Matt walked into the lounge room, where Keith was laying. Allura and the other paladins were talking to Lotor now. Keith taking his leave as he had no say, it wasn’t his team anymore.
“Dude, are you okay?” Matt slid down onto the couch next to Keith and… did he just hiss? “Did you just hiss at me?”
Keith glared at him through his bangs and turned away, pouting. “Not in the mood Matt.”
“Omg, this makes so much sense. This only reinforces my theory that you are a cat, Koga!” Matt throws his hands up in the air.
“You-You’re- You’re still on about that?! It was *one* time!” Keith barked out, not bothering to keep brooding.
“One time that you poked holes into the couch AFTER YOU KNEADED IT!” Matt’s voice raised dramatically and Keith laughed.
“Well… I guess I am genetically a cat.” Keith shuffled away a bit, chuckling.
“GASP! I knew your dad was a furry. I knew your mom was a cat. What kind of cat? Calico… OOH OOH, I KNOW! MAINE COON!” Matt laughs as he plays with the end of Keith’s hair. One hand over his mouth as he flips the ends around.
“Mmmm… no… more like a Galra cat.” Keith looks away.
Summary: Keith doesn’t manage to pull his ship up fast enough after Lotor attacks Haggar’s weapon. He manages to avoid the brunt of the blast, but his life is in extreme danger, and it’s up to Matt to step in and try to save it.
Pairing: Platonic Matt Holt/Keith Kogane
Warnings: Temporary character death, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation.
Notes: This…is just something I had to get out of my system? Tread carefully, as there is some temporary character death here and detailed descriptions of CPR, but Matt is a damn hero and bless him honestly. Let me know what you think! Your feedback will fuel my motivation to write the second half lmao.
La Vie En Rose playing from another room Edith Piaf
Me standing on a gorgeous stone balcony outside of a grand ballroom, breathing in some fresh air because the fumes of the champagne and the loud joyous noise gave me slight sensory overload. The wind beautifully moves my gown.
me dissociating in the waffle house off some highway at 1 AM after poppin a dime in the record machine in 2017
can we all just… appreciate this? keiths easily the tiniest member of the blade of marmora, by a wide margin at that, and here he is, holding regris up in a firemans carry, not even looking all that weighed down by him, and running while doing so??
i dont remember keith doing anything but sparring in the training room but he obviously lifts, bro
The ship touches down and before the door can open completely Matt pushes through, heart still in his mouth, blood rushing in his ears.
He knows he’s okay, he knows he’s been saved (by their enemy, what the actual fuck, when he was right there he should have been the one that helped—) but he can’t emotionally process it; not until he can see with his own two eyes that Keith’s alive and safe and breathing.
He pushes past his friends without apology or excuse, brushes past Pidge and the rest of the paladins (who had cheered after Keith almost died and he shouldn’t blame them he knows he shouldn’t be angry at them they didn’t know but still—) and he’s the first to reach Keith’s side, to arrive by the lone hijacked Galra ship that’s been half destroyed. The door opens and Keith comes out of it on unsteady feet, Blade of Marmora suit as sleek and black as the night, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. His hood is down, so Matt can see his expression without problem—lips bloodless and tightly pressed together, eyebrows drawn in worry.
And the worst thing is, Matt knows the worry isn’t even remotely linked with his own situation.
“Shiro? Where’s Lotor?” Keith says into his communicator.
Of course. Of-fucking-course. Of course the stupid, self-sacrificing idiot would be most concerned with the location of their enemy than the fact that he almost died.
Matt snarls. “Who the fuck cares where Lotor is?” The words are rough and angry, tinted with fear and concern that Matt does not care to hide. Keith startles and looks up, gray-blue eyes widening in surprise as they connect with Matt’s.
“Matt, what—?”
“What the fuck were you thinking?” He isn’t quite sure when he got so close to Keith, but both hands are now on his shoulders, shaking him a bit. His eyes roam over his face, cataloging every twitch, every spot of dirt. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt? Fuck,
don’t. Don’t
you ever do that ever again.”
His hands are no longer on Keith’s shoulders. They are on his arms, on his forehead, running through his hair, down his neck, cupping his cheeks, making sure that he is, in fact, as uninjured as he seems to be.
Keith is like a frozen statue, barely breathing. His eyes are blown so wide and there’s such a lost look in them that Matt’s heart breaks.
“I don’t—I mean—”
“You almost died, Keith. You—” Matt closes his eyes and tilts his head back, trying to keep the tears he can feel prickling at his eyes at bay. There’s no use. They roll down his cheeks when he looks down again, making Keith’s eyes widen even more. Matt tries to smile, but it’s a tremulous, fragile thing that’s more a grimace than anything else. “You tried to sacrifice yourself.” He swallows. “Why?”
“I didn’t—”
“Why, Keith.”
Keith snaps his mouth shut, and then there is a moment of silence in which it seems that he’s not going to answer. His eyes are shining, though, fiery and defiant and full of stubbornness.
Matt waits.
A tic, two, and then—Keith’s shoulders slump; he averts his eyes. “It was the only way. The team, the blade, the coalition… everyone would have died if the weapon wasn’t destroyed. And…” His eyes find Matt’s again. He straightens his spine, juts out his chin. “I was the only one who could do something about it. So I did.”
Matt closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose. He thinks he’s trembling (Because of fear? Powerlessness? Suppressed rage? He isn’t sure.)
The thing is, Keith is so… so convinced that what he did was what was best, that everything would have been fine after he…
“Hey. I’m—I’m fine, aren’t I? It’s fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
Matt whines—a high-pitched, wounded noise in the back of his throat that he can’t suppress—and crushes the stupid, stupid brave idiot with a heart of gold and too much worth that he won’t see why to his chest in the tightest hug he’s given anyone since his reunion with Pidge. Keith grunts, small and confused, but readily hugs him back, and Matt just tightens his hold on him, hiding his face on the crook of his neck.
Then Keith’s team is there: Shiro and Pidge and Hunk and Lance and Allura and Coran, all of them hugging Keith—and therefore Matt, because Matt was there first—and talking one over the other while crying.
“What he said… Is it true?”
“Keith you didn’t—”
“Why would you even—”
“You can’t do that, mullet, what the fuck—”
“Oh my God, Keith, are you—”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t—”
“—not fine why —”
“—n’t do this without you—”
“—Voltron needs you, we need you—”
“—n’t do that again!”
The arms around him twitch, then squeeze. The fingers on his back tighten around the cloth of his uniform, and then Matt can feel dampness spreading on his shoulder, there where Keith has hidden his own face after the avalanche of words and feelings started.
Keith’s crying. He’s crying with them, clinging to them, and Matt feels that he can breathe easier.
It’s a small step, just a breach of the barrier, a scratch on the surface of the problem, but they’ll get there. He doesn’t know why Keith thinks so poorly of himself, why doesn’t he see his own worth, and he isn’t sure he even wants to know. (He’s afraid of his own reaction.) But one thing is certain: he isn’t going to let that stand.
He runs his hand through Keith’s hair; Keith hiccups and pulls him closer still.
No, he isn’t going to let that stand. He’s going to help, whatever it takes.
I woke up this morning in A Mood™ and I really just had to write something… different. There was just this semi-poetic voice in my head that I needed to get out. But it didn’t fit any of my on-going fics. So I wrote a little drabble. My bff and work-wife @wolfpainters then did a little sketch for it.
Permission to post this art from the artist @wolfpainters. Made for this drabble. Do Not Repost art or fic.
Life in Motion
Keith focus / vaguely sheith | Rated G | 2k+ drabble
There are times when the sheer scope of resources available to an Emperor is overwhelming. After a lifetime of scraping by on the margins, struggling for every advantage, Lotor finds himself with the wealth of an Empire at his disposal.
He does his best to maintain the discipline that served him throughout his life. His armor is well-made, but not ostentatious. His meals are skillfully prepared, but not extravagant. It’s not his nature to overindulge.
Well, not in most areas.
Emperor Lotor has something of a weakness when it comes to his consort. Keith grew up with little and asks for less, so whenever Lotor discovers something that catches his beloved’s fancy, he’s quick to seize upon it.
That’s how Keith ended up with an array of bladed weapons that any collector would envy. That’s how Keith came to own tunics and robes made from the softest fabrics the Empire’s textile industries can produce.
That’s how Keith’s circlet came to hold a single Ravashan fire opal, an exquisite red jewel that appears to contain a living flame. Its facets are cut in such a way that it appears to smolder when moved. (The first time Keith saw it, his eyes went round and his mouth fell open. After that, the cost - enough to provision a fleet for months - seemed trivial.)
Yes, Lotor can admit that such indulgences are unnecessary. His consort would love him no less if he were kept more modestly. But really, what good is being Emperor if one never enjoys it?
why do so many people think shiro is such a dick, and why do they think its acceptable for him to be the way they think he is?? why do they like him if they think he takes his insecurities out on keith or uses keith to avoid his issues or whatever??
