So I don’t think I’ve posted properly about my ongoing fic, but here it is! I just finished chapter 8 today and I’m super excited to take you guys through the rest of this mess of a journey.
Next update will be Friday, October 19th at 7PM PST. Hope to see y’all then!
AO3 (Ch. 1)
AO3 (Ch. 8)
by: TeddyKrueger
Word Count: 57428
Status: Ongoing
Rated: M
“Uh. Lance? What’s going on?” Hunk asks. He looks less at me and more at the mullet-head with my beloved drink all over him. I could ask Hunk to back me up here, but no. I’ve got this. I deal with stupid people all the time. What’s another one?
“You gonna answer me?” Keith demands. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Language,” Shiro warns.
I start typing and only look up for a second when Keith scoffs. “So you’re gonna play with your phone are you kidd—”
I shove my phone in his face. His eyes widen a bit as he digests what’s on the screen. He huffs and tears the paper towels out of Shiro’s hand.
“Whatever. Watch it next time.”
It’s been awhile since I’ve wanted to talk back, but I’m glad I’m not going to. I mean, I can’t.
I delete the message with a smug grin, knowing that at least part of his day is ruined.
“I’m mute, asshole.”
Next Update: Friday, October 19th @7 PM PST
Tags: mute!lance, soulmates au, soulmark au
Other Ships: Hunay, Pimelle, (Implied) Kizavi, Shadam
Established relationship fluff for @mandolinearts ♥
[ AO3 ]
Romelle flips another page of the magazine she’d found in the mess hall earlier that evening, trying to get her brain to stop spinning so she could possibly sleep sometime soon. She leans back further into the stack of pillows propping her up with a sigh, flicking her gaze to the door. Pidge is working late again. Romelle wouldn’t be surprised if her girlfriend has completely lost track of time. It wouldn’t be the first time.
She makes a face at the so-called fashion being lauded in the magazine and tosses it aside. It has barely made contact with the floor when the door slides open. Pidge walks in, feet dragging. She offers Romelle a half-smile.
“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” she says as she trudges across the small room. Pidge collapses on the bed, resting her head on Romelle’s lap.
Romelle threaded her fingers through Pidge’s hair, loving the feel of the thick locks between her fingers. “I did, though.”
“Mmm, keep doing that,” Pidge says.
“Waiting up for you or playing with your hair?” Romelle asks. She grins when Pidge cracks her eyes open to glare up at her.
“Hair,” Pidge mumbles. She turns her face to the side, the arm of her glasses pressing into Romelle’s stomach. “But both, really.”
Romelle reaches down and gently pulls Pidge’s glasses off, encountering no resistance. She sets them on the bedside table and goes back to carding her fingers through Pidge’s hair, making it even wilder than normal. “Did you make any progress tonight?”
“Mmm, a little bit. If they let me do it on my own I’d be done by now. Having so many people working on the program is a mess.”
“Pull rank on them,” Romelle suggests. “You’re a Paladin and have far more experience with these kinds of systems after working on the Lions and the castle.”
“I barely have a rank,” Pidge grumbles. “Like, yeah, I’m a Paladin, but I’m also the kid who broke into the Garrison, lied about my age and identity to join the Garrison, and then ran off in the Blue Lion when I was still a cadet.”
“They’re all idiots,” Romelle says decisively.
“Well, I know that.”
Romelle tugs on her hair.
“Hey!” Pidge complains, shifting to look up at her.
Romelle just raised her eyebrows at her. “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“I regret ever letting you learn that phrase,” Pidge mutters as she shifts. She settles herself in Romelle’s lap.
“I like it,” Romelle says with a sniff.
“I picked up on that given the frequency with which you use it.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Pidge leans forward. “I think there are better places for you to kiss.”
“Oh?” Romelle leans forward and brushes a kiss on Pidge’s cheek. “Like there?”
She smiles at the blush that tints Pidge’s cheeks pink. It’s always the tiny affectionate gestures that get her.
“Not quite,” Pidge stammers out. “Close.”
Romelle takes pity on her, not wanting to wait any longer anyways. She leans in and kisses Pidge, soft and slow and sweet. It is the kind of kiss that always makes Romelle feel like she is floating away, anchored only by Pidge’s hands framing her face.
Pidge nips at her bottom lip, angling for more, but Romelle pulls away. She puts her hands over Pidge’s, keeping them in place on her cheeks.
“You know I love you, right?” Romelle asks.
Pidge nods.
“Then please don’t argue when I say that you need to get to sleep as soon as possible so you’re not impossible tomorrow.”
Pidge laughs. “Fine. I won’t argue,” she says. “This time at least. Only because I’m actually tired.”
“I know,” Romelle answers.
They rearrange the pillows and themselves until they’re ready for sleep. When the lights go out, Pidge is curled around Romelle, her soft exhales tickling the back of Romelle’s neck. Romelle falls asleep quickly, her girlfriend’s embrace much better at calming her than that silly magazine.
