Guess What!

me: i wanna write, i feel like writing

*opens a doc*

me: ok brain now let’s write

my brain:

Happy birthday!

I was informed by Tumblr that this blog turns one today! How crazy is that!

Hey guys! I just want to say thank you so, so much for everything you guys have done for me. From the likes, to the reblogs, to the donations. You all contributed $70 in total and I cannot thank you enough. As much as people want to believe tumblr is a terrible place, all of you have shown me that there is such a thing as support and niceness in the world. Especially in people I’ve never even met before.

Seriously, guys. I’m sitting here crying as I write this because I can’t believe how much of a support system I’ve gained just through this crazy thing called the internet. Especially when only my girlfriend has stepped up to be my emotional support. Thank you. I cannot stress this enough.

On a more serious note, I have some news involving my writing. 

The situation at home and the tension between my mom and I has only increased and gotten worse over the past three days. I haven’t been in such a terrible emotional state in a really long time, and I don’t want it to impact my grades or get me kicked out for sure.

That being said, I’m taking a short break from writing fanfiction until I can gather myself enough. Those of you who sent in requests, thank you so much, and I promise that they will get written when I’m feeling better. There may be sporadic updates when I get bored and want to write something. 

Again, thank you all so much. I love all of you.

Hey so I was gonna write something for you guys this evening, but my parents were on their usual homophobic bullshit and now im really emotional and have a headache so. I may not write anything tonight. Sorry I haven't been very active! Hope you all are well 💜

I Like You A Latte

Who doesn’t love a good coffee shop au? Here, have some fluff with my favorite boys.

Keith had never really considered himself to be the type of person to find someone immediately attractive. He didn’t find people attractive in general, just annoying. It was probably why his last few relationships had failed. To be fair, talking about golf tactics while you’re in your early twenties doesn’t exactly scream late night parties and fun dates. Even if the guy was incredibly sweet and a pretty good lay.

Regardless, Keith didn’t exactly believe in that whole love at first sight propaganda. His brother did; it was how he had found his girlfriend of three years. He told the story with doe eyes and a goopy smile that made Keith want to pull his insides out just to have an excuse to save himself from the story again. No, love at first sight was not a thing.

“Hey, buddy, what can I get’cha?”

Until now.

Keith can only stare wide eyed at the glorious Greek God of a man, who was watching him expectantly with a smile that probably was the reason the sun rose every morning. He was taller than Keith by just a bit, his muscular arms peeking out from his black uniform. There was the trace of a tattoo peeking out at his collarbone - not that Keith was looking, God - and another on his wrist.

His blue eyes sparkle with amusement at Keith’s apparent predicament. He leans on the counter, his muscles flexing - somebody in here had to know CPR, Keith hoped, because he was going to need it in a few minutes.

“You know what you want?” He asks, in a voice that lilts with the barest trace of an accent. Keith guesses it’s of Spanish or Latin descent. He doesn’t care, though, because he just wanted this guy to keep talking to him.

“I-I,” Keith splutters, choking on his tongue. “Yes. Yeah, I, uh.” He whips out his phone. Pidge was going to kill him if he got her order wrong for the third time in a row, which was why he’d had her text it to him.

“Um, so, uh… Bear with me here,” He chuckles nervously, scrolling up to the message. “My friend wants a triple venti half-sweet caramel macchiato, but like… not hot.”

The barista blinks, leaning back and running a hand through his hair before looking at the register and starting to punch it in. “Alright… You said venti, right?”

He glances up. Keith swallows his heart and nods.

“And what can I get you?” His fingers are ready for the next ridiculous order, but Keith was unfortunately one to disappoint.

“Um, just a black coffee. One cream, one sugar. Oh, and a coffee cake.” Pidge would kill him if he forgot her coffee cake.

He smiles faintly, tugging Keith’s heartstrings along with it. “Wow. Adventurous, aren’t we?” He takes a break, leaning over the register again. “Okay. Let’s do this. One triple venti half-sweet caramel macchiato, one coffee cake and one black coffee, one cream and one sugar.”

Keith wanted him to talk forever. That voice was doing things to him that should be illegal at this time of day, in this weather. It was freezing outside, he was supposed to be freezing his ass off, not melting from the inside out.

“Yeah. Sounds about right.” He says, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and flipping it open.

“You want your coffee cake hot?” The magnificent angel asks in his glorious voice. Keith was very glad he was a flaming homosexual.

“Um,” He glances over at the door, which had frosted over from the heat that contrasted from the biting cold outside. “No, I think it might freeze if I do that. Pidge would kill me…”

“So I’m guessing you want your hot drink stopped up?” The barista - Keith drops his gaze down to read the Hi, My Name Is Lance! tag - laughs. He could feel his heart fluttering like a bird in his chest. Lance was such a… perfect name. He had never loved a name more in his life.

“Yes, please,” He says helplessly, smiling. “I don’t feel like being castrated today.”

“That would be a shame,” Lance says almost suggestively with a playful wink. “Nineteen fifty-two is your total. Cash or card?”

Keith winces. Pidge owed him one for this. The things he put up with for a good grade in Calculus. He pulls out a twenty, handing it to Lance, and drops his change into the tip jar with an extra dollar.

“Hey, thanks,” The barista lights up. He picks up a couple cups, jotting stuff down on the back and pausing, flicking his electric blue gaze up. “Name?”

“Uh,” Keith was so good at English. “Keith.”

He would swear up and down that Lance smirked at him. It was either that or someone had shocked Keith’s spine to make him shiver. “Great. It should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Lance.”

The look of surprised happiness on the barista’s face was enough to make his entire week.

***

“You are obsessed.” Pidge remarks dryly, sipping her coffee and looking up at him with amused hazel eyes.

“No!” Keith defends hotly, sipping a pumpkin spice latte that Lance had mentioned were his favorite one afternoon. Not that he cared. Not that he went there every morning looking for the barista with the stunning smile and lilting voice.

“Keith, you hate pumpkin.”

“It’s not so bad…” He mumbles, glancing down at his Calculus textbook, flipping it open. Never had he wanted to actually do his homework so badly.

“Keith,” His best friend reaches over, pulling the bag that held the recommended-by-Lance treat over to herself. She looks down, then back up at him. “You’re drinking pumpkin shit. You’re eating something that actually resembles food, and you literally go to this particular Starbucks every morning to see if you can catch the guy. What’s his name? Lance?”

He flushes hotly, yanking the bag away from her. “I just like that particular Starbucks!”

“Uh huh,” She pushes her glasses up the brim of her nose. “Whatever you say, Gaylord.”

Keith stews quietly for a moment, reading the pages in front of him without actually comprehending any of the symbols. His gaze catches on her cup. He scans the printed out sticker that read the abbreviated version of her drink.

An idea creeps into his head. Keith looks up at his friend a smile playing around the corners of his lips. Pidge looks up, midway through shoveling half her coffee cake in her face.

“What?” She swallows, scowling at her friend. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“I need a favor.”

***

“Hey, Keith!”

Keith can feel himself grow an inch taller at the sound of his name when he walks through the door. He stomps the snow from his boots, looking around the empty store and unwinding his windblown scarf from his neck.

“Hey, Lance.” He grins, looking over at the barista. Lance was leaning over the counter lazily, resting his chin on his arms. That tattoo on his collarbone was tucked away. Keith feels a twinge of remorse. What he would give to see the full picture.

“What can I get you today, Space Cadet?” He teases, straightening up. Keith had made the mistake of telling him he was going to school to become an Aerospace Engineer, so now every day he had a new nickname that was space related.

Keith grins. “I have a new order for you. You ready for this?”

Lance stands up straight, saluting to him with a dopey grin. “Aye, aye, captain!”

He pulls out his phone as he walks over to the counter, clearing his throat. “So Pidge wants a venti caramel macchiato, with skim milk instead of regular, extra shot, extra hot,” He snorts at the rhyme. Lance grins. “Oh, and extra whip.”

The barista punches this into the register, scoffing as he writes down the name and circles a few things on the cup before sticking the order sticker on the cup. “Oh, c’mon, supernova. That wasn’t even hard. I could write that in my sleep.”

“And a coffee cake,” Keith adds with a laugh, blushing at the nickname. That was his favorite so far. “But I think you already knew that.”

“So predictable,” Lance sighs mournfully, poking out his bottom lip in a pout. “Give me a real challenge!”

Keith pauses, opening up his texting app and scrolling to the specific text. He had been blessed with a best friend who used Google Search as both a tool and a weapon. He never wanted to be on her bad side.

“Are you sure? Last chance to back out.”

Lance grins, getting ready to type in everything. “Hit me.”

Keith takes a breath. “Double ristretto venti, half soy, nonfat, decaf, organic, chocolate brownie, iced, vanilla, double shot, gingerbread frap, extra hot, with foam whipped cream, upside down, double blended, with one sweet n low and one nutrasweet and ice.”

The whole store is silent. Even the music was holding its breath. Keith glances up from his phone, clicking it to sleep mode and looking up at the barista. Lance was staring at him with a stricken expression, as though Keith had reached out and smacked him.

“Damn, starshine!” He laughs, rubbing his neck. “I don’t even… I don’t even think that will taste good, buddy.”

Keith grins, pocketing his phone. “I know.”

“But…” Lance hesitates, his blue gaze flicking up to Keith’s, nervous and worried. “You… sure you want that?”

“Fuck no, I don’t want that!” Keith laughs, shaking his head.

“You ass!” Lance groans, rubbing his face. “You nearly made me die, I’m the only one on the floor right now and I don’t even… half of that sounds made up!”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees smugly. “Definitely.”

“You’re so mean.” Lance whines.

“Yeah.” He agrees with another laugh.

Lance studies him, the anxious relief fading from his eyes, replaced by something softer. Keith had to look away, his cheeks heating up. Why did this guy make him feel like goo?

“So what do you actually want?” The barista asks, his gaze surprisingly soft.

You, Keith thinks, but that wasn’t something you could just… say. He settles for another pumpkin spice latte and a bagel sandwich, paying and watching as Lance moves around to effortlessly craft the drinks.

When Keith is walking out, he glances down to see writing on the paper bag that his breakfast was in. He recognized the familiar scrawl, pausing on his route to look down.

You liar, the pretty scrawl reads. There’s a number, Lance’s name under it, with another message underneath it. Here’s what you really wanted.

If you can’t think of anything to say about a fic, writers also like to know:

- what time it is

- how long you’ve been reading

- how many chapters you’ve covered in the last 24 hours

- what you were late for because you were reading

- the woeful few hours you have left to sleep

- the emotional outbreaks you’re experiencing

- the inappropriate place you’re having said outbreak

- the general public’s reaction to your outbreak

- how much phone battery you have left

I’ve been watching a lot of Mad Men because Jon Hamm and I cant stop thinking of like a sixties AU with Gabe and Beez, or just switching out broody Don Draper for Gabriel so could I suggest a domestic 60s set Ineffable Bureaucracy thing?

I decided to do 1968 because of the Apollo 7 mission (I think Bee is just a huge space nerd) and also because I have no idea what Mad Men is (thank you for giving me a new show to watch though, holy shit!! Jon Hamm is a gift). I tried very hard to do this in a 60s setting but it may come off more as 50s themed- I pulled some familiar stuff I know from The Help and read up on some careers before I hopped into this. Bee’s name is Beatrice in this because reasons.

*

Gabriel loved his life. He had a good job working as a Creative Director in a big advertising company, made enough money to be comfortable, got the weekends off to do whatever he pleased, and had a lovely wife to go home to. 

Wife. The concept was still foreign, still made him shiver and smile and feel mushy as could be. Bee would tell him to shove a sock in it, if she were here.

He and Beatrice Romanov had gotten married only a month ago, but only because she had insisted she was going to finish her college degree before he was allowed to strap her down. Gabriel would have liked to have married her the minute he had seen her under those trees in the college courtyard, but she had put her foot down. 

It took a lot more to court her than just a charming smile and a compliment, he had learned very quickly. In fact, the first time he’d done that, he’d ended up with a milkshake in his lap. 

“I’m not a cheap whore,” the soon-to-be love of his life had snapped, her dark eyes blazing with hellfire. “Don’t treat me like one.”

Gabriel had never been spoken to like that by a girl — or anyone — before. At first he was offended, so he made it his duty to try and outdo her in each of the classes they had together. Unfortunately for him, he’d found his match. She was whip smart, mean as a junkyard dog, and took shit from absolutely nobody. Many men had walked away with tattered dignity and a broken nose after attempting to tame this wildfire of a girl. 

He quickly found that instead of wanting to defeat her, Gabriel wanted to impress her. He wanted her to give him that sharp little smile she got when she won. He wanted to hear that laugh, wicked and graceless, that she would let loose on occasion when she was around her friends. He wanted those dark eyes to be on him, always. He wanted.

That wanting turned into a game of cat and mouse very quickly, both of them doing things that had society frowning and the other taunting them to continue. Heated looks across classrooms. Stolen kisses against the bookshelves of the library. His hand on her thigh, her back pressed to the cold stone wall of her dorm building. 

One night, Gabriel took the bait, and had his world shattered by his name broken on her lips, her body bare against his, those eyes looking up at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

Gabriel woke up the next morning with his vessel of hellfire next to him in bed, her inky black hair spilling over his pillow and tickling his nose. The sunlight streaming in the window made her skin look like porcelain, her body ethereal and too perfect to belong in even Heaven. The frustration and pent up tension that remained in him quickly gave way to something that melted his insides, took his breath, and made him pull her closer and press a kiss to her hair.

Three years later, he knelt in front of her with a small velvet box and watched those beautiful dark eyes glisten with tears and love and the promise of a future.

And now he got to go home to his future every single night.

“Leaving already?” Comes a teasing call as Gabriel packs his things up for the weekend.

He looks up, then gives his co-worker a polite smile. “Ah, Sandalphon. Yes, it’s my night for the dishes and Bee wants to watch the Apollo 7 launch with me.”

“You’re whipped, you know.” Comes the predictable laugh, accompanied by others in the office who were bad at pretending to not listen in on conversations. “That wife of yours has you on a leash.”

Gabriel shakes his head, unable to help his smile. “What can I say? I like a girl who takes charge. Evening, gentlemen.”

He leaves with wolf whistling and whoops following him out, but his mind is focused on calculating how much more time it would be until he got to go home to his wife. If he stopped at the supermarket and bought her favorite bottle of wine and some flowers, it would only add another fifteen minutes…

*

“You’re late!” Comes the call when he closes the door. He winces — he had been trying to be quiet so he could surprise her. Nothing got past Bee. 

“Sorry, my love.” He calls, slipping his shoes off and treading carefully into the kitchen. 

The sight that greets him is one he’d come home to for the rest of his life, but one that would always make his heart swell and his knees weak. 

His wife was standing at the stove, stirring what smelled like spaghetti sauce, a red gingham apron tied around her neck and waist. Her hair was pulled back from her face, piled messily on her head and stuck through with a knitting needle (his mother had gotten them for her, trying to insist she needed to be more ladylike. Bee wore them in her hair out of spite. Besides, they did well in a pinch).

“Hello,” Gabriel walks over, pausing to kiss her cheek before fetching a vase to put the flowers in. “I brought you something.”

Bee glances up, surprise flickering in dark eyes, before she smiles. “Sap. Put the wine on ice, we can have it with dinner. It’ll be ready in a little bit.”

“It smells good, Bee.” He does as he’s told, then pulls up a chair at the table to sit and talk with her while she finishes dinner.

His wife blows a stray hair from her face, her brows creasing. “Your mother sent the recipe to me. No, she showed up to my work to give it to me. Spent twenty minutes going on and on and on about how a good housewife always makes her husband’s favorite things…” Bee makes an irritated noise. 

“At work?” Gabriel sits up, frowning. “I’ll talk to her…”

“No need,” she says, with that grin she used to give him just before she dragged him behind a building at school and kissed him senseless. “I took care of it.”

“Bee,” he says, a rush of fondness and exasperation rolling over him. And maybe a bit of dread. “What did you do?”

“Oh, she’ll call you about it later.” She waves a hand, her smile growing. 

Gabriel didn’t even have it in him to be upset — his mother was insufferable about everything Bee did. About how she dressed, how she behaved, how she treated Gabriel. When Bee’d refused to marry her son in a church, that was when Gabriel accepted that he was going to be stuck in the middle of an eternal feud.

But watching his wife move around their kitchen and complain about her day, he found he couldn’t mind. It was amusing to see his wife come up with petty ways to get back at the people who annoyed her. It was definitely a good reminder that she would put up with none of his shit, not ever. 

“Are we watching the launch during dinner?” Gabriel asks when she turns the stove top off. 

She brightens. “Yes! And the newest Star Trek comes out tonight, too. You don’t mind if we watch both?”

Gabriel gives her a fond look, getting up to get them both some wine. “Not at all. Whatever makes you happy, darling.”

Bee grins, blocking his way and leaning up on her tiptoes for a kiss, her fingers snagging and wrinkling his work shirt. He bends to meet her, his hand resting against the curve of her spine and tugging her closer against him as their lips meet.

The chase had been well worth it, Gabriel reflects, as his wife hooks a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him down farther to her mercy with a wicked smile. He wouldn’t trade any of this for anything.

Unaware touch starved Sevika x (un)surprisingly observant Vi

Slight NSFW! I made it into a 5+1 :) hope that's okay, anon <3

~~~

One

Sevika grunts softly as she disconnects the hydraulics that connect her arm to the harness, setting it down on the kitchen table with a louder clatter than she means. She stares blankly at the limb, mouth pressed into a thin line, before she sits down heavily at the chair in front of it. 

Vi pokes her head out of the kitchen, blinking, then smiles. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi.” Sevika grunts.

“You hungry?” Vi comes over to nudge the discarded limb further on the table so it doesn’t continue its slide down toward the floor. 

Sevika grunts again, watching Vi, tense. 

Vi softens. She brushes a hand through Sevika’s hair, ignoring the initial way she tenses. Her fingers massage her scalp gently, pulling a low groan from her girlfriend. Sevika’s eyes close and she drops her head back, bumping against Vi’s chest and staying there. 

“Yeah?” Vi murmurs. 

She gets another grunt, softer this time, as Sevika relaxes into the feeling. 

~~~

Two

Sevika had little tells. She tended to loom, when she was pissed off. She grit her teeth, ground them a little each time someone pissed her off enough. It left her jaw sore and her teeth pulsing painfully, which usually led to a headache. 

She also has a habit of slamming things around a bit when she’s coming down from the dregs of anger. It’s quiet, but she’s firm and sharp with every inanimate object around her. Vi can usually hear muttering from the bedroom when Sevika argues with a dresser drawer or negotiates space with the bathroom counter.  

It isn’t until they’re settled in on the couch to watch a movie that Vi can urge her to lay down in her lap. Sevika usually goes with another little grumble, but she doesn’t bother to hide the way she shoves her face in Vi’s thigh when she finally settles. 

She grunts softly when Vi reaches down to gently massage her jaw, her thumb pressing gently to the juncture of her temple and jawbone, rubbing the pressure from it. Sevika melts, eyes slipping shut as Vi picks through their option of reruns and shitty romcoms. 

If she dozes off before Vi can pick one, nobody needed to know.

~~~

Three

Vi’s favorite thing to do was watch Sevika melt. She’d found a couple ways to do it, but her favorite way was when they were getting ready for bed. 

It was usually when Sevika was grumbling about work, or recounting a new cool fact she’d learned, or just generally listing off their schedule for the upcoming days. This was Vi’s favorite time to interrupt, turning to look at Sevika and reaching up to cup her face. 

It always made Sevika stutter a little, pause, her long eyelashes flickering. She always pressed her cheek into one of Vi’s palms, eyes slipping halfway shut. 

“Yeah?” Vi murmurs every time, her free thumb brushing over Sevika’s cheek, tilted up in offering for every affection Vi could give. 

“Mmh.” Sevika hums softly, melting, nearly purring like a happy kitten. 

Vi often stayed right there, letting Sevika cup her wrist and hold her there. 

~~~

Four

Kiss attacks were something Sevika had no knowledge of before Vi. 

It came when Vi got tipsy, and went as such; Vi squinted at her from across the bar, or beside her on the adjoining barstool, and pouts. Her cheeks were always a little flushed, her gaze bright with her alcohol of choice. 

Didn’t matter if Sevika had a full cup in hand, if Sevika was in the middle of a conversation, if Sevika was trying to appear put together in front of some visitors for work - nope. Vi got that gleam in her eyes, and Sevika was helpless to do anything but wait to catch her girlfriend in her arms and get smothered in kisses. 

Sevika liked to wrap her arms around Vi’s waist, hold her flush against her body, even if she groaned and complained and pretended to hate it. Vi liked to finish with a kiss to the tip of her nose, noisy and sweet, and lean heavily against her to steal her drink. 

Sevika was always left grinning afterwards. 

~~~

Five

The best kind of touch, in Sevika’s opinion, came when she decided to give in and let Vi do as she pleased in bed. 

Vi was so gentle with her; the cocky tendencies and teasing went right out the window the moment Sevika either gave in to Vi’s request or asked outright for it. She spent so much time pressing kisses to every inch of Sevika’s skin, murmuring soft praise against her skin, pausing to pay special attention to every scar. 

Orgasms were more intense when Sevika let Vi take her time, working her up gently and slowly, somehow following every cue Sevika gave or didn’t give, doing exactly what her body wanted or needed with hardly a breath. Sevika always melted easily, making noises she hadn’t known she was capable of before Vi. 

It always ended with tears; Sevika overwhelmed to the point of crying once she did topple over the edge into pleasure with an intensity she’d never thought was possible. Vi always curled up against her side, kissing her tears away and stroking her hair until she calmed and settled, head tucked beneath Vi’s chin. 

Sevika never returned the favor those nights, but Vi never seemed to mind. She was happy to pull the blankets around them and murmur praise until Sevika fell right to sleep against her.

~~~

Plus One

“Vi,” Sevika says one morning, while she’s sitting at the table, reading an article on her phone. 

The smell of bacon and the sound of grease popping filters from the kitchen, where Vi was making them a lazy weekend brunch. “Yeah, baby?”

“I’m reading this article,” Sevika pulls her reading glasses off. 

“Okaaay..” Vi hums, waiting for her to elaborate. 

Sevika is silent for a moment, before she clears her throat and asks, “Do you know what being touch starved is?”

There’s the sound of… maybe laughter? Before it’s choked off and Vi coughs. “I, uh - yes. Yeah. I do know. Why?”

Sevika squints suspiciously at the noise. “...I think I may be that.”

Vi chuckles this time, unable to help herself. “Yeah. Yeah, baby, I think you are. Figure it out finally?”

“You knew?” Sevika yelps, heat rising to her cheeks. 

Vi comes out of the kitchen, leaning in the doorway, fond. “Yes, love. I knew.” She goes over, smelling of bacon and coffee, pausing to kiss the top of Sevika’s head. Sevika melts, and then <em>realizes</em> she was melting, and scowls. 

“Oh.” She says instead, and Vi sighs fondly and kisses her forehead. 

“I’ll make sure you aren’t starved, Sev. Just lemme do my thing, okay?”

“Okay.” Sevika grumbles, and leans into the playful scratch to the short hairs on the back of her neck.

Titles. They’re the worst.

You know what the solution is? Use a Hozier lyric. Too much work? I made a generator that will summon one for you.

It works surprisingly well as a prompt generator, as well.

Worth The Risk

Hello everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA, it’s been a long couple of weeks, and they’re just about to get longer. Pray for me. Here’s the last part of my Children of the Sea series, I hope you like it!

(I may add to this, I’m thinking about opening commissions for Christmas, so if you like this and want more, let me know!)

*

Lance had fucked up. He had royally fucked up.

After he had been rescued by a panicky fisherman neighbor and taken back home, fussed over by his mother and put to bed, he realized just how big of a mistake he had made. In his cold medicine induced haze, he had realized that the siren had talked to him. Okay, so maybe it had been telepathic, but it still counted!

God, and his voice had been lovely. Soft and crooning, curling around the corners of his mind delicately, like he was afraid his words, his presence in his mind, might scare Lance off.

The poor thing had been scared, he realises, for Lance. And after his outburst, because of Lance. And… he had yelled at the creature for things beyond his control. It was likely he was never going to see him again. If anyone had yelled at him for doing his best to help, the Cuban certainly wouldn’t want anything to do with them, not to mention the amount of damage his pride would take.

With a groan, Lance rolls over onto his side, pulling the pillow over his head. He was going to have to fix this, and fast.

*

Keith didn’t go back to the surface, even after the storm had calmed. Shiro had been waiting with baited breath for his little brother to escape the minute the waters had evened out and returned to normal, ready to drag him back by his tailfin if need be. But… it didn’t happen.

In fact, the little siren was more subdued and quiet than he had been since Shiro had taken him in all those years ago. He stuck close to his brother or Pidge’s side, never daring to stray outside of the territory lines. He hardly spoke, hardly ate, hardly took interest in play fighting or teasing his brother. It was worrying. Shiro was very worried.

Keith, he tries one afternoon. Do you want to go to the surface and try to help me find your human? It was his only hope. As much as he hated how happy this human made his brother, he couldn’t bear seeing him like this any longer.

Can we? His little brother gives him a surprised look, his fins flaring with interest. They droop after a little while, his expression falling with them. No, he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to see me. He doesn’t like me.

I’m sure that isn’t true, Shiro offers, but he wasn’t absolutely sure. Keith’s expression told him that this was clear on his own face, his amethyst eyes wide and sad.

It is. Red scales flick nervously, his injured tailfin lagging just a bit more than the others.

And you’re absolutely certain of this? His older brother gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. It seems to work; Keith falters, glancing up at the distant surface.

No…

Well, then. Why don’t we go see if it is? Shiro offers him his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, Keith takes it.

Some small part of him hoped Lance was waiting. But another part was making doubt curl unpleasantly in his belly, reminding him of the harsh words and even harsher look he’d been given.

*

Nobody was there.

Shiro had set him in one of the shallow tide pools just shy of the shore, close enough where Lance would be able to see him and far enough away for Shiro to be able to pull him to safety. His brother was lingering in the shallows, waiting and watching, out of sight.

But… he wasn’t here. Keith waits, and waits, and… waits. He waits until the sun sets and the salt has crusted over his scales, until the tides are coming in and he blames the spray of the foam for the water on his face. He wasn’t crying. He… wouldn’t cry over a human. Not again, anyways.

The little siren was crying, though. It started slow, just a little prick of tears that could’ve been caused by a number of things. But as more time passes and nobody shows up, his mind starts replaying the storm and everything in it. Watching Lance get thrown from the boat. Dragging him through the water to safety, begging and praying to Poseidon that this human would live, that he would spare this one human.

It isn’t long before he’s crying in earnest, pressing his webbed fingers to his face to stifle his quiet sobs, his gills flaring in confusion as he hiccups for breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had he come back? He obviously wasn’t wanted.

He stays there, crying quietly and feeling terribly pathetic. What kind of siren sheds tears over a human, his mind scoffs. Not any proper ones.

Keith doesn’t even notice he’s not alone before someone sloshes the water next to him and gasps a soft, “You came back?”

He jumps with a soft shriek of surprise, recoiling when his human crouches down next to him, his blue eyes wide and lovely and beautiful.

Lance sits there for a moment, stunned and flooded with relief and happiness. “I can’t believe… you came back! It’s really you, isn’t it? I’m so sorry,” He reaches over, cupping Keith’s cheeks, his eyes searching Keith’s own. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things.”

The siren’s wide purple eyes watch him a moment before he sags, nuzzling into Lance’s palm, closing his eyes. You didn’t mean it?

“No, no, of course I didn’t mean it. Oh, baby…” A thumb brushes under Keith’s eye, Lance’s voice cracking. “Were you crying? I’m so sorry…”

The human shuffles into the tide pool, clothes be damned, and scoops the siren into his lap. He whispers apologies in a language Keith doesn’t understand, rocking him and holding him close. It was everything he had hoped for and dreamt about.

His tears dry, his anxious nerves soothes by the soft words from his human, the hand brushing lovingly against his scales, cradling him close like he was something precious. Like something that was meant to be cared for.

He tilts his chin up once he was calmed, looking up at his human, bathed in the soft golden glow of the setting sun. He was breathtaking. Keith reaches up, brushing his fingertips over his cheekbones and smiling faintly when his thick eyelashes flicker, blue irises flicking to amethyst.

The little siren realizes almost immediately that he was in love. Oh, was he in love. Wasn’t that a scary thought? A siren in love with a mortal. He’d been taught all his life that it was a terrible idea to consort with them, that they would take things to keep for themselves. He knew now what they meant by that - but Keith had given his heart to this human.

I don’t know your name, he blinks.

The Cuban laughs. “I don’t know yours, either. I’m Lance.”

Keith, the siren offers shyly.

“Keith,” His human - Lance - repeats, causing a shiver to run up his spine at the slow way it rolled over his tongue. “That’s a beautiful name. It suits you.”

Thank you. He blushes, biting his lip with sharp little teeth, weighing the next words he wanted to say. Can… Would it be okay if… May I kiss you?

Lance blinks, his cheeks heating and turning a shade darker. “I, uh- Yeah! Yes. You may. Please.”

The siren lets out an amused little chirrup, tipping his chin up. Lance smiles, flustered, and leans down, connecting their lips in a soft kiss. It was the best kiss either had ever experienced - and this was only the little siren’s first.

It wasn’t hard to decide that he wanted this human - tides, it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to decide to want this human. But there was an art to keeping one, and Keith had every intention to do just that. So as the sun set and as Lance kissed him until his lips were red and tender and his face matched, Keith was glad for all of this.

Maybe it was silly of them, to fall in love even with how different they were. But once you’re in love, it’s hard to simply walk - or in Keith’s case, swim - out of it. Besides, who would want to give up something as lovely as this?

Yes, Keith thinks to himself, around the third time Lance pulls him back into a devastatingly gentle kiss, remembering all the times he’d been lectured on the dangers of humans and snuck out to see them anyways. This was definitely worth the risk.