#voltron writings

[soadscrawl]

i wasnt gonna post this but that first little doodle had ppl yodeling on instagram so...... camp staff au

[heynhay]

<slides in last minute> i made it to mermay! insp from this lovely piece by @speakswords

[hoperays-song]

I don’t think you’re getting it guys, there are two types of found family: the organized type, with “I chose you and I choose us’, healing together, and nurturing vibes, and the chaotic type, which mainly falls into the “good luck getting rid of me now” category like bringing home stray cats does.

Sometimes it’s just one, other times it’s both combined in some way. And both options are so fucking amazing.

[shatterinseconds]

Keith is beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

The twin suns of the planet become the perfect backdrop, outlining him in shimmering gold. A concerning amount of dried blood paints the side of his face, crusted and flaking. His bottom lip is busted, his nose probably broken, his armor just as dented and bruised. Despite it all, maybe even because of it all, he’s stunning. 

Enough for Lance to stop and stare as he picks himself off the ground after a Galra soldier punted him against the rocky cliff face. His teeth still rattle from the impact; his entire body is a scream of agony, but he manages to stand.

Keith flicks the blood off his bayard before it detransitions from its sword state. He steps over the body of the Galra soldier to stand directly in front of Lance. He pats Lance’s cheek, amused by Lance’s obviousness as a twitch of a smirk presses a dimple into the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t think you hit your head that hard.”

“Shut up.” Lance grins, reaching out to hold Keith close. His free hand, gun still activated by his side, tangles with Keith’s wild hair curling near his jaw. With his helmet lost ages ago, his hair is a wild, sweaty mess, bangs plastered to his forehead. Lance gently brushes a thumb over a newly formed bruise, and Keith’s eyelids flutter at the touch.

They’ve been at war for years. Maybe Lance has gotten too desensitized to things and maybe that’s not a good thing—but that’s something he and his future therapist can discuss whenever—if ever—they return to Earth. But present Lance doesn’t have to worry about why he finds a battle-worn Keith stupidly hot; he accepts it. Because he can. Because they’re dating now. So openly admiring the Red Paladin of Voltron? Fully on the table as suitable options during any time of the day.

“Sue me for thinking my boyfriend’s attractive,” Lance mutters, breathy as if they just kissed but really he’s just tired from the battle, tired from the war. Every day weighs heavily on him but that weight is always easier to bear with two or six.

Keith cups his face with both hands. “I’m glad you survived,” he says instead of ‘I love you.’ 

Because they made some sort of deal with themselves, that since they started dating in the middle of an active war, they promised no ‘I love yous’ to each other, no concrete declarations of long lasting affection, nothing emotionally compromising. In reality, it means the same thing. They both know it does, but they continue to use the placeholder anyways as if the facade makes the situation less personal, less likely to destabilize them if anything were to happen to the other during battle.

Lance leans forward until his forehead rests against Keith’s. “I’m glad you survived too.”

One day he’ll say ‘I love you’ to Keith. One day he’ll say it on the shores of Varadero Beach with his family’s house only a few miles away. One day it will happen. Not if. 

But until then, he wraps his arm around Keith’s waist as they hobble back to the rendezvous spot. He nuzzles his nose into the soft part of Keith’s cheek, ignoring the sweat, dirt, and blood, and smiles as Keith’s hair tickles his nose. Until then, he will whisper those words into Keith’s skin and dream about their future. 

[evi-anxiety]

POV: You're a soldier fighting a war that isn't yours. You quite literally sleep on the battlefield, and you look into space with the hope that one of those stars is your very distant Sun. You might die tomorrow, and you haven't even graduated school yet. But it doesn't matter, because there are thousands of others who perished before learning their own name, and now you must make up for the guilt of even wanting to go home in the first place.

[poseidons-getting-milk]

“Casual” by Chappel Roan except it’s klance and Keith is“knee deep in the passenger seat” of a lion.

[goth1c-pinki3-pi3]

something i can't stop thinking about is how keith had no one to welcome him home. his only connection to earth was shiro, and he was in space, then he found his space mom. So i'd like to offer the idea of keith and lance dating, yes, but when they get to earth and lance gets hugged by everyone in the family, he brings them to keith and is like "this is my boyfriend! and his alien mom! and his alien dog! love him!" and his family does.

[klanced]

when adam met 11yo keith he immediately knew that keith was gay and was like i have GOT to support this kid!! (runs into traffic) meanwhile shiro spent years operating under the assumption that keith had like a gender thing going on

[coolnonsenseworld]

I've heard there are people who don't know what HEX klance is...... so lucky.....

linktr.ee/mezzy

[autisticlancemcclain]

The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.

It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time. 

Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her. 

“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars

One goddamn thing after another. Jesus. 

“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”

Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing. 

“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.

Hell of a man, that advisor. 

He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”

“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”

Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed. 

“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”

Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”

“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”

She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.

“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”

A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it. 

When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet. 

“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.

There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.

“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”

Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”

“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”

“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”

“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?

“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”

Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing. 

Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.

As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different. 

Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it. 

On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed. 

But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one. 

Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)

“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop. 

It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material. 

It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.

“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.

“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.

“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”

“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”

“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”

“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”

“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”

Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge. 

“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –” 

Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

part two

[mothmanavenue]

can i confess something else that will absolutely get me stoned in the town square since im dropping my unpopular opinions. I don’t like altean broadsword Lance. i already disliked red paladin Lance. the broadsword was like rubbing salt in the wound. why couldn’t he have his own niche. why was his character development just making him keith. i understand that it was like “he accepts that he doesn’t have to be a leader and excels as a co-leader and you can find happiness that way yada yada yada”. but you could’ve done that without making him keith. also now give him something unique, cool, that falls in line with his sniper bit. i’m not saying just give him another gun, im saying give him something quiet and lethal. like a garotte. yeah i want garotte lance.

i yap a lot more in my notes by the way if you were interested in other unpopular opinions. don’t send me hate messages or comments i won’t read it and will block viciously i also will not be debating this this is my hill to die on <3

[chaiayatot]

Lance McClain Core

He doesn’t need to explain himself

[heynhay]

woe! klance be upon ye

[serqphiim]

short klance fic + art that goes with it :3

once more to see you.

Keith was always good at keeping things to himself, keeping things secret, but this was getting hard to hide.

Every day was the same, the team called in to be briefed on their mission, and everyone sat together in one room. Keith and Lance as far away from each other as possible, Lance’s gaze flicking to Keith every so often. It was unnoticed by the rest of the team, but Keith always knew. He would quickly look up at Lance, but then turn his attention back to the mission. He couldn’t let himself indulge in things like that for more than a second.

Not here at least, not with everyone watching.

He knew the risks. They all did. The team wasn’t exactly the kind of group to be open about relationships—especially not one that involved the two of them. The consequences would be too big, too...complicated.

————————————

After yet another mission, the paladins all sat down to debrief. Everyone but Keith. The others didn’t seem to notice, but Lance did. Sure, Keith had this whole lone wolf thing going, but it wasn’t like him to just walk off without a word.

Lance excused himself and headed to the training deck, assuming that’s where Keith went.

As he approached the door he could hear heavy punches being thrown.

“Don’t you think you’re pushing yourself a little hard?’ Lance said as he walked into the room.

Keith turns, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. “What do you want, Lance?”

Lance smiles, but it’s a weak attempt at his usual bravado. “You just walked off. I figured I’d come check on you.”

Keith doesn’t respond, just grabs a towel and starts wiping his face. But there’s a tension in his movements, an unspoken acknowledgment of the weight between them.

“Keith,” Lance says softly, his voice losing its edge. “You have to take breaks sometimes. You’re gonna burn out otherwise.”

Keith finally looks at him, his eyes sharp but tired. “What else am I supposed to do? We don’t exactly get breaks, Lance. There’s no time for distractions.”

The word lingers heavily in the air.

Lance stepped closer to Keith. He cautiously turns to see if anyone else is around, not wanting anyone to hear this conversation.

“Is that what this is?” Lance asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “A distraction?”

Keith doesn’t answer for a moment. He looks down, his hands now gripping the towel so tightly his knuckles have turned white. “You know that’s not what I meant. It doesn’t matter what it is anyway. We can’t—”

“We can,” Lance interrupts, his voice stern but still quiet. “No one has to know, we don’t have to say anything. We can keep it—”

“Secret,” Keith finishes, finally meeting Lance’s eyes. “Because that’s what we do, right? Keep it a secret and pretend it’s not there when everyone else is around?”

Lance swallows hard, his chest aching. “I hate this just as much as you do, Keith,” he said, his words laced with frustration. “I hate having to act like nothing’s going on when I—when we—both know the truth.” He’s looking down at his feet now, afraid to look Keith in the eye. “If you want it to stop, it can. Is that what you want?”

Keith’s silence is answer enough. He doesn’t want to stop. But he doesn’t know how to keep going, either—not with the war, the team, the weight of all of it bearing down on them.

Keith reaches out for Lance’s hand before stepping closer to him. The two of them mere inches apart now, Lance looks up at him again.

“You know I don’t want to stop Lance, you know how I feel,” Keith says softly as he leans his forehead against Lance’s.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just stressed. The team already constantly has their eyes on me because they think I’m too impulsive. Imagine how they’d be if they knew about us…” Keith trails off.

“I know, trust me I know,” Lance says as he brings a hand up to Keith’s face, cradling it. “But you can’t let it get to you this much. We might not get to be open about everything, but we still have each other. No matter what.”

Lance held Keith’s face as he planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“You should really take a break though.” He said as he pulled away. “Go take a shower and get some rest.”

Keith let out a small laugh

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in the morning.” Keith says as he squeezes Lance’s hand. As he walks out of the training deck, he turns back one more time. “Goodnight Lance.” he waves before slipping away to his room.

——————————————

The next morning, all the paladins were abruptly woken up by Allura’s voice coming from the comms. Something about an urgent distress call, another planet being attacked by Galra.

After suiting up, Lance headed to the hangar to meet up with his teammates. When he arrives, however, the only paladin there is Keith. For a fleeting moment, it’s just the two of them, waiting in a comfortable silence, their hands intertwined, both enjoying the time alone with the other.

But the moment shatters as the doors open. Keith and Lance step away from each other, the space between them now vast as the other paladins walk in. Shiro begins discussing the plan, everyone listening intently. Keith’s eyes flit up, seeing Lance already staring at him. For an instant, he feels like time is frozen, everything else in the room has disappeared and all he can see is the look in Lance’s eyes. A sympathetic look that he knows is saying I see you, a small, unspoken acknowledgment of the feelings they were both keeping hidden.

Keith forces himself to look away, focusing back on Shiro’s instruction. Lance did the same. Both could feel an ache in their chests.

With everybody watching them, every move they made under constant scrutiny, they would keep their secret. They would protect it, bury it deep where no one could reach—where no one could ruin it. For now, they would endure the silence, waiting for the moment the fate of the universe no longer stood in their way.

[shatterinseconds]

“Baby,” Lance says.

Keith snorts, loud and uncaring. “God no, not in a million years.”

“Alright.” Lance scratches out a line on his pad of paper. “Does that mean babe’s out too?”

Keith wrinkles his nose. “It’s not the best but tolerable.”

“We’ll note that as a strong maybe.” In which Lance actually does mark down a quick note to the side of the list, and Keith catches himself from rolling his eyes.

For the past week, they’ve been staying at Lance’s family home in Cuba while they decide on their next steps in a post Voltron, post war world. They rest on the back patio, facing the backyard that really extends into open land far beyond them, neighbors a mile away at least. It’s quiet and beautiful and even when the commotion of Lance’s entire family is present, it’s one of Keith’s new favorite places in the world. They watch Lance’s niece and nephew for the afternoon while Lance’s older brother runs errands and Lance’s mother prepares dinner.

Keith angles his head closer to Lance, though he’s still mostly blocked by the small table between them, and gestures to the list. “Is this really necessary?”

“Pet names are important to me,” Lance replies with a quirk to the corner of his mouth. The summer breeze, fresh off the ocean and carrying a thin taste of salt, curls through his brown hair. “Mullet is great but I need at least one more that’s affectionate.”

Keith scrunches his nose.

The thing is, all of this is new to Keith. The peace, the stability, having a permanent place to call home again, and… their relationship. They’ve been dancing around each other for years, as their teammates love to complain about, but officially being together, having the ability to call Lance his partner, boyfriend, lover? That all happened less than a couple weeks ago—and yet it already feels timeless.

Seeing Keith’s reluctance, Lance stands to relocate himself on Keith’s lap, settling his full weight on Keith’s thighs. Keith glares, though he moves his hands onto Lance’s hips and his fingers wiggle under Lance’s loose shirt to hunt for warm patches of skin. Lance tugs on his ears, guiding Keith to tilt his head and capture his mouth in a soft kiss. 

And what a lovely kiss it is.

“I’m trying to be nice by giving you a choice.” Lance laughs a little when they break apart, only to lean back down. He stops a hair’s breadth away from Keith’s mouth. When he speaks again, his breath drifts over Keith’s lips, a soft caress. “What about sweetheart, honey bunches, pickle?”

“Okay, now these are just getting ridiculous.” Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist, pulling him closer, and buries his nose into the crook of Lance’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Lance mutters, starting to absently play with Keith’s hair, twirling the long strands around his fingers. “I’m kinda partial to sweetheart.”

“Yeah, that’s not bad,” Keith admits as a faint blush rises on his pale cheeks. He tries to bury his face deeper to cover it, but he should’ve guessed how well that would work out.

A shit-eating grin stretches wide across Lance’s face; Keith can feel it against the side of his head. “I see we’ve found our winner.” Humming, Lance leans down toward Keith’s ear. “Sweetheart.”

Face glowing and mind reeling, Keith shoves Lance off his lap. “Shut up,” he lightly growls, mortified at his own reaction.

Lance arches his head back as he cackles from his spot on the ground, eventually flopping down and pillowing his head with his hands as he lazily stares up at Keith. That shit-eating grin refuses to fall off his face. “Yeah, this is going to be fun.”

And despite Keith’s own face remaining beet red, he can’t help but smile too.

[catsushinyakajima]

I love modern AUs that are like. So specific. I just read a fanfic where the characters were pharm techs in a CVS. The author described their job vividly, from organizing meds to collecting insurance info. It’s so evident that either they’re in that field or are really passionate about it and I love that like okay OP go write about your life to me I’ll read your memoir delivered in fanfic AU style.