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I got myself a DW-account such a long time ago but never quite ended up using this. But this reminds me of the good old days of Livejournal so I'm gonna check this out. <3

Kiss me and tell me you love me

 The room is pitch-black when Keith opens the door. The hallway-light manages to illuminate only a small spot, not enough to reach the bed. The sheets rustle. 

“Shiro?” 

“Please close the door,” comes the whisper from the bed.

Keith does so, leaving both of them in that pitch-black blindness. Keith knows his way to Shiro’s bed in his sleep so he doesn’t bump into anything. The sheets rustle once more.

“Can I sit?” 

Shiro sighs. “Yes.” 

Keith sits, carefully, to the edge of the bed. It’s not uncommon for them to visit each other’s rooms or for Shiro to message him like this. It’s a good old rhythm that they can fall on: the same question can I and the same answer yes. 

Shiro takes a deep breath and then exhales, slowly. 

Keith doesn’t have to look long to see what’s the problem. Shiro’s sitting crosslegged on his bed, shirtless, his Galra-hand on his lap. It’s glowing faintly purple, pulsing softly, ominously. 

“Is there… something wrong with it?” Keith shifts closer and kicks off his boots. He keeps a small distance between them. 

The metallic fingers twitch. Shiro’s face is unreadable. “You would think that I would be used to it already, after having used it for so long.” His powerful shoulders are slumped, his entire posture screaming defeat. “But I’m not. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding on. The nightmares certainly don’t help.” He brings the hand to his face. Now the light is enough to illuminate the exhaustion in him. 

“We’ll fix it,” Keith whispers. They’ve had this conversation before. Enough times that Keith grows weary and Shiro’s exhaustion is palpable. “No. I’ll fix it.” Keith takes that offending hand between his and brings it to his lips. It’s a little too warm to the touch, that softly pulsing light growing. But still he kisses each fingertip, each knuckle, the inside of the wrist. 

“It is still your arm, babe. It is a part of you and I will fix the part that’s making you feel this way, that’s still connected to the Galra.”

Shiro makes a wounded, broken noise. “I want to rip it off,” he whispers, barely audible. Still his fingers curl around Keith’s hand. “If there is a way to disconnect it from the Galra, I would like it. There’s no getting my real hand back after all.” His voice is as rough as sandpaper. 

“It is a part of you, so it means I love it,” Keith whispers back. He keeps stroking the gently glowing hand. He lowers it back to Shiro’s lap and shifts closer. He leans and kisses the part where metal meets flesh, the crisscross of scars rough against his lips. “But when it makes you feel this way, I want to give you a new one.”

Shiro’s breath hitches. He runs his hand down Keith’s arm. “I love you.”

Keith pulls him close: Shiro nuzzles against his neck. “And I love you.” 

What you said under the stars

 They don’t stray too far from the others, as they both know Lotor still doesn’t enjoy much trust within the Paladins. They know Allura can take care of herself perfectly, but still. Still they only know of him as a son of a murderous emperor and regard him varily. 

He doesn’t quite have it in him to blame them. They are petty, certainly, but they are human. An interesting race, truly, but not quite up to par with his and his standards.

He lets them stare at him with suspicion in their eyes and lets them spit venom at him. He has his own plans. His own future. His father is no longer emperor, but him. 

At least Allura is not the same. Under the stars, within the stars, she glows like truly the last of her kind. Looking at her is like looking at the stars: except this star is close, this star has a loveliness to it that no distant, cold star has. 

“What are you thinking?” She asks, looking up. Her hair is free right now, cascading down her back. 

Lotor’s fingers itch to touch. “As you would know, princess, governing is a rather busy affair.” His voice is kept even, his hands behind his back. His eyes are on her, not on the stars. 

“Yet here you are,” she answers, rather sweetly despite the little smirk. Allura’s the one to step closer to him, to reach for his hands. To take them between her own. “I have a feeling we could … have more to discuss.” She lowers her eyes, like to be coy. 

But what Lotor knows of Allura is that she is not coy. She is power and vengeance and glory all tucked inside this one beautiful body. 

Inside of Lotor, a warmth spreads. “Privately?” He goes for a smirk. He brings her hands to his lips. “You and me, princess Allura, understand each other better than anyone else ever could. I have a feeling you would agree.” He meets her eyes. 

Allura doesn’t look away. Her little smile is all the answer he gets and needs.