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autisticlancemcclain · 9 months

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He walks in on Keith, alcohol-soaked rag clutched in his hand, elbow pressed against the wall to try to reach the weeping wound in the middle of his back. He hadn’t been called, or invited, but had instead used the lock code Keith had muttered at him weeks ago, quiet and plasticly casual in a way that told Lance the gesture was anything but.

“I’m tough,” Keith whispers, forehead pressed to the wall. His eyes are nearly shut, open only a sliver, and he breathes heavily through his mouth, measured and controlled.

Lance nods. He leaves one hand on the arch of Keith’s left shoulder, using the other to squeeze out the rag into a bucket, blood turning the water pink. He presses the newly strained fabric to the inflamed, sliced skin, and this time Keith inhales sharply, back tensing at the sound of it ringing through the room. Lance doesn’t move, only keeps the rag where it is, applying pressure.

“I know you are.”

“I can take care of myself.”

The bleeding has slowed to something much more manageable, so Lance takes the rag off entirely, tossing it into the bucket with a splash. He returns his fingers to Keith’s heated skin, tracing down the ridges of his spine, the bulges of his trapezius, the raised flesh of his scars. He circles the edge of the wound, mapping the soreness, noting the hitch in Keith’s breath, the jump and twitch of his muscles. He’ll need stitches. Ten, twelve of them, probably. And salve will need to be applied hourly, bandages changed four times a day. This will be a high maintenance injury. He cannot reach it.

He wonders how many of the raised, brutal scars on the Black Paladin’s back are from wounds exactly like this, before Lance knew the lockpad password, before Lance learned to suture, before Lance thought to follow him after missions. Before Lance.

“You have,” he says, instead of that. “You still do. You always will.” He swallows. His hands rest flat-palmed against the wideness of his shoulders, burning through the heat of his skin. “I’ve just joined in, too. Now we take care of each other.”

Keith is frozen, unmoving. The only sounds are his breaths, heavy and slow, and the creak of his jaw as he grinds his teeth.

“You never let me.”

“What?”

Keith turns his neck slightly, looking over his shoulder. He doesn’t look at Lance so much as look to the side of him. “Take care of you.” A beat of silence. “I’m never allowed.”

“I let you,” Lance says quietly. “I always let you fix me up when something hits me.”

“I’m not talking about that.”

Lance heart pounds. Instead of answering, he quickly withdraws his hands, walking over to Keith’s dresser and busying himself with gathering supplies, picking through the first aid kit. He takes his time counting out sutures, a needle, sterilizer, bandages, a belt for him to bite down on in absence of numbing cream. He can feel Keith’s eyes on him, burning the back of his neck, as the seconds and minutes tick by.

He keeps his head down as he turns around with his armful of supplies, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor and organizing all the equipment, lining it up so it’s perfectly straight. After several minutes Keith joins him, sitting gingerly in front of him with his back turned.

Lance starts with gauze, drying up the wound, soaking up the last surges of blood. He presses until he can no longer feel the burning heat of it pooling into his hand, then he pulls on gloves, tying the suture to the needle. He nudges the belt towards Keith with his foot.

Keith grabs it, pulling it slowly towards him, and holds it loosely in his hands, draped over his lap.

“You were angry at me last night,” he says softly. “After. You pulled away and locked yourself in the bathroom and didn’t come out until you thought I was asleep.”

“I was just showering off,” Lance says shortly.

“You weren’t.” Keith fiddles with the buckle. “There wasn’t any steam coming through the door. You just turned the sink on. I heard you crying, anyway.”

Lance’s hands shake. He clenches them into fists, squeezing until they still, blinking the sting out of his eyes.

Keith lifts the belt up to his mouth, long ends extending behind him like the reign of a work horse. Water condenses on the leather of the belt from the heat of his exhales, millimeters from his mouth. “I know it was because — because I was far away. In my head. I wasn’t — I wasn’t vulnerable.”

The end of his sentence hangs in the air, like a discordant note, in unfinished chord. He finally takes the belt in his mouth and bites, clenching it between his teeth, steadying himself for the sharp pain. Lance forces his hands to move, to slide the point of the needle through red flesh, curve it through torn muscle and sluggishly leaking veins. He loses himself in the sutures, tying one, two, ten. He second he ties off the final stitch, he hears a clink, and the leather belt slides off Keith’s shoulders as he unclenches his teeth, dropping the belt from his jaw.

“You aren’t vulnerable with me, either.” He shifts, pulling away from Lance’s frozen hands. “You keep things locked to your chest. It’s like you have to force yourself every time you touch me.”

Lance swallows. It doesn’t touch the dryness of his throat.

“I react badly to being loved,” Keith says when Lance can’t bring himself to speak. “That’s why I — pulled away.”

“You pushed me away,” Lance corrects. His voice is so quiet it rasps the inside of his throat. “Not — not pulled.”

Keith winces. “Yeah.”

Lance’s hands shake again. He wants to put them on Keith’s skin again so badly. Like a magnet, almost. He glances at the bandages, weighing the weight of the excuse they offer.

“It’s okay,” he starts shakily, stretching the bandages across Keith’s torso, lingering on his chest, his shoulders, his ribs. “For people to — for me, to like the things you’re way too hard on yourself for.” He inhales quickly and forces the rest of the sentiment out, even though it’s humiliating, even though it will cost him. “I like your brashness.”

His face is to Keith’s back, but he can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. It’s — charming. It comes from your protectiveness, I think, and I like the thought of that. Of your protection, I mean.”

Keith doesn’t say anything for a moment. Lance can’t read him, can’t guess his thoughts, and he feels like a flayed heart in his openness.

“I like your competitive streak,” Keith says softly. Fondly.

Lance blinks in surprise. “You like my — you like that I’m stubborn?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Lance isn’t the only one who likes the ugly parts, then.

“Can we start over?” Keith asks timidly, after Lance has wrapped his wound tightly, after he has turned to face him, but still looks slightly away. After they sit inches apart, refusing to touch, itching to make contact. “I want to — be vulnerable.” He speaks the words as if they hurt on their way out of him. “I want to do this together.”

Lance shudders, eyes closing without his permission.

Together — that’s all he’s ever wanted. Equal footing with Keith. All he has ever wanted was for Keith to want and crave him as badly and he does, and apparently he —

Apparently, Keith likes him when he’s stubborn, when he is argumentative and frustrating and annoying. Keith wants him then.

“Yes,” Lance says quickly. “Together.”

———

based on this post

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klanceficatalogue · 8 months

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Hi! I just wanted to put in an ask for like klance fics where one of them, preferably Keith, is injured and it's all panicky and angsty and shit. And if that's too specific I can make do with hurt/comfort fics I drink that shit up. Thanks :)

absolutely - k

hurt keith tag

hurt/comfort tag

How Shall I Win Back Your Heart (Which Was Mine) by negativefouriq (1/1 | 1,325 | Teen and Up)

He doesn’t wait for an invitation now, wordlessly padding forward and prying the rag from Keith’s crooked fingers, pressing it to the wound. Keith does not flinch or tense, but there is a volatility to the air that makes Lance hold his breath without realizing. “I’m tough,” Keith whispers, forehead pressed to the wall. His eyes are nearly shut, open only a sliver, and he breathes heavily through his mouth, measured and controlled. Lance nods. He leaves one hand on the arch of Keith’s left shoulder, using the other to squeeze out the rag into a bucket, blood turning the water pink. He presses the newly strained fabric to the inflamed, sliced skin, and this time Keith inhales sharply, back tensing at the sound of it ringing through the room. Lance doesn’t move, only keeps the rag where it is, applying pressure. “I know you are.” “I can take care of myself.” --- OR: Neither of them are good at being vulnerable. But they are trying anyway.

//blood and injury

for if i am not yours, what am i? by seph_bites (1/1 | 3,745 | Teen and Up)

Keith has been endlessly plagued by his fight with Shiro's clone, the words repeating in his head like a mantra, distorting everything he's unlearned. ----- "I’m not going to abandon you, Keith. Ever.” “Do you promise?” “I promise, Keith. I promise, I promise,” he whispered, repeating it as he held him in his arms.

//ptsd //panic attacks

Electric by AnonGh0st (1/1 | 3,736 | Teen and Up)

Keith has always had a habit of going out on his own and getting himself hurt, but he's able to handle it. A mission gone a little wrong shouldn't turn into such a big ordeal, but when he's in so much pain he can barely hold his head up he has no choice but to accept help from the only other person in the castle. OR Keith has a bad time on a mission and Lance bandages him up again. Also a little bit of sharing a bed at the end as an apology.

//graphic violence //electrocution

#asks #anon #klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #voltron fic #hurt comfort #hurt keith #one shot #completed #teen and up #1to5k

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icypantherwrites · 3 months

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Fic Update: Through Fire and Smoke, Chapter Two

Fanfiction summary: They’re trapped. They’re trapped and the room is filling up with fire and smoke and there’s no way out and both Pidge and Lance are down and if Keith doesn’t figure something out they are all going to die.

Chapter snippet:

But, Keith smirked behind his hand, the Galrans had severely underestimated their enemy if they thought a little smoke, fire and a locked door were enough to stop Paladins of Voltron.

He summoned his bayard in a shimmer of red-tinged white light and surged for the door, Lance stepping aside without needing told, and Keith went to slice right through the door.

Or, well, he meant to.

His blade skidded lengthwise across it and Lance let out another yelp as he barely evaded the wayward strike and Keith was only dimly aware of Lance shouting his name as his eyes darted from his bayard to the door and Pidge, around a cough, asking what the fuck had just happened.

That…

That wasn’t possible.

He’d seen his bayard cut through metal; it beheaded sentries on a semi-regular basis.

Aim for the glass window maybe?

He turned back to the door, angling the sword so this time he was aiming away from Lance just in case, and brought it down.

He skittered once more across the door, not even carving a furrow.

Okay.

So the door and the window on it were reinforced.

No need to panic. The wall next to it would work just as well.

His blade bounced off it too.

His heart thudded louder than the crackling flames that were filling up more and more of the room and Keith was starting to think here was some sort of accelerant inside the walls that kept feeding them.

This was not good.

This was very not good.

“Okay, okay, enough with the samurai stuff,” Lance said and Keith was peripherally aware of a flash of blue-tinged light.

His heart leapt into his throat at the implication.

“Don’t—!”

He was drowned out as Lance’s bayard went off, a perfect shot at one of the hinges on the door, but the door didn’t explode.

The flames did though.

Pidge shrieked as Keith tackled her backwards just as the wall of fire — definitely some sort of accelerant and Lance’s bayard laser had acted like fucking gasoline to it — would have hit her.

They went down in a tangle of limbs and a clack of armor and Keith felt heat scorch across his back and he threw his hands up to try to cover his head less his hair catch on fire.

Read it here

(not posted on AO3)

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actress4him · 1 year

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For bthb, could you do Keith with seizures? The cause could be something to with him being half Galra? Maybe it happens in the atlas (season 8?) completely optional suggestion I’d love it if you only do the first part (first time suggesting something so sorry if this is worded weirdly)

It’s been ages, and whoever you are, dear anon, I have no idea whether you’ll ever actually see this, but I hope you do and I hope you enjoy.

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Seizures

Contains: dude whump, sensory overload, self-deprecating thoughts, seizure, references to past questionable foster care

Voltron had saved another planet. That meant yet another celebration to thank them, something that the team always had mixed feelings about. Lance and Allura and Coran loved them, always ready for a chance to mingle and socialize (and in Lance’s case, flirt), while Pidge and Keith were less than thrilled, both of them preferring to stay away from social situations whenever possible. Shiro and Hunk seemed to fall somewhere in the middle, only really complaining if they were especially tired, but enjoying themselves most of the time once they were there.

He didn’t know about the others, but Keith also struggled with seeing the necessity of these events. Sure, he knew that the planet’s people were thankful for their help, but did it really require a party every time? Didn’t they have better things they could be doing, like, you know, saving more planets? This was a war. Allura was always preaching the importance of diplomacy, but he had a hard time believing that it should take precedence over battles.

Plus, they never really knew what they were getting themselves into when landing on an alien planet. Of all the members of Voltron, Keith really should have been the best at getting thrown into new, unknown situations. After all, that’s how he’d spent his entire childhood. But those families had all been human, at least, and therefore mostly predictable. Alien planets were anything but.

For instance, on most planets the celebrations had been rather formal affairs, some even with dancing like a ball straight out of a movie. Others had been more casual, and many focused on food (those were Hunk’s favorites, of course).

On this particular planet, though, as soon as the president announced that the festivities would begin, the ballroom-like space turned instantly into a club. The main lights switched off, but were replaced by multi-colored beams that spun wildly around the room. Speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling and walls began blasting what apparently passed as music on this planet, complete with a drumbeat that vibrated the floor.

Keith, taken completely off guard, couldn’t stop his violent flinch. He did, however, just barely catch himself before his hands clapped over his ears. Sucking in a deep breath, he forced his arms back down by his sides. Loud sounds had always been miserable for him. He’d had to learn a long time ago that it wasn’t always appropriate to indulge himself and try to block them out, though. Some people didn’t take very kindly to that, and the last thing he wanted was to insult anyone here. Allura would have his head.

The lights were awful, too, and he blinked several times in a row before settling on just squinting at everything. Every time one flashed directly across his face he winced, trying not to squeeze his eyes shut and leave them that way. Not that it mattered much if he did, he could still see the colors behind his eyelids.

“Woo!” Lance yelled, immediately getting into the spirit and waving his arms over his head. “Heck yeah, this is what I call a party!” And he was off, sliding and bopping through the crowd, getting everyone around him excited and dancing.

Why can’t you be more like him? that ugly voice in Keith’s head sneered. Everybody loves Lance, no matter where we go. Really, why can’t you be more like any of them?

The rest of the team were all looking far more comfortable in this environment than he ever could. Some were dancing, others eating and chatting. Even Pidge had found someone to talk technology or math with, judging by the passion in her expression. Meanwhile, he just stood there awkwardly, fighting against the strong urge in every inch of his body to flee the room and find somewhere dark and quiet to hide.

Pretty recently he’d finally realized that his sensitive eyes and ears probably came from his Galra side, thanks to getting to know the Blades and his mom and finding out more about their physiology. That didn’t make him feel any better about it. Sure, he was getting more and more used to the whole half-Galra thing, and getting closer to actually, fully accepting it. But this was just another case of being Galra making him different. More accurately, weird. Another reason why he’d never fit in anywhere he went.

And that’s why I can’t be like them. Because I’m not like them, and I never will be.

Weaving slowly through the crowd of aliens, Keith made his way toward the wall closest to the entrance. He tried his best not to bump into anyone, despite the fact that half of them were in the middle of flailing - ahem, dancing. Still, hands and sleeves brushed against his arms and shoulders. Somehow they felt like pins pricking his skin, even through his jacket. He hurried past, wrapping his arms around himself tightly and tucking himself up against the wall. But the wall was vibrating, like the floor. It shot up his spine into his head, making him clench his teeth even harder, and he quickly stood up straight again.

He thought he was going to be sick. Which was stupid, it was just lights and music. But it was crawling underneath his skin, pounding into his temples, clogging up his throat.

He wanted to go home.

“Hey, man! You okay over here?” Hunk appeared next to him, shouting to be heard over the chaos of music and conversations. “You look kinda pale.”

The added noise stabbed through Keith’s skull, and he tried his hardest not to show it. “‘m fine.”

Finishing chewing whatever he’d just popped into his mouth, Hunk frowned and stepped a little closer. “You sure? I mean, I know you don’t like parties, but…this seems a bit worse than normal.”

Keith looked over at him. He seemed entirely genuine, as Hunk usually was. “The lights and music are just…” This time he failed to keep from flinching when one of the beams crossed his face. “A lot. It’s no big deal, though.”

“Ohhh.” Hunk’s expression morphed from concern to something that was probably pity, which is not what he was hoping for. “Yeah, Shiro said at some point that you have like, sensitive eyes and stuff, right? I’m sorry, man. You could go back to the Castle, you know. You don’t have to stay if you’re miserable.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s fine.” He wasn’t going to disappear and risk it causing any number of problems - alien presidents getting offended, Allura deciding she needed them all to line up and have some sort of ceremony, some kind of further attack occurring. Call him paranoid, but all of the above had happened before. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.”

He really needed this conversation to end now, though. Having to talk and focus on what Hunk was saying, and also smelling the food he was holding on top of the smell of a bunch of alien sweat and perfumes was making things even worse. It felt like his head was going to explode with all of the sensations it was trying to process.

In fact, maybe it was already exploding. Maybe it was slowly frying, at least, because there were stars appearing around him that he was pretty sure weren’t part of the party’s special effects. Hunk was saying something else next to him, but Keith couldn’t process it, staring up at the blinking stars. Everything in the room seemed to be moving in slow motion all of a sudden. Then there was an especially bright burst of light, and he vaguely felt himself falling.

“I’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry,” he said. But then Hunk was watching Keith stare off into space at nothing before starting to shake and dropping abruptly to the floor.

“Whoa! Keith!” He dove onto his knees, torn between watching Keith’s whole body twitch and jerk uncontrollably and looking around frantically for someone to help him. Everyone’s attention was on the festivities, though, not down on the floor, and the music was way too loud to call out to anyone. Hunk was the only one who knew something was wrong.

And he was…not really equipped to handle something like this. He’d had some first aid classes, though, so he could…he could do this, right? It wasn’t like there was another choice. Keith needed him.

This was definitely a seizure. And it was horrifying. But he had to ignore that and focus on what he could do. He knew he wasn’t supposed to hold onto him, couldn’t stop the terrible shaking that had taken over his body, but he was pretty sure it was a good idea to try and cushion his head. So he scooted over, reaching out tentatively and very, very carefully lifting Keith’s head with both hands until he could set it into his lap.

The Red Paladin’s eyes were open, but only white was showing. Hunk’s heart was in his throat watching him. Vaguely he thought he remembered something about counting when someone was having a seizure, but he had no idea why or how much time had passed already so he didn’t try to start. All he could do at that point was watch and wait and hope that it would be over soon.

And eventually, after what seemed like a lifetime, it was. Keith’s body relaxed as quickly as it had begun seizing, going limp on the floor. He looked…dead. Which completely freaked Hunk out for a moment, almost more than the seizure had to start with, until he saw his chest rise and fall once, then twice. Okay. Okay, so he wasn’t dead. He was…not okay, but he wasn’t seizing and he wasn’t dead. Now he just needed to get someone’s attention, and since the shaking was past he was able to scoop him up in his arms and stand.

It didn’t take long after that for someone to notice them then. One paladin draped across another’s arms was kind of concerning, apparently, and pretty soon they had a swarm of aliens and the other paladins around them, ready to help.

After the stars and the falling, Keith didn’t remember much besides a buzzing sensation, like electricity had taken over his limbs. The next thing he was fully aware of was opening his eyes to blissful darkness and quiet. The only sound was a whispered conversation in an unseen corner of the room, which quickly came to a halt when he shifted.

“Keith? You with us, bud?”

“Y-yeah.” He stretched out his legs, trying to figure out what he was lying on and why it felt like someone had beaten him with a stick. Every single muscle in his body was sore, even ones he didn’t realize he had. “What, uh…what happened?”

Hunk scooted out to the edge of the chair across from him, catching his attention. “You, um…had a seizure. It was super scary, man. I’d be really okay if that never happened again, but I mean of course I don’t like, blame you for it, I highly doubt you did it on purpose.”

“I wasn’t actually there for the seizure part, but seeing you passed out wasn’t exactly reassuring, either,” Lance piped in, appearing to perch on the arm of Hunk’s chair. “I just thought you were pale before, that was like, ghost quality.”

Keith was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of having a seizure, but he was surprised to see them both there, especially Lance. “You should still be at the party, not worrying over me. I didn’t mean to interrupt everything.”

“You think I was gonna keep dancing with the ladies while my teammate was in here dying?” Lance scoffed, sounding offended. “The ladies will just have to do without me for a little while.”

“The ladies are probably all waiting to thank Keith for distracting you for a few minutes,” Pidge quipped drily. She draped herself over the back of the couch that Keith was apparently lying on. “And he’s not dying, anyway. He’s fine.” Her eyes cut over to Keith’s face, and he could see concern trying not to show itself. “Right?”

“Um. Yeah. I…think.” He started to push himself up, grimacing a little at the pull on his muscles, but Pidge placed the heel of her hand on his forehead and shoved him back down.

“Cool it, cowboy, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine, really. I don’t know what happened, but…I’m okay now.” He was pretty sure, anyway. He felt relatively normal, other than the soreness, but not knowing what had brought on the seizure and whether or not it would happen again was a bit concerning, to say the least. “It isn’t the first time I’ve had one, anyway. Happened once when I was a kid, too. And I was fine then,” he added quickly.

“Was there a lot of sensory input happening then, too?” Shiro crossed the room, tucking a datapad into his pocket. “Hunk said you were complaining about the lights and music.”

Keith thought back to the first incident, at a foster brother’s birthday party in an arcade. “Yeah. There was.” The foster parents had sent him away after that, claiming they were unprepared to deal with major medical issues. Never mind that it hadn’t happened again for almost a decade, and not until he was all the way in outer space.

Shiro nodded. “I was just talking to the Blade’s medic. Apparently it isn’t a common thing for Galra to experience, but he has seen it before in mixed species. The Galra sensory issues combined with…something that certain other races have, it was a bit over my head. But he’d like to run some tests next time he sees you, just to be sure.”

Keith groaned and shook his head. Just what he needed, more tests by the Blade trying to figure out how exactly his body worked.

“I appreciate you guys, um…being there for me. Helping me out. Especially, um, you, Hunk. I hate that I caused a scene, though. You all should get back before you’re missed too much.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hunk waved a hand dismissively. “Allura and Coran are still holding down the fort out there, though we should definitely let them know soon that you’re awake and okay. They were worried about you.”

“We’d all much rather be in here making sure you’re okay, Mullet.��

It never failed to surprise him, hearing the rest of the team express any kind of care and concern for him. A warm feeling invaded his chest and eased some of the tension in his body.

“And Keith? If this ever happens again, will you please let us know so we can help before your body freaks out?” Pidge poked him in the stomach to emphasize her words.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I can do that, I guess.” Part of him still wanted to protest about diplomacy and not angering aliens and such, but he knew he’d just get shut down. Instead he glanced around at the team and smiled a little. “Thanks.”

————————————————

Bingo requests are open, but only for my OCs at this time, and with no guarantee of how long it will take me to fulfill them!

#badthingshappenbingo #bad things happen bingo #seizures #voltron: legendary defender #voltron whump #keith whump #hurt keith #dude whump #sensory overload #self-deprecating thoughts #foster care #galra keith #vld #voltron keith #voltron fanfiction #voltron fic #keith kogane

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probablyhuntersmom · 2 years

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@badthingshappenbingo

Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fill #4

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Trope: No Anesthetic

Requested by: @randomlifeunit

Characters: Keith

My original Bingo post with rules is here~

#badthingshappenbingo #keith kogane #voltron #vld #zarkon #haggar's druids #hurt keith #whump #no anesthetic #medical whump #unconsciousness #wanted this one to be a lot about the dread instead of a direct interpretation #my art

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ao3isthehomogod · 9 months

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Afire Love

Author: sparkle_bitch

Words: 6,830

Chapters: 1

Author Summary:

Hey! So I was wondering if you could write a promt with a klance au, ( firefighter Keith x paramedic lance) that’s likes super angsty but with a happy ending. Like Keith gets trapped in a house and gets burned badly and lance is the one in the ambulance and sees his bf super injured and is super scared. And then everything is fine in the end. But maybe Keith like almost dies? Or his injuries get infected? It’s totally fine if not! Keep being awesome! 😊😊💙❤️❤️

My Summary:

This is another one of the first fics I read in this fandom and I think it’s one of the cutest, heart-throbbing, and beautiful pieces in the fandom. I know I say that for a lot of fics but I seriously my love this fic with all my heart. Paramedic Lance holds a special place in my heart so that mixed with firefighter Keith (which was a combo I didn’t know I needed) is just *chefs kiss* I honestly can’t put into words how much love and angst went into the writing. Just trust me- you’ll love this fic.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Klance

Characters: Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Shiro

Enjoy :3

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greyfix · 1 year

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Justice

Title: Justice

Ship: Keith Kogane/Lance McClain

Summary: Things haven’t quite changed post war. It’s going to take alot more than a couple of teenagers to fix the bias against Galra.

Word Count: 2.1K

Requested By: n/a

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, Post-war, canon compliant, hurt keith, protective lance

Author’s Note: Sorry it’s been taking me so long to post, I’ve been really busy recently and there haven’t been alot of circumstances in which i can write and post. Ao3,

Lance was in his usual position by the stove when he noticed the time. In the years since the war had ended, Keith and Lance had fallen into a routine. They went into work at the Garrison together in the mornings. Lance taught strategy at the boarding school in the beginning of the day, and then went in as a consultant in the afternoon. Keith did combat training with anyone who was assigned to him. He started as a teacher for the older students, but he became someone sought out by those with the ambition to get better. He did this in the evenings and was an ambassador to the Blade of Marmora the rest of the time, so his schedule was more flexible.

It became routine early on that Lance would make sure to cook dinner every night because he loved reminiscing on something he did with his family growing up, and he wanted to be able to sit and eat and talk with his Husband every night.

Keith normally came home around 7 O’ Clock. That was their schedule. If he had something to do off world or was working late he always let Lance know. Tonight it was 8:17 PM and Keith still hadn’t walked through the door. Lance was reaching for his phone to send a text when he heard keys jingling outside.

The second Lance is able to look at his husband’s face, his expression hardened and he pointed to the stool near the counter. “Sit.”

Keith knew exactly what he was in for. He did as he was told and waited patiently for Lance to get the med kit out of the nearby bathroom. He’d come home beat up many times and Lance’s reaction was always the same. Intense worry and affection.

When he returned, Lance still didn’t say anything. He only unzipped the red pack that all of their emergency supplies were kept in and pulled out what he would need. Disinfectant wipes, sticker stitches, bandaids, neosporin, etc.

He tilted Keith’s chin up to get a better look at his face and the evidence of a fight. He delicately thumbs away a streak of blood by Keiths mouth, saying nothing as he examines it. After a brief pause, Keith’s heart skips a nervous beat as Lance looks him dead in their eyes. His voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.

“Who did this to you?”

Keith took a deep breath. “Lance, you have to understand. It’s only been a few years. Things aren’t going to change in an instant.”

“What are you talking about?”

“People still blame the Galra as a species for what Zarkon did. You know that. That’s not something that can be fixed by winning a war.”

“You’re telling me, someone found you and attacked you, because you’re part Galra?” Lance spoke incredulously.

“Yes. That is what I'm telling you.”

“And what did you do about it?”

“I didn’t hurt him.” Keith said. “He may have been an asshole but I wasn't about to kill someone for that, lance. It wasn’t-”

Lance cut him off. “It wasn’t a big deal?! Keith this is a hate crime! You could have fought back and it would have been self defense!”

“Yes, but-”

“I’ll go and fucking fight back! I thought we were over this bullshit! We went off into the world as children to fight a war while these people had no clue what was going on until the very end, and they have the nerve to be Racist?? To you of all people? Where is the respect, or gratitude, or human decency!?”

Keith tries to interrupt but can’t get through. If there’s one thing that Lance is passionate about it is the safety of his family. Especially the family he has fought and died (momentarily) for. Nothing would stop lance when it came to protecting them. Whether it was Keith, Rachel, Veronica, Marco, Luis, his nieces and nephews, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, even Axca. Lance would fight.

“Fighting isn’t the answer!” Keith finally shouted, really hoping that this didn’t turn into an argument between them.

“What?”

“If we fight, or kill, or do anything physically violent to the people who think differently than us, are we any better than Zarkon? Zarkon was insulted once and decided the solution was to commit genocide. Do you want to stoop down to his level?”

Lance was silent for a long time. Keith was right and he knew it. He knew he was being irrational, and that in any other situation he would be saying the same thing. He also knew that in saying this himself, Keith had grown from the reckless hotheaded kid he’d once been.

“You’re right.” Lance said as he slumped down into the chair next to his husband. He was silent while he worked. Patching up the cuts and cleaning up the blood. Making sure everything was in order.

It was a long time before Keith spoke again. “We have to go about this the right way.”

“We do.”

The next morning went as usual, with only a slightly larger amount of wincing and sighing on Keith’s part.

Dressed in their Garrison uniforms they were permitted through the strict security system after only a flash of their badges. If voltron was worth anything it was not having to wait an hour to get through security checks.

This time instead of parting to go to their respective departments, they both headed to Legal. Since they didn’t go there often there were alot of people stopping them to talk. The usual things.

‘Haven’t seen you around here before’

‘You get into trouble?’

‘Goodness! What happened to you, Paladin Kogane?’

‘Paladins!’

‘My kids are huge fans’

It wasn’t long before they had made it through the pleasantries and dropped off the paperwork. It was when they were heading out that the chaos ensued.

Not long after they left the legal department and were heading towards their car did they run into Pidge. And Matt. And Shiro. And Curtis. And Coran. And- You get the picture.

They all immediately jumped into fussing over Keith.

“What happened?”

“Did you get into a fight?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Keith shrugged away their touch. “It’s not that bad”

They took a moment to stay and explain to their friends what had happened and how they were dealing with it. They all agreed it was the right thing to do. Those things would be okay.

It was only a week later when they started to worry. They still hadn’t heard back from the garrison about their complaint. Things as simple as this should be pushed through relatively quickly. Why weren’t they?

They decided to give it another week, because things happen, but when they still didn’t hear back they took a day off work and went to speak to the head of the Garrison’s Legal Department.

This time, since they were there not that long ago, they didn’t have to filter through the pleasantries as much so it went significantly faster. They went straight to the very back of the building to meet a man named. Mr. Thomas.

Mr. Thomas was a large man in a barely fitting three piece suit. He had no hair and a beard that had seen better days. He welcomed them in and gestured for them to sit down on the two brown leather chairs in front of his cluttered mahogany desk. “Well, Paladins. What can I help you with today, on this rare visit.”

Lance spoke first, as always. “We sent through a complaint a couple weeks ago, but we haven’t heard back once. We were just hoping to see about that.”

“Oh, well we get a million complaints around here. It takes time to sift through them all.”

“I’ve heard about quite a few getting through in less than a week. Ours isn’t very complicated.” Lance said, deceptively eloquent.

“There’s no reason for it to take this long.” Keith spoke for the first time, startling Mr. Thomas.

Mr. Thomas smiled a fake smile and opened the laptop sitting atop his desk. “Well, let's take a look at this then shall we?”

He browsed for a moment, asking some questions to find the file in what had to be an unseemly large database of files. When he finally came across it his expression fell. “Oh.”

Lance tilted his head, “Oh?”

“Things like this happen all the time. If we caused a fuss every time someone assaulted a galra we would never get a break. It’s really not a big deal. I suggest you move on with your life.”

Silence. For a long moment no one spoke. Lance, for once, was at a loss for words. Keith was only dejected. He’d known a long time ago that he would face adversity for this, even though he had no control over it. It was just the luck of the draw, and Keith had always had the worst luck.

Keith looked over at Lance, ready to let this all go and, like mr. Thomas said, move on with his life. However, he didn’t see a face that would be receptive to that idea.

Lance’s facial expression had hardened, and his eyes had that stiff laser focus that was only seen when there was a rifle in his hand. All his attention was on Mr.Thomas as though he was a direct physical threat. In lance’s mind, he was.

Lance stood up calmly and walked towards the desk, making complete eye contact with Mr.Thomas. “How often do ‘things like this’ happen? Do you get many complaints? Complaints that you overlook because of your own bigoted beliefs?”

Mr. Thomas’s eyes widened. He didn’t dare speak.

“Did you know that this is how Zarkon acted before he became a bloodthirsty dictator intent on genocide? He believed that anyone different than him deserved to die, along with anyone who got in his way. Is that what you believe? So much so that you would knowingly allow people to hurt others for that reason knowing that you have the power to stop it?”

Thomas sputtered, trying to get out some excuse but lance didn’t give him a chance. “Push our reports through. And any like ours. Or i will make your life a living hell.”

“Lance.” Keith spoke. He wouldn’t let this get any farther. He knew what would happen otherwise, and he learned that this wasn’t how things should be done. With threats and violence. He knew that in order to keep the peace they all worked so hard to create he had to be peaceful as well, and so did everyone else. “He’s not worth it.”

Lance looked over at his husband’s solemn expression and all the tension in his body dropped. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

This time they didn’t try to go straight home. This time they found an empty meeting room and gathered everyone they knew. They were going to make this right, and they were going to do it properly.

Once everyone was there and the situation had been explained Pidge was the first to take action. They found all of the complaints similar to Keith and Lance’s in the last few years since the war. They filed through them together one by one. Sorting them by severity and time passed. It took hours.

Shiro and Sam Holt used their high rank and large amounts of pull with the higher ups to plant some information about what’s been going on and Mr. Thomas. They even got a bunch of the legal team to help out.

They personally contacted everyone who filed a complaint and was ignored. They explained the situation and they made sure everyone knew that they would do their best to get them recognized.

In the next weeks they brought each case including their own against Keith’s assaulter, and against Mr.Thomas. They made sure everyone was seen, and everyone got the closure they deserved. This wouldn’t happen again.

They won both of their cases. Keith’s assaulter was found guilty and was sentenced to reasonable time. Mr.Thomas was removed from his position and Keith and Lance got some say in who was hired in that place. They put in good words for the people in the legal department who helped and stood up to Mr. Thomas.

They fought a war as children. They rebelled against a man intent on universal genocide. And they won. They weren’t going to let all of that go to waste. Things wouldn’t go back to the way they were if Keith and Lance had a say in it.

Things would change.

#hurt/comfort #angst #post war #canon compliant #hurt keith #protective lance #klance #keith kogane #galra keith #lance mcclain

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tom-the-tortoise · 1 year

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#hurt lance #hurt keith #Shiro angst #voltron #fic #my work #archive of our own #lance angst #keith angst #hunk angst #everyone angst

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heynhay · 9 months

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I've done the math, there's no solution, we'll never last

#klance #voltron #vld #lance mcclain #keith kogane #EXTREMELY RARE INSTANCE OF HEYNHAY ACKNOWLEDGING VLD CANON???#But not lances altean marks bc ummm allura lives. In my world. Bc I am not an idiot.#haha well this is post-finale angst so. yeah #art #my art #SPONGEBOB HOLDING UP HANDS MEME. THIS IS NOT A BREAKUP POST #JUST LIKE. HURT/COMFORT. THEY WORK IT OUT.#keith is just being an emotionally constipated ass here for a sec ok hang on #laufey

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makkis-meanderings · 13 days

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I grew up being gaslit and queerbaited by media, now you're trying to tell me that I shouldn't be filtering AO3 by >10,000 words, angst, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, pining??

what do you want from me fr??

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fluffomatic · 3 months

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I made a comic?? After all this time? I desperately needed a hurt/comfort piece with Spectra and Dan! Poor kid needed some cuddles and tickles >:)

(My art don't repost but please reblog)

(This is Platonic only!!)

#my art #my artwork #tickling #tickle art #tickle #tickles #my art stuff #lee!dan #ticklish!dan #ler!spectra #ler!keith #platonic tickles #sfw tickles #hurt/comfort tickles #bakugan tickles #tickle comic

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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months

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The situation starts on the couches of a hotel lobby on a random planet at three-something in the morning, sprawled all over each other, exhausted, as Coran quietly checks them in.

“Hey, Lance,” whispers Keith, from somewhere beside the shoulder he offered. Lance groans, feigning more tiredness than he actually feels, heart racing since Keith first shifted so Lance would have somewhere to rest his head. He has this strange feeling of invasion, even though Keith offered, even though they’ve been in this position dozens of times before. He’s waiting almost for the other shoe to drop.

“Mm-what,” he mumbles, muffled into his roughed shoulder pads, words smushed together.

Keith sighs instead of answering. For half a second Lance tenses. But Keith only shifts again, not pushing Lance off but moving so Lance is pressed closer to him, and then the heat of his breath tickles the shell of Lance’s ear, and he tenses for a whole different reason.

And then there is, inexplicably, the feeling of what must be Keith’s lips, pressed to the side of Lance’s skull, gentle and lingering, and Lance thinks clearly to himself: what the fresh actual and genuine fuck.

“‘M sorry,” says Keith, so quiet it would be impossible to hear were his mouth not one single inch away from Lance’s ear. He kisses again, and he almost sags into the motion, into Lance. “I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of you earlier. I was stressed. I missed you, too.”

Lance opens his mouth. He muffles a choking sound with all of his strength.

“All good in the hood,” he finally manages, and then wants to strangle himself. “We’re — tight, Keithalicious.”

Somewhere, somehow, there is a God, and this God looks upon him with the utmost cruelty, and so Lance suffers, unjustly, every day of his life. He often prays that he will wake up one morning in the absence of a tongue. A hindrance and horrible sacrifice, of course, but one that may be worth the total sum of humiliation he feels so acutely and so frequently by virtue of God’s gift of language.

Shit is just not worth it, sometimes.

Keith’s laugh tickles a little. “I’m glad, sweetheart.” His final kiss is light, more of a peck than anything. He pats Lance’s hip twice before standing. Lance wonders, vaguely, when the hell his hand was in his hip area in the first place, and how the hell he’s supposed to rationalize that somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind. “‘M gonna go help Coran. See you in a few.”

“Yeah,” is what Lance means to say, but unfortunately when he opens his mouth the only sound that escapes is a strange kind of croak, clawing its way out of his throat and withering to death somewhere in the air between them. It may be, he realises with an intense flash of solemnity, the last remaining dredges of his dignity. Rest in fucking peace.

Keith just smiles again (a real one that shows his crooked incisors and crinkles his eyes and makes him looks handsome, not hot or sexy or beautiful but handsome, in a way that genuinely makes Lance weak in the knees) and jogs over to the front desk. Lance watches him place a friendly hand on Coran’s shoulder, leaning in and narrowing his eyes at the paper the front desk worker offers, saying something Lance can’t hear with his Black Paladin face in full force. When he finally manages to wrench his eyes away, he sees the faces of his team, gobsmacked, staring at him with wide eyes and jaws brushing the polished blue tiles.

“What,” Shiro manages eventually, “the fuck.”

“Since fucking when are you two boning!” Pidge adds, shamelessly.

“I thought you had a thing for Allura?” questions Hunk.

Lance’s own jaw snaps shut. His ears burn, worse than they already were, and he glances at the princess only to find her already looking away. Shame burns something fierce in the pit of his stomach. It’s an unwelcome replacement of the butterflies.

“What me and Keith do behind a closed door is none of your business,” Lance says hotly, straightening his shoulders and puffing out his chest ridiculously. His heart pounds. He raises his voice to drown it out. “We had a bonding moment, after all.”

Pidge barks a laugh. The rest of the snorts and giggles soon follow, and soon the team is looking at him in fond exasperation, rolling their eyes and muttering about Lance and his antics. Allura, even, looks him in the face again. The roiling in his stomach doesn’t change, but the pound of his heart is replaced with something bitter on the back of his tongue.

Anything is better than looking ignorant. Even if you look like a fool.

He settles into the corner of the couch — much less comfortable than Keith’s armoured shoulder, somehow — and lets his eyes slide shut, lets the familiar sound of his team quietly conversing and the ambient sound of a public place at night wash over him as he fades into a half-sleep. The same kind of sleep in a car on the way home from a long road trip, late at night; half aware of the movement and murmured sound of your parents’ whispering in front seat, time stretching around you like taffy.

He stirs slowly at the sound of boots hitting the floor, bleary eyes still half-shut. Keith slowly comes back into focus, standing in front of him now. He’s frowning, troubled.

“They booked us two separate rooms,” he explains, pursing his lips at the two keys in his hand.

Lance pauses. “…Yes.”

Keith doesn’t pick up on it. (That, at least, is familiar enough to make Lance smile.)

“You’d think they’d…well, whatever. I suppose it’s fine. I’ll come join you after you’re showered?”

“Keith —”

“I think my room has the bigger bed, actually. You come to mine.” He opens the little envelope thing and pulls out the extra key, sliding it into Lance’s hands. “I’ll bring up your luggage.”

“Keith, I’m not going to —”

Lance stops.

Keith, I’m not going to sleep with you, is what he was going to say. Keith, what the hell. Keith, you’re acting like a pod person. Keith, I don’t understand what’s going on. Keith, everyone is laughing at us and you don’t seem to notice. Or care. Keith, you’re acting like you’re my — boyfriend, or something. Keith, one day ago you didn’t want anything to do with me. Keith, now you can’t seem to get enough of me. Keith, I am going to lose my mind. Keith, Keith, Keith.

“Okay,” Lance says instead, quiet. He turns the key over in his hands. It looks like a regular white hotel key. It feels heavier, somehow. “Okay, I’ll meet you in twenty.”

Keith flashes a quick smile. It, too, is genuine, and Lance lips are quirking up to match before he can think about it.

“Liar. You’ve never taken less than a half hour shower in your life.”

“I have — so.”

Shaking his head, fondness bleeding from him, Keith steps forward, bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to Lance’s forehead. Lance feels all the air exit his body in one huge whoosh.

“I know you, goober. We got all night. Decompress. I’ll check the closet and under the bed before you get there. Don’t take too long.”

Lance stills. He watches after Keith with wide eyes. His heart, finally calmed again, fucking races.

He’s never, not once in his life, told anyone about the — thing. With the — closets, and under the bed. Not one person; not even Hunk.

It’s stupid, is what it is.

But Lance’s older cousin was kind of a — jerk. And when they were kids he would make these freaky fucking paintings with red eyes and smudged faces and — hide them, in Lance’s closet or dresser drawers or under his bed, and convince him they would come to life in the night and posses him, and it was so fucking dumb, but Lance has always been gullible and it used to scare the shit out of him, because he would never know when they would appear and it would just — freak him out. All the time. Unless he checked his entire room once in the daytime before sleeping, he would never be able to fall asleep.

And he’s never fucking — told anyone about that. Because as a kid it was terrifying to say out loud and as he got older it was just embarrassing. But Keith knows, somehow.

Keith knows.

Lance exhales, air whistling sharply from between his teeth, “Whatever. Whatever. You know what? Whatever,” and stomps over to the elevator. “This is — I’m going to shower. And not think. I don’t — whatever.”

He stews the whole way up to his room. He stews as the key doesn’t fucking work in the slot until the fourth try. He stews as he yanks off his armour and flings it into a random corner, relishing in the heavy thud as it hits the wall, hoping it cracks. He stews as he angrily presses all the buttons in the shower and hops in, cussing as he’s assaulted with an onslaught of hot-cold-hot-cold-soap-soap-soap, aggressively blinking away the sting in his eye and cursing the very air molecules around him. He stews the entire fucking forty minute shower, although admittedly he does, by the ten minute mark, start to calm down a little.

By the time he steps onto the bathmat, he’s just — tired.

“Whatever,” he sighs to himself again, but this time it’s more weary than anything. “Just — I guess. Sure. Whatever.”

There’s a fancy complimentary robe folded neatly on the stack of towels. He swallows the lump in his throat, thinking of his beautiful blue one, now ashes with the rest of the castle.

“Whatever,” he repeats to himself, firmly. Eventually he manages to blink the tears away.

The walk to Keith’s room is short, and cold, and probably embarrassing, since he is in a robe and slippers and a twisty shower hat, but he’s too drained to care. Every step is heavy. By the time he manages to slide the key in the lock — this key cooperates, go fucking figure — and shove the heavy door open, he feels…precarious.

Fragile, maybe.

It takes one look from Keith, one flash of soft indigo eyes and bedsheets untucked and folded over like he likes them and a nightlight shining low on the side table, for him to simply burst into tears.

“It has been a long fucking day,” he sobs.

“It sure as shit has,” Keith agrees, opening his arms, and Lance doesn’t bother thinking before collapsing into them, curling into Keith’s lap and tucking under his chin. Keith grips him tightly and squeezes, and it feels so strangely familiar and so perfect that it’s simply too much for Lance to worry about. He does not have the energy. It’s just — too good, and he’s so tired, and if this is all a trick or a dream or anything like that then he’ll handle it in the fucking morning. Right now Keith is warm and he’s a real fucking person offering real fucking affection with absolutely zero strings attached, none of them, and Lance is allowed to have nice things, actually, it’s written right the in paladin handbook, he knows because he wrote it there himself.

He can just — have this one thing.

“Let’s just sleep for a few thousand years,” Keith says, and he sounds exhausted as Lance does.

And if this is a dream than there’s absolutely nothing to lose, and also whatever, truly, so Lance gives fully into every impulse he’s been too ashamed to even admit in his own head and leans up to kiss him squarely on the lips. He is warm and sweet and tastes like toothpaste, and he kisses back without a second of hesitation, and his hands cup the side of Lance’s face and his calloused thumb brushes across his cheekbones, and it’s everything Lance could ever want it to be, and it makes all the horrible everything melt away. So Lance says screw you, universe, and kisses him until he’s too tired to keep his eyes open, and then he tucks in next to him and relishes in his arm over his waist and falls asleep faster than he ever has in his life listening to Keith’s heartbeat.

This is where the situation starts.

———

based on this thread

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