.

That wasn’t a secret. The entire team knew it. If something could be said in five words instead of ten, Keith would choose three. If something didn’t need to be said at all, he usually wouldn’t say it.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel things.

It just meant he showed them differently.

You noticed it in the small things first.

The way he’d always end up standing near you during briefings, even when there was plenty of space elsewhere. The way his gaze would flick toward you in the middle of conversations, quick and subtle, like he was checking that you were still there.

Like he needed to.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Then it kept happening.

“Why are you staring at me?”

The words slipped out one evening before you could stop them.

Keith froze.

Not dramatically. Not obviously. Just… still. His shoulders tensed slightly, his posture going a little too straight like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I’m not,” he said.

You raised a brow. “You literally just were.”

“I wasn’t staring,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at you now. “I was just… looking.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

He huffed quietly under his breath, clearly annoyed, but there was something else there too. Something almost… embarrassed.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “Okay. So what were you ‘just looking’ at?”

“…You.”

He said it like it slipped out.

Like he didn’t mean to admit it.

And the second it was out there, his entire demeanor shifted, like he realized what he’d just done.

You blinked. “…Oh.”

“Not like that,” he added quickly, even though it very much sounded like that. “I just— I was making sure you were paying attention earlier. In the briefing.”

“That was two hours ago.”

“…Yeah.”

You stared at him for a second longer.

Then you smiled.

Soft. Just enough to make his ears go a little red.

“Okay,” you said gently. “If you say so.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t argue either.

And after that… you started noticing more.

Keith wasn’t loud about anything. He didn’t hover, didn’t make a big deal out of it. But he was always there.

If a mission got tense, he shifted closer without thinking.

If you got frustrated during training, he’d stay behind without saying anything, just sparring with you until the tension eased out of your shoulders.

If you were tired, he noticed.

He always noticed.

“Did you sleep?”

You glanced up from where you were sitting, surprised. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said simply, leaning against the wall across from you. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah,” you said. Then, after a second, “A little.”

“That’s not sleeping.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“You’re going to burn out,” he said, his tone quieter now.

“You sound like Shiro.”

“…I learned from him.”

You laughed softly at that, but something about the way he was looking at you made your chest feel warm.

“You don’t have to worry about me, you know,” you said.

“I know.”

“Then why do you?”

He hesitated.

For a second, it looked like he might brush it off. Deflect. Change the subject like he usually did.

But this time… he didn’t.

“…Because I want to,” he said, voice low.

You stilled.

Keith shifted slightly, like he was uncomfortable now that the words were out, but he didn’t take them back.

“You push yourself too hard,” he added, quieter. “And you act like it doesn’t matter when you get hurt or tired or— whatever. But it does.”

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, steady despite the tension in his shoulders.

“You matter.”

Your breath caught.

There it was.

Not flashy. Not dramatic.

Just honest.

“…Keith,” you started softly.

He looked like he regretted saying it already, like he was bracing for something he didn’t want to hear.

So you didn’t overthink it.

You stood, closing the small space between you, and reached for his hand.

He froze.

Completely.

Like he didn’t know what to do with that.

“You’re really bad at this,” you said gently.

“At what?”

“Feelings.”

“…Yeah.”

You smiled, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Good thing I’m not.”

He let out a quiet breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“…I guess.”

There was a pause.

Then, hesitantly, like he was still figuring it out, his fingers curled around yours.

Not tight.

Just enough.

I found a beautifully written, unfinished Langst fix in my Google docs from last year. And. Omg it’s so good. It was JUST getting so good. But I have NO QUIZNAKING CLUE where I was going with it. But I wanna finish it, so I am calling to the Tumblr void in hopes that at least on person out there can give me a hand in brainstorming.

Basically, Lance gets hit by this weird supersonic new Galra tech that emits a rlly loud noise that fucks up his ears and stuns him. He recovers initially and is okay enough, they win the fight, he still has a bit of a headache but they go home and go to bed.

He wakes up the next morning and realizes the headache is worse, but the planet wants to celebrate Voltron so he doesn’t say anything, grits and bears it, whatever. However, each super loud noise seems to, little by little, make the headache worse. (It’s also important to note that in telepathic conversations with Blue she seems to note something is wrong. This isn’t just sensitivity to the noise and prolonged pain. She can sense something amiss)

My main concern with continuing this fic is: where tf was I gonna have this go? What magical only partially scientifically relevant thing was gonna happen to him? What’s ACTUALLY wrong with him? Or, at the very least, what’s a good place you think it could go to now?

I’m not expecting this to get much of a response, but I figured I’d shoot my shot anyways.

Edit: After sleeping on it a few more details have returned to my memory. I vaguely remember envisioning a scene where Lance got super dizzy and disoriented and had to like secretly step out of the celebration for a moment.