#dad coran

[autisticlancemcclain]

While making his final nightly rounds of the castle, Coran sees the training room lights on, and seconds later he hears a frustrated yell ring through the hallway. He sighs, knowing he’s in for an argument with their newly appointed black paladin, and it’s far too late to ask Lance to do it. (He has a much easier time convincing Keith to take a break. Coran is at a complete loss as to how he does it — one moment they’re arguing, at each other’s throats, and Coran is convinced that not only is Keith going to double down and refuse a break but that they’ve destroyed their relationship in the process. The next second Keith is agreeing to a meal and a full night’s rest. It’s absolutely flabbergasting, how Lance does it.)

Reminding himself to be firm, he pushes open the training room doors, mouth already open to remind the boy that rest is of equal if not more importance than training.

But the words die on his tongue, because Number Four is not the one training so late at night, for once.

Lance lets out another frustrated yell, angrier than the one Coran heard before, and runs at the gladiator. He swings his sword — his sword? — at its torso, but the manoeuvre is sloppy, anger making his movements choppy and predictable. The gladiator dodges easily, and with one more furious growl Lance throws his sword at the training room’s emergency power kill switch, making the gladiator dematerialize mid-swing and plunging the room into darkness.

For a moment there’s only silence, except for the red paladin’s heavy panting, and then he sighs, and there’s the unmistakable sound of his sword clattering to the ground and him flopping down after it. The emergency lights flicker on, confirming Coran’s thoughts. Lance lays sprawled on the ground, hand pressed harshly to his eyes.

“I want to go home,” he mutters defeatedly, clearly not intending anyone to hear.

Coran waits a moment, processing all he has just witnessed. Then he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and clears his throat. Lance screeches at the top of his lungs, scrambling to his feet and looking around frantically.

“It’s just me, lad,” Coran rushes to assure.

“Jesus fucking — you scared me, Coran!” He presses a hand to his presumably galloping heart, panting. “Fucksake!”

Coran can’t quite bite back his smile. “Deepest apologies.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lance says, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t look upset. “What’s up?”

Coran hums, rocking back slightly on his heels. He gestures to Lance’s forgotten sword, which has returned to its bayard form. “I could ask you the same.”

Lance’s expression turns bitter again, and he glares at his bayard. “Oh, that.” He kicks at it slightly. “Nothing to worry about. I promise I’ll get the hang of this stupid thing soon.”

In the decaphoebe or so they’ve been in space together, Coran has spent a lot of time with Lance. He quite likes the boy’s company, and enjoys exchanging stories of home with him. He’s seen Lance excited, bubbly, seen him determined, even seen him insecure. He’s seen almost every mix of emotions he’s ever seen on a person when Keith is brought up in conversation — which is frequently.

But he’s not sure he’s ever seen Lance look so bitter and defeated, before. It’s an unsettling expression to see on his usually cheerful face.

“I was unaware you’d unlocked a third bayard form,” he starts carefully.

Lance scoffs. “Yeah. Because every stupid thing has to change, now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything, Coran,” Lance repeats, throwing his arms up in the air in frustration. “First we lose Shiro, which is probably the worst thing that could ever happen. I mean, Shiro, who is probably the most important person on this team and who has already been through enough. And then Blue decides she doesn’t like me anymore, and I have to go to Red, who would rather Keith than me any day of the week, and then I get to look even more like Keith’s replacement when I get this stupid sword!” He scoops up his bayard, and, as he glares at it, it glows in his hand, stretching into a heavy broadsword. He drops it again in disgust and it clatters to the floor, glowing again as it changes back. “I dunno if I can even get a gun anymore, because clearly Lance McClain has nothing to offer. Point fucking taken.”

Coran blinks, more than a little shocked at the onslaught of real pain in Lance’s voice.

No wonder he’s been so withdrawn lately.

At Coran’s silence, Lance begins to shift uncomfortably, guilt beginning to cloud his brown eyes.

“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I can handle it. I swear. It’s just been something of a rough night, is all.”

“Oh, Lance,” Coran says, rushing forward to pull the boy into his arms. Lance resists for a moment, tense, but then he sags forward, letting Coran hold his weight.

“This sucks, Coran. I’m not good enough anymore.”

Coran holds him tighter, rapidly trying to formulate a way to fix this. It turns out that it is insecurity, as much as it’s bitterness — Coran has noticed that it always takes Lance time to fully adjust to big changes, but at the same time he gets frustrated with himself when he can’t handle the new status quo with ease. He hates it when he feels like he’s falling short.

Coran might have an idea.

He squeezes Lance once more, then pulls back slightly, still resting a hand on his shoulder. “You are more than good enough,” he says firmly. He shushes Lance’s immediate protests, continuing on. “You are adjusting, dear. We all are. You’re allowed to struggle for a moment.”

“We can’t afford time for me to struggle,” Lance argues.

Coran raises an eyebrow. “We are fighting an empire that has dominated for longer than your planet has had civilization. We don’t have time to eat or sleep. And yet, we must make time.”

Lance hesitates, then scowls. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Coran laughs, patting him on the back as he guides him to the door. “Then you’re going to hate my suggestion to have some rest.”

“You’re right. I do. Also, no.”

Lance tries to resist, but Coran easily yanks him along. “How unfortunate.”

Lance continues to resist, so Coran decides to let him in on his plan — at least a little.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he starts, and Lance immediately looks intrigued. “You go to bed now, and tomorrow evening after regular training and supper, you meet me here. I’ll help you learn how to use that sword to your strengths.”

Lance perks up. “Really? You know how to use this thing?”

Coran smiles. “I have a few ideas.”

———

part two

[mushed-kid]

voltron as textposts etc. 33

(featuring @gilyoungroach who also came up with the last one)

[spacecowboy-01]

HAPPY EIGHTH BIRTHDAY SHIROOOOOOOO

You are an awesome space dad and will always be one of my personal favorites! You have gone through so much but you pulled through. You really are a diamond in the rough. You’re an amazing character and (again) an amazing space dad!

(Yes eighth, in 2016 he was 6, 2020 he was 7, 2024 he’s 8) correct me if I’m wrong please lol

[klanced]

lance: yeah so this is earth. it’s kind of lame but like also very wonderous. there’s something to be said about finding beauty in the smaller moments-

pidge: do you guys want to go to build-a-bear?

coran: build a WHAT?

pidge: .. honestly did not think it would warrant that kind of response

coran: do you promise.

pidge: ?

allura: oh that sounds like fun! 

coran: can we go.

pidge: yeah sure!!!

(later)

coran: (sulking on the ship)

lance: .. coran, what did you think build-a-bear meant-

coran: i don’t want to talk about it.

[sockdooe]

You know what? Happy Father’s Day to the one and only Coran hieronymus wimbleton smythe!!!!

The real father of Voltron :,)

[rorimoon9597]

Tw for mentions of inhumane experimentation and murder.

_______________________________________

They'd been fighting the Galra as they usually did when it happened. They were being overwhelmed and growing tired, so Allura opened a wormhole to get them to a safer galaxy.

Apparently, one of the cruisers they were fighting had a Druid on board, and had corrupted their wormhole. Again.

"Shiro!" Pidge called out, frantic as she lost all control of Green and thrown out of the wormhole. Yellow followed, and all Shiro heard of Hunk before his comms cut out was his screaming.

"What do we do?" Lance said, just as frantically as Pidge. Blue and Red were thrown out as well, so Shiro didn't have time to reply.

Black was also thrown out of the wormhole, right into the atmosphere of a planet that he didn't know anything about. Desperately, he tried to gain control of Black, but she wasn't responding.

They crashed into trees which were, for some reason, blue. Shiro didn't have time to think of the scientific reasons behind it, because he was busy trying not to get a serious injury.

When everything stopped moving, he opened his eyes and started to move his body, bit by bit. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell, so that was good. He'd definitely have bruising and maybe a concussion, but he was rather lucky that nothing was broken.

"Guys? Are you there? Allura? Lance? Keith?" No reply. Sighing, Shiro got out of his seat and climbed out of Black.

The forest was dense, and there were so many sounds. It was spooky, being there alone. Shuddering, Shiro decided to get started on a camp. The others would come soon enough. He just had to wait.

So he walked through the forest, taking note of his surroundings so that he would be able to make it back to Black when he was done doing... Whatever it was he was doing.

Because he didn't know why, but he felt as if something was off. It was so strong, that he had to investigate.

The answer to his question came soon enough when he saw a Galra base hidden under the canopy of trees. The black of the metal and harsh purple of the lights made the place stand out like a sore thumb.

He went in, managing to bypass the guards outside. Carefully, he made his way to what he assumed was the control room. Making sure that no one was there, he went up to the console and put his Galra arm on it, downloading the information for Pidge to look through once he was back at the castle.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" One of the facility personnel asked. Shiro barely thought. He ran at them and pinned them to the wall, hand glowing dangerously.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I won't-"

"Tell me or it's your life," he threatened. He pushed back the memories of the gladiator pit, grounding himself in the present.

"We- we're working on an experiment here."

"Tell me about this experiment," Shiro ordered. The Galra eyed his arm, still glowing purple and dangerous, before replying.

"We're working on a secret experiment that Zarkon doesn't know about. We want to surprise him with a weapon, but unfortunately the weapon has to be grown from a baby for the experiment to work."

"Do you have a baby?" Shiro asked, voice deadly.

"Y-yes. Project Altn-251."

He had enough.

The Galra slid to the floor, neck sliced open.

He allowed for himself to turn off his mind, to go berserk on the Galra scientists. His body acted on instinct born from being forced to fight to survive, hand glowing purple.

He came back to himself, he was covered in blood. He swayed on his feet for a few moments, before going and finding the bathroom. He scrubbed off the blood, scrubbing his Galra arm as if it were the one he was born with.

When he was done, he took some deep breaths and went to find where the test subject, Altn-251, the Galra had called it, lived.

It was fairly easy to. He placed his hand on the scanner and opened the door. He walked into the room, unsurprised when he saw a crib. He walked up to it and looked inside.

"How the fuck-"

_______________________________________

Ch 2 Ch3

[chuuyaandreaderkilldazai]

ZARKON IS KEITH’S MOM!!?!?!!!!?!

[xanfeursel]

the more I think about it the more it's like. insane coran has exactly 0 mention of him in bg3

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Lance, if those are my socks, you’re going to meet God tonight.”

Lance pauses just outside the common room door, glancing down at his feet (that are most definitely clad in Pidge’s gigantic knitted socks), then back to Pidge.

“I’m freezing!” he defends. “This castle is always subzero, and I’m anaemic! I needed them!”

Pidge scowls. “I know they’re warm! That’s why I wanted to wear them this morning, but couldn’t, because somebody stole them!”

Lance pouts, big brown eyes getting even bigger and bottom lip stuck out. “Aw, but Pidge —”

“No buts! You made those socks for me! Make your own! Give ‘em!”

Lance huffs as he peels them off — revealing another pair of socks, only they’re normal and not fuzzy and soft — and throws them at her.

“Meanie.”

“Thief!”

Pidge is correct — Lance is the worst clothes thief in the whole castle. In the universe, probably. Hell, he’s not even wearing a stitch of his own clothing right now — he’s wearing a long, thick skirt of Allura’s over a pair of Keith’s leggings, one of Hunk’s hoodies thrown over his shoulder. Keith can’t see due to the aforementioned giant hoodie, but he would bet his knife that under the hoodie is layered at least four various sweaters and shirts from other members of the team.

“You could just wear your own clothes, you know,” Shiro says, exasperatedly fond. “Lord knows you have more hoodies than the rest of the universe combined.”

“It’s not the same,” Lance insists. He looks mournfully at Pidge, who rolls her eyes at him. “And now I’m going to freeze to death.”

“Good,” she mutters, aggressively jamming the keys on her laptop. “Karma.”

Hunk flicks her on the ear.

“Hey!”

“Be nice,” he admonishes.

“Thank you,” Lance says primly.

“If Lance dies, who is going to get so stressed about the state of your room that they’ll clean if for you?” Hunk continues, teasing grin on his face.

Lance mouth drops in indignation. “How dare — insolence! Defamation! False accusations! I am being mocked in my own home!” He turns to Coran, dramatically incensed and enraged. “Dad!” he says, which is something he only calls Coran when he wants to get his way. “Pidge and Hunk are bullying me!”

“I heard, dear,” Coran says, amused. “How rude of them.”

“Yeah!” Lance says. He gestures wildly towards the duo in question. “They should be — punished!”

“I see. Pidge? Hunk? Do you deserve to be punished?”

Pidge and Hunk look up from their projects to bat their eyelashes, expressions as innocent as possible.

Keith quickly hides a laugh as a cough. Luckily, Lance is too caught up in dramatics to notice.

“Why, of course not, dearest father,” Hunk says. “No bullying remarks ever crossed my lips.”

“Nor have they crossed mine, Papa,” Pidge agrees, putting on a silly Victorian accent. “Why, I am appalled at the very accusation!”

“I certainly heard no count of defamation,” Allura comments, looking up for the first time in what has to have been an hour. She’s been carefully painting Shiro’s prosthetic, covering it in a myriad of flowers and vines. Shiro keeps looking down at it and smiling. “Shiro? Did you hear anything?”

“Not a thing,” Shiro says. He looks over at Lance, barely suppressing a smirk. “Sorry, kiddo!”

“Betrayed!” Lance whines. “Unloved! By my very family, my comrades in arms! I have been shot, abandoned, left to rot. Unto no minds doth my very self cross, nor the hearts or sentiments of my closest loves. Instead I am left to freeze, to perish, as frost grows from my fingertips —”

“C’mere, Mercutio,” Keith teases, interrupting Lance’s soliloquy. He pats the cushion next to him, lifting up his arm so Lance knows what Keith is implying. “You can tuck your feet under my thighs, if you want.”

“Finally!” Lance cries, stumbling over to Keith. “Someone loves me, in this cold and weary hellscape of treason!”

Lance settles in with a relish, gleefully shoving his toes under Keith’s thigh — how do they feel like ice bricks, he’s wearing at least two normal pairs of socks and Keith’s sweatpants aren’t that thin — and plastering himself to Keith’s side. He rests his head on Keith’s shoulder, squiggling around until he’s comfortable and can see everyone else.

“Keith, you are the only valid person in this room,” he says, very seriously. (Well, as seriously as he can with amusement making his eyes sparkle.)

“Oh, how the turntables,” Hunk mutters.

Keith smiles. It is kind of strange, he supposes.

“Imagine trying to explain this to us three years ago,” he whispers to Lance. Lance laughs.

“I don’t think past me would even begin to take you seriously,” he agrees.

Privately, Keith thinks that past him probably wouldn’t have all that much trouble. He’d be a little shocked, sure, but Keith’s always been soft for the kind ones, and always had a thing for the cocky loudmouths. Lance is a lucky mix of exactly Keith’s type.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says after a while. “Genuinely asking — why do you always steal all our clothes? You never did at the Garrison. Or, well, you did, but not this much.”

Lance hums, reaching over to grab Keith’s free hand and fidgeting with his fingers. It takes him a long moment to answer — long enough that everyone else stops what their doing, looking over at him curiously.

“Hundreds of years ago,” he says finally, voice husky and quiet, “in the time of bad spirits and changelings, there lived a woman with her small child and husband. The woman loved her husband deeply, and he her, and it saddened her every time he left, but times were tight — he was a fisherman in a time of great recession, and had to leave often and for long periods of time to get enough for them to eat and sell.

“The woman was hardy, though, and fended well for herself and her baby even without her husband. She worked any job she could with the babe strapped to her back, keeping her mind busy so the loneliness wouldn’t plague her too deeply. Every morning she held for several moments her husband’s waistcoat, that he’d left behind for fear of ruining it out at sea. It did not hold the warmth of her husband, nor even the smell of him after so long, but he’d had the coat so long that she felt it carried a part of him in it, and that part was enough to carry her through the day.

“One day, while she was gathering the dried laundry from the lines, she heard a rustling inside the house. She called out, hopeful that her husband had returned early, but there was no response. Hesitantly, careful of the babe on her back, she crept in through the bedroom window, shrouding herself in shadows so as to remain hidden.

“She was smart to be so cautious, for a fairy had snuck in — and was standing gleefully in the kitchen! The wretched thing crouched by the hearth, rubbing its hands together, waiting for her and her babe to come in through the door.

“Now the woman knew she could not stay hidden forever. Eventually her back would tire, or the babe would wake, or even the fairy would grow bored of waiting and search for her — regardless, she would be found. And the woman was no witch, so she knew no spells for herself, no charms to protect herself and the child. She had only herself, her wits, and the laundry she had gathered. The woman was not ignorant to magic, either. She knew of the power that lay dusted over every single thing; the spirit that resided in living and non-living things alike.

“But the woman was young, and unpracticed. What say she of the powers that be? She did not know how to summon them. She did not know how she could outwit or out-charm a fairy. She did not know even if it was possible. In truth she was afraid, and longed for comfort as deeply as safety. She tightened her hands on her husband’s waistcoat, the softness of the wool soothing her mind, and wrapped it carefully around her and the babe. The memory of her husband and his love bolstered her spirit and cleared her mind. She could not fight the fairy, but perhaps she could reason with it. Fairies were wicked, but they were weak to games and bets.

“With her husband’s coat wrapped around her, she stepped out of the shadows, striding forward with confidence she did not feel to the kitchen, where the fairy was crouched.

“But the fairy did not stir.

“She looked at it strangely, having expected it to react immediately to the sounds of her footsteps, but it did not move. It only scowled deeply at the door, thin lips curled and porcelain-white skin purple in rage.

“‘Horrible humans!’ it screeched, banging its gnarled fists on the floor. ���Anticipated my tricks, and fled from the house! Bah! I have waited for hours; I shall wait no longer. I will return tomorrow at the set of the sun, and descend upon them then.’ And then the fairy ran from the house, disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

“The woman was shocked. She had made no effort to conceal herself, after the shadows, and yet the fairy had not noticed her. She realized clearly that her husband’s spirit, caught in the threads of his coat, had protected her and her babe, and the fairy could not see through it. She resolved to stay wrapped up in the coat until the fairy grew bored of her home and left her in peace.

“For weeks, the woman kept her and her infant wrapped in the coat. It was with her when she slept, and when she worked, and when she ate. She kept herself secure in the heaviness of the worn wool, and over time the fairy did grow bored of waiting, coming to the house less and less until it did not come at all. Still she wore the coat, as wearing it brought her strength, brought her comfort.

“When her husband finally returned from sea, she ran to him, embracing him tightly and settling in his warmth, his scent. He carried the security of the waistcoat tenfold, and she had touched him only for minutes.

“When she told him of the fairy and the waistcoat, he was glowing in his pride of her. ‘You are as bright as any of the stars,’ he told her, cupping her face gently. ‘Fairies are evil, wretched creatures, who have been blinded to love. By wearing my waistcoat you shrouded yourself in a spirit the fairy could not see, and so it could not harm you. Your faith and love outwitted the bitter heart of the fairy.’”

No one speaks for several minutes after Lance finishes, struck silent by the captivating stillness in the room, the magic present from the story.

“That’s the story my Nana would tell me when she was teaching me how to sew, how to knit,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “She told me not to make the stitches too tight or there wouldn’t be room for love to settle in the clothing. And it just — it makes me feel safer, I guess. To be wearing other people’s clothes.”

“That’s beautiful,” Shiro says, smiling softly. Lance smiles back.

“Your Nana?” Pidge questions. “I would’ve thought you’d call her Abuela.”

“Well,” Lance says, in a startlingly good Scottish accent. “The McClain half ‘a me family had to come from somewhere, eh, lass?”

“I didn’t know you were Scottish,” Keith says quietly. It does make sense — McClain is a very Scottish name, now that he thinks of it — but somehow he’d never considered it.

“His mom’s side is,” Hunk chimes in. “That’s why he’s so freckly.”

Lance chuckles. “Yep. Only my Nana was born there, though. She fled to Cuba to escape my shithead grandfather when she was pregnant with my mom. She grabbed her passport and her purse and hauled ass to the airport in the middle of the night, and chose the first and cheapest flight available, which on that particular day was to Cuba. Lucky for her it ended up working, and now I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

“She sounds awesome,” Pidge says.

“She is. She taught me how to shoot, too.”

“I’d like to meet her, when we get to Earth,” Allura declares.

“Oh, she’ll love you, ‘Llura. Badass leader of an intergalactic revolution? You’re the coolest thing she can conceptualise.”

Allura looks pleased at the compliment.

“She’ll love all of you, in fact,” Lance continues. “Almost as much as she loves me. I’m her favourite.”

“You’re everyone’s favourite,” Coran says, and no one can really disagree.

———

based on this post

[mushed-kid]

it’s not everyday your daughter dies

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

“For the right amount of money, anyone’s a prostitute. That’s like, Living 101.”

-Coran, probably

[sunthroughtherust]

oh hey another annoying fandom, time to say how much i hate how people portray the found family trope as exactly the same as the nuclear family as if found family isn't supposed to be inherently queer and almost unexplainable to normal people

[b-h-art]

Shiro: I understand that this is how you guys bond but please find some other activities that you both enjoy

Keith: Wh-Wh a t b o n din g????? WEh aRE NOT bOndING WHAT THE HELL SHIRO I DONT ENJOY THIS ???????? What’re you talking about *turns to lance* This is all your fault!!

Lance: Oh yea??? Well I suppose your stupid mullet can’t even conjure up something like that so yea I agree

Keith: Oh yea???? You’re on sharpshooter

Shiro: facepalms

One of the key components of klance that I think is often missed in fics or other fan content is the fact that both Keith and Lance have to be equally invested in the smallest most insignificant bullshit. Too often I see Keith being depicted as begrudgingly going along with lances rivalry stuff and you are fools if you depict him like that. He is just as invested, if not more in the insignificant bullshit as Lance is.

Stop depicting Keith as a begrudging participant and start depicting him as what he truly is: big of heart and dumb of ass

[whyshouldilistentoyou]

VOLTRON AS STUPID SHIT PEOPLE HAVE SAID

Lance: “Animating Titanic, but everyone is Leggy Frog”

Keith: “Be gay do crime. Both steps are optional”

*In science class* Hunk: “My mind might explode” Pidge: “Like the Big Bang” *ba dum tsh*

Shiro: “Step one: get a gun”

Matt: “These kids were ugly af”

Allura: “Is this what it’s like to loose your virginity?” Lance: “I don’t know, I’ve never had sex”

Coran: “Then just go with your dad!” Keith: “You know he isn’t the liveliest of people”

Pidge: “verbally assault the ferret”

Hunk: “EAT YOUR ORANGE PEEL”

[rorimoon9597]

Ch 1

---------

He had only planned on going into the base and getting information, then to get the baby out of there when he found out about it.

Now, it had been a few hours, and he was back in his lion, staring down at this sleeping baby.

She was peaceful, wrapped up in a thin baby blanket, but Shiro had so many questions.

Altn-251.

Altean 251.

How many had they experimented on?

How'd they even get an Altean child? Because he only knew two.

Well, three now, he supposed, because the base he'd infiltrated had been hiding an Altean child that looked to be around two or three months old.

She was cute, though, he had to admit that.

Her hair was a soft pink, like cherry blossoms in the spring. Her eyes and Altean marks were purple, and she was sleeping in his arms peacefully.

'Allura and Coran are going to be so confused yet happy to know that they're not the only ones,' Shiro thought to himself.

The baby had been awake when Shiro first saw her. Her scared eyes turned to well... Less scared. She seemed to know that he was there to get her out, and she'd fallen asleep pretty quickly. He was glad, because it meant that she didn't have to see the blood and lifeless bodies all over the place.

He'd nearly thrown up as he got out of that place.

Black sent him a message, and Shiro sighed in relief.

"I guess it's time to return home, huh?" He asked. Black agreed.

He put the baby, which he'd already named Sakura, into a special cot that apparently Alfor had put in all of the lions for cases like this. He sent a thanks to the dead king that he'd thought ahead like this.

Shiro sat down in the pilot's seat and moved Black, guiding her into the atmosphere and out of it.

"Guys, are you there?" He said into his comms.

"Shiro! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Princess, though I crashed into a planet that had a base filled with people wanting to experiment on a baby," he said.

"A baby?!" Coran asked, genuinely upset and angry.

"Yes. I've dealt with all of the personnel and I have the baby with me, she's asleep right now."

"Coran, go prepare a room for the baby. I believe that we should still have my old things from when I was one in the storage," Allura said.

"Yes, Princess."

"Shiro, I'm going to need your coordinates so that I can open a wormhole to get you and the baby back quicker."

"On it," he replied. He easily sent off his coordinates. Moments later, a wormhole opened in front of him.

He flew Black through it. Seeing the castle again gave him a sense of relief. He wasn't as tense as before, even when he had Sakura in his arms.

He landed Black in her hangar. The entire team, including Coran, were already there. Shiro sighed with relief.

They were safe. The kids in his care were safe, and they were home.

He went and grabbed Sakura, wrapping the blanket to cover her head. Then he grabbed the things he'd managed to get from that place - the baby formula was one of them - and left Black.

"Is this the little one you found?" Coran asked, peering at Sakura.

"She is. Although, I have no clue as to how she exists," Shiro replied.

"What do you mean?" Allura asked, curiously. Shiro pulled away the bit of blanket covering Sakura's head.

"Because her people are supposed to be dead."

The entire team gasped. Allura and Coran stared at the baby in his arms. Sakura moved, and her eyes opened. She looked at the princess.

"Hello, there," Allura said. Sakura made a noise at her. "You're so adorable! Your ears, too! Oh, I'm so glad to meet you."

"You can hold her," Shiro said. Allura looked up at him, smiled, and took Sakura from his arms.

That snapped the others out of their stupor.

"What were they planning on doing to her?" Keith asked.

"I don't know, but I made sure to download all of the information I could," Shiro replied.

"We'll have a look at that information in a tick. I just need to make sure that you and the little one are both okay," Coran said.

"Sakura," he said.

"Sakura?" Allura repeated. Shiro nodded.

"Yeah. I... I decided to name her so... I went with Sakura."

"That's what the Japanese call the cherry blossoms. They only bloom for a couple of weeks in spring, so there's this whole viewing. The flowers are pink," Keith supplied. Allura smiled.

"I think that it's the perfect name for you. Don't you think so?" Sakura made another sound in reply to Allura.

"Let's go check over you and little Sakura here." Shiro nodded.

All of them made their way to the infirmary, where Shiro and Sakura were scanned. Luckily, Shiro had a minor concussion and bruising. Sakura was in good health.

Pidge took plenty of videos and photos of Sakura, while Lance cooed at her and played games with her.

"We were able to set up a room for her using many of Allura's old things, so she should be quite comfortable," Coran informed him. Shiro nodded, watching as the three teens and the mice fussed over Sakura.

"That's good. I'm honestly glad I got thrown onto that planet."

"You said that you took care of the scientists there?" Keith asked.

Shiro could only nod, barely able to keep away from the fuzzy memories that tried to creep into his mind and take over him.

"We'll have to take a look at that information you got soon. Perhaps when Sakura is sleeping."

"Yeah."

It didn't take long for Sakura to fall asleep again. Lance said that it was probably the excitement of meeting friendly people. Shiro had to agree.

So they put her down for a nap in Allura's old crib. Then, with a baby monitor in hand, they went to decipher the information that Shiro had the foresight to gather.

So they crowded around one of the desks in Green's hangar, where Pidge opened up Shiro's arm and plugged in a few wires to get to the information.

Pidge sucked in a giant breath.

"What's it say?" Lance asked.

"It says that Sakura is the 251st test subject. All of the other ones died because of the intensity of the tests. Not only that, but they were planning on turning her into a monster and setting her against us."

"Then it is very good that Shiro found her before then." All of them nodded.

Shiro knew what it was like to be turned into a weapon, to have what made a person themselves ripped away slowly until they were a shell of who they were.

He could still barely crack the jokes he used to make. In fact, none of the others except for Keith knew that he used to make them.

A hand on his shoulder, Keith's hand, pulled him out of his thoughts. Good thing, too, because he might have spiralled farther than he wanted.

"I'm glad that I got her out of there." He admitted.

"We all are, Shiro. However, we can not afford for the Galra Empire to hear of her. I don't want to know what would happen if they did, so we can not risk it."

"Allura's right. We can leave her on the ship with me during missions of all kinds. I have taken care of not only Allura when she was a baby, but also my own children." This revelation made the Humans look at each other.

Coran had lost his family when Altea was destroyed, just as Allura had lost her father.

"Alright well, that sounds good. We leave her here when we have missions, and take turns caring for her," Shiro said.

"That sounds like a good plan," Allura confirmed.

"That also means that we will have to keep other diplomats from knowing of her existence, so everyone who lives on this ship is sworn to secrecy," Pidge added.

"We'd all keep her a secret from diplomats regardless, Pidge," Keith pointed out. Pidge just shrugged.

"I'm just trying to make sure that everyone's on the same page here," she told him.

"We all are," Shiro confirmed.

"Sakura's cuteness is too precious to be shared with anyone else," Lance commented.

"I agree with Lance on that. Though wouldn't it be a good idea to socialise her with other children?" Hunk asked.

That was a very good point.

Sakura was going to need to get used to other children and learn how to share, be kind, and all of that. Letting her hang out with other children her age would be a good idea.

"We can let the Olkari know of her existence, though they will be sworn to secrecy, as Pidge said earlier. However, I do believe that they will not tell anyone else about Sakura," Allura said. She gave them all a smile. "I will talk to Ryner about this subject as soon as I am able to." 

They separated then, going off to do their own things. Pidge continued to scan through the information, joined by Lance who was the most fluent in Altean compared to the rest of them. Hunk went to make something for lunch, and Coran went off to check on everything within the castle. Keith joined Shiro.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. Keith shook his head.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just… need to talk to you about something,” he replied. Shiro tilted his head, curious. 

“Not here. I… I don’t want the others to know just yet…”

“Oh. So a secret thing?” Shiro asked. Keith nodded. “Let’s go to the training deck. You can tell me there.”

“Okay.”

They walked there in silence, side by side. Two brothers, going to beat each other up and talk about a secret that the youngest trusted the oldest with.

Shiro had to laugh at that.

“What?”

“We’re basically brothers, and we’re on our way to beat each other up,” Shiro replied.

“You’re a dumbass,” Keith said, shaking his head. He was smiling though.

They entered the training room and got ready, standing in position and waiting for the other to make a move.

As always, it was Keith who moved first. He tried to punch Shiro. Shiro blocked it and swung at him. Keith managed to dodge the move, then made to kick Shiro, forcing them apart.

“So, what’d you want to tell me?” He asked, dodging another hit.

“My crush,” Keith replied. He dodged a kick aimed at his head.

“Any progression with that? Have you maybe kissed him?” That threw Keith off long enough for Shiro to knock him off his feet. Unfortunately, Keith was able to steady himself. He attempted to swipe at Shiro. 

“We ended up on the same planet together,” Keith replied, standing up and aiming a high kick at Shiro. He moved out of the way and grabbed Keith’s leg, pulling the younger to the ground and pinning him.

“And?” Shiro prompted.

“He may have thought that we maybe weren’t going to survive, and he might have kissed me.” Shiro grinned. He laid down on the ground next to Keith, putting his feet up in the air and resting his head on his hands as if he were a teenage girl talking about crushes with her friends.

“Do tell, Keith. Did you like it? Did you kiss him back? Do you want to marry him and have five babies?”

“What the fuck?” Keith asked. Shiro snorted.

“Just tell me,” he insisted. Keith laid himself flat on the floor, face smushed into it.

“I… liked it. And I kissed him back. And now I want to find him and make out with him.” Shiro laughed, causing Keith to glare at him. The red covering his face made it hard to take him seriously, though.

“You’re in love,” he teased. Keith got up and launched himself at Shiro. They ended up wrestling on the floor, going back and forth until they were lying side by side, breathless.

“I think I am,” Keith said. His voice was so quiet that Shiro almost didn’t hear him.

Almost.

“Don’t let the opportunity slip by you now that you know that he feels this way about you,” he advised, looking at Keith. His brother turned his head to look at him, studying him for long moments.

“I won’t,” he promised. Shiro smiled at him.

They returned to sparring a while later, talking about anything and everything, exchanging jokes and insulting each other like siblings did, laughing together.

Ch3

[vee-is-a-clown]

Ok you know what makes me angry? Why is Allura so mature and humble? She's a daddy's girl only child princess who was set to inherit a flourishing kingdom. Sure, she's well educated and probably elegant and graceful and tactful because that's how she was raised to act for diplomatic reasons but she was also probably spoiled throughout her adolescence. She probably got whatever she wanted whenever she wanted because her family had the resources to give it to her. Who's to say she isn't a spoiled brat who can otherwise act kind and approachable? Even if she isn't a brat, she was still handed her life on a silver platter. She has to learn how to operate and be self sufficient.

When she gets out of that pod, she should be scared. She should be angry. And she deserves to be so. Her father that she relied on for just about everything shoved her into a sleeping pod and suddenly she's awoken by someone who isn't him. Logically, that means he lost. She should be kicking and screaming. She should be having the worst panic attack ever. She should be mourning everyone and everything she's ever known. She should be mourning the status quo that will never again be maintained. She should be mourning the future that can never come to fruition.

She has to figure out life without any system or technology that she's ever relied on. Coran doesn't know how to fix and maintain everything. She's like one of those people that wake up from 10+ year comas and don't understand modern technology. She is my dad who has had the same flip phone since forever and now must figure out how to use a phone with a touch screen.

Every luxury she had as a princess is gone. The castle chef who knew exactly how she liked her food. Her mother's ladies in waiting who told her the castle gossip. Her own ladies in waiting who'd sneak out to festivals and other trivial things with her. The cleaners that arranged her room exactly as she liked it. HER MOM. I don't care if she was a daddy's girl, she still has got to miss her mom.

I feel like she should've had more outbursts. Seeing Keith in the red paladin armor should've made her cry. In fact, all of them should have. The new paladins in their armor is a symbol of a new era- an era without the people she loves. She deserves to scream at the top of her lungs and lock herself in her room and trash something. She should be yelling that life isn't fair. She should be angry. She should be so angry.

I don't care if she's trying to hold it together for the paladins in the show. She's holding together too well. She needs more moments of instability. She needs to grieve. She needs to be tired. She needs to be imperfect.