#kwmonth

[callaeidae3]

[justheretobreakthings]

Whumptober Day 1: Shaky Hands

Okay, I’m trying really hard to get back into the Writing Mindset, so I’m doing some little ficlets for @whumptober2019 and - for this one and no doubt for others too - @kwmonth. Hopefully this will help me be ready to dive back into some of my longer ongoing fics later on, but for now, enjoy a quick scrap of whump!

“Keith! There you are!” Hunk raced toward the spot of bright side he’d spotted among the rubble, heart in his throat. When that Galra artillery craft had blown, they had been near enough to be caught right at the edge of the blast zone. Hunk had managed to get his shield up just in time, but Keith had been farther out than him, and Hunk wasn’t whether Keith had been able to withstand it as effectively.

Relief flood Hunk as he drew closer and saw that the red shape seemed to be moving, so at the very least, Keith was alive and conscious. “Keith!” he shouted again as he skidded toward where Keith was sprawled on the ground. “Keith, oh, man, thank god you’re okay. Are – are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith grunted, and his voice was strained, but not deathly feeble. Another relief. “Yeah, I’ll be all right. Mostly just winded.”

“Okay, phew. Good. Good, so, we can get back to the Lions now?” Hunk glanced nervously over his shoulder. The craft exploding had been a good distraction, but the soldiers who had spotted them in the base and chased them out this far were probably still in hot pursuit. “You need any help walking?”

“Nah, legs are fine. Let me just – ” Keith began to adjust himself and scrabble upright, but cut himself off with a strangled yell that made the hairs on the back of Hunk’s neck stand up.

“Keith?”

“It’s, um – my arm’s kinda – “

Hunk blinked down at the arm in question, and the source of Keith’s distress quickly became obvious. A shard of shrapnel was jutting out from between the rerebrace and couter, right into the crook of Keith’s right elbow, pinning it to the hard dirt ground beneath. “Oh god,” Hunk said softly, a bout of dizziness hitting him at the sight. “You just said you were okay!”

“It didn’t hurt that bad until I tried to move it!” Keith snapped. He turned his head to look more closely at the wound, then, gritting his teeth, he grabbed the end of the chunk of shrapnel with his left hand.

“What are you doing?!” Hunk cried. “You’re not supposed to take things out of stab wounds! You’ll bleed all over!”

“I don’t really have a choice, Hunk! Either I get this thing out, or I’m stuck here.” Keith adjusted his grip and tugged at the shrapnel. Immediately his chin began to wobble, and nausea raged in Hunk as the shrapnel moved, bringing a flood of deep red out with it. The sound of Keith’s strained, agonizing yell rang in his ears, until suddenly he stopped, the scream replaced with panting, and his hand dropped.

“Keith?” Hunk said, noticing how pale Keith had gone, and not sure if the sheen of sweat on his forehead had been there earlier.

“S’nothing,” he mumbled. “Just tough to get a grip.” He brought his hand up again, and it slipped along the shrapnel before he managed to get a proper hold.

“Wait, Keith,” Hunk said. He gulped and put his own hand over Keith’s on the shrapnel. “You’re not, like, steady, right now. You’re gonna wind up tearing your whole forearm off or something.”

“Well, it’s not like we have much of a choice!”

“Yeah, but – ” Hunk took a deep breath and looked back one more time. He could see the silhouettes of those soldiers getting closer. “How about – how about I pull it out for you?”

Keith’s brow furrowed as he turned his gaze to Hunk. “You sure?” he asked.

Hunk nodded even as his stomach screamed at him to turn away. “Course I’m sure,” he said. “You need help.”

“It’s gonna be bloody. Like, really bloody.”

“I know. But not like I’m the one who’s gonna be hurting.”

“… Okay.” Keith seemed to slump as he gave in, and Hunk lifted his own hands toward the shrapnel.

He tried not to think about the blood, or about the pain he was soon to cause Keith, but it was hard. Too hard. His hands shook as he reached the shrapnel, and he took a few seconds to grip it. When he did, Keith let out a whimper of pain; Hunk had apparently been shaking the shrapnel in its place.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, dropping it immediately. “Sorry, didn’t mean to, I just can’t – ”

“It’s okay,” Keith grunted. “It’s okay, just – just try again.”

“R-right.” Hunk positioned his hands over the shrapnel again, but still they shook. He couldn’t grab it, not when he was like this. “Keith, I can’t – ”

Before he could finish the thought, he felt a sudden weight over his right hand. Keith fingers wrapped over his own, holding it steady and tight. “Hunk,” Keith said. “It’s okay. You can do this, all right? You got this. Just breathe.”

“Just – just breathe,” Hunk repeated softly, and he did. Slowly, through his nose, eyes shut. He could do this. And they didn’t have long.

He let Keith’s grip anchor him as, finally, he wrapped his hands around the shrapnel, willing himself with every fiber of his being to keep steady. And he pulled. He tried to mentally block the sound of Keith’s scream as he did so, although he couldn’t avoid seeing the blood that welled up and spilled over when the shrapnel was out of the arm.

For a moment the edges of his vision went white, but he was brought back to reality by the sound of Keith repeating his voice, and he opened his eyes to see Keith sitting up and staring at him. His face was practically gray, he was drenched in sweat, he was cradling his bad arm that was still gushing blood, but he was sitting up.

“I did it,” Hunk panted.

“Yeah, Hunk, you did it.” Keith offered him a shaky smile. “And now…”

“We run?”

Keith nodded. “We run.”

[kwmonth]

KWmonth2019

Important update re KWmonth 2019!

This year we’ve decided not to do KWmonth as a separate event. Instead we’ll be turning this blog into a collection of reblogged Keith-centric whump fics and art created based off the prompts for Whumptober.

The decision to change the approach to KWmonth comes as both us mods are busy with college/uni and unfortunately don’t have the time or energy spare to run the event. Apologies for the late notice!

To make it easier for the fics and art to be found, please use the tag #kwmonth on your posts or else tag the blog (@kwmonth). The prompts for Whumptober can be found on the Whumptober blog here.

[felagund-fiollaigean]

sneak peek of my fic for Day 22/Krolia @kwmonth

18 Years Without You

One of the nurses came out after a few minutes to tell him the news, that his father was dead, Keith didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to feel. Because no one had thought to prepare him for this.

It doesn’t click until the social worker shows up at the hospital. And he starts asking Keith questions.

The first is, “Where's your mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know how to get in touch with her?”

Keith doesn't.

“What’s her name?”

Keith doesn’t know that either. Pop had never told him. All he had said was, “She’ll be back someday, Keith, I promise. She’ll explain everything.”

But his mother isn’t here now to explain anything, and his father can’t explain either because he’s dead, and that’s when Keith realizes that he’s completely alone. He'd been cut away from everything he ever knew, the person in the world he loved the most was gone, and he never would be back. Ever.

Read the rest on AO3

[greenteafiend]

1. Naxela

This is prompt 1 for Keithtober - Whumptober. You can see all the prompts if you’d also like to participate here. :) 

“Good job, Keith.”

Good, job Keith.

Good, job Keith.

Good, job Keith.

Those three words reverberated through his skull, and stabbed his heart.

“It wasn’t me,” he replied numbly, barely feeling the words pass his lips.

It should have been him, but there he was, still alive.

He didn’t feel alive.

Even though he was entirely unhurt, it felt like his spirit had collided with that barrier and burnt away into the nothingness of space. All that was left was a shell.

He didn’t realize that he’d automatically flown to the Red Hangar of the castle until he registered Lance standing in front of his parked fighter, waving at him with both arms.  

“You looked like you were zoning out, c’mon, space cadet. They’re letting Prince Lotor into the castle,” said Lance the minute his feet hit the ground.

Lance started to walk away, clearly intending for Keith to fall into step with him, but it was as if Keith was surrounded by sticky molasses, and his body refused to move.  

“Keith?” said Lance, confusion and concern creeping into his expression.

“Keith!”

Both of them jolted in shock at the sound of a new voice. It was accompanied by the pounding footsteps of owner as they hurtled closer.

It was Matt.

“Keith,” Matt repeated, eyes wild with worry. He slowed his pace as he neared them, panting with exertion and pushing his sweaty hair out of his face impatiently.

“You tried to--” Matt cut himself off, frowning deeply.

“Keith tried to what-?” asked Lance, eyes round with confusion.

Matt ignored Lance in favor of setting a hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

His gaze was just like Pidge’s. Sharp, like he could see right through him.

Keith found himself shaking his head.

Matt and Lance blurred before him and the weight of what he’d nearly done finally hit him.

“N-no,” he whispered.  

[himecchi]

KW Month 2018 - Garrison

Summary: Takes place during Keith’s expulsion from the Garrison, and includes a flashback of Keith and Shiro based on the one we saw in season 7 episode 1.

Fandom: Voltron

For: Keith Whump Month 

Prompt: Garrison

Cold, unwelcoming metal. Muffled, angry voices. Frustration stirring in his heart.

All of these things felt so familiar to Keith. He’d experienced this moment time and time again, but this time is different…

If Shiro were here, he’d have crouched down beside Keith, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and told him he’d never give up on him, but this time is different…

This time, Shiro’s not here and Keith can’t quite bring himself to care about the consequences of his actions because of it. After all, Iverson deserved the swift punch to the face Keith had just given him. How dare he say that about Shiro. What does he know?

Keith thinks about it some more, then stops himself when he feels a mixture of panic and sorrow rising in his throat. No. Iverson’s wrong. Shiro can’t be…

He can’t even bring himself to finish the thought.

As moment upon moment ticks by, Keith is suddenly 13 again, sitting in the same cold, unwelcoming metal chair, listening to the same muffled, angry voices, feeling the same frustration bursting through his veins…

His hands are balled up in fists, clenching the fabric of his too-large pants tightly as he stares defiantly at the floor. James’ words still echo in his head.

“I can out-fly anyone in this building,” Keith states, staring intently.

“Oh yeah?” James taunts, “Is that what mommy and daddy told you befor-”

Before Keith had even realized what was happening, his fist was moving to connect with James’ face.

He knows he messed up. He just doesn’t fit in here, doesn’t belong here… doesn’t belong anywhere.

He was just so angry. Angry because he felt so lonely. Angry because he couldn’t connect with people. Angry because he could practically taste the words James hadn’t had the chance to speak.

Is that what mommy and daddy told you before they abandoned you?

Keith’s fists clenched tighter. He was just so angry. Angry because he wasn’t really angry at all. He was sad, but anger is a more welcome emotion that sadness, so Keith lets himself be angry. He’d gladly take anger over the bitter, sting of sorrow any day.

Suddenly, Shiro walks through the door.

Keith chances a brief look in his direction, then quickly averts his eyes, gluing them back to the monotone floor.

He notices Shiro kneeling down next to him in his peripheral vision, but Keith doesn’t dare shift his gaze. He can’t bring himself to look into Shiro’s inevitably disappointed eyes. Keith already knows he’s a disappointment. He doesn’t need the eyes of one of the few people he cares for to remind him.

Before Shiro can speak, Keith is blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Look, I know I messed up. You should just send me back to the home already. This place isn’t for me.”

Send me back to the home.

It’s the last thing Keith wants. He doesn’t mean a word of what he just said. He doesn’t want to go back to the home, but at least there, he’s not a nuisance. At least there, he’s not constantly disappointing the one person trying to help him. The home suits him. It’s for kids who’ve been abandoned, who weren’t wanted, who don’t belong… and Keith doesn’t belong. He doesn’t belong anywhere.

A few moments pass in silence as Keith waits for a scolding from Shiro, but it never comes. Instead, Shiro places a firm, reassuring hand on Keith’s shoulder and gives a slight smile.

“Keith,” he says calmly, “I will never give up on you, but more importantly, you can’t give up on yourself.”

They’re such simple words, but Keith finds himself stunned speechless. He doesn’t understand. Why does Shiro keep helping him? Why are the words that should’ve been laced with exasperation so full of warmth and kindness?

Keith looks up, finally meeting Shiro’s gaze, expecting to find that his eyes contradict the gentleness of his tone but… no. Even his eyes are tender, filled with compassion and understanding.

Keith looks away as a pang of uncertainty ripples through him. Can he really trust this kindness? He’s not sure. After all, he’s “difficult,” “a problem child,” “a discipline case,” “a loner,” “abandoned.” What could anyone else possibly see in him?

As Keith continues to gaze towards the floor, away from Shiro, a hand suddenly comes into view. He pauses for a moment, then follows it from arm to shoulder and eventually he’s met with Shiro’s smiling face, patiently waiting for Keith to reciprocate and take the hand extended in front of him.

“Come on,” Shiro says, one corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly more than the other, “Let’s get out of here.”

Keith hesitates, the consequences of taking Shiro’s hand weighing heavily in the back of his mind. If he takes this hand, he might just start to trust the kind smile staring back at him. Keith isn’t sure if he likes that. Trusting. It’s such a foreign concept to him, but Shiro has always been there when he needed him. Shiro has always believed in him. Shiro has never given him any reason to doubt him and honestly, going anywhere with Shiro sounds far better than being anywhere in this place where he doesn’t belong, so he slowly reaches out and accepts the hand waiting for him.

Suddenly, Keith is back in the present and his memory is interrupted when he registers a hand entering his field of vision. This hand isn’t the kind, familiar one Shiro used to offer him. This hand, instead, belongs to Commander Iverson, and in it is a piece of paper officializing Keith’s expulsion.

Keith raises his eyes to glare at Iverson before standing and snatching the paper out of his hand all in one motion. It’s better this way. Keith never belonged here anyways. He never belonged anywhere.

“You can’t give up on yourself.” Ha. What a joke.

Keith thinks as he storms down the garrison halls towards the exit. Before he can make it more than five steps however, he pauses, smiles sadly to himself.

Shiro… Where are you? I miss you…

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly.

A few more moments go by, then Keith continues walking, head down. It’s better this way. He never belonged here in the first place. He never belonged anywhere. Still, he can’t help but long for Shiro’s warm eyes and kind smile… but Shiro’s gone now, and Keith feels the familiar sting of abandonment creeping in. This was how it always should’ve been. He was always meant to be alone, but… if that’s the case, why does it hurt so much?

Finally, Keith reaches the exit and, as he walks out into the sunset, he can’t help but look back as a bittersweet flavor ebbs at the back of his tongue. Keith hates this place, but he also loves it. The garrison holds countless memories of Keith being bullied, getting in fights, feeling unbearably alone, hurting… but it’s also the place where he met Shiro and, even though it physically hurt him to think about right now, that’s something he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

After several moments of reminiscing, Keith realizes with a crushing sense of defeat that he now has nowhere to go. He is utterly alone in the world. There’s nothing. No place. No one. Just nothing… so he wanders. He climbs on top of his motor bike, and he wanders aimlessly, not really searching for anything in particular, just letting himself drift through existence because the one thing tethering him to his sense of stability was Shiro… but now Shiro’s gone and everything feels unstable and volatile again, like he’s caught in a raging storm.

He doesn’t know where he’s going anymore. Nowhere, he supposes. There’s no sense of direction. The tears spilling from his eyes also aren’t helping. They’re blurring his vision, making it difficult to see… then again, what does it matter? Does he really need to see where he’s going when his only destination is nowhere?

Still, he presses forwards.

After hours of wandering, accompanied only by the dull roar of Keith’s motor bike engine, he sees something in the distance, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He’s unsure if anything will come of it, but he moves towards it anyways and that’s when he sees it more clearly:

An abandoned shack in the desert… abandoned… just like Keith. It’s perfect for him. It’s rough around the edges, desolate, alone… in the middle of nowhere because it belongs nowhere… just like Keith. As he continues to gaze at this solitary pile of wood, he somehow feels a strange bond between himself and this tiny, lonely shack. It’s like him in a way that nothing else ever has been and, although it seems silly, this is a small comfort to Keith. This, he decides, will be his new home.

He climbs off his bike, then tentatively makes his way inside. It’s quiet, dull, rundown, but Keith reckons he can make-do with it. There’s a small couch already inside and as Keith stares at it, he suddenly realizes just how exhausted he is. He stumbles towards it, then plops himself down, curling up on his side and shivering slightly. It’s not at all cold, but for some reason Keith the chills won’t quit. He thinks of Shiro, wonders where he is… wonders what he’s doing… wonders if he’s even still… no. He can’t think that. Shiro’s fine. He has to be.

Keith curls in on himself more tightly as silent tears stream down his face through hushed breaths. He’s never felt so alone and, before he knows it, he finds himself falling asleep just like that: completely and utterly alone.

I hope you enjoyed! Thank you @kwmonth for the prompts and thank you @koganewest for letting me know about this :)

[happy-birthday-keith]

A combo of day 5, Kerberos, and day 6, Fire, from the K-W Prompt list.

[art-by-berry]

Day 4: Bonds

Keith doesn’t want Shiro to comfort him but actually he really wants Shiro to comfort him.

Originally inspired by @kwmonth‘s “Naxella” prompt, but then it became some AU where Shiro and Keith wear cute, autumn clothes.

Also, as a side note, I really love Keith and Shiro’s bond, so that’s why I decided to feature them. I think there’s such a nice emotional closeness between the two, so I really enjoyed making this :)

Another side note: I’ve changed my username to art-by-berry to match my Instagram name (art.by.berry), so I’ll sign art using this name from now on :D

[purringkeith]

My work of the K-W event, for @kwmonth!

Prompt #1: Naxzela.

[sunflower-le-tournesol]

Chapters: 1/31 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron) Characters: Keith, Texas Kogane Additional Tags: more tags to come, kwmonth, Keith!whump, kangst, keith!angst, Naxzela Summary:

Drabbles, snippets, and oneshots in response to koganewest and callaedae3’s Keithtober/Whumptober challenge.

[callaeidae3]

Wake up...!

[justheretobreakthings]

Whumptober Day 2: Explosion

Because I’m the only Keith Angst writer out there who hasn’t tackled Naxzela yet and that needs to be remedied.

@whumptober2019 @kwmonth

Sound moved differently in outer space.

Keith had known that long before he’d ever gone to space in the Blue Lion. It had all been explained in detail in his astrophysics class in the first semester at the Garrison. Space was a vacuum, there were no molecules to vibrate, so it couldn’t make sound.

Battles were still plenty loud, though. There were always voices on the comms shouting directions and information from one ship to another, and every time something hit his own Lion, he could hear it perfectly, because the space inside the ship was not a vacuum. And often, they were involved in battles where he could hear the sounds of battle, of gunshots and lasers and crashes and cannons and explosions, because they weren’t far enough out from whatever planet was being attacked to have truly entered the void of space. The sound moved through the atmosphere.

Naxzela didn’t have an atmosphere.

When Keith sped his cruiser toward Naxzela, it was quiet. He had turned off the comms, turned off the sound of Matt’s voice seconds after he had come to the realization of what Keith was about to do, turned off any opportunity for one of the others to try to talk him out of it or scream at him or make any sort of noise that might make him hesitate, because he couldn’t afford to hesitate, not now.

He also turned off his chance of getting to say any decent final words, but in the grand scheme of things, that was unimportant.

It was quiet when he closed his eyes and shot toward the center of Naxzela.

And it was quiet when Naxzela exploded without him.

The sound didn’t hit his ship, but the blast still sent out a wave that he could feel, throwing him back against his seat and making him lurch as he held tight, his hands white-knuckled against the yoke, a sudden change in the pressure around the little cruiser like the front was going to collapse in on himself.

It was quiet as he veered away.

In the quiet, the full force of just what the hell had almost happened hit him with a vengeance.

He shook in his seat, a ringing in his ears from the aftermath of the explosion and a screaming in his head as it started to really dawn on him how close he had just come to dying, how close he had been to killing himself, to going up in flame without a trace remaining of him, without ever having said goodbye. How long would it have taken them to notice that he had disappeared? In the millisecond between hitting the shield and dying, how much pain would he have been in? Would he ever have been able to know if it had worked?

The cockpit of the cruiser felt like ice, which was ridiculous, because surely the explosion so close to him would be heating his ship up if nothing else. But he was cold, frozen in place, shivering.

Alive, but it didn’t feel like it.

He needed sound. He needed noise to drown out the flood of questions in his head and the self-reprimanding and the pressure in his ears and the screaming.

He turned his comm back on.

The noise was an instant relief, the voices, the metallic clanks and beeps coming from the interiors of the others’ ships. He made out Shiro’s voice, distinct among the jumble of sounds, addressing him in particular.

“Good work, Keith.”

[kwmonth]

Prompt: "I'm fine."

[felagund-fiollaigean]

KW Month 2K18 - Naxzela

This is my submission for day one of Keith whump month: The Battle of Naxzela. This fic is unedited, I started it at one in the morning when I should have been sleeping and finished it during my bio lecture this morning ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Not shippy. Story under the cut!

Keith is shaking all over and he wants it to stop. There’s something rattling around inside of his gut like it’s trying to escape, and his legs feel as weak as a newborn kitten’s. His fingers tremble so hard it takes him several tries to unmask. It’s getting hard to breathe, he chest feels constricted, and every breath fragile and wrong. His stomach is churning. 

Keith isn’t unfamiliar with the sickening rush of adrenaline. He’d been in enough scary situations to know how badly the post-battle hormones flooding his bloodstream could fuck with his body, his emotions, everything really. He knew he would be fine, but it hadn’t felt this strong, this crippling in years. He had almost died about a million times before, what was wrong with him?

Well, he’d never almost died like this before.

Oh god, what had he done?

“Keith!”

 Keith jumps so hard his feet must have cleared the ground. The sudden shout so close behind him makes his heart rate skyrocket and fresh sweat break out on his palms, and the tentative control he has on his body begins to slip.

“Sorry,” Matt says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

 “It’s okay,” Keith replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Okay, look. We need to talk.”

Dread creeps over Keith’s bones like early frost. “About what?”

“About that fucking Kamikaze stunt you pulled back there!” Matt is yelling now. “What the hell was that about, huh?” 

Keith frantically whips his head around, looking for eavesdroppers. He doesn’t see anyone; the hallway they were in was abandoned. Still. “Keep your voice down,” he begs.

“Fine,” Matt whispers. “But answer the question. What did you think you were doing?”

“We needed to get that shield down. If we hadn’t stopped it -”

“Yeah? And what kind of damage do you think your pod would have done? What were the chances if that even making a scratch in that shield?”

Keith stops to think about it, surprised to find he doesn’t actually know. He runs some quick guesswork. “About..  1 in 5?”

Matt scoffs. 1 in 5. You were about to sacrifice your life on the 1 in 5 chance that you would actually make a difference. Unbelievable.”

“The mission -” 

“Is more important than the individual. I’ve heard that spiel before. It’s bullshit. You would have died!”

Keith sighs helplessly; the words leave bloody gouges in his heart. You almost died. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Really? That’s it? I would have had to tell the rest of them, including my sister by the way, that their friend and teammate was dead. That you had killed yourself and I couldn’t stop it. And all I get is a fucking 'I guess so?’ Do you think I could have lived with that? You think they could have lived with that? Did you even think about what you were doing, what that would have done to us?” 

“I, I -”

“Keith.” Matt’s tone is soft, sad, almost afraid. “Do you want to die?”

“N-no,” Keith stammers. That feverish feeling is stronger than ever, worrying his insides in a vice-like grip and making his legs tremble underneath him. “I don’t -”

And suddenly he can’t speak because his chest is being ripped apart by sobs, can’t do anything but hide his face in his trembling hands and cry harder than he has in years.

 Matt steps closer, pulling Keith into a hug and letting the smaller man cling to him. 

“I’m s-sorry, Matt,” Keith cries. “I didn’t think, I d-didn’t know what to do and I -” 

“Shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You made it.”

 “What’s wrong with me?” 

Matt pulled away from him to look into his face. “Nothing, Keith. Nothing at all. I promise. We love you. We need you. Alive.” 

Keith can only nod in reply. 

“And don’t let the shit you hear from Kolivan and the Blades get to your head. You are more important to us than any mission, okay?”

Those words bring a fresh wave of tears to Keith’s eyes and he can feel his bottom lip start to tremble again. 

“Oh, come here.” Matt pulls him into another hug and let’s Keith ride out the tremors and the tears, anchoring him to the present.

 “The adrenaline’s got you fucked up, huh.” 

Keith nods against Matt’s shoulder.“That’s okay. You need a minute?”

Keith nods again, and this time he pulls out of Matt’s hug to plunk himself down on the floor, scooching over to lean his back against the wall and tug his knees into him. Matt sits next to him, letting their shoulders brush together.

 They sit in silence for a few minutes, Keith hiccuping faintly, before Matt speaks again.

“Do you want to talk to the others about it?”

By “the others”, Keith knows Matt means team Voltron, and he also knows he doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to see Lance’s horror-stricken expression, or Hunk’s tears, Pidge’s righteous anger, or Allura’s cold look of disappointment. He can’t look Shiro - the man he loved like family - in the eyes and tell him he had almost killed himself for a mission. 

He shakes his head. “No.”

“You know you might have to eventually, right?”

“I know.” 

“Well when you’re ready, we can do it together if you want.”

Keith leans his head onto Matt’s shoulder. “I would like that, I think.”

Matt presses a kiss to Keith’s hair and sighs. “Whenever you want. I’ll be there.”

 Keith knows they need to rondezvous with the others. They need to debrief with Voltron, Kolivan, the rebels, they need to regroup and reorganize so they can move forward. 

But not right now. The war can wait a minute longer. 

[greenteafiend]

5 - Kerberos

This is prompt 5 for Keithtober/whumptober - Kerberos. You can see all the prompts if you’d also like to participate here. :)

The banging was loud and insistent; whoever was at Adam’s door was determined to see him.

Adam turned his head to look at the time on his alarm clock. As he expected, it was late enough that the announcement would have been made already, the world knew what had happened to the Kerberos Mission… to Takashi.

Iverson had informed him personally the day before as a professional courtesy, and it had taken every shred of self control he possessed to nod stiffly, and excuse himself so he could stumble back to his quarters and fall apart in private. He’d been lost in a fog of disbelief and regret since then.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the last argument they’d had before Takashi left.

He was a fool, and he wished he could take back every harsh, unforgiving thing he’d said. He wished that the last words he’d said to Takashi had been something, anything, other than ‘don’t expect me to be here when you get back,’ but he couldn’t change it now.

It was too late.

He’d never get to say anything to Takashi ever again because Takashi was dead, frozen in the outer reaches of the solar system, where he would remain forever.  

The person at the door stopped knocking.

Good. Adam didn’t want to see anyone, whoever they were they should have known better than to approach him now. He wasn’t fit for company.

It turned out that they’d only stopped knocking because they decided they were going to yell.

“Adam! Adam!” the voice was young and broken.

Oh god. Keith.

It hadn’t even occurred to Adam to consider how Keith might take the news, the poor boy adored Takashi. He adored him so fiercely that Adam had jokingly likened Keith to a loyal stray on more than one occasion. Keith shouldn’t have had to find out what happened from the fucking news broadcast.

Adam lurched to his feet so quickly he gave himself mild vertigo as the blood rushed away from his head and down into his extremities. He shook himself, before rushing out of his room, and towards the Keith’s voice.

He pressed the button to let the door slide open, revealing Keith on the other side.

Keith looked exactly how Adam felt. Anguished.

His eyes were red, and there were tears flowing freely down his cheeks. His chest was heaving with emotion, his bottom lip looked like he’d tried to chew a hole through it, and Adam could see his fist shaking where it was raised, poised as if to continue knocking.

“They’re wrong,” Keith blurted.

Adam’s eyes closed of their own volition, and he felt the beginnings of a headache building behind his temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Adam, they’re wrong. They must be. Shiro is the best pilot at the Garrison, he wouldn’t make a mistake--” Keith’s voice shook with conviction.

He was so terribly young and naive; even the best pilots could make life-ending mistakes. Adam opened his eyes.

“Keith, he was the best pilot,” he said, as gently as he was able to. Keith’s face fell, and fresh tears filled his eyes.  

“You… you believe them?” Keith whispered, incredulous the betrayed. “But-but you love him.”

His love wasn’t enough to keep Takashi here with him, safe and alive.

“I love him,” Adam echoed, he’d probably always love him. “But he’s gone.”

Keith shook his head, and his expression turned mulish.

“You’re wrong,” he spat, and then he turned on his heel and marched away, every line of his body stiff and angry.  

Adam sighed, surreptitiously wiping his own eyes with his sleeve.

Keith really was like a loyal stray.

[happy-birthday-keith]

Watch me finally post some of my own shit to this blog, only to go for the angst. Here's a very abstract bit for day 1 from the K-W prompt list, Naxela.