Here’s a little (long) fanfic/wingfic I wrote. Today… I have way too much time on my hands honestly. I swear to god. Either way! Enjoy the minor Shklance! Enjoy the Langst! And mostly! Please enjoy my shitty writing abilities!
knew from a young age that he was different. Even with no one to guide him or
explain it to him he knew. Maybe it was extinct. Maybe it was in the way people
skirted around him. Or in the way he saw things as a child. He had always been
a little different in a way. And not just the physical signs, but in himself as
a person as well. The way he saw the world was a lot bigger than how his
siblings saw it. He saw more than just the skies and a land to look down upon.
He saw the oceans they couldn’t swim in, full of gorgeous fish and beautiful
vibrant colors no paint could ever match, the mountains they didn’t bother to
climb, seeing the view from a bright side, with the rust colored dust of the
earth staining his clawed hands, saw the skitter of wildlife in a forest too
thick with trees to move around in, the sight they ignored because they
couldn’t grasp a place where the sky was not seen and the wind was silent for
the sounds of nature singing. Lance saw the world with a different view.
everyone liked that view.
way their words would sting him, lash out at him like a poisoned whip reminded
him of that without them having to out rightly state it. Leaving marks much
farther than skin deep on his young mind. Their backs, always turned away from
him, shunning him away from where he wanted to be in their family. The way
their wings would always taunt him. Show him the life he couldn’t have. The
beauty he’d never have. The love he’d never feel. Not even the woman who
breathed life into him could love the way he saw the world. The only love he
could feel was in the hidden alcoves of the ocean. Small shelters carved
through the years by the sea itself.
a way, Lance connected with the ocean. The ocean was so old, wise, and strong,
different from the free, young sky. So liberal and wild in youth. Innocent in
its fast winds. Lance was young, weak, but no long naive nor innocent like the
sky. He was jaded like the ocean in his eyes and on the horizon. Balancing
between two worlds. One which was his own by blood, and another which was his
own by outcast and adopted love. The sky rejected him. But the ocean called to
him. Blue waves with cutting forces were terrifying, like their voices, like
their fists raised in disgusted fury. But the teal lapping waters were also a
calm reassurance, isolated. And when Lance’s head would submerge. He would not
be afraid. He didn’t have to be afraid of the water over his head. There were
no feathers to get wet and weigh him down like dead weights He could open his
eyes, and see the fish flying through the new world. The land was just an ocean
of air after all. If Lance didn’t have wings to fly, then he could have a sky
of water to swim.
ocean was calling his name. A name they never gave him. A name that was his
a single person could take that away from him.
made him strong. Many thought wingless would always be weak, they couldn’t
fight, couldn’t gain strength with wings they were not gifted with. Couldn’t
compete. Couldn’t survive in the world without feathers and blood on their
back. But the ocean made him strong. The currents would spar against him, like
head strong winds for his arms and legs. Flying underwater. The rocks in the
ocean would test him. Sharping the claws of his hands. Teaching him to climb
higher and reach for the sky in ways that those he knew would not think of.
Would look at with disgust.
because he didn’t have wings didn’t mean he didn’t know the world. Lance
probably knew more of it than anyone with wings. He felt the sting of wind in
his face, the heights of a large mountain he’d conquered through reaching claws
and hard effort. But he’d also felt the sting of ocean water on his face. Warm
lapping salt water, reaching for him. Like it was calling him to come home to
it. Once and for all.
sky was their home. The shores and the ocean was his home.
however, he was far away from his home.
wanted to go home.
sighed, looking at the soft pliant skin on his hands from the rafters of the
castle. The way their shifted from soft skin, to hard claws without Lance even
blinking. It had hurt the first time. But, now it was instinct. All good things
had to hurt, right? Bad things hurt too he guessed however.
cold nights away from a happy nest. Watching them fly together with bright
smiles, as if they were urging him to join them in the happy games. But he
could not join them. He never told them. And they never asked anything
different. It was assumed.
was assumed to have wings like them.
to just be shy with his wings.
to be a loner.
was alright thought, they weren’t far off from assuming that he preferred to be
alone. Honestly, he did prefer the quiet nights. But these weren’t quiet
nights. Nights in a place with no pool, no water, no sand. These were just
lonely nights. Nights away from the one place he could forever call home.
missed the rock walls, rough against his skin. The way it would vibrate on
stormy nights when his family would and lock him out of the house. Protect him
from the rampaging clouds and crashing thunder. The way the water would splash
up against his ankles. Cold in the storms, but cold in the best ways. The sea
foam tickling his tan skin. He missed the slight burn and tingle of salt water
on his skin. The way the water would look when the storm would break, the
silver moon light and peace the cold waves would bring to him. The ocean was
old, yet full of vigor. It could’ve kill Lance without thought when he was
smaller, yet it didn’t. The moons pull on the waves of the ocean, sparing his
wide eyes full of wonder, and showing him a new world, a home. Letting Lance
see the way the sun would rise over the ocean. Glimmering red, yellow, and
orange on the waves of a warming blue sea. Glittering and beautiful in a way
that no one ever stopped to appreciate. The sea let Lance appreciate its
beauty, let him watch night after day and after another night. Let him live to
breathe the salt in the sky of dark blue tides. The smell of salt on the
breeze. No one liked the ocean. Like no one liked the real Lance.
missed the ocean.
still heard it’s call.
presence to his side jolted Lance out of his thoughts, turning his long and
sharp salt stained claws back into smooth flawless skin and fingers as Lance
twisted his body. Greeting the new person with a wide smile. The leader of
their impromptu flock, Shiro.
speaking Shiro really was a sight to behold, and even with the hopelessness
that accompanied seeing such majestic wings, Lance’s smile was real. Because
with Lance’s view of the world. Even in pain and in hiding. He still saw the
big world and everything in it as beautiful. Including Shiro with his broad
body and even sturdier wings. Darker than the night sky with flecks of white.
No midnight blues however. The ocean wasn’t in anyone’s wings. Just his own eyes.
Shiro’s eyes were battle hardened, but still kind. And his smile was gentle.
Like the nudging of the schools of fish that would nibble at his skin, brush
their scales against his fingertips as they dared to get closer to the familiar
being. Shiro smiled just like that this time.
Lance, we missed you preening yesterday, and flying today. Are you feeling
alright?” Lance smiled. Assumptions. As-sump-tions. Such a simple word. With so
much meaning. So much ability to alter and change a person’s view. Lance never
assumed anything. Then again, he also assumed everything. He had a different
view of the word.
I’m fine. Just relaxing.” Shiro’s wings fluttered, an obvious show of
unsettlement or awkwardness. As if Shiro was trying to build up courage to ask
the withdrawn flock member something. Lance watched. Even without wings Lance
could read the emotions displayed on others. He had to learn how to read people
to avoid their worse moods normally. Wings were how people told emotions from
other people, being the most obvious sign of body language. Lance could read
moods well. Seeing his sister shift from calm, to annoy at just the mere sound
of his breath. His father turn from pride to rage at a single speck of his
existence. Being the outlet of anger was normal for him. Taught him many things
in life, but sometimes even Lance knew that he had to escape and wait.
Sometimes Lance would disappear to the ocean for weeks at a time. Only coming
home so that he wouldn’t be deemed a ‘flight risk’. Heh. A flightless flight
risk. Wasn’t there a joke in that somewhere?
Maybe that’s why people were so wary
and awkward with him before they knew. Most people kept their wings out to show
emotion. Most people couldn’t tell emotion without seeing someone’s wings.
Lance was probably a husk to them. Emotionless. Like the porcelain mask of a
doll. Not showing off your wings meant discomfort, distrust in your
surroundings. Lance was probably just one giant enigma to them. A hard shell
that didn’t look one second closer to opening up then when they had begun to
form a flock in space so long ago.
At least Lance could make them
assume he had wings. Using his claws and climbing skills to reach high places.
Climbing wasn’t a well-known or practiced skill after all. Lance hadn’t even known
it had a name until he found an old history book from before humans had formed
wings. When Lance could’ve been considered normal. So even if they didn’t see
his wings, they’d see him lazily resting in the rafters and assume he’d gone up
there to stare at the stars and enjoy the silence as he often did. The clearing
of Shiro’s thought gathered Lance’s wondering thoughts again. Making Lance look
at him with those wide eyes that had Shiro lost.
To Shiro they were like the deepest
galaxy imaginable. Dark blues and light blues, white and black. Swirling. With
ferocity and gentleness. Like the ocean Lance always described. Lance’s eyes
were like both their homes. Shiro’s home in Lance was the night sky. Lance’s,
the reflection of the only home he ever loved.
“Lance, why don’t you come fly with
me? We could go to my nest if you’d like? You probably could use a good
preening, I could help if you’d like? Straighten out your feathers while we
watch some old movies?” Lance gave Shiro another ambiguous smile. Confusing
Shiro greatly as Lance declined gently.
It was difficult. Leading a flock.
But what was harder was knowing that one of the people in his flock that he
cared about so much was still distrusting of him. Still hiding the wings Shiro
knew would be gorgeous. Still hiding the thing that would tell Shiro exactly what
those distant eyes and smiles that tugged at his chest meant.
Shiro would often find himself
wondering what Lance’s wings could be like. Would they be brown like Hunk’s?
Dark and powerful? Or would they be so black they were almost blue? Like the starry
sky that Shiro saw in his eyes with every passing glance. Were they built for
power or speed? Or were they built for neither? Were they an ivory color to
give a beautiful contrast to his caramel colored skin? How would they react?
Would they express the emotions that Lance never spoke? Childishly expressive.
Or were they like Lance’s body, slim, lean, and closed off. Revealing nothing
more than what he was willingly to show.
Shiro didn’t know. And it was
killing him slowly.
Shiro didn’t know how Lance felt and
it hurt him. Him and Keith. Him and the flock.
Lance would always smile, ruffle
Pidge’s hair. Give Hunk big hugs and large grins to reassure him. But he’d
never show them his wings. His most telling part of himself. Nor would he touch
theirs. He would glance at them. Shiro and everyone else could see the glances,
the lingering gazes on their wings. They knew that Lance was gifted with
people, and very wary of them. He could read their every mood like a book. But
no one could tell what was in his eyes. Not even the Alteans could. Not even
Coran, who was very obvious in his favoritism towards the blue paladin, could
tell what was hidden in those royal blues eyes.
Hunk had never even noticed until
they had pointed it out to him. Shiro asking what Lance’s wings were like. Hunk
had been his roommate after all. Sharing a living space for so long and being
such close friends. But Hunk hadn’t known a thing. Hunk said that the Garrison
hadn’t been very active with their flight training besides piloting, as many
were obsessed with flying in their free time. Hunk had just assumed Lance was
just one of those people who liked to relax without his wings out. There were
few people who didn’t like to stretch out their wings at every chance. Feeling
shy of how their wings reacted or moved. And just kept them to themselves. And
Shiro accepted that excuse for a while.
But then the months had dragged on.
Bonding sessions. And mind melding. The link between paladins were everything
was supposed to be visible, the moment Shiro tried to pry into the Blue
paladin’s mind, it changed from pure clarity, to a haze. Only now and again
he’d see flashes of the water and sand. Wet skin. And it always scared and
fascinated him when he saw the rare sight of the water below its surface.
Bright almost teal colors water, beige sand like silk on ‘his’ feet. The
schools of fish swimming in front of him. Around him. Sometimes tickling his
skin. It scared him because as beautiful as the ocean and water was. It was so
quick to kill those of the sky. Leaving that place in Lance’s mind always made
him wander if want he was seeing was a memory or a fantasy. Whether the fantasy
was the beauty of an ocean he couldn’t touch living apparently on a beach in
Cuba with his family. Or if it was a fantasy of wanting to drown in those
beautiful waves. The linger taste of salt and the feeling of being washed away
onto the shore of reality after these mind drifts left the bad taste of doubt
in his mouth. It scared the others too when Shiro convinced them to visit the
strange world. The scariest of all their reactions being Allura’s, who was
tuned to the emotions of mind melding and said with certainty, that what Lance
felt in those moments was a longing. A call for home in the water.
It terrified Shiro.
But also confused him when he considered
the other’s minds. The clarity of the skies in their minds. From city skylines
and buildings, to the red of the desert sunsets, and the night sky of his own
mind. Smiling faces of family. And Lance’s was a foggy foundation of cold
grasping tides at his ankles. Seemingly lying in wait to grab and snuff out the
gorgeous light that Shiro called Lance.
Shiro just wanted to know Lance. Get
to know his moods, the way his eyes would glide over everyone. As if gauging
damage, how to help them, how to smile at them and make them feel better. How
to fix the castle. How to make Hunk’s anxiety lessen or how to drag Pidge away
from her computer gremlin ways. The way Lance almost glided through the air, on
his feet not his wings. Shiro could only imagine how graceful Lance would be in
his own sky. The sky that they could never find inside his mind.
There was only one time, when Shiro
had felt like they had maybe taken a step closer to Lance as a team. Pulled the
Hispanic teenager a little closer to their hearts and to their home. It was
when Allura had insisted they learned a thing called climbing. A way to scale
into the air, without wings. Allura had said it was for an emergency if their
wings were injured, but Shiro had always wondered if it was a way of training
that they could finally include Lance in.
Though, for Lance it was barely
training as it was total slaughter. It turned out that Lance was extremely good
at climbing. Almost vibrating in visible excitement at the task as soon as
Allura described it to everyone’s surprise. Finding nicks and crannies to dig
his fingers into to lift him higher. While Keith had climbed the valiant height
of ten feet, the highest of all the first four paladins so far. Lance had taken
one glance at the wall. And scaled it in mere seconds. A flash of brown hair
and then he was there. Sitting at the top. Head tilted up and his body
straight, looking completely at peace, unobtainable. A boy in the rafters. A
boy too high to reach. Too far away to even touch.
It was then that Shiro had learned
about Lance, and both him and his mate Keith’s budding interest in the
mysterious goofy brunette. As Lance sat there at the top. Beating Shiro and
Keith in every race they challenged him to on the rock wall. The other flock
members giving up after a while of reaching for the inaccessible boy’s hand.
Failing to grab the lifeline that tried to grab onto them and teach them by
even the full length of their wingspan. Not a feather could touch.
Lance had been sitting there at the
edge. His legs dangling down, the ships lights were soft in the evening glow.
Reflecting off Lance’s skin and giving him an almost shuddering and unearthly
radiance. Shiro saw the boy in a new light, not the distrustful boy that was
closed off. But the strong boy beneath it all. With broad shoulders and strong
arms that pulled him closer toward whatever height he reached for. The curve
and curl of his muscles and spine. Flexible. Durable. Stunning. It was then
that Lance had spoken to them for the first time about himself. Not a joke. Not
The faraway look in his eyes seemed
softer, closer, almost vulnerable, it was the closest Shiro had felt to
connecting with Lance’s emotions and knowing them without the crutch of wings.
Lance’s full and pink lips recounting times of when he’d apparently climbed the
rock structures around the beach of his home. Climbing them for fun and for a
peaceful moment. Even Keith, the worst at reading people could hear the longing
in Lance’s voice as he talked about the view. Seeing the sky and the ocean
almost blending together on the horizon. With the wind in his hair and dust on
his hands. He said the view was almost better when you had to work to get it.
Keith, who’d be reluctant about the idea of climbing and weirded out by it,
suddenly got exactly why Lance seemed to love it.
Insecurities. Lance was the one with
a home back on earth. Lance was the one that was in between, not new enough to
shooting and training to make large progress, and not good enough to be seen at
the highest levels like Shiro and Keith. He was the blurry and unrecognizable
Like fog rolling over the ocean in
the early morning when the sky was warming and the water was still cold.
Climbing was something Lance was
secure in. Familiar with. It was something that Lance could connect to his home
with. Watching Lance close his eyes, almost looking like he was relishing the
texture of rough and cool rock beneath his hands. Lance had admitted the other
thing missing was the dust and taste of salt in the air.
Like the taste of his deadly
Lance watched as Shiro pulled away
slowly and reluctantly from his own thoughts. Spreading those raven black wings
and flying away from the tan boy. The boy with the stars in his eyes and
Shiro’s heart in his mercy. They had to get going to the planet’s surface soon,
and Shiro knew that Lance wasn’t going to fly down to go to the team in view of
his eyes. So he glided away, only glancing back once he was on the ground at
the end of the hall. Seeing Lance still sitting there. A far away look and one
leg dangling teasingly from the edge. So close. Yet so far.
After a half an hour of rounding up
rowdy flock members Shiro was able to explain the details of the planet and the
mission they had to carry out. Shiro was both excited for the mission and
anxious. It was actually a secret vacation day for the flock, to fly and relax
on a planet was oxygen. But, there was one thing.
It was an ocean planet.
Beaches as far as they eye could
With rowdy kids that couldn’t swim,
and one that seemed to dream of going under the waves.
Yeah, Shiro was a nervous wreck to
say the least. But after seeing Lance’s excitement at hearing the words beach
and sand. Shiro relaxed. Watching closely as Lance used wild hand gestures to
describe how many things they could do on the beach. He even promised to show
Pidge how to skip a rock past two skips. Demonstrating flicking wrist motions
with vigor and a large grin on his face. And after about three hours on the
beach, Shiro was fully confident and relaxed that everything would be fine.
Except, that was exactly when shit
hit the fan.
Lance was sitting high up on one of
the rocky cliffs, admiring the view and keeping an eye on Pidge and Hunk, who
were both splashing and carefully flying over the ebb and flows of the planet’s
deep blue marine. Of course, that mean he was the first one to see and react to
Pidge losing control and falling into the water. Unable to fly away in time to
stop herself from being grabbed and dragged under.
It was like he was on autopilot and
Hunk screamed Pidge’s name and Lance dove into the water. Ignoring Hunk’s
scream of protest. The fear of losing two teammates, two best friends at once.
But Lance wasn’t going to listen this time. Not when he could help Pidge. The
girl he’d come to see as a little sister. A younger sibling.
Someone he had to protect.
The water was different here, but in
many ways. It was exactly the same. The push and pull of the tide. Tugging his
body in every which way. Yet still guiding him. Towards the sinking girl just
barely in his reach. Her eyes were closed and she was limb, but Lance wasn’t afraid
yet. The waves were helping him, giving him that final pull down to grab her,
before the push came, dragging Lance and his friend towards the shore and the
surface. Lance mourned the sight. He wanted to relish in the sight, the sounds,
the feeling of being weightless. But this ocean was not his home. This ocean
was trying to push him away, telling him this wasn’t home. But an outreach of
Voices. The voice calling him home
was never so urgent and loud in his mind than in that moment. But it wasn’t
calling him into the depths. It was calling him out of these depths. Urging him
to go towards the ocean of air. To give his friend the oxygen she needed. Life
Lance craved for her to keep. Lance’s muscles didn’t strain in the water. Even
with the added weight of his sodden friend. He broke the surface easily.
Relieved as he shoved Pidge’s head above the water and heard her gasp and
cough. It was wet sounding and sent shivers down his spine when he heard how
close he’d been to failing her. But it was also a freeing sound. A sound that
she was alive, as he held her close with one arm and used the other claw his
way up the shore where the flock was gathered. Wing fluttering worriedly with
various degrees of fear and relief on their faces. Lance’s claws elongated to
dig into the solid earth beneath the loose sand to hoist Pidge up and shove her
onto the dry said into their waiting arms as Lance’s head dropped. His arms
spread in front of him in almost a push up position as he greedily gulped in
air to replenish the energy he lost in carrying Pidge to shore. He didn’t
notice them staring at the long black marble looking claws until it was too
late. He was already in a sunk ship as they stared. Watching in horrific awe as
Lance detached from the earth. Claws slipping easily through the sand with the
lost tension and fluidly retracting and forming back into long fingers with
soft tan skin as Lance sat up. His long limbs folding into his lap with one
movement. Hands tucked into his sides protectively.
He’d gotten them broken for his
adaptation before. Hard rubber work boots, stomping and cruelly twisting into
the flesh of his hands. Breaking bones and skin. He couldn’t even hold a
skipping stone right for months after that. The pain being renewed and rebroken
every time anyone in his family saw an inkling of tiny black kitten claws
piercing his skin.
What would they think over him now?
Long, sharp, dangerous and war tore claws?
Did he look like a monster now?
Lance looked up nervously to them,
still sitting on his knees as they stared. Until Coran kneeled in front of him.
Holding out his hand for Lance to presumably place his own hand within as Coran
“Thank you for helping Pidge, can I
see that your hands aren’t torn up from the currents?” Lance frowned for a
fraction of a second. Body curling instinctively to protect his hands. But
Coran didn’t back down. He cared for Lance. Very much. Lance reminded him of
his own son, but also not. Lance was witty and funny, but even Coran could see
that something was not clicking with the paladin. There was always something
just a little, off. The way Lance would move, the way he’d act. Keeping everything
he didn’t initiate at arm’s length. Avoiding bonding sessions or showing
everyone his mind and his body. Coran felt the need to shield Lance from the
harsh reality of the world that Lance had already suffered. And with this new
development surfacing, Coran was not going to back down on his small bit of
progress. It wasn’t the lad’s wings, but it obviously was a sensitive piece of
him. A private and more personal side of him. The instincts and tools of a
predator. But also not dangerous at all, as Pidge had been held by these same
weapons, and had not been scratched in the slightest. Eventually Lance caved
in, hand shaking as he gave Coran one of his hands. His arm trembling fiercely
as he did so, the stares of the others and Coran’s touch seeming to make his
anxiety worse as his arm tried to tug itself away as Coran was able to get a
small grip. But Coran didn’t let him. Studying the smooth skin, and watching as
it formed into the claws they’d just seen. They were blackish grey, like the
rocks on the sand. With white scratches on their hard surface. Probably from
the rocks. Coran gently traced the scratches. Lance didn’t flinch, rather, he
stared at Coran curiously, relaxing as no threatening move was made against his
hands. Even handing Coran his other hand with no resistance. Letting it shift
immediately as soon as Coran’s skin touched his hand.
Lance had never looked so calm then
in that moment. Even Pidge who’d begun to breathe properly ventured closer, not
even the least bit afraid as she practically sat on Lance and grabbed his
hands. Studying them for herself. Pressing her fingers against the sharp edges
with the pads of her fingers. Marveling that even when they looked like they
could slice her skin easily they didn’t even leave a mark. Lance answered the
“They’re for digging into rock. They
won’t hurt you unless you apply force to it.” Pidge slid her finger against the
claw, her skin curved around the smooth yet hard nails. But didn’t get cut.
“When did you get these?” Lance
“I’ve had them for as long as I can
remember. They make climbing and swimming easier.” Shiro injected himself into
“You can swim? How do you not
drown?” Images of the ocean bubble back to the front of Shiro’s mind. Not a
fantasy. A memory. Lance can swim. That’s amazing. It’s practically unheard of.
Lance looked down sheepishly.
“I just do I guess. I lived on the
beach my whole life. I knew how to swim before I knew how to climb or say my
alphabet honestly.” Shiro’s eyes were locked on Lance’s wet form, his brown
hair was curling with the water in it and sticking to his face. Lance looked up
at him and their eyes met. Shiro hadn’t seen a look like that on Lance ever. He
looked so at home, kneeling in the sand and the water. Pidge hanging onto him
like a lifeline as he held her up on his lap, hesitantly letting Pidge wrap her
wings around him. He looked a little uncomfortable, but not about to deny the
girl who still probably shaken up for her near-death experience. They all filed
back into the castle shortly after that. Allura smiling as she immediately
demanded they learn to swim from Lance. Everyone smiling at the joy apparent on
Lance’s face when he saw the salt water pool. It was no beach, but it was
something at least. And Shiro was happy to say that he seemed to be getting
better at reading Lance. Not quite good. But no longer completely clueless.
Just. In the middle.
Though Shiro had to admit, it was
nice to see Lance so happy and in his element, the swim shirts and shorts they
had to wear were suffocation. The males in the group even stripped off the
swimming shirt, just deciding to preen out the water after every lesson.
Though, Lance seemed happy enough to wear the suffocating material. Shiro
guessed it was how he grew up. Parent’s doting over his wings, placing a shirt
on him to make sure the currents and salt didn’t rip away or ruin his feathers.
Shiro wondered why he’d never heard
of people swimming if that’s what Lance had grown up with on the coast. He’d
visited the east coast after all. The closet he’d seen to swimming was boating.
And that was a completely waterless sport if you were talking about getting
yourself soaked in water and not machinery meant to withstand it.
Lance was proving himself to be a
man of many very odd talents and surprises. And it wasn’t a surprise to Shiro
that it only intrigued him and made both him and Keith want the Cuban boy more
than before. Longing to hold onto that tan skin, feel it underneath their
hands, their lips. Feel soft hair and soft feathers. Even Lance’s odd shifting
claws were perfect. Scratched up with ‘scars’, but so beautiful in their own
way. Having a destructive power, yet grace to not breach skin and blood unless
intentioned that way.
Either way, Lance was happy with the
outcome of the days. Shiro and Keith were ecstatic too as Lance began to grow
closer. Hiding away less. Letting himself occasionally be held by them, letting
them wrap their wings around him like a tight cocoon. Lance finally joining the
cuddle sessions. Even without showing his own wings. It was progress. Progress
like reading Lance’s moods. It made the two so happy. Lance was happy too.
His truth was safe. Hidden.
Until later on, it wasn’t.
Shiro also wondered why he didn’t
see it coming when the truth did come out.
Lance flopped to the ground, back
smacking on the metal loudly. Making Keith wince and panic. Back shots were
forbidden in training as they often caused wing injuries. Hell, no one could
ever sleep or rest on their backs without being uncomfortable. Keith was
immediately kneeling on the ground, pulling Lance up and reaching for his back
to check before Lance jerked away from him. Keith immediately backing down even
when Shiro’s and probably Keith’s instincts too, were screaming at him to put
his hand on Lance’s back and check the health of his wings. But Shiro
hesitated. Lance hadn’t even shown them a feather. Touching them was probably a
very off limits thing to do. Lance proved that right as he ducked into his
room, promising Coran to check his wings, before coming out ten minutes later,
smiling and saying it was just a little sore. Though they wanted to look and
check for themselves, Coran simply told Lance to take it easy for the rest of
the day. Lance had smiled at them and nodded. Going with what they said easily.
If only Shiro had insisted on seeing
Lance’s wings that day. Maybe he wouldn’t have been this way. Maybe Shiro
wouldn’t have sent him on this mission. Either way, even possible different
solution or way didn’t end with Shiro pacing in front of a healing pod that
contained Lance after a mission gone wrong. Lance needing it after trapped in a
crevice deep in the planet’s earth. The crevice was large enough for Pidge to
fly in, but not Hunk or Shiro. But Lance wasn’t flying out. Keith and Pidge had
to go down to get him. Finding Lance bloody and unconscious on the ground, but
thankfully still breathing.
Though nothing was more shocking
then when Keith finally said fuck it to Lance’s privacy after dragging the
injured boy out of the earth and lifted his shirt to make sure there was no
damage. And there were some bruises, some gashes, not surprising to see after
such a fall. The real surprise, is what they didn’t see.
Lance’s back was muscular, but
smooth, there was no protruding muscles or slit where his wings could tuck
themselves in for protection. There was nothing to indicate Lance was even
supposed to have wings on his back. It was bare. But oh god were there scars.
Lash marks lined Lance’s back like
tally marks on an elementary school chalk bored. Long slashes of thick scar
tissue on Lance’s back that went in every direction. Shiro knew exactly what
caused marks like that. Belts. Whips. He’d felt their sting before. It was a
normal sight on him. He’d grown used to the sight of scars on himself.
But god if the sight of scars on
Lance didn’t make him sick with anger. How dare anyone put someone like Lance.
Someone so self-sacrificing and pure through pain like that? How dare anyone
touch the one he and his mate were hoping to claim. How. Dare. They. Even Keith
had bristled at the sight. Wings stiffening and puffing up in a threatening
pose to make everyone aware of his anger. Shiro’s own wings had a similar
response. While Pidge cowered. Pressing her wings against her back to make
herself smaller as she pressed herself into Allura’s side. As if she were
hoping to disappear into the princess. Hunk looked like he wanted to throw up.
Lance was a wingless.
An abused, and mistreated boy.
He swam and climbed, and did all of
these amazing things, because he had no escape besides hiding into the waves of
the ocean or the rocks of the shore. Having claws and ways to survive in a
world that rejected him. Treated him as if he were a plague.
Lance had been afraid of them.
Afraid to tell them.
Because he was hurt so badly before
that he didn’t see any mercy. Probably didn’t think he was worthy of mercy.
Only knowing hands raised to hurt him. Voice raised to yell. Shunned from
affection. Preening sessions. Home. The beach was his home. The fantasy of
being called home.
The ocean called for him like the
sky called for them.
Shiro could understand it now, why
Lance didn’t trust them. Why he was in pain.
But that was over now.
Royal blue eyes, dark and light as
the ocean. With kindess and gentle waves, as well as storm and raging waters
opened to them as the tan boy felt out of the pod and into their arms. Hands
pressing flat against his back in a silent telling that they knew. Yet still
held him close. And Lance closed his eyes. Letting himself be held by the two
males. Held in their wings. Lance opened in his eyes, and in his mind he say
the ocean. The pull of the tides pulling at his mind. Calling him home. And he
closed his eyes with a smile. Holding on tighter.
One day, he’d be a part of the
ocean. One day, he’d get to go home. But today wasn’t the day for Lance to go
marching home. Not yet. His sky of water had to wait for him, there was still
the ocean of air for him to learn.
He didn’t think his home minded
waiting just a little bit longer.
How do you think each incarnation of zelink cuddles? What are their preferred positions and what crazy places have they been found asleep?
YES YES YESS this is FANTASTIC
OOT cuddles- I firmly believe that Link and Zelda cuddle in front of the fire after a long day, and Zelda gets a shoulder massage from Link and she gives him a back massage. They just take care of each other and she places kisses on his chest and back cause it’s just weirdly intimate and he enjoys leaving a kiss on her temple. After she deals with the stuffy old council she sometimes goes looking for Link in the castle and he just looks at her and hugs her and it’s just like “it’s okay babe I love you screw those old uglies want me to fight them?” And Zelda LAUGHS because no one else would offer to fight stuffy old men in robes but her Link.
They’ve been found asleep in the stables a few times and the stable boys always try to give Link shit for it but he just says “at least she’s with me man” and gives them a side eye.
WW cuddles- they’re older now, probably respectively 17 and 18 years old, and are constantly canoodle in private. It’s just them and they both play card games and sit on the deck of the ship looking at the stars, talking about the absolute mayhem the last few years have been. Link is taller now, and Tetra sometimes uses it to her advantage by sitting on his shoulders and using him as a perch.
He called her a parrot once and she still hates him slightly for that.
SS cuddles- SLEEPY CUDDLES! Link and Zelda lying in bed just trying to avoid getting out of bed so they just spend time in bed talking about anything and everything. Zelda’s hair is messy in the mornings and Link thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, while Zelda sees the healed scars from his journey to save her and always runs her fingertips over them. It’s basically just lazy, sleepy kisses and hugs and they both deserve it. Poor Pipit once couldn’t find Link and Zelda for a few hours when he needed help on something and found them in the middle of Kikwis just dozed off. He just shook his head and smiled at their antics.
BOTW cuddles- Link likes to be the big spoon and always has his arms wrapped around Zelda, and she just plays with his hands first thing in the morning. She notices the tiny cuts from his climbing escapades and the scars that aren’t faint but run throughout his body. She always kisses the one on his shoulder and chest since those were his downfall, and his breath catches in his throat every time. He just loves holding her cause she’s the entire opposite from him. She’s soft and curvy and he’s tall, lanky and rough around the edges. They don’t have a problem cuddling outside either, just not crazy like make outs in the town square. Link brings Zelda to places in Hyrule that have beautiful vantage points and views and just lays down a picnic for them and they spend a day or two just out there, making up for lost time.
One time Teba needed to find Link to talk to him about a recent monster problem near the flight range and couldn’t find neither Link or Zelda in their Hateno home. He had all but given up on finding him that day when he was flying over central Hyrule and saw two figures and a fire on the ancient tree stump. He swooped down and saw them just asleep there and decided that he would just let them be for now and wake Link early tomorrow.
TP cuddles- They go riding and find different spots in the kingdom where it’s secluded enough so that Zelda can just let go and be herself with Link. She rants about her responsibilities and yells that “even though she is a royal it doesn’t mean she’s automatically happy and complacent to the rules of the court”.
Link just hugs her and they sit embraced as the sun goes down, no words are said because Link gets it. Getting destiny thrown in your face is super tough. But once she calms down he reads her his latest poems and she loves the way his voice sounds so much that she falls asleep in his arms, completely happy.
latino nursey is very quiet in english and very loud in spanish.
everything about him is louder in spanish tbh even his laugh turns into this giant high pitched howl.
while the difference is most drastic in nursey, both tango and whiskey also raise their volume.
whiskey also relaxes 10x more like hes kinda uptight just a general rule but around other latinos? its like his whole personality changes.
listen, also? tv is such an important part for them to connect w/ the hispanic world??
nuestro bellessa latina is so important that they dvr it but also all try very hard to schedule around it, so they can watch it in person.
since nurseys not as into futbòl as tango and whiskey are, its really the climax of his life as a latino.
tango cant eat spicy things.
he Just Cant
Like not even the tiniest of sprinkle of jalapeño on tortilla chips
nursey is unhealthily addicted to coffee, like cuban coffee that’s just basically a straight shot of espresso. not for the faint of heart. its like liquid adrenaline
tango tried it once and like, could barely exist on the same plane as us mere mortals
whiskey also lowkey makes fun of everyone else’s accents because he grew up in puerto rico up until highschool so his spanish is excellent but he also thinks its really cute when people fuck up esp tango
tango has a complicated relationship with spanish bc hes always afraid of sounding too hispanic when saying things like latino countries or specific words that he cant help but say with an accent and then people look at him weird because he doesn’t look hispanic
tango is honestly a telenovela encyclopedia. u name it, hes seen it, can quote the most iconic scenes, and will act them out at any given time
whiskey is absolutely his abuelita’s child like. he calls her every couple of days if not every day he loves her so so much and nursey chirps the shit out of him for it but really he’s just lowkey jealous whiskey is so close with his family.
tango is also jewish and people are often very confused about how that works because both of his parents are argentinean. tango just confuses them more by trying to explain it.
all of them just sort of speak a unique blend of all of the slang from their respective countries like they have all just accepted the many different forms “im drunk” or “dude” or “drinking straw” come in. but the curse words that are common phrases in one country and horribly offensive in the other are a constant issue tbh
tango and whiskey are fabulous dancers. nursey, bless him, tries his hardest. he truly does. he just really has two left feet off of the ice
whiskey is truly an impressive drinker. all three of them can hold their liquor well but whiskey is just. stellar at it. he started drinking at like 13 and enters college as a seasoned alcoholic. (just kidding hes not an alcoholic!(actually tbh its hard to tell but lets just say he isnt))
i could forreal go on forever about this so i’m just gonna end it here: they all hate being called mexican, tango and whiskey especially (yes it’s partially about futbòl). there is something about being misidentified so grossly that really grinds ones gears. hence the gratuitous amount of clothing/memorabilia each of them own based on their nationalities.
if u think tango doesnt own a big argentinian flag that he definitely ties around his neck when appropriately timed, ur wrong
how many puerto rico tshirts can whiskey own? answer: an obscene amount. like for real at least 4 or 5. they’re both very extra
Okay so I know its almost summer but Ive had this little idea in my notebook for months and I really wanted a little fluff during the exam period. Also I know about the little KJ scandal but there must be more to it??
Archie I always enjoyed your study sessions and I cant say that I actually find myself studying the books. The freckles along her nose were much more interesting. I knew exactly how her hair fell around her face and hid her slightly as she engrossed her full attention in her book as if it was a whole new world she had just uncovered. Even if it was just a math’s textbook. It was a day like this when I had asked her out. It was last autumn. The light shadows from the sycamore leaves made dancing patterns across her open book. Occasionally, a small seed would fall, twirling down to the ground between us and sometimes, one would land in her (y/h/c) hair adding to its wildness that the wind had blown into it. Summer seemed to have brought out a new side to her. She appeared calm but was easily excitable. She was like a race that never ended; always after a new goal. This time it was autumn. She always made it obvious that it was one of her favorite times of the year, her obsession with hot chocolate and big fluffy jumpers. Cozy pyjamas and warm log fires. She was wild like the flames and warm like the chocolate and cozy like the jumpers. She was autumn herself. I had known her for years and I guess I fell for her before I realised. She seemed to grow more beautiful year after year until one day, I couldn’t resist kissing her perfect lips and making her mine. A year later, it was almost autumn again and my dozy wild girl had once again grown even more gorgeous. She became my muse. My inspiration. The love of my life. She was my everything and I never wanted to change that for the world because she was my today and all of my tomorrows.
You You threw your book to one side sighing and looking up at Archie as he chewed the end of his pencil in contemplation over some sheet music. You found the way he concentrated adorable, especially how he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at it lightly like you did sometimes. “Sing something to me, Archie,” you asked, curling up on his couch and resting your head upon the couch arm. You could tell he had been stressed recently with his music and football and finals and you had barely heard him sing for a while, you had barely even seen him. With a soft smile he turned and picked up his guitar, “What would you like to hear, baby?” he asked softly, “Anything.” You mumbled back softly meeting his warm brown eyes. He had beautiful eyes, you thought, the kind you could get lost in and you guess you did as he began to play something you hadn’t heard before, looking down at the music on his lap as he did so. You admired how his eyelashes rested against his pale cheeks, how the blush on his cheeks was faint but just there enough for you to see, how is foot tapped ever so lightly for a footballer against the floor as he played the acoustic you had bought him and written (y/n) <3 Archie on the bottom, how he had a little crease between his eyebrows as he concentrated on his song and how in the little lyric breaks he would pull his bottom lip between his teeth.
Archie By the time I had finished and looked up on her again, she had fallen fast asleep to the sound of my voice. Her hair had fallen over her face slightly and was moving as she breathed. I smiled softly as I watched her, placing my guitar down I leaned over to her and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead, chuckling lightly as her face scrunched up a little at the sensation. She shivered a little from the cold room so, removing my letterman jacket, I draped it over her bare shoulders smiling fondly and feeling my heart burst as she cuddled into it subconsciously, breathing in my sent that made a small smile grace her features. “God, I love you,” At my words, she stirred a little more, neither of us had never said them words out loud to each other to hear, not yet anyway. “Archie,” she mumbled, still partially asleep with her eyes closed, “Yes, baby girl?” I asked, crouching down so my face was closer to hers, “I love you too.” A smile spread across my face as I raised my hand to run it through her hair. “I love you more,” I whispered making her smirk a little, “your smile is literally the cutest thing I have ever seen.” she smiled once more falling back into a sleep again, “Cuddles” she mumbled so quietly I almost didn’t hear her but she lifted her arms, wrapping them around my neck as I picked her up bridal style my jacket long forgotten as she clung to me with her head on my shoulder and her face in my neck. I carried her up the stairs carefully before laying her in my bed but she refused to let go of my hand beckoning my to lie next to her so I did, allowing her head to rest on my shoulder as we moved together to fit on the smallish bed - not that I minded, I just wanted to be close to her and hold my girl in my arms. She breathed a sigh of content as she nestled into me like she always did, as if my body was made to fit her into it. I lied there in a comfortable silence listening to her breathing as it evened out and she finally got the rest she needed. Once again I admired her, the girl in my arms with her big fluffy jumper, wild hair and freckle dusted nose still left over from summer. She was autumn herself.
Rating: Explicit Pairing: Alex/Elliott Characters: Alex / Elliott (and you know some of the rest of the NPC cast from SV). Tags: hatesex,
rough sex, consent issues, anal sex, fingering, unhealthy relationship,
it’s not even really a relationship (yet), internalised homophobia,
past child abuse, hurt/comfort, angst, porn with plot, PWP, dirty talk, blowjob, hopeful
ending, friendship, power dynamics, dyslexia, S&M, grand romantic gestures.
Alex liked that they were both, in a way, failures.
Diff anon but I keep forgetting that like 85% of all tornadoes on the planet happen in the US, its wild like "Oh look out for the spinning wind tunnel of death, go to your basement so youll be slightly more safe if your house gets ripped out of the ground or a car gets thrown through your walls"
I sorta feel like natural disasters are divvied up like that? You got your mad spinny upright wind tunnels, further east are the Giant Waves of Annihilation, volcanic islands surprisingly sometimes spew lava. Sometimes the entire ground shakes a lot.
And everyone just kinda accepts how that one element in particular is out to kill them and forgets not everyone is as casual about it.
In that dale the light was like a red sunset, but the light came up from the lake. From a low cliff that overhung it he looked down, and it seemed that he could see to an immeasurable depth; and there he beheld strange shapes of flame bending and branching and wavering like great weeds in a sea-dingle, and fiery creatures went to and fro among them. Filled with wonder he went down to the water’s edge and tried it with his foot, but it was not water: it was harder than stone and sleeker than glass. He stepped on it and he fell heavily, and a ringing boom ran across the lake and echoed in its shores.
At once the breeze rose to a wild Wind, roaring like a great beast, and it swept him up and Hung him on the shore, and it drove him up the slopes whirling and falling like a dead leaf. He put his arms about the stem of a young birch and clung to it, and the Wind wrestled fiercely with them, trying to tear him away; but the birch was bent down to the ground by the blast and enclosed him in its branches. When at last the Wind passed on he rose and saw that the birch was naked. It was stripped of every leaf, and it wept, and tears fell from its branches like rain. He set his hand upon its white bark, saying: “Blessed be the birch! What can I do to make amends or give thanks?” He felt the answer of the tree pass up from his hand: “Nothing,” it said. “Go away! The Wind is hunting you. You do not belong here. Go away and never return!”
It had felt like hours since the woman had left the tavern, but she still hadn’t been able to find the pass she was meant to use to get to the next village over. The mountains were never kind to its visitors, and the Ionian was no different. Wild winds passed through its peaks, chilling the blonde to her core. She had been a fool to visit these parts un-prepared, blinded by the temptation of some quick gold.
As she walked forward, the winds shifted the snow behind her, leaving no evidence that she had been there in the first place. At first she had failed to notice this, but as soon as she did, she knew the whole endeavour had been rediculous and she needed to find shelter….and fast.
There was no way she was achieving anything in this state.
Pulling her cape around her shoulders, she continued to trudge through the snow, heading towards the largest verticle surface in the hopes of finding a cave. If she was going to get out of this alive, she needed to find shelter quickly. The storm was only getting worse, and she was running out of time.
we loved shabbily with the windows down, like the critters in back alleyways, like the dipalated ferris wheel down 54th street, a treacherous ride that always ends with somebody’s head cracking open coconut-like splat on the ground. you are the rose with its many winding vermilion arms open we kiss and it’s like growing a wild garden. but sometimes the blood skitters out of your body, sometimes you’re an abandoned town, no telephone lines, no water towers, no playgrounds, only a thousand yards of pallid grassland never blessed by the goddess rain.
a/n: i have no idea how to fucking end imagines so bare with me.
You were at Luke’s house when it began to storm. The thunder sneaked in, beginning unnoticeably quiet from many miles away, to deafening booms that seemed to rattle the whole house like it was just outside. The lightening danced between black clouds, flashing in quick intervals that made the lights and the television flicker every so often. The wind howled, pushing the trees with its invisible might. It was wild out there, but inside was warm and cozy as you and your boyfriend snuggled together on the couch with a (flickering) movie playing.
“I’m gonna go get a blanket,” You informed Luke as you stood up from your spot against his chest. His eyes cast nervously to the window, watching the rain pelt the glass in a constant wave. You gave him a reassuring smile and a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”
You headed upstairs to his bedroom to grab some blankets from his bed, when suddenly the lights shut out, and you were standing in darkness. Luckily, you had your phone on you and you were able to use it as a flashlight to find what you needed, but as you could now hear, Luke was not so lucky.
“(y/n)?” You could hear his panic stricken voice from down stairs as he was now probably sitting in darkness. You rushed out of his room with a pile of blankets in your arms and your phone shining weak light as you maneuvered down the stairs to the living room. He was sitting up on the couch, the television black along with every other light in the house. His eyebrows were drawn together, blue eyes blown wide, as he stood up and rushed towards you, pushing the blankets out of your hold and curling his arms around your waist. His head pressed into the crook of his neck as he mumbled out, “I hate the dark."
"I know you do,” You replied softly, your hands twisting into the fabric of his t-shirt on his back. “C'mon, we can go look for some candles in the kitchen and light them until the power comes back on."
Luke nodded in agreement, reluctantly releasing you from his hold and trailed behind you to the pitch black kitchen, the only illumination from the white light of your cell phone. You searched the cabinets until you found a box full of tea candles and a lighter. "We can sleep in the living room, since the blankets are down here anyways,” You propose. You begin setting up the candles over the coffee table, lighting each one as you go. Soon enough, a small halo of soft, yellow light illuminated the room, and the tension in Luke’s shoulders seemed to release. “Better?"
"Yeah,” He agrees, curling up on the couch with a blanket. He wiggled his toes that were visible and looked up at you like a little kid begging for candy. “Sit with me?"
"Of course,” You can’t help but croon in endearment as how cute he looked. He scooted towards the edge, allowing you to slip between him and the back of the couch. As if on instinct, your hand found its way to the roots of his blonde locks and you raked your fingers through his hair soothingly. Luke let out a hum of content, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “The power’ll be back on soon, I bet."
"I’m sorry I’m such a baby,” Luke mutters. “I just- I really hate the dark. If you weren’t here I’d probably be crying right now.”
You can’t help but chuckle and kiss his nose. “I would have come anyways. And it’s okay if you don’t like the dark. I kinda like the feeling like I’m protecting you, because I feel like you do it for me all the time."
Luke smiles to himself and tightens his grip on you while nosing your cheek. He lets out a sigh like his nerves are settled and you can’t help but feel accomplished. You feel even closer to him, and an overwhelming sense of love and care sends through your body when he adds, "We protect each other."