Hey! :D So, just saw that your requests are open, so I thought I could tell you this very cheesy idea of mine for a Lance x Reader fanfiction (either female or gender neutral pronounces are fine; it's all supposed to play in a modern setting, by the way): So, the reader and Lance are going to the same college, and are sharing a flat. Evertyhing is cool, until Lance realizes that he had developed some geniune feelings for the reader, and screams to Hunk about. After talking for a little while, he comes up with these big romantic plans in order to confess his feelings as cheesy and sweet as possible. However, not everything that you plan will also work out that way. So, instead of being able to confess his feelings in the way he wants to, he instead accidentally confesses his love on a lazy Sunday while they are playing video games. But guess what? The reader doesn't mind one bit because they've been in love with this boy as long as they can remember? Thanks for hopefully taking my requests and have a nice day. :3 (That got longer than I thought it would lmao)
I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCCHHHH MMMMMMM IMPROMPTU CONFESSIONS MAKE ME SOSSOSOSOSOOSOS HAPPY OFC OFC
Okok before I get too carried awayyy, I just wanna say that I really, really love this request and all the genuine fuzzies that come with it uGh it's so sweet!
As always, if I don't touch upon the prompt correctly or you're dissatisfied, I'd be more than happy to rewrite it! :) Take care, and I hope you enjoy!
Also also, I decided to give the reader she/they pronouns to satisfy both pronoun requests! I hope that's okay! :D
/ \
Typically, on a Saturday morning, Hunk would be up sometime after 11 AM, drinking hot chocolate with the little marshmallows and eating pancakes covered in syrup- sweet things to encourage a sweet day, he'd once told someone happily. Typically, he wouldn't be up before then, and he wouldn't be trying to talk down Lance during that time.
Unfortunately, this is not a typical Saturday morning.
"I'm really, really into her, Hunk! It's not fair that she gets to walk around, being all cute and fun and awesome and I have to be stuck here, pining hopelessly and breaking the one universal rule for having a roommate! There has to be some kind of law against being that cute somewhere!"
Hunk drags a hand down his face, sighing wearily, “Then just talk to her. I still fail to see why you had to call me at 7 AM on a Saturday for this,” He pauses, eyes narrowing skeptically, “Why are you even up at 7 AM on a Saturday?”
“Hunk, I don’t want to mess this up. I think I might actually be... into her.”
There’s a heavy pause as Hunk stares at the phone in disbelief, “Actually into her? Like- Like ‘if she rejected you, you’d cry’ into her?”
Lance lets out a small sad noise at the thought, “Like ‘if they rejected me, I’d lay down on the floor right there and never get up’ into them. I think I might be in love with her, and I don’t know what to do.”
Hunk leans back in surprise, lips parting with uncertainty, “In love?” His tone is laced with trepidation, “That’s... a big word. And a big bundle of feelings I don’t think I can help you unpack this early on my day off.”
Lance lets out an exaggerated whine, “I know! I just- I wanted to-” He pauses, searching for the words, “This is gonna sound really, really, pathetically lame-”
“-Lance, you know I literally couldn’t judge you if I tried-”
“-I wanted to plan out a confession.”
Hunk opens his mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. He genuinely has no words- it’s terrifying to think about Lance being this committed to anything, really.
He tries again, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to find the words, “That’s... I... Wow,” He laughs a little, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter, “You’re really serious?”
Lance exhales softly, “I’ve never been this serious about anything in my life.”
Hunk sighs, running his fingers through his hair, “Okay, but just know; if I help you with this, you’re not allowed- literally not allowed- to break her heart within a week.”
Lance scoffs indignantly, “How little do you think of me?”
Hunk raises an eyebrow, fully aware that Lance can’t see him, letting the silence answer for him.
“Fine, fine- I suppose you’re not completely wrong in saying that. Still stings, though.”
/ / \ \
“I’m actually going to slaughter you, Lance! You’re so bad at this, what the heck?” You toss your head back as he dies in the game, cackling in delight, “Come on- that was so easy!”
Lance’s fingers fumble idly with the controls, a non-committal response falling from his lips. He can’t take his eyes off of you, off the way your eyes crinkle at the corners and the way your hair falls into your face. Your slow smile, the way it pulled up languidly the closer you got to winning; the curve of your back as you lean back against the couch.
At the lack of protest from your roommate, you turn and meets his gorgeous, cobalt blue eyes. Your smile slowly falls, gaze completely transfixed on his own as your lips part slightly, drawing his eyes down to them.
He says your name, softly, heart stuttering in his chest at the sudden realization that he really wants to kiss you right now.
“Yeah, Lance?” You reply quietly, slowly drifting closer, “What is it?”
He exhales shortly, chest aching with the fear of rejection, and a flush starts to creep up his throat. He splutters out an attempt at speaking, and you laugh, throwing your head back again and brightening the air in the room in one fell swoop.
For a second, he laments the loss of the moment, but your head comes back down as quick as it went up, face suddenly even closer than it was before as you ask the very question that had been on his mind, “Can I kiss you, Lance?”
He hesitates a moment, remembering the plan he had, but then he looks at the bright smile on your face and realizes there probably won’t ever be a better moment to kiss you for the first time, “Yes.”
You surge forward, pressing a hand to the back of his neck and drawing him into a sweet, innocent kiss. His heart soars, mind racing and drawing to a complete halt all at once as he parts his lips against yours, hands cupping your face reverently.
You taste of what butterflies sound like, lips sweet and slightly chapped against his own, and he can’t quite breathe right, drowning in you yet utterly unwilling to come up for air. You laugh lightly against his lips, causing his own bright laughter to bubble up from his chest- soon, you’re both just a silly mess of laughter, foreheads leaning together gently.
“This was... not according to plan.” You make a soft noise of confusion, and his heart skips a beat at the realization that he just ratted himself out.
He tries to take it back, blushing profusely as he stumbles over his words, but you only laugh, a mischievous smile curling at your lips, “What plan, Lance?”
He purses his lips, hesitating for a moment, before leaning in to kiss you again. ”Imagine a picnic in the park,” he murmurs against your lips, eyelashes fluttering gently against his cheekbones, “With homemade red velvet cupcakes and hot chocolate thermoses.”
You let your eyes fall shut, imagining the scene he’s painting with his words.
“We go to the playground at sunset, and I push you on the swing so you can touch the last rays of the sun as it falls,” He takes a soft, unsteady breath, and you fall further into the daydream with him, fingers curling around his wrists as he strokes his thumbs across your cheekbones, “At dusk, we start watching the stars, waiting for them to make themselves seen. Then, in the dead of night, when the stars are at their brightest...”
Lance’s voice trails off and your eyes blink open slowly, breaking the trance languidly, “What, Lance?”
He exhales softly, “I finally tell you that I’m in love with you.”
You watch as he holds his breath, heart racing in your chest when his words settle over your mind like a fog, “You’re in love with me,” You repeat softly, and he nods gently.
“You drive me crazy.” You laugh softly, tilting your head up and brushing the tip of your nose against his, “I drive you crazy? I’ve been head over heels in love with you for as long as I can remember, McClain.”
His eyes snap open in surprise, a delighted hoot parting ways from his lips, “You are? You’re in love with me? You love me? You love-”
He lets out a wet laugh, tears burning his waterline, and you laugh back, “Aw, you crybaby! I do- I love you-”
He kisses you again, cutting you off- he kisses you again and again and again, repeating over and over again that he loves you until you can’t breathe.
Summary: Lance demands a kiss as a reward before going with the paladins on a mission. But what happens when he almost doesn’t make it back to cash in that prize?
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1560
A one shot requested by the amazing @nesting-dreams. I hope you like it, hun.
Sirens blare through the empty castle halls as your rushing footsteps echo towards the blue lion's hanger. Your rare day of peace was sadly interrupted by the paladins being called out to a distress call. And even though it sounds like a rather easy mission, something about it causes an uneasy feeling to settle in the pit of your stomach. And the more you think about it, the more you realize you can’t let them leave without seeing them off.
Bursting through the open doorway, you hurriedly glance around and bolt forward upon noticing your boyfriend walking up the ramp to his lion. “Lance! Wait!”
When he turns around, you see a look of surprise pass over his face before he quickly thrusts his arms out to catch you. Flinging yourself into him, you throw your arms around his neck and drag him to you. “Woah, there beautiful, not that I mind, but what’s with the sudden tackle hug?”
Despite the amused tone in his voice, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. Pushing away just enough to look in his eyes, you speak softly, “I-I just have a bad feeling about this. I feel like something is going to go wrong. Promise me you’ll be careful and that you'll stay safe?”
“Aw, you’re worried for little old me? You’re so cute that I could just eat you up.” You huff through your nose, and a pout forms on your lips, but he just laughs at your concern.
“Lance, I’m serious-”
His expression softens, and the pressure of him resting his forehead against yours stops your scolding. “I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll come back to you in one piece. Now, how about you promise me something?” You blink and nod, too caught up in the loving look in his cerulean eyes to answer with words.
Smiling, he nuzzles his nose to yours gently, “When I come back, you’ll give me a kiss as a reward for keeping my promise.”
Some of the tension leaves your body, and you giggle at his comment, “Okay. I promise.”
Lance’s eyes sparkle at hearing your laugh, and he gives your sides a light squeeze, “There’s my brave warrior.” You can’t help but snort at the stupid nickname he gives you, which only causes his dazzling smile to widen. “Now I need to go help the others, but you better have my reward ready for me when I get back.”
His grip on you loosens and slides to your arms to grip your hands in his. Squeezing them, he brings each hand to his mouth to press tender kisses on the backs before slowly releasing them and jogging up the rest of the ramp.
Stepping back towards the door, you watch as his lion comes to life and raises onto its four legs with a mighty roar. It seems to stare at you in thought for a minute before it turns and takes off to catch up with the other paladins.
You remain rooted to your spot for a bit longer, still feeling the warmth of his lips on your hands. Breaking out of your daze by being called over the speakers, you shake your head to clear your thoughts. Making your way through the desolate halls to the control room, you feel grief grip your heart, and the unease returns in your gut now that Lance is gone. And you realize that all you can do is sit and wait for him to come back.
Pacing back and forth in the control room, you anxiously bite your thumb. The reason for your worry? Well, the easy mission took the paladins little time to complete, just like you expected. But after contacting the castle once the rescue was over, not a word has been heard from them since. It's been 3 hours since then. And the more time that passes, the more the sinking pit in your stomach grows.
You swear you would have worn a path into the floor had it not been for the gentle hand placed on your shoulder. “(First Name) you need not worry. I’m sure they’re all safe.” Titling your head, you gaze at the sweet smile Allura is giving you.
“I don’t know, Allura.” Your eyes drift downward solemnly. “I have this feeling that something went wrong.”
“You’re always anxious when Lance goes on missions.” The princess's voice takes on a teasing tone to try and lift your spirits.
“I’m not just anxious, Allura-”
“Hailing the castle of lions.” The troubled voice of Shiro can be heard from the castle console.
You and Allura glance at each other with wide eyes before rushing over. She places her hands on the console, all traces of her earlier smile wiped off her face and replaced with furrowed brows and a slight frown. “We’re here, Shiro.”
You lean in closer to make sure the black paladin can hear you, “Shiro did something happen? Is everyone alright?”
“(First Name)...It’s Lance.” That’s all it takes for your worrying heart to shatter but the words he speaks next cause the fragments to disintegrate to dust. “He got caught in the crossfire of an explosion and was knocked unconscious for a couple hours. We stayed on planet so that we wouldn’t make his condition worse by moving him. Thankfully he woke up a while ago, but he’s still in bad shape. We’ll need a cryo pod set up for him when we get there.”
Seeing your distressed expression, Allura answers for you, “Alright, Shiro. We’ll have the pod set up for your return. How far out are you?”
“About 20 minutes. And (First Name) don’t worry, he’ll be okay.”
The link disconnecting doesn’t register in your rushing mind, and neither does Allura’s voice until she grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you. Rapidly blinking out of your stupor, you meet her concerned eyes. “I’ll get the pod ready (First Name). Go to the hanger to greet them when they get here.”
Nodding briefly, you rush past her in a panic. The columns blur in your vision at your speed and your breath comes out in haggard puffs. But you don’t slow your pace until you reach the giant doors of the hanger. Only then do you stop to catch your breath, hunching over and bracing your hands on your knees.
You’ve just about regained your ability to breath when you hear the lions land in the hanger. You straighten up quickly and press the buttons on the control panel to open the doors. Bouncing on the balls of your feet in your impatiens, it feels like this is the slowest the machines have ever worked. But once there’s enough room for you to squeeze through the opening, you bolt inside.
Though upon making it inside, you pause in uncertainty at seeing Shiro supporting a limping lance down his lion’s ramp. As if sensing your presence, Lance lifts his bruised face to look at you, and the pained smile he gives you is enough to erase the uncertainty.
Shiro leaves him at the bottom of the ramp with a nod. Walking towards you, you can see his guilt-ridden expression out of the corner of your eyes, but the start of tears blurs it slightly. The leader waves the other paladins out and shut the door behind them, leaving you and Lance alone.
Lance beckoning you over with a tilt of his head is what finally sets you in motion. Running forward, you collide into him and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. He grunts painfully but keeps you from pulling away by circling his arms around your waist. “Hey, there, beautiful.”
You lift your head from his shoulder with tears streaming down your face. He removes one of his hands from your hips and rests it on your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing away the cascading droplets. At the calming touch, you turn your head to nuzzle into his palm.
“Oh, come on, beautiful. There’s no reason to cry.
“Bu-but you got hurt an-and I knew something ba-bad was gonna happen.” You struggle to get your words out around your hiccuped sniffles.
“Hey, babe, you know you can’t get rid of me that easily right?”
“What?” Your eyes widen in shock as you meet his gaze.
“I said you can’t get rid of me that easily.” His smile grows, and he rests his forehead against yours, “Especially when I’m supposed to get a reward.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and the movement slightly tickles your skin.
Despite your worry, you can’t help the small wet chuckle that bubbles past your lips, and you shake your head at him, “So you almost died, and you’re concerned about a kiss.”
He removes his other hand from your waist and moves it to cup your face. “Of course, I am. Cause if it’s a kiss from you, I’ll always come back for it.”
Your cheeks heat with a blush, and butterflies flutter in your stomach. Though despite the fast beating of your heart, you plaster a playful smirk on your face, “Well, why don’t you claim your reward then?” Lance doesn’t need to hear anymore as he crashes his lips to yours. His pain and your worry are long forgotten in the familiar caress of your kiss.
Commission & Request Sheet
Masterlists
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the flavor of those last Arcana headcanons you did? Immaculate 😌💅🏽 they were so sweet & they made me laugh 🥰 can i get the same thing with the Voltron paladins(+Matt🥺) because I’m in the mood for some palalovin 👉😎👉 (ok I’ll go now...)
Yeah yeah! Let’s goooo! 💞💖✨💕 ੭•̀ω•́)੭̸*✩⁺˚
Voltron Paladins + Matt (separately) x insecure GN Reader
💙 Lance 💙
But you’re so attractive???
Nonono! Please don’t make that face!
You’ll make him cry!
Let him cradle your face and give you kisses.
He’ll ask you to wear his jacket.
....because seeing you in his clothes makes him happy, so maybe it’ll make you happy too.
🧡 Hunk 🧡
He’s familiar with the feeling.
He’s sometimes insecure about how his cooking will turn out.
He just has to remind himself that things will turn out for the better!
Don’t like how your hair is? Try a different style!
Let him trail kisses from your hand all the way up to you cheek.
You may find certain things about yourself unmanageable to deal with, but damn does he love everything about you,
🖤 Shiro 🖤
Feeling insecure? WELL THEN-
Get ready because he won’t let you leave for awhile.
He’ll hand you a weighted blanket and set you in his lap.
Now take your time telling him what you’re insecure about.
This man will 100% pet your head as you explain, and offer you words of reassurance.
💚 Matt 💚
“Babe...”
He’s heartbroken that you’ve been experiencing this all by yourself.
That’s it, come here.
He just wants to hold you in his arms.
Whispering to you, “You’re amazing. Your smile is everything to me. I love you. I love all of you, so much.”
Holding your face gently and giving forehead kisses.
💗 Allura 💗
Are you positive?
No, it’s just- everything about you is spectacular!
What can she do to make you feel better? Just say the word and it’ll be done!
...You just want her to stay by your side?
She’s more than happy to oblige.
Expect her to hold hands whenever she’s around you now.
❤️ Keith ❤️
Wait...what?
He would never have guessed.
In his eyes, you’re just so strong.
He’ll hug you. It wouldn’t be the best hug, but to you, you couldn’t ask for anything else.
He’ll subconsciously pat your head.
Just... stay close.
💚 Pidge 💚
Her eyes will soften at your words.
She’ll pat the empty spot on the bed next to her.
She’ll hold your hands in her own and look you in the eyes.
“Y/N, I mean it when I say; I’m so glad we met. There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
Notes: CW: injuries - masterlist - you know how there are fics that you crank out in like 4 days and they end up being over 10K bc you were so inspired and the words just Go Right
this was not one of them
-------
It couldn’t be true.
Everything had happened so fast: you screwed your eyes shut against the bright flash of memories slamming back into you, and you bunched your fingers in your shirt. The mission had gone horribly wrong. That much you could remember. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach when you realised just how badly everything had gone wrong.
“Y/N, get out of there. You have to get out of there right now,” Pidge hisses through the comms. She was right: there’d been a massive miscalculation. The nineteen and a half minutes of time you thought you’d have to retrieve the new blaster prototype had transformed into four. But this was an important mission, and you do the math in your head: if from now on everything went right, and the final calculations weren’t off, you could at least do some damage before fleeing the scene.
“I’m going in,” you whisper to Pidge, squaring your shoulders and zipping through a doorway. Your heart is beating in your throat, but like hell are you going to leave the ship without having at least destroyed a couple of sentries.
“What? No! Y/N, get back here! Y/N–”
But you already press a button on the side of your helmet and cut off the sound of her voice. No more distractions. Sliding along the walls, you swiftly make your way across hallways, humming a cheery tune. The route to the room you have to get to is clearly mapped out in your head: you know where to turn corners and which thresholds to cross. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Time, time, time.
One more corner, you think and pick up your pace, your steps featherlight on the floor. So light. It feels more like floating than running. There isn’t even a door protecting the prototype, you note, only two sentries guarding each side of the entrance. You take them out before either can give a peep, then grasp your knife a little tighter, fixing your gaze on the weapon displayed in front of you.
It’s cool. You have to give it that. But it’s also extremely dangerous: increased accuracy, increased power. Increased deadliness. So you only feel a little sorry as you plunge your blade into the weapon, focused on damaging it as much as possible, but doing just that is harder than you expected. You huff, frowning as you stab your knife into the blaster more vigorously, muttering a string of curses under your breath.
“Come–on–you–stupid–thing–break!” There is a satisfying crack as your blade finally pierces the hard exterior shell of the blaster, giving you access to the wiring and all the tiny technical components inside. You barely know anything about tech or engineering–you’re no Hunk or Pidge. So you shrug and start randomly hacking at the gun’s insides, only satisfied when it looks beat up beyond repair, sizzling pitifully on its standard. It’s a shame; you’d much rather have taken it with you, for Pidge and Hunk to analyse and study. But you’re almost out of time. “There.”
As you turn, a vague shout in the back of the hallway grabs your attention and you’re on your feet in seconds, scrambling for the exit. Lance.
He shouts your name again as he sprints towards you, and the first thing you notice is that he isn’t wearing his helmet anymore and that there is blood gushing down the side of his face. It’s dripping onto his armour, staining the white and blue with a deep crimson, and you have to resist the urge to gag: head wounds bleed profusely, you know, even if they’re not deep. It doesn’t have to be deep. It can just be a nick. Just a scratch.
But the thoughts don’t stop the slight panic from rising like bile in your throat. Lance’s head is unprotected. This is bound to go wrong.
You meet him halfway through the corridor, immediately cupping his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. “What happened?” Your voice is sharper than you intend it to be, and you instantly feel guilty at Lance’s slight recoil.
“It’s nothing. Helmet got blasted off, I’m fine,” he assures you, pressing a quick peck to your cheek. He seems extremely relieved to find that you’re okay. “We gotta go, though. Now.”
You give a stiff nod, grabbing Lance’s hand and pulling him along as the two of you run for the rendez-vous point: the hangar. With your free hand, you activate the comms again, where you are immediately greeted with a flurry of yells, Pidge’s shrill voice only barely audible above the others. “Y/N! You stopped responding to calls, we were worrying our asses off! Are you crazy?”
“I’m fine,” you grunt as you duck and let go of Lance’s hand for the time you need to kick a sentry across the corridor, “thanks for asking. We’re on our way.” Lance is panting beside you–more so than usual–and you start to think that maybe his head wound is a little more serious than he originally let on. “Maybe prepare a cryo-pod for Lance.” You try to keep your tone light, but your voice cracks and sounds shrill, even in your ears.
“Copy,” comes Pidge’s small reply, and you can hear her repeat your request to Coran. Only a couple more halls, you silently pray as you glance back to Lance behind you. His eyes are clouded, seeming to go in and out of focus, but he sets his jaw and insists that he’s fine. Just a little woozy. You quietly wish that he’s telling the truth. Just one more turn, and you’ll be safe again.
Of course, that was too much to ask.
It goes so fast that you don’t even realize what’s happening until it’s too late. The widening of Lance’s eyes as they focus on something on your left, the panic filling them as they shoot back to you. The scream that leaves your lips as he jumps in front of you, and the flash of light that fills your vision just a fraction of a second after. White spots cloud your vision and you crumble to your knees, dropping your weapon and screwing your eyes shut, covering them with your hand. There is a ringing in your ears that drowns out all other sounds. It’s loud; you can’t even hear your own screams.
You’re pretty sure you black out for a second. When you open your eyes again what feels like hours later, you’re slowly regaining your vision and you squint against the blinding light attacking your eyes. You blink a few times, shaking the spots from your vision, and your heart speeds up at the shouts filling your helmet. “I’m fine,” you manage through gritted teeth, pushing yourself up on your elbows and scanning the ground for Lance, your heart leaping in your throat when you don’t immediately spot him.
You call out for him, frantically searching for an answer, ignoring Pidge’s alarmed voice over the comms. When your eyes finally focus on his body, crumbled to the ground and half propped up against the wall, a wail of pure fear tears itself from your lips and you stumble towards him, sinking to your knees beside him and shaking his shoulders, mumbling his name over and over.
“Hey, hey, Lance. Lance, we gotta go. We gotta go, get up, Lance, get up, get up.” But he doesn’t move. His chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths, and when you try to wipe the dirt and grime from his face, stroking his hair out of the way, your eyes widen and you scream, soon followed by a dizziness making your head feel like lead. You suddenly lose all control over your body, and you fall onto your side, only just managing to catch yourself on one elbow and promptly vomiting on the floor. Your eyes sting with tears.
Pidge is screaming. You vaguely make out some words: both your and Lance’s names, “help”, “hurt”. Yes, you think weakly, feeling your arm give out from beneath you, Lance is very hurt. He needs help. As soon as possible, please. Your heart gives an anxious stutter at the thought that he might not be okay, but you force the thought back as soon as it comes. Lance has to be okay. He has to be.
The steady beeping of the healing pod matched your breathing. Beep, breathe in. Beep, breathe out. It was the only thing currently keeping you from completely breaking down.
You hadn’t moved from your spot beside Lance’s healing pod in two days. You had quietly asked Allura if she would bring you your food instead of having you eat with the others, and she’d agreed, albeit shooting you a worried glance. The first night, you hadn’t even realised you had fallen asleep until you’d woken up with your cheek pressed against the cool glass and a quilt thrown over you that you were sure hadn’t been there when you nodded off.
You had only spent a few hours in your own healing pod. When you had stumbled out, gasping for breath and falling right into Shiro’s arms, the first thing you had demanded to know was if Lance would be okay. Lance would make it, Coran had told you. He would make it, but his eyesight would never be recovered.
The blast had grazed his face, had seared his eyes, doing irrevocable damage and ensuring the permanent loss of his sight. Panic had risen up like bile in your throat and you’d muttered over and over, “No, no, that can’t be true. There has to be something we can do. No, there has to be a way.”
But there wasn’t, Pidge had said, her expression emptier than you’d ever seen it. Her eyes were puffy from crying and lined red. They’d tried everything, and it was already a miracle that his vitals were so strong. Had he been just a little weaker, had they gotten to him just a little later–Lance would have died. No doubt about it.
He would live, and they had to be grateful for it.
Now that you had recovered slightly from the shock, your mind a little clearer, you saw just how close you had been to losing Lance forever. In retrospect, losing his eyesight was a small price to pay. You knew that you were just relieved that he had made it, and that you were frantically searching for reasons not to despair at the loss of his sight. Leaning your head back against the glass, you wondered if Lance would still want to be with you if he couldn’t see you.
You banished the thought away as soon as it crossed your mind, scolding yourself internally. Of course he’d still want to be with you: Lance loved you for who you were, not for what you looked like. Besides, that was the least of your worries right now. You took a shaky breath, focusing on the beeps. Beep, breathe in. Beep, breathe out.
“Can I join you?” Hunk’s voice was small, resonating in the med bay and shaking you out of your thoughts. You nodded, patting the blanket beside you and shifting your position to make space for him. Hunk smiled sadly as he lowered himself to the ground next to you, and he doesn’t say anything for a while. It’s silent and you like it.
You turned your head, examining Hunk’s face. He’s paler than usual, an ashy undertone to his soft brown skin. There were bags under his eyes. His hair was messy, and he frankly looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Probably hadn’t, you realised: Lance was his best friend. They had known each other for ages: he would be worried sick right now.
“He’s going to be fine, you know,” he said after a while, and you silently wondered how he could sound so sure. Because he did: there was a firmness to his voice, the origin of which you couldn’t quite place.
“This is my fault,” you said quietly, your voice cracking on the last word.
Hunk’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that.”
You looked up at him, your eyes stinging with tears. “It’s true. He–he jumped in front of me to protect me from that shot. He took it for me.” You took a shaky breath, carding a hand through your hair. “Pidge warned me to get out of there. I didn’t listen. I–I cut off the comms. If I hadn’t gone back for that stupid prototype, none of this would have happened.” Your voice was barely above a whisper now, and you refused to look Hunk in the eye, afraid of what you’d find in his expression. “He was worried because I didn’t answer his calls and came looking for me. His helmet got knocked off. If he’d had his helmet, maybe he wouldn’t be–maybe he would have been okay.”
A sob made its way past your lips, and you angrily wiped at your eyes: you hadn’t noticed how truly angry you were until now. Angry at the universe for making Lance go through this much suffering–as if he hadn’t been through enough already–but most of all angry at yourself for being the cause of it. “How can I ever forgive myself for this? Knowing that I could have done something–doing nothing. That was all it would have taken for Lance to be okay, Hunk.” You paused, digging your nails into your skin. “I could have backed down. Let it go. But I didn’t. And Lance is blind now because of it.”
“He’ll be okay.”
You almost laughed at that, leaning back against the pod. There hadn’t been an ounce of doubt in Hunk’s voice: whether it was because he really believed what he said, or just because he wanted to calm you down, you didn’t know. “How can you be so sure?”
Hunk wrapped an arm around you, tugging you into his side and gently rubbing your arm. The sweet gesture broke the dam you had been carefully building up for two days, and all the worry and pain and fear you had stocked up behind it burst loose in a stream of tears. They blur your vision, tearing sobs from your chest and you bury your face in Hunk’s shoulder, more grateful than ever that he was there and almost desperately taking refuge in the comfort he offered you.
“Because Lance is a survivor.”
Hunk said it lightly, with so much faith that you found yourself silently repeating it like a mantra. It was true: Lance was a survivor, and he had gone through so much already. He would get through this too.
“He won’t be alone,” you said with a hiccup. “I’ll help him. I’ll stay with him no matter what.” Looking down, you noticed that you had been holding onto the blanket covering you so tightly that your knuckles had turned white. “I owe him that much.”
“I’m sure that’s all he’d ever ask for,” Hunk said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “We’ll all help him through this. He’ll be okay,” he repeated, but for the first time, there was a slight waver to his voice. “He’ll be okay.”
- - -
You woke to the hissing announcing that a healing pod was ready to release its occupant. When you realised what was happening, you were on your feet in seconds, your heart soon beating in your throat. You clenched your hands, bunching them into your shirt, and caught your reflection in the glass wall of the pod: your face was pale, a thin coat of sweat shimmering on your brow. Should you call the others? Probably, but the little selfish voice inside of you wanted Lance to yourself right now. You wanted to break the news.
When he tripped out of the pod, your heart skipped a beat. There was no obvious scarring around his eyes; whatever wound the blaster had left had healed in the cryo-pod, leaving the skin there only a little pale and tender. At first glance, anyone else would probably not have noticed that there was something wrong with his eyes. But you weren’t just anyone: you knew his eyes like nobody else. They were still blue, but they had lost their spark.
What you loved about Lance’s eyes was the emotion radiating from them; the softness that laced them whenever he looked at you with a fond smile curling his lips and a blush reddening his cheeks, or when he got excited and grabbed your hands to guide you through an impromptu dance lesson, his eyes twinkling. The mischievous glint in them when he shot you longing glances from across a room, knowing full well what he was making you feel, offering you nothing but a quick wink and a grin before turning back to whatever it was he was doing, leaving you to be a flustered and needy mess.
A quiet whimper left his lips when he stumbled into your waiting arms, flinching back at the contact and blinking frantically. The terrified look on his face almost broke your heart.“Y/N?” he croaked. “Is that–is that you?”
“It’s me,” you answered, helping him stand up on shaky legs and tentatively cupping his cheeks, stroking strands of brown hair out of his face. “I’ve got you.”
He took a deep, unstable breath, his own hands slowly coming up to cover yours–out of reflex, you guessed. His lower lip trembled. “I can’t see anything.”
It wasn’t a question, merely a statement, and it was everything you hadn’t been expecting. You didn’t know how to react: you had expected him to cry, be angry, be frustrated. Be afraid. But he looked like he had already accepted it, and you felt like you were losing him already.
“I–I know. I’m so, so sorry,” you whispered, sliding your hands down to his chest and curling them into fists, tears blurring your vision. Feeling so helpless was harder on you than you’d thought. Lance’s acceptance, the emptiness of his expression hurt more than anger could ever have.
“I’m just glad that you’re okay.” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, and when you felt the first silent tear drip onto your skin you couldn’t keep your own at bay anymore. You held each other in the dimly lit room, an open healing pod behind you and a whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. The reality of the situation really set in then, but a small part of you was happy that Lance was okay; that you were able to hold him like you did at all. At least you had each other, and he would be okay. Given time. At least you had each other.
- - -
Three weeks later, and Lance still wouldn’t leave his bedroom.
“The rest are asking about you,” you said, your legs tangled with Lance’s and an arm slung over his stomach. It was already the early hours of the morning, but neither of you were asleep. After another nightmare, Lance had woken you up with heavy breathing and sobs racking his body. “They miss you.”
Staying cooped up in your room definitely wasn’t an ideal situation. Lance spent a good chunk of the time catching up on the sleep he missed during the night because of his nightmares. You had been the one to get food every morning, noon and evening, and after three weeks, confrontation with the rest of the team had been inescapable.
“Hm. I just–I’m not ready yet,” answered Lance. You couldn’t see his face in the dark, but you heard the pain in his voice and the strain to keep his tone light. You bit your lip, hating what you were about to do, but Lance was sinking into a state that you wouldn’t be able to help him out of. His blindness was eating him alive, and you could sense that there were so many things he wanted to say but didn’t. You hoped that if you could get him to just say those things–get him to talk, as he had been mostly silent for the past three weeks–maybe he could start to build towards getting better. Getting out of the slump he found himself in.
“When will you be ready, then?” There was a rough edge to your voice, an edge that always wormed its way in when you were about to cry. It betrayed your emotions even in the worst of times and you hated it. This time, though, you were grateful for it: Lance didn’t have to see your face to know how upset you were.
“Y/N, I don’t know–”
“You know how much I love you. You know that I would do literally anything for you. But you need to start living again, Lance, because this is going to destroy both you and me.”
Feeling his muscles tense up beneath you, and him curling in on himself, you wiped at the tears that had started falling from your eyes and sat up, clicking on the light that sat on your nightstand. Lance cringed away from it–though he was blind, his eyes still perceived flashes of light, and they hurt when they were too sudden. It was something he would have to get used to, you thought angrily.
“Sit up. We have to talk. Properly.” You tapped his shoulder until he gave in, sitting up with a grunt and pushing himself back to the wall, wrapping an arm around his knees and turning his face away from yours.
“Well then? Talk,” he grumbled after a moment of silence.
A frustrated sigh left your lips and you threw your hands up in the air. “Three weeks, Lance. It’s been three weeks and you won’t even leave the room! You say every time you’re not ready,” you added sharply before Lance could cut you off, “but I’m starting to doubt if you’ll ever be.”
You flinched as you said the words. It was harsh, and you didn’t really believe–didn’t want to believe–them, but you would say anything to shake Lance out of his saddened state. It wasn’t him. He was completely dissolving before your eyes, fading into the shadows. He was slipping through your fingers like the fine white sand on Varadero beach.
“The rest of the team is so worried, Lance,” you said, softer. “Every time I go to the kitchen they ask me the same questions, over and over, and–they want nothing more than to just see you.”
“See me,” Lance muttered with a breathy laugh. “Yeah.”
He paused, the smile on his face resembling a grimace to you more than anything else. When he finally looked up at you, there were tears shimmering in his eyes. “How could I face them?”
His words took you by surprise, and you blinked, not really sure what to say. “What do you mean–”
“I’m supposed to be the Blue Paladin, Y/N. The sharpshooter of the team. I can’t do that anymore,” he said, hiccups littering his sentences. He angrily waved a hand in front of his eyes. “I’m–I’m blind. In everything I did, I relied on my sight. I never realised how much I took it for granted until now. If I can’t–if I can’t see, do my job as the Blue Paladin, what reason would they have to keep me around?”
So that was what he had been afraid about.
The fact that he had confessed this to you already lifted a weight off your shoulders, but it also made you incredibly sad. Did he truly think that the only reason why he was here was because he happened to be the Blue Paladin? Did he not realise how much you and the rest of the team loved him?
Slowly shuffling closer to him, you gently cupped his cheeks and wiped at the tears staining the skin. “We’re not just a team. We’re your friends–we’re family–and I know that every single person on this ship feels the same way. We’re going to help you through this. All of us. But you have to let us.”
His shoulders shook with sobs, and he cried more than you had ever seen him cry before. But you were glad he did: he had kept all of his emotions bottled up for three weeks, barely saying a word, and now he let himself actually feel. As you snaked an arm around his chest, gently leaning your head on his shoulder, you whispered the same words over and over again until his tears dried, until your voice was the only sound filling the silence.
“I love you, I love you, I love you.”
- - -
“Are you getting breakfast?”
Lance’s voice was small and laced with nerves, and he fiddled with his fingers as he awaited your answer. You hummed, a small spark of hope igniting in your chest. You had to resist the urge to throw your arms around his neck and plant a kiss on his lips when Lance stood up and hesitantly reached for your hand.
“I’ll walk slowly,” you said, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Just don’t leave me behind.”
Pidge almost fell from her chair when you knocked on the kitchen door.
It was silent for a moment, nobody daring to say a thing–then Lance broke the silence with a simple, “Hey, guys.”
Pidge was on him first, wrapping her arms around his waist and tugging him into a hug, blinking back the tears rimming her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she whispered into his shirt. Lance let go of your hand to hug her back, a smile making its way onto his lips and he ruffled her hair.
“I’m glad too.”
All of them got a hug. All of them cried. Lance didn’t seem to mind, melting into everyone’s touch, and you could see from the way his shoulders released the tension that had been building up over the last weeks. He’d missed the team just as much as they’d missed him.
“So… how are you doing?” Shiro asked cautiously when everyone had taken their seats around the table, still discreetly wiping away tears.
Lance made a face before answering. “It’s, you know, weird. Not being able to see, I mean.”
The air was suddenly heavier, tension crackling like electricity in the air. This was what Lance had been avoiding for three weeks: this exact conversation.
He took a deep breath. “But I’ll get used to it. I won’t be able to pilot Blue any more–”
Keith started to protest, but closed his mouth when Lance ran a hand down his face, a sigh and a soft curse rolling past his lips. You sent a furious look Keith’s way, and he had the decency to look ashamed, his cheeks reddening. This was already hard enough for Lance to admit–he was quitting what he loved doing most of all.
“I’m blind. Blind pilots aren’t a thing, okay, you should know that.” He sounded only tired now, the soft smile that had graced his lips earlier gone. His jaw muscles had tensed up again.
It was silent again for a while. Underneath the table, Lance bounced his knee, fiddling with his fingers restlessly. You resisted the urge to take his hand in yours.
“But… will you–you know, be with us again? It was so lonely and quiet without you here,” said Hunk cautiously.
Lance breathed a laugh, his fingers crawling beneath the table until they curled around yours. “I’ll try.”
- - -
Lance kept his word, and now spent most of his time in the common room or the kitchen, always in someone’s company: Hunk, chatting him through a recipe he was trying to cook up, or Pidge, muttering incoherently as she furiously typed on her keyboard to solve some problem with the Castle’s systems. Sometimes even Keith or Shiro kept him company; they didn’t talk as much, but Lance found their very presence comforting.
A few months passed like this, and somehow he always found his way back to the training room, sitting on a bench or huddled in a corner. You didn’t miss the wistful expression he wore whenever you found him leaning against the doorframe, intently listening to the clashing of Keith’s sword with the training bot’s staff. The yearning almost radiated off of him, and your heart shattered a bit more every time you caught him.
But you had to stay fit as well, and you couldn’t help but feel guilty when you approached Keith–who had paused his training to gulp down some water, you weren’t foolish enough to interrupt him while fighting–and tapped him on the shoulder. “Up for a sparring match?”
He took one more swig of his water before flicking some in your face, earning a surprised squawk from you. “All right. Get ready to get your ass kicked.”
“So how’s Lance doing?” Keith asked, sweat sticking his black hair to his face, his hands brought up to his face in a defensive gesture. The two of you had been sparring for about half an hour, occasionally getting a few good hits in, mostly exchanging tips and making fun of the other. You had to admit– it was a nice change from the silent, slightly sour atmosphere that always seemed to hang in the air whenever you were alone with Lance.
You shrugged, wiping beads of perspiration from your own upper lip and trying for a kick to his side, but Keith managed to dodge your foot and come up standing before circling you again. “It’s–you know–it’s a lot to handle. He’s actually doing a lot better than I’d hoped.” You swerved to avoid getting punched in the face. “I thought it’d take him longer to adjust. I’m really proud of him.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, right? He’s getting out, seeing people and all…” He yelped when you knocked your foot against his ankles, effectively sweeping him off his feet. You grinned.
“Dude, I’ve used that move on you for ages. You fall for it every time.”
Keith scrambled up, sending you a glare. “Fuck off, Y/N.”
After a while of going back and forth, you managing to knock him down twice more– you were purely messing with him at this point– and him getting in a good hit to your side, he piped up again. “You’re not– you’re not worried about him?”
You bit your lip, gauging your response. “I mean… of course I’m worried. But it could have been a lot worse. He hasn’t changed, you know. Still the same old Lance we know and love.” But even saying the words almost made bile rising up in your throat, because you knew they weren’t true. Lance had changed; he wasn’t the same. You still loved him–you would forever keep on loving him, that was a thing you were sure of–but he wasn’t the same.
Keith shot you a worried glance from beneath his bangs. “I guess.”
You liked training with Keith for a number of reasons: the obvious playful jabs and insults thrown at each other about their fighting style and moves, the lack of sexual tension that you had with Lance (almost every training session with him ended up with the two of you making out on the floor– not that you complained) and that allowed you to really be critical of your own skills. Neither you or Keith were very much ones for small-talk.
But when you did talk, Keith never skirted around the subject too much: he was direct, and maybe the conversations you had with him grew awkward after a while, but he said what he wanted to say and often offered a new angle from which to see things. Maybe you were kind of hoping the same thing would happen now: Lance’s situation wasn’t ideal, but you refused to give up on him and settle without having tried anything, and maybe talking to Keith would shine a new light on the situation.
“What would you do?”
Keith stumbled, almost losing his balance and on instinct your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back to his feet. Breathing a heavy sigh, you plopped down onto the floor, leaning back onto your hands and watching as Keith followed suit.
“I don’t know, honestly. I can’t imagine losing my eyesight. But…” He bit his lip, glancing at Lance who still sat on his bench, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the wood. “I’ve thought about it.”
You sighed again. “At this point, I think everyone has.” Drawing your knees up to your chest, you let your mind wander to Lance, wondering what was going on in his mind. That was the hardest part of it all, you thought: Lance used to be such an open book. He would share everything with you, the smallest of thoughts. Not anymore– you felt like there were more secrets between the two of you, more things unsaid, than there had ever been in the years upon years that you’d known each other.
You rose, exhaustion suddenly coursing through your veins and making your limbs feel like lead. “I’m gonna clean up. See you later.”
Keith gave you a vague wave. “See you.”
You gently tapped Lance’s arm, causing him to start a little. “Ah, sorry. I should’ve warned you.”
“No, that’s okay,” he dismissed your words with a flick of his hand. His voice was slightly distant– like he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying. He chewed his lip in thought, and you could almost hear the gears in his head work overtime.
“Are you coming? I’m going to take a shower.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He hummed, fiddling with his fingers. A moment passed, before his eyes widened and he said, “Oh, now?” He grabbed your hand, starting to walk before you had even taken off.
“Hey, hey, Lance, hang on a minute,” you said with a surprised laugh, jogging a few steps to properly catch up with him. “Where are you going?”
He squeezed your fingers. “Our room? That’s where you wanted to go, right?”
“I mean– yeah, but you gotta wait for me. I’m exhausted.”
“Come on, Y/N. The worst thing that could happen is that I run into a wall.”
You were silent for a minute, completely taken aback by Lance’s change of attitude. You weren’t complaining– far from it– it was just an unexpected turn. “How come the sudden moral one-eighty?”
He cocked his head, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. “Did you mean what you said back there?” he finally said after a pause. “That you’re proud of me? And that– that you still love me?”
Your brain almost short-circuited. “Wh– of course! I mean every single word. Hey,” you said, stepping closer to Lance and grabbing his free hand with yours, “I love you. More than anything, I love you, and nothing will ever change that. Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
Even though you knew Lance couldn’t see it, a soft smile made its way past your lips and you snaked your hands around his neck, slowly leaning forward until your lips were touching his.
You were sure to be careful: it was the first time you’d properly kissed since he got blinded, and you weren’t sure how he’d handle it, but when his arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer all those doubts vanished, and nothing existed in the world except for Lance and you. You gently tugged on the strands of hair sticking out from the nape of his neck, and didn’t miss the noticeable shiver running down his back. Pulling back, you scratched your nails against the back of his neck, grinning at the hitch of his breath. “That sensitive there, huh?”
“Gotta make up for that lost eyesight somehow,” he muttered before leaning forward and brushing his mouth against yours again, nipping at your bottom lip and giving a satisfied chuckle when your grip around his neck tightened just a bit. But something was gnawing at the back of your mind and you didn’t know what. Then it hit you, and your eyes widened as you fully pulled back, ignoring Lance’s squeal of protest.
“That’s it.”
“What are you talking about?” he frowned.
“You have to make up for your lost eyesight somehow, you said it yourself. What if losing your sight helped improve your other senses? Like how you were able to hear what Keith and I were saying on the other side of the room.” The more you articulated your idea, the more logical it sounded. “We can use that. You can use that.”
“I guess.” he didn’t dare sound hopeful; what if you were wrong? But you felt in your gut that you were onto something, almost positive that it was going to work. “But can we… do that later? I don’t want to talk about that right now.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned forward again, pressing almost desperate kisses to your lips and trailing his mouth down your neck, leaving your skin tingling with electricity, your breathing turning shallow.
“I guess–I guess it can wait a bit.”
- - -
“All right babe, go for it.”
Lance stood in the middle of the training deck, his shoulders drawn up to his ears and looking incredibly awkward. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“That’s okay, neither do I. We’ll… figure it out as we go.”
Echolocation was something you only vaguely knew of. You had never had a reason to do a lot of research on the subject until now, but you figured that the best way to learn was to try and practice with it, even though you had no clue as to what you were supposed to be doing. You knew that in theory, echolocating worked for humans just like it worked for bats: you make a sound, and then the echoes that bounce off your surroundings help you identify said surroundings. No eyes required.
How Lance was going to learn how to actually use echolocating was still a work in progress. But you’d always been good at improvising: for now, you just wanted him to be less self-conscious and familiarize him with his surroundings, because the two of you would be spending a lot of time in here for the coming months.
Pulling a face, Lance stretched his arms out to where you stood, a couple of feet away from him and made grabby hands. “This is stupid. Come back.”
You resolutely took a step back and planted your hands on your hips. “No, you come here. That’s gonna be our first exercise. Just walk in the direction of my voice. That should be okay, right?”
He paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “All right. Start talking.”
So you did. You didn’t say much, just loose words here and there; mostly variations of his name, trying to keep the mood light. At first, Lance’s steps were hesitant and small, but gradually his shoulders lost their tension and his paces grew surer. Soon he was almost jogging, not once struggling to keep up with you as you sprinted from corner to corner and laughed quietly, not even bothering to speak up anymore.
Then you stopped, and Lance slammed into you with a yelp and both of you tumbled to the floor.
“Okay, I think that’ll be enough for today,” you laughed, trying and failing to untangle yourself from Lance’s limbs. Accepting your fate, you let yourself fall onto his chest, grinning at the oof Lance let out.
As the two of you lay silently, you couldn’t help but feel a bit happy. A careful little spark that slowly spread from your chest to the very tips of your toes. And the smile that graced Lance’s lips told you that he probably felt the same way.
“This is going to change everything.”
His voice was soft, but resonated in the air and you grabbed his hand, scrambling to your feet. “I know. This is going to turn everything around.”
“All right, Lance. Ready?”
He didn’t answer; merely smirked as he rushed forward and threw a punch at your face, that you just managed to avoid. Okay, don’t answer me, you thought, taking small steps backwards and bringing your hands up to your face, dodging blow after blow and grunting when he landed a kick to your side. You retaliated with an elbow in between his shoulder blades.
For months and months Lance had been working tirelessly on perfecting his hearing and echolocating, and it was starting to pay off. All the hours upon hours that he’d spent on the training deck and outside of it started to pay off. He didn’t need you holding his hand all the time anymore (though he sometimes claimed that he needed you to guide him–you suspected that it was an excuse for you to hold his hand, but you weren’t complaining), could perfectly handle himself on his own–and it was starting to show in his fighting skills as well.
Long distance fighting–the sniper jobs he used to do–were still off the table and would stay that way. He still couldn’t see: he’d have no idea where to aim. But when it came to hand-to-hand combat–even swordfighting–Lance improved with huge leaps. Soon even you were struggling to keep up with him.
You grunted, the split second that you hung in midair as Lance swept your feet out from under you making your stomach churn. Landing on the ground with a thud, you scowled up at Lance as he bent forward, resting his hands on his knees and grinning down at you. “I win. Again. How many times in a row was that?”
Quick as lightning your foot shot out and you knocked Lance’s legs out from beneath him. He went down with a yelp. “Don’t let your guard down, Lancey pants.”
“I let you do that.”
“Sure you did.”
“You’re just mad because I won again.”
A soft laugh rolled past your lips. “I am most certainly not mad that you won again.”
He hummed, scooting over to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“I’m serious!” you laughed, “you continue improving like this, you’ll be taking on Shiro in no time.”
“What’s that about taking me on in no time?”
Whipping your head around, you spotted Shiro standing in the doorway to the training deck, a towel slung over his shoulders, a water bottle in his hands and an eyebrow raised. “Should I need to be worried?”
“Nah, you’re fine,” you said, ignoring Lance’s huff behind you. “He’s good, but I don’t know if he’s that good.”
“I could take him,” Lance grumbled, rubbing his fingers on the floor and keeping his head down. You bit back a smile and picked at your nails, trying to keep a straight face.
“Eh, I don’t know…” Cocking your head, you cast Lance a cheeky grin. “Why don’t you show me?”
He almost shot up, his chest puffing up slightly and clumsily dusting off his trousers. pointing at Shiro from across the room, he said, “You–you’re going down.”
You couldn’t blame Shiro for his rather sceptically raised eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Humour me.”
A beat of silence. He cast a glance to you, confusion and silent judgement in his eyes, and you shrugged with a faint “heugh” sound. Rolling his eyes, he chucked his towel at you and walked up to Lance who was bouncing from one foot to the other, popping the joints in his neck. “You’re sure you want to do this.”
Lance didn’t answer. Instead, he dove forward and threw a jab at Shiro’s face, which he only narrowly avoided. His eyes only momentarily widened with surprise before he sunk into a fighting stance himself and brought his hands up to his face, a grin flashing on his face. “All right, then.”
Watching Lance and Shiro spar was more like watching a dance unfold than anything else, if you were being honest. Quietly, as to not disturb either of them, you’d shuffled to a bench sitting on the side of the deck, your eyes trained on the fight. You nipped at your bottom lip, trying to suppress a smile.
Lance was holding up surprisingly well. He’d gotten in a couple of hits already, and didn’t look tired in the slightest, and Shiro’s eyes had narrowed to slits. He clearly hadn’t expected this level of skill from Lance–but from the look on his face, he didn’t look upset about it at all. If anything, the spark in his eyes grew from fondness to something like pride, and he became more aggressive with his hits, putting in more and more effort as if to test Lance’s limits.
The way Lance fought–this was the first time that you got to watch it from the sidelines, not as his sparring partner–left you breathless and completely enthralled. The way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt, the look of utter concentration on his face as he gauged when to strike and when to move slightly to the side–just enough to avoid the punch being thrown at his face, or the kick launched at his chest. He knew exactly what to do and when to do it, and it left him confident.
You had to admit, he wore confidence well.
Your hands flew up to your mouth when Lance knocked Shiro’s feet out from beneath him–your move–and sent him right to the floor. There was a beat of silence as the two of them processed what just had happened: Lance had won from Shiro in hand-to-hand combat. From Shiro. You were the first who unfroze, clapping your hands and letting out a whoop before you burst out laughing. That was enough to shock Lance back into action, and he cursed loudly before apologising profusely to Shiro, raking a hand through his hair.
“Told you!” you yelled, jumping up and beaming so widely you wouldn’t be surprised if you were actually glowing. “I told you!”
“If I recall correctly, you were the one to tell him that he wouldn’t beat me,” Shiro interjected. You shushed him, rushing up to Lance and throwing your arms around his neck.
“You’re amazing. I love you so much.”
Lance spun on his heel, a bewildered expression on his face. “Did you–did you see that?” Then he turned to Shiro again, who was still sprawled out on the floor and chuckling as well. “Did you let me win on purpose?”
“Nope. You beat me fair and square.”
“Holy shit.”
“Pretty much,” you said, pressing a kiss to Lance’s cheek, still giddy. “I’m so proud of you.”
- - -
You fiddled with Lance’s earpiece, making sure it was well-tightened and wouldn’t accidentally slip off during the mission. Even though you fully trusted Lance to perfectly complete the mission– like he had done the past seventeen missions he’d gone on– there was still a churning feeling in your stomach. Though now, it was more anticipation and excitement than anything else.
“Are you done fretting?”
You pouted, flicking his cheek and sticking out your tongue at him when he giggled.
“The earpiece will only loosen if you keep moving it, you know.” He swatted your hands away, grinning at your indignant ‘Hey!’. You scowled at him, but crossed your arms and sat back, resting your shoulder against the wall.
A beat of silence passed. “Relax, Y/N. I’ll be fine. And hey,” he added with a devilish grin, “maybe you could get yourself shot in the face too. We’ll match.”
Your eyes widened and you slapped Lance’s arm, but his laughter only got louder, and he pinched your sides, drawing out a yelp from you. “Just kidding.” He leaned forward and pecked your cheek.
Sitting in the back of the Black Lion, your feet tucked beneath you and fussing over Lance’s equipment while he lovingly made fun of you, the world felt right again. The two of you went on missions again, and while piloting would forever be off the table, Lance had told you that even though he’d miss it– he’d miss the thrill of zipping through space at unimaginable speeds, miss the magnificent sight of the stars– he was glad that everything worked out the way it did. And you allowed yourself to feel happy again, too.
What about paladins w/ s/o who is badass but cinnamon roll and cuddly and scared most of time but paladin gets in trouble and with in 2 secs s/o is by their side w/ weapon in hand? Thanks you. I'm sorry I can't English today
I can’t English ANY day so it’s fine anon! 💜💜💜
————
Shiro
Shiro never really knew you had a bad ass side to you
He knew you could take care of yourself and you were strong, but not in a sense where you were protective
You cared for people a lot, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise
But nevertheless, the day he got in a sticky spot on amission you came running towards him, fire in your eyes
Shiro didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified
You singlehandedly took down 3 Galra guards
He was really out of it for a few seconds
Just kinda in awe by you
Keith
Keith never feels like he needs protecting
Being a Paladin, he’s just used to protecting everyone else and hoping not to die cause no one is going to save him-he has to save his own skin
But with you it’s different
You guys in battle go back to back just fighting off enemies, taking down sentries in your guys’ weak spots
He always in shock on how quick you are
A Galra could be advancing and you’ve already shot the soldier down before Keith can even register what happened
But after battles your hard exterior turns into something else
All you want to do is to hold Keith and snuggle in his warmth
Which is new and foreign to Keith but-he grows to kinda like it!
Lance
*sigh
Lance was so blinded and naive
On your first training session, Lance was going to “teach you the ropes” , thinking he was helping you
Because Lance only saw your soft side
He never knew you had this hardcore side to you
He was afraid one day you would get hurt because-well-you were too sweet
What LIES
But Lance wasn’t noticing and a battle droid just started advancing
You grabbed your weapon and went AT it
You’re so sweet, how could you be so aggressive and-hot?
Lance was definitely phased
Like ALOT
His fave so red because all he could see was how strong you were and how attractive it was and how stupid he was to think you were weak
Hunk
Hunk is totally blindsided
He loves you for all sides of you-but he feels kinda guilty for you trying to protect him
It’s nice of course to know you care for him, and because he knows he would act the same way in your shoes
Like the Time a glara grabbed his bayard and you literally SPRINTED WHILE SHOOTING A GUN at the droid to get his weapon back
But he doesn’t want you getting hurt
He’s always hugging you, even though you do it to him all the time
He just likes to remind you that he’s there and you’re there and you both are gonna be okay
Hey! So this is the first time I'm posting one of my stories on here. Lets see how this goes~! Feed back is always welcomed! Enjoy!!
Lance x Reader One shot
Warning its hella Sad and Angsty but it has a nice ending. Enjoy!
Your Pov
From the start of when all this began -this galactic war-Voltron - defending the
universe I was a medical aid in training at the Garison, because let's face it something bad is bound to happen and someone's going to need medical attention. Whether its rescues or keeping your own crew alive. I worked alongside Hunk, Pidge and Lance in the simulator for the first time that fateful day and was there when Shiro had landed that same fateful night.
Now here we all are. How long has it been months? A year later? Floating through space on the Castle of Lions. On the ship I did a lot of work with Coran since I’m an extra on the ship. It’s pretty cool being apart of something so big! From time to time I would pull pranks with Pidge and Lance. Help prep and cook meals with Hunk. Keep Allura company or help with what she needed and assist Keith and Shiro’s training in the overhead training observatory.
I loved everyone aboard the ship, but one more than the others. It’s sort of embarrassing to say, but over time I fell for Lance. His humor, his cheesy pick-up lines, his bright disposition and so much more. We would hang around and talk to each other for hours if it weren’t for his training or my assistance being needed elsewhere. However, his flirtatiousness wasn't solely reserved for me. He flirted and used those cheezy pick-up lines on other females and after a while the conversations stopped all together. I started to fall apart. So many thoughts swam through my head of what could have gone wrong. I started to think about how this all began. What was it! I was so close to pulling my hair out then it struck me like a bullet train. It was the beautiful alien girls that Lance would flirt with! That was when the idea hit me! I’ll take features that I thought Lance found attractive in the alien females and alter my body to the best of my ability to get him to notice me again.
One of the alien girls Lance was currently flirting with had larger breasts than I had (if your breast are big already imagine a size or two smaller). I looked around the castle and found pieces of solid silicon and stuffed them on the underside of my bra to make my boobs bigger. I walked down the hallways to where the lounge area was, glowing with confidence at my new found fuller bosom. When I walked into the lounge Lance was there, but so were Hunk, Pidge and Shiro. In the later three’s eyes I could see that they noticed the obvious dramatic change to my anatomy. I started to grow embarrassed knowing that they knew this was very unlike me, but quickly shook it off and made my way to the back part of the couch Lance was leaning on. I rested my elbows on the top of the couch and used my upper arms to squish my boobs together to create more cleavage.
I cleared my throat to get Lance’s attention; “ Hey Lance~ how you’ve been?” I asked sweetly with a small smile as I bat my lashes.
“ Oh, pretty good.” Lance responded hardly looking in my direction.
“That’s good… so… notice anything different?” I asked again as I pushed up the “breasts” a bit.
He turned toward me scanning me with his deep blue ocean eyes, before he replied with;
“ Um...new earrings?”
New earrings? New Earrings?! I’M NOT WEARING ANY?!?!.... he didn’t notice…
I played it off with a laugh and made an excuse that I had to help Coran with something then left.
That wasn't enough? I thought to myself. Guess I’ll have to try harder!
With every new planet we visited I observed what alien girls Lance would flirt with so I could modify myself.
One alien girl was tall and had long legs. So I bought a pair of tall heels when we visited the near by space mall. I’d wear the heels for hours till it was time for bed. I ignored the pain they brought and the blisters and continued to wear them every day… still no results.
One alien girl had beautiful lashes. So I got myself a pair of the fluffiest most volumized lashes one could find. Still no results.
Another alien girl had a darker skin tone. So I did what I could to give myself a fake tan (if your skin tone is dark already imagine it a shade lighter?). Again no results
An alien girl with plump lips was another one Lance flirted with. So I found what makeup I could to make my lips more full. As you guessed not a single result.
Finally Lance flirted with a beautiful slim waist and toned female alien. I in return ate smaller meals, skipped snacks and in the privacy of my room worked out till exhaustion.
This was it if Lance didn't notice I don't know what more I could do.
I altered my shirt so it would show my midriff that I worked so hard on. I may have looked a bit tramp-ish at this point, but if it will get Lance to notice me again… then it's worth it.
I made my way to the kitchen. It was between lunch and dinner, Lance would always come in for a snack around this time. When I got to the kitchen I sat up on the counter and reclined on my side with my arm bent to support me. My legs elongated and crossed. Just as everything was just right Lance walked in.
“Hey Lance~” I called batting my ridiculously volumized lashes.
He walked by muttered a simple and flat “hey” grabbed his snack and left….
….
I sat up on the counter with wide eyes. I pursed my lips together then hopped off the counter with my head hung low. I made my way to the exist when it opened Keith and Shiro were there, just judging by their shoes.
Shiro noticed and asked, “ Hey (y/n) are you alright?” Concern was very evident in his voice.
I simply nodded a “yes” and proceed down the hallway. Once I knew I was out of sight I ran. I didn't just run anywhere… no I ran to the training room control room/ observatory.
Once the door was shut I slumped to the ground, painfully peeling off the heels as well as the lashes. I rubbed off what makeup I could, smearing it in the process ( que mulan’s reflection) as a large flow of tears ran down my face. I crawled to a corner where there was a part of the control panel and for while sobbed into my tucked in knees the tears creating small veins that washed away fake tan.
“I-I-I’ll never be *hic* good enough for him.” I dry heaved.
“No matter what I do he won't notice” I sobbed once more.
Long ago when I was just a mere middle schooler I went out with a guy… I wouldn't have called it dating; anyway he tried to change things about me. Like the friends I should hang out with and what I should wear. He tried to change me and I didn’t like it. So I broke it off with him and swore to myself I would change for no one. I wanted to have a romantic relationship with someone who would love me for me.
Yet here I am. Changing myself for someone else again.
“ God c-could I appear any more desperate.” I hiccuped as I wiped away some snot.
I eventually laid on my side and cried to myself while my mind went to town on a quest for self destruction.
Shiro’s Pov
I looked at Keith worriedly as (y/n) left. And judging that we walked past Lance it seemed like (y/n) had given up.
Now it was no surprise that (y/n) deeply cared, heck loved Lance. We all saw what she was doing to herself.
“ We have to round up everyone at the lounge and talk about this.” I told Keith.
Keith nodded and looked at where (y/n) had gone.
*At the lounge area with everyone minus Lance*
“Poor (y/n)!” Allura and Coran cried out as tears formed in both their eyes.
“Lance is such an idiot for not noticing!” Pidge fumed.
“Man, I thought Lance could tell at this point; I mean she’s not even eating healthily!” Hunk said disappointingly.
“ She looked so far gone….I hardly even noticed it was her under all that.” Keith grumbled as he crossed his arms and slouched on the couch ( lol that rymed).
“ We gotta let Lance know what he’s been doing to her.” I said and just as I finished Lance walked through the door.
Lance’s PoV
On my way to the lounge for a team meeting called upon by Shiro. My mind started to wonder. What happened to (y/n)? I haven't seen her in so long.
I started thinking about all the alien girls I flirted with. I mean they were all pretty and all, but they weren't like (y/n). (Y/n) was funny, bright, her beauty was simple and when I started missing home she would look at me with soft eyes and a warm smile. She’d pull me into a soothing hug. There was so much I loved about her and more….
Holy Crow! I love her!
It hit me like lighting! I had to tell her about my feelings! I had to find her after the meeting.
I walked through the door. Everything was silent… like sickening silence save for Allura and Coran's muffled sniffles. ALL. EYES. WERE. ON. ME. Oh quiznak...what did I do.
“Lance we got a lot to tell you.” Shiro began.
“Uh… yeah… whats up?” I asked uneasily as I took a seat on the couch.
“When was the last time you saw (y/n)?”
“ Uh...Um… like 2 Phoebs?”
“And. You. Haven’t. Even. Wonder. Where. She’s. Been!” both Keith and Pidge shouted, startling Lance.
“Dude, you’ve seen that girl, she looks like she’s been trying too hard around the castle right?” Hunk asked in a abnormally serious tone for the Teddy bear of the crew.
“Uh...yeah...w-what about her?” I asked as my voice wavered from all the intensity in the room.
“THAT WAS HER NUMB NUTS!” Pidge exploded.
That...that was (y/n) this whole time? My eyes went wide before shaking it off and putting forth my own question.
“Nah! That can't be her… why would she do that to herself?”
“Are you serious? She DID it for You!” Keith stated as it fell from his mouth like poison.
“What me? Wh-” before I could finish Allura chimed in.
“Because she loves you that's why! You’ve ignored her and flirted with every species we’ve come across! You’ve straight up ignored her and she thought the only way to get you to notice her again was to change herself into something she thought you’d like.” Allura finished. Her voice so pained and ragged from the crying.
Oh god… I really did do that to her.
“ She looked like she had given up when she left the kitchen a couple of doboshes ago.” Keith said his voice solemn.
No!
I stood up abruptly.
“ Where’d she go?!” my voice now filled with worry.
“Knowing (y/n) she’ll have gone somewhere where she couldn't easily be found” Coran said as he blew into his handkerchief.
I dashed toward the door, but before I made it through Shiro called out.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to find (y/n) and set things right.”
And dashed down the hallway in search of (y/n).
Hunks Pov
“You think he too finally realized he loves her? ” I asked.
“Tch… judging by the way he acted I’d say yes.” Pidge grumbled sassily.
“Hope she at least gives him a good slap in the face for what he's done.” Keith said.
I hope things go well for those two.
Back to Lance’s PoV
I raced down the halls until I heard a hiccup and a dry heave on the other side of the door to the training room control room. As quietly as I could opened the door to see the ridiculously high heels chucked in random parts of the room and even more ridiculous false lashes...they looked like spiders if you took a quick look at them. Then I turned my head to where (y/n) was her feet were bruised and blistered all to hell and the creepy fade of her fake tan with rivers of her true skin tone underneath.
“(y/n)?”
Your PoV.
I was still crying. So much so I didn't hear the door open. Not until I heard the voice of the person I least wanted to see call out my name...Lance
I gasped before tucking myself further into a ball. I heard his footsteps approach.
“Get away….I don't want to see you.”
I said in a low growl.
His footsteps stopped.
“(y/n) hold on a sec-.”
Lance’s PoV
I cut myself off as I saw (y/n) get up her head still hanging low. She picked up the shoes and lashes then started to walk past me but stopped.
“ You wish t-to train, right? I’ll get going then.” she said, her voice now sounding void of life. The liveliness I loved so much about her was gone.
Just as she made it out the door I grabbed her wrist. Now out in the hallway she still didn't turn to face me.
“ (y/n) will you let me finish what I have to say? Once you hear me out you’re free to go alright?” my voice stern but calm.
“...fine” she replied her tone a bit agitated.
“ I’m sorry for ignoring you for so long.” I started to pour out. “ I was so lost in my own little world that I had forgotten all you've done for me. I may have flirted with all those other female aliens, but the idea of being with them never stuck with me. Not like when I think of you… I had no clue it was even you under all that.” At this point my hands held (y/n)’s upper arms in a firm and gentle grip. “ I thought you were some other species of alien and in all it wasn’t all that attractive.” I felt (y/n) twitch in my grasp when I finished.
“ I found myself missing your warm smile, your soft eyes, your giggles that sound like small bells. I found myself falling in love ….with you.” She looked up abruptly her eyes wide, her eyebrow knitted together in confusion and her mouth slightly open. I wiped some of the tears that still continued to fall from her glassy (e/c) eyes “and I'd never ask you to change yourself for me…. Because I already love you for you.”
Your PoV
He...he said it… the words I’ve longed to hear.
A whole new dam of tears broke out and I quickly embraced Lance in a longing hug.
“You have no idea how long I've waited to hear someone I loved say those words to me.” I cried into his chest.
He hugged me back a rubbed my back soothingly. He then pulled me from him and held my head in his hands a wiped away more tears.
“ I love you so much Lance.” I said as I looked into his calm ocean blue eyes and his gentle smile.
“I love you too (y/n). Now let’s wash this stuff off your face and get you into something comfortable before we head to dinner?” Lance asked as his hand intertwined with mine.
“That's the third best thing I've heard all day.” I said with a small laugh.
Summary: Sick of Lance flirting with you when you know he’s not genuine, you decide to ignore him in hopes of your feelings for him going away.
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 2770
A Songfic requested by the lovely @nesting-dreams using OMG What’s Happening by Ava Max. I hope this is everything you wanted, dear.
Being able to assist the paladins of Voltron to free the universe from Zarkon's constrictive grasp is the most amazing thing you could think of. Sure it has its dangers, and there have been many hardships that have almost caused you to turn your back on it, but the team's determination and good nature keeps you tethered to the cause. And each time you're able to liberate a planet, the smiles of the people give you a feeling of accomplishment that has you regretting ever thinking about leaving.
Staying with them is the best decision you've ever made. Even in the darkest of times, they keep their faith and still remain filled with confidence, and somehow, in the end, they always prevail. It really is a sight to see, and it fills you with pride to know that you are a part, no matter how small, of this fantastic group.
But one thing you don't like is Lance's constant flirting. Or, more specifically, being the target of these flirtations. When you first joined the paladin's team, he barely looked at you. It was as if you were but a mere ghost to him. And he was too preoccupied with hitting on people to even communicate with you.
But then suddenly, that all changed. It was as if he realized that others wouldn't give him the time of day, so his sights were set on you and only you from that point on.
You can't say that his advances weren't appreciated, though. In truth, you'd be lying if you said you haven't caught feelings for the blue paladin. Some of the pick-up lines he says to you even leaves you in a fit of giggles. And the way he looks at you results in you having a flushed face and the feeling of being special.
But it's the fact that your heart clenches whenever you think about the fact that it's just simple flirting that has you not liking it. He means nothing by it, and when someone better comes along, everything will go back to the way it was when you first joined, and that knowledge turns your mouth sour every time it pops in your head.
And with that in mind, and the memories of him jumping from more girls than you can count in just a week. You've stopped thinking of his flirting as anything meaningful, and now the comments he makes are just exhausting. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.
'It's not like me having a crush on him matters either.' You think to yourself while walking to the control room in the castle. 'After all, he would never like me. He only flirts with me cause I give him the reactions and attention he wants...but what if I didn't.'
Trapped in your thoughts, you don't notice the person plaguing your mind approaching you until it's too late. "Hey there, beautiful. You must be a star cause your shine definitely caught my attention."
"Lance, I told you to stop with the pointless flirting." You grumble and avert your eyes so he can't look at you with those beautiful cerulean blue eyes. But the pink tint to your cheeks keeps him from being dissuaded.
"Well, I wouldn't call it pointless if it makes you blush." The cocky smirk on his face has you scoffing.
You open your mouth to say something, but you're struck with an idea from your earlier thoughts. 'If he doesn't leave me alone from me telling him off, then maybe he will if I just ignore him.' So sticking your nose up in the air, you step past Lance and continue on your way.
You feel a surge of triumph run through your veins when you hear a confused noise from said boy. When you enter the control room, you stand between Shiro and Keith as they get ready to start a meeting. Lance walks in a minute later, glancing around. And when spotting you, he makes his way next to your side after pushing Keith out of the way.
"Alright," Shiro calls to stop the red and blue paladin's insult fight from starting, "Let's get this meeting started. So as most of you, know we have achieved some level ground between us and Zarkon. But as we struggle to keep the planets under our care safe, he conquers more. We need to find a way to stop him, and I think we found the perfect way to do it. To succeed with this plan, Voltron will need to be at top performance-"
You tune out the rest upon realizing that you'll have no part in this strategy. You instead try to think of more ways to get Lance's flirting to stop.
But you are once again interrupted by the devil himself, "Hey, are you the sun? Because you’re the center of my universe."
Continuing with your earlier actions, you cross your arms and face the other direction.
Oh my God, what's happening?
Thought I was fine
I told you I don't need your love
Like three, four thousand times
But that's a lie
No, I can't look you in the eye
Oh why? Oh why?
You've been ignoring Lance's advances for about a week now, and you have to mentally pat yourself on the back for your strong will. At first, it took everything in you not to give in, and when he would give you those sad puppy dog eyes, you almost could have broken down and admitted your feelings for him right then and there. But you didn't, and because of this, Lance's flirting has been reduced to only one pick-up line a day.
He still talks to you, but now it's in more of a friendly way than a flirtatious one. The only bad thing is that through this time, your feelings for him have only grown stronger. The time that he spent with you that used to contain flirting was now filled with interesting stories and getting to know each other. And each new fact you learn about him has your heart beating a little faster each time you see him.
Even now, the little interactions replay in your mind, and a smile never leaves your face. About to pass the entrance to the training room, you pause as you hear laughter from Lance and Allura.
"Oh, Lance, you don't mean that," She continues to giggle.
"Of course I do. I mean, seriously, are you the moon? Because even when it’s dark, you still seem to shine." You can hear the grin in Lance's voice as he speaks.
You can't help the clenching in your heart as they both laugh together, and for the first time this week, you frown. You knew this was going to happen. You knew that Lance was gonna go to someone better once he lost interest in you, but you didn't expect it so soon. Especially not with someone who you think of as a close friend.
Holding your fists by your sides, you march back the way you came and rush to your room. You can feel tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them slip when anyone could walk by and see you. Making it to your room, you step in and automatically lock the door. Pressing your back to it, you slowly slide down to the floor. You rest your arms on your knees, and now that you're alone, you let the tears fall down your face.
So I did everything to push you all the way
And finally, you left and now I'm missing you like crazy
And I cry, no, I can't sleep alone
And I know why, oh why
Look what you've done, look what you've done to me
I got everything I wanted
But you're everything, you're everything I want
Look what you've done to me
Didn't know I was alone
'Til I was running to you, running to your
Heart like magnets
Oh my God, what's happening?
Look what you've done, look what you've done to me
I got everything I wanted
But you're everything, you're everything I need
Following the events of yesterday, you muster up the courage to tell Lance how you feel. It would be tough, but you think you can do it. After all, you don't want to lose him, and this may be the only way to keep him from going back to how things used to be in the beginning.
Though, you had to plan what you are going to say by writing it down in your journal first. You always knew you were bad at expressing your feelings, and you realized just how bad as you sat at your desk for hours just to come up with a few sentences. Though from what you heard yesterday, your thoughts have been going in circles from liking him to wanting to punch him in his smug face.
Tracking the blue paladin down by asking the others of his whereabouts, you find him in the control room with the princess. They seem to be in deep conversation, but you know you have to tell him right now before you lose your will to confess to him.
Walking over, you tap him on the shoulder, "Lance, can I talk to you?"
He glances at you over his shoulder, "Yeah, sure, I'll find you later."
"Well, actually, it's pretty important." You wring your hands nervously.
You hear him sigh before he faces you, "Okay, then give me a minute. I'm talking to Allura right now." And with that, he turns back to her.
Sadness eats away at your heart as you trudge out of the control room and to the kitchen. Sitting at the counter, you fold your arms over the top and lean your head on them. 'I guess it's already gone back to how we started.' Staying there for a few minutes, you lose your hope that he will even come at all. Sighing, you decide to just go back to your room and forget about admitting your feelings to Lance.
Stepping out of the kitchen and walking down the hall, you hear your name being shouted by the very person who's sent your heart into turmoil. "Hey (First Name). What did you want to talk about?"
"Nevermind, Lance. It didn't really matter anyway." You sigh and hug yourself.
"You sure?" He asks with a raised brow.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"Alright, well, if you change your mind, I'm gonna go back to the control room to talk to Allura." He points over his shoulder with his thumb.
Your heart seizes, but you put on a fake smile as you look up at him. "Okay." And with that, you twist and walk back to your lonely room.
Plopping on your bed, you realize how much you hate the fact that you fell for him. You try to think of ways to get your feeling to go away, but the only answer you come up with is to ignore Lance completely. Maybe if you ignore him, your crush on him will fade away. Like words written in the sand on the shoreline of the beach. But instead of words and water, it will be time washing away the feelings engraved in your heart.
I wanna tell you things and show you all the rest
Broadcast my emotions on the radio and take 'em off my chest
I hope you're listening
Are you? Are you?
I'll be spinning 'round in circles
Spinning 'round in circles
Writing in my journal 'bout you
Wonder if it's over
I ain't getting closer
Think it's time I told you the truth
(Hey, wait a minute)
Look what you've done, look what you've done to me
I got everything I wanted
But you're everything, you're everything I want
Look what you've done to me
Didn't know I was alone
'Til I was running to you, running to your
Heart like magnets
Oh my God, what's happening?
Look what you've done, look what you've done to me
I got everything I wanted
But you're everything, you're everything I need
Ah, what have you done to me?
Something about your face
I don't know whether to kiss it or punch it
If you don't get away from me right now
I swear to God, I swear
The next few days, you avoid Lance like the plague. When he came to talk to you, no matter the circumstances, you would either walk away or turn your head in the other direction. But you soon realize that your plan isn't going to work. Cause the more time you spend away from him, the more your thoughts seem to be consumed by him.
And you can't help but notice how upset Lance gets when you shun him. You never wanted to hurt him, but that's just what you're doing. To try to resolve this, you decide to apologize to him and explain the reason for your awful behavior. And that includes telling him of your feelings as well. But you're willing to risk rejection if it means he'll forgive you and you guys can be friends again.
Locating him was a lot easier this time as you know that this is usually when he milks kaltenecker. Quietly you step into the room that houses the cow, and your suspicions are confirmed when you see the male sat on a stool with his back to you.
As you get closer, you hear him sweetly talking to the animal, and you smile slightly. Though when kaltenecker spots you, she lets out a moo, and Lance looks over. Upon seeing you, his happy expression evaporates, and he turns back around.
Cringing at his actions, you decide to wait until he's done to speak. When he finishes, though, he quickly stands, and speed walks straight by you and out into the hall. Blanching for a second, you shake your head and hurriedly shuffle out to follow him as he makes his way to the kitchen.
"Um, Lance, can I talk to you."
"Oh, you're done ignoring me now?" He replies coldly, and his chilly tone actually sends a shiver down your spine.
"Look, Lance-"
"Nuh-uh, (First Name)." He turns into the kitchen and places the bucket of milk on the counter. "You know I could understand if my flirting made you uncomfortable. But you should have just told me that instead of ignoring me and being so nasty."
"It's not my fault!" You yell without meaning to.
Lance whips around to face you, "Wha-How, isn't it your fault?!"
Losing the little spark of fire you had when you yelled, you look to the ground and mumble, "Be...Because..."
Lance scoffs, "Because what?"
His snide tone of voice is what finally causes your emotional dam to break. "UGH BECAUSE YOU'RE SO DAMN FRUSTRATINGLY HANDSOME! WHEN YOU FLIRTED WITH ME YOU WOULD GIVE ME BUTTERFLIES, AND MY HEART WOULD BEAT A THOUSAND MILES A MINUTE! BUT I DIDN'T KNOW IF YOU WERE GENUINE SINCE YOU USED TO FLIRT WITH PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE! AND THEN YOU STARTED FLIRTING WITH ALLURA AND SPENDING LESS TIME WITH ME! AND I WAS SCARED CAUSE I JUST WANT TO BE WITH YOU, BUT YOU'RE SO OUT OF MY LEAGUE-"
You're silenced when hands grasp the sides of your face, and Lance's mouth smashes to yours. You freeze in shock for a minute, but Lance rubbing his thumb along your cheekbones has you tilting your head and matching the passion he's placed in the kiss. Taking steps closer, Lance backs you into the wall, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
The kiss doesn't seem to last long enough to quell the frustration you've been feeling, but you both have to break apart for air.
"So," Lance tries to catch his breath, "I'm frustratingly handsome?"
His playful smirk causes you to glare at him, "Shut up and kiss me again."
"My pleasure Princess." His smirk turns flirty, and his lips crash to yours like waves breaking on the beach's shore. And just like in the ocean, you drown in his kiss with no hope of going back.
Look what you've done, look what you've done to me
I got everything I wanted
But you're everything, you're everything I want
Look what you've done to me
Didn't know I was alone
'Til I was running to you, running to your
Heart like magnets
Oh my God, what's happening?
Look what you've done, look what you've done to me
I got everything I wanted
But you're everything, you're everything I need
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i keep putting Hunk in the position of wingman and thats probably me self-projecting bc i wouldnt trust anyone else to wingman me tbh
-- -- --
Summary: You own a flower shop. Lance steals your flowers. Hunk is your co-worker and Lance’s best friend: a situation in which he did NOT ask to be. It leads to some interesting conversations.
Word Count: 6K
Genre: fluff with a teensy bit of angst sprinkled in there. this is probably the fluffiest thing ive written to date
Notes: masterlist - ask me what I’m working on next 👀👀👀👀
-- -- --
You threw down your pair of scissors, wiping your hands on your apron and marching up to the front of the flower shop–Forget-me-not, your pride and joy–your fists balled and scowling.
The boy at the window looked up, saw you. His own eyes widened and he gave you a crooked grin and a wink before skipping off, twirling a single pink rose between his fingers. You almost growled, leaning against the doorway and watching him go about with narrowed eyes, knowing that running after him would probably cause a scene. It wasn’t worth it. It was only a single rose.
With a last scoff, you pushed off the doorframe and picked up your scissors again, finishing wrapping up a beautiful wedding bouquet of red tulips and baby’s breath. “That’s the fourth time this week,” you shouted over your shoulder at the back room where your co-worker Hunk was tending to the flowers in the cooler. He poked his head around the door and frowned.
“Serious? And he just takes one flower?”
“A single one,” you grumbled, sitting back on your chair and crossing your arms, glaring at the tulips as if they’d personally offended you.
You probably were being dramatic. It wasn’t the first time someone had snatched a flower from the display outside, but this guy had been doing it for over a month now, and it was starting to get annoying because he never came at the same hour of day, and you never seemed to be able to catch him in the act.
“They’re all roses, too. Usually pink and white ones. He’s not even original.”
“Eh, Y/N, don’t worry too much it,” Hunk said, patting you on the head affectionately. “They’re just flowers.”
You swatted his hand away before turning back to the flowers sitting in front of you. It was a slow day, not many customers had come in yet, but there was always work to do and you intended to get it done, without distractions in the form of some guy stealing flowers from your shop close to every day. Hunk cast you a smile. “Chin up, sweetie!”
When he left for the back room again, you leaned against the desk and sighed, closing your eyes. The truth was that you weren’t exactly angry with the flower thief–you couldn’t be. You had only caught glimpses of his face, and yet you felt like you’d recognise him anywhere, even though you didn’t even know his name.
Yeah, you were in deep.
It made no sense–how could you gain a crush on someone you’d never even properly seen, let alone spoken to? Hunk would laugh at you if he knew, Pidge even more. He hadn’t ever seen the flower thief as he spent almost all his time in the back room, always just managing to miss him. You were always going off about how you wanted to catch him in the act, stop him from stealing once and for all, but that would mean he had no reason to come here again. Perhaps you’d see him again. Probably not.
You’d have to snap out of it eventually. It was just a temporary crush, right? Nothing serious, nothing that would last long enough for you to become genuinely distressed about him. That’s when you made a decision: Next time you saw him, you would go right up to him and tell him to stop stealing your flowers. With a little luck, you’d never see him again, and you’d quickly get over whatever silly crush it was that you’d gained on someone you’d never even spoken to.
You didn’t know how wrong you were.
There he was. You had been lurking by the door for the whole morning, waiting for him as a predator waits for its prey. And there he was, just a few meters away from your shop, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of a dark blue hoodie, black headphones hanging from his neck and his hair a mess. He reached your shop. He didn’t notice you. His hand reached out towards the basket of pink roses.
You whipped open the door and grabbed hold of his wrist before he could do anything, and he yelped in surprise, eyes widening at the undoubtedly furious expression upon your face. “Stop. Stealing. My. Flowers,” you growled, narrowing your eyes at him and trying to ignore how cute the guy looked, startled as he was.
Immediately, his eyes softened and he gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
You let go of his wrist, pursing your lips. “Whatever. Just–quit it.”
He saluted, crooked grin still sitting on his face, and you hated the way your stomach did a little flip. “Sir, yes, sir.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and shifting your weight from one hip to another.
As he started to turn around, though, something in you felt the need to blurt out, “Who are the flowers for, anyway?”
You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His smile turned sheepish again, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Oh. They’re–they’re for my girlfriend.”
The words were a slap to the face, and they shouldn’t have been.
He was a stranger. You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him. This was the first time you talked to him at all. Yet you couldn’t help the pang of disappointment stinging through you when the words “my girlfriend” were spoken. It made sense, too; roses were the most popular flowers gifted to a romantic partner. Pink ones and white ones especially held the meaning of pure and innocent love. You felt like facepalming: it made so much sense, why hadn’t you seen it before?
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, forcing down the blush threatening to stain your cheeks and contemplating what you were about to say next, because you were quite positive you would eventually regret it. “You know what…” you started, and you ran a hand down your face, cursing your weak heart and internally screaming, “if you–if you’re discreet, I won’t tell anyone.”
His eyes–really nice blue eyes, you noticed, and immediately cursed your eye for colour–lit up, and his grin widened. “Are you serious?”
You nodded dejectedly. “Go off. But no more than one flower, please,” you sighed in defeat. You were so disappointed in yourself. A single boy, you thought. One single boy has completely made my willpower crumble. Great.
“You are the only valid person,” he promised, eyes already wandering towards the rose buckets, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, starting back inside. “You’re the best!” the guy called after you. You gave him a tired thumbs up over your shoulder.
At lunch break, you picked listlessly at your sandwich, chin leaning on one hand. “I seriously need to work on, like, feelings,” you muttered.
Hunk didn’t even look up from his own panini. “Oh, same.” Then he frowned and set down his sandwich. “Please don’t tell me this is about the flower stealing guy.” Your silence told him enough and he leaned back in his seat. “Y/N.”
“I know, I know,” you said, rubbing your temples. “I basically encouraged him to keep stealing roses. I’m such a bad influence, I’m telling people to commit crimes–”
“Y/N!” Hunk looked absolutely baffled.
“They were for his girlfriend! How was I supposed to say no?” But even your own words sounded weak in your ears and you felt like cowering beneath a table.
“Oh my god.”
“I won’t be judged. I forbid you to judge me right now.”
“Too late for that, sweetheart.”
“Christ.” You clunked your head on the table. “I deserved to be judged, don’t I,” you said, voice muffled.
“You do.”
“Fuck.” You let yourself drip off your chair and onto the floor, where you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling. “What do I do, Hunk?”
He looked at you with something resembling pity in his eyes. “He has a girlfriend. I’d say you avoid seeing or talking to him at all costs.”
You raised a thumb from your spot on the floor. “Sounds good.”
“You don’t know this guy. You don’t know his name. That’s good, that means you can’t stalk him on social media or anything,” Hunk reasoned. He was genuinely trying to be helpful, and you appreciated that, and with as much dignity as you could muster while lying starfish on the floor of a flower shop you nodded.
“I need to detox.”
Spoiler alert: You did not detox.
Now, you thought you knew how to distinguish a simple crush from something deeper by now. You had crushes all the time, to the point where your friends were more surprised whenever you didn’t like someone than whenever you did.
But you were starting to feel like this might be something different. Almost every day you had a short conversation with the flower thief, and every time he finally went on his merry way you found yourself staring after him and smiling like an idiot, replaying his words in your head for the rest of the day.
Needless to say, Hunk was not amused.
“Is this your idea of ‘Avoiding him at all costs’?” he hissed whenever Flower Thief had left the shop one particular morning, whacking you on the back of the head. He still hadn’t seen him–he said he did not want to get involved with whatever it was that was going on between you and Flower Thief–but he always came to see you when Flower Thief left. Sometimes he’d just treat you to a disappointed glare, sometimes you’d have to listen to one of his scoldings. This particular situation was one of the latter. “Do I have to remind you that he has a girlfriend?”
You scowled, arranging some daffodils, purple dahlias, and crocuses into a purple-and-yellow bouquet, their respective meanings flashing through your mind. Positive change. New beginnings. Happiness. A beautiful message, and all of that conveyed through nothing more than a couple of blooms.
How you started learning the meanings behind flowers, you didn’t remember exactly, nor when. You just knew that you’d always been interested in the symbolism behind each flower, always keen to learn and spouting facts about every single you laid eyes on. It was a family thing, you supposed–the flower shop was still officially your dad’s, even though you were basically managing it.
“Pass me the string, will you,” you muttered, extending a hand. Hunk did so with a sigh.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
It was silent as you wrapped the bouquet, probably tying the knot a little tighter than necessary. Hunk’s gaze burned holes in the side of your head and you took a deep breath, knowing he wouldn’t let it go. “It’s harmless. We’re barely even talking, Hunk. I don’t know his name. He doesn’t know mine. It’s just…” You looked at him, suddenly very tired. His shoulders sagged slightly, and you hope he got the message. Drop it. “Let me have this. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.”
He squeezed your hand briefly. “All right.”
– – –
Hunk opened the door to the coffee shop Lance had asked to meet, seeking out his friend among the many customers. Lance raised his hand, waving him over.
“Hey, man,” he said, plopping down on the chair opposite him and grabbing the mug of steaming tea Lance had already ordered for him. At this point in their friendship, Lance knew exactly what he needed to get Hunk, depending on his mood. Now, too, he’d done well: plain green tea. It soothed him. But their friendship went both ways, and Hunk had the feeling that green tea meant that Lance needed something from him. In just a moment, he’d be proven right. “All right. What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until next week?”
Lance sipped his own coffee before answering. “Right. So you know how it’s Valentine’s Day in a couple of weeks, right?”
Hunk nodded, already suspecting where this was going. The flower shop already had dozens of custom Valentine’s Day pieces commissioned, and you were getting slightly anxious at the various e-mails of customers you were getting every day. He’d already proposed you stopped taking Valentine’s Day commissions, or at least set a deadline, and you’d nodded absent-mindedly. I can take a few more, you’d assured him. Don’t worry.
The truth was, Hunk did worry a little bit. He was worried that you’d overwork yourself, something that had happened before and something that would happen again. But he also knew that trying to talk you out of whatever mindset it was that you’d worked yourself into was pointless; you could get unbelievably stubborn. He found it equally endearing and frustrating. You were his friend. He’d hate to see anything happen to you.
“And you work at that flower shop, right?”
“Yeah. Get to the point.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Okay, then. I want to surprise Nyma with a bouquet, but I want to make it myself, and I need to know which flowers mean what and which ones look good together so I don’t accidentally tell her “You’ve disappointed me” in flower,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“That’d be a shame,” Hunk said dryly, sipping his tea and wincing at the bite of his words. It was no secret that he wasn’t Nyma’s biggest fan, but he usually toned it down. For Lance’s sake. Lance was his best friend, and it wasn’t his business to judge his partners. Besides, he and Nyma had been together for a little over three years now, so they seemed to work pretty well. “No, but listen. I’ll have to ask my co-worker, Y/N, about that because they do all the real work at the shop, and they’re really good with flowers and their meanings and that kind of stuff. I’m just the heavy-lifting and delivery guy.”
Lance didn’t seem to have noticed Hunk’s small jab at Nyma. He nodded, eyes shining with anticipation and excitement. “You’d do that? Great. That’s great. You know, I’ve been giving her flowers almost every day. She likes it, she thinks it’s romantic. There’s this little florist a few blocks away, and they told me I could just grab a flower every now and then. How cool is that?”
And Hunk almost choked on his tea. “Hang on, hang on,” he wheezes, holding up a hand as he pounded himself on the chest. “That was you?”
Please, please, please don’t let it be him, Hunk prayed, but of course, it was him.
Lance frowned. “What do you mean, ‘That was’–” Then his eyes widened, and he set his cup on the table with a dull bonk. “Oh. That’s your flower shop? But I thought yours was on the other side of the alley–”
“That’s–it’s the back entrance, moron,” Hunk mumbled, setting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. A thousand things ran through his mind. You had a crush on his best friend–his best friend who already was with someone. This entire situation couldn’t get any worse, he thought. “Lord, you’re the worst.”
“How come I haven’t seen you around, then?” Lance sputtered, face red.
“I work in the coolers!”
“The what?”
Hunk raised his hands in an I give up gesture. “You know what, never mind. It’s fine. I just–nothing. It’s fine. This is fine. Keep taking those flowers. Don’t tell Y/N we know each other.”
Lance frowned. “Why not? That makes no sense.”
“Just–trust me on this one, man. Not yet,” Hunk said, the gears in his mind working overtime. How was he supposed to make this work? You would freak out if you found out about the fact that Lance was his best friend. He’d have to figure something out. He needed to talk to Pidge about this. Maybe she’d know what to do. But that was something he didn’t want to think about just yet, so he clapped his hands and shook his head. “But let’s not talk about that. Let’s forget about that for a second. Nyma. Talk to me about Nyma. What are your plans for Valentine’s day? Except for the flowers, I mean,” he rambled, silently wanting to punch himself in the face.
But it seemed to work, as Lance sat up a little straighter and launched himself into a rant about all the romantic things he’d planned for Valentine’s day. He really had gone all out this year; a picknick by the lake, stargazing, chocolates, the works. But that was Lance–every year had to be more spectacular than the last.
Hunk only listened to Lance’s pondering about which berries best to buy for the picknick and their compatibility with chocolate with one ear, wondering how in the hell he’d still managed to get himself involved in this shitstorm when he’d explicitly stated that he would like absolutely no part in this.
Looked like he didn’t have a choice.
– – –
Lance had a problem.
Valentine’s day had passed. Everything had been perfect, and Nyma had loved it, and he’d loved that Nyma had loved it–and yet he didn’t really feel like he should. The butterflies in his stomach died down whenever he saw her, and she didn’t make him laugh like she used to. He started growing more easily irritated with her, the mannerisms that he’d once found endearing turning somewhat annoying.
He had a feeling that he knew what was happening, and he didn’t like it one bit.
He could have called Hunk. Probably should have–but he was stubborn, and this was something he had to figure out on his own for now. At least until he’d had a good talk with Nyma about it, and until he’d confronted himself about it.
He was falling out of love with her.
And it was confusing. He and Nyma had been together for three years, and sure, they had their differences, but overall he figured they’d done pretty well. But as he sat down, and he buried his head in his hands, and he really, really thought about it–he began to realise that he hadn’t just fallen out of love with Nyma.
It had been building up. All the little things that hurt and all the little things she’d said and all the little things she’d done, the little things that he’d dismissed and shoved away into a far part of his brain and deemed not important. The dam he’d built to keep all the memories and feelings out of the way was cracking, threatening to break at any moment. What had made him take a step back and realise that maybe, just maybe, a relationship with Nyma wasn’t what he wanted–and wasn’t what he needed?
The answer was simple, and Lance almost felt embarrassed at how quickly it popped into his mind. One word. You.
He’d met you, and gradually his whole world had been flipped upside down.
Every day he left his house to get to Nyma’s, he looked forward more to seeing you for a couple of minutes than he did to seeing his actual girlfriend. He’d started taking detours to your shop when he got home from work, just to see you once more. And the flowers he took with him reminded him of you, and he realised he didn’t even want to give them to Nyma anymore. They reminded him of you and he felt like a traitor, giving them away, even though that was the original reason why he’d started taking the flowers in the first place.
He flopped down on his bed (the one he shared with her), looked around his room (the one he shared with her)--and found that it didn't feel like home any more. A lump formed in his throat and he sighed, rubbing his temples. His fingers itched to call Hunk, his mother, anyone that could help him figure out what to do, but he knew he had to do this alone.
This wasn’t what he wanted anymore. It sucked, but it was true. And he’d have to face it one way or another.
– – –
It had been a busy Wednesday morning, and quite honestly you couldn’t really afford to leave the shop, even only for a few minutes. But when Lance walked right past your door, not even slowing his pace, you forgot about that and shouted over your shoulder at Hunk to cover for you for a minute, ignoring his slightly panicked reply, You yanked off your apron and slipped out the door, jogging after him.
“Hey,” you laughed, slightly out of breath when you caught up to him and tapping his shoulder. “You didn’t take a flower! Are you okay?” You had originally been joking, but your eyes widened when he turned and worry jolted through you.
His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, his hair even more of a mess than usual. His blue eyes were rimmed red and heavy bags hung beneath them. He looked like he hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in weeks. You started at the sight. “Whoa. What happened to you?”
A sad smile appeared on his lips and he avoided your gaze, looking down at the ground. “I, uh–I broke up with Nyma.”
Your stomach dropped. “Oh, no.” A pause. “When?”
He rubbed at a spot on the sidewalk with the tip of his shoe. “Last month.”
“Oh.” You paused again. “I’m sorry.” And you were. He used to always get this adorable goofy smile on his face when he talked about her. Hell, Valentine’s day had just passed! There probably wasn’t a worse time to break up with someone, and seeing him like this made you sad.
But he only shrugged, his eyes fleetingly meeting yours. “It’s okay. Really.”
“Are you–are you sure? I mean, you’d been together for a good while, right?” you said cautiously, fiddling with your fingers and suppressing a shiver. It was the beginning of March, and it was a cold and gloomy day, and the air was starting to bite at your skin. The shop was always heated, for the flowers, and you cursed yourself for not taking your coat with you.
He shrugged again. “A few years. I mean, sure, it hurts, and it’ll hurt for a bit of time, but…” The look he gave you warmed your cold body right up, from the crown of your head to the very tips of your toes. “I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. “I guess not,” you said quietly, another shiver running up your spine, but this time it wasn’t solely from the cold, and you quickly looked away, turning back towards the shop. “I should be getting back to work,” you said apologetically. You pretended not to notice the way his face fell slightly, forcing yourself not to think anything of it.
“At least let me walk you there,” he said, offering you his arm. You rolled your eyes but took it, shuffling a bit closer to him and exhaling when his body heat seeped into your very skin. The two of you walked like that for a little while when something occurred to you.
You leaned away from him a little. “You do realise we still don’t know each other’s names, right?”
He opened his mouth to say something, then promptly swallowed back his words and nodded. “You’re right. What should I call you, then?”
You snorted. “How about just Y/N?”
“All right, just Y/N.” You waited for him to give his own name, nudging his shoulder when he didn’t and he frowned down at you. You raised your eyebrows in a Well? gesture. “Oh, right,” he said breezily. “It’s Lance.”
Lance. The name sent butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. “Nice name.”
He smiled the smile you’d grown so fond of. “You, too.”
You had arrived in front of the shop, and Lance let go of your arm. “Well…” he started, hesitant, as if he wasn’t exactly sure, “until next time?”
You felt yourself nod, but as he turned away, you blurted, “Hang on.” You plucked a gardenia from a bucket that sat just inside the shop and twisted it between your fingers before handing it to Lance. “Here.”
Did you imagine it, or did his cheeks flush? You blamed it on the cold. Your own face would be red from the biting wind too, by now. He reached for the flower with a small smile on his lips. “Thanks. To what do I owe the honour?”
You shrugged. “It’d just be weird to see you leave without one.”
His smile widened ever so slightly. “See you around, Y/N.”
Cursing your thumping heart, you quietly replied, “Bye.”
You were still stood in front of the shop entrance long after Lance had disappeared from view. Then a voice rang out behind you and you jumped three feet in the air. “Yo, that was smooth as fuck.”
“Hunk,” you hissed, and you folded your arms in a weak attempt to cover up your embarrassing stunt, feeling your face heat up–and this time it had nothing to do with the cold. “Asshole.”
“I’m serious,” he said airily, casually sweeping the floor and tapping your ankles to get you to step aside. You did, albeit with a huff. “You guys are looking like you’re seriously hitting it off. His girlfriend better watch out.”
You pulled a face. “They broke up.”
Surprise flashed in Hunk’s eyes, which in turn surprised you. He even stopped sweeping. “Did they now?” He narrowed his eyes. “When? Why?”
You put up your hands. “Last month? I don’t know, man. He didn’t exactly go into detail.”
Hunk shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” you said, defensive.
Hunk seemed to realise he’d been talking out loud and he quickly changed the subject. “What flower did you give him, anyway? Not one of those big peonies, right. Those are so expensive–”
“No, I gave him a gardenia, dickhead.” Then, in full you-style, the meaning of the flower dawned on you and you brought a hand up to your face, staring at him in horror. “Oh, fuck. I gave him a gardenia.”
You didn’t know how well-known the meaning behind the gardenia flower was, but it sure was enough to have a sickly feeling rise in your throat. Gardenias were pretty, quite big and stark white. Popular in wedding bouquets, often associated with purity and whatnot. But you were thinking of the specific meaning a single gardenia carried when gifted to someone. A secret love. Your flower–obsessed subconscious had guided your hand to the very bloom that could ruin everything.
Hunk’s eyes widened a fraction after, and you saw he had figured it out too. “Okay, let’s not panic, all right? He probably won’t know what it means. Had you given him a rose, then it would have been a bit more difficult to explain, but the gardenia thing’s not very widely known, right?” You shook your head, heart thumping. “Well, then,” he said, satisfied, picking up his broom. “Problem solved. Trust me, when it comes to romance, Lance is completely clueless.”
Something he said had you stiffen. “I never told you his name. And how would you know the romance thing?” Your eyes widened. “Oh, lord. You knew all this time. You know him.”
Hunk froze–then he sighed, long and pained. “I do. He’s my best friend, to be precise.”
Your hands dropped to your sides. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Before you could demand an explanation Hunk’s phone rang. He fished it out of his back pocket, glanced at the caller ID, and pulled a face. “Speak of the devil.”
“That’s him?” you squeaked, hands balling to fists.
Hunk shooed you away. “We’ll talk later, okay? But if I don’t take this call he’ll just start bombarding me with texts until I answer anyway.” You started to open your mouth, but Hunk was already retreating into the back room, and he picked up as he closed the door. “Hey, man–Lance, slow down–”
You jumped at the ringing of the doorbell and spun around, slapping a smile on your face. Customer. Work was calling. But how in the everloving-hell were you supposed to concentrate on work?
– – –
Okay, so now Lance had a serious problem.
He tried to explain everything to Hunk but tripped over his own words and even as they left his mouth he knew he didn’t make any sense.
“Okay, okay, back up, man. Breathe,” Hunk was saying–calm as ever, bless his soul–and Lance did, taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair. Calm down, Lance. Breathe. He pondered how best to explain everything. He came up with nothing, his words suddenly failing him.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” Lance muttered, pacing the length of his room–his own room, at his parent’s house, free of anything Nyma-related. “I’m just–I didn’t expect–”
“–to fall in love with Y/N?” He said it so casually Lance almost choked on air. But he knew there was no point denying it: after all, he’d fallen in love with you long before he even realised it.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess.”
There was a silence, and Hunk sighed. “Lance, do you know the meaning behind the gardenia flower?”
Lance stopped pacing. “The fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“Just look it up, will you?” He sounded like he would not be taking no for an answer.
“Fine,” Lance grumbled, crashing on his bed. Turning his head, he glared at the flower you’d given him before leaving. It’d just be weird to see you leave without one. He grinned stupidly.
“Listen, I need to go. But…” Hunk hesitated. “Y/N always stays a bit longer than I do every night. To close up. Ten thirty. You might be able to catch them.”
A smile slowly crept up on his face. “All right.”
“I promised myself I’d stay out of this one, you know. I mean, Y/N gets crushes all the time–and it never works out. But this time, it’s… I don’t know. Different.” A pause. “Take that as you will. Just be careful with them, all right?”
“Christ, Hunk, are you their dad or something?” Lance laughed, but only to mask his own nerves.
He could almost hear Hunk roll his eyes over the receiver. “Bye, Lance.” Then the connection broke and Lance chucked the phone onto his bed with a sigh.
The truth was that he hadn’t felt this for anyone in a long time–maybe even ever. He didn’t know what made it so different from what he’d experienced before; maybe it was the twinge in his gut whenever he talked to you. The innocent little things he noticed about you and made his heart swell. It was pure, and sweet, and good.
He mulled Hunk’s words over in his head. Ten-thirty. Maybe he’d take a look, if he didn’t chicken out and turn around before he’d even gotten to the end of the street. He pulled his phone back to him again, suddenly remembering something else Hunk had said. Gardenia. A second later, his eyes skimmed the first site that had come up, and his heart started beating quicker with every word.
He remembered something Hunk had told him a while ago. They’re good with different flowers and their meanings and that kind of stuff. It could be a mistake, of course. But then again… you didn’t seem like the person who’d make a mistake like this. And Hunk wouldn’t have had him look up that the meaning behind a gifted gardenia is a secret love.
He could be wrong. Hunk could be wrong. But if there was even the slightest chance… how could he not try?
Lance was seriously starting to regret not taking anything other than his dark blue sweater as he walked briskly to your shop, turning corners and crossing streets almost on instinct now. His breath clouded in the cold March air, and while it had been okay in the daytime when the sun shone and provided some warmth, now it was cold and dark and clammy and he was shivering and cursing himself under his breath.
The lights were still on, illuminating the wooden panel upon which was written the name of the shop–Forget-me-not. It fit, Lance found. From his spot across the street, he could see your form hunched over the counter, scribbling on a notepad in front of you. Your hair was a mess, sticking out all over the place. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. He smiled, and he didn’t feel so cold anymore.
You didn’t look up immediately when he gently opened the door, sending a gust of wind into the warm shop. At his right there was a bucket of gardenias, and in an impulse he grabbed one, twirling it between his fingers. You sighed, straightening with a groan.
“I’m sorry, but we’re closed–”
Your eyes widened when you saw him, and you immediately straightened completely. He tensed, trying for a smile. “Hey.” His voice came out an octave higher than usual.
“Hey,” you said, surprised. “You’ve never–it’s pretty late, you know.”
Lance winced. Had he made a mistake coming here? His fingers clenched around the stem of his gardenia. “I can go if–”
Your eyes widened. “Oh, no! No, I was just surprised, is all,” you assured him with a smile, the sparkle returning to your eyes. “Stay.”
So Lance walked up to the counter and laid down the flower. You looked at it, then at him, then back at the bloom and back at him. Your eyes narrowed. “Are you seriously returning–”
“No! No, I’m buying this one,” he said quickly, feeling his neck and ears heat up. “I kept yours.”
You had to bite back a smile, he saw. The small curl of your lips made his heart beat even faster–and yet also took a huge weight off his shoulders. “We’re closed, you know,” you muttered.
Lance paled, his nerves rocketing, but then you laughed. You chuckled behind your hand, eyes glittering, trying and failing to keep your face straight. “I can make an exception, I guess,” you said quietly, fiddling with your fingers. You looked up briefly, eyes meeting his. “For you.”
“Okay.”
But neither of you moved, and Lance felt his gaze pulled towards you as if by some magnetic force, drinking in every inch of your face. You pointedly kept your own eyes in no particular place, gaze zipping from his to your hands to the flower on the counter to the dozens of other flowers arranged around the shop. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Lance still broke it.
“Hunk told me to look up what they meant,” he said, gesturing at the flower.
You stiffened. “And?”
He coughed. “Well, I’m giving you this one.” There it was again, the damned flush reddening his cheeks and ears. Rubbing his neck, he said, “I like you a lot, Y/N–”
But he never had a chance to finish his sentence, because you stood on your tippy toes and grabbed the collar of his hood, yanking him towards you and crashing his lips to yours. He hummed in surprise, but soon completely melted into your touch, his own hand tentatively coming up to cup your cheek while supporting himself on the counter with the other one.
His hip dug into the counter, and it was hard getting a good angle and it probably wasn’t the most comfortable place to kiss–what with the counter separating the two of you and all–but he found himself not caring at all, the hundreds of butterflies set loose in his stomach and fluttering around like crazy at the touch of your lips on his.
The kiss was short and sweet and all too soon you pulled away, leaving his heart beating a thousand miles an hour and your taste on his lips. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to form coherent sentences for at least a week. You giggled, quickly retreating your hands and skirting out from behind the counter, halting beside him and pressing a hesitant peck to his cheek. Lance grinned, covering his face with one hand to hide his blush–though he knew it was silly.
Your fingers ghosted over his. Hesitant. Curious. It sent electricity up his arm and a shiver up his spine, but he liked it.
