#keith x lance fanfic

[fanartsandstuff]

I just love ao3 authors

We live in a beautiful era of people not giving a single fuck

[klance-daydreams]

chapter 21’s kiss scene left me in shambles thank you very much

please go read @heavilycaffeinatedsblog’s klancemas fic silver bells!! i promise you will not regret it!!

[makkis-meanderings]

I grew up being gaslit and queerbaited by media, now you're trying to tell me that I shouldn't be filtering AO3 by >10,000 words, angst, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, pining??

what do you want from me fr??

[slvx0]

Could you do fic recs !! I literally adore the ones you’ve made fanart of

I actually made an entire google doc list of fanfics people have recommended if you would like to look at that!! I haven’t read all of them but maybe you’ll find something you like!!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/11MRmL8MbybDPbegKdYHgI3GdR3goSehrvmPlFdDjUT8/edit

[ht-burrows]

“When Lance's mouth lands on Keith's, his first thought is that Lance's tongue tastes like strawberry candies.”

Now see, I was GOING to try and wait to post tomorrow but I just COULDN’T!!!!

THE VOICES SAID I NEEDED TO POST THIS BECAUSE I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO READ THIS FANFIC OKAY!

And who am I to deny the voices?

DO YOU UNDERSTAND I READ THIS IN A SINGLE 10 HOUR FLIGHT

Now go read this fic🫵 Cause I’m not done with the brainrot!!!

[sikuena]

" get back, back, back to the disaster- my heart's beating faster, holding on to feel the same."

made art for the fic im writing, cringe i know but i like getting ideas down on paper. this is a pretty good first official post for 2025 me thinks

close ups will be one tiktok and insta as always. better quality full image also on twt and deviant art. very excited to actually learn more about drawing bikes and cars this cause this was cheeks i wont lie

[klspacecadet]

Klance fic recommendations (except there are some underrated ones too)

in hits order btw

1.

Mature Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner

2.

[ABANDONED + UNFINISHED] Mature On Thin Ice by Orphaned_Work

3.

Teen and Up (WTF THERE’S NO YELLOW?) Ignorance Is Bliss by @youareinacomawakeup

4.

Mature Something Just Like This by klancekorner

5.

Mature Love Interest by @iwriteshipsnotsailthem

6.

Explicit Time and Tide by @rangoatemybabynsfw

7.

Teen and Up The Shattering of Altea by @youareinacomawakeup

8.

Mature He Who Fights Monsters by magisterpavus

9.

Mature Live For The Fight (When It's All That You Got) by yuu_chi

10.

Teen and Up The Quiet by @MilkTeaMiku

11.

[basically just porn with plot] Explicit The Boys of Altea Studios by @moe20112233

12.

Teen and Up Galra Instincts by @smolstrawberrychara

13.

Teen and Up My Soul Has Your Claim, My Soul Is In Flames by @tellymauve

14.

Teen and Up The Meaning of Donuts by @katranga

15.

Mature Dear Reader by @heavilycaffeinatedsblog

16.

Mature Rising Star by @bsfordays

17.

Teen and Up One Plus One by @luddlestons

18.

Teen and Up Bend it Like Soulmates by @reader115

19.

Teen and Up Convenience by @noussommeslessquelettes

20.

Teen and Up Of Wolves and Wisps by @vulpes--vulpes

lmk if yall want more ^__^

[klancekisszine]

📢EPIC W/DTIYS CONTEST ANNOUNCEMENT📢

Hello Klancers! 💋

Are you getting excited for the many many klance smooches? 💕 Yes? So are we! We can't wait to share with you the awesmazing pieces created by our incredible contributors! 💕

But while we wait for our hardworking mod team to assemble this gorgeous zine and its accompanying goodies, how about a challenge? 💫

And as with all epic challenges, there will be an epic prize! The winner will receive a full bundle - physical zine, merch and digital goodies!* And every entry could become part of our extended digital zine!**

🌟Here is what you need to do:🌟 - follow us - Draw or Write your own version of this beautiful starry painting, created by the lovely Orion @phosphorus-orion [Written entries must not exceed 500 words] - Post your entry on IG, twitter or Tumblr - Make sure to tag our respective socmedia accounts in the post use hashtag #kltruelovekisscontest

The winner will be randomly drawn from all entries over the 3 platforms.***

❗The contest will run from now until Oct 15, closing at the end of day for all time zones. The winner will be drawn and announced on our socials in time for Keith's birthday.

Best of luck, xoxo

*You need to be 16+ to be eligible to enter the contest and only 18+ winners will be provided with the nsfw add-on companion to the zine

**Every participant will be approached and asked if they agree to have their piece added to the extended digital zine and nothing will be published without their explicit consent. All pieces will receive proper credit.

***Every unique entry (no matter on how many of the socmedia platforms is shared) will grant you ONE chance at the prize

[purplemoonabove]

Oh my gosh. I just realize something.

These two

Can totally be these two in an alternate universe

Perfectly aligned by the gifs, too! 😍❤️💙

[westsidepeaches]

Lance is absolutely words of affirmation and physical touch but Keith is equally acts of service. lance is used to expressing his affection outwardly so constantly has a hand on Keith- completely passively most of the time he doesn't even realize. Keith would rather be shot in the head than be sappy in front of the team but is also the one reminding Lance to stretch before drills, making sure he drinks water on breaks, and encouraging lance to get off his butt and actually go do the skincare routine he loves so much before bed. Its so very complimentary.

Here's a quick scene inspired by that <3

Lance sits heavily on the training room floor- chest heaving in labored breath as sweat drips down his face. "Quiznak- hah. Nice one dude, you kicked my ass"

Keith stands to his left hunched over with his hands resting on his knees, his breathing matching Lance's in intensity. He neglects a verbal response and nods harshly- accidentally flicking sweat in Lance's direction. "EW- Keith! Gross, man, ew." Lance's hand flies up a second too late and resigns himself to wiping his face with a spare rag from the floor.

Keith raises his hands in mock surrender and begins to back away, laughing out an apology, "my bad, totally gross". His smile concrete on his face as we walks over toward some refreshments on the other side of he room. Lance closes his eyes and leans into the wall, the cold wall feels nice against his flaming skin. Lance takes a deep breath on an attempt to regain control of his breathing. As he forces air through his nose he realizes it's near dinner soon- Starving... wonder what kind of goo will be on the menu tonight. Lance jumps as something ice cold presses against the side of his face- almost cradling his cheekbone. As his eyes shoot open he realizes Keith has rejoined him-sitting on the floor to his right- and is indeed pressing a water bottle to his face. Keith had pulled his hair back into a small ponytail during his break.

"Drink. You're bright red." Keith presses the bottle further into Lance's cheek until he raises his own hand to grasp it.

"Ha- if I'm bright red what does that make you? firetruck?" Lance cracks open the bottle and drains half, then hands the rest back to Keith who only scoffs and finishes it in turn.

"Thanks, mullet. Appreciate the assist." Lance gently places his hand on Keith's thigh and squeezes- trying to convey just how much he loves Keith into a simple gesture.

Keith smiles, somewhat embarrassed already, and mutters a small but genuine "Anytime, sharpshooter" in return. Just then Lance's stomach roars in protest- echoing through the training room causing both parties to jump out their skin. Lance scratches the back of his head and an embarrased grin etches onto his face "Heheh... I might have skipped lunch".

Keith only sighs and gets up, waiting until Lance has taken his gloved hand and being led down the hallway to lecture him about the dangers of skipping meals. Lance nods dutifully, not paying attention to much of anything but Keith's warm palm.

[fioleespring]

i had this klance fic idea about an atla au where team voltron is alive during the avatarless 100 years and the waterbending purge

lance and allura live in one of the southern water tribe villages. one day the village is attacked by a fire nation ship where keith is one of the soldiers. lance and allura are captured. lance meets keith who is on guard duty and they start talking. one day keith isn't as careful with the water and lance manages to incapacitate him, free himself and allura and escape. he takes keith with them as a prisoner for information. then the three of them go on a quest to free the other captured waterbenders

some more details:

allura has white hair because she was blessed by the spirit of the ocean who saved her from drowning. her family was killed in one of the fire nation attacks. her waterbending style is powerful moves and controlling big amounts of water

lance is better at waterbending that requires precision. not as much power as allura but is better at control. one time he heats up water and keith starts thinking lance did some firebending and is the avatar which lance finds hilarious

keith's mom was from the fire nation but she opposed the rule and keith's dad was from the colonies. keith was orphaned though and the orphanage threw him into the army as soon as he was old enough. keith hates it there

later they meet pidge (nonbender, looking for her family), hunk (earthbender, offers them a place to stay when keith gets injured), shiro (nonbender, sailor who helps them get to the island prisons)

[salmoninzeeweed]

Oh we're expecting snow? *sigh* klance were in the snow once..

[badsongpetey]

Book cover illustration for my sweet friend @caeseria-k fic “Be Alive with Me Tonight”, a real classic klance fic. Make sure to mind the tags if you head over to read it, but it’s a banger of a novel if you choose to. I’ll post the printed book when I get it! This is a personal project for a friend, make sure you get permission if you’re thinking of printing someone else’s work 💙

[kaakelymaakely]

the winner takes it all

Klance fanfic

CHAPTER 1/2

Lance has always known he was destined for greatness. Broadway, Hollywood—maybe even both at the same time. But for now, he's ensemble in his college’s production of Beauty and the Beast. Not ideal, but hey, all the greats start somewhere.

Unfortunately, "somewhere" happens to be one forgettable scene, zero lines, and a tragic lack of stage time. But when a new opportunity presents itself—one that involves working very closely with Keith, the ever-annoying, ever-broody stage manager—Lance is faced with a choice.

College Theatre! AU

The boys’ dorm room was a picture-perfect description of chaos– textbooks cracked open but long forgotten, laundry threatening to pile over from the desk chair, and a half-empty bag of chips lounging on Lance’s stomach. The single window was unlatched, letting in the gross, stale smells of campus life– more specifically, the strong tang of weed from two floors down. Their cheap LED strip bathed the walls in a flickering red glow. 

Lance was sprawled across Hunk’s bed like a sickly Victorian woman, one arm flung dramatically over his forehead, the other digging into the bag of Lays. Pidge sat criss-crossed on the floor, back against the mini fridge, scrolling on their tablet as usual. Hunk– the one who should’ve had an actual claim to his bed because Lance’s was right there— was too kind to kick Lance off, instead opting to nudge him periodically in protest. 

After a long week of auditions, and a seemingly longer day of callbacks, the cast list for VLD University’s musical had just been posted. Or, more accurately, emailed. The trio had been arguing over the logistics of a heist into Professor Coran’s office– he’d totally notice a missing computer!-- when the message had been delivered. As the only one in the room who was participating in the college’s production, had refused to read the email himself. Instead, when he heard the telltale ping of his phone, he scrambled to toss it towards Hunk.

Ever the sweetest friend, Hunk graciously caught it, easily unlocking Lance’s phone and opening the message. He skimmed through the list, searching for Lance’s name. Lance watched as he scrolled, and scrolled… and scrolled… and… scrolled… until finally–

“I’m just saying,” Lance begins, talking through a mouthful of chips, crumbs flying as he gestures wildly with his free hand. He swallows– a little too quickly, coughing once before soldiering on. “Don’t be surprised when I get my first Broadway contract from Mr. Broadway himself.” 

“Lance… listen, I’m super duper proud of you— we both are!” Hunk pats Lance’s knee for emphasis.

Pidge gives a solemn nod, barely glancing up from their tablet.

“But?” Lance prompts, narrowing his eyes.

Hunk winces. “...But… you’re only Townsperson Number 4.”

Pidge laughs. “Not even Townsperson Number 1!”

Lance waves his hand dismissively. “Irrelevant. All the best people start off in the ensemble! It’s an important learning curve.” He flings a chip in Pidge’s direction, but they easily dodge it.

“Maybe,” Pidge shrugs, “but you’re not even really in the ensemble, you’re in one song. And then… nothing else.”

They reach for the bag of chips. Lance, lightning-fast, smacks their hand away with a scandalized gasp. “Thank you, Pidge. Really helping me live my dreams here.” He cradles the bag protectively. “Who even got The Beast?”

Hunk squints at his phone, scrolling through the email. “...Keith…”

“WHAT!?” Lance sits up so fast the bag of chips tumbles off his chest, spilling onto the already-cluttered floor.

Hunk bursts into laughter. “Just kidding, he’s the stage manager.”

Lance glares at him before dramatically flopping back down. “Typical.” He doesn’t bother picking up the chips.

Pidge suddenly straightens, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oooooo! Idea!”

Hunk and Lance turn to them in sync, expectant.

Pidge grins, wiggling their eyebrows. “Since you’re only in one number, maybe you could help out backstage with Keith! Be a stagehand, get all up close and personal.” They smirk before throwing on an absolutely horrendous Bridgerton-esque accent, fanning themself for effect. “‘Oh, Keith! I can’t lift this set piece all by myself! I need your big strong biceps to help me!’” 

Hunk snorts, covering his mouth to muffle his laughter.

Lance lets out an offended squawk, swinging a pillow at Pidge, who dodges just in time. “Hush, you!” His scowl barely lasts a second before slipping into a grin. “...Though that’s not a horrible idea…”

Hunk smacks him with a pillow. 

–

The Director’s office was always intimidating. Or maybe it’s because Lance was really only invited in when he was causing a ruckus. 

 It was tucked away in the back corner of the auditorium, past the racks of abandoned costumes and towering set pieces. The door itself was old, its once-polished surface now scratched and dented from years of stressed-out techies knocking too hard or actors slamming it in frustration. A laminated sign reading Director’s Office was taped just slightly crooked above the handle—probably slapped on last-minute after too many people barged in unannounced.

Lance barely bothers to knock before pushing it open with a dramatic flourish. “Hey, Allura!”

Inside, Allura’s office was no less intimidating. The cramped space was lined with tall bookshelves, each crammed with stacks of play scripts, mismatched binders, and hastily scribbled notes shoved between them. The air smelled like old paper and the faint lingering scent of coffee, despite the fact that Allura had officially quit caffeine three times this semester.

Allura, seated behind her cluttered desk, barely glances up from the paperwork in front of her. “Lance.”

With a grin, Lance steps inside and slams the door shut behind him—loudly. Allura jolts in her seat, her pen skidding across the page.

Lance snickers. “That’s Townsperson Number 4 to you, Miss Director.”

The corner of Allura’s mouth twitches upwards, but she quickly schools her expression back into neutrality.

Lance leans against the desk, crossing his arms. “Anyway,” he starts, stretching out the word. “I need to ask a favor.”

Her expression fades. A slow, exhausted sigh escapes her lips as she folds her hands on the desk, tilting her head in mild suspicion. “What do you need?”

“I was wondering, since I’m really only in one song—”

“No, Lance.” Allura cuts him off before he can finish, her voice firm. “I’m not giving Townsperson 4 any more lines. If I change the script, I’ll have a Disney lawsuit on my hands.”

“Actually, not what I was going to ask, but definitely noted. I was actually wondering if I’d be able to help out backstage.”

Allura raises an eyebrow. “You… Lance McClain… want to help out backstage?”

Lance nods quickly. “Yes. That is exactly what I just said.”

She leans back in her chair, arms crossed now, considering him with a knowing look. “What’s the catch?”

Lance sputters. “What!? There’s no catch!”

Before Allura can respond, the door creaks open, and Keith walks in, clipboard in hand. He’s already speaking before he fully looks up. “Hey, Allura, I needed to—” He stops short when he sees Lance. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll come back.”

“This’ll only take a minute, Keith,” Allura says smoothly. “Please wait outside.”

Keith hesitates, then nods. He turns to leave, but Lance lifts a hand, giving him a slow, totally casual wave.

“Heyyy.”

Keith blinks at him, unimpressed. He presses his lips together in a tight line, nods stiffly, and ducks back out, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Lance is still watching the door when he hears it—Allura’s soft, knowing hum of realization.

“Ah.”

He turns back.

She’s smiling now, but it’s different this time—smaller, sly, dripping with amusement.

“There’s the catch.”

–

“You, Lance McClain, want to help out backstage?”

Lance groaned, his shoulders slumping forward dramatically. “That’s exactly what Allura said too.”

Shiro shrugged, arms crossed as he leaned against the nearby workbench. The tech room smelled faintly of sawdust and old paint, the shelves behind him cluttered with tangled extension cords, and a chaotic assortment of tools that only he seemed to know how to use. “Sorry, Lance—”

“Townsperson 4.”

“—Townsperson 4,” Shiro corrected with an amused smirk. “It’s just… hard to believe. You’ve always been more interested in being in the spotlight, not actually… you know. Being it.”

Lance clasped his hands together, lacing his fingers with an exaggerated plea. “Shiro, my heart, my life, my incredible and amazingly talented tech director—please, please, you’ve got to let me help out. I’m going to die of boredom if I don’t have something to do. Do y’all seriously expect me to just sit backstage quietly during the show?”

Shiro exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… fair.” He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Alright, tell you what. We’ll start you off helping with building the set before we even think about letting you near lights or sound.”

Lance perked up instantly, hands dropping to his sides. “That’s a very safe choice.”

“Then it’s settled. Keith will help you figure out where to start.”

“Wait—I’m doing what?”

Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to find Keith standing behind him, arms crossed, brows furrowed in immediate suspicion. How long had he been standing there?

Shiro grinned, completely unfazed. He reached over and ruffled Keith’s hair, earning a sharp glare. “Townsperson 4 here wants to help out with the set! And, as stage manager, I’m trusting you to help him learn how.”

Keith swatted Shiro’s hand away with a scowl before shifting that glare to Lance. “Lance McClain wants to help out backstage?”

Lance threw up his hands. “Seriously?! Why is everyone so surprised?”

Keith shot a look at Shiro. It wasn’t just a glance—it was a whole silent conversation, one that Lance definitely wasn’t privy to. He frowned as Keith’s expression twisted into something frustrated, his lips pressing into a thin line before—

Keith flushed.

It was quick, barely there, just a dusting of pink along the tips of his ears, but Lance saw it. And before he could even process it, Keith snapped his attention back to him, scowling even harder.

“Fine.” The word was practically spat out.

Wow. What a way to make a guy feel welcome.

Before Lance could comment, Keith grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, practically dragging him out of the room.

Lance barely had time to shoot a helpless look back at Shiro—who, the traitor, just winked at him in silent encouragement.

Keith led him to the workshop, a chaotic but organized mess. Long wooden tables lined the room, covered in half-painted set pieces, rolls of masking tape, and scattered paint brushes soaking in murky water. Over in one corner, a group of students were painting a large sign, their laughter mixing with the occasional curse whenever someone smudged their work. A few others were hunched over a prop table, adjusting a broken chair leg.

Lance barely had time to take it all in before turning back to Keith—only to find him holding a sharp, jagged saw.

Lance’s eyes bulged out of his head. Oh hell no.

Keith barely looked up. “Do you know how to use a handsaw?”

Lance took a step back, eyes flicking between Keith and the saw like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “I’m not trusted around weapons.” He shook his head solemnly.

Keith sighed, lowering the saw. “Okay… um, can you use a staple gun?”

Lance raised a brow. “Also a weapon.”

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. “Fine. How about some wood glue?”

Lance’s expression instantly brightened. He shot Keith a wink. “Now that, I can do.”

Keith huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, basically, you’re going to glue these pieces together first, and then we staple them.”

Lance frowned. “Why not just staple them without gluing them?”

Keith leveled him with a deadpan stare. “Trust the process, Townsperson 4.”

Lance groaned, dropping his head back. “It’s humiliating when you call me that.”

Keith smirked. “Maybe try and get a better part next time, then.”

Lance scoffed. “Hardy-har-har. Keith’s got jokes over here.”

Keith’s smirk widened. “I’m full of surprises.”

“More like full of shit.” Lance crossed his arms, eyebrows raised. “Now teach me how to glue these together.”

–

Keith strides over, carrying two thick planks of wood under one arm like they weigh nothing. He drops them onto the worktable with a dull thud before crossing his arms over his chest.

“All you have to do is glue these two ends together,” he says, nodding toward the planks. “Easy peasy. Even someone as dull and oblivious as you can do it.”

Lance, who had been examining the wood with mild curiosity, snaps his head up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

“Dull and oblivious?!” His voice cracks with outrage, loud enough that several people stop what they’re doing to stare. Some of them exchange amused glances, waiting to see what will happen next. If anything, Lance thrives under the attention. He straightens his back and dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Name one thing I’ve been oblivious about!”

Keith meets his eyes, expression unreadable. His lips part slightly, and for a split second, Lance thinks he might actually answer. But then Keith exhales sharply, shakes his head, and mutters, “Just glue.”

Lance squints at him in suspicion but lets it slide, instead picking up the glue bottle. He presses the tip against the wood and squeezes. Nothing happens. He squeezes harder. Still nothing.

“This isn’t working.”

Keith lets out a long-suffering sigh, stepping in close—so close that their shoulders brush. The warmth of him seeps through the thin fabric of their shirts, and before Lance can react, Keith’s hand is wrapping around his. His grip is firm but not rough, guiding Lance’s fingers into applying more pressure to the bottle. A thick line of glue finally squeezes out onto the plank.

“There,” Keith murmurs. “You just needed to apply more pressure.”

Lance doesn’t respond. He can’t respond. His brain has short-circuited.

Because Keith is still there, pressed up against him, voice low and steady in a way that makes something inside Lance buzz. He keeps his eyes firmly trained on the glue, as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. His throat feels tight, and when he finally tries to speak, it comes out as a choked, strangled noise.

Keith turns to look at him, an amused glint in his eye. “Cat got your tongue?”

“As if,” Lance forces out, his voice an octave too high. He clears his throat and tries again. “I just… am really focused on gluing this wood.”

Keith smirks. It’s the kind of smirk that screams I know something you don’t want me to know. He presses his side harder against Lance’s, leaning in ever so slightly. If Lance turned his head right now, they’d be right there, noses almost brushing, lips—

Lance makes a small, wounded sound in the back of his throat.

Keith grins. “I see.”

“I’d sure hope so—I bet it’d be real hard to stage manage if you couldn’t,” Lance blurts, desperate to regain some control of the situation.

Keith hums, still far too smug for Lance’s liking. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

“...What?”

Keith tilts his head slightly, like he’s about to say something more, like he’s enjoying watching Lance squirm—

But before he can, a voice cuts through the air.

“Keith!”

A freshman jogs into the workshop, out of breath, hands braced on her knees. “Griffin just spilled paint all over the stage-right flat!”

Keith curses under his breath and immediately pulls away, already turning toward the stairs. And Lance—Lance does not miss the warmth, and he absolutely does not watch Keith’s ass as he marches off.

[imtealish]

I'm in the mood to write fluffy cute klance snuggling up to each other drinking hot chocolate or something else bc it's the holidays and just being there for each other ya know???

I need human interaction...

[urcatwrites]

to back up my previous claim let’s play a game called SPOT THE DIFFERENCE