Softline
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“Hey, you free tonight? There’s a party I’m gonna be at, and, well, I was hoping you’d come out? I can send you the location.”
Keith coughed. “Uh, I—”
“Yeah?” Lance prompted, playful, expectant.
“Yeah—Yeah.”
“Soooo, 9:30?”
“...I can do that.”
Keith and Lance fall in love, propose, marry, and build a home together. But, just not in that order.
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They stay that way for a long time, Catra’s face tucked into Adora’s shoulder, Adora gently cradling Catra’s head. Adora is careful not to hug Catra too hard or make her feel restrained, anticipating the moment that Catra will start to pull away — but Catra doesn’t. She hangs on so tightly it hurts, her claws digging through Adora’s jacket and into her back, latching into her like she did when she was a kitten and didn’t know how much her claws could hurt. Adora tries not to wince, tries not to move a single muscle, worried that if she does the spell will break and Catra will struggle away, appalled at having shown weakness.
But Catra doesn’t let go. And so neither does Adora.
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Lance is in the hospital and Keith doesn't know what to do. It's been a year since they've last spoken--three since they got back to Earth--and still Lance won't let him in. Earth doesn't feel like home, but Lance sure does and Keith is desperate to keep him alive and longing to be with him again. A one shot on healing and recovery and finding home when nothing feels right anymore.
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Lance swallowed, an icy feeling creeping up his spine. “Hey, so…where is future me, anyway?” And judging by their reactions so far, he should have seen it coming.
“I'm not sure how to say this.” Coran was the one to deliver the news. “He’s…or rather, you’re…dead.”
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My Ballerina (Sway Me Side To Side) by negativefouriq
Fandoms: Voltron: Legendary Defender
28 Dec 2023
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“What did you say you were looking for, again?”
Keith closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting it thunk gently on the thin wall under the big window, in the corner of the apartment where they’ve shoved their bed. He lets his eyes go blurry, lets the stars they stuck on the ceiling before they did anything else turn into bright green dots. They’re real constellations. The two of them spent hours on them; Lance on Keith’s shoulders, tripping and shouting and laughing.
“I need tickets,” Keith says quietly. He turns his gaze slowly to Lance, who is sleeping soundly again, who has bags under his eyes, whose hands twitch every few seconds, who frowns deeply. “And we can’t — these are the only ones I could find. That I can even pretend to afford. I need it to be —” He swallows. “I need you to tell me they’re real.”
Pidge is quiet for a moment. The only sound is her breathing, her nail tapping slowly on the edge of her screen.
“The link is exactly what it says it is.”
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OR: Lance has been depressed. Keith desperately wants to fix it, and with a Christmas miracle he might just manage.