Ship: #Klance
POV: Keith
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Oral, Public, Slight Exhibitionism

#vld #fanfic #sinnwrites

bsky.app/profile/sinn...

Read the rest over here on AO3:

archiveofourown.org/works/28715136

He’s cold and miserable and he knows that the only thing waiting for him should he chicken out is a pound of Jello to eat. And not even a single flavor, no, all the flavors that the siblings could find into one disgusting, semi-solid, mess.

He knows that the duo is going to go to one of his regular haunts for an hour.
‘I stand out like a sore thumb.’ His coat has no sleeves, leaving his arms are bare and his wrists covered in beaded bracelets. He’s wearing far more neon than he’s ever intended to wear.

He takes a deep breath and fishes his phone out of his coat pocket, snapping a picture of the bar and sending it to Matt.
‘Looks busy.’
‘your 1hr mark starts when youre inside’ Matt sends back his own picture. He’s wearing Keith’s signature jacket with Pidge beside him.

A bet that he couldn’t last one hour at this place. They’re probably right.

He can see the flashing lights in the tinted windows and the long line of people outside. If this many are outside, how many more are in there? He rubs his thumb anxiously over the handlebar of his bike.

Keith stares at the club in front of him. This isn’t usually his idea of fun for a Saturday night. No, normally he’s a ‘stay home and watch a movie’ kind of guy. He full-heartedly blames Matt, and by extension, Pidge for his presence here.

oh can I respond now?

Ship: Latte
POV: Matt
Rating: Mature
Notes: Pidge is 13, Matt and Lance early 20s, Dance Competition AU

bsky.app/profile/sinn...

He takes a deep breath and hits dial.

He parks the car in the garage, hangs the keys up, and greets his parents before jogging upstairs to his room. He flops down on his bed and pulls his phone out, quickly inputting the number into his contacts and saving it with the name written just above it ‘Lance’.

He stops and gets their obligatory post-class treat, though he has to shell out a bit more to get Pidge to stop complaining about the competition. Then it’s smooth sailing back home.

“I’m walking home.” Pidge groans but buckles up regardless.

“I signed up for the competition, just like you told me to.” He smirks over his shoulder at them.
“What!? Why!?” They screech.
“To show you I can win this with my mad skillz, with a ‘z’, and heart and soul.” He buckles his seatbelt and turns the car on.

He barely feels it, too busy staring at the numbers on his hand. He opens the driver’s door and slides in, head tilting back against the seat as he stares at the roof for a moment.
“What’s gotten into you? You’re acting all… weird.”

He runs his hand through his hair and goes out to the lobby to find Pidge sitting and waiting patiently for him. He ruffles their hair and they hiss.
“Come on, short stack.”
“Ugh!” They kick his shin and grab their bag, following him out.

He slowly backs out of the room and the stranger watches him go, giving him another smile and a wave before the door shuts. His heart has climbed its way to his throat and he leans heavily against the wall on the other side.
“Jesus, Matt, get yourself together.” He whines.

“Wh-why?” Matt asks as he uncaps the marker with his teeth and writes down his number on the back of Matt’s hand.
“Because I’m going to teach you how a winner moves and grooves.” He says with a wink and caps the marker again. Matt nods mechanically and holds his hand close.