#looping absolute territory has made this go by so much faster

[adrekiy0]

FUCKING LOOK AT HIM. okay thank you for your time :]

super early on but done for the night. tired and things hurt

[thanksjro]

Spotlight: Orion Pax - Because Hasbro was Getting Antsy About Their Golden Boy Having Faffed Off into Space

Oho, you thought we were done with Optimus Prime, did you?

You fools.

This is Transformers- we’re legally obligated to have Optimus Prime in some form or fashion running around at all times. This is just Hasbro catching up.

Fun fact: this was published on December 12th, 2012!

Our issue opens up with Orion Pax strapped to the top of a shuttle that’s careening towards a city.

But that’s the hook, so we won’t get to see what that’s all about just yet. No, first we’ve got to see just what all led to this point.

Earlier in the day, Orion Pax got refitted with a hot new bod, courtesy of Wheeljack, and now he’s showing off his new look to historical constant Rung and Kaput, who are here to assist in acclimation.

This is Kaput’s first appearance in the comics, but it’s not his first entry into the IDW continuity. He was introduced in the  Last Stand of the Wreckers prose story Bullets, where he diagnosed Ironfist with dead, in so many words. Kaput’s here currently because he specializes in sparks, and he’s going to make sure that Orion’s doesn’t explode in his chest thanks to the frame change. No word on whether the wheel was something he came into the world with or a modification.

But enough medical nonsense, let’s see the star of the show.

That’s not how reflections work!

Orion’s first point of contention is the fact that his lucky faceplate is missing. Wheeljack replaced it with a proper face, because that’s the new hotness right now. I guess when you’re a race of space robots who can change their bodies the way humans change their clothes, fashion is a lot more work. I wonder if faces out out of vogue in the present- there’s a lot of guys without one on the Lost Light.

Rung offers Orion some reading materials to help him cope with the sudden change, but it isn’t necessary. Orion fully intends to switch back to his old bod after his mission is over.

If you couldn’t tell by this point, this whole “frame change” thing is a plot contrivance to explain away some of the design clashing between comics set during this time period.

This is Zeta.  

Yes, really, they’re the same guy. I don’t think Senator Shockwave would have had him modified for Matrix carrying if he’d known how tacky he was going to be about it.

Zeta Prime seems to think that haute couture is exploding a Galapagos turtle and then strapping the smoking remains to your back.

Zeta leads Orion over to where Nightbeat’s waiting with a slideshow he spent hours on. Nightbeat, at the time of this story, is a hostage negotiator, and today his mission, as well as Orion’s, is to retrieve our beloved Ratchet from a Decepticon terrorist cell hiding somewhere in the Rust Spot. The Rust Spot’s some heavy duty danger, hence the reformat for Orion.

They’ll also be bringing on Alpha Trion, #1 Rust Spot navigator, philosopher, polymath, polyglot, historian, and all-around grandpa.

His beard gets a D+, however.

Note the quotation marks on “he” here; it looks like even Roberts was sick of the Furmanism that is “genderless robots that all appear to be male”. We’ll get more into that sticky situation later on. What I want to focus on right now is our artist for the issue, Steve Kurth.

Kurth is from Wisconsin, and doesn’t have a ton of pencil credits to his name in the Transformers franchise. He mostly does work for Marvel, and while it appears his art blog hasn’t been updated in a few years, the publishing company still has a tag for him. He’s done the Avengers, if that’s your thing.

Anyway, so nobody knows who’s in the back.

I gotta say, Alpha Trion, you got some brass fucking balls to insinuate that the cops forgot to put the hostage tradeoff in the trailer, in front of said cops.

The fellas transform and roll out, Orion pulling the trailer because anything else would be blasphemy, as Alpha Trion guides them to the meet up point. As they drive, the old man regales the young whippersnappers with his tales of friendship and adventure alongside Metroplex the Titan. They were, like, best friends. Seriously.

Storytime gets interrupted however, as our heroes are attacked from beyond the mists.

You know, when I was a kid, my mom had a car that looked exactly like Nightbeat here, paint job and all.

Alpha Trion got so wrapped up in blathering away, he forgot to mention that they were in Slicer territory, and might want to be on the lookout. Thanks, Alpha, way to be a pal.

Nightbeat refers to the creatures as “throwbacks”, something that’s never elaborated on, but I’m going to guess it means something along the lines of being primitive, or perhaps animalistic.

Holy fucking shit, that’s terrifying.

These awful things start swarming Orion, Nightbeat, and Alpha Trion, who all start punching and shooting with wild abandon, making short work of the mass. Orion gets a few paper cuts for his troubles, but they’re all more or less alright.

The trailer can’t say quite the same though; the door’s popped off, and the contents have either escaped or never existed in the first place.

Schrodinger wept.

Alpha Trion pulls the prisoner out of the fog… and then so does Nightbeat.

It’s a two-for-one sale at the Hostage Emporium.

Rack and Ruin haven’t really done anything to warrant being worth a whole entire Ratchet, so Orion decides to have a little chat and see what’s up.

Oh, that’s what Nightbeat meant by Ruin being the ugly one.

Orion’s chat reveals these two chumps to be even bigger losers than they first appeared to be- their only talent seems to be instantaneous conversion, which involves shutting off all the safety protocols for one’s transformation cog for a faster switch.

Orion switches trains of thought, asking about the Decepticon cause and its whole deal. This is a bit after the events of the heist, so the rhetoric has become a bit more violent by this time, and he wants to know what the hell happened.

But there’s no time for philosophic musing, because that’s when the Decepticons show up. Thundercracker escorts our group to the hideout to meet Bludgeon, and the exchange is made, albeit with a pro bono thrown in.

Well, shit.

This was why the Decepticons wanted to meet in the Rust Spot; because they knew only Alpha Trion would be able to guide the cops to the tradeoff point. But what are they going to do with robot grandpa? Why, use him to find Metroplex, of course!

There’s a rumor that Titans have the capabilities to create space bridges inside them- we as the reader know this to be true thanks to the 2012 MTMTE Annual, but let’s not tell Bludgeon about all that, yes?

Orion, please, this is hardly the time.

Luckily for Alpha Trion, Orion stuffed some guns into the bottom of the trailer, as is made apparent when he starts throwing them to his buddies. Why he and Nightbeat weren’t carrying any weapons on their person isn’t addressed, but at least the idea here is kind of cool.

Alpha Trion  easily escapes his bonds, because a noose isn’t really worth much to a species that doesn’t breathe and can literally survive not having a head.

We are just laying it on THICK today, aren’t we?

Rack and Ruin lead the other not-Decepticons into the tunnels towards safety- not sure how exactly, considering they’ve got their sensory deprivation helmets back on- as Orion Pax is dogpiled into submission.

Bludgeon might need a hobby. Might I suggest jigsaw puzzles?

Orion’s about to hit the loop that was created by the first page of this issue, so he tries to stall for time to think of a way out of all this. He halfway succeeds, in that he gets a little more time, but doesn’t come up with anything. Down on the ground, all his friends watch the shuttle shoot into the sky, probably wondering what all that’s about.

Bludgeon was aiming for this shuttle to hit a populated area, but it would appear that he’s an idiot and overshot by a wide margin. Cool beans.

Ah wait, we still have another three pages of story to this.

Hey, y’all remember Hoist’s tragic backstory, where he wandered the Rust Spot alone until he almost died of exhaustion?

Yeah, that was Orion’s fault.

The Fault of Our Star, if you will.

(I’ve never read anything written by John Green, what the hell am I doing?)

Because he just bounced off the underside of Hoist’s shuttlecraft, Orion’s hurtling towards the downtown section of Iacon, which is absolutely a populated area and exactly what Bludgeon was going for. Orion’s going to have to think fast if he’s going to get out of this one. Good thing Rack and Ruin told him their super secret transformation technique.

Thinking quickly, Orion transforms into a truck, breaks his bonds, somehow manages to not fly off the side of the shuttle due to wind pressure, transforms back to root mode, shuts off the autopilot, slams into a wide open field just outside of town, and survives well enough to be more concerned about Wheeljack being mad he scuffed up his new body than his own safety. Good on you, Orion! You saved the day!

To celebrate, he takes an old hubcap or something and shoves it over his face, because I guess only he gets to know how he’s feeling.

Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault the story just kind of ends here.

[hadestownmodern]

First Date (Orphydice)

You all asked for Orphydice, so here’s something I wrote astonishingly fast the other day bc I had so many soft feelings that needed to come out. 

-Danielle

-------------

              “Hey,” Eurydice slides onto the barstool with a smile, tossing her canvas backpack to the ground and propping an elbow on the counter. Orpheus turns at the sound of her voice, fumbles with the glass he’s cleaning. His eyes light at the sight of her, half her hair pinned back from her face, comfortable in a thrifted brown men’s pullover tucked into skinny jeans with a thick belt. He hadn’t seen her since last night, when she’d left the bar and gone to work a late-night shift at the diner. She’d gone home afterward; he’d only known that from a phone call he’d received while half-asleep, waiting up for her shift to be over.

              “Call me when you get out,” He’d held her waist, kissed her at the door of the bar.

              “This is my late shift, I don’t want to wake you up.”

              “It’s your late shift, I know you can make it alone but just…let me know when you get home safe, okay?” Orpheus keeps his hands on her waist, settles his gaze on Eurydice with such sincerity that her instinct is to look away, attempt to cast his worry in some sort of other motive. But even that’s impossible, with Orpheus’s forehead on hers and the softness in his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back tonight?”

              “I’ll be alright-need to spend at least some time at my own place. Besides,” She teases, fixing the loop of his bandana around her own neck and gesturing to a favorite of his shirts she’s thrown on. “I should probably start wearing my own clothes at some point. Which means I have to go back.”

              She stands on her toes and brushes her lips gently against his cheek, then his lips.

              “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

              “Call me when you get home.”

              She had; they’d talked for two hours afterward, Eurydice relaying the night’s events as she kicked off her work shoes, shuffling through the strikingly unfamiliar territory of her apartment. She’d spent most nights since Thanksgiving with Orpheus. Eurydice isn’t sure when the choice became habit but laying in her own bed, she’d realized just how out of place she’d felt. They’d talked until Orpheus had fallen asleep, until Eurydice had thanked him and sat in the silence accompanied only by the frightening soundtrack of her less than comforting neighborhood.

              When she sits herself on the barstool the next day, when Orpheus greets her with his all-encompassing smile, Eurydice is thankful to be back.

              “Hey,” He nods to a regular a few seats down, pours another glass of water before returning to her. “Busy day?”

              “Just one more class left today, then I’m free.”

              Orpheus hums in appreciation, nodding before turning his back to reach for another clean glass. Eurydice watches him for a while, looking down at the sparkling clean and moving his towel around it. He stops only to sip from the water bottle he keeps on the counter, and even then he can barely meet her eyes. His face has been brushed with soft, rosy shades of pink, and he shifts a bit on his feet as he works. When he puts the glass down he clears his throat, clasping his hands together.

              “Would you want to go on a date tonight?”

              “A date?”

              “I just-I was thinking that I haven’t even taken you on a date, and that’s not what you deserve, and as much as I love hanging out with you at home I just. I want to take you on a date; a real date.”

              “A real date,” it’s teasing, endearing, the way Eurydice dangles her legs from the barstool, leans back and folds her arms over her chest. She pauses slightly too long in her response, she can tell by the way Orpheus begins to fidget in place again, open his mouth to form an explanation. “I think I can manage that.”

              Eurydice swipes a swig from his water bottle, leaning over the bar to cup his cheek and kiss him quickly before gathering her things again. She puts on her coat, glances back at him with a wink before making her way out the door.

              “I’ll be here at seven-you can pick me up at your front door!”

              Seven comes painstakingly slow for Orpheus, the bar slower than normal even through the normal rush of the early dinner crowd. Hermes watches, amused, as the gangly boy maneuvers through crowds of people with clumsy feet and eyes on the clock. Hermes attempts to make him leave more than once, but he refuses.

              “She’s not coming until seven-I can’t wait that long without something to do!”

              So he buses tables, talks to the customers; most of whom ask about the new girl that hangs around with him, ‘the small one with the pretty eyes you’re always kissing.’ This helps pass the time, but not to quell the bubbling nerves that begin at his toes, float through his body until they manifest in his passing thoughts. Being with Eurydice is easy; her outwardly assertive demeanor is complimented by his gentle nature. She makes him laugh, her very pointed, sarcastic sense of humor and innate ability to take a generic story and make it into something wild. He’s consumed with the thought of her; her name is Eurydice-we met at Persephone’s Thanksgiving party. But the thoughts soon have him back in the realm of doubt.

              They hadn’t been on an actual date before, although their time together could be seen as such; coffee and studying, movies and fries and sex, but none of which Orpheus could consider a proper date. He hadn’t forgotten, rather the thought hadn’t crossed his mind as having a sense of urgency. In his mind, it felt as though they’d been dating so much longer than they had already. But once the thought had entered it wouldn’t leave; things had been great, but he longed to do more.

              At seven, Orpheus is past a state of panic. He’d put on a nice pair of khakis, thrown a bowtie on for good measure. When he could hear knocking on the other side, his breathing had all been forgotten; Eurydice grinned at him when he opened the door, shook her head as he stood staring at her.

              She hadn’t thought much of herself before leaving her place; she’d found a casual black dress in her closet, printed with gold details that dated far before the current era but suited her well. She’d put in matching tassel earrings, done her makeup with a smokier eye. She’d been tempted to stay in the most casual route, keep her jeans and men’s sweater on and ask to just stay in. But Orpheus had been so excited, seemed so sure of his word, that diving into the territory of an actual date had been a choice she’d been excited to make.

              However, it hadn’t made her any less anxious.

              By the time she gets to the bar it’s still early-half an hour early, almost exactly. Eurydice considers just knocking on the door and asking Orpheus if he’s ready, but decides against it. He had said seven, and he’d been adamant on doing things “right” by his own frame of thinking. The only thing she’d refused was meeting at her apartment. She’d pushed-there was no need for Orpheus to come all the way to her side of town, not when she knew she wouldn’t return to that own personal level of hell until she absolutely needed to. There wasn’t shame in the way that she lived; no, Eurydice found herself damn prideful in the door that wouldn’t lock without something propped against it, the mattress on the floor and the hot water’s inability to flow to her bathroom sink. She’d rented the apartment fresh out of foster care, had said a joyous goodbye to the last set of people who’d pretended to take care of her and rejoiced at the opportunity to finally, finally speak fully for herself. The rundown neighborhood, the repairs needed, and the lack of actual furniture held all of her accomplishment thus far.

              Still, it didn’t mean that Orpheus-panicked about her typical late shift-had to pick her up at a door that barely shut.

              She lingers around the bar for a bit, waving at Hermes and finding a seat at the counter. He gives her water right away, nods at her with a warm smile and eyes that seem to communicate a host of things all at once without saying anything at all. It’s a stark contrast to the pat on the back from Persephone, who gasps lightly and holds her at arm’s length.

              “Well, look at you, gorgeous!” She slides onto the stool next to her, Hermes delivering her a glass of red wine with a slower pace and a warning glance. “Relax, brother, my daughter’s in bed and my husband’s at home. I just came to see the kids off before their big date, maybe take some pictures.” She pulls her big camera out of her purse-the one she’d had at Thanksgiving as she’d arranged their gathering in family photos she’d insisted Eurydice be part of.

              Eurydice reddens, rolls her eyes and shoves the camera back near Persephone’s bag.

              “You know we’ve been seeing each other for two weeks now, right?”

              “Yeah, seeing each other.” The older woman’s eyebrow turns up and she tilts her head, teasing. “You’ve been doing a whole lot of seeing each other, but this is your first date and I’m just here to help you remember it.”

              “Yeah, okay, I believe that for about a second. That’s my cue to go.” Eurydice finishes her water and makes her way to the back of the bar, where a narrow wooden staircase leads to Orpheus’s door. She pauses for a moment, suddenly nervous as she brushes her fingers across her bangs and flattens the fabric of her dress. Then, she knocks.

              The door is open faster than Eurydice can blink; Orpheus stands on the other side, mouth agape, hand still on the doorknob. It takes a while for Orpheus to collect himself, and then he’s a flurry of activity. He leaves her at the door, runs to the kitchen counter and comes back with a neatly wrapped arrangement of bright red carnations.

              “They’re from a shop down the street from Amma’s-Mister Hermes let me leave so I could take the trip down there today.” He’s fully red-cheeked at this point, and Eurydice takes them from him thankfully before venturing into the apartment and rifling through the cabinets for a vase. He watches her intently-she knows her way around, finds a hefty mason jar with ease and fills it with water. Orpheus follows behind her, sprinkling sugar in the water after she’s done.

              “It helps them stay alive longer,” he explains, shrugging. “Amma taught me that, too. You look beautiful, by the way.” The compliment comes out almost breathlessly; Orpheus leans on the counter, between Eurydice and the flowers, and fully takes her in. Eurydice warms at his smile, the way he takes her hand in his, holds it there for a while before kissing her cheek. It’s all very simple, very chaste. Before Orpheus, she’d been used to looks of hunger; of predatory eyes wondering which way is the fastest to get her undressed. He’s content with her hand in his and the bag of her things she’d left by the door. He shuts the lights off and locks the apartment door behind them, leading them down the stairs through the bar.

              Persephone sits eagerly waiting for them, spying Orpheus first. He’s dressed himself in a lighter pair of khakis, still accessorized with brown leather suspenders and a big jacket. He wears a pair of nice brown oxfords, one he’d saved for and worn with pride to special occasions. Persephone notes these small details-the nicer shoes, the way he’d very clearly freshly shaven from when she’d seen him that morning. She watches her son hold Eurydice’s hand, lean down to tell her something and smile as her own face lights with amusement. As they pass the bar Persephone hops down from her stool, intercepting them.

              “Okay, kids, now here’s the deal.” Orpheus’s pseudo-mother crosses her arms over her chest, putting on a look of false intimidation. “I would like my son home no later than midnight. You can kiss him at the door, on the cheek, and then you may go your separate ways.” She’s laughing to herself over the joke, even ruffling the hair on Orpheus’s head, until Eurydice counters,

              “Oh, so it’s not red wine and ‘here, sit together and talk’ and a couple of hours this time?”

              “Hey, if you want to give me credit then I’ll take it. You’re still standing, aren’t you?”

              “Just one picture.” She implores. Eurydice hadn’t thought she’d been serious; it takes a moment to register the request, a moment of Persephone gently pushing them into better lighting and mumbling to herself as she fiddles with her camera. Eurydice obliges, wraps both her arms tight around Orpheus’s waist, rests her head on his chest and smiles. Persephone takes a few shots, adjusting her camera, and then waves them both off.

              “We can’t see it?”

              “Nope-you can wait!” She smirks before putting her camera away, ruffling Orpheus’s hair. “Home by midnight, you two.” She jokes. Eurydice raises her hands, shrugs her shoulders with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

              “What, no parting gift this time?” As they turn to leave, Eurydice feels the foil packet hit the back of her head, turns and picks it up. “Don’t wait up!”

              “Midnight, no later!” Persephone watches them go, Eurydice wrapping both her arms around Orpheus’s and staying close to his side. When they’re out the door she turns back to the bar, where Hermes is waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.

              “That’s our son, Persephone.”

              “So….another glass of wine

_____________

              The restaurant is one unknown to both Orpheus and Eurydice, other than its proximity to the bar. They walk by it every day, looking at its slightly elevated atmosphere and heated walkway as nothing more than a societal disconnect from their deeply favored fries and milkshakes. He’d planned this, however, had read articles about first dates and fished for advice throughout the day that he stored away neatly, facts that popped up at random.

              It all seemed rather silly, and yet it filled his head with bits of information that practically shouted at him as he attempted to navigate his own nerves. The restaurant had a greeter who opened the door with a smile, taking his first advance away from him. He blinks away the anxiety of it all and lets her walk in before him, the host bringing them to a small table next to a wide expanse of floor to ceiling windows. Orpheus sits across from her, a small arrangement of candles a source of warm, glowing light that pulls his breath away for a moment. It illuminates her, soft shadows dancing gently against her skin and the serenity of her lifted cheeks.

              She tilts her head slightly when she listens to him, intent and purposeful and absolutely radiant. He trips over his words and asks questions, unsure of why the articles he’d read online had insinuated that conversation would be difficult. They hop from topic to topic, the path from one thing to another abundantly unclear to anyone else but themselves. He orders red wine and she follows suit; they clink glasses over the candles, laughing as little droplets spill over the side and onto the tablecloth.

              “Nothing happened, everything’s fine,” Eurydice craftily rearranges the understated yet still too gaudy centerpiece until the splatters are hidden, shrugging and laughing and taking another sip of wine.

              They order a host of appetizers, much to the chagrin of the waiter in black slacks and a white pressed button up, who rolls their eyes at the very young couple when she thinks they can’t see her. Eurydice rolls her eyes right back, shakes her head and holds Orpheus’s hand over the table. It’s especially triumphant when the waitress comes back, another waitress in tow, with plates of bite-sized foods they arrange in the space between them. They’ve chosen tiny flatbreads, spreads over bruschetta, stuffed mushrooms and an array of fancier foods neither had even heard of before.

              It’s Orpheus’s idea, this game they play; they start at the plate closest to him, an unrecognizable salsa-like filling within a soft pastry shell. Counting to three, they try the food together (Eurydice doesn’t like this one; Orpheus has his whole shell before declaring it “good, but not my favorite.”). Eurydice comes up with a definitive ranking, a scale from one to ten that they follow religiously through each set of appetizers. They sip wine between each taste, laughing as both Orpheus and Eurydice struggle to eat just one bite of a particularly strange seafood dish.

              “Ok, this one deserves no more than a one-a zero.”

              “It wasn’t the best,”

              “It’s awful, Orpheus. You can’t even get it down!” He isn’t able to argue at that one, going back to the flatbread pizza they’d declared a ten to get the taste of the horrid seafood cup from his mouth. He relents, however;

              “I bet someone really loves this…uh…choice arrangement of seafood. And it’s all local!”

              “Always the optimist,” Eurydice shakes her head, a soft smile reaching lips that have her reaching delicately over the table to kiss him. “I like that about you.”

              He feels the heat of a blush rise to his cheeks, sitting in the compliment in an attempt at hiding the rush of his own disbelief.  Eurydice still maintains her hold on his hand, gesturing to their last plate of food. They’re wedges of potato with yet again another assortment of chopped things-produce, they deduce-gathered on top. After one bite Eurydice’s tipping her head from side to side, holding the wedge of potato on her fork and watching Orpheus’s reaction. His is much of the same; not dissatisfaction, or disappointment, but a stark sort of contrast between a genuine reaction of love and indulgence. It’s Orpheus that speaks first, leaning in close and keeping his voice to a hushed sort of tone.

              “I really like it, I think it’s so good, but…” He puts the forked potato wedge down, suddenly bright eyed and nearly mischievous in his boyish smile. “I like fries better.”

              Eurydice sighs in relief, dramatizing the whole affair by putting her own fork down, squeezing his hand and nodding exuberantly.

              “I thought I lost you there for a minute, what a relief.”

              “Come home with me?” He asks, politely flagging down a waiter for their check. Eurydice nods, laughing to herself at the same words he’d uttered to her two weeks ago, when she’d said yes and surprised herself with staying. Two weeks had gone by quickly-much quicker than anything she’d expected. But with Orpheus, who helps her with her coat and wraps his arm around her waist, who helps her continue to attempt their definitive ranking of fancy appetizers while stopping to order copious amounts of fries from McDonalds, letting herself stay is a choice she’s more than thankful for.

              They find their way into a typical night easily; Eurydice curled into Orpheus, a documentary on the television that they talk over with their own ideas. They share a bag of fries and two more glasses of wine, drowsy and unrelentingly happy. There’s a lull in it all when Orpheus turns to a sleepy Eurydice with one hand mindlessly grazing up and down her arm. He takes a breath, steadies his own mind and in a soft yet nerve-shaken voice, speaks quietly.

              “’Rydice?”

              “mm?”

              “Will you be my girlfriend?”

              What Orpheus didn’t expect was Eurydice’s laughter, like a melody, hitting his heart like a train. He feels himself pull away from her slowly, doesn’t look into her eyes until she realizes what’s happening. Then her hands are on his cheeks, turning his head to look at her biting her lip.

              “Orpheus,” His name comes out through another soft giggle, her thumb brushing his cheek before she leans in, kissing him soft and staying there for a moment, against his lips, sighing. “It’s been two weeks and I’ve been here every day. I’ve never felt as happy with anyone-I’ve never had anyone treat me like this. I’m only laughing because honestly? You told me you loved me that first night and I’m still here. I don’t plan on going anywhere-okay?”

              “Okay.” Orpheus feels a sense of relief, a wave of comfort wash over him as Eurydice tucks herself back into his arms, eliminates the space between them once more.

[dyaz-stories]

The Maid and the Bodyguard — Chapter nine

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Summary: Inuyasha is princess Kikyo’s bodyguard, but one day, he fails to his duty and the princess is abducted. Kagome is a maidservant who works in the castle, and who has had an interest in Inuyasha for a long time. They are sent together to retrieve the Princess. On their way there, things may become a lot more complicated than they had anticipated. AU, Inukag.

After the incident with the monk at the inn, Inuyasha and Kagome seemed to settle in a comfortable routine. They would travel all day, though Inuyasha now didn't complain when Kagome asked to stop to eat. Well, maybe he did complain a little, but he still stopped immediately, and she appreciated that, though she wasn't sure why he felt the need to act that annoyed. She knew they needed to save the princess, that they were in a hurry, but she still had, like, basic needs.

They talked a little while they travelled, or at dinner. Not much, because Kagome didn't dare asking about Inuyasha's childhood — she could only guess how sensitive that was, and she didn't want to go back to awkward silence. She got him to open up, a little, on some good memories, mostly about his mom, who was apparently human. He never mentioned the bad stuff, but she could see it on his face, in the way he frowned and his eyes became distant. She didn't think he even noticed it, and she made sure to leave him to his memories, not feeling yet that it would be okay to ask him about it.

Inuyasha actually got more involved in her past, and she was more than happy to share with him. He had freaked out quite a bit when she had teared up talking about her family, and she had chuckled at his reaction, embarrassed.

"I'm okay. It's just… I haven't seen them in a very long time. I miss them. And, well, papa and grandpa… I won't see them again."

He'd mumbled something, but after that, she'd noticed him being extra careful when he talked about that stuff.

That gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, she appreciated that he was being considerate of her, but at the same time, she did want to tell him that there was no need for that. Yes, she got sad, she cried… But it was all normal. She had lost people who were very important to her, some permanently. It was okay to cry when you were hurt.

She thought it had to do with him more than with her. That he couldn't let himself think like that, because he couldn't handle his pain like that. He could only try to shut it all out and ignore it.

She wasn't completely right. Sure, that was part of it, and then there was all that thing that Inuyasha couldn't let himself be weak in any way, something she still understood. She didn't realize how much his weakness and his pain would have been taken advantage of in the past if he hadn't succeeded in shutting it all out, though.

And she certainly didn't realize that he also didn't want to make her cry.

It had hit him with such strength that he had almost started to shake when he'd smelt her salty tears. He didn't know where that organic reaction came from, but suddenly he wanted to be near her, to hold her, to wipe the tears away, to… To make sure she'd never cry again.

Instead, he had just tensed awkwardly, vaguely making a gesture to touch her in a comforting manner before letting his arm fall back down while clearing his throat.

"You okay?" he had asked, his voice rougher than usual, and definitely rougher than he'd wanted to make it sound — but he didn't think she had picked up on it.

She had smiled softly, chuckling a little, and that had almost crushed him. She had nodded, given him an explanation, and all he could think about what how sad she looked. He knew there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't bring her grandfather and her father back, but thinking that he was playing a part in keeping her away from the rest of her family did make him feel uneasy.

No, that was a fucking understatement.

It made him feel terrible.

Kagome had nothing to with this. Nothing to do with Kikyo, nothing to do with the old had — ahem, queen Kaede —, and in the end, nothing to do with him. Yet, she was stuck here with the promise of getting money at the end of their journey, once they'd brought Kikyo back. That was, if Kagome made it back too.

If she didn't… He'd be the one who'd have to make her trade places and, truth be told, he was less and less sure he'd be capable to do it.

He'd have to though.

He wasn't like Kaede, or even like Kikyo. He didn't care much about what would happen to the country if there wasn't an heir, didn't care if there was a succession war. Those humans meant nothing to him, and Inuyasha didn't like nor care for more people. All he cared about was Kikyo. She'd saved his life, she had been there for him when no one else had. Even she hadn't been the only person who had been nice to him in years, he would owe it to her.

He wasn't stupid, nor deaf. He knew what people said. He could stand the ones who talked about pity, but some of them had implied there was… a relationship of another nature between the princess and him.

That, he couldn't stand. Kikyo's reputation shouldn't be damaged by that. Kikyo was untouchable, and he hated that something like that now tainted her. It was all false, of course, and even though there were moments when he'd wondered what their relationship was — a moment when their eyes met, their hands touching briefly… — he knew that there was no way anything like that could take place between them.

Because she was a princess, and he was a lowly half-breed.

He knew it.

That was just one more reason why he should sacrifice Kagome.

He thought about it at night a lot, when she was asleep. He kept sitting right next to her, and although he would never have told her, it had a lot to do with how much he enjoyed her scent. Maybe it also had something to do with the way her dark hair fell on the pillow when she was asleep, making him want to run his fingers through it, or…

Nah, definitely not.

They travelled for about a week, crossing a big part of the country, taking rare breaks. Inuyasha let Kagome rest longer than was absolutely necessary now. Not that he wanted to slow them down, but because he didn't want her to exhaust herself. It was crazy how he wouldn't have cared just days ago, and now he did what he could to keep her safe. In a very imperfect way, sure, but dammit, it was all he could do.

"We're getting closer to demon territory," he warned her, his voice strained, as he made them stop for the night. "Gotta be careful. Lots of bandits 'round here."

Kagome nodded, getting off of the horse, the movement getting easier every time. In those far territories, there weren't that many soldiers any more, but she wasn't too sure why Inuyasha warned her about the bandits instead of, well, the demons.

"It makes me wonder," she commented while tying the horse to a tree and starting to prepare dinner for the both of them, "we've been on the road for quite some time, right?"

"What, you can't count?"

She shot him a dark glance, and couldn't help the loop her heart made in her chest when she saw he was smirking.

That was something he did a lot more now — smirk. Not that many true smiles, sure, but… But it was something.

And she was the one who made him smile.

Did he smile for the princess too? She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.

She cleared her throat and resumed to her thinking. "But the demons sent a ransom note for Kikyo very quickly. How did they manage to cover all that in such a short time?"

Inuyasha frowned and sat down next to her, watching her precise movements with more interest than needed. "Yeah, 's been on my mind too," he admitted. "Could be a teleportation thing. It's rare, but I've heard of some demons who have that. 't would explain why I didn't smell them coming. It could also just be that they can fly — that'd be a lot faster than walking. Also, they probably didn't need to stop for the night." He glanced at her intently and she ignored him, which made him smile again, in a softer way this time, knowing she wasn't watching him.

That being said, for the smell thing, he was pretty sure there was something else. Probably a barrier, too, but… Since when could demons have that many powers? Usually they had one big power, not all at the same time.

There was definitely something fishy here.

"Have you met demons?" Kagome asked, her voice extremely careful as she handed him some meat. "I know your mom was human, but…"

She let the question unfinished, afraid she had already pushed too far, waiting to him to choose whether or not he wanted to answer her. He stared at the flames for a few seconds, before opening his mouth.

"My brother. Pureblood demon. First class asshole."

He spat every word with a growing disgust, his fists clenching in anger. Their encounter had been years ago now, before he'd met Kikyo and shortly after his mom's death, but he didn't think that was something he'd ever be able to forgive nor forget.

The way he had called him a bastard, said he was the shame of the family, that he should probably just kill him right there and then, and probably worst, how he'd talked about his mother… To this day, it still drove him insane.

To this day, the rejection by a member of his own family was still one of his worst memories. The man — Sesshomaru — had been his hope.

When his mother had known she was dying, she had insisted her and her son started travelling towards the demon territories. She thought his demon family would accept him at least. Inuyasha already knew very well back then that his human one wouldn't, so he clung onto that hope.

Even when his mother, even more exhausted by the journey, died unexpectedly and he was left alone by the people who were accompanying them. Even as he crossed the remaining human lands alone, starving, at night, doing everything in his power not to be seen.

Hope was such a fucked-up thing.

"Demons are no better than humans when it comes to half-demons," he concluded dejectedly.

It had been a long time since he'd last thought of that. It was one of those things that still hurt him.

He felt a weight on his shoulder, and froze when he realized it was Kagome's head.

He should have pushed her away, he should have complained, asked her what the fuck she thought she was doing.

He didn't.

Nor when she reached into his lap for his hand and squeezed it softly.

She didn't know what to say, what to begin with. She could almost feel how hurt he was. Every time she thought she was starting to understand him, she discovered another part of his past that made her realize how worst it was than what she had thought initially. She wanted to say that she was sorry, apologize on behalf of the entire human race — and of the entire world as well — but she knew that wouldn't mean anything to him.

She just wanted to let him know that she was there now. By his side. Willing to do for him, with him, those things that no one had accepted before.

Inuyasha closed his eyes briefly, way too conscious of the way her body touched his arm, of her warmth that ran through him and… Why did his palms feel so sweaty all of a sudden? He'd never had that problem before!

It was all her fault, and yet… Yet he couldn't bring himself to push her away from him. If this was bad, some kind of illness or whatever, he would gladly welcome it for longer. Sure, it was weird, but at the same time, there was something delicious in it.

He glanced down at her. He couldn't see her face, but he could picture it clearly. Her blue eyes, her rosy cheeks, maybe a small smile on her lips… Maybe they were slightly parted, like they were waiting for a k—

He cleared his throat and practically jumped up, startling Kagome.

"In—"

"Time for sleep," he muttered, keeping his back turned to her so she wouldn't see the color of his cheeks. "Otherwise, you're gonna complain all day tomorrow that you're too tired and all that shit."

Kagome rolled her eyes, but she knew the moment was gone. Her hand felt weirdly empty without his in it, and she rubbed the arm that had been touching his softly as his warmth vanished.

"Well I'm sure I'll find something to complain about anyway," she retorted with an acid tone. "Like my rude travel partner or something."

She huffed and soon, she was under her blanket, mumbling something about being a dick.

Once again, it made him smile. Because there was nothing mean-spirited in that, because she didn't mean it, because she wasn't terrified of him, and that never happened.

Just for that, he wanted to protect her forever, but his life wasn't his to give. So he'd have to settle for the now.

He sat down not too far away from her, and kept watching her until he fell asleep.

Kagome jumped up when she felt a hand shake her shoulder roughly, and blinked in confusion when she saw Inuyasha. It was still dark though — maybe really early in the morning — and she felt herself yawning immediately.

"Inuyasha, what…"

"Get up," he ordered through gritted teeth.

"But…"

"Fucking now!" he hissed.

Kagome frowned but did as he said. There was an unusual urgency in his voice, but also in the way he touched her as he helped her get up.

"Now what…"

Next thing she knew, she was holding back from screaming as Inuyasha started jumping through the forest without a warning. She desperately held onto his shoulders, although she realized the arm he had snuck around her waist was keeping her securely in place, pressing her against his chest and making it impossible for her to fall — or to escape, for that matter.

She tried to interrogate him, to read what was happening on his face, but she couldn't find anything there. His jaw was tight, his teeth gritted so hard that one of his fangs was coming out of his mouth. Other than that, his face was completely closed, and Kagome felt a weird twist in her stomach. He felt so far from her in that moment.

Inuyasha deftly climbed a tree and sat her on one of the branch.

"Bandits," he said with his usual economy of words.

Kagome blinked. "But can't you… take care of them?" she didn't like the implication of her words, as she certainly didn't want him to have to kill anyone, however she knew how good of a fighter he was.

He shook his head. "I told ya, we're close from demons territories. Lots of rogue monks 'round here. Probably lots of traps too. I could smell 'em, but if we're running" and with your smell as a distraction, "I'd risk to run into them."

The young woman nodded in understanding. "So… what do we do then?"

…he hadn't expected to feel like that upon hearing her trusting him with her life. He cleared his throat discreetly. Now wasn't the time. "You stay here. Imma get them away from here. You wait for the day, and then you get to the closest inn and you get as many soldiers as you can to get me out of here." He handed her a piece of paper he'd kept in his haori. "Here, that's Kaede's letter. I guess they'll follow you instantly if you show them that. I doubt anyone else would survive in demon territory."

Kagome remained silent for a few seconds. "We don't have time for that woman, I…"

"What do you mean, 'get you out of here'?" she asked quietly. "Why don't you just stay hidden here with me until they get away?"

Those words did something strange to him, like pretty much anything that came out of her mouth. "If there's a monk among them, he's probably, erm, felt me. Don't know how that works, but I can't risk luring them to you."

She shook her head, leaning closer to him. "But if they're bandits and there's a monk, they'll…"

"I'll be fine, Kagome," he said, reaching for her hand. "I'm valuable. If they know who I am, they'll probably try to trade me for money, if they don't they'll sell me or whatever." He swallowed. "That's not to say they won't have their fun with me, so try to hurry, but I'll be okay. I promise."

He didn't know why he was doing his promise. For a split second, as she stared at his face desperately, he thought that she wouldn't care about that, just about her own safety, and already his ears started to flatten against his skull as he expected her mockery.

Instead, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, making him freeze, and suddenly making him way too conscious of her small body against his, of how her breasts were pressed against his chest, and once more, of her tantalizing smell.

"Be safe, Inuyasha," she whispered. "I swear I'll kill you if you're not."

He couldn't help but smile, and slowly, he dared to put his arms around her, gently holding her against him, careful as though he risked breaking her. She pulled away, and he took in her face, trying to stop himself from glancing at her lips and failing miserably.

"You'd better stay safe," he growled as fear overtook him at the thought of leaving her alone here. "Fuck, Kagome, if something happens to you…"

He didn't know what he did. The mere thought drove him insane, and fear almost made him unable to move.

But Kagome smiled defiantly.

"I'll come and get you," she promised.

He nodded. Time was suspended for a second during which his body felt as though it was oscillating towards her, brought close like she was a magnet.

He broke it off, and in one swift move, he jumped to the ground.

He didn't get far, and under Kagome's horrified eyes he was almost immediately cornered by several men. With a feral snarl he jumped towards them, claws and fangs ready for an attack, only to be hit with what she identified, wide-eyed, as an ofuda.

"Those things really come in handy," the man who'd thrown it sniggered.

He didn't see Inuyasha's claws coming, and he screamed when they dived into his chest.

"Shit!" someone yelled. "What the fuck?"

They all started throwing ofudas. Inuyasha kept standing, moving slower and slower, but unwilling to give up, before finally falling to the ground, still thrashing around.

"Fuck," one of the man hissed. "He's fucking strong."

"Isn't he a half-breed though?" someone else asked in disbelief. "How can he be…"

"Never mind that," the man who'd talked first snapped, making the other one flinch — probably the chief. "Let's bring him back to the camp before he can move again. We're going to run short of ofudas and that guy… He'll kill us all."

Inuyasha could have sighed in relief if he wasn't in so much pain. Even behind the veil of the torture, his mind was clear enough to think that now, at least, Kagome would be safe. He had feared they would look around for someone else. Thankfully, he had distracted them enough so they wouldn't think about it.

"My Master will know what to do about it," a young voice said confidently, and at that Inuyasha frowned, trying to catch a glimpse of the person talking. He found himself filled with fear when he realized it was a young monk. Shit. He'd hoped that would be all they had. If there was another one, maybe he'd… "He probably still have some Beads."

The chief laughed at that. "That should be fun. He could probably use some submission," he commented, kicking Inuyasha, making him thrash around more. "Let's just try not to kill him this time boys, shall we?"

More laughs. Dread was starting to fill Inuyasha. He didn't want to wear Beads of Submission. He knew what those did, how they were abused by humans. No. He kept his mouth shut though. He had promised Kagome he would be okay, and he would make sure to stay alive, no matter how long it took her. Probably a few days — maybe a week.

He just had to hope they wouldn't be able to do too much damage to him until then. Still, if it meant she'd be safe that way… It was all worth it.

Kagome muffled her sobs, pressing her hand against her mouth as she watched them roughly grabbing Inuyasha and taking him away, making sure to stay away from his mouth and tying his hands behind his back.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Beads of Submission. Her mom had talked about that, once, with more disgust in her voice than she had ever heard before. She had also heard soldiers joke about that — about how they wished they could put them on a woman, about what they'd do if they could put them on a demon… It was a fate worst than death in the mind of many. The thought only made her sick.

If she left as Inuyasha had asked her, they would no doubt put them on him. That meant he'd be linked to the person who had done it, from what she knew, and she could only guess how much that probably disgusted him. He wouldn't admit it, but he was probably terrified. Someone as proud as him would hate it.

If she didn't do it, there was a risk she'd fail in freeing him. But then, maybe they'd kill him anyway, maybe they'd torture him, maybe they'd break him. All options felt equally as terrible, and she closed her eyes to stop the tears, taking one deep breath as the voices started to fade away. If she wanted to follow them, she had to do it now, she had no time to be hesitating.

Oh, what to do?

What to do?

[oswaldsirius]

Warm

Summary: With an unexpected turn in the weather, Celeste realises mistakes were made.

Pairing: Sirius Oswald/Celeste Morreaux

Word Count: 2695

Warning: None

A/N: This has been on the back burner for a while, but with the weather slowly starting to turn on me I realised it was time to finish it!

           Wishing she could tuck her hands into her pockets, Celeste silently berated herself. She had no one to blame but herself for this mess. Everyone had warned her that the weather would change fast. Multiple times. She had believed them but she thought she still had time. Apparently not. In the space of time between her entering a store and leaving it, a chilly wind had kicked up and whipped right through her clothes to leave her shivering.

           She wanted to find something warmer to wear, but she hadn’t brought enough money to cover that cost and she didn’t know where to start looking. She needed to go home and pray that tomorrow wasn’t as cold so she could buy new clothes. But even if it was, she needed to do it and maybe dress a little better with what she already had.

           Her mouth twisted. She’d need to ask for help and she wouldn’t hear the end of it for leaving it this long. If she wanted to be smart, she should only talk to one of them about it. Out of everyone, Seth was probably her best option. He would fuss and be upset that she hadn’t done it already, but he would know where to go. He would tell the others but if he waited until after they bought something maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

           Celeste laughed flatly. It would be bad. They took anything that happened to her far too seriously. After the whole collapsing from exhaustion this summer, they seemed to take everything she did personally. She hadn’t realised she was gaining a squadron of older brothers when she’d chosen to be with Sirius yet here she was. With an army of them.

           Sirius. Damn it, she couldn’t tell him. He’d offered to take her into Central several times on his days off to shop, even though she knew it wasn’t a favourite past time of his, and she’d found other things for them to do. Although…he most likely knew that she hadn’t done it. He spent just as many nights in her room as she did in his, their wardrobes spilling into each other’s to save time in the morning, and it wouldn’t be hard to miss that hers was lacking winter clothes.

           “Damn it,” she muttered, hurrying into the square. Her fingers were already going numb from the cold and she had too many bags to try to tuck them in her pockets. Why had she put this off for so long? She could spend any day with Sirius, why hadn’t she gone shopping with him? They could have made a day of it and then spent the evening together. Now she was-

           “Celeste?”

           Coming to a stop at the voice, she blinked at the speaker. “Oh, hello, Zero,” she said, quickly smiling. It wasn’t completely forced, he’d been nothing but kind to her whenever they’d run into each other and she did like talking to him. But she was positive she was going to freeze if she spent any more time outside than she absolutely needed to.

           Blue eyes darted over her and she saw his mouth flatten before he stepped closer. “You aren’t dressed for the weather.”

           There was no chiding in his tone but the words made her shoulders slump. So she even had the other army fussing over her? What was going to be waiting for her when she got home? “No,” she agreed, “but I’m going home now so I won’t be outside for much longer.” That was a lie. She had to get through Black Territory to get to headquarters and she was already wilting at the very idea.

           He was clearly thinking the same thing as his head turned, staring to the east. “That’s too far,” he said simply.

           Before she could say anything, he started unwinding the scarf from around his neck. “Oh!” she squeaked as he reached out to loop it around her.

           “It’s not much,” he apologized, carefully tucking it into the front of her coat after he’d finished. “But it will help a little bit.”

           Celeste blinked at him, stunned at the unexpected kindness. “Oh, no, you’ll be cold now and I couldn’t possibly take this!”

           A short laugh left him. “I’ll be fine and you can keep it. It was a present I didn’t ask for, but I’m glad I had it to help you.”

           What was she supposed to say to that?

           He looked her over again before gently taking her elbow to walk her to the edge of the square. “It’s too long of a walk,” he said as he lifted a hand to flag down a carriage. “You’ll be frozen by the time you get home and likely catch a cold.”

           “Oh, no, you don’t have to-!” Celeste stopped talking when Zero smiled at her.

           “You helped save our king, Celeste,” he said, his smile softening. “The least I can do to help repay that is get you a carriage to take you home.”

           The colour on her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold now. “That was so long ago. Really it’s alright.”

           She knew he was listening to her as he opened the door of the carriage that rolled up to them, but her protests didn’t matter. He helped her up into it, that soft smile on his face the entire time. “Zero, I…thank you,” she said, feeling lame that that was all she could give him.

           “You’re welcome, Celeste, but you should really buy proper clothes soon. You need to take care of yourself.”

           “I will,” she promised as he closed the door. She heard him talking with the driver before the carriage rolled away.

           Well this was unexpected. Welcome but completely unexpected. She’d run into several of the Red Army’s officers over the months she’d lived in Cradle and she was slowly getting to know them better. It was easier to judge their characters outside of the official meetings held to help solidify the truce and peace between the armies. The few she’d been invited to attend had felt tense and it was hard sometimes to see more than the uniform in those moments.

           But she did know that some of them had almost as bad a sweet tooth as her, Zero included.

           Touching the scarf, Celeste smiled to herself. She would have to thank him for the kindness of both the scarf and the carriage ride. He said it was in thanks for helping Lancelot, but really he didn’t have to do this. She really hadn’t done anything to warrant it.

           The carriage ride went far faster than she expected and she started digging in her wallet as they came to a stop. She should have enough for the trip. She hoped.

           “Not necessary, Miss,” the driver said as he opened the door and saw her. “The Ace already paid for the trip.”

           Celeste stared at him. “He did?”

           The driver smiled and held out a hand to help her down. “Yes, Miss. Said he wanted to make sure you didn’t have to worry about anything else but getting warmed up.”

           He was too sweet. “Oh.”

           He tipped his hat as she stepped down and wished her a nice day.

           She stared after the carriage, her thoughts whirling. She would definitely have to thank him. Maybe she could bake him something and have it sent to him? It would be the easiest way to do it.

           A shiver wound up her spine and she quickly spun around to hurry into headquarters. She bypassed the stairs in favour of going straight to the kitchen. She needed something to help her warm up. Soup or maybe a hot cocoa. Then she could tuck into her room and huddle under her blankets until someone needed her.

           Dropping her bags onto one of the chairs at the table, Celeste flexed her fingers and winced a little. Even with the small break in the carriage, they were stinging from the cold. Rubbing them together, she blew gently on them as she moved toward the stove. There was probably soup she could heat up which would be a better idea than making the cocoa from scratch. That could come later when she could actually feel her fingers.

           The growl her stomach produced sealed the deal and she reached up for a pot. She’d barely touched it when the door into the kitchen swung open.

           She froze. Lunch was long past so she had thought she would be safe for long enough to do this. Whoever had opened the door wasn’t saying anything but he didn’t need to. The way her skin was starting to burn told her exactly who it was. Or maybe that was feeling coming back to all the numb parts of her. “I thought you were working,” she said over her shoulder, telling herself to be calm and keep focused.

           “I was,” Sirius agreed.

           She could hear it in his voice, he wasn’t happy. Pretending she didn’t know exactly why, she said, “Is something wrong with-”

           “Celeste, I saw you get in.”

           Damn it. Her shoulders slumped, but she kept herself from looking at him as she searched for a jar of soup. “Oh,” she said quietly.

           “Oh. Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

           She puffed out her cheeks and tried to open the jar. But her hands were still stiff and she could barely hold onto the lid. “I made a mistake,” she admitted. “I was dressed for the weather when I went out but…it got colder.”

           He made a short noise. “Cherry, you are not dressed for the weather. It’s November. We told you.”

           “I know,” she sighed, finally twisting around to look at him. He wasn’t even fully in the kitchen. He’d simply stopped in the doorway. “I know, Sirius, and I made a mistake.”

           He stared at her before his face tightened. “You haven’t gone shopping,” he accused.

           Celeste shrugged, not wanting to actually admit that.

           “Celeste,” he groaned, “we talked about this weeks ago.”

           She knew that and she knew she had messed up. But she couldn’t do anything about it now. “I’m going to get something tomorrow,” she promised. “I was going to ask Seth to go with me.”

           “No.”

           Celeste blinked at him, watching as he closed the door then the distance between them. He nipped the jar from her hands and shuffled her away from the stove before she even realised what he was doing. “Sirius?”

           “The day after tomorrow,” he said, easily twisting the jar open and pouring it into the pot. “I have it off. I’ll take you. Then I’ll know for sure you have what you need.” The last was said under his breath but they were close enough she heard it loud and clear.

           “Don’t you already have plans?”

           Sirius gave her a look. “You’ve wiggled out of it every other time, Cherry. We’re going before you make yourself sick.”

           Rolling her eyes, she gave up. It wasn’t a fight she could win and she didn’t want to argue about it. Moving to the table, she shrugged out of her coat, shivering a little as she took it off. Maybe she should cuddle up to him. He was usually warm enough for them both and she doubted he was annoyed enough to deny her that.

           “What is that?”

           The sudden question made her jump and she twisted to find him staring at her again. “What? Oh, this?” she said, lifting the ends of the scarf she’d started to take off.

           “It isn’t yours.”

           How did he know that? Taking it off, she finally noticed the red roses embroidered along the edges and the large ones at the bottom. “Oh, no, it’s Zero’s.”

           “The Ace of Hearts? What were you doing with him?”

           “Nothing,” she said honestly. “I ran into him and he was nice enough to give me his scarf when he saw I was cold. He got me the carriage as well, paying for it for me too.”

           “Did he.”

           “Mm, he said it was in thanks for helping Lancelot but really, I didn’t do anything,” she said, carefully folding the scarf into a neat pile. “It was nice of him though so I want to thank him back.”

           “Do you.”

           Celeste stopped and looked at Sirius properly. Why was that note in his voice? He had turned back to the stove, stirring the soup idly, but she didn’t buy it. She knew him well enough to know what he was starting. “Yes, I do,” she said firmly, “because it was a kind gesture from a friend.”

           He slanted a look at her, not even trying to be subtle. A quiet grunt left him as he turned back to the soup.

           Silly man. He knew she loved him and had no desire to ever be with anyone else yet he got jealous over someone giving her a scarf? Shaking her head at him, she moved to stand behind him and wound her arms around his middle. “I love you,” she murmured.

           “I know.”

           “I really love you, Sirius.”

           “Celeste.”

           “I really, really love you.”

           “Cherry.”

           She smiled into his shirt. He’d sighed it, a hint of exasperation in his voice, but she could hear his love in the nickname. When he shifted against her, she loosened her hold on him and slipped around. She ducked under his arm when he lifted it and cuddled into his chest. This was much better.

           One of his arms wound around her, tucking her tight to him. She knew that if anyone asked the answer would be to make sure she didn’t get too close to the stove. But she also knew that he liked keeping her close when he got jealous, liked that confirmation that she was very much with him. When his lips brushed over her hair, she moved to rest her chin against his chest and stared up at him.

           He gave her a faint smile after a moment. “Your nose is red,” he murmured.

           Celeste pulled a face. “It’s cold,” she grumped, shifting to bury her face back into his shirt. He made a noise as she burrowed into the spot between open buttons, her cooler skin touching his. His warmth was slowly seeping into her but it wasn’t enough.

           He shifted on his feet when she gave his shirt a tug before he sucked in a sharp breath. “Celeste, your hands are freezing,” he hissed, his back arching in an attempt to get away from her.

           “You’re so warm,” she purred, pressing her palms flat to him. It wasn’t like this was new. She generally woke up with cold toes and it was habit to press them against him now. It was one of her favourite things to do in the morning. This was no different.

           Sirius squirmed against her, his own hand tightening in the back of her dress. “Dammit,” he muttered. “We’re getting you gloves first when we go out.”

           “Mmhmm.” She smiled against him as she slid her hands up a little higher and got a grunt out of him. “Not a scarf?”

           “You can wear mine when we go. My gloves won’t fit you as well.”

           Her smile grew. Of course, he’d want her to wear his. Even if the gesture from Zero had been nothing but friendly, Sirius would want that silent reminder to anyone that saw that they were in a relationship. She was almost sure he would put her in his coat to get his point across if it didn’t look so ridiculous on her. “A jacket might be smarter,” she said after a moment.

           “We can get them together so they match. We’ll get you a couple.”

           Always an answer for everything. “Yes, Sirius.”

           “Don’t ‘yes, Sirius’ me,” he said.

           Celeste laughed, leaning back from him and letting her hands slide down to rest against his hips. “Yes, Sirius.”

           “Cherry,” he huffed.

           “Yes, Sirius?”

           He snorted and tugged her back into him, but she saw the smile on his lips and she cuddled tight to him. That smile warmed her more than anything else ever could.

[jemej3m]

The One Thing I Won’t Dare To Say

Slowly, ever so slowly, things began to change. Andrew, unaware of how small things could make such problematic differences, began to notice different affectations between himself and Neil, and doesn’t realise how much it matters. 

And then he realises his mistake, or not so much his mistake, but the changes he’s missed, and it’s nobody’s fault but his own. 

He discovers that he freezes, only momentarily, almost letting those words slip. 

But he wouldn’t say them. He couldn’t. He can’t. He won’t. 

So he doesn’t.

Andrew would never tell Neil -- for no particular reason, as he’s given up finding one -- how much he likes Neil’s legs.

But he’s sure that Neil already knows.

He’s not subtle when he snaps the elastic of Neil’s tiny fucking shorts that he wears during summer, which is, unfairly, rather extensive in Southern California.

He’s not subtle when he keeps a pair of them in Neil’s little selection of clothing in his own apartment when he graduates. For Neil to wear. Around the house. If he wanted to. No harm in it. None at all.

He’s not subtle when Neil hooks said shorts on his finger with a grin and says, “I hate you.” because Neil knows that’s not what Andrew means, and Andrew should have definitely said something else, because Neil comes out the shower wearing nothing else --

Andrew makes a big show of burning the pair of shorts when they move in together. The smoke alarm goes off, and the entire apartment gets evacuated. Andrew’s face is as blank as stone, but Neil’s laughing too hard for the firemen who’d responded to the alarm to get a word out of him.

Andrew loves his runner’s legs. But he’d rather admit God was real than have Neil know that.

~

Neil almost never laughs with anyone but him, and Andrew loves it. Honestly. Wholeheartedly. Neil’s laugh is short and high and when he gets into a fit, he can’t stop. He’ll be resting his head on Andrew’s lap, cheeks flushed from his third shot of gin, laughing hysterically as Andrew continues to mock Kevin in a theatrically low, gravelly voice. Neil’s palms are sweaty and they grasp Andrew’s jaw, and then lock loosely around his neck, and then grip his shoulders. It must be awkward, considering he’s sprawled across the couch but with his head at an odd angle on Andrew’s thigh.

But he’s laughing.

Andrew pauses, almost -- almost -- smiling (A mere raise of the corner of his lips), as he waits for Neil to calm down. It happens slowly, because Neil will remember something, or hiccup and laugh at himself, or look up at Andrew and continue giggling.

What a child. Andrew brushes the curls away from Neil’s forehead and waits, until Neil’s swallows and smiles loosely at something, but is quiet. He knows the barriers he’s been given, and wouldn’t dare breach them in his state, but he brushes Andrew’s lips once before letting his hand drop.

“Hey.” He smiles a little wider, and Andrew feels like he’s going to be sick.

Andrew says nothing. There’s nothing he could say right now that he wouldn’t regret in the morning, because there’s no words that feel right to say in this moment of time. He can’t imagine saying those three words without the bitter taste of bile at the back of his throat: Neither of them have been loved or loved and it’s too foreign of a concept to either of them, so why does Andrew want to say them? 

But it’s not the right time. Or it could be the right time, but Andrew’s not the right man. 

So he says nothing.

~

Andrew shouldn’t like it when Neil gets angry, but he does.

Neil gets angry because Kevin is winning. Neil gets angry because the FBI stopped by and threatened to take him into custody for no reason other than you know what you did, despite him having done absolutely nothing. Neil gets angry because someone called him the wrong name -- again.

And Andrew finds himself admiring Neil.

Neil is a flame. Red-hot on the outside, with auburn curls and the lightest of bronzed shine on his skin, a smattering of ash-like freckles. He’s a little more brazen once you know him -- or, he knows you, the mysterious entity that he is -- berating you with a sharp tongue that spits heat.

And at his core -- blue, blue, blue, the shimmeringly deceptive blue of his eyes that exists deep within him, the hearth that is Neil’s anger, nestled deep inside. And when Andrew sees it rear it’s head, uncontrolled and bursting at the seams. Well. He knows what it feels like to be on the edge of losing all inhibition.

Neil’s anger doesn’t ignite any unwarranted feelings in Andrew. Merely, he feels an even deeper connection with Neil than ever before, the more human Neil becomes, and the more Andrew understands himself.

Andrew lets himself like it -- the flame, the burn, the sparks, all of it -- because it’s never made him feel more alive.

But he never tells Neil that.

~

Neil stops sleeping like his subconscious knows there’s someone to stab him through his stomach as soon as he awakes, and starts sprawling out across the mattress, pure of bad intentions, merely the victim of getting used to a safe-space.

They’re all the same.

But Andrew notices, because of course he notices -- how Neil stops sleeping facing the wall, curled in, with one hand under the pillow and a small divot between his eyebrows. He stops sleeping like a corpse: Completely still and devoid of any movements larger that a careful breath. He lays on his back, and then -- better yet -- curled into Andrew’s side. He lays with a hand reaching out, slowly spreading his fingers over Andrew’s chest.

Andrew, too, is a victim of this routine. This lapse of judgement that he’d gotten himself into: This awful decision, this life sentence that feels as though he’s sold his soul and doesn’t regret it at all. Andrew stops sleeping so lightly, because how on earth could he sleep lightly when Neil’s hand on his chest is an irresistible weight, pulling him into the mattress and safe confines of their small haven?

They graduate. One after the other. This continues to evolve after they move in together, years later still, when there’s two king single mattresses pushed together to form a double, just in case there’s an awful night where sleeping alone is damnation but touching one another seems worse.

In the private confines of his own mind, he lets himself say this:

Andrew loves this about Neil. The way Neil sleeps. When he isn’t plagued by nightmares, when he isn’t tense or injured or ill: When the golden light wafts in from slits in the shutters, coating Neil’s eyelashes in their bronze glow, making his curls soft and his freckles melt into golden skin. When his lips are a little puckered, curled up at one corner, and there’s the tiniest hitch in his breath when his hand reaches out and finds a lack of Andrew’s torso, fingers curling against the sheets.

Andrew slides back down to where Neil can fist his fingers into the cotton of his pyjamas, and knows he won’t breathe a word of how much he loves Neil like this, but wishes -- no, hopes -- that one day he might find the courage to.

~

He has stories painted across his skin and Andrew takes delicate care in worshipping each one of them, silently, reverently.

Andrew loves each of these scars. None are self-inflicted, not even the stitch scars that held together some of the more gruesome gashes.

These scars aren’t pretty, not thin and neat like Andrew’s are: Andrew wouldn’t call his scars pretty, but he didn’t slash without abandon. He aimed for precision: Neil’s markings are pure cruelty. How much pain can the body withstand? How much blood or skin can a living being lose? Puckered gunshot wounds and the ragged territory of where his skin was shredded after rolling out of a car: The mix-matched, jagged gashes next to his spine, just above his right hip, and the beginnings of what probably would have been the same thing on the other side. Neil said his mother had just swooped in to save him before Jackson had the chance to make it symmetrical.

The iron mark on his shoulder. The divot of a stab wound in his stomach.

Andrew loves these scars, because they are Neil’s, and he loves Neil. He does. He does. He does, he does, hedoes,hedoeshedoeshedoes --

Neil.

Neil smiles across at him: They only thing between them is space, and Neil’s hand lying limp on the sheets. Andrew’s hand is resting lightly on Neil’s hip, thumb absentmindedly swiping over the small, familiar ridge that marked the end of Neil’s gravel burn.

“Hey.”

Andrew looks up at him.

He still doesn’t say anything.

~

That’s the thing with strong, stubborn mentalities: Changing them is an enormous, draining effort. Sometimes it’s necessary.

It was very necessary.

Andrew regretted.

His fingers were gripped tightly around the steering wheel, looping his way through the sparse traffic as he escaped the city confounds to get onto the interstate and get into the next state over. He couldn’t feel anything: He couldn’t breathe.

The last time this happened, the last time they had been cryptic, was when Neil had vanished and they hadn’t been allowed to say anything at all.

This time was very, very different. Neil wasn’t gone: He was just.

Dead.

Almost.

Apparently. Vague answers were all that Andrew’d gotten.

That’s why Andrew was hellbent on driving as quickly as he could, unable to to breathe, or think, or feel.

All those missed opportunities to tell him: Andrew lamented over each one with startling clarity as he was honked at continuously the closer he edged towards the next state over’s biggest city. Names of locations were useless. He just needed to drive.

He didn’t dare drive too close to the hospital, for the fear of being too tempted to merely park in the ambulance bay instead of searching for a park and then being forcefully taken out before he had the chance to see him. He parked on a side street and ran faster than he’d ever bothered to before, not letting himself think about how if he didn’t run fast enough, he might be seconds too late, not letting himself hear Neil’s voice taunting him about doing more cardio, not letting the shiver that ran down his spine affect him.

He burst through the entrance’s doors and grabbed the first person in a white coat that he saw. “Neil Josten. Where is he?”

~

Andrew hated Neil’s team. They moaned and groaned: one was crying and a few were furious but Andrew knew that none of it was genuine: They were mad about Neil fucking up their game, scared about how it would affect their season. They weren’t concerned, not in the slightest, that Neil was on his deathbed.

Also: None of them knew that Andrew was here for Neil. Andrew was wearing one of Neil’s old black hoodies that he’d snatched on his way out, sitting in the corner. Listening to them lamenting about the turn of events.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead.

His lung had been punctured by a broken rib, the doctor had said. Slamming into a wall would do that to you.

He’s not dead. He’s not. He can’t be.

His spine was dislodged. Having a mark twice your size crush you into the wall would do that to you.

He’s not dead.

“For all the shit he’s put us through,” A striker said. “He kind of deserves this.”

“Jesus Christ, Rowen.”

Rowen shrugged.

Andrew curled his fingers into fists, feeling the blade of his knife beneath his armband: It was warmed by Andrew’s body heat, and if Andrew didn’t have any common sense, it’d be buried deep within that striker’s chest.

Andrew called Kevin.

“Fucking finally.” Kevin gasped. “Is he alright?”

“Don’t know. How many of the others know?” The others. The old Foxes.

“All of them?”

Huh. None of them had bothered to text Andrew.

“They shouldn’t have bothered you.” Kevin’s voice was strained. “I told them not to. They’re desperate to know: Text Wymack when you find out, won’t you?”

Andrew hesitated.

But Neil wasn’t just his. He had a whole family of people who were just as anxious to hear he’s okay as Andrew was.

“Sure.”

Kevin swallowed.

Andrew hung up, and pulled a knee into his chest.

~

“You’re trading Neil Josten onto our team.”

His coach hummed. “Is he alive?”

Andrew ground his teeth together.

“Sorry. That was insensitive. But there’s still a few weeks left of the season, Andrew.”

“He’ll be recovering.”

She paused.

“That’s true enough. I’ll see about it, though II can’t promise anything. And Andrew?”

He grunted.

“You’d better be on your best behaviour if I pull it off. Fucking in the locker room is not allowed. You’re excused from practise this week until the game, but you’d better be in Dallas by 2:30 PM, sharp, alright?”

“Fine.” Thank you would have tasted too bitter on his tongue.

“You’re welcome.” His coach said, smoothly, knowing better. She hung up, and Andrew stared at the time stamp blinking up at him for another moment before tucking his phone away?

“Andrew Minyard?” It was well into the morning when an exhausted nurse dragged herself out, and waved Andrew down.

Neil’s team slowly turned to look at him rise out of his chair and breeze past.

“Is he ok.”

The nurse smiled weakly and nodded. “He’s stable.”

“What the fuck?” Rowen stood up, black curls bouncing. “What is he doing here?”

“Mr Josten’s team, I’m guessing?” The nurse asked. The coach nodded and walked forward: The woman turned back to Andrew. “As his only emergency contact, you’re the closest thing we have to a legal guardian. Do you want them to wait?”

“I want them to get out. Take me to see him, please.”

She smiled, and lead the way, leaving the ruckus of a shaken Exy team behind.

“You two should really get married.” She said, lightly. Her name pin read Jane.

Andrew said nothing.

“Seems like he’s one for getting into all kinds of trouble. It would make this situation a little simpler.”

“I’m the emergency contact.”

“For some doctors, that’s not good enough.” She smiled gratuitously. “You’re lucky this is N-Y-C.”

New York. Right. That’s where Neil played, lived. A thousand miles away.

“Will he be able to play?” Andrew hated that he had to ask that. But this was Neil’s life on the line: Any serious damage to Neil spine meant he wouldn’t be able to play, and the Moriyamas would kill him before he even woke up.

“Nothing that won’t heal. It may take a while, though.”

“How long is a while?”

“Perhaps up to six months. His skull was heavily fractured: He might have to have it reconstructed, depending on how he goes over the next two weeks.”

Andrew huffed. “Where the doctor?”

Jane smiled thinly. “It’s a big city with lots of people. What you see is what you’re getting, Minyard.” She pushed the door of a small, private room inwards.

Andrew’s never seen Neil hooked up to so many wires before: He’s got a fat tube coming out of his mouth and fluids in both arms. Regulators are measuring all his variables, but Andrew only has eyes for Neil: Red curls semi-shaven, both eyes blackened, nose a little crooked.

A chair is pushed behind him as he stumbles to Neil’s bedside, and his hand immediately cups the burnt cheek, being as gentle as he can.

“Please be careful.” Jane murmured. “He’s stable but vulnerable.”

“When will he wake up?”

“When the sedatives wear off.” She stood on the opposite side of the bed with crossed arms. “Then we may have to imitate to let him heal: Usually with such injuries, he’d be comatose. He’s strong, though. But he’ll be in a lot of pain.”

~

Neil wakes up the next morning, stiff, frozen, and grips Andrew’s hand so tightly that his fingers felt crushed.

He’s immediately put back under sedatives, but for just a moment, Andrew’d seen those blue, blue eyes.

I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him when he wakes up.

~

The whole team is here. Andrew has to leave for his game in Dallas, and in a brief moment of panic, unwilling to leave them alone, he’d let it slip to Kevin that Neil was alright: Sedated, but alright. Now the whole team is here, standing at the end of his bed, shaken but so, so relieved.

Neil doesn’t even know they’re here.

It’s been almost a week: Soon Neil would have healed enough to be conscious without blacking out from pain. He’s undergone three surgeries on his skull and been put into a back brace so he remains still when he wakes up, but he looks gaunt. And pale. And thin.

Or maybe Andrew’s paranoid.

“Andrew,” Kevin jostles him out of his thoughts. Andrew’s been staring at Neil the entire time: Not that it was any different than normal, but he doesn’t act like a love-sick idiot in front of the rest of the Foxes, or anyone for that matter. But he’s watching Neil: He’s seeing whether or not the voices of his family bring him out of his induced slumber.

“He’s fine. You have a flight to catch.”

Andrew’s face is stone but his heart is racing. He clears his throat as quietly as he can. “You’ll text me.”

“If anything happens.” Kevin tilts his head to the side, speculating Andrew’s dulled mood. “Of course I will.”

Andrew shoves past the rest of them out the door.

~

He’s back from Dallas at 1:27 in the morning, and walking back into the hospital at 1:49.

“Sir --”

“Don’t worry, Evan.” Jane puts a hand on his shoulder. “Go take a break.”

Evan looks mildly bewildered by the older nurse: Jane leads Andrew right back to Neil’s room.

Kevin looks relieved to see him.

“Nothing happened?”

“Don’t you trust that I’d text you?” He stands up.

“In such a hurry to leave?”

“I can’t fathom him like this.” Kevin shakes his head, looking gaunt in the dim lighting of Neil’s heart monitor display. “He’s always protected me. Sitting here -- feels wrong. I’m not strong enough to provide the protection he needs. I can’t stand between him and the Moriyamas like he did for me. I can’t --” He gestures helplessly.

“Quit the wallowing, Kevin.”

“What if this is it for Neil, Andrew?” Kevin stresses. “What if Ichirou decides that six months is too long of a recovery period? What if something is fucked, forever, and we didn’t realise?”

“He would rather die than run.” Andrew says, meditatively. Evenly. Knowingly.

Kevin’s head hangs, and he looks at a peaceful Neil once more, before pushing the chair away from the edge of Neil’s bed and brushing past Andrew without touching. Andrew resumes his position in the chair that Kevin had been keeping warm.

Kevin pauses by the door. “You know. Ages ago. After Neil came back from the FBI and told us everything, Nicky said you’d protect him. He wasn’t lying. You’d die trying, but.” Kevin’s grip on the door handle tightens. “You’d try anyway.”

“Your point, Kevin.” Andrew is more shaken than he wishes to let on. He hopes Kevin is tired enough to miss it.

“I don’t know.” Kevin is being point-blank honest. “I guess I just needed to make sure that you knew.”

“Knew what?”

Kevin pauses. “That you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you, Andrew.”

Silence.

“The others have booked hotel rooms about a block away.”

“Press.” Andrew reminds him. “Muggers.”

Kevin flaps his fingers in Andrew’s general direction. “I got it covered.”

Andrew goes back to gazing the planes of Neil’s face, mapping the topography of his burned cheek.

~

When Neil wakes up the next morning, Andrew is highly alarmed. Panic overcomes him when the blue eyes blinked at him, and he reaches out, yanking on the remote and pressing the bell button a thousand times over.

Not-Jane walked in, bristling. “What’s the commotion? I didn’t see anything abnormal across our ends of the monitors.”

“Why is he awake?”

“Andrew.” Neil’s voice is as thin and as easily shreddable as rice paper. His fingers are looped around Andrew’s wrist.

“The sedatives wore off.” She shrugs. “I’ll get a doctor.”

She leaves, and Andrew is grappling at Neil’s hand, his grip weakly returned, but still returned. A pulse. Neil is breathing, thinking, looking at him.

“I --” Andrew is choked by the weight of these stupid, stupid words that he promised himself he’d say, the weight of them sickening. He can’t swallow them, so he has no other choice but to spit them right out. “Neil.” 

Neil smiles, a weak, dazed smile, and Andrew is so, so gone.

Andrew brushes a kiss over Neil’s temple as he sit down again, clenching his shaking hands in Neil’s sheets. He doesn’t realise he’s missing the only opening he’ll have to say it: I love you. I love you. I love you. 

He doesn’t know that he’ll wake up tomorrow, in this same chair, and be unable to say it. 

But it’s ok. Because Neil already knows. 

Neil smiles softly and closes his eyes. Andrew lets him. 

~

Andrew regrets, and he hates it. An unshakeable weight on his shoulders is all it is, and he can’t shove it off. 

Neil is gorgeous, far from perfect and everything that Andrew needs. 

Andrew will tell him. 

It just will take a few more years. 

~

Neil’s standing in the kitchen. Well, he was. Now he’s sitting on the counter, cross-legged, and sifting through bills that were shoved into their mailbox earlier that week. His coffee rests beside him, bitter and black, and his curls hang over his forehead, auburn and too long. 

It’s years after their first gold medal, five after their second and a few weeks after their third, and Andrew’s knee creaks when he gets up from the worn couch in the living room. 

It’s no longer Sir and King: King gave way to Prince in an awful six month period of unexpected grief quite a while ago, now. Three years, if Andrew remembers correctly, which he always does. Sir is still kicking, looking after the younger kitten with grace. 

Neil rips open the mail and looks over the bills with disdain, and Andrew watches him. He recently had his hair cut, a fresh buzz that Andrew loves to run his fingers through: Andrew can see the raised scar of so many surgeries, all those years ago, and that tiny window of opportunity slamming closed as soon as that nurse had walked back in. 

Three words. One. I. Two. Love. Three. You. 

Honestly, it seems so fickle that there’s so much weight laid into them, when they’re just words. But that’s human nature, fickle, fragile and obsessed with more, more, and God be damned if Andrew wasn’t the same. 

But he promised he would say them. He could. Now, if he wants. He can. He will.

So he does. 

~

this is pure indulgence

also: roughly 3.8k of ooc andrew nonsense 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Keith hated leaving Lance. He hated leaving his sons and he hated the air ducts of Galra ships just as much. Well maybe not as much, but it was definitely close. Thanks to the chaos of the black goop, the Galra soldiers had barricaded themselves in the bridge of the ship making it easy enough to slip on board unnoticed, but after quintants of sneaking around the ship through its air ducts, Keith was about ready to blow it up. The only problem was that while there was quintessence on the ship, and the ship would readily explode, the destruction caused probably wouldn't be enough to destroy the infection. So there they were. Laying in the air duct above the bridge, watching as Galra soldiers succumb to the spreading black goop. Each time one died, they were dragged from the bridge and dumped outside the doorway. The already small skeleton crew had been reduced from 15 to 6. It wasn't the nicest thing to watch, but it was all they could do as they waited for the commander to make his move.

 When the number finally fell to three, Keith was sure it was time to make their move. They already had the data, and once it was transmitted back to the castle, the others would be able to bring their lions, or even the castle and the ship could finally be destroyed. He was so desperate to get back to Lance and their pups that it was all he could think about. He worried if Lance was eating, or sleeping. If the pups were alright, and had they settled despite his absence. He'd give almost anything he could not to be stuck in the air duct with his mother. They'd barely talked on the trip out, and being in the ducts hardly spurred conversation on. Unlike the previous blade missions, this wasn't straight in and out, but he didn't have the time to wait. Pulling out his blade, he looked to his mother, expecting her to agree, instead she scowled at him, waving for him to put his blade away.

 It was another few vargas before the next death, this time they didn't bother dragging the body out. Seemingly realising there was nothing he could do, the commander of the ship called someone Keith hadn't been expecting. With everyone dying, he'd thought maybe the Galra wanted to take out someone he had a grudge against, or maybe he'd swallowed his pride and called for help. Instead, Keith found himself staring down at Hag-Honerva. Catching the gasp that nearly escaped, below them the commander knelt as he immediately launched into explanation over what had transpired on the ship. The cold twisted smile that graced Honerva's lips was revolting to look at. It turned his stomach worse than watching all the soldiers died. With an air of glee, she directed the Galra commander where to send his ship, before waffling on about how his death would serve the greater good of the empire. Honerva knew exactly what was happening, and she was happy about it? These men were Zarkon's men. Lotor's men. And she was happy they were dying? That made no sense.

 It was another quintant and a half before both the commander and the last remaining soldier died. The black goop that had leaked from the bodies of the dead, came together to form a black entity. One that was sentient enough to know how to work the control panel for the door, or perhaps it was drawn to the energy in it. Whatever it was, it rose up and covered the panel, the door opened and it slid out as if on its search for its next meal. This stuff was seriously wrong... and they'd let it into the world. Waiting a few ticks to make sure it wasn't coming back, his mother than pulled out her own blade, slicing through the air duct with ease.

 Dropping down, his mother went straight to work while Keith stretched out his aching and cramping muscles. Seriously, they'd only left the duct systems for unavoidable bathroom breaks. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't slept and just the thought of crawling back up into the vents... that was a big fat no!

"Call through to the castle, let them know we're going to be out here a little longer"

"You know I'm calling Lance then"

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"I've been trying not to think of him and the pups, but fuck. I really want to go back home"

"You know we can't, not yet. We haven't seen Haggar since she emerged from the rift. You keep watch while I access the ship's mainframe"

"Mum, I really don't think there's much I can do against a glowing black entity from another universe that we don't actually know how to defeat without using Voltron"

"No, but you can take out the sentries if they show up"

"Fair call"

 Ascertaining the ship's destination, Keith's heart was in his throat as he called through to Lance. His fingers had shook so badly he nearly hadn't been able to call his mate to begin with, as he knew the moment he heard Lance's voice, he'd want to be home with him. It was really kind of pathetic how much he missed his mate... and absolutely everything about him. He didn't even have something physical to hold on to, to remind him of his family waiting at home for him. When the call ended without Lance answering, his mind went straight to the worse case scenario. Growling as he kicked the ship's terminal, Krolia shot him a scowl

"Keith"

"Lance didn't answer"

"Maybe he was in the shower? You don't need to get so angry"

"Or maybe he was ignoring me. I haven't even messaged him since we left"

"Because you've been busy. Try the castle instead"

He didn't want to talk to everyone else. He wanted his omega. He wanted to know Lance was alright. Continuing to scowl at him, Keith was left with no choice but to call through the castle. Unlike with Lance, Coran's face popped up on the small holographic screen almost instantly 

"Keith! What a pleasure to see you"

"Hi Coran. I don't suppose you know where Lance is? Is he alright?"

"Lance? He was around earlier. Is something wrong?"

"No... maybe. I tried calling and couldn't get through"

Stepping back, Coran moved to make space for Shiro and Hunk 

"Hey Keith! How goes the mission?"

"I'm sick of air ducts. How's Lance?"

"He's alright. So are the pups"

Lance was alright? Without him? He'd expected his mate to be a nervous wreck or something... at least depressed

"He misses you, but we've been so busy, he hasn't had time to stop lately"

"You've been busy"

Clearing his throat, Shiro took over the conversation 

"With you gone and the Galra in chaos, we've been helping the smaller populations of the coalition with transport jobs and such. The people need to see Voltron and the lions are still working hard"

That made sense

"Yep. Shiro's been working us like dogs"

"What about Lance? He's supposed to be in command"

"People wouldn't really listen to him. Shiro's known as the Black Paladin, so they're more open to his views and opinions. Lance doesn't seem to mind though and he's been working hard"

"As long as he isn't working too hard and skipping meals again"

"He's been eating. Allura and I have been helping out with pups when we can. And if we have to go off world, they stay here with Coran"

"And I"

Interrupting Hunk's interruption, Shiro seemed almost pleased with the fact he'd been playing babysitter. Keith half wished he could climb through his communicator and punch the alpha in the face. These were his sons. Not Shiro's and he wasn't happy about the thought of Shiro playing dad while he was gone

"Keith, Lance is really ok. So what's up?"

"Everyone on the ship's dead. We couldn't help them as they were all infected. The commander called Haggar before he died and she instructed him to set the ship's destination towards the edge of Zarkon's old territory. It's probably going to be a few more movements before we can finally get back"

"Don't worry. I'll make sure Lance is alright. We've all been spending time with him"

"Thanks. We all know how easy it is for him to feel lonely or left out"

"Shiro's got us eating all three main meals together and training together when we don't have missions. He's also been sleeping Red, so I'm sure that's helping"

Lance was actually eating three proper meals? And training? And going in missions and looking after the pups? It was almost like his mate had been waiting for him to leave before making a real effort to get better. The moment the thought entered his mind, Keith scolded himself. Lance was always trying in his own way... 

"Keith, send us through the coordinates and we'll head out to meet you"

"You should wait on Olkarion. We've had no idea where Haggar was or what she was up to, if Voltron shows up, she's likely to spook"

"Mum has a point. She's expecting this ship, so for now it's better we stay on board until we reach the final destination. With the soldiers dead, there's only the black goop and the sentries to worry about"

"You can't seriously be planning to stay on a ship infected with that stuff"

"You should fall back to the glider and follow at a distance"

Wow. Shiro really had stepped back into command like it was nothing

"The Galra ship is faster. We'll call it anything else happens"

"Alright, just make it back in one piece"

Cutting the call off because he was pissed, Keith kicked the terminal again

"Keith"

"Don't. I don't want to hear it. I know Voltron needs a leader, but that is supposed to be Lance. He knows what to do and how things work around there. Shiro's been out of the loop for too long"

"I know you don't like him, and I don't either, but he's back and we all have to get used to it. Besides, he doesn't even remember what happened"

"That's what he said"

"You don't believe him"

"I don't know. I don't like him around my son's, and I don't want him around Lance any longer than necessary"

"Look, if they've found some kind of way to make it work, then for now it's best you put it out of your mind. You trust Lance, don't you?"

"I don't trust Shiro"

Letting it drop, he knew he hadn't answered his mother's question. He trusted Lance, but anything could happen while he was away. The way Hunk and Shiro made it sound, it was like his mate and his sons didn't miss him at all. Was he being stupid to believe Lance would wait for him to finally return home?

  *

Somehow they'd now been gone a whole phoeb. A whole phoeb, and they'd only just begun their trip back home... but Keith wasn't even sure if he'd be welcomed back home when they arrived. After failing to reach Lance that first time, he'd been sure his mate would call... or message... or even better, miraculously appear right in front of them with that cocky smile he used to always wear. As an alpha, his pride should have been dented over the mere thought of being saved by an omega, but this was Lance and he missed him like quiznak

"Keith?"

Looking down at his hands, Keith realised he'd gripped the metal controls of the fighter jet hard enough to leave an indent. Sure his was agitated, he had been since they'd snuck off the ship, but leaving dents... that wasn't normal 

"Sorry. I just want to get back"

"It's more than that. I can smell the anger on you"

"I told you! I just want to get home to Lance and the pups!"

Yelling hard enough to make himself flinch, Keith pried his fingers off the controls 

"Keith..."

"No. I don't want to talk about it"

"Too bad. I'm your mother and I'm concerned about you. Talk to me"

"I miss Lance. I really miss him. Do you realise we've been gone for a full phoeb?"

"I know. Have you talked to him?"

"No. He hasn't even messaged me"

"Then call him"

"No. He might be sleeping. I don't want to disturb him"

"Then leave him a message"

"What if he's moved on..."

"Are you serious?"

"You're the one who didn't trust him! Now you're defending him! Why hasn't he called me?! Why? He didn't even say goodbye and he has to have known I called! What if he's finally realised I'm not the alpha he thinks I am? What if he's decided Shiro is the alpha he should be with!? What am I supposed to do then! I love him mum..."

Looking over his shoulder, he found his mother was busy tapping away on her communicator 

"Mum!"

"I'm just calling Lance"

"You're interfering!"

"And you stink like anger. It's a long trip back to the castle"

"I'm sorry I stink!"

"Good, now shut up"

 "Are you telling me to shut up?"

Pidge?

"I thought you were calling Lance?!"

Half whisper yelling at his mother, he was confused 

"Hello Pidge, it's Krolia. I was actually trying to get in touch with Lance"

"Um, Lance isn't available right now..."

Isn't available? What was that supposed to mean?

"Oh, he's not? Do you not have a way to contact him?"

"It's not that simple. Shiro and Allura just escorted him back down to his quarters"

"What?! Why?! What's wrong with him?"

"Hi Keith. It's not what you think, Lance went into heat this morning"

So they let Shiro take his mate down to his room! Did they learn nothing at all from what happened the first time Shiro went to "help" Lance with his heat?!

"What the fuck! Pidge, how could you do that!?"

"Lance is safe! Allura is with him"

"It's not ok! Get Shiro away from him immediately!"

"Keith, it's not like last time! Lance and Shiro have been talking. They've found a way to work together. Maybe it's time you get over it all

Snarling, Keith bared his teeth. He couldn't fucking believe this. Even actually using the word fuck didn't help his rage. At least now he knew why the base of his stomach was so warm. He was entering his rut... 

"Fuck!"

Screaming the word, his mother growled back at him

"Pidge. I'm going to have to go. Keith's having a minor cardio infraction over this"

"Well tell him Lance is safe, and Hunk has bathed both pups. We'll put them in a pod for the time being"

"Thank you. We're returning, so we should be back within 4 quintants"

Just enough time for Lance to go crazy with need and fuck Shiro.

 "Keith, I know it seems bad..."

"It seemed bad! Are you shitting me?! You have no idea what it's like for Lance when he's in heat, and he's so sexy... the way he rocks and moans..."

Ending his sentence with a growl, he wanted blood. Lance was the only omega on the castle. Allura and Coran might not have the same second dynamics, but this was Lance. And Lance was just too erotic. His soft caramel skin, his wide blue eyes, his soft sweet lips... the way his back arched and the way he moaned. Everything about him was so perfect. Just thinking about him naked and pinned beneath him, his rut was rushing to set in. He needed Lance. He needed to bury himself as deeply as he could into Lance's curvaceous arse, and fill his mate with his seed. To filled him completely. To watch his stomach swell with their pups... he was lost. His pheromones filling the small cockpit and his vision misting with the need to breed, he hunched over as he started to pant

"Keith, you need to breathe. Your rut's only going to hit harder if your angry"

That made no sense. He already wanted blood, how much worse could it get? Not to mention he was probably going to end up masturbating in the cockpit... where his mother was. No one should have to endure that. He might be a horny teenager, but his mother didn't need to see that... and he didn't need her trying to help him when all he wanted to do was jerk off... where was an intergalactic restroom when you needed one?

 Somewhere between the 5th and 6th hour of being stuck in his rut, Keith couldn't take the pain between his legs anymore. His underwear was plastered against his pulsing erection with pre-cum, while the initial throbbing of need had passed pleasurable and now bled into the realm of "if he didn't cum, he was a hundred percent certain his penis was going to fall off". Growling, he fumbled to get his pants undone, wiping at the sweat that stung his eyes. He was too far gone. All that mattered was cumming. Plunging his hand down his underwear the moment he could, he grabbed his soaked erection and began to pump. Lance... all this seed should be in Lance. Rocking into his fist, he threw his head back as he howled, coming so hard his knot popped, despite the fact his mate wasn't there. Trapped in his underwear, he soaked his pants completely through, as if he'd wet himself. Quiznak. He wouldn't have been surprised if he did. He couldn't stop cumming, and he was mentally exhausted from trying to contain himself. Slumped back in his seat, tears ran down his face. He needed his mate.

 Yoyoing between arousal and anger, and a desperate need to hold his age, his mother finally took pity on him. As he broke down in tears over not being able to hold Lance, she grabbed him from behind. Her arm wrapped around his neck as his exhausted form tried to fightback. Holding him fast, he couldn't even claw to get her off, despite the fact his alpha was furious at being restrained, but part of him didn't want to fight. He was just so tired and he'd never had a rut this painful before.

 Slipping in and out of conscious recognition, his mother had moved him from the pilot's chair of the fighter jet and into the back. His cum soaked pants hand been peeled off, though his boxer briefs were still on, and his jacket covered his over active crotch. Moaning in pain, he let his legs fall apart as his hand slid back down between his legs. Just masturbating wasn't helping, and after his mother had knocked him out, he'd woken up overly angry, threatening to slit her throat if she knocked him out again... so she hadn't tried again

"Keith, are you with me?"

Grunting response, she was lucky to be getting that

"Allura is bringing the castle out to meet us. She couldn't just jump out to us, so we'll be rendezvousing in a few vargas. Can you hold on until then?"

Hold onto what? His never softening penis? Grunting again, his hand was already beginning too move again, while his other hand slid lower. He'd never actually played with his arse before, but what he was doing wasn't working, and Lance loved being fucked... and all the other things he did to him. Not thinking things through, he pushed three fingers in without preparation. His arse might be soaked with his own cum, but he really wasn't ready for the pain. Howling, he clenched around his fingers, drawing them deeper inside. Unsure what to do, and panicking slightly, he wriggled his fingers, brushing against something that had sent waves of pleasure through him. Rubbing the spot he saw stars as he came. Wow. Other than the pain, he could kind of see what Lance loved so much. That sweet spot...

  *

Lance had no idea how long he spent sprawled on the bathroom floor. He couldn't cum, and Keith wasn't coming to help him. His omega was distraught by the lack of his mate, to the point he wondered if Keith even cared about him. He had Keith's stupid bonding mark on his neck. His mate was supposed to be there to help him with his heats. He hated it! He hated this body of his. He hated his being an omega. What good had it brought him? A mate that wasn't there when he needed him... a best friend that didn't know if hugging him was going to trigger some omega need inside... an alpha that looked at him like he was T-bone steak in front of starved mutt... two dead children and two more he couldn't take care of. What was the point of any of it?! It all just hurt. If he wasn't Keith's then he didn't want to exist anymore... or maybe Keith had never wanted him, and regretted giving him his mark.

 With shaking fingers, Lance whimpered as they traced over the scar on the back of his neck. He was internally fighting with his omega over what came next. His omega screaming at him not to be stupid. To think things through, while also screaming at him that it was job to be bred. Piercing his skin with his nails, he screamed silently as he tore at the bonding mark. His throat was so ruined from calling for Keith, all he could taste was blood. Forcing his nails deeper, his body spasmed liked he was having a fit as his blood began to run down his back. The backlash from trying to mess with the mark made his stomach rebel, and he threw up over his legs. He couldn't do this. He couldn't go through his heat without Keith.

 Passing out from pain, he was laying face down in the shower when he came to. He felt different. He was exhausted and sore, but that was very distant. As if some kind of barrier had formed between him and his feelings. He was there, but he wasn't at the same time. Maybe this was what it was like for everyone else when had an episode? He was just a background character in his own body. With a low moan, he climbed to his hands and knees. It was weird. He knew he should be feeling so much worse. The world was swimming before his eyes after all, but... he couldn't stop himself.

 Stumbling from the shower to the bathroom counter, he couldn't even see his own reflection in the mirror. The condensation covering it was just that thick, and he half kind of wondered if he even still existed. Grabbing his towel with clumsy fingers, he wrapped it around his waist before pushing away from the bathroom counter and making his way through the bedroom, and out to the corridor.

 Clutching at the wall, he didn't know where he was going. The world wouldn't stop spinning, yet his feet wouldn't stop moving. He needed something and he felt like he should know what it was, but he didn't. He just had to keep moving.

 Making it to the bridge, he half slumped against the door as his hand slapped the wall, missing the door pad completely and leaving it smarting. It was another 4 attempts before he finally touched it, and he fell less than gracefully through it. He could smell it. Something that smelt like home and something that filled him with fear and sent his heart racing. Ignoring the scent of home, he rolled over and whined, arching his back like he was presenting himself. There was only one person in the room and that person could give him what he needed 

"Lance!"

The way his name was called had him moaning without being touched. With pleading eyes he looked up to the alpha. Shiro... 

 Crawling towards Shiro, the alpha ran to meet him half way 

"Lance, what are you doing?"

Sliding his hands up Shiro's legs, he used them to brace himself as he buried his face against Shiro's crotch

"Lance! You're bleeding"

Biting Shiro's thigh, the alpha grabbed him by the hair, throwing him back onto the floor of the bridge 

"Lance, you need to calm down"

Engulfed by his heat, Lance spread his legs, the towel slipping down to expose his painfully swollen erection and leaking opening. Feeling no shame, he slid his hands down between his legs 

"Lance..."

With a mischievous smile, he thrust his fingers into himself, letting out a long and silent moan. His hips began to rock desperately as he finger fucked himself openly

"Quiznak... Lance"

"Alpha... hurt me"

His voice was wrecked, barely a whisper

"I'm not going to hurt you..."

Frowning as Shiro squatted down in front of him, he could see he was getting under the man's skin. So why wouldn't he just take what he wanted? He had before... with surprising speed, he launched himself forward, pushing the alpha down and landing in his lap. Being half hard, Lance cried out as his arse came into contact with Shiro's crotch. He needed to be knotted

"Lance, stop..."

Shiro's protests morphed into a moan as Lance ground down hard against him. Taking Shiro's hand, he raised it to his throat forcing the alpha to grip him there as his hands went to Shiro's belt. With a snarl, Shiro flipped them over, the alpha smashing his mouth against Lance's parted lips as Lance finally got Shiro's pants undone

"Lance. No! You don't want this"

Still feeling disjointed from his body, he couldn't actually say he needed, but having a powerful alpha over him, he wasn't about to let that go. Wrapping his legs around Shiro's waist, he tried to impale himself on the alpha's covered erection. Growling, Shiro lifted him by the throat and slammed him down 

"No. Lance. I won't hurt you ever again. You don't want this. Not with me"

Then why wouldn't he give him what he needed? Turning his head, he looked across the floor as he tried to take Shiro inside of him

"Omega. Stop it!"

His hips stuttered mid rise, as Shiro used his command on him. Temporarily frozen from the command, he couldn't stop Shiro from climbing out of his hold

"Now stay still. I'll have Allura help you back down to your room"

Sliding his hand down Lance's chest from his throat, Lance's orgasm tore through him. After vargas of not being able to cum, he let out a broken sob of relief, before passing out beneath Shiro.

  *

"Keith! Wake up, we're here"

Blinking groggily, Keith slowly came too. For some reason he was now covered by a blanket and his mother had both her hands cupping his face

"L-Lance..."

"Keith, before you see Lance, you need to know he's sick"

The heat pooling between his thighs slowed a fraction as his mother's words sank in

"Sick...?"

His voice was hoarse and unnaturally gravely. The words hard to form and push out

"His heat is so intense, his body can't handle it. He's burning up with a fever and hasn't eaten or drunk anything since it started. You're going to smell everyone else on him, but it's not what you think"

Trying to scramble up, his heart was racing, and for some reason he couldn't turn his neck properly. It felt stiff, and exceptionally tender 

"I know you want him, and he wants you, but you need to be careful with him. He physically can't take rough sex right now, and if you're not careful you could kill him"

"Need... need to see him"

"I know you do. Now, I'm going to help you to your room. Lance is there, but Keith, do you understand he's sick?"

"Sick..."

"Good. Now up we go"

He really didn't understand Lance being sick. All he could think about was breeding him. Lifting him as he was a rag doll, Keith tried to fight to stand, but his limbs wouldn't cooperate.

 Smelling Lance as his mother stood him up, Keith snarled as he shoved her away

"Keith, be careful!"

She might as well have been talking to the door, because the moment it opened, he was gone. Rushing over to Lance, he literally ripped his clothes off as climbed into bed. Already flushed, and with his legs spread, Lance offered no resistant as he shoved into his mate less than gracefully. This. This is what he needed. His needy slut of an omega filled with his seed. Snarling, he rocked back before slamming into Lance as hard as he could. Grinding and rocking, inside his mate was so hot and tight. Fitting so perfectly around his aching erection as Lance's passage rippled pulling him in deeper. The lewd sounds of wet skin hitting wet skin from Lance's slick seeping between them sent him over the edge way too fast. Knotting his mate, Lance whimpered beneath him, cumming across his stomach as he did. Growling at the erotic display, Keith finally started to regain his composure for the first time in quintants. Wiping his face, he stared down at as his mate as his breathing slowly began to even out. Lance was pale and he smelt wrong. He smelt sickly sweet, but that was pushed aside when he realised what the true problem was. It was Lance's breathing. Each breath a rasp, before being puffed out of Lance's cracked lips. Leaning down, he took Lance's face in his hands. Quiznak. He was hot. Far too hot. Especially given Lance was laying on their bed completely naked. He shouldn't be this hot

"Lance?!"

Shaking his mate, he got no response. Nothing to say Lance even realised he was there. Panicking, he hefted Lance's limp body up against him, before forcing his own body to obey him.

 Rushing into the bathroom, he moved straight into the shower, blindly cranking both taps as sank to the floor with Lance in his lap

"Baby, baby wake up"

Sliding his hand up Lance's back, he found when he hit something sticky. Pulling his fingers back, his eyes widened at the blood on them. With Lance still limp, it was easy to move him sideways to take a closer look. His heart dropped as his anger flared. Lance's bonding mark was covered in bloody scratch marks. Is that why his own neck hurt? Because Lance had screwed with his bond mark? Leaning in to sniff the site, he growled at the lingering traces of Shiro's scent. His desire to possess and monopolies every last piece of his mate reared its ugly head. Despite being deeply knotted inside, Keith began to rock his hips again. Lance belonged to him, even if his omega thought he could leave him, he wasn't going to let him.

 Waking mid-shower, Lance started to cry as his hands gripped Keith's arms. Instead of pulling back and asking if his mate was alright, he pushed his lips against Lance's as he continued to fuck his mate. When Lance tried to break the kiss, Keith caught his bottom lip between his lips and bit hard enough to prevent Lance from trying to escape. Letting out a small whine, he felt his mate finally begin to move his own hips. That was something. Keeping Lance's lip trapped, he waited until his knot had reformed before finally releasing it and running his tongue over it 

"K-Keith"

"I'm back"

"It hurts"

"What does?"

Letting go of his right arm, Lance tapped his throat

"Your throat hurts?"

Nodding, Lance let his hand drop 

"You're sick, and you have some serious explaining to do"

Looking down, Lance sniffled 

"Don't look away from me"

"'m sorry"

"If your throat hurts, then be quiet"

Snapping at Lance, his mate let out a sob. This was definitely not how this was supposed to go. He was back with Lance. That's all he'd wanted, but now he was snapping at him when Lance wasn't well at all. Reaching up, he turned the shower off 

"I'm taking you back to bed. We'll talk once we've slept"

Keeping his mouth shut, Lance didn't protest as Keith was forced to be creative about getting them off the bathroom floor. After that was easy... because he didn't bother drying them off. Instead he carried Lance to their bed, and positioned them so his mate was sitting in his lap, while he laid back. Almost hesitant, Lance lowered himself down, placing his head on Keith's chest in line with his heart

"'orry"

"I get it. I'm sorry too. Look. Just get some sleep and we'll talk about it later"

Have knotted Lance twice, he was exhausted. He couldn't talk to his mate until his anger subsided, but even then, Lance couldn't even reply properly. Grabbing the closest blanket, he pulled up and over the pair of them.

  *

Lance knew Keith was mad. He'd smelt it on his mate when he'd come too in the shower, but he was way too exhausted to do or say anything much about it. Waking with his mate rutting up against him in his sleep, Lance rolled his hips in response. Now his alpha was here, his heat wasn't quite so painful, and given how full he felt, Keith had probably been suffering just as badly as he had. Leaning down to kiss Keith, he pushed himself up slightly so he could actually ride his mate. Once they were knotted together, they'd have a window to talk before he needed to be knotted again. Moaning into the kiss, he squirmed as he tried to get Keith deeper inside of him. He wanted more... no, he needed more. He needed everything that Keith could give him and then some. Lance let out an "oof" as Keith flipped them both over and started slamming into him. His body still felt hot, but each thrust was helping to soothe the heat. Pushing his lips against Keith's again, his mate deepened the kiss, completely dominating his mouth until he came with a whimper. Keith was slightly more vocal, as he snarled into Lance's mouth. His heat might have settled, but Keith seemed to still be in his rut. Not sure what to say or do, Lance wrapped his arms around his alpha, nuzzling at the side of Keith's head. Pressing a kiss to Keith's sweaty hair

"Lance, are you ok?"

"Y-yeah..."

Ouch. Talking hurt. It felt like he'd swallowed razor blades, and couldn't remember what he'd done for his throat to be so tender

"Are you?"

"I'm better. I need to apologise for last night"

Shaking his head, Lance tried to play it cool

"I don't remember"

"I lost my temper"

"I'm sure I deserved it"

"No baby. You're sick and I still mounted you"

Lance blushed despite the fact that Keith was currently technically mounting? or was it mounted? inside of him and was still pumping his hips as he continued to fill him with his seed

"That's what happens when I'm in heat and you're in a rut. You smell of it"

"And you still smell sick"

"I'm ok... better now you're here"

Sighing, Keith pulled back so he was kneeling between Lance's legs, his hands moving to massage his stomach, right where the worst of the cramps hit 

"Do you remember anything that happened since your heat began?"

He remembered being sick and tired, and not being able to cum

"No... did I do something?"

"You tore at your bonding mark"

Lance's hand flew to the back of his neck as his eyes widened. Memories of Shiro licking at the wound came rushing to him as his heart leapt into his throat 

"Baby?"

"I... why?"

"That's what I want to know. I come back and you're not only in heat, but you're sick and you smell like Shiro"

"Keith..."

"I'm not saying you did..."

No. He was practically screaming it at him with the look on his face. Covering his own face, he tried to turn away from Keith. What had he done!?

"Lance..."

"I don't know. I don't remember!"

Whisper yelling the words, he finished with a whimper

"Hey... come here"

Pulling him up and into his lap, Keith nuzzled his neck as Lance's wave of need began to form again. Letting his head loll back, he exposed his throat to Keith. He was so scared and confused over why he smelt like Shiro and if he'd actually let the alpha mount him like he had the funny feeling he had... if he had, Keith definitely had the right to tear his throat out. Why did have to go into heat when everything had been going so well? He'd been doing so much better... he'd finally found some of his old spark, and now he was reduced to a slut for the nearest available alpha? It wasn't fair

"Lance, you need to eat and drink. You're still sick"

He was going to say something selfish, and he prayed Keith wouldn't hate him for it 

"I just want you"

"I'm here. Let's get through this and then we'll work everything out"

 As Keith lavished attention on him, Lance just felt sicker. The first quintant or so was spent fucking on almost every surface they could, and when Keith couldn't keep up, Lance had put on a little bit of a show, using his own fingers to fuck himself in front of his very appreciative mate. But after the third quintant, he stared to feel sick and wanted his heat to hurry up and pass. Even being knotted by his alpha didn't help cool the fever gripping his body. He couldn't eat or drink, and if he tried, it didn't stay down, and long showers only left him cold and shaking. It was like his body didn't know what to do anymore.

  *

Keith was scared. A normal heat lasted around 5 days, 7 wasn't as common but it did happen. They were approaching the end of Lance's second movement of being in heat, and his mate was just about lifeless. His body was covered in bruises and possessive hickeys, though his own was just as bad. They'd managed to talk a little the morning after he'd arrived back home, even remarking each other repeatedly, completely tearing up each other's necks in the process, but now his mate was struggling so badly, and this last week had been painful rather than pleasurable. He wasn't sure if it was related to the ring on Lance's finger, but he didn't dare take if off incase he impregnated his mate. Or if, and he felt like a quiznak for even thinking about it, if Lance's continued heat was psychosomatic. His mate didn't remember the start of his heat, which didn't sit well with him at all, and his nightmares were getting worse. Trying to spend a heat with an omega that had thrashing nightmares... he ended up tearing Lance more than once as his mate had forced his knot out, but then Lance would turn around and climb into his lap almost immediately. His alpha didn't want anyone else near Lance, as his sweet scent was still demanding he be mounted, but he was too scared to think straight. With Lance whining almost inaudibly in his sleep, Keith finally made the call. Forcing himself to let his mate go and go in search of clothes for both of them.

 Getting dressed in near record time, he had to be careful as he dressed Lance. The slightest movement had him whimpering, and the pained expression on his face was doing all kind of bad things to Keith's heart. Lifting Lance into his arms, he crawled off the bed, mentally flinching as he jolted his mate. Leaving their quarters, he walked as fast as he dared, carrying Lance straight up to the healing pods. This wasn't right. It wasn't normal in the slightest.

 When it came to finally placing Lance into the open healing pod, his mate tried to clutch his arm

"I'm right here baby"

He was right there, but he was about to lock Lance away in a glass box because he was so useless. Undoing Lance's fingers from his shirt, he pressed a kiss to Lance's palm as he stepped back. His mates hand was still raised as the pod sealed him away completely. Collapsing on the spot, Keith hadn't even realised he was crying until he saw the tears hitting the floor. His alpha was angered over him sealing their omega away, but he didn't know what else to do.

 Sitting in the pod room, Keith couldn't say how long had passed before the door finally to the room finally opened again. It could have been mere doboshes, but it felt like deca-phoebs before strong arms were wrapping around him. Leaning into the hold, he could tell it was Hunk, simply by the almost unpleasant feel, but he didn't want to let him go

"Keith?"

"I don't know what to do"

Breaking down in sobs, he was probably worrying the hell out of the fellow alpha, but Hunk hushed him as he rocked him

"What happened?"

"I don't know! Lance... his heat... he's still in heat and he's sick... I don't know what to do"

"Come on buddy. He's probably going to be in there a while"

"I can't leave him"

"We'll send Krolia down. Right now, I don't think you should be alone"

"I can't..."

"Keith, I know you're worried about Lance, but he's in the best place he can be. You should have seen him while you were away, he was doing really well"

"He... he was?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you all about it if you come and eat something. You haven't been eating, have you?"

"I tried, but Lance couldn't keep anything down"

"Then for his sake, you need to eat"

He didn't want to leave his mate, but he still let Hunk pull him up. Maybe if he understood had happened while he was away, he'd be able to work out why Lance was still in heat.

 Guiding through the castle and into the kitchen, Hunk sat him down on a stool

"Don't fall over. I don't want to explain to Lance why you're in pod"

As Keith went to open his mouth, Pidge yelled out his name 

"Keith! Oh my god! You stink, but are you ok? Where's Lance? Is he resting?"

Looking over his shoulder, Pidge's smile faded, and both Allura and Shiro rushed past her. Allura coming to wrap her arms around him, while Shiro placed his hand on his shoulder

"What's wrong?"

"We need to send Krolia down to the pod room to be with Lance"

"Lance is in a pod? What happened?"

Keith's voice cracked with emotion, as he leant into Allura's hold

"He's sick... really sick..."

Keith wiped at his face 

"And he's still in heat..."

"We were wondering where you two were. We thought maybe you just needed a couple of days to recover before you woke the pups up"

He'd forgotten his sons. Well, he hadn't forgotten them, but he'd been too focused on Lance 

"Were they ok?"

"Yeah. We put them into a pod after we found Lance was in heat. Hunk bathed them, and made sure they were all comfy and cosy"

"Thank you..."

"No problem. I couldn't just do nothing"

"It means a lot that you did... what kind of a father am I!? All I've been thinking about is Lance"

"Keith, it's alright. Can you tell us what happened with Lance?"

"I don't know. I mean. He was sick when I came back, but he started feeling better and then he got worse again. He couldn't eat or drink, and he started having nightmares"

"His heat was pretty intense before you came back. He had a slight episode, but he'd already hurt himself before that happened"

"He had an episode?"

"He did. He walked up to the bridge, probably looking for you. Shiro was there and called us, so we took him back down to your quarters. His heat was so strong that even I could smell it rolling off of him, and without you, he couldn't really deal with it. He came down with a fever most probably because of that. I believe Pidge said he was "heat sick", meaning his body couldn't handle the intensity of his heat"

Looking up at Shiro, Shiro gave him a thin smile 

"Don't worry. Nothing happened, he was more exhausted than anything"

"Probably because he was whining nonstop for Keith. That's how we think he hurt his throat"

So while he'd been doubting Lance wanted him, his mate had been scared and trying to call for him. He should have been here. Rather than hiding on a stupid Galra ship

"Did mum fill you in on what happened on the mission?"

"Yes. But we can talk about that later. Hunk, can you make him something like a soup. His voice sounds just about as bad as Lance's 

"No. Lance's was worse. I could smell the blood on his breath"

"Lance will be alright"

"You don't know that"

"I do. We all do. He was trying so hard while you were gone, you would have been so proud"

"Everyone keeps saying that, but he didn't even call me once..."

"That's because we've been busy. You were gone for a whole phoeb, and during that time, we had something like 10 missions. It was crazy"

"It was 11, and mostly logistics instead of actual battle"

"Of course we couldn't go into battle without Keith"

"My point is, Lance was doing really well so I'm sure he's going to bounce back"

"We don't even know why he's still in heat. I feel like my rut has passed, and even trying to keep up with him in his weakened state was bad enough. I'm fine, and he's not"

"He wasn't due to go back into heat yet either"

"He wasn't?"

"No, that was supposed to be in like 6 more movements"

"Then why is he in heat?"

"The night before he went into heat, he came up to the bridge because he missed you"

"That's right, the two of you talked"

So Lance had talked to Shiro and had gone into heat a few vargas later. Forcing down a breath, he couldn't deny he wasn't jealous

"Only about how he missed Keith"

"He tried his hardest not to let it show, and the pups really missed you too. We all did"

"Thanks guys. I feel stupid, but I'm just really scared something is seriously wrong"

Hunk sighed as he placed a bowl down in front of him

"It's chicken soup, though it is from a can. To make a proper soup out here would take vargas and trip down to the village"

"The village?"

"We're back on Olkarion, though you wouldn't have noticed because you've been with Lance"

"Do you think they'd know how to help Lance?"

"The only thing I could think of is maybe removing his ring"

"No! I mean... no. If Lance falls pregnant again so soon..."

Keith glared at Shiro, the alpha voicing pretty much exactly what he was thinking 

"I don't think we're ready for more pups, and that's the exact reason why I didn't remove it. I know they could be aborted, even without him knowing he'd conceived, but I just can't do that to him. He still mourns the first two he knew he couldn't keep"

Shiro's hand tightened on his shoulder before releasing him. He'd hit a nerve with the alpha, one he probably should have left alone

"I don't know then. Maybe it's best we wait for the pod to open? Perhaps because he so tired, or because you weren't there, his body can't process being in heat"

"So what? It's going to start all over again once he gets out?"

"Maybe?"

Great. He really couldn't go through that again. As it was, his testicles were trying to climb back up inside of him. He didn't think he actually had anything left to fill his mate with...

"Keith, why don't you head into a pod once you're done eating. Your neck looks painful, and we don't need you getting sick"

"It's not that bad"

Darting around Shiro, Pidge pushed his hair up as she let out a long whistle

"That looks like it could be getting infected. Maybe Lance's neck got infected too? The human mouth is really disgusting if you think about it"

"I don't want to think about it. I just want Lance and my kids"

"Then you're going in a pod once you're done. We'll all watch over you and Lance"

"And if he wakes up before you do, I promise we'll take him straight back to your quarters"

He wasn't ok with that. Not by a long mile, but that wasn't what his friend wanted to hear. Nodding his consent, he picked up his spoon and began working away at the somewhat disgusting soup.

[peacefulwriter88]

Space in Between - Part 8

Warnings: All the SMUT! 18+ cuz Beck is going to show us his naughty side

A/N: I couldn’t resist - I’ve waited so long to post this part! So here it is, finally all we’ve wanted to see for these two! 

Tag List:  @sleepretreat @lancetucker @xxhuffelpuff-girlxx  @that-theater-techie-from-kc @void-imaginations

Catch up with the series here

You’re both way too drunk. He’s singing karaoke, bad karaoke, a drink in his hand as he shimmies across the stage and you’re laughing among his friends, your sides splitting as he wraps up the song.

Chris Beck was a disaster you had decided.

He was an adorable disaster but a disaster nonetheless. You had only stayed at the bar a minute before he had pulled you away with his friends to his favorite karaoke spot. They were all interested in you, this glamourous mystery girl who had ghosted him a few weeks back. They made sure to note, with Chris cheeks burning red, that since you guys stopped talking, Chris had been a fucking miserable creature to be around.

Until now.

He runs to where you’re all standing, a little off to the side in shadow and picks you up, twirling you around and you instinctively wrap your arms around your neck, tightening around him. He’s laughing, pure joy on his face as he looks up at you, those adoring blue eyes making you feel special.  

“Whooaa I think highway to the danger zone has you a little inspired.” You giggle when he sets you down, your hands steadying on his shoulders and something shift in his eyes. Something predatory and dangerous and his grip around your waist tightens as his friend, James asks,

“Where should we head to next? Kinda over this joint.”

“Y/N and I…. think we’re going to head out of here.” Chris says with a new sober confidence quickly, barely glancing at his friends who are eyeing you both suspiciously.

“Really? Its only one…” Tony drones on and Chris pulls you a little closer to him, his hands digging a little deeper into your soft waist and you give a confident nod.

“Yea…. Chris and I….I think we’re done. It was lovely meeting you all though.” You say, pulling your phone out of your jacket and looking at it for the nearest Lyft driver.  They’re giving each other knowing glances, understanding the code of what you were both saying. Foreplay was over. Now it was time for the home run.

Chris, who’s ignored this as he throws on his jacket looks down at you, grabbing your phone and slides it into his pocket as he shakes his head.  

“Hey…” you mouth but he smiles, pulling his phone and requesting a car instead.

“You’re not paying for a Lyft. What kind of gentleman would I be to make my date pay.” He states confidently, dragging you out of the crowded area, outside to the cold curbside. You take in his words….date. When had this become a date? What was going on? You meet the frigid, humid temperature of the December air – the contrast from the club to the world taking you off guard and give two solid coughs as he turns to look down at you. He elbows you both to an outside space heater that’s trying to be occupied with drunk leftover residents also seeking a ride back before he’s wrapping both of his arms around you, securing you in a warm bundle.

His eyes are searching for the car as you drunkenly try to take in the situation. Last time Beck flirted with you, alcohol was involved and he was going to ask you out. Then he hypothetically dumped you for months.

“Sorry babe,” he whispers in your hair, warming your arms. “Just wanted to get out there. Tired of all the guys checking you out. Just looking for a grey Prius then we’ll head to my place, yea?”

You stiffen, unsure of how to feel. Sure, you were drunk but you didn’t know how you felt about drunk Chris calling you babe. Offering you back to his place when he was too damn big enough to let you off easily.

He catches on to your body language and back a bit, looking down with uncertainty in his eyes,

“Unless you don’t want to head to my place. Then I’ll happily drop you off at home…I just thought we could have a night cap but…. I mean I get it if you don’t want too. Fuck, I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have assumed…I just…I…like you, you know? And I’m not trying to be a professor in the spring and I just want to…. I want you to know and understand how fucking miserable I’ve been without you. I’m rushing this…drunkenly rushing this and that’s not fair. I’m sorry.”

He’s fumbling, all flustered as his cheeks redden and you already know the decision you’re going to make before your brain does. Because of all that gibberish mess you could pick up the three words. I like you. And while the rest sounds kind of pathetic, you also know that he’s sincere and doesn’t know how to navigate this new phase in his life of dating and somewhere in the recesses of his mind there’s some Beck swag that just needs one more confident push to come back to life.

You lean up, your lips brushing against his own as you kiss him. It takes him off guard, your soft lips on his own, and he takes a minute to register the movement before he’s pressing his lips down on yours, his breath mingling against your own and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Kissing Chris Beck was exactly like you dreamed. Your heart was beating out of your chest as his lips brush against yours, his nose nuzzling you as his tongue teases along your lips before you oblige, allowing him to kiss you deeper.

And there is the confident Beck you’ve always known existed.

He’s patient, skilled as he tastes you, his mouth coaxing you slowly and deeply and you moan, your gloved hands raising to his hair because all you want is to have more of him, consume him as he presses your body closer to his.

And then his phone’s buzzing and he pulls away, breath shallow as he rests his forehead on your own.

“Let’s resume this back at my place, what do you say angel?”

The car ride was the absolute longest. He thought the trip back from Mars, after they had saved Watney, had been long. Excruciatingly. Thought the limo ride to the hotel on his wedding night had been long. The car ride to the hospital where his son was delivered, postponed temporarily in traffic, that had been the longest ride to him in that moment.

He had been wrong on all accounts.

Apparently, sitting in the back of an Lyft while drunk next to the women he had been pining for was going to be the longest time for him.

You sat comfortably straight up, your hand nervously tapping on your knees as you bite your lip – God he was going to have to tame you for tugging on that supple part of skin – as you looked out the window nonchalantly. His hands loop with yours and you turn to him, giving him a lopsided grin before looking out the window.

Ok, maybe he had been moving too fast. It wouldn’t surprise him if, in the warmth of the confined vehicle, you were mulling things over. Perhaps he had scared you, pushed too hard.

Fuck.

Then you’re squeezing his fingers, giving him a hopeful smile as you clear your throat and say,

“How’s it been Patrick?”

The driver, the guy he had completely forgotten about since you’ve both stepped in the car together, flashes back to you and he gives a skeptical eye.

“Pretty good. Didn’t think you’d be out this late. Considering you never want to go out.”

It’s a dig, he can tell and you smirk as you fall back in the seat shrugging,

“Well, told ya I only go out when my boyfriend is in town. And luck would have it he surprised me tonight.”

Your hands move to lace through his arm as you look over at Chris with pleading eyes. Normally, it doesn’t take him this long to put two and two together. Except whiskey’s been burning in him for far longer than he’s used to and his brain is unable to compute things quickly. Thirty-five really was fucking too old for this kind of shit. But you’re bringing him back, giving his arm another strong squeeze, his eyes flashing to the driver and back to you that it sets in.

Apparently, you and this Patrick guy were something. Or, at least Patrick wanted you to be something. You were more than happy to stay friends.

“Nice to meet you,” he gives Patrick a nod, adjusting so you can fall into the nook of his arm. You fall into him easily, crossing your legs to adjust to the new angle. Chris’s eyes are drawn to how more your skin is exposed, teasing you under those intricately designed tights and Patrick scoffs, shaking his head,

“Geez Y/N. Now I feel like a dick. When you said you had a boyfriend from out of town, I thought you were just giving me the brush off.”

“Nooooppppppeee” you make a point of popping your p and Patrick nods.

“Well…..my bad man. Don’t know what she told you but wasn’t try to step on your territory.”

Chris can tell by the way the guy looks between him and you nervously that he’s uncomfortable and he drunkenly can’t help but say,

“All good. She’s still in my arms and not yours right? Obviously you weren’t really a threat.”

Patrick’s face is tomato red despite his dark complexion and he makes a point to keep his eyes in front at the road. You; however, aren’t amused by Chris’ wit and throw him a stern look as his hand wraps around your waist, drawing you closer to him. He muzzles his face in your hair, lips grazing down your cheek as it finds your earlobe and he whispers,

“You’re all mine, aren’t you angel? Even if it’s only for tonight...” he nips at your ear and you giggle, turning to him and shaking your head as you whisper back,

“If you don’t behave, then it won’t even be tonight.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss on your temple as you stop in front of his place. You both get out, you a bit faster than him and he can’t help the smug look he throws at Patrick who is watching you both cautiously.

“Have a good night man.” He smiles, slamming the door as you run up to his side, cozying up beside him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your mouth as Patrick drives a way.

“Thank you so much for that. The fucking guy has been an insistent ass all semester. Doesn’t get no. Figured you’d help with that.”

“So you used me?” he asks as he unlocks the main door, walking into the expansive hotel lobby that’s empty due to the hour and the age group that lives within its walls. You’re quiet, taking in the fancy décor as he directs you both to the elevator, his arms moving back down to your waist and finally you click your tongue, turning back up at him.

“Pretty swanky for a professor. A substitute professor. NASA must be paying you goooooood.” You joke, nudging him and he hums, his hand still possessively wrapped around your waist as the elevator dings.

“It makes do.” He says, his voice low as he escorts you into the small container. It’s when the doors close, slowly and squeaky, that he pushes you against the wall, his hands planted at the side of your face. He nudges himself closer to you, watching the way your cleavage rises in short, rapid movements.  

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He whispers, his mouth slowly kissing over your face, making its slow journey down to your lips and you give a subtle nod as your hand finds home around his shoulders.

Normally, he hated this fucking elevator. The old complex had never invested in a new one and it was this elevator that slowly took him to his condo. Normally, he wanted to punch the walls because it was – and he timed it – much faster to take the eight flight of stairs to get to his floor then the actual bloody elevator. He was sure that humans ran faster than the old box.

Today, though, he was grateful for the slow box. Grateful as his mouth teased yours open again, his mouth slowly kissing you as his hand moved lower, lifting you to get better access to your mouth. Grateful that he could grind into you, his hard erection biting into your center as you moaned in appreciation, your hands tightening against the strands in his hair, your legs tightening around his waist. You shimmy your hip and he groans, loud and pornographic as his mouth lazily moves down to your neck, sucking the sensitive skin possessively as the elevator chimes.

He pulls away from you long enough to carry you down the hall easily and you giggle as you press kisses along his jawline, your soft skin rubbing against his chin stumble as he fumbles in his pocket for his keys. You don’t help when your hand skims down his torso, dipping between his pants and boxers and grope him, pulling away with husky eyes as you muster,

“Lose something.”

He groans, moving against you as your other hand digs in his front pocket, finding his keys easily and pulling them out, a seductive smirk on your face as you pull your hand from the warmth of his lower torso.

“Found it.” You purr and he has to fight all his self-control not to take you in the hallway. Instead, he bites his lip, unlocking the door and walking you in before kicking it close.

He turns, pressing you against the door as his mouth takes you prisoner again and you lazily return the kiss, setting a punishing pace and he groans, pulling away.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Someone needs to teach you some manners.”

He lifts you over his shoulder, taking you to his bedroom. You give a squeak before your giggling kicking off your heels and he slaps your ass, causing you to giggle harder. When he makes it to his room he throws you on the bed, looking down at you as he slowly takes off his jacket.

“Tell me what you want angel. Tonight its all about you.” He smiles.

You watched Chris as he [ushes out of his jacket, sliding it from his muscular frame as he looked down at you with hooded eyes. You push your jacket off your arms, throwing it near his own as you cross your legs, biting your lip.

You wanted him. Wanted to taste him again, wanted to feel his skin, to worship his body. While every sober, rational part of your brain was telling you otherwise, the part of you that had fantasized about this was telling you that if you were only going to have this night, might as well make the most of it. Deal with the consequences in the morning.

“C’mon angel,” he bends over you, his body cradling over your own as he nudges your nose, “Don’t get all shy on me now. Tell me how you’d like it.”

His voice has gotten a few octaves deeper, huskier and you grab his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. Pushing his blazer off his shoulders as your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer to you as you move your hips against his own and he groans, pulling back and holding your hips down. His mouth moves downward to your neck as his hands snake behind your dress, easily finding your zipper and pulling it down. He’s slow as he takes his time pulling the tight fabric over the curve of your breast as they spring free in your bra, over your hips and down your leg. His hands catch on the hem of your tights, pulling your legs free of the intricate prisoner and he stands, taking a moment to look at you. Take you in. His face is tugged in a smile, biting his plump bottom lip as he drinks in your body. Making you suddenly very subconscious as you stare back up at him, a soft smile on your lips.

“I’ve dreamed of what you’ve looked like way too many nights. Imagined undressing you and worshiping your body but nothing is like the real thing. You’re like a nebula, angel. just too damn pretty and unworthy of my eyes.” He bends back down to kiss you deeply, his hands running up your thighs as he pushes you higher up in the bed,

“Gonna treat you right angel, make up for the shitty way I’ve treated you these past few months.” His hands have somehow found the fasten to your bra and he unclamps it, releasing your breast in one swift move.

“Imagined tasting these for far too long.” His mouth takes in one of your breasts and you gasp as his other hand flicks against your sensitive nipple. Your hands get lost in his hair as he teases the hardened flesh, your back arching before he ghosts over to the other one, paying it the same attention. Once he’s satisfied, his mouth moves lower.

Than lower.

And lower.

You’re surprised when you feel the warmth of his breath against your hip bone and you give a soft sigh as you fall back, your eyes closed as he peppers wet, sloppy kisses against the flesh there. He nips at your bone and you yelp, your eyes returning to him and there’s a new look in his life. Defiance. Lust. His irises are blown to black, consuming the rest of eyes as his hands dig into the flesh of your thighs.

“I want to see you Y/N. Want to see you come undone.”

His kisses are open mouthed as they move down your clothed covered mound, lapping at the salty mess that you’ve developed in lust. He gives a grateful moan as his mouth finds your clit and you scream, back arching off his bed as your hands grip his comforter. You feel your eyes closing as he sucks deeper, skillfully, before he’s pulling away and dragging your panties down. He throws them over his shoulder with ease as he returns to his mission, his tongue slowly lapping you up through your folds, savoring your taste as he gives a delightful moan.

Then he’s ravaging you, his mouth chin deep in you as his tongue finds your hole, fucking you with skilled ease as his tongue flicks at you with pleasure, his finger finding your clit and you’re whimpering, squirming underneath him as his other hand holds down your waist.

Its been so long that a man has bought you to orgasm, that the vibrator in your underwear drawer wasn’t the only thing giving you into pleasure, so when your first orgasm hits you you’re unprepared. Chris is chin deep, nose rubbing against you as your body shakes and his tongue sloppily moves up to your clit, three fingers pressing into you as you scream, your walls fluttering around them. You can’t move, not when you’re a prisoner in his grip as he prolongs your orgasm, his finger scissoring you and you cry out, tears pouring in your eyes as wave after wave consumes you. He waits until your pushing at him, your voice weakly begging him to stop and he pulls away hesitantly, falling back on his knees as his chin glistens with your juices. He smiles at the way your breathing hard, your bottom lip captured between your teeth and chuckles as he throws his shirt off, before he kisses his way back up to you. He’s delicate as his mouth nears your own, pressing tender kisses against your pulse point and despite feeling used and exhausted you want more of him.

“You okay their Y/N?” he whispers against your skin, “Just wanted to make it up to you. I’ve been such an idiot…”

You pull him up to you, wiping his chin as you whisper.

“You’re forgiven. But now I’m the one whose naked and you’re still clothed. I think if you really want to make it up to me, you’ll do something about it.”

You take your finger, the one that’s cleaned your juices from his stubbled jaw and bring it your lips, sucking your flavor from it.

His mouth is slightly slack jawed as he watches you but it’s the movement of your tongue tasting yourself that his him snapping, growling as his mouth comes down on yours, no longer tender as your tongue and teeth clash. He tastes like whiskey and your ripe flavor and you know that despite the alcohol you’re both drunk on something else, something’s that been building up for far too long and makes your hands quickly skin down his torso, trying to find his belt.

He groans, impatient as he tears from you, standing quickly as he pulls at his pants, pulling the material down from his legs. You sit up on your elbows as he pulls down his briefs, his erection springing free from the cotton material and you give a low groan, biting your lip and shaking your head.

For a guy who spent an exceptionally large amount of time studying, a guy who told one too many nerdy jokes and you imagined was probably that kid in school who had mastered being cool while still maintiang the title ‘Smart AF’, nature didn’t give a fuck because he was blessed. The perfect amount of girth to length to curve. Chris Beck had won the lottery of male penises. If you weren’t sober before, seeing him stacked up had your jaw slacked as you bite down on it greedily.

He was probably going to tear you in half and you were most likely going to be wobbling around like an old lady for the next week but it didn’t matter because you needed to feel him in you.

“See something you like?” he smirks confidently as he stalks to you, his eyes predatory as he hovers over you, innocence no longer playing in his eyes. Your breaths are shallow as his lips graze down your neck, easily finding your pulse point easily and sucking on the tender area. You give a grateful sigh, your hands skimming up his toned armed, squeezing him and he hums as his kisses move upward. He’s playing you like a fiddle now, his hands moving to part your legs open as he inserts himself in it, moving up your torso slowly as his cock teases your folds. Your moan is sensuous as you pull his face toward your own, your mouth kissing him slowly as his hand flicks up to your nipple and plays with the hardened stub slowly.

Your voice is at a high whimper now, your hands gripping around his short strands and he smiles into your kiss, pulling away far enough to whisper,

“I know…I’m going to take real good care of you.”

And then he’s filling you, every inch of his cock slowly sliding home and you both groan out, loud and pornographic as his head dives into the creek of your neck as he bottoms out into you. You fill full – on the verge of bursting as you adjust to his size in you – to the way you fill so complete filled with him and he pulls back looking down at you.

His eyes are so black its impossible to even imagine them ever being that calm, ocean blue but the tenderness behind them, the soft way he’s looking down at you has you nodding your head in silent agreement.

You’ve never wanted anything more in your life and you lean up to kiss him to confirm this as he begins to move his hips.

You didn’t expect sex with him to be so tender. You were used to past lovers drilling into you, fulfilling their needs and hoping you could hope along the ride. Selfish lovers is what Mara always warned you about. You were satisfied with finding men that couldn’t satisfy you because you wanted to maintain the emotional distance.

Chris, however, was insistent on being the complete opposite. His hips grind into you softly, skillfully hitting you in places that had you whimpering out his name between the deep kisses he was planting against you. When he lifts one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulders you’re all but screaming out his name in satisfaction as his other hand moves down to your clit, your body prisoner to his touch. His hips are moving faster now, both of your skins slapping against each other loudly as sweat drips down his forehead and his eyes are bearing into yours, watching the way your unraveling around him,

“You like that angel, like the way I’m fucking you. Oh baby, I could watch you come undone underneath me for hours, want to be filled in you for as long as you let me. Love the way you scream out my name…”

His voice is husky and low as your slick covers his cock more and more and he moans as his hips move sloppily, fast and strong and with one more flick you’re done, your body an uncontrolled spasm as his name fills the room. He moves his hips slowly, expertly to prolong your orgasm, relishing the way your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tighter, the way your hooded eyes look up at him as you whisper out his name weakly.

He’s wrecked as he comes in you, pumping his seed into you as he falls on top of you, unable to stay on top of you as he’s whispering your name, pressing kisses to your chest, as you wrap yourself around him. He’s spent, whiskey and the previous actions making him weak as his hips stop stuttering into you and you give one last sigh before you’re muttering in his hair,

“Was this what you had in mind for a night cap?”

He chuckles despite himself because he loved that you were snarky, loved the bite that you couldn’t resit and he looks up with tired mischevousness in his eyes,

“You gonna tell me this wasn’t on your menu?”

You give a light chuckle but nod, your head falling back on the pillow and he summons the last of his energy to pull himself out of you. He’s rewarded by your groan as he ambles to his bathroom, grabbing a wash rag to clean himself up in. When he’s done he walks back out to you, cleaning you up as you give a contented thank you, your eyes already closed.

He turns off his lights as he throws the rag in a dirty bin, easily finding you in his bed and wraps his arms around you, the bigger spoon to your cuddle fest as he places contented, long kisses to your shoulders, your back.

“This isn’t the end Y/N. I wasn’t kidding when I said I liked you…. I want to be yours.”

He’s halfway asleep when he hears you respond,

“You better be professor. Because I’ve always been yours.”

[sunshinepunks-secretsanta]

M3h’s Secret Santa Gift

For @justm3h, tried to fit all your requests. Merry Christmas!

This wasn’t how he wanted things to go. How exactly did this, come out of delivering papers to one of the Marine outposts?  Honestly it wasn’t like he had to do the odd job, Coby was far along his dream of becoming a Marine Admiral. He was only three weeks of his official promotion to being one of the top three people in the Marines, but no he just had to volunteer his ship to do the pit stop because he just happened to be going in that direction!

Coby can almost hear Helmeppo rolling his eyes at his well-meaning actions. His best friend was always complaining about the pink haired boy being much too nice for his own good, though Coby always ignored his words as a good friend should.  

If he got himself into the mess he can get himself out through hard work and strong will, that was the one thing Luffy taught him above all else.  (Coby is willing to lay down his life to prove that straw hat wearing man was right in saving him)

His ship arrived on the post being attack by a no-name pirate crew, and Coby had his men joining the ferry as soon as they could. The pink haired man was quick in saving some of the cooks held hostages shaving to the side of the possible first mate. As he took care of the fool he missed the crazed look of the captain.  She shot two of his men in the chest, forcing Coby to put pressure on the wounds in order to not lose them.

She had attacked the post for the rumored devil fruit they managed to uncover, though no one had any recording of the particular fruit or it’s possible powers, and she wasn’t about to let the Marines rush in and ruin her raid. By the time Coby turned his sights to her- after making sure a medic could save those wounded- she had already broken the safe, holding the blue spiked apple.

One pirate taking a bite of a fruit, shooting a colorful beam at him which he should have dodge but doing so would have meant someone else getting hit and that- that wasn’t acceptable was all it took to have everything he knew ripped from him.

Now, look at him.

He was a short, chubby, soft-fleshed kid trapped on a fat pirate’s ship, where he was treated badly. Again.

It was disheartening to have his mind know what to do but to have his untrained body unable to go through with it.

When Alvida had raised her club at him, Coby was so in shocked of going from a battlefield to a boat with the screaming hag above him, his first reaction was mostly reflex of jumping out of the way and throwing a punch.

He was not pleased with the pain that came from his knuckles, nor with the way Alvida had gone at him for attempting to fight back. It was painful, but nowhere near Garp training painful so after she was done he just laid there confusingly staring at the ceiling wondering what the hell kind of fruit that had been.

A Devil Fruit with the ability to Time Travel or at the very least to send a soul to another dimension, such a powerful thing in the hands of a bloodthirsty criminal doing who knows what with it. Coby really hopes someone stops her before she does more damage with a power like that.

The only consolation to this dis-aging was that Coby managed to returned the day before he meets Luffy which meant he was getting out in only twenty-four hours.

In that time he needed to figure what he was going to do, because while he’s devastated that his hard work had been ruined…he’s not as broken up about as he should be. Don’t get him wrong, it burns that he was sent back before his office promotion but it was the only real regret, and even then it wasn’t regret as it should be. It was more of a annoyance similar to stepping in mud.

The biggest feeling is more positive then it should be over his predicament.  

He’s excited about a do-over even. He shouldn’t be, but he is.

On one hand, Coby could find a way back make it so he can return to the life he had built for himself through sweat, blood, and tears.

On the other hand…..

The screams both in a battle cry and a shout of mercy, the sound of blades clashing and fists meeting flesh, the booms as cannons fire into the sky with ash and smoke in their wake and the small figure holding up a body, blood surrounding them both as the smallest cries in agony.

Coby stands to the side feeling horror bleed into his veins as he watching the strongest man he’s ever known breaks down before his very eyes and being unable to do anything to help.

Coby is loyal to the Marines for all that they should stand for. But he owes a man a life debt that sometimes feels it feels heavier then the duty he swore to and sometimes when sitting in his bed, he turns his head to the wanted poster he pinned up on his wall.  A far too bright smile for their far too dark world staring back at him underneath a straw hat, makes his stomach twist in guilt knowing that the people he works for are crueler then he likes to admit.

He’s high ranking enough to have seen things that made him question who the real monsters were in the world. The marines protected people but they also terrized them as fast as flipping a few coins. They saved them from death but killed faster then a bullet being loaded. They stop pirates from ruining their lives, but allowed them to be enslaved like the sound of chains didn’t echo through many streets.

He has a dream but he also has a heart.

One that beats for someone it shouldn’t.

With those though circling his head the chubby boy wills his sore body to stand,  intending on finding a quite place on the ship to start training. He needed to whip himself back into shape as soon as possible. Because he had come to a decision, one that would change history for good or for bad, and he had to be ready for the changes.

He had seen what life was like a Marine, but come sunrise he will see what life is like as a pirate, in order to pay back that life debt.

This time it will be Coby saving Luffy….by making sure Portgas D. Ace does not die. Somehow he’s going to have to find his way onto the Whitebeard Pirates and keep that stubborn fireman from getting caught. (and if he asks for his blessing to peruse Luffy along the way then all the better for him)

First thing was first.

He had to get to the New World. Should be easier if he train himself along the way and he already knew it pretty well, right?

Marco was not prepared for the boy.  He was not expecting anyone to approach the Moby, especially not a flimsy looking lad in a rowboat, with nothing but his crack glasses and a stubborn frown.  No clean clothes, no food, and no water….and yet still standing tall when he yelled up permission to come on board.

It takes guts to do something like that, real guts that younger generations of pirates have seemed to forget. This was proably why Pops allowed the young man to climb on board. He was…not as impressive as his voice made him out to be. The pink hair stranger was covered in wounds, his body was not that of a cillian but not that of a fighter either but his voice carried command and strength that showed a glimpse to the monster he would be in just a few years.

“I’m looking for Portgas D. Ace.” The stranger says, back straight, head held high and throwing all the body language of a no good marine. It makes the crew weary (they don’t want to kill the kid, he’s far too young) but Pops seems to find him amusing because he calls for the Second Commander after ordering Thatch to get him something to eat.

The way the boys eyes grow grateful as the chef runs off to do as he told lets Marco know he’s dealing with a polite fellow. Which is always good as it means his siblings won’t break into a fight with him. It’s not until Ace steps through the crowd that his real problem with the  visitors rises, as the boy takes notice of the second commander.

Marco does not appreciate the way the kid eyes his boyfriend. Does not like the way pinky’s face gets warmer the moment Ace steps in front of him.Say what you will, but he’s a Phoenix, which means his territorial. It’s in his very soul to puff out his chest and let blue fire flicker around his shoulders as he notices someone else trying o steal his shiny treasure. (Ace’s hair in the right light always looks like it’s made out of jewels and it drives Marco absolute wild)  

If it wasn’t for Thatch elbowing him in the side, The First Commander may have killed the brat.

“What do you want from me?” Ace asks somehow being polite enough to not come off as rude but hinting at it with his tone of voice. He was talented like that.

Pinky straightens up, staring at Ace like he’s the answer to the universe, which Marco hates to break it to him but Ace is taken and no way is he-.

“My name is Coby, I have sailed from the East Blue by myself and I will like to formally ask your blessing for Luffy’s hand sir!”  Coby blurts out, nervous and red but still with a straight back  “I will, of course, be willing to serve you and prove to you I am worthy of Luffy! If- if you will have me that is!”

All of Marco animal instincts to rip the youth apparent with his talons come to a screeching halt as the deck falls unnaturally salient. The first commander is actually thrown for a loop, stumbling to make sense of the words he just heard.  

Luffy? As in Ace’s precious little brother, his lover will never shut up about? As in the cause for Ace’s terrible brother complex?  Did he sail all the way to the New World to ask Ace for permission knowing that Ace may kill him on sight?!

Because by the way he is eyeing Ace, Coby knows this is a death warrant knows that any wrong move- hell any move will be his last. He came here expecting Ace to burn him alive and came anyway just to do right by the one who captured his heart.

Holy shit.  Marco thinks, respect rising for the pink hair lad easily ignoring that he almost took the boy out a second ago. Now that’s what I call love.  

“No.”  Ace syas flatly flames licking the back of his shoulders. His quite rage, promising danger would have made anyone sane realize how bad that idea was. The heat surrounded the boat rises, making a few men sweat. Coby forehead is covered by a thin layer of sweat, and his knees are shaking under the weight of Ace’s barely restrained haki but he doesn’t step down.

He meets Ace’s eyes evenly  saying in a surprisingly strong voice.  “I know that I don’t look like much now. But I truly love Luffy. So please allowed me to prove it to you.”

Ace’s haki snaps as he hisses hands balling into fists. “I said no.”

It’s the sight of Coby not even flinching at the fire slowly rising from Ace’s being that makes Marco hope he’ll lie through this. Because he recognizes that look on the obviously straining to stay on his feet boy’s face. It’s the same one he wears whenever he thinks of how the world would try to take Ace away from him if they ever found out about his dad.

His boyfriend does not like that reaction. He muscles tighten up, and the wave of heat is either by heat or by haki it’s hard to tell with the difficulty it is to breath suddenly. Marco rises one eyebrow as the Coby’s stumbles but he does not fall, it’s obvious that his body can barely handle the pressure but his eyes are steel and ready to fight.

Marco’s approval rises for him.

“My answer is no.” Ace’s voice is practically ice which is somehow more terrifying then the literal flames around him. “Get back on your little boat and row away boy. We are done here.”

Everyone on the crew takes a step back, when Coby stubbornly shakes his head and Ace growls (secretly Marco drools over how protective Ace is. If they were to ever build a nest together Ace would guard it with his life and that is one of the most attractive things about him)  “No, you- no one is good enough for my Lu. No. One. Is. ”

“You’re right. That’s why I have to get better. Luffy is going to be Pirate King, I have to become the best for him. He deserves only the best” Coby answers without hesitation, and it is impressive when the pressure forces him to his knees yet he never breaks eye contact with Ace. Never shows signs of rolling over.

It’s said in such a matter tone that many of the Whitebeards are thrown for a loop.  Even Ace, who looked like a second away from frying the boy alive is surprised into cooling down long enough that Coby can stand once more.

“That’s why I am asking you….please help me become a man that is good enough for your brother.”

It’s all Pops needs to hear, stepping in before Ace can even respond.  Marco is glad, he likes this kid’s spunk would be a shame if he died because of Ace before he could reach his full potential. Standing up to a Whitebeard commander was a great start.

________________________________________________________

It’s a few months later after Coby proved to be a diamond in the rough, strong and a great leader one that just needed to train his body Up. A perfect addition to our family, who fits in just fine even though he tends to be more merciful then a pirate should be.  But it was thanks to that merciful nature that they were able to save Thatch.

Marco is woken by a pale and sweating Ace one night, after waking up screaming name.

He had a nightmare it seemed.

A nightmare about Luffy’s wedding.

“Luffy is going to fall in love with Coby and I can’t kill him, Marco. He’s part of the Whitebeard crew, he saved Thatch from Teach and he’s trying to steal my brother. Pops won’t let me kill him Marco”  Ace whines like it the greatest offense their father could do to him.  

“I see you dilemma and I offer cuddles as a means to cope yoi.”  

“Cuddles won’t make that pink haired brother stealing lunatic go away.”

“You were the one that helped him get stronger.  Now you have to deal with Cody looking for your brother in Alabasta.”

Ace is silent before a grin stretches on his face. Marco feels his hair stand on end because he knows that look. Knows it all too well. His boyfriend- soon to be husband if things go as planned at Ace’s next birthday- just got a horrible idea that he plans on roping Marco into.

The sad part is, the blond isn’t sure he can say no. Not with Ace looking at him like that.

“So Marco, you ever wanted to go on a couple vacation with me? I hear Alabasta’s sunsets are romantic.”

[optimizedfamily]

2019’s Best 3 Wheel Walkers Reviewed

No one wants to be dependent on a walker - or at least no one that I know.  But if that time has come, how does the saying go, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?”  The loss of adequate mobility can lead to loss of independence.  But for some, there's another adage that rings true.  "It ain’t over till it’s over.”

The trick is finding a walker that works best for you - one that will help you retain as much mobility and independence as possible. 

How I Discovered 3 Wheel Walkers

I've got to admit; I knew absolutely nothing about walkers until my dad could no longer get around without one.  The day had come that the larger than life "He-Man" who boxed in the Navy and featured in the newspaper for heroically lifting a car off a fellow employee on the General Motors assembly line was unable to walk without help.  He had fallen several times, and even he knew that one fall too many could be the one to take his independence entirely.  It was time to shop around.

I read up on traditional style walkers but couldn't picture my dad using one.  He does not make a good patient.  He makes a terrible one.  I knew I had to come up with something a little edgier, one that would let him get around more quickly than most.  Thankfully, I stumbled across the miraculous three wheel walker!

What Exactly are 3 Wheel Walkers?

Walkers are devices that aid a person's mobility by offering support.  Some have wheels and referred to as rollators.  There are walkers with seats, Euro walkers, 4 wheel walkers and...3 wheel walkers.

Three wheel walkers are triangular.  They have three wheels, one in the front and two in the rear.  Generally, the walkers come with hand brakes and sometimes even have extra features, like a basket to carry your belongings in. 

Positive Points

I discovered a ton of benefits the three wheel walker has to offer folks, like my dad, who want to retain as much independence as possible but at the same time, need a little help in doing so.  To me, they are the sports car of the walker world.  Here are some of the perks they bring to the showroom floor:

Three wheel walkers fit through narrow openings.

They are usually lighter weight than traditional walkers are.

Because of their triangular shape, they are easier to maneuver. 

Most three wheel walkers are more manageable to guide than regular walkers.

They go faster.

They zip around corners.

The majority of 3 wheel walkers are compact - a cinch to transport and store.

Let’s face it...3 wheel walkers are just cooler than traditional ones!

Best 3 Wheel Walkers

Three-wheel walkers come in all shapes, sizes, and styles.  They can be constructed out of all different materials and even come in different colors.  In addition, many accommodate other needs you may have due to your circumstance or disability.  With quality, craftsmanship, and special features in mind, the following three wheel walkers are ones that I found to be a step above the rest:

Drive Medical Winnie Lite Supreme Three Wheel Rollator 

- If you are looking for an ultra-lightweight three wheel walker that can get you from point A to point B with ease, this model does the trick.  It's a no-frills device that is very affordable.  It's constructed of aluminum, so it weighs practically nothing but is super durable.  The handles adjust the height from 32-38”.  The tires are soft-grip which makes them perfect and practical for use both indoor and outdoors.  The casters are 7.5", and there's a special loop lock that makes the device glide.  The brakes are adjustable.  This walker is only 26" wide so that it can fit through most openings.  When you are done for the day, push the hinge, and it folds right up for compact storing.

Drive Medical 3 Wheel Rollator in Flame Red​

If you were the one who had to have the red sports car, you’ll love this model by one of the best makers in the bunch, Drive Medical.  And yes, you guessed right this is the one my dad just had to have (probably because it was red).  There are some great features this three-wheeler has like its one-handed folding ability, lightweight aluminum construction, and lock knob for times you want it not to budge.  The casters are 7.5" which are ideal for indoor and outdoor use.  This device is just 24" in length and 25" wide, so it easily goes through most openings.  The handle height is adjustable, 31"-38".  This walker supports 300 pounds which was great for a big man like my dad.  You even get a basket, pouch, and tray with this model.

Carex 3 Wheel Walker for Seniors

This model has 7” wheels for getting around inside and outside too.  It is lightweight and easily folds so you can take it with you wherever you go and store it when you are through.  What I like about the Carex is that it gets in and out of tight spaces and can cut around people in the grocery store aisle too.  The wheels have locking brakes for safety, the height is fully adjustable, and it comes with a large storage bag with a spot for ID cards and your cell phone too.  This is one of the most popular three-wheel rollators on the market and with good reason.  

Nova Traveler 3 Wheel All Terrain Walker​

​The Traveler is built to do precisely that, to travel!  It is a superb device for getting around in rough terrain like you might run across outside such as loose gravel, dirt, grass, rocky ground, and practically any other type of territory you might need or want to walk across.  The rubber wheels are a whopping 8" which allows to go over rough terrain more easily.  The paint and overall construction seems like it’s very high quality.  Nova is known for being top notch.  You'll get a zippered storage pouch, a basket, and even a handy tray with this model.  There is a locking parking brake and adjustable handles too.  This walker is 24" wide so that it can squeeze through super small openings.  Nova backs this product up with a lifetime limited warranty.

Healthline 3 Wheel Lightweight Walker​

​If you need a super lightweight three-wheel walker, this one certainly fits the bill.  It weighs in at only 13 pounds.  Amazingly, it supports up to 300 pounds though.  Being only 24" wide means, it can squeeze through tiny spaces.  The handle height is adjustable, and it has brakes that are easy to grip.  It also comes complete with a wire basket for storage, a safety tray that conveniently goes on the basket that can be lifted or placed back down, and a tote bag too.  This model folds and unfolds easily so you can take it anywhere, even if you are traveling on the bus or in a small car.  It is available in a stylish blue.

3 Wheel Foldable Walker with Shopping Cart

​This walker is lightweight, and it quickly collapses to transport and to store.  It seems like the easy-glide wheels help make it move smoothly. If you are a shopper, this model is ideal and even comes with a large storage basket to put your goodies in.  There's a convenient slot for your ID cards too.  The wheels are 7" which is a nice size.  When you want to stop to grab something off the shelf or for whatever reason, you can lock the wheels into place, or you can use the hand brakes.  Corners are simple to turn with this 3 wheeler.  And one of the best things about this jewel of a walker is that you won’t need any tools to assemble it. 

If you still haven’t found a 3 wheel walker that fits your needs, keep looking.  You are sure to fall in love with one somewhere down the line.

Some Add-Ons

Why not “trick your walker out" as the kids say?  Once Dad got over his stubborn pride and got into his "3 wheeler", as well called it, I can honestly say he made the best of it.  The family got into the spirit too.  We gifted him add-ons for his birthday, Christmas, and sometimes "just because."  Here are some great items you can add on to your three wheel walker:

Drive Medical Universal Cup Holder

You’ll need a refreshing drink to take along on your walk, so you’ll need a spot to slip it in to keep your hands free.  This cup holder fits many sizes of cups, glasses, and bottles and should fit onto most walkers too.  It even swivels for convenience. 

Tote for 3 Wheel Walkers

You definitely can take it with you when you go!  This convenient carry tote pouch has a good bit of room so you can take your belongings with you.  It folds into a 14” wide pouch and folds back up to be under an inch wide.

Walker Basket

You will need your hands to guide your walker and to help stabilize yourself, so you'll want a place to put shopping bags, your picnic lunch, or whatever else you want to take along with you.  There are a multitude of walker baskets to choose from, but this one happens to be my favorite. This particular basket is for the Winnie Deluxe model, but it will fit many other three wheel walkers too.  It is lightweight, yet sturdy, and holds quite a bit.

How Do You Roll?

Not ready to give up your independence yet?  Neither was my dad.  But when he finally came to grips with the fact that giving up a portion of his independence beat falling and possibly losing it all, he conceded to use a walker.  Not just any walker would do, however.  He had to level up.  Maybe you are in the same situation. 

I am not even sixty yet and am having to face the fact that I have a medical condition that causes me to limp and easily lose my footing. It’s called Myelopathy, a complication of Spinal Stenosis.  Since I inherited my dad’s willful, independent spirit, I can tell you that when the day comes and I too am forced to depend on a walker, it won’t be any walker.  “No sirree bobtails!" as Dad would say.  I'll be behind the helm of a three-wheeler because that's how I roll.  How about you?