I suddenly feel nostalgia for season 1/ season 2 voltron???? Like I miss the good old days when everyone used they/Them pronouns for Pidge and I miss bonding moment jokes and "my name is keith and I'm so emo" and Space Mall???? "Keith I want you to be the leader of voltron"??????? They call me the tailor cuz of how I thread the needle?????? What was that? Laser guns?????? I say vol you say tron???? Lance really stole my heart okay??
Here is a list of the contributors for the zine. Please show these people so much love and support, this would not have been possible without their beautiful works and their constant support with us mods.
Hello! Can I have an Lance (From Voltron) X Reader please?
I am terribly sorry if this is sad and evokes some dark themes. If anybody wishes for a happy ending just send in a request for a Part 2 and I will be sure to give the Readers something happier and much fluffier. A bittersweet ending I will thoroughly enjoy writing.
I was more than merely influenced for writing such a depressing story due to listening to Sam Smith on repeat. Beautiful and lovely, but quite sad. It was a result I felt happy with though and hope everybody enjoys it.
-Mod Icarus ଘ(੭ºัᴗºั)━☆ﾟ
Word Count: 2,413
Category: Voltron
~Blue Boy~
Something was wrong.
As of current you were, in most people's words, safe. Located in a secure position away from the middle of the battle commencing it may be by pure luck nobody had yet to spot you. Not too far away though you could hear the loud battle cries of both your treasured teammates and the relentless Galra.
Body leaning against a cement wall your hand clutched your shoulder that was covered with armor similar to what the traditional paladins of the lions wore. Once a shiny and gleaming (F/c) suit, it was now morphed into something dirty and marred. Clinks and dents were spotted here and there. A bit of blood was on the leg, half of it dry and crusted, but the most sickening thing about that fact was that the blood was not yours.
Trained by the Altean palace princess Allura ruled over you were able to grow stronger in a shorter amount of time than expected. You never thought you would have been able to become a professional with wielding a sword. But here you were a few or so months later a (F/c) sword tightly held in your grasp as you took down foreign aliens.
Rising a sluggish hand to your shoulder you grabbed it tightly with a shaky inhale. It ached with every sharp movement you made and for a second you wondered if it had become dislocated in the heat of war. You pleaded desperately for it not to be true. A dislocated shoulder during something like this would be horribly bad luck. Hopefully, everything would end so you could recover back in the safe confines of the palace.
Sidestepping it took only a few seconds to become one with the battle. Seemingly dragging on you felt as if you were going to cry. Your shoulder was sending hot white flashed to appear across your vision when you swung at just the right yet wrong angle. Even so, you pushed onwards, determined to get this over with and finally be worry-free again.
Just when everything looked as if it was beginning to dissipate a pang of hurt sliced through your heart. But the thing about it was that you were alone, without an opposing battle partner. Everything was perfectly fine from what you could tell.
Allura and Coran were faring well.
Shiro and Keith were finishing off the last few remaining stragglers who dared fight more.
Hunk and Pidge were tending to the wounded of this alien planet's natives.
And last but not least Lance was-
Lance.
Where was Lance!?
Fear almost made bile rise from the depths of your stomach to sting in the deep backside of your throat, but you swallowed it up quickly. Adrenaline was immediately born with your deep thoughts. Sneaking their way into your bloodstream your legs caught up with your much more frightened mind. Moving of their own accord you dragged forward with no true destination. All you knew is you had to find Lance no matter what. Even if he was safe. Laughing at his own jokes while flirting with some beautiful alien species from this planet you could not warrant the chance of him being lost.
What if he was captured. Kidnapped and taken away from you? Was it possible he was slain? Struck down by an enemies sharp weapon?
No.
Lance was stronger than that.
He was much stronger than he ever gave credit for. The wielder of a paladin bayard belonging to the blue lion that transformed into an energy assault rifle, you were sure he could hold his own in a fight. You had witnessed it many times before so why out of all those times would he suddenly be taken down? Every scenario that filtered through your mind could not create one where Lance had been taken down. It just seemed too bizarre. Too impossible.
Yes, he had been tossed around his fair share of times but so had everybody else. Near death experiences were an end result everybody knew was more than possible, yet you did not think this way. Your background was unique, just like theirs. Death could be an option but the hardships in your lied denied you to ever think of such a thing.
Death is not an option.
Lance is not dead.
With those thoughts on your mind, you frantically ran to every place you last saw lance. Through the dense alien jungles, you carried on with quick footsteps. Once you had even tripped, yet even when your knee had been hit wrong and sent a shocked pain to the area you stood up with only a muffled groan from the inside of your mouth. The pain you were experiencing would have to wait to be felt. For all, you felt right now was fear, anticipation, and a tug of fright.
It was not until you came upon a body leaning against a tree did tears begin to fill the top brim of your waterline in your eye.
Lance.
He is alive.
"Lance, you goofball," you managed to huff out when you lowered yourself down onto your knees, ignoring the dull pain, to get closer to him. "Where have you been? I have been so worried. I..."
(E/c) eyes scanned his body, breath becoming rigid and anxious in barely a few seconds. His once slick blue paladin armor was splattered with blood. From where you view him it looked as if he was in the red lion's paladin armor instead of the blue lions.
His head was hanging too low for comfort, ends of his hair drenched in blood, a crimson human fluid. It was also dripping from his nose and mouth, curving over his slim lips and chin. More camouflaged over his black covered hands. It was hard to tell what you were truly looking at. With so much blood you couldn't tell if it was coming from his own body or if it was just a tough opponent who had not stopped until they bled out when fighting.
Your voice was shaky as a hand slipped up to cup his cheek, raising his head to look at you, the helmet already taken off and left on the grassy floor of the forest. The pain in your shoulder was persistent but your worry was far greater than any of it. Unfortunately, his eyelids were closed you came to discover when you had risen him up. Head heavy in the palm of your hand you realized you are holding the world in your hand
He is your whole world.
"Lance, please... please tell me this is not your blood. This can't possibly be yours, can it?" You asked fruitlessly. The head in your hands gave no sign of any movement to any of your talking. "Lance..."
After a few more calls of his name and small shakes on his shoulder, Lance finally cracked open his eyes like there were hundred-pound weights dragging them down. Still heavily placed in your hands he blinked open his eyes. Black eyelashes fluttered open slowly, the iris inside blown but progressively shrinking from the radiating suns strong light.
"Y/n..." His voice makes your heart quiver in its bony cage of ribs. It sounds so broken and hoarse It must be hard for him to speak but he tries to do so anyway. "Glad...I am glad...to see you..."
You shush him softly as more blood dribbles out of his mouth from his actions. "Don't speak, you need to conserve your energy."
Your voice may be soft and ever so gentle, but inside an earthquake is splitting open. In the earth of it, all your fears and worries are conjoining and rising out. Questions such as 'How could I let this happen?' and 'It's my fault.'
Taking off your helmet carefully, both your hands begin to move to the back of his head, fingers curling into the locks of short, dark brown hair you adored so much. You lean close, so close that when you hug him you swear you can hear everything around you. His head rests in your chest, nestled there like a safe haven. You can hear his soft, almost labored breathing as he tries to fill his lungs the best he can. Taking in as much oxygen before he dispels it in a shaky exhale of breath. His skin is hot, beating hotly with a pulse that misses a few counts here and there.
He smells of blood, The sickly metallic flavor of it clings to your taste buds even when your mouth is clamped shut. Wetness springs from your tear ducts and rolls down your cheeks as the thoughts inside your head overflow.
He shouldn't smell of blood. He shouldn't be bleeding out. He shouldn't be fighting for every breath he takes. He shouldn't be fighting the need to succumb to death's embrace.
"Thank you...for...for staying here with me," he manages to mumble out, his breath warm against the open skin of your neck. "To think....I...I never got to tell you..."
You separate from him, his head still in your hands as it leans back a bit so he can look up at you with no trouble or moving on his part.
"Tell me?" You ask confused, a tear dripping down your cheek. "Tell me what?"
His smile targets towards you feel like sunshine on your (S/c) flesh. A bright shining aura of radiating heat. But his expression is overall a vision of pure solemn. Dark blue eyes, like the deep oceans of Earth, spring up like a sparkling geyser with water. Tears of his own fall down his face in perfect lines. He looked beautiful right there. Crying. It may have been thought of as a cruel thought, but he was an angel. An angel was crying in front of you. Emotions bubbling up and exploding like water erosion shapeshifting the Earth's soil to create something new and more extraordinary than before.
"I love you."
His hand comes up to let his tanned fingertips touch your cheekbone. With a slow thumb, he brushes away a stray tear in his way. His movements up to now have all been slow. A sluggish style similar to that of an Earth animal called a sloth. But suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, they are sharp.
Surging forward faster than you are able to react to he closes the gap between your faces. Warm lips meet yours in a feverish sense of hurry and apparent urgency. It is delectably warm, that flesh against your own in a waltzing dance. If his lips were food you were sure he would be something akin to blueberries.
His other unoccupied arm wraps around your body to grasp tightly at a shoulder. It stays there secure and unyielding in its position. You feel safe. Safer than you have ever been in your entire life. You want to stay here. Stay this way forever, even if it may seem like an impossible thing.
This blue boy was full of love and affection beyond measure underneath the surface.
In a slow-motion like state of deliriousness, Lance parts away from you far too soon for your liking. Before you can protest he look up at you and for a second he smiles. Lips quivering in the effort to rise in the process before his eyes closed shut and lock away his oceanic orbs of crystal light. Heartbreaking into a million pieces you only stay stock still as his weight leans forward and slumps against your chest.
The arm that had once held you safe in this warm engulfing hug let's go without notice. It slumps down, laying perfectly still with its palm up in the green grasses of the jungle floor. You can hear your heart pounding just like the slam that seemed to come when the arm had fallen. Blood is pulsing in your ears, a headache forming quickly from the noise. The bang and ricochet in your skull, all your bones simultaneously panging with hurt from the foreign impacts.
His body is still. So strangely still like a statue against your own that you almost forget to breathe, to function correctly. He is heavy, heavier than anybody had ever been when leaning leisurely against you. It is like the body, in its one way, is telling you of its burden. That life has left the inside of the body it once filled.
This is death.
"Lance, come on your heavy," you laugh bitterly, the sound rough on your tongue when you try to deny the fact he may actually not be with you anymore. "Lance, if you are sleeping you have to...You have to wake up."
Your hands take hold of him so he can lean into them as you move away to peer at his face. He looks to be in a deep peaceful but you know better.
"Lance...please! You can't leave me! Not right when I know how you feel! Not when I-" Your sobs elevate as you spring forward to nuzzle into his neck in an effort to keep him here with you. His once warm skin is quickly growing a deadly cold, but you care not to think of it at the moment.
"Not when I feel the same way..."
The blue boy with oceans for eyes and seas for blood in his veins is gone.
The blue boy with his flirtation and jokester ways is gone.
The blue boy who you had discovered shared your feelings is gone.
"I love you, Lance. I love you so much. So much Lance. I love you so much."
