#Lance is good with kids

[icypantherwrites]

New Fic: A Little Mistranslation

Patreon Link | AO3 Link

Summary: “And there was this one component that we found that translated out to ‘shrink ray,’” Pidge steamrolled over Lance. “And we thought you know, cool, right? Just like in the sci-fi movies.”

Lance was starting to get a very bad feeling as to where this was going.

“Pidge,” his eyes darted to Pidge’s hands — empty — and then to her cargo pants pocket half-expecting to see a miniature sized version of his best friend, “where’s Hunk?”

—

Except ‘shrink’ ray doesn’t actually mean ‘shrink’ as in 'tiny.' It means ‘shrink’ as in ‘de-age’ and while Pidge figures out a way to reverse it Lance is now spending the day babysitting an adorable baby-version of his best friend.

---

If you read and enjoy the story comments are much appreciated ♥

[lauraisakilljoy]

going back to my roots (obsessing over red and blue space gays) was not on my 2024 bingo card but here we are

[ginervacade]

Honeybee and Ladybug

Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: The Grid Kids wonder why Seb and Reader decorate with Bees and Ladybugs. The answer? Jenson Button and Y/N is a sap. Seb just loves his wife.

Warnings: none that I can think of? There’s a tiny, skippable period joke ( as is customary to this blog)

Author’s Note: My first attempt at RPF! ( it took forever because I was being a chicken about it lol.) I was wanting to use “little ladybug” as a pet name in some sort of writing and the Jenson Button girlie in me said “ I have an idea!”

SECOND, MORE IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE: This fic is heavily inspired by the lovely @pucksandpower and her ADORABLE Grid Kids series. ( particularly Gentlemen: A Short View Back To The Past) I did change the reader’s past occupation Go read her series, it is the cutest thing ever and you will giggle the whole way through!

Onward to the fic!

*****

“ Mom?” Lance said as Y/N sat back down on the couch, watching as she pulled the little pillow into her lap and held it close.

“ What’s up babydoll?” She replied, smiling as he leaned in toward her from his spot in the floor. There were plenty of chairs, she noticed again as she ran her fingers through his hair, yet he always seemed to prefer the floor. She suspected it had to do with being able to stretch out and move around, as Georgie and Lando sometimes did the same.

“ This is not me saying I don’t like it, it’s very cute,” Lance began and Max chuckled, mumbling something along the lines of “This should be interesting.”

“ What’s with the insects theme in your decorating?” As if to prove his point he gestured to the little pillow she held, which was embroidered with a little bumble bee and a lady bug.

Now that the rest of the boys thought about it, they were sort of everywhere. Canisters in the kitchen for Seb’s coffee and Y/Ns tea were a honey bee and ladybug respectively. There were nature photographs of the two on the bathroom walls. Charles remembered the guest room being all done up in bees and ladybugs too. Y/N had a vent clip in her car that was a sparkly ladybug. The key hanger by the door was a pair of flowers and she and Seb had matching key chains of the two insects that slotted into place to light on the flowers. Her favorite blanket, old and worn out by now, the one she wrapped around them all whenever they were feeling overwhelmed, had ladybugs on it too.

“It’s not just insects though Lance,” Mick pointed out.

“ It’s always bees and ladybugs,” said Lando, then the realization seemed to dawn in his eyes, “ Wait, do they represent you and Seb?”

“ Yep,” she replied, smiling fondly at her husband.

“ Aaaw, that’s cute!” George cooed.

“ I get the bees for Seb, everyone does that, but why are you a ladybug?” Charles piped up.

“ Haven’t you guys ever heard Jenson call her “ his little ladybug”?” Max asked, making air quotes around the phrase and mimicking the retiree’s voice.

There was a chorus of laughter at that.

“ You boys up for a story?”

****

“ Why do you always wear dresses to media days?” Jenson asked, looking her up and down in confusion. She was in a short dress, tight at the top and flowy at the skirt, and a simple pair of black heels. Her hair was back, the ends curled and adorned with a large blue bow that matched the dress. She had on pink lipstick. Every media day she showed up looking like this put together little lady, it kind of drove him insane.

“ I just like them. I like feeling pretty.” She replied simply, shrugging her shoulders.

“ You like making me look bad is what it is,” Jenson laughed, gesturing to his jeans and team kit.

The next morning when she walked in for quali day in a red dress with black polka dots Jenson rolled his eyes. Tossing an arm over her shoulder he cheerily announced, “ Good morning my little ladybug. Let’s get a 1-2 today, yeah?”

Y/N giggled a little too much for Sebastian’s liking, leaning into the touch, the bridge of her nose turning pink as she mumbled something like “ That’s always the goal, isn’t it?”

Sebastian hated the little schoolgirl, hero worship crush Y/N didn’t seem to realize she was harboring for her teammate and mentor.

Looking up to him he’d understand. He’s older and more experienced, he looks up to him too. But Jenson is also Jenson Button. Tall, charming, conventionally attractive, but a known playboy and flirt. Sebastian thinks Y/N deserves better than to fall for all that.

***

“ Oh shut up, I did not,” Y/N says, blushing.

“ You definitely did, love.” Seb’s grin has the boys giggly too, “ Does it help knowing I was very jealous?”

“ A little bit,” she concedes, still blushing, leaning into Seb’s side earning Aws and coos from several of the boys.

“ The crush only lasted about half a season, but the name stuck.”

“ And spread like wildfire through the paddock,” Y/N agreed.

****

In Brazil when they did Secret Santa she smiled as she read the little note.

To our little ladybug, since you’re always cold.

“ Oh I love it!” She said, running her fingers over the ladybug adorned blanket. “Seb look, it’s so cute and so fuzzy!”

“ It is.” He said.

She giggled again, then on impulse “ like your hair,” she said, messing it up to make him turn that adorable shade of pink.

They missed the fond smiles they were getting from Micheal and Mark.

****

“ Then half the grid picked it up.”

“ You boys have probably heard more than Jenson use it, just without the possessive marker so you didn’t notice. It used to irk me that he said my with it.” The word sounds icy in Seb’s mouth even now.

“ It was just his name for me originally. Was someone a little possessive, hm?” Y/N teased.

“ Absolutely,” Seb replied, with no shame, “ I did not like anyone else trying to claim my girl.” This gets more giggles and a wolf whistle out of the boys.

“ We weren’t together yet honey,” Y/N said, confused smile on her face.

“ Liebe, I was pining long before you knew.”

Mick, George, Charles, and Lando all awed some more.

“ Like a bee for pollen?” Max joked to a chorus of groans.

“ Actually I do think I’ve heard Nando say it,” Lance said, remembering how Alonso had pecked her on the cheek last time she’d been in the paddock with a “ Hola Ladybug.”

“ Rosberg too,” agreed Charles.

“ And Webber,” Lando added.

“ Lewis too,” George and Mick said at the same time, recalling multiple “ hey there Ladybug! Missed you”s whenever she entered the Mercedes garage.

“ It was cute till Jense devolved it,” Y/N said with a fond eye-roll.

“ Devolved?” Mick asked, peering up at them like a confused puppy.

Seb just laughed.

“ Oh please, you still adored it. He just wanted to have his own special nickname for you.”

“ But I swear it was like he forgot my actual name for a whole season!”

“ That’s true, everything was Bug.” Seb conceded.

“ Easy on the breaks in turn 4, Bug.” She said in a dramatic but better than Max’s impression of the former world champion. “ Where are you going, Bug? Stop staring, Bug. Focus, Bug. Bit understeery today, Bug.”

“ Oi! You’re bleeding, Bug.” Seb added with a chuckle.

“ Oh I about killed him for that! Could you yell it a bit louder Jense? I don’t think the Ferrari garage in Albert Park heard you!”

“ Oo,” George winced, he and Max the only two who seemed to understand. Y/N just laughed.

“ Really though, every sentence. Why’s your hair down, Bug? Ask him out already, Bug! We’re gonna get a 1-2 today, Bug!”

“ Then I made one comment about Bees dying off.”

“ And I called you Honey, exactly one time, and Micheal ran with it.”

“ Honey Bee and Ladybug.” Seb squeezed her shoulders, “ and the rest is history.”

[autisticlancemcclain]

“You’re nervous.”

“Hnnngh,” Keith says, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He looks straight ahead, left leg bouncing, hair pulled back into a ponytail but flyaways everywhere. He keeps having to push up his glasses when they slide down his nose, nudged forward by all the tension in his eyebrows. “Being stressed before a stressful situation is not being nervous, Lance, it’s just my brain responding like a brain.”

Lance hides a smile. “You’ve met my family before, baby.”

Keith slows to a stop as they approach their turn, looking at Lance instead of the road for the first time in twenty minutes. His indigo eyes are wide and pleading. Lance is distracted by the tiny mole beside his nose.

“I’ve met your mom,” he says emphatically, breaking eye contact with Lance to crane his head to the left, checking over the hill for any cars. He’s far more careful than he needs to be — there’s never anyone on this road. But Keith is always endlessly careful when he’s driving other people around. “I’ve met your siblings. I’ve met your abuela. I’ve met the twins.”

“Mighty number of people,” Lance agrees. He looks at his boyfriend pointedly. “All of whom love you.”

“Because they love you,” Keith stresses. “You’re, like, their favourite person. You hyped me up so of course they have a nicer view of me. But this is like — your great grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and, I dunno, second sister in law five times removed —

“Not how that works,” Lance interjects, amused.

“—and now I gotta impress them all? At once? I still don’t know how I did that with everyone else! I panicked! I forgot all my lines and conversation starters! I just — was awkward, and they were cool with it because your family is cool!”

“Ah, yes, you were yourself and people liked you,” Lance says, nodding sagely. “How bizarre.”

Keith looks at him imploringly. He has a — really cute nose, holy shit. It’s crooked from the three separate times it’s been broken and Lance is kind of obsessed with it. All he can think about is pressing a kiss to the bridge of it and watching how Keith will crinkle it on reflex. He has to fight back a giggle.

“I am going to get eaten,” Keith says miserably. “My luck is going to wear out. I’m gonna say something stupid and offend your third cousin or trip over someone’s toddler and destroy your mother’s flan by crashing into the table and upending hot coffee on an elderly person. Then I’ll get arrested for assault and you’ll have to visit me in prison and my cellmate will make a comment about you or something and I’ll have to kill him and then I’ll get retried and the death sentence, probably, and then Red will bust me out of prison and cause intergalactic meltdowns and —”

Lance can’t hold back anymore. Quick as a dart he reaches out, fisting Keith’s collar, and yanks him over the gearshift, kissing him softly and soundly until Keith sighs, surprise fading into something calmer, relaxed. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s cheek.

“You need a Xanax,” Lance says gently as he pulls away.

Keith huffs, the manic look in his eyes replaced with something much softer. Relieved, even. “Yeah, probably.” He tears his eyes away from Lance, rechecking his turn and finally actually putting on his blinker and moving onto the right road. His free hand reaches over the gearshift and Lance grabs it, tangling their fingers together and resting them in his lap. “I just — I want your family to like me.”

Lance smiles, a wide one that brings a flush to his cheeks and makes him shy, even though he’s not self-conscious; a smile that makes something flutter so intensely in his stomach that it feels so intensely private.

“They’ll like you,” Lance says simply.

Keith exhales. His hand tightens. Lance squeezes back.

The rest of the drive is easy.

———

By the time they make it to Lance’s great-grandmother’s farm, he can tell that some tension has crawled back into Keith’s shoulders. But he’s always been brave, when fighting dictators or meeting parents, and doesn’t hesitate to pull into the gravel driveway and park the car. He squeezes Lance’s hand again before letting go, stepping out of the car and heading to get their stuff.

“Tío! Tío!” scream two voices, and Lance doesn’t even have half a second to brace himself before Nadia is launching herself at his stomach. He manages somehow to spin them both around to offset the momentum, keeping them both upright. Keith is not quite so lucky — Lance hears a slam, a startled oof, and then he sees their bags go flying out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus Christ,” Keith wheezes, flat on the ground with Sylvio crowded on top of him.

“I got you!” the boy crows, scrambling off Keith’s body in order to adequately dance around in victory. “You went splat!” He whirls around to face Lance, still dancing around. “Tío Lance! Did you see?”

Lance adjusts Nadia on his hip, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “I did. You got him good, buddy.”

Beaming, Sylvio turns back to Keith, who’s finally managed to get enough breath back in his lungs to stand.

“You got me good,” he wheezes in approval.

“Just like you showed me!”

There’s no mistaking the smugness in Sylvio’s voice, the challenge, the I’m-little-you’re-big-and-you’re-a-loser.

Keith recognises the challenge easily, eyes glinting, and before Sylvio can run away Keith scoops him up, tossing him over his shoulder and whirling them around ‘til he’s dizzy.

“Just like I showed you, champ. Think you can get out of this one, though? It’s easy!”

Sylvio shrieks, pounding on Keith’s back with fists weak from laughter. Nadia squirms in Lance’s hold, so Lance sets her down, and in seconds she’s run and attacked Keith’s other side, climbing up his legs to try and free her brother. Keith scoops her up, too, throwing her over his other shoulder as she laughs just as shrilly.

“Clearly neither of you learned very much!” he shouts, grin so wide it practically splits his face. His already precariously dangling glasses slide right off his face but Keith doesn’t even spare them a glance, stepping over them easily and shaking the twins as he goes. “You’re trapped!”

It doesn’t take the bright twins very long to unite forces, attacking Keith with renewed vigour all at once. Lance bends down as they wrestle, scooping up Keith’s glasses and their discarded bags.

“He’s good with them,” Lisa says, sidling up beside him and sliding her hand around his waist. Lance mirrors her, squeezing.

“He thinks they’re hilarious. He loves them to pieces.”

“Believe me, they love him too. I heard about Uncle Keith so much on the drive down that I was tired of him before you two even got here.”

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right, dweeb. No one else here reads Jane Austen. You need your nerd buddy.”

“Indeed,” she says, grinning. She pats him on the hip, pulling away and taking one of the bags slung over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff dropped off. Marcela will want to fuss over you, I’m sure. She hasn’t seen you since your last mission.”

Lance looks back at his boyfriend before following her, making sure he doesn’t need Lance’s help. The twins have wrestled him into doing their bidding, it looks like, or more likely he didn’t even put up a fight, and sit on one shoulder each, guiding him around the property with shouts and points and frenzied gesturing. Keith has his hand locked firmly over each set of knees, careful not to let them fall, as he wobbles around to make them gasp and laugh.

Lance smiles. He’s fine.

———

Keith finds him within the hour, Nadia and Sylvio off to play with their cousins.

“You abandoned me,” he pouts, hand wrapped around his elbow.

Lance notices, idly, that he’s slouching again; that his ponytail has been abandoned entirely and his hair curtains his face.

Hm.

“You were busy being a doofus,” Lance teases, brushing his hair out of his face. He nobly resists the urge to quote Regina George. “One of us has to be the mature one. We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about the saviours of the universe.

“You’re hiding out on a random couch on your phone,” Keith deadpans. He glances down at the screen. “You’re watching a seven year old vine compilation. On mute.”

“Like an adult,” Lance says primly. “Watch with me.”

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, but slides on the couch behind Lance, arms wrapped around his waist and chin hooked over his shoulder. Lance digs in his pockets until he finds Keith’s glasses, twisting around to slide them on his handsome face. His hands linger on Keith’s temples. Keith’s smile is small and crooked and bares the tiniest peek of crooked incisors, and Lance’s heart flutters.

He leans back into Keith’s chest as he plays the video, watching a compilation of dorky videos he’s seen a thousand times. He feels Keith’s grin press into the juncture of his neck as he starts to mumble along. His hand rests just under Lance’s shirt, flat on his stomach. Lance fights the urge to squirm.

You Are In Your Abuela’s House, he reminds himself firmly. Your Ancestors Are Watching You. And Jesus, Probably.

Luckily, someone calls out their names before Lance really needs to find a vat of ice water to dunk himself in.

“Leandro! Keith! Come eat before your hog of a brother takes it all!”

The two of them don’t even need to pause for a moment before throwing themselves off the couch, scrambling towards the kitchen at top speeds because Marco absolutely will eat their portion of the food. Not even because he’s hungry for it, just because he’s a butthead who thinks it’s funny.

“This is your fault,” Keith informs him, careening around a questionably placed side table.

“Nothing is ever my fault ever in the entire universe,” Lance shoots back.

(Is it Lance’s fault? Possibly. But in his defense, the several years he spent as a child waiting for Marco to be distracted before eating his favourite thing on the plate still make him crack up when he thinks about it. Marco just got so mad, every time. Plus his eyes bulge a little when he loses it. How was Lance ever supposed to avoid poking that bear?)

Luckily, they make it in time to wrestle a plate away from Marco’s snickering ass.

“Keith, Lance,” Lance’s mother greets warmly before Lance can crack a plate over his brother’s head. “I’m glad you made it!”

“Mother,” Lance squawks dramatically, hand flying to his chest, “I am the second to be greeted? You’re son? You’re youngest angel? The one who went missing for several years and returned to you, prodigal?”

She reaches over and flicks Lance in the forehead. Keith snorts. Marco cackles.

“Keith called me on the flight home,” she explains, ruthless. “So he is the son, and you are the son-in-law.”

Keith flushes as he always does when Mamá pairs them like that, when they’re both her sons, when she implies what it implies. Lance lets the warmth of that expression soak into his bones, deep in through his back, from every point Keith is touching him.

“I was sleeping off being maimed!” Lance despairs.

It does him no favours. Mamá waves her hands wildly, setting down her own plate in favour of placing her hands over her ears. “Gah! Sh! Do not tell me of these things! I am meant to pretend your job is nothing more than ornamental! Do not ruin that for me!”

“It was the slightest ever maiming,” Lance mutters, sullen.

Keith visibly bites back a retort to that, no doubt out of respect for Mamá.

(Lance knows that Keith would have been the world’s biggest mama’s boy had he grown up with Krolia. He has shared this hypothesis with Shiro, who had laughed so hard upon hearing it that he had sprained a muscle in his neck, and then explained later with a heat pack and a wryly smiling Adam that Keith used to scold Shiro for pushing himself with exact quotes from Shiro’s mother herself.)

“Nobody ever wants to hear my side of the story,” Lance laments.

Keith bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

“That’s because you are a liar,” he says kindly.

Lance catches his chin before he can pull away, kissing him to shut him up.

They head outside to join everyone else, plates stacked high with food and plastic cups balanced precariously with spare fingers. Keith starts to slouch again as they walk out the sliding screen door, but he keeps his hair out of his face, eyes flitting between different people. It helps that hardly anyone spares him half a glance, too used to random new people in such a big family.

“Hey, Patito! Over here!”

Lance whips his head up at the familiar voice, breaking into a wide smile when he sees his sister’s wilding waving hand. Keith, too, seems relieved when he catches sight of Veronica, rushing over almost faster than Lance is.

“Hey, losers,” she greets, flicking water from her cup at them as they sit across from her. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Lance is a distraction and danger to the road,” Keith says immediately, because he is a snitch. He is also unfortunately very quick and manages to duck away from Lance’s pinch.

Veronica snorts. “Believe me, I know. Every ride back to the Garrison on weekends was a near death experience because he kept smacking me every ten seconds. A menace.”

“You manipulator!” Lance accuses. “I slapped you because you teased me! Constantly!”

Keith and Veronica share sharp, matching grins. Lance takes a nanosecond to ponder what he ever did to deserve the sufferings of their friendship.

“That’s because you’re so goddamn easy to rile up, sweetheart,” Keith says with a wink.

Lance attempts to shove him off his chair. Unfortunately, while he does flail backwards, he manages to stay upright.

“You two were supposed to hate each other,” he mutters into his congrí. “This friendship thing is bullshit.”

Neither believe him for a second.

They’re barely into their meal when the nosiness starts. In fact, Lance is honestly surprised it has lasted this long. Luis probably said something to convince everyone to tone it down, because he is a saint and also Lance’s favourite.

“So,” says his Aunt Vena, “…Keith.”

Keith freezes, cheeks bulging. Lance tries very hard not to laugh at him.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing. He says nothing else and looks agonized about it. His memorized conversation starters have no doubt fled his brain.

“You know, I feel like I already know you,” jokes Aunt Vena, never bothered by awkwardness. Or boundaries. “I only see Leandro a few times a year were the only thing he talked about for ages.”

Lance goes pale. Oh, please God, no. Please let Aunt Vena be suddenly gifted with the ability to read Lance’s mind, or at least notice him waving his hands frantically behind Keith’s head, making cutting motions at his throat.

“Keith this, Keith that. Keith Keith Keith.”

Lance cradles his face in his hands. So much for miracles.

“He did?” Keith asks.

“Stop investigating immediately or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” Lance threatens under his breath. Keith’s hand finds it’s way to his thigh and rests there, as if laughing at him.

“Oh, yes,” laughs Aunt Vena. “Every other word was about how you sat in class or walked in the hall or flew your planes. He was always angry about it, but he was quite focused on you. Oh, and your hair.”

Aunt Vena turns away to chatter with someone else like she didn’t just ruin Lance’s life. Lance would hate her if he didn’t find her so goddamn loveable, but he does, so instead he looks up and suffers Keith’s wide, shit-eating grin, and ponders deep in his heart how he will re-humble his boyfriend so they’re back on even ground.

“…You were big on the hair, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll chop it off as you sleep.”

———

“Keith.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You dorkbrain.”

“I’m just saying!”

Keith’s hair is in a knot at the crown of his head, glasses pushed all the way to his face. He’s got Lance’s hand in his but he’s not paying attention to him in the slightest — he cycles between leaning back, then forwards, then craning his neck and shifting his eyes. Every few seconds he lets out a muted gasp.

A group of children run yelling in and out of the house, heedless of doors and stairs.

“You are such a mother hen,” Lance says with great amusement.

Keith is too distracted to even roll his eyes. “Some of them are very little,” he says worriedly. “Maybe they should play a game outside. There’s more space.” He looks around at the various adults sitting and chatting, aghast. “Should me maybe get a — pool noodle, or something? Just for the corners. So there are no head injuries. That’s the most common way they happen, you know. Tripping during play.”

Lance hums, leaning into his side. “Reading a lot of parenting books, are you.”

Keith is very deliberately silent. Lance flicks up his gaze to watch his face redden.

“…Akira.”

“It’s Shiro’s!” he says defensively. “It was — he had it on the shelf! I read it when I was younger! It was traumatizing! Do you know how easy it is to fuck up a kid? Very easy, Lance! Their heads are very squishy! They don’t know balance yet! They repeat everything you say!”

“Was this book,” Lance starts, choking back laughter with everything he has, “perhaps about raising toddlers?”

Keith’s jaw snaps shut.

“Children under two? Hm?”

Keith glances away. “It didn’t mention.”

Lance loses his battle, burying his cackling in Keith’s shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know that ‘A Guide To Raising Healthy Children For New Parents’ was about — babies? Shiro was the dumbass who had it!”

Lance laughs harder. “Did he — did he buy it when he —”

Keith puts his head in his hands. “He bought, like, forty books when he first started fostering me, they were all basically the same, he’s such a dumbass —”

“Stop, stop,” Lance begs, grasping his aching stomach. The image of Shiro, twenty years old, panicking after impulsively deciding to apply to foster the delinquent who stole his car, frantically googling advice for new parents only to unknowingly receive information about toddlers is the best mental image he’s had in a while. He’ll have to share with Pidge and the rest of the Holts the second they get home.

“You’re such a butthead,” Keith grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. His attention is still mostly on the way Mateo, Lance’s four year old second cousin, very nearly brains himself on the corner of the brick entryway trying to swerve away from his older sister. Keith’s sharp inhale would have been comical if Lance didn’t feel his own heart drop.

“Okay,” Lance concedes, “maybe it’s time for a new game.” He pats his boyfriend on the knee. “You’re up, champ.”

“Wait, me?” Keith asks, bewildered. “You’re their cousin.”

Lance shrugs. “You’re the worried one. Plus, I want to go get wine drunk with Rachel. Mamá said she just got here. She’s been avoiding my calls all week which means she has Information to share and doesn’t trust herself not to tell me immediately. I have to know what’s up.”

Keith still doesn’t look convinced. “But I’m a stranger to them, basically.”

“So start with Nadia and Sylvio, dummy. Once the rest of the kids see a cool newer and accidentally safer game to play, they’ll join fast. Plus, the stranger aspect is intriguing, probably. You’re like a new toy.”

To solidify his point, Lance calls his niblings over, gesturing to Keith. The twins light up, immediately abandoning whatever they’re doing — trying to shove a sleeping Luis’ finger up his own nose — to sprint over to them.

“Tío Keith has a game for you two,” Lance whispers conspirationally.

The twins burst into howling cheers.

“Game! Game! Game! Game!” they chant, each grabbing one of Keith’s hands and tugging him away.

Keith looks back at him, panicked. Lance blows him a kiss, then turns back into the house to go hunt for his sister.

She finds him first.

“LANCE,” she shouts, whipping around to face him. Lance immediately shifts backwards slightly, knees bent, legs widened, arms held out protectively in front of him. He smirks. She matches it.

She charges.

She aerials into a heel kick, as always, aiming for his skull. Lance back handsprings out of her reach, careful of the various relatives around him, who are well used to their brand of bullshit and don’t even pause their conversations as they lean away.

He comes back up just in time to throw up a block to her fists, aiming a kick to her stomach that she can’t fully dodge. She gets him right back, though, like she always does, aiming a sweeping kick for his ankles that he has to flip on his hands to avoid.

“It’s good to see you, fucker,” she pants, roundhouse kicking the dip of his waist.

“Likewise, asshole,” he grunts, grabbing her ankle and flipping her to the ground. She drags him down with her.

They’re both grinning.

“Tomorrow morning we box for real,” she proposes as they lay there, getting their breath back.

“Deal,” he agrees.

By the time they finally get back on their feet, they’re both parched, and since they also make frequent poor decisions, they head straight for the bad boxed wine. Lance pours them both heaping glasses and Rachel guides them to an open lawn chair, which they both sprawl on, a hundred percent in each other’s space.

“So,” Rachel says, chugging half her glass, “my grades are in. I’m graduating top of my class.”

Lance gasps. “Rachel!”

“And,” she continues, building up suspense with a grin, “I got word back from all my residency applications.”

Lance thinks he might explode. He remembers them when they were little, huddled on the floor of their bedroom at one in the morning, glow sticks guiding their planners, mapping out heir lives together. Where they would go to school, when they would bother with dating, how they would do it all together. Lance, best pilot to come out of the Garrison next to Shirogane. Rachel, the first surgeon to successfully transplant a brain.

“I got in,” she says, beam so wide it forces her eyes shut. “Lance, I got in!”

“Rach!” he screams, eyes blurry from tears and heart full to bursting. “Rach!”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes, weeping with joy and elation and buzzing from his head to his toes. This is what Rachel has wanted since she was old enough to talk. This is his sister, his first and best friend, getting everything she has ever wanted, as she has always deserved.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!”

She squeezes him right back, her own tears wetting his t-shirt. Her relief is palpable, and Lance knows it, the indescribable feeling of finally crossing that goddamn mountain, finally getting what you’ve been working for for longer than you can remember.

“Everything is falling into place,” she says softly, pulling back and holding up her cup. Lance laughs and clinks them together.

They settle back into their shared chair, too happy for words, gathering themselves. Lance catches his mother’s eye and returns her soft smile, wine making him warm and happiness making him bright. He feels like he’s swimming in sun-warmed water.

He settles back with a sigh.

Rachel nudges him. “Hey, Loverboy. Look.”

Lance follows her pointing finger. Away from the tables and lawn chairs, in a wide, open space, there’s Keith — surrounded by every single child on the property, ordered in neat rows. Each of them has a hefty stick, held carefully in their hands, watching Keith with great intensity. Keith himself has his bayard out, stretched out in a battle position, back straight and shoulders loose. He has the same bright look on his face that he has during Lion training, or riskier missions. Excitement, steadiness, and a hint of cockiness that has Lance shivering. He demonstrates a move, and with a single minded focus, the children repeat it.

It has always been impossible not to want to be a part of everything Keith does, Lance has found.

“…You kind of scored,” Rachel observes.

Lance’s laughter is breathy, high-pitched. “Believe me, I know.”

There’s a rousing shout from the kids, then a cheer, then Keith shouts, “Ready?” and at their raucous response, chaos breaks out. Sticks are strikes and parried and children throw themselves dramatically on the floor in pantomimed deaths, scrambling to their feet seconds later to get back into the fray. Every few seconds Keith calls out rules and reminders, weaving through the children to point out places for improvement or congratulate someone for doing something right.

“I have never seen them all gathered this long without any crying or fighting,” Rachel says, something like awe in her voice. She pauses. “Well, real fighting.”

Lance smiles, something small and secret and over which he has no control. He catches his boyfriend’s eye and waves, which is returned at twice the enthusiasm.

“Keith’s good with kids,” he says quietly. To himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have a heart so full it bursts.

———

The blankets are scratchy but warm, and Keith smells as he always does, and Lance is half asleep. But the words come leisurely out anyway.

“You awake?“ he whispers, words tucked into the spot above Keith’s heart.

Keith hums. Lance feels the rumble of it in his cheek.

“Barely.”

His eyes are too heavy to keep open, so he lets them slip shut. He breathes deeply the smell of his boyfriend’s body wash, and traces meaningless patterns on his chest with his fingertips, breathing slowly, taking his time. He might fall asleep, but that’s okay. They have time.

“‘M glad you came, today.”

Keith’s breathing is slow and even, just like Lance’s, but he can feel the heavy weight of his gaze, those indigo eyes.

“I go where you go.”

Lance quirks his lips. The blankets rustle softly as Keith slowly slides up his hand, encircling his fingers around Lance’s wrist, palm resting on his forearm. After a minute Lance can feel his heartbeat, at the same time that he hears it, head pressed to Keith’s chest. “You’re good with the kids.”

Keith’s breath stutters. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I like them. And your family.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” He’s silent for a minute, palm heavy on Lance’s skin. “I wanna — do this, Lance. Forever.”

Lance turns his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to Keith’s sternum. “I will love you until the end of time.”

He feels Keith’s smile, sweetening the air.

“I love you, too.”

[loverboybrightsideghost]

“you finally got adopted” really got to me because how long do you think eugene and lance hoped and hoped and hoped that they would get adopted, but they never did. and then they gave up and ran away. but he finally got adopted 🥺

[stormvanari]

Day 15: Music

“Ugh, all this preparation of making my grand return for the final act to see this blasted behemothic clown. Again.”

[souenkun]

Maybe manifesting for your favorite character to appear in the gacha game you've been addicted by writing them in a fanfic actually works! 🤯

Excerpt taken from "the home that awaits us".

[corvus--rex]

Lance and Keith started dating early in high school, even before Keith came out and started his transition, and it's now just after college and they're engaged. They've been with Lance's family for the day, Sylvio and Nadia included.

The kids are 6 and 4 and have known Keith literally their entire lives. They were too young during various stages to understand what was going on, but they both know Keith's trans.

Needing a break, Keith is curled up against Lance in the living room, while Sylvio and Nadia are sprawled on the floor with a book each. Nadia's only just learning to read, but she already loves books. She's turning the pages, mostly looking at the pictures, when she looks up, interrupting Keith and Lance's quiet conversation.

"Tío Keef, why aren't there families in my stories like ours?"

It's been about 15 years since he's read a kids' book and doesn't understand where's she's going with this. "What do you mean, munchkin?"

Nadia puts her book down, turning to face him in all the seriousness a 4 year old can muster. "They all have a mami and a papi, but not - not -" her face scrunches as she tries to find the right word.

She doesn't need to find the right word, the realization of what she's asking hits him at full force. He sits up, leaning forward to meet her eyes. "You wanna know why there isn't anyone like me?"

She nods. "It's not fair."

It's an innocent question, but she asked it with such naive sincerity, genuinely upset that she didn't see her own family in her favorite books. It gave Keith an idea. He had a new sketchbook in the backseat of his car, a very recent art degree, and the few creative writing classes he'd taken.

Nadia's books didn't have her family in their pages, but maybe they could.

"Y'know what? I'll be right back."

He ran out to his car and back with the sketchbook, plus the mechanical pencil and ballpoint pen from his bag, and sat down on the floor with her, meeting Lance's confused look asking what the hell he was doing with one that said "trust me".

"Ok, munchkin," he said to Nadia, "If your stories don't have our family in them, how about we make a new story?"

Nadia's face lit up. "We can make a new one? With our kind of family in it?"

"We can, but I'll need your help."

Sylvio was pretending to read his own book, but Lance could see him listening in and sneaking looks at the rough sketches. That didn't last long, the book quickly forgotten in favor of throwing out wilder and wilder ideas for the story with Keith gently reeling him in. Sylvio was not one to be reeled in, and Lance soon joined them on the floor to help wrangle the kids' enthusiasm. They stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, neither one wanting to leave when their parents came to tell them it was time to go. They only stopped fighting it when Keith promised them they'd work on the story again.

He kept that promise, taking the kids out every few weeks, showing them what he'd done in between when he had time, and them continuing the story and illustrations.

After it was finished, he left it for a while, not forgotten, but resting. Eventually, he pulled the illustrations and their companion sheets of text from the shoebox-like storage box he'd gotten just for this, matching art to words.

Lance came home from work to their apartment that evening to find Keith on the living room floor, bristol board and printer paper in an organized chaos around him.

"Think it's really done?" Lance asked.

Keith sighed and leaned back against the sofa. There was one thing about the book he hadn't told anyone yet, but after the email he'd gotten earlier in the day, he finally could.

"Yeah I do." He paused and looked up, a little bit guilty, but mostly trying to contain excitement. "I found a publisher for it. They're a queer-owned company. I actually sent it off about a month ago and I finally heard back today. They love it."

It had started as a picture book, but evolved since then into something a little bigger. Nadia wanted cats - all different colors, and not little kitties, no she wanted lions. And the lions had to have knights to ride on them. Sylvio was the one to insist on a princess and that she had to be their honorary Tía Allura. Gradually, all of the knights and princess ended up based on people the kids knew, Keith and Lance included. It made sense and Keith loved it and the idea of family including the one you make for yourself.

When it came time for a name for this story of found family and adventures, Sylvio yelled "Defenders of the UNIVERSE!" at the top of his lungs in the middle of the park. Nadia had been taking a break from the playground, sitting next to Keith with her coloring pad. She'd drawn the lions from their story, facing out in a vaguely star shape, their tails meeting in the middle.

Keith asked for her opinion on a story name and also what she was drawing and without looking up from her coloring, she said "Its name is Voltron."

Keith put the two together, and when the book was published, its cover was the lions Nadia had drawn that day, only by Keith's hand this time, framed on top and bottom by the book's name: Defenders of The Universe, a Voltron story.

No one had seen the dedication, not until Keith got the advance copies, giving one each to Sylvio and Nadia in the same living room the story had started in. Nadia climbed into Keith's lap with it, Sylvio squeezing himself in between Keith and Lance on the sofa.

Looking over Sylvio's shoulder, Lance read it aloud.

"For Sylvio and Nadia, the original Defenders, this book wouldn't exist without you. Don't stop reading or dreaming."

[monkesupreme]

Monster hunter Bruce…………….

[janeprentis]

studying orgo and then doing a secret fifth thing

[trivojol]

Seems like the paladins of voltron have a new show to perform💫

And Keith is with them this time💀

Read from right to left follow the arrows

←

↓ ↑

[icypantherwrites]

New Fic: Warm

Keith knows the odds aren’t good for finding the missing four-year-old boy who wandered into the forest almost two days ago alive. But when Lance pushes them to go just a little further they find the child. He’s hurt though and freezing and in need of care. Lance is a natural at it and Keith… Keith discovers he’s not so bad at it himself.

Read it here

[anxiously-awaiting]

entered a brain state abt them sorry

(notes under cut<3)

[icradledyouinmyarmstm]

Hey would anyone still read new klance fanfic by people who have never before written fanfic? Asking for a friend

[autisticlancemcclain]

“C’mere, squirt.”

The great pine forests of East Texas have been, for the most part, miraculously spared of Empire destruction. The American Southwest was largely destroyed, along with countless other hugely important geographic landmarks on Earth, but East Texas — and all the memory it holds — seems to have fared just fine.

They will rebuild, anyways.

His son straightens immediately at Keith’s gentle beckoning and toddles over, climbing on top of his bent knee. He smiles softly, placing a balancing hand on his back — his palm spans the entirety of the kid’s back, holy shit, he’s so tiny, how was Keith ever placed in charge of something so tiny — and uses the other to point at a brown smudge high up in a Loblolly. Cory squints. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith sees Lance press his hands to his face and muffle a scream. Goober.

“That’s a red-tailed hawk,” he murmurs. “That’s the bird you hear in movies.”

Cory hums in understanding, although he probably doesn’t. They don’t watch a lot of movies. Keith once read about how detrimental screens are for developing children in one of Shiro’s many parenting books, so they don’t watch a lot of T.V. (Back when Cory wasn’t even with them yet, and Keith was panicking nightly. Lance had to fish all their devices from the garbage. It was a time.)

“Caw,” says Cory sagely. Keith snorts.

“Yes, buddy. Caw. If you sit real still, the bird might even move.” He hears the echo of his father’s voice, decades old, in the back of his mind; a memory, frayed at the edges, of Keith in this very forest, held in the same way he’s holding his own son, listening his Pa quietly name all the birds and rocks and trees. Hanging on his every word, even though he didn’t get it all. The smell of the pine trees, the rumble of Pa’s low voice. He swallows the lump in his throat, brushing a kiss into Cory’s hair. “That’d be cool, huh?”

Cory babbles something Keith can’t understand. A sticky hand comes up to pat Keith on the cheek, making him smile despite the sting of his eyes. “Daddy, caw. Birdie! Caw.”

Keith turns his head to press a kiss to Cory’s palm. He giggles. Keith wiggles his eyebrows, blowing a raspberry, just to make him laugh harder. The pain in his chest begins to loosen, ever so slightly.

He catches Lance’s gaze over Cory’s head, and takes the time to memorize his dark eyes all over again. Lance lets him. He always does, even though it makes him blush and fidget, lets Keith trace his thumb along his lash line and study the flecks of Earth brown and ash black in his eyes, of sun gold and deep amber; he likes Keith’s attention on him as much as he refuses to admit it.

That’s Lance, though. Tries with every inch of him to be cool and mysterious and suave and can’t manage to save his life. His twitchy enthusiasm sparks in everything he touches, no matter how hard he tries.

When he started digging through Keith’s collection of atlases and running around the house with stacks of blankets and sleeping bags and camping supplies, Keith had said, “Planning something, sweetheart?” and Lance had stuck out his tongue and responded, “Blah blah, nosy.” But Shiro had texted him to let him know that Lance had asked for Keith’s old photos, and one day Keith caught him with a bulletin board and dozens of pins of pictures of pine trees and booking receipts and dorky sticky notes until Lance screeched and kicked him out.

Lance is bad at secrets. And he is a dorky and kind weeper who loves to do anything but mind his own business and muddle things up.

And Keith knew that all when he married him, and loved him for it then, too.

“Hey, mijo,” Lance suggests, “how would you like to sit on daddy’s shoulders so you can see the birdies better?”

Cory gasps, looking rapidly between his parents. He bounces excitedly in Keith’s lap, attempting his own cawing noises, pointing up at the nest.

Keith smiles wider, quickly swiping under his eyes before straightening. He shifts his hold on Cory and winks at his husband, who rolls his eyes in fond understanding, and then his tilts the boy back until he’s giggling, leaning in close until their noses are brushing.

“Munchkin,” he says, playfully nipping the tip of his nose, “you know how you can get even closer to the birds?”

Cory gasps. “How, Daddy, how?”

Lance chuckles. When Keith glances over at him, his smile is so wide it forces his eyes near shut. Keith’s chest aches, it aches so good, and the little Keith that lives in his chest holding himself tightly and swallowing past the perpetual lump in his throat is soothed and comforted and held lovingly. Something cracks and heals in his heart.

“Like this!” Keith shouts through all the emotions bubbling up all over him, and tosses his son in the air, careful not to go too high out of his reach.

Cory shrieks with laughter, tiny fingers scrabbling for purchase on Keith’s jacket on his way down. Keith hardly lets him settle before he’s tossing him up again, higher this time, laughter louder and squealing. The bird has long since flown away, disturbed by the sound, and probably every other animal within a thirty foot radius. But Keith can’t bring himself to care. The bugs can’t move far, and no doubt Cory will want to dig around for worms with his Papa like always. (Keith knows for a fact that Lance has three spades in his backpack and several see-through containers.)

For now, he has time to toss his son in the air. He has time to lean into the hand his husband slides into his back pocket. He has time to smell the pine trees, to think of his father, to feel the bounce of packed Earth under his feet.

To the tiny him that lives buried in his chest, he whispers, we made it, ace.

———

keith and cory in the forest

[malfunctioning-mantis]

the girls are fighting.......!!!!!

@mindboogling @pokeninjager-ghost-art @ahatintime-oc-competition