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a-fools-errand · 1 year

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New fic idea? With no title yet? And I don’t really have a summary just yet, but basically it’s a voltron The Forest au (bc ive been playing way too much of that game). Think a bit like the tv show Lost? Or The Wilds? But with more comedy and it’s also pretty close to crack treated seriously, featuring Keith having to be the leader of a ragtag group of survivors as everyone slowly becomes more crazy than even he is. And Lance being a badass, and everyone being a badass really. Anyway, let me know if you think it’s interesting enough to post on ao3??

Also! I should note, Keith and Lance are strangers in this fic and I, for one, firmly believe that Lance would flirt with anything with legs if it wasn't for the fact that Keith and him were rivals in canon.

CW: A plane crash, minor injuries including bruising and a bit of blood, and a dead body

----

Keith’s head was ringing something fierce as he came back to a slow consciousness. God, maybe this was why he never slept on planes if this was the apparent outcome. He blinked out the stubborn weariness from his eyes. The sound -the real sound- slowly welled back up, birds chirping distantly.

…Wait, birds? Why would he be hearing birds on a plane-?

And that’s when he saw it. Over the tops of the shitty main cabin seats in front of him, between the useless dangling oxygen masks, there was a forest.

Not like out the window or like some fake painted on trees to make it not seem like they weren’t in a metal tube flying high in the sky. There was an actual forest filled with actual trees a good few rows in front of him, all framed by the broken-in-half plane.

Ok, no, maybe he did sleep on planes because that absolutely wasn’t real. Not a chance in hell. Keith sat up to try and find more evidence that this was clearly just a stress dream, only to cry out in abrupt stabbing pain from his midsection. He looked down, wincing as he pulled out his shirt slightly. He was met with his own skin painted with a mirage of angry purples and blues around the edges of where the thick seatbelt still held him in place.

A bruise. He had a bruise all along his lower stomach. Which would make sense to have if the seatbelt stopped him from going forward extremely abruptly. Like, let’s say, in the event of a plane going from some super fast speed that Shiro would know to an absolute and utter zero. And that only happened when…

In a second of what he would later convince himself was momentary hysteria, all he could think was, damn, looks like we aren’t making it to the connecting terminal on time.

He then much more rationally jolted forward in his seat again (and was greeted with the same sparking pain) at the fact that the plane had fucking crashed. What the fuck? What the FUCK?!

As quick as lightning, Keith undid the stupid seatbelt and turned to Shiro beside him. The man was still out like a light, but breathing, thank fuck. He checked diligently for anything seriously wrong (shrapnel, lacerations, currently bleeding anything- oh god, oh fuck? What was happening?).

Somewhere near Shiro’s hair and all across his nose area was covered in dried blood, a bruise forming around the former. That definitely meant a concussion, right? Keith wasn’t a doctor, he had no idea how to check that. The blood seemed to be slowing to a crawl, which was probably good.

There wasn’t anything majorly wrong on his body so it seemed. Or at least, there wasn’t anything wrong that wasn’t already wrong. His arm was missing, which sounded terrible until it was taken into account that it was his already amputated arm… From a plane crash… A different plane crash… Oh, Shiro was going to be so pissed when he woke up. Who gets into two plane crashes??

A groan coming from directly behind him derailed that train of thought. Keith whipped around to look at the source of the noise (much to his strongly protesting body). A tanned, narrow-faced guy somewhere around Keith’s own age was slowly blinking his way into consciousness just like Keith had. His face was full of freckles and what looked like only a few slight bruises from where Keith could see. Overall, the other… survivor looked to be in about as good a shape as Keith was.

Jesus, just the thought of saying ‘survivor’ was not really sinking in. They had survived a fucking plane crash. That wasn’t a thing that just happened, much less twice in Shiro’s case. He even joked that he was flying with Shiro because lightning never struck the same spot twice. Evidently, it fucking did. Maybe he shouldn’t have tempted the universe like that…

“Mullet?”

Keith refocused on the guy now staring at him, scoffing at the incredibly slurred and equally confused ‘nickname’.

“Are you… dying or whatever?” Keith asked.

The guy tilted his head, his face scrunching up at the question until he refocused on the mask sitting securely on his nose. He yanked it off as careful as a band-aid, watching it strangely as it bounced back up toward the ceiling.

The guy turned back to Keith, a silent question in his eyes. It seemed to answer itself though, as the stranger’s widening eyes filled with the soft sunlight trickling in over Keith’s shoulder.

“Ho-ly crow,” The other survivor shook himself like that’d get him to wake up. Keith understood the feeling.

“I… I think the plane went down,” Keith winced at his own statement. Obviously the fucking plane went down. No plane landed fine with only half of it left, especially not just the back half.

“Looks like it,” The guy replied hollowly before his face filled with alarm, “Oh my god! Hunk! Pidge!”

Blue Shirt (he really needed to learn this guy's name, but that would have to do for now) turned to his oddly named friends. Which was Hunk and which one was Pidge, Keith had no idea. They seemed to be like Shiro, alive but not quite up yet, if the sigh of relief Blue Shirt let out said anything.

The guy turned back to Keith with a lot more awareness, “What happened??”

“Like I said, the plane-”

“No, no, I don’t need the obvious! Clearly!” The guy frantically gestured over the seats, “I meant like, how are we even, you know?”

“Alive?” Keith finished, “I don’t have a damn clue.”

“And what about everyone else?” Blue Shirt asked.

Keith tilted his head.

“Like, the other people. There was a- a cute, little elderly couple right over there,” Blue Shirt pointed across the aisle, “Where did they go? Where did everyone else go?”

Probably thrown from the plane, Keith’s mind darkly supplied. He didn’t, however, want to come off as a complete freak to the only other survivor awake right now.

“Maybe they already got out?” Keith tried (and failed) to sound optimistic.

The guy frowned, seemingly trying to process that, “...Right. Okay. And they probably just left us because… because… Because! They didn’t know how injured we were, and that’s, like, a rule! Totally! You don’t move the injured people because their spines could be damaged and everything! Trust me, I’ve watched all of Grey’s Anatomy, even the truly bad seasons.”

Very trust-inducing, Keith didn’t voice. He nodded tentatively despite that thought.

Blue shirt stood- oh goddamnit, this was getting annoying, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Hm?” The guy stretched out in the aisleway, pain evident in his face, “Oh, um, right. The name’s Lance, but you can call me the man of your dreams.”

“W- what?” Keith definitely didn’t squeak that out. Also his face definitely didn’t go tomato red. Also his heart didn’t feel like it just had a palpitation. Also- You know what, shut the fuck up. How was he supposed to react to that?? Who realized they were in a plane crash and immediately f- flirts with the only other awake survivor???

Lance (the man of Keith’s apparent dreams, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the-) grimaced in what looked like sincere apology, “Sorry, sorry, not the place. I think my head’s a bit, uh, scrambled, you know? From all this? Anyway, what’s your name, Mullet Man?”

“...Keith,” He dragged out of his mouth (stop fucking staring at the pretty guy who just trauma-flirted with you), “And it’s not a mullet.”

Lance put a hand on his hips, or tried to. He winced at the touch and let it drop, “Puh-lease. I spotted that thing the moment you walked on the plane. Shorter in the front?”

“I guess,” Keith answered tersely.

“And longer in the back?” Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Ha! See, that’s literally the definition of a mullet: business in the front party in the-” Lance abruptly choked on the air, hand going to cover his mouth as his eyes went wide as saucers. He stumbled backwards, grabbing on to the flimsy blue seats to stop himself from falling completely, “O- oh my god.”

Keith stood ready to catch Lance, expecting to see him losing blood or something, “What’s wrong?”

With a face three shades paler, Lance pointed over Keith’s shoulder. Was… was he just now processing their wrecked plane? Even after they talked about it? Nevermind. Trauma was weird sometimes. That was what his old therapist used to say at least. Maybe it was still settling and that’s why Lance kept going on weird, unnecessarily long tangents?

“The plane crashed,” Keith repeated slowly like he was talking to a spooked deer, “Are you hurt or-?”

“N- no, Keith, look,” Lance demanded, voice shaking.

Keith turned in confusion to follow Lance’s eyes only to be meet with-

Oh.

A woman -one of the stewardesses, Keith assumed by the neatly pressed uniform- laid dead-eyed in front of them. Her limbs were sprawled out, her head haloed by the bent edges of where the broken plane met the open air. Grimly, Keith thought that that made sense. Of course not everyone would survive a goddamn plane crash.

But then he noticed what killed her. It wasn't being tossed by the aggressive turbulence, nor was it the excess metal shrapnel from around the edge of their halved plane, no.

Glimmering there in all the glory of the midday sun was a bloodied axe buried squarely in the middle of her chest.

#voltron fic #the forest au #klance fanfiction #fanfic #keith voltron #lance voltron #shiro voltron #hunk voltron #pidge voltron #allura voltron #coran voltron #those two will eventually be in it #leader Keith #and everyone else is a little bit crazy #where are all the other survivors?#whats going on?#read and find out ooooo!#klance

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klanceficatalogue · 7 months

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Do you have any more secret relationship fics? I'm a sucker for those :D <3

indeed <3 - k

Ain't No River Wide Enough (To Keep Me From Getting To You, Babe) by negativefouriq (2/2 | 4,032 | Mature)

Lance finishes rubbing the lotion into his legs and sets it back on the bedside table, leaning over the laptop screen to grab his hairbrush. He mutters a near-silent “Shit, sorry,” as he accidentally bumps the screen with his chest, catching the edge of his robe on the corner of the screen and loosening it. He adjusts the screen again, carefully grabbing his brush and moving back away so as not to hit it again. When he settles back onto the bed, he catches Keith’s eyes looking hastily back to his face, again. He shakes his head fondly as he untwists his towel from his hair and starts to brush through the damp curls. Poor Keith. Must be hard for him to do anything…fun, ahem, in shared barracks. Rip to him, honestly, because Lance does not have that problem. Say what you will about the castle, but at least he has his own room and a lock on his door. “You’re distracted today,” Lance comments, smirking slightly. He lets his robe slip down his shoulder, watching Keith’s eyes follow the movement. “Am not,” Keith protests. --- OR: Keith and Lance video chat. They both drive each other a little batty.

White light in your arms tonight by mustardlord (1/1 | 4,056 | Teen and Up)

Lance had been in the pod for one movement, and if the team noticed Keith spent his days next to Lance, they didn't mention it. He would stay on his side, often skipping meals and forgetting to take care of himself. He sometimes went to the training grounds when it was all too much. Keith set the training bots to a high difficulty and got his ass handed to him, but at least he didn't worry about anything other than fighting. or After a month secretly together, Lance suffers an accident and Keith doesn't know what to do with himself.

//violence //temporary character death

you're a dream to me by icedpink (1/1 | 6,107 | Teen and Up)

"Did you know you snore?" Keith asks, still laughing. The team finds out about Keith and Lance's relationship due to snoring, of all things.

#asks #anon #klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #voltron fic #vld fic #completed #one shot #secret relationship #established relationship #1to5k #teen and up

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haryuusart · 6 months

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New chapter to my fic!

If you’d like to, please check it out ♥

It’s a Song fic, Alternate universe, with lots of Angst, Fluff, love at first sight and enemies to lovers :)

Tags if you’re interested:

Angst

Fluff

Fluff and Angst

Pining Keith (Voltron)

Pining Lance (Voltron)

Mutual Pining

Gay Keith (Voltron)

Bisexual Lance (Voltron)

Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt

Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron)

Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Adoptive Siblings

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Falling In Love

Dorks in Love

Love Confessions

Slow Burn

Love at First Sight

Swearing

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Alternate Universe - College/University

Adopted Keith (Voltron)

Panic Attacks

Past Relationship(s)

Abusive Relationships

it's in the past don't worry

Eventual Smut

Keith is a pianist

Lance is a bartender

Pidge and Hunk are guitarists

Shiro is a pianist

Allura is a violinist

Grief/Mourning

Songfic

Hurt/Comfort

Getting Together

#klance #vld #klance fic #klance ff #klance fanfic #klance fanfiction #voltron #voltron fic #voltron fanfic #keith x lance #lance x keith #lance mcclain #keith kogane #angst #fluff #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #alternate universe #songfic

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saratogaroadwrites · 10 months

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Promise

promise | saratogaroad rating: G wordcount: 1913 characters: Shiro, Keith, Reader (GN-OC) relationships: Shiro/Reader other tags: Grief/Mourning, reunions warnings: None.

You sigh against his shoulder, but he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are warm, filled with love that makes your heart grow in size. He puts his hand on your cheek.

"Hey." He kisses your forehead, your nose. "I'll come back. I promise."

---- What if Shiro left behind an S/O when he left for the Kerberos Mission? A year is a very long time to wait. (Written pre-Season 2, and long before we knew Adam existed. Tried to keep it gender-neutral all the same.)

You've been dating Shiro--Takashi Shirogane but he really does prefer Shiro--for almost a year when he's assigned to the Kerberos mission. Pluto's fourth moon, you can't even see the thing from the telescope you've dragged up onto the Garrison's flat roof. The fact that it's too cloudy to make out even Mars doesn't help, but Shiro smiles at your attempts anyway.

"Hey," He says as you plop down beside him, frustrated, "It's only for a year." He reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, rubbing your shoulder as you lean against him. "I'll be back before you know it."

"A year's a long time, Takashi." You say in response, the rare use of his given name turning his smile wry. He pulls you in closer until you're almost smushed together, the pulse in his neck strong beneath your ear.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder." You can hear him grin, sure and confident. You love that about him. Barely graduated with last year's class and already taking a science team to the outer reaches of the system. Sure, it's just a science mission and they'll be back within a year, but it's not just any prodigy that gets chosen for this. "Though you're pretty fond of me already."

"Oh," You laugh, "I'll show you fond!"

There's a certain heat to the kiss, a certain heat that pools in your belly every time he kisses you like this, and you run your fingers through his short cropped hair to pull him close, his hands on your back to do the same. You kiss until you're both breathless, flushed and leaning on one another. Below, the Garrison calls for lights out in ten minutes. You sigh against his shoulder, but he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are warm, filled with love that makes your heart grow in size. He puts his hand on your cheek.

"Hey." He kisses your forehead, your nose. "I'll come back. I promise."

----

He lied. He doesn't come back.

----

Life goes on like it always has after he's gone. The Garrison has a moment of silence, both for Shiro and the Holts, but nothing changes. Classes, assignments, internships and training...it's all the same. Only the color's been leeched out, you think to yourself, drained through the Shiro-shaped hole in your chest. He was gone for so long that his dorm was already long cold, his scent faded. His things are boxed in your dorm where he asked you to keep them, clothes and accolades and personal effects. There's no next of kin, family long gone and buried. There was just you, Shiro, and Keith.

Keith, who gets himself kicked from the Garrison within a month of Shiro's death. Shiro was his anchor, his best friend, his reason to be better, and now Shiro is gone. There is just you and Keith now, and you're not an anchor. Not the kind he needs, anyway. You spend what free time you have with Keith, trying to keep him from collapsing in on himself like the star you and Shiro knew he could be, even if in the desert the only thing that'll come down is the ramshackle hut he calls home. You don't talk much--the only connection you had was Shiro--but you think he appreciates you being there anyway.

"Do you think he's out there?" He asks you one late night, when everything is pitch dark except for the moon and stars. Trying to find Kerberos through the viewfinder of a telescope, you don't look up even as your heart skips a beat and your stomach knots itself up again. You know who he's talking about, know the Shiro-shaped hole in your chest with its still throbbing edges.

He has one, too.

You sigh, sitting back on your hands. Stars glimmer overhead, as they always have. As they always will. Shiro's hands ghost through your hair, grown out since the last time you saw him. Everything's the same, everything's changed. You swallow hard.

"...I don't know, Keith," You say, unable to voice the words you know to be true. That Shiro really is dead and gone, not just trapped somewhere like in those novels you used to laugh over together. "I don't know." ---

Months pass. A year since Shiro left comes and goes without fanfare, without mention. Classes are ongoing, graduation for your year next month. Cadets wash in, cadets wash out. Life continues as it always has.

Until, one night, it doesn't. Keith calls you in the dead of night, the hour so late it's early. He tells you to come to the shack, that he needs your eyes. He never calls, not without a good reason, and so you go. He picks you up at the edge of the Garrison property, hoverbike eating up the desert like it's so much paved road. The shack stands, his notes and diagrams and charts pinned to the wall. You've been out here doing this before, helping him look for whatever calls him to those cliffs and canyons, but there's more to work with now.

"I've almost got it," He says to you as you tack a photo to the wall, uncaring of your eyes wanting to close and stay closed for a few hours. "I just..." He rakes both hands through his hair, the bags under his eyes thicker than before. "I...Shiro would have figured it out by now."

He's right, you think to yourself. Shiro would know what to do. But he's not here anymore. He'll never be here again.

You still can't bring yourself to say it. It's been a year, but you can't bring yourself to say he's gone. There's a new name on the marker the Garrison has, for those lost to the stars and space in the name of Progress, three new names and a small memorial ceremony the day they were revealed, but you still can't say it even to yourself.

"...Yeah," You finally whisper, smoothing wrinkled papers just to do something with your hands. "He would have."

Keith's next words die in a wash of fire. You both rush to the window as it lights up like daylight, like sunrise. Only it's not. It's a fireball. He's a step ahead of you to rush outside, heat like summer cooking the desert sand as a fireball lights the sky. You watch it go, the shape irregular, metals gleaming in the light of re-entry. It's not a meteor. It's a sort of pod, black even against the flames that chase it down. Thoughts of a missile, of an attack on the Garrison, pass through your mind before they go up in flames as the thing, whatever it is, crashes into the desert with a plume of dust, not smoke and fire. Not a missile then, but what?

Keith is on his bike before you can turn to ask, calling that he's going to check this out, and he's gone before you can react or even hope to stop him.

Again, you are alone.

You hope the Shiro-shaped hole in your chest doesn't add a Keith-sized addition to it tonight, but he has your only ride out of the desert. There is nothing to do but wait, tidying the tiny shack and stacking boxes. There's some of Shiro's things here, clothes and books that make your heart jump to your throat even though you knew they'd be here. For the thousandth time, you wish he was here, back with you, back after the mission was completed with flying colors.

For the thousandth time, he is not here.

The roar of Keith's bike jolts you away from the sadness, throaty and heavier than before, as if carrying a weight it's not meant to carry. You throw the door open, step into the desert wind, and stare. There are five on a bike meant for two at the most, Keith and three faces that you know, sort of. They're in a younger year, faces passed in the hallways and names passed in gossip. They aren't your focus. Your focus is on the man between Keith and the lanky one as they jump down, on a familiar face you thought you'd never see again.

Shiro.

Your voice has left you, heart pounding as they stumble past. It's Shiro. His face is different, cheekbones hollowed out and skin pale in a way you've never seen him before, a shock of white in his overgrown hair that was once all black. But it's him. You'd know him anywhere.

"What happened?" You ask, following them inside, though it's more of a shriek because how is this possible? He was gone and there was a memorial and there was nothing but loss and now he's here again! You want to shake Kieth for answers, but you know that he has as few as you do.

"Sedation," Keith finally grits out as he and the other boy set Shiro down on Keith's cot, the blanket folded neatly in your need to do something. "He'll wake up soon."

And then he's rounding on the others, all bluster and growling and shoving. But your focus isn't on them. It's still on Shiro as you drop to your knees beside the cot, unsure if any of this is real or just an elaborate dream. He's breathing, chest rising and falling beneath the odd black bodysuit and torn purple shirt. He's thinner than before, muscles stark lines along his tall frame, a dark scar across his nose. Slowly, you reach out to touch him. He doesn't disappear, doesn't decay or anything like you'd expect a corspe to do, and you muffle a sob behind your other hand.

He's real. He's really here. You take his hand, squeeze it hard, and don't let go.

An hour passes. Two. Three. Sunrise comes as the silence grows awkward, Keith sitting on the edge of the cot like a hound on guard. The other three huddle in the corner together, unsure and insecure, but you don't lift your gaze from Shiro's slumbering body. You wait, wondering, hoping, praying. He's home he just has to wake up and then--

And then he does. A soft noise, a blink at the ceiling, before he stiffens. His hand in yours goes sweaty, clammy, and he jerks his head to stare at you, eyes wide and face carved into something like terror. Your heart skips a beat even as Keith moves, ready to pull you back if this goes bad, but Shiro stops. Stares at you, pulse racing beneath your fingers. His breath hitches as you hold yours, daring to hope nothing's wrong and he remembers you, daring to hope that he's still Shiro, the man you loved.

The man you still love.

The tense silence stretches. You stare at each other, his eyes meeting yours. But then, slowly, he pulls his hand from yours.

"You're..." His voice is hoarse, raspy from disuse. He stares at you, drinking you in like you're the first person he's seen in a year. Maybe you are. "...You're real?"

You smile, just a little, as your breath catches in your throat and your eyes fill with tears. He reaches up to put a hand on your cheek, gasping as he feels warmth beneath his fingers. Shiro's not a crier, has never been a crier, but in that moment you think he might start. You take his hand in yours again, feeling his pulse racing still.

"I'm real. You're home."

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron fic #shiro x oc #shiro x reader #!fic #series: vows

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nexthecryptid · 22 days

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A/N: I don't have a particular set schedule for posting other than it'll be Wednesday Mornings!

Summary:

Something was happening. That much was obvious.

There had been suspicious reports of 'wildlife' appearing in areas that hadn't had any before, mysterious disappearances that made little to no sense. There could be a threat, the danger of the world of the unknown being exposed.

Keith and his team happened to stumble into it.

Lance and his friends happened to be right in the middle of it.

#voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #klance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #klance fic #keith x lance #langst #a03 fic #nex writes a fic #nex writes yet again #lance vld #keith vld #vld keith #vld lance #voltron fic #vld fic #klangst

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crybabyddl · 1 year

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Looking Sharp

Part 2

Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader

Warning: smut, knife play, degradation, praise, dirty talk, swearing. Please do not interact with this content if you are not 18+

Author’s Note: happy keithtober, happy kinktober let’s fucking gooooo

^^^LMAO it’s been WAYYYY too long. Like, over a year. I’m so sorry to everyone who has been waiting for this bc I’ve racked up quite a taglist for this story alone haha. But seriously, thank you for all the support on part 1 and I hope you enjoy part 2!!!🥰

—

“You, Y/N, are a tease,” Keith’s look turns cold in replacement of the heat from his lustful gaze. “And I’m tired of it. Let’s see just how clean cut you are…”

His voice trails off, as well as his stare. His pupils are redirected to the thin, beautifully crafted knife, and I have no choice but to let my eyes follow.

He drags the weapon agonizingly slowly up my leg. The pressure is feather light. The ghost of Keith’s disconnected touch has my body temperature doing cartwheels.

“When I have you begging me to let you cum as I press this cold, sharp blade on the inside of those precious thighs of yours, shall we?”

Just when I thought my jaw was locked shut in disbelief and awe, his sensual musings easily loosened that tension.

“Y-yes. Oh my god, yes.” I breathe, reaching out for the paladin’s chest to bring him closer.

Keith evades my grasp and moves to spin me around, holding me flush against him. I can feel the dagger’s chill on my neck while his erection meets my backside.

“Not like you had much of a choice.”

—

It was almost too good to be true—somehow Keith knew my body as well as I did. The way he tightened his hold on me whenever I’d try to squirm out of his grasp; the icy stares he’d give me whenever a gasp escaped my lips.

Part of me felt guilty for enjoying this so much. It made no sense, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. My anxiety must’ve been evident on my face, because Keith seemed to notice something was amiss.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice was softer, trading in his raspy, demanding tone for considerate and gentle inflections. The swordsman even lowered his knife, genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.

“Sorry,” I sighed, separating myself from him completely. “It’s just a lot all at once, you know? Plus, I never really thought this would happen. I mean, you’re… you, and I’m just me. It doesn’t make much sense.”

“What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous, Y/N.” Keith’s eyebrows arch as he searches my eyes for an indication of some sort.

“I– well, I just got overwhelmed is all.” I shrugged as my mouth formed a grimace.

“No, not that part. I totally understand that, and I feel it too! I’m talking about the whole ‘you’re you and I’m just me’ thing. Why would you think that?” Keith actually looks pained when he repeats my own words back to me.

“Think about it, Keith. You and I are so different and if something like this never happened, we probably never would’ve known how we felt about each other. And if you take into account our personalities in general, anything between us is bound to end in disaster. Like I said, we don’t make much sense.” I look down at the floor, unable to meet his—without a doubt—awkward sympathetic gaze.

“We don’t have to make sense! We just have to like being around each other! I’ve never felt this way with anyone before; do you know how hard it is for me to admit something like that? There’s no way to know what happens or what’ll become of any of this, but it’s not important right now. I never thought I’d be the one to say that, but it’s the truth.”

“I guess I just thought that you were too good for me. I mean, you’re a paladin of Voltron for fuck’s sake!”

Keith stays silent for a moment, smiling softly to himself as he looks down at the ground.

“Keith?” I try to recapture his attention, waving a hand in front of his face. He laughs again.

“Are you kidding? You’re practically perfect! Smart, kind, funny, a badass fighter, and god, you are so pretty.”

“I’m far from perfect, silly. Besides, that’s how I feel about you!” I feel my cheeks burning, but try my best to ignore it.

Keith closes the distance between us and gently grabs my face with both hands. Before I can think better of it, my hands find their way on top of his, keeping his touch there.

“Will you ever learn to take people for their word?” He chuckles.

I lean into his touch, and I could’ve sworn my heart was beating out of my chest in that moment.

“Probably not.” I shrugged, looking up at the paladin and giving him a sly smirk.

He rips his hands out of my grasp, my cheeks becoming cold from the sudden loss of his touch.

“Well then,” Keith is quick to sweep his leg under me, sure to catch me before I trip, laying me down gently on the floor. My breathing becomes ragged as he positions himself over me. I feel trapped, but I don’t mind it now. “I guess I’ll have to take care of that, won’t I?”

“Good luck with that.” I say nonchalantly, or at least as nonchalantly as possible. I was doting on his every breath, impatiently anticipating what his next words, movements, or touches would be.

“Thanks. Not that I needed the encouragement, but I will say it does help.”

The silence that would’ve formed between us is swiftly overthrown by my sudden gasp as Keith brings his knife back into the equation. He has it against my cheekbone, the blade is horizontal as its steely edge rests upon my skin.

“Does it turn you on that your life is in my hands?”

“I trust you.” I tell him. He would never hurt me, at least not without my consent. Despite his confidence on the battlefield, he was typically quite awkward in conversation.

“Oh, that’s sweet, you think this is about trust. I could do whatever I wanted to with you right now. You’re just my plaything and you won’t be forgetting that by the time I’m done with you.” His smirk is subtle, but it brandishes its image in my brain with hot iron.

He’s still on top of me, but he’s apprehensive, meaning I can still take control of the situation. I use the opportunity to grab him by his collar, yanking him down so his face is mere inches from mine. His dark blue, almost indigo eyes are locked into mine. He seems more vulnerable, but Keith always shields himself from others to some degree.

“Well tough shit, paladin. I don’t answer to anyone but myself.”

“Is that so?” he looks skeptical. “Well if that’s the case, then I guess I’ll be on my way out–”

“Wait!” I place my hand around the back of his neck, releasing my other hand from its grip on the collar of his shirt.

Keith eyes me, offering a quizzical hum.

“Please stay. I was just trying to be sexy and defiant! I don’t actually want you to go.”

While his expression gave no insight as to what he might be feeling, I could tell Keith was affected by my confession. I just wasn’t sure how. He was sitting up straight now, a distance created between us.

The moment was only a few seconds away from being awkward when I heard him scoff. Not only that, but that same smirk from before had returned.

“You were trying to be ‘sexy and defiant’?”

“Uh,” I swallowed hard, but not audibly. “Yeah. Those were the words I chose to say out loud.”

“I’m sure you’re wishing you’d chosen something better to say, aren’t you?” He laughed into the last word he spoke.

I nodded.

“That’s the thing about honesty,” he pauses, leaning back over me, looking directly into my eyes. “It leads to weakness.”

His words sent fire down my sternum. Feeling the cool metal of his blade return to my neck shot that heat downward, pooling in my stomach and searing against my clit.

—

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