#vldposday2018

[glyphhunter]

Happy VLD Positivity Day! Here’s some soft sheith for @shiroganejpg, I hope you like it!

Thank you @vldpositivityday for putting this all together! I had a good time~

[gravityrulez]

Happy @vldpositivityday to @revasnaslan ! I have never drawn these guys before but I hope you like it :3 (btw click it ;D)

Also I didn’t reall ship them before but I sure do now so thanks for that!

[a-yings]

'cause I have these new fears I carry with me so you can feel stronger, you can know peace

for @owlyburd, happy vld positivity day! (and thanks to @vldpositivityday for organizing the event again!)

[vldpositivityday-blog]

VLD Positivity Day 2.0

Hey again guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! Yet again, entirely too much negativity as been floating around in this fandom and that won’t do. So we’re going to try and rectify that with a day devoted towards positivity and spreading kindness - take two!

Voltron Positivity Day is going to be MARCH 2, 2018

What can you do to participate? You can participate by simply sending a message to one of your favorite bloggers, fanartists, or fic writers! To anyone in the Voltron fandom!

If you want to do more, or don’t know where to start, you can participate in the Voltron Positivity Exchange! The Positivity Exchange acts like sort of a Secret Santa, a way to create gifts for others who are also excited about spreading positivity. When you fill out this typeform (x) you’ll be given the url of someone else who has signed up so that can spread a little love . The form closes on JANUARY 26, 2018 and you’ll learn who your recipient is on FEBRUARY 2. Gifts should be posted on MARCH 2.

Since this is a day for positivity, everyone is welcome to join! There is a spot in the Exchange’s typeform to indicate what ships you might not be comfortable creating content for, if you’re comfortable creating ship content at all, but absolutely no ship hate will be tolerated. Please be kind when filling out the typeform. 

We encourage everyone to tag us at @vldpositivityday in their creations or selfies so that we can see everyone’s amazing work!! We will also be keeping an eye on the tag #vldposday2018

Reblog to spread the word! See you March 2!

- Mods Amy and Sunny

[team-moonlark]

This is a pinch hit for @mswriterperson for the @vldpositivityday exchange! Here's some sheith kitty's for you! I hope you like it and had a good day ^-^ ♥

[planetsandmagic]

For the greater good

My @vldpositivityday gift for @linabeanwrites! I’m really proud with how it turned out and I hope you like it!

And to the mods, thank you for making and moderating this exchange, it was really fun! Now let’s all have a Happy Voltron Positivity Day, and enjoy season 5!

[hazelnatcoffee]

My @vldpositivityday exchange fic for @garrisonsheith / @ragingviolins ! Happy positivity day Talia!!! You are incredibly sweet and SO talented (the edits- just, how??) and I poured as much love and thought that I could into this fic :’’’D I know you asked for sparring, so I began writing a scene, but the worldbuilding grew to kind of crazy proportions, so I really hope this is enjoyable still?? Thank you for being so patient and amazing!!!

Summary: ~14k, mutual pining, bed sharing, fluff/crack/angst, happy ending-  The team struggles to build an alliance with a lesser known resort planet, going toe-to-toe with two Queens, a demanding Council, and terrorists- all while Shiro and Keith attempt to keep up the ruse of being married.

| "I mean, you could always just say you're already married. Take the masses off your necks while we bang out this contract," Pidge offers, ever the voice of reason, as she sits and examines her nails. Lance emerges from his dying giggles to heave a huge, breathless sigh. "There's just one -ha- problem there, Pigeon. Who exactly would they be married to? Each other?" The suggestion is a joke, laden with sarcasm and yet- Hunk and Pidge exchange a glance.

[bathands]

vld positivity day!

this is my contribution for @vldpositivityday for the amazingly talented and kind @kcgane i don’t even know where to begin to explain the depths of the creativity and talent this lovely lady has and if you haven’t already please take a listen/look at all of her music and writing on her ao3! (links on her profile)

without further ado please enjoy this little sheith drabble i wrote for you! 

i wanna hold your hand

tags:

sheith, college/university au, alcohol use, mutual pining, light angst

[ao3 link if you prefer that for readability]

With the two of them, alone now, on the empty plastic seating around the football field, Keith swallowed another gulp of beer. Shiro sighed as he sat back, groaning softly with the satisfaction that came with stretching as he looked up at the sky above them. The night, painted with stars where the yellow glow of human habitation smeared into black. “Just you me and now, I guess?” Keith tried to mumble an agreement (say something funny, Keith, witty, endearing, anything) but instead all that came out was a half a ‘yeah’, and half a burp mangled in infancy by the slap of his palm against his mouth. Fuck! Why was he such a mess? Why now? 

Why, when they were finally alone, when he finally had liquid courage thumping in his chest, was he losing his cool? All that shit about ‘remaining calm and conscientious under pressure’ he’d put on his college application now felt doubly like the garbled nonsense he’d thought it was when he’d wrote it. It didn’t matter what others around him said; that he was calm under pressure, that he was good at handling difficult situations without breaking a sweat. That he was confident, self assured, determined. It didn’t matter that they said he was always guilty of underselling himself.

God, right now, at this moment, when the world hinged on a bead of condensation travelling over the peaks of Shiro’s knuckles gripped around the beer bottle… 

Ugh. 

Every time he tried to think of something to say, to fumble through the awkwardness settling like low hanging cloud around them, his eyes and his mind just drifted to him. 

Little things. Things that he hadn’t quite noticed before, from afar, or from their casual, platonic interactions up until now.

The shape of his fingers, the coiled strength that settled in the muscles of his hands, waiting.

The topography of the veins on his bicep, maps begging to be travelled.

The jut of his collarbones, his bob of his throat with every swallow, each breath a marvel.

Keith couldn’t stop thinking about how soft the hair behind his ears looked, and how much he wanted to touch him there, and so many other secret and private places that he was sure Shrio permitted no one else.

That was the thing though, wasn’t it? Shiro never showed interest in anyone. As far as Keith knew, of course: who was he to speculate into Shiro’s private life? but… the past few weeks they had spent so much time together, and Keith had ravenously noted every interaction Shiro shared with a benevolently smiling cheerleader. Their hands would sometimes grasp for his arm while they shared a joke, and Shiro would always politely retract himself, a calculated slowness that wasn’t quite like revulsion; just extraction.

Was it reading into things too much to acknowledge that it was Shiro himself that clapped his shoulder whenever Keith made him laugh? He never quite forgot the weight of his hand there. In it’s absence Keith felt it, hours later, curled up in bed underneath the blankets with a pillow clutched against his chest, heart bursting and blooming in his throat.

So what if it was reading too much into it? So what if this was all a misunderstanding? So what if he was wrong, and this was going to snap his shivering heart in two, and Shiro didn’t feel the same way? So what? If he didn’t say it now, then it was going to all spill out at some other time which was much more inconvenient for them both.

Better now than with an audience.

Keith glanced over at his friend, just to check if he was physically recoiling from his embarrassing attempt at human interaction, but Shiro appeared to be transfixed on the sky above. As Keith watched, Shiro took another drink, and he drank in the sight of the bottleneck pressing against his yielding lips with unguarded hunger.

He began to speak before he could stop himself; the syllable just tumbled out. Too late to stuff it back in, Keith frantically gathered his thoughts for something to say, anything. “I-.. I hope everyone got home alright. Y’know?”

Keith made sure he had turned his gaze back toward the football field by the time Shiro’s eyes found him again. He wondered what expression he might see on his face if only he could turn back around quick enough to catch the other off guard; how did Shiro look at him when he knew Keith wasn’t watching?

God, he wanted to know so badly it felt like pins and needles that wouldn’t abate no matter how much he fidgeted.

There was a pause before Shiro replied, preceded by the sound of him taking another drink. A gulp, his perfect lips smacking against glass. Shit.

“We walked Katie almost to her door, remember? I’ve told everyone to text me when they get in.”

Why had he hesitated? What was he thinking about it? Probably mentally cataloguing every one of their friends and their routes home, calculating the obstacles before them and the likelihood of their safety, and whether they ought to call one or more and check. Shiro was like that, a natural leader. He cared so much about everyone, was always the first person to offer help in any situation, no matter what the problem was.

Another silence gathered between them. At the beginning, Keith had cherished the safety their quiet offered; he didn’t need to try, not with Shiro, and silence was never awkward, just another aspect of the comfortable shared space between them. Lately, though, he’d come to resent it. There was so much he wanted to fill it with. So many words. So many proclamations.

Maybe he should whisper it, barely audible, then they could both pretend Shiro hadn’t heard. Maybe he should scream it, and then Shiro would know just much he felt it; too much, too big, too many words for his voice to contain in stuttered syllables.

Keith just wished he knew what was best. Shiro would know. If he asked him for advice, Shiro would do like he always did and smile gently and attend to his every concern with keen attention. What was the problem? How was it making him feel? How could he help? Methodically and calmly he would straighten out Keith’s frantic mind with a fluency that always caught Keith off guard. He would do anything just to… just to have five seconds of being with him, really being with him, whatever that meant. To touch him as more than a friend. To look at him unguarded, uninhibited. To breathe him in, to hold his hand, to just… damn it.

Three gulps of vodka wasn’t enough. Ten wouldn’t have been enough. He’d drank with everyone else, of course, but the extra gasping shots he’d downed in the bathroom had been secret. Unfortunately, the night had worn on, and on, and there had never been the perfect moment. Even at the height of his inebriation, Keith hadn’t dared broach this subject, not with someone else there, and now that they were finally alone he could already feel the buzz wearing off.

Now it was nerves alone making his head spin, his feet feel heavy. Maybe he'd drink some more once he got home and send him a text? Or would that be worse? There was the shift of movement behind him, and Keith felt his stomach fold inward, his only chance slipping out between his fingers, but all the same he took a deep breath and resigned himself to it. They would head home, and Shiro would part from him without a second glance, never knowing how Keith longed to look over his shoulder, fists curled at his side in resistance.

What had he been thinking, even considering this in the first place?

“Keith, you…”

Shiro's touch was tentative, at first, usual easy confidence seeming to stumble, before his hand settled on his shoulder. His fingers felt warm where they brushed the skin on the back of his neck.

The whole world snapped it’s tethers to Shiro’s careful fingers. What was happening? Was this happening?

Keith didn’t dare to breathe, every muscle rigid as he tried to process what was happening. There had been a note in Shiro’s voice that was unknown to him, foreign and lovely. His heart felt pinned to the sound of it. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what it meant; maybe it was nothing at all like he thought and this was just another facet of platonic tenderness that Shiro was revealing to him, but part of him zealously clung to the small chance that it could be something. But then, it was ending, Shiro’s hand slowly pulling away, and only thing did Keith realise that for more than a few seconds he’d been sat silent and frozen while Shiro had waited for a response. There was a new quality in Shiro’s voice when he spoke next, something that hurt. “Keith…”

The hurt was unacceptable. Keith couldn’t stomach it! No matter what he felt, no matter how much of a pathetic loser he was being about avoiding his feelings, nothing was worth hearing Shiro hurt like that, no matter the reason!

Keith sprang to his feet, surprisingly balanced despite the world immediately swaying on it’s sides around him. He whipped around to face Shiro, the other flinching backwards with the shock written plainly across his face. Whatever he thought the response would be to what he’d done and what he’d said, Shiro clearly hadn’t accounted to Keith leaping up and turning flush to face him directly. Out in the chilly air, Shiro’s bronzed cheeks were rosy, each puff of breath curling from his lips in a vapor. What the hell were they thinking, sitting outside here in the middle of winter? Keith had never considered how ridiculous an idea it was suggesting to come here at the time, and he was only now also considering how Shiro had never objected.It was now or never. He had Shiro in his palm, and if he didn’t say it now, Keith knew he never could ever again. So, he steeled himself, took a breath. Quick and painless. Like a band aid. He could pull this off, tear the words out of himself so he wouldn’t have to carry them around anymore like a lead weight, and even if it went badly, it would feel better. It would. Even if Shiro hated him. Even if Shiro didn’t like him back. Even if Shiro calmly and kindly extracted himself from him like he did with those cheerleaders, pity in his eyes. Oh god, no. “I… I have something I gotta say!” Another breath, empty air, and the words failed to come. Shiro peered up at him expectantly, his expression struggling to settle on one singular emotion, instead morphing in between confusion and trepidation. Keith squeezed his hands into fists at his side, inhaling another deep lungfull of night air, as if that would help, as if it would somehow lend him the clarity to see the transparent solution to this awful mistake. No, he was cool. He had to think about something else, something other than Shiro’s depthless grey eyes pinning him against the sky. If he looked at them, thought about them, then he wouldn’t be able to function. He had to untangle his thoughts, and fast, before he tripped up over them and crushed this opportunity completely. “A-are you listening?” Shiro's confusion visibly multiplied by five. He nodded, hesitantly. “Yeah..?” Fucking hell.  Shiro fidgeted, his fingers worrying absently at the peeling label of his beer bottle, though he didn’t look away from Keith’s face, even for a moment. That unrelenting stare, yielding nothing, confronting Keith with the thousand myriad emotions he desperately wanted to see, but didn’t believe he witnessing. It was the alcohol, surely, because there was no way someone like Shiro would ever look at someone like him like that. It didn’t matter if he was the top of his class, it didn’t matter that Shiro was always there by his side, it didn’t matter that Shiro told him that he mattered; some little part of Keith almost felt like he wanted to doubt it.

These things that he felt were so huge that he was almost afraid their bulk would crush them both if he ever breathed life into them. He couldn’t do this to him, to them. 

Their friendship mattered too much; Shiro’s place in his life was far too essential to squander. Keith could feel his resolve crumble to dust somewhere in the pit of his stomach. 

Stupid. This whole thing had been stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Even though he hadn’t said anything, the look on his face had to be enough. Shiro would know, if he didn’t already, or he’d guess, and it’d all come out somehow. Lance would probably be jealous as all hell that Keith got the chance to hang out alone with Shiro, like he frequently was, and would pester the both of them about it, and the silence would be telling. Keith hated that the most. That tomorrow, things might be awkward.

“Keith..” The pity in that single word was a needle in his chest. Nope. Enough. Keith turned away, too fast, his feet skidding on damp concrete as he made a move towards the steps of the stands, but Shiro was quick too. Before he had time to form a thought Shiro’s hand had snatched at his own, rescuing him from a trip down onto his ass and steadying his teetering balance. God, he’d almost fallen face first onto the bleachers. What a disaster that would have been, of a greater magnitude than this night already was. Keith only noticed that Shiro had failed to let go of his hand, when he turned to thank him, and saw their fingers still tightly tangled together. It took every ounce of self control he could muster not to gawk at the sight of it; his hand fitting perfectly inside Shiro’s, their grasp nestled together like pieces of a puzzle. Clicking into place, at last.

He couldn’t speak. Tried to, even mumbled something, but no words came out. He tugged, once, subconsciously testing whether this was real and not some dream, but Shiro’s grip didn’t relent. If anything, it tightened.

“You can say it. Whatever it is.” Everything about Shiro was earnest. His eyes, his grip on his hand. Keith didn’t dare move or think, even breathing felt like a transgression into the sacred space of whatever Shiro was trying to get across. Those grey eyes begged him to listen, and Keith couldn’t have ignored their call even if he’d wanted to.

So he waited as a second passed, and then another, and Shiro seemed to second guess himself. The grip on his hand only grew tighter. Keith’s heart felt like it was strung up with tightening string, and every silent moment constricted his panic. Was there fear in those eyes? Anxiety? Those feelings in Shiro were so rare and felt so private that even Keith in his insecurity knew that whatever this confession on the tip of Shiro’s tongue was, it was intimate. That only multiplied Keith’s hysteria. It was was an effort to stop his lips from moving, from mouthing the words he was dying to hear from Shiro’s lips, even as he scolded himself for daring to actually think he was going to hear them. I like you. That was all he needed. That was all he wanted to hear, and all he'd wanted to say, and of course it was typical that neither of them could find the courage to get on with things and spit it out. What did come, eventually, was so much more. Every syllable a precious arc that Keith knew he would cherish forever, each perfect movement of it on Shiro’s lips as he watched transfixed while his wildest imagination unfolded before him. “I’d cross the universe for the chance to listen to what you had to say. And..” And? There was more? This was already so much, more than Keith had ever allowed himself to really expect. Keith swallowed the joy bubbling in his throat and focused on trying to remember to breathe, waiting impatiently for the rest. Did Shiro know that he had his heart teetering on a knife edge? By the look on Shiro’s face, it was suddenly abundantly clear that Shiro was wondering the very same thing about him.

“And to hold your hand, like this. I mean, I’ve wanted to, for a while. A really long time. I like you.” There it was. Real. It was real. Shiro liked him back. Shiro wanted him back. Shiro was holding his hand and saying these things to him, unequivocally confessing his affection so that there could be no misinterpretation. He was so transfixed by it that he forgot to answer out loud, staring dumbly at Shiro’s hand holding his own until the man spoke, nervously prodding for a response. “Keith?” He squeezed his hand, and Keith could have sworn he felt the same gesture in his chest as his heart swelled.

Fucking oblivious and hopeless, the both of them. This was ridiculous. Had everyone known, had everyone else seen it, from the very beginning? Now all Keith could think of was every little gesture or word or look he’d once doubted, and seeing them in a totally new light. Shiro’s attentiveness, his deliberate touches, his morning texts and his goodnight phonecalls. Even his own feelings made more sense now, like the whole world had been brought out of blurry focus, dragged into a new and wonderful light. He had been wrong to doubt himself. He had been wrong to doubt Shiro. From the beginning, he’d been by his side, and he always would be. “Me too.” “That’s good, since, well, we’re doing it. Holding hands.” Shiro’s soft chuckle was the sweetest music Keith had ever heard. “Not even first base and I was this nervous. Gosh, what are we like, huh?” Keith tried to laugh, he really did, but all that came out was a breathless puff of air that curled in tendrils in front of his face. It rose twisted in with the mist of Shiro’s breath until both evaporated into the night. He hadn’t realised just how cold he was until now, as if the warmth of Shiro next to him suddenly lit a beacon that beseeched him to seek it out. Damn it, he’d done enough resisting to last his entire life. Keith yielded control of his muscles, sinking against the solid weight of Shiro’s body at his side. Shiro responded almost habitually, nudging back against his shoulder; Shiro’s silent and playful displays of affection, secret and completely his.  Eventually, he managed to speak, (“Yeah,” he’d muttered, pliant) even though he knew there was no need to. They could have sat like this for hours, and Keith would only have been able to think about the texture of Shiro’s palm flush against his own. Truthfully, no matter how cold it was getting, he wanted to remain here for hours. The emptiness of their comfortable silence was like stepping into a warm bath; he sank in deep, wreathing himself in it. Being without Shiro’s touch now would feel like an irretrievable loss until the moment he got to claim it for himself all over again. Some time did pass, until Shiro finally spoke again, and Keith knew that he felt the same way. He felt it, in the way Shiro had huddled nearer when Keith had shivered once, the grip on his hand tightening, and dipped his face closer. “‘Nother beer?” Oh yeah. They’d come out here to drink. Funny how easily Keith had forgotten those pretenses as if there had ever been any need for them. This was, after all, coming so naturally to the both of them that it almost felt like it had been the way it always was. “I guess why not?” Keith sighed, body going limp with relief, and sank back against the bleachers. The sky was still the same; whatever stars had aligned to place Shiro’s hand in his were hidden elsewhere, between them, within them. This couldn’t be real, this had to be a dream, but the warmth of Shiro beside him grounded him firmly in reality, as well as the steady grip of their fingers entwined together. Every breath filled him with a glow, as if the very air around them was turning iridescent. Maybe it was the alcohol, finally getting to him. Or maybe it was Shiro. Maybe that was what holding his hand felt like. A world where the stars were closer, and everything felt fine.

[littlewhitetie]

Some Plance for @booksfoxesandcoffee, for the @vldpositivityday Voltron Positivity Exchange! I love these two--they’re just so cute. Hope you like it! Also big love to mods Amy & Sunny for organizing such a lovely event. Happy VLD Positivity Day! :) 

[keiths-stupid-mullet]

General Audiences/No Archive Warnings Apply

Klance, 11.9k words

Summary:

“My request is rather simple, but has proven to be very effective when it comes to testing the limits of trust.”

“Great. Here we go,” Pidge uttered under her breath, sounding done with the whole thing already. Keith wished he could show her how much he agreed, but didn’t dare to draw attention towards himself.

“What do you need us to do?” asked Shiro.

“Simple: tell each member of your team exactly what you think of them. Express the kind of thoughts you haven’t been able to tell them about in fear of their reaction.”

Keith gets called from the Blade of Marmora to help Voltron secure an alliance - which proves a lot more difficult than expected after the leader of the Luveans makes the team touch a stone that they’re only able to let go of after answering their questions with the truth.

this is for @roofshipping as a part of @vldpositivityday - sadly it’s got nothing to do with cuddles, but I like to think that there is at least a little fluff :D I definitely had fun writing it, I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading!! 

[maemukini]

Happy (late) Voltron Positivity Day! @crafty-scrafty sorry for the delayed post, here’s the allurance you requested, hope you like it! :) (i had way too much fun drawing this, so thank you!!)

[anidragon]

My @vldpositivityday gift for @glyphhunter, who requested either Sheith, Shance, or Gen. I went with Shance, since it’s a ship I haven’t done before.

If I properly figured out how to schedule a post, this should be posting a couple of hours before season 5 drops, so I hope you have a lovely day and enjoys the new season!

[aleois]

Tumblr has been giving me issues, so hopefully this actually posts this time! This is my @vldpositivityday gift for @keiths-stupid-mullet! This is my first non angsty Voltron fic, so I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun stepping out of my comfort zone to write this.

[sebayard]

VLD Positivity Day

Happy VLD Positivity Day @saltwatersky!!! You seem like such a sweet person and I hope you enjoy this little Klance fic I wrote for you!! <3

Also a shoutout to @vldpositivityday mods Amy and Sunny for running such a great event; you rock my socks guys!

Edit: No 🐜s please, this fic isn’t for you.

Title: Any Given Moment Fandom: Voltron Rating: G Warnings: None Ship: Klance Word Count: 1,161 Read on Ao3

There’s a boy on the bus.

Lance sees him every Monday, the same red jacket, the same pair of headphones, and the same mullet always sitting in the fifth row to the right when Lance steps onto the bus along with Hunk. They always lock eyes, always turn away, never say a word.

Lance calls him Mullet, in his head anyway. It seems fitting, with the way his lengthy black hair hangs just along his shoulders. Hunk and Pidge have different names for him, but Lance does his best to ignore their comments.

He does have to admit, though, that their nickname “Cute Bus Boy” is not inaccurate, and that a mullet, while unsightly in theory, does in fact have a certain amount of charm when it’s on the right kind of person.

He wonders if Mullet has a nickname for him, too.

Lance glances up from his phone, sneaks a glance to his right where the boy is sitting, eyes closed. His friend isn’t with him today, the man with the white hair and scar across his nose, leaving Mullet’s dozing form in unobstructed view.

Hunk elbows him in the side.

Lance turns back, shooting his friend a glare. So what if his eyes lingered on Mullet a little more often than they used to? It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t.

Lance makes sure to keep his eyes glued to his phone or the window for the remaining fifteen minutes before he and Hunk get off at the stop in front of their apartment building. Hunk gives him some looks, but otherwise stays silent.

But there’s just something about Mullet, and when Lance throws one last look at him before getting off, he’s awake. They lock eyes, just for a moment, and then the bus drives on.

There’s a boy on the bus. He’s beautiful and mysterious and every Monday Lance falls a little more in love.

It’s been four months since Lance’s nine to four shift at the shop began, four months since he started taking the Monday bus to save money, and four months since Lance saw Mullet for the first time. He’s learned a few things since then, like that he owns a motorcycle, that he loves to eat Chex Mix, that he works downtown, that he lives with his friend, Shiro.

That his name is Keith.

Lance’s learned all these things, and yet they’ve never exchanged a single word during the past four months, just stolen glances and locked eyes.

But today there’s only one seat open.

Lance gulps.

With Hunk home with the flu, it’s just Lance as he walks up the steps, ready to take his usual spot: fifth row on the left. But it’s a holiday, the city more crowded than usual, and the typically empty bus is practically filled to the brim.

But there’s one seat open…

Lance takes the seat next to Keith, holds his breath.

Keith ignores him, which, well, what did Lance expect, really? They don’t know each other, never said as much as a hello.

But that could change.

Lance works up some courage buried deep within his bones, clears his throat, says, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Keith glances at him before turning back to the window.

Lances fiddles with the hem of his shirt. He’s made it this far, might as well commit. “I’m Lance.”

He turns back, looking surprised. “Oh, um, I’m Keith.” He stares at Lance, his violet eyes furrowed. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lance chuckles, scratches the back of his head. “Probably… from here? I sit opposite you every Monday.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They talk some more, after that. It’s not much, but Lance will take it. He learns some things through their fumbled conversation. He learns that Keith works at the local library during the weekdays, knows karate, listens to Fall Out Boy on repeat. He learns that Keith tries to hold back his smiles when he’s talking about something he loves, that he smells like leather and old books, that his quietly spoken words speak volumes.

They may not speak the entire ride, but they speak enough, and by the time Lance’s stop comes around, he doesn’t want to leave. As he gets up, Keith gives him a soft smile, a wave. “It was nice to meet you, Lance.”

He grins. “You too, Keith.”

It’s been four months since Lance started taking the bus every Monday, four months since he’d met Keith. In four months he’s learned how much he loves coffee, that his favorite book is The Hobbit, how Red Vines are his candy of choice, and what Lance’s name sounds like when spoken softly from his lips.

It sounds nice.

He’s warm.

That’s the first thing Lance notices when Keith’s hand brushes up against his, lingers there for a moment before returning back to the spot on his lap. It’s just the two of them, again, Shiro catching up on classwork and Hunk working overtime at the shop. The bus isn’t crowded but Lance sits with Keith anyway, having moved from strangers to acquaintances to something like friends over the past six months.

Lance stares at Keith’s hand on his lap, his own tingling from the brief contact. He’s warm, so warm, and Lance wants nothing more than to take Keith’s hand into his, to memorize every line, every scar, every muscle.

It’s killing him, and Lance knows what he has to do.

“Hey, Keith, are- are you doing anything tomorrow?”

Keith turns to look at him, head tilted quizzically. “No, why?”

“Hunk and I are having a little get together with some people and… I dunno I think you should come, I guess.”

Keith blinks, mouth parted, before he grins, small, contained, bursting at the seams. “Yeah, sure. Could be fun.”

“Okay, uh, sweet. I’ll text you the details?”

“You’ll need my number first.”

“Oh, right, uh, here.” Lance hands his phone over, waits patiently as Keith inputs his number.

“Don’t forget to text me,” he says as he hands Lance the phone.

Like he could ever do that. Like he could ever forget anything about Keith.

They’re quiet, after that. They usually are, on days like this. It’s nice, more than nice, really. It’s comfortable, and it’s in these last fifteen minutes that Lance feels truly at rest.

But the bus stops, as it is wont to do, and, like every Monday, Lance gets ready to head out. He stands, locks eyes with Keith, smiles, just as he’s done for the past six months. But this time, Keith takes Lance’s hand before he can head up front. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” His eyes are hopeful, voice soft, hand warm.

There’s a boy on the bus. He used to play soccer as a kid, his favorite colour is red, his smile lights up a whole room, and Lance only sees him every Monday. But that’s not true anymore, is it?

“Yeah,” Lance says, smiling wide, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[noirsongbird]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron) Characters: Keith (Voltron), Lotor (Voltron) Additional Tags: Canon Divergent, written before season 5, Fluff, Established Relationship, vldposday2018 Summary:

Lotor worries about his upcoming Trials of Marmora, and Keith arrives with assurances and affection.

Written for VLD Positivity Day 2018.

Lotor paced back and forth in his room, feeling a light note of panic in the back of his head. There were many reasons to wish to prove his sincerity to the Blade of Marmora, of course; all the ones he'd presented in his discussion with Kolivan still stood, and they made sense. He meant to prove that he was better than his father, and that the Blade had nothing to fear from him. That his intentions were upfront. The way the Trials of Marmora got into a person's head, made their greatest hopes and fears reality, would do more than enough to lay all of Lotor's intentions bare. It would also allow him to fight on the front lines as a member of the Blade, and Lotor ached for that opportunity. There was only so much inaction he could tolerate, and he would rather die than continue to be idle when people might need him.

That did not make the idea of his psyche being cracked open and laid before the Blade for judgement any less terrifying.

My @vldpositivityday gift for @averan-edits ! Sorry it’s late, yesterday was a little complicated, but I hope some Keitor fluff is what you were looking for!! <3

[team-moonlark]

This is for @softspacesheith for the @vldpositivityday exchange! I hope you like it! ♥ ^v^