This is the last thing Keith expected to happen when they landed on Gordania.
When they respond to a distress beacon, it’s usually to free people from Galran control. Occasionally, the aliens invite the team for a party or celebration, seizing any opportunity they can to boast their connections with the legendary Voltron. There have been, of course, times when the aliens try to deceive them.
But this is a whole new level of deceit.
Keith sighs and glances down at the thick coils of rope wrapped around his torso. His eyes flick up to the circle of aliens surrounding him, a race of towering people with beady black eyes and physical features similar to that of a frog. They smile at Keith, bearing rows of glimmering fangs. Currently, Keith is tied to the trunk of a tree. A tree, which is soon to be set on fire.
That’s right— Keith Kogane is about to become a human sacrifice.
“Your death will not be in vain,” the nearest alien urges. Gordanorns, that’s what they’re called. “The gods are pleased that we have chosen you.”
What does he even say to that? Keith tries to wriggle his wrists free of their restraints and winces at the pinching pain. “Are you sure the, uh, gods want someone like me?”
“Of course.” The Gordanorn holds a long stick. A tiny flame flickers at the end. “You should be honored.”
“Right, right,” Keith mutters. Another experimental tug and, nope, there’s no way he’s getting out of this. Keith is well and truly fucked.
Just as the Gordanorn lifts the “ritualistic flame,” a shout rings out over the murmurs of the crowd. “Stop!”
Surprisingly enough, the Gordanorn does as it’s told. It halts and adjusts its hold, brandishing the stick like a weapon. Inky black eyes scan the area in search of the speaker. “Who dares to interrupt this ritual? Show yourself!”
From his place on the platform, Keith can’t quite make out the identity of his rescuer. They gradually push their way to the front of the group and— seriously? There’s no mistaking the familiar suit, accented with blue plates. Even Lance’s gait is distinct enough to recognize.
“I refuse to let you sacrifice my—” Indecision flickers across Lance’s features. Keith can decipher it even from this distance. Lance sets his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. “My husband!”
Keith wonders, for a second, if the Gordanorn already lit the fire and he’s dead.
“This man is simply a fellow paladin.” The alien assumes its full height, leering down at Lance. “I will not be tricked.”
Keith tenses, unintentionally straining against the ropes. He won’t make it out of this alive. But Lance isn’t panicking and carries on as if he hasn’t just been called out.
“Oh no, we’re married alright.” Lance cups his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. “Isn’t that right, babe?”
Warmth floods Keith’s face. When he escapes from here, he’s totally kicking Lance’s ass. Regardless of whether he saved him.
“Uh, yeah,” Keith answers awkwardly. “I knew my… husband would come for me.”
“Oh, I’ll come for y—”
“Why don’t you tell these nice Gordanorns why they can’t burn me at the stake,” Keith interjects through gritted teeth. “Babe.”
“I was getting to that.” Lance walks over to the platform Keith is on and hoists himself up. His long legs and arms make the task look effortless. He sidles up next to the alien holding Keith’s life in its webbed hands. “You see… if you kill him, we won’t be able to form Voltron anymore.”
The Gordanorn blinks. “And?”
“Oh. Well, alright. That’s not the only reason,” Lance continues, undeterred. “He’s also part-Galran.”
Gasps and outraged mutterings fill the air. The Gordanorn on the platform snarls at Keith like a rabid dog. They lift the stick, flame inches away from Keith’s face, and he squeezes his eyes shut. This isn’t exactly how he planned to die, but oh well.
Keith waits for the crippling pain of being stabbed but— it never comes.
Cautiously, Keith opens his eyes. He’s met with a tousled head of chocolate brown hair. Lance is furiously slicing through the rope with what appears to be a rock, sharpened to a dangerous point. A few seconds of frantic cutting and the rope falls. Keith immediately works his way free and allows Lance to tug him off the stage.
As Keith scans the crowd, he notes the unconscious Gordanorn on the ground in front of the platform. The others stand around their fallen warrior, flailing and panicking amongst themselves. Meanwhile, Keith and Lance dive into the cover of the forest. They jump over roots and silently navigate through the trees. Lance takes the time to say, “I know, I know, we’ll talk about it when we get to Blue,” and leaves it at that.
Thankfully, the blue lion isn’t far from the village. The moment they step into the clearing, Blue crouches down, lowering their jaw to let the two crawl inside. Lance, for some reason, has yet to let go of Keith’s hand. He doesn’t until he climbs into the pilot’s seat.
Lance quickly takes control and helps Blue swerve through the branches overhead. Once they reach the treetops and effectively put enough space between themselves and the Gordanorns, Lance heaves a loud sigh of relief.
“Good riddance,” he mumbles and glances over his shoulder, shooting Keith a wobbly grin. “Sorry about the husband thing.”
“It’s alright.” Then, realization strikes Keith. “Wait, what did forming Voltron or being half-Galran have to do with us being married?”
“Well, you know, I was hoping they had at least some semblance of a heart. But that didn’t work so I had to go with the other excuses. The marriage was a failsafe, you know?”
Lance rambles away, and Keith edges closer, shaking his head. “Still not seeing a connection.”
“Just… ugh! I reacted, okay, I have no other— oh.” Lance freezes. He lifts a shaky hand to his cheek. The place Keith had just gently pressed a kiss to. “Keith…?”
“Thanks for saving me, husband.” Keith pats him on the shoulder, laughing at the way Lance startles at the touch. “I guess I can forgive you this one time.”
Never one to be outdone, Lance snorts and turns to Keith. “Whatever you say,” he answers cheekily, punctuating the sentence with an exaggerated wink, “babe.”
Oh, I’m definitely kicking his ass once we get back to the ship.
I’m going to do this awesome wizardy stuff based on my awesome wizard deductions that only I can do because I’m a wizard. All you non-wizards stay in the safety zone. That includes you, Murphy. Okay, here goes.
Crap. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Oh, so *he’s* the real bad guy. Huh. Didn’t see that coming. My original plan will never work now. Okay. Lets try wind. Ventos Servitas!
NOPE. NOPE. NOPE. Not wind. Murphy, get out of the way!
Okay… Fire! Fuego.
NOPE. NOPE. DEFINITELY NOT. Think Harry. Everything rests on you now. Your friends, loved ones, don’t even get me started on what the White Council is going to do if you fail. THINK, Harry.
Oh. Ohhhhhhhh. *laughs* why didn’t I think of that before?! *simple spell that really should have been Plan A*
“Hey, Remy, guess what!” you said, unable to contain your excitement.
“What?” Remy asked.
You proudly presented your pregnancy test that had a positive reading. “I’m pregnant!”
Remy was shocked. “I’m going to be a dad?”
You nodded. You and Remy hadn’t been planning on becoming parents, but both agreed that if a contraceptive failed, you’d just roll with it. The more you thought about it, though, the more you liked the idea of becoming a parent.
Remy pulled you to him and gave you a passionate kiss. After a moment, however, you pulled back. “And you’re going to tell my brother~” you said in a sing-song voice.
“No. Non. No way,” Remy said, shaking his head. “He’d gut me.”
You giggled. “Your face. There was actual fear,” you said. “I won’t let Wolvie kill you. But you’re still telling him.” You pat Remy’s cheek.
“Why do I have to be the one to tell him? He’s your brother,” Remy asked.
“Yeah? But it’s your fault. You bought the defective condom,” you pointed out.
Remy pouted a little. “Is there any way I can get out of this?”
“Nope!” you replied with a grin. You took Remy’s hand and pulled him to where you guessed Wolverine to be. Sure enough, he was sitting in the kitchen. “Hey, Logan! Remy has something to tell you.”
Logan raised his eyebrow. “What is it?” he prompted, looking at your boyfriend.
Remy gulped. “Uh, there’s no way to tactfully tell you this, but, uh, your sister and I are going to have a baby.”
There was a moment as Remy’s words processed in Logan’s mind. “You WHAT?” he asked.
You couldn’t stop smiling. “We had been careful, honest,” you explained. “But a condom broke, and I kinda wanted to be a mom anyways, so…”
“So looks like we’re now officially family,” Remy told Logan. “You being the uncle to my child and all.”
“You’re safe for now, Gumbo. But for your sake, don’t mess this up,” Logan stated darkly.
having spent last night and part of this afternoon reading stories abt people disappearing in the woods, i would like to reiterate that i have never ever read a creepypasta or scary story that took place in a pasture
they’re all sitting in a circle, trying to study, when simon’s voice breaks the silence.
“so… i’ve come up with a plan.”
baz sighs. he knows from experience that simon won’t give up until he’s explained everything and found out a way to make it happen.
“we can date each other!”
“we kind of are, simon,” says baz slowly. simon rolls his eyes.
“no, i mean we can pretend to be dating each other!”
“we’re literally dating each other,” says penny distractedly. he slumps dramatically.
“no, you guys, i mean we can date each other.” he enunciates each syllable slowly. “like, me and agatha, and baz and penny.”
“that’s a terrible idea.”
“no it’s not! like, it’s just pretend. they think that we’re dating each other, but really we’re dating eachother.”
agatha frowns, considering. “you’re saying it really badly, but it does have some merit.”
baz raises an eyebrow.
“you’ve forgotten that everyone knows i’m gay.”
“actually,” says agatha, “they think simon was calling you gay for years. they don’t know if you actually are.”
penny looks up from her work for the first time, looking sort of impressed. “that’s actually not a horrible idea.”
this was a terrible idea.
they’re all sat together at baz and penny’s regular table, and people keep staring over at them. it is unusual, baz supposes- simon and agatha are ‘the’ couple, and baz and penny are… not.
“baz,” hisses simon, “you don’t look couple-y enough. kiss penny on the cheek.”
“no!” they both say at the same time, and simon laughs. he’s having way too much fun with this. it’s annoying.
baz glares, leans over, and plants his lips on penny’s cheek. it’s awkward, but simon’s smile slips off immediately. baz smirks. penny splutters.
“okay, i’m all for baz making simon upset-”
“-but maybe warn me next time.” she wipes off her cheek dramatically, and baz pouts.
“we are technically supposed to be dating.”
“hmm… i think i prefer agatha.”
agatha blushes prettily, and baz snorts. simon prods him gently after a moment.
“now you compliment me.”
“because i need to preen too.”
“you are so-” he stifles a giggle. “fine, snow. you’re quite handsome in certain lighting.”
“you’re acting like a couple again,” sing-songs agatha under her breath.
“we are a couple,” mutters simon, but they look away from each other all the same.
“what do we do if… they find out?”
“i don’t know, simon.” baz’s voice is heavy and low.
“hey, i didn’t mean- no, come on, we’d find a way to stick it out.”
“when did you become the one comforting me about this?”
simon goes quiet, then shifts over so he’s on his side.
“since i fell in love with you.”
“since you what?”
baz props himself up on one elbow to look at simon, but he’s got his face buried in his arms.
“wait, simon, since you what?”
“since i fell in love with you,” he repeats, voice muffled. baz stares at him, at the messily dyed curls and freckled neck and-
“you’re in love with me?” he whispers. simon hesitates, then nods.
“it’s- i can’t help it,” he says softly. “i can’t, baz, you- i’m sorry.”
“don’t be sorry.” baz’s voice is shaking. “i’m- i think i’m in love with you too.”
and then they’re kissing, softly, sweetly. simon’s thumb brushes over baz’s cheekbone, and slide through his hair, and they’re in love.
“you weren’t even remotely subtle.”
agatha sulks. “i was. a bit.”
“you weren’t!” penny brandishes her spoon at her. “you never need tutoring help. like, ever. and if you did, you’d just go home and study the material extra hard by yourself. i’ve known you since primary school, agatha.”
“no one else caught on,” she mutters, and penny snorts.
“well, yeah, probably because they’re idiots.”
agatha smiles. “probably.”
they sit there, drinking their drinks. penny chatters, agatha listens. it’s comfortable.
“so, what do you think of simon and baz?”
agatha sighs, bites her lip. “i’m afraid he’s going to break his heart.”
she shrugs. “dunno. either one. they’re…”
“simon was horrible to him,” says penny firmly. “absolutely awful.”
“do you think baz has forgiven him?”
penny sips her coffee, considering. “i don’t think completely. like, he still wears all black-”
agatha pulls a face. “i preferred his pastels, honestly. they looked much nicer.”
“he still looks fine,” says penny loyally, but then she sighs. “no, you’re right. i think he was happier in them too.”
“fucking simon,” says agatha, and penny agrees wholeheartedly.
“simon, get out of my closet.”
simon pokes his head out and winks at baz. “but i thought that was the point of this- i’m in thecloset.”
“you’re an idiot,” says baz, “and i hate you.” but he’s laughing. “get out of my closet.”
“mmh… nope. by the way, this thing is enormous- and don’t make a joke about how it has to be because you’ve been living in there because i just used it and that’s cheating.”
“damn.” baz flops backwards into his pillow. “what are you even doing in there?”
there’s rustling, and the sound of a drawer opening. “oh my god, is this all hair dye?”
“get out of my closet, simon,” baz calls. “wait, no- your red is getting patchy, do you want to redo it?”
“yeah, sure. can i dye yours?”
“you have so many- can you just dye it white?”
“i suppose, if you want to absolutely destroy it.”
“no, then- pink? green? blue? no, i did blue- silver. purple!”
his hand emerges triumphant, clutching a tube of lilac. baz sighs.
“sure, whatever. get the red.” he considers simon, then looks down at his own dark hair. “and the bleach.”
simon emerges with several bottles and a light purple jumper folded over his arm. he looks down.
“you should wear this.”
“i’ll get dye all over it.”
“then wear it after. please? you look… nice. in light colors.” he pats out a wrinkle. “i’m sorry.”
“yeah, okay,” says baz softly, after a long pause. “i’ll wear it.”
simon looks up, gives him a half smile. “thank you.”
they stand there, just looking at each other, until baz clears his throat.
“-go, yeah, sorry,” says simon, flustered, and leads the way out of baz’s room.
Summary: Dean is a little insensitive toward your feelings and you try to make yourself forget.
Warnings: Angst, language, self-medicating with alcohol, light smut.
A/N: @lipstickandwhiskey and I both went through writer’s block this week and traded prompts to help get through it. Mine was “The night was cold and you lacked a coat, but the fire and fury you had in equal measure.” Enjoy! (No, I am not taking requests at this time.)
Tags: At the bottom. Reminder that I only have an everything, Dean, or Sam tags lists and only tag followers (refer to this post for why.)
The night was cold and you lacked a coat, but the fire and fury you had in equal measure. The coat you’d left back at the bar, too pissed to remember that it was the end of November and cold out after dark. The fire and fury you carried with you, fueling you to keep moving instead of giving up and going back to the warmth and safety of the bar.
Okay SO. I just… couldn’t figure out how to write an easy drabble with this because in order for Saeran to actually go to college I would have to change his entire childhood? So… here’s the result of starting down that route. It’s… like an introduction, a first chapter, if there’s interest in me continuing it…and it’s told in first person because I felt like it, okay? Anyway. It’s not edited, yet, I plan to do that in a bit on my phone so forgive any mistakes… Anyway, here we go…
I first met my best friend and my boyfriend when I was 12 years old. Not that I knew it at the time, but there they both were, following my cousin Rika’s boyfriend into her house, matching sets of red hair and golden eyes staring at me. They were identical and I was in awe; I’d never seen twins in real life before that moment. The only physical feature that distinguished one from the other was the set of round glasses one wore, but their personalities were another matter. The one with glasses had a wide grin on his face and was nearly vibrating with excitement while his brother stood behind both him and V, watching me with an expression I didn’t understand at the time. I definitely did not hide behind her legs at the intrusion, and I certainly didn’t stutter when one of them spoke to me.
Let me back up a bit. My name is Yoosung Kim and I’m a 22-year-old college student at SKY University. My major is veterinary medicine, although I’ve lost a lot of my drive to complete my classes. In fact, the only reason I reliably come to school anymore is because of Seven driving to my house and dragging me there. I’m not sure why he’s so insistent since it’s not like he goes to many of his own, but every morning he’s at my place without fail. Well, he was, but recently his life has changed in a way that’s causing him to become even more reclusive than normal, which is not a good thing. I had hoped the days of me forcing him out of his apartment were long gone, but apparently not. He won’t even let me in to speak with him right now, something I find incredibly irritating since the only other way is to learn Arabic to get past the completely unnecessary lock he has on his door.
Honestly, what 23-year-old does that? Puts a password-coded lock in a different language on the door to their apartment on the 12th floor? My best friend, that’s who. Whatever.