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voltronisanobsession · 4 months ago

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Hii, sorry if you aren't willing to write for Voltron anymore. But I discovered your blog cause of the name, so I thought why not try? So here is one of my yandere ideas.

Yandere Voltron with isekaid reader? Basically, the reader was from real life, till they died. Either by truck-chan, or to a disease. But given their life was already very shitty, they didn't really care much. At least. Till the reader wakes up in their favorite show. Not as a main protagonist, or not even as a side character in one of the many episodes. Nah, the reader simply wakes up as an unknown character on some random planet. A planet that hasn't isn't a part of the Garla Empire, and reader paln to kept it that way. Eventually, Voltron starts to get on the move, and main characters meet reader. Except, reader doesn't really realized that they are now the main character of the story. So despite, being very perceptive of everyone and everything, they some how don't know that the characters are becoming yandere. One by one.

Again, sorry if you don't write about Voltron anymore, if you want you can ignore this completely. I just thought you might want to hear the idea. Don't let the Karens bite you, fight them off with the power of the shows you like if needed, and remember to take care.

Yandere Voltron with Isekaid!Reader

OMG STOOOPPPP I LOVE THIS SMMM!!!! AND THIS BEING A YANDERE ASK?? It's like all those batfam fics i read, i'm so happy you thought of this. I will always write for voltron, don't worry pookie

This might be long, hope you enjoy😅

A series of very much unfortunate events, readers life goes from crap to ok to crap again. Readers death was very short and brief on their end. In your world, Voltron was just a silly little show that you watched to get away from reality, a show you loved so dearly. So never did you imagine to be isakei'd into that same very world.

I like to think this was caused due to voltron traveling through different dimensions, like that one Altean reality. Kind of like an event that perfectly aligned, readers death and them escaping the reality.

Of course at first reader doesn't know where the HELL they are. Exploring this new place, its not hard to convince yourself you miraculously made it to heaven with how beautiful everything was. But it isn't long until they find the residents of this strange world. You live a good and easy life the weeks after your arrival as the townspeople openly accepted you into their world.

Reader has many similarities to these aliens, yet its very obvious that you take on a more humanoid appearance compared to them. Perhaps you share a similar skin tone, like green or blue. Maybe your eyes are the same shade as theirs. Despite this, your physical appearance is more human than alien without a doubt.

Reader only knows they're in the Voltron universe due to how often the townspeople talk about the Galra and Voltron rescuing imprisoned planets. Like I can imagine reader immediately jumping into someone's conversation to get more info, only for them to get weird looks

"Galra? Voltron?! Like from the show?? They're real?"

*Cue confused faces*

"Show? Um, I don't believe they're based off a show. They've been doing a lot of good for the universe!"

Its easy to put two and two together, but have no fear! Reader, being SMARTTT, already knows that they're in the Voltron universe. And if anything happens to the plot causing it to go astray from the og, it'll most likely have devastating consequences, so its a good thing that they're stuck on this unknown planet!

Especially one they don't remember ever being on the show!

Until some divine intervention wrecks that very idea one day with a giant mechanical lion falling from the sky.

You make sure to keep your distance from whatever paladin is staying in the village. It's not hard to do so with how many people lurk the streets to see a paladin of Voltron

But of course nothing ever goes Isekei'd!Reader's way when they bump into the one person they've been avoiding. It's as if time literally stops as they're eyes meet.

DUN DUUNNN! SHIRO! (My mans😍)

He's surprised to see someone almost like him after seeing all the townspeople's appearances. Shiro's seen some pretty wacky looking aliens so its almost like a slap in the face to find someone so human in the village.

Before he can even say anything though, you quite literally run away from him, leaving the black paladin in a state of confusion and curiosity. And since you're running AWAY from him, he figures you probably know the reason why his lion crash landed on this specific planet when it was fine before.

Cue to you trying to outrun him. Emphasis on TRYING. Cuz there's no way you could ever outrun him.

Once he catches you, its safe to say you're now permanently apart of their story. You, however, fail to realize that. It's hard to not reveal everything to the man in front of you, but some things may or may not have slipped out your mouth.

"HELLO STRANGE PALADIN! Welcome to our, um, planet? Uh, if you could get off of me Shiro, that would be amazing cuz I currently am freaking out right now!

"Keith is probably looking for you so get that black cat working and get outta here haha!"

With all of readers rambling and bad avoidance, Shiro can't shake off a growing feeling in him. Was it endearment? Pity, annoyance? Protectiveness? Possessiveness? Shaking the dark thought quickly, the man already knows you know more than what you're letting on.

"How do you know Keith?"

"Ummm we're cousins?" You're internally smacking yourself as the man in front of you raises an eyebrow.

SKIPPING SOME STUFF CUZ THIS IS GETTING A LITTLE LONG SO LETS JUMP TO THE YANDERE SHITTTTT😝😝

Being introduced to the team, they all seem to be drawn to you. Like there's some invisible force dragging them to your very being. It's sort of like an inner battle for them, allow themselves to get dragged into whatever this is willingly, or fight against it and fall harder into it.

Reader is kind of their unofficial prisoner, but not really a prisoner? So while it is very cool to meet some of their comfort characters, they accept the fact that they are now living in their world. They have no idea what the others are feeling or thinking, so they're kind of on their own from now on.

Some paladins I think that would willingly allow this divine obsession take place in their hearts are Shiro, Lance, and Allura.

Shiro was the first to find them, so it only makes sense that his obsession would take place first. He would mistake this new feeling as a need to protect. If reader is younger than him, then get used to being treated like a child. He doesn't mean to coddle you, but with how you seem to have ZERO survival skills and an air of childlike amazement at everything, he can't help but want to keep that to himself.

Lance is an easy going person, and very open to meeting new people. He's the easiest to fall into his yandere tendencies. He's basically a puppy whenever reader is around. He doesn't see anything wrong with his feelings ignoring how twisted they get the longer he's around them. You capture his attention as you don't necessarily push his overbearingness away like he's used to with everyone is. It's not like you can with how he's practically glued himself to your side.

Allura is a bit more on the umm condescending side? I don't want to say condescending, but she does feel like she has to help you learn space life. She enjoys teaching you about the ship and her planets history, of all the planets they've visited. Allura might actually see herself above you as she believes she holds more experience and knowledge of the universe than you do due to your previously mentioned childlike amazement. I think she might even see herself as your teacher, a master, and you her student. Little does she know that you are much familiar with the things she speaks of.

Now for the paladins that would be hesitant in the growing obsession, Hunk, Pidge and Keith.

Hunk is naturally a wary person when it comes to new people. Especially if he feels the vibes are off. I mean, here comes in a new person on the team that happens to know a little bit too much about them, about him! Like how do you know his name before meeting him? He's hesitant on being near you but seeing how kind you are to Lance of all people causes his a rift in his feelings. Maybe you aren't a bad person after all? He'd start growing a bit more protective of you each day the longer you guys hangout. Is this a good thing or a bad thing; only time will tell.

Pidge is standoffish to anyone who seems to know more than what they're letting on. She can tell it on you face when you look at her with a sense of familiarity despite her never having met you. She tries her best to block off the feelings of wanting to get closer to you, to hear you laugh at her jokes the same way you do with Lance and Hunk. There's not much she can do (does she even fight it anymore at this point) when you begin approaching her, mentioning some of her interests to continue talking to her. You seem to know exactly what to say to lower her guard, and she honestly doesn't know how to feel about that.

Keith is a double edged sword tbh. He'd be hesitant to get near you with these unfamiliar feelings flooding him. So he would either awkwardly get used to your prodding or he'd be quite aggressive with your presence. If we're talking about earlier season Keith, than I think he would most likely be the latter. He'd try interrogating you when know one's around. He'd try to get you to admit to something, anything to confirm his growing emotions are of suspicion instead of interest. He's immediately conflicted though once you turn emotionally at his barad of questions and accusations. He apologizes in a quiet voice and leaves, but one things for sure. He never wants you to look at him with the same fear you just did moments before.

Reader is just trying to get the plot to continue because hellooo?? The universe needs saving??

Reader knows EVERYTHING about the show and about the people they are now personally familiar with. However, they fail to realize the dark turn of events their presence brought to the team.

Sure they're acting a little unusual to how they normally would be on the show but it's not that big of a deal, right? Right?

Unrelated, but can you imagine how they would react to finding out reader is from another universe?? Even if you were to reassure them that you wouldn't be able to go back anyways, their paranoia would skyrocket.

If you were to die in their universe the same way you died in your universe, there's a chance that you'll get transported to another world! A world where you'll live without them. A world they'll never be able to reach. A world without them.

That thought alone terrifies them, so that's honestly when the true horror kicks in. BUT THAT'S FOR A DIFFERENT TIME!!!!

Everyone is wary of you at first, but with the strange emotions growing in them, they can't deny that your presence brings them an overwhelming sense of peace.

Their possessiveness will definitely set some alarms in your head but you stay in denial. You don’t want to believe that you may have, irreversibly, changed the Voltron universe.

A big question to think about is if you're gonna regret being isekai'd into this universe because they won't stay sweet for long.

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year ago

Text

The mission was fine.

It wasn’t even a big one. It wasn’t even complicated. There were hardly any stakes.

Keith is exhausted.

He doesn’t know where it comes from, to bone-deep fatigue. Maybe it’s the way he’s struggled to sleep right his whole life, maybe it’s the tumultuous nature of being a paladin, maybe it’s the will of God. Who fucking knows. Not Keith.

He feels leaden. He doesn’t know how he summons the strength to walk to his room, doesn’t even remember doing the walking. He presses a heavy hand to the lockpad and keeps it there as the door open, because he realises abruptly that this is it, this is where it ends. The lockpad is currently holding him up. He can go no further — there is not a kilowatt of energy left in his body.

“Keith? What took so long? We landed at the same time but it’s been nearly fifteen — oh, baby.”

Keith’s vision is deeply unfocused, so he can’t see exactly, but he hears the soft thump of something set on a surface, then the familiar slide of Lance’s slippers against the floor.

Cold fingers resting gently on the side of his face shock him somewhat out of his stupor, and he blinks away the blurriness, focusing now on the face of his partner in front of him, eyebrows creased and brown eyes clouded in worry.

“‘M so tired,” Keith croaks before Lance can ask. He pitches forward and he’s damn lucky Lance is there to catch him, to stabilize his head on his collarbones and run gentle fingers through his tangled, sweaty hair.

“I see that,” Lance murmurs, troubled quality to his voice. He’s stunningly careful with his hands, taking time every time his fingers curl around a knot to untangle it without pulling, without hurting. He scratches the back of Keith’s scalp softly and Keith thinks he might just turn to liquid in Lance’s hands.

Lance presses a kiss to the crown of Keith’s head and then stays there, lips pressed to skin, hands falling down his sides to rest at his hips. “D’you know why?”

Keith shakes his head, exhaling long and slow, sagging deeper into Lance as he does.

Sometimes he just…gets like this.

He remembers how it would cost him at the Garrison. He would sink into these episodes of pure, endless, soul-leeching tiredness, weighed like a rock in his bed, asleep but aware of the hours and hours passing. When he shuts off like this time feels like thick honey, and he is trapped in the thick of it, trying desperately to yank his way through and only succeeding to get himself stuck further. He is a fly in a glue trap; the life is leeching out of him and he’s too groggy to panic about it.

Lance knows this, and Lance has never faulted him for it. It’s more than Keith has ever had before, more than he knows he deserves, deadweight as he is.

“C’mon,” he says, and then Keith is being tugged. Boneless as he is he does not resist, stumbling after Lance into their room, door sliding shut behind them. Lance tugs them further than expected, past their bed and to the ensuite, and he must read the distress in Keith’s face because he laces their fingers together and says in the same voice he uses when everything has gone to shit and Lance is their last hail mary: “Trust me.”

And Keith does.

Lance stops them a couple steps into the small room, moving Keith’s limbs for him so he’s leaned against the counter. He’s already down to his underclothes but doesn’t bother with himself for a moment, instead making quick work of the latches of Keith’s armour. He starts on the chest plate, unlatching it and pulling it off, letting it clatter to the floor. Keith is surprised at the relief it brings, at the extra breath that settles into his lungs.

Altean armour is made to be lightweight, but as Lance meticulously peels off every pieces of it from his shoulder pads to his boots, Keith feels as if one of the dozens of rocks on his shoulders has been removed, as if things are just a little bit lighter. Brazened by the newfound relief, however minuscule, he lifts his hands and reaches behind him to unzip his flightsuit, only to be stopped by fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Let me,” Lance says quietly. Keith wants to protest but there’s the look in Lance’s eyes again, a bid for trust, an assurance that he can handle it, so Keith lets his hand drop back down to his side. Lance looks pleased, tugging down the long zipper and pulling the skintight fabric over Keith’s shoulders, down his hips, all the way down to his feet where he pauses for Keith to step out of them. Keith’s face burns, humiliated at his own babyishness, at his inability to undress himself like an adult; hell, like a kid. He knows Lance and he knows there are no unkind thoughts in his head right now, knows Lance has done this and more and for people in worse states than Keith, knows Lance has played nursemaid and clinician and sober friend and every other role where someone couldn’t function on their own and needed someone steady to function for them, because at the core of him Lance is whoever people need him to be. Because Lance will stretch and mold himself to help and help and help because he is painfully, endlessly, unbelievably kind, for all his brashness and bravado.

But the humiliation still warms him from head to toe, still makes acid churn in his stomach, still makes something crooked and twisted sneer in the back of his mind and whispers you think he will still respect you after this? after weakness? and Keith lets it echo because he can’t fight that sentiment off even when he has the energy to undress himself.

Skin still heated with his mortification, he watches as Lance quickly strips himself, stepping to the shower and turning the dials with great concentration. The sight makes Keith’s lip twitch involuntarily, at the furrow of his brow and tongue peeking out between his teeth. He stands with his hand under the water for well over a minute until he’s satisfied with the water, nodding to himself once before shaking out his wet hand and turning back to Keith.

Wordlessly, he links their fingers together again, squeezing three times in quick succession. He pulls Keith in and closes the curtain behind him, manoeuvring him so he’s under the stream, water soaking into his hair and pelting his bent neck and tense shoulders. It’s hotter than how he would usually have it, but surprisingly the extra heat is like a balm to his worn muscles, and it’s a struggle to keep himself upright.

He has no idea how long he stands under the spray. The only measure of time he has is Lance’s humming and the steam that slowly fills the shower.

Eventually though he forces himself upright, jaw set. He needs to wash off, needs to push through. He has been coddled enough — he is a grown man. He is a paladin of Voltron, whom others depend on for survival. What would they say if they saw him like this, struggling to wash himself, to move on his own? The faith in the universe’s strongest weapon would crumble in an instant. The fate of the universe would rest even heavier on Keith’s shoulders.

He counts to three in his head then forces himself to move, tried and true method. He catches Lance’s eye when he lifts his head, and Lance smiles at him. (He’s beautiful, all the time, but when he smiles he becomes for a moment the most stunning thing in the universe. Keith has seen so much of it and so he is sure.) He offers a weak smile back, because it’s almost impossible not to, and reaches around him for the shampoo bottle. For the third time that evening, Lance fingers wrap themselves around Keith’s wrist, stilling him.

“Let me,” he says again, and his voice is equally as quiet, equally as steady. “Let me help you.”

He holds Keith’s gaze and his expression is unreadable not because Keith can’t understand what emotion it conveys, but because it doesn’t fit, it isn’t right, what has Keith ever done to warrant that gentleness? What has Keith ever done to bring out such an intensity, such a single minded focus on taking care of Keith, as if he hasn’t been the one to care for himself his entire life? As if he isn’t the one who is meant to be doing the protecting, the caring? Keith is supposed to be strong. He is strong. He doesn’t need to be handled like strained glass, like the tip of a prince rupert’s drop, explosive under pressure. He can handle himself. He can.

“Please.” Lance’s grip loosens, slick anyway with soap, and he slides his fingertips down the palm of Keith’s hand, tracing small circles on the calloused flesh. “I want to.”

Keith makes a noise he’s never made before, a punched-out, hollow kind of sob. The last dregs of strength, of stubbornness that kept him standing, leave him. He slides to the floor, knees first and then they aren’t enough to hold him either. The tile is icy cold on his thighs, at direct odds with the heat of the water still raining hard down his back.

Keith starts to cry, and no amount of steam or water flow will hide it. The sobs and wails that rip their way out of his throat and chest are horrible, broken things, painful in the way they jerk him around, louder and more wretched than anything he’s ever sounded like before, ever. He knows he cried when he lost Shiro and he knows he cried when Shiro lost Adam and he knows he cried when he lost his Pa and a million times before and after. Keith has spent a lot of tears; they come when he’s frustrated or hurting or frightened and he hates the way they make him look small. But never has he ever clutched himself desperately together as hurt tears itself out of his lungs and burns his eyes, never has his body wracked with the effort of expelling this hurt from him.

He doesn’t understand where it’s come from.

The mission was fine.

There’s a click and a squirt, loud enough to be audible even over Keith’s cries. Seconds later Lance’s hands are in his hair again, fingers combing out the tangles, palms lathering soap deep into his roots. He takes his time to massage the soap deeply into Keith’s scalp, every so often moving his soap-covered hands to rub into his neck, his shoulders, his back. Over the course of Keith’s tears he hears the click of the bottle again and again as Lance moves to a different place in his body, spending careful amounts of time cleaning and caressing until the tightness in Keith’s muscles recede by pure loving force. Keith knows Lance is satisfied when his hands stray away for a moment and the stream of shower water is shifted, high-pressure stream shifting to feel more like the trickle of a creek, drizzling in rivulets down the dips and hills of his spine, his hips, his thighs. No soap ever stings Keith’s eyes, and soon the sound of Lance’s humming soothes some of the wound-up ache in his chest. The floral scent of the soap, of Lance’s soap, plays a part in the relief, too, a scent he has associated with security for longer than he has realised.

Soon Lance’s love is pressed into every inch of his skin, and the bonelessness laden in his body feels less like a sapping of energy and more like a moment of rest.

The steam still wraps warmly around Keith when the shower head turns off, and the weight of Lance’s hand on the wide expanse of his back is heavy and reassuring, rising and falling with each of his stuttered breaths. His finger traces a line across the base of Keith’s ribs and up the side of his chest, making him shiver, hugging the curve of his pectoral and travelling over the swell of his shoulder, running a line down Keith’s arms until it rests finally at the base of his wrist, where it circles once before linking around Keith’s pointer finger, tugging him gently to his feet, steady, and out of the shower. He stands eyes closed on the soft bathmat, water dripping steadily from his soaked hair, eyes burning from his tears and lips trembling.

Something soft and warm brushes against the curve of his ribs, tickling him slightly, making his muscles twitch and quiver. Lance drags the towel over his skin, mapping it in the same, slow, gentle way he washed it, soaking up the water and exchanging the wet towel for a new one three whole times before he finally gets to Keith’s hair. His fingers are deft then, too, digging the towel through his locks to squeeze out the water, pull it back from where it was stuck, soaked, to his skin.

Lance leaves the towel draped over his head as he begins to tug Keith out of the bathroom. Keith still has — he keeps his eyes closed, because he doesn’t think he can open them, because right now, he truly is fragile. He is tittering on the edge of somewhere he’s never been before, and he knows opening his eyes will send him careening over, and he’s not ready to fall quite yet. He trusts Lance to guide him, anyway.

Lance’s soft humming never breaks as he stands Keith in the middle of the room and then putters around; fabric rustling, more tubes and bottles clicking, some other sounds Keith can’t identify. When he comes back to Keith his hands are coated in something creamy and cool and fragrant, and he takes his time working the lotion into Keith’s skin like he did the soap; meticulous, fingers moving in small tight circles from area to area. He doesn’t miss a single square inch of Keith’s skin. By the time he finishes the stutter in Keith’s breath has faded and he’s steady, now, every time he inflates his lungs. He no longer feels the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

He moves where Lance’s hands guide him, eyes still closed, stepping into soft pyjama pants and a loose t-shirt. When Lance pushes gently on his shoulders he sinks to the floor, feeling Lance settle on the bed behind him, leg on either side of him and fingers tilting back his head to rest against his stomach. He starts the comb at the end of Keith’s hair, carefully working through the thinner and more knotted pieces, before slowly making his way up to the roots and combing it all back. The drag of the teeth along his scalp is nice, but it’s nicer when Lance switches back to his hands, nails less abrasive and impersonal. He thinks Lance ties his hair back into a French braid, strands of hair pulled taut but not tight, not painful.

When Lance pulls gently on his shoulder, kindly asking him up, is when Keith finally finds within himself the strength to open his eyes, to fall, to careen off that edge. Lance is looking at him so lovingly, eyes dark as packed Earth, and inside them Keith melts and crumbles and rises again.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hoarse and crackling.

Lance smiles until crinkles form at the corners of his eyes. He cups Keith’s face in his hand and presses the softest of kisses to his lips, unexpectant and open and inviting. He pulls away but doesn’t go far.

“Of course,” he says, and it doesn’t escape Keith’s notice that he says it instead of you’re welcome, instead of no problem; of course, I will hold your weight, of course, I will help you remove your armour, of course, I will wash you, cleanse you, caress and anoint you. Of course, of course, of course. I would consider no other options. “I love you.”

You are not the first to love me, Keith thinks, impossibly, as he crawls into the sheets Lance has turned over for him, curls into him as Lance flicks off their lamp, tucks their sheets around them. He thinks of fathers and brothers and distant distant distant mothers, of teammates and father-uncle-figures and sisters and brothers, as Lance wraps his long arms around him, tucks his face into his neck. Keith thinks, No one has loved me like this.

“I love you too,” he says, pressing his lips to the hollow of Lance’s throat, and he thinks You are my centre of gravity. He thinks there is no weakness in the way he is loved. He thinks all he has left after being stripped to his soul is the strength Lance has wrapped around him.

He thinks he is so, so grateful, to love and be loved by Lance.

———

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