#i'm actually writing a fic with long haired shiro cause

[noussommeslessquelettes]

I'm a sucker for number 12 if you fancy giving it a go?

bro honestly me too? It’s kinda funny bc the next chapter of Left as in Gone has this trope too! So part of me was like “do I even gotta write another thing?” but then of COURSE the answer was “absolutely u do” so yes here have a this thing.

Thanks for your patience; I hope you enjoy!

Preview: “So you’re not going to tell him?”

“I…” Lance’s voice lowered to a murmur. “You’re sure he’s asleep?”

Pidge hummed assent. “He could sleep through the apocalypse, honest.”

“So?” Hunk prompted.

Send me a ship with one of these and I’ll write a mini fic

Full disclosure, Keith had actually woken up about fifteen minutes ago. B-list action movies were the worst genre of film, as far as falling asleep in the middle of them went, and all it had taken was one (of several, he’d gleaned over the last quarter hour) car explosion too many to jolt him begrudgingly out of his slumber.

Still, he’d learned many years ago that if you fell asleep at the end of a movie, people usually didn’t expect you to help clean up after. And though the trick no longer worked with movie nights at home—not since Adam had moved in—it had worked like a charm with his new friends over the past few months. As the end credits rolled before his closed eyelids, the couch beneath him creaked under someone standing up with a yawn.

“Let’s draw a dick on his face,” Pidge muttered.

Never mind, Keith groaned internally, lamenting the loss of his sloth for the sake of his pride. He drew in a breath—

“Don’t.”

And let it go. It was almost a task to keep his slack expression from adopting a furrowed brow, because that was definitely—

“Just let him be.” The scrape of a plastic bowl on a wooden coffee table played harmony to Lance’s continued argument, the creak of the floorboards his percussion. “He deals with enough torture from us already.”

Hunk scoffed from his place on the recliner, the silence of a nonverbal communication hanging in the air before Lance’s footfalls echoed back into the room.

Lance clicked his tongue. “The things I do for him—and he’s never going to know,” he muttered.

“Probably ‘cause of how you act when he’s awake,” Hunk pointed out, the sharp click of the recliner locking back upright following suit.

“Yeah, well—” another wordless gesture, probably “—okay? I’m dealing with it the best I can.”

Keith almost rolled his eyes, figuring the vaguery was about as much reasoning as Lance could have for the continued tension between the two of them, despite Lance denouncing their purported (A.K.A. fabricated) rivalry some few weeks ago.

Until Pidge’s response, that is.

“So you’re not going to tell him?”

“I…” Lance’s voice lowered to a murmur. “You’re sure he’s asleep?”

He felt a scrutinous gaze against his skin, and he did his best to sell the slump in his body (the tension it gave him likely not helping his case, but it must’ve been enough for Pidge.)

She hummed assent. “He could sleep through the apocalypse, honest.”

“So?” Hunk prompted.

Lance sighed. “‘Course not.”

Keith bit his tongue. Could these assholes start being more specific? Or at least have the decency to leave the room so he could pretend to wake up without embroiling himself in this secret that he can’t even understand anyway?

Hunk gave a low whistle. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Does this mean loverboy Lance has hung up his bow and arrow?”

Keith’s heart kicked in his chest. Wait, loverboy? Did she mean…

“You said it yourself: it’d only freak him out if he knew—and I’m not going to do that to the group. ‘Sides, Keith needs us: his only other friends are his dog and brother-in-law, and Adam only counts on good days.” He laughed, but the others didn’t seem as eager to join in.

Hunk gave an uneasy sound. “I don’t know if Keith—”

“He would. Trust me—Pidge?”

“I…” She sighed. “I won’t say I’ve run the numbers, but it’s not exactly promising.”

“It’s not worth it,” Lance concluded. “Even if he’d stay, what’s the point? It’s not like I have a chance anyway.”

“Lance—”

“You’re going to tell me I’m a catch?” Lance interrupted, then laughed. “Please do; I need to hear it.”

Hunk joined in with a chuckle of his own. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

Lance’s hand thumped against his chest. “A man after my own heart. Pidge?”

She scoffed. “If I had to date anyone, I think you’d be one of the least offensive options out there.”

Empty beer bottles clinked against each other. “Oh, it’s an honour just to be nominated!”

“Y’need any help, bud?” Hunk called out after his retreating steps.

“Nah, you guys can head home; I got the rest of it.”

Hunk lowered his voice, clearly addressing Pidge. “Draw straws on who’s got to wake him up?”

“Just let him sleep,” Lance answered, his voice floating over the back of the couch now. “I’ll drive him home when he wakes up.”

“Ooh,” Pidge cooed, “want him all to yourself, do you?”

“Don’t want us to know how long you’re going to watch him sleep?”

“You—” Lance groaned. “I thought we were being nice to Lance tonight!”

“We were,” Pidge argued. “Hunk, we were nice, weren’t we?”

“Super nice,” Hunk agreed, “so now we get to be mean.”

“Ugh, you guys are the worst.” The couch complained as he pushed off, their voices echoing towards the front door. “Why do I tell you anything, again?”

“‘Cause we already know all of your other secrets,” Pidge replied. “You’re forced to trust us now.”

Lance sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, can’t have that shit leaked to the press.” The front door was wrenched open. “Love you, assholes.”

Hunk and Pidge’s goodbyes were a bit too quiet for Keith to discern, but soon after they were spoken, the front door slid shut, and Keith was insulated in the soft bubble of silence of Lance’s living room. He held his breath for Lance to step out of sightline long enough so he could feign rousing, practically celebrating when Lance’s footsteps led him back to the living room, hoping they’d keep on going to the kitchen.

The echo stilled, just as he reached the foot of the couch.

“Of course, you have to look adorable when you sleep, too,” he practically spat under his breath. Then he heaved a sigh, and continued to the kitchen.

The moment the sound transferred from hardwood to tile, Keith pushed himself up to sit. His stiff muscles complained, and he rolled out his shoulders as his eyes cracked open, taking in the gentle lamplight and distant kitchen light with squinted eyes. He yawned, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed his fingers into his eyelids.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Keith drew in his first full breath, turning to look over his shoulder as Lance walked back in from the kitchen. “Mm.” He cleared his throat, his voice still heavy with the sleep he hadn’t feigned earlier. He scanned the living room then as Lance passed the couch, picking up a couple empty soda cans from the coffee table. He remembered himself a little, and decided to ask, “Where’s Hunk and Pidge?”

He swore he saw Lance freeze for a split-second when he asked it, saw a tension in his shoulders dissipate when he looked Keith in the eye again. He gave an apologetic smile. “Yeah, Pidge didn’t want to wait ‘til you got up to drive you home.”

Keith almost felt uneasy under Lance’s gaze—his attention undivided in the low light, his expression soft and open, dare Keith even say fond. He had no business looking at him like that, not when Keith had just woken up, and probably had bedhead or—shit, did he? He ducked and smoothed his hair down with his hands, hoping it looked as casual as he’d envisioned it in his mind’s eye.

“Well, shit.”

“I know,” Lance laughed, leaning a hip against the far armrest, “typical Pidge, am I right? But I can drive you home, if you want.”

Keith chewed on his tongue. Should I tell him?

“Lance, listen.”

It would be easy. Keith wasn’t a good actor, anyway—and Shiro always said honesty was the best policy, especially with people you cared about.

“I heard what you guys were talking about before, and…”

And what? Keith didn’t have a good answer for him—he’d hardly believed Lance tolerated him as a friend, let alone adding the prospect of… other feelings.

“Keith?” He blinked, eyes refocusing and lifting back up to match Lance’s. Lance chuckled. “Thought you fell asleep on me again.”

“No, I…” He was far too tired to think this over properly, right now. And a ride home sounded much nicer than a half-hour walk in the cold. “Thanks.”

Lance gave him a smile that made his insides flip. “Cool. I’ll just—” He pushed off the couch. “—Let me chuck these in the kitchen, and we can go.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me again, ‘kay?” He called back from the other room.

Keith rolled his eyes, pushing up to stand. “I can manage.”

Lance hummed uncertainly. “You sure? You were completely out of it during the movie—snoring and the whole bit.”

Keith froze mid-stretch, dropping his hands with an indignant pout. “I did not snore.”

“Did too.”

“I don’t snore!”

Lance rounded back into sight, waving his keys in front of him. “And somehow I heard it with my own ears. Funny how that works.”

He winked at Keith in passing, and Keith’s stomach flipped. He gave a quiet groan, hoping that reaction wouldn’t become the norm, in the wake of this unfortunate revelation—Lance was the one with the crush, after all.

Right?

He twisted his neck until it gave a satisfying pop, then smirked when Lance inevitably vocalised his disgust at it.

[poor-sickies]

hey I'm the anon who asked for braces Lance, i was thinking maybe he had to get when he's like nineteen and feels kinda upset about having them so late when usually people get them in middle or high school? And idk he just feels self conscious and uncomfortable, plus he's hurting, so Keith tries to distract him because he went through having braces too?

Ahh this is such an old request and I’m so sorry I’m only writing it now! It was kind of a quick thing, so I hope there aren’t any mistakes. It’s also a fic that happens in my band AU. I hope you like it!

Also kudos to @cinquefoilelove who left some replies that gave me ideas for this one :)

*

“Can I come in?”

It’s Keith voice from the other side of the door, and despite their usual and familiar bickering, Lance can be sure he hasn’t come to make fun of him.

But he still wants to be alone.

He knows he’s probably making a big deal out of this – and really, it’s not even that bad, all things considered. All in all, it’s nothing worse than a simple teenage drama, in Lance’s opinion.

Except he isn’t really a teenager anymore, he’s nineteen, and nineteen year olds shouldn’t be getting braces.

It had started with some dull pains in his lower jaw, the joint clicking each time he opened his mouth, getting worse and worse until he was avoiding eating and singing because of the discomfort.

While visiting his family on Thanksgiving, his parents had noticed the problem and dragged him to a dentist. The outcome was…not pleasant. Something about a bad positioning of his jaw that needed to be fixed? Lance can’t recall the details over the dread filling his stomach, but the only solution was braces, and he was not happy.

And just because some days just kept getting worse, this morning, on his way to the dentist, he receives a call from Hunk, about a last-minute scheduled show Allura had got for them tonight, at the local University bar.

Two hours later, returning from the dentist, and he’s starting to wonder if he’s brave enough to go through with the show at all.

Just talking feels difficult enough, with all the wires and foreign pieces muddling his speech, and the new sores around his cheeks and tongue stinging at every little movement of his mouth. Not to mention the annoying and constant pressure all over his gums and jaw. If Lance had the night to himself, he would probably head to bed right after dinner with a couple of painkillers and hope it all felt a little better tomorrow.

The prospect of singing for fifty people isn’t nearly as appealing as usual when he’s in this much pain.

And looking in the mirror only reminded him of why this all had bothered him so much in the first place.

It’s no secret to anyone that Lance puts a lot of effort in his appearance. Even before stepping up as frontman of the band, his image has always been something he pays a lot of attention to. And even though he’s seen a lot of cute girls that look adorable in braces, he’s wasn’t exactly confident about how it all would look on him.

Now that he has the answer, he feels an urge to hide any mirror in sight.

How is he supposed to talk to his fans? To sing for them? He feels so unattractive and awkward, and not even his upbeat personality will help. Lance’s confidence is enough when he’s wearing his best shirts, glowing skin, crooked smirk that leaves the girls swooning, but that’s where most of it comes from.

He doesn’t care if his mother said he looked fine, these braces make him feel awkward and young all over again. He doesn’t know if he’s more embarrassed about the way he looks or the extent to which he’s taking this drama, but either way, he wants to be alone.

So no, the last thing he wants to do is to talk, even with Keith.

“I wanna be alone.”

But Keith was nothing if not persistent. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and open the damn door.”

And brutally honest, for that matter.

Lance opens the door and Keith goes in, quickly taking a seat on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed against his chest.

“So,” he starts, “you wanna talk about it?”

Lance sits cross legged in the floor, leaning against the bed. “You just told me to stop feeling sorry for myself.”

Keith is caught off guard for a moment. He was expecting Lance to just spill things out, like he usually did, but apparently, this was getting to him a bit more than usual.

“I- look, I’m just trying to help, okay? Talking usually makes you feel better, right? So talk to me.”

“It’s uncomfortable,” Lance sighs, looking down at his lap, “and my speech is all fucked up, and my tongue is cut up all over, and my teeth hurt and - it looks bad. I look like a middle school kid. It just looks so awkward…so yeah, that’s it. You happy now?”

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Keith says, “I mean, I get the pain, I’ve been there - your teeth are moving, of course it’s gonna hurt for a while - but you don’t need to feel self-conscious about it. Besides, you’re only wearing them for like… a year, is it?” Lance nods, looking down, and Keith carries on. “Try wearing them for three years, maybe then you’ll have a reason to sulk.”

Well. It’s nothing he hadn’t expected from Keith. Trust Keith to be blunt.

“You had braces for that long?” He manages to ask.

Keith nods, eyes rolling involuntarily at the unpleasant memories. “Yeah. It sucked. I’d show you pictures if I had them - I’m sure you’d feel a lot better about yourself after seeing them.”

“That bad?”

“Oh yeah,” Keith continues, “Yours look somewhat discrete, actually.”

Lance scoffs. “Yeah, they sure are really invisible,” he trails off sarcastically.

Keith sighs. This isn’t working so well.

“Do you remember last summer when you were drunk and Pidge convinced you to get a death hawk for that rock festival, and you shaved half of your head?”

“Wow Keith, is that how you’re trying to make me feel better? By bringing up all the times I looked freaking terrible?”

“Would you just hear me out?!” Keith interrupts loudly, clinging to every last ounce of patience he still has. “Do you remember what you said at the time? The next day, when you saw yourself in the mirror?”

“That I would hide in my room and never see the sunlight again…?”

“Exactly. But you got over it. Do you remember why?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Uh, cause… hair grows back?”

“No. Because you get used to it,” Keith says, “look, I’ve been there, okay? I know how much it sucks. But I can promise you, it’s not always gonna feel like that. And honestly, people don’t care that much.”

“Ugh. I hate it when you actually sound reasonable.” Lance sighs. “Alright. I’ll try to keep positive. And hope the show doesn’t go terribly.”

Keith chuckles with a fond smile. “Now will you come? We still have to get some dinner before.”

“Ah, that’s gonna be fun..” Lance rolls his eyes, and gets up. “Let’s get moving.”

*

“Hm. I see you’ve added something,” Shiro says as Lance takes a seat beside him, at their usual table at the bar.

“Yeah,” Lance chuckles, still looking down, “lucky me.”

“Oh Lance,” Allura says, “you have such a nice smile. I’m certain that’s what people notice right away.”

“I - thanks, Allura,” Lance blushes, feeling better for the first time since the day started.

“So, we were talking,” Pidge says, “and we agreed that if you’re not feeling up to it, Keith can do the vocals for most of the songs and hand you the guitar for a while.”

Keith nods, fingers still busy tuning the strings on his guitar.

“My voice is working fine,” Lance explains, “I can still do it.”

“Yeah, but we know it’s not comfortable yet, so just let us know if you need to stop, okay? And maybe take a painkiller.” Hunk reassures, giving a gentle squeeze to Lance’s forearm.

“The show starts in half an hour, we should probably have dinner now,” Shiro points out.

“Oh good, they have those amazing burritos, I’ll be set for the night!” Hunk grins, before calling the waiter.

“Ugh, guess I’ll order some water then,” Lance grumbles, rubbing his cheek, “ice cold.”

“Aw, buddy,” Hunk looks over at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you should really eat something before the show…did you even eat lunch?”

The waiter stops at the table and starts taking note of Keith and Pidge’s orders.

“Maybe some scrambled eggs?” Shiro suggests, leaning closer. He then turns to the waiter, “make them soft.”

Lance manages to eat, slowly and carefully. The painkiller starts kicking in, and the pain isn’t as bad, but talking is still uncomfortable, and he really doesn’t want to imagine how singing will turn out. The thought gives him some unusual stage fright, and it’s not a sensation he likes. He puts down his fork, and tries to relax. He’s done this dozens of times. Why is he so anxious now? The stage is usually his happy place, and it really sucks that such a tiny problem is making him feel like this.

“Hey, Lance,” Pidge calls out, tapping his shoulder. “Calm down. Your leg is bouncing like crazy.”

“I – yeah. Sorry Pidge.”

“Oh, I think we have to go now. The stage is set up,” Shiro announces, and they all get up, walking to the back to get ready.

“It’s okay, Lance,” Pidge says, plugging her bass to the amplificator, slinging the strap around her neck. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re an amazing singer. How terrible can you be? And why does it matter if it doesn’t go well? I mean, we’ve done tons of great shows, it’s not a huge deal if this one doesn’t go that great. Just relax and have fun, like you always do. That’s usually what makes our songs great.” She argues. “Besides,” she lowers her voice with a sly smile, “this place doesn’t have amazing acoustics. So even if you mess up some words, the crowd will most likely not notice. You’ll be great.”

That’s some kid of security Lance can lean on. He trusts his bandmates. This is not some new situation. He just needs to relax and have fun. Feeling revigorated, he nods. “Thanks, Pidge. Let’s do this.”

[mileean]

I'm staying anon I'm case there's hate. But I'd love to see you write something in Keith and Allura bonding? Just for the sake of strengthening their friendship. Maybe even Shallura in another small fic. And... Let's say Keith having a nightmare and waking up. So three requests. :3

Wow, anon! You kept me busy! Thank you so much. I divided them into three prompts. And maaaybe went a bit longer than I first anticipated. (S2 spoilers.)

Prompt 1: Bonding [Keith can’t sleep. Apparently, neither can Allura.]

The Castle-Ship was colossal. The sheer size of it made itentirely clear that it was not meant for such a small crew. It was impossibleto catalog all of the long empty hallways filled with unopened doors, twistingstaircases, and large viewports into empty space, but Keith had tried. Mostlybecause after Shiro’s disappearance, he hadn’t been able to sleep.

Keith was always alone on his walks through theisolating ship, so he never expected to open a door one night and find someone elsealready there. His eyes widened as he saw the princess, so out of place in thelarge, empty room in the middle of the night.

“Princess? What are you doing here in the middle of thenight?” Allura apparently didn’t expect to see him either, because she jumped.The action was quickly covered up by a tilt of her chin, and a quiet cough.

“I could ask you the same,” Allura dodged the questioneasily enough as she straightened her posture and regained a sense of regalpoise.  Keith had a momentary sensationof déjà vu, only this time he hadn’t brought all of his belongings.

“I was…” he dropped his eyes to the floor. “I couldn’tsleep. I haven’t been able to for a while.”

Allura let her arms fall to her sides. “You need your rest,”Allura chided, but it lacked her usual authority.

“So do you,” Keith frowned as he raised his eyes to meethers almost stubbornly. They hadn’t talked at all since their last fight with Zarkon,and so much had happened.

His eyes fell on the large pedestal behind her, pieces of itchipped and splintered where it once should have held something. And herecognized the room as the A.I. station that had formerly held her father’smemories. The room was mostly dark now, with the A.I. of King Alfor gone. 

“My father would know what to do to bond the team together onceagain,” Allura spoke quietly and looked away from him, but Keith could hear the vulnerability inher voice. It was so unexpected, Keith wasn’t sure how to react. “He neverfaltered in his duties to his people, his family, or his team.” The wordsAllura left unsaid spanned the empty room, heavy and oppressive in the air between them.

“For what it’s worth…” Keith found his voice after a minuteas he picked up on the subtle insecurities he was unused to hearing fromAllura. She was normally so confident, unwavering in her actions. He was terrible at comforting people, and he had no idea how to comforta princess. “We never would have made it this far without you. I think you’ve learnedmore from him than you even know.”

He wasn’t sure how to explain the look Allura gave him. Her eyeswere wide for a fraction of a second, her mouth down turned into a small frown.But she didn’t look angry exactly, so he supposed that was an improvement.

“Well then, perhaps you will listen to me as your princess whenI tell you to get some sleep. I have a full day of training prepared for themorning,” Allura crossed her arms loosely over her chest. She looked taller,lighter, even if just marginally. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, butKeith believed she looked more like her old self.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Keith shrugged. But he gave her a tiredsmile, and he saw the faintest quirk of her lips in return.

(This could easily be much longer, they have so much to talkover and the show won’t do it.)

 Prompt 2: Shallura [The team finds Shiro]

When they finally pinpointed Shiro’s whereabouts in theastral plane, the rescue mission easily became their most dangerous yet. Allurahad insisted that she come along, and any attempts to quash that decision werepromptly defeated.

She knew the most of the astral plane out of any of them,despite the fact she had never actually been there. It was a surreal experience,like moving through a dream. Heavy and expansive, and easily overwhelming.

Allura looked down at her hands and tested the weight of herstaff. It was difficult to move at first, and their first few fights with thestrange, monstrous creatures of the astral plane were not without injury. The long-time residents moved almost quicker than their eyes could follow, and it took several difficult battles to acclimate to the different atmosphere. And to imagine, Shiro was here alone.

Theair settled heavy in Allura’s lungs, but she continued to lead the group forwardwith determined, hurried steps.

When they finally found Shiro, Allura froze in place. Hisquintessence had been nearly depleted, his paladin suit ripped, body scarred,and badly damaged. His life force was dangerously low, the last flickers of afire about to sputter out.

Shiro breathed low and shallow, and his eyes barelyregistered they were there. It took him a moment, but eventually he tried tospeak.

“H-hey…” Shiro’s voice was quiet, unused and rough like it hadn’t been used for some time. “Neverthought… I’d see you again,” He managed a small smile. The sounds of relief andlaughter came all at once from the paladins behind her.

Allura stepped forward with purpose. She dropped her staff,and knelt down in front of Shiro. Without a word she raised her hands and gentlylifted his head until they were eye-to-eye.

“I’m taking you home,” Allura whispered.

 (I love this pairing. Also Allura rescuing Shiro? This needs to happen.)

Prompt 3: Nightmare

Keith couldn’t move. He stood in front of the same pair ofmassive doors that he did every night, too tall to see the top, wider than thespan of his arms. The entire room was dark, the only light came from the crackbetween the doors in front of him. But he was frozen in place, unable to move hisarms or legs.

Somehow he felt that behind the door was something dangerousand powerful, something he didn’t want to face. His heart beat so fast hethought he might get sick, his hands and arms prickled, and the adrenaline thatcoursed through him caused his brain to scream at him to run.

But he couldn’t run. All he could do was stand and stare asthe doors opened further, and further. The sound of old wood creaking filledthe vast, empty space and did nothing for his nerves. He tried to turn his head away.He tried to shout or close his eyes.

His hands clenched at his sides, and that’s when he realizedhe had his blade. The hilt felt heavy and comfortable in his hand. It wasn’tquite his Bayard, but it would do. He thrust forward towards the door, analmost feral shout ripped from his throat.

The blade met resistance, the sound unmistakable. It didn’tsquish exactly, the sound too quiet. He had plunged it deep into someone,between plates of armor. It was a Galran soldier, but not one of the droids.The feeling of hard resistance against his blade sickened him, and as the helmeted figure turnedto look at him Keith saw his reflection. There was blood on his face, and avicious look in his eyes that he didn’t recognize.

He pulled back and let the weapon fall with the soldier ashe staggered to the ground. Keith’s whole body shook.

He woke to the sound of his own screaming. He didn’t even realize that could happen. It took him along moment to come to terms with the fact he wasn’t in a dark room, but in his own room back onthe ship. He was on his back, sheets tangled around his legs, hands grippingthe mattress, pillow on the floor. He was freezing. His body was covered in alight sweat, hair lightly plastered to his face and neck.

When he finally unclenched his fists, his hands actuallyhurt. He pushed his hair back from his face, and blinked several more times tomake sure he was really awake. The dark room with the door did not reappear. Neither did the soldier he killed.

He disentangled himself from the sheets and madehis way to the bathroom. He didn’t bother with the lights, he was used to thisby now. Instead he splashed cold water on his face, pushed it through his hair,and breathed into the palms of his hands.

And then he counted backwards from twenty until his heartrate returned to normal. “Just a dream,” he said, “Just a dream.”