Oh My Gosh!!!! This Is So Beautiful Thank You So Much 🥰😭

Ahh you're so sweet ❤️ I have no idea if I'll continue it but if anyone else ever wanted to take a crack at it I would absolutely share my notes.

This is based off of the fic “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by @renywrites which had this cool idea of a rainbow world and a monochrome world! I tried drawing chibi and then I’m like screw it, and made them more animal crossing inspired instead.

The Unforgiving Sea

There was a storm due. Shiro had told him, but Keith could feel it in the tide and the undercurrents he liked to play in. The merfolk usually stayed away from the surface. There were too many horror stories about small sirens being swept away and left to die on the jagged rocks that tore ships apart in storms like these.

You’re insane. Pidge, Keith’s best friend, informed the young siren.

He just flashes her a toothy, excited grin. I’ve never seen the surface during a storm. I’ve heard it’s beautiful.

You’re gonna get yourself killed. She flicks her lithe, bioluminescent green tail to follow Keith as he darted through the coral reef so he wouldn’t be seen. Pidge apparently didn’t get the message; she was still floating conspicuously by the reef, arms folded against her small frame.

You’re gonna get me caught! Keith huffs, reaching over and dragging her into the reef. She lets out a surprised squawk, a bit of floppy seaweed smacking her in the face.

I don’t even see why you’re doing this, Pidge grunts, fixing her hair. Is it because of that human? The one that Shiro told you not to go near?

I have no idea what you’re talking about. Keith darts through another crevice, stopping to listen. The patrols were supposed to be on rounds on the opposite side of the reef, but Shiro had become unpredictable lately. He’d suspected his little brother wasn’t paying attention to the rules that he’d set, because Keith was far too… civil about them.

You’re going to get hurt. Pidge blows bubbles, glancing up at the distant, roiling surface. Even the undercurrents are strong enough to sweep you away. You’re tiny.

You’re one to talk, Keith grunts, peering around a rock. No sign of the patrol. From here, it was only clear water to the surface. There was nowhere to hide if he got caught. He hadn’t even come up with an excuse if he did happen to get caught, which was sort of stupid on his part.

He hesitates, his tail fins drooping a bit as he looked around. Cover for me? He asks, without turning to look at Pidge.

The tiny siren rolls her eyes, smoothing down her electric green scales. Don’t I always?

You’re the best. Keith looks back at her. I’ll bring you back something cool.

Yeah, yeah. Go on, before your brother finds you swimming in open water and locks you in a cavern for the rest of your life.

He makes a soft, appreciative noise, before he races toward the surface, leaving bubbles and a dubious mermaid in his wake.

In retrospect, going out on a boat right before a storm was a terrible idea. As his boat rocked and swayed and creaked wildly - it reminded him of the bull-riding matches he saw on television - Lance was starting to deeply regret his judgement.

The storm had only been a few dark, menacing clouds across a blue sky when the fisherman had gone out in his boat. The news had warned of a major change in weather, which was what had prompted him to take his little rickety boat out onto the water.

He had been sure he was going to be back in enough time. But when Lance had gotten to the rocks, he had lingered a little too long. Maybe he should have heeded the weatherman’s warnings to stay inside.

Okay, but, in his defense - those nets cost him hours of labor, and thick rope wasn’t exactly cheap! And… okay, maybe he was hoping to see a certain pretty scaled siren with purple eyes. That was the real reason he was out in this storm, if Lance were being honest.

Besides, he hadn’t meant to drift this far, but the angry sea had stolen away his only oar and nets weren’t the best tool to use as a way to get back to shore. Lance could see the shore from here, but it honestly could have been a world away. There was no way he could reach the shore now.

His suspicions were proved correct when the rain started coming down. His boat was filling with water faster than he could get it out, both from the thrashing waves and torrential downpour. Lance was throwing water as fast as he could with his cupped hands. He looks up to see a monster of a wave. And then his world goes dark.

When he wakes up again, it’s to somebody shaking him and calling his name. His eyes open, but before he can register anything, his body heaves and he starts coughing up water. He turns to the side, coughing and gasping for air.

There’s a hand on his back, rubbing small, slow circles. He doesn’t remember what had happened until he remembers his nets - what had happened to his nets? Lance sits up, jerking away from the hand and looking around frantically. There was nothing - nothing! No nets, no boat, no - anything.

He twists to see who was with him, to ask questions, and stops dead when he sees the siren looking up at him, wide-eyed.

Keith had put him on a rock, above the thrashing waves and with enough handles that he wouldn’t be tossed into the tempest. He was clinging for dear life, having retreated from off the rock when Lance had tried to throw him off.

Lance stares at him for a long moment. For a split second, relief washes over him to see that Keith was here and safe. Or, well, as safe as anyone could be during a massive storm. But that fades as quickly as it comes and Lance finds himself looking out at the waves. What had happened? Where was he? He... didn’t recognize this side of the coast.

“Where… what?” He rasps, dragging a hand over his face, the salt of the water stinging his eyes and making his throat feel like sandpaper.

I saved you. Keith ducks his head, pressing himself against the rock as another wave crashed over him. His arms were shaking, his body sagged with exhaustion against the rock. I saved you. You were dying and I saved you.

“I’m not- my boat! Where is my boat?” Lance scrambles higher on the rock, trying to look for it.

There was no boat- there was only you and the waves and the water and… no boat.

The Cuban sits back hard, his eyes wide as he stares at the raging sea. “That was my dad’s boat.” He says faintly, dragging a hand through his hair. There were too many emotions swirling in his chest.

His dad had built that boat with his bare hands when Lance was just a kid - it was all he had left of him! His brother’s and sister’s and father’s initials had been carved into it before it’d been sealed. It was his favorite possession, the only piece of his dad he had left.

Grief washes over him, thick and heavy, piercing through the clouded, grey veil of shock. But it only lasts a moment. Lance turns his gaze to Keith, the shock giving way to anger merely seconds later. It was horrible, he knew, but the circumstances were ridiculous and he needed somebody to be upset at. Keith just so happened to be the closest one at the moment.

“You have to find my boat!” Even as he says it, the part of him that had fallen in love with the ideation of sirens, the color of Keith’s scales, the musical sound of his voice in his head - it screams at him to stop. This wasn’t Keith’s fault. He was supposed to be happy that they were alive.

But how was the little siren supposed to know this? Keith winces, his fingers tightening on the crevices of his life line. There was no boat. There won’t be anymore boat, the sea will have torn it apart.

“You have to bring me my boat!” Lance shouts. “What- what good are you if you can’t give me something to get back to shore in?”

Keith’s eyes widen, fear making them a dark indigo color. It almost blended with the waves. I can take you to shore… he tries to offer, but Lance shakes his head, cutting him off.

“No, don’t even- don’t even bother.” Lance rakes a hand through his hair, rage flaring hot in his veins. His relief from before is drowned out by a sudden, terrible anger.  His boat was gone. He was far from home. His fishing nets were probably somewhere along the bottom of the ocean - another thing he had inherited from his father.

Even as the little voice in his head was begging him to be reasonable, pleading with him to see that Keith was just as scared as he was, he was fighting a losing battle. Lance’s logic had been poisoned by anger, his shock bleeding into something more manageable. Something easier to cope with.

As far as his brain was concerned, this had nothing to do with his recklessness. His mind was convinced that if he hadn’t met Keith, he wouldn’t be in this mess! At the moment, it seemed logical enough. It was easier than taking the blame.

“This is your fault.” He snaps after a moment, all his panic and shock rushing into this one feeling - and the only thing he could do was lash out, because if he didn’t, he was going to cry.

M-My..?

“If you had minded your own business and stayed out of my nets, I would have been inside for this storm!” He hisses. “And I wouldn’t be lost in who-knows-where Cuba with a stupid fish who can’t even be bothered to rescue boats!”

I didn’t… I didn’t mean to-

“Shut up. Just- go away. Get out of here.”

But I’ll-

“I said get out of here!” Lance picks up a clump of seaweed and possibly some gravel, hurling it at the siren. It bounces off his wrist, surprising the siren enough for him to let go of his perch on the rock. It isn’t long before the waves crash over him, dragging him back into the deep with their icy claws.

His heart twists painfully, words leaving his mouth before he even has the chance to take them back and apologize. “And don’t come back looking for me, because I won’t rescue you from anymore nets!”

That’s the last thing Keith can hear before he’s swimming away as fast as he can. He had only tried to help. He had saved the human - he had torn a gash in the thin membrane of his tail, which was causing him to swim funny, and now he had to find his way home, too.

The little siren swims as far as he can before fear and exhaustion takes over. He finds a hollowed out little divot in the bottom of a coral reef, curling up there. Keith trembles, wrapping his arms around himself and staring into the water. Shiro had been right, to some extent.

He sits there until he’s dozing off, until he hears something familiar in the water far off. He blinks his eyes open, peering out incoherently.

...eith!

The siren shifts, edging out to peer over the little section of the reef he was hiding in.

Keith!

Shiro. Shiro had found him. He makes a noise that’s a cross between relieved and scared, pushing himself out from behind the reef. His adoptive brother was scanning the reef, Pidge trailing behind him as they searched for him.

Shiro, Keith whimpers, propelling himself with tired fins toward his brother and best friend. Shiro!

Pidge looks up, freezing when she catches sight of him. She races over, jostling into his older brother and gesturing frantically when his body language changed from searching to annoyed.

When he catches sight of Keith, however, he stops dead. There’s one silent, heavy moment. Keith struggles to keep swimming, straining his tail fins, his body trembling with effort. Shiro edges forward, then takes off like a shot, hurtling toward his little brother.

His older brother scoops the little siren up, gripping onto him and burying his face into his hair. I’ve got you, he coos, I’ve got you.

You were right. He sobs, burying his face in Takashi’s shoulder. I should have stayed, I shouldn’t have met the human.

You’re okay. Shiro coos, scooping him up and carrying him back to Pidge.

Pidge darts around them, frantic. I know I promised not to tell, but you didn’t come back and I got worried and- I’m so sorry, Keith!

Keith doesn’t answer, his eyes closing. He wanted to go home. Shiro holds him tighter. I’ve got you, his older brother says again. You’re okay.

But all Keith could see, all he could hear, was the anger in Lance’s eyes and voice.

Part 3 of The Children of the Sea

Part 1 | Part 2

logical brain: it’s just fanfiction… you’re writing this for fun… it’s okay if it’s not perfect as long as you enjoyed creating it

monkey brain: everything I write must be groundbreaking

The Seas Greatest Treasure

Gotta love siren Keith.

Growing up, Lance had always loved the beach. Every weekend, when he was growing up, his family would all pile into the old minivan and head to the beach. The weekend was spent camping on the beach, building sandcastles, throwing each other into the waves, and hunting for small crabs and seashells.

The ocean was a part of Lance. He’d lived in Mariel, Cuba all his life, with the ocean behind their house and the sea breeze constantly ruffling his hair. When he was away from home, he found comfort in the gentle breezes, in saltwater taffy, in homemade meals and in good company.

He’d gone to Spain as an exchange student in his first year of college, but his parents had run out of money and he’d had to come home. Now, Lance spent his days working at the local market. He fished for the small company he worked at, bringing in fish in exchange for a paycheck. Working nights wasn’t ideal, but it brought home money for his large family.

Lately the pickings had been slim where he cast his nets, so Lance had chosen a new spot to lay traps in the sandbars just off the coast. It was the last thing he did when he left, daybreak at his back as he goes to make his delivery and retire for the day.

Lance whistles a tune to himself as he makes his way down the bank and into the high tides. His rowboat was bobbing gently as the surf lapped at the sand. The moon was high and full in the sky, shining down on the water.

There was something the Cuban adored about the sea at night. Everything felt so much more magical. The stars were brighter, the area quieter, the waves more peaceful. He didn’t forget the dangers lurking below in the sea, however. He was no fool - he had seen what the waves could do when they had the mind to. He’d seen countless boats drift ashore in pieces, their passengers coughing up seawater or unlucky enough to have been dragged down to the depths for the currents to play with and the fish to nibble at.

All of this echoed in his head as he rowed his way to the nets. Lance was one of the men lucky enough to earn the sea’s favor, despite taking her creatures away to make a living. He utters a small prayer of thanks, unsure who he was praying to. His mother was a devout catholic, but he had always been in awe of the beauty of marine life.

His nets were decently full, he realizes, as he drops an anchor and sets the oars aside. He rubs the soreness from his forearms, leaning over to pull the nets into the boat. To his frustration, they wouldn’t budge.

“Come on…” He says under his breath, yanking harder. The net moves slightly, but doesn’t give way. Lance scowls at the trap, turning and reaching for his pocket knife. Maybe it was stuck on the rocks.

The sight that comes when he turns back around is enough to make him drop his knife back into the boat. It clicks, the blade snapping open and shining devilishly when it lands on the floor.

Wide amethyst eyes stare up at him, alien in the way they glow pale in the moonlight. Sharp teeth poke out from a pair of rosy lips and onyx hair swirls like an oil spill in the water, just inches away from Lance’s arm.

The creatures lashes out mere seconds after Lance yanks his hand away, scrambling to the farthest corner of the boat. Sharp claws break the surface of the water, swiping at the open air. Lance looks down at the creature, at the bubbles that escape from between rows of sharp teeth as the beast snarls.

The net strains as this magnificent being writhes, desperately trying to get away. He’s stuck, Lance thinks belatedly, watching in stupefied wonder. He sees a flash of red and gold scales before the creature gives up, going limp and looking up, a pitiable gleam in his eyes.

“Christ,” The Cuban mutters to himself, edging closer and picking up his knife, just in case. That thing had teeth that looked needle sharp. “Where did you come from?”

It just stares at him, eyes wide and body tense.

“Huh, right. I guess you don’t talk much.” Lance says, feeling foolish as he talks to this being. He doubted that it could understand him. “I guess I should get you out of here, huh?”

There was one problem: Lance’s whole catch would be dumped from their confines and left to escape if he helped this… he racks his brain for a word. Siren? That seemed appropriate. He didn’t think that the sea would take too kindly to one of her children being kidnapped, let alone sold to a fish market. With a great sigh, the Cuban comes to a decision.

“I’m going to cut you free, alright?” He waves the knife.

The siren bares his teeth at him, elongated ears pinned to the side of his head.

Right. Okay. So… waving a knife at a creature who ate people for a living probably wasn’t the best idea. Lance scratches his head sheepishly. “No, I mean…” He pantomimes cutting something. “You know?”

It didn’t know. It begins to writhe again. The fish in the net do their best to dart out of the way, some of them just barely missing the razor sharp nails that the siren was waving about in his panic. Lance could see where the siren had tried biting and clawing himself free. He didn’t imagine that it’s teeth were meant to do that.

“No, No!” He quickly sets the knife down, raising his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! Oh, shoot. I’m going to- just hold still, alright?”

He picks up the knife, leaning over the side of the boat and yanking the net closer. The siren goes incredibly still, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth right before the knife slices the net, tearing it open.

There’s a pregnant pause before all of the fish he’d captured rush out of the net and disappear into the black water, leaving the siren where he was. Lance hesitates, then reaches down and gently tugs it off the creature and back into his boat. He looks mournfully down at it. That was going to cost him a lot for repairs.

The siren breaks the surface after a moment. The Cuban looks up at the soft sound. He backs away slightly, reaching for the anchor rope just in case he needed to make a break for it. The siren drifts closer, then lets out an ear piercing screech.

“Woah!” Lance squawks, falling backwards, surprised at the noise. When he sits back up, he comes face to face with the beast.

The Cuban swallows hard, trying not to panic as the boat dips with the new weight. Bright, intelligent eyes stare into Lance’s, unblinking. From here, he can see the tiny scales patching the siren’s face, the needle-tip points of teeth poking out from under his upper lip.

He expects to be eviscerated. He expects to be sent home in his boat, a wreck of carnage and blood. That was if this being didn’t eat him and leave his bones to decorate the sea floor. Lance can feel each beat of his heart in his throat, can feel the blood turning to ice in his veins, can hear himself breathing.

To his surprise, the creature sinks back into the water with no fuss. It’s clawed, webbed fingers still grasp the side of the boat, keeping him close and watching the fisherman.

“U-Um,” Lance takes a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking. “Hey there. You, uh… you okay?”

The siren’s ears perk, it’s tail flicking and splashing water into the boat. It makes an inquisitive sound.

“Sorry for… you know, the whole net incident.” He rubs his neck. The being must’ve been hunting or chasing the shoal and gotten caught up in the trap. He winces. Maybe this wasn’t the best place to cast his nets.

The siren peers up at him. A moment later, Lance has a lapful of curious mer-being. He makes a soft sound - half fear, half surprise - and tries his best not to shove the creature off for fear of death or serious injury.

Lance gawks at the being, who simply makes himself comfortable and takes the Cuban’s face in his hands. He tilts his head this way and that, his amethyst gaze searching. One claw carefully brushes over his lips, over his nose, over his eyebrows. The siren makes a shrill sound of what he hoped was amusement when Lance quirks one of his eyebrows.

“So… am I forgiven?” He asks, wincing when the creature takes a handful of his hair and tugs.

The siren hums softly, then lets go of Lance’s face and stretches his tail out to his full length, looking up at Lance haughtily. I don’t know, his gaze seemed to say. Why should I forgive a petty mortal?

Lance hadn’t half a mind to be scared - he was too busy gazing at the siren’s tail in awe. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The colors ranged from the deepest garnet, to spilled blood ruby, to daybreak gold, and to a pale red just where his skin met his tail. Scales littered the siren’s torso, but the thing the Cuban was most entranced with were its fins.

It wasn’t anything he would’ve imagined them to be - no amount of cartoon movies could compare. The fins were a delicate membrane, stretched gracefully across strong muscles. They were a pale reddish color, gleaming in the moonlight.

Lance looks back up to a smug half smile, the beautiful siren’s ego significantly boosted. He coos softly, tilting his head knowingly. He was aware of his beauty. It was almost as if he was aware of the songs written about him too, Lance noted.

“You… you’re magnificent.” The Cuban offers a shy smile.

The creature wriggles in glee, reaching down to pet at his scales fondly. It looks up at Lance mischievously, eyes gleaming from under a mop of inky hair. You like these, don’t you? It’s gaze practically screams as he scratches at his scales.

Lance’s face heats up, his eyes widening. Was this the siren version of flirting? Oh God, he hoped he wasn’t reading too much into this. “Yes, your scales are- they’re very lovely.”

The siren watches him a moment, then leans down and picks one of the bigger ones off the base of his tail. They grew back, it wasn’t a huge loss. It takes Lance’s hand, pressing it into his palm and closing his fingers around it.

The Cuban looks down at his palm, then back up at the siren. “Oh, I couldn’t, really… this belongs to you.” He tries to hand it back to the siren. It growls loudly, thrusting Lance’s hand back toward him. He decides to keep it. “Well, um. Thank you for… not eating me. And for your scale.”

The siren preens, brushing a claw over his jawline before slipping back into the water. It peers up at Lance, making a soft noise.

“Will I see you again?” Lance asks hopefully, leaning over the side to better see his new familiar.

We shall see, the siren’s smirk tells him. With one more playful splash of water, the magnificent being ducks under the water. He’s gone in an instant, Lance’s eyes unable to make him out in the black depths of the sea.

The fisherman sits there for a long while. He picks up the net, looking down at it, unable to help the smile that creeps up on him. He looks back out at the sea, at the moon’s reflection, at the mysterious world that he could only dream of understanding.

Never had he been more in love with the ocean.

Part 1 of The Children of the Sea Part 2 | Part 3

Hey guys. I was informed today by my mom that she’s been thinking about kicking me out on my eighteenth birthday. My birthday is in just about three months, and while I do have a job, it pays hardly anything with the amount of hours I’m given. Each paycheck is just over $100 USD, and my parents are forcing me to pay them back for textbooks and making me pay for gas to get to school.

I don’t have a car, and I can’t drive yet, so I’m pretty much stuck in my house with no means of transportation and no way to get out. On top of this, I’m a college student and I have been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and major depression. I take medication for this, and they just informed me that I’m going to have to start paying for my medication and my weekly therapy appointments. 

I really hate asking for money. So to reconcile for this, I promise that anyone who pays about $10 USD on either my Ko-fi or PayPal, I’ll write a drabble of whatever that person wants, from about 1k to 2k words. 

Please don’t feel obligated to give, but it would mean the world to me if you guys could help. Even a little bit helps. 

My goal is to move to Canada to be with my girlfriend - the deadline was two years, but now it looks like it might be sooner than that - and moving from California all the way to Ontario is going to be a feat in itself. 

Even if you can’t give, a signal boost would be amazing. Thank you so much for all your love and support.

Pay-pal: https://paypal.me/renywrites

Ko-fi: http://ko-fi.com/renywrites

Thank you!

shidge request with the prompt: reunion. thanks!

Shidge is love. Shidge is life. 

***

Eight months. Two hundred and thirty four and a half days since Shiro had waved goodbye to his wife from the gate of the local airport. He had watched her walk away to a plane that took her half a world away from him, watched her leave and hoped that she came back safe and in one piece.

Those eight months were horrible. Even the constant skype calls and letters and ten minute phone conversations did nothing to ease his constant anxiety. Shiro waited for every second he got with his wife with baited breath. But she was coming home today and he couldn’t be more excited.

The house was clean, the bed was made, the clothes were folded and washed. Dinner was in the crockpot and Shiro was at the airport holding a dramatic glittery sign and waiting impatiently.

The plane had landed a half hour ago and he was checking his watch every couple of seconds to see if time had gone any faster. It had not. Shiro sighs, pulling out his phone and flipping through it. Checking that he was in the right terminal. Checking he got the time right. Checking that it was the right day. Everything was right - he was just so impatient.

After a few minutes of flipping through his social media, Shiro is surprised by somebody tapping on his shoulder. He clicks his phone off, looking up and blinking.

Hazel eyes sparkle up at him from underneath a mess of orange waves. “You are really easy to sneak up on.”

It takes him a moment to fit the pieces together. Then he gasps, dropping his sign and taking a step back. He stares at his wife, in all her air force uniform and combat boots, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair had been sheared off into a severe (and very attractive) undercut, hanging in her beautiful eyes. Pidge was stunning.

“Are you crying?” She asks after a moment, dropping her bag and rushing to pull him into a hug. “Please don’t cry, I’m gonna cry!”

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. “I just… I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Takashi.” She mumbles into his shoulder, wrapping her legs around his waist and clinging onto him like a koala. “So much.”

“But you’re home,” he cries, rubbing his tear stained cheek on her hair. “You’re home now.”

“I’m home.” Pidge repeats, pulling back a bit when he sets her down, reaching up and cupping his face. “I’m here now.”

Shiro leans into her hands, smiling and holding onto her wrist with his own hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she grins. “You big teddy bear.”

“Dinner should be ready soon.” He pulls away, leaning down to pick up her bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go home. I wanna take you home.”

Pidge watches her husband fondly, taking his free hand and walking with him to the exit, leaning her cheek on his bicep. “Okay,” she agrees. “Take me home.”

***

Shidge is in mine and my girlfriend’s top two favorite ships. I loved writing this. 

Requests are still open!

Do you ever have a dumb silly thought at 2am and think "haha I should draw that" and then decide gradually to make it a 6 page comic just because? 🤷‍♀️

Sick Day

I’m back! For now. Enjoy the latest installment in my a/b/o universe. ***

Being pregnant was definitely an ordeal. Keith was constantly sick, constantly tired and constantly annoyed. He got ridiculous heartburn, weird cravings, a bout of puking every day at exactly 3am on the dot and eventually a bump that made it impossible to bend past his waist. The omega was absolutely in love with all of it.

Well, okay, he could do without the being sick and tired, but you get the idea. His absolute favorite part of this was Lance’s reaction. His already loving alpha had become so gentle and doting in the past six months.

When Keith’s legs and feet hurt, he sat on the couch with his mate and rubbed the soreness from his limbs. When Keith was sick early in the morning, he made a cup of ginger and lemon tea and helped Keith clean up. When the omega was incredibly horny for the concoction of hormones his body was now full of, Lance took him to bed and took care of his every need.

However, being pregnant also meant that his immune system was absolute shit. Despite their best efforts, the omega had caught a cold, and today was the worst he had felt all week. Keith was laying in their bed, curled up on his side, his face buried in the pillows. Lance had taken the day off of work to care for his sick omega.

The alpha had been pacing the house all morning. The doctor had said that as long as Keith wasn’t in distress and his fever didn’t pass over 101 degrees, everything would be alright. So far, his fever had been low grade. The baby was more restless than usual, considering it’s mother’s lack of movement, which was making it harder and harder to be comfortable. Even though Keith’s lovely mate had made him the best nest he’d ever been in.

“Lance.” Keith mumbles when his alpha passes the bedroom door for the third time in the past ten minutes, pretending to fiddle with the thermostat.

Lance jumps, peeking in, his expression sheepish. “Yes?”

“Come lay with me.” He requests with a yawn.

Previously, he hadn’t let Lance in, too uncomfortable in his own sore body to even think of adding another person. Two in one was enough, thank you. Now, however…

The alpha brightens, hurrying in and pausing at the edge of the bed, hesitating before clambering over the soft walls of the nest. Keith watches him lazily, his gaze like magma. If magma could be purple. His scent was inviting and soft, despite the bitter tang of sickness.

Lance settles down against his back, tucking his omega close and nosing into the scent glands over the back of his neck. His plan was to layer his mate in enough of his own scent to try and rid him of his sickness and help him relax. Judging by the soft, content hum Keith gave him, it was working.

“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” Lance croons once he was satisfied.

“Baby won’t stop kicking.” Keith grunts. “Little alien wants me to move.”

The alpha chuckles, reaching down and smoothing his hand over the gentle curve of Keith’s belly. Perfect, Lance thinks, he’s so perfect. “I think our little alien can deal for now.” He hums, pressing a lingering kiss to Keith’s neck.

With an amused huff the omega rolls over onto his back, looking up at Lance. “You tell them that,” he grunts. “They listen to you.”

Lance winks, glancing down to where his hand is. He slips it underneath the shirt Keith was wearing - Lance’s shirt, he notices with a small thrill of excitement and pride - to brush his hand over his bare skin. He feels a small push and a flutter. It was almost like Keith was housing a baby bat, not a baby human.

After a few moment the baby stills. Keith glances down at his belly, surprised, then lets out an annoyed whine. “Why do they listen to you?”

“I’m the favorite.” Lance teases smugly, kissing his mate’s nose.

“But I’m the incubator!” Keith moans, dropping his head back down with a thick sniffle. He rubs his nose, shaking his head.

Lance smiles fondly, lifting his hand from his belly to run his fingers through ebony locks. “Does your head still hurt?”

The omega nods, closing his eyes and tipping his head into Lance’s hand. “Yeah,” he mumbles, his voice slightly scratchy. “And my body feels like I was run over by a truck.”

“I wish I could make you feel better,” Lance murmurs, pressing a kiss to his fever flushed cheek. “I would be more than happy to be sick in your place.”

“No,” Keith says as sternly as he could muster. He opens one eye, fixing it on the alpha. “You are the biggest baby when you’re sick.”

“I am not!” Lance whines, sticking out his lower lip in a pout.

“Are so,” Keith argues. “You whine and sniffle and paw at me until I lay in bed with you all week. Which is not productive. This house doesn’t clean itself.”

“I’m laying in bed with you,” Lance says, mildly offended.

“Yes, because I let you.” Keith stifles a yawn. “And because you decided to stay home from work.”

“That’s because you were coughing so hard you were throwing up,” Lance huffs defensively. “I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

Keith looks up at him, his gaze soft. “You silly alpha,” he sighs, reaching up and brushing his fingers over his soft cheek. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me.” Lance suggests. He pauses, then grins. “After all, there are going to be two of me running around soon enough.”

Keith’s eyes widen after he gets the idea, glancing down at his belly and back up at Lance. He blinks, then groans and throws an arm over his eyes. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Lance grins, shifting down. He blows raspberries over Keith’s belly, eliciting a squeal and a bout of giggles. “Isn’t that right, little alien?” He coos. “We’re gonna give your mama a run for his money.”

“I’m gonna be dead before I’m thirty,” Keith moans. Lance laughs, pressing kisses up his belly and shifting over him. The omega looks up at him, flushed and smiling. The alpha growls playfully, earning a pleased coo from his mate. He chuckles, leaning down and kissing him.

“I’m all gross,” the omega mumbles against his lips, but Lance only rumbles and cups his jaw, kissing him just a bit harder. He melts into it, closing his eyes and relaxing completely into the sheets.

“Don’t blame me if you get sick,” Keith gasps breathlessly when they part, his chest heaving.

“I’d risk getting sick to kiss you.” The alpha grins, brushing his hair from his face.

“You sap.” The omega hums, pulling him down to the side. “Come lay with me, I want to nap.”

Lance chuckles, tucking Keith and their unborn child against him. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be right here.”

Keith drifts off to sleep, his cheek squished against Lance’s shoulder and his leg thrown over his hips. With a beautiful mate six months pregnant, curled up against him safe and sound - wow. The alpha decides he was the luckiest person in the world.

***

My girlfriend: I thought he said “come here I want to rap”

Me:

Me: Don’t you know that’s how Keith seduces him?

“You good?” Sevika asks, and Vi barks out a laugh.

“Oh yeah. Fucking peachy.” She says through grit teeth, then sucks in smoke harder than was necessary to avoid elaborating.

Sevika leans her shoulder against the wall beside Vi, looking down at her, expression unreadable. There was a bruise forming in the shape of Vi’s knuckles on her jaw. Lucky shot. The only real hit Vi had managed to get in.

“There’s some girls at Babette’s who can’t do penetration either,” Sevika offers, and Vi bristles.

***

Vi has some old wounds that never healed. Sevika likes to pick at them. They find a way to start healing them together.

***

I debated posting this here. Trigger warning for rape, panic attacks, ptsd, and violence.

I know discourse is the word of choice in fandom nowadays but I kind of wish we would have stuck with “fandom wank” because it carries the implication that the anger involved culminated into effectively nothing and that the act was wholeheartedly masturbatory in nature rather than for any greater cause.