binart · 3 days
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DTOK page 20! (First)(Previous)(Next)
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iybms · 15 hours
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The sound comes from his lap, disgruntled and petulant. Lance holds back a smile, continuing to pet his boyfriend’s hair with one hand, the other one putting some finishing touches on his report for Shiro. (Does Shiro need the report to be quite so detailed? Probably not. But everyone else gives the driest, most bare-boned reports ever to be written, and it Stresses Lance Out. How are they going to improve if they don’t record the details? It’s simple!)
“You’re not giving me enough attention,” Keith whines, apparently done with just huffing and sighing about it.
This time, Lance lets the corners of his mouth quirk up. No one else gets to see Keith like this — needy, clingy, a cuddle fiend. Just Lance. Just Lance gets to have Keith at his most vulnerable.
(Cat-like, although mentioning it gets Lance bitten. Or laid absolutely flat on his ass during training, depending on how grouchy Keith is and how much Lance laughed as he said it.)
“Your head is in my lap and I am petting your hair, cielo. What more do you want?”
Keith huffs again. He lifts his head — glaring at Lance when he stops running his fingers through his hair, because he is spoiled, apparently — and glowers at Lance’s laptop.
“Don’t you dare,” Lance warns, mostly kidding. “I have to finish this report.”
“Or we could make out,” Keith says, looking at him hopefully. He makes his eyes big and round, basically one step away from fluttering his eyelashes. He’s pouting, because he knows exactly what Lance’s weaknesses are and has no qualms against using them for his own personal gain.
Lance, because he is a simp, leans down and presses a soft kiss to those pouted lips. He hums, moving his free hand from Keith’s hair to cup his cheek.
“I’m almost done,” he murmurs.
“Shiro can fucking wait,” Keith whispers back. “I want to cuddle. I want your attention.”
“You have it. You always have it. You never leave my mind.”
Keith laughs quietly. “You’re so full of shit. What romcom did you steal that line from, Romeo?”
Chuckling, Lance pulls away and hooks his chin over Keith’s shoulder, squeezing his arms around his waist. “I didn’t! That’s my own sentiment. You have my attention, my love.”
“I have some of your attention. I want all of it.”
Lance hums. He looks at his report. He’s probably got another five pages, maybe another half hour of writing. He’s fast. If he keeps working through he can finish, and then he’s done for the next couple days.
But… Keith is so warm.
And Lance’s fingers are cold.
And he really doesn’t want to finish his stupid reports.
“You are a menace,” Lance says, slumping forward into Keith’s chest. He can’t see his face, but he can feel Keith’s smugness.
“You’re just easy to manipulate.”
“Mhm.” Keith leans back on their pillows, so Lance is laying on top of him with his head on his chest. Lance shifts, wiggling around so his legs are in between Keith’s and his chin rests on Keith’s pecs, so he can look at said menace of a boyfriend.
“Is this enough attention?”
Keith grins. “Almost.”
“What else do I need to do?”
“Tell me you love me,” Keith says, brushing his thumbs across Lance’s cheekbones. Lance leans into the touch.
“Endlessly,” he breathes out, without a second of hesitation. “More than the sun and the stars. I love you more than I love to laugh and sing and breathe. You are the life in my heart, cariño. You’re everything to me.”
“That’s a lot. You sure you love me that much?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life,” Lance says, and he means it.
Keith smiles so wide his eyes crinkle. It’s Lance’s favourite expression of his.
“I love you too. That much. You make me happy, Lance. I didn’t know I could be this happy.”
Lance moved his hands to plant on Keith’s chest, heaving himself up, millimetres away from Keith’s face.
“Show me?”
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shatterinseconds · 3 days
just one dance
a drabble for @vldkoganes who asked for pining Keith in some sort of prince AU.
“May I have this dance?” Lance asks Keith, hands placed behind his back as he smiles at him. His eyes twinkle in delight when Keith snaps his full attention to him.
Keith looks at Altea’s newly appointed ambassador to Marmora in masked surprise. There’s a reason why Altea is his favorite kingdom to negotiate with, and he would not put it past Queen Allura to have specifically appointed Lance to deal with him, except there’s no way she can know Keith’s type—a cocky flirt, a firestarter. And even more unfortunate for Keith, Lance is exactly the type of person who can go head to head with him and has a decent chance of winning. 
With most ambassadors from other kingdoms, Keith can get them to cower under his scowl alone and usually walks away with a decent deal that favors Marmora. Lance is a whole other challenge. He always has Altea’s best interests at heart and refuses to budge on a deal that teeters any other way. Allura is very lucky to have him. He can throw barbs as well as he can take them. Nothing seems to phase him, and the more Keith’s ire increases, so does Lance’s infuriating grin. 
The entire essence of Lance is infuriating. 
Keith hates how much he can’t let it go. 
“What do you mean, why?” Lance’s brows knit in confusion. He waves a hand behind him. “This is a ball where people dance.”
Keith absolutely hates balls. It doesn’t matter if he has to throw it himself as Crown Prince of Marmora or whether he’s invited to someone else's. Tonight is one he hosts, and for the last ten minutes he’s been trying to figure out how to escape from his own party with Shiro, his guard, giving him a disapproving look every time he tries to make a break for it.
“I meant why me?” Keith clarifies with a frown, arms crossed and guarded.
“Because you’ve been standing here like a statue all night, and I think it’s honestly scaring your guests.”
Keith has never had anyone other than Shiro speak to him in such a flippant manner. Even from the first day, Lance refused to address him formally after their initial meeting, unless he’s teasing him. It’s thrilling. A relief. Keith tilts his head. “You’re not scared.”
“I could never be scared of you.” Lance flashes him another cocky smile. “So do you want to enjoy my company or not?”
Keith rolls his eyes but takes Lance’s arm when it’s offered. People part for them as they walk onto the dance floor before filling in the spaces around them. He hears the whispers and catches the stares. Lance remains unphased and Keith does as well. It’s well known that Keith usually never partakes in these formal events, and now here he is in the middle of the ballroom with the ambassador he can’t seem to ever say no to.
“You look really handsome tonight,” Lance whispers as they fold into the dance. His arm is around Keith’s waist, warm and a comforting weight. Keith keeps his gaze locked on their clasped hands, trying to stay in time with the music, because the minute he looks at Lance’s face—with his dazzling smile and windswept hair—he’ll trip.
“Oh, thank you.” Keith’s cheeks redden at the compliment, not used to one so genuine. “S-so do you.”
“Hm,” Lance hums in agreement. He chuckles a little when Keith does step out of tune but swiftly corrects him so no one around notices. 
Automatically, they draw closer to each other throughout the dance, heads bowed in their own private conversation even though they haven’t said anything else. Keith breathes him in—a mulled scent of the ocean that still clings to him from Altea under a more present flowery soap—and that is enough. When the song ends, Lance steps back from him, and suddenly, Keith feels cold.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Your Highness.” Lance smirks, bowing, and reaches out to kiss the back of Keith’s hand. He stares straight at Keith, a hint of blush on his brown skin. “Thank you for the dance.” 
And just like that, Keith struggles to function for the rest of the evening. 
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mothmanavenue · 1 day
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“it’s not ugly”
inspired by @autisticlancemcclain ‘s adorable fic, all i want is to fly with you (all i want is to fall with you)
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First page // next
Page 40; a closeup of Lance
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klance-dreams · 2 days
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the last leaked honeymoon picture from keith’s camera roll 💕 (unless you know where to look for the completely undressed version ((*cough* twitter*cough*))…which is up now 🥰) 👀🫣🤭
also on insta or twitter
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vldlance · 3 days
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cozied up for the holidays…
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one-and-lonely16 · 3 days
klance: *laying next to each other on keith's bed, making out*
kosmo: *walks in and sits on keith's legs*
klance: *stop kissing and look at him*
lance: *starts laughing*
keith: you really know how to ruin a mood, kosmo
lance: *scratches kosmo's ears* hey puppy
keith: don't give him attention, now he will never leave
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viv-is-a-clown · 2 days
Lance, bothering Keith way too early in the morning: What's crackalackin, hot stuff?
Keith: Your skull if you don't shut up.
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awhoreintheory · 1 day
Shiro: is everyone ready?
Pidge, putting on her helmet: Yep
Hunk, fastening the last strap of his armor: unfortunately
Keith, activating his bayard violently: yes
Lance: Yes
Shiro: you have no armor on
Lance: technically :D
Shiro: where is your bayard
Lance: in a safe place :D
Shiro, confused: how are you going to fight??
Lance: I have a new strategy; instead of fighting with weapons, I'm gonna fight with kisses!
Hunk: like... like the candy?
Lance: no, like I'm gonna just shove my tongue in their mouths
Pidge: what?? Why the fuck???
Lance: enemies to lovers speed run
Keith: Wait what
(Shiro ejecting himself into space Sendek Style in the background)
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justaz · 2 days
klance bar fight fic when? them sneaking out just to hang out together and accidentally stumbling upon this real sketch bar full of criminals and being found out as paladins and getting attacked and fighting back, telling each other to duck to hit the person behind the other, being full of adrenaline and euphoria after everyone ran away and pulling the other into a heat of the moment kiss before stealing alcohol from behind the counter and getting drunk together and laughing all night while exploring the mysterious planet and being way too touchy for it to be platonic
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iybms · 2 days
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hey man
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The room is beyond opulent. Diamonds and jewels glitter from every surface, embedded in the dozens of intricate murals covering the walls. Chandeliers dangle from the endlessly high ceilings.
It’s the shining example of luxury. Its very existence is a direct insult to every poor person alive.
Keith hates it.
He’s not alone, he doesn’t think. Pidge, Hunk, and Allura are looking around in awe, mouths gaped, but Lance is — tense. His dark eyes flit around rapidly, never once settling for longer than a few seconds, taking in every part of the room (well, if room is the right word — this stupid court room is the size of fucking Texas). His jaw is clenched, and his hands are forcibly relaxed. His centre of balance is shifted, and he’s even standing straight.
He’s prepared to make a quick exit.
Keith exchanges a wary look with him. He doesn’t trust this kind of royalty, either. Anyone who hoards this much wealth and has their people so blindly loyal is up to something.
“Announcing his Holy Eminence,” booms a voice, accompanied by the sharp sound of a staff striking the marble floor.
All of them startle, but Keith and Lance reach reflectively for their bayards before realising with dread they were confiscated so they could make an appearance.
Fine. It’ll be fine.
He and Lance have relaxed, marginally, by the time a boot steps through the gilded doorway. Even if the king’s entrance hadn’t been announced, Keith would have been able to guess: the boot is made of rich, supple leather, and what looks like solid gold. The rest of him glides into view, and he’s positively draped in riches — precious gems sewn carefully into richly dyed fabric, created a sort of armoured corset. He wears a heavy lace veil, his eyes the only part of his face visible. His crown is inlaid with more diamonds than Keith has ever seen in one place, and they once took a mission in a diamond mine. Keith wonders how many people starved so the king could wear his crown.
The king stands before them, towering above them from his place in front of his throne — an altar to himself.
Lance shifts beside Keith, balancing on the balls of his feet — like he does before he’s about to strike. His head is tilted, eyes narrowed and calculating.
Something’s wrong.
“Our king, in all his grace, has granted you an audience,” speaks the same guard as before. “Bask in his glory, and thank the gods for his benevolence.”
The whole thing is so sinister that Keith feels his very blood sour at the heaviness in the air. The rest of the paladins have lost their wondered expression, replaced with the same wariness Lance and Keith are wearing. It’s been a long time since Keith brain screamed danger! at him with such volume, and he was stuck where he stood.
They fought for this audience. This planet, for all it’s strange stillness and plated gold, would be an excellent ally. They need to make nice with this king, they need to win his favour. Tales have been spun from either end of the galaxy of this man’s greatness, of his power, of the worship he deserves. No one will speak his name, tongue too heavy with the title.
It’s wrong, wrong, wrong. But even if they wouldn’t appreciate the allyship, they would come here, insist on an audience — they must meet the man who has millions of millions of people worshipping his very shadow.
The king slowly lifts his veil. His smile is placid, pleasant, and does not match his eyes — there’s a crookedness in his blue irises.
Lance makes a strangled choking noise once his face is revealed.
The king smirks. He takes a heavy step towards Lance.
“Hello, son of Hestia. It’s been quite some time.”
“You,” Lance snarls, and there’s so much animosity in the word Keith actually startles. He’s argued with Lance more times than he can count, and there’s no one he’s known who can spit an insult like Lance, but gods above — Lance has never sounded like he wanted to kill someone before.
“Me,” says the king, and he sounds taunting. Keith looks at Lance in confusion, but his focus is still as a corpse, entirely on the king.
Lance says nothing. He’s stiffer than Keith has ever seen anyone, muscles trembling with how hard they’re clenched. His brown eyes flash, bitter as burnt coffee grounds. The air between him and the king is thick enough to suffocate.
Lance tilts his head back. His gaze never leaves the king, but he addresses the room, the gathered guards and nobles and peoples.
“This is your king?” he says, and his voice is no louder than usual, but it rings and echoes. “A coward who ran from his own world?”
Startled gasps pile over each other, horror and offense in equal measure on every face.
“Lance,” Allura hisses. “What are you talking about?”
The king laughs. It is filled with mirth, but devoid of any warmth. Keith is reminded of an orca, laughing and cackling as it chases its prey to exhaustion.
“Is that how you speak to me after so long, Leandro? I’ve missed you. Is there no love left in your heart for me?”
Lance takes another echoing step forward. The whole court is as tense as he is. He has commanded the attention of each of them, Keith included.
He is no scared prey, fighting for his life.
“It dried up when you left me to die, πότης αίματος,” Lance spits.
Keith doesn’t recognize the word. It doesn’t even register on the translators. It’s in no language he recognizes, and by the looks of it, no one else does either.
Except for the king. The word sends a flash of anger in his eyes, so brief Keith half believes he’s imagined it, before his expression returns to insufferably smug.
“That’s no way to address me, boy.”
“Do not tell me how I will speak to you.”
The king laughs, stepping down from his throne. He approaches Lance, stops centimetres away from him, and grabs Lance’s chin before Keith can think to stop him.
“You’d think a child of Hestia would be more mild-mannered,” he coos, and Keith starts at the title.
That’s the second time he’s addressed Lance in such a way. He doesn’t know what it means.
“Quiet, like she is,” the king continues. “Soft. But you’re nothing like her, are you? Except for your eyes. Big and brown and soft, just like hers.” He trails a hand down Lance’s face as he says it, and Lance looks seconds away from biting it clean off.
Keith almost wants him to.
“But no. You take after Marcela, don’t you? That attitude had to come from somewhere — of course it comes from the filthy mortal. You’re her mirror image.”
“That’s how genetics work, dumbass,” Lance bites out. “Gods, you’ve just gotten dumber, huh?”
That wipes the smug look right off the king’s face. He tightens the hand on Lance’s face. Keith lurches forward on reflex, but as soon as he moves dozens of guards are pointing their weapons at him.
Keith grits his teeth and stays where he is.
“I will warn you again,” the king says, and the threat is clear in his voice. “You watch how to speak to me. I have given you everything you are, Lance. Everything you can do is because of me. Show some piety, or I will show you how quickly I can take it away.”
Lance spits in the king’s face.
“You have no claim over me.”
Before Keith or anyone else can move or even blink, Lance swipes the King’s feet from under him, pinning him to the ground with a bronze spear he produced from nowhere.
The guards move at once, each of them shouting, half of them keeping their weapons trained on the paladins and the other half moving towards Lance and the king.
“Lance!” Hunk shouts. “Step back! What the fuck are you doing?”
“Unhand him, paladin,” a guard orders.
Lance only laughs.
“Have you become afraid of me, προδότης? You need your whole cavalry to keep you safe, you precious thing?”
The king snarls, and snaps his fingers. In a second, a green ring of raging fire encircles him and Lance, cutting them off from the guards, who shout in alarm.
Cutting them off from the paladins.
Pidge swears.
The king moves quickly, twisting his arms under Lance’s spear and shoving him off. Lance uses the momentum to flip himself backwards, landing on his toes, weapon outstretched.
“There we go,” he taunts. “Now this I missed.”
“You are as weak as you are ungrateful,” the king hisses, encircling Lance. “After all I have done for you. After everything you learnt from me.”
“You left me to die. I learnt nothing from you that I wasn’t forced to teach myself.”
There’s real emotion in the words. A rage that can only come from a deep hurt.
The king picks up on this.
“If I took you everywhere, you would never be able to stand on your own,” he says with a sharp smile. “You’d never be able to talk, if I always spoke on your behalf. Leaving you to fend for yourself was the best thing I could have done for you.”
Lance snarls, stepping back to the very edge of the ring of fire. He swipes his spear through it, and flames lick immediately up the handle, enveloping the weapon in tongues of flickering green. Keith feels something lurch as the flames curl around brown hands.
But Lance doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. The fire has burned three of the guards who’ve come too close to a crisp in seconds, but Lance is still as it dances on his skin. His lips move rapidly, voice a murmur too quiet to hear over the roar of the fire and panicked shouts of the courts. He closes his eyes, brows creased as if in pain, and when he opens them again, they glow — flickering in time with the flames.
“You have made a grave mistake,” he says, and these words are impossible to not hear. They ring throughout the court, quiet and deafening in equal measure, unlike any sound Keith has heard before.
But the voice is unmistakably Lance’s, if only tinged with a power Keith feels in his bones.
“I am not the boy you left behind.”
Lance lunges forward, and the flames explode in a flash of blinding light.
By the time Keith blinks his eyes back into working order, the room is in chaos. People are shrieking at the top of their lungs, trampling over each other in a desperate bid to escape. Most of the guards have abandoned their posts — Keith can’t blame them. The flames have made this room sweltering, and have lit the ornate tapestries are on fire. He can barely see Lance through the brightness of the flames, only flashes of a bright spear as his limbs move in a flurry of speed that’s almost inhuman.
“We have to get Lance and get out of here!” Pidge shouts over the panic, and Keith agrees.
“I’ll get the bayards!” Hunk says, just as loud as she is.
Keith nods, tilting his head at Allura. “Allura, get Blue ready to take us back! Pidge, you see if you can get word through to Coran for an emergency extraction! I’ll get Lance! Go!”
They all rush to comply, and as soon as they’re out of sight, Keith turns back to the ring of fire, squinting.
Nothing. If Lance could hear him over the roar of the flames, it would be a miracle.
Keith swallows roughly. He’s going to need a miracle.
Hey, Red, he thinks, and even his thoughts are shaky. I know it’s been a while. But I could use some of your flames, girl. Your paladin is in danger.
There’s nothing, for a moment. The time stretches, but Keith pushes back his despair — he has to have faith. He hears his father’s voice in his head. Shiro’s.
Lance’s, even.
Sometimes, Akira, you just have to trust what’s up there.
Patience yields focus. You can do this, kiddo.
Black trusts you, and I do, too. Come on, Samurai. I’ll follow where you lead.
All at once, a burning feeling blazes through his mind — Red. She’s as warm as she’s always been, the terror for her paladin making her burn hot.
Go, she urges. I will keep you safe. Save my cub. He has blocked me from his mind.
Keith can’t help a wry smile. Oh, how the turntables.
Trusting Red, he rushes forward, straight through the flames. He clenches his eyes shut — trusting, but scared.
When he opens them again, the flames are behind him. In front of him is Lance, agile and quick, unleashing a constant barrage of attacks on the king. The king’s heavy robes are torn. There’s a burn, blackened an raw, on half his face. His crown has been ripped from his head, crushed to pieces beneath Lance’s heel.
Lance is worse. Keith hardly recognises him with the swelling of his face and the blood covering his skin. He is still wrapped in a blaze.
“Lance!” Keith yells.
It does nothing. Neither man looks up, although Lance stumbles. Just slightly, the smallest roll of his ankle, but it’s enough — the king snarls, grabbing the wooden end of Lance’s spear, spinning him around, and pulling him in a chokehold, pressing the blade to his neck.
“All this power and I still bring you to your knees,” the king snarls.
Keith rushes forward without another thought. He has no weapon, and the king is twice his size, but that’s Lance in danger — Keith can no more ignore it than he can ignore the breaking of his own heart.
But Lance doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even struggle. He only leans his head back, eyes turned to the sky, and starts to chant.
θεά της εστίας, εγγόνι της γης,
στρέφω τα μάτια μου στον ουρανό,
σε ικετεύω να απαντήσεις την κραυγή μου,
για τη δύναμή σου σε παρακαλώ,
για την προστασία σου σε λατρεύω,
προσφέρω τη θυσία μου και παρακαλώ για τη χάρη σου,
δώσε μου τις φλόγες σου για την κόλαση τον εχθρό μου που τοποθετώ.
It’s again in the language from before. Keith shouldn’t understand a word he says. He couldn’t translate them himself, and he already knows the translators cannot manage them.
But he doesn’t hear the words. Lance’s lips are moving, and he’s speaking, but the words don’t echo through the room, to be picked up by his ears: the words settle in his brain. There’s nothing he can do to avoid them.
Goddess of the hearth,
Grandchild of the earth,
I turn my eyes to the sky,
I beg you answer my cry,
For your strength I implore you,
For your protection I adore you,
I offer my sacrifice and beg for your grace,
Grant me your flames, to hell my enemy I place.
Lance whips his head to the side, intentionally slicing his cheek on his own blade. Blood drops down his face.
“No!” the king shouts.
The second the blood drops to the ground, the king turns to ash. The flames extinguish. Silence settles around the marble hall.
Lance’s eyes, however, still glow.
“Let’s go,” he says, picking up his spear. He twirls it once, sliding it down his back as if sheathing it, and it disappears.
Keith doesn’t move.
“Keith, we have to go,” Lance urges. “Before the guards regroup and everyone sees what happened. We have to go.”
Keith only states at him.
“Lance…?” His voice is hoarse, he can barely force out the words.
Lance’s brows crease.
“I know it’s insane. I’ll explain later. We need to go, though, okay? Now.”
Keith nods mutely, because what the hell else can he do but move forward?
“Everyone else is headed towards Blue,” he says, forcing his voice to work.
“Great. Let’s meet them.”
Lance grabs his hand — gently, Keith notes, and his hands are soft, unburned. Covered in blood, but somehow unaffected by the flames.
Lance breaks into a light jog, tugging Keith behind him.
Keith shakes his head. He follows.
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wbluke · 3 days
— See those stars? They're nothing compared to you.
— When did you get so sweet?
— I always was, you don't like it?
— I didn't say that.
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Keith and Lance on the phone:
L: why is it so loud
K: sorry I'm washing my binder
L: binder? You're not in school
K:....my chest binder
L: ohhhhhhh that makes more sense
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