Story cover for Make Me Your Home by insertmeme_here
Make Me Your Home
  • WpView
    Reads 151,891
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    Parts 22
  • WpHistory
    Time 3h 7m
  • WpView
    Reads 151,891
  • WpVote
    Votes 7,315
  • WpPart
    Parts 22
  • WpHistory
    Time 3h 7m
Complete, First published Feb 28, 2017
Mature
"Oh my god, Keeeith," Lance wheezed. "Keith you're the best drunk space cadet I've ever seen."
  
  "Space cadet," Keith mumbled. He repeated the words again although his eyes had zeroed in on Lance's hands and Lance offered no resistance when Keith picked one of them up and pulled it possessively towards his lap. He began to gently trace over Lance's fingers, sending shivers up Lance's arm and down his spine. "You have looong fingers," Keith murmured after a few moments.
  
  Keith's face perked up then, as if he'd just had a brilliant idea, and Lance could almost not wait to hear what new obscure thought had entered Keith's pretty head. He was prepared to laugh, and instead found himself shivering again as Keith leaned far into his personal bubble, lips practically touching Lance's ear when he spoke next.
  
  "I bet you could reach all kinds of things, Lance."
  
  
  (This is actually written on Archive On Our Own by Reader115. I love this story so much and I wanted to bring it to Wattpad. Enjoy!)
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Lance's Funeral by NineteenEighteen
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Keith hated himself for liking Lance. His limber build, the way he carried himself with shoulders raised and chin held high. His blue eyes, dark like the sea's deep, inky bottom. His tangled mess of dark brown hair that stood at odd angles, and never seemed to obey Lance's vigorous brushing. His smooth, light brown skin as he crinkled his nose, or batted the sand from his eyes on a particularly windy afternoon. Even his laugh, as loudly obnoxious as it was, Keith adored. And that was the worst part, because, unlike Keith, Lance hated him. With every word he uttered, an argument seemed to arise. Lance constantly joked and poked fun of Keith, determined to one up him in every way imaginable. So, in all retrospect, Keith had every right to detest Lance in return. But that was the thing: he didn't. Even as Lance stood before him on the worst days - face scrunched and reddened, throat hoarse from the shouting - all Keith thought as he stood stone faced, eyes locked on Lance's chattering lips, was: 'wow, I really want to kiss this shit-head.' And then he was both mad at himself and the world. Mad at himself for imagining Lance in ways he shouldn't, and mad at the world for allowing Lance to be in his life in the first place. It was torture. As powerful as a lash to the chest, or a hammer to the kneecap. Especially now, as Keith stood above Lance's cold, unflinching corpse. The dead boy's bony hands crossed over his chest, shoulders squared atop the white, velvet cushion that rested inside the opened coffin. He wore the best suit and tie money could buy, and had his shaven scalp hidden by a head of hair that was similar, but could never match the boy's old image. The image before cancer. The image before hell. The image before Keith's every being crumbled to dust. *** A Klance au in which Keith discovers that him and only him can see Lance's ghost. COVER ART: kuurakuu on Tumblr
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For sometime now, Keith had realized his feelings for Lance now but he wanted to keep things the way the are. Lance is unbelievably obsessed with Allura so never in a million years could he figure out Keith's feelings. The others however already know about Keith's emotions since he didn't really try hard to keep them under covers. The story is about a certain incident which changes Keith's uptake on Lance life, fears and emotions where he finally decides to confront his feelings to the ever-so-vulnerable Lance. Writers note: I'm the same writer from Archives of our own under the name trashy_gameshow16. I'm reposting my work here for more people to read and enjoy. I'd love to hear some feedback.