#voltron fic

Literally the best fanfic trope! I have so many saved, these are my favs!

Squeezing My Heart by Morvish 6k

5 times they kissed, and 1 time they talked about it. They are both so weird I love them.

Straight Into Your Arms by Morvish 5K

5 times Lance went straight into Keith's arms, and 1 time Keith went straight into Lance's. Morvish twice because THEY R THE GOAT

My Kink is Watching You by @shatterinseconds 4k

The five times Lance “accidentally” kisses Keith and the one time Keith kisses Lance on purpose So sweet my heart hurtssss I love them!

it's obvious (I had enough) by @existwound 8k

5 times Lance unsuccessfully tries to ask Keith out + 1 time Keith asks Lance out What if we turned asking each other out into a competition and were also weird about it.

tell me again, do you love me? by Huiythn 6k

five times Lance acknowledges his feelings for Keith and one time Keith reciprocates TEHEHEHE I love this one!!!

you anchor me back down by @apvrrish 6k

Five missing moments, and a moment that hasn't happened yet. Its just really sweet, Aknightly writes Klance the best.

Today, Anew by MemeKonVLD 6k

“Lance!”

Keith skids to a halt in front of Blue and bangs his fists on her hatch. “Let me in! Lance, let me—”

There’s muffled coughing from inside the lion. It’s minute, but it’s there. It makes Keith’s heart skip. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

“Lance?” He croaks.

He can’t tell what picture will be painted once he breaches the cockpit. Whether it’ll be covered in shades of red or blue. Whether Lance will greet him with a weak wave and a tired hug, or he’ll be on the floor, limbs twisted in odd angles. The hit he took during the battle looked heavy, but there wasn’t much Keith could see past the blinding explosion. There was no telling how the impact rattled Lance. In that moment, when orange and white seared the inside of his eyelids and his heart plummeted to his stomach, Keith had been so sure Blue had been burst into pieces.

But now he stands outside the intact lion with its pilot still inside, still alive, but who knows for how lo—

“Lance, baby,” Keith croaks with his head against the metal door. It’s still battle-warm. “Won’t you let me in?”

There’s a slight whirring noise before the door slides open. Keith all but collapses inside. He searches wildly, eyes roving everywhere, looking for a body, a suit, tan skin, anything—

Lance is slumped over in the pilot’s chair. “Yahoo,” he mumbles, “Right here.”

“Lance,” Keith inhales a bated breath and rushes over to assess him.

He receives a half-hearted peace sign for his troubles. Lance’s fingers tremble. “Hey, good looking. You come here often?”

Still joking. That’s good. Keith pats his body down to assess for injuries. He meticulously starts removing armor when the bulky plating gets in the way.

“Woah, woah! At least three dates before the clothes come off, man. I’ll have you know that I’m a decent guy.”

“We’re literally dating, Lance.”

“Oh.” He dishes him a lopsided grin. “Well, in that case, proposition away.”

Keith ignores him. He’s concussed, that’s for sure. Who knows what other injuries are hiding? He wishes he had more light, but any more brightness would surely stab at Lance’s eyes. He continues to peel off pieces of armor and feel his limbs up and down. Keith only stops when he hears Lance wince.

He holds his forearm precariously. “Here? It hurts here?”

Lance nods. “Yeah it—I was holding the throttle lever when it, you know—fuck.” He grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t—I didn’t notice—I’m,” Lance takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

“You’re not difficult,” Keith rushes out quicker than he breathes, “Don’t be sorry. Ever.”

Lance lets out a watery laugh. “Ever?”

Keith nods solemnly.

“What if I do something evil? Like uh, get rid of all food that’s not goo? Or chuck your jacket out the airlock?”

“I might cry.”

“Fuck,” Lance hisses, “That’s worse. So much worse. Don’t uh—Keith, don’t do that.”

“Don’t cry?” Keith finds a gauze to wrap his bleeding arm in. Lance winces when he tightens it around the wound.

“Ah—yeah. You can’t cry. It’s illegal in ten states. And all of space.”

It takes all of Keith’s willpower not to burst into tears in that moment. He swears he’s not trying to be spiteful or petty, but the tightness in his throat suddenly has him in a chokehold. Everything catches up to him once he’s got Lance safe and secured in front of him. He’s here. Lance is here. He’s alive and he’s not hurt—not too badly—not skewered or impaled or crushed by anything, not unconscious or unresponsive. God, it could’ve been worse. So, so much worse. He could’ve, Lance might’ve—

“What?” Lance cries. “Did you have the waterworks ready on cue? What in the grammy-nominated actor is this? Are you—what are you—” He splutters. Despite all of it, Lance reaches forward with his uninjured arm to whisk the stray tears off his face.

“Guess I’m—” Keith hiccups. “Guess I’m an outlaw.”

With slow, stiff motions, Lance detaches himself from the seat and leans downwards to where Keith is kneeled. He winds his arms around Keith’s neck and fists his fingers into his hair.

“What are you doing? Your injury, it’s—”

“I’m obviously arresting you, genius. Hands behind my back.”

Keith sniffles but he still complies. “I thought it’s hands behind my back.”

“Nuh uh.” Lance shakes his head. “My lion, I make the rules.”

They stay like that, in their awkward embrace, until well after it becomes uncomfortable and Keith’s limbs get sore. They’re still drenched in their battle sweat and it’s a little gross, but he doesn’t want to let go. Lance’s heart beats against his, and what’s most important is that it beats. Keith feels it, feels the rise and fall of his chest, the little breaths against his neck, and the hair tickling his shoulder. He lets himself soak in it and he remains ever so grateful that it, this, can exist for even one more day.

When she was a kid, and a court official’s child wanted her doll, her mother silently tugged it from her hands and placed it in theirs.

“We are royalty, Allura,” she had murmured, white hair glistening around her face under strong sunlit rays. “What belongs to us must always belong to our people.”

Her mother had seemed so otherworldly and powerful in that moment, gentle and yet unwavering all at once.

Allura knew she’d do anything to be like her, so she bit back her tears and nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat.

Then, the world changed. No, that wasn’t quite right.

The world died.

It blasted into shards too numerous and fragile to count, thrusting her into a deep sleep, and jolting her back just when she was on the cusp of a blissful, silent infinity. Reopening her eyes was like staring into a fluorescent nightmare. Her beloved home, her planet, had expanded in what felt like a day. She had gone from a figure on a rock, hurtling through space like all other living things, to a woman who was meant to see the universe all at once care deeply for every other creature.

Allura recalled her mother. She remembered sweet gentle hands and a tough, steady spirit. With arms wide open, she gave and gave all she had left, which wasn’t much.

First, she gave her castle. The last ties to her family now rested in the trust of five strange, well-meaning but ignorant humans. While the lions weren’t hers to hand over, that castle was, and each memory of her parents it held refused to fade as new ones of the team began sprouting.

Then, she gave her body. When she did finally enter the throes of battle, her strength and stamina advantages were still no match for the might of entire armies. She hid bruised ribs and sore joints from the team, took the occasional cut and scar from avoiding the pods.

Occasionally, mirrors haunt her. Allura still can feel her old body, the way it used to be soft edges and graceful curves. As a princess, she’d been known to slide effervescently across the dance floor.

As a warrior, she breaks.

It only made sense that she would give her mind as well. Though she prefers not to dwell, the nightmares are there. Occasionally, she trembles at a sound or a scent. Goosebumps follow her at every step.

But she keeps stepping forward anyways. No lingering. No hesitation.

So, when the battle reaches its epic climax, when the sounds of clanging and screams drown out every murmuring thing, when Allura can see into that infinity and all its gentle, unwavering light—

—she makes a choice. Isn’t she allowed to be selfish, for once? At last?

Because…

Because for all his foolishness. All his pompous, ridiculous commentary. All his lanky, uncoordinated movements and trite remarks and annoying habits.

Lance McClain is a boy who knows how to love. In her final days, after a lifetime of existing for others, Allura wants. She craves. She hungers for a time, a place, a people who loved her. Lance embodies that, shockingly enough, with his kind eyes and his tall, sure embraces.

Allura knows that her foreshadowed sacrifice will hurt him. When she vanishes from this plane, she wonders if people will call her awful for how she hurt him. Unfortunately, she just can’t help herself.

Despite everything, she’s still scared. And she’d rather have his warm, gentle, loving touch to guide her into that infinity than nothing. She’d like a glimpse of what is promised to her on the other side. Something to make her strong, allow her to slip into false confidence, and stay with her as she takes those final steps.

As she is showered in bright light.

As she hears the otherworldly and powerful.

As the sunlight shimmers down on her.

She turns her face to the warmth, remembering the taste of tears in her honor, knowing she was and will be forever loved. It is peace and it is relief.

As Lance's phone rang rather late at night, he figured it was Hunk, one of his sisters, or another friend from the Garrison calling to ask him to a pub or a dinner. But it was Shiro’s name that came up on screen.

“Hey Shiro, what’s up?” Lance answered

“Hey Lance, is Keith with you?”

“No, he’s not. Everything okay?”

Shiro was silent for a moment. “Keith’s gone. Nobody’s seen or heard from him in days. And he left a note in his apartment for us to find.” A paper crinkled faintly in the background. “‘Everything’s fine, don’t look for me.’”

“So that means everything is not fine.”

“Kosmo got me into his apartment. His knife, jacket, and a few pictures are gone.”

“He left Kosmo?”

“Yeah, he did,” Shiro said with a sigh. “He really doesn’t want to be found.”

I wanna create my own little university au fic and I’m sorry but I LOVE the art major (graphic design maybe?) for Keith, it might not be as canon but I love it. Might be because I plan on taking art in the future hsjjsjsj

Chapter 25 of Asterism, the last chapter of Act II: Lost, is out now 🌌