#ch: pidge

[corruptedplaylist]

ch 17 update

highlight reel includes: garrison trio grocery shopping, keith and krolia meet for the first time (lots of angst), the author projects very heavily onto this chapter, sweet moment in the end where keith realizes he's loved, that little fucker

excerpt:

“This is my order,” he says, dumbly. He looks at Lance because of course it’s Lance. “You remember my order? We’ve been to that place, like, twice.” 

“Um, duh. It’s like, weirdly specific. How could I not?” Lance makes a tsk sound and suddenly avoids his gaze, picking at his shoelaces.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 10 --- Ending)

THURSDAY — 10:24PM: 18 hours until the wedding

As Johnny popped open the door to the distillery’s main hall, his grip on your hand tightened. It felt as if he was holding onto you in a strong current, working as hard as he could to keep you from slipping away. Yet, wave after wave of anxiety and fear crashed between you, trying its best to pull you apart. He was having none of it, and as you wilted, seeing everyone’s faces staring at you in the hall, he strengthened, all but carrying you along with him, ready to face whatever music was behind that black, wooden portal. 

He walked in front of you, shielding you from whatever terror waited for you just around the corner of the short corridor. Then, as he rounded it, confronting the crowd, you heard a raucous, jeering applause. The guests at the rehearsal dinner were whooping and clapping, carrying on about the most important (and embarrassing) moment of your life, smiling and laughing at you and your protector. 

But, you didn’t care about the crowd. You were scanning it for Pidge. Your eyes moved along the wall of faces, frantically searching for her. Then, pushing between Price and Gaz, there she was, coming towards you with Hamish not far behind. 

The rest of the guests turned back to their business, still sharing laughs and comments to each other about your impromptu display of affection, but no one followed Pidge into the hallway to spy on you further. 

When she saw your face, hers changed. It had been blank, emotionless, and cold. But, now, it was something as far from that as could be. You watched bright, fat tears fill the bottom lashes in her eyes, and her hand went to cover the grimace on her mouth. 

Johnny shoved you behind him, blocking you from his sister’s supposed wrath, but you spoke around him,

“I’m so sorry, Pidge. I…” you sniffled as you looked up at her, fighting back your own sobs and trying to speak, “I tried so hard to stay away. Please, believe me.”

“Aye,” Johnny interrupted, straightening himself up pridefully, “She did, Pigeon. It was my fault.”

Pidge’s face twisted into an angry snarl, and she spun around as if to walk away, then she turned back to him. You thought she might slap him right across his mouth, and you weren’t positive, but you thought you could feel Johnny tensing up in front of you, bracing for it as he protected you. 

Her face was displaying every emotion. It was pure chaos, and your heart ached to know that you had been the catalyst for it. But, as soon as she realized what she wanted to feel, she committed to reaching out for him, and she wrapped him in her arms, crying into his chest. He held her, letting her tears soak into his shirt. 

“I kent so, you wee fuckin’ weapon,” she told him, her voice ragged and muffled by his body. You could barely understand her, “I spent all these years kennin’ she was the one who’d change your daft mind. I kent you’d love her, Johnny-boy, but I didnae want you to.”

His voice was strained as he asked her,

“Why, Pidge? Didnae you want me to be happy?”

“I wanted you to be yourself. The old you. The one who wanted to be home with us, with your family. You let me think you hated to be with me! You would leave and then, you’d go off with…” Her eyes darted to you as if to apologize for what she was about to say, “Whatever hen was the bloody closest. I didnae ken what to think.”

It took Johnny a moment to answer her. You were standing off to the side now, and he looked straight at you as he spoke, as if he was using you for fortification,

“I wasnae well, Brigette. It’s been right hard on me sometimes. I’d come back, and I’d get angry, just like da used to. I remember holding you at night when he’d get in that way, and you tried to hide your keenin’ but I heard you… and I didnae want that man back in your bloody house. So, I’d crash on couches ‘til I could come ‘round.”

Johnny sighed, listening to Pidge’s cries subside as she heard his words, and he went on,

“It was easier to spend a night here or a night there, enough time to be able to excuse away the bad dreams and the anger, but not enough to overstay my welcome. But, I missed out on a lot of time with you, and I ken I’ll never get it back. I dinnae want to miss any more of it.”

“Why the lassies, then? If all you needed was a safe space to be, you could’ve —”

Johnny smiled, shrugging,

“Any time of night, they’d always say yes. Even if I just crashed on the sofa. I may or may not’ve enjoyed the reputation a wee bit more than I should’ve done.”

Johnny’s soft grin turned on you, and he brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles as if to apologize to you. 

“And he didn’t sleep with Cherise,” you interjected. 

Pidge looked at you and then back to her brother as if waiting for him to confirm. He shrugged, dragging a tired hand down his face. Johnny laughed,

“Just a wee bit o’ flirtin’, to be honest.”

She smacked him on his chest, hard. He winced and laughed some more. 

“Why didnae you tell me?” Her question was directed at both of you, and you could tell she expected a truthful answer. So, you plucked up the courage and told her, 

“I couldn’t lose you, Pidge. You��re the only real family I have, and I couldn’t bear it if you hated me for breaking your rules about dating your brother.”

You waited for her response, and it seemed like she was trying to find the words. She dug deep within herself to choose them, and every moment that went by, you prayed that they would at least be kind, that you would at least have a chance. 

While she was locked in thought, Johnny’s hand gripped yours, sealing your palms together, and pulled you into him, clutching you to his side in the cramped quarters of the hallway. Both of you were staring at his sister, two prisoners awaiting judgment. 

Hamish stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and let out a ragged breath, grabbing your free hand in hers,

“I didnae want you to end up like our ma. When she got sick…”

You squeezed her hand to help her hold back her tears,

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Pidge.”

“When she got sick, he wasnae there. He didnae watch her layin’ there in pain. While he was bleedin’ to death in bloody Sarajevo, she was on her second round of the chemo. And I never forgave him. Still havnae forgave him. And so, when Johnny-boy comes to me and tells me he’s joined the SAS? I just… in my mind, he just took da’s place. I know tha’s not fair. He’s his own man. 

But, then I watched you takin’ care of me after all tha’ mess. You were there for me, babe. And I couldnae bear it if he let you down in the way that da did our mam,” she laughed then, wiping old tears away, “And I tried so hard to keep him away. I’d cancel plans with you when he was home. I knew you were his. You were everything that my old Johnny loved. 

I thought he’d changed. I thought he’d lost himself to the desert. I thought he’d leave you, and then I’d lose you. And I couldnae lose you.”

“I’m so sorry, Pidge,” you told her. 

She pulled you away from Johnny and wrapped you in a long hug, 

“I’m sorry, too.”

“She is,” Johnny said, rubbing your back as Pidge hugged you. 

She pulled away to look up at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He cupped your chin in his huge hands, warming your neck with his soft grip. He stared into your eyes, looking at you as if there was nothing else to see, 

“She is everything that I love. She’s everything, Pidge.”

SATURDAY — 4:15AM: 1 hour after the wedding  

You could barely get your keys into the lock, as weak as he was making you with his kisses on your neck. Johnny had groped you in the car, he’d kissed you until you’d moaned in the elevator, and he’d all but chased you down the hallway, laughing and grinning like a fiend. 

“Johnny!” You gasped. 

“Hurry, lass. I cannae wait much longer,” he nuzzled your jaw.

You giggled again, pushing the door open and tumbling through it. He shut and locked it behind him, tossing your bag and jacket on the futon. Marlowe made herself scarce, still not used to seeing him in your house. 

He pushed you into the kitchen, kissing you up against the countertop, holding your face in his hands. 

“Are you my woman, thief? Tell me.”

“I am, Johnny. All yours. I’ll show you.”

You knelt on your kitchen floor, the glitter of your dress crinkling on the concrete. You smiled up at him, enjoying the concerned look on his face, and lifted the hem of his great kilt, tossing it over your head. He tried to stop you at first, 

"No, thief... you dinnae need to… oh, fuck.” 

You found his cock with your lips, kissing his shaft. He was twitching, already hardening, swelling against your mouth, fully uncovered beneath his sporran. The large fur pouch tapped you against the back of your head as you kissed him, but you didn’t care. You set your tongue on him like you were starving, licking him from base to tip, using your hands to massage his length and his balls. Your efforts seemed to change his mind because, now, he was begging you in a deep voice, 

“Don't... don't stop… please, mèirleach. God, your mouth…" 

Johnny was coming apart above you in a literal sense. You felt the sporran fall away from your head and watched it fall to the ground next to his feet with a loud clunk. The soft wool of his great kilt swished against the small of your back, bare as it was in your gown. It tickled you on his behalf, petting you as you bobbed your head, trying desperately to swallow his challenging length. 

He was tugging off his shirt now, and you watched the white cotton tail disappear up and out of his waistband as he yanked it from the belt. You lifted one of your hands and pushed it through the bottom of the pleated fabric, popping out of his belt, rubbing his abs from below as you sucked him. 

Johnny grabbed your exploring fingers in his, gripping you tight, panting in heavy gasps above you,

“Fuckin’ hell, thief. I’m gonna come like this.”

Then, through the fabric of the tartan, you felt his hand on the back of your head, cradling you, shaking like a leaf. You took a deep breath and tried to fit him in your throat. He gagged you, too thick for your throat to handle him, but you fought through it, relaxing into him, trying your best to shock him, to make him crest over his waves of pleasure. 

Johnny’s hand became heavy against your skull, and you knew you had him. You swallowed into his salty head, over and over, coaxing him to come, licking and sucking him like you were trying to get to his warm, melting core. 

“Please, mèirleach! I’m gonna… I cannae… please, please, please…”

He was crying out above you, shamelessly thrusting himself into your throat, unable to keep himself under control. You were drooling from your lips, and you felt it coating your chin. You let it happen, unwilling to be embarrassed, protected by the darkness of his kilt. You held onto his hand above his belt, and you let your other rub beneath his balls, teasing that forbidden space in between. 

As soon as you did, he let out a dark whine, ending it in a sharp shout, releasing his load into your mouth. You tasted him, felt his salty cream slide into your belly, sucking him clean as he finished. 

The cool air of the room hit your wet mouth and neck as he pulled his kilt over you, staring down at you with a ferocious, hungry look, mixed with the warmth of his pleasure and a bit of curious disbelief. He moved his hand back to your head, holding you in place by your hair, gentle enough but sure. Then, he gathered his tartan up in his other hand and used it to wipe your mouth for you, praising you as he did.

“Mo mèirleach, so good for me. So fuckin’ good.”

You stared up at him, admiring his body. The cape of his great kilt had fallen from his shoulder, and his shirt was gone, leaving him bare. All of his muscles were straining with his ragged breathing, working hard to hold him together, dancing under his flushed skin. You rose, kissing his hairy belly, licking over his navel, finding a nipple to suckle against, nipping at it with your teeth as gently as you could, watching him writhe. 

He was studying you now, as if he was seeing you for the first time, and he slipped one of his fingers beneath the strap of your dress, pulling it down your shoulder. It hung there, limply, and all that was left was its twin. He found that one next and tugged it down, watching as the dress cascaded away, revealing the nothing you’d worn underneath. 

Johnny shuddered, gasping in a short breath, staring at your body in the low light. His eyes burned into yours, and he commanded you in a new tone, one you’d not heard before,

“Get to the bed, lass. Now.”

He watched you back up the few steps that it took to reach your mattress, swaying your hips as you did, running your hands over your breasts, teasing yourself and him at the same time. 

Johnny was undressing as he followed you, lifting his shins to untie his ghillie brogues, ripping down the socks and letting his flashings fall out of them. Finally, he pulled out his sharp dagger, the sgian dubh, and let it fall to the counter with a loud bang. Lastly, he popped the boar-shaped buckle of his belt and the heavy kilt fell away, revealing his naked form to you. 

He looked like he weighed as much as a bull. His body was immense, and his hands covered too much of you when he wrapped them around your waist. He could reach, pinky to thumb, across the span of your belly, and he warmed you with his palms, molding you to him like smooth clay. 

Johnny lifted you, taking you by surprise, tossing you onto the bed so you landed on your back. You giggled, and then he shushed you, looming over you, kissing you, tasting himself there, sucking at your tongue and lips hungrily. His hands were kneading your breasts, plucking at your nipples and encouraging them to stiffen beneath his touch. Your giggles turned into soft whimpers, and you felt your pussy throbbing for him, soaking itself, eager for its missing piece.  

Between his kisses, he was whispering to you, chanting his mantra, the same one he’d said before, 

“You’re mine, mèirleach. You’re my woman. Say it.”

“I’m yours, mo chridhe…” You whined, feeling his thick fingers find your clit and discovering how wet you were. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” Johnny growled, sucking the delicate skin along your neck and collarbone, kissing you over and over, leaving a trail of them leading down to a strong latch on your nipple. He was using one of his fingers to press into your wetness, and when he felt the fire within you, he sighed involuntarily, shaking a bit from the sensation. 

“You’re soaked… Oh, fuck. You feel so warm.”

“Don’t stop, Johnny, please…” You cried to him, feeling your whole body tense, ready to come. 

He sat back on his heels, keeping your legs wrapped around his hips, using both hands to play you like a fiddle. And he made you sing for him, twisting his hand and curling his fingertips, stroking you in long, deep movements, pressing down into your hole to give you the sense of girth you’d soon be feeling for real. 

“Are you ready for my cock, mèirleach? Hard again for you already,” he pulled himself up and let his heavy rod rest on top of your clit, sliding himself back and forth through your wet folds. 

“Please… Fuck me, baby, please…” 

“Shh, shh, shh. I’ve got you, thief. I’ve got you. Give me those eyes. There… there you are. Oh, perfect girl. So damn perfect for me. This pussy was made for me; I’m sure of it. Do you ken how I’m sure?”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at his body as he thrust his cock against your pussy lips, passing through them, making his cockhead glisten with your come. Then, he angled it down into you, and he let his head tease your hole, rubbing it in small circles, letting you feel every bit of his skin as it invaded your body. 

“Here’s how I ken…” He smiled down at you and thrust himself into you as slowly as he could. 

Inch after staggering inch was fed into your heat, stoking the furnace within your belly, warming him up from the inside out. He was holding his breath the entire way in, his face locked in a tight, furious agony. Then, when you felt his base stretch you further, he smiled, tossing his head back in bright, easy joy. 

Johnny looked back down at where you were joined and placed his hand on your belly, feeling himself inside of you, petting your soft skin. His eyes darted up to yours, watching you suffer from the pleasure he’d made,

“Perfect fit, mo mèirleach. Every bit of you. Your lips, your cheeks, your breasts… the way you read your poems to me. The way you love me. You’re everything to me, lass. I love you.”

You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You couldn’t stop your walls from pushing and pulling against his heavy rod, as hard as iron and smooth like velvet. He’d filled you tight, like a cork in champagne, and you were very nearly ready to burst, not yet recovered from your previous orgasm. 

“I love you, too, Johnny,” you begged him with your hips, grinding into him like you were riding him.

He played with your clit again, rubbing his thumb up and down its swollen length, feeling your lips as they stretched around him, making you cry out in all sorts of noises. Then, you watched as a burning mischief lit up his eyes, and that commander’s voice was back, 

“Spread your legs for me. Wide, just like that. Spread ‘em apart, lass. Let me see you. I wanna see that pink hole as it takes me like that. So fuckin’ good. Didnae ken it could be so bonnie…” 

Johnny started to thrust himself into you, good on his word, watching as he disappeared into your body. His head was rubbing against your most sensitive spot on the way out and tormenting your deepest parts on the way in. You were so full, you felt like you could burst. He tucked his hands into the crook of your knees and spread you just that much wider, making all of your nerves light up as he stretched your skin. 

“Johnny! Fuck…” You were fluttering around him, clenching against his dick, trying to control your body and failing. 

His voice was deep, and it resonated in the hollow of your chest, 

“Come on, thief. Come for me. Come. Come… fuck. That feels so good, bonnie girl.” 

The pale, fading moonlight morphed and changed as your orgasm flooded your mind. He was still talking at you, chanting sweet and savory nothings, praising you for nothing and everything, 

“I can feel your heart, mèirleach. It’s beatin’ against me.”

“Johnny…” You gasped, coming down from your high only to feel him slamming himself into you like a relentless piston. 

“Takin’ me so well, mo ghràdh. Perfect for me. Takin’ this cock like it was made for you.”

“Please, baby… I need you, mo chridhe. I need…” You weren’t sure what you need, but you prayed to him like a god, and you hoped he would know.

He fell over you, closing you into him, fitting you right to his chest, never breaking his incredible rhythm. He was kissing your mouth, letting the softest whimpers out of his throat as he did, whining for you. 

“Is that it, thief? Is that what you need? Is that… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Each curse was a cry, and his voice was in pieces from it, broken and pleading. He was begging you, and every time he fucked his length into your belly, he would grunt like a beast, overcome with want. 

You returned with your own mantra, finding his ear with your lips and whispering a thousand yeses into it, locking your heels around his thick waist, feeling his muscles working hard for you against your inner thighs. 

“Tell me… tell me to come, mo ghràdh. Tell me when you…”

He was suffering inside of you, and you felt his whole body trembling with desire, ready to fill you at your command. 

You ran your hands through his mohawk, holding it at the base of his skull, and you whispered, releasing him,

“Come in me, baby. Come in me. Come in… oh, my God! Come…”

You held him close to you as he spent himself deep within your belly, filling you for the second time, screaming for you. Johnny clutched at you like you were a lifeline, holding you tight to him, even as he slowed, teasing his head inside of you, slipping through his own come as it mixed with yours. As he finally slid out of you, he was kissing you again, his lips loose and swollen, his tongue tasting you gently. 

“I love you,” you whispered between kisses. 

He looked like you had just sunk your knife between his ribs, aiming right for his heart, and all the air left his lungs, no longer needed. Johnny died and was reborn in your arms within half-seconds, little moments that only you could see. His smile was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he answered you, 

“I love you, thief.”

He left you for a moment to reach below the bed. Johnny came back up with his kilt in his hand, and he wrapped you in it, swirling his long tartan around your body, folding you in MacTavish dress blue. He pulled you into his lap as he leaned against your headboard, panting and trying to come back to reality. 

You played with his tags around your neck, basking in the warmth of his woolen cloak, letting your head rest against his neck, and your mind started to imagine how your name might look with MacTavish behind it. 

JULY

Johnny held your hand as the plane touched down, waking you up slowly. There was a soft ding and the captain’s voice came on overhead,

“Welcome to Iceland. If you want to adjust your watch, it is 1705. The weather in Keflavík is a bit overcast, and the temperature is 20 degrees Celsius. We wish you a pleasant stay, and we hope to see you again very soon. On behalf of all our crew, thank you for choosing British Airways as your airline today.”

Pidge leaned over you to talk to her brother, tightening her grip on Hamish’s hand as he sat to her right,

“I swear to Jesus and Mary, I thought I was gonna die! Did you book these tickets, Johnny-boy? I’m feelin’ faint.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Hamish soothed her, “We made it. It’s over.”

“Holy shite. I’m shakin’ like a wee leaf!” She gasped, fanning herself.

You made it out of the airport with only a little drama, and by the time you pulled into the hotel, you were starving. Johnny tipped the cabbie and guided you inside, wrapping his arm around you tightly. 

“So, thief,” he suggested, “Did you wanna grab a bite in the hot spring? They’ve got the swim-up bar.”

“Eager to see me in that bathing suit you bought for me, hm?” You answered knowingly. 

He blushed, grinning sinfully, 

“Aye…”

“As long as I get to eat, I’ll wear whatever you want, mo chridhe.”

He whistled low and even, shaking his head, 

“Dinnae make promises you cannae keep, woman.”

“Hey! MacTavish!”

A voice was shouting at you from across the lobby. Toting bags and already dressed in their summer gear, Price, Gaz, and Ghost headed over toward you.

“Hey! There you are,” Johnny greeted them, and there were warm hugs all around. 

“Well, c’mon,” Price grabbed you by the arm, “Lemme see it.”

You smiled at him, holding up your left hand, letting him get a long look at the huge amethyst that sat as the flower on the end of a circular, golden thistle-shaped ring. 

“Gorgeous,” Price smiled, shaking Johnny’s hand again, “We can’t wait for the wedding. If it’s anything like the last one, I know it’ll be a good time.”

You laughed with him, feeling Johnny’s soft lips in your hair as he leaned down to kiss you. He smiled at you, speaking to his captain, 

“Aye, I cannae hardly wait.”

Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story! I truly hope you enjoyed it. If you did, you might consider checking out my Price/Reader 100k story, "Gunslinger", available on AO3.

If you need more Soap, be on the lookout for Chapter 2 of PornStar!Johnny, which is threatening to turn itself into a full fic if I don't watch out.

Thanks so much to my betas and to all my mutuals for your support and ideas!! I love hearing from y'all, so message me anytime.

UPDATE: Epilogue (Ch. 11)

[localfanbaselurker]

I’m watching Voltron: Legendary Defender for the first time and here is what I have had to say per each season (this is 1-2) (3-4) (5-6) (7) (8)

Pre-Watch Knowledge

->big transformers type robot

->pretty alien girl that looks like princess yue from A:tLA

->they are the epitome of color-coded characters

->space??

->there was crazy people in the fanbase that sent cupcakes laced with something to the creators

->queer baiting (this one in particular got me)

->klance.

->^honestly I only knew that because people were comparing it to zukka and I wanted to check it out

->my friend really likes it

Post S1 thoughts-

->that cliffhanger was crazy imagine they weren’t renewed for a s2

-> i went on tumblr after and youre telling me they made that show IN TWO YEARS?? EIGHT SEASONS. IN TWO MF YEARS?? that is insane. props to the writers bro they fr must of known what they were doing.

->all of these characters already scream “doomed by the narrative”

->my fav characters are pidge and lance

->I definitely did NOT expect yue Allura to be British

->bonding moment.

->^like yeah okay i get it now

-> the healing pods are a very interesting concept. Like, what if you get some ailment that it doesn’t recognize?? Do you just die??

-> genuinely felt so bad for Not Yue. Allura. Allura when they had to remove her father’s memory thing. Like yeah I know the castle was corrupted or wtv but bro imagine. Your entire race is dead. your mom, who you previously knew alive is now most likely dead. You already had to go through losing your father once, and now you have to lose him again. Any sliver of hope you had of staying connected with him is gone, because the entirety of his essence is now gone. She’s stronger than me, I would have never given him up so easily. I admire that about her.

->I also made the horrible mistake of going on ao3 after

yk for gits and shiggles… and when I go to a new fandom I always search by hits to see the classics first yk

…

WHY are you guys so 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂… I genuinely shed a tear what. I was flabbergasted to say the least.

On that note the top 23 were about redguy/blueguy getting smoochy-smoochy with each other so I guess that should be a hint as to what you guys like

->the description of the show says the robot (voltron) is operated by “five teenagers” but that shiro guy has to be AT LEAST 25. He is pushing 30 you can’t convince me otherwise.

->for now it’s kinda giving atla except the war is intergalactic and lasted 10,000 years instead of 100.

->all the other characters seem to have a pretty clear background, but we haven’t yet heard about Keith’s backstory, so I want to know (I know now, this was my initial thought)

->shiros backstory/ptsd is very interesting, lots of angst possibilities i see

-> I had an inkling that pidge was…genderly different. (At first I thought she was transmasc)

Post S2

-> WHERE is my man. Where did he go.

-> Pookie please come back. Now. It’s not a suggestion.

->KEITH BACKSTORY I PREDICTED THEY WERE GONNA SHOW US YAY I LOVE BEING RIGHT

-> he’s galra! Soooo much whump opportunity

-> the whole “Allura doesn’t hate you she’s just a little upset to find out ur part of the race that killed off her entire peoples and family and okay maybe she does hate you” scene with keith and hunk is really giving that scene in atla: the southern raiders where zuko thinks katara hates him and sokka reassures him (badly) while he was just trying to get laid w suki.

->^ that’s gay

-> the aliens they met are going to be very important, aren’t they?

->^ oohhh so this is where the “langst” stuff comes from? he’s just kinda insecure i think, but it can’t possibly just be this episode that has that tag so high, unless flanderization is just really popular with you guys, but already suspect that unfortunately

->^Allura high key ate with this

->the “Blade of Marmora” people are definitely gonna be important later

-> the mall episode was soooo fun! fav s2 episode for sure!

->^gay. It’s literally giving “two bros chillin in a hot tub. five feet apart cus they’re not gay”

-> I know of 2 ships now. klance and allurance. I only see the former though, the latter seems more like a running gag/unrequited crush thing (for now i suppose)

-> Coran is an icon. I love that whimsical man. he’s beekeeping age per say.

-> I need pidge to find her brother and father man I feel so bad for her PLEASE DOBT TELL ME THEYRE DEAD ILL LITERALLY DIE.

-> pidge is sooooo cool i love her so much she’s literally the pookiest of the pookies

-> Who tf is gonna be the black paladin now. Keith sure as hell isn’t ready for that. maybe Allura?? Cus yk she kinda already leads them a little bit

These are thoughts I had compiled over a while now. I am on S5E3 as of now (07/03/24) but I wanted to document my thoughts either way. I will post on the tag “laura’s first vld”

[autisticlancemcclain]

Eighteen (Crazy) Ch. 7

The first thing they do when they get back to the Castle is plop their asses down to the kitchen and fucking devour some food goo. (Seriously, it’s borderline animalistic – they haven’t eaten in several hours, and it has been such a busy day – even the nasty food goo suddenly became the most delicious thing in the universe.)

After everyone has had a couple bowls, conversation starts to pick up, now that no one’s main focus is sustenance above all else. 

“Are there any more locations on the list?” Pidge asks. 

“One more!” Lance answers. “We’re gonna need to wormhole, I think. But it’s the last location, and so long as the galaxy is pretty quiet and calm we should be able to station there for a bit. I’m sure we’ll want to do some training tomorrow.”

Allura nods, grabbing her dishes and heading over to the sink. “Sounds like a plan. Is everyone ready to take off?” 

Various murmurs of agreement and one fully loaded dishwasher later, everyone sits safely buckled up in their stations on the bridge. Allura takes no time in wormholing (Keith has always wished the process would take a little longer, though. Not because he wants it to be more taxing on the Alteans, or anything, obviously, but the whole thing is just so cool and Keith would love to watch it for a little longer. Oh, well. Maybe he’ll get more information if he remembers to ask Coran, later – he always makes a mental note of it and forgets immediately), dropping them off in front of a new planet very quickly. 

“This is another really specific set of coordinates,” Lance explains. “We’ll need to take Blue again to get all the way there.”

On the walk back to Blue, Keith jogs ahead to catch up to Lance. Lance grins over at him immediately, setting off a flurry of butterflies in Keith’s stomach. (He hopes he never gets used to how Lance’s smile makes him feel.)

“You excited?” Keith asks, because there’s nothing he wants to talk about with Lance specifically, but he likes being near him. He itches to link their hands together, but he’s not yet sure that’s allowed. 

“Yeah! I’ve been having fun all day, but it got better when all of you guys joined in.” Lance does what Keith was too anxious to do – he reaches over, grabbing Keith’s left hand in his right, interlocking their fingers. He does it smoothly, in one motion. Practiced.

His hands are sweaty, though. And his ears are red.

Keith smiles.

“I’m glad,” Keith says softly, and they don’t say anything more. 

Lance squeezes their hands together once before letting go as he settles into the pilot’s chair in Blue’s cockpit, and the laser focus Keith had on their joined hands fades a little, and he can hear the rest of the team behind him for the first time since he left their bridge. They’re giggling, because of course they are. Keith rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny that their obvious support loosens some of the nervousness tangled in his chest. 

The giggles taper out as they arrive at the final location, right in front of the mouth of the most massive caves Keith has ever seen. No one says anything for a few moments, just kind of taking it in – it’s several times the size of the Castle, at least, and it’s so dark that Blue’s powerful headlights don’t even make a dent. 

“Well, it’s a good thing our helmets have those light thingies,” Lance says, and he’s off before anyone can stop him. Keith doesn’t hesitate to scramble after him, much to Shiro’s exasperation. 

Lance waits for them at the mouth of the cave, tapping his foot impatiently. “It’s like you guys don’t even want to come,” he complains. 

A foam dart hits him in the nose before he even has the chance to finish his sentence. 

“Stop complaining about dumb things,” Pidge orders, holding a dinky little plastic gun at Lance. Lance looks so comically offended that Keith can’t help it and snorts heavily. 

“You just – shot! Me! On my birthday! Where did you even get – a fucking nerf gun! A goddamned real fucking dookie nerf gun! Why!” 

Keith wheezes, doubling over. He’s not the only one. 

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Keith doesn’t need to look up to know Lance is scowling. 

“Your – your face –” Pidge gasps. 

“I’m uninviting you to my birthday party. Y’all can go home. I’ll explore this cool cave by myself. Goodbye.”

Lance stomps off into the deep emptiness of the cave, thin frame quickly swallowed up by the darkness. 

“Aw, Lance, c’mon,” someone coos, but there’s no answer. 

“Lance?” Allura calls, a bit of an edge to her voice. 

Still no answer. 

“Lance?” Shiro yells, louder, and transparently anxious. 

Silence. 

Keith is the next to call out, jogging quickly into the cave. “Lance!”

He’s the first of the rest of the team to enter the cave, not that it matters – once he’s about three metres in, there’s a bend in the massive corridor, and he can’t see a damn thing. 

“Lance! Can you hear me? La –”

“Boo!”

Keith shrieks at the top of his lungs, desperately batting away the thing gripping his arms. He scrambled away a couple feet, hands flailing, heart pounding, before he registers the absolutely howling laughter ringing through the cavern. His face drops. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You – you screamed –”

He can’t see him, but Keith is certain the asshole Blue Paladin is just as hunched over as he was earlier. 

“Double fuck you,” he scowls, quickly messaging the rest of the team to inform them that Lance is fine, and simply a dick-for-brains. 

“Do – do you think –” Lance catches Keith eyes and starts wheezing all over again. This time, Keith really has to fight back his smile. “Do you think you could walk back out so I can scare you again?”

“I think you and I better get going before Shiro’s space Xanax wears off and he wraps your dumb ass in bubble wrap.”

“You’re right,” Lance whispers, teasing and conspiratory. His brown eyes shine darker than they’ve ever looked, in the dim light of their helmet lights. He grabs Keith’s hand again, fingers curling around Keith’s, and all of the pining and the nerves and the oh-my-God-does-he-like-me-back and realises – hey. This is Lance. Lance who is his friend, Lance who is funny and dramatic and playful and ridiculous.

Lance who is yanking him forward, yelling “Run!” at the top of his lungs, just as the rest of the team comes stumbling in somewhere behind them. 

Keith runs. How could he not? 

He and Lance sprint down the dark hallways of the cave, laughing and leaning into each other, barely missing running straight into walls every time there’s a bend. They lose the rest of the team easily, both of them easily ignoring the messages popping up every two seconds on their comms (it’s just Pidge texting ‘losers’ again and again). After what must be ten minutes of straight sprinting, Keith has to call it. 

“Hey, hey – hey. Longlegs. Cool it a minute, will you? I feel like my lungs are trying claw out of my chest.”

“Fine,” Lance sighs dramatically, flopping onto Keith. “I guess if you can’t keep up…”

Keith rolls his eyes. He is so not taking the bait for that one. He and Lance are pretty evenly matched in most places, and Keith can kick his ass in others, but Lance has got them all beat in the speed department. 

“How about those coordinates, huh?” he says instead. “You said they were specific?”

“Yes!” Lance says brightly. “I wonder what Future Me has kickin’ in a cave. I mean, caves are cool, but I wouldn’t usually seek them out, y’know? Well, I did when I was a kid, but time is spooky in caves and I was in there for nineteen hours once without realising so my family reported me missing –”

Lance swings their hands between them as they walk, chattering from story to story, fast as a whip. Keith soaks in every word, asking all the right questions at the right times. 

God, Keith loves him so much. 

“Hey, I think it’s starting to get a little brighter in here,” Keith comments. 

Lance hums. “Kinda like Blue’s cave. Remember that?”

“Yep. I specifically remember you driving me insane.”

“I’m very good at that. You’re easy to rile up.”

“Butthead.”

“Goober.”

“Boogerbrain.”

“Gooseface – woah.”

The slow brightening of the cave corridors suddenly makes sense – Lance’s coordinates have led them to a wide open space, sunlight somehow pouring in from everywhere, waterfall gently cascading down into a beautifully blue lake. 

Lance gasps loudly, taking in the scene with a dropped jaw, and then he whoops, quickly pulling up Allura’s contact on the comm. 

“Everyone! Get in here! There’s a waterfall!”

Before anyone on the team even has half a second to respond, he’s hanging up and laughing maniacally as he drags Keith to the lake. Keith pulls his hand free, stopping him.

“Last one in is on dish duty for a week,” he says, and before Lance can process he sprints off. 

“Hey! Not fair!”

But Lance is laughing again, too surprised to run properly, jumping in the lake right after Keith, armour and all. 

“You’re crazy,” he tells Keith. He grabs Keith’s face gently, looking into his eyes, pretending at seriousness. “It’s a condition. You will never be cured. Thoughts?”

“One,” Keith says. He carefully plucks off his helmet, then Lance’s, tossing them onto the dry ground. Then he mirrors Lance's position, hands on his cheek, pulling him close. He leans close, tilting his head slightly, hearing the faintest uptick of Lance’s breath as their lips get closer and closer –

Lance’s hand clamps over his mouth. 

“Wait,” he whispers. 

“Why,” Keith whispers back. Lance’s face is rosy, and he keeps smiling and glancing away. It’s so cute that Keith considers imploding. 

“It’s my birthday.”

“I’m aware, yes.”

“I take birthdays very seriously.”

“Yep. Fondly remembering the twelve layer cake you stressed baked for Hunk. You should get stressed more often when party planning.”

“Shut up. I’m making a point.”

Keith leans forward and tips their foreheads together, grinning openly now. “Then make it, Bluebell.”

“I’m just saying,” Lance huffs, “that if you kiss me, it will be very special.”

“That’s the idea.”

“And if you kiss me on my birthday, one of those things will be overshadowed. Both of those things are groundbreaking. They need their own days, you understand.”

“Alright,” Keith whispers. And because he can’t help himself, not when they’re so close, he presses a lingering kiss to Lance’s cheek. It makes him giggle. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, then. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s a date.”

“Good.”

“Woah, Lance, you weren’t kidding!” 

At the sound of the rest of the team’s arrival – finally – Keith and Lance hold eye contact for the barest second, coming to a final agreement, and then immediately start their attack, trying their best to drown each other. The rest of the team joins in immediately, yelling and laughing and choking when someone forgets their strength and drowning nearly occurs. At one point, they decide to play chicken, Lance, Pidge, and Keith sitting on Hunk, Allura, and Shiro’s shoulder and trying to shove each other off, Coran refereeing. 

“Future Me nails it again,” Lance says, when they’re all drying off on the lake-bed. 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. He reaches over and grabs Lance’s hand, squeezing three times in quick succession. “You did. 

[ao3isthehomogod]

Multi Fic Friday

Its basically where I pick a random list of tropes and fics to go with them :)

Sick Paladins:

Lance: Drowning With Fever- IcyPanther

Keith: Keith is Dying Again - Immiams

Pidge: I’ll Keep You Safe- Solar_Litost

Hunk: Training Missions Suck- CosmicFlora

Shiro: We Are Still Young (For Now)- sunspot_solarflare

Hypothermia: - Shiro and Hunk cuz I couldnt find any

Lance: Collapsed- Ironic_Swag7782

Keith: “I don’t know how to get us out of this” - T_Hurricane

Pidge: Bad Things Happen To Paladins (Ch. 9) - actress4Him

Poisoned Paladins:

Lance: Dimming Lights- BluePlanetTrash

Keith: Talking In Your Sleep- T_Hurricane

Pidge: Eat Me Up From the Inside- Cocopops1995

Hunk: why are their NO hunk fics?! That’s a crime

Shiro: maybe I’m just really bad at finding them?

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I know you're a voltron lover ny friend so which fox would be which paladin and why?

okay so i got this ask like as soon as i woke up and i was like HUH bc i forgot about last night :'))

after some consideration, of the monsters:

Kevin would be Shiro, Neil would be Keith, Nicky would be Lance, Andrew would be Hunk, and Aaron would be Pidge. (none of these assignments has anything to do with shipping purposes. like i'm not saying neil and nicky would be klance? i just wanna make that clear?)

Anyhow you can think otherwise, i don't mind! But to me, these just make sense.... I will explain myself below.

long, sort of insane ramble under the cut. you have been warned.

Kevin is the slightly older mentor to Neil (the shiro to neil's keith) who is very traumatized by his time with a Bunch of Evil Shits and has gray hair and had his hand (arm) ruined by the enemy! He learns and grows and tries to make his team the best it can be. He never wants to stop until the ravens (galra) are defeated! He's scared bc he's far from home but he's brave as hell anyway! Braver than he should have to be, he's just in his 20s. PLEASE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK (and also he's separated from his bf. ik kevjean isn't canon but let me make this connection anyway bc they're canon to me)

Neil is the hotheaded asshole who actually sorta wants to be friends with people but has the social skills of a raccoon who was shoved into a trash can and shaken around for, oh, ten years or so. He looks up to Kevin, wants to be like him, but knows he could NEVER fill his shoes! And he doesn't want to! He wants to help Kevin, not be Kevin. (getting the quote wrong for sure but the 'one of us should make it and i want it to be you' kinda mindset is so keith? keith literally almost died to KEEP EVERYONE SAFE!!!! LIKE NEIL'S STUPID MARTYR ASS)

Nicky is the sweet, funny one who cares deeply about everyone and who gets the least consideration from the rest no matter how he tries? (the man willingly moved away from his family (ERIK) to take care of people who don't give a shit about him (supposedly), like lance who was taken from his family to fight to save the world? like... come on.) he's unapologetic about who he is and tries to get along with everyone, for the most part. but he has no problem biting back one someone starts smth. (ie. his beef with Seth and Allison) He is misunderstood, bc while he's outgoing and friendly he also has another side that's just straight-up Traumatized. Like... he's not all jokes. He's just hiding behind them.

Andrew is is strong and is largely a Protector. People misunderstand him because of things outside of his control, by this I mean Andrew is 'evil and crazy,' but it's because of the drugs that he's on bc he was fiercely protective of his cousin. He cares about his people and wants to protect them. (Like Hunk is rightly scared and Andrew acts apathetic, but they do care. That's the important part.) I'm not saying Andrew has a secret heart of gold and he's a Sweet Lil Cinnamon Roll or all the shit people used to say about Hunk (bc let's be honest, making the fat brown character into a uwu baby is rage inducing) but he cares. OH ALSO THEY BOTH HAVE A FEAR OF HEIGHTS!!!! (or hunk did at the beginning anyhow!) Also this is unrelated but I think Andrew would enjoy having a bayard. It could turn into lots of different knives? sign him up : )

Aaron is green. (i was gonna leave it at that to be funny but that would be mean to aaron) So... Aaron is Andrew's everyone's annoying sibling who's actually really smart but also is a dumbass at the same time. He's got ulterior motives to be there. (Aaron plays exy to get his education, Pidge is part of voltron to find her dad and brother.) And Aaron is going into the medical field which is science related, thusly... assigned green paladin by Moi.

Anyway, it just fits. I could probably go into even more detail but I'd rather be dead than discuss this show at length bc I'm not a really voltron fan. I love the characters and the first three seasons. that's where it stops for me. the rest of the show makes me wanna die. lol i couldn't even tell you what happens after s3. i've blocked it all of that shit from my memory. :')

ahhh sorry for this novel. i just apparently had a lot of thoughts. i was gonna go and do the upperclassmen as well but... this is too long and they're not my Pookies so.

(ps: sorry this is so badly formatted. i didn't feel like making it look nice :'))

[maplesyrupptarmigan]

Ch. 4: Signals (reprise)

Signals (4413 words) by maplesyrupptarmigan Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Characters: Lance (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Hunk (Voltron), Lance's Siblings (Voltron), Veronica (Voltron), Rachel (Voltron) Additional Tags: Lance & Rachel (Voltron) are Twins, Adam & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Biromantic Lance (Voltron), Garrison Trio forever Series: Part 2 of Signals Summary:

Iverson was right. We're not a team, we're just a mess of—of mixed signals. His eyes lit up, electric blue glinting in the moonlight. Which is why, starting today, we're gonna start team bonding time. We're not a team, yet, but we can be. We just need to communicate better!

Pidge looked at him flatly, remembering the simulator. And how do you propose we do that, Mr. Tailor?

- - -

yayy it's done. it's been fun. thanks.

[queersrus]

Bird theme

general bird theme

tagging: @bpdxhoardic, @s-hinobun

owl, parrot

(Nick)Names:

bird, birdi/birdie/birdy, birdette, birdley, beak, blue, bill, byrd, byrdi/byrdie/byrdy, berd, berdi/berdie/berdy, birdo, budgy/budgie, birdine/byrdine/berdine, bittern wing, wren feather, feasant, falcon, fiacre, fugl, fugel, fagel song owl, oiseau, ocell, ocellu ave, ava, avi, avia, aviar, aviary, arden, alouette, avis, aviana, avion, arno, adler, arvid, audette, amsel, avem, aderyn, allen, avocet crow, chick, callum, circe, chirp, corbin, colm, colombe, columbia, canary, caique, chickadee dove, duck, dipper hen, hawk, hoot, hooty, hum/humm, hummer, humming, hunter sparrow, stork, swan, shiri pheasant, pelican, prey, phoenix, paloma, peregrine, peregrina, paxaro, pouli, poulaki, ptashka, ptitsa, pasare, ptica, ptashynyy, ptakh, parrot, parakee, parakeet, pidgy, pidgin/pidgen/pigeon, pidove, pidge, plovar, plover, perch, percher raven, robin eagle, ezio, eun, ean, egg, eggbirt/egbirt/eggbert/egbert kite, kestrel/kestral quail, quill jay, jonah, jonas gavin, game, gannet, geese, goose mavis, merle, merula, merel, madar vulture, vogel, vorona, vtak, vtaci lark, lonan, lind, lintu, loon talon, teal, teyr, tweet, tweety/tweeti/tweetie ucello nest, nester

1stp prns: i/me/my/mine/myself

bi/bii/bir/birdine/birdself wi/win/wing/wingine/wingself fi/fea/feath/feathine/featherself bi/bea/beak/beakine/beakself ei/egg/eggs/eggine/eggself ti/tal/talon/taline/talonself ni/ne/nes/nestine/nestself twi/twee/tweet/tweetine/tweetself pi/pe/per/perchine/perchself bi/bii/bill/billine/billself chi/chii/chir/chirpine/chirpself

2ndp prns: you/your/yours/yourself

bo/bir/birds/birdself wo/wingr/wingrs/wingrself fo/feather/feathers/featherself bo/beakr/beakrs/beakrself eo/eggr/eggrs/eggrself to/talonr/talonr/talonrself no/nester/nesters/nesterself two/tweeter/tweeters/tweeterself po/percher/perchers/percherself bo/billr/billrs/billrself cho/chir/chirpers/chirpself

3rdp prns: they/them/theirs/themself

bi/bird/birds/birdslef bi/ird, bird/birds wi/wing/wings/wingself wi/ing, wing/wings bea/beak/beaks/beakself e/egg/eggs/eggself eg/egg, egg/eggs tal/talon/talons/talonself tal/on, talon/talons nes/nest/nests/nestself ne/est, nest/nests, nest/nester nest/nesting twe/tweet/tweets/tweetself twee/tweet, twe/eet, tweet/tweets tweet/tweeting song/bird water/bird per/perch/perches/perchself per/ch, per/erch, perch/perches perch/perching bi/bill/bills/billself bi/ill, bill/bills phea/pheasant/pheasants/pheasantself phea/sant, pheasant/pheasants chi/chirp/chirps/chirpself chi/irp, chirp/chirps

Titles

the bird, the bird of prey, the small bird, the waterbird, the songbird, the flightless bird, the migrator, the migrating bird, the one who migrates, the one who tweets, the one who chirps, the nest, the nest of eggs, the egg, the wing, the falling feather, the winged one, the nester, the nesting bird, the caretaker of birds, the bird trainer, the bird owner, the birds nest, the feathered one, the one with talons, the one with feathers, the pretty bird

(prn) who chirps, (prn) who tweets, (prn) who nests, (prn) who flies, (prn) who cannot fly, (prn) who dives for prey, (prn) who lays eggs, (prn) who cares for bird, (prn) who trains birds, (prn) who is bird-like, (prn) who is winged, (prn) who takes flight, (prn) who cannot take flight, (prn) who has feathers, (prn) who is feathered

this bird, this bird of prey, this songbird, this waterbird, this bird trainer, this nest, this birds nest, this wing, this feather, this winged hunter, this small bird, this pretty bird

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Don’t Hold a Glass Over the Flame  (ch. 1 of 2)

Summary:

A peaceful hike on an uninhabited moon takes a terrible turn and Shiro is forced to use his prosthetic to hurt Pidge to keep her from bleeding out.

I simply love putting Shiro in situations where he is sooo stressed.

Prompt fill for the @badthingshappenbingo​​  prompt "This is for your own good"

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Lance & Shiro (Voltron)

Characters: Shiro (Voltron), Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance (Voltron)

Additional Tags: badthingshappenbingo, Platonic Relationships, Hurt Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, landmines, Cauterization, Blood, promise it isn't very graphic, Shiro (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Langst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, This Is for Your Own Good, Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro Friendship, Field Surgery

bingo card under cut 

[request fills]

[johaerys-writes]

Shiro/Keith | Voltron: Legendary Defender | E | Ch. 1/3

Summary: During a fight with the Galra, Shiro and Keith are sucked into a wormhole and flung to the far edge of the universe. They land on an empty and unfamiliar planet, with no way of contacting the castle, but Keith isn't too worried. Things could be worse— at least they have each other. 

Until Shiro collapses.

My contribution for the Sheith Secret Santa 2022 event on twitter! Sickfic, hurt/comfort, angst and Shiro whump :)

Read on Ao3!

Keith’s fingers tighten around the control stick in a death grip. There is sweat running down his spine and his hair is plastered to his forehead beneath his helmet. Coran’s and Allura’s voices in his ears have long turned into steady background droning.

“Fighter, three o’clock!” Hunk yells at him through the comms, but there isn’t much Keith can do about it. He is surrounded, and no matter how many he takes down there’s still more. The damage they do isn’t enough to disturb the lions much; all they do is stand in the way between them and the Galra cruiser that has been terrorising the Alpha Orithyia quarter for weeks. Their laser beams and rockets glide harmlessly off of the lions’ surface, but the pushback is enough to considerably reduce their flying speed.

What started as a lucky break after days of fruitless searching has now turned into a wild goose chase. It was the sensors that Pidge had installed on the ship that managed to track the cruiser, passing through the TA-235 asteroid field, and Voltron didn’t waste a moment before following them. They’ve been going around in circles for hours, with hardly any progress to show for it.

And the cruiser keeps slipping further and further away from their reach.

“The way this is going, we’ll be left behind before we’ve even had a chance to find out where their base is!” Lance huffs in his ear.

Keith winces when the shockwave from a nearby ship exploding knocks Red aside. “Do you have any better ideas, Lance?”

“You need a new plan of attack,” Coran tells them all. “This isn’t working. Perhaps if you form Voltron—”

“No,” Shiro says. “We need the advantage that attacking them from multiple angles will give us. But you’re right that we need a new plan of attack, Coran. The cruiser is our top priority. Keith, you and I will go after it while Pidge, Hunk and Lance deal with the fighters here. With some luck, we might be able to slow it down a bit until the others come to back us up.”

Keith nods, steering Red close to Shiro. He doesn’t even need to give an answer, because it is known. He will always follow Shiro, without a second thought.

“Lay down some covering fire so we can make a break for it,” Keith tells Lance. “Follow us as soon as you’re able.”

“Got it,” Lance says, and proceeds to pulverise the fighters that crowd around him like buzzing flies with a swoop of Blue’s tail laser.

Shiro and Keith fly side by side, fighters and stars blurring past them. The cruiser has put a good deal of distance between them, the fire of its thrusters leaving a flame-pink trail behind. It is nothing for their lions, though; without the fighters hampering their advance it isn’t long before they gain ground, following the Cruiser as it tries to lose them behind a pulsing red giant.

“The Galra will put up a fight,” Shiro warns him. “We’ll need to give it our all, leave them no wiggle room. Are you with me, Keith?”

“Always,” Keith says. The answer comes to him naturally, like his breath.

It is a tough fight, and in such close quarters it’s easy to take a hit that will debilitate them. The cruiser’s cannon is deadly, nothing like the fighters’ lasers that were little more than a nuisance; if it gets them it might take seconds, even minutes for their lions’ systems to reboot.

But this has never been a problem for either of them. Red weaves effortlessly through their attacks, taking advantage of the time it takes the Galra to change the direction of the cannon and charge, while Black’s lasers are steadily wearing down the cruiser’s defences. They soon have the cruiser exactly where they want it, backed into a corner amidst the ruins of a destroyed planet. There is nowhere for it to go, no space to manoeuvre without endangering the integrity of the ship.

“This is it, Keith." Shiro's voice in his ear is a steady and comforting presence as always. “Ready?”

“You got it,” Keith says, and he smiles. He can’t wait to give those fuckers what they’ve had coming for days.

They’re both about to launch a final attack, when a flash of blinding light stops them. The space before them ripples as a wormhole shifts into existence and starts expanding— and then the cruiser starts drifting towards it.

Keith clicks his tongue in frustration. Of course they’d try to make a run for it. He kicks Red forward, pushing through the cruiser’s renewed shield.

“Keith, stop,” Shiro says. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t get too close, or we’ll get sucked into the wormhole as well. We have no idea where it leads.”

“And we’re just going to let them get away?” Keith says. He pulls back reluctantly, his eyes never leaving the cruiser. “I’m not going to let them blast their way through another galaxy, Shiro, that’s not happening. We have to stop them.”

Shiro stays quiet for a moment too long. Keith’s pulse pounds in his throat as the cruiser escapes right before them and they just stand there watching. Every second counts— they don’t have time for this.

“Shiro,” Keith pleads, caught between the urge to kick Red into action and lay waste to that cruiser, and his loyalty to his friend. He will back down if Shiro asks him to, no matter how little he wants that. But if they lose the cruiser now, after all the effort they put into finding it, after all the destruction it’s wrought—

“Alright.” Shiro’s voice is quiet, but determined. “Let’s get closer. Carefully.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice. Keith takes off, guns blazing; it takes him a few seconds to find a break through the shield and penetrate the cruiser’s defences. He has one goal in mind: the front of the ship that’s heading towards the wormhole, where the ion cannon is placed. If he manages to damage one of the bases holding it in place, the pushback and change of weight distribution will reduce the cruiser’s speed, buying them precious time.

It is risky, a tough fight. He’s flying too close to the wormhole now and its pull is strong; one wrong move and he’ll be sucked into it and shot wherever the cruiser is headed, possibly into a well-armed Galra base. The danger and thrill of the fight sings through Keith’s blood; he can feel Red’s anticipation, the high of her bloodlust.

A carefully calculated laser beam sends the cannon erupting in flames. A huge chunk breaks off from the main body of the ship, debris exploding all around it as it tilts to the side. Shiro takes advantage of the cruiser’s change of pace to load Black’s laser for the killing blow; it is sure to cut straight through the ship like butter now that the shield is down.

And it does just that. Black flies away at a safe distance as the cruiser is engulfed in flames, small explosions that keep blossoming along its surface until they all meet into a large, violent one.

“About fucking time,” Keith murmurs under his breath, smiling at their triumph. The Galra never stood a chance against them— Keith and Shiro are unbeatable when they’re together.

The only thing left is the wormhole.

Keith's dangerously close to it now. It folds in on itself as it collapses, warping the space around it. Keith presses the control stick forward to fly away, but the lion stays in place. Even as he boosts her rear thrusters, Red barely moves an inch before she’s pulled right back.

“Keith!” Shiro’s voice is rushed, panicked in his ears. “Get out of there, now!”

“I’m trying,” Keith grunts, pushing the thrusters to their limit. “This thing is— too strong—” Red's claws scramble for purchase, but there’s nothing to hold on to. It’s all debris and fire and broken parts of the cruiser and the wrecked planets floating around him, all of it caught into the inexorable pull of the wormhole, twisted and bent out of shape under the crushing weight of its gravity.

“Shiro, stay back,” Keith says when he sees Black flying close to help him. “Don’t come any closer, or it'll pull you too.”

“Keith—”

“Stay away!” he says again, gripping the control stick tighter. “Do you hear me, Shiro?” The sweat that drips into his eyes stings; he can barely breathe he’s pushing so hard. Alarms of all kinds are blaring in his ears, Red’s monitors blur and crackle with the force of the wormhole’s immense pressure, and the comms system seems to be turning any incoming sound into warbled noise. Keith can’t see what’s happening outside, if Shiro’s still there. It’s like time has stopped, like he’s suspended in the void. Like he’s dying.

“Shiro?” Keith whispers.

Next thing he knows, he’s spinning out of control.

The flashing lights blind him. It’s not unlike other times he’s travelled through a wormhole, but this time it’s stronger, more violent. The quintessence in this place is too potent; it ripples through him, makes his skin itch. Keeping control of Red now is impossible. Keith focuses on his breathing, tries his best not to give in to panic. Patience yields focus.

“Patience yields focus,” he says out loud to himself. There is nowhere to go now but down.

At least Shiro managed to stay out of this shitshow, he thinks, as he lets the wormhole swallow him whole.

Read the rest on AO3!

[maychorianrecs]

The Cost of Winning by IcyPanther

The Cost of Winning by IcyPanther Words: 9,598 Author’s Summary: "The Blue and Green Paladins serve no purpose to the Empire," the Galran commander smirked at his bound captives. "And as such you have no use except as arena fodder." He chuckled. "Give us a good show before you die." / Lance is determined to protect Pidge and save her from the arena. She will not die here. Over his dead body. Hopefully it's not quite that literal of a promise. My Comments: Superb fic, possibly the best I've read from this author yet. The action is great and the plot is tight and suspenseful. Wonderful platonic Pidge and Lance, both getting beat up, both badass and protective of each other. This kept me at the edge of my seat.

[corruptedplaylist]

ch 14— valentine's day shenanigans ;)

chapter 14 is up!!!! highlights: snow day fun, a little bit of gender dysphoria (ily pidge) and HUGE klance development

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 09)

Soap/Reader - MDNI/18+ AO3 Link

WEDNESDAY — Evening: 2 days until the wedding

The worst part was the pretending. You thought that you’d be in the most pain when you were alone, sobbing in your room, clutching Marlowe like a comfort stuffie, but that wasn’t it. The hardest thing, actually, was smiling when you should be smiling. 

No, the hardest thing was staring down at his bed and knowing you had to sleep in it because why shouldn’t you sleep in it? What reason could you tell her that you weren’t able to climb into his sheets and smell his scent in your nose again?

You couldn’t tell her that the softness of his Rangers jersey felt like thorns to you now. You couldn’t tell her why you’d prefer to sleep on the couch, the floor, outside — anywhere but his bed. No. You had to smile, and it needed to be believable. It couldn’t be a masked grimace through tears like you’d been using to get back and forth from the coffee shop and your bed, unable to even make yourself a boiled egg. 

You’d come down, as planned, for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night, and the real kicker — the stake that just twisted right into your heart — was that Johnny and his whole team would be down, too. Of course all the hotels (of which there were one) and the bed and breakfasts were booked solid. So, they’d all just crash here, as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing except for you. 

You were anything but ordinary. You were desperate for some sort of relief from the pain in your chest. Every time you looked down at your phone, you felt it. You ignored the 47 missed calls and the countless text messages, keeping it on silent no matter what. You’d gotten calls from him, from all of his friends, even one from Ghost. You didn’t return them. You thought he had even come to your door one night, but you didn’t answer it. You couldn’t. All you could do was tell yourself to breathe, to eat, to shower, and to make it to the next hour in one piece so you could get through this wedding without falling the fuck apart. 

“You all set in here, babe?” Pidge asked behind you, watching you stare down at the empty bed, “Johnny’ll be here in just a bit so be sure to claim the good side before he does.”

She laughed. You laughed. You sounded crazy. 

“Makin’ your favorite tonight. Chicken tikka,” she was talking to you like a parent talks to a child when they know something is wrong but are determined not to pry. 

“Thanks, Pidge. I’ll come help in a moment.”

“Alright,” she smiled again and shut the door. 

You dropped your bag and waited what you assumed was a normal amount of time before heading out into the kitchen, a brave mask on in place of your face.

She set you to work after you washed your hands, and you were grateful for it. Pidge was talking for you, retracing her steps from her hen do, telling you the parts she couldn’t remember. It was as if everything she’d said to Johnny had just disappeared into thin air, and you wondered how much of that was by choice or by accident. She didn’t even remember you getting a cab. 

Now, she was gushing about how amazing her photographer was, and how he was coming down for the walkthrough. You nodded when you needed to nod; you smiled when you needed to smile. 

“...told him you’d stand in for me at the altar.”

“What?” You’d missed something important. 

“The photographer needs to shoot Hamish and I, but we cannae be at the altar until our wedding, obvi, so I told him you and Lachlan would be the stag and hen for that practice shoot. Is that alright?” She was looking at you like she’d made a mistake. 

You shook your head,

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. No problem. Whatever you need me to do.”

The front door creaked open and you almost dropped the saucepan onto the floor. 

“Pidge?” His voice called through the house. 

“In the kitchen!” She called back. 

You stirred the sauce. 

He must have been staring at you because Pidge made a comment,

“We’re doing chicken tikka. It’s her fav, and I thought she deserved it after what I put her through last weekend.”

“Aye,” his tone was odd, “I’ll go drop my bag. The lads are on their way in.”

You could tell he left the room. It was as if your body could sense it somehow. You wondered if he was staring at the bed. You wondered if it would feel like thorns for him, too. 

Why would it? 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You screamed inside of your mind. Get it together. 

You stirred the sauce. It was the only thing you could do. If someone had tried to take the pan from you, you might have smacked them with it. 

Hamish came up beside you with the cream,

“Ready for me?”

“Sure,” you held your spoon away so he could pour it in. 

“Smells great. Go sit, lass. I poured you a wine. I’ll make your wee plate.”

You smiled at Hamish and marched yourself over to the table. Price came in and saw you sitting there, and after he said hello to Ham and Pidge, he sat next to you in some sort of act of mercy. Hamish poured him a wine as well and they caught up. Small talk. Just the weather. You performed your vanishing act, becoming invisible. 

Until you weren’t. 

His eyes bored into you from the hallway as he made his way into the kitchen. He was forced to sit all the way at the other end of the table, as far from you as he could be, next to Gaz and Ghost. 

Everyone was chatting, drinking, eating. And you worked hard to be unseen. But, he just kept staring. You felt his eyes when you took a bite, when you dropped your fork, when you wiped your mouth… he may as well have been pinning you down with his huge hands; you were so scrutinized. You felt like you were being dissected, a frog on a student’s desk, your heart plucked out for examination. 

What was he looking for? Forgiveness? Wrath? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to guess. You wanted to melt into the carpet like a fallen ice cube, to evaporate into nothingness so you didn’t have to feel his eyes on you anymore. 

Suddenly, you looked up at him, catching him. Only then did he look away. He must have seen something inside of you that answered his question. 

You cleaned up the plates, making an excuse to do the dishes while everyone else lounged in the den. 

Then, disaster. Hamish cut himself while putting away his knives. Blood rushed out of the cut and down his elbow, dripping onto the counter and the tile. You rushed over with a towel,

“Here, put some pressure.”

Pidge took over for you, and she told you,

“Go check Johnny’s bag. He’s got a wee first aid kit in there, I know he does.”

You looked around for Johnny to make him do it instead, but he’d gone outside to smoke with Price, so you jogged off to his room alone. His bag was on the bed, and you took a deep breath before unzipping it, staying tight to your mission. Then, you spotted the little red kit near the bottom. You pulled it out in a hurry, and the rucksack dropped to the floor, spilling its contents. 

“Shit,” you muttered, bending to clean it up. 

You tossed all the clothes back in, but you noticed a journal that had fallen out. It was splayed open, its spine facing you. Your hands shook a bit as you went to pick it up. Then, you saw the one thing you hadn’t expected to see: you. 

Your face was sketched out in careful detail. There were little scratches of pen for the shadows, and negative space for the highlights. Your eyes were looking off in the distance, and your smile was soft, almost like it wasn’t even there. You looked beautiful. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You flipped the page. You found a map, and a sketch with some attack dogs, but in the margin you saw Sonnet 91. You turned the page again. Your face was everywhere. Your body, your eyes, your hands… you were scattered across the paper in bright blue ink. Then, Sonnet 145. Coffee stains and what may have been blood marred the masterpieces he had left behind. You flipped again, and it was you. Pieces of Sonnet 29. Then you. You were on every page. All of the images of war and maps and guns disappeared and now it was just you, you, you.

Your heart slammed into your mouth and you couldn’t breathe. You thought of golden sunrises across the Urzikstani desert half a world away, imagining him sitting on the open tailgate of a Humvee with this book open in front of him. You thought of how closely he had watched you for months; how his hands had traced the curves of your body so beautifully sketched before you. How he had noticed the three freckles on the side of your eye, the ones you thought no one could see. 

You shoved the book back in the bag and ran back into the kitchen, first aid kit in hand. 

Pidge noticed something was wrong.

“You alright, hen?”

“Just squeamish,” you feigned nausea, pointing to Hamish’s blood. 

Johnny came back in from the porch, looking at you, distress creasing his brow,

“What’s happened?”

“Hamish…” You gestured at the injured man, pointedly avoiding looking at Johnny. 

“Don’t like the sight of blood, thief?” Price asked, using your nickname. In your periphery you could see Johnny stiffen at the comment, but no one else seemed to notice. Price continued, suggesting, “Why don’t we go for a walk.”

“Thanks, John,” Pidge smiled at him, glad that he could tend to you as she was tending to her fiance. 

You let yourself be led out of the house through the front door. Price had you by the arm, none too gently, you thought, and walked you into the cool night air, wrapping his jacket around you and shutting the door. 

He was relighting a fat cigar, letting the smoke linger in his mouth, walking slowly, aimlessly down the path, without a destination in mind, leading you nowhere. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, knowing the answer. 

“No.”

You weren’t sure why you told him the truth. He was just going to run back and report to Johnny. But, there was something in his eyes that made you think he genuinely cared, and you so desperately needed someone to care. 

“Have you listened to his side of it?” 

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

You didn’t answer. You wanted to say no, but something stopped you. 

Price stopped walking, his boots scraping in the gravel of the path, his bright blue eyes icy and a little sad. 

“Listen,” he frowned, “I’ve known Johnny a lot longer than you. I’ve seen him broken. I’ve seen him scared. I’ve seen him mad, and drunk, and happy, and beaten… but I’ve never seen him like this.”

You crossed your arms in his jacket, trying to find some warmth. Suddenly, you felt Price’s finger dig inside of the neckline of your shirt. You almost knocked his hand away, but he put up his other in a sign of peace. And when he found what he was looking for, he smiled. 

He’d pulled out Johnny’s dog tag from beneath your shirt, and you knew you’d been caught. Price held the coin up to you like the sacrament, discovering your shame, bringing your sin out into the open. In that moment, you wanted to bend down on both knees and take it into your mouth, and you wanted him to make you whole again with it. 

“This isn’t like him,” he said, the porch light made the silver gleam, and it blinded you for a moment, “He’s generous enough with his smiles and compliments, but he doesn’t give freely of himself. Not like this. Would’ve thought you’d known. He’s kept himself hidden all this time. But, not from you.” 

You cried. You didn’t want to. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow. You swallowed your spit and tried to breathe through the tears, but they came anyway. He held you to his chest, and you knew his tee shirt would be wet from your weakness, but he kept a steady hand on your back, regardless. 

He tucked the tag back into your shirt and it lay cold against that spot between your breasts; the same spot Johnny had kissed you when he’d taken your guilt from you the first night you’d been together, there, in his bed. You thought Price would make some sort of face, some judgment. But, he didn’t. He simply walked you back inside and held the door for you. 

You went through it on your own accord, and Johnny’s eyes were the first thing to greet you. He raked them over you like a forest fire, burning you from roots to boughs, seeing Price’s jacket over your shoulders and lingering on it for a while until you handed it back to his captain. 

“All covered!” Hamish chuckled, holding up his bandaged finger to you, “Sorry, babes.”

You smiled, 

“No worries. I think I’m just tired from the ride in. Gonna lay down early.”

Pidge caught your attention, 

“Don’t forget, you and Johnny have to make it before two. Pictures are at two.”

You nodded, retreating to what used to be a sanctuary. Now, it felt more like a cell. 

Your goal was to get to sleep before he could join you. You knew it would be too suspicious for him to follow you into his room, so you had the advantage of time. How strange it was to avoid what you had been craving. 

You climbed into the sheets, and you did your best to ignore all of the memories that kept rushing back. The smear of her purple lipstick across his soft earlobe haunted you like a ghost. 

THURSDAY — Midnight: 1 day until the wedding

He came in as quietly as he could, but you woke up anyway. You tried your best to pretend to be asleep, keeping your breathing heavy and long. It was pitch black, and when he sat on the bed, you heard the familiar creak of the coils. 

He pulled the covers back, he fluffed the pillow, he took off his watch, and then he just… laid there. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting he would do. Wake you up? Demand your attention? You’d shut him out completely. He knew his company was unwanted. 

The dark voice laughed at you in your head. It knew the truth. It wanted him to fight for you. It wanted him to beg for your mercy. It wanted him to take you in his arms anyway, despite your protests. It wanted him to ignore your wishes. It wanted the animal in him to claim the animal in you, to remind you that you were his woman and that he could do with you as he wished. 

But, he wasn’t an animal. He was a man, and he respected you enough to stay on his side of the line. 

It was only when he thought you were well and truly asleep that you felt his finger graze the metal chain of his dog tags on the back of your neck, not heavily enough to wake you, but enough to feel that they were real. You wondered if Price had ratted you out or if Johnny had noticed himself. You thought it was the latter, knowing him.  

You passed out eventually, listening to the sound of his quiet snoring, your pillow soaked from tears that had spilled out across the bridge of your nose. Tears he wouldn’t be able to touch. 

THURSDAY — 2:00PM: 1 day until the wedding

Saint Patrick’s church was quaint, and the interior was minimalistic compared to other Catholic churches you’d visited before. There was something sort of liminal about the space, as if it were unfinished. You wondered what it would look like when it was full of people. 

You were standing at the altar, fake bouquet in hand, pretending to be a blushing bride. The photographer was very much in charge of this ordeal, and he was as outspoken as he was confident. 

“Okay, perfect. See? She’s perfect. Can you be perfect, too, Mr….?”

“It’s Lachlan. Lachlan Black,” he reminded him for the third time. 

“Ugh, okay. Lachlan. If only you were a little more memorable, but my brain just — whoosh!” The photographer, Gary, made a little noise and a motion with his hand like a bird flying through a window. 

“And you’re just too damn tall, you know that?” Gary sighed. 

He looked around the room, appraising all of the bridal party like a dealer at an auction, looking for the solution amongst the chaff. Then, he waved Hamish up from the front pew, getting him to stand. Gary looked him up and down, and motioned for him to sit again. With a snap of his fingers, he said,

“Hey! You. Mohawk. What’s your name again? You know what — that’s enough names actually. Mohawk will be groom instead. Nice and tall, but not too tall. Yes, yes… okay, thank you, Lachlan… buh-bye.”

You were face to face with Johnny at the altar. 

You felt the panic make your blood rush into your cheeks. It was hard to catch your breath. 

Of all the times you’d imagine being at the altar with Johnny, this was certainly not it.

You stared at your fake, paper bouquet and prayed in your mind, loudly, for a sudden plague. Toads, rivers of blood — whatever you’ve got, Heaven! Throw it down here, please. You begged for a miracle or a smiting. Either would do. 

The Lord did not oblige you. 

“Okay… better! Yes, this is much better. Cute. Can you scooch in a bit, mohawk? She doesn’t bite, I don’t think.” Gary winked.

Mohawk scooched in. You dared to look up into his eyes, and when you did, you knew you made a mistake. You were trapped in him and he was trapped in you. You felt like you were frozen in place, unable to breathe or speak or scream, no matter how badly you wanted to. 

You had a whole conversation with him in the span of those few seconds. You asked him why he’d been covered in someone else at the bar. You begged him to give you some evidence that you hadn’t seen what you saw. You told him about all the nights you’d lay awake, about all the times you’d thrown his tag into the corner of your room, only to crawl on your hands and knees to retrieve it, clutching it to you and feeling sorry that you’d done so. 

He was telling you something as well, but you couldn’t hear him. He was screaming it, you knew that much, but it wasn’t loud enough. 

Gary interrupted you,

“Okay, hold hands around the bouquet, pretty please…”

He grasped your hands, and it was so familiar, you almost melted into him. By some magical power, you held yourself together, but as the camera clicked and flashed, with every moment you lost a little more control.

“...annnnnnnd now the kiss? C’mon. We’re all adults here. This lighting is shit — forgive me, Father — and I can’t deal with the actual money shot being trash. Today, people!”

You hesitated. But, Johnny didn’t. He seemed to set himself, his mouth in a tight, resigned line, and then he held your face in his hands, just as gently as he always did. When he kissed you, he really kissed you. He didn’t fake it for the cameras, and he didn’t hide his passion from Pidge or any of the others. You couldn’t help but kiss him back, letting him guide you as he liked, his big jaw shaking a bit as he let go. 

“Perfect! Okay, and now the happy couple is smiling at the crowd…”

Gary took a step back into the aisle, and Johnny held up your hand in the air in mock triumph, posing for a gleeful moment that didn’t exist. You looked right at Pidge, but she was laughing at something Hamish had said, fully oblivious to the war raging right in front of her face. 

“Alright… well, I don’t know if I’d call that smiling, necessarily, but here we are. Okay. Mohawk, you’re done.”

The way Johnny dropped your hand made you feel like you were on fire, as if he could no longer stand to hold you, or like he had been burned. It was sharp, and you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Did you want him to linger? To profess his undying love in front of his sister and ruin her one special day? You didn’t. So you let his absence cut you like a blade, severing you like a limb from a tree. 

THURSDAY — 7:00PM: 1 day until the wedding

The rehearsal dinner venue, the Auchentoshan Distillery, was gorgeous. Johnny had spared no expense on the stylings, and there was food everywhere you looked. The cakes were elegantly plated, the roast hung shining, its drippings making the shank glitter, and even the boiled potatoes made your mouth water. 

Johnny had obviously arranged the table settings a few weeks ago, because you were sat right next to him and Price, across from Gaz and Ghost. Pidge was two seats down, and the rest of the girls were across from her and Hamish. Lachlan and the other groomsmen were on the opposite side. But, other than for the initial dinner, you hadn’t been made to sit by him much at all. He mingled around the room, talking to everyone except for you, making sure all of the cups were filled and all of the faces were smiling. 

He was an impeccable host. His charisma was electric. And he looked upsettingly handsome. He wore a kilt tonight, one of his hunting tartans, with a sharp button down embellished with gleaming pearl buttons. His shoulders were bursting through the fabric, pulling it taut against his wide back. If you looked carefully enough, you could imagine where his tattoo peeked through.

Gaz cleared his throat, whispering low,

“Have you talked to him, then?”

Your eyes tore themselves away from Johnny to stare at Gaz. You checked over your shoulder to see if Pidge had heard him, and he glanced at her, too. 

“No.”

Ghost spoke at full volume, not caring who heard him,

“Are you going to?”

Price dropped his fork so that it clattered on the plate, giving Ghost a chastising glare. 

“She’ll talk to him when she’s ready to talk to him, and it’s none of our bloody business.”

You didn’t hear much else out of Gaz or Ghost, but as they chewed their food, you could tell that they didn’t believe Price for one damn second. It very much was their bloody business.

And maybe it was. Price had certainly made it his business on your walk last night, and it seemed like your relationship with Johnny was slowly becoming everyone’s business. You had tried your best to return to that same old invisibility you were used to, but it wasn’t enough now. You felt like you were on full display.

“Excuse me,” you got up and fled to the bathroom.

When you opened the door, you saw Bekah and Anjali inside, freshening up their makeup. 

“Hey!” They said in high-pitched unison.

“Hey,” you replied, inching by them to get into the stall. 

“Where’d you disappear to the other night, babe?” Anjali called out to you through the door. 

“Just got too drunk. Took a cab,” you told her, hoping that would end the conversation. 

“Fuck,” Bekah laughed, “That was me, too. Did Cherise tell you about that bloke at Max’s?”

“No,” you said, captivated like a prisoner.

“Arsehole thought he could put something in my drink. Soap saw him and beat him within an inch of his fuckin’ life! You should’ve seen the man. Needed a damn doctor, so he did,” Bekah confessed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, genuinely. Bekah was not your friend, but she didn’t deserve to be assaulted. 

Anjali laughed,

“Soap had to carry her out! She was stumblin’ all over the road.”

“Wasnae my fault!” Bekah protested, “But, he was a gentleman. Drove me home. Him and Gaz.”

“Oh, that Gaz is fine, no?” Anjali interrupted. 

“Aye. I thought Johnny might kiss me back, just this once, but he still didn’t. That lad is harder to wear down than the goddamn Pope, I swear. I’ve given up.”

“Didn’t you sleep together?” You asked, torturing yourself. 

“God, no! He won’t have any of us. Pidge thinks he has, but I’ve never slept with him. Definitely would though,” Bekah gushed. 

“Hasn’t Cherise?” Anjali asked.

“No! Cannae believe it. All this talk for being a big slut and he’s a choir boy,” you could hear Bekah’s voice get louder with her disbelief.

“Shame,” Anjali lamented.

“Aye, a shame,” Bekah agreed, “Was he a good kisser? He looked it. You were quite a pair up at the altar. Maybe he’d go for you, hen.”

You pulled open the stall door and joined them at the sink. Your hands were trembling. 

“Babes,” Bekah noticed, “Are you alright? You havnae seemed well since the hen do. You’re working too hard for this wedding.”

“I’m alright. I think I just need some fresh air,” you smiled, pushing your way out of the door.

When you walked back into the main hall, everyone was standing. A waitress with a tray found you and handed you a glass of champagne. You moved to the side around the crowd to see what all the commotion was, and it was Johnny. He was standing next to Pidge with his glass raised high, clinking it delicately with the side of his fork. 

“Alright, alright. Settle down,” he smiled at his sister, “I know Lachlan is the one supposed to be up here haverin’ about Hamish, but he was kind enough to give me his go because I needed to talk to my sister.”

His eyes found you and settled there, no longer scanning the crowd. You watched him take a breath before he continued,

“If you dinnae ken me, I am Johnny MacTavish, Sergeant of His Majesty’s Special Air Service —” he was interrupted by proud applause, “Uh, thank you. And I am the younger brother of our darling Brigette here. While I was away, Pidge has taken care of my life for me. She took care of our ma when she was ill, and she buried our da without me. She managed to keep the wee house from fallin’ into the river, and still she has time to volunteer at Saint Mary’s children’s ward on the odd weekend.”

More applause. He paused and went on,

“All that to say, my sister doesnae need anyone. But, love isnae about need. It’s about choosin’ to be with a person who makes you feel like you can be yourself, that you can confess to all the desires and the wants and the hopes and the fears that you have inside of you, and you know that they understand you. They see you for who you are, and they love you for it anyway. 

Love isnae patient, and it certainly isnae bloody kind. It loves to boast! And it falls prey to envy. Love is in a rush, and it eats you alive from the inside out. Love isnae about needing. It’s want, pure and simple. To Hammie and Pidge, may you live a hundred years, and may you want each other endlessly in each of them. Slàinte mhath.” 

“Slàinte mhath!”

You drank your champagne, numb and panicking.

Someone shoved a small microphone onto the strap of your dress, clicking it in place, and you stared down at it while everyone else stared at you, waiting.

You breathed into the mic, listening to your breath come through the speakers. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him you’d learned the truth. But, you were surrounded, literally, by all of his friends and family. There was no worse time for your truth-telling. So, you tried to lean on the speech you remember preparing, mashing it together with words that kept pouring from your heart.

“Hello,” you tried out a smile, “I’ve known Brigette for years, and she is the only real family I have. I’m not Scottish. I know the accent gives it away,” some polite laughter, “But, I’m wearing the MacTavish boar around my neck because Pidge welcomed me here with open arms and took me in as if I had been here the whole time. Like it was the most natural thing to do. She’s selfless in all the ways you should be, and she always promised that I would have a home with her. And I love her dearly for that.”

You spoke directly to Johnny, just as he did to you, 

“I’ve been thinking about selflessness, and about making promises. I’ve been thinking about the type of man who does the right thing, even when it’s hard. I’ve been thinking about the type of man who breaks a promise when he needs to break one, and I’ve been thinking about the consequences of our actions. But, when you love someone, the consequence is just… more love. There’s really nothing else, is there? You could get a shovel and dig until you reach the bottom of the earth looking for them, but there are no real consequences when you’re in love. It trumps… everything.” 

You paused for a long time. Johnny was captivated by your eyes, hanging on every word, and you’d been silent for too long. You said, directly to Pidge,

“So, I hope, when you’re wondering if you’ve done the right thing or not, and you’re digging around for the consequences of that, I hope you just keep pulling out more and more love. Just love all the way down. Forever. Cheers, to Hamish and Pidge.”

“Cheers!”

You finished your champagne and walked over to Pidge. Everyone was applauding and talking loudly again, laughing and sharing their own joys about the happy couple. You were overwhelmed, but you wanted to see her. 

Pidge held out her arms and folded them around you, clutching you tightly to her chest, whispering I love yous and thank yous into your skin. You kissed her on the cheek, whispering to her,

“I’m gonna step outside for a moment, are you alright for now?”

“Yes! Go. Take Johnny with you. When he gets sappy, he starts to hover,” she swatted Johnny away as he leaned in to kiss her, fighting through her protests. 

She gave in, melting into him and smiling as he planted a kiss to her cheek. 

“I love you, Pidge,” he said to her, not letting her go.

“I love you, too, Johnny-boy. And I’m sorry for all the mean things I’ve said. You’ve changed. I dinnae ken what’s gotten into you, but all this…” She looked around at the reception hall, “All this has made me realize that you finally see me, you finally see what I’ve been going through, and I’ve been unfair. Thank you, brother.”

He kissed her forehead, trying to blink away tears as he did so, lingering with his lips on her skin before removing himself from her embrace. 

“C’mon,” he nodded at you and took you by the hand, right in front of her, leading you out to the back courtyard. 

The distillery was situated right next to its water source, north of the River Clyde, and the waters churned from a pump run by the whisky makers. The flow of the water was invigorating and challenging, but the calmness of the lake itself was still and quiet; a dichotomy. It was the same within you, a roiling, tumbling sea of glass, ready to shatter.

Johnny turned and looked at you like he knew what you would say. As he approached you, slowly, he held up his hands, trying to hide that they were shaking, offering peace, carrying no weapon, for once. You unfolded your arms, still clutching yourself around your waist, waiting for him to prove you wrong, for him to confirm the truth you’d overheard from Bekah. 

“Are you willing to hear me now, thief?”

“I already heard,” you said, “From Bekah. And I saw your journal.”

He was speechless. All of the things he’d planned to say to you had dried up, and now he was left chewing on their remains. He put his hands on his hips and looked out at the water,

“I’m so goddamn in love with you, it hurts.”

He pinned you with his gaze, then. Watching you take in his confession. He continued,

“It hurts when I wake up, and it hurts when I go to bed. I dinnae ken how to stop it from hurtin’ like this. Feels like I’m burnin’ up, like I’m on fire inside of me. And when you left me, I…” he had trouble forming the words, “I wasnae… I couldnae ken how bad it would be. It was worse, somehow, and I was prayin’ to whatever god that would hear me for some sort of mercy. And I had none. Until I saw, or I thought I saw…”

He came closer to you, reaching around your neck and pulling out his tags just like Price had done. His eyes shone with unshed tears. 

“You made me hope.”

He took your hand in his and held it tightly, as tightly as he dared, and looked you right in the face, 

“I didnae sleep with Bekah, nor Cherise, nor Anjali.”

“I know.”

“I didnae want to, either.”

“I know.”

“I’m in love with you, mèirleach.”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Johnny used his tags around your neck to pull you into him, kissing you harshly, not allowing you to let go. You kissed him back, pressing at him with your tongue, tasting the champagne in his mouth, feeling his shaven face bristle against your smooth cheek. He moaned into you, speaking to you in a low whisper,

“Please, mèirleach, forgive me.”

“Johnny, there’s nothing to forgive.”

He hugged you to him and you rested your head against his neck, finally able to relax into him after days of being on a knife’s edge. 

But, you were distracted by the sound of a loud knocking against glass. You turned back toward the distillery and saw Ghost tapping on the huge floor to ceiling window and pointing to a microphone in his hand. You looked down and realized you never handed them back the mic from your speech. You were still wearing it, and the red light was on. 

You showed it to Johnny, stunned by your own idiocy. He spun to see Ghost waving slightly, and the rest of the wedding party — hell, the whole distillery — standing behind him in shock

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 10 (Ending)

[autisticlancemcclain]

full fic masterlist

most of these are over 1000 words, stand on their own, and are posted to ao3. any major warnings will be stated.

here lies keith kogane -- felled by accidental innuendo [ao3]

it might be crazy but it aint no lie, baby (bi bi bi) [ao3]

spies, sneaking out, sobbing, and other such stressors [ao3]

the butterfly effect ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 4 [ao3] [ongoing]

fuck bitches, get money (or something like that) [ao3]

panicked flirting is still flirting (shut up, pidge) [ao3]

you crazy-assed cosmonaut (remember your virtue) [ao3]

light pollution in my mind [ao3]

ten minutes on the clock (twenty years on my mind) [ao3]

take my tea with formaldehyde (for my feminine side) [ao3] 

monkey boy [ao3]

a mother’s love ch 1 ch 2  ch 3 [ao3] [ongoing]

i’m talking to a memory (calling can you hear me) [ao3]

we’re not broken (just bent) [ao3]

you can always find me (in our favourite little memories) [ao3] [MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]

dancing in the mirror, singing in the shower [ao3]

baby, you’re my stability [ao3]

mr. snuggles [ao3]

the tarantula hawk wasp incident [ao3]

i’m just a holy fool (baby it’s so cruel) [ao3]

baby, you’re my lightning in a bottle [ao3]

land or sea, i’ve got the power (if i just believe) ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 4 ch 5 ch 6 [ao3]

i hope some day i’ll make it out of here (even if it takes all day or a hundred years) [ao3] [GRAPHIC DECRIPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK]

if there’s something weird (and it don’t look good) [ao3]

blow (this place about to) [ao3]

hey baby (i think i wanna marry you) [ao3]

i’ll go get a ring (let the choir bells sing) [ao3]

is it the look in your eyes (or is it this dancing juice) [ao3]

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss [ao3]

i can’t decide (whether you should live or die) [ao3]

patito [ao3]

smackdowns and fistfights (and other such forms of affection) [ao3]

sorry daddy (but i’m not that easy) [ao3]

i know you love me (wearing nothing but your boots) [ao3]

chocolate chip chivalry [ao3]

if you’re ready (like i’m ready) [ao3]

a night you won’t remember (i’ll be the one you won’t forget) [ao3]

how much is you paying (i don’t speak broke boy language) [ao3]

no one will know (oh come on) [ao3]

you’ll never be alone (i’ll be with you from dusk ‘till dawn) [ao3]

he might not look like he gets bitches (but honey that dick was 11 inches) [ao3]

cats and charms [ao3]

young love murdered (that is what this must be) [ao3]

love, gimme love, gimme love [ao3]

walk, walk, fashion, baby! [ao3]

eighteen (crazy) ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 4 ch 5 ch 6 [ao3] [ongoing]

bug boy [ao3]

spendin’ my money (i’m outta control) [ao3]

hey, brother [ao3]

rhinestone top (tits peeking out) [ao3]

dumb dog (why aren’t you following me) [ao3]

save a horse (ride a cowboy) [ao3]

nails, hair, hips, heels [ao3]

what if i lose it all pt 2 pt 3 [ao3] [ongoing]

broken bones and stone-brick homes [ao3]

you turned around (and you stole my heart) [ao3]

i only got one thing on my mind (you) [ao3]

i’ve never been a natural (all i do is try try try) [ao3]

if you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) [ao3]

i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. [ao3]

come here. let me fix it. [ao3]

i think you’re beautiful. [ao3]

do your worst (’cause nothing’s gonna stop me now) [ao3]

i can’t help falling in love with you (would it be a sin) [ao3]

you know i’m drunk on love (nothing can sober me up) [ao3]

is it so bad (if you don’t get what you wanted?) [ao3]

how long will i be with you? (as long as the sea is bound to wash upon the sand) [ao3]

give up your dream of going away (forget your sailors in galway) ch 2 [ao3]

when you get older your wild heart will live for younger days (think of me if every you’re afraid) ch 2  ch 3 ch 4 [ao3]

i know you get me (so i let my guard come down) [ao3]

how long will i hold you? (as long as your father told you) [ao3]

i’m in love (with a fairy tale) [ao3]

like you made it to 48 (and still made my birthday cake) [ao3]

i see your face (when i close my eyes) [ao3]

this is the part of me (that you’re never gonna ever take away) [ao3]

you’ve got me stuck where i’m sittin’ (lookin’ at your eyes) [ao3]

tell a hater kiss both cheeks (ciao, bella) [ao3]

he’s into superstitions (black cats and voodoo dolls) [ao3]

you look like you can handle what’s under my hood (you keep sayin’ that you will, boy, i wish you would) [ao3]

and with every step together (we just keep on getting better) [ao3]

i will grind you to sand (beneath my louboutin heel) [ao3] [MATURE & VIOLENT THEMES]

to the town of agua fria (rode a stranger one fine day) [ao3]

maybe something happened in a past life (didn’t make it over 25) [ao3]

you would not believe your eyes (if ten million fireflies) [ao3]

but i’ll know where several are (if my dreams get real bizarre) [ao3]

take my name out of your mouth (you don’t deserve to mourn) ch1 ch2 [ao3]

got the neighbours yellin’ (earthquake) [ao3]

such a shame (you don’t put up a fight) [ao3]

all i want is to fly with you (all i want is to fall with you) [ao3]

if it was raining you would yell at the sun (pick up the pieces when the damage is done) [ao3] [SUICIDE IDEATION & ATTEMPT]

i’ve been running with the wolves (to get to you) [ao3]

hey, hey, you, you (i know that you like me) [ao3]

i like shiny things (but i’d marry you with paper rings) [ao3]

on a neighbourhood street (where the little kids play) [ao3]

if you knew (what i still got in my closet) [ao3]

i’m everything (they said i would be) [ao3]

i’ll put you down slow (love you goodbye) [ao3]

i’ll make the choice to hear that voice (and do the next right thing) [ao3]

[majesty-intensifies]

so while the rest of you were making memes, i was making Garbage™, and i’m proud of this in that weird Cursed way all FFN writers are, and this took an amount of time i am not willing to discuss

[starsdustzuko]

Ever After Klance AU bc I have no life

Lance is Danielle

Pidge is Gustav

Keith is Henry

Shiro is Leonardo Da Vinci

Hunk is Jacqueline

Shay is the Royal Guard person

THE HORSE SCENE

Lance was the son of a merchent

the merchent married a mean lady with some kids

probably Rolo (as Margarete) and Hunk (as Jacqueline)

Lance’s dad dies

:((((((

now he’s a servant in his own home

in his own home... DAMN

We open up with Keith running away from home bc he is an angsty boy who doesn’t want to be confined to a guilded cage

He ends up at Lance’s farm and steals a horse bc god damn his royal ass horse slipped a shoe

Lance is picking apples in the orchard for his dickbag of a stepmom

Lance is not about to let some stranger steal his fathers horse so of course he throws the apples at the thief

Keith falls off the horse, his hood slips off. Lance straight up just falls to the ground like holy shit I just threw apples at the Prince I hit him on his head oh boy today is the day I die

Keith is like... “here have some money and shut the fuck up I won’t kill you just don’t tell anyone you saw me,”

during his dramatic running away event, Keith meets the guy he’s been looking up to his whole life, Shiro

“Please sir, my father is the king of backward thinking, and you are the very founder of forward thinking,” -Keith

“Captain Shay, do translate,” -Shiro

“Prince Keith suffers from... an arranged marriage, among other things,” -Shay

Royal Guard Captain Shay is amused

Lance uses the money to bring back a servant his stepmom sold away

“You’ll never pass for a nobleman! You’re too nice!” -Pidge

Lance and Keith meet again in front of the castle.

Keith’s a total goner bc god damn look at this nobleman saving servants and quoting Thomas Moore and giving him all sorts of hell he’s in l o v e

“A name, any name,” - Keith

“I’m afraid the only name to leave you with is Countier August de Barbarac,” - Lance

i gave him my fathers name?????????????????????

Lance doesn’t give a shit and a half bc this prince guy is arrogant??

“Yes I know that, you’ve been saying it all day,” - another servant probably

Keith can’t get pretty boy nobleman out of his head & he becomes like... desperate to find him

He’s also getting pretty sick of Rolo throwing himself at him every chance he gets

By chance Keith and Lance meet again by a lake when Shiro spooked the fuck out of Lance by walking on water

“Why do you keep irritating me so?” -Lance

“Why do you rise to the occasion?” -Keith

heart eyes motherfucker

and then Lance leaves abruptly bc he can hear Hunk calling from him from the other side of the lake and lol oops can’t let Keith know I’m a fucking servant bye

Keith is confused

“Why does he keep doing that?”

“Look Pidge! It’s flying!” - Lance with Shiro’s flying contraption

“Idgaf Lance,” - Pidge as they paint

“I don’t know why you’re so happy. The prince might be your brother in law!” -Pidge

“I don’t care,” - Lance

Pidge see’s Keith and Shay riding across the hay field toward them

“Oh? And what would you say to him if you saw him again?” - Pidge

“Your highness, my family is your family, please, take them away!” - Lance

“Well good, here’s your chance! He’s coming this way!”

Lance hides behind a stack of hay

and then

“I believe, your highness, that he’s staying with his cousin! Ah the... Countess Nyma de Ghant!”

“Shit”

“But I can assure you, your highness, that he is there! ALONE! Right now,” - Pidge

“ ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º) “ - Keith

And

“Pidge you horrible little snipe! He’s on his way to my house!”

“Then you better run fast!” 

Keith shows up at Lance’s house and Lance is lookin’ fine as hell????

Asks Lance to accompany him to the Monistary where the books are

“It’s not fair, your highness has discovered my weakness, but I have yet to learn yours,” -Lance

“I should think it obvious,” - Keith while staring into the very depths of Lance’s soul

THE WHOLE LIBRARY SCENE

ANGSTY KEITH

LANCE IS SO IN TOUCH WITH HIS EMOTIONS AND SO DEEP AND SO MANY CONVICTIONS I’M SO ANGRY

And then the fucking part where the carriage gets fucked up and they have to walk home and get lost so Lance (to avoid getting his clothes fucked up strips down to his undergarments to climb a cliff to see where they’re going) and then the gypsies attack & Lance fucking pounces on a guy while Keith is kicking ass

and then a gypsy pulls a knife on Lance and Keith immediately gives up

“Please, your quarrel is with me, leave him out of this,”

“I demand you return my things at once! Since you’ve deprived me of my escort I demand a horse as well,” - Lance

“Sir, you can have whatever you can carry,”

Lance picks Keith up and walks away

Gypsies are so amused they let Keith and Lance hang with them for the night

Keith and Lance kiss and the Gypsies loose their shit

Literally everything goes to shit after that night alright Lance punches Rolo in the face, gets whipped and tries to break up with Lance all in like a day (a mess)

Keith is ?????????????

“What do you mean you met with Madam Nyma and Rolo today?”

“What do you mean he’s engaged?”

“To know he was engaged and he damn well should have said something- oh,”

bc Lance tried to just earlier that day but Keith didn’t listen bc he was so in love?????

Nyma is PISSED and locks Lance away in the cellar bc no servant of mine is going to fuck up Rolo’s chances with Prince Keith

The Servants don’t know what to do so they send Pidge to talk with Shiro

Pidge almost dies bc holy shit that’s Shiro?

an artist/inventor/genius god???????????????????

Shiro unlocks the door & saves the day

“why that was pure genius!”

“Yes! I shall go down in History as the man who opened a door!” -Shiro

He also makes Lance a bomb ass costume for the ball

“A bird may love a fish, signore, but where would they live?”

“Then I shall just have to make you wings,” 

Madam Nyma, Rolo, and Hunk roll up to the party

HUNK AND SHAY ARE BOTH DRESSED AS HORSES AND ARE TOTAL GONERS FOR EACH OTHER AFTER 1.3 SECONDS

Right when Keith’s father is going to annouce that Keith will marry Prince who gives a shit of whatever country, Lance rolls up to the party in a bomb ass costume with wings

Keith is a fucking goner and runs to his love

“Please, there is someting I must say before another word is spoken,” -Lance

“Whatever it is, my answer is yes,” - Keith

gdi Keith

Madam Nyma isn’t happy so she drags Rolo toward Lance and rips off his wings

the whole story comes out how Lance isn’t really a courtier and he was just faking it and Keith is hurt?????? August- Lance has been a big fuckin liar????? The shit?

“And you? You are just like them,”

Lance runs away crying. He trips and loses his shoe (SHUT UP THIS IS A CINDERELLA STORY OK THE SHOE IS IMPORTANT) and to add onto the dramatics it starts to rain

Shiro see’s him running away and tries to call out but Lance doesn’t look back???? 

Shiro grabs the shoe and brings it to Keith

Shiro: *deep sigh* BOI

Keith: *angsty angst angst*

“He is your match, Keith!” -Shiro

“I am the crowned prince of ???. I have a sworn duty. And I will not yield!” -Keith

“Then you don’t deserve him,” -Shiro

Back at the farm Lance get’s sold to Sir-dicks-for-brains who’s super lusty for Lance it’s gross

Back at the Castle, Keith is gonna get married to some Prince from whatever

Prince from Whatever is hypervenilating

Keith finally realizes he’s an idiot and lets the other Prince go to his love

He runs out the side door and asks one of Madam Nyma’s other servants where Lance is

“But he has been sold sire!” -servant

“Sold? To whom?” -Keith

“To Sir-dicks-for-brains, your highness, just after the Mask” -Hunk

“Tell no one we have spoken, for all will reveal itself in due course,” -Keith

he runs off with Shay to find Lance

Meanwhile Lance is in chains bc he tried to run away from Sir-dicks-for-brains

Sir-dick-for-brains attempts to molest Lance

Lance gives him a good jab with a sword

“My father was an expert swordsman sir, he taught me well. Now hand me that key or I swear on his grave that I will slit you navel to nose!” -Lance

Sir-dick-for-brains hands him the key and my boi is GONE

Lance has literally just stepped outside when Keith and his royal army show up to save Lance

“What are you doing here?” -Lance

“Rescuing you,” -Keith

“Rescue me? A commoner?” -Lance

“Actually I came to beg your forgiveness, I offered you the world and at the first test of honor I betrayed your trust. Please Lance,” -Keith

“Say it again,” -Lance

“I’m sorry,” -Keith

“No! The part where you said my name,” -Lance

“Lance,”

Lance straight up melts into a puddle

“Perhaps you would be so kind to help me find the owner of this... rather remarkable shoe?” - Keith

“Where did you find that?” -Lance

“He is my match in everyway, please tell me I haven’t lost him,” -Keith

“It belongs to a peasent, your highness, who only dressed up as a courtier to save a mans life,” -Lance

“Yes, I know, and the names Keith if you don’t mind,” -Keith

“I kneel before you, not as a Prince, but as a man in love, but I would feel like a king, if you Lance, would be my husband,” 

EVERYTHINGS GAY AND HAPPY AS LANCE ACCEPTS BC GOD DAMN THAT PROPOSAL WAS ONE FOR THE AGES

Meanwhile at the farm de Ghent

Madam Nyma and Rolo are pissed and learned that Hunk saw the prince after he ran out the side door

“Well how was I supposed to know he’d come flying out the side door! He was supposed to be getting married!” - Hunk

“I heard the prince talked to you, what did he say?” - Rolo

“I can’t be sure... it all happened so quickly... but what I think he said was ‘serves me right for chosing some foreigner over your... brother,” - Hunk

Nyma and Rolo are in a fit of giggles. Hunk is smirking at his own genius

The Royal guard comes to escort the de Ghent family to the Castle where they are presented to the King and Queen

“Madam de Ghent is it true you lied to her majesty, the Queen of ????” - the King

Madam Nyma pales and tries to stutter out an excuse. Rolo tries to save his hide. An arguement esues

“My heavens are they always like that?” -the King

“Much worse, your majesty,” - Hunk

“Hunk, darling, I hate to think you would have anything to do with this,” -Nyma

“Of course not mother, I’m only here for the food,” - Hunk

Shay grins

Nyma and Rolo are stripped of their titles and almost sentenced to the America’s unless someone speaks for them

ENTER PRINCE LANCE

EVERYONE BOWS

“Rolo... I don’t believe you’ve met... my husband,” -Keith

Lance is a good soul who doesn’t have his step-mother or insane step-brother sentenced to the Americas

“All I ask, your majesties, is that you show them the same kindness they have shown me,” 

NOW THEY WORK IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM HECK YEA SON

Some months later

Shiro shows off a lovely paining of Lance

Pidge makes a joke of calling Lance “Your Highness”

Keith doesn’t like the painting

“For a man of your talents... it doesn’t look a thing like him,”

“You sir are supposed to be charming!” -Lance

“And we, Prince, are supposed to live happily ever after?” -Keith

“Says who?” -Lance

“You know... I don’t know,” -Keith

GAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY